Chapter 2
Sabrina
A bolt of lightning frozen mid-strike. Flames lick the building, lashing like karmic tongues. The inhabitants, fearing for their lives, leaping out the windows in the image of…
The Tower.
Sabrina knew that there were no “bad” cards in the tarot. The recipient still had free will—the arcana represented the archetypal facets of our human experience. But there was no sugarcoating it: this was a terrible card to pull before a party that your business depended on.
Rule number one of tarot: don’t ask a question you don’t want answered.
“See the cards agree, this party will be hazardous to your spiritual energies.” Marie sat across from her, head shaking at the spread laid out on the lace-covered table they kept set up in the back of the shop for readings. Despite the ominous message, Tania, in the velvet chair next to Marie, continued to stare at her phone through her curtain of black hair.
Marie brushed the image with her tremoring hand and pursed her lips in disapproval. “As I told you, Sabrina, I think this marketing scheme of yours is unnecessary.” Any allusion to “capitalist propaganda” earned the same sour look, though it was usually reserved for people manhandling the crystals in the shop with zero consideration for spiritual hygiene. “You’re going to get in a car with a man you’ve never met to take you to some party in the middle of nowhere? ”
“It’s Gladys’s son, and it’s her birthday ,” Sabrina said, knowing how seriously Marie took solar returns. Gladys Glengarry was the human equivalent of Mrs. Potts. Her party would include an eclectic, jovial crowd, eager to welcome Sabrina and her talents, probably in song. Gladys was also one of the few people who had visited her mother in the nursing home during her decline. As such, a mix of guilt and gratitude had wrung the party acceptance out of Sabrina for tonight. Besides, Sabrina didn’t know how to drive or have the cash for roundtrip cab fare—nor could she afford another plan backfiring.
Tania’s ebony eyes darted up to hers, though she didn’t lift her head. “Do you want to borrow my taser?”
Sabrina growled out her frustration and stuffed the card back in the deck. The truth was, she didn’t know if this was a good idea, either. It was likely another harebrained scheme, like all her other efforts to stave off the closure of her late mother’s shop, The Yellow Brick Road. First, she’d tried séance nights. But the sticky cocktails had spilled all over the Ouija board and people had left upset—either in tears over contacting their dearly departed or fuming that it was a hoax. Her latest grand idea had been to remarket as a witchcraft shop slash cat adoption agency. But the cats kept peeing on the herb displays, so she now had five new pets in her apartment upstairs. Elgin, Lisgar, Slater, Richmond, and Lebreton liked it better up there, anyway. Still, she refused to admit defeat and give in to her colleagues’ lack mindset.
Though maybe she would bring the taser.
Sabrina crammed her favourite tarot deck into her purse, her eyes catching on the harvest-themed display in the window. “Um, I was wondering if you could set up the display for Samhain this evening?” She had invested in some new decorations this year instead of the sun-bleached ones they’d been using for the past decade.
Marie’s eyelids fluttered. Tania continued texting .
The silence after her request stretched, and Sabrina’s heart rate sped up until it was a pounding pulse in her ears.
“My arthritis is flaring up at the moment,” Marie said finally, wiggling her gnarled hands, causing her rings to glint in the flickering candlelight.
“I have an exam to study for,” Tania said, still not looking up.
Sabrina took a deep, incense-filled breath. She was technically their boss, but she didn’t want to go all Miranda Priestly on them. The thought of confrontation strangled the reply in her throat. She was being inconsiderate. Marie had been her mother’s closest friend, and Sabrina would feel horrible if Tania didn’t do well on her test. “Oh, no worries. If you get a chance,” she squeaked out. She crossed to the front of the shop, physically distancing herself from the conflict she’d narrowly avoided.
