The Incubus Impasse
A Charlie Rhodes Cozy Mystery Book Six
Amanda M. Lee
WinchesterShaw Publications
Copyright © 2019 by Amanda M. Lee
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Contents
Prologue
1. One
2. Two
3. Three
4. Four
5. Five
6. Six
7. Seven
8. Eight
9. Nine
10. Ten
11. Eleven
12. Twelve
13. Thirteen
14. Fourteen
15. Fifteen
16. Sixteen
17. Seventeen
18. Eighteen
19. Nineteen
20. Twenty
21. Twenty-One
22. Twenty-Two
23. Twenty-Three
24. Twenty-Four
25. Twenty-Five
26. Twenty-Six
27. Twenty-Seven
28. Twenty-Eight
29. Twenty-Nine
Mailing List
About the Author
Books by Amanda M. Lee
Prologue
Seven years ago
I was late.
That rarely happened to me.
Charlotte “Charlie” Rhodes was almost never late.
Sure, my parents had claimed I was scatterbrained and would forget my head if it wasn’t attached to my body, but I was a stickler for punctuality. I had no idea why. I didn’t get it from my mother. I was adopted, though, so that wasn’t all that surprising. My father loathed lateness to the point he complained bitterly about anyone who caused him to wait. Apparently it was learned behavior I’d picked up from him.
I didn’t make a conscious choice to ignore my curfew. I’d simply lost track of time. I was in the library and found a book about people who claimed to have telekinetic powers — like Carrie in that old Stephen King book — and I was curious about if there were any documented cases. The author was enthusiastic and held every story up as fact, but I was skeptical. Still, there were a few stories that rang true, and I’d managed to read the entire book before looking at the clock and realizing how late it was.
It was spring in Minnesota. The days were getting longer, but the sun still set long before eight. My curfew was ten on a school day — which this was — and I was already fifteen minutes late. My parents were undoubtedly worried, and I hated that.
My pace was brisk as I moved away from the shadow of the library and toward home. I had seven blocks to traverse and I was determined to erase the distance in as little time as possible. The sooner I got home, the better.
It wasn’t exactly cold — especially compared to the long winter we’d just escaped — but the wind was strong and I shivered as I tugged my coat tighter. Perhaps I’d given up my heavy parka too soon. Once fifty-degree days hit in the Midwest, residents couldn’t wait to embrace spring. I had switched to my spring coat right away.
That was probably a mistake.
I bent my head low and tried to ignore the biting wind. My cheeks were so frigid they felt as if they might actually chip away from my face if I accidentally brushed them too hard. All I could think about was the pot of tea my mother likely had brewing and the fuzzy pajama pants that I knew were waiting for me in my dresser.
I had to stop at an intersection and wait for the traffic to clear. It was the lone obstacle between me and home. Once on the other side, I tuned out the traffic — which was sparse this evening — and focused on the sidewalk ahead of me.
Five more blocks.
I was already imagining what my parents would say. Would they ground me? I’d been grounded before, but not in a long time. I tried to be a relatively diligent kid. After all, I was adopted. I didn’t want to give them a reason to return me to whatever adoption agency had put me in their care.
On the surface, I recognized that was a ridiculous thing to worry about. My parents had never hidden the fact that I was adopted. That probably had something to do with the fact that I was older when they took me into their home. At four, I should’ve been able to form some memory of the life I’d had before them.
But I didn’t. No matter how hard I tried to focus on that period of my life, I came up empty. My parents reassured me that the memories were probably still there. I’d simply tucked them away until I felt comfortable enough to access them. They’d been telling me that since I was old enough to voice my concern about the blank spot in my memory. I’d been eight at the time. I was a teenager now and nothing had changed. If there was anything to access, it remained cut off from me.
There’s a lot of fear associated with being adopted. Perhaps there shouldn’t be, but reality is different from what should be. My parents swore up and down that they loved me as if I’d come from them. My father insisted that they’d chosen me, which made our familial bond all the more strong. I believed that. Er, well, mostly. I still had nagging doubts in the back of my mind.
If one family thought I was too much trouble, not worth the effort, and abandoned me in the middle of the night, what would stop a second family from doing it? I hated myself for doubting the Rhodes. They’d given me their name and everything else I could’ve ever possibly needed, and yet I couldn’t stop myself from wondering.
My mother said that was normal. It’s human nature to wonder about where you came from, Charlie. You don’t have to hide it when you’re feeling vulnerable. She’d said that over and over and I believed her. That didn’t change the fact that I felt guilty about wondering. Why would I possibly care about people who abandoned me when the ones who took me in were so perfect?
It was something I struggled with.
Four more blocks.
