Oracle: A Diana Hawthorne Psychic Mystery Book

by Carissa Andrews

  I shoot him a sideways glance.

  “I’ll pay,” I say, shrugging. “My bank has no problem letting money leave my account.”

  Aiden’s eyes widen, as he looks from me to Blake.

  Blake’s eyebrows scrunch, along with his face.

  “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard yet. I wasn’t trying to get you to pay.”

  I roll my eyes. “Oh come on. You’re not one of those macho guys who feels emasculated when a woman pays, are you?”

  Blake shifts in his chair.

  “It’s—it’s not that. I just don’t think it’s fair, is all.”

  “Do you want to find these guys, or not?” I say, standing up and crossing my arms.

  “Well, sure—but—”

  “Good, then it’s settled. Aiden,” I say, turning to him, “can you pull up those ticket details for me? Let’s get tickets booked.”

  “Holy shit, this is all happening a little fast. Don’t you think?” Blake says, standing up and walking to my side.

  “No, I don’t. These guys are on the run and the only way we’re gonna track them down is to get our asses on a plane. I know the area, I spent a few—er, a year in Italy. Their trail will run dry—and even with my gifts, I won’t be able to locate them—which defeats damn near the entire purpose of this.”

  “If this is all about showing me you really are psychic—you don’t have to do this. I mean, that’s a ridiculous amount of money to put on the line just to prove me wrong,” Blake says.

  “Then I better be right,” I say, cocking my head to the side. “Besides, if it really freaks you out, you can pay me back.”

  Aiden’s blue eyes flit back and forth between me and Blake like a pingpong ball before he shakes his head, the shaggy hair flopping from side to side, as he finally turns around to face the computers.

  “You’ll see. We’ll get the bad guys and they won’t be able to hurt anyone else,” I say.

  “Ugh, that’s so cliche,” Blake says, a hint of a smile causing the dimple on his left cheek to emerge.

  I run my hand along the side of my neck, taking a small step back. I don’t know what it is about his smile—his authentic smile, but it coils inside my gut.

  “Yeah, well, it’s still the truth. And lucky me—I’ll get to show you I’m not just a charlatan.”

  Blake takes a breath and exhales deeply.

  “I don’t know if proof will make me feel better or worse,” he says.

  “Only one way to find out, I guess,” I say, smirking.

  “Okay, I have a couple of flight options, but it doesn’t look like there are any direct flights happening in the next week,” Aiden says.

  “What are the options?” I ask, turning to him.

  “Do you want cheapest? Or fastest?”

  “Fastest,” I say with a nod.

  “Cheapest,” Blake says at the same time.

  “Fastest,” I say, punctuating the end of the word and eyeing him from beneath my eyebrows.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Aiden says, twisting back to the screen. “The fastest has two stops. One in Atlanta, then another in Paris. You’re looking at nearly a sixteen-hour flight time with the layovers.”

  “Okay, let’s do it. What do you need from me?”

  “Just your card,” Aiden says, making a face.

  “Sure, let me grab my purse from the car.”

  I walk out, past Blake, whose face is as pale as the entry way walls.

  Trotting to my car, I grab my tiny purse and head back inside. Part of me is excited for this adventure. It’s been years since I was in Europe, let alone Italy or the area near there.

  When I get back to the room, I take a seat, and open my purse.

  “Here you go,” I say, handing Aiden my debit card.

  If there’s one thing that matters least to me, it’s money. With thousands of years of accumulation—I have far more than any one person ever needs. Even an immortal one.

  Aiden takes the card, eyeing it suspiciously.

  “You know this is your debit card, right?”

  I raise an eyebrow and stare at him unblinkingly.

  “Mkay,” he says, turning back to the screens.

  Blake crosses his arms and starts pacing the room.

  With incredible ease, Aiden’s fingertips fly across the keyboard.

  “Okay, last chance to back out,” he says, his pointer finger hovering over the enter button.

  “I’m good,” I say, shrugging.

  “You both have passports, right?”

  “Yes,” we say in unison.

