A Psychic with Catitude

by P. D. Workman

Reg knew from the voice and the warm flush who it was before she turned around.

  “Corvin.”

  Sarah looked at Corvin, scowling. “What are you doing here?”

  “It’s a community party. I’m part of the community.”

  “You’d better behave yourself.”

  He smiled, touching her arm. “Is that any way to treat a fellow guest?”

  Sarah’s expression softened and her eyes lost focus. She smiled.

  “Really, Corvin?” Reg challenged. “Charming Sarah?”

  “Jealous, Regina?” He removed his hand from Sarah’s arm.

  Reg stepped back before he could touch her.

  Corvin frowned. “What’s wrong with your hand?”

  Reg looked down at her injured hand, which looked perfectly normal with the glove pulled on over the bandage. No blood had seeped through the glove and for once it was not throbbing.

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s…” he searched for a word, “darkened. What have you been doing?”

  Reg bent her fingers into a fist and straightened them again, testing the pain level. It was still painful to move. “It’s the one Hawthorne-Rose cut.”

  He swore.

  Reg gulped. “What does that mean? What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know. The blade he used—do you still have it?”

  “No. The police took it when they arrested him.”

  Sarah’s voice was far away. “What are you talking about?”

  “The wound on her hand. Have you looked at it?”

  Corvin shook Sarah, trying to bring her back to earth. “Sarah! Pay attention. Come back.”

  Sarah blinked owlishly. She turned her head back and forth, then shook it. “Don’t touch me.”

  He withdrew his hand. “I’m not charming you, I’m trying to wake you up.”

  “I’m awake. I’m fine.”

  “Reg’s hand.”

  Sarah’s eyes dropped to Reg’s injured hand, then she looked back at Corvin. “What about it?”

  “Have you looked at it? What’s going on?”

  “It’s infected. I told her to see Letticia. She put antiseptic on it. It’s an allopathic remedy, but it should work.”

  “No. That’s not going to solve the problem. You can’t see how it’s changed?”

  “Changed?” Sarah echoed. She looked at Reg, eyelids partially closed. “No… changed how?”

  Reg held her right hand in her left, looking at it, panic starting to rise. “Are you kidding? You’re just trying to scare me, aren’t you?”

  Corvin must be having a little fun with her. Seeing if he could fool her.

  “It must have been a magical blade,” Corvin said. “It had some kind of power. Had been used for some kind of ritual. And it’s… causing a reaction. It’s not just the physical infection. It’s affecting you on a higher level.”

  “Higher?”

  “Psychic. Spiritual. A higher level.”

  “That’s not real.” In spite of all of her experiences in Black Sands, Reg tried to make it all go away. There were no psychic powers. No spirits. Nothing could affect her on a more profound level than her physical body. Not without her choice.

  Corvin look at her hand, frowning. He breathed out heavily, and masked his expression. “Well, nothing is going to change tonight. We can talk to Letticia tomorrow. See if we can get the blade from Jessup to examine it. Tonight, you’re here to have fun.”

  Reg deliberately relaxed her shoulders. Her hand wasn’t going to fall off or burst into flames. It would be just fine until they had a chance to investigate it further. She could go back to enjoying the party until then.

  “You scared me!” She gave Corvin a little shove with her other hand. “Don’t do that!”

  “I’m sorry, Regina,” he apologized humbly. “How can I make it up to you?”

  She braced herself against the wave of warm feelings and the heady scent of roses that swept over her.

  “A dance?” he suggested.

  Reg had been eyeing the dance floor, watching the graceful couples in fantastic costumes floating around it, following the cadence of the orchestral music. She’d always liked to dance. And who else was she going to get the chance to dance with? Corvin was one of the few men she knew in the community. Who else was going to ask her? Bill, the bartender at The Crystal Bowl?

  “Come on,” Corvin encouraged. “Let’s make this a night you’ll never forget.”

  Tempting, but she’d already had one such night with him, and didn’t wish to repeat it.

