Episode 14: The Cards

*Click*

Voncid:  The following will document the acquisition of the clairvoyant, Philippa James, also known as Philippa le Fay.  She has requested the title of “consultant.”

Luca: So you believe her about what she could do before the incident? You seemed so skeptical.

Voncid: I was skeptical. While it is possible for a human to be able to see “beyond the veil”, especially after having direct contact with it, cases are extremely rare. Most people who claim to be psychics are nothing more than charlatans. Which is exactly why I feel documenting Philippa’s case is so important.

*Click*

Luca: So Philippa, we thought the story of how you came to be a member of the Hamsa Organization would be a good addition to the log we are creating.  People don’t come to work for the group under very usual circumstances and it could be illuminating.

Philippa:*laughing* Illuminating?  Owen is rubbing off on you. And, to clarify, by work you mean….

Voncid: *sigh* consult.

Philippa:  there it is. Go on….

Luca: this is the ghost wax recorder, I’m sure you’ve seen us carrying it around.

Philippa: That thing looks ridiculous. I’m not dead, so why do you need the wax cylinder for this? I’m NOT dead right?

Voncid: A simple matter of consistency. Now, please describe yourself, and what led you to this point.

Philipa:  Even…before?

Voncid:  Especially before.

Philippa:  Alright. But you need to promise no one outside of the Order is ever going to hear this. I’ve got a reputation to maintain.

Voncid: Of course.

Philippa:  (sigh) It was supposed to be bullshit. 

It was supposed to be me, making up whatever nonsense came to mind that I thought would make people feel better. Would give them hope. Would make them pay me.

I didn’t set out to be a professional psychic. Nope, my career ambition was somehow stupider than that: I got a theater degree. I know, we aren’t even gonna go into that right now. School was a blast, but when I graduated, the job market was shit, going on to grad school was not an option, and I had loans to pay off. Plus, at that point my dad had just remarried a girl who was practically my age, and with mom still on her “eat, pray, bone” tour of the American southwest, I needed a new place to live. Which meant I needed money, which meant I needed a job, which I could not find.

One day, after weeks of failure, I was walking around feeling lonely, defeated, and desperate for someone to tell me that everything was going to be okay, even if it was a fucking lie. And that’s when I saw the vacant storefront. And like a lightning strike, great-great grandma Doris came to mind.

You see, Granny Doris was a Medium back in the day. “The Day” being, like, 1890 or some shit. She wasn’t Fox Sisters famous or anything, but according to all the newspaper clippings my grandma had, she was pretty good. My grandma, Rose, idolized Granny Doris, who was her grandma. She’d talk for hours about Granny Doris’ “presence”, her various “gifts”, and most importantly, how she could see the future with her cards. 

“Pip” she’d say, (she was the only person who ever called me Pip,) “Pip, your Granny Doris was a marvel. She told me not to give Howard Tucker the time of day when he came courting, even though the Tuckers were the wealthiest family in the county. That didn’t matter, she said, ‘cuz he wasn’t the one for me. So, I turned him down. Caused the whole town to talk, but I knew Granny Doris must have her reasons. Sure enough, a year later your grandpa Richard moved to town, and it was love at first sight. He’s treated me like a queen all my life, and I shown him the same right back. But we may not have ever been rich, but we were happier than anyone could be. And as for Howard Tucker, well he ended up having three different wives, ‘cuz he could never love someone for very long. It goes to show, you never question Granny Doris!”

Grandma Rose had a million stories like this. Granny Doris predicting a drought year and them being the only family who’d prepared. Granny Doris showing up at the neighbor’s house seconds before the pregnant mother went into labor. Granny Doris warning the Koufman’s their son was in danger, and calling the fire department anyway when they refused to listen. Apparently they pulled him from a collapsed silo with scant seconds to spare.

As a kid, I was fascinated with these stories. But, when I tried to talk to my cousins about Granny Doris, they had no idea what I was talking about. Even my dad was barely familiar with her. That’s kinda when I realized Grandma Rose only told the stories of Granny Doris to me. I asked her about it, when I was eight or so, and she just shrugged.

