Amends: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Series (A Diana Hawthorne Supernatural Mystery Book 2)

by Carissa Andrews

  “Okay, well, first things first, I need to know about Demetri. Then, we’ll deal with the client situation next,” I say, locking my gaze to his.

  Renaldo’s nostrils flare, but he nods.

  “So, Demetri isn’t returning calls from his clients and has gone MIA. When did he call you?” I ask.

  “Last night. But Diana, I should also mention…when he did speak…he didn’t sound right,” he says, deep wrinkles carving through the space between his eyebrows.

  If Ren’s worried about him, something must be going on.

  “How so?”

  He considers for a moment, his eyes darting back and forth in his recollection. I tap into his thoughts and concern blossoms like a bursting star in the center of my torso.

  “It felt like…” Ren trails off, but his thoughts come in loud and clear now.

  “Like he was trying to say goodbye?” I whisper, horrified.

  Ren makes a face, but nods. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  “Shit,” I curse. I knew losing his gifts would hurt Demetri, but I didn’t realize how fragile that connection was. How tied to his identity they were. Okay, so I’m gonna need to make a trip. He can be stubborn when he wants to be and I have to get a read on him in person.”

  Again, Ren nods. “What do you want me to do about the crazies who keep calling? They aren’t going to be placated much longer, Diana.”

  I open my mouth, but the words get stolen before they can escape.

  “Allow me to handle them,” Kyros says, suddenly standing in the doorway.

  My mouth pops open and Ren spins around on his seat like he’s ready to reach for the rake.

  Seconds later, Blake bursts into the store and then to the doorway. “Goddammit, old man. You can’t up and vanish like that,” he says, grabbing hold of Kyros by the upper arm. He tries to pull him back, but Kyros doesn’t budge.

  Renaldo’s eyes widen, as he glances from Kyros to me, then back again. For once, he’s speechless, but I’m not certain that’s a good thing.

  Over the past week, Kyros’s capacity for speaking English has grown to the point where he barely speaks in Ancient Greek anymore. Clearly, a byproduct of his magical resurrection. And likely so he can help me better.

  Thanks, Apollo.

  “Who is this guy?” Ren scoffs, standing up and striking his best diva pose.

  Blake shoots me a look of apology, doubling over as he tries to catch his breath. “Sorry, Diana. He up and vanished. Somehow I knew he’d be here.”

  “Would one of you bitches tell me what’s going on here?” Ren says, clearly not amused. “Are you trying to…replace me?”

  I stand as well, bracing my hands out in front of me. “No, Ren. It’s nothing like that.”

  “And who exactly is this?” Kyros asks, puffing up his chest and hobbling into the room.

  He’s still wearing the ridiculous t-shirt. If anything he looks more like an escaped nursing home patient than someone to replace Ren with. Then again, Ren’s not far off from the truth of being replaced. At least, if Kyros has anything to say about it.

  This is not going to go well.

  “Who am I?” Ren says, a nervous laugh bubbling from his lips as he widens his stance, his hands flailing about. “I’m Diana’s right hand and manage all of her affairs. Just who the hell are you?”

  Irritation radiates off him and without a doubt, I know he’s not wrong. My mouth snaps shut.

  “Why do you allow such insolence, Amar—Diana?” Kyros says, a flare of protectiveness rolling off of him in waves. He rounds on Ren. “Do you know who you’re speaking to?”

  “Kyros, stop. It’s okay. Renaldo’s right, this is a discussion best left for another day,” I say, switching my gaze from Kyros to Blake. I try to will him the thought to get Kyros out of here from a single glance. Luckily, he gets the point.

  “Come on, Kyros. Let Diana do her thing. She’s got this,” Blake says, urging Kyros to exit the reading room.

  Kyros doesn’t budge. His eyes narrow as they flit between me and Ren.

  “Kyros, go with Blake. Please,” I say, reiterating the sentiment. “This will all get sorted. We’ll talk when I get home. Okay?”

  His expression flattens and I can tell he’s ready to rebuff. So, for the first time since we got back to Helena, I use the psychic connection between us.

