by B. T. Alive
But then… beneath my fingers, I felt something else.
I jerked my hand away to look, but I already knew.
Fur.
Oh no…
Special Note
Dear Reader,
Wow! What a cliffhanger!
I bet you’re congratulating yourself that you got this whole box set, huh? Murder With a Psychic Kiss is only a page away.
But before you rush ahead…
… if you didn’t already get your copy last time…
Seriously, you’ve got to read the story of Mark Falcon, the Empath Detective, and his very first case.
So much happens to him all at once… he discovers he’s an empath, then he’s got to prove himself innocent of murder and evade the real killer… plus his secretive girlfriend is breaking his heart…
If you’ve enjoyed Murder With a Psychic Touch AND Murder With a Psychic Zap, you have got to read this funny, fast-paced cozy novella, because it’s your introduction to a whole new cozy series for you by this same author.
And again, as a special thank you…
It’s yours free.
Get Mark’s first case, High-Rise Demise, for FREE.
(Then come back here for Murder With a Psychic Kiss…)
Murder with a Psychic Kiss (Book 3)
by B.T. Alive
Part I
Chapter 1
I should’ve kept a closer eye on her. Tina. At least until it all was safely over.
Yes, my dear cousin Tina is the sweetest, kindest person I’ve ever met. But she’s also got more boundary issues than a plate of yogurt. Seriously, she has a problem. Because she’s an empath.
An empath feels other people’s emotions. It’s a mess.
Since I had first met Tina the previous spring, I’d seen her feel some crazy unfair garbage, from picking up the secret bloodlust of a murderer to mirroring back the yearn of every random guy who found her attractive (which is basically all of them). But this time was the worst I’d ever seen her.
And then people started dying. But I’ll get to that.
Now, I’m still pretty new to the whole “best friend” thing. (I know, that’s kind of sad for my mid-to-late-twenties, but my secret power has made social connections… difficult.) However, I did know enough to try to keep Tina occupied. I figured she might be okay if we could just get past the wedding.
Yes, wedding. And very much not hers.
But now it was the day before. Our whole little town of Wonder Springs was buzzing with excitement and curiosity about the exclusive event. Partly because the couple had chosen such a lush, unusual venue, partly because almost no locals had been invited… and partly because everyone seemed to know Tina’s history with the groom-to-be. Or think they did.
I thought I did too, and so, on this last day before the wedding, I’d made sure to make plans with Tina for every minute that she wouldn’t be at work. If that girl wasn’t kept distracted, she’d just start “walking” and then find herself “drifting” toward the very people who could cause her the most pain.
It was bad enough that she’d accepted the astoundingly tone-deaf invitation for tomorrow. The least I could do was keep her busy until the last second. And try one more time to talk her out of going to tomorrow’s wedding.
Except… I messed up. I totally missed our lunch date. Which is how all the trouble began.
It was a warm Virginia morning in the early fall, around noon (or so I thought), and I was picking apples on a sunny slope in our orchard, basking in the scent of the rows and rows of apple trees. The smell was sweet, and rich, and thick enough to spread like jam. The tree I was picking surrounded me in a gentle embrace, the leaves brushing my hands and cheeks with a tentative touch.
Not far away stood my boyfriend Cade, tall and lean and attentively inclined, as a pair of ancient ladies like crooked shrubs each gripped one of his hands. As they talked, and Cade steadily bestowed upon them an abundant smile that, in my humble opinion, could power a midsize Midwestern city, I wondered what it must be like to hold the man’s hand for so long.
The one time I’d tried to hold his hand, he’d sprouted fur.
No, Cade’s not a shifter. Not exactly. It’s complicated. We call him a “Tuner”—he can help other creatures “tune in” to the “morphic fields” that give them form. Basically, he can hold a person’s hand and help their body heal.
Which, yes, is pretty amazing.
And also, like all our psychic powers here in Wonder Springs, super super secret.
Not only because the public would totally freak out, but because some very bad people would be very interested. People with powers of their own.
