Psychic Wanted (Un)Dead or Alive (The SDF Paranormal Mysteries Book 4)

by Amie Gibbons

  Wow, I was really into bashing myself tonight, wasn’t I.

  I shook off the self-pity.

  We had more important things.

  The street was a wall of noise, even this early in the evening. On top of the throngs of people swarming around us like ants, the bars lining Broadway just one street over blasted with live music and popular DJs, and a street musician who was better than most acts in bars in other cities sang the blues on the corner where Commerce Street met Third.

  Printers Alley was just behind the building and I was pretty sure I could hear the karaoke DJ from Lonnie’s announcing the next act, even all the way over here.

  Or maybe that was just me wishin’ I could be over there, singing my heart out and halfway to tipsy.

  My heart sank as we walked through the crowds through the hallway built by police tape from the front doors to the dead body half the building down.

  Halloween was supposed to be fun. We were supposed to be setting up for a party. I was supposed to spend the night dancing, drinking too much, singing on stage, and making out with my boyfriend until we finally got a room.

  I got up to the body and my heart broke in half.

  This guy was supposed to be heading out to party tonight, making people laugh with his costume, maybe meeting a sweetheart, or hitting on slutty nurses and cheerleaders, or meeting his buddies for the Nashville Ghost Tour, enjoying the unique, crazy vibe that was downtown Nashville on Halloween night while downing a few beers.

  Hatred rushed through me, hard and fast as a brick train.

  I wanted to find this ghost or whatever the quack this thing was.

  And stop it.

  No, I wanted to destroy it.

  The feeling washed out of me and I looked around.

  Was I channeling someone else, or was that all me?

  I honestly couldn’t tell.

  He looked just like he had in the vision I got from Dr. Donahue, body half flattened from the impact, arms bent funny and sprawled out, one leg half under him, like he’d landed on it and it snapped on impact.

  Like he’d been trying to land on his feet on instinct.

  I sobbed and covered my mouth.

  There was no crying at crime scenes.

  Grant got up from where he’d been squatting next to the body. Trying to do anything magical with this many people we couldn’t shove back much further wasn’t gonna be easy.

  Maybe we should’ve tried to play it off like it was street theater.

  “Ryder,” Grant said, nodding at the body.

  “Sir, the crowds,” I said quietly.

  They were being kept back about ten feet, but that was practically nothing in broad daylight with a straight line of vision at me.

  “Can’t be helped,” he said.

  “But, sir, the hit,” I said.

  He jerked his chin to the right and my eyes followed it.

  Sierra, the witch we’d had on retainer since July, stood next to the building, half hidden from the crowds by the mass of officers gathering pieces of evidence within the tape, and interviewing witnesses.

  She looked like she was just standing there, but a careful stare said she was muttering something under her breath.

  Some kind of protection spell?

  “Thank you, sir,” I said.

  He just nodded, then jerked his head at some of the officers hanging near the edge of the tape.

  There were like a dozen of them, so the four peeling off weren’t too obvious.

  They took over taking pictures of the body, and checking for tiny pieces of evidence and fingerprints, conveniently between me and the crowd in the street.

  Of course Grant would’ve thought to have people ready to provide cover.

  I knelt by the body where Grant had been.

  The man’s sharp, strong bone structure was still holding up on the side of his face facing the sky, but I could tell by the skin peeling up visibly that the other side was horribly mangled, and would’ve taken a buttload of reconstructive surgery had he survived.

  His Ambulance Chaser sign hung half off his body and I sniffed.

  “I’m so sorry,” I whispered. “You should be making people giggle with this sign right now, not lying dead under it.”

  His suit covered most of the skin south of his face so I palmed his cheek, hoping if his spirit was hangin’ around it could feel it and find comfort.

  Flash.

  The world was hazy and grey, not at all like my usual visions, but I was very much in my physical body, still touching the guy’s face.