  Kyros, don’t argue with me. Ren doesn’t know anything about me. He’ll need to be brought around slowly.

  Kyros swallows down whatever rebuttal he had in mind, and nods curtly, thank the gods. Without another word, he manages to make turning around the most arduous of tasks. Then he shuffles out of the room, taking the lead in front of Blake, who shrugs at me.

  “See you in a bit?” Blake asks, shooting an anxious gaze toward the backside of a retreating Kyros.

  “Yeah, I won’t be long,” I say, scrunching my face and casting a sideways grin. There’s so much I wish I could tell him. Like it won’t always be this weird. But I shouldn’t make any promises I can’t keep.

  “Okay,” he says, nodding. For a moment he hovers in between the doorways, then waves awkwardly before chasing after Kyros.

  I bite my lip, sighing to myself as I take in the backside of him as he leaves. After a moment, I glance over and catch Ren’s eyebrow quirk up, his romance radar going off.

  Holding out a hand, I try to stop him before he starts. “I’ll tell you all about it later.”

  “Oooh, so there’s something to know?” he says, his voice bordering on scandalized.

  I shake my head. “Demetri is the priority here, remember?”

  Ren scrunches up his face, clearly fighting internally. “I s’pose.”

  Walking over to my desk, I reach for the receiver on the large, bordering on archaic desk phone. I’m not entirely sure how old it is, but it’s been in my possession since the fifties. Just as I’m about to call Demetri to see if I can pop in for a visit, the phone rings. For the briefest of moments, I figured it was Demetri and his unique ability to always sense when I was going to call him. Then I remembered his gifts are gone.

  I shoot a look to Ren, who widens his eyes in an evident question of whether or not I’m going to get it. Clearly, he’s no longer fussed by the phone ringing since I’m here to answer it instead of him.

  I pick up the receiver. “Hello?”

  “Diana? Glad I caught you. It’s me, Dan. Got a second?” the detective’s voice echoes from the other end.

  I’m barely back a day and it’s as if the whole world got the memo.

  Dropping into the leather-bound desk chair, I run my hand through my pink hair. There’s so much to do, but if there’s one person besides Demetri I wouldn’t want to blow off, it’s him. “Sure, Dan. What’s up?”

  “Well, I have a case here and I don’t know how to make heads or tails of it. But I think it might just be in your wheelhouse. Any chance you have a spare minute to help out? I don’t think it’ll take long.”

  I run my hand over my face and sigh. If it’s not one thing, it’s another.

  So much for getting back home quickly.

  “Of course, what do you need?”

  7

  Trust is more than skin-deep

  Fifteen minutes later, Detective Dan Radovich is sitting across from me at my glass reading table. His dark blue eyes betray the questions hiding in the crevasses of his mind. He’s dying to know more about the trip to Greece, but he feels it’s not his place to ask.

  He and I never had a very personal relationship, but he respects our work friendship more than most. I’ve always liked that about him. In some ways, he’s the only reason I’ve bothered helping with cases coming out of the Helena PD. He’s open-minded enough to deal with me, for starters.

  Renaldo has vanished into the main shop, doing whatever it is he does to make the storefront presentable. He’s even humming to himself, which I take as a good sign since I don’t have the bandwidth to check in on his mental health right now. Ya gotta hand
it to him, the man can compartmentalize with the best of them.

  Dan crosses his left foot over the top of his right knee and leans back. In the fluidity of the gesture, he slides a manila folder across the open space of the table.

  Before I even touch it, I get glimpses of a young boy, fifteen or sixteen years old at a push. His broad smile is infectious, but his physical appearance, including his beautiful brown skin and messy black hair, instantly take backstage to the deep intelligence pulsing through his aura. He’s profoundly gifted, that much is for sure. Yet, this entire power package is wrapped up in a disabled body, as my awareness zones in on the wheelchair that has become a permanent extension of him.

  My heart constricts at the injustice of someone so young being dealt such a hand in life. I place my palm on the packet and glance up at Dan, waiting for his assessment first.

