Psychic Series Boxset: Books 1-3

by Lisa Freed

  Despite his scowl and the angry warmth radiating from him, I was suddenly happy. Mateo wasn’t a closed off psychic. He was approachable and we were just two people out for a walk on a lovely fall day, my hand swinging his back and forth as we strolled down the boardwalk.

  “It’s a pomade,” he said, his quiet voice nearly swept away in the wind. “Though I don’t know why it’s so amusing.”

  My eyes dropped down staring at my boots. Amazingly, there was a discarded green Funland ticket under my left foot cemented to the wooden planks that made up the boardwalk. “Sorry,” I murmured, “just a bit of fun. Look at my hair and yours is perfectly in place.”

  “Oh,” came out as soft as the breeze. His hand came up to pluck a billowing clump of hair from my face, his fingers featherlight over my lips. His dark eyes sparkled as if lit from within giving me a hint of what was to come, but I was still unprepared for the cool press of his lips to mine.

  With a sigh, I allowed his pressing tongue to advance into my mouth and stroke my own. The taste of iced tea lingered on his tongue. I ended the kiss and moved away catching a glimpse of Mateo with his eyes closed and lips still open, so vulnerable.

  As his eyelashes shifted upward, I looked toward the crashing waves of the ocean, the constant rise and fall of the water soothing. Mateo was an experienced kisser and that skill had clearly shone through yet I had felt no connection. It troubled me. And despite the expertise, I could clearly feel him holding back.

  He shifted next to me, not touching me. My eyes left the sea and went to his profile, marveling over what a handsome man he was and why I didn’t feel the same as I had in Greece. Was something holding me back? Could the issue be me and not him?

  A movement behind him caught my attention, my eyes narrowing to better make out the details. It was the old man again.

  “Mateo, is that who I think it is?” I asked, pointing at the man who scowled at us from in front of the Green Turtle.

  He looked and just as quickly turned away. “I don’t know who you mean,” he said grabbing at my hand. His long legs traveled much faster than my shorter ones and I struggled to keep up with him.

  “It’s the old ghost from Greece, we ran into him in the hotel. This is the third time I’ve seen him.” I knew Mateo didn’t care for spirits and this one had somehow made it through his defenses which either scared him or pissed him off. But I needed help making sense of it and I wanted answers.

  That got Mateo’s attention. “The third?”

  “Once in Greece and twice here. I wonder if he’s connected to you.”

  “No, he cannot be,” came his fast denial. I didn’t believe him for a second.

  “Slow down,” I commanded, tugging free of his hard grip on my hand. I spun around on my boot heels and began walking back in the direction we came from.

  After a few seconds, I heard Mateo’s fast stride catching up to me. He walked next to me but didn’t attempt to touch me again. The harsh sound of him clearing his throat swung my head back his way.

  “If you’re seeing him, he wants something from you, not me,” he said, his tone reasonable.

  “But he’s from Greece,” I argued. We had reached the large white pillar and red brick bandstand pavilion. Parking during the fall and winter months was free and easy to come by so I could see Mateo’s gleaming black BMW just a few feet away.

  “Ghosts come from all over, just because we’re from the same country doesn’t mean we’re connected,” Mateo stated while walking away from my side to stare out at the closed shops that lined the street.

  I wanted to say that I knew, it was a strong feeling. Anyone else hearing it would laugh but Mateo would understand but I held back. He should know and yet he was denying it. What was going on with him? When we touched, I got nothing and it was so frustrating!

  “I guess,” I said not believing it. “Thank you for lunch and the walk.”

  His eyes were cold when they met mine before he blinked and a change overtook them. I willed myself to not react but the smile on my face sagged.

  “You’re very welcome, Teresa. Let me take you back to the rescue.”

  He had no problem navigating his way back from the boardwalk to Whisker Kisses but the silence in the vehicle had a very real chill to it. How could something that had felt so right go so far south so quickly?

  As he pulled into the drive, my phone vibrated in my bag but I let it be. Honestly, I was afraid of what potential bad news it would bring. A dark cloud hung over the day now.

