Episode 2: The Caller

This episode of All in the Cards Podcast was written by Ashley McAnelly and Morgan Valko.

Music for this episode was composed by TheArsonist and produced by Scott Thomas.

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It’s All in the Cards Podcast may not be suitable for all listeners, discretion is advised.

Cast: Featuring the voice talents of Ashley McAnelly as Jade, Scott Thomas as the Caller, Elie Hirschman as Joe, Elias Yates as Todd, James Solis as Chris, Shawn Yates as Eric, and Nicole Aronis as the summoner.

• Narrator- Ashley McAnelly
• Caller- Scott Thomas
• Joe- Elie Hirschman
• Todd- Elias Yates
• Chris- James Solis
• Eric- Shawn Yates
• Summoner — Nichole Aronis

[SFX: three sets of footsteps jogging on the sidewalk a few seconds before stopping]
[SFX: all dialogue is muffled because they’re outside and MC is inside listening]
Chris: “Is that it?”
Joe: “Yeah, that’s the place. God, it even looks creepy.”
Chris: “It’s a witch’s bookstore, what did you expect?”
Todd: “Are we really doing this, guys?”
Joe: “Don’t chicken out on me now, Todd.”
Chris: “Got the molotovs?”

[SFX: puts backpack on the sidewalk and starts digging, bottles clinking as he pulls out the molotov
cocktails]
Chris: “Here. Now remember, Chris is going to throw the bricks through the window first, then we start pummeling the place with the molotovs. I’ll take the left side, Todd you take the right side.”
Todd: “I don’t know if I can do this.”
Joe: “Quit being a baby, Todd! We don’t have a lot of time. Let’s go.”
[SFX: the footprints continue down the sidewalk until they get to the side of the building. They stop one more time before starting their attack]
Chris: “Light us up, Todd.”
[SFX: lighter striking to life, burning the ends of the washcloths stuffed into the molotov bottles.]
Joe: “Okay, Chris, you lead. We’ll follow.”
Chris: “Count of three. One, two…”
[SFX: sharp breaths and feet shuffling on the sidewalk to the front of the building]
Chris: “Oh, shit! She’s right there!”

Jade: Yes, I am right here, standing in front of the large window by the door, sipping my early morning tea. I tried coffee before but I don’t enjoy it and it barely gave me any energy. The protein teas from the nutrition bar right around the corner do me wonders. But sometimes I make the mistake of drinking the protein tea right before bed and then I’m up all night until time to open the shop. Last night I drank one because the cops paid me a visit following up about how I knew where Brooke Staton’s body was. I gave them what video evidence I had of Damien, both him entering and leaving my shop. Yes, I said leaving. What’s the use of magic if I can’t cover my own tracks? I stare at the three boys while I take another sip.

Joe: “What are you waiting for? Throw the brick!”
Chris: “She’s standing right there!”
Joe: “So? Throw it!”

Jade: The boy with the brick can’t bring himself to do it with me watching him, tea in hand. The boy that’s so determined to burn my shop down takes the brick from him and throws it as hard as he can into the window aiming my way.

[SFX: brick bouncing off glass]
Jade: All the boys gasp when the glass doesn’t break. Have they really not heard of plexiglass? Well, even if they had, the plexiglass isn’t the only thing unbreakable protecting the shop.
The determined boy doesn’t give up. He decides to throw the molotov.

[SFX: sound of the bottle breaking, a whoosh of flames sparking to life only to die seconds later]
Joe: “What the hell?”
Jade: Let’s see how long it takes for them to figure out the only thing they are burning is daylight, which is fast approaching.
Joe: “Gimme that!”
Jade: The determined boy yanks the molotov out of his friend’s hands and throws it at the door this time.

[SFX: sound of the bottle breaking, a whoosh of flames sparking to life only to die seconds later]
But again, it dies soon after the flames spark.
I sit on the bench seat right against the window, reaching for my copy of The Way of the Four I left on the seat last night.
“Are you quite done yet, boys? I’m trying to enjoy my tea and read a book.”
Joe: “Witch! Killing innocent people! You don’t belong here!”
Jade: “That’s big talk for a boy who sneaks into his step sister’s room to smell her underwear.”
Chris: [laughing] “Oh my god, what? You do that Joe?”
Jade: Joe’s face turns a red everyone can see in the orange pink light of the coming morning.
Joe:“No I don’t! She’s lying!”
Jade: I take another sip of my tea as I point up to the door.
“Smile big for the camera, boys. It can see you perfectly.”
Todd: “I told you this was a bad idea!”
Joe: “Shut up, Todd! Let’s go!”
Jade: As they run away I get up and unlock my front door.
“And if you ever try this again Joe I’ll tell your step sister and step mom what you think of her undies!”

