“Yes. For the love of God, yes.”
I reach up, tugging at the roots of my hair.
This is my ultimate battle. All the crazy people, the nonsense with my own life and amnesia from way back in the day—whatever, I’ll take it. But this … one day—I swear, I’ll get back at the universe for this.
“Huh. Wouldn’t it make more sense if I showed up at 8:30?”
I glare at him, knowing anything I say is pretty much wasted breath.
“Whatever,” I mumble, dropping my hands and reaching for my purse. “I gotta go pack.”
“Ooooh—oooh—it just occurred to me. Where are you staying? Are you guys, like, staying in a hotel together?” Ren’s eyes are wide and his lips curve upward.
I widen my stance, taking my best pot-head approach.
“No, I figure we’ll hit the streets. Wander aimlessly. Maybe sleep in the piazza when we get tired,” I roll my eyes. “Of course, we’ll be in a hotel together. But no—before you get excited—not in the same room. We each have our own spaces, thank you very much.”
Ren’s face falls slightly. “Pity. I was about to break out the pom poms and send you off with a good luck cheer. Maybe even give you one of these.”
Ren grabs a beginner BDSM kit, clutching it to his chest.
“On that note…” I say, taking a deep breath. “I gotta go. Thank you for all of your help, Ren. Take good care of everything—like I know you will. I’ll call in as much as I can. I’m sure Blake will let me use his cellphone.”
I walk to the front door and reach for the handle. An odd sensation rushes over me—like for some reason, this hunt for the pedophile ring—the way everything is playing out means more than I can completely fathom right now. When I get those types of feelings, I know to stop and take a beat because they’re significant. It might not make sense now, but I have no doubt it will.
Turning back around, I pause and take everything in. The way the small shop is laid out—the lighting, the bookshelves, the herbs, crystals, and Renaldo’s Valentine’s Day merchandise. Ren’s eyebrows tug in, but he doesn’t say anything—he just watches me as I tune in.
The pungent smell of frankincense permeates the air—mixing with lavender and sage. I’ve become so accustomed to those smells, I hardly even notice them anymore. But now, it all seems significant somehow.
“Everything … okay?” Ren finally says, breaking the silence.
“Yeah, I just—I don’t know. Something made me pause,” I say, shaking my head.
“What was it?”
“Not sure. Just a feeling, I guess. This trip is going to be significant. Perhaps life changing, I just don’t know how yet.”
“Maybe you and Private Eye Tightpants will end up in one hotel room,” Ren says, smiling sheepishly.
I chuckle, “Don’t count on it. But—whatever it is, I wanted to take a mental inventory of things. So I know what’s changed when I come back. It may be nothing…or it could be everything. Who knows?”
“You better take care of yourself, Diana. Be safe, for the love of all that’s holy. Don’t put yourself in any unnecessary danger or anything. Yes, I know you—Ms. Run and Jump Before She Looks.”
Renaldo rarely goes all paternal on me, but when he does, it’s because I’ve spooked him.
I walk over to him, putting my arms around him.
“I’ll be safe. You better be, too. You hear me? Don’t piss off Mrs. Kaminski. Or Brody, for that matter.”
“I hear you. And I’ll try not to.”
“Good.”
With that, I pat him on the back and turn on my heel. I don’t stop as I fling the door open. I don’t turn around as I walk out onto the sidewalk and down the street. Instead, I make my way deliberately forward, knowing full well when I return, things will be very different.
When I’m back at my house, the strange sensations of significance hasn’t subsided. If anything, it’s gotten more powerful. Shivering away the energy, I instinctively flit my eyes to my calendar—one day to the full moon. Perhaps that’s all it is?
Glancing at the clock as I set down my purse and keys, I take a deep breath. It’s only gone 5:30pm.
I need to call Demetri.
There’s still plenty of time to pack and if for some reason anything goes wrong—I need to say my apology out loud.
Walking to the corded phone on my wall, I pluck it from its holder and dial his number.
