“Miz Dessusdelit, I don’t know what to say, other than the man needs treatment. I don’t know anybody in this town, other than you and a few people I’ve encountered casually. And frankly Hill frightens me. He’s crazy. He’s so crazy that LuEllen and I are leaving. Because of him.”

She thought it over and then said, “I don’t know what to do.”

“I wish I could help you, but we’ve got to go.”

She thought for a moment more, then sighed and said, “Once more with the cards?”

We weren’t set up to cold-deck her. I don’t even know what cards we would have planted. As far as I was concerned, she was in a box, and there was no way out. But LuEllen, standing behind me, poked me in the spine, and I nodded at Dessusdelit.

“All right.”

In the cabin I got the deck from the Polish box, unwrapped it from its silk binding, and handed it to her.

“I still don’t know how far to trust you, Mr. Kidd,” she said, still with the dreamy expression.

“Then don’t trust me,” I said harshly. “You know that tarot spreads are artificial constructs. So let’s skip the spread. Pull out four cards and lay them down: past, present, future, and final outcome. You can do your own interpretation if you like. If you have questions, I’ll try to answer them.”

A spark showed in her eyes as she stared across the table at me. “Yes,” she said. She shuffled the deck seven times, then spread it across the table. Her hand hovered for a moment and pulled a card.

“Past,” she said, and flipped it over.

The Devil. A man with a goat’s head and horns and bat wings, with a man and a woman chained to his throne. Usually interpreted as bondage to base emotions-greed, for example, or the urge to personal power.

“Present,” she said, and flipped the second card.

The Nine of Swords. A woman sitting up in bed, weeping, nine swords racked on the wall behind her. She’s suffering great losses of all kinds, as are people who are important to her. All of it’s accompanied by great anguish. Dessusdelit nodded.

“Future,” she said, and flipped the third card.

The Ten of Swords. The body of a man on the ground, with ten swords protruding from his back and neck. Final ruin.

“Final outcome,” she said. Her hand paused at one card, but she stopped without turning it, moved to another, paused again, and flipped it over.

The Tower of Destruction. The lightning bolt striking the tower.

“My old friend,” she said weakly. “I’ve seen it a lot lately.”

I reached forward and turned over the card she’d almost chosen. The Sun. A card of success.

“You almost chose this card. Why didn’t you?”

“I

don’t know,” she said.