“You’re special,” Grandma Rose said. And that was that.

*Sigh* I was twelve when Grandma Rose died. She’d been sick for a little while, so it wasn’t a surprise, but it was the hardest day of my life. She left all of us grandkids stuff in her will, nothing fancy, just sentimental stuff to remember her by. She left me Granny Doris’ tarot cards, and a note that said, “You’re special.”

I was floored. Not only was this gift incredibly personal, something special between me and Grandma Rose, in my adolescent brain, I had just been given the equivalent to a cheat-sheet. Something to get me through life with all the answers. I just had to learn what they meant. 

See, each tarot card has a bunch of potential meanings depending on things like the question you asked, or the other cards around it. For example, the “Death” card does not necessarily mean someone is about to die. It certainly can! But really it means that something is ending, or there will be a major transformation. And if it’s in reverse, the meanings are completely different! I would spend hours messing with the cards, learning all their different meanings, and trying to read my future. I would start each day with a reading, thinking I’d be prepared for anything. I was never right. Not once.

As I grew older, I realized most of Grandma Rose’s stories weren’t true. Granny Doris probably had great intuition, and most definitely spied on all her neighbors, but she wasn’t magic. I packed the cards away after that. They were still important to me! But, because of the memories they inspired. Memories of Grandma Rose.

The year passed, and I’d think of Granny Doris from time to time, but never with any real intent. Until, on the day of my ultimate desperation, I saw that small shop with the “for lease” sign in the window. And I realized maybe I could put my theater degree to use after all. 

I put every penny I had into that tiny place. While I was fixing it up, I researched how to run a small business. I looked into the history of mediums and psychics, as well as appropriate ambiance and decor. Since I was gonna do this, I was gonna do it right. I had a family legacy to uphold, after all! My parents were pissed; they thought I was making a huge mistake. But I’d always been the weird one in the family, (thanks Grandma Rose!), so I’d long since given up on their approval. And since the shop had the world’s tiniest apartment above it, it was everything I needed.

In those early days, I was so absorbed with doing something with my life, I didn’t really think much about the people I was about to con. Because that’s what it was going to be: a con. I had all sorts of warnings and disclaimers displayed around how I wasn’t responsible for inaccurate information, and it was all an “entertainment experience”. (laughs) I was probably too straightforward about it all, but I learned the key was to be vague about everything. That way, people could interpret what I was saying however they wanted! 

The best part, I focused on my “lineage” as a psychic. I had the old newspaper clippings of Granny Doris hanging around the shop, and told absolutely everyone how I was using her tarot cards. It was something I could prove was true, and I figured once people saw one truth, they’d be more willing to believe the lies I would inevitably tell. 

(hesitant pause) Except that was the problem. 

That first week, I’d tell people whatever I saw in the cards. All phrased dramatically, of course, I was putting that degree to use! And I admit, some of the details got pretty specific. But I figured, why conjure bullshit from thin air, when I could simply read the bullshit in front of me! 

Worried your partner is cheating? The cards say physically no, emotionally yes. And only because you’re constantly focusing on some fantasy world. Video games, perhaps?

Are you making the right investment choices? No, because you keep your entire life savings in a box under your bed. That’s not “investing”. (Also you’re spending all your money on psychics, but I didn’t say that part).

How’s Fred? Well, he’s upset you sold the house. You promised you never would.

I figured if people said I was wrong when I was too specific, well, I’d claim psychic interference. But I didn’t need that claim. Every single customer told me I was right. That first week, I laughed about it. I thought, “Hey! Look! Everyone wants to be lied to so badly, they’ll find the truth in anything!”

By the second week, I realized it wasn’t the customers. Turns out, Grandma Rose was right. I was special. I could see things. Just not things about me. 

