“Pascal’s Wager,” Nora said. “Ever heard of it?”

Mercedes nodded. “We wager our souls when we choose to believe or not believe in God. Smart souls believe in God because if God does exist, God will reward them with eternal happiness. If God doesn’t exist, the person has lost nothing. But if God exists and the person doesn’t believe, he’s lost eternity.”

“So might as well believe,” Nora said. “Just in case.”

“You don’t lose anything by asking me, you mean? And you might gain something?”

“Seems a safe bet.” Nora paused. “Did you? See anything about me, I mean?”

“The Hierophant,” she said. “The High Priest. He was in the present position reversed, but not the future.”

“What does that mean? A priest I know is going to die?”

A priest did die.

“No,” Mercedes said. “Three of Staves came next. I saw you taking a journey. A journey that will take you away from The High Priest.”

“I went on that journey. I came back.”

Mercedes shook her head.

“No. On this journey, you don’t come back. You walk away and keep walking.”

Nora stood up straighter. Her jaw clenched.

“This is why we don’t tell people what they don’t want to hear.” Mercedes smiled apologetically.

“Now I know you’re a fraud,” Nora said.

“What is he to you? The High Priest?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Whatever it is, it’s not good for you.”

Nora felt a jolt at those words. Her anger—dammed by her curiosity—finally broke through. She was done.

“Why don’t you just go and cast a spell to make sure I do what you want me to do?” Nora demanded, her tone mocking.

“You’re suggesting I go to a sacred temple by night, light a candle, and speak magic words?”

“That’ll work.”

“Like when you go to St. Mary’s at night, light altar candles and pray?”

Nora narrowed her eyes at Mercedes.

“You have been following me.”

“I walk the Garden District every night, as you do. I saw you out with only your dog, later than usual. I was curious.”

“Stop following me.”

Mercedes gave her a Mona Lisa smile. “Yes, Mistress.”

Nora shut the door behind Mercedes, locked it and rested her forehead on the cool surface. She breathed, breathed again.

Stupid. So fucking stupid. She didn’t believe in this garbage. It was all a hoax, a hustle, a con. A long con, at that. And Nora was done with it. She undid the lock. She was going to tell Mercedes that if she ever stepped foot on her property again, there would be a restraining order waiting with her name on it.

Nora threw the door open. Mercedes was long gone, but swinging from her doorknob was a string of silver Mardi Gras beads.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Cyrus got home to his apartment a few minutes after midnight. He had eyes for nothing or no one but his bed. He had his shirt unbuttoned and halfway off when he felt his phone buzzing in his pants.