Lingering Touch: The Summer Park Psychics, Book 3

by Cassandra Chandler

  Rachel paused briefly with the censer under the bag. She let the smoke float up around the green plastic.

  “That should be good enough.” She laughed abruptly. “I know we’ve never discussed paranormal stuff before, but I have to say I’m very grateful you’re into it and already know so much.”

  “I didn’t know you were into it at all.”

  “It’s kind of been a necessity for me. Let’s sit down and talk.” Rachel took the bag and led Jazz into the living room.

  Necessity. Like Elsa.

  Jazz wondered if Rachel might be psychic too. It was pretty common in Summer Park. Something about the place seemed to call to people with gifts, drawing in whole families sometimes.

  Like Finn and his dad, Tommy.

  Her stomach tightened as she remembered sitting around their kitchen table and laughing till her sides hurt. Finn hadn’t just given her his heart—he’d given her a family. She had messed up and lost them both.

  She modified her standard mantra, trying to get a better handle on her emotions.

  Do not think about Tommy.

  “Can I get you a drink or anything?” Rachel asked.

  “I’m good.”

  Garrett’s coffee table was covered in an impressive library of metaphysical texts. Jazz recognized several of the same books she had in her collection. Chloe was doing good business.

  Jazz sat on the couch and said, “I’m guessing this isn’t a passing interest.”

  “No.”

  Where was Garrett? Jazz broadened her attention and heard water running at the other side of the house. He must be in the shower. While she was scanning the room, she noticed a poppet hanging above the sliding glass doors that led to the patio.

  A poppet?

  It was made of plain white cloth and shaped like a person, but didn’t have any other defining characteristics. Jazz checked the kitchen window with her limited view from the couch. Sure enough, a poppet was hanging there as well. Rachel was warding away spirits. Not just a specific spirit—otherwise, there would have been more detail to the things. She was keeping away all of them.

  That explained the smudging.

  “I see you’re already redecorating,” Jazz said.

  Rachel’s smile faltered and the tension around her eyes increased. She’d said she wanted to talk metaphysics, but maybe she was like Elsa and new to the whole thing.

  “It’s a poppet,” Rachel said. “They keep away spirits.”

  Maybe not-so-new.

  Rachel made herself a workspace on the coffee table, then sat on the floor and opened the bag. She placed what Jazz had picked up at Bookwyrm on the table. Silver jewelry wire, a wire cutter, a silver chain, and three stones.

  “Snowflake obsidian, fluorite, and opal, as requested,” Jazz said. “I picked out three that looked like you could make them work in a necklace.”

  “These are perfect, thanks.”

  They were in a small sealed plastic bag. Rachel opened it, then let the stones tumble gently onto her hand. She set them on the table reverently.

  The snowflake obsidian was black with little gray speckles that looked like snow. Obsidian was used in metaphysical work with the subconscious. Snowflake obsidian specifically could be used in meditation and rituals designed to help a person manifest their most authentic self.

  Fluorite, on the other hand, was about boundaries and concentration. Jazz used it when she really needed to focus on a project and didn’t want to be distracted by outside influences.

  The one she’d picked out had lots of blue and purple flowing through the translucent body of the stone, which would bring out the iridescent qualities of the otherwise milky-white opal. Opal was used for journeying and balance.

  Journeying… Was the necklace meant for Elsa?

  Rachel was linking the stones together, wrapping the jewelry wire around each one to hold it in place. While she worked, she said, “I spoke with Elsa on the phone today. She told me what she can do.”

  Yup. It was for Elsa.

  The choice of stones suddenly made sense. No, not just sense—they were genius. Opal to aid journeying, fluorite to aid focus. Using those stones together, Elsa’s psychic ability of astral projection would be heightened. They would give her more control. Jazz wasn’t sure how the snowflake obsidian factored in, though.

  She also wasn’t completely certain that she and Rachel were on the same page. Until she was, Jazz wouldn’t spill Elsa’s secret, even though Elsa said she was planning to tell Rachel eventually.

  “Elsa can do a lot of things,” Jazz said.

  “So can I.”

  Rachel let her hands drop to her lap and stared at Jazz intently. She had never seen Rachel look so serious.

  “I can hear spirits,” Rachel said. “Sometimes I see them in reflections. Especially mirrors.”

  Damn. Was Jazz a psychic magnet or something? She knew she didn’t have any abilities herself. She would have discovered it over her years of practicing, researching, trying to reach the other side.

  Plus, Chloe had tested her.

  One of the reasons Jazz settled in Summer Park was to be closer to Chloe and work with her. She had been the most promising lead in Jazz’s ultimately futile quest.

  Aside from “having a heightened sense of people’s character”, Jazz was within the normal levels of sensory perception. And even that ability hadn’t helped to avoid—

  Do not think about Michael.

  Her mantra didn’t keep her stomach from knotting. She hated that Michael could affect her so viscerally. She took a slow, deep breath through her nose and let it out through slightly pursed lips, hoping that Rachel wouldn’t notice.

  “Aren’t you going to say something?” Rachel asked.

  “I’m being inscrutable,” Jazz said. “It’s an Asian thing.”

