Psychic for Hire Series Box Set

by Hermione Stark

  “You can’t imagine how delicious some men are,” she says. “Especially the young hot ones. Their energy feels as rampant and full of life as they are. It leaves you feeling so very good.” She purrs that last bit, as if re-living it.

  She seems to not mind my nakedness, but I am mortified. I have never ever showered in anyone else’s presence, but I had felt it would be too prudish to ask her to wait outside the bathroom when she obviously thinks it is not a big deal.

  I am glad that she doesn’t seem to be looking my way. I shower with my back to her so that she cannot see my navelstone. Its color fluctuates but usually it is a dull medium grey. Today the grey is closer to black. The ugliness of it fused to my flesh disgusts me. My fingers skim lightly over the cold sharp cut of its surface as I wash and quickly move away.

  The idea Lila might see it makes me shudder. At least while it remains hidden my shame can be private. I had hoped once there might be others like me but my many internet searches came up with nothing. It is not a characteristic of any particular species among otherkind. It is a curse that is uniquely mine.

  “So what are you going to do about Freddie?” Lila says.

  I shrug, but then realize she can’t see it. “I’m not sure I like him that way,” I say.

  “That’s beside the point. We’re on the job. You have to pick at least one guy. That’s the deal for us, right?”

  Her logic makes me feel uncomfortable, as if we have been brought here to sell ourselves.

  “Freddie’s a nice catch, really,” she continues. “Much better than some of the old lechers out there that some of the girls are having to deal with.”

  “Mm hmm,” I say noncommittally.

  “And you’d much rather a human. They’re easier to handle than men from our world.”

  She means Otherworld. I frown. “I haven’t met any yet. Other than Xander.”

  She trills in laughter. “You have. That werewolf you were chatting to yesterday, and you danced with two angelli.”

  “What?” I say, surprised. The few guys I had interacted with had all seemed human to me. Maybe that’s what had made Freddie so possessive.

  She giggles. “You really are sheltered. You’ll soon learn to spot the signs. So anyway, to Freddie or not to Freddie? That is the question.”

  I hate that it makes sense. Stay with Freddie to avoid unwanted attention from other men. “But it feels wrong to lead him on. I think he really likes me.”

  “Of course he likes you!” she says.

  I can just imagine her rolling her eyes even though I am not looking at her.

  “He’d be a fool not too,” she continues. “I think you should give him a chance. You might end up liking him a lot, and he could be your golden ticket to a better life. After all, you don’t want to go back to the Coltons.”

  Her words are an unwelcome dash of reality. Should I be being more pragmatic? Freddie really does like me. What does it matter if I don’t feel the same way? He’s a nice guy, and he hasn’t pushed me for anything too hard.

  My shoulders slump. I don’t want to be pragmatic. But it is clear that this morning I need to make a choice. Either give Freddie a proper chance or pick someone else. Someone I haven’t noticed yet perhaps? Clinging to this hope, I hurriedly finish rinsing off and wrap myself tightly in my towel.

  Lila follows me into my bedroom and rifles through my wardrobe as I dry my hair. She looks really pleased at the choice of outfits I have. She remarks that our hosts have given her an equally wide variety of clothes, and that perhaps they thought the girls would mix and match to find the clothing that suited each of them best. She complains that she had offered to lend other girls things from her wardrobe that she thought would suit them, but the girls had not returned the favor.

  “You can have anything you want from mine,” I tell her. There are far too many clothes for me to wear them all anyway. One of us might as well enjoy them before they get donated to charity. She gives me a hug of delight.

  I sit on my bed, wrapped in a towel, and watch her pull out dress after dress. She settles on a bright yellow one for herself that is edged in white piping. When she puts it on, I expect it to clash with her red hair, and yet somehow it looks absolutely stunning. She will have no trouble snaring anyone she wants.

  She spritzes herself with perfume from a tiny bottle in the shape of an apple, and disappears into the bathroom for a moment. She emerges with black winged liner on her eyes and cherry-red lips. She looks like a fifties starlet. Sumptuous, and she knows it. She gives me a whirl, and when the skirt flies up she catches it like Marilyn Monroe did, and gives me a pouty wink.

  “Oops! My naughty naughty skirt,” she says in Marilyn’s breathy voice. “Whatever shall I do with it?”

  I collapse on the bed, giggling. She is very good at impressions it seems. She pulls out the long red dress that had caught my eye the first night. She raises her eyebrows at me suggestively.

  “It’s breakfast!” I say. “I am not wearing that.”

  “Why not? They already think we’re inappropriate, so why not show them just how inappropriate we can be when we want?”

  She mimics the haughty Englishwoman who had brought us up here the first evening we arrived, strutting around the room and pointing at things and remarking loudly on how she disapproves of them. By the time she is done I am crying with laughter.

  “Seriously, are you going to wear this dress or not?” she says.

  I chew my lip, torn between wanting to please my new and only friend and being horrified at the thought of wearing such a clingy and ravishing dress which is clearly evening wear.

