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

by Deanna Chase

  I pull my aura back and present them with the picture they all know so well: the lush, redheaded vampire who feels only about a hundred years old.

  “Hiding my power was never done to deceive you—only to help you relax.”

  No more words need to be spoken. I take Sheba’s hand to lead her from the pool. As I’m leaving, I can’t help but deliver one last thought, hoping I can make this four-hundred-year-old vampire master look at his people in a different light.

  “If you care about them, mark them as your own. They are not pets but human lives entrusted to you in the very dangerous world you brought them into. You risk losing that which you do not honor accordingly.”

  His head flashes up and heat fills his black eyes.

  Ah, there I go again, making friends everywhere I go. The way I feel right now, I couldn’t give a rat’s ass if we lose a steady customer. Hell, it’s not like we need the money. His arrogance caused this woman some considerable pain. Now it’s up to me to fix it.

  Can I repair the damage or is she better off the way she is?

  Chapter Sixteen

  It’s a delicate balance, sorting through someone’s ravaged mind. Although all vampires are able to perform mind control and erase memories, not all are practiced in how to use the power with subtlety. What can be damaged can almost always be fixed, but the return of lost knowledge is not always a good thing for the victim.

  I’m going to start questioning Sheba gently and I need a quiet place to do so. Leading her through the lobby, I stride toward our private suite of rooms behind the kitchen. We enter the hotel kitchen and find Paul, whom I nod to in greeting as he prepares a Bloody Mary with bagged blood for a vampire guest. He returns my greeting with a more reserved nod of his own. Looks like the poor bugger is still feeling the effects of last night.

  “Paul, would you mind preparing breakfast for Rafe and having it ready by 7:30?”

  “Sure thing. What would he like?”

  “His usual: sausage, a two-egg veggie omelet, and rye toast—heavy on the butter.”

  Paul shakes his head. “I don’t know how a man can eat like that four times a week and not have a heart attack.”

  I smile elusively. “Good genes, I guess.” Remembering Jonathan’s appointment with us for this morning, I add, “Oh, and could you fix a rare steak with lots of potatoes, and a four-egg meat omelet, as well? Jonathan is coming by for an early morning meeting.”

  “You got it.”

  Sheba and I continue through the kitchen to a security door nestled in a corner by the walk-in fridge. At a swipe of my key, the door opens into a narrow hallway. While Rafe and I enjoy our privacy, it is not unheard of that we bring people into our apartment to visit. We love having our own space and this suite occupies the remainder of the west wing, with the kitchen and guest dining room taking up the first third.

  The hall opens into a comfortable living room and beyond lies our compact kitchen. I gesture to the couch for Sheba to help herself to a seat.

  “I’d like to talk with you before we begin,” I say. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

  “No, I’m fine, thanks.” She lowers herself to the couch and looks up at me with big eyes. “Is this going to hurt?”

  Very good question and I won’t have an answer for her until I see for myself the extent of the damage. “I’m not sure, it may. Do you want me to return your memories to you if I can fix things, or would you feel better not knowing?”

  She meets my eyes with the first hint of a backbone in her gaze. “I want to know what happened. Who wouldn’t?”

  “You say that now, but let me tell you what we found last night before you decide.”

  I fill her in on finding the corpse and Rafe’s discovery of the wallet. Hard to believe it was only thirteen hours ago. Her eyes fill with liquid when I mention the victim’s name.

  “Are you sure? John Pierre Vaughn?” The first tear spills down her cheek.

  “Yes, did you know him?”

  “He’s a member of our seethe. A companion like me. But he wasn’t invited on the trip with us.” She shifts in her seat, nervous from the last revelation.

  “Would there be any reason he would come here?”

  Most master vampires like to leave all the cares of their seethe behind, humans and lesser vampires alike, and travel with a small retinue. The MacKellans, unlike Salvador’s group, are rare in that they brought three vampires with them on their vacation.