All those times I’d tried to use Granny Doris’ cards as a child, I’d been trying to answer questions about my own future. What can I say? Like all kids, I was a selfish little snot. When I’d interpret the cards’ meanings, it was always a jumble. BUT, when I focused on questions other people asked, I couldn’t explain why, but the meanings became crystal clear. I didn’t even have to think about it! Every card has multiple meanings, but I knew exactly which one applied. I could see the story playing out in my head, like watching a movie.

I wondered if it was the deck itself. If Granny Doris’ cards had all the answers. I tried using a different deck, and I’ll admit it felt wrong. Like, wearing someone else’s sweaty gym clothes. But, the meanings were still clear.

You might think that being an accurate psychic would be good for business. You’d be wrong. You see, most people go to a psychic for the answers to very specific, life-altering questions. And when those answers suck, they get mad. They didn’t want to come back.

So, I did what I set out to do in the first place: I started lying.

Your partner isn’t cheating, but maybe the relationship isn’t meant to be.

Your financial instincts are great, though it is a volatile market.

Fred is glad you’re happy.

People didn’t know what the cards were actually saying. If I saw something truly dangerous I’d give a warning, but that was rare. I told people what I knew they wanted to hear, and business got better. And for four years, things were good.

I admit, it was frustrating not being able to see anything related to myself. I had the ability to impact the lives of everyone around me, just not my own. Though, if I had been able to see my own future, I honestly don’t know if I would have opened the door that night.

A month ago, a woman named Christine came to the shop. She was young, pretty and afraid. I’m used to people coming to me as a “last resort” for their problems, but this felt different. She looked like she hadn’t slept and she kept looking over her shoulder. She told me a man was following her. That he was somehow watching her, even though his eyes were always closed. I told her that sounded serious and to go to the police, but she said they wouldn’t do anything because no one else could see him. 

Internally, I was like, “weird”. But to her face I was all, “You poor thing,” and “I believe you”, and, my personal favorite, “Let me help”. I did a simple, three-card layout, planning to do my usual thing: I’d tell her everything was okay, and she should sleep, and maybe talk to someone who wasn’t a psychic. Like, a doctor or something. 

But, then I started flipping over cards.

*Eerie music begins*

Prince of Wands, reversed. Wheel of Fortune, reversed. Ten of Swords.

One thing I’d learned after years of doing this, is that no matter what weird shit came to mind interpreting the card’s meanings, it was never wrong. And, in that moment, I knew I couldn’t lie to her. Because if it did, this woman was going to die.

“I-, I do see a man,” I told her. All my theatrical confidence had vanished, at that point. “He thrives on conflict and, in this case, actively seeks to destroy the lives of others. I can’t say how or why, but if you don’t take action, He will bring about an…abrupt and painful ending.”

Now, that was an abbreviation. Because when I looked at those cards, I saw him, clear as day, in my mind. I called him a “man”, because of his shape and like masculine features, but there’s no way in hell he was actually human. His skin was the color of bleached bone, and his shoulder-length hair was bright red. I’m talking fire-engine red. Something, a normal person would have to go to a salon for. It was also visibly wet. He wore a superbly tailored black suit, and there was a gold ring on every finger. But, the fingers were…wrong. They were far too long, and each one had an extra knuckle. And the fingernails. You’d think, with everything else about him being so put together, the nails would be polished and clean. But every single nail was jagged, like it had just been ripped off, and they were crusted with dirt.

I have no idea what his eyes looked like. He kept them closed. Which, to me, was worse than seeing them. My imagination ran wild with possibilities, each more horrifying and grotesque than the last. But I could feel in my gut that if he opened his eyes, something terrible would happen.

I didn’t know what this thing was. But death followed wherever he went.

I didn’t feel it was worth going into any of that. This poor woman had been seeing the man for days, she didn’t need to be told what a nightmare he was. So I glossed.

I don’t know how I expected Christine to react to this information, but her obvious relief was a surprise. She made a noise that was half a sob, and half a giggle. 

“I knew it was something,” she said. “I knew I wasn’t crazy.”

Fair enough, I thought. I guess I’d be relieved too.