[Intro Roll In: Episode 2 The Caller]

Jade: There is happiness in structure. Some people think they need spontaneity to be happy, and though it can be a nice surprise, in my experience it’s more bad than good. No, my daily routine suits me just fine. But that may be because it’s packed with more excitement than your average American. After I run off those horrible kids and finish my tea, I start my routine.
[Jade exhaling contently]

[SFX: unlocking the front door, bell jingles]
I walk up the grassy hill towards Garrison Avenue and head down the street to my yoga class. It’s usually a small class first thing in the morning, which I enjoy. I usually close my eyes and practice some light meditation, or focus on the way my body feels in the different positions. But when my eyes are open, they’re on the beautiful instructor. She’s always had a crush on me but has never been sure that I’m into her. When she’s not looking I enjoy the way she moves. Her voice is as smooth as butter. Sometimes I purposefully mess up the pose so she can come
running to help direct me. I know she feels the electricity between us when her hands are on my body, but she’s so afraid it’s only one way. And I can never bring myself to tell her otherwise. My luck I’d fuck up before we even got going well and then I’d have to find another yoga class, which there isn’t one within walking distance and I hate driving if I don’t have to. So it’s better to leave things the way they are.

Besides, the tension is thick enough to make a meal.

After yoga I return home. Yes, home is a quaint little loft above my bookstore. I glance up at the swinging sign as I approach. Witch Way Between the Lines always seemed too heavy in the mouth for me. I told Mom to shorten it to Between the Lines, or maybe Witch Way Out, but she refused. And I can’t bring myself to change it. Though the sign could use a new coat of paint. That’s an easy fix compared to the flaky wiring and old plumbing.

But I’d never have it any other way.

After showering, I make my way back downstairs through the exterior door. Mom walled up the stairway at the back of the store that led to the apartment years ago. Something about a break in. I don’t remember it, but I never asked questions, though as a teen I whined a lot when the stairs outside were slippery in the winter.

A couple of regulars are waiting for me at the front door. They come for the coffee but little do they know it’s the coffee that has them buying something else each day they come. For my more expensive brews I don’t add this little…persuasion…in the mix. But a plain old black coffee I give away for free? You betcha. Indie bookstores are hard to keep afloat these days. Especially bookstores like mine. But I make do.

Cassie and Eric come in wearing their matching jogging clothes. Why couples ever decided to dress this way, I’ll never know.
“Good morning, y’all. The regular?”

Eric: “Yes, please, Jade. Extra strong today I hope.”
Jade: Eric gets the free coffee and Cassie gets a mocha latte. Eric always buys Cassie something she doesn’t need, but she thanks him just the same.
Eric: “Terrible about what happened. I can’t believe something so evil could happen here.”
Jade: I’m not sure he’s talking about the killings near here but there’s enough evil in this mile radius to turn Cassie’s hair and headband white. When I don’t respond, Eric decides to inform me.

Eric: “Did you hear the news? A couple was brutally murdered only 10 blocks from here. The cops are saying it was a ritualistic murder. There were signs of black magic or Satanism. [teasing] Wasn’t you there, was it Jade?”
Jade: Oh, if they knew.
[playfully] “I’ll never tell. Here’s your coffee.”
Eric fetches the coffee but lingers by my counter.
Eric: “You could figure out who it was, though, couldn’t you? It’s all in your cards, right?”
Jade: “Only if people ask the right questions. But most of the time they get more of an answer than they bargained for.”

Eric mistakes my foreboding as flirting. Yuck.
Eric: “Maybe Cass and I will finally get a reading one of these days.”
Jade: I turn my gaze to Cass, who is equally invested in this conversation. I’ve always wondered if the coffee is working too well on them. From the flirty wink Cass gives me, it is working a little stronger on them than I anticipated, probably because they drink it on the daily.

“Well, I’ll be here whenever you decide on what question you want answered.”
No. The answer is no.
Well, maybe.

They sit and enjoy their coffee as I turn the TV on above them, hoping it distracts them from me. More morning regulars file in, keeping me busy making coffee and selling some small trinkets, jewelry or snacks I keep tucked on displays in the window. If no one wants a book, they usually work up an appetite or thirst while perusing.

After my small morning crowd leaves it’s not until lunch time that I get another small rush. I have a book group that I allow to use space in the reading section to discuss their book. Depending on what it is, sometimes I’ll join them and for spite’s sake take a hard stance against the popular view of the book. This week it’s a Colleen Hoover book. I’m not even going to touch that.