“Hello?” the woman’s voice on the other end answers.
For a moment, my heart skips a beat—then plummets into my stomach. Demetri and I never were a thing—not like that—but he’s always had a special place in my heart. He’s helped me through so many rough patches over the years. If he has a new woman in his life and he didn’t tell me—things are worse than I thought.
“Uh—hi,” I say, recovering. “Is Demetri there?”
“Sure,” the woman’s upbeat voice responds. “Can I tell him who’s calling?”
“It’s Diana,” I say.
“Oh,” is the response. Not the upbeat, “gotcha” kind of “oh,” either. It’s the “holy shit, it’s her” kinda oh.
I wince.
After a bit of scuffling and voices muttering under a muffled receiver, the call clears up.
“Hi, Diana. What did you need?” Demetri’s rough voice answers from the other end.
“Hey, Demetri. You doing okay?”
Silence greets me on the other end and I wince again.
“Look—I know things didn’t go so well last month—”
“That’s an understatement,” he says.
I take a deep breath and bite my lip.
“I know,” I whisper, clutching the phone.
An awkward pause descends, as I search for the words I really want to say to him.
“Okay—I know I suck. I never should have pushed you to try the ritual with me. I figured since we were already working with the Violet Flame for Morgan and Gabe—well, I thought it would help me, too. It was stupid and reckless.”
“Yeah, and it just about killed me, Diana. Stupid and reckless don’t even cover it.”
My fingertips graze my forehead as I nod gingerly. He’s right—God, he’s so right.
“I don’t know what came over me. It’s just been so long since I felt like doors might open. It was a long shot, I get that, but…” I take a deep breath, “I can’t keep living like this and you were the only one who I trusted. You’re the only one who understands my predicament.”
Demetri blows out a buff of air.
“I get your desperation. I really do. And I know it wasn’t your fault. It’s my fault, too. I’m the one who brought up the Violet Flame in the first place. I mean, how the hell were you meant to know how powerful the magic is surrounding Morgan’s request—let alone your memory?”
“Well, I should have guessed. Morgan has power—more power than I’ve felt roll off a single person in years. And with me … I mean—it’s been a helluva long time and I’ve never even gotten a glimpse of insight. Not even an inkling as to my life before I woke up that day. I’ve tried everything. Literally—everything I can think of. But I thought… I dunno, for whatever reason I thought that night was different. That the ritual we were doing together would be different.” I mutter, frowning to myself.
“You were right about that, I suppose. It was different—just not in the way you expected.”
“True.”
“Look, Diana—we’re friends and we’ll always be friends. But I just can’t get involved in that side of things anymore. I don’t have the energy. Whatever magic I had—or whatever you wanna call it—it was obliterated in that ritual. I can’t even summon spirits anymore, let alone locator spells. I don’t know what my clientele is going to do when they figure out I’m totally BSing it all.”
“I’m so sorry, Demetri. I didn’t mean for any—”
“For fucksake, I know,” he snaps. “I’m not looking for a pity party here.”
“Is there anythin
g I can do to—”
“What? Make it better? Bring it back?”
“Any of it—all of it. What can I do?” I say, tears threatening at the brim of my eyes.
“Live a good life, Diana. God knows it’s a long one—but for the love—make the most of it, would you? You have power and magic and something incredibly special about you. But you waste it all pretending you’re—I don’t know… ordinary, I suppose. I won’t try to wager why you do it. I have my guesses. Hell, maybe I’d do it too, if I was as old as you and seen everything you’ve seen.”
“You’ve been a good friend, Demetri. I want you to know that,” I whisper.
“Oh, don’t go getting all emotional on me now.”
I lick my bottom lip, trying to keep it from trembling.
“Something—something big is happening and I don’t quite know what it is. Maybe it’s the full moon energy—maybe it’s nothing. I don’t know. But I wanted you to know I’m sorry before I go,” I say.
