“Nope, I got nothing,” I said, handing it back to her, the cool stone now warmed by the heat of my hand.
She put the amethyst back into its place in the tray and pulled out a large, clear blue gem. It was the color of the sky on a sunny day. She handed me the stone, and I enclosed it in my fist.
“This is an aquamarine,” she told me. “It’s used for divination, creativity, and relaxation. It also unblocks energy and protects the wearer from drowning.”
I arched my brow at her on this last piece of information.
“What?” she said, daring me to comment.
Mom knew I wasn’t a believer in her hocus-pocus; most of the time, I let the things she said just go over my head, but sometimes I just had to give her a little reaction.
“Nothing,” I intoned, trying to bite my tongue and not make a comment about the drowning thing. I didn’t want to get a lecture about not having an open mind about witchcraft, especially when she threw my ability to see ghosts up in my face. So, I just closed my eyes. Not feeling a thing from this stone either. I shook my head and handed it back to her. She pulled one of the larger trays close to her and took out a big, milky pink shard.
“Rose quartz,” she said, handing it to me.
The shard, slightly spiked at both ends and about four inches long, had a diameter a little bigger than that of a quarter. It was cool to the touch as I gripped it in the middle, both ends protruding from my fists. I closed my eyes and felt a clarity I had not felt before. It wasn’t a lot, but enough for me to tell the difference.
“Rose quartz,” she recited, “is for love, friendship, joy, and self-healing.”
“Well, I’m getting something,” I told her, “but it’s not very strong.”
She took back the rose and handed me another. This shard was the same size and shape as the rose. It was a beautiful, soft, pastel green.
“This is green quartz,” she told me. “It’s often called green amethyst.”
Before she could tout its magical properties, I sucked in an amazed breath.
“Oh my God!” I said, stunned at the clarity this big piece of crystal had given me.
“What! What!” Mom cried, worried that she’d just handed me something that was frying my brain.
“I haven’t even closed my eyes yet, and this crystal has made my regular vision so clear it’s like I took off a dirty pair of glasses,” I told her. “This is unbelievable!”
I decided to give this crystal a test drive. I knew it was early enough in the evening that I wouldn’t be intruding on anyone’s private time. I hated tuning in to friends and family, not wanting to intrude, but I had to test this out. I closed my eyes and pictured my sister, Cassie. Her image was so clear it was as though I was standing in front of her, looking at her with my own eyes—not viewing her through the lens of a video camera, as it usually looked in my visions. She was at work, standing behind the bar. The low throb of the music from the dance floor vibrated through my chest like a drum. I could feel the people’s emotions around me. It was almost overwhelming.
I switched from Cassie and focused on Kelli. Oops, bad timing on my part, I thought. I pulled back into myself, trying to shake the image of Kelli and Grant in a very compromising position. I had no idea Grant was so ripped, and I’d have to remember to ask Kelli where she bought that fabulous lace teddy she was wearing. I opened my eyes to find my mom beaming at me.
“So this is the one?” she asked excitedly.
I nodded, as excited as she was. “I had no idea it could be like this,” I said in awe.
Clapping her hands like a child, she walked over to the bookshelf and brought back a thick catalog. Flipping through the pages, she turned to the section on crystals. She licked her finger and went through a couple more pages, then turned the catalog around and placed it in my lap. On the pages before me were dozens of glossy photos of green quartz crystals in all shapes and sizes. Wow, I thought, how was I supposed to choose? I looked at my mom for help.
“What should I order?” I asked. “There are so many different shapes and sizes. Do you think there will be any difference?”
Mom thought about this for a minute. “There could be,” she said. “Let’s find out.”
She turned back to her trays of crystals and gemstones and took out three more pieces of green quartz. The smallest piece was just a chip, about the size of a tooth. The second piece was a little smaller than a half dollar in diameter, and was rough and round. The third piece was flat and smooth, like a rectangle, about the size of a credit card.
