Psychic Storm: Ten Dangerously Sexy Tales of Psychic Witches, Vampires, Mediums, Empaths and Seers

by Deanna Chase

  "I bet." She stroked his chest with her open palm. "What a horrific childhood you had. I'm so sorry."

  "Hey, let's not have a pity party here. It's all in the past."

  He needed to change the subject, so he pulled her up and kissed her passionately. One thing led to another.

  22

  The following morning, Jon-Luc awoke to an empty bed. He stumbled into the bathroom and stood in a hot shower for a good ten minutes. Feeling only slightly more alive, he dressed, then went in search of sustenance. He was famished. All he remembered about this colossal place was that the kitchen was on the first floor. So when he spotted the nearest staircase, he headed down.

  He heard clanking and muffled voices to his right, so he followed the sounds until he found himself in the dining room. There, he saw an enormous table, with four people sitting at one end. The moment they noticed him, a hush went through the room and they stared at him. He had to admit, it made him feel a bit self-conscious.

  Lissette was the first to break the silence. “Good morning. Come in and have a seat. I’ll have the cook set a place for you.” She fled the room.

  Angie jumped up and ran over to him, clasping his hand. She dragged him to the sideboard. “Here, help yourself while I pour you some coffee.” She grabbed a cup and filled it from a silver pot at the end of the table. “Sugar, cream?”

  “Black. Thank you.”

  Angie smiled up at him and he instantly felt at ease. She set his coffee on the table next to her place, then came back and started lifting the lids off the food. Damn, it's like Sunday brunch and it's only Tuesday. Wonder what they do around here on an actual holiday? There were scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, potatoes, and thin pancakes stuffed with cheese topped with a blueberry compote.

  As he stood there dumbfounded, staring at all his choices, Lissette spoke up. “If you’d prefer, I can have the cook fix you eggs over easy, or any way you’d like.”

  “No, this is fine.” He started shoveling food onto his plate. Once he couldn’t possibly fit any more, he carried breakfast to the table and sat next to Angie. When he looked up, he found Demetrius glaring at him and what had to be the elusive Michael D’Arcy, who instantly busied himself with the food on his plate.

  “Good, good, I love a man with a healthy appetite,” Lissette said.

  Jon-Luc grinned around a mouthful. He didn’t mean to stay the night. But after making love for the third time, he fell into the sleep of the dead and now he was caught. He'd never had to make the walk of shame himself, and now he had a deep appreciation for those who had.

  Demetrius grabbed his plate and grumbled something under his breath before he left the room.

  “So tell us about yourself,” Lissette said.

  Jon-Luc swallowed, then glanced over at her. “What would you like to know?”

  “Well, we know you are helping the police with this case, but not why. I didn’t know they had hired outside help.”

  “I’m just doing it as a favor. Inspector Rousseau is a friend of mine. Originally, I came to Paris on holiday.”

  “Ah, I see. And what is it that you normally do?”

  “I’ve recently left the FBI.”

  “Impressive. What made you leave?”

  “We didn’t exactly see eye to eye, you might say.”

  “Mmmm. What do you plan to do with your life now? You’re too young to retire.”

  “Yes, ma’am—”

  “Lissette," she interrupted. "I’m not old enough to be a ma’am.” Her smile was warm and genuine.

  “Sorry. I’ve decided to start my own private investigation firm.”

  “You want to carry around a camera and take shots of men cheating on their wives?” Lissette asked.

  Jon-Luc chuckled. “No. Not that kind of investigating. I plan on taking cases where the local PD has run up against a brick wall and can no longer exert the manpower it takes to solve a case. As in cases that have gone cold.”

  “I see. Who will hire you to take these cases, the police department? I find that a little hard to swallow.”

  “You’re right. They are the last ones to admit they need help. No, I'll help the families of victims get closure. I grew up on the outskirts of New Orleans, in Louisiana. Most recently I reside in the city itself-”

  Lissette interrupted, “Ah, so that’s where you got that delicious accent of yours.”