  “This should be a straightforward case,” he begins. “Hell, the captain thinks so—but I’m not so sure.” Dan shakes his head, his eyes going distant. “Something feels…off.”

  Opposing emotions well up inside him, pointing toward a deep conviction to protect the young man. However, the full reasoning is still fuzzy in my perception.

  “Tell me what’s happening,” I say, tapping into the visuals and memories as he recalls them.

  “Well, you’ll get a feel for the case when you look at the file, but the gist is—there’s a fourteen-year-old boy who’s been getting harassed, for lack of a better word. It seems like it started casually. The family noticed a vehicle following them. At first, they thought nothing of it. Figured it was just someone who lived in the area who was on the same schedule.”

  I get flashes of a black SUV with deeply tinted windows. There’s an edge of something magical surrounding its encasement—like they can mask themselves or ward off those with special abilities.

  I sit up a bit straighter, my curiosity certainly piqued.

  “However,” he continues, “things have progressed and the parents are getting worried about their son. Now, someone’s been hacking into his tech—computers, cellphone. Messages are popping up, trying to pry information out of Jonas—that’s the kid. That’s when his parents came to us. At first, we all thought he managed to get himself on a site he shouldn’t have. The kid’s smart, without a doubt. But we found no evidence of that.”

  “What about the messages? What’s happening there?” I ask.

  Dan’s forehead furrows. “On one hand, they seem cryptic. Stuff like, ‘We know what you can do.’ And, ‘We’re the only ones who can keep you safe.’ When we asked Jonas about it, he seems as confused as the rest of us.” He taps the edge of the glass with the tip of his index finger. “But the more I think about it, the more I gotta wonder if there’s something special to this kid, if you know what I mean. I was hoping…”

  “You were hoping I’d be able to get a read on him,” I say, finishing his thought. “Let you know if he has powers of some sort.”

  Dan’s lips press tight and he nods curtly.

  For the first time, I flip open the packet on the table. “Well, he does.” I stare at the photograph paper-clipped to the upper right-hand corner of the first page. The photo is at least a year or two old, based off of the vision of him I was getting, but one thing that hasn’t changed—his smile is infectious.

  “Knew it,” he mutters under his breath.

  I continue to scan the pages, allowing my gaze to flow toward the most important components of the report.

  Jonas Fletcher, fourteen-years-old. Born April 12th. Incredibly gifted student. Well-liked at school. Born with transverse myelitis. Permanently disabled and wheelchair-bound.

  “So, what do I do, Diana? How do I let the family know I’m sympathetic? I’m sure they don’t want to tell me the whole truth. Why would they? White cop, black family. The stereotypes are all stacked up against them,” he says, a bit of agitation bleeding through his demeanor. “Add the supernatural stuff on top…” He shakes his head.

  Dan’s a good cop and cares deeply about doing the right thing. But he knows all too well how things could go sideways, even with the best intentions. While the world is starting to accept the supernatural world, there are still those who can’t—no, won’t—believe. Plus, all of the human biases are active and in play.

  A hint of a smile makes its way to my lips. “Honestly, I think there’s only one way to handle this one. You’ll have to get them here or bring me along for a chat.”

  “And you think that will help them to trust me?” he asks, narrowing his gaze. “No offense, Diana, you’re as white as I am. Maybe they’d be better off with someone like Martinez.”

  I shake my head. “Trust is more than skin-deep, Dan. You know that. Besides, you’re the best detective on the force. We can show the Fletchers what else is possible. I’ll show them what I can do. Then, if push comes to shove, trust won’t matter as much, since I’ll be able to get a better read on Jonas. Right now, I can tell he’s gifted, I just can’t explain how. Or what the nature of his power is. I need to strengthen the connection to him,” I say, closing the folder and sliding it back to him.

  “All right. Let me see what kind of arrangements I can make. I’ll get back to you with some times,” Dan says, his eyelashes fluttering with his rapid thoughts. He wants desperately to get this sorted out so he can continue with his investigation, but there’s a deep knowing that he can’t push this step or it could blow up in his face. And mine too, since he brought me into the mix.