The rain started. It was more than a gentle mist or light spatter. It was a deluge, almost as if the sky decided to open up and douse me simply because I’d been wondering about my past ... again. I grimaced as I steeled myself against the rain. Not much farther now. I would be warm and potentially in trouble within a few minutes. I welcomed the coming reprimand because at least I would be out of the rain. Besides, I was one of those kids who would punish myself under a blanket of guilt if my parents didn’t do it for me. That’s simply how I was wired.
Three more blocks.
I couldn’t see the house. Not yet. The lights on the main streets were ample. Those on the side streets were few and far between. I’d never really thought about it before because I wasn’t the sort of girl who struggled with fear ... at least not physical fear. I always rationalized that someone would have to be a complete and total idiot to approach me. I was stronger than the average teenager. My gifts were greater.
I thought about the book on telekinesis. That was me. I could’ve been included in the book. I could move things with my mind, drop signs from overhead on enemies and even break off tree branches to use as weapons if I needed to. I was careful to keep my abilities secret. They’d manifested at a young age. At the time, my parents had been confused, although they swore they weren’t afraid of me. I was afraid of myself, so I had trouble believing them. Ultimately it didn’t matter.
Through the years, my powers grew. I could see inside people’s heads, read their surface thoughts without even trying, and dig deep if there was something worth unearthing beneath mountains of guilt. My parents always warned me about
invading the privacy of others, and I took those admonishments to heart. Still, I grew stronger.
When it became apparent that I could really move things with my mind, my father insisted on trying to train me in the backyard. He waited until it was dark, when no one could see, and forced me to practice over and over. It was their true fear that I would lose my temper and inadvertently attack another student. I would regret it immediately, but if the damage was already done ... .
Two more blocks.
Over the years, my father had turned me into a lean, mean fighting machine. Those were his words and he laughed like a loon whenever he said them. Apparently they were from a movie or something.
I could protect myself, both mentally and physically. I could run two miles without breaking a sweat, and I was sharp in the face of untenable circumstances. He’d made me practice fighting him off, pretend he was a stranger trying to grab me. He’d drilled me should a stranger approach and say he or she was a member of my biological family. He made sure that I didn’t immediately try to cut them off as much as call him or my mother for backup.
I understood everything I was supposed to do in case I was attacked or approached by an unknown individual. I didn’t often feel fear. And yet, something had me slowing my pace now.
One more block.
I could see the house, every window illuminated. I knew my parents were waiting for me, anxiety probably coursing through them. Something inside wouldn’t allow me to run the final distance. I sensed trouble ... and it was close.
Slowly, I turned my eyes to the bushes crowding the sidewalk ahead. I was only about five feet from them. They were the square hedges that so many people use to hide their yards from the prying eyes of neighbors, which meant they were tall enough for someone to hide behind.
And that’s exactly what was happening now.
I had no idea how I knew it, but I did. I was no longer alone. Whoever hid behind the bushes waiting for me to pass so he or she — no, it was definitely a he — could jump out and attack.
Why? What was the motive here? Robbery? I had three bucks on me so that would be a fruitless effort. Rape? The notion sent a shiver down my spine, but I didn’t allow fear to crowd my heart. Something else? Ultimately, it didn’t matter. I wasn’t about to make myself a victim.
“You might as well come out,” I offered in a clear voice, my eyes never leaving the bushes. “I’m not walking past that spot.”
The declaration was met with silence for a beat, and then there was a distinctive rustling. I couldn’t immediately see who I was dealing with, but my heart skipped a beat when a hulking figure detached from the hedges and stepped onto the sidewalk in front of me.
“Hello, girlie.” The voice was a low growl. I probed his mind quickly. It didn’t take long because his surface thoughts were so shallow. What he wanted was filthy, disgusting, and so not going to happen. “Why don’t you come a little closer so I can get a good look at you? I won’t hurt you. I promise. I just want to look.”
My father didn’t raise me to fall for a line that weak. “I’m good here.” My hands clenched into fists at my sides as I risked a glance at the surrounding homes. The lights were on in most of the windows, but there were no silhouettes to signify that anyone was watching. That was good. I didn’t need help. I simply needed to make sure that no one saw what I was about to do.
I forced a tight smile. “You should probably go.” I decided to give him an escape hatch even though he clearly didn’t deserve it. “This isn’t going to go down like you think.”
“Is that so?” When he smiled, he displayed two rows of jagged and yellow teeth. He didn’t look homeless, but he obviously wasn’t keen on personal hygiene. “What makes you say that?”
“I already know how this is going to go.”
“Oh, yeah? How?”
I didn’t wait for him to move toward me. That would’ve put me in a vulnerable position despite my power because he was absolutely huge. If I had to guess, most of his girth was flab, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be able to take me to the ground if he got his hands on me. I weighed a hundred and twenty-five pounds soaking wet. Physically, I was the exact opposite of imposing. Mentally, I could run laps around him.