  Mateo opened up the passenger door for me and walked me to the rescue’s bright turquoise door. His hand rested on the door near my head as he leaned in for another kiss. This time I was taken by surprise not from the absence of connection with him but rather that he couldn’t feel the lack of vibes between us. His mouth moved skillfully over mine while his free hand gripped my arm through my coat. “I’ll call you soon,” he said before striding down the pathway and getting into his rental. I saw him wave his hand as he backed out of the parking lot but turned before he had merged into the road.

  Instead of entering the building, I let my forehead rest against the cool door. My purse emitted another series of vibrations and I dug into it in search of my phone. It was Lance that had messaged. After the disastrous lunch with Mateo, I really wasn’t in the mood for another example of how sucky my love life was but curiosity got the better of me and my index finger opened up my messages.

  It was two short texts. The first, Teresa, I’m sorry you found out the way you did.

  And the second one. I never meant to hurt you.

  My fingers flew across my phone It’s none of my business, have a great life. In my head, I added loser to the end of it and before I could stop myself, I hit send.

  Dang, why did it sting so much? I could have married Lance, I’m the one that dumped him! Ugh! Why does life have to be so confusing?

  Slumping against the door I gulped in some air, my eyes closing. As more oxygen flooded my system I pushed away from the cold door. It was time to be the bigger person, to be the “adult.” Lance’s age cracks still smarted. I would get him and Pam a wedding present. Determined, I grabbed my keys and got into my Tahoe and headed to the outlets. Congrats and many blessings upon your third trip into wedding bliss, Lancelot, I smirked to myself.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  After finding the absolute best gift, I couldn’t wait to hand deliver it to the front door of Lance and Pam’s house. Briefly, I debated having it delivered but that would take some of the fun out of it for me.

  After a brief stop at the gatehouse to put in my security code, I coasted down the street toward Lance’s house taking notice of all the decorations our neighbors had in place. A few of the pricey homes looked like Hobby Lobby had thrown up all over while several others were a hodgepodge of homemade décor courtesy of the grandkids. Slowing down, I savored each and every one.

  When I had originally looked into homes in a gated community, I had feared they would be full of stuffy retirees or grumpy old monied young snots. It was to my utter delight when I discovered Landon’s Crossing, an awesome mixture of everything I feared tossed in with cheerful transplants from different areas and states to balance it all out. Other than Lance’s complaints about my cats caterwauling, nobody else had ever said an unkind word to me. I had truly felt at home the moment I walked into what would become my home.

  As I passed my house, the bare yellow exterior glowed warmly and looked so empty compared to the neighboring houses. Even Lance had put out some straw bales and carved pumpkins. I had to step up my game.

  His driveway was empty of his black Range Rover but that didn’t mean it wasn’t in the garage. What I assumed was her blue BMW also was absent. I glanced over at their gift laying on the passenger seat next to me, my lower lip caught between my teeth as indecision filled me.

  While my brain struggled, my body was on autopilot and turned the SUV into Lance’s driveway and put it into park. We lived in a very safe comm
unity, gated fence, passwords needed to enter. I mean, that’s why I chose it once I won big in the lottery. Almost zero chance it would be stolen so there was no harm in leaving the gift on Lance’s porch. Other than the satisfaction to be gleaned from seeing their attractive faces drain of color when they opened it, that was.

  Who knew I was such a vindictive person? I felt the smirk on my face tighten up even more. That decided, I hopped out and grabbed the plain, white envelope and scrawled Penrose Lancelot Hamilton and wife #3 across the front of it. Marching up his porch, I opened the glass storm door, which I knew he never locked, and slipped the envelope into the festive black, yellow, and orange wreath that hung on the boring dark wood door. Hopefully, Pam would discover it first.

  My task accomplished, I almost skipped back to my Tahoe. Getting into the driver’s seat, a satisfied grin firmly planted on my face, my hand pulling the safety belt over me suddenly released it, the belt retracting with a loud zip. There on Lance’s white porch, leaning against the house, his lined face staring directly at me was the ghost of the old man from Greece. As our eyes met, his lips tugged down in a fierce scowl and then he vanished. One moment he was there the next gone, no smoke, no gradual fade out, just poof!