  “I should’ve asked Carvi with help with this,” I said, standing up.

  “If he could help,” a musical, accented voice said.

  I hopped, squeaking as I whirled.

  Grey swirled around me, sparkling and beautiful.

  “I think you’re a little lost,” the voice said.

  “Where?” I turned in a full circle, flashes of the building barely visible though in reality it was maybe seven feet away.

  “Down here, cutie.”

  I looked down and the corpse raised a hand, flashing the crushed hand and bit of wrist I could see.

  I gagged.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I’m hoping I don’t have to spend eternity looking like this. I still can’t get up.”

  “I… ugh,” I said. “I think I need Carvi’s help for this.”

  “Is that the vampire?” he asked.

  I still couldn’t place his accent. I knew he swore in German earlier, but he didn’t sound German to me.

  “Yeah. How did you know?”

  “I guess you get to know things once you’re dead. Like I know you’re psychic, and you were supposed to be able to see what happened to me in the astral plane, but you are actually in limbo with me right now.”

  “Oh crap!” I said. “I don’t think I wanna be in limbo.”

  “You and me both, blondie.”

  “Ummmm, am I gonna be stuck here or something?”

  “You’re alive, you’ll be fine,” he said.

  “Okay, well, um, I need to know what happened to you. Any ideas?”

  He snorted. “I wish I knew. I really don’t want to be dead. Pretty sure I’m in denial. I mean, I’ve made jokes but…”

  “Jokes?” I asked.

  “After my wife left me last year, I was pretty down. Made a lot of jokes about sending myself flying. Never meant it though.”

  “Maybe that’s it!” I said. “Maybe that’s what the ghost was targeting. Wait…” I bit my lip. “I… oh dear, where are my manners? I’m Agent Ariana Ryder, with the FBI.”

  “I know,” he said, half mouth pulling up into a smile. “I’m Thomas Muller. I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but, considering the circumstances…”

  I smiled but it was sad. “Yeah, trust me, I understand. Thomas, can you tell me what happened up there? I saw it in a vision, but all I saw was you starin’ into the mirror. I didn’t see what caused you to run and jump out the window.”

  “That’s the thing, I don’t think that was me. I didn’t see anything that I remember. I was brushing my teeth and then I was flying. I was back just long enough to see the building flying away. I turned my head just in time to see the ground coming at me. I didn’t even have time to wonder what the fuck before I was here.”

  “Possession?” I said.

  “That’s my best guess.”

  “You’re handlin’ this pretty well.”

  “Denial,” he said. “It’s a powerful defense mechanism. I’m a psychiatrist. Was. Just finished my residency and was hired on at Vanderbilt a few months ago.”

  “I went there… but for college. I was gonna go to law school, but, well, psychic. Don’t think I would’ve liked law school really. Too much time spent bent over books. And then I’d have to be a lawyer.”

  He chuckled. “Man, I would’ve loved to have met you in the real world. You sound like my type. Definitely look like it. Please tell me you’re some kind of commie or something so I
won’t be crushing right now, pun intended.”

  I grinned and giggled. “Sorry, card carryin’ Southern girl, NRA member, patriotic, and proud individual’s rights activist.”

  He groaned. “Of course, I’d have to die before meeting such a sexy woman. But you’re probably too young for me… Please tell me you’re too young for me.”

  “I’m twenty-three,” I said.

  “Definitely too young,” he said. “Forty.”

  “You don’t look it.”

  A tear slid out of his eye and my grin fell off as he made a strangled sound.

  “We’ll find who did this, Thomas,” I said. “I know that’s not much help to you, but we will. I promise. This is what we do.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “I believe you. I’m just wondering how to let go and move on.”

  “I’m not the best person to ask on the whole letting go thing. I’ve been told I have a problem with that. Just ask my boss who has apparently dropped me as a friend. Sorry, tryin’ to joke.”