  Sheba twists her hands in her lap, distress starting to mar her smooth visage. “John Pierre had shown a lot of interest in me lately and Sal didn’t want him to distract me from my fun here.”

  “Why would Sal worry about distracting you? Aren’t you happy with them?”

  “No, no, I am. But John Pierre…well, he’d been talking of leaving the family and…”

  “Yes?”

  She heaves a great sigh and collapses into the back of the couch. “He wanted me to join him and asked me to marry him. I didn’t feel the same way about him and had to break it to him before we left.” The tears start in earnest, spilling down her cheeks in rivulets. “I guess none of that matters now, does it? You’re sure it was him?”

  “I’m not sure of anything. We can get you a picture later to confirm.” Yeah, after I defrost the body. I’ll get right on that, honey. What the hell was I thinking making that offer?

  Maybe I’ll ask Sal to ID him and he can confirm it for her. I’d hate the last time she sees him to be a picture of him frozen solid. But wait, who am I kidding? She could very well have been there when the murder took place and saw it all. If I can restore her memories, that unfortunate episode will be what she remembers last.

  Ugh, this is going to suck, and not in a good way.

  “How can you help me get my memory back from yesterday?” Sheba asks.

  “Have you had a vampire bite feel exquisite and bring you pleasure?”

  She laughs, her body relaxing fully for the first time since we entered the suite. “Why else would I be here? For their sunny disposition and giving natures? It’s all about the bite, baby.”

  Well, that certainly tells me a lot about Sheba and her seethe now, doesn’t it? They sound like a bunch of groupie fang-bangers. To each their own. I’ll keep my judgments to myself. Or at least, I’ll try.

  “Okay, then, glad we got that covered. My point is, the vampire ‘rolls’ your will under their own and that’s how you feel the intense sensations. Rolling you under their control is another way to say they’ve invaded your mind.”

  Her face sobers and she straightens up. “You mean any of you can go in my head at any time?”

  Could she really be this dumb? Apparently she is, and Sal must prefer to keep his food that way. “Never look us in the eye, and you’ll be safe. I can’t believe after a year, you didn’t know that.”

  “I guess I got caught up in the lifestyle.” She quickly looks away and down at her hands, wringing them in her pool wrap. “You know—the big house, the clothes, no need to work… All that great sex was only the icing on the cake.”

  She has a dazed look to her, as if all the events in her life are taking on new significance.

  “Finally see you’re playing with more than you can handle?”

  Her gaze sharpens and she looks at me with something akin to dislike on her lovely features.

  People rarely thank you for opening their eyes to the lies they are comfortable living with. Seems the realization of her party life is starting to hit home, and she might be looking to place blame. Yeah, God forbid she look in the mirror for that one.

  “I have a feeling Sal has protected you from a lot of the true nature within the seethe. Shielding you from family politics and power plays. He made sure you remained untouched by the inherent darkness within a group of vampires. Some may consider that admirable, but I think it’s a gross injustice to you. Now can you understand why John Pierre might have wanted to leave?”

  She doesn’t answer. “So, you think I mig
ht have been there when he was killed, don’t you?”

  I hold back the insane urge to roll my eyes. Her beauty made me want to hope for the best, but she is sounding more and more like an opportunist—happy to get a good lay and a free ride. I know I can’t save the world, and I know some people get exactly what they have coming to them, but no matter what I think, Sheba did not deserve to have her mind trashed like a house of cards. Damn Sal and his selfishness.

  “Yes,” I answer. “I think it’s a strong possibility you saw something and the killer had to silence what you know. In the bigger picture, you’re lucky he didn’t kill you, too.”

  It’s apparent by the shock on her face that this thought had not occurred to her. “Could I be in danger? Could the killer come after me?”

  The laugh spills from my throat before I have a chance to contain it. Stupid people do that to me sometimes, make me lose myself and forget my decorum. “Let me get this straight,” I say, gasping for air, “you live with vampires and let them feed from you but now you’re worried about the danger you could be in? Oh, darling, how old are you?”