  “Uh, thank you. I'm Cajun.” He looked around the table. Michael seemed to be listening, but kept his eyes on his plate. Angie, finished with her meal, had her head in her hand, following the conversation. She shot him a smile, he smiled back before turning to Lissette.

  “So you will be opening your business in New Orleans?” Lissette asked.

  “Yes, that's where I was going with that little tidbit of information on my background. To tell you the truth, I came up with this idea recently. I don't have all the particulars ironed out yet. You see, recently I lost someone dear to me, which got me thinking how short life really is. I wasn’t happy in my present job, so I quit the bureau and flew here to do some thinking.”

  “So you must have some money put away to live on while you find yourself, so to speak.”

  “Lissette!” Angie’s outburst startled them.

  Lissette tilted her head and looked at Angie. “What? If this man intends to court you, I must see if he is a viable candidate.”

  "It’s all right, chere.” Jon-Luc patted her hand, then turned back to Lissette. “Let’s just say I’m comfortable.”

  “I didn’t know your FBI paid so well.”

  “They don’t. I came into an inheritance which has afforded me more opportunities in life.”

  “I see, well, good for you. Will you have to travel?”

  “I don’t see the need. Since Katrina, the area is still struggling to get back on its feet. There are many who can’t afford to hire private firms to help them, and for those I intend to offer my services pro bono.”

  “Very noble of you.” Lissette smiled at Angie, then looked back at him.

  “I don’t look at it that way. Let’s just say I’ve been there and I'm looking to paying it forward.”

  “Could you expand a little on the type of cases you would be taking?” The expression on Lissette’s face looked genuine.

  “Sure. After Katrina, I helped several people who'd been separated in the chaos. Unfortunately, not all of them were alive.”

  “That must be hard.”

  “It is, but when someone loses a loved one, the not knowing is almost worse than finding out they've passed on. I've reunited more people than not and that's a feeling of accomplishment. Unlike the work I did for the FBI, where it didn't matter how many cases I closed. There was always another sicko to catch. Another wacko doing unspeakable things to other human beings. It never ends.”

  “And then you go on holiday and find yourself working another case where a wacko is doing unspeakable things to other human beings, no?” Lissette said.

  “Ha, yeah. Just my luck.” Jon-Luc turned back to his food and scooped up a big mouthful.

  Lissette turned to Angie. “I approve. You may continue to see this man.”

  Angie’s face scrunched up. “Gee, thanks. Now I want to crawl under the table.”

  Jon-Luc clutched her hand and swallowed. “It’s fine, really. I’m glad to know you have people around who care about you.”

  “Really?”

  He nodded.

  Just then Michael got up from the table. Jon-Luc pushed back his own chair. “If you don’t mind, Michael, is it?” The guy turned his head and looked over his shoulder at Jon-Luc.

  “Oh, I apologize. I never introduced the two of you. Where are my manners?” Lissette laughed self-consciously. “Yes, Jon-Luc, I'd like you to meet Michael D’Arcy." She turned to Michael and said, "He is helping the police.”

  Jon-Luc made his way toward the other man and stuck out his hand. Michael hesitated, then shook it. “Okay.”

  “Nice to finally meet y
ou. Look, I’ve been wanting to talk to you, but we’ve never been in the same place at the same time. Do you mind?” Jon-Luc waited. The kid looked taken aback.

  “Well, I—” Michael looked at Lissette.

  “Go on, Michael, take all the time you need,” Lissette answered.

  Michael looked back at Jon-Luc. “I guess it would be all right.”

  “Great. How about we go out on the veranda?” Jon-Luc pointed the way and Michael walked toward the front door; he followed close behind.

  “I’ll have some coffee sent out.” Lissette rose from the table.

  “Thank you,” Jon-Luc called over his shoulder.

  When they got outside they had the choice of a cozy settee or a table with chairs. Jon-Luc pointed to the table and sat across from him.

  “So, Michael, tell me about yourself.”

  “What do you want to know?” He wouldn’t look Jon-Luc in the eye, instead he stared at the table.

