by Rose Pressey
She took it from my hand. “Where did you find this?” Her frown lines deepened.
“Beside my house.”
“Uh-huh. You know, if someone harms out of spite, karma will come back to them even worse. I’ll get rid of this.” She placed it behind the counter before I had a chance to dispute.
The old bell on the wooden door jingled announcing another customer. I turned to see who’d entered. It was probably a tourist looking to take home a Voodoo doll as a gag gift. Little did they know those gag gifts could turn on them.
“Lucinda, are you all right? Where you been?” The psychic asked the woman.
I eyed the woman as she approached. Her appearance was definitely eccentric—auburn-colored, tousled hair and lots of jewelry. I guessed her age at sixty-five, but it was hard to be sure. Her black jeans hugged her curves, highlighting her shapely legs. The dark tank top she wore matched perfectly and revealed her tan, toned arms. Whatever she did was working. I needed whatever magic lotion she used.
“Who’s this doll?” She smiled while tousling her hair and eyeing me.
“She’s come for a reading, dear. She requested the crystal ball,” she informed her with a wink.
Did she think I couldn’t see the wink? Apparently, they thought I was blind. There was a strange glance between the two as if they’d discussed me before—I sensed it. But was I letting my imagination get the better of me? Did they know about the vampires? If they did, I guess I couldn’t blame them for talking; I probably would have talked about me, too. But how did they know it was me? They couldn’t have. Once again, my mind was over-reacting.
“Oh darlin’, aren’t you sweet? Pretty, too. I’d die for your complexion. What’s your name, doll?” Lucinda gazed at the top of my head and didn’t stop until she reached my feet. I shifted, feeling slightly uncomfortable.
I looked at the psychic and then at the woman. “Um, Veronica Mason.”
“Nice to meet you, Veronica. I’m Lucinda Landry.”
The psychic spoke up. “She wears many hats around this town but her finest, by far, is Medium. She talks to dead people.”
Chapter 44
I eyed Lucinda suspiciously. Why were they telling me this? Just being friendly perhaps? Nah, they didn’t have the friendliest faces I’d ever seen. Grandma Annie knew all the psychics. I’d have to ask her about Lucinda. There were quite a few psychics in our area and a handful of others who had the special supernatural talent in the next county over. Was Lucinda new to our paranormal community? News of strangers moving into the Memphis district spread like a bad case of poison ivy, but somehow I’d been excluded from this conversation. I should get out more. When I wasn’t playing, I stayed home and moped over my lack of witch skills too much.
“Nice to meet you.” I reached out to shake her graceful hand.
She wore silver rings with an array of colored stones and gems on all fingers. Even more jewelry graced her wrists and neck.
“You talk to dead people?” I asked.
“Yes, I’m a medium.” She grinned. “I speak to those who’ve crossed over and those who are stuck in between. Like that John Edward fellow.”
“Yes, I’m familiar with the term.” Interesting. Maybe she didn’t know what I was after all. I shuffled my feet, not knowing what else to say. I just wanted to get out of there. The air grew more oppressive by the minute. Soon it would reach out, clasp its hands around my neck, and squeeze.
“You have two spirits here with you tonight,” she said matter-of-factly. Her lips jerked at the corners, as if proud of her insight.
“I do?” I looked up at her.
Was she full of it? Or a true medium?
“An older man and woman are standing right behind you, doll.” She leaned her hip against the counter. “They are smiling, by the way.” She twiddled her fingers absently.
I glanced over my shoulder and saw only candles and incense. But since I wasn’t a medium, what had I expected to see?
“The short dark-haired woman says she gave you a necklace right before she died.”
I gasped. “She told you that?”
Perhaps she was the real deal? Maybe I shouldn’t have been so quick to judge. I definitely needed to ask Grandma Annie about her.
“I’m a medium, dear.” She laughed. “It’s my job to know these things.” Hmm. It was my job to be a witch; it didn’t mean I knew what I was doing.
