How Deep The Roots Go ( Book One)

Chapter 20

Temperance knew the voice. The accent was all too familiar, and one that she was growing accustomed to in the recess of her mind and thoughts. A wave of embarrassment set into her, brandishing its teeth into her entire form. She put on a meek smile and turned, lifting her chin.

"I should probably take that back. Again, I just am unsure about this whole tarot card thing." She tucked her hair behind her ear, wishing Violet would chime in at any time. When she stole a quick look at her, she knew that she was solo on this one.

"To be honest, the past forty − eight hours have changed my heart." When the look of Hazel's eyes softened, relief flooded Temperance. "But not entirely," she added.

The light of the room seemed to be coming back, and although it was strange, Temperance didn't have it in her to even inquire as to how. "I just find the reading and my recent vision —"

"Wait, you had a vision?" Violet asked, shocked, her eyes still transfixed onto Hazel.

"I'll explain what I understand, myself." Hazel's eyes went dark with Temperance's response. As she began to speak, Violet breathed out heavily, an indication that she just couldn't get a read.

"Your vision?" Hazel inquired, a clear prompt for Temperance to continue. She stiffened her spine rigidly, and a quizzical look was now intently resting upon her face.

"Who came to you?" Her hands began to take prayer form. "Was it an angel?" Her head turned toward Temperance, her eyes displaying question.

"It was an angel of a different realm," Temperance offered, lifting her shoulder.

"Did she have wings of red?" Hazel began to pace, her head down then.

"Yes," Temperance said wearily. "Her name was Temperance... Just like the card you read."

Hazel nodded, and the wave of light began to consume the open room then. Walter had reentered, almost in a trance like state. He seemed to be oblivious of what was transpiring in the middle of his store. Temperance looked out the glass window and saw people just going about their way, not even the smallest bit of curiosity rising in them to come in as they usually would have.

"Is this like a guardian angel type thing?" Temperance asked, her eyes looking at Walter, whom was putting his glasses on and picking up the daily paper, humming to himself.

"No," Hazel answered, looking gravely at Temperance. "I am not your guardian angel, and though they exist, I am of a different choir. I am a Power." She breathed out very heavily, and then looked up to the ceiling in ponder. "But I can only convey so much to you, Temperance. It is up to you to fit the pieces together."

"You've said that before," Temperance said lightly, "sort of."

"When did your visions begin to be obscured?" Hazel asked, her eyebrow lifting, as if she already knew the answer, but wanted a confirmation.

"On Epiphany. The first day of Mardi Gras." Temperance offered, a light in her head beginning to burn like a flame.

Hazel nodded. "Do you not find that rather coincidental?"

"Do I —" she paused, her brow furrowed sharply. Well actually yes, she did. She bit the inside of her cheek, attempting to grasp the facts. "Yes," Temperance shook her head. "Indeed I do."