Cards on the Table

by Lana Harper, Jilly Gagnon

Genres: General Fiction; Family Life; Siblings; Mystery; Female Sleuths; Romance; Paranormal Romance

Synopsis

Two witchy sisters find themselves framed for the disappearance of millions of dollars in this atmospheric locked room mystery—from the New York Times bestselling author of Payback’s a Witch and the critically acclaimed author of All Dressed Up.

“Blends suspense, family drama, magic, and romance into a twisty ride that’s impossible to put down . . . Don’t miss this witchy mystery full of heart!”—Gloria Chao, USA Today bestselling author of The Ex-Girlfriend Murder Club

As descendants of a Salem witch, sisters Tori and Cassie Bishop have the occult credentials—but their trickle of tarot readings isn’t paying the bills. On the brink of eviction, they accept a too-good-to-be-true offer: play “witches in residence” for a dying, wealthy widow in her secluded Berkshires mansion for the Fall season.

But from the minute they arrive at the gothic estate, it’s clear: they’ve been dropped into a far riskier game than their smoke and mirrors can save them from. Rose, the widow, is desperate. Her family is conniving. The staff is ominous. And some guests in the house are drawn to the sisters in ways that lean more . . . personal. But just as the sisters are starting to settle into the mysterious home and their role in it, Rose dies after a séance—and her millions vanish overnight.

Trapped in a viper’s nest of competing motives and twisted secrets, Tori and Cassie must untangle a web of greed and deception using every trick they have—magical or not—to clear their names. Because someone else in Berwyn House is running their own con . . . and they’ve set up the sisters to take the fall.

Release date: September 1, 2026

Publisher: Bantam

Print pages: 384

Sample

1

Cassie

“Is there any particular question you’d like to ask the cards?”

The girl sitting across from my sister tilted her gaze to the darkening sky, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. With the sun down, the crisp fall day had turned chilly, shadows cast by the skeletal trees that towered over the Pioneer Village’s ramshackle wooden huts creeping ever outward. I wasn’t sure how the poor thing wasn’t frozen solid in her distressed black top and miniskirt. Maybe the cold was distracting her from focusing enough to dredge up the right query; sometimes the most pressing things people needed to know could be elusive, hovering right at the edge of their conscious mind.

Or maybe she could feel Tori’s rising impatience and needed a little encouragement.

“A lot of people want to know about their careers,” I offered, moving to stand at Tori’s shoulder. “Or about an important relationship?”

“Oh, yes! ” The girl’s eyes went wide, threatening to dislodge the tiny spiderweb stickers accenting her glittery smoky-eye makeup. As overwhelming as they could be, there was something endearing about the hordes of pointy-hatted tourists that overran Salem every fall, as if our town was Goth Disneyland instead of a place of genuine power, with an undercurrent of tragic history. What I loved most about Salem was that it could be all of that, at once. “There’s this guy at work that I have a . . . thing with, but I can’t tell if he really feels—”

Tori lifted a forestalling hand. “Just hold the question in your head, the cards will hear you.” She shuffled the deck a few times, then held it out to the girl. “Lay your hand on top, and really focus on what you’d like to know.”

Behind her, I stifled a little shudder of disapproval. I never allowed anyone to touch my deck—a reader’s relationship with their cards was intimate, dependent on keeping the deck imbued with only their energy—but Tori had always dismissed the prohibition as irrational, even within the often fluid parameters of our craft. According to her, if a $9.99 deck from Walmart was so attuned to you alone, why even bother trying to read for someone else? I’d given up arguing with her about it. Part of a successful practice was tweaking it until it felt right to you, anyway.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the flash of the girl’s friends snapping a photo as she nodded solemnly, eyes closed, and rested her hand on Tori’s worn deck. I’d wanted us to drape dark satins over the makeshift teepee structure, twisted branches woven together with rough twine, that we’d agreed on with the Faire of Darkness’s organizers as our “booth.” Readings were personal, and besides, satin walls lit only by a crackling antique lantern would have been perfect; the autumn breeze drifting in like ghostly breath, carrying with it curls of incense and the rich musk of decaying leaves. But Tori was convinced that providing enough visibility for a mid-reading photo op was almost as important as the vibes, and clearly she’d had a point.