I picked up the first small piece between my thumb and forefinger. It was the same pretty, clear, pastel green as the shard. There was a slight shift in my vision, but that was it. I couldn’t really tell the difference. I set it back down and picked up the next piece. This piece was rough, not polished like the others. The sharp cuts were milky white and gave the crystal the appearance of rock candy. I held this in my palm; it gave me a boost in clarity, but nowhere near the power of the shard. I put it back and picked up the last piece. It was beautiful, like polished glass. The feeling I got from this stone was close to that of the shard, but not close enough. I liked it, though. It made me want to rub it against my face. Oh, what the hell, I thought and gave into my desire. My mom shot me a strange look as I rubbed the green crystal against my cheek, almost purring in my delight. She let me do this longer than she should have and then pointed back to the catalog.
“Okay,” she asked. “What do you think?”
“Bigger is definitely better,” I told her.
She cackled at me. “That’s my girl!”
My face turned red as I realized what I’d said. Who knew Mom had such a smutty mind? She laughed at me some more. Grabbing a pen off the end table, she circled the largest shards and a couple of small pyramids.
“You’ll need at least two shards and four pyramids, I think,” she told me.
I looked at the prices. Yikes! I couldn’t believe just one of those pyramids was one hundred and twenty bucks, and one large shard was ninety dollars.
“All that is too expensive, Mom,” I told her. “I’ll get one shard. In the meantime, can I borrow yours?”
My mom pursed her lips. “Take both of my shards, just in case. They’re a matched pair. Honey, are you sure you only want to buy one shard?”
“Yeah,” I told her. “My inner Scrooge refuses to buy the others. Besides, what do I need four pyramids for?”
“You and your inner Scrooge,” she scoffed. “Darling, you need to be frivolous once in a while. You’re too young to be such a tightwad. You get that from your dad’s side of the family. Thank the Goddess it missed his generation. You need those pyramids for a meditation circle. Imagine how strong your visions will be and how much farther you would be able to see with them.”
My parents always made fun of my inner Scrooge. When I was a kid, I never wanted for anything. I always got, within reason, everything I asked for at Christmas and my birthday. We didn’t live above our means, but sometimes we came darn close. My parents always thought they were hiding the fact that financially, we were sometimes walking a tightrope. But Cassie and I were bright and inquisitive children. Of course, some people would call us nosey, but when your parents’ fantasy world sometimes encroached on reality, a girl has gotta do what a girl has gotta do. That’s really why I made my deal with Johnson when I was seventeen. My parents thought I spent each check I got from the police department the moment it came into my hands. I didn’t. I socked away most of it, just in case of an emergency. It’s what saved my parents’ shop when they almost ran themselves out of business. They didn’t find out about it until after I used it for additional capital to pay off their vendors, but by then, it was too late for them to do anything about it. Mom cried and Dad immediately had papers drawn up, making me a partner in their business. I still consider it their shop, not mine. I just did what any good daughter would do.
I shook my head at my mom. “Just order me one shard, Mom,�
� I told her firmly. “Maybe I’ll get the others little by little.”
She wrapped the two green crystal shards in black velvet cloths and slid them into a black velvet drawstring bag. She handed me the bag and marked the page in the catalog before closing the book. Promising to take good care of the shards, I headed home.
Chapter 11
I was up earlier than usual. I showered, dressed, and made my way downstairs for coffee. After starting the coffeemaker, I pulled the velvet bag with the shards out of my purse and set it on the kitchen island counter. As I listened to the coffee machine hiss and pop, I opened the velvet bag and pulled out one shard. Unwrapping it, I stared at the pretty, pastel crystal. The black velvet cloth it sat upon gave the crystal a slightly smoky look. I picked up the crystal, holding it in my fist so the pointed ends stuck out on either side.
If I had to describe what that crystal shard did to me, I’d probably liken it to those allergy commercials you see on TV. You know the ones that show the actor claiming that taking the little pill magically transforms their world. The layer of haze is whisked away from your TV screen, showing that actor’s surroundings to be crisp, clear, and sharply in focus. That’s how I saw things when I touched the shard. It was almost surreal.
