Psycho (and Psychic) Games (The SDF Paranormal Mysteries Book 2)

by Amie Gibbons

He looked at me, puffy lips drawn tight.

  “Fire up the truck. We’re going to the café,” Grant said.

  Jet nodded and we headed to our van.

  Grant waved Andy and Reed over. “You two are with us.”

  “You up to it, Probie?” Andy asked Reed. “Or is it past your bedtime?”

  “I... I’m good, sir.”

  “Come on, Probie.” Andy slapped his back. “We’ve got a psychopath on the run. It doesn’t get bigger than this.”

  “Right.”

  We crowded into the van. Carla stayed up front with Grant and Jet to learn about Truck, hoping knowing him better would help her track.

  I sat in the back with Andy and Rob, Reed’s first name. They asked me about being a psychic and I answered the best I could.

  I shook Rob’s hand and got a vision of him getting his first puppy when he was six.

  He said he loved dogs and had two monsters waiting for him at home.

  After that I focused on the box full of Truck’s stuff, just a few books and the quilt on his bed that his mom had brought in, but wasn’t having much luck.

  Maybe I needed more alcohol.

  Or maybe he had something on him to block me.

  I downed water and scarfed a granola bar. I needed to make sure I had more of a base before I drank anything else. Me gettin’ sick wouldn’t help anything.

  I put down Truck’s stuff and closed my eyes, imagining my powers spreading out.

  “Hey!” I thought at the world. “Collins? Snake shifter guy? Hello!”

  Nothing.

  Crap on a cracker.

  I tried till we pulled up to the internet café and hopped out.

  It was pretty empty, just three young guys hanging out, probably got busier during the school year.

  When we walked in, Dan and a few of the other agents were already there.

  “General.” Dan waved us over, taking another gulp of his coffee. “Good coffee here.”

  He nodded to the guy behind the counter. The man turned to grab a tray off the counter behind him and handed it to Dan.

  “Dude.” Dan handed Jet one of the cups, it had his name on it. Grant got one that I knew was his usual coffee with two creams.

  “Thank you,” I said when Dan handed me the last big white cardboard cup.

  “Soy latte, right?” His tired eyes met mine and I nodded, biting back the sudden urge to cry. “We still got the bourbon?”

  “In the van,” I said, eyes fillin’ with tears.

  Dan was being nice, actually going out of his way nice, that meant big uh oh.

  “It’s some coffee. Nothing to get all weepy over,” Dan growled, taking another gulp.

  “Ohhhh.” I gulped back the tears. Now wasn’t the time. “You all embarrassed cuz you were being nice?”

  Dan gave me his patented sneer. “Go away. You’re bugging me.”

  I took a gulp and turned. Grant was getting the story from the night worker.

  It was a fairly typical internet café. A long counter with displayed pastries, an espresso machine, coffee machines, and an oven. The room held about twenty small tables, a few with laptops on them.

  “Ryder!” Grant barked

  I jumped, sloshing latte through the hole in the lid.

  “Yes, sir?” I followed him to the table the worker pointed us to.

  “Focus on where he is now,” Grant said, pulling the chair out for me.

  I nodded, got my incense and bowl out, and sat down. I lit up and no one said boo about it.

  But boy did they all stare.

  I closed my eyes, picturing Truck, and reached for the computer. I grazed the side of it.

  Nothing.

  Relax.

  I wiggled my shoulders and put hands to keyboard.

  Flash.

  Truck was driving.

  There were things taped to the dash. The fuzzy vision expanded to show the entire interior of the car, but I couldn’t see out of it, couldn’t see what freeway he was cruising down or in what direction.

  I focused on the pieces of paper on the dash, forcing them to unfuzz.

  One was a weather report for Mexico City, another was a bus schedule for New York’s Grand Central Station. There was a schedule and list of rates for flights going from the Atlanta Airport to Europe, and a map of Quebec.

  A light brown bag made of leather and about the size of a hand hung from the review mirror. The vision shimmered as I focused on it, the world bleeding into bright red.

