Lightning Strikes

by Theresa Parker

  “Well, your pulse is fine, Rommy,” he said. “You seem to be okay. What happened?” He retained hold of my hand.

  Cavanaugh made a growling sound in the back of his throat and sat on the couch at my hip, pulling my hand out of Grant’s and keeping it in his own. Grant laughed, and Kelli tsked at him. I knew Grant was worried, but I could tell he was trying to lighten the situation for Kelli’s sake. Kelli hustled him off to the kitchen and they returned with hot coffee, cups, cream, and sugar. Kelli fixed mine for me just the way I like it, but before she let me have it, she handed me my prescription migraine pills and a bottle of water. I looked at them blankly for a moment and then handed them back to her.

  “I don’t need those,” I told her, indicating the pills.

  “You don’t?” she said, perplexed.

  I shook my head. “No, I don’t have a headache. In fact, I feel fine now…well, maybe a little tired.”

  Cavanaugh squeezed my hand. “What happened out there, Rommy?” he asked me.

  I took a deep breath and told them all what happened at the mine. I explained about the high-voltage humming sound that I’d picked up in my head and carried with me from the visitor center and on into the park. I described how it got progressively worse as we traveled to the second cluster of mines until it incapacitated me on the trail to the iron mine.

  “Why did that happen?” I asked, looking to Grant and Kelli for answers. “I’ve never had anything like that happen to me before.”

  Pamela was sitting quietly in my overstuffed chair, patiently listening to my story. “What kind of mines were they?” she asked.

  “The first three were gold,” Cavanaugh told her, “and the next cluster, where she collapsed, was silver and iron ore.”

  Pamela nodded her head. “I thought it might be something like that,” she said.

  “You know what happened?” Cavanaugh asked.

  “Yes,” Pamela said, “I believe I do.” She scooted forward in the chair and leaned toward me with her elbows on her knees. “Do you remember when I told you about how my gift runs in my family?”

  I nodded, remembering everything she said the first night we met.

  “Because our gifts are passed down from mother to daughter, we have learned a great deal about our abilities from generation to generation. One of those is that certain metals, most especially iron and silver, affect our gifts.

  “Fascinating,” Grant said.

  “Why have you never mentioned this before?” Kelli asked.

  “Honestly, I’ve never given it much thought. Small amounts like those found in jewelry or building materials don’t really affect us too much,” she explained, “but in areas that have it naturally in abundance, such as mines, and depending on how much and how close to the surface it is, it can do many things to a sensitive person, and one of those things is what you experienced. I am amazed that you withstood it as long as you did. Your abilities must be very strong.”

  “You mean this will happen again if she goes near those mines?” Kelli asked.

  “Absolutely,” Pamela replied. “It’s just like how limestone, gemstones, and various crystals enhance our gifts. You might be able to counteract the effect of the silver and iron with a gemstone or crystal.”

  Grant nodded in agreement. “Yes, there are several different gemstones, precious and semiprecious, along with many crystals that are known to enhance psychic abilities. Limestone is a well-known mineral studied in the parapsychology field as being a conduit for paranormal activity. Rommy, I would love to conduct some experiments with you on different types of gemstones and crystals.”

  “Down, boy,” Kelli said, smiling at him with affection. “We’ll talk about that at a much later time.”

  Pamela and I also smiled at Grant’s enthusiasm. He was such a geek.

  “So, if I can find something that will boost my abilities, I should be able to tolerate the mines?”

  Pamela nodded. “You should be able to get closer or at least cut through the interference the metals create when you use your gifts. I’ve found that quartz crystals, particularly rose quartz, are the strongest enhancers, but that’s for me. In my family, some of us discovered other precious and semiprecious stones that are stronger. You’ll just have to test them and find out what works best for you.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Cavanaugh said. “You’re not going back.”

  “Yes, I am,” I argued. “My mom has a butt-load of crystals. I’ll just take a few with us.”

  “No, Rommy, you’re not going near another mine,” he said with an obstinate look on his face.

