Could go either way.
Again, I use my gifts to locate the elements to put the outfit together. Good thing, too, because I never would have found the t-shirt. Kyros had folded it up and put it in the back of my closet. Clearly, not as amused with it as I am.
I shrug out of my sparkly dress with a sense of wistful disappointment. Both Blake and I deserve some alone time, but it doesn’t seem like the universe wants to play nice.
Grabbing my leather jacket, I throw it on and walk out.
“Ready to go?” I say, scooping my hair out of the confines of the jacket collar.
Blake exits the kitchen with a couple of cheese sticks and two packages of Pop-tarts. “You have absolutely nothing in your house that’s edible.” He extends his hand, giving me the combo as if it will somehow appease the angry growls in my stomach.
He’s not wrong.
“You take such good care of me,” I say, bending forward and kissing him on the cheek.
“I think any nutritionist worth their salt would have to disagree with that statement,” he mutters, shaking his head. He rips off the plastic wrapper to his cheese stick and tosses it into the garbage bin as he continues with me to the front door.
When Dan sees us, he makes for the front door, opening it so we can all exit. I lock up as the guys head down to Dan’s BMW 3 series unmarked patrol car. Blake opens the front passenger door for me and I brush my hand against his face before taking a seat. Then he hops in the back, leaning in-between the front seats to get the full scoop.
The drive to the Fletcher abode only takes ten minutes, but it’s enough time to fill Blake in on the details of the case. By the time we pull up in the driveway, he knows as much as I do without being able to read the situation.
That’s one part of my ability that’s always annoyed me. Sometimes information comes easy and sometimes it requires a direct connection. There doesn’t seem to be a rhyme or reason to it.
Maybe it’s just to remind me I’m not omnipotent.
Either way, it sucks.
Once Dan parks the car, I take a deep breath allowing my gaze to soften. Staring into the illuminated areas of the garage made light by his headlights, I extend my abilities out, trying to get a feel for the home and any of the energies that have come in contact with the location or its residents.
Almost immediately, the same strange sensation from before washes over me—like a gray haze that falls in the middle of a swampy field late at night.
“Someone doesn’t want me to see what they’re up to,” I whisper, narrowing my gaze as I concentrate harder.
“Why don’t we get you inside? You might be able to get a better read on things if you actually get to meet this kid,” Blake says, placing a hand on my shoulder.
“Yeah, okay.” I nod, still trying to push my senses through the dense fog.
Before I know it, Blake has my car door open and is pulling me from the seat by grabbing hold of my hand. I follow after them, my head swimming in a trippy sort of soup, but I shake it away by the time we reach the front door.
Dan knocks three times, waits a beat, then knocks three more times. After a moment, the deadbolt clicks and the door opens a few inches. A woman’s face appears in the shadows. Her features remind me instantly of Jonas’s and without a doubt, I know this is his mother.
“Dan, I’m so glad you’re back. We’ve managed to calm Jonas down, but we don’t know what to do. Is this—” she glances in my direction, her brown eyes full of hope.
“Miriam, this is Diana Hawthorne,” he says, nodding. “And this is her—” He turns to Blake.
“Blake Wilson. I’m a private investigator. Diana thought I should come along,” he says, stepping forward and extending his hand to Miriam.
She narrows her eyes but shakes his hand quickly. “Well, please—come in. I don’t want you all to be standing out here.” Miriam ushers us all inside and locks three separate locks on the door. When everything is secure, she turns back to us. “Let’s get you to Jonas. He’s anxious to see if you can help.”
Leading the way, we follow her from the narrow entry to a larger open living space off to the right. The curtains are all drawn, and the lights are dimmed low, but we can make out on the large, overstuffed couch Jonas sitting with someone I instantly know is his father.
“Jonas, sweetie. Detective Radovich is back and he’s brought Ms. Hawthorne,” Miriam says, lowering her voice to practically a whisper.
Jonas turns, facing toward us.