  Truck sang to some rap crap on the radio.

  “That son of a bitch!” I said, pushing myself away from the desk and shooting out of the rolling chair like a brassed off bullet. “He’s trying to throw me off.”

  I explained the clues to different destinations he had in his car.

  “And guess what he had on his review mirror?” I said.

  “Fuzzy dice,” Dan said.

  “Bridges.” Grant shot him a warning look.

  “A gris-gris,” I said.

  Grant’s neck snapped around, the full weight of his iced green eyes landing on me. “I thought those only worked if they have something with the psychic’s DNA?”

  “Actually,” Carla said, “if you want to completely incapacitate a psychic’s abilities, you need something of theirs and you need it close to them. Or have them touch it, and they’ll be down for a day or so. But if you just want to block what you can, you can buy a general psychic deterrent.

  “It will muddle things. Think lightly tinted glass as opposed to a solid wall. That means it can inhibit psychics, mediums, telepaths, voodoo priestesses, and witches by either giving the person with it general protection, or by having the gris-gris near the person with the abilities.”

  Did she just say mediums and telepaths and voodoo priestesses?

  Oh my.

  I took a very long drag of my latte. “Okay everyone, say it with me. Huh?”

  “True mediums and telepaths are just as rare as psychics and shifters,” Carla said, “but they do exist. Witches are just people who can manipulate forces and make spells, have to have some natural ability but most people have some. And then of course there are the voodoo priests and priestesses who can make a gris-gris, bottle potions, and raise zombies. Damn things are as bad as fairies.”

  My jaw dropped.

  Zombies?

  Seriously?

  “Kowalski!” Grant yelled. “Call that probie, see where he is on finding witches in the area.”

  Jet gave a quick nod and pulled out his phone while Grant yanked out his and dialed up someone.

  I gathered from the quick summary that he was talking to Huxley. He gave a nod as Huxley said something back and hung up.

  “Sir?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “That bastard is still around here. I know it. I can feel it.”

  “I’m with ya, sir, but I’m willin’ to bet a whole heap that gris-gris was in the bag the assassin gave him.”

  He fixed his eyes on mine. “Maybe, but if there’s a general deterrent, then there’s something to counter it. And one of these places will know what.”

  ###

  Mender got some guys on finding the shops since the probie didn’t really know how to run down leads yet, a few went out to talk to Sierra in East Nashville, others were tracking Truck’s trail in more conventional ways, and Carla said she was going to sniff around.

  Our team settled into the back of our van with sandwiches, apples and the coffees. After quickly eating, we busted out the bourbon.

  It was time for reinforcements.

  “You really think this is going to work?” Dan asked, pourin’ me and Jet a drink. I guess him and Grant had their fill for the night.

  I shrugged. “He keeps trying to talk to me in my dreams, so figure it’s our best bet.”

  “Why do you think he can help?” Jet asked.

  “Because he’s got this psychic thing down. He popped in, talked to me, even got around the dreamcatcher enough to chat. If anyone
can help us, it’s him. I’m just…”

  Grant stared at me and I downed my drink, flinching as it burned down my throat.

  “What is it, Ryder?” Grant asked.

  “I’m not sure he’ll help. But I’m hoping he will. He said he needs my help too, so…”

  “How are we going to get you to sleep?” Dan asked. “I mean, I’ve seen you drunk, it makes you hyper, it doesn’t knock you out.”

  “Reed’s hitting up Sierra for a sleeping spell,” Jet said. “He should be back any minute.”

  “The booze is to loosen me up,” I said.

  “From what I can tell, you’re pretty loose already,” Dan said.

  Grant was up in front of him so fast I swear I didn’t even see him move.

  He grabbed Dan’s chin so tight Dan grunted. “I know you’re scared, Bridges, this isn’t how to deal with it. You say something like that to a fellow agent again, I’ll shove my boot so far up your ass, you’ll be licking leather, got it?”

  Dan nodded as Grant let him go. “Sorry, sir.”