“Go? Where are you going? Are you leaving Helena for good?” he says, his voice suddenly airing on concern.
“No—nothing like that. At least, not yet. I’m helping a—private investigator,” I say, gingerly. “We’re going overseas to track down a pedophile ring.”
“How in the hell did you get roped into that kinda mess?” he snorts.
Of all the things we’ve been through, this is certainly one of the stranger ones.
“It’s a long story.”
“Sounds it. Christ, I’m outta your life for a fortnight and you’re working pedophile cases. What’s the world coming to?”
I chuckle. Now that’s more like the Demetri I know and love.
“I know, right? I don’t understand it either. I just know it’s something I gotta do.”
I should tell him about Blake—about the weird feeling I’m having. But I don’t want to bring him down or make him feel useless. Or worse yet, feel as though he should be helping, even though he can’t. Besides, the last thing he’ll want to hear about is how I’m waging my abilities and trying to get Blake to admit I’m psychic.
“Well, take care of yourself, okay. Be careful and all that touchy feely shit.”
“Yeah, I know. I will. I’ve got—” I stop myself, knowing where it could lead.
“This PI…” Demetri starts.
I take a deep breath. It’s going there anyway.
“Yeah?” I say.
“It a he?”
“Yeah.”
“Does he know what he’s getting into with you?”
I suck in a breath.
There’s so much I wish I could share with Blake, even though I’m not sure why. It’s a strange sensation and one I’m not used to. Not even Demetri was able to lure it out of me so quickly. It was a decade or more before I let him in.
“Doubt it,” I reply.
“Good. Keep it that way.”
A pang of regret slices through my abdomen. Most people, especially completely normal people, simply can’t fathom my life in the least. I was lucky to find Demetri. At least he shared some of my abilities and understood what it was like to really be gifted.
And I stripped all of that from him.
God, I suck so much.
“I’ll try. Anyway—I suppose I better go. Gotta pack and all that.”
“Okay,” Demetri says, holding on to a few second’s pause before he finally utters, “be safe.”
“You, too. I really am—”
“If you say sorry one more time, woman, I’m gonna off myself and come back so I can prove to you there’s an afterlife.”
“Yeah, yeah…”
Demetri lets out a deep, heavy sigh.
“If I can find a way to—help or bring it back—I will,” I mutter.
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Diana. Ain’t anyone taught you that in all these years?”
“For what it’s worth, I’d gladly trade places with you.”
“Helluva lot a good that does me now,” he chuckles.
“I know, but it’s true.”
“Well, for what it’s worth—thanks.”
“What about you? The lady who answered—is she treating you okay?”
“She’s a friend, but yes. It’s been nice having her around.”
“Good—that’s … good.”
“It is,” he says.
“Good,” I repeat. “Well, bye, Demetri.”
“Bye, Diana.”
The click of the receiver echoes in my ear. The sound is all too much like a final ending of sorts and it does nothing to alleviate the tension building inside me.
Big changes are coming—and they’re just getting started.
Chapter 13
THE KNOCK ON THE DOOR tells me it’s time to get a move on. Luckily, I have all the stuff I need—passport, cash, cards, clothes. You know, the essentials. The rest I can figure out while we’re on the go. Besides, the last thing I need is to get held up by the TSA for having too much makeup or shampoo, for Godsake. Added bonus, at least there’s less to lose, should my suitcase go missing.
Trust me, stranger things have happened.
I smooth out the creases in my trousers one more time and stop briefly by the full-length mirror in the hall. Everything’s in place—hair could use a good trim, but whatever. I don’t have time for that kind of nonsense now.
On the way to answer the front door, I grab my purse from the kitchen counter, along with my keys. I glance at the green phone hanging on the wall, acknowledging the pang of guilt over Demetri—but at least feeling better that we spoke.
I flip my eyes to the stovetop and all the knobs—you know, just to be sure.
When I reach the entryway, I smooth out my top one more time, and adjust my shoulders so I look more confident than I feel at the moment. I clutch my keys in my hand and swing the door open.