  As she hoped, Rachel laughed. Jazz felt her own face pull into a stiff smile.

  “Okay. I need more information.”

  Rachel nodded. “You know how I sometimes get distracted? That’s usually when I’m hearing spirits having a conversation. Florida is filled with ghosts. That’s why I’m making this for Elsa.”

  How did ghosts intersect with astral projection?

  “I don’t see the connection.”

  “Elsa travels astrally. She leaves her body behind, ready to be occupied.”

  The knots in Jazz’s stomach tightened.

  “Occupied?”

  “It’s easy for a spirit to enter an empty body.”

  “You’re talking about possession.”

  Rachel nodded. “Some ghosts can even take over bodies that have souls in them. If they have a strong enough personality, they can overcome the existing consciousness. All they need is an opening or conduit. It would be easy for a spirit to take over Elsa’s body while she’s traveling.”

  Shit. Jazz should have thought of that as soon as Elsa had told Jazz what she could do. Jazz had been too dazzled and happy and proud of Elsa’s ability.

  Elsa didn’t just use her power to let her soul travel through space—she traveled back in time on a regular basis. No wonder her novels were so rich in historical detail.

  As if that wasn’t enough, she had discovered Dante, basically fallen in love with him while observing him, and saved his life by pulling him forward through time physically. Jazz had never heard of anything happening on that level. She was still kind of in awe of the whole thing. Even so, she should have realized the danger inherent in Elsa leaving her body empty.

  Jazz knew that mediums could channel spirits through their bodies during séances and that sometimes the spirits didn’t want to leave. She had studied the phenomenon of walk-ins, even a bit about possession. Finding out more about how spirits and the living could interact had been a near-obsession of hers for years after her father’s unexpected death
.

  Never think about Father.

  Her mind shied away from the topic instantly, like the thought was made of shards of broken glass. She pulled her focus back to Rachel again.

  The snowflake obsidian finally made sense. The necklace wasn’t meant to boost Elsa’s powers. It was meant to keep her safe.

  Jazz pointed at it. “Are you sure this will protect her?”

  “It should,” Rachel said. “She’s been lucky.”

  “What about a salt circle? Would that help?”

  “If she can control when she travels, yes, that would keep spirits away. I’m not sure how the circle would affect her, though. It might trap her inside or keep her from being able to get back. We can run some experiments and see.”

  Chloe needed to be there when that happened. Her experience would be invaluable. But Jazz was getting ahead of herself.

  “She’s not going to want to try anything until Dante is better. Since she can control her ability by not being around any art, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “Art?”

  “That’s what triggers her ability. I guess it’s like you only seeing spirits in reflections.”

  Rachel nodded. “That will buy us some time.”

  The knots in Jazz’s stomach lessened a tiny bit. Elsa was safe for the moment. Dante was doing well. Garrett was apparently at-ease enough to take a shower, which was a relief, since he’d been so busy taking care of everybody else he’d been neglecting himself for the last two months. That left Rachel.

  “What about you?” Jazz said. “Are these poppets enough to keep spirits from bothering you?”

  “That plus spraying salt water on all the doors and windows. Florida is so humid and there’s already salt everywhere from the ocean being close. It doesn’t take much extra to ward entryways.”

  Jazz had never bothered warding anything. She’d fix that as soon as she went home.

  “I’ll keep that in mind. What do you do when you leave the house?”

  Rachel paused for a moment before saying, “I don’t.”

  What?

  “You can’t stay here forever.”

  “I’ll figure something out. If Dante and Elsa are staying in the city for a while, maybe I can stay at their place.”

  “That isn’t what I meant. You can’t let ghosts keep you imprisoned for the rest of your life. They can’t hurt you, can they?”

  “It’s difficult for them to hurt people physically through direct contact. They’re more likely to try to startle me so I jump out in front of a car or maybe impel an animal to bite me or something.”

  “That’s not reassuring.”

  “It’s hard for spirits to control animals. They’d have to be extremely willful and focused. Death tends to distract people and scatter their thoughts. It takes them a while to regroup and be able to think rationally.”

  The most recent ghost that Jazz could think of was also the worst. Michael.

  You will think about Michael if it helps Rachel be safe.

  Michael Angelo, the brilliant artist whose works inspired such a visceral response in viewers because his paintings were made from the blood of women he killed. Jazz felt her stomach heave, but clenched her muscles, willing herself not to be sick. His works had been set to exhibit in Jazz’s gallery—her own fucking gallery.

  He had targeted Rachel and Elsa, kidnapping Rachel first. Elsa’s ability had been triggered when she went into Michael’s exhibit room. She’d traveled to where Rachel was being held in Michael’s garage.

  On one level, Jazz was grateful. If Elsa hadn’t seen the paintings, she and Dante wouldn’t have been able to run to the rescue, having Jazz call in reinforcements in the form of EMTs and the police. But if Jazz hadn’t brought Michael’s pieces into the gallery, her friends might not have been hurt at all.

  Heightened ability to read people’s character. Right.

  Michael had shot at Dante and injured him, had strangled Elsa, and had…tortured…Rachel. And then Rachel had shot him. A lot. If Michael’s spirit wanted revenge, she would be his first target. The first of many.