  “I can’t. You’ll enthrall me.”

  He looked at her with dark, glittering eyes. “Not without your permission.”

  “If you use your powers on me, then that’s not giving permission. It’s no different than if I was drunk or drugged.”

  He gave her a pout. “You don’t understand the rules of our community. It’s allowed.”

  “No. Not with me. I’m telling you right now, the answer is no. And if you magic me, it’s still no, even if you can trick me into saying yes. You use your powers, it’s an automatic no.”

  Corvin scowled. “That’s not playing fair.”

  “You don’t play fair.”

  “You can’t say that.”

  “You said it’s a contract, right? Well, that’s the first clause of my contract. No magic or the rest of the contract is void.”

  He stared at her for a few long seconds, then turned and strode away. Reg felt his absence immediately, like a hole in her gut. She wanted him to come back. She wanted to fill that hole, and for him to be there with her every day. But she couldn’t let her loneliness rule her.

  ⋆ Chapter Thirteen ⋆

  S

  arah chuckled softly. “Well, you told him,” she said with admiration. “Let him chew on that for a while. Meanwhile, you and I have more partying to do!”

  Reg tried to lose herself, focusing on the music and the food and the fabulous outfits. While everyone who came in gave the appearance of being human, there were a few Reg found herself wondering about. Skin tones that crept into the blues and greens, just vague enough for her to attribute it to the lighting. Tattoos. Pointed teeth. Bizarre body modifications that must have cost thousands of dollars in surgery.

  But most looked just like anyone else. It all seemed like a game, Sarah identifying them as witches, mediums, fortune-tellers, or practicers of other arts. It couldn’t really be true. Not all of it. But it was fun.

  Reg had met a few of the partiers before, at The Crystal Bowl or other places she had visited. A lot more people seemed to know who she was than she recognized or had heard about. It made sense, considering she was the newcomer and her recent exploits had been discussed around the community. Maybe they had even been written up in one of the community newsletters Sarah was forever dropping off for her. Reg hadn’t taken the time to read them. The magical community of Black Sands didn’t seem to have fully adopted the internet. There were those like Letticia who didn’t even approve of phones. She probably would have preferred the community newsletters to be hand lettered on parchment rather than photocopied at the nearest office supplies store.

  “Is Letticia coming tonight?” she asked Sarah.

  Sarah raised her brows, shaking her blond head. “No, I wouldn’t expect so. Why? Is your hand bothering you?”

  “No, I was just wondering. I don’t know a lot of people, so I wondered if I’d see her.”

  “Some witches are very… introverted. Letticia keeps to herself. She wouldn’t have any interest in an event like this. Way too many people.”

  Reg nodded, remembering Erin’s friend Adele, who preferred to spend her time hidden away in the woods in the summerhouse she rented or wandering around looking for herbs or doing whatever magical things a witch did when the moon was full and high in the sky.

  “Oh, look…” Sarah nodded toward the entrance, and Reg turned to see what she was looking at. A group of tall men and women, pale blue, had just come in
and were consulting with each other before being presented to the company.

  “Is it the Papillons? Calliopia’s family?”

  “Not her parents, but her kin.” Sarah sighed, looking at them. “Always so stately and graceful. Even in my finery, they make me feel dumpy.”

  “You’re not! You’re beautiful. Especially tonight.”

  “Yes.” Sarah absently rubbed the emerald at her throat. “And I think so… until I look at them.”

  “Well, stop looking at them then. They’re unnaturally pale. In the Florida sunshine? I’m pale, and they put me to shame!”

  Sarah laughed and turned away slightly. The small group approached the hall, and Reg listened to the herald announce Lord and Lady Bernier and the other members of their party. She watched them covertly, not wanting to draw Sarah’s attention back to them. They did not mix with the crowds, but stayed together in a tight grouping as they moved through the room. They were, as Sarah had said, very stately.

  A witch named Kathleen was talking to Sarah about recipes or potions, or recipes for potions, when she broke off from their conversation, looking past Reg.

