Love & Omens

by Carrie Pulkinen

  A flush of relief loosened the tension in his chest, warming his heart. “You could have told me that twenty minutes ago.”

  “I got shot, and I’m doped up on pain meds. My brain isn’t quite performing at peak level.”

  His heart tore in two all over again. “I’m so sorry.”

  She patted his cheek. “I know.”

  “Before that, you saw William shoot him?” Sean leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

  Her brows knit. “No. I only saw that he’d been shot.”

  “Nothing to worry about.” Emily smiled as she stepped through the door, and Sydney blew out a breath, thankful for the distraction. “They’re planning to release her as soon as the doctor signs off on it.”

  “See?” She squeezed Blake’s hand. “I told you I’ll be fine.” She’d take a shoulder wound over what could have happened to him any day.

  Blake swallowed hard. “Thanks, Emily.” He turned his gaze to Sydney. “What did you see?”

  Bile burned its way up her throat as her stomach churned at the image. The horrid vision would be seared into her mind for the rest of her life. “A bullet to the head. Your mask lay off to the side, blown off by the impact, and your face…” She closed her eyes for a long blink, searching for the words to describe the bloody scene.

  Her insides quivered, her throat thickening, making it hard to drag in a breath. As she opened her mouth, her jaw trembled, so she snapped it shut.

  Blake cupped her cheek in his warm palm. “I can imagine the rest. You don’t have to say it.”

  She covered his hand with hers, holding it to her face as she sagged with relief. “Thank you.”

  Emily sank onto the arm of the chair, resting a hand on Sean’s shoulder. “What a horrifying thing to see happen. I can’t imagine.”

  “I really thought it was Claire. After everything she did to keep me from the ball, I assumed…” She smoothed the blanket down her stomach. “I suppose my accusation sent her over the edge.”

  “No, she’d already crossed it. She was trying to break us up, and she went to psychotic lengths to do it.” Blake shook his head. “I never pegged her as being so conniving, but to shoot you? And William… I should have seen this coming. I put everyone in danger.” His eyes darkened as he slipped back into his pit of guilt.

  “No, Blake.” She wouldn’t let him shoulder the blame for this. “People get divorced every day, and they don’t resort to murder. There’s no way you could have known.”

  A knock sounded on the door before a cheerful nurse in pink scrubs shuffled into the room. “Hello, Ms. Sydney.” She glanced at Emily. “I guess you heard the good news?”

  “I’m going home.”

  “As soon as we get the doctor’s signature.”

  They remained silent as the nurse checked her vitals and typed something into the computer. “We sent a script for pain meds to your pharmacy. You’ll want to pick it up on your way home.” She logged out of the computer and clasped her hands together. “I’ll be by with your release instructions soon. It was good seeing you, Emily.” She smiled and left the room.

  Sydney leaned her head against the pillow, fatigue from her injury mixing with the muddiness in her mind from the pain medication, making it hard to keep her eyes open. She let them flutter shut for a moment, and when she opened them, Blake, Sean, and Emily settled heavy gazes on her, their silent question hanging in the air.

  “I’ll be fine.” She could never unsee the image of Blake lying dead, but she’d stopped it from happening. She’d heal.

  Another knock sounded on the door. “Mr. Beaumont?” A petite blonde woman stepped through the threshold. She wore black slacks with a light blue long-sleeve button-up, a pistol holstered at her hip.

  Blake rose and strode toward her, shaking her hand. “Detective Mason, this is Sydney.” He gestured toward her, and the detective nodded.

  “Please, call me Macey. I’m glad you’re okay.” She glanced at Sean and Emily. “Hello.”

  “We better get home to Sable.” Emily stood and tugged Sean to his feet.

  “Call us if you need anything.” Sean followed her to the door, pausing before crossing the threshold. “I mean it. Both of you.”

  “Thanks, Sean.” Sydney lifted a hand to wave as her friends left the room.

  Detective Mason’s face was serious. “You may want to sit down, Mr. Beaumont.”