His father stands up as we make our way around the edge of the couch and he extends a large hand. “Hi, I’m John. Jonas’s father. Thanks for coming. We appreciate it.”
I take his hand in mine, giving it a shake and hoping I’ll be able to get a read on the situation through our contact. Unfortunately, the only thing I pick up on is his protectiveness for his son and desperation to make everything better.
“No problem,” I say, trying to keep my tone light.
Dropping John’s hand, I make my way to Jonas and crouch down beside him. He sits on the couch with a blanket over his lap and if I didn’t know about his disability, he looks like any other teenager—blue hoodie with the hood pulled up over his head and slightly skittish energy.
“Hey there, Jonas. I hear you’ve had a pretty freaky night, huh?” I say, diving straight into it.
He snickers, his dark eyes surveying me with a sense of wonder and curiosity I don’t typically see in a kid his age. “Could say that.”
“Wanna tell me about it?” I ask.
He glances up, noticing Blake. “Who’s the guy?”
“Don’t worry about him. He’s with me. His name is Blake,” I say, trying to keep him focused on me.
“You trust him?” he asks, his face stern.
I glance over my shoulder at Blake. “With my entire life. Yes.”
Jonas’s gaze remains on Blake for a moment. Then, when he seems satisfied, he returns his attention to me.
Extending a hand out to him, I ask, “Do you mind?”
I may not have gotten much off of his father, but the energy in the room is rising. The hairs on the back of my neck are beginning to prickle and that typically means I’m about to get some enlightenment.
Biting his lower lip, he holds out his hand. When he places it in mine, the effect is immediate. Jonas may have some physical issues, but he has an ability charged with too much power for his young body.
I glance up at him in awe. “You can sense other beings with powers?”
He holds his breath for a moment, then without a word, he nods.
“Jonas—” his mother gasps, clearly surprised by his confession. She knew all along but didn’t know how to tell Dan without making it sound crazy.
I glance over my shoulder at the others. Both men narrow their eyes, clearly not understanding of the significance of this. We live in a supernatural world. The people who are in the know see it everywhere. But to the people who don’t, well, it’s a mundane world. The only thing magical in their life is how they can surf the internet from their new voice-operated devices.
There are plenty of people who would want to keep it that way. But there are also plenty of people who would kill to know how to locate those with special abilities. Even without getting a good read on things, I am willing to bet we’re up against the latter.
“That must be pretty scary at times,” I say, realizing this is what it’s all about.
“It wasn’t. Not until recently.” He shrugs. “Came in handy more than anything.”
“I bet. Could you sense me? Is that how you knew I’d be able to help?” I ask, still holding onto him. I stroke my thumb against the back of his hand, trying to soothe him and continue our connection in case I get more.
“I’ve been able to sense you before I even knew who you were,” he says.
“So you don’t get a feel for who they are? Just that they have power?” I say, trying to understand the source of his gift.
He nods. “Something l
ike that. I get a sort of reading in the back of my mind, like a weird Google map. Like, I can tell where other supes are based on the way their energy feels. Sometimes I tell what kind of powers they have based on the color I sense from them. Like, I know there’s a vampire down the road and a shifter who lives in the apartment building downtown.”
“Ah, that makes sense,” I say.
“I don’t know what he is though.” Jonas tips his chin toward Blake.
“He’s different,” I say. It’s not really my place to tell everyone that Blake’s been god-touched and has the gift to be reincarnated over and over.
“You can say that again,” Jonas says, eyeing him again.
“Look, Jonas, we need to figure out what’s going on. Do you have any idea who’s been following you or sending those messages?” Dan asks, clearly wanting to get back to the matter at hand.
Jonas opens his mouth to say something, but suddenly, my vision drops away and it’s replaced with an entirely different scene. I’m no longer kneeling beside the couch, holding onto Jonas’s hand. Instead, I’m in a dark hallway with flickering fluorescent lighting.
At the opposite end of the hallway is a room with an incredible amount of computer monitors—something Aiden would likely drool over.
