Amends: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Series (A Diana Hawthorne Supernatural Mystery Book 2)

by Carissa Andrews

  “Thanks, Blake,” I say, reaching out and placing my hand on his arm when he sets his plate at the end of the bar, opting to stand next to me.

  “Don’t worry about it. It’s nice to make breakfast for someone who will actually eat it. Aiden doesn’t usually get up until midday, so there’s no point in trying with that kid,” he chuckles.

  “Good point,” I say, grabbing the syrup and dousing my pancakes in it.

  Kyros eyes me suspiciously, but I reach over and do the same to his. “Trust me, you’ll love it.”

  He narrows his gaze, evidently skeptical. However, the moment he puts the pancake bite in his mouth, his skepticism melts away and he goes to town, scarfing down everything in sight.

  Blake and I both laugh and return to our meals. After all the alcohol yesterday, my stomach screams for real food to balance my body back out.

  I’m halfway through my pancakes when my green corded phone blares to life on the wall beside me, and I practically jump out of my skin. I’m a hundred percent off my psychic game. No wonder I rarely drink during normal circumstances. This sucks.

  I wipe my mouth with a napkin and make my way to the phone. After the fourth ring, I pick up.

  “Hello?” I say, shooting a sideways glance to the men at the breakfast bar.

  “You’re home?” Renaldo scoffs. “I thought I was going to leave another message on your insanely archaic machine.”

  “What do you need, Ren? I’m having breakfast.”

  “And why am I just now hearing of this?” he says, ignoring my comment. “I should have been the first one to know. I mean, my god, do you know what a royal pain in the backside Mrs. Kaminski—”

  “Don’t get your panties in a bunch. We just got in late last night,” I say, trying to head him off before he goes into full-on meltdown.

  “Oh,” he breathes. “Well, I guess that’s not so bad.”

  “So, what’s up?” I repeat, trying to get this ball rolling. I walk over to the bar again and take my seat, letting the spiral cord stretch across the middle of the room.

  “Well, other than your assistant needing a generous pay raise and an extra week of vacation…”

  I roll my eyes and lock my gaze on Blake when they come to a stop. He grins back.

  Kyros shoots me a confused glance, but I swipe my hand in the air between us. I can only deal with one crazy assistant at a time.

  “Ren…” I warn.

  “Well, I do,” he huffs. “But other than that, I thought you’d want to know Demetri called looking for you. He sounded kind of upset and I figured I better do my duty to inform you.”

  I sit up straighter, suddenly more alert. “What did he say?”

  “Not much, I mean, that man doesn’t say much. Does he? He’s basically mono-syllabic. I honestly don’t know how you can—”

  “Ren—”

  “All right, all right. It’s less what he said and more what I’m hearing in the underground,” Ren says, his words taking on the tone he likes to use when he’s spreading the latest gossip.

  “Okay,” I say, tapping my fork on the edge of my plate as I try not to imagine stabbing him with it.

  “Well, he’s pretty much gone MIA. His clients are starting to freak because he’s not returning calls and of course, who do they turn to? Well, you’re not here, so I’m the one being inundated,” he says, back to making this all about him. “Diana, something’s gotta be done. Like ASAP. Otherwise, you’ll be finding yourself a new assistant, because I will have gone certifiable.”

  My eyes flit to Kyros. Renaldo’s choice of words are somewhat ironic. Not that I’m looking to replace his crazy, incessantly late ass—but if I had no choice…

  “Okay, Ren. Take a deep breath. I’ll be there in ten.”

  5

  Get Lucky

  “Are you sure you don’t mind?” I say, standing on the front step to my little granny house, suddenly acutely aware of just how much of a spinster I’ve become over the past few years.

  Blake’s brown eyes sparkle and a hint of a smile threatens to blossom across the rest of his features. He leans back against the iron railing, crossing his ankles in a gesture so open and easy, it makes my solar plexus flutter, and a deep aching spreads through the rest of me.

  “I think I can handle the old man,” Blake says, his tone light and bordering on teasing.