  “Okay.” Blake sank onto the bed next to Sydney and motioned toward the chair for the detective to sit.

  “Mr. Stone has confessed to attempted murder.”

  Sydney’s chest tightened, her breaths growing shallow. “How long had he been planning it?”

  The detective pulled a small notepad from her pocket and scanned a page. “His wife left him three weeks ago, and he came to New Orleans looking for her. When he couldn’t find her, he took out his frustration on you, Mr. Beaumont. He stated his original intent was merely to scare you, to ‘teach you a lesson.’” She made air quotes with her fingers. “It escalated from there.”

  “Jesus Christ.” Blake slumped, and Sydney rubbed his back. “What else did he do?”

  “He admitted to killing a bird and leaving it on your doorstep, in addition to nearly hitting you with his car.”

  Sydney let out a slow breath. Poor bird.

  “You’re safe. He will remain in custody, as will Ms. Fontane.” The detective paused. “How are you related to her?”

  “She’s my cousin’s step-daughter.”

  Detective Mason nodded. “In addition to assault with a deadly weapon, her confession has led to charges of theft, vandalism, and breaking and entering. She’s been stalking both of you.”

  “My God.” Blake shifted on the bed toward Sydney. “I can’t believe we didn’t see this coming.”

  She pressed her lips together, trying to ignore the sting of his words. It was obvious from his expression that he meant he couldn’t believe they, as Claire’s friends, didn’t see it coming, but Sydney was a clairvoyant, for goodness’ sake. She should have seen it.

  Whatever the universe was thinking when it chose her to have this gift, she had been chosen. Her why me? attitude ended today. It was time she took control of her ability and learned how to harness her visions. “I think I need to make a standing appointment with Natasha,” she mumbled to herself.

  The detective cocked her head, narrowing her eyes. “Are you referring to Natasha Delandre?”

  Sydney pressed her lips together. She hadn’t meant to say that out loud. “She’s umm…been helping me learn to meditate.” She forced a smile, praying the detective wouldn’t press her further. The last thing she needed was the police officer in charge of the case questioning her sanity.

  Detective Mason nodded. “I know her well.” She turned to Blake. “We’re going to need access to your apartment and museum.” The detective swiped at her phone. “Are you still on St. Ann? That’s the maroon building with the paper in the windows, right?”

  Blake nodded. “Do you think she left evidence in the office? She didn’t have a key.”

  “She didn’t need one.” Detective Mason stood. “When can we expect you home, Mr. Beaumont? The sooner the better.”

  Blake squeezed Sydney’s hand tighter. “Not until Sydney is released.”

  “How long will that be?”

  The nurse in pink scrubs shuffled in carrying Sydney’s dress and a stack of paperwork. “You’re free to go, Ms. Sydney. I just need your signature on a few of these documents, and you’ll be all set.”

  “Give us an hour?” Blake said to the detective.

  “Sounds good.” Detective Mason gave a curt nod. “Ms. Park, we’ll be in touch.”

  Blake scanned the paperwork before Sydney signed it, not moving from his spot on the bed next to her. “You can stay with me tonight. For as many nights as you need to.”

  The nurse took the papers, leaving the release instructions on the table as she exited the room.

  Blake scooted closer to S
ydney on the bed, wrapping his arm around her waist and leaning his head on her pillow. “The first thing I’m going to do after this investigation is done is get the best security system I can find. With cameras. This situation never should have escalated this far.”

  “I’m going to visit the Voodoo priestess and really work to develop my ability. Curse or gift, whichever it is, I’ve got to learn how to use it properly.”

  “Neither of our abilities were very useful in this situation.”

  “Not until it was almost too late.” Her chest tightened, and now it was her turn for the tears. Since she woke up this morning, she’d been focusing on consoling Blake, making sure he didn’t shoulder all the blame. But she’d almost lost him too.

  A sob bubbled into her throat, spilling a tear down her cheek. “I feel so stupid. I’ve never been more angry with myself.”

  He wiped the tear away with his thumb and held her face in his hands. “I think all of this is going to take time to process. The important thing is we’re both alive and together now.”

