Premonitions can present in many ways.

Dreams.

Visions.

Signs.

Gut feelings.

The ancient Celts believed premonitions could even be heard in bird song.

So I don't know why it surprised me when my own premonition came to me in the form of a Tarot card.

It was a blustery day in December as I made my way down the sidewalk of East Broadway towards Clear Portals, Massachusetts' premiere New Age establishment with only the finest pagan paraphernalia to grace South Boston's streets since the Salem Witch Trials.

That's what the owner, Nick, would tell anyone who asked, anyway—and even those who hadn't.

As for myself, I was a Tarot reader by trade, a profession I decided on at a young age after finding my grandmother's old Rider-Waite deck hidden away in my mother's attic. From what I was told, I was good at it, and more times than I could count, clients would call Nick after their appointments to inform him I'd been spot-on, how my readings were eerily precise. I appreciated their praise.

Honestly, I was just offering a service that also happened to be something I enjoyed.

In the years I worked at Clear Portals, Nick would often remind me there was no harm in being paid for doing something you loved while he handed me my weekly paycheck. And that there especially wasn't anything wrong with people being appreciative of the insight, as I attempted to refuse the exorbitant tips clients left behind.

That was harder to accept.

To be thanked for something that came so naturally.

But Nick continued to schedule my appointments for customers new and returning, and I kept doing that something I loved, which also allowed me to rent a one-bedroom apartment just a few blocks away.

And it was in that apartment that I always performed my first reading of the day. As part of my morning ritual, I would pull a single card from my favorite deck, just to see what it had to say about the coming hours.

However, that morning's result haunted me as I followed my usual route to work. Usually, I could do my reading and continue on with my day, but the chosen card was distracting me more than I cared to admit.

There were only a handful of cards that were less than ideal to see in their pull, and even then, it all depended on how they were interpreted.

So, of course, I had to pull one of those cards.

The Three of Swords.

Heartbreak. Sorrow. Grief. Hurt.

I clutched my coat tighter around me as the shop came into view and frowned. There's no emotional heartache when you're single, and my mother passed away years ago. My time for grief was long gone.

It made no sense, and I didn't like it.

The rainbow-colored Chakra chimes on the door announced my entrance, and Nick beamed at me from behind the glass case of crystals and semi-precious stones.

"There are my favorite Irish eyes," he sang as I walked towards the display case that doubled as our checkout counter.

"Says the one who has better makeup skills than I do."

He motioned as though to fling his non-existent long hair dramatically over his shoulders, and I rolled my eyes in response.

"Girl, don't give me that look," he chastised. I grinned as I walked towards the back of the store where my table was waiting. "Oh, Bonnie," he called after me.

I turned on my heel and scowled. "You know I hate that nickname."

"Would you prefer Siobhan Sinéad Brady instead?" He batted his mascaraed eyelashes with feigned innocence.

"I knew I never should have told you my middle name."

"It's amazing what whiskey can reveal," he mused. "Anyway, your nine o'clock canceled, so you're good until 10:30."

"And you couldn't have told me this before I left this morning?"

He pouted. "I wanted your company."

"And, for that, you're buying me coffee," I said as I finished my trek through the store, the heels of my boots clicking over the hardwood floor. "Medium iced, cream, two Splenda."

"You know it's December..."

"And you know we live in Boston and we drink iced coffee regardless of the season."

I heard Nick mumble something incoherent before the door rang and shut behind him, and I hummed to myself as I got settled.

My corner of the shop was strategically cordoned off by a well-placed bookcase on one side and a three-paneled silk screen depicting cherry blossoms on the other. I placed my bag at my feet and flung my plaid wool peacoat over the back of my chair. The table that took up most of my space was covered in a black satin cloth, just the way I'd left it when I set it out the night before. The tools of my expertise awaited beneath the cloth, and I never brought my work deck home. Just like I rarely brought my decks from home to work. The only one that traveled with me was the one deck I always kept in my purse, generally reserved for personal requests.

Nick once asked me why I insisted on covering my work area every night when I knew it would only be he and I at the store after-hours. The insinuation that I didn't trust him made me laugh, but I let it simmer all the same. I had told him I want to be the first and the last one to touch my tools, and covering them was my way of protecting my craft.

I then told him I could leave them uncovered for a night if he would like to see how poorly my readings were the next day. He didn't ask again after that.

Lifting the cloth, at the center of the table was the rectangular wooden box that held my cards decorated with golden inlaid stars, the sun, and the moon. On one side rested my chunk of selenite, and on the other, my small silver incense burner. Content all was as it should be, I carefully lifted each item off the table to replace the black cloth beneath them, sitting down once it was smoothed and straight to prepare for the day's work.

Lighting a stick of frankincense, I let the smoke infiltrate my senses, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. I placed the selenite on top of the card box only after I removed the deck and put it aside. I had chosen the Tarot of the Moon Garden soon after I started working at Clear Portals. It was one of my personal favorites and was quite aesthetically pleasing. It was the only deck I used at the shop, and Nick had to start carrying it because clients wanted copies of their own.