  “You know what I mean,” I say, shooting him a look. “I’m sure it’s the last thing you want to be doing right now, but truth be told, I don’t want him tagging along with me for this conversation.”

  He laughs softly. “Afraid of the wrath of Ren?”

  I nod. “Something like that. I need to tread lightly with him or there will be a meltdown situation. I can only handle one unhinged assistant at a time.”

  “Fair enough,” he says, reaching a hand out for me.

  I accept it, stepping closer to him. He wraps his arms around my torso, sending a wave of heat through any part of me not yet vibrating with anticipation. My breath hitches as I melt into him, and I’m suddenly extremely glad he can’t read my mind.

  Since my connection opened to him, I’ve been actively working to dampen my gifts with him, so he has the privacy of his own thoughts. It was hard at first because I desperately want to know what he’s thinking and feeling. But I’ve found I’m almost as addicted to the mystery of not knowing, too.

  I rest my head in the crook of his neck, inhaling his natural scent, burning it into my memory. For a brief moment, I’m cocooned in his embrace, the outside world quiet and peaceful in a way I’ve not felt for eons.

  He sighs contently, his hand rubbing circles across my lower back.

  “Amara—Diana… Shouldn’t you be on your way? I’m certain you mentioned something about ten minutes, and while I’m no expert on this modern time, I’m fairly sure you’ve gone well past that for whomever you’re meant to meet,” Kyros says through a crack in the front door.

  “Thanks, Kyros. I’ll keep that in mind,” I say, refusing to open my eyes or make a move.

  “Honestly, how you’ve managed to survive without me, I cannot understand. You need someone who can keep you in line and on time,” he says, tsking under his breath.

  “And on that note,” I say, pushing back to a stand.

  Blake’s eyes open lazily, a lopsided grin on his face. “Old man, you certainly know how to spoil a moment.”

  Kyros huffs.

  “Go inside. I’ll be back as soon as I can and we can introduce Kyros to Aiden,” I say, running my hand down Blake’s arm. The firm muscle of his tricep is enough to plunge my thoughts right back in the gutter.

  For the briefest of moments, I can’t help but wonder if he’s as good in bed as he is at kissing. This version of him certainly has some moves he didn’t have before. Whenever we get around to it, I can’t help but fantasize about what new tricks he’ll have up his sleeves… Or lack of sleeves?

  I squeeze his arm lightly.

  Mmmm, definitely lack of sleeves.

  My face heats and I pull back my hand like I shoved it in a fire.

  Blake shoots me a confused look, but I wave it away with an awkward smile, hoping he’ll write it off as just a weird quirk. May as well add to the pile of odd, right?

  I clear my throat, suddenly self-conscious and off my game. Gods, I feel like a school kid.

  “Well, I better…” I say, jabbing my thumb toward the street.

  He tips his chin up. “Go, we’ll be waiting.”

  “Mkay. Well, see ya,” I say, waving like a dork.

  He laughs and shakes his head, before going back inside.

  I turn around, screwing up my face as I walk down the stairs.

  Get a grip, Diana. Honestly.

  The walk to Inner Sanctum Books and Gifts thankfully helps clear my head. It’s amazing how much a little fresh air can reinvigorate a person. Thankfully, the alcohol yesterday hasn’t caused any lasting issues. There’s just a fuzzy edge in the back of my brain that’s barely
noticeable. Instead, what’s left is the heightened sexual tension coursing through my body.

  Ren is right, I do need to get laid.

  I shiver rolls through me and I force myself to focus on the task at hand.

  Blake’s observations about my reason for leaving the two of them behind were spot on. The last thing I need to do right now is give Renaldo an aneurism. I’ll have to introduce Kyros to him slowly. In fact, I’m not even sure how the hell I’m going to explain Kyros at all. It’s not as if Ren knows who I really am—or what I really can do.

  Sure, he knows I have psychic abilities, but he’d flip his ever-loving mind if he knew just how entrenched in the supernatural world I am.

  As it is, I’m not sure if he actually believes the magical world exists—despite the obviousness of it in the world around him. He’s so focused on himself that he hardly has time to contemplate anyone or anything else.