  She nodded, swallowing the thickness from her throat. “And it’s for good this time. No matter what I see about the future, I’m yours.”

  “That’s all I’ve ever wanted. Let’s get you home.”

  Blake helped Sydney change into a pair of his sweatpants and a t-shirt before getting her situated on the couch. “I’ll run to your place in the morning to get you some clothes.”

  She lifted the shirt to her nose and inhaled deeply. “I kinda like wearing yours.”

  “They look good on you.” So good he was tempted to peel them off her and toss them on the floor. Cool it, horn dog. She was injured. There’d be plenty of time for those thoughts when she healed.

  With Sydney resting comfortably, he took a quick shower and changed into normal clothes before the detective knocked on his front door. He hurried down the stairs and invited her in.

  “I’d like to start at the back entrance,” Mason said. “That’s where she claims she got inside.”

  “Right.” He stepped onto the small porch and closed the door, locking it behind him. “It’s around this way.” He led her through a gate and into the back courtyard, past the fountain he’d be fixing for Sydney as soon as things settled down. “The door back here has an alarm, but it never went off.”

  “That’s because she never opened it.” Detective Mason knelt in front of the door, running her finger along the edge of the bottom right panel. As she pressed two fingers into the corner, the wooden slat popped loose. The entire thing came off, creating an opening in the door roughly two feet by eighteen inches, just big enough for a person to squeeze through.

  Exactly the way Claire had told him The Axeman broke into his victims’ homes. A shudder ran up his spine. “I’ll be damned.”

  The detective tried the knob. “Do you have the key?”

  “Yeah.” He pulled the ring from his pocket and opened the door.

  She led the way up the stairs, running her hand along the wall. “She said there was a hidden doorway that had been painted over?”

  “It’s through there.” He pointed down the tight passage leading back toward a shuttered window.

  Mason slipped through, and he followed, stopping beside her as she pressed her palms flat against the panel and closed her eyes. Her body swayed slightly, her deep inhalations and the way her eyes darted about beneath her closed lids seeming eerily similar to the way people had described him when he used his ability.

  She opened her eyes and shook her head. “She’s been using this entrance for months to watch you sleep.”

  He laid his hand on the squat door, allowing its energy to seep into his skin. Sure enough, an image of his cousin creeping through in the darkness flitted through his mind’s eye. “That’s…unsettling.”

  “May I?” She opened the panel and gestured inside.

  “Be my guest. It leads through a crawl space to my bedroom closet.” He followed her through the space as she again ran her hands along the walls.

  When they exited into his closet, she paused in the threshold to his bedroom, resting her hands on the door jamb. “She was infatuated in the beginning. You were like a savior to her.” She stepped into the room and touched his dresser. “Then you became an obsession. Ms. Park too.”

  “Is that what she told you, or are you reading her energy in the walls?”

  Her eyes widened briefly. “What do you mean?”

  He stepped toward her, lowering his voice. “I have that ability too. Psychometry? Is that what you’re doing?”

  She studied him, narrowing her eyes. “Something like that, yes. I spoke to Natasha about you both, which is the only reason I’m confiding in you.”

  He laughed. “Wow. I’ve never met anyone else who could do that.”

  “It comes in handy in my line of work.” She walked into the hallway toward the living room. “Though it’s sometimes hard to explain how I know things.”

  “I can imagine.” He followed her, and Sydney’s eyes fluttered open as he entered the room.

  She winced as she pushed to a sitting position. “Did I fall asleep or did you sneak in through the secret passageway?”

  He rushed to the sofa and knelt beside her. “We came in through the back. How are you doing? Can I get you anything?”

  “A pain pill and some water would be nice.”

  “You got it.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, letting out a breath of relief at the coolness of her skin.

  Detective Mason stopped in the kitchen and tilted her head. “Do you make a habit of leaving knives on the floor?” She stooped to pick up the same knife he’d found on his counter several times. The one he was certain he’d shoved into the drawer.