Mindlessly, I began shuffling the deck between my hands, closing my eyes, and cracking my neck while I allowed the cards to tell me when to stop. I would have kept the shuffle going until I felt the bag at my feet vibrate and heard my phone buzz.

The distraction was enough for me to slip the bridge between my fingers, causing the cards to splay all over the tabletop. Luckily, only one fell to the floor. I blindly reached to pick it up as I sifted through my bag, cursing as I pulled out my phone.

It was only Nick.

"Did you forget my order already?" I groaned as I answered.

"Ha ha, very funny. No, I was going to say...."

But I stopped listening. Because as he talked about some item long out-of-stock that he needed to be shelved before he returned, I turned over the fallen card in my hand.

The Three of Swords.

Despite its palette of vibrant colors, of the dragonflies, or its swirling vines, the card still portrayed the same meaning as any other deck. But that the same card that plagued me since that morning's reading happened to be the only one to fall from my deck...

"Nick," I cut him off in the midst of his commands.

"Did you hear a word I said?"

"Come back to the store as soon as you can. I need your help."

"But the coffee-"

"Screw the coffee. Just hurry."

I hung up the phone and threw it back in my bag. The damn Tarot card remained in my hand, begging for a greater significance to be deciphered. I had none to give it as I stuffed it back into the deck with the others and quickly stood from the table.

I ran my hands through my dark brown hair, taming it slightly as I began to pace the length of the store while I waited for Nick.

There was no logical reason for a card to present itself twice in the same day.

A few minutes later, though it felt like an eternity, the door finally jingled open, and Nick walked in with his hands full.

"I thought I told you to forget the coffee!"

"Well, the way you sounded on the phone, I made the executive decision that we were going to need it."

I growled in frustration but was already heading back to my table. "Do what you need to do then come back here. And bring your deck."

"Which one?"

"Yours."

I cleared the table of my own cards, putting them back in their box, and waited for Nick, my fingernails rapping on the cloth-covered table while he seemed to take his precious time.

"Your leg is shaking the table," Nick observed as he finally arrived, my coffee in one hand and his satin-wrapped deck in the other.

My anxiety was starting to show, and even though I told him to ignore my request, I still took the coffee, taking a deep sip of the cold drink. It might not calm my nerves, but there was comfort in having the sweet caffeine course through my veins.

Nick took his seat in the chair across from me, removing his personal Tarot deck from its wrappings. Its black and red artwork was both beautiful and ominous- the perfect addition to my current mood. He said it was called the Tarot of Shadows, and before I began working at Clear Portals, I had never seen it before. Nick said he had once looked for it but couldn't find the publisher to carry it in the store.

He placed the deck before me, but I shook my head.

He cocked his head to the side in question. "You said you wanted a reading."

"I know. Just do it."

"Without you cutting the deck? Siobhan, what's going on?"

"Please- just three cards. And quick, before a customer walks in."

Sighing, he shrugged. "Alright," he conceded, taking the cards between his hands and giving them a quick shuffle between his palms before placing the deck between us. Pulling three cards off the top, he placed them on the table, lying them left to right, face down on the cloth.

"Ready?" he asked as he glanced up at me.

I silently nodded, my attention split between him and the cards.

Nick turned over the first one, revealing The Hierophant, sitting between his two pillars with the keys to Heaven resting at his feet.

"You're seeking spiritual guidance," he murmured, tapping the card. "Obviously, since you're asking me to give you a reading."

"Please," I pressed, my foot tapping as I stared at the two unknown cards. "I didn't ask for your personal commentary."

"Okay, okay," he muttered, moving to flip over the next card.

The Lovers. A man and a woman with the Tree of Life growing behind them in the Garden of Eden.

"You're at a crossroads and need guidance," he surmised. "Unless you want to ask me for dating advice-"

"Nick," I hissed.

"Fine," he scoffed as he flipped over the final card.

My heart flipped with it.

For on the table representing the Future card- the card that was supposed to tell me my solution, whose sphere of influence foretells the outcome to my current situation...

The Three of Swords.

"Shit," I whispered, standing so quickly from my chair it fell back against the wall.

"No, it's not that bad," he assured me, placing the cursed card next to the first two. "Other than the potential for accidental death-"

"Enough."

"Look at it this way- whichever path you choose at your crossroads, it could lead to deep emotional sorrow. Yes, granted, it's one of the worst cards to see, but-

"Nick, will you just shut up for one minute?"

I slammed my palm on the table, rattling the ice in my coffee, the sound silencing him.

"I have received that card three times this morning."

"That's near impossible, Siobhan."

"Regardless, three times."

Brows furrowed, he picked up the card and looked it over. "Three times, three swords..."

"What does it mean, Nick?" I felt the panic rising from my chest into my throat, threatening to suffocate me with every anxious breath.

He flicked his gaze back to me.

"It means you better find who's supposed to break your heart and figure out how to break theirs first."