After they leave I do inventory. I blink and the sun’s already setting over the Garrison bridge. The darker it gets, the busier it gets downtown. I’m technically part of that hustle and bustle but it’s easy to be overlooked when you’re the last building down on the riverwalk. Before me are the bars, the restaurants, the tattoo parlors, a few shopping outlets, and the Hanging Judge museum. Further down on the riverwalk is a beautiful little amphitheater and small ferris wheel. Smack dab in the middle of a bustling town, I’ve never felt so alone. But I like it that way.

I flip the sign on the door to “Closed — we know you’ll come back soon!” And heave a sigh. I lay my forehead against the door for a second, the night air creeping in through the glass and cooling my skin. My breath fogs up the glass as I let out a deep breath, wondering if tonight would be one of those nights I walk the strip and enjoy the tertiary delights of downtown life. But I decide against it and prepare myself for my short walk home.

[SFX: phone rings in the distance, an old 90’s sound]
I freeze, the sound so unfamiliar it catches me off guard. The store phone is a dulcet buzzing, kept low so I could hear it behind the counter but not disturb any readings that may be happening. This one was loud, the ringing old-fashioned and counterfeit, more the mocking of a bell than an actual bell. I can’t remember the last time I heard that loud trilling of a phone inside the store. The Psychic Line, as Mom called it, back in the nineties when that was an actual way for people even half talented to make a living.

It takes me several rings to make my way back to the counter, even more to find the phone, hidden beneath used notebooks and business cards for companies I’m not even sure existed anymore.
“Hello, what can I see for you today?”

The words roll off my tongue automatically, and memories of my mother and I wash over me. The hotline had been my idea when I saw it used by another psychic on the TV. Mom was kind enough to humor me. We used to practice answering the phone in the car as we drove to school, to doctor’s appointments, anywhere where it was just the two of us. I thought this phone line would be the answer to all of our dreams, and here it was gathering dust. The other end is silent, not in the dead way that phones can be, but in the way of someone listening who doesn’t know yet whether they will speak. I hate repeating myself.

“Hello, what can I see for you?”
The silence is electric — alive in a way that silence shouldn’t be, telling me that someone was waiting to hear the perfect words, if only I will say them.
“If you don’t speak in the next ten seconds I’m hanging up, and you’ll still owe for that minute.”
The silence changes, almost like it’s laughing at me and my audacity. It doesn’t know who it’s fucking with.

Caller: “Tell me how I’m going to die.”
Jade: I cradle the phone between my neck and shoulder and turn to face the shelves of tarot cards behind me, scanning for one that would suit this caller.
“That’s a little vague isn’t it? Most people would rather be surprised. Why do you think you deserve to know?”

The silence is heavier this time, almost like it’s breathing more than he is. Reaching up to the top shelf, my hand lands on a deck I rarely use, one I picked up from an estate sale several years ago and hadn’t touched since. It was supposedly bad luck to buy a deck for yourself, but I rarely subscribed to superstition. I’ve seen too much of the world to believe that bad luck was that simple.
Caller: “Tell me how I’m going to die.”

Jade: “This must be important to you, if you’re calling me. Isn’t there a psychic closer to you that you can bother after hours?”

I take the deck out of its box, letting the cards breathe before I begin shuffling. They’re still stiff and shiny, probably looked through once by their previous owner and then never used. The nearly fresh paint on the faces makes them slip and slide through my hands as I try to shuffle, the slapping of the cards against one another less rhythmic than it would have been with my usual deck. Thankfully, I’m not doing this reading in person.

Caller: “Tell me how I’m going to die.”
Jade: “I’m already shuffling, friend. Let’s see what the cards want to tell you.”
I tap the deck on the counter a few times, loud enough to be heard over the phone. Hopefully I can give him an answer and be home before the streetlight near the alley goes out. I lay down three cards, face down.

Taking a breath, I turn over the lefthand card. A woman comforting a downtrodden man looks up at me, their heads surrounded by pentacles.

“Your first card is The Five of Pentacles. This usually represents financial loss. Have you had trouble with money lately?”

Caller: [pause] “No, I’ve been on kind of a winning streak lately.”
Jade: I tap the card with one finger, considering.
“Hmmm. You may want to quit while you’re ahead.”

I turn over the center card, the image of a tall tower appearing, cataclysmic forces of fire, lightning, and high waves surrounding it and the figures falling from the top.
“Ah, The Tower. That always spices things up. There’s going to be an upheaval in your life. I would even go so far as to say destruction.”

