The Witch and the Gentleman

by J. R. Rain

“It’s cop speak.”

  I smiled, and so did he. When he smiled, a few of the errant whiskers literally pointed directly at me. He said, “I’ve never worked with a psychic on a murder investigation.”

  “And I’ve never worked with a cop on one, either.”

  “I suppose I should give you access to this file, except that it’s against the law for me to do so.” He drummed his fingers on the file, thought about it. Then told me he would have his secretary sum up the file for me. I told him that was good enough.

  “Come by tomorrow and it will be ready for you.”

  “Thank you, detective.”

  “What can I say? I’ll do anything to catch this piece of shit. He destroyed a whole family. Perhaps many families.”

  On that note, he got up and led me over to the door. Once there, he said, “How is Peter doing these days? I haven’t seen him since his wife died.”

  “Not good,” I said. “Not good at all.”

  Detective Smithy was one inch taller than me. He held my gaze. Somehow, his cop mustache held my gaze, too. “No,” he finally said, “I don’t suspect he is.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Hi, this is Allison. Thank you for calling The Psychic Hotline. How can I help you see into the future?”

  “Oh, thank the good lord in heaven,” said Conn, and he sounded truly relieved.

  “More than nine tries this time?” I asked. As I spoke, I immediately linked-up to him psychically. In a matter of moments, I saw him in my mind’s eye sitting on his outdoor deck, this time in a robe and slippers. His robe was mostly closed. Conn had a majestic view of the Pacific Ocean. His home was surely worth millions.

  I wondered if he knew that I could see him. Or, at least, suspected that I could see him. We’d never discussed my particular psychic strengths. In fact, we rarely, if ever, talked about anything psychic.

  “Try twenty times,” he said. He reached for a cup of coffee, sipped it. The coffee swirled with cream. Far below his house, along the beach, I heard people laughing and playing. What a life.

  “Boy, you must really like talking to me,” I said.

  “You have no idea,” he said.

  “But why?” I asked. “Why do you keep calling me? We’ve never met. You have no idea what I look like.”

  “Before I answer that, can I ask if we are alone on the line?”

  Good question. I did a quick scan and I felt that we were indeed alone. “We’re good,” I said. “So what gives?”

  “You have a nice voice,” he said.

  “And that was enough?”

  “That was a start,” he corrected. “Do you remember why I called you initially?”

  “It was about your mother,” I said. “She’d recently passed.”

  “Yes, I had asked if you could tell me if she was okay. And you told me something I’d never expected to hear from an online psychic.”

  We were both silent. I remembered, of course, exactly what I had said. I waited for him, and as I did so, I felt a very, very loving energy wash over me.

  “You said,” he continued, “and I quote: ‘I don’t know.’”

  He was right, of course. I didn’t know. I’d never fancied myself a medium. I was primarily a remote viewer, with growing abilities in other areas. But, so far, no growth in medium-ship.

  Unless, of course, one counted seeing a full-blown ghost in my living room medium-ship. Which I didn’t. I could almost hear Millicent’s words now: Not a ghost, dear. Spirit. There is a difference.

  I said to Conn now, “Well, I wasn’t going to lie to you or waste your money.”

  “But you could have,” he said. “You could have told me anything, and I probably would have believed you.”

  I heard it in his voice...he was still looking for answers, or some type of validation that his mother was okay. Poor guy.

  I said, “Well, that would have been wrong, and I’m not like that.”

  In my mind’s eye, I saw Conn cross his arms over his chest, still holding his cell phone to his ear. He was wearing Ray-Ban sunglasses. Flecks of gray at his temples. He was tan and fairly toned. Okay, a lot toned. I already knew that, of course...but...it certainly looked like he’d been hitting the gym a little harder these days.

  “And that was when it continued,” said Conn.

  “When what continued?” I asked.

  “My, ah, interest in you.”

  “Lucky me,” I said, although I smiled.

  He smiled, too, and we spent a few minutes smiling at each other on the phone, except, of course, he didn’t know I was smiling, and he didn’t know I was watching him smile. As we sat there, with him absorbing the sun and working on his tan, and with me contemplating my morning cigarette, I had another loving sensation spill over me, this time followed by some words. I saw them, in fact, on a polished black tombstone: “Our Loving Rose.”

  Almost instantly, my heart picked up a beat or two. I sat forward, adjusting my headset, and nearly knocking my laptop off my lap. “Does the name Rose mean anything to you, Conn?”

  The image of Conn had been replaced by the tombstone, but I sensed very strongly that Conn had sat up himself. “Rose is my mother’s name. How did you know that?”

  “Does...does her tombstone say ‘Our Loving Rose’?”

  There was a long pause. “How...How did you know that, Allison?”

  “I just saw it.”

  I also saw him remove his sunglasses and bury his face in his hands. As he wept, I felt a wave of unconditional love, and I knew what it was and who it was for.

  “Your mother, I think, is sending me love for you. A lot of love. More love than I’ve ever felt in all my life.”

  I had to stop because now the tears were coming and I couldn’t speak, and Conn and I spent the next few minutes weeping silently over the phone.

  Chapter Twenty

  It was late, and I’d been drinking.