  Was he haunting me? And if so, for what reason?

  Despite being slightly unnerved by the old Greek spirit, something that rarely happened after a lifetime of seeing ghosts, I determined not to let this affect the rest of my day. We were meeting Manny’s potential adopter tonight and that was cause enough to keep me giddy.

  A glance at my phone told me I had a few hours until the appointment, so plenty of time to decorate. Grabbing my belt firmly this time, I managed to get it fastened and then drove back to my house, pulling into the garage.

  In the kitchen, Agnes was eating daintily while Daisy splashed in the large water bowl with a soaked paw and whiskers swept back. “And cats don’t like water,” I muttered on my way through to the hallway where my purchases from yesterday remained. Two of the bags just chewed mildly. Examining the holes and the tattered bits of plastic scattered around I realized I needed to be much more careful in the future. Plastic was not the best for anyone’s digestive system.

  Grabbing the three large bags, I hauled everything outside and set to work. Halloween wasn’t my favorite time of the year, that was reserved for Christmas, but I definitely had fun with it.

  Half an hour later, I stepped close to the road so I could stand back and survey my progress. A flashy teal tracksuit coming down the street caught my attention, my eyes leaving my partially decorated front yard. It was Mrs. James and sure enough, duck walking next to her was the spirit of Mr. James. Scuba fins made walking awkward but he was such a sport wanting to enjoy an afternoon stroll with his wife.

  Smiling, I waved my hand at the approaching couple.

  “Teresa, the house looks great! I especially like the flashing pumpkins,” Mrs. James remarked with a broad smile on her thin face.

  “Thank you! Out enjoying the weather?”

  “Yes, and trying to keep in shape. Going to be doing a lot of walking soon and I need to work my way up.”

  “Oh, what do you have planned?” I asked, genuinely interested. Mrs. James was a lovely woman who was a quiet and respectful neighbor and Mr. James was the same in death as in life, polite and friendly.

  “I’m going on an anniversary cruise!” Gnarled hands clutched themselves under her chin as her eyes fairly glowed in excitement.

  Stunned, I could only stare at her. Not only was Mr. James deceased but he had died on their last anniversary cruise.

  She laughed, obviously reading the shocked look on my face. “I know Timothy is gone but he’ll always be my husband and he loved cruises. I so wish we would have taken more trips together. I know he would want me to go.”

  Mr. James nodded, his blue eyes fixed with love on his wife.

  “You’re absolutely right, he would,” I said with feeling. “Enjoy it! Do you need a house sitter?” I offered then realized how foolish that was considering I was rarely home lately.

  Mrs. James apparently thought so too as she chuckled and reached out a hand to pat at my arm. “Teresa, you never let any grass grow under your feet. A young girl like you is much too busy, besides I hired a service, so easy, all they need to do is take in my mail, water my plants, and put out and take in my trashcans. But what they charge! Oh well,” she laughed again. “I better let you finish decorating and get on with my walk before my heart rate drops too much. Have a good day, dear.”

  With a cheerful wave, she began to powerwalk away, her arms bent perfectly at her waist, moving back and forth in rhythm with her strides. Mr. James struggled to keep pace with her and tossed me a little wave over his shoulder.

  I smiled fondly at the pair then my eyes drifted up the street to Lance’s house. Still no sign of them. And thankfully not a repeat appearance of the grumpy, Greek ghost either. With a sigh, I got back to work, finishing up my decorating but ever on the alert for the black Range Rover or blue BMW.

  After a checking in on the black kitties from the rescue and a change of shirts since my other one got covered in purple and orange glitter, I fired up my SUV and went in search of a fast Wawa sub before going to Whisker Kisses for Manny’s adoption placement.

  Munching on my sub as I headed out, I reflected on things I needed to work on to get my act together. Wawa was me and John’s favorite place for tasty subs and I had never gotten back to him about dinner. I was being such a baby about the whole thing and there was no reason for it. Time to grow up and deal with the fact that my friend had a crush on me. We were both adults but he was the only one acting like it. And if he could deal with unrequited love then obviously, I could handle an occasional wistful smile or a look of longing in his blue eyes.

