Mage the Awakening - Keys to the Supernal Tarot.pdf
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KEYS TO THE
SUPERNAL
TAROT
™
By Matthew McFarland
CONTENTS
1
PROLOGUE:
THE FOOL
“I can read your future in these cards, y’know.”
I can read my own future in these cards. I’m fucked. I’ve
got a pair of deuces and jack-shit else, and I know the dude
across from me has at least a lush.
“Oh, yeah?” I’m making conversation while I look for
the exits.
“Sure.”
“These are just playing cards, Wilke,” says the Black guy.
He says it like he’s making an excuse for me. I didn’t catch
his name before. Started with a J, I think.
“They’re cards,” says Wilke. “That’s all I need.” He nods
to our erstwhile waitress. “Tina, how about another?”
Tina was sitting at the next table reading a dog-eared
paperback. She nods, stands up and stretches, and walks
across the empty room to the bar. We’re the only ones in
here. The jukebox is long silent, the TV’s off because the
game is over, and the smell of cigarettes is fading from the
air. The cars outside are few and far between, and they
just make little warning whispers on the wet roads when
they do cruise by.
I’m at least four miles from anyplace safe. My car’s in
the lot, but I think I’m blocked in. Taxis don’t come down
here unless called, and the nearest bus stop is four blocks
up. I’m so very fucked.
Wilke raises me ive. I’m already on credit, here, but I
have to see him and stay in. I decide to raise him, hoping
to God that he’ll take pity on me. If he folds, I’m back
where I started when this game began, and I could walk
out of here relatively safely.
Wilke does me the credit of looking at his cards again.
“Jerry, you in?”
Jerry — that’s his name — tosses his cards on the table.
“Nah. This is getting too tense for me.” He walks to the
bar and reills his soda from the fountain. Jerry mentioned
earlier that he’s been sober for 19 years. Tina brings Wilke
his beer and glares at Jerry for messing with her bar, but
Jerry doesn’t notice.
“You really want to raise me, Steve?”
Steve isn’t my real name. My real name is Abraham,
but I hate that name and I don’t use it even in normal
company. This is decidedly not normal. I got invited to
this game because I needed a way out of the deep shit I’m
in, and a buddy of mine told me that this game could get
me out… or deeper in. And so here I am.
“Yeah.” I try to sound convincing.
“Okay. Call.” He tosses a few more toothpicks into the
center of the table. We don’t have any poker chips to
represent our currency.
“Shit.” I toss in my cards. He drops his. I was right. He’s
got ive hearts, and I’ve got a handful of crap.
Jerry looks over my shoulder. “Hell, I should’ve stayed
in.” The other two guys chuckle. I feel like bolting.
Wilke sees my face. “Oh, will you relax, Steve? Jesus, it’s
not like we’re going to make you pay
now
.”
“That’s not comforting, really.” My voice cracks. I’m
scared.
Wilke starts shufling the cards. I hope he doesn’t think
I’m going to play again. “I said before that I could see your
future in the cards. You want to see what I mean?”
“I guess.” I’m going to need to call my girlfriend and tell
her… something. The truth is no good. Tell her I’m going
back to my ex? That’d hurt her less.
Wilke stops shufling and points at me. “What are you
thinking? Right now?”
I start. “Um. I was thinking about my girlfriend—“
He pulls a card out of the deck and snaps it around so I
can see it. Jack of hearts. “Perfect. That’s you.”
Something dawns on me. “Don’t you need a Tarot deck
for this?”
“‘Tair-oh,’” he says, wincing. “Not ‘tarr-ot.’”
“Okay.” I glance at Jerry, who sips his soda and smiles.
“But don’t you?”
“Cards is cards,” says Jerry. He sits down next to me.
“Look here. Playing cards comes from Tarot cards. Got
your hearts, your clubs, your spades and your diamonds.
Well, that’s just like cups, staves, swords and coins. Got
your kings and queens and jacks—“
“No pages, though,” mutters Tina, from behind us.