  “Twenty-two,” she answers, not meeting my eyes.

  “Old enough to know nothing in life comes free and you should stop selling your ass. Face it, that’s what you’ve been doing for a year now.” There goes my short-lived attempt not to judge. “Hasn’t it occurred to you that if you want to be taken seriously by Salvador and the rest of the seethe, you have to prove your worth beyond that of donating blood?”

  “Like how?”

  “Get a job or work within the seethe to better it and protect it. Make a difference to them and stand out. If you don’t, you’ll be forever looked at as food and not worthy of any other title in their eyes. They’ve been keeping you like a pampered pet for a year and you let them.”

  “I… I hadn’t… ” She hangs her head and fingers the pretty beads on her silk wrap. “You’re right. It was too easy to take and not really pay attention. I feel like a fool.”

  “No offense, honey, but you’ve been playing the fool. These are not some characters from a movie and this life isn’t glamorous. Vampires try to blend in like regular people with jobs. They live night to night, fighting to not misstep and be uncovered for what they really are. They form the family to protect each other and to care for the ones they love, but companions like you come and go. Have you talked to anyone else who’s left the seethe?”

  That question gives her pause. It never fails to amaze me how many young people get roped into this lifestyle thinking about the books they’ve read or the movies they watch. There are no Goth mansions on the outskirts of the big cities. No bodies drained of blood scattered across New Orleans. There are no cults having massive blood and sex orgies in small towns in the Midwest. Wouldn’t people notice that sort of thing? I’d think it would make the evening news somewhere.

  Sheba collects her thoughts then raises her head to answer. “Yes, I have seen and talked to some of the other companions who left. I know they are safe.”

  “I never doubted they were safe. Most would have a family or friends who would call the cops if they disappeared, unless the master prefers runaways and street people. But more important, did they remember you?”

  “Yes, they did.” Her face scrunches up in an effort to recall the details. “But they weren’t the same. They didn’t remember much about the house or our lives there. I thought they were pretending or maybe embarrassed by some of the things we had done together with Sal and Theresa.”

  Good, that tells me Sal does not do a complete mind-wipe. He does the barest he has to do, and I respect him for that. It’s the same thing I do here with the employees when they leave.

  “No, Sheba, Sal clouded their memories to protect the seethe. Similar to the compulsion he has placed on you not to reveal what you know when you visit your family and friends from before you met him. His only other choice would be to kill them. Salvador isn’t a stupid man and unexplained deaths are noticed.”

  “So you’re telling me when I do leave, I’ll be okay but won’t remember anything?”

  “You’ll remember some, but not enough to know there are vampires in the world or that you donated blood to them. It will not change the core of who you are.”

  She looks like she can’t decide if she’s relieved by this news or put off. And of course, I don’t have to wait long for her to reveal why. Her beauty and grace are refreshing, but her self-centeredness and base laziness prove tiresome.

  “I have a journal,” she says with a triumphant lilt to her tone. “I write down everything I do in the seethe, or should I say whom?” She finishes with a big grin.

  Ah, I was right. She’s hoping to write a book or sell her story when she leaves. “You mean to tell me after all we’ve discussed, you honestly think Sal doesn’t know about it already? Or that you’d be allowed to take your journal with you?”

  A movement in the kitchen brings my head around. Rafe walks out wearing only a pair of black, skin-tight boxer briefs. I’m not thrilled he’s wearing next to nothing in front of this lazy fangbanger, but at least he didn’t come out naked.

  He starts to busy himself with making coffee and I glance at my watch to see it’s after seven. I wish he’d had more sleep, but with the Were blood in him, I doubt he needs more.

  My guest has straightened in her seat on the couch. Her eyes linger on Rafe’s solid thighs and round, firm butt. I smile then turn to look at him as well.