  “I assume that’s Claire’s doing. It was falling out of the block onto the counter, so I stuffed it in a drawer. She must have been messing with me.” He filled a glass with water and took a pain pill to Sydney in the living room.

  Detective Mason clutched the knife, closing her eyes and swaying.

  Sydney swallowed the pill and drained the glass. “Is she…?”

  “She can read energy.”

  “Wow.” She settled back on the pillow.

  “I know.”

  “I wonder how that kind of evidence works in court.”

  “I’m not sure it does.”

  Detective Mason’s lids flew open as she gasped. “Have you been experiencing any kind of…haunting?”

  Blake locked eyes with Sydney. “We have…”

  “You need to see this.” She held the knife handle toward him.

  Letting out a slow breath, he shuffled across the small living room into the kitchen. He needed to see it, but did he want to? Taking the cold steel into his palm, he wrapped his fingers around the handle and closed his eyes.

  His skin tingled where it touched the metal, and blurry images wavered in his mind before coming into focus. He saw himself cooking, and as he pushed further back, the manufacturing process came into view. Nothing unusual.

  He opened his eyes. “What am I looking for? All I see is the normal life of a kitchen knife.”

  The detective arched a brow. “You don’t feel the spirit energy?”

  “I can only feel energy the living have left behind.” He set the knife on the counter. “Ghosts aren’t my forte.”

  Her brow furrowed as she tugged on her bottom lip. “If you can read energy in objects, you should be able to read any energy attached to it. Try again, but look for a higher vibration. You should feel it buzzing around your senses.”

  “I’ve never been able to—”

  “Natasha wasn’t kidding about you two.” The detective put her hands on her hips. “A ghost left a message for you in that knife, Mr. Beaumont. Listen to it.”

  His nostrils flared as he blew out a frustrated breath and gripped the handle. Closing his eyes again, he focused on the energy in the object. Immediately, images of his own life since he purchased the knife flashed in his mind. Not helpful
.

  He let the scenes play out like a movie and expanded his perception. A faint, buzzing energy danced around the edges of his senses, but when he tried to latch on to it, it drifted further away. He clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth as he tried again to grab hold of the energy.

  “Relax your mind,” the detective said. “Let it come to you.”

  Inhaling a deep breath, he gave up the struggle and relaxed, letting the energy simmer and gently stroking it with his mind. It yielded, opening up to a gruesome sight. A woman with a tangled mass of short blonde hair reached a hand toward him. Blood oozed from an angry gash across her throat as she opened her mouth and forced out the word, “Air.” She looked exactly like the spirit Sean had described trying to come through in the museum weeks ago.

  The vision shifted, showing him scenes of Claire watching him from the shadows of his closet, following him on his date with Sydney, using his computer when he wasn’t in the office. He shuffled through the images and saw the ghost knocking the book from the shelf, shattering the necklace he’d given Claire, and finally a scene of the woman when she was alive, carrying a moving box to the trunk of a car, tears streaming down Claire’s cheeks as she begged her not to leave.

  He sucked in a sharp breath and dropped the knife on the counter. “Oh my God.”

  Sydney shuffled into the kitchen and lowered into a chair. “Who is it?”

  “It’s the other ghost Sean tried to communicate with. The one who couldn’t say anything but ‘air.’” He locked eyes with Sydney. “She was saying, ‘Claire.’”

  Detective Mason nodded. “I don’t know a lot about ghosts, but it probably took a lot of energy to infuse this much of a message into an object in a short amount of time.”

  “It’s Claire’s friend.” He sank into the seat next to Sydney, resting a hand on her knee. “She’s been trying to warn us the whole time.”

  “And we’ve been focusing on Bernadette.” Sydney covered his hand with hers and looked at the detective. “Now that her message has been received, will she move on?”

  Mason cut her gaze between them, as if sizing them up. “I don’t sense any spirits here, but I’m not a medium. If I had to guess, I’d say she’s either moved on already, or she’ll be sticking by Claire for a while. I can put you in contact with a medium if you want.”