  “It’s okay. I’m just glad I have someone to talk to. I’ve been watching them swarm me for a while now and you’re the first one who could hear me.”

  “Do you have any unfinished business or something?” I asked. “I mean, you’re too coherent to be the repeating the trauma ghost, and you don’t seem angry enough to be a poltergeist, and you aren’t just kinda out of it and not knowing you’re dead. So I don’t quite get it. You seem pretty with it, and from what I know, those are the dead that move on so they aren’t even ghosts.”

  “Don’t look at me. Before this, ghosts were things crazy people saw.”

  “I thought therapists weren’t supposed to say the c word,” I said.

  “The C word is communism.”

  I laughed, clapping my hands together. “We would’ve gotten along so well. Thomas, can you tell me anything else, like how to see what took you over? I was hoping to see what sent you over the edge when I popped up here, and since you said you know things, I’m kinda hopin’ you can help me.”

  “I have nothing,” he said. “Like I said, today, I knew magic was stuff out of imagination, and ghosts, gods, and phenomenon were things people used to explain perfectly natural events they didn’t understand, or were hallucinations.”

  “Any idea how I get outta here then?” I asked. “Not that I want to leave you alone or anything, but you know, I have your murder to solve. And there’s an assassin after me, which is… well, I’m pretty sure I’m in denial about that right now. You’re right, it really helps.”

  “No clue on getting out of here,” he said. “Otherwise I’d be heading out. I can’t even get up.”

  Huh.

  I closed my eyes, imagining me back in the real world.

  I opened them and the grey still swirled around me.

  “Well, crap,” I said. “I thought that’d work.”

  “You really should have been studying with me.” Carvi popped up next to me, making me hop and squeak again. “You have no sense of direction.”

  “I got it!” I said. “He said he doesn’t remember what happened between the mirror and going flying. I think he was possessed. Can you help me see what took him over?”

  “Not from here.”

  “Can you help him move on?” I asked.

  Carvi shook his head. “Not my area, but it looks like you are stuck, buddy. I don’t know what took you out, but it’s stuck you here on purpose.”

  “Oh,” Thomas said in a very small voice.

  “Carvi, what could do that?” I asked.

  “We’re talking powerful magic,” Carvi said. “But… this is something I haven’t seen. It’s… it’s like the ghost is looping, reliving its death, but in other people. Which has happened, but not when it’s as coherent as this one seems to be.”

  “You think it’s possessing people and doing this on purpose, but if it were, it wouldn’t act like the one we saw?”

  He shook his head. “Lea, I don’t know, but we really need to get out of here. You have no idea how vulnerable you are right now. The assassins could come in here, or could get you outside while you’re comatose.”

  “Wait,” I said. “If the ghost is looping, wouldn’t there be more victims? Like if it’s looping on Halloween, would its past victims have jumped out of that building and be stuck here?”

  He drew a breath and let it out in a hiss, glaring at me.

  I propped my hands on my hips. “You know I’m not gonna let this go, so you may as well just tell me if you want me outta here fast.”

  “Yes,” he said. “And I could drag your ass out if I wanted to.”

  “Can we check to see if anyone else is trapped in here, or left echoes or something?”

  “If they were here, they’d be in the same spot.”

  “Can we just check? Carvi, I have a feeling here.”

  Carvi sighed and closed his eyes, holding out his hand to me. “I’m using your powers for this. It’s easier.”

  I took his hand and the world flew away, leaving a cast of grey over murky shapes of downtown Nashville and then further out to the suburbs.

  The world lit up with tiny dots of red around the city.

  Eighteen total.

  “Carvi?” I whispered, cold weight settling in my stomach and making me queasy.

  “If it was a ghost looping, it’d be in the same place,” he said. “And if they’d been trapped here for years, their spirits would have dimmed.”

  “That’s what I was gonna ask, yep,” I said. “Why are they all bright and all over the place?”

  “Because they all died today, and all over the city, would be my guess.”

