She paused and fisted her hands, so tightly that her long nails folded against her palms. I blinked a few times, trying to recall any investigations we had done on witches. Then it came to me. We had done a story featuring a woman who claimed to be a Hedge witch healer who could cure illnesses that doctors couldn't. She had been a soft-spoken waif of a woman, with sapphire blue eyes, blonde hair, and freckles sprinkled across the bridge of her nose. I remembered her name had been Violet and how I had thought she was the absolute embodiment of a tree-hugger. If Violet was the witch that Tansy was talking about, I had to concede that I had been tough with her during my investigation. The truth was, I had an issue with witches. It was probably because Nanny Flo had never been a fan of witchcraft, and thought that anyone who meddled in it was destined for trouble. She had warned me off witchcraft more times than I could count. She had however told me a little about covens, solitary, and Hedge witches, giving me just enough information so I could avoid, in her words, those sort of people.
Before I had met Violet, Nanny Flo's influence and a previous encounter with a coven of witches, had me believing that witches were just like in the movies and wore black cloaks, pentagrams around their necks, and who all had black cat familiars. I didn't know that in truth many witches used common herbs and spices, and earth energy for their spells, not eye of newt and batwings and other wacky stuff.
"Remembering now?" she said, as if reading my thoughts.
"I remember a witch named Violet, but..."
I chewed on my lip, and shook my head. "But even if that's who you're talking about there's no way I did anything to hurt her. We did an investigation and she signed all the releases, and we found that she couldn't do all she claimed..."
Tansy seized my arm and a stab of pain hit me in the stomach, as if I had been punched. I crumpled in my seat, clutching my abdomen.
"She wasn't a fraud, you little bitch!" Tansy shrieked.
Her outburst had definitely been loud enough to disturb the other passengers, but no one even turned their head.
"Okay, she wasn't a fraud," I gasped.
The pain in my gut twisted and seemed to knot my insides, and I could barely draw a breath without doubling over again.
"Please stop," I said through gulps of air.
"For me to stop would mean that I was doing something, but as you so clearly and concisely put it, supernatural occurrences can always be explained by science, so Skeptic," she spat the word as if it were dirt in her mouth, "where's your scientific explanation for what you're feeling now?"
"I don't know..." I moaned.
My feeble response must have satisfied her, because seconds later the pain that had made my insides feel like they were being systematically ripped out, vanished. I knew she was doing horrible things to me, but I had no idea how, or why.
"It's a psychic attack," she said, once again responding to a question I never posed. "And that's just the beginning of what I can do little girl."
"What do you want from me?" I said, wiping my brow with the sleeve of my emerald green silk blouse. As expected it stained immediately and I cursed myself for not changing after we had finished taping.
Tansy gave me a wicked grin, and snapped her fingernails together a few times, every time she did the sound reverberated through me like a sonic boom. I threw my hands over my ears, but it did nothing to dull the sound. Suddenly she stopped, and leaned in closer. The scent of roses and rot was thick on her breath.
"Do another investigation that proves she is a talented healer and admit that you are a medium, and that your whole Skeptic show is a fraud," she said, folding her arms over her chest.
I squinted at her in disbelief. She was just plain crazy if she thought that I would ever admit that I had been wrong in an investigation, and hell would freeze over before I copped up to being a medium.
"I can't do that," I said evenly.
She could mess with me as much as she wanted, but I wasn't about to throw away my career as the Skeptic just because someone didn't like what I had to say.
"You can, and you will," Tansy said, grabbing my wrist. This time her fingers felt like red-hot coals against my skin. I tried to pry my hand from her grip, but she tightened her grasp and shot me a glower of defiance.
"Listen, I don't practice white magick like my sister did, I'm all dark and I...we, won't hesitate to retaliate if you don't do as I say."
Strengthened by my resolve to preserve everything I had worked for, I ignored the searing pain on my arm.