  “Good,” Aiden says. His finger taps down, effectively booking our flight. “Your flight leaves tomorrow at eleven—but you need to be at the airport by nine.”

  “Aiden, use my card to book the hotel and car, would you?” Blake says, reaching for the back of Aiden’s chair.

  “Where do you want to stay?”

  “Anyplace centrally located. Find the ring’s last known location—or track any potential haunts. If we need to move around, we will—but it will be nice to have a hub to start with.”

  “Got it,” Aiden says, nodding and handing me back my card.

  I put it back into my wallet, just as Blake taps my arm.

  “Can I speak with you for a moment?” he says, tipping his head to the door.

  “Sure.”

  “We’ll be right back,” Blake calls out.

  Aiden lifts his hand, giving a thumbs up.

  “Oh, and you’ll want to let Interpol know about the men,” I say, speaking over my shoulder at Aiden. “They’ll want to know what’s going down—especially if they can help. More than likely, they have a team on the case already, so we wouldn’t want to step on any toes.”

  Aiden nods, “Sure thing.”

  “How do you know so much about Interpol?” Blake asks, as we enter the hallway.

  “Uh—watched a lot of movies?” I say, grinning.

  He shakes his head.

  “Alright, so we don’t have much time. I’m going to get packed and swing by Ted and Lacy’s house to see if they’ve been able to glean any more information from Esther—and check in on them. I’ll pick you up tomorrow about 8:30am. Sound good?”

  “Are you trying to get rid of me?” I say, cocking my head to the side.

  “Not at all. I just figured you’ll want to talk to your assistant about your absence and get packed yourself.”

  Ugh. I totally hadn’t given any thought to how this would affect Ren. He’s going to flip a lid. I’m sure he had no idea helping on this case would actually mean leaving the country.

  “Yeah, okay. Good point,” I nod. “Good luck with Ted and Lacy.”

  “Thanks,” he says, his eyes searching mine for a moment. He opens his mouth, then closes it again; his tongue briefly sweeping across his lower lip. It’s a somewhat distracting motion—and I have to look away to break free from its intensity.

  “Hey Aiden,” I call, “thanks for your help. See you when we get back.”

  Aiden’s head pops into the hallway. He eyes the two of us, standing less than a foot apart, then extends his arm into the hall. My purse dangles from his wrist.

  “Don’t forget your purse … and no problem, Diana. Wish I could go, too, but I don’t think my professors would understand. Or my bank account,” he chuckles.

  “At least you have our backs from here, right?” I say, smiling.

  “Always,” he says, with a single nod of agreement.

  12

  RENALDO’S JAW slacks open, “You’re going where?”

  “Italy,” I say for the fourth time.

  “And why is that again?” his eyebrow arcs.

  “Oh, for Godsake, you already know why. Hell, you’re the one who practically pushed me into it.”

  Ren feigns surprise, his hand pressing delicately against his chest, “I most certainly did not. I said to show the man what you can do and help him with the case—but I most certainly didn’t say run halfway around t
he world with him. I mean, what am I meant to tell your clientele? A couple of days, I can handle. Sure. No problem. But an open-ended question mark without their favorite psychic? They’re gonna freak. Oh my God, what about Mrs. Kaminski?”

  His eyes widen and he fans himself.

  “What about her?” I chuckle under my breath.

  “Don’t you give me that, Diana Hawthorne. You know damn well if that woman doesn’t find a way to connect with her cat every damn week she’ll be haunting my stoop daily until she can. She smells like kitty litter and dawn dish soap. This is not a position I want to be put in.”

  “I’m sorry, Ren. I don’t know what to say. Unless we can find these guys quickly—and I’m hoping we can—we could end up being there a while. I don’t want to lie and say it will be quick. We’re not going all that way only to turn around empty handed. Who knows where they are right now. It’s going to take us at least a day just to get our bearings. By that point, they could be in a different country, for all I know.”

  Renaldo shifts to his other foot and crosses his arms.

  I sigh, “Okay, look. If Mrs. Kaminski gives you any trouble, let me know. I can see if Blake will help me set up one of those computer telecommunication program thingies. What’s the one called? Snipe?”