“My grandmother on my father’s side gave me a necklace right before she died.”
The psychic glanced up from her tarot cards occasionally, but she didn’t appear to pay much attention to the conversation. But I knew their tricks. She wanted me to think she wasn’t interested.
“A silver chain with a silver and black pendant?” Lucinda asked.
“Yes, that’s the one. I don’t wear it often. I’m afraid I’ll lose it.”
“Your grandmother says you should wear it more. She gave it to you to wear and use, not stick in some drawer. It will help with your powers, she said.”
There was no way she could have known the details of the necklace. Plus, her words sounded exactly like something my grandmother would say. And she did know of my powers. But did she know how little of them I had?
“There’s a man here with my grandmother, too?” I asked.
She nodded and tousled her hair again.
“What does he look like?” I asked.
“Small frame and skinny with very little hair—what he has is gray. His name starts with the letter A.” She rubbed the sides of her head.
“Yep. That’s my grandfather, Arnold.” Maybe I shouldn’t have offered details. That was the first mistake when talking to so-called psychics. But she appeared to be the real deal.
“He has a message for you. He says: keep at it, you can do it. I have faith in you.”
Tears welled in my eyes. He always had believed in me, even when others had their doubts.
“He’s wearing dark overalls and a flannel shirt,” Lucinda said.
I wiped the edge of my eyes and nodded. “He always wore overalls. He liked to work in his garden. My grandma had to force him to dress up for special occasions. She’d threaten him with not making her delicious apple pies.”
Lucinda chuckled. “She said she still has to threaten him.”
“So you’re new in town?” I asked. I wouldn’t tell her about my paranormal status. Maybe she knew already.
“Yes, we just bought a cabin on the outskirts of town. Over on Highway Sixteen.”
“Oh. We?” I wanted more information because I knew Grandma Annie would want to know.
“Moved here from Georgia and I’m loving it. I’m a Georgia peach turned Blues gal.” She laughed.
“I’m surprised I haven’t heard about your many hats. Word spreads kind of quickly around town, don’t you think?”
“Well, I think she’s the only one who knows about the many hats.” She gestured toward the psychic. “She doesn’t tell just anyone, you know?” She winked.
I nodded. But why was I privy to this information? I hadn’t even asked to be.
“Veronica, you take care of yourself and listen to what your grandmother said about the necklace. It won’t help you unless you wear it.” She patted my arm.
She must have sensed my need to leave. The air didn’t ease up and I felt I might choke at any moment.
“I’ll remember. And thanks for telling me,” I said.
I wished I knew why she acted so comfortable around me. Why she acted as if we were old friends when I’d just met her. I should have asked more questions.
“Here’s my number if you ever need to talk.” She scribbled on a piece of paper. “Call me.”
She picked up a couple candles and placed cash on the counter, then headed toward the front of the store. I tucked the paper in my pocket.
“Don’t forget, if you need any information, call me.” She glided out the door as mysteriously as she’d entered.
After contemplating Lucinda’s words
for a few seconds, I snapped out of my reverie. I placed the cash on the table and made my way out the door. Sometimes it was good to have information and sometimes it was better not knowing. As I hurried down the sidewalk, I glanced back. The old woman was observing me from the shop window. Her expression was vacant, as if she was watching, but wasn’t really there. The red flashing sign blanketed her face in an eerie red glow. Lucinda was nowhere in sight.
The psychic hadn’t offered any new information, really. Her details only managed to unsettle me more. As if I needed more unsettling news. The most disturbing was the man in black; he could have been the dark figure from my visions. Maybe that’s why I didn’t see his features, only a black blob. But he obviously hadn’t worn a mask when he drove Janey to the old farmhouse. Why had she gotten into the car with him? Had it been voluntary? Maybe he’d kidnapped her. But from my vision, it seemed as if she’d known him. Not really comfortable with him, but not scared either. What did the psychic mean when she called him the music man? I should have asked her, but I was so taken aback by the whole situation, the best thing seemed to be to get out of there. Why had I seen the same message?