  “Let’s start with where you grew up.”

  “All over.”

  “As in your family traveled a lot.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Was your father in the service?”

  “What kind of service?”

  “You know, Army, Navy, Air Force, Marines.”

  “Ha! No.”

  “Okay, then why did you travel so much?”

  “I don’t know, for my dad’s work, I guess.”

  “What kind of work did he do?”

  “Sales. He worked for John Deere, selling farming equipment.”

  “So did you live on a farm?”

  “No.”

  “Fine. Where were you born?”

  “White Plains, New York.”

  “Do you have a middle name?”

  "No."

  “Did you go to college?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Where?”

  “NYU.”

  "I went to NYU myself.”

  Michael’s head shot up as if startled.

  Now we're getting somewhere. At least I'll be able to pass some information on to Jake.

  “What was your major?”

  “Business.”

  “Did you have Professor Fisk for calculus?”

  “Yeah!” Michael seemed excited for a second, then the smile died on his lips.

  “What a blowhard.” Jon-Luc thought he may have made a connection, then the kid looked back down at the table and it was lost.

  “The guy's a tool.” Michael started tracing the design on the glass table with his finger.

  Jon-Luc sensed Michael was a lot more savvy than he pretended to be. No one who took calculus was an idiot, but this guy put on a good act.

  “Did you graduate?”

  “Nope. Dropped out after my parents died, couldn’t afford the tuition. Decided to travel instead, stay in youth hostels, that sort of thing.”

  “That’s right, you wanted to find your roots.”

  Michael slid him a look. “Something like that.”

  Jon-Luc decided to step it up a bit. “To tell you the truth, Michael, we can’t find any information on you.”

  “And that's my problem, how?”

  “See, it is your problem because anyone without a past looks pretty suspicious. You see my point?”

  “Not my fault you do shoddy police work.”

  Jon-Luc barked a laugh without mirth. “Being a smart ass isn’t helping your case. Why can’t we find a record of you, Michael?”

  “Beats me.”

  “Okay, let’s try another approach. Where were you the night the mutilated rabbit was left in front of Angie’s door? I heard you were supposed to be home, sort of watching the place.”

  “I was here. I was in my room watching TV. It's not my fault that happened.”

  “Now see, we’ve interviewed the entire household and no one saw you that night. Not exactly a good alibi.”

  “I didn’t know I needed one. If I did, I would have made sure someone saw me, now wouldn’t I?”

  “Where were you last night?”

  “I was out, why? What happened last night?”

  “I went to your room for a little talk and you weren’t there.”

  “If I’d known I was going to have company, I would have stayed around. But you didn’t call and make an appointments, so whose fault is that?” His smirk irked Jon-Luc. He wanted to slap it right off his face.

  “Look, kid, you’re not helping your case.”

  Michael jumped out of his chair. “You want to charge me with something? Oh, wait, you aren’t a cop here, are you? So the answer is no. I’m outta here.” He stomped off.

  Jon-Luc watched him go. There was something not right about that kid, and he was going to find out what.

  23

  Jon-Luc found Angie in the ballroom fussing with a dress on a model. The room bustled with people rushing around, working on sewing machines, chattering amongst themselves. Angie looked up as he crossed the large expanse of the room toward her and called out, "Hey."

  "Hey, yourself," he said while he closed the gap. Once he stood before her, he continued. "I've called a taxi to take me back to the city. See you tonight?"

  "I'll be here." She smiled, and he recognized the naughty glint in her eye.

  "Mmm." He bent down and kissed her lightly on the lips, then pressed his forehead to hers as he remembered her naked. "I'd better go," he whispered before he pulled himself away.

  On the taxi ride back to the city, Jon-Luc called Jake to update him on what little info he had. He got his voicemail and decided he was probably busy with the birth of his new foal. He left a message for Jake to check the hospitals in White Plains, New York, for the birth records of a one Michael D'Arcy, no middle name, the New York DMV, and the records at NYU for the last four years.