  Half of me would love to see the look on Princess Caroline’s face when I arrive in it. I am sure the little voice in my head would approve of that. Heck, she would strut over to Xander Daxx and probably plop herself onto his lap just to see Caroline’s reaction.

  That thought stops me cold. Princess Caroline has made it clear that I mustn’t mess with her fiancé. I can’t afford to wear anything that will draw his attention, even if it is just a passing glance. After all the things Mrs Colton has done to me over the years, I should know the depths to which a woman can sink when she is jealous.

  I shake my head at Lila. “I’ll wear whatever you want,” I tell her. “Except that.”

  Lila sighs, and makes an over exaggerated facial expression of disappointment. But then she cheerily pulls out a few more outfits from my wardrobe and examines each one. A fitted black cat suit with a neckline that plunges down to the navel. A shimmering satin dress with spaghetti straps and tiny triangles at the top that will barely cover my breasts — I am relieved when she puts that one back in the wardrobe. But better that than anything that might reveal my navel. This thought makes me regret offering to let her dress me in anything she wants.

  Suddenly she gasps in delight. She turns around to me, grinning, and holding up a strappy chiffon dress that is a pale nude-cream. It is backless and the top is scanty, but the skirt is divine. It’s gold embroidered design looks like a butterfly’s wings, with scales patterned in shimmering blue. Simply exquisite.

  She insists that I must wear it, and so I turn my back to her and quickly slip it on before letting my towel drop. I turn around to look at myself in the mirror. My back and arms and a bit too much of my bust are on display, but Lila coos in delight, seeming so pleased with her choice that I can’t say no. And anyway, the light floaty full skirt feels sumptuous against my bare legs, and I feel so pretty in it. Like it is a magical dress that might bring me a fairytale romance.

  She picks up a long necklace of golden swirls connected together. Except when she puts it on me, it is not a necklace but a collar with a section that goes down between my breasts and to my waist, where it wraps around like a belt. Combined with the dress, it looks stunning.

  I give her a hug, feeling grateful to have found a friend who seems to take pleasure in making me look my best. For the brief few days that Mrs Colton had allowed me to go to school, the g
irls had all snubbed me. I had resigned myself to never being able to make friends. I am so glad that Lila is not like that. Unaware of my thoughts, she hands me her choice of sandals, and then she gathers my curled hair up in a loose bun. She leaves pretty tendrils falling around my face, and declares, “The look is complete!”

  We go down to breakfast arm in arm. I feel light as air, almost bouncing down each step. Almost everyone who passes us gives us a smile, seeming delighted with us. I can’t help but beam back. I feel like the dress is bringing me luck already.

  We arrive to find the buffet room is already heaving with diners sat at white-clothed tables. Waiters in bow ties carry gleaming silver trays. Palm fronds give the effect of a summer garden, and crystal chandeliers twinkle up above. A brass band is playing mellow jazz.

  Lila makes sure our appearance has the impact that she intended. She pauses deliberately in the doorway, her arm linked with mine, blocking people’s entry and exit until there is a mild kerfuffle of people trying to squeeze past. Everyone turns to look at us. Their gazes linger, causing even more people to turn to look. Only then does she gracefully glide us both out of the kerfuffle as if she had barely noticed it.

  Even the waiters are staring. Lila dazzles one with her mischievous wink. The poor man trips over a chair leg, dousing its occupant with the contents of his tray. Lila covers her mouth with her hand, expressing mild consternation. When he glances our way again she blows him a kiss. He looks mollified, and even the man who had been drenched in orange juice seems amused.

  Lila proceeds to sashay into the room. Her arm is connected to mine, so I am forced to sashay with her. I shoot the waiter an apologetic look, but he is too busy mopping up the mess he had made.

  And then my navelstone does something funny and brings me to a complete standstill. It is tingling, the stone itself seeming to vibrate, sending a weird sensation into the surrounding flesh. I have never felt anything like it in my life.

  Something is wrong.

  Chapter 19

  DIANA

  Lila looks at me inquiringly, and I realize I have gasped out loud. I pretend nothing is wrong and let her lead me further into the room. The sensation of the vibrating stone is intrusive and scary. I put my hand over my stomach, hoping it will stop, but now I can feel the stone moving against my fingers. It feels horrendous. I quickly drop my hand.

  Praying that no one can see it through my thin dress, I make a pretense of looking around for somewhere to sit. The room is full of small tables for up to six people to dine together, each with a pretty vase of flowers. A buffet selection has been set up at both ends of the room, but most people are choosing to be served by waiters.

  The waiters look very busy, rushing to and fro. I want to sit at the end near the buffet so that we can serve ourselves, but Lila doesn’t agree. She urges me towards one of the central tables, saying we can get someone to serve us.

  “But we’re staff,” I object, even though I too would prefer not to have to walk all the way to the buffet selection. The vibration isn’t stopping. People might notice it.

  “We are not staff,” Lila insists. “We’re pseudo-guests. Here to entertain, but not to serve. So why should we serve ourselves?”