  “Well, here’s trouble,” she commented. “Who invited him?”

  Sarah followed Kathleen’s gaze. “He’s back,” she warned Reg.

  Reg turned around, knowing who ‘he’ would be. Corvin was again approaching. He gave Reg a sweeping bow and offered to take her hand.

  “Will you give me the honor of a dance, my lady?”

  Reg shook her head, wondering whether he had been drinking and had forgotten their earlier conversation. “No, Corvin. Sorry.”

  He didn’t withdraw his hand. “I agree to your terms,” he informed her. “I will not glamour you. I will,” he looked at Reg’s escort, “as Sarah says, behave myself.”

  “Do you really think you can stop yourself? I thought it was instinctual. Built in. How are you going to just turn it off?”

  “I can control myself. You know I have before.”

  “When our lives depended on it. But in an environment like this? With all of the partying and flirting going on around us? With drinks and other indulgences?”

  He gave a curt nod. “I am able to abstain. I’m not an animal.”

  Reg stared at him steadily for a few long seconds. She did not venture so far as to enter his mind, but she did search his face and his eyes for the truth. He didn’t mesmerize her like Ruan had. He raised an eyebrow and waited, hand still held out to her.

  Reg looked over at Sarah. “Do you think it’s safe? What would you do?”

  “Corvin has as much honor as his kind are able. If he says he won’t charm you… If it were me… I wouldn’t go far. I’d be sure to stay within sight.”

  Reg swallowed and nodded. “Okay,” she told Corvin, finally giving her hand to him. “You remember your promise. No magical temptations.”

  “I am a man of my word,” Corvin mocked Sarah’s words, “as much as my kind is able.”

  “I want to stay where I can see Sarah and she can see me.”

  He gave her a little tug and separated her from her escort. “Just relax and enjoy yourself. Let yourself go.”

  “No way. Not this time. I’m keeping a firm grip on myself tonight.”

  He just smiled. “Your loss.”

  The crowd on the dance floor parted in front of Corvin, and in a minute, Reg was swept away by the music and the rhythm. She tried to watch the other dancers to see what they were doing, but Corvin shook his head, pulling her close against him.

  “Don’t try to copy everyone else. Just make it your own. You know how to waltz. Just focus on me.”

  Reg stopped looking at the other dancers and looked at him instead. Whether it was her psychic powers, his expressive eyes, or his hands gently leading, Reg was able to anticipate Corvin’s movements and changes of direction, keeping her feet moving smoothly in rhythm with music she didn’t know, never stepping on him or stumbling.

  “Beautiful,” Corvin complimented. “You are very talented.”

  “Dance was one of the few phys-ed units that I actually enjoyed.”

  “You’re a natural. I would have assumed you’d taken more than just a few school classes.”

  “No, that’s it. No training. I would have loved to have taken ballroom dancing privately, but foster parents… they don’t have the money for things like that. You’re lucky if you can get new clothes.”

  “Foster parents. That’s who took you after your mother’s death.”

  “Yeah. I didn’t have anyone else. Or if there was anyone else, I never knew them.”

  “That’s too bad. I would be very interested,” he leaned his face ever closer to her ear, “to know who your family was.”

  “Why? You think they were… like me? You think they had gifts?”

  “These things tend to run in families.”

  “Well, I can tell you that my mother never had any magical powers. If there’s a word for a person who is completely normal, without any hint of paranormal powers, that’s my mother.”

  “I thought you didn’t remember Norma Jean.”

  Reg let Corvin spin her and bring her back into his arms, their movements perfectly coordinated.

  “If she’d had the ability to see into the future, don’t you think she would have provided for me? At least found someone who would have been able to take care of me instead of leaving me all by myself? Or maybe not gotten herself killed?”

  “Even those who can see the future can’t always see their own,” Corvin advised. “Nor does seeing your own future give you the ability to change it.” He stared past her, off into the distance. “You would be surprised how little ability earthbound spirits have to change their own fates.”