  The parking lot at the rescue was full, which was no surprise, Manny was a long-term guy and one of our favorites. Something about the big lug sucked you right in.

  Opening the door, I strolled in smiling, expecting a party. What greeted me was almost every single volunteer with a long face, many with red watery eyes and a few openly sobbing.

  “Guys! I know we’re going to miss Manny but come on,” I looked around expecting something.

  Sandy came forward arms outstretched, her hands clutching at my shoulders as if she were drowning. “Oh, T,” she sobbed, her breathing fast. “Ashley called, a few black cats were found mutilated. One had to be put down.”

  I blinked even as my hands pulled the other girl closer in a hug. “How many? What happened?”

  Dana spoke up next, her hands holding Gwennie’s, “Three. All of them had their tails degloved, the one that died had his paw done too. The monsters.”

  Degloved?! I released Sandy to press a balled-up fist to my mouth, feeling the sub I had just happily eaten roar up my throat. Dashing for the bathroom, I didn’t even have time to shut the door before I was gagging into the toilet, hot tears squeezing out of my closed eyes as I vomited.

  A cool hand whisked my hair away from my face as I finished spitting out the remaining yuck in my mouth. Through watery eyes I saw Parker’s calm, sad face staring down at me, a few sections of paper towel in her other hand which she offered to me.

  “It’s okay, T,” Parker said, her voice low and gentle as she guided me to the sink which she turned on.

  Splashing cold water on my face and rinsing my mouth out helped swing me out of the horror of what those poor cats had gone through and into action mode. I accepted the paper towels from Parker and we rejoined the others.

  “Let Ashley know Whisker Kisses will absorb all of the cats’ vet bills and we’ll try to find placements for them once they heal.”

  A few of them nodded, others, still stunned, just looked down at the laminate floor. Aaron spoke up, raising his long arm in the air like he was in school. “Why are things so bad this October? I was here last year and nothing like this was happening.”

  Mutters of agreement greeted that and I found
my head nodding as well. The increase in spirit activity, the cruelty toward black cats, could I have been wrong about Halloween? What was making this year so much deadlier?

  Our answer never came as Mrs. Appleton, the elderly lady who was adopting Manny came shuffling slowly through the rescue’s bright turquoise door, electric blue cane in hand, some odd hat with thick white lace bobbing on her short blue hair.

  She took a look at our faces and her smile twitched before she joked, “I must be getting the pick of the place for him to have a sendoff like this!”

  Her words were so close to what I had thought when I first came in that I began to laugh. It started as a tiny bubble in my throat that ended up in an almost shrill shriek. I slapped a hand over my mouth to quell it.

  “Sorry,” I whispered around my hand.

  Gwennie saved the day by rushing forward, hands extended. “Forgive her, we just had some dreadful news. But we all did come for Manny’s sendoff. And we could use some happiness right now.”

  Mrs. Appleton’s smile, which had disappeared at my wild laughter, came inching back to her heavily lined face and once fully in bloom again, she easily looked ten years younger.

  Parker came forward with Manny in her arms and offered him to his new owner. As Mrs. Appleton struggled to hold the enormous orange ball of fluff that was Manny, he peered out at us and yawned exposing a mouth missing many teeth and a whole stretch of pink gullet.

  “He’s such a beautiful boy,” Mrs. Appleton commented, her eyes fixed on Manny. “Don’t you all worry, he’ll have a wonderful life with me, watching the soaps and hopefully catching all the mice that seem to think my house is the mouse hotel come fall and winter.”

  I didn’t know how well of a mouser Manny was, but TV watching he could definitely do. During my overnight stays, it hadn’t been unusual for a few of the cats to join me in the third bedroom and watch some television with me before I went to sleep.

  I walked forward to give Manny a final scratch behind his large bat-like ears and as I did so I noticed Old Zeke’s ghostly presence weaving around Mrs. Appleton’s feet. “You be a good boy, Manny, we love you.”