  I can barely focus on her words. I clench my stomach muscles tightly, hoping that will stop the vibrations. It only makes the sensation more intense. “But… I think…”

  I’m about to insist that I don’t mind serving myself, when Freddie arrives.

  “Ladies!” he says loudly, clearly happy to see us. He puts his arms around both of our shoulders and plants a kiss on my cheek, his lips lingering a fraction too long.

  “You smell delicious,” he says. “I want to eat you up.”

  “Freddie!” I chide him.

  He only laughs, and kisses me on the cheek again. But his eyes are on my mouth. I angle my face away. I let his arm stay around my shoulders, because if it isn’t there he might put it on my waist. And that is far too close to my navel.

  Freddie takes us both by the arm and leads us toward a nearby empty table. Some of his friends call out as we pass, but to my relief, he shakes his head at them, and says he already has two ladies to keep him company. His friends laugh, looking a little envious.

  Freddie pulls out a chair for me, and after I sit down he does the same for Lila. He flags over a waiter, and orders a selection of food for us all. He winks at the waiter. “I’m a hungry chap. Don’t be long.”

  Under normal circumstances I might have been annoyed. I had wanted eggs, not tiny croissants. But my navelstone is all I can think about. The vibration is getting worse. I fear I can almost hear it faintly ringing out loud.

  Lila is beaming at Freddie. She puts her hand over his and flutters her eyelashes. “Oh Freddie, you’re so commanding. I was just telling Diana how lucky she is to have you.”

  “Isn’t she just?” Freddie says. He wraps his arm possessively around me, so forcefully that it pulls both me and my chair closer to him.

  The intensity of the vibration suddenly increases, making me hiss almost in pain. I sit up straight in my chair, nearly dropping the glass of orange juice that a passing waiter had brought us.

  “Are you all right, Diana?” Lila asks. “You look a bit flushed.”

  “Fine,” I murmur, half in a daze.

  But I am not fine. The vibration of the navelstone is urgent now, like it is telling me something. I sense an arrival behind me. A presence that pulls at me like a magnet, intense and frightening. My heart is racing, my palms feel damp. I lick my dry lips. I am overcome with the urge to look over my shoulder to see who it is, but I am scared.

  Lila and Freddie are both looking behind me. In fact, most people around us are too. Which means the royal couple must have arrived. Only they would draw so much attention. The bride-to-be must be looking glorious by the way everyone is smiling at her. Is that why my navelstone is going crazy? Is it a warning?

  I wait for them to pass by, and for everyone’s attention to follow them. But Freddie is beaming. He is rising from his chair. And then to my horror I hear her footsteps clicking in our direction, followed by several sets of footsteps of whoever is with her. One is undoubtedly Xander Daxx.

  “Freddie!” she calls warmly as she approaches.

  She sweeps past me, without noticing me, and opens her arms for him. He kisses her on both cheeks. She cuddles him. She holds him for a longer than I would have expected. She plants three enthusiastic kisses on his cheek and exclaims over how tired he is apparently looking and how wonderful it is to see him again.

  All this time I stay stiff, praying that she will not notice me. Praying that she will leave and eat at some other table. Beneath the table my hands clench together, and I keep my eyes fixed on the tablecloth. My stone is vibrating furiously. I glance up briefly at Lila, and she gives me a small sympathetic smile and very discreetly rolls her eyes at Caroline’s behavior.

  “Darling,” says Princess Caroline, calling loudly to Xander even though he is right by her side. I cannot see him but I can sense him behind me, his presence like an aura nudging at me. It is strong. I don’t remember sensing it yesterday.

  “I must introduce you,” she says, still oblivious to me. “This is my old friend, Freddie Wellesley. He and I were so close growing up.”

  There is a significant undertone to her voice. It makes me wonder if she is trying to make Xander jealous. I sneak a sideways peek at her to make sure, and to my horror she looks right at me. She doesn’t even look surprised. She knew I was sitting here all along.

  It hits me like a dash of cold water that this display of affection for Freddie is not for Xander’s benefit. It is for me. She wants me to know that Freddie is hers. Her friend who I, a mere hired nobody, is here to entertain. I am insignificant. I am allowed to entertain him, but she will never allow me to really have him.

  She gives me a cold smile, and then as if to hammer the point more, she holds my gaze and says, “And Freddie, is this your little paramour? The e
ntertainment we booked?”

  Freddie gives a shout of delighted laughter. Unlike me, he seems unoffended by her words. “She’s a little more than entertainment,” he says.

  “Yes, she is,” says a voice behind me that is so deep it is almost dark.

  My navelstone quivers. I finally glance up, assuming it must be Xander who spoke. But it is not. The man who spoke is standing beside Xander. The man who spoke takes my breath away.

  It was his aura that I sensed, not Xander’s. He is the man I have seen in my dreams, with his wild black hair and impenetrable dark eyes. He is less wild now, his hair swept back almost neatly, and he is wearing a harmless perfectly-fitted pale blue lounge suit, but he is no less dangerous-looking than he was in my dreams.