So when tourists like those ladies came to visit the orchard, they thought they would just go home with a few bags of fruit. Instead, if Cade got them chatting, they might realize hours or days later that they’d mysteriously recovered from some major health issue. So far, no one had traced it back to Cade.
Which was thanks to my secret power. I’m a Disruptor.
A what, you say? Funny you should ask…
I was glancing over at Cade and his new tourist friends when one of the ladies, who had a round, pleasant face and looked a bit like an apple herself, cried out.
“My foot!” she said. She flexed her leg, rotated her foot, and looked to her companion with wonder. “The pain is absolutely gone!” She wheeled toward Cade. “It’s vanished. While I was here talking to you!”
A tingle of wonder crept down my back. No matter how many times I see this, it never gets old.
But Cade darted me a look, the movement giving his shortish but shaggy brown curls a fetching shimmer. His smile didn’t dim, but his eyes crinkled, with an expression I’d come to know as: Got one for you. Kind of urgent.
Except it wasn’t just one, as I hurried over toward Cade and the ladies. It was two. And two was always tricky.
“Hi! My name’s Summer!” I gushed, as I reached out a hand toward the healed lady. She goggled up at me in surprise. Even just standing this close to Cade, the crackle of his presence threatened to pull me in, but I managed to stay focused on the mission. “Welcome to Wonder Springs!” I said, and I clasped the woman’s soft hand.
As my palm touched her cold, clammy, spongy skin, a familiar shock jolted up my arm.
She teetered, her face sagging blank and slack. Her eyes went wide and unfocused. She started to tip backwards, but Cade gripped her hand and tugged.
Shoot. I hadn’t expected to jolt her so hard. Of course, if I could control my Touch in the first place—
“Nellie! Are you all right?” croaked the other lady, who had to be her sister. Or mother, maybe? She didn’t relinquish Cade’s other hand, but she glared daggers at me. “What did you do to her?”
“Do?” I said, playing dumb as I held my hand at my side and tried to subtly shake out the pain. As far as I could tell, the lady I’d shocked would be fine. Either she hadn’t felt the pain or she wouldn’t remember it… or anything else for the last few minutes.
That’s my Touch. Short-term memory loss. At least, that’s how it affects people without psychic powers.
“I must have picked up some static,” I lied. “I’m sorry.”
“Static?” she demanded. She eyed her companion, who was still swaying in Cade’s grip, but now looking around absently with a woozy, vacant smile. “Static charge my eye! I’ve never seen her like this!”
Cade cut in. “Summer, wait—”
But I reached over and zapped lady number two.
Now this second lady tottered, and he struggled to keep them both upright. It looked… awkward… fortunately, we were deep in a row and the trees were leafed out, and no other guests were nearby. Cade does try to be private when he does these healings.
“Didn’t have a choice,” I grunted, shaking my arm a lot harder now. Multiple jolts in succession escalate in pain for me. Quickly. “They’ll thank us later.”
Which, of course, they wouldn’t. That was t
he whole point.
“Right,” Cade said, with a wry smile. This was sweet of him, since I probably made that quip at least three times a week. Our eyes met… but I found myself looking away. Too intense. Even though eye contact was the only way we could touch.
See, if I touched Cade, he wouldn’t just forget the last few minutes. Being a Tuner, he’d forget… how to be Cade…
When I’d first come to Wonder Springs a few months back and discovered all these other secret psychics, I’d started this special training with my Aunt Helen and Uncle Barnaby; we’d thought they could teach me to control my Touch. But it just wasn’t working… and I was starting to feel desperate that I might never be able to touch anyone. If they couldn’t help me, who could? I couldn’t even carry a phone around anymore without frying it. I couldn’t even wear a watch.
Speaking of which…
“My goodness, what time is it?” said the first lady, Nellie, as she blinked and stood up straight again. You’d be amazed how quickly people recover from a jolt, and how easily they tell themselves they must have just spaced out for a minute. Releasing Cade’s hand, she checked a giant digital watch, then exclaimed at her companion, “Mom! It’s past twelve thirty!”