  “Sounds good,” I say, as I stand up. “And don’t worry, Dan. It will all work out. I have a good feeling about that much.”

  He hefts out a relieved sigh. “I sure as hell hope so. Jonas is a good kid. I don’t know what he’s gotten mixed up in, but I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let anything bad happen to him on my watch.”

  “Then he’s incredibly lucky,” I say, shooting him a determined look, hoping it presses home the point.

  With a sniff, he tips his head and heads for the door. “Thanks, Diana. I’ll be in touch.”

  Without another word, he makes his way through the store.

  One problem potentially on the way to resolution. Now, about Demetri…

  Dan says his goodbye to Renaldo, who’s instantly in the doorway, not giving me time to even make it to the phone. His eyes sparkle with curiosity, clearly dying to get a read on the latest gossip.

  I raise an eyebrow and smirk at him.

  After a moment, he heaves a heavy sigh and raises his hands in mock prayer. “Diana, lovely boss of mine, you’re killing me here.” He enters the room, still praying to some god or another.

  “Renaldo, ever-late assistant of mine, it’s an open case,” I say, drawing out his impatience. “I shouldn’t be discussing it until there’s a resolution. Maybe not even then.”

  “Oh, puleeze,” he breathes. “As if I’d have anyone to even blab to. You need someone to confide in, and as always, I am willing to pull up my big boy britches to carry that burden.” He flutters his eyelashes and puts on his best impression of a sweet smile.

  “Oh, yes. Ever the sword-falling type.” I chuckle.

  “Diana,” he whines, dropping his hands to his side and tipping his chin upward like a petulant child. “You have no idea how boring it’s been around here. Throw me a bone, please.”

  “Boring? I thought you said it was so stressful?” I say the last two words complete with air quotes. Toying with him like this always brings a smile to my face, and I can tell he’s grateful for the normalcy it brings, despite his frustration.

  He glares at me.

  “Look, there’s not much to tell yet, but as soon as I know more, you’ll be the first to know,” I say, walking to my desk so I can return to the phone call to Demetri that got interrupted.

  His face scrunches and he crosses his arms. “Then, do you wanna at least tell me about the grumpy old man, so I don’t take every mental highway to anxietyville?”

  “I thought you didn’t want to know?” I mutte
r, glancing at the phone, then the clock.

  It’s been two hours since I left the house. Hopefully, Blake can keep Kyros under control just a little longer. I’ve never had kids, but from what I can tell, dealing with him is like having a toddler to keep track of. I can only imagine how bizarre this is, since we’ve barely become a couple.

  Nothing like jumping straight into the fire.

  I scratch at the side of my forehead, realizing it’s probably better to deal with this now.

  “Okay, what do you want to know?” I ask, treading the waters lightly. Reaching out with my abilities, I try to assess what information he’s looking for, so I can give him just enough to put him at ease.

  He places a hand on his hip and flicks the other wrist up in the air. “Well, for starters, what did he mean by ‘Do you know who you’re speaking to?’” Ren says, catching me slightly off guard. I figured he’d be more concerned about the dynamic he’s playing in terms of “team Diana.”

  I chew on the side of my lip, putting my feelers out.

  “Oh, no…don’t you be doing that. I know that look. No using your psychicness to psych me out. Just answer the question,” he says, lowering his eyebrows. “After the past few weeks of craziness, you owe me that much.”

  He’s right. Ren’s been with me for a number of years now and he’s always been a faithful friend. He could have asked me any number of times why I don’t seem to age, but he never has—and I doubt even he’s that self-centered not to notice.

  On the other hand, I’m acutely aware of what he’s capable of dealing with, and the full scope of things might not be it. Hell, I’m not even sure I can deal with it right now.

  I glance longingly at the phone, sigh, and walk back to the reading table. I press my hands to the back of my chair and lean forward, deliberating.

  “All right. But I think you’ll want to sit down for this…” I begin.

  8