At this point, I was out of my depth. I’d never experienced anything of this magnitude before, and I was at a loss. I couldn’t ask the questions, the answer would just be a jumble. And I had no idea how to stop something like this. So, I told her what question to ask. What words to focus on, with all her might:

“How do I stay alive?”

Ace of pentacles, The Hermit, six of swords.

Basically, she would get good news from a mysterious spiritual advisor, who would help overcome this evil. I knew how it would all play out for her. I directed her where to go and sent her on her way. She was still freaked out, but at least when she left my shop, she had a plan. 

I’ll be honest, I felt great! By that point, my ability to read the cards had become kind of a burden. Especially since most people didn’t actually want it. Normally, my readings made people feel good for a couple hours, maybe a day or two, and that was about it. But this time I had actually helped someone! I know it sounds selfish, but the fact that Christine was going to stay alive because of my weirdness made me feel like maybe I could make a difference in the world. That Grandma Rose and Granny Doris would have been proud of me.

(sigh) That feeling was short-lived. Because the next night, he came to my shop.

I wasn’t even open and the door was locked. But one minute I was cleaning up wax drippings and incense ash, and the next, he was in the center of the room. Eyes closed.

In my vision with Christine, he’d been unsettling to look at. In person, he was horrifying. I definitely screamed, but the stores next to mine were long closed, so no one could hear it. 

His lips were practically non-existent as he frowned at me. 

“You ruined my game,” he said. His voice was shockingly beautiful, like an opera singer or something. “I’ve never lost a game before. So, you’re going to help me play a new one.”

My mind, which had been frozen a few seconds earlier, started racing. Whatever he was, he was standing between me and the exit, but at that point I was still thinking I could get out of there somehow. I just had to be smart. I managed to ask him what kind of game.

“I want you to read the cards for me.”

“Well, I’m actually closed right now, but if you come back tomorrow-”

“Sit down, please.”

I sat down at my table, but I was still hopeful. I thought maybe I could see something in his cards that could help me. I guess fear does that to you. Makes you cling to hope even when you’re obviously fucked. Once I had the cards in my hand, muscle memory took over. I told him to ask his question. He replied that he was asking it silently. With nothing left to do, I laid out three cards, face down.

I flipped the first card. The pictures didn’t form in my head the way they normally do, but the meaning of the card was still clear. 

Eight of Pentacles. “A new beginning, brought about by hard work.”

An interesting card to draw for a monster. But without the pictures in my head, I didn’t have much to go on, so I flipped the second card.

Ace of Swords. I swallowed. “Seeing the truth of things, but it’s a double-edged sword. Perhaps, knowledge you shouldn’t have.”

I glanced up at the stranger. He was smiling, and it wasn’t a friendly expression. I knew something bad was coming, but I couldn’t see it yet. I reached out for the last card, and my hand was trembling. I laid my fingers on its familiar surface, but I hesitated. Why couldn’t I see the pictures? This had never happened before, not seeing the outcome. He’d asked a question, not me, and even if he’d asked it silently there should have been an answer. That was how it worked. He’d asked…

I pulled my hand back without turning over the card.

“This reading isn’t for you,” I realized.

His smile widened, and I could see his teeth were all stained a dark brown. “A most excellent game.”

His eyes opened. And so did my throat. 

After all my curiosity and fear of what his eyes would look like, I didn’t get a chance to find out. I couldn’t even see him over the spray of red. 

I’d never really considered what dying felt like. I suppose I’d hoped it would be peaceful, and quick. It was neither of those things. My eyes lost focus pretty quickly, but I could hear the wet, rasping sound of choking. My whole body started to feel cold, except the front of my chest, where the blood was spilling down from my throat. I remember hearing a soft snap sound, which I recognized as a card being turned over. I know it was the shock of it all, but in those final moments all I could think was that my blood was going to ruin Granny Doris’ cards.