  I struggled to sit up. I was not going to have this argument with him lying down. Cavanaugh put his hand on my chest, pushed me back down with a scowl, and put his face into mine, nose to nose.

  “We’ve already had this conversation,” he told me with a stern look. “I’m not going to allow you to get hurt.”

  “I’m not going to get hurt,” I told him. “I know now what the problem is. I know I can work around it.”

  Kelli laughed at us. She’d seen us do this before and knew this argument could take a while. “Okay,” she said, “we are out of here. Rommy, call me later.” She grabbed Grant and towed him to the door.

  “It was good seeing you again, Rommy,” Pamela said. “I’ll e-mail you a list of gemstones and crystals.”

  “Thanks, Pamela,” I told her, “for everything. You’re a lifesaver.”

  Cavanaugh ignored everyone as they walked out the door.

  “We’re going to have to work on your manners and people skills,” I told him in exasperation. I was beginning to feel a little overwhelmed by his nearness. I had to get him away from me before I did something stupid, like kiss him.

  “Look,” I told him, “I’m coming with you. I can stay in the truck if the mines are silver or iron. I’ll also stay back if the interference goes even the slightest bit over a hum.” I tried to give him a little push, but he didn’t budge. “You know I’m right about this. I could try to at least get a vision on the kids. The more I tune in, the more information we get, so quit trying to bully me.”

  “No,” was all he said, still staring straight into my eyes.

  I blew out a frustrated breath. “Fine,” I said, getting angry. “I’ll just go without you.”

  He stared into my eyes for a long time; our lips were just inches apart. Something in my eyes must have told him that I was dead serious, that I would indeed go without him. His lips, soft-looking and very kissable before, now formed a grim line.

  “Fine,” he snapped, “but if I have to carry you out of there again, you’re off the case. And I know Johnson would back me up.”

  “Fine,” I said.

  “Fine,” he countered. He pushed himself off the couch and stalked to the front door. “Six o’clock,” he said, and slammed out of my house.

  I lay there on the couch, thinking about our weird relationship. I wanted to talk to him about this very strong sexual attraction we had going, but on the other hand, I didn’t want to know. In the back of my mind, I still had doubts about the intentions any guy had toward me. I was also suspicious of anyone’s acceptance of my abilities. Cavanaugh was a skeptic when he first met me, but his attitude toward my abilities had changed drastically after that first meeting. Sure, I showed him my stuff, but there really wasn’t any proof to what I said, yet. I thought that was what kept me from pursuing anything with him. I just couldn’t accept that he’d changed his mind so easily.

  It was still early in the evening, about six thirty, so I grabbed my purse and headed to my parents’ to filch some crystals from my mom. She was a big fan of crystals, meditation, and natural healing. I never really paid too much attention to them. I like to meditate and do it often, but I’d always thought that the meanings and mystic properties of gemstones and crystals were just a bunch of crap. I learned some of their mystic uses because we sold certain ones in the shop, like beryl for scrying, obsidian for protection, and crystal quartz fo
r focusing energy.

  I arrived at my parents’ just before seven. I hoped they hadn’t eaten yet, because I was starving. I had a sudden, horrible thought that I was turning my pent-up sexual frustration for Cavanaugh into an excuse to overeat. Nah, I thought to myself, I’m only hungry because of the energy I expended today. I normally eat a little more than I usually do when I work cases for the police. Grant once told me that seeing ghosts was not a passive ability. My mind may not realize it, but it is using energy every time I see a ghost. The more I see and communicate, the more energy I use. Kelli and I thought that when I use my abilities for finding things, I must be using a million times more energy. The harder the case or farther I have to see, the more energy it takes. That’s why I’m always so hungry and tired on the more difficult cases.

  I stopped in my tracks when I recalled that Grant was at my house this afternoon with Kelli. I was so used to seeing them together that I just accepted his presence in my house. Crap, now he knew I could see more than ghosts. I hoped Kelli could keep a leash on him. I could not handle his pestering me with questions about my other abilities right now. I hoped that this revelation didn’t cause a problem between him and Kelli, and I hoped he understood why Kelli kept my secret. I’d call her later to make sure everything was okay.