“Twelve-thirty!” I exclaimed. “Crud! My lunch date with Tina! I’m late!”
Cade frowned with concern. “Yeah, you don’t want to miss that.”
“You mean Tina at the Inn?” croaked the other lady, who had also recovered. “That woman is an angel. We’ve been there three days and every morning, like clockwork, she brings Nellie a warm footbath. We never even told her about the arthritis. She just knew!”
“My arthritis!” Nellie cried. She flexed her leg and rotated her foot, in an eerily identical motion. “Mom, I don’t feel a thing!”
“That’s what you were telling her before, as you were walking over to us,” I lied. I’m not proud that I have to try to plant false memories, but at least I try to make them pleasant. “I’m so happy for you.”
“I was?” she said, confused.
But I was already hustling off down the row. Cade hated lying, even the tiny lies that kept us all safe, but he’d have to handle these two ladies himself somehow. As I looked back, we shared a quick look. He understood; I had to keep Tina occupied and safe.
I bolted up the mulch path that led to Main Street, leaving the orchard and rushing under the taller, wilder trees. And then, as I sprang through an alley onto the wide cobblestoned way, I found that in spite of my worry hurry I still had to take a breath to take in Wonder Springs.
The wide, sunny street was shimmering with pedestrians: both the locals I knew, sauntering out and exchanging pleasantries over their leisurely lunch hour, and also the tourists, exclaiming with delight over the stone and wood architecture of the shops, the grace of the trees that lined the way like sentinels, many already radiant with their autumn fire. The carved wooden store signs jutted out overhead with medieval whimsy, glittering gold and silver, and not a single corporate logo broke the spell of beauty and care.
The street sloped upward, crowned by the round town plaza and the high fountain at its heart. And behind that, watching over it all with a grandmotherly eye, sat the Inn.
Even in the noonday sun, the Inn hinted at secrets, with abundant Victorian porches that whispered in their shadows, and banks of high windows that had seen their centuries, and round towers that rose like turrets. I still couldn’t quite believe that I lived here.
By the time I made my way into the wide, oak-paneled lobby, I’d gotten such a Wonder Springs beauty buzz that I’d almost forgotten how late I was. I looked to the massive front desk, with its old-fashioned wall of cubby holes that looked like it belonged in Casablanca, fully expecting to see Tina’s heart-shaped face light up even brighter with a welcoming smile.
But the front desk was empty.
“Tina?” I called. I ran around the desk and peeked through a door into the small, old-fashioned office behind, but it too was empty. I checked the front desk for a note. Nothing.
This was not good.
I considered my options. Since I couldn’t text, or call, or use any normal means of communication, I’d have to either find her myself or else find someone who’d seen her go. But they could be anywhere… and she’d probably already “wandered” right back up to him, to them, to the emotional torture…
No, wait. Calm down, Summer. What if she’d just gone ahead to wait for me at the tea shop? I was so late, she could have eaten twice by now. I should definitely check there first.
I hustled back out to the plaza. And there she was.
“Tina!” I called, rushing across the stone. She had her back to me and was standing by the fountain with some dude in a suit, but that was Tina all right—the abundant hair in glossy black, the slender waist and perky curves combo, the pretty grace even when she wasn’t trying, which she never was.
“Tina?” I said, as I drew close. Why hadn’t she turned around?
Then she did.
Oh.
That was why.
Chapter 2
“What do you want?” snapped a woman who was, let’s just say it, not actually Tina.
She had fine Hispanic features, with high cheekbones and a long, aristocratic nose, and her low voice throbbed like some sultry classic film star, flavored with the merest dash of an accent. Her dark eyes were striking, even haunted, though that might partly have been the bags of exhaustion that her otherwise perfect foundation couldn’t quite hide. If she hadn’t been scowling, she would have been stunning. Or maybe she still was… who knows how guys think…
“Do I know you?” she demanded.
“No, sorry,” I said. “I’m Summer. I thought you were, um—”
“Tina?” breathed a whispery voice in my ear.