"Look, I'm sorry for what you may think I've done but there's no way I'm going to throw away my career for you, or anyone else for that matter."
Tansy licked her lips, and a shadow passed over her face, which seemed impossible since there was nothing that would cast one. Fingers of grey smoke swirled around her head, then travelled like a spinning vortex down the length of her body, until she looked as if she were surrounded by a gauzy mini tornado. The steel in my conviction wavered. Ghosts and spirits had been around me my whole life, but witches were foreign, and I honestly had no clue what I was up against.
"Do as I say, and maybe no one will die," she said, and got to her feet, towering over me like a black-cloaked giant.
I could have sworn the irises of her eyes turned completely black for a few instants, before turning ashy grey again. Then, without a backward glance, she strode down the aisle, her generous frame filling the space between the seats, yet oddly no one seemed to acknowledge that she had passed them. And if I hadn't known better, I would have said that it was as if she wasn't there at all.
Just before she moved through the navy curtain, separating business class from economy, I poked my head out and caught a final glimpse of her. What I saw made everything I had experienced just moments before, seem like nothing at all. Tansy wasn't walking and instead was hovering a few inches off the carpeted floor, her black cloak trailing serpent-like behind her. I hastily pulled myself back into my seat, praying to anyone who would hear me that she wouldn't come back. I had put on a brave front with her, but knowing that I had come face to face with pure evil, made me start to wonder what lengths she was willing to go to if I didn't give in to her demands.
3. DAKOTA
Dakota hated Elise's irritating habit of shutting him down every time something interesting happened, and today hadn't been any different. He never claimed to have a sixth sense, but he was sure that anybody who walked into the Maple Plantation house would have noticed something wasn't quite right. It wasn't like he could actually explain what it was that he had felt, but if pressed, he might have described it like what Spiderman must feel when he said his spidey senses were tingling. And it wasn't just him, Elise had felt something too, but she had refused to admit it.
He had caught Elise talking to herself and reacting to things that he couldn't see, too many times not to clue in that something was up with her. Of course Elise always had a reasonable explanation for her odd behavior, but most of her excuses were too flimsy to believe. Like in the kitchen at Maple Plantation, when he had been convinced that she had been having a conversation with someone, but as she usually did, she had denied it all, and from what he could tell, had lied straight to his face.
When he walked out the front door of the plantation house, a few hours before, he had been grateful for the cool night air and had noticed that in a weird way the air outside felt lighter than inside. There were times during the investigation that he had almost felt smothered, and every instance he had, he had made sure that he collected as much data as he could. Though Elise had refused to investigate the kitchen, a place that had previously been documented as being very active, he had done a little digging on his own. He wasn't planning on telling her, that not only had he checked the kitchen out, but he had also recorded some very interesting data, and even managed to use the infrared camera. He had seen right through her ploy to break his expensive piece of equipment, but lucky for him he had managed to get it working well enough to snap a few shots.
> He pulled into his apartment building parking lot, lit by a few flickering streetlights, and popped the trunk of his Honda civic, then unloaded his equipment. When he reached the peeling wood twin doors of his three-story brownstone, he dug into his jeans pocket for his keys, unlocked the main door of the apartment building, and swung it wide. A single naked light bulb lit the foyer. Recently fitted motion detector lights came alive as he made his way to the elevator at the end of the burgundy-carpeted hall.
The manual elevator was dark, and he reached inside to flick on the light switch, then dragged his bags and equipment in and closed the grill. When he punched the second floor button the elevator lurched and the motor cut in and began its ascent. The elevator ground to a stop on his floor and he made his way to his apartment on the opposite end of the lift. As he turned his key in the door lock, his cell phone buzzed in his pocket. He dropped his bags and fished it out, and saw Elise's number flashing across the screen.
"Hello?" he said, kicking his bags over the threshold.