Her words rang in my mind. “You are in danger.” Yeah, well, I hadn’t needed a psychic to tell me that. The strange car and my visions told me as much. A couple chatted as they strolled past, down the sidewalk. I curved around the couple and had almost made it to my car when out of the corner of my eye I saw someone dash behind the building across the road. Call it instinct, but I had a weird hunch the person had been watching me. Was it the deranged killer? I quivered at the thought. What the hell was this person doing, anyway? Based on the height and style of clothing, I guessed the person to be male, even though I’d gotten only a brief glimpse. Maybe my eyes had deceived me, though, because now no one was in sight. But what if it was the murderous lunatic following my every move?
I ducked behind a streetlight, ignoring the strange looks from passersby. Okay, not exactly a great hiding spot, but maybe it would protect me from bullets in case of gunfire. My defense-mode kicked in and I wasn’t going down without a fight. I made a mental note to take up karate if I made it out of this incident alive. A young woman carrying bags with one hand and holding onto the leash of a rottweiler with the other hurried by and eyed me suspiciously. Hadn’t she ever seen anyone hide from a stalker before? Attacker, stalker, murderer, whatever you wanted to call the ass-hat who had set his sights on me, scouted out people like me—an easy target. I’d been warned, but did I listen? No.
Breaking away from my cover, I ran for my car, stumbling over the curb. I righted myself and hurried forward, silently cursing the lunatic on the loose. In a daze, I used my car as a prop and scrambled for the door. With shaking limbs, I hurried into the driver seat and slammed the door shut. My gaze stayed on the building across the street as I fumbled with the keys. With my hands shaking, I finally thrust the key into the ignition, then dug the pepper spray from my bag. Wandering around town by myself was a mistake and I was learning the hard way.
Shadows lurked behind every corner. Maybe I was paranoid, but was the murderer watching me? I sat like a fly caught in a spider-web, envisioning the killer hiding behind a building, like a sharp-shooting sniper, waiting for the perfect time to pounce with his weapon of choice. He probably had an entire arsenal with him.
Before I had a chance to contemplate the weapons, a loud boom rang out. The streetlight blew and my car was now in complete darkness. The pounding of footsteps on the pavement reverberated through the hot night air as they approached my car.
I looked to my left. The tall figure stood next to my door. “Holy mother…” I jumped, hitting my arm on the steering wheel.
All I saw was a black blob. I thrust my arm to the left, aiming out the open window and pushed on the toxic gas as hard as my finger allowed.
Chapter 45
My scream echoed through the night air, a sound loud enough to land me the lead role in any cheesy horror flick. With any luck, the mist would cover my perpetrator’s face and I’d escape. Could pepper spray cause permanent eye damage? Whatever. The bastard deserved it for trying to attack me. Only problem: nothing came out. I’d just attempted to ward off an attacker with a tube of ruby red lipstick. Again with the lipstick.
“May I ask what you’re trying to do to me with that lipstick?” Buzz asked.
Uh oh. “It was supposed to be pepper spray.” I climbed out from behind the wheel.
“Lucky for me you’re a bad aim.”
“Funny. I thought you were attacking me. What did you expect coming up to me in the dark like that?”
“If I had been an attacker, you’d be in serious trouble right now.”
“I know that. How can I concentrate when someone is trying to kill me?” I leaned against the car.
“I think you need a self-defense course.” He stood next to me.
“Are you following me?” I asked.
“No, I’m not following you. I’m not a lunatic.”
“What are you doing here then?”
“I’m going to the club.” He pointed down the street toward the flashing neon sign for Ruby’s Blues Club.
My cheeks reddened. “Sure, right, sorry.”
It did seem odd that he was everywhere I went.
“Are you going inside?” I asked.
“I thought I might for a minute.”
“Spying on the competition?”
“I guess you could say that.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Would you care to join me?”