I didn’t know why my first thought, when I picked up the shard, was of Detective Cavanaugh. I guess it was because I would be seeing him in just a little while. I didn’t even try to focus on him. I don’t like to do that to people I know. I consider it an invasion of their privacy. Sometimes it’s hard not to, though. Sometimes, especially if it’s someone I’m dating or interested in, that little devil that sits on my shoulder whispers in my ear that it’s all right to take a small peek now and then. The angel on my other shoulder tries valiantly to argue against doing something so underhanded. It reminds me that I may be jumping to conclusions about the person I’m spying on. Yes, that little angel uses that word, spying, to let me know how wrong it is. No, I won’t spy. I will trust the man I am seeing is not out to hurt me. The devil, however, makes a good counterargument. It’s not really spying. You’re only protecting yourself, he whispers to me. Then he reminds me of the one time I didn’t peek. The one time I followed that little angel’s advice.
And look what happened , he laughs evilly in my ear.
Michael happened, that’s what, and when the devil points this out, the angel always loses. He’s hog-tied and gagged on my shoulder while the little devil dances in delight.
I didn’t have the devil in my ear this time, because the shard took the decision from me, immediately placing me right in front of Cavanaugh.
Naked.
In the shower.
Holy crap ! I couldn’t even close my eyes, not that I wanted to. There is no eye closing in my visions. I see it all: the good, the bad, the ugly, and in this instance, the naked and wet. My inner slut was purring, ready to strip down and join him; she had her sponge and favorite shower gel ready. All I could do was stand there and stare. My eyes went from his wet hair, chiseled features, and corded neck, down to his wide shoulders and heavily muscled chest and arms. His flat, washboard stomach had pools of saliva forming in my mouth as I followed the lightly furred happy trail leading down to what hung between his legs.
In my head, I did a cartoon Whooba! The top of my head opened up, allowing steam to escape my fried brain, and my eyes shot out to get an up-close-and-personal look at his male anatomy before slamming back into their sockets. Then I melted into a big puddle of goo. My eyes, sitting on top of the puddle of goo that was formerly my body, watched with avid interest as he ran his soapy hands over his arms, chest, and stomach.
My inner slut was throwing out pornographic comments. “That’s right, you dirty boy,” she cooed. “ Make yourself all nice and clean for mamma. Oh yeah, baby, use more soap, rub it all over.”
I watched as his strong hands and long fingers rubbed the soap into his chest and abs, his hands travelling lower and lower.
“Almost there , baby,” my inner slut continued breathlessly, with growing excitement. “Just a little further, a little more…”
The buzzer on the coffeemaker, letting me know the coffee was ready, blasted through my vision, bringing me back. I jumped and fell off the stool in fright, juggling the crystal back and forth in my hands. I managed to get a grip on it, and with less-than-steady hands, I wrapped it in the cloth and put it back into the black velvet bag. I put my shaking hands on the countertop and gulped down a couple of breaths. My heart was pounding a mile a minute. Looks like I won’t need any coffee this morning, I thought. I took a couple more deep, calming breaths as my heartbeat started to return to normal.
I tried to tell myself that what I saw was no big deal, but the image of Cavanaugh naked, with water running down his body, seared into my brain. Maybe I’ll have that coffee after all, I thought. Going over to the machine, I pulled down a mug and filled it to the brim. I wondered if I had any Kahlua or Baileys in the house to add to my coffee, and I stopped in horror. Oh Lord! I knew Cavanaugh was bad news. Now he was driving me to drink at five o’clock in the morning. Oh my God, I thought, what if I saw him doing something else instead of taking a shower. What if I saw him whacking off or something? Well then, I’d probably have the blender out making margaritas, instead of contemplating a drop of liqueur in my coffee.