He flicked on the overhead light and strode into his bachelor apartment, closing the door behind him with the heel of his boot. He glanced at his double bed, and how the royal blue sheets and black comforter were still balled up at the foot where he had kicked them off the morning before, and how his plate with crumbs from his morning toast, sat in the exact same place on the glass topped two-seat kitchen table. Sadly, everything was just as he had left it, and as always he wished he had a maid or someone who cared about him to freshen the place up while he was away.
"Oh God, Dakota...it's good to hear your voice," Elise said, and the desperation in her tone was so uncharacteristic that it put him instantly on edge.
"What is it Elise?" he asked, tighening muscles of his shoulders.
"I...I, it's everything Dakota. I didn't know who to call and..." Her voice faded and he heard her stifled sobs.
"Do you want me to come over and..." he started to say, knowing that she would probably shoot down his offer.
Their confrontation in the kitchen at the plantation had him quite sure he wasn't going to be on any of her dinner party guest lists for a while. From the moment she had arrived his intention had been to irritate her, and though he knew it was juvenile, any kind of heat from her, even anger, was better than the cool distance she had maintained between them, since they had split.
"Yes, would you, that'd be great," she said breathlessly, and Dakota was bowled over by her acquiescence.
"I…sure, okay, I'll be there soon, give me half an hour," he said, glancing at his watch.
It was three-thirty. He was exhausted and crashing seemed to be the best course of action, but he couldn't let Elise down, hell he still loved her, probably shouldn't, for how easily she had kicked him to the curb. It was those feelings that had made it tough seeing her at the Maple Plantation, because reading the burning desire in her sexy blue eyes, that said she still wanted him, was like a knife in his heart. Worse than that was how smoking hot she had looked. With her above knee black pencil skirt, and her fiery red hair, curled around her beautiful creamy skin, and a green blouse that molded around her breasts exquisitely, it should have been illegal for her to look that good on a daily basis.
"Thanks Dakota," she murmured, and he heard relief in her tone, which only served to peak his curiosity even more. Before he could ask her about what was going on, the line disconnected. He hung up, then tucked his phone back into his pocket, and eyed his equipment. He was dying to go through the data that he collected that day, but it would have to wait. Though he hated to admit it, Elise still took priority over everything else.
She lived only fifteen minutes away, so he gauged that he had enough time for a quick shower. He always felt scummy after a flight. The sheer amount of people who had sat in the very same seat he had occupied, always made him feel germ ridden, and a shower was routinely the first thing he did when he got home. He slipped off his brown leather hiking boots, threw his dirty clothes in the white plastic laundry basket next to his bed, and tread to his closet size bathroom, that was barely big enough to fit a shower stall, toilet and pedestal sink. When the lukewarm water went clear after its initial muddy beige, he stepped into the shower.
As the water beat against his back, he took a moment to think about his last conversation with Elise at the plantation house, and it had him wondering if his insistence that she knew more than she let on, had spurred this weird phone call. Had something he said, touched a nerve? Or had the almost kiss, been the catalyst? It had sure revved him up, because when he had inhaled her perfume, one he had given her as a gift, and gazed into her almond shaped eyes, it had taken all his power not to snatch her into his arms, and make her see what she was missing.
After he showered, Dakota donned a fresh pair of jeans and a plain white t-shirt, then threw on his black leather jacket and left the apartment. The crescent moon was visible in the clear dark sky, and the stars were pinpricks of light against the black backdrop. The early morning air was crisp, but not as cold as it could easily be in early October, and he was thankful that his light jacket was enough to keep him warm. He hated winter, and how you had to dress like an Eskimo every time you went out the door.
The streets on the way to Elise's place were deserted, and allowed him to cut five minutes off his time. When he reached her apartment building, he smiled a little. The contrast between their places was shocking. Elise's job as the Skeptic had some definite perks, money being one of the biggest ones. The towering glass and steel high-rise, was twenty floors of pure luxury, and Elise loved every bit of it, and if he was being truthful, so did he.