  “What about—”

  “Michael is dead and gone. His body was cremated. Without any remains, his spirit can’t linger.” Rachel recited the information as rote. She and Garrett must have already covered this ground.

  Jazz let out a huge breath and nodded. “Okay. What about these other yahoos? How do we get them to stop bugging you?”

  “I’m still working on my long-term plan.”

  “There’s more you’re not telling me. I want to help.”

  “The best thing you can do is get this to Elsa.”

  Rachel held up the finished necklace. It was gorgeous. The stones were secure, but still showcased. She had even added little flourishes with the silver wire, making spiral patterns on the stones.

  “You are a miracle worker,” Jazz said. “I keep telling you I could sell your work in the gallery easily.”

  “I have a trust fund, remember?”

  A trust fund from parents that didn’t give a damn about Rachel. Her dad was absent except for photo shoots, and her mom was a grasping, conniving, undercutting woman. Jazz wasn’t into hating people. It took too much energy. Rachel’s mom had earned it, though, after too many gallery openings where she attended seemingly just to humiliate Rachel.

  Even with a trust fund, Rachel had wanted a job. Wanted to contribute. How the hell had such a beautiful person come from that pair?

  “Is that why you fought me so hard on getting a paycheck?”

  Jazz almost managed a smile at the memory. Rachel worked hard at the gallery. Jazz had to shove a check in Rachel’s purse and threaten to fire her if she didn’t cash it.

  “The knowledge you’ve shared with me is worth more than any paycheck. You’ve given me a chance to do something meaningful that I love.”

  Something that had almost gotten her killed.

  “How’s that working out for you?”

  “Are you kidding? I’ve learned more from you than anyone.”

  “If knowledge is all you wanted, you could have gone back to school,” Jazz said.

  “There are no schools that could give me the experience I’ve gained working with you.”

  Experiences like being chained to a wall and exsanguinated for a painting. Jazz bit back the acerbic comment. When Rachel was ready to talk about what happened to her, Jazz would be there. But she wasn’t going to bring it up herself.

  Dammit, she was tearing up again. Rachel didn’t need to see that. Jazz coughed to clear her throat, but it was still tight when she spoke.

  “Is there anything special I need to do when I give the necklace to Elsa?”

  “No, but I need to charge it with an intention first. If you give me a moment, I can do that now.”

  Jazz nodded, then leaned back. Rachel held the necklace in her closed hands, presumably to block out any of the ambient energy floating around the room. She shut her eyes and murmured something so quiet Jazz couldn’t make it out.

  After a few moments, Rachel opened her eyes and set the necklace on the coffee table. She flicked her hands to shed any residual energy. Yeah, she knew what she was doing in the energy-manipulation department. That still seemed like a very small-scale ritual.

  “Seriously?” Jazz asked. “That’s it?”

  “The simplest solutions are usually the most powerful.”

  That sounded like something Chloe would say.

  “I might have taught you about running a gallery, but I’m guessing you had other mentors.”

  “I had two teachers,” Rachel said. “One on each side.”

  “Each side of what?”

  “One was a spirit. The other was a medium.”

  “I suppose that makes sense. Actually, a lot of things I wondered about you are making
sense now. Like why you try to get people to think you’re scatterbrained when you’re actually brilliant.”

  Rachel’s eyebrows hiked up her forehead and her mouth dropped open. She let out a fake laugh, trying to throw Jazz off her scent. It was way too late for that.

  “I don’t know about that,” Rachel said. “But I appreciate the compliment.”

  “It wasn’t a compliment. It was a statement of fact. And you’re doing it right now.” Jazz sighed. “I wish you would stop.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Forget it. I’m just glad you’re away from your mother. I’ve been trying to get you out of that pit since we met. Garrett’s going to get a deep discount on his next piece for accomplishing that.”

  “A pit? I’ve been living in a mansion.”

  “That’s putting lipstick on a pig. Your mom could suck the joy out of a sold-out opening show. I’ve seen her do it. Belittle your accomplishments and demean you in front of a room full of people.”

  Rachel’s laugh was tinny and hollow. Jazz could only imagine the things echoing in Rachel’s mind. Ghosts were probably easier to deal with than memories of her mother’s passive-aggressive abuse.

  “You’re the one who makes the sales,” Rachel said.

  “Stop. Now you’re doing it to yourself.”

  “You sound like Garrett.”

  “Good. If we all remind you to disregard the crap she’s told you over the years, it might help you to stop telling yourself the same lies she taught you.”

  Rachel’s eyes filled with tears and she muttered, “Thanks.”

  This topic was too sensitive. Jazz needed to distract Rachel. Immediately.

  Jazz nodded and asked, “Will it disrupt the energy if I touch the necklace?”

  “It’s best if others handle it as little as possible.”

  The silver chain had come in a velvet bag. Rachel slid the finished necklace into the little pouch and handed it to Jazz.

  “I’ll see that she gets it tonight,” Jazz said. “But what about you? How do we get all these ghosts to leave you alone?”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  Jazz grabbed Rachel’s hand and held on tight. “We take care of each other. Now more than ever.”