  “It’s not me you owe that apology to.”

  Dan nodded. “Sorry, Ariana.”

  “It’s okay,” I said. “I’m so outta it, pretty much anything short of physical violence is gonna roll right offa me.”

  I leaned back against the drawers of supplies and tapped the floor. “Hit me.”

  Dan poured me another drink and I took a sip.

  “How many of those have you had?” Dan asked.

  “No idea,” I said. “Seems to be going through me pretty fast. You think maybe the visions eat up alcohol, like feed on it? Cuz I don’t seem to be getting drunk… or at least stayin’ that way. I’m thinking me trying to get visions through Truck’s gris-gris block is draining me more than normal ones, and that is-”

  “Ryder,” Grant said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

  “Right. No babblin’. Gotta focus. Where’s my sleeping spell? I need… I need to do something. Now. I can’t just sit here. I can’t. Every minute… every second he’s out…”

  A sob broke my sentence and Grant squeezed my shoulder.

  A tear slipped out, then another, and I curled my knees up to my chest, burying my head in my knees and holding them tight against me as the dam broke and I sobbed.

  I felt Grant sit next to me and cried harder as he wrapped an arm around my shoulder, pulling me into him.

  I finally stopped and caught my breath, sniffing and looking up and around.

  Like he read my mind, Grant handed me a little pack of tissues.

  I blew my nose and wiped my eyes.

  “I don’t know why,” I said.

  “It’s okay, Ariana,” Grant said. “People have their own ways of dealing with shit like this.”

  “Kinda surprised Dan’s not making fun of me right now.” I met Dan’s eyes. “Aren’t you supposed to be makin’ inappropriate jokes at times like this?”

  “I’m not feeling the funny right now,” Dan said.

  A knock on the van made me, and I’m pretty sure Dan and Jet, hop.

  Grant opened it, grumbled something, and closed the door, turning with a bag.

  “Ryder.” He handed it to me.

  I pulled a small leather satchel outta the bag and held it up. “Ummmm, does this thing come with instructions?”

  Grant looked around and I followed suit.

  “What are we lookin’ for, sir?” I asked.

  “Something to put your head on,” he said. “Come here.”

  I scooched over and he straightened his legs, leaning against the plastic drawers holding supplies.

  He patted his lap and I lay on my back, legs almost short enough to stretch out without hitting the wall separating the back from the seats. I put my head on his thigh.

  “Just open it,” Grant said. “It will keep you out until we close it. You got thirty minutes.”

  “Okeydokey.”

  I opened the bag.

  The world blinked off.

  Chapter thirteen

  My eyes opened and I sat up. The guys were chatting while Grant was on the phone.

  “Crap on a cracker,” I said. “Nothing happened.”

  None of them so much as flinched.

  “Sir?” I asked, waving my hand in front of his face.

  He was still talkin’ and my jaw dropped.

  I couldn’t make out the individual words. I looked over at the guys and couldn’t hear anything besides the general mutters of people talking just outta earshot.

  “So I’m dreaming?” I said. “Okay. Collins? Snake shifter guy I named Collins? Hellooooo?”

  I opened the van and hopped out.

  Daylight streamed through the trees above and I looked around. The woods were thick and wild and I turned to look back inside the van.

  It was gone.

  I took a deep breath.

  “Collinnnnnnnnnns!”

  “God!”

  I jump and whirled.

  The man leaned against a tree.

  “Stop the fucking shouting,” Collins said. “I hear ya.”

  “Sorry.” I grinned. “I didn’t know how else to call you.”

  He sniffed the air. “You smell of death.”

  “That’s kinda why I’m here, Collins. Oh hey, what’s your real name? I’m Ariana, by the way. I can’t remember if I said that before.” I held out my hand and walked towards him.

  He smirked and shook my hand.

  I half expected to get the First Impression off him, but nothing.

  “You know this is the part where you say your name, right?” I asked.

  “My real name hasn’t passed my lips in over twenty years. Too many things can use it against you.” He winked.