“We’re going to need to make a move on the kid tonight. The cops have gotten involved and if they start nosing around, shit could go sideways. We can’t jeopardize the plan,” a man says from inside the room, his voice floating into the hallway.
“Agreed. I’ll mobilize the unit,” another man says, picking up a phone.
With that, I’m ripped out of the scene and back into the present.
In a quick motion, I’m back on my feet. “Dan, we need to move everyone. Now,” I say, trying hard to hide the terror in my voice and failing miserably.
“What is it? What did you see?” he asks, his blue eyes wide.
I bite back my trepidation. “You were right, Dan. Whoever is after Jonas—they’re coming for him and we don’t have much time.”
“What do you mean? Who’s coming for him?” Miriam says, her voice suddenly an octave higher.
“I don’t know. I can’t get a clear read on them,” I say shaking my head. The more I try to bring the who into focus, the more the fog closes in. “Whoever they are, they’re intentionally blocking me from being able to see them. I get snippets, but that’s as far as it goes. They’re deep into magic we haven’t seen for a long time. Magic that can shield them from people like me.”
“Not good,” Blake says, his dark eyes glinting with the same alarm flaring to life within me.
I nod in agreement.
Dan steps forward. “We have a safe house not far from here. We should move you all now while we have the upper hand.”
“That would be wise. Whatever it is they think Jonas did—or might do—they aren’t willing to wait any longer,” I say, running scenarios in my mind. Every time I try to access Jonas’s immediate future, I see it flipping through my head like an aimless Rolodex.
“Do we have time to get some things together? Or—?” Miriam begins but cuts off when she faces me.
The room starts to spin and my skull suddenly feels like it’s in a vice. My hands fly to either side of my head as I drop to my knees as a high-pitched squeal pierces through every cell of my body, consuming my entire awareness.
13
Sorcery Masquerading
It takes everything I have to fight back the urge to be sick. I feel a hand on my back, probably Blake’s, but I can’t bring myself to open my eyes.
“Diana, what is it?” Blake asks, his voice an anchor in the storm of my mind. “What’s wrong?”
I swallow hard and try to force the words to come out of my mouth as quickly as I can, but it’s hard to focus. “Something…is…interfering…”
Before I can say anything else, an explosion at the front door rocks us all backward. I land hard on my backside, and my upper body slams into Blake. Screams erupt, alongside shouts and orders.
The room tilts and all the words jumble together. I can’t make sense of any of it, but I know I have to find Jonas. I need to make sure he’s safe. Forcing my body to do my bidding, I manage to get up on all fours. But as soon as I attempt to stand, my vision swims and my stomach lurches. I drop back down, riding the wave.
Commotion surrounds me, but I can’t grab onto any clarity. People and things blur together, but I don’t know who or what is going on. Instead, it’s like standing in the middle of a tornado, trying to focus on the objects flying around me. It all zips by too fast.
“Over there,” I hear someone say. At least, I think that’s what they said.
Blake, maybe? Or was it Dan?
“On it,” is the response.
Another crash echoes to the left and I duck down, covering my head. Footsteps shuffle beside me, then a heavy thump, followed by a scuffle. Dropping my hands again, I crawl my way forward to where I think Jonas is. I need to make contact with him. There’s not a whole helluva lot else I can do until this intense vertigo vanishes.
It only takes me a moment to know I’m in the right place. My right hand touches the soft fabric of his blanket that cascades from his lap and onto the floor. Following it up, I’m met by his cold hand, as he latches onto mine and squeezes tight.
“Stay down,” I mutter, the words garbled and sluggish. I reach up, trying to get him to hunch as far down into the couch as possible.
I focus on the sensation of his hand, allowing him to anchor me to the here and now. I’ll be able to keep the panic welling up inside me at bay as long as I can keep tabs on him. The rest will have to be up to Blake and Dan. Shifting to a seated position, I pull my legs into my body. I tighten my eyes, trying to drown out the cacophony swirling inside my brain.
