Paranormal Talent Agency Episodes 4-6

by Heather Silvio

  “How’s that our fault?”

  “I’m trying to save my husband and children,” she raged.

  That threw me. “Oh.”

  “Oh? That’s it.”

  Indecision wracked me for a moment. “We’ve been told that your timeline isn’t set. Stopping progress won’t have the outcome you want.” If only I was as confident as I sounded.

  Rowan threw up her hands. “If this is the way you want it to be.”

  “Wait,” Mia interjected. “What does that mean?”

  “What are you planning on doing?” Catherine asked.

  “I gave you the opportunity to make the right decision—”

  “According to you,” I interrupted. She clenched her fists and I smiled. I never did learn when to back down, or when not to poke the beast.

  Rowan appeared confused. “The timeline started to…” She stopped and stared again.

  “Started to what?” I asked.

  “It doesn’t matter. I need to know right now whether or not you are continuing the investigation,” she demanded.

  Her tone rankled. “I’ll take the risk to my life.”

  “You refuse to stop?”

  “As I said before, I refuse to back down. I am a journalist,” I declared, a bit pompously, truth be told. “Threats will never stop me.” I sensed movement and glanced to my side in time to catch the end of Mia’s eye roll.

  Rowan lifted her hands above her and closed her eyes. I exchanged uneasy glances with Catherine, Mia, and Tony.

  “What is she doing?” Tony asked.

  “I don’t know,” I admitted, bracing myself for what would be coming. Whatever that was.

  The