Nights spent at her place were nothing short of spectacular. With Elise naked in his arms, their legs tangled together, and the scent of her shampoo and expensive perfume all over him, he had been as close to bliss as was humanly possible. Not to mention, that Elise's bedroom was something most men only dreamed about.
It was a tad more girly and white than he might have liked, but her bed was so soft and comfy, with its goose down mattress topper, that after sleeping over a few times, he had decided that he needed one too. Of course he had reconsidered when he had gone to a department store and read the price tag of his would be purchase, which in his estimation cost just under two months of his salary. Another unexpected pleasure, was that Elise insisted on using only satin sheets, and although he had initially been unsure of her choice, he kind of liked how slippery and smooth they were against his naked body, though he would never admit it to anyone. But over and above everything else, was the seventy-inch LCD flat screen television, with surround sound and BOSE speakers, mounted on the wall in the bedroom. Who couldn't love a woman with that kind of taste?
Dakota chuckled, and parked at a meter in front of her building. He ran his hand through his still damp hair, and zipped the bottom half of his leather jacket, then loped toward the glassed in entrance, his long, muscled legs eating up the distance. The night doorman, dressed in a white office shirt beneath a three-quarter-length black coat with brass buttons and gold piping around the collar and sleeves, raced to the glass doors just before Dakota reached them. Dakota smiled when he recognized Zeke, a college student who worked nights at the apartment building to pay his way through med school. Dakota had always liked the kid, who was polite and friendly and had none of the snootiness that some of the day staff wore like a badge.
Zeke pushed open the door with his white-gloved hand.
"Hey, Zeke," Dakota said, as he moved in. The door clicked softly when it closed behind him.
"Hey, Mr. Reed," Zeke said.
"I told you Zeke, it's just Dakota."
Zeke nodded, and stifled a yawn. "Sorry," he said.
Dakota patted his shoulder. "Get some sleep man," he said, and walked to the meticulously polished steel elevator and touched the up button. It lit up, and a few seconds later, the doors slid open soundlessly. Dakota gave a final wave in Zeke's direction, pressed the twentieth floor, and the elevator began to rise.
When it slowed to a stop and dinged, he stepped out into the navy and gold speckled carpeted hallway, and tapped on Elise's door, directly adjacent to the elevator. The door swung open even before he finished knocking, and Elise stood in the doorframe, still wearing the silk blouse and skirt that she had worn at the Maple Plantation.
Her mascara was smudged around her blue eyes, and her hair was drawn up into a messy ponytail, revealing the soft lines of her neck and jaw, and she took his breath away. He had to admit that Elise, a pale skinned, redhead who lived in form fitting business attire was the complete opposite of the spray tanned, bottle blondes he usually went for, and maybe that was why he was so stuck on her.
"Thank God you're here," she said, throwing herself into his arms.
She buried her face into the curve of his neck, and he felt her breath, quick and forceful, against his collarbone. Though he was stunned by her sudden affection, it didn't stop him from wrapping his arms around her slender frame, and holding her tight against him. He closed his eyes and rubbed his cheek against her silky hair, inhaling her scent, and was almost too scared to open his eyes again, in case he woke up and found he had been dreaming. Elise clung to him until her breathing slowed and evened. She edged out of his embrace, then clutched his hand in hers, tugging him into her apartment.
Once inside, Dakota noticed that Elise's monochromatic apartment was spotless, with artfully arranged furniture and décor that tied in perfectly with a yellow color palette. From the fake fruit in the oversized wooden bowl on her eight seat teak dining table, to her glass topped teak coffee table with perfectly splayed magazines, her penthouse apartment was exactly as he had remembered.
"What's going on?" he said.
Elise closed the door behind him, and engaged the deadbolt, then entwined her fingers with his, squeezing them painfully hard. Unease crept over him, Elise was usually unflappable, but something had thrown her off her stride.
Skeptic Page 3