  I steeled myself to walk through my parents’ front door. I hoped that Nana was still dancing instead of blessing people, because I really didn’t want a face full of water tonight. Pushing open the front door, I heard the ballroom music and sighed in relief. I hung my purse and jacket in the hall closet and walked into the living room. Dad and Nana were revolving around the living room. The furniture, pushed back against the walls and stacked out of the way, left a large area in the middle of the room to dance. Nana was dressed in a pretty ball gown with elbow-length white gloves. Dad spotted me and the look on his face was profound relief.

  “Oh thank God!” he said. “Quick, come and take my place. I’m about ready to wet myself!”

  I laughed as Dad waltzed Nana up to me. He spun her around, and when she stopped, we were facing each other. Nana stepped side-to-side, moving in time with the music. Dad made a beeline to the bathroom. I almost bawled when I saw the look of recognition in her eyes.

  “Oh my darling girl,” she cried. “Dance with your Nana!”

  And away we went, waltzing around the perimeter of the living room. Nana had trouble recognizing Cassie and me this last year. It wasn’t as though she didn’t know who we were, it was just that her mind pictured us as little girls still. When Dad whirled her in front of me, I could tell Nana saw me as an adult, not as a child. She hummed as we revolved around the room. The waltz was one of the first dances Nana and Papa Charles taught Cassie and me. The last time I waltzed was when I was nineteen. The occasion was Nana and Papa’s fiftieth wedding anniversary.

  I thought I was doing pretty well for not having danced in over eight years. At least I hadn’t stepped on her toes yet. My dad came back into the room and smiled at me and Nana. When we whirled past him for the third time, I arched my brow, wondering how long I should keep dancing.

  “She’s winding down,” he told me by way of explanation to my unspoken question. “Your mother and I will dance her up to bed in a minute. Your mom’s just finishing up dinner. Nana ate earlier. Can you stay?”

  I nodded my head with enthusiasm as we made another turn around the living room.

  “Can you hang in there a little longer?” he shouted above the music. “I’ll help your mother finish up with dinner so we can get Nana to bed.”

  I nodded to him. I would have verbally replied, but I was out of breath. Man, I needed to start working out if I was already breathless from just a few turns around the living room with Nana. She wasn’t even breathing hard, but humming to the music as we danced. As tired as I was, I didn’t want to stop and miss this moment with her.

  We waltzed for another thirty minutes before Mom and Dad came to rescue me. By that time, I was sweating and my lungs were pumping like bellows. Yep, it was time for a regular exercise routine. Nana, at seventy-two, put me to shame. My mom turned off the music, but Nana kept going. As we passed my dad, he gave me instructions to let go of Nana the next time around. When we passed him again, I let go and she whirled into my dad’s arms, not even missing a beat. Dad took her around the room once more, slowing her down to a point where they were slowly revolving around the center of the room. I flopped down on the couch in exhaustion and watched as Dad maneuvered Nana up the stairs, with Mom two steps below and ready to jump in with assistance should they stumble.

  I stayed on the couch until they returned, while my breathing finally slowed to normal and the sweat cooled on my body. My dad grabbed my hand and hauled me off the couch, and I trudged behind him into the dining room. It only took a moment for Mom to get dinner on the table. It was just a matter of bringing it out from the kitchen. The table was already set—Dad saw to that when I relieved him for his bathroom break.

  We all sat down with a sigh and dug into the delicious pot roast and herbed noodles Mom had prepared for dinner.

  “Baby, you look tired,” my mom said. “Are you getting enough sleep?”

  “Yeah,” I told her, “it’s just this case I’m working on.”

  “You’re not pushing too hard, are you, Rommy?” my dad asked, looking worried.

  “No, it’s not that,” I replied.