Caller: “What kind? How?”
Jade: “Let’s check the last card.”

I turn the final card over, surprised at what shows on its face — a man in a crown, driving a cart of black and white horses. A picture is starting to form as I consider the meaning of this card.
“The Chariot. Usually this would be an indication of your perseverance or grit, but in your case, I think we may need to take it literally. Do you drive?”
Caller: “I have a car, yes.”

Jade: I see it now as if I’m there, the images clear in my mind.

[SFX: hard rain hammering against a windshield with squeaky wipers]
Rain pelts the windshield, the droplets illuminated by a neon sign depicting a roulette wheel. The lights alternate between red and purple as the ball spins around the turret, forever rolling without a stop. A bubbling kind of anger wells inside of me, and I know I’ve lost big. Bigger than before. Bigger than I can tell anyone.

The car takes off, skidding on the rain-slick pavement, but I can’t stop thinking about that last hand, that last game. I can’t care what’s going on now until it’s too late — the car takes a curve fast, too fast.

[SFX: tires squealing on a wet road]

I try the brakes, but they’re not working. My foot slams the pedal into the floor again and again, but the car still careens straight through the curve, splashing water off of the road as it crashes headlong into a cluster of thick oak trees older than the car itself. I take a deep breath, coming back to myself after the intensity of the vision. “I think you’re going to want to get your car checked out, and soon. Definitely before the next time you go gambling.”

I drop myself down on the stool behind the counter and wait for a response, but none comes.

Caller: “Good. One last question. ”
Jade: “I’ll have to charge you for a second reading. ”
Caller: “Can you tell me when you’re going to die?”

Jade: I let the question hang in the air. I won’t play that game. These psychos are getting sneakier with their threats. The heavy silence of the caller abruptly turns into a dial tone, and I know that whoever they are, they’re gone now.

Quietly, I place the phone back on its cradle, running my hand down the length of it to remove any lingering dust that remains. Any energy I had at the end of the day is gone, drained by that mystery caller.

Curious, I pick up the phone again, scrolling through the aged interface to find the list of recent calls. I expect to see an Unknown Name listed at the top, maybe above a number with an area code I didn’t recognize. What I find was a string of symbols I didn’t even know a phone this old could make, wingdings laid out in two rows, far longer than any name or phone number should be. I sigh, putting the phone beneath the counter. Whatever system he has to keep himself hidden, it’s going to work a little longer. I’ll just have to satisfy myself with the hope that he takes me at my word and gets his car checked out.

I hated never knowing, but sometimes that’s the best you could hope for. Stacking the deck, I put the cards back in their box and replace it on the top shelf. I’ll cleanse the energy of the decks later. I just want to get to my bed. I walk into the back room and collect my things, preparing for the short walk back home. I’m glad to not have a pet on nights like tonight, when my coming home would be delayed and noticed by someone who couldn’t truly understand why. I’m almost surprised to find the streets dry and quiet when I leave the store, so engrossed in the vision
of the caller that I had forgotten the rain isn’t coming tonight but some future night, in some unknown place, maybe not even in America.

I shake my head as I lock the front door from the street. A gentle breeze runs across the sidewalk and rustles the hem of my skirt. I tuck my keys into my bag and head around the side of the building to the staircase that leads to my apartment.

Two hooded figures occupy the stairs. Their long black cloaks frame their bodies, both wearing black shirts and pants beneath it. One sits on the bottom step as the other leans against the handrail. [sighing] “Friends, I’ve had a long day. Could you come back to scare and threaten me tomorrow?” The one sitting on the stairs stands and with their companion they move closer, but neither says a word. They’re close enough to the street that I can see their faces are covered with masks. “Tengu masks? One of you better damn well be of Japanese descent. That’s blasphemous
appropriation. Did your mothers let you come out like this? They probably drink pumpkin spice lattes year round, huh?”

The one on the stairs huffs and takes a step forward, but their companion lifts an arm in front of them to stop. They shake their head. Instead, they pull something out of their cloak as they take a step backward toward the railing. They swing their arm hard as they fling something beneath the shadows of the stairs.