  “Skype,” Ren says, running his hand over his face.

  “Yeah, yeah, that’s what I meant. That way, I can still do a reading for her if she gets out of control. Sound good?”

  “Oh my God, yes. Bless you,” Ren says, breathlessly as he drops his hands and grabs hold of both my arms.

  My back goes rigid and I glance down at his hands. Too many images of him arguing with Brody flood my mind, mixed with long nights holding hands and making up.

  He smiles awkwardly, then pretends to brush something off my sleeve, before letting go altogether.

  “Great. Now that’s settled. I do have to discuss the matter of payroll…” I begin.

  “Oh, here we go,” Renaldo says, taking a step back.

  “Don’t worry. It’s no big deal. I’m going to be shooting you cash while I’m gone. But since I’m not here to look over time cards and whatnot—you’ll have to take what you get. It’ll be comparable to what your typical week is, though. We can work out any overages or shortfalls when I get back.”

  Heaving a big sigh, Renaldo nods. “Works for me. For a moment there, I thought you were going to expect me to do all this from the goodness of my little black heart.”

  “No—but I do expect you to be on time. Every day. We have to keep up the shop—especially with me gone. So, step up your game and make this place a hub for … what did you call them? Lust bunnies?”

  I can’t help but chuckle. Renaldo does come up with the best names. He really does.

  “Can you remind me what you consider … on time?” Ren says, shooting me a sideways glance.

  “C’mon, man. We’ve been over this a bazillion times. 8am sharp. You need time to prep the shop before you open at nine. Feel free to open the doors early, if you’re ready.”

  “Really? Eight in the morning? Has it always been that early?” he says, scrunching his nose.

  “Yes. For the love of God, yes.”

  I reach up, tugging at the roots of my hair.

  This is my ultimate battle. All the crazy people, the nonsense with my own life and amnesia from way back in the day—whatever, I’ll take it. But this … one day—I swear, I’ll get back at the universe for this.

  “Huh. Wouldn’t it make more sense if I showed up at 8:30?”

  I glare at him, knowing anything I say is pretty much wasted breath.

  “Whatever,” I mumble, dropping my hands and reaching for my purse. “I gotta go pack.”

  “Ooooh—oooh—it just occurred to me. Where are you staying? Are you guys, like, staying in a hotel together?” Ren’s eyes are wide and his lips curve upward.

  I widen my stance, taking my best pot-head approach.

  “No, I figure we’ll hit the streets. Wander aimlessly. Maybe sleep in the piazza when we get tired,” I roll my eyes. “Of course, we’ll be in a hotel together. But no—before you get excited—not in the same room. We each have our own spaces, thank you very much.”

  Ren’s face falls slightly. “Pity. I was about to break out the pom poms and send you off with a good luck cheer. Maybe even give you one of these.”

  Ren grabs a beginner BDSM kit, clutching it to his chest.

  “On that note…” I say, taking a deep breath. “I gotta go. Thank you for all of your help, Ren. Take good care of everything—like I know you will. I’ll call in as much as I can. I’m sure Blake will let me use his cellphone.”

  I walk to the front door and reach for the handle. An odd sensation rushes over me—like for some reason, this hunt for the pedophile ring—the way everything is playing out means more than I can completely fathom right now. When I get those types of feelings, I know to stop and take a beat because they’re significant. It might not make sense now, but I have no doubt it will.

  Turning back around, I pause and take everything in. The way the small shop is laid out—the lighting, the bookshelves, the herbs, crystals, and Renaldo’s Valentine’s Day merchandise. Ren’s eyebrows tug in, but he doesn’t say anything—he just watches me as I tune in.

  The pungent smell of frankincense permeates the air—mixing with lavender and sage. I’ve become so accustomed to those smells, I hardly even notice them anymore. But now, it all seems significant somehow.

  “Everything … okay?” Ren finally says, breaking the silence.

  “Yeah, I just—I don’t know. Something made me pause,” I say, shaking my head.

  “What was it?”

  “Not sure. Just a feeling, I guess. This trip is going to be significant. Perhaps life changing, I just don’t know how yet.”