“Right, right, none of them. And none of the big impor-
tant guys, either, but it don’t matter. Cards is cards.”
What the hell is going on?
Tina walks over and sits with us. I notice that the book
she’s reading is in German. She turns her chair backwards
2
and leans on it, legs open, jeans hugging her thighs. She’s
wearing black Converse, I notice, and her shoelaces have
weird letters drawn on them.
Wilke sets the jack of hearts on the table. “That’s you,”
he says. He puts a card across it. It’s the two of diamonds.
“That’s what’s wrong with you. You’re trying to keep
balance here,” he nods to the toothpicks, “but you keep
fucking it up.”
“That’s not exactly hard to igure out,” I say. I’ve had
my cards read before. Swords kept coming up, I remember
that much.
“Right.” He pulls another card and places it in front of
me, underneath the “me” card. Eight of hearts. “You walked
away from a happy relationship. Probably a marriage, I’m
guessing, because you talk like a married man.”
“Yeah, he does,” says Tina. I shoot her a look. How does
a married man talk, anyway?
Wilke puts another card — eight of spades — next to
my card. “Someone snowed you good. Probably the silly
asshole told you to come here. Let me guess — said you
could make your debt go away if you came and played
cards here?”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah. You
could
I guess, in the same way that I
could
theoretically pick up a gun, toss these cards up in the air,
ire once and put a hole through the ace of spades.” Jerry
clears his throat and Wilke gives him a weird look. What
am I missing? “Okay, bad example. But you see my point.
Only way you were winning tonight was by sheer chance,
and sheer chance isn’t anything to gamble on.” He swigs
his beer. “Moving on to the future.” He places a card on
the other side of mine. Seven of clubs. “You’ve got a ight
coming. Soon. Maybe tonight. And…” He puts down the
queen of spades above my card. “You’d have help. Huh.”
He glances at Tina, who shrugs.
“Anyway, there’s that. That’s your past and immediate
future. We all know what’s happening here — you gambled
away something that’s very dear to you, tried to win it back
here on bad advice, and wound up in over your head even
more. Let’s move on.”
Jerry puts a hand on Wilke’s shoulder. “What are you
doing this for, man? We can’t help him.”
I think about running, but Tina’s eyes stop me. Some-
thing tells me she could outrun me, or that she wouldn’t
have to.
“I know,” Wilke’s saying, “but he
deserves to know a little.” He pulls
four cards and sets them on the
table in a column. Nine of spades,
ace of spades, seven of hearts, and
ive of spades. Lots of spades.
“Lots of swords,” Wilke com-
ments, and I get what Jerry was
saying earlier. Spades are swords. I
still don’t know what he
meant by “big impor-
tant guys,” though.
“Okay, let’s see,”
Wilke contin-
ues. “You’ve
got the nine
of spades
showing
fear.” He
pauses.
“Weird.”
CONTENTS
3
“What?” I know what I’m afraid of, but I don’t think
there’s a card for it. Turns out I’m wrong.
“Well, the nine of spades — swords — is about the long
dark night of the soul. It’s about what happens when you
lose something precious. I’d have thought the
ten
was more
your thing. You know, being stabbed and left for dead. This
is more like you’re afraid of—“
“Someone’s going to miss him,” says Tina.
“Yeah.” Wilke inishes the bottle and sets it on the loor.
I’ve noticed he hates empties next to him. It’s actually one of
his tells — he inishes his beer quickly when he’s got a good
hand — but that didn’t do me much good. “Okay, ace of spades.
Bet that goes back to the queen. Someone’s going to help you
ight, and it’s someone you don’t know well. But that—“
“Shut up,” says Jerry. They both look at Tina, and I feel, for
about the thousandth time tonight, that I’m dreaming.
“Right, whatever. Seven of cups.”
“Hearts.”
“Hush up. You want a choice. You don’t mind so much
if you’re screwed, you’d just rather it’d be at your hand.”
Wilke looks at me dead in the eye. “I respect that.”
“Thanks, but that’s not going to get my toothpicks
back.”