  The light dusting of golden hair covering his body looks soft and inviting. His muscles fairly ripple below his skin and he looks like he stepped out of an underwear ad on a Times Square billboard. The broad expanse of his back faces us and he’s focused solely on the task of making coffee. I know he heard us in here, so why would he come out half-naked?

  I open a mental link to him. Morning, my love. Why are you tempting this poor girl so much?

  I thought you could use a little distraction. When I woke, I listened to the conversation and could see your thoughts were starting to fall into the I don’t like her very much category. You need her and you need her pliant.

  I hate it when you’re right. But I love to see you semi-naked, so I’ll hold my peace.

  Rafe clears his throat, continuing to work at the counter. “Morning, ladies, just getting the coffee started. I’ll be back out in a minute after I’m dressed. Would either of you care for a cup when it’s done?”

  I can drink liquids but don’t need much. The idiot who thought vampires don’t use the bathroom should be shot. Seriously, where would all the blood go?

  One glance at Sheba tells me she might not have heard a word he said. Yes, he really is that breathtaking to look at with nothing on.

  “I’ll have half a cup,” I say. “How about you, Sheba?”

  “Um…what?” Her gaze finally breaks from his ass and she looks at me with a slight blush of embarrassment. “Did you say coffee?” I nod. “Sure, that would be great. Thank you.”

  “Great,” Rafe answers. “I’ll be back in a few.” He heads to our room without looking back.

  Sheba appears more relaxed now that Rafe has made an appearance. Maybe she was more nervous than I thought about coming back to our suite with me.

  I hear Rafe moving around in our closet. He returns, wearing a pair of jeans and a snug, blue V-neck sweater that hugs every hard plane of his chest. His loose-limbed gait draws Sheba’s eye when he saunters back through the kitchen. She gives a little gasp when he heads toward us.

  I hear her audibly swallow as he seats himself on the chaise lounge end of the L-shaped couch she’s seated on. With only the couch and the chair I’m in, he really had no other place to sit.

  Rafe relaxes and smiles at Sheba. “Coffee will be a few more minutes. Am I right in assuming that you’re going to let Vivian help you recall your memories from yesterday afternoon?”

  Phrasing it in such a way effectively compliments her actions and makes her feel like she has some choice in the matter. The
simple fact that I can make her do what I want doesn’t always go over well with a guest. Rafe makes her feel like she’s doing the right thing and I’m grateful he thought to say it.

  “Yes,” Sheba says. “It seems like the best way to find out what happened to John Pierre. I hope I can help.”

  She seems to have gained more strength. I rise and move closer to her, lowering myself onto the free cushion between her and Rafe and look deeply into her eyes. “As I said before, I’m not sure about what I’ll be able to reveal. We’ll have to find out together, okay?”

  She nods her head and returns my stare. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

  Without letting her have a moment to wonder when, I force my will forward and grasp her mind in my mental sway. Rafe’s hand rests on my shoulder. The contact strengthens our bond, enabling him to see what I pick from her memories.

  Reading memories isn’t the same as when I sense desires, that coiling mass of emotions right below a person’s consciousness. Memories are more like moving snap shots scrolling past in a linear flow. Some of hers have black holes like some macabre Swiss cheese. I don’t have to go back far since it was only yesterday, but what damage I see appears awful.

  The desire to purge was so strong, the attacking vampire was heavy-handed when he came in to silence her. Now I know why she was crying yesterday. The loss would be disquieting to say the least.

  These holes will make it impossible for her to access the memory, almost like a frayed tightrope. It’s not safe to use and there’s no way to the other side. Skimming through the images, I land on one where John Pierre is alive. Once I touch upon the memory, whatever details remain seep into my mind, allowing me to relive the experience from her perspective.

  She and John Pierre are chatting in her room. He states he came to Alaska to talk her into leaving the seethe. I’m still not certain how John Pierre came to be at the resort, but that could be because the information has not been revealed to Sheba. Next, the pair strolls down the hall together. John Pierre stops then walks back to her room, calling to her that he wants to get something from his bag.