  “Ummmm, so what do I call you?”

  “Apparently you call me Collins.”

  I huffed and rolled my eyes. “Whatever. I don’t have a lot of time. I need help. That serial killer you met in my mind, he’s out. He used my powers to call someone for help and she killed the guards and broke him out.”

  “Not surprised.”

  I blinked. “I was kinda expectin’ a reaction: horror, fear, empathy. And… what do you mean not surprised?”

  “He was in prison and calling for help. What did you think he wanted? A pack of smokes?”

  A cigarette appeared in his hand and he lit it with a finger and took a puff, staring at me.

  “Wow, you’re colder than I thought,” I said.

  “You have no idea,” he said.

  I squinted at him. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think that was a vampire joke.”

  His face stayed blank. “But you know better?”

  “I saw you in sunlight, ergo, not a vampire.”

  He nodded. “And you know about vampires?”

  “Yeah. Can you help me? We have to find this guy and he’s got a gris-gris, I’m assumin’ you know what that is, and it’s blocking me. You seem to have a pretty good grasp on this psychic thing, so…”

  He was still staring at me.

  “Um,” I said, “can you help me?”

  “Can, yes,” he said. “Will is another question. I have my own problems.”

  “Yeah, you said you needed my help. I figured we could do a trade. But, if you’re psychic too, why do you need me?”

  “I’m not psychic.”

  “Then, how?” I waved around us.

  “I have psychic powers, as in mental ones, but I can not see like you can.”

  “So you do need me? We can trade then.”

  He sighed. “Fair enough. I don’t do anything for free, can’t expect others to. Though I have already helped you so you owe me for that. What do you know about vampires?”

  “Wow, and people think I jump. Why you fixatin’ on that?”

  He smirked and took another puff.

  “Fine,” I said. “What do you mean you already helped me?”

  “I closed the hatch. He left it hanging wide open in your mind. I don’t think it was on purpose.
I’m pretty sure he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing.”

  “Hatch?”

  He took another puff. “Yeah, like if someone hacks your computer and leaves it just sitting there, so anyone who can find the trail can get in. Good hackers aren’t so sloppy.”

  I half choked, half laughed. “He hacked my brain?”

  Collins dropped his cig and disappeared.

  “Seriously!” I tossed my hands up. “We have a serial killer on the loose! Doesn’t that matter to you at all?”

  “Not really,” he said right next to my ear.

  “Ah!” I jumped and he wrapped an arm around me, pinning me back against his naked body and grabbin’ my throat.

  “Why do guys keep doing that?” I squeaked.

  He chuckled, low and deep. “I can’t speak for any other guys, but I’m doing it because I’m cranky and it’s fun.” He nuzzled my hair. “Care to cheer me up?”

  “I really don’t have time. Escaped killer. Need to find him.”

  He let me go and I turned around.

  He frowned. “I was expecting more of a response. Am I losing my touch?”

  “I’m too freaked out and exhausted to have any response to anyone right now. So, help?”

  “Fine. But then you have to help me. Deal?”

  “One, I need to know what I’ll be helping with. Two, it’ll have to wait till after we catch this guy.”

  “I can wait a few days, but I can’t tell you what it is until we meet,” he said.

  “I can live with that. How do we do this?”

  “Aren’t you in your twenties? Shouldn’t you have a better grasp on your powers by now?”

  “I’ve had my powers less than two years,” I said.

  “What?” He looked me up and down. “Unless you’re a late bloomer, I’m missing something.”

  “I… huh?”

  “You get your powers during puberty.”

  “Maybe you did. I didn’t.”

  “No, everyone does. That’s when powers develop.”

  I shrugged. “Don’t know what to tell you. I hit puberty around the same time everyone else does, but my powers came on when I was about twenty-one and a half.”

  “I’ll have to figure out that little mystery later, but at least it explains why you’re so bad at this.”

  “Hey!”

  He smirked. “Picture the man in your head. You navigate and I’ll drive.”

  “Okay.”