  He dipped her at the end of the song, and there was polite clapping. Corvin drew Reg back upright, nestling her close against him, far more intimate than was necessary for a waltz. He brushed her cheek with a kiss as the next song started, breathing on her neck and ear. Reg could feel his body heating up with their movement and proximity and tried to position herself a little farther away from him.

  “Regina…”

  “Just give me a bit of space.”

  “It’s a dance. We’re meant to be touching.”

  “Hands, yes. But not pasted together. Give me some more room.”

  He relented, letting her move more freely, but Reg had lost her sense of synchronization with his movements. She tried to lose herself in the rhythm of the music again. She was getting too warm.

  “Let’s take a break,” she murmured.

  Corvin didn’t protest, but led her off the dance floor. As if he sensed what she wanted, he led her outside onto a porch. Though it was getting quite late, the moon was out, and the trees and arches of the porch were lit by tiny lights. There was a cool breeze blowing. Reg took a deep inhale, smelling the fresh tang of the ocean.

  “It’s a gorgeous night.”

  “Mm-hmm,” Corvin agreed, gazing down at her. “The kind of night you wish would go on forever.”

  He had put a wish into her mouth the last time. Reg wasn’t going to let him do it again. She didn’t know what might get her into trouble.

  “Everything comes to an end. Let’s just enjoy this. Where we are now.”

  The wind changed direction and Reg’s nose was suddenly filled with the scent of roses, cloying with its heady sweetness. Startled, she tried to withdraw. His hands kept her corralled.

  “Corvin.” She fought against the overwhelmingly pleasant feeling of his nearness. She wanted nothing more than to swim into it once again. To be surrounded and enveloped by his warmth and safety and desire. “You said you wouldn’t.”

  “I’m not.” His voice was huskier than usual.

  Reg put her hands against his chest. “You are too. Let me go. I need to find Sarah.”

  “We don’t want Sarah.”

  He bent down to her, and Reg couldn’t remember why it was she wanted Sarah, or what it was she didn’t want Corvin to do
. He’d promised to keep her safe, and that’s just what he was doing.

  ⋆ Chapter Fourteen ⋆

  R

  elease her!”

  Corvin jolted, crushing Reg against his body instead of letting her go. Reg blinked, trying to clear her mind, but she couldn’t remember why she was there or what she was doing.

  “Release her, or face the wrath of the kin,” a tall, fair-faced man ordered, his face stern.

  Reg tried to parse the words. The wrath of the kin? What kind of sense did that make? And why did the man care whether Corvin held her in his arms? Reg didn’t mind, so why should he?

  “This is none of your business,” Corvin growled. “You don’t have any say in our doings. We’ve agreed not to interfere with one other.”

  “She is protected.”

  Corvin’s body went rigid. He looked at the tall man, scowling and shaking his head. “What do you mean, protected?”

  “She has the protection of our people. It is not a matter for discussion. We will not allow you to seduce her.”

  Seduce? Reg almost laughed at the word. What a strange word. She didn’t know why he cared what she did while in Corvin’s company. There didn’t seem to be any reason for interference.

  “Do you hear her asking for help?” Corvin asked, as if he had read Reg’s thoughts.

  “She is in your thrall, unable to ask.”

  “She was tired of dancing. She needed some air. We’re just out here to enjoy the fresh air.”

  “Release her, then. She can enjoy it without your hold on her.”

  Corvin slowly let go of Reg. Her legs were a little weak, but she steadied herself on the short wall surrounding the porch and was able to keep her feet. Corvin said she needed air, so she took breaths of clean, fresh air down into her lungs. Her mind cleared enough to wonder why she was so befuddled. She looked around, frowned at Corvin, looked at the stranger.

  He was one of the men in the Bernier party, but he had separated from his friends, and until they caught up with him, the three of them were alone. Reg brought her hands up to her pounding head.

  “What’s going on?”

  “You must not allow yourself to be alone with this witch,” the stranger warned.