[SFX: breaking glass, a swoosh of smoke, two seconds later, a guttural growling]
“What is it with people breaking glass around my shop today? You better clean it up.” It takes a second for me to register the growling. A gray smoke billows from beneath my stairs as both
of the masked figures move away from the steps to the edge of the alley. A pair of red glowing eyes peers out at me from between the steps almost halfway up to my apartment. Holy shit this thing is big. It has to be almost eight feet long and on all fours the thing meets me at eye level. The smoke parts as the thing steps out from the shadows. A loud thud startles me as it gets down on all fours. I don’t blink as the red eyes continue to stare at me, but I take stock of this thing. It’s the size of a bear but more feline in its stalking movement toward me. Its long shaggy hair glimmers in the dim light. It continues to growl, deep, slow. The sound vibrates against my bones. Two horns protrude just behind its ears, cutting jagged lines into the night.

Well I’ll be damned. It’s an Ozark Howler. “Impressive. Did you know that the Game and Fish actually mistook the Howler for the Ozark red wolf? I mean, I’m glad the howler had people looking and found the endangered creature, but for people to really think a sick red wolf was the Howler–” Its growling cuts me off as it stalks closer. I have to move quickly before it pounces. I open the small swiss army knife on my keychain and drag it quickly across my palm. Ignoring the sting, I milk the wound so my blood flows quicker. I kneel down in front of the howler, palm out to it.
“Know me, dear friend.”

It stops growling and inspects me. I make sure not to make eye contact with it yet but I watch as the witches behind it fidget. They see me staring so they know I’m on alert for their movements. If they were smart or trained enough, they’d try to do something before this beast decides I’m a friend. Either they’re idiots or too afraid of their own summon, or perhaps me, to do anything. The summoner stays where they are as their helper steps back toward the stairs, skirting the animal, trying to get a different angle on me. It splits my concentration. I can’t watch them both at the same time. But the helper moves for a reason, so I watch them and glance at the other when I can. The howler laps up the blood from my palm tenderly as if taking a treat from me. As it licks my skin tingles where its tongue touches me. For a moment my blood runs cold, worried that I’ve taken a risk and it would literally come back to bite me. But soon my skin prickles as it knits my wound shut. The howler recognizes me as a friend.

I wonder if I can get him to recognize his summoner as a foe. The witches seem to pick up on my intent and toss another vile toward the beast. A spike of fear runs through my spine as I think they’re summoning another creature, but this white smoke engulfs the howler. They’re calling it back to where it came. Are they so weak that they cannot summon more than one at a time? I can use that to my advantage.

The beast fights back against their smoke magic. It paws at the ground and whines. It doesn’t want to go. I open my magic and reach out to the beast, to feel what it feels. It’s frightened. It remembers pain and darkness and while darkness is a friend, the pain definitely isn’t. I don’t know where they send this creature, but I will not stand by and allow them to neglect or torture it anymore. I grab the emergency crystal on my keychain and prepare to make my move. “By blood I call to thee. By blood I make you mine. Friend of the night, come to me, help me break the
line.”

Three steps forward, that’s all you need. I wanted the thing in my sealing circle before, but I would have used the power for another purpose. But knowing this creature needs help, I refocus my magic to help it. I throw my keys in the face of the summoner. It distracts her long enough to loosen her smoke’s grip on the howler, for it to take the three steps forward it needs.
I thrust the crystal into the crack in the concrete. Its energy makes the crystal glow pink as it charges the circle hidden where the creature stands. Technically it’s a trapping circle, one of my many protections for myself from unwanted magical guests, but it won’t harm what’s inside. It will only cut the bonds outside of it.

The smoke immediately wafts away from the circle and dissipates into the night. The howler stops whining and looks at me. It looks relieved. But I don’t have time to enjoy its appreciation. A blade shines in the streetlight as the helper moves toward me. They don’t realize how fucked they are. I pull the crystal out, and wipe away one of the circle boundaries. The howler is free once more. I bank on the summoner not being ready to recapture the creature. The howler can’t attack its summoner, but it seems very aware it can take out the helper.
Summoner: “Look out!”

[SFX: howler growls, the helper screams in pain]
Jade: But the helper hears too late, and the howler is upon them. From their screams I guess that both of my attackers are female. Their fear and pain thickens the air and I breathe it in. As much as I’d like to let the howler have its revenge, the last thing I need is another death on my doorstep. I raise my newly healed palm to the howler and push my magic to it. “Enough.”

It stops its attack and comes to my side. The summoner shhs her friend as if they don’t want me to hear too much. She grabs another vile from her cloak and smashes it in front of them, a purple smoke engulfs them and they’re gone.

I run my hand through the howler’s soft fur. There is beauty in structure, but sometimes the gods of chaos decide to bless you with a happy surprise. [tired sigh] “Well, it looks like it’s just you and me. Are you hungry? Let’s find you something to eat and then we’ll get you back home.”

The End