  I snicker at the thought of what a rude awakening it would be for him, albeit, kinda funny.

  As I open the gate to the picket fence surrounding the little cottage we use for the shop, I stop dead. A wave of nostalgia and significance pushes against me and I’m reminded of the way I’d felt just before I’d left.

  I knew something was amiss then—something big and unrelated to the missing girls. But I had no idea it would be as monumental as it turned out to be. How could I? My mind was literally blocked from seeing it.

  A smile breaks across my face. Ren partially got his wish. Blake and I definitely have some chemistry, and a bit more than just history, to contend with. There’s a good chance I’ll break my dry spell, as Ren insists I better, and who knows…maybe I’ll even be able to open my heart again. That should make him happy—and get him off my back about my bits shriveling up.

  With that thought, I throw back my shoulders and walk up the steps to the front door like I own the place—because I do. But as I reach for the door handle, it doesn’t budge.

  “What the—? Come on, Ren. You have to be kidding me. It’s ten-thirty,” I curse, patting my jeans. Of course, I didn’t bring my keys with me, since the store should have been open already. Like, ages ago. Leave it to that man to have the audacity to call me and not even be at work.

  I dig around the front garden, trying to remember which rock is fake. When I don’t find it straight away, I close my eyes and just rely on my gifts. Which, to be honest, I should have just done right off the bat. I guess I’ve gotten so used to pulling them back a bit, I hadn’t noticed the tendency has spread.

  Key in hand, I unlock the door, then put the key back, just in case something like this happens again. Because with Ren, you know it will.

  As the door creaks open, I’m barraged with the familiar aroma of Inner Sanctum. It’s a heady mixture of incense, tinctures, and essential oils…combined with the smell of used and new books. Gone are all of the Valentine’s Day items, and up are a menagerie of gnomes with green top hats (because they in no way look like leprechauns), all holding four-leaf clovers or gold-filled pots. Golden coins, beads, and more clovers can be found in various nooks and crannies.

  He’s evidently gone a bit bonkers when left to his own devices.

  Well, more bonkers.

  By the desk, a battle has been waged between gnomes and bunnies, as the Ostara decorations and symbols litter the area. Evidently, my assistant wanted both to be represented, but with the sheer amount of green in this room, it’s clear he’s opted for luck. It’s probably a not-so-subtle hint to me that I should get ‘lucky’ soon. That would be his style, for sure.

  I snort, stopping for a moment to take in the room. At least he’s kept the storefront up. It looks nice and it’s obvious a lot of merchandise has been moved.

  However, as expected, Ren is nowhere to be found. Because, when is that guy ever on time?

  I roll my eyes, flip on the lights to the store, and make my way to the back room where I typically do my readings. I half expect to find him at my desk, attempting to take over the joint or running a back-room gambling ring. But when I walk in, the place is exactly as I left it. Barely an item touched.

  I’m going to have to call him.

  Without turning the lights on, I walk over to the reading table. I trail my fingertips along the glass as I take in all of the items and do a mental inventory. Tarot cards, crystals, favorite candles, spare shoes. Everything of importance is here and accounted for.

  I can tell I haven’t been onsite to do readings, though. The energy of the space is muted—almost empty of the power it usually exudes. Plus, there’s no line or random person waiting to pounce on me the moment I get in. For a while, that was the norm, rather than the exception to the rule. It’s kinda nice to come in unnoticed for a change.

  I walk from the reading table to my desk on the other side of the room. The large mahogany desk is the one splurge I wanted in the space and it’s traveled with me over the years because it has a presence all its own. It’s for those times when I found myself alone and needed guidance and strength. Over the years, I’ve leaned on its energetic properties. There’ve even been times when I’ve hidden myself away in the footwell and allowed it to hide me when I was done dealing.

  Flipping through the stack of mail on my desk, I toss the junk mail in the bin and shuffle the bills to the middle, so I can deal with those later. Obviously, Ren wasn’t super interested in the business side of the business. He’s more interested in spending money than paying for the necessities.