Cavanaugh walked into my house at six o’clock, right on the dot. He stomped over to the coffeepot and poured himself a cup. He seated himself on the stool next to me. I jumped up as soon as he sat, going over to the coffeepot to refill my cup. I stayed by the pot, leaning against the counter. I tried not to stare at him, but I couldn’t get the image of him in the shower out of my head. Cavanaugh saw the black pouch containing the shards on the counter in front of him. He reached out and put his hand on the bag.
“What’s this?” he asked, pulling the bag toward him.
“Don’t touch that!” I yelled, leaping forward to grab the bag. I felt guilty for spying and was afraid he’d find out. When you’ve done something and you’re afraid someone might find out, you think and do stupid things. For some reason, I had it in my guilty mind that if he touched those crystals, he’d know that I spied on him in the shower. He removed his hand from the bag and stared at me with an arched brow.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, perplexed by my behavior.
My face turned red, and I started to babble.
“Nothing,” I said rapidly. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s just that you can’t touch those. They’re my mom’s, you know, and I told her that I’d take care of them. I can’t let people go around touching them.”
He gave me a strange look. “Why are you babbling? What’s wrong with you this morning?” he asked, concerned. “Have you changed your mind about going back to the mines?”
“No,” I said, trying to get a grip.
“All right,” he said, eyeing me warily, “we’d better head out.”
“I’ll meet you at the truck,” I told him.
I watched him walk out of the kitchen, and then I bent over the countertop, laying my hot face on the cool tile. I drew the bag of shards closer to me.My precious, I thought, giggling aloud when the words in my head sounded like the character Gollum from theLord of the Rings movie. I’ve gone insane, I thought to myself. I’ve looked at a naked man without his approval or knowledge, and now I have gone insane. On the other hand, it could be yesterday’s trip to the mines and the exposure to the silver and iron that had made me crazy.
“Come on, Tink, haul your sexy ass,” Cavanaugh yelled from the foyer.
Grabbing the shards, I walked into the living room and snagged my purse off the couch before joining him in the foyer.
“You know,” I said, passing him and walking out the front door. “That could be considered sexual harassment.”
He smiled at me as he flipped the lock on the doorknob and pulled the door closed behind him. “Do you feel sexually harassed?” he asked.
“More like sexually frustrated,” I mumb
led to myself as I followed him to his truck.
I didn’t think he heard me. I said it low enough that I was sure he didn’t.
“Welcome to my world,” he said with a chuckle.
Crap, I thought he didn’t hear. Just great! The man had hearing like a bat.
We drove out of town and took the same route we traveled yesterday, back to the mines.
“So are you going to tell me what’s in the black bag?” he asked as he pulled onto the highway.
“They’re crystal shards,” I replied.
“Okay…” he drawled. “And they’re going to do what?”
“Hopefully stop the problems that I had yesterday,” I told him.
He looked at me doubtfully but didn’t say another word.
“I know it sounds stupid,” I said. “I didn’t believe it at first either, but they really do help.”
I didn’t want to tell him any more about the crystals, because I feared I might spill the beans about what I did this morning. It’s weird, but whenever the little devil made me peek on someone, I never felt guilty about it. I always blamed it on him. The devil made me do it was a perfect guilt-free excuse. I imagined the little devil sitting on my shoulder, pouting, his little lower lip sticking out because the shard took away his opportunity for mischief. On the other hand, the little angel on my other shoulder was dancing a jig because I finally felt guilty about spying on someone.
When we reached the park, we bypassed the visitor center and headed straight for the second cluster of six mines, where I had such a problem yesterday. Cavanaugh parked in the lot and turned off the truck.
“Wait here for me,” he said, grabbing up the map Ranger Dan had given him.
“No,” I said, “I’m going with you.”
“Damn it,” he said in frustration. “I’m not carrying you back down this mountain again.”
I looked at him calmly. I was sure that as long as I had the shards, I could do this.
“I have to try this,” I told him. “I have to see what these crystals can do.”
Lightning Strikes Page 14