  I was sitting in the Spirit Chair with the police report summary, which I’d picked up earlier and had read a half-dozen times. There was something in there. Something that the police had either failed to see or had missed completely.

  I let my subconscious work on that. Or my Higher Self, or whatever I wanted to call it. Some things couldn’t be rushed. Some things were presented to us with perfect timing and it was our job to wait patiently, yet expectantly.

  And I was very, very expectant that I would find an answer hidden within this summary.

  Mostly, as I sat in the Spirit Chair, I was troubled. Troubled in a good way, perhaps. I was thinking about my experience with Conn. I’d never before shown signs of medium-ship and this was new to me.

  Also, her love for him had been overwhelmingly pure and beautiful, and made me, on some level, wish I had a child of my own, to love so completely.

  Of course, I needed a man for that, and I hadn’t felt like dating since my last two disasters. And by disasters, I meant my last two relationships had ended horribly. Both men had been murdered.

  One had been killed by a silver-tipped arrow. And my last boyfriend, a man I had been engaged to and still loved and was still having problems moving past, had been killed by what is known as a dim-mak, or in martial arts speak, a death-blow.

  Crazy stuff, I know. But the pain was real. For both men. Well, one man and one vampire. Yes, my relationship with Victor had been pleasure-based, and we both sort of used each other, too, but I’d grown close to him quickly. Hell, instantly. And I missed him like crazy.

  Caesar Marquez, my brave and sexy boxer, had been a different story. We had so much in common, and I had been certain he and I would grow old together, although I was always—always—nervous about boxing. Turned out, I had good reason to be. He and I had discussed kids, too. Building a family together, a life together.

  Thinking of him now, especially after a few glasses of wine, wasn’t a smart thing to do. The booze was liable to reduce me to tears for many hours, and leave me curled in the fetal position at the foot of my bed, or on t
he phone with Samantha, sobbing like a teenager while she made sympathetic noises. Samantha was a good friend, although it had taken her a while to come around. Same with me, I guessed. I didn’t make friends easily, but when I did, well, I bonded with them forever.

  So, I forced myself to think of something else...and ended up thinking of someone else.

  Conn.

  What was his deal? Who was he? I had resisted doing too much research on the man. Yes, I had made sure he wasn’t a creep, but beyond that, I didn’t know much about him, and I didn’t want to know much about him. And if I was honest with myself, I would admit to the reason why: because I wanted him to tell me himself.

  Perhaps over wine.

  I sighed and shook my head and wiped the tears that had pooled in that small space between my upper cheekbone and lower eyelid.

  Too soon, I thought. The pain of losing Caesar was still too raw. I needed more healing. A lot more healing. And with that thought, I was reminded about Conn’s mother coming through.

  Could I someday channel Caesar? I didn’t know, but I suspected that seeing him, and feeling his love for me, knowing he was okay and still watching over me, my protector, might be enough for me to move on.

  Might.

  With a deep sigh, I pushed past the pain and opened the book in my lap. The book on Wicca, of course. Since, according to Millicent, I’d been a witch down through the ages.

  I shook my head at the thought and wondered if I’d ever been burned at the stake. On second thought, I didn’t want to know.

  So, I went through the basic exercises again, practicing my visualization, practicing feeling the energy in various objects around me, including the array of crystals lined on my bookshelf behind me. I discovered I received an almost electric tingle—very similar to the feeling when Millicent appeared—when I held my hand over the chunk of amethyst.

  I reveled in the feeling for a few minutes then went on to the other crystals. Each seemed to have a signature, a feeling, a buzzing, but none like the amethyst. According to the instruction book, I was to use whatever stone resonated the most with me for various spells and ceremonies. Well, then, amethyst it was!

  And, no, I still had not wrapped my head around the thought of performing spells or participating in ceremonies. Truth was, other than mild interest, I’d never considered pursuing witchcraft, or Wicca, in the past. More truth, I never really believed in magic, either. Yes, I believed in extrasensory perception, but real magic? The ability to influence the physical through potions, ritual and intent?

  No, I didn’t think it was possible.

  And yet...so much of Wicca I already performed without knowing it. Its practice of grounding oneself to Mother Earth prior to a reading. I did that. Grounding was necessary to maintain a deep connection to our greatest battery source: the Earth itself. I also practiced my own form of shielding, too. Yes, there were some negative energies and entities out there, and lately, I was feeling them more and more. Hell, I’d been possessed by such an entity.

  A lot of what I was doing was similar to the Wiccan techniques. I’d been taught the grounding and shielding techniques in a class I’d taken years ago. Had the trainer been Wiccan? Were her psychic techniques influenced by Wicca, or was it the other way around? Or was there some cross-pollinating going on?

  I didn’t know, but reading through the Wiccan book felt...comfortable. It also felt like I had sort of come home.

  I continued through the exercises, feeling like I was mastering each quickly as I went. Maybe I was a natural at this stuff. Maybe I really had been a witch in a past life.

  And a very good one, Daughter.

  I glanced up, gasping. “Millicent?” I asked.

  I doubted she was here, though, because I didn’t feel that same electrical charge when she made her presence known.