Shots are fired somewhere to the right and Jonas’s hand squeezes mine tighter. I hold on, feeling his fingers tremble in mine as we both sit there, completely incapable of defending ourselves.
There’s a scuffle behind us, then I think I make out footsteps, but I can’t be sure.
“We’ll…be…okay,” I say, hoping to lend some comfort to Jonas. God knows I could use some comfort right now, too.
A bright burst of energy erupts inside the room and suddenly, like a curtain has been pulled back, the intense interference blocking out my mind is lifted. The high-pitched squeal cuts off and the vertigo vanishes like it never even existed.
I exhale as the relief washes over me. Opening my eyes, the first thing I see is Blake standing over a woman’s body sprawled out on the floor. Her dark black hair is splayed out across the carpet in inky waves.
The next thing I see is Kyros standing in the large archway between the living room and blown out shards of the front door. In one hand is a can of Redbull, the other a limp piece of pepperoni pizza. His blue eyes are wide with fright as he stands completely still. The cheese from his pizza slides off his slice landing in a soft splat on the hardwood floor.
“What in the—?” I say, attempting to stand. Jonas grips my hand, not wanting to let me go. I drop back down, maintaining contact.
“Glad to have you back,” Blake says, exhaling a jagged breath.
“Is she—?” I point to the woman on the floor, unable to sense whether or not she’s alive. The ordinary frequencies of the room might be back, but my brain still feels too fuzzy to access my gifts.
“No, just knocked her out, but I don’t wanna be around when she comes to. She has a nasty side,” Blake says, flipping the woman onto her front. He reaches over to one of the lamps on an end table and smashes it on the ground. Then he removes the cord and ties the woman’s arms and legs behind her back.
I run my fingertips across my forehead, trying to clear away the cobwebs.
“Master Wilson was quite heroic,” Kyros says, still standing like a statue with his naked pizza and can in the same position.
We never got past Kyros trying to call Blake Anastasios. I’m not ready to unpack the ‘Ma
ster Wilson’ thing, so, I turn from him back to Blake.
“I figured she was the cause of your problems. She was manipulating some sort of energetic ball between her hands. I hoped that if I could take her out, whatever she was doing would go out with her. Glad to see I was right,” Blake says, walking over to me. He kneels, patting Jonas on the knee. “You were a trooper, kid.”
“I just about shit myself,” Jonas blurts out.
Blake huffs a laugh. “Yeah, that makes two of us.”
I glance around, realizing for the first time Dan is missing, along with Jonas’s parents. “What happened to Dan? The Fletchers?”
“Mom’s over there,” Jonas says, pointing to a large armchair to our right that’s tipped over on its back.
Patting him on his hand, I release his grip and walk over to the chair, only to find Miriam on the floor. Rushing over, I drop down and check for a pulse. Thankfully, it beats strong against my fingertips. Resting back on my haunches, I breathe a sigh of relief.
“She’s okay,” I say.
“As soon as shots were fired, she passed out,” Jonas says. “She can’t handle that kind of action. You should have seen her trying to watch Avengers with us.”
“Oh, Master Pollard and I were just watching that motion picture,” Kyros says, dropping his hands for the first time.
“Who is that guy? He feels…off,” Jonas says, making a face.
Clearly, Aiden has been indoctrinating Kyros into the wild world of movies. This doesn’t bode well for my sanity.
“He’s a friend,” I say, quirking an eyebrow at Kyros. “And at least your mother’s reaction kept her safe, by the looks of it, Jonas.”
“True dat,” he says, nodding.
I turn to Blake. “What about the others? How many forced their way in?”
“There were two others. Dan and John went after them,” Blake says, standing up. “It freaked them out when Kyros appeared. They weren’t expecting it. Not that any of us do, really. I think we should get the hell out of here and regroup. Who knows if there will be reinforcements.”
Amends: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Series (A Diana Hawthorne Supernatural Mystery Book 2) Page 9