She peered up and down the street from the store window, checking for Gabe’s car—whom she was certain was very sweet and not a murderer. The red maple leaves twirled across the steps of the old stone church down the road. The fall weather always cheered her, she was a Libra after all. But now the changing of summer to “pumpkin spice season” only reminded her that the shop should be busier. Halloween wasn’t far off, which was basically witchy Christmas. Folks used to crowd around the displays of indie oracle card decks or talk to the staff about which crystals might help with their unique predicament. But ever since the pandemic, the shop—and their sales—were stagnant. The displays issued the same invitation, but the clientele had vanished, and she didn’t know how to break the business-threatening curse obliterating her late mother’s dreams.
So tonight, in a last effort, Sabrina had curated a Pinterest-worthy altar, set some new-moon intentions with a green spell candle, and blasted Money, Money, Money by ABBA in the background. She wore her favourite brooch: an amethyst violet that had belonged to her mother, and her cropped blonde hair sported her lucky glitter butterfly clips. In short, she was manifesting the shit out of this party, which is why she couldn’t shake The Tower card’s ominous message: upheaval.
A silver pickup truck parked on the other side of the road, in between the pot shop, the chocolate cafe, and the fibre arts store. The country conventionality of the vehicle stuck out in sharp contrast to the eclectic Hintonburg neighbourhood.
Gabe, she surmised, crossed the street, and all the catastrophic visions she’d been entertaining about accepting Gladys Glengarry’s birthday invitation disappeared. His smile gave him away first. It was unassuming, and he oozed approachability, just like his mother. Sabrina guessed he was younger, with sandy-brown hair and a lanky frame. Already she couldn’t wait to get his birthday and nerd out over his natal chart.
He opened the shop door and gave a shy smile. “Sabrina?”
“Yeah. Gabe?”
He nodded and a blush spread across his entire face. He paused a moment to take in the shop, seeming unfazed by the display of spell jars, cobwebs, and herbal apothecary, then held out his hand for her purse. “Want me to carry that?”
She struggled to button it shut and passed it to him. She’d packed way too many decks, but she wanted to have the perfect one to match the vibe at the party. Poking out the top were the store pamphlets she’d made, should anyone want to follow-up with her. She’d used her favourite glitter pens.
Gabe held the door for her as she said good night to her colleagues. He didn’t say a word as they crossed the street to his truck, but she still felt comfortable in his presence. Pisces rising maybe? How soon was too soon to ask for someone’s time of birth?
He scratched the back of his head with his free hand. His rosy blush reappeared. “You’ll have to sit in the back, I’m afraid.”
“That’s OK, I’m tiny. ”
Gabe opened the door and held out his hand so she could hoist herself up into the back of the cab. Inside the truck, another ridiculously handsome man in the passenger seat startled her. There was a definite familial resemblance, but he was older and more conventionally attractive than Gabe—like a Shawn Mendes doppelganger. He flashed her a smile that would have melted her into a puddle if she didn’t suspect it was entirely practiced to do so.
“Hi,” he said, closing an app—was that Tinder? “I’m Gilbert.”
Gabe climbed into the driver’s seat and turned around. “Just so you know, Sabrina, between the engine and the fact I can’t see you, I may have difficulty hearing you.” He pointed to his ear, where she saw the processor of a cochlear implant. “Just tap my shoulder if you need anything—or a break from Gilbert.”
“Thanks for letting me know,” she said warmly.
“That, and he’s painfully shy around pretty girls,” Gilbert said.
Gabe turned tomato-red again.
“I, however,” Gilbert’s eyes roamed her body, before catching her gaze with a raised eyebrow, “do not have that problem.”
Lord, he was forward. Gemini vibes for sure. As they drove, he confirmed her suspicions. It was obvious he had no trouble talking altogether. A half hour later she knew all about his Toronto acting career (on the verge of a breakthrough), his dating life (extensive and included a few surprising celebrities), and he had ranked every single one of his favourite karaoke songs. At this point in the conversation (slash monologue), Gabe turned around for a moment to capture Sabrina’s attention.