  Oh, she is near, overseeing your instruction, as are a few others.

  My heart thumped. The words appeared directly in my thoughts. I was sure of it. I was also sure they weren’t from Millicent, either.

  “Who are you?”

  For an answer, I saw a primeval forest, with huge, majestic pines rising high into the sky, and ferns crowding everywhere. I saw birds flitting from branch to branch, squirrels running up and down trunks. I saw moss and mushrooms and rotted logs and trails and deer. The image morphed into churning seas with misty land rising in the far distance. I saw ships on the horizon, and then my view dipped down below the waves and there I saw all manner of aquatic life. The ocean floor segued into windblown desert dunes. I saw caravans and tents and camels. I saw oases and awe-inspiring sandstorms. From there, I was led high up into snow-covered peaks. Below me was the world, shrouded in fog, and teeming with life. Above all else, I sensed unending, boundless, pure love for it all. A mother’s love.

  “You are...” but my voice faltered.

  Call me Gaia, said the quiet but strong voice in my head, and I felt her love for me, too.

  Mother Earth.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  I felt very strongly that I should sit back, relax, and close my eyes.

  So, I did that now. Within seconds, I was in a deeply meditative state. I felt like I was floating. Most important, I felt detached from my own body. I’d done this before, entered a trance-like state. But never so quickly and deeply.

  You are Mother Earth, I thought.

  I’ve been called many things, but I do have a name.

  Gaia, I thought.

  Yes. We all have spiritual names, child.

  And what’s mine?

  It will be revealed to you at another time.

  I nodded, although I knew my physical body never moved. I nodded within my own mind, or wherever it was that I had gone.

  You are with me, said Gaia.

  I don’t understand.

  Look around you.

  I did. I was surrounded by molten walls, iridescent and glowing and beautiful. The molten metals churned and roiled. That my body was sitting comfortably in the Spirit Chair in my bedroom in Beverly Hills seemed almost a distant memory.

  I am much more than the surface you see, my daughter. As are you.

  My Higher Self, I said.

  Yes. Your current physical form is just a small representation of who you really are.

  And who am I, really?

  A part of God.

  Are you God? I asked.

  I’m a part of God as well. Perhaps a slightly bigger part. I heard light chuckling in my head.

  A lot of people worship you. They call you the Earth Mother, or Earth goddess.

  Worship and respect are sometimes interchangeable and often confused.

  Should you be worshipped?

  Worship only God’s glory through me.

  The scene shifted from under the earth, and soon I found myself upon a stony crag high above a many-layered canyon. Below, a narrow strip of water wended its way through the steep cliffs, cutting through the stone as it had done for eons upon eons. I was hundreds of feet up, and the narrow strip, I soon realized, was actually a raging river. The sun was warm on my face. The wind was cool on my neck.

  You are all of this? I asked.

  We are all part of the Creator, child. But, yes, the earth is my physical shell, if you will.

  You inhabit the Earth, as I inhabit my own physical body?

  This is true.

  So, you are not very different from me?

  We are all from the Creator, but there are some of us who are created for different purposes.

  I thought about that. Such as other planets?

  And stars and moons and galaxies and universes and other heavenly bodies.

  My head was spinning. You were created, then, for the specific purpose of inhabiting the Earth?

  Partially true. I have been other planets throughout time and space. The Earth, I’ll admit, has been one of my favorites.

  What is your role for us? I asked. For humanity?

  I was still standing on the rocky ledge, but now
I sensed a presence nearby. Mostly, I sensed a gathering of energy next to me. It was her, of course, Mother Earth. Focusing her energy, although she was without shape or form. No, not true...before me, everywhere, was her shape and form, from the rocks to the trees, to the rivers to the beaches.

  My role is to help you evolve, child. To help all of you evolve upon my surface and under it.

  Under it?

  I sensed her smile next to me. That is a conversation for another time.

  But how do you help us evolve?

  By giving you a playground to live in, to work in, to love in, to experience physical life in. I work closely with, shall we say, higher energies.

  Higher energies? I’d come across the concept in some of my readings, that many masters walk the Earth, both in physical and non-physical forms, helping those who seek them and God.

  I sensed her nod next to me. Highly evolved beings, yes. There is, you see, an experiment going on, although few of you know it.

  An experiment? I didn’t like the sound of that.

  The Earth, and other planets like me, are conducting a free-will experiment, if you will.

  I don’t understand.

  You have all been given free will, to do as you wish, to conduct yourselves as you wish, to do with me as you wish, to others as you wish. The Creator wants to see what you will make of yourselves, and with me. The Creator wants to see if you will fly or fall.

  Doesn’t the Creator know all? I asked. Doesn’t the Creator know what will happen?

  There are many possible outcomes, and many of them are known to me, as well, as are they known to the spiritual masters.

  The highly evolved beings.

  Yes. Which is why they are here to help.

  But if they are helping, I asked, then doesn’t that remove our free will?

  A good, question, child. Consider it loving nudges, but only for those who call upon them and seek them out with love.

  This is hurting my head, I said.

  Then I suggest we end this meditation with a dive off my cliff.

  I looked down into the sparkling silvery thread far below.