The magic was already bubbling when I tapped into it. I didn’t think before unleashing it, instead going with my initial instinct ... which was to physically hurt him. The magical wave — which he obviously couldn’t see — hit him hard ... right in the face.
He reared back, his eyes going wide as he looked in every direction, panic evident. I hadn’t as much as twitched during the attack. I remained rooted to my spot. It must’ve felt as if an invisible being had slapped him across the face. It was only the opening volley, a warning of sorts. He could still run.
I wasn’t surprised when he didn’t. “What was that?” His voice dripped with menace.
“I have no idea,” I lied blandly. “Perhaps you should go that way and find out.” I pointed in the direction of the busy highway I had crossed earlier. “You’re better off leaving.”
“I’m not leaving.” Determination etched across his stubbled face as he took another step toward me.
This time I reacted with enough force to level him. The magic I unleashed was a fiery pulse. It escaped from my fingertips and slammed directly into his chest. His eyes went wide at the impact, and for a second it looked as if he was going to turn in the other direction and run, but he continued moving forward.
The magic I enlisted was a trap of sorts and it wrapped around him like fiery razor wire. He made a guttural sound as the net tightened, wrapping around his neck and causing him to gasp as he struggled against the sudden change.
“What is this?” His hands moved to his neck as he tried to remove the barrier constricting his breathing, something he couldn’t even see. “I ... what are you doing?”
“I told you to leave me alone.” I was matter-of-fact as I stepped around him, giving him a wide berth as he dropped to his knees. The sounds he made were disturbing, but not nearly as bothersome as the images I’d gleaned from his mind. “You should’ve listened.”
“Help me.” He moved his hands from his neck to his chest and clutched at it, as if having a heart attack. “Stop. You can’t just leave me here.”
My mind was already back on what I would tell my parents about missing curfew. I was unlikely to mention this incident because it would only make them worry. Instead, I would simply accept my lumps, take whatever grounding they handed out, and call it a day.
“You’d be surprised at what I can do,” I shot back. “Don’t worry. You’re not going to die. You will be trapped there until the cops show up. I’ll make sure that happens before dawn.”
“Come back,” he growled, flopping like a fish on the sidewalk as he tried to regain his footing. “I’m going to kill you.”
“And you wonder why I don’t want to help you.”
“I’ll make you pay.”
“That’s unlikely. But if you manage to come around again, just remember that I can make things even worse for you.” As if to prove my point, I tightened the net on his nether regions and cringed as he screamed. There would be no explaining that noise if the neighbors decided to look out their windows. It was time for me to go. “Stay away,” I warned. “You’ll regret it if you don’t.”
“I will find you. Kill you.” His voice was ragged. “Gut you.”
“I look forward to the attempt. You have a nice night now.”
I didn’t laugh as I turned up my sidewalk. This was hardly a funny situation, but victory was, of course, sweet. I would have to keep that to myself. Some things were better left secret, and this was one of them.
One
Present Day
“What am I thinking?”
Jack Hanson, my boyfriend and co-worker, was the persistent sort. That’s why, two weeks after the horrifying truth about my magical abilities came out he was still trying to get a handle on what I could do.
I wa
s starting to tire of the game but appreciated his enthusiasm.
“You’re thinking that we should go out and get something to eat,” I replied after a beat. No, I didn’t actually take the time to read his mind. His stomach was growling in time with mine and we’d accidentally skipped lunch.
“I was thinking that.” Jack’s expression was hard to read. “How did you know?”
I wanted to shake him. With that shoulder-length black hair and those mesmerizing eyes it wasn’t really an option. He was too handsome to scream at.
Besides, he’d been nothing but great since he found out about my secret. Ever since we returned from New Orleans — after an initial few days of reticence and awkwardness, of course — he’d bent over backward to give me what I needed without pressuring me. It was only in the last two days he’d found the courage to start pushing me on what I could do. I was so relieved things were going back to normal that I didn’t want to risk ruining our progress, so shaking him until he stopped speaking was out of the question.
“Jack, we were both thinking it,” I offered pragmatically. “We haven’t eaten since this morning.”
He narrowed his eyes, speculative. “So ... basically you’re saying you deduced what I was thinking rather than read me. That’s not how this is supposed to work, Charlie.”
I held back a sigh ... but just barely. He was trying so hard to ingratiate himself into my world that I couldn’t slap him back. Part of me wished he would continue giving me space and not push so hard, give me some time to come to grips with the knowledge that he was in on the big secret. I was psychic, telekinetic and any number of other things. He was a non-believer at heart, so I was terrified he would run when he learned the truth. On the contrary, though, he held fast. He was obviously stunned, needed some time to absorb what had happened, but even from the first moments in the immediate aftermath there was no dissuading him.
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