  Chapter five

  “These are the coordinates?” Grant asked, leaning over the laptop where we’d marked the red glows we’d seen in the spirit world.

  “Those are the approximate locations,” Carvi said.

  We’d made it back to the office after saying bye to Thomas, and Carvi took me out of the spirit world vision.

  Sierra had to check the office for any possible traps before they were willing to move me, but it looked clear, both physically and magically.

  “Mender?” Grant asked.

  Mender was the leader of a different team, so Grant couldn’t just tell her to go look into those areas, but she nodded.

  “Halloween’s been pretty quiet so far,” she said. “Crowley said even their haunting turned out to be a divorcee with an overactive imagination.”

  “Not quiet anymore,” Grant said. “Get him in here.”

  She nodded and walked away, pulling out her phone.

  The SDF office is downtown, an unassuming building that isn’t even an official FBI office. Technically Nashville doesn’t have an FBI office. We just have the section of the SDF functioning out of here and we cover all of middle Tennessee and parts of Kentucky and Alabama.

  It's a big open bullpen with four sets of desks arranged in little circles, with partitions between them, then a hallway to the side leading to the director’s office and the interrogation rooms, and a little kitchen off to the side we keep well stocked with snacks and coffee.

  And booze, since that helps my psychic juices.

  Usually Halloween is like New Year’s Eve. Lots of calls, lots of work, half of which turns out to be nothing but too much alcohol and/or some stupid teenagers.

  So not really having much to do tonight spoke volumes.

  Like the calm before the storm.

  Or everything hidin’ while the storm’s raging on.

  “Sir, what should I get on?” I asked.

  “Evidence,” he said. “Go over the body with Kat. I want to know what made him jump.”

  I nodded.

  Something told me I wasn’t going to be able to see any more than I already did, but I had to try.

  “Hey,” I said to Kat as I walked into the autopsy room, Carvi close behind.

  After the team was done processing the scene, Kat had Thomas’s body brought here. She’d barely start
ed her autopsy.

  I pulled on a pair of gloves.

  Used to be that they’d have to come off for me to get a vision, but lately I’d learned how to work around them and now they were just to protect me from disease and to keep the evidence from being compromised.

  I ran my hand down Thomas’s face on the non-squished side.

  I couldn’t bring myself to touch the mangled flesh.

  With his clothes off, he looked a lot worse than he had on the sidewalk, every split open section of skin on display.

  I’m pretty sure when Kat lifted one side that I saw a kidney.

  I’ve seen some terrible things as a psychic. When you catch peoples’ most significant moments as soon as you touch them, that’s kinda inevitable, but there’s something about seeing things in the real world that makes them worse.

  Most of the time, visions are like watching something play out on a screen. It can be ugly and traumatizing, like the one and only time I watched an episode of Game of Thrones, but it’s not real.

  Touching this poor guy, seeing his wounds, seeing parts of him split open like a dropped bag of meat, which he basically was… it was sickening.

  “You need to focus, lea,” Carvi said.

  “I know,” I said. “I just… before, I didn’t see anything. I just visited him in the spirit world. What makes me think this’ll be different?”

  “Can’t know until you try.”

  “I am tryin’.”

  “No, you aren’t.”

  “How would you know?” I snapped.

  Carvi was suddenly next to me and grabbed my arm, staring me down.

  “I can sense effort and power, and right now, you are exerting neither. Suck it up and do your job, because you’re beginning to piss me off with your whining.”

  “I’m not whining, and you’re being a jerk!”

  “I'm old. Forgive me if I don't get the A for effort, at least I tried, mommy, mindset!”

  “I'm trying! You see me trying!”

  “This isn't little league at the millennial's kitty camp. You don't get an A for effort or a fucking participation trophy. Someone is trying to kill you and you insist upon playing detective, and you’re doing a piss poor job at it. Focus. Get a vision.”

  “I don't know what you want me to do here.”