“Gyah!” I jumped, shying away in a panic even as I figured out who it was. “Elaine! You’ve got to stop doing that!”
“Doing what?” said Elaine, in her flat, quiet, self-effacing voice, blinking at me in surprise through her thick glasses. Elaine was this woman in her fifties who ran the most expensive boutique in Wonder Springs, but still always managed to look frumpy, even in mismatched outfits that had to cost the price of a diamond-studded spatula.
(No idea where I got that. Oh, right, she had one for sale.)
When there’d been a couple murders a couple months back, I’d briefly thought that Elaine might be the killer. Turned out, she was just a goofball. Which, of course, is better, probably. Except in social situations.
“Why’d you say GYAH?” Elaine persisted, mimicking me on the last word with a sudden and maybe ungenerous shriek.
At the noise, the scowling beauty winced. (Which, oddly, also reminded me of Tina, who often can’t help wincing as she feels a person’s pain. But I didn’t peg this woman as an empath.) She fluttered a hand to her forehead and moaned.
“Kelvin,” she murmured, plaintive, turning to the dude at her side. “I’m getting another one.”
“Oh no, darling. Really?” said her companion, in a classy transatlantic accent that really was out of a classic film. And as he turned and I got my first good look, I literally caught my breath.
The dude looked like Cary Grant. Seriously.
I mean, not exactly… like, if Cary Grant had a well-built, possibly ripped, cousin in his early forties, who also favored suits and charm and dishy, implausibly black hair, and who maybe also had hints of a family resemblance to Jimmy Stewart and Gary Cooper.
Okay, yes, I watched a lot of old movies as a kid.
Look, it was the one thing I could get my dad to do with me. Whether or not he was sober.
Anyway, it’s not like I’d ever expected or wanted to meet some matinee idol in real life. Cade could be old-fashioned in some of the best ways, but he was a scruffy modern dude who bopped around in work corduroys and, well, okay, in mysteriously embroidered peasant-style linen shirts with puffy sleeves, but that’s just this weird Wonder Springs thing, everyone really d
igs embroidery. (For real, I was wearing a similar shirt myself, because I was still borrowing most of my wardrobe from Tina and I always wore long sleeves to avoid accidentally zapping innocent passersby.)
Anyway, all I’m trying to say is that I’ve never really been into older dudes, I certainly wasn’t out there looking for George Bailey, and I certainly was several months into a serious and exclusive (if problematic) relationship with my actual boyfriend, which is all why I was shocked to hear Elaine make this little mewling sound beside me like a lovestruck kitten.
Because I pretty much felt the same way.
As this man Kelvin leaned close to the woman and tenderly took her arm, I found myself lingering on the planes of his face, distantly aware that my body was shimmering and crackling with pleasure, from the backs of my calves to the nape of my neck. I seemed to fall into the sight of him like a landscape, my gaze pulling inexorably down… the dense column of his neck, the biceps rippling beneath his sleeve, the tight-shirted torso peeking from within his jacket, as he moved with a panther’s grace…
What the hell? a muted voice piped up, from somewhere in my beleaguered brain. What’s wrong with you, Summer? He’s some simpering middle-aged dude in an overpriced suit. Where is this coming from?
But then he turned toward me, and that tiny voice of reason was engulfed.
“I hope you’ll pardon my dear Adora,” he said, with a lift of his perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “I’m afraid she suffers from migraines.”
“Oh! Oh no. Gosh!” I babbled. “I’m so sorry—”
My voice was rising to a (pathetic) screech, and dearest Adora convulsed with another wince.
“I think we’d best repair to our room,” he said, giving Elaine and me a smooth smile of apology that cratered what powers of mental function I’d retained. “So lovely to meet you both.” In two quick, princely gestures, he took Elaine’s hand and pressed it, and then he did the same to me.
Then, with a tender hand on the small of her back, he guided his slender wife (or so I assumed; they both had rings) back across the plaza toward the Inn. I stood and watched in a daze, my hand still tingling from his enveloping warmth.