In The Shadow Of His Nemesis
Chapter Seventy One
By AL BRUNO III
Saturday, December 4th 1996
By now the room was a shambles, every one of the dresser drawers had been emptied and then pulled out. Books had been unceremoniously yanked from their shelves and roughly shaken out before being tossed aside. Pictures had been taken from the walls and chairs had been overturned. Tarot cards were scatter throughout the room like a carpet of oversized confetti. After looking under the bed Jason Magwier had given up. Now he sat cross-legged on the floor with his head resting on his chin. “Destiny is like a room full of doors, some are labeled, some aren’t. Even if you think you know what you’re looking for you might not get what you expect,” his sighed, “I’ll tell her that someday but she won’t understand. She’ll think I’m being cryptic.”
Roxanne didn’t want to hear his rambling but she had awoken to find herself expertly hogtied and gagged. Her head ached and blood was slowly weeping from the gash on her head to smear on the carpet.
“It has to be you,” Magwier got to his feet, “you’re an outcast Lunt and an Oracle to boot.”
Roxanne watched him kick contemplatively through the piles of dresses and lingerie on the floor. “I wish I was an Oracle, so much simpler than seeing futures.”
One of the candles had burned its way down to the base of the candleholder, the flame sputtered clinging to life. The grandfather clock in the far corner of the room began to chime but Magwier had deliberately miss-set the hands rendering the hollow rings meaningless.
If she could just spit the gag out she would have given the loudest scream of her life but all she could do was squirm in place and silently will Jack to come to her room. She should have seen this coming. Hadn’t the Hanged Man and the Devil shown up in every tarot spread she dealt? Roxanne had just assumed the little twerp had come for someone, or something else.
Magwier stood in front of the mirror, glaring accusingly at his reflection. “What are you up to?” he asked with a voice that was quiet and rhetorical.
The familiar sound of wind chimes, the cries of the spirits bound to Laurel House began to echo through the hallways. Roxanne didn’t like the sound of them, tried to speak through the gag but she was ignored. Magwier was searching the room again going through every corner and closet with renewed fury. He as breaking things now, tearing things open and apart.
“Where is it?” he said, “it couldn’t have just walked off by itself! At least not that quickly....”
What is it? She tried to scream, What do you want?
“Hmmmmm... If I were a voco spurcamen where would I be?” He swept things from the writing desk to the floor, then bent to retrieve a letter opener. He prodded his index finger with the pointed end and puzzled at it, “A letter opener? What would you need a letter opener for here?”
Grinning he threw the letter opener up into the air embedding the pointed end into the ceiling. He admired his handiwork for a time then said, “What did the Monarchs promise you? Money? Power? Love?”
She glared at him as he drew closer his eyes full of menace and accusation. He said “Knowing you it must have been love. In the end love makes monsters of us all. I should know.”