WHO: Hecate WHEN: Earlier this week WHERE: Astoria, Queens WHAT: Divination WARNINGS: Yes exactly. (But no, no trigger warnings)
A worrying portent kept sneaking into Hecate’s tarot readings, every one of the day a little off, a little wrong, a little unrepresentative off the person she was supposed to be doing the reading for. Hecate, well practiced in the art of reading tarot, and well practiced in the art of reading people, could see this. The three readings she’d done today were all for friends, or regulars of the shop, people she’d read for in the past and whose lives she knew. No matter what spread she did, the Ten of Swords crept in, clashing with the rest of the reading, disrupting it.
It could have been the case that each of the people had a crisis on their horizon; that was not an impossibility. Winter in New York could be a trying time, a good time for endings, and not an uncommon time for loss. None of those that she read for today celebrated Christmas themselves, but two of them were returning to their families for the holiday, and annual family gatherings could create ripe conditions for betrayal. And yet – Hecate’s intuition told her this card was not for them. It was her own.
In the room above her shop in Astoria, after her last reading, and after she’d stepped downstairs to help them close up shop, Hecate lit her candles and settled in to do a reading on herself, undistracted by anyone else. She sat crosslegged on a circular rug under the wide, uncurtained windows, the moon (just past full) hidden by a deeply thick layer of cloud, threatening rain. “What do you suppose Chaz would think of these clouds?” she asked Hecuba, who lay with her head on her paws completely ignoring the puppy. Hecuba wuffled at her. Four month old Serene was in the corner of the room going to town on a bone made of rope, ignorant of all proceedings.
“I know,” Hecate said to Hecuba. “It would be interesting to hear his interpretation, that’s all.”
Cold air radiated off the windows and she pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders, laying the cards out on the rug in front of her.
She began with three, a simple spread to get a handle on the situation.
The Ten of Swords emerged again, a man lying flat on the ground with ten long swords in his back. Beyond him, the sun rose over still, silent waters. The clouds above, like the clouds tonight, were tumultuous. It was a card that spoke to her of ruin and loss, but a turning point toward hope far on the horizon, though there were deep waters and a brewing storm to face first.
Such was life, but rarely did a warning push so hard at her. Hecate turned over her next card, searching for the heart of the oncoming crisis: it was the Knight of Swords. A picture of a young man, ambitious and daring. Sometimes noble and true, but read alongside the Ten of Swords, and taking into account the ominous feeling in Hecate’s stomach, this could be a person blinded by their own determination, their own inability to accept truth. Someone who could not, or refused to, see the consequences of their actions, the effect they would have on others. Both cards were upright. Again, the sky was tumultuous.
And finally, The Moon. A path stretching into the distance, a wolf on one side and a dog on the other, and in the distance, two towers so similar it was impossible to tell them apart. A card that represented her own self in every reading she did that it made her more convinced that the Knight represented a person, as well. A card that advised her to trust her own intuition, and rely on her own resources. Well – that was something Hecate didn’t need to be told, she had always been a self-reliant goddess. The warning here was that something was not as it appeared, that she must not be blinded but look beyond the obvious to see the truth.
Not a bad lesson to be reminded about. If she’d looked a little deeper, she may have seen the truth of the union of the hellhound and the sluagh before that very last night.
Alright, Hecate promised herself. She’d look deeper. She’d trust intuition and wouldn’t jump to conclusions.
It was a promise easier made than kept.
But then again, most promises were.
Her second spread only pushed the warning harder. She drew five, and the situation remained clear, four cards that spoke of an oncoming disaster, the Wheel of Fortune prominent among them. Reversed, it meant unwelcome changes and bad luck, external circumstances that were outside the control of those involved in the wheel itself. A card that suggested a visit to the Moirae could be fruitful, or at the very least, interesting. The Tower, crumbling at its base, spoke for itself.
The fifth card, the centre card, was no warning at all. The Four of Wands was a celebration card, one of homecoming and reunion.
Interesting. Unexpected. Hecate poured over the cards for a long moment, suspicious and wary about what it all meant.
Then she did a quick reading, for the safety and wellbeing of her dogs: Strength, The Chariot and the Lovers. Bravery, direction and unity. She smiled wryly up at Hecuba, who padded over and pressed her wet nose into the palm of Hecate's hand. "Well," she told her, with a sigh. "At least you and Serene are going to be okay."