by Dana Davis
Brown eyes weighed her. “You sure you’re not a telepath?”
She smirked. “No. But I can always call Cousin Bridgette over. She lives nearby.” She’d made certain of that and had hooked the redhead up with the mother-son paranormal real estate team, who owned a condo complex less than a mile away. Daisy hated to admit it, but she felt better knowing Bridgette was so close. Okay, so I’ve got codependency issues. Big deal. After all I’ve been through, who wouldn’t? Bridgette doesn’t seem to mind.
A wan smile sat on Zoey’s full lips. Despite her tall stature, she looked very young. Daisy didn’t have to be a telepath to see the hurt and loss in those eyes. The girl’s aunt and uncle were killed two years ago and her mother lived, well, someplace else. An adult orphan herself, Daisy could sympathize.
Maybe that’s why she came to me. Whatever else paranormals are, we’re still flesh and blood. We bleed and hurt and die like anybody else. And we’ve both lost our parents.
“Is it true she’s part troll?”
“What?” Daisy lifted her brows. “Oh, Bridgette, yes. On her father’s side. Claims it’s why she swears so much. And I have to admit, she can cuss better than anyone I know. Creative about it too, when she wants to be.” That got a soft chuckle from Zoey. When the girl’s smile faded, Daisy said, “I won’t pry. But you came to me remember? If there’s anything I can do to help, I will.”
Zoey nodded. “I hope you can.” She took in a long breath and settled herself back into the couch. Perky stirred and resettled against her foot. She hesitated, as though seeking some invisible permission, or something. “Okay. Here goes.”
Daisy listened with climbing interest as Zoey told of the Dream Catcher box. She glanced back and forth between the girl and the genealogy chart in her lap. Holy crap! This is huge! She’d perused these books many times and had never seen anything about a Dream Catcher. She flipped through this book to scan the pages that contained additional information on each ancestor. Nothing. Zoey’s paranormal line had been recorded as powerless and without titles. Why hadn’t anyone recorded this Catcher history?
Holy shit! She’s Pandora. Stay calm, Daisy. “Do you have the box with you?”
Zoey shook her head. “No. I think it’s safer at home. For now, at least.”
“But you sense it.”
The girl sighed. “Oh, yeah. I can send wishes to it from anywhere. And I can give energy to it over distances too. I discovered that little talent yesterday at school when the damn thing pestered me until I was ready to scream. It takes a hell of a lot more effort when I’m away from the box though. Until I get more used to it, I guess.” She shifted on the couch, causing Perky to change positions against her foot again. He really liked Zoey. “God, Daisy. This whole thing came as a shock. One day I’m just normal Zoey. College student, girlfriend, you know? Then bam! Suddenly, I’m in a Pandora nightmare.”
One of Zoey’s ancestors was named Dora, born in the mid-1600s. Way too modern for the woman of Greek legend. And no mention that she had any powers. What in hell is going on with this line? She studied Zoey again. How could anyone expect somebody so young, paranormal or not, to accept that kind of responsibility? Daisy pushed down her shock and mounting anger at not knowing this information. She never imagined any paranormal could have powers so vast and had a mile-long list of questions for someone that she mentally filed away for later. Her not knowing certainly wasn’t Zoey’s fault.
She placed a hand on her young cousin’s arm. “I’ll help any way I can. We’re family.” And I plan to find out just why this little tidbit was excluded from family records. Hell, in all the books spread out among our relatives, I bet I won’t find one mention of a Dream Catcher. Bridgette will have a fit when she hears about this.
“Thanks. I could use your help. I’m floundering around like an idiot. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.”
Daisy simply listened, since that seemed to be what Zoey needed right now. She didn’t know what else to do anyway. Not until she learned more about the girl’s mysterious lineage. Well, paranormals are good at hiding. No, not good at hiding, great at it. She’d just never heard of any keeping powers from their own relatives, distant or not.
“I don’t know if I can do this, Daisy. And I’m kinda pissed off nobody told me about my destiny.” Zoey said destiny as thought it were a dirty word. “You know, getting it all dumped on me like this. And why now?”