“Hey Sabrina, I’m just getting off night shift and if I’m going to have to listen to him all night,” Gabe tipped his head sideways, indicating Gilbert, “I think I’ll take a listening break right now.” He caught her eye in the rear-view mirror. “I’d rather focus on driving than strain to listen.”
“Oh, yeah, sure.” Sabrina wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but in the next moment Gabe flicked the magnets hidden by his hair off his head so they dangled down past his earlobes. His shoulders relaxed and he stretched his neck side to side.
“So, who is going to be at this party?” Sabrina asked the next time Gilbert stopped for air.
“Mom just wanted all of us home.”
“All of you?”
“Myself and Gabe are the youngest. Then there’s Gareth, he’s number two. He’s a forest firefighter in Northern Ontario.”
“Oh cool. And the oldest?”
“Ol’ Ebenezer.”
Sabrina snorted out loud. “Is that your nickname for him?”
Gilbert’s brow furrowed. “No, it’s his actual name.” Being a successful tarot reader meant she could usually tell when someone was lying. Eyes shifting, a nervous twitch—yet Sabrina detected no sarcasm. Gilbert was either telling the truth, or he truly was an undiscovered acting talent. She looked at Gabe in the mirror. His expression was unchanged.
“Haven’t you noticed we all have literary names; Gareth, one of King Arthur’s knights; Gabriel, the Angel; cheeky Gilbert Blythe of Prince Edward Island. My mom was going through a Dickens phase when she was pregnant with Ebenezer—she only got into alliteration later.”
It honestly wouldn’t surprise her with Gladys, but Sabrina tapped on Gabe’s shoulder. He flicked his coil back up on one side and tilted his head in her direction.
“You have an older brother. Ebenezer?” she asked.
She noticed his eye roll in the mirror. “He’s not so bad when you get to know him. He’s very guarded.”
“Yeah, about money,” Gilbert muttered.
Gabe shook his head, and with a loud sigh directed at his brother, removed the coil from his head again.
Gilbert nodded in his younger brother’s direction. “Gabe’s the best of us; he never fights with anyone. Mom and Dad finally got it right on the fourth try. But Ebenezer…” He shook his head dramatically. “Like his namesake Scrooge from A Christmas Carol , he’ll probably glare at you the whole time and grumble about this being a waste of money. Don’t be offended. I find the best way to deal with him is not to take anything he says seriously. It has the added effect of enraging him further.”
“He sounds pleasant.” She guessed that compared to Gilbert even your average person would seem pessimistic. “Oh, and I’m not charging Gladys for my readings. I just wanted to make her birthday special.”
“I’m afraid it won’t matter. He’ll find something else to complain about.”
“Who else is coming?” she asked.
“It’s only the five of us. Mom has a very limited definition of the word party. I suggested a big potluck, but she said she wanted to keep it small.”
Sabrina’s stomach sank. Only the five of them? Two brothers lived out of town, and judging by Gabe’s relative silence, he seemed like an introvert. She’d just assumed that Gladys’s popularity in their coven would extend to her social circle. Yet again, another networking idea seemed to be turning into a bit of a flop. So much for the universe doing her a solid.
“You said Ebenezer lives here. What does he do?” she asked, grasping.
“Works in tech computer security stuff. To be honest, I don’t really understand it. He started as a co-op student and worked his way up through the company. He spends his free time sitting on an enormous pile of money, counting out every penny.”
“Like Scrooge McDuck?” she said, thinking of his name. Ebenezer. Just brutal.
“Oh my God, it’s the perfect nickname. Sabrina, you are a treasure.”
Alright. So not quite her target audience, but people hired tarot readers for corporate parties, right? It was a stretch, but it was all Sabrina could cling to right now. She’d schmooze with brother number one and save her business. She could see the video montage now—the stern, skeptical tech mogul amazed by her intuition and dazzled by her personality. He’d tell all his friends and colleagues about her talents. The floodgates of customers at the shop. Sia’s Unstoppable playing in the background. It could happen. She just had to channel magical manifestation and not malfunctioning mishap this time round—because she couldn’t afford not to.