My head said no, that I should go home, but my body screamed yes, yes, yes.
We walked side by side the short distance to the club. My heels clicked on the sidewalk, echoing through the night. My stomach fluttered and I thought of speaking several times, but didn’t know exactly what to say. Music seeped out from behind the brick walls and the neon sign lit up the entrance. Buzz held the door open and I walked through. I wasn’t sure what I was doing there. One minute we were sharing a kiss on my doorstep, and now I was in a dark club with him, a place where couples pressed their bodies close to each other and swayed to the rhythmic sound. Visions of my body pressed against Buzz’s filled my mind.
The muscular man at the door pulled out a rubber stamp and pressed the club’s fanged logo onto our hands, then allowed us through. A trio of men owned the stage. They had the audience by their balls, as Frank would have so delicately phrased it. The music thumped and bounced off the walls, perfect for swing dancing. At first glance, the guys on stage looked like nice boys, but the fact that they were drinking blood, and singing about hot rods and hot babes, would change a human’s mind quickly.
If the club had air conditioning, it wasn’t working well, because steamy bodies swayed with the sound across the worn, wooden floor. The place was wall-to-wall rockabilly bobs and babes with their tattoos and slicked hair. We all shared one thing in common, regardless of our paranormal status; we loved rockabilly—a mixture of rock ‘n’ roll, country and rhythm and blues.
Along the side of the room, a long bar lined the right wall and a couple of pool tables sat to the left. Dim lights shone from behind the bar, highlighting bottle after bottle of liquor. The room opened onto a dance floor filled with people swaying to the swinging music. A few people sat at small tables, drinking blood, but most bodies covered the dance floor. The coppery scent of blood tainted the air. With that much blood in the glasses around, how could it not?
It wasn’t clear if the band members were human, attempting a vampire appearance, or vampires trying to blend in with humans. The bass player pounded out the chords, but he had nothing on Buzz.
The lead singer wore all black and held the microphone close to his mouth, singing the lyrics: “She said nice threads, Daddy-O, and my heart began a thumpin’.”
Yes, they were the competition, but since they were an all-male band, I didn’t feel too threatened. They were good, but they didn’t have Buzz.
Smoke wafted from a few tables in the
corner. Young women with pale skin and bright red lips sat around the tables. Lookin’ for the thrill of the vampire lifestyle, I guess, but it wasn’t all it was cracked up to be if you asked me.
Buzz pointed to a small table in the corner. “Want to sit there?”
In spite of the noise, the spot looked cozy. I swallowed hard. “Sure,” I said. Although by the sound of the squeak in my voice, I wasn’t so confident in my answer.
Buzz pulled out a chair and I sat. “Thanks,” I yelled over the music.
Buzz leaned close. His breath made my whole body tingle. His rich scent circled around me, intoxicating me more than the bottles behind the bar ever could. “Would you like a drink?” he asked. His words seemed to caress my skin. I closed my eyes, trying to get a grip on myself and attempting to avoid inhaling. Being close to Buzz made me feel like I’d downed several shots of tequila.
He leaned closer, if that was even possible, waiting for my answer. I didn’t move away. No, instead my mind was cluttered with thoughts of kissing his delectable lips. It was as if the earth’s gravitational pull was drawing me to him. Luckily, somehow my thought function returned…somewhat. I mentally pinched myself.
Drinking would not help this situation. At all. “No, thanks, I’m good.”
We watched the crowd. The noise level made having a conversation difficult. That probably wasn’t a bad thing in this situation. Was he thinking of the kiss? Or did he kiss women like that all the time? It was probably no big deal to him. I made an effort not to look at Buzz, but I felt his gaze on me.
“Would you like to dance?” His sexy southern drawl wrapped around the words.
Oh, hell’s bells. I was in real trouble now. Feeling his touch would be amazing, and while my mind told me not to get involved with another band member, my body figured what harm could one little dance do.
“Sure, I’d love to.” The words slipped out as if spoken by someone else.