  I told my parents about everything that had happened to me the last few days. I explained about what went down at the mines and told them what Pamela said about how silver and iron could affect me. My mom nodded in agreement.

  “It has been long known that iron has an adverse effect on witches,” she said.

  “I’m not a witch, Mom,” I reminded her.

  She waved away my statement. “You don’t follow the craft, I know,” she said, “but there are other people out there like you, Rommy. Your new friend, Pamela, is an excellent example. Her ancestors were probably thought of as witches because of their inherited abilities, and I bet some of them were even practicing witches.”

  I thought about this and nodded. Sure, I could see Pamela’s ancestors practicing witchcraft back in the 1700s and 1800s. It was a logical assumption, given the beliefs back then. I’d have to ask her.

  As we finished dinner, I explained to my mom that I wanted to try different gemstones and crystals in her collection to see if they could help combat the effects of the iron and silver. After we cleared the table and washed up the dinner dishes, Mom and I made for her altar room while Dad went into his study. I figured he must be exhausted, too, after dancing with Nana all evening. When I commented on this, my mom laughed.

  “She definitely wears us out,” she said. “I stopped working out to my Tush of Titanium video because dancing around the house with your Nana is more effective. I bet after a couple of weeks of dancing, your father will be able to bounce a quarter off my bum.

  “Mom,” I said, shocked that she would say that to me. She laughed at the look on my face.

  “Anyway,” she continued, “yesterday was western line dancing and the rumba, today was the cha-cha and the waltz. The good thing is that she doesn’t dance all day. She spends most of the day going over the music and then choosing what she’ll wear. The actual dancing doesn’t take place until about three in the afternoon.”

  I shook my head, amazed at Nana’s stamina.

  We settled into Mom’s altar room. Despite all of the witchcraft paraphernalia, it was comfortable and relaxing, just like the rest of the house. Several years ago, Dad extended the patio and enclosed it. It was more like a conservatory now than a patio. Mom was able to perform her rituals by moonlight in the winter without being cold, and the herbs she grew for the shop were protected from bugs, birds, and anything else that might destroy the fragile plants. Her altar stood in front of the wall of windows facing out into the backyard. Shelves lined the back wall connected to the main house and held her books of spells, her scrying bowl, an athame
—which is a type of ceremonial dagger—and all of the various ritual items she uses in her practice. Off to the left there were a couple of overstuffed chairs where she’d curl up in the sunshine and read. I settled into one of these chairs while Mom carried over a carved wooden chest that sat at the side of the room. Setting it down at her feet in front of her chair, she opened the chest and pulled out a number of removable trays. She set these trays on the floor around her feet and on the low end table between us. Each tray held a variety of crystals and gemstones. They were all in different shapes and sizes—very pretty and colorful.

  Being a typical girl, I loved pretty, sparkly things and couldn’t resist picking them up to examine them. Most practitioners wouldn’t allow anyone else to touch their crystals, tarot cards, or rune stones, believing that other people’s energies would cloud them and make them ineffective. My mom wasn’t one of those people, so she had no problem with me touching them. When Cassie and I were little, it was a special treat to play with the contents of Mom’s chest.

  I spotted a large, long shard. It was about three inches long, and the shiny, black stone looked like something that belonged on an alien spacecraft. The moment I grasped it in my hand, I felt a zap on my fingers and palm. A low buzzing went through my head. My mom saw me jerk and snatched the shard from my hand.

  “Oh, honey,” she said. “I’m sorry. I should have warned you.”

  “What was that?” I said, shaking my hand.

  “That’s hematite, honey,” Mom said. “It’s an iron oxide. Maybe it would be better if I handed them to you. We’ll take them one at a time.”

  She reached into a tray and brought out a purple stone the size of a quarter. When she put it in my hand, I closed my fingers around it.

  “That’s amethyst,” she informed me. “It’s used for lucid dreaming, astral projection, imagination, and meditation. It also relieves stress.”

  I held the stone in my palm and closed my eyes as I tried to feel something, anything.