Daisy glanced at the chart and realized she’d missed more than Zoey’s birthday. This past Saturday had been two years to the day. I should have remembered. She placed a brief hand on the girl’s knee. “I’m so sorry Thea and Alex died. And especially on your birthday.”
Zoey nodded then narrowed eyes on her. “You absolutely sure you’re not a telepath?”
“Hardly. But speaking of telepaths again, you mind if Bridgette helps out? She’s a great ally. And we could find out twice as much information with her onboard.”
A hesitation. Perhaps communicating with her box. “Sure. I trust you both.” Brown eyes gazed at Daisy like an adoring younger sister.
Great. She trusts me. But I’m a killer. I’m not even sure I trust myself anymore. Wil’s image popped into her head. His terrifying screams as her blood spell ripped the ancient skinwalker from his body and atrophied his heart. How do you tell people you killed someone? Even if he was evil? She chastised herself for those thoughts and replaced them with positive reinforcement. What her therapist had recommended whenever she felt a pity party coming on. You had to kill him. He didn’t leave you any choice. He would have destroyed you and your family. If he’d found out about Zoey, well, he would’ve killed the girl to get those powers.
Okay, that made her feel better, a little anyway, and she forced her gaze on Zoey again. The girl was staring at her with an odd look in those dark eyes. She sees something. “What are you looking at?”
“I guess I can tell you.” A distant look colored her face for an instant. “I can see your aura.”
Daisy let out a sigh. “Well, that’s a relief. The way you were staring, I thought I’d morphed into a lobster or something.” Zoey snickered. “And you’re not the only one to see auras. Paranormal healers work with them too.” The girl nodded and grew quiet but looked like she wasn’t finished. Daisy cocked her head to one side. “Is there something else?”
“Yeah, actually, there is.” A pause. “You ever heard of the Anguisher?”
Daisy shook her head. “No. I haven’t. Why?”
“Well, he’s my foil. I guess. He supposedly lives in the underworld. He’s been trying to take hope from people. I don’t know much more but my aunt warned me about him in a note.”
The underworld? Holy shit! Could this be the guy in darkness Maria warned me about? I’ve never heard of an Anguisher before. What the hell is going on with Zoey’s line?
“I need to speak to a medium, Daisy. You know any?”
As a matter of fact, I do. She gave the girl a serious look. “You looking for a séance? Because you can’t contact your aunt or uncle.” I’m certainly not doing any more séances myself if I can help it. And I won’t let you visit a medium alone, grown woman or not, Zoey Vega. Mediums had a reputation for being unstable after years of peering into the afterlife and opening doors for the dead. Paranoid and delusional came to mind. Besides, witches protected the family, and Daisy would do what she could to keep her cousin safe.
“I know that rule about not contacting my parents’ generation, but I thought maybe my grandmother might have some advice. She was a Catcher too. I can talk to her, right?”
Daisy nodded. “It’s allowed. But there’s no guarantee you’ll be able to speak to her. The ethereal world can be, well, unpredictable.” Nice way to tell the girl she might get nothing at all.
“I’ll take my chances.” For the first time since Zoey had arrived, her smile didn’t seem strained.
Daisy smiled back. “All right then. I’ll make a few calls. See what I can do. I’ll fill Bridgette
in too.” She drew her brows together. “And I’m going with you.” Whether you want me to or not.
“That’s okay. You don’t have to.”
“Yes I do. I’m not hooking you up with a medium if I can’t be there.”
Zoey smirked but she looked relieved. “Thanks, Mom.” Perky stretched and yawned and the girl scratched him behind one ear. He leaned in to her fingers then licked her hand.
When Perky wandered into the kitchen, Daisy said, “I won’t pretend to know what it’s like to be in your position, but I’m here if you need to talk.” She had no idea what kind of advice she could give, but maybe just keeping an ear handy would ease Zoey’s troubles. And mine. I want to know more about this damn Dream Catcher business. And just why the rest of the family wasn’t told about the Pandora legacy.
“Thanks. I’ll probably take you up on that.” Zoey smiled then stood and stretched her long, lean body. “And if you know anyone who wants to buy an antique silver box, I’ll give them an amazing price. It’s got jewels and everything.”