“All set?” I say, raising my eyebrows.
Blake turns around, his dark hair glistening in the early morning light. It pulls out the reds hidden in their depths. Smiling broadly, his dimples shine brightly—easily.
My stomach flutters. Such a stupid—childish feeling, but inescapable nonetheless.
I exhale slowly, shaking away the sensation as I lock the front door and slide my keys into my purse.
He tugs at the bottom of his leather jacket and nods, “Yup, sure am. How about you?”
Reaching for my suitcase handle, and picking up my small carry-on bag, I nod.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Wow—that’s it? Where’s the rest of it? Your suitcase is smaller than mine,” Blake says, pointing.
“I don’t need much. I’d rather travel light,” I say, shrugging my shoulders. Mostly, it comes from years on the go; moving from place to place before anyone realizes how I’m not aging. I find it’s easier to just—walk away and start over.
“Marry me,” Blake says, his eyebrows raised.
My eyes widen in surprise, “Uh—excuse me?”
“I mean, I’ve never in all my life seen a woman travel so light. You’re an enigma,” he says, flushing. He reaches behind his head, rubbing his neck.
“Oh—right. Well, occupational hazard. Enigma is practically my middle name,” I chuckle. “Let’s—let’s go.”
I clutch the handle of the suitcase tighter, trying to steady my heartbeat and relinquish some of my surprise.
Blake steps off the front entry and walks toward his Rover. In the daylight its dark exterior looks smooth—like the kind of car our local state senator would drive or something. He opens the back, extending his hand out. I roll my suitcase to him. Ridiculously fast, he collapses the handle and places my luggage inside. I flip the carry-on off my shoulder and rest it beside the suitcases.
Blake wasn’t kidding. His suitcase is massive—one of those hard cases that looks like they’re really a mobile armory instead of a place to put your underwear.
“What on earth did you fill that thing with?” I say pointing at the massive cas
e and chuckling. “A body?”
He shoots me a sideways glance but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he flat out ignores my humor and walks to the front of the Rover to take his seat. However, the rosy color in his cheeks tells me it’s a touchy topic—so of course, there’s no way I’m gonna let it rest.
I quirk an eyebrow, nodding to myself.
Oh, it’s on.
“I mean, did you fold Aiden up like origami so you could smuggle him over the border?” I say, as I take my seat beside him and reaching for my seatbelt. “Oh—oh, you’re actually really embarrassed because you brought every outfit in your closet, just in case. I’m right, aren’t I?”
Blake rolls his eyes and starts the Rover.
“Ooooooo, it’s loaded with whips and chains,” I say, before thinking through the words before they tumble outta my mouth.
He turns his head, his eyes wide, and cheeks beet red.
My jaw slacks open.
“Oh my god, it is. There are whips and chains in there?”
I scramble around to look at the case again, but of course the back seat is in the way.
“It’s not like that,” Blake says smirking, his right cheek’s dimple showing. He shifts the vehicle into reverse and gets us going a little too quickly.
“What is it like then?” I ask, cocking my head.
“Well, if we find the men involved—we need a way to apprehend them, don’t we? I have my gear with me. Maybe for a psychic, you don’t require much, but I have my things.”
“Oh, right. Your things. Like whips and chains.”
I burst out into a full, deep laugh. God, it’s been years—like, we’re talking a decade or more since I laughed so hard. Of all the things for him to be nervous over—or try to keep to himself. It’s ludicrous.
But kinda sexy—no, wait not sexy. Cute? Rugged?
Shit.
I shake my head.
Don’t you dare start falling for Blake, Diana Hawthorne. Don’t you effing dare.
My laughter peters out, but I steal another glance at him. His eyes are creased—dimples digging softly I to his cheeks, but he refuses to look my direction. Instead, he deliberately chooses to keep his eyes forward and take the high road.
I take a deep breath, trying to center myself.
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