When I opened my eyes again, I was aware of several things at once: First, my throat felt like it was on fire. Second, the man who was standing over me was not the creature who had killed me. Third, an old woman who looked remarkably like the photos of my Granny Doris was wringing her hands in the corner. And finally, the three cards on the table before me. The first two were covered in so much blood they were barely readable. But the third was pristine, sitting there for all the world to see. That lipless bastard must have flipped it over. 

(sigh) I guess that time the meaning of the Death card was pretty straightforward.

(addressing Voncid) How did you bring me back? Am I a zombie?

Voncid: Not at all. When we arrived at your shop, you had been dead for less than ten minutes. I was able to seal your wound and revive you with little effort. This would be beyond your average paramedic, but I’m much better at restarting a heart and limiting damage to gray matter. 

Philippa:  How did you know to come save me?

Voncid:  When Miss Anthony, uh, Christine, appeared on our doorstep with knowledge of the Vile Observer and his games, I wanted to know more. Our timing, while fortunate, was purely luck.

Philippa: Vile Observer. That’s what it was, huh? Did you ever stop it?

Voncid: Not yet, I’m afraid. Though we are working on it. 

Philippa:  I see. 

Voncid: Tell me about any changes you’ve experienced since that night, taking into account our work on meditation and thought forms.

Philippa: Ever since, I can see things, things no one else can. Things I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t see. Most are just shadows, but the stronger the will, the clearer the spirit. I haven’t seen Grandma Rose, not yet at least. Granny Doris, on the other hand, has taken up residence in my shop. She’s exactly how I always imagined her to be. She’s the only one who is able to speak to me, though her voice is still really faint. Apparently, she saw my future long before I was born and she told Grandma Rose all about me. That I would be special. When she first showed up, I thought she’d be upset about how I was running my business, you know, lying to people. But, Granny Doris understands the hustle. She said she did the exact same thing, only telling the truth when it was a life or death scenario. 

All in all, things are going well. I’m alive, which always counts for something, and I managed to clean up my cards…mostly. I mean, at least the dried blood is my own, right? The shop needed a deep cleaning, but it’s back to business as usual. 

Voncid: (somewhat dubious) So, you plan to continue your work as a real fake psychic then?

Philippa: Hell yeah. Bills don’t pay themselves. I’m even going to add seances to my list of client offerings. 

Voncid: Philipa, because of your rather extraordinary abilities, Admissions has asked me to offer you membership in the Order of Hamsas. There would be a trial period, of course, but they feel you can be of great service to the world. And I concur. 

Philippa: How much does the position pay?

Voncid: pay?

Philippa:  Oh, please don’t tell me you expect me to do this work for free.

Voncid: (clearly affronted) The Order is charged with the safety of humanity and that in and of itself-

Philippa: (interrupting) - Student. Loans.

Voncid: Perhaps we can reach an agreement.

Philippa: As long as that agreement is, “paying me for my time”, then yes, I’m sure we will.

Voncid:  (exasperated) I will do what I can. Do you have any other questions? 

Philippa: Yeah. Do you want to tell me what’s going on here?

Voncid:  Here? At the Order?

Philippa:  No, I’m talking about you. Every other living person I’ve encountered since I’ve…come back…has a shadowy presence thing around them.

Voncid: Ah, a spiritual aura.

Philippa: I refuse to call it that. Let’s go with spirit-squiggles. Everybody has one. Except you. You have two.

Vobcid:  That is a personal matter.

Philippa:  Look, I get it. I don’t need your whole life story. But after everything that’s happened, and you wanting me to join your shadowy order of ghost hunters, I need to know you’re not a danger to me.

Voncid: (pause, then somewhat reluctantly) Very well. Let me just stop the recording.

*Click*

Voncid:  Satisfied?

Philippa: Wow. Uh…yes? Is there anything I can do?

Voncid: You can keep it to yourself.

Philippa: Understood. Well, I should get back to the shop. Chumps aren’t gonna scam themselves.

Voncid:  Oh, and Philippa, one last thing. I granted your request for trust. Now, you will grant mine. You will never, under any circumstances, read my future or my past in your cards.

Philippa: Deal. (grinning) This is gonna be fun.

*Click*