  “Maybe you and Private Eye Tightpants will end up in one hotel room,” Ren says, smiling sheepishly.

  I chuckle, “Don’t count on it. But—whatever it is, I wanted to take a mental inventory of things. So I know what’s changed when I come back. It may be nothing…or it could be everything. Who knows?”

  “You better take care of yourself, Diana. Be safe, for the love of all that’s holy. Don’t put yourself in any unnecessary danger or anything. Yes, I know you—Ms. Run and Jump Before She Looks.”

  Renaldo rarely goes all paternal on me, but when he does, it’s because I’ve spooked him.

  I walk over to him, putting my arms around him.

  “I’ll be safe. You better be, too. You hear me? Don’t piss off Mrs. Kaminski. Or Brody, for that matter.”

  “I hear you. And I’ll try not to.”

  “Good.”

  With that, I pat him on the back and turn on my heel. I don’t stop as I fling the door open. I don’t turn around as I walk out onto the sidewalk and down the street. Instead, I make my way deliberately forward, knowing full well when I return, things will be very different.

  When I’m back at my house, the strange sensations of significance hasn’t subsided. If anything, it’s gotten more powerful. Shivering away the energy, I instinctively flit my eyes to my calendar—one day to the full moon. Perhaps that’s all it is?

  Glancing at the clock as I set down my purse and keys, I take a deep breath. It’s only gone 5:30pm.

  I need to call Demetri.

  There’s still plenty of time to pack and if for some reason anything goes wrong—I need to say my apology out loud.

  Walking to the corded phone on my wall, I pluck it from its holder and dial his number.

  “Hello?” the woman’s voice on the other end answers.

  For a moment, my heart skips a beat—then plummets into my stomach. Demetri and I never were a thing—not like that—but he’s always had a special place in my heart. He’s helped me through so many rough patches over the years. If he has a new woman in his life and he didn’t tell me—things are worse than I thought.

  “Uh—hi,” I say, recovering. “Is D
emetri there?”

  “Sure,” the woman’s upbeat voice responds. “Can I tell him who’s calling?”

  “It’s Diana,” I say.

  “Oh,” is the response. Not the upbeat, “gotcha” kind of “oh,” either. It’s the “holy shit, it’s her” kinda oh.

  I wince.

  After a bit of scuffling and voices muttering under a muffled receiver, the call clears up.

  “Hi, Diana. What did you need?” Demetri’s rough voice answers from the other end.

  “Hey, Demetri. You doing okay?”

  Silence greets me on the other end and I wince again.

  “Look—I know things didn’t go so well last month—”

  “That’s an understatement,” he says.

  I take a deep breath and bite my lip.

  “I know,” I whisper, clutching the phone.

  An awkward pause descends, as I search for the words I really want to say to him.

  “Okay—I know I suck. I never should have pushed you to try the ritual with me. I figured since we were already working with the Violet Flame for Morgan and Gabe—well, I thought it would help me, too. It was stupid and reckless.”

  “Yeah, and it just about killed me, Diana. Stupid and reckless don’t even cover it.”

  My fingertips graze my forehead as I nod gingerly. He’s right—God, he’s so right.

  “I don’t know what came over me. It’s just been so long since I felt like doors might open. It was a long shot, I get that, but…” I take a deep breath, “I can’t keep living like this and you were the only one who I trusted. You’re the only one who understands my predicament.”

  Demetri blows out a buff of air.

  “I get your desperation. I really do. And I know it wasn’t your fault. It’s my fault, too. I’m the one who brought up the Violet Flame in the first place. I mean, how the hell were you meant to know how powerful the magic is surrounding Morgan’s request—let alone your memory?”

  “Well, I should have guessed. Morgan has power—more power than I’ve felt roll off a single person in years. And with me … I mean—it’s been a helluva long time and I’ve never even gotten a glimpse of insight. Not even an inkling as to my life before I woke up that day. I’ve tried everything. Literally—everything I can think of. But I thought… I dunno, for whatever reason I thought that night was different. That the ritual we were doing together would be different.” I mutter, frowning to myself.