  Sighing to myself, I reach for the phone, but as I start to dial, something stops me. I can’t put my finger on what it is exactly, but something feels slightly off. Before I have a chance to do a proper psychic assessment, the door behind me clicks open, and a figure races at me with something in hand.

  I have just enough time to process the situation as a metallic garden rake swings at my head.

  6

  Assistant Divas

  “Renaldo, what in the actual hell are you doing?” I blurt out, ducking as the metal rake embeds itself into the wall behind me. It knocks off a set of ceramic angels older than he is by a couple of centuries and dislocates a large painting given to me by Salvador Dali.

  Not that Ren would know any of that.

  His eyes are wide and wild, but as soon as realization slaps him upside his thick head, he lets go of the handle of the rake, and it drops unceremoniously to the floor with a loud thunk. Covering his mouth with splayed fingers, he unleashes a squeal that would rival a little kid in a haunted house.

  “Oh my god, Diana. I didn’t know it was you,” he squeaks.

  My eyebrows push down and I stare at him. “I told you I was coming. Who else do you think it would be?”

  He grins at me sheepishly. “Well, I thought you were kidding. Like, maybe it was a metaphor for…”

  I quirk an eyebrow.

  “Okay, look…” he says, dropping his hands to place one over his heart and one on his hip. “I lost track of time and then I started questioning if I remembered you saying what you said. It’s been an absolute cluster over here, Diana. You have no idea. I swear, my mind is a scrambled mess. I don’t know how you do it. I really don’t,” Renaldo rambles, running a hand through his hair. Ordinarily, his dark locks would be meticulously groomed, side part expertly crafted, but right now, it’s all stood on end, like he’d had a fight with a light socket and lost.

  When he said he was going nuts, it’s pretty clear the crazy train left the station a while ago.

  I slow blink at him, trying hard to summon the strength not to burst out laughing.

  He bends down, picking up the rake, and setting it against the wall. Turning back to me, he tries again to smooth out the wild strands. Anxiety, fear, and something else surrounds him in such thick bands, it’s hard to tell what’s the biggest cause.

  “Ren, sit and take a breath. I need to know what’s going on,” I say, pointing to the reading table.

  His eyes follow the trail my fingertip dictates, and his head bobs up and down
in acceptance. He practically shuffles to the seat usually meant for clients, then slumps into it. I take up my seat, clasping my hands together and placing them on the glass table between us.

  Seeing him so rattled, I can’t help but wish I had the special ability to calm people down or heal their emotions. It certainly would come in handy now.

  After a few moments of slow, deliberate breaths, he glances up.

  “What’s really going on, Ren? I can’t get a read on you, your emotions and thoughts are all over the place,” I say quietly.

  Typically, I make it a point not to pry into the lives of people I know and love unless absolutely necessary, but this is a special circumstance. When people are hysterical, sometimes things come to me faster and with more clarity. However, it’s not the case now and it’s actually giving me anxiety in trying.

  After another slow inhalation, he whispers, “I’m just so…relieved.”

  “That’s not what it feels like,” I say, still trying to make sense of his conflicting emotions.

  “Ever since you left, things have steadily gotten crazier. I mean, at first, it was normal crazy. Mrs. Kaminski—well, you know,” he says, some of his usual humor glinting in his eyes. “But then, with Demetri down for the count, it was like the floodgates of hell opened up and wanted to swallow me whole. I’ve been fielding calls practically nonstop from people trying to get in to see you. Then, when I told them you were gone…” he shudders, “some of them resorted to storming in, just to be sure. They thought I was keeping you captive or something. Can you believe that?” He snickers, bracing his fingertips against his chest.

  The knowing comes to me quickly. He’ll be okay once things settle.

  “You have no idea how glad I am you’re really, truly here,” he continues.

  My lashes flutter across my cheeks and I focus on the sensation as a way to ground me to this news. Guilt wells up inside me. Leaving when I did practically pushed Ren into a full-on nervous breakdown, that much is evident. I rake my fingertips across my forehead, trying to process.