Daisy smiled. At least the girl still had a sense of humor. That’s a good sign. I think. “I’ll keep that in mind.” I want to see that box for myself. She stood, only coming to Zoey’s chin.
“Mind if I use the ladies’ room?”
“Oh, sure. Just off the hall. Turn right.”
“Thanks.”
Daisy snagged a plastic sealed container from the fridge while Zoey went to the bathroom. More homemade cookies. Once her cousin was ready, she walked her to the front door. They exchanged a hug and Daisy pushed the container into Zoey’s hands. “For the road. They keep longer in the fridge.” She pointed a finger. “And you keep out of trouble, missy.”
Zoey smiled as she took the offered bounty. “Thanks for the cookies. But that last part’s no fun.”
“Hmm. You’re right. Okay, just keep the trouble to a minimum.”
Zoey’s baby blue Jeep Wrangler sat in the driveway and the girl smiled and waved as she got in. But Daisy didn’t miss the frown on her cousin’s young face as the girl drove away.
She immediately headed to the phone and punched in Bridgette’s number. “Hey, Bridge. Can you come over? I’ve got some fucking crazy news to tell you.”
Chapter 10
Dear Old Grammy
Scarlet Mendoza worked from home and only took clients recommended by paranormals she knew personally. Very hush-hush. It had taken phone calls from Daisy, Bridgette, and the witch who owned Bridgette’s condo complex, just to get Zoey an appointment. According to Daisy, Zoey and Scarlet were cousins by marriage. Zoey didn’t care much about her family relationship with the medium. She wanted answers. And she hoped Scarlet would give them up.
The supposed twenty-five minute drive to the medium’s house seemed to be taking forever. She would have put the top down to enjoy the calming desert breeze but it was hot this morning, over a hundred degrees already. Normally, she loved the immense, cloudless sky that looked like it came straight from a fantasy world. Not today. Today she would’ve preferred a monsoon to fit her mood but saw no evidence of those puffy whites billowing up anywhere.
Well, I can hope for rain. Could a Dream Catcher produce rain just by wishing for it? Her chest tingled as though a cobweb brushed against it. A sign she had noticed the past day or so that meant it wasn’t possible to simply wish something into existence. Quite different from the compression sensation she got when she was about to make harmful wishes that could come true. The Catcher box sat safely at home in the glass curio where Mena had always kept it, and distance didn’t seem to much affect her connection to it now. Though she could make some things happen just by wishing aloud, the desire for rain wouldn’t come true unless she had a way to seed the clouds or something. There were still so many things to learn about her new powers and her limitations.
When a Cadillac nearly took off her front bumper, she hit the brakes and cried, “Hey, I’m drivin’ here!”
The Cadi crawled along in the left lane of Shea Boulevard, Zoey’s lane, oblivious to any wrongdoings, so she gunned her engine and buzzed around it on the right. A glance told her the elderly man with the cell phone to his ear was more than a traffic hazard. Just after she’d put two car lengths between her Jeep and the killer Cadi, traffic began to slow, causing her temper to rise. Thanks to several delivery and service trucks, traffic crawled along in all three lanes for the next few blocks and she got stuck at every red light.
Come on, people. It’s mid-morning in the summer for fuck’s sake. Her portable GPS was quiet now, a few miles to go before she reached Fountain Hills.
Traffic opened up just after the turnoff to the Mayo Clinic. Her nerves settled a bit and she turned up the CD volume. Her 1998 Jeep didn’t have an MP3 input jack—did they even have MP3s back in those days?--so she had burned her music onto a CD. With her inheritance, she could buy a new car, but she liked this one. A gift from her aunt and uncle for her sixteenth birthday. They had tried to talk her into a newer version but she’d already fallen in love with the baby blue color and the feel of her butt in the seat. Stupid Girls by Pink rumbled through the Jeep and she decided to sing along, not caring if anyone heard her through the plastic windows. She also tried to convince herself she wasn’t being stupid by going to a medium’s house and waking the dead.
Homes were still going up in neighborhoods alongside Shea, some marking otherwise pristine desert mountains, and she passed the last of the mint green painted streetlights, letting her know she was no longer in Scottsdale. Once she reached Fountain Hills Boulevard, she took a left as her GPS instructed. At the top of the first hill, Four Peaks and Red Mountain greeted her against a backdrop of other formations. A couple of miles away, the manmade geyser at the lake blew water several hundred feet into the air.