At least that concession had swayed Tori into letting me thread some of my favorite hair chains through her long, dark waves. Paired with the dramatic feline flicks of her eyeliner, and the gauzy Stevie Nicks skirts she’d layered over practical thermal leggings, my sister looked every inch the scrying witch she was.

Tori shuffled the deck one last time, angling the cards to highlight the poured-resin tray, its smooth surface glimmering in the bloody cast of the red-filmed uplights hidden at the bases of the Pioneer Village structures.

“The first card represents your role in the relationship,” Tori said, then flipped one onto the tray, the Fool. She tapped a glossy black fingernail against the traditional image of the major arcana card, the stark white outlines against the dark background turning the jester’s costume more ominous than the card’s intended meaning. “The fool represents potential. Possibility.”

“Okay, that sounds promising,” the girl said, leaning forward.

“It could be.” Tori flashed one of her curated enigmatic smiles, the impatience beneath it barely concealed, and flipped the next card. The five of cups. “But the other person in this relationship is guarded. They have emotional walls up.”

“Oh my god, that is so creepy! That’s like, exactly him. Do you—”

But Tori was already reaching for another card, and I barely managed to keep from admonishing her to slow down, to give the reading the time and respect it deserved. “The last card represents the state of the relationship,” Tori said, flipping it over. “The moon. Hmmm.”

“Is that good? Is it bad?”

“It’s unclear. The moon represents the unknown. The cards are telling you that given your current position, and theirs”—Tori tapped the first and second cards in turn, as if this conjunction was the only one that mattered—“this may not be the time to pursue this relationship.”

“Oh.” Her shoulders sank, a wilting black rose.“Okay.”

“That doesn’t mean there’s no hope. If you embrace the unknown represented by the moon, the force of your intentions could help you realize the result you desire. In fact, have you ever had a personalized spell jar made for you?”

Her face brightened. “No, but I’d love one! You can really do that?”

“Of course. We have all the ingredients to summon emotional healing and openness. If you give the spell jar to this person as a gift, it might erode the barrier they’ve placed between you.”

The woman nodded eagerly, and I noted the much more genuine slant of my sister’s smile as she rose and moved to the velvet-draped table we’d tucked against the edge of the nearest rustic cabin, briskly scooping the ingredients, barely even pausing to explain them before she handed the jar over.

“I think your best bet is to offer it to him directly. Intentions matter, after all,” Tori said, all gravitas. I allowed myself the tiniest eyeroll. “Okay, with the amethyst chip, that comes to eighteen dollars.”

“Wow, thank you so much,” the girl gushed, handing over a twenty. “You can keep the change. And do you have a Venmo? For tips?”

“Have a blessed evening,” I murmured once the girl and her gleeful friends drifted away together, leaving our booth abandoned again. My heart sank; I’d been hoping at least one of the others would take a turn with the cards. We’d had tons of visitors stop by to snap pictures, but it was getting late, and this was only our fourth reading of the night. It was disheartening, and I understood why Tori’s readings might have turned lackluster over the course of the evening. But maybe if she’d bothered to give this woman a fraction more of her gift and attention, one of the others would have been enticed to follow in her footsteps.

I turned to my sister, unable to keep the annoyance from my tone. “Maybe I should take over the readings.”

“I don’t mind doing them. We can trade off later.”

“But you’re not even trying, Tor,” I ground out between gritted teeth.

“That is exactly what those cards meant,” she shot back, voice low.

“It’s the most basic version of what they meant, sure. But if she’s bringing in such positive energy, and he’s got walls up because he’s dealing with some sort of personal grief—which we both know is usually the subtext with the five of cups— then the moon card could mean they’re venturing into the unknown together. You could have told her that.”

“Or I could have done the smart thing and sold her a spell. Since, you know, that’s why we’re here.”

“We’re here to help people!” I could feel myself practically vibrating with frustration, jittery all the way down to the quantum level where everything connected.