  After he'd hung up, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He hadn't exactly gotten a lot of sleep the night before. Before long, he'd been transported back to his childhood room; his mother sat next to him on his bed. She stroked his hair.

  "Johnny, you need to be careful."

  "Mom?" Jon-Luc started. His mother looked so old, she had gray in her hair and there were lines in her face he'd never seen before. "What are you doing here?"

  "I'm worried about you, Johnny. Your father doesn't understand, but I do."

  "Mom, I'm fine. You don't need to worry, I can take care of myself."

  She placed her hands on either side of his face, her brows furrowed. "No. Listen to me. You are in danger."

  The phone rang and she looked away.

  "Mom, what do you know?" Jon-Luc watched his mother stand.

  "Mom?" The phone continued to ring and she started for the door. "Mom, wait!"

  Jon-Luc jerked awake to find himself sitting in the back of a cab as it pulled up in front of the St. James & Albany Hotel. His cell phone was ringing. He took it out and noticed Claude's caller ID.

  "Yeah, Claude, what's up?"

  "Where are you?" Claude's voice sounded worried.

  "In a taxi in front of my hotel. Why? Where are you?"

  "I'm in your hotel room. Get up here immediately."

  "Is there something wrong?"

  "You could say that."

  "Okay, I'll be right there."

  Jon-Luc slipped his phone back into his pocket and paid the driver. As he made his way up to his room, he wondered about the cryptic conversation they'd just shared. When he rounded the corner, he stopped. Claude stood out in the hall in front of his room. Policemen clogged the entrance. As he stepped closer, he got a look inside. The room swarmed with law enforcement types.

  "What the hell's going on?" Jon-Luc asked while staring at the commotion, then he turned toward his friend.

  "Let him through," Claude announced, and the men stepped aside.

  Jon-Luc entered the room cautiously and followed the gaze of the forensic personnel. On the king-sized bed lay a naked woman. Her extremities had been stretched out and tied to the bedposts. She had a hole in her chest a
nd strange symbols etched into her flesh. The sheets underneath her body were soaked in blood. Her face remained unmarred.

  A strangled cry escaped and Jon-Luc covered his mouth with his hand. "What—" He swallowed the lump in his throat. "What is she doing here?"

  Claude's eyebrows rose. "Do you know this woman?"

  "Uh, yeah." Jon-Luc wiped a hand down his face. "She's a stewardess. I met her on the plane coming over."

  "Did the two of you have drinks or dinner together?"

  "No. I just got her number. I met Angela Henderson almost immediately after and forgot about her." Jon-Luc kept staring at the monstrosity on the bed. "Until now."

  Claude folded his arms across his chest. "Who else knew the two of you had spoken about getting together?"

  "Uh." Jon-Luc began to sweat. What the hell's going on? He ran both hands through his hair and looked at Claude. "I don't know, someone from the plane?"

  "You think you were followed here? Maybe someone you put away is out and seeking revenge?"

  Jon-Luc glared at Claude. "The men I put away don't get out of jail. They either die by lethal injection, or live the rest of their lives behind bars," he said, his tone harsh.

  "Right." Claude nodded. "A family member then?"

  "It's possible. This definitely looks personal. Or. . ." Jon-Luc let the thought trail off.

  "Or what?" Claude waited for him to continue.

  But he couldn't say what he was thinking out loud. If Jon-Luc could see through the killer's eyes, does that mean the killer could see through Jon-Luc's?

  "Holy shit." Jon-Luc sank down into a nearby chair and covered his face with his hands.

  If that's the case, how long had he been in Jon-Luc's head?

  He didn't even know this case existed on the plane ride over. How would the killer have known to zero in on him? Unless, maybe the killer simply read his mind after he found Jon-Luc on his trail. Maybe when he saw him at one of crime scenes he’d peeked into Jon-Luc's thoughts. Not good. That meant the killer would stay one step ahead of them at all times.

  "What?" Claude's impatient voice broke through his thoughts.

  Jon-Luc glanced up. "I can't believe this woman is dead just for talking with me."