She made turns as her GPS called them out. Various types of homes dominated these streets, nestled in xeriscaped yards with mature mesquite and palo verde trees, some taking full advantage of the surrounding mountain views. She took in several long breaths to calm her racing heart as she eased into another turn, this time onto the medium’s street, and crept along until she found herself in a cul de sac.
With relief, she spotted Daisy’s vintage VW bus parked in front of Bridgette’s convertible. For two women who were as close as sisters, they’d been formed from opposite ends of the family spectrum. She wondered why her cousins hadn’t carpooled, then decided it was none of her business what two, very powerful, kick-ass witches did for transportation. Zoey had politely refused a ride with Daisy because she had to go straight to school from here.
Her GPS announced her destination coming up on the right. A typical house on a typical street in a typical desert neighborhood. A tiny spark of disappointment settled in her gut then she laughed to herself. Well, what did you expect, Zoey? A neon sign blazing the way? Daisy said the woman was discreet. Probably wouldn’t be caught dead working in a shop with a neon sign. Caught dead? Did I really think of that phrase now, when I’m about to set foot in a medium’s house? She shook her head. The real thing, a true, paranormal medium, scared the bejeebies out of any sane person. What am I doing here? Am I out of my mind?
Where is My Mind by the Pixies suddenly began to play from her CD and she fought the urge to turn her Jeep around. Instead, she turned the volume down and told herself it was just a coincidence.
She parked the Jeep on the street, far enough from a yellow fire hydrant that she wouldn’t get ticketed, killed the engine and glanced at her cell phone screen. Nine-fifty-seven. Despite the slow traffic this morning, she wasn’t late. Daisy had warned her Scarlet didn’t like latecomers. And Zoey didn’t think it prudent to piss off someone who could make her life miserable after she died.
She stepped from her Jeep and the sun immediately started to heat her skin. She took in a long breath and filled her lungs. Give me the desert any day. Nervously, she tugged at the legs of her shorts and adjusted her ponytail, grateful her cousins were here. Even if she’d wanted to com
e alone, Daisy wouldn’t have let her. She silently thanked the witch’s protective nature.
She left her backpack on the passenger side floor, grabbed her GPS and pressed it off, then tucked it and her water bottle into her brown and white striped Lucy purse before shutting the Jeep door. Her heart picked up speed as she sauntered up the walkway toward the stucco house, rhinestone sandals slapping her heels. The meticulous yard with its low-voltage landscape lights and mesquite trees revealed nothing out of the ordinary. No hint to the dangers that resided behind those walls. Zoey’s stomach tightened with each step toward the mocha-colored door.
Before she could press the lighted button, the door opened, making her jump. Cool air wafted outside and she took in a deep breath of freshly brewed coffee. A thirty-something woman stood in the doorway, calm gaze raking up and down Zoey’s body. Pink lipstick decorated pursed lips. The top of Scarlet’s dark head barely reached Zoey’s shoulder. Though the long-sleeved blouse was unusual for this time of year, the Capri pants, sandals and ponytail made Scarlet look like any woman one might see at the local grocery store. But the medium’s aura revealed a troubling element. Various shades of reds and browns surrounded by a thick strand of black wavered around Scarlet’s body. Zoey had seen enough auras in the past few days to know that this woman’s wasn’t normal.
But maybe it’s normal for a medium.
A single strand of a faded red wish reached out toward Zoey and she mentally nudged it home to the box. It was getting easier to do with each passing day. Despite the disturbing aura colors, something in Scarlet’s stance suggested she wasn’t afraid of much in this world. After working with the dead, there probably wasn’t much that could scare a medium.
Zoey, on the other hand, needed to pee. “Hi, Ms. Mendoza.” Her voice sounded tiny and unsure and she wanted to shake herself.
“Scarlet. Please.” The woman smiled and raised a dark brow. Dark features set in cappuccino-colored skin made her exotically pretty, though she seemed to downplay her appearance. Brown eyes bored into Zoey’s soul. “Come in.”