“S’pose not.” He shifts in his seat. “And then we’ve got
the ive of swords.”
“Spades.”
“Goddamn it, Jerry.” He rolls his eyes. “It’s a card about
defeat and betrayal.”
“I’m already both,” I mutter. “I… should maybe
just…”
“There’s nothing for you to do,” says Jerry. “You gave
up what you gave up. I said before that you didn’t have
to pay up now, but if you want to, you can.” He nods to
the toothpicks.
“What do I do?”
Wilke stands up. “Well, we’ll keep this as painless as
possible. How about we get you a drink? Something a little
stronger? You have to be awake for this, but nothing says
you can’t be drunk. Tina? Do the honors?”
“No,” says Tina. She’s still sitting.
Wilke leans down to her. “Look, hon, I don’t think—“
“Don’t call me that,” she says, never taking her eyes off
me. “I want to play him.”
Jerry mutters something and slaps a hand to his forehead.
Wilke laughs nervously. “Uh, Tina, he hasn’t got anything
left to play
with
. He lost everything in the other deal, and he
lost everything
else
to me. And I’m not spotting him.”
“I will,” says Tina. “I’ll spot him for what he walked in
here with. After that he’s on his own.”
Jerry, who’s been walking toward the bar mumbling,
whips around. “Now, hold on. You can’t spot him and
then lose to him. You know that’s against the rules. You
try that, and then—“
“I know. I have to play the game fairly.” She narrows her
eyes at Wilke. “That’s more than you did.”
“I didn’t cheat.”
“You didn’t play fair, either. You played him. He deserves
a fair shot. Something where he could win on more than
sheer chance.” Tina sits across from me. “Deal the cards,
Wilke. Jerry, you in?”
Jerry shakes his head, but he doesn’t take his eyes off Wilke.
I get the feeling like something here is really off. Wilke deals
ive cards to me and ive to Tina, but doesn’t deal himself in.
Tina takes 10 toothpicks off the table, gives ive to me, and
puts ive in front of her like they’re made of gold.
“You know that this could end badly for you, right, Tina?”
Wilke’s voice is low, almost a growl.
“I know how it could end,” she says.
I look down at my hand. I’ve got the ive, six, seven
and eight of spades…and the jack of hearts. Fuck. I’ve got
almost no chance, but I have to try for it.
Tina doesn’t take any cards. I take one.
It’s a joker.
Now, I’ve got a decent poker face, but I’m sure Tina sees
what just happened. There’s no possible way I avoided a
tell, there. But I’m shitting myself, over here — this is a
straight lush, and I didn’t even know there was a joker
in
this deck.
I need 10 toothpicks to walk out of here clean. I need
three to break even. We open with one. I raise her, irst two,
then two more. She stays in. We lay our cards down.
She’s got a pair of aces and a pair of threes. I win.
She slides the toothpicks over to me. I pick them up
and cradle them. I know that’s ludicrous — it’s what they
represent that’s valuable — but I can’t help it.
Wilke glares at Tina. “Of course, you’re in the hole
now.”
“I know,” she mutters.
I could walk out right now. But then…what was that card
I’m supposed to be hoping for? The seven of hearts — it’s
about choice? I reach for the other cards and shufle. “You
in this hand, Wilke?”
“You out of your goddamn
mind
, boy?” Jerry says. “Just
get up, take what’s yours and—”
“Yeah, I’m in,” says Wilke. “Deal.”
“You in, Jerry?”
“Hell, no,” he says. He looks at the bar longingly, and
then sits down and grips his soda glass iercely. Tina doesn’t
say a word.
I deal the cards, and slide ive toothpicks over to Tina.
I’m now even. If I lose even one of these things, I’m back
in the hole. Actually, I’m already in the hole, because I
was when I walked in here. I glance at the clock. They’re
looking for me, I’m sure of it, and if I don’t ind them and
cover my debt, they’ll be looking for me even harder. They’ll
go to my ex-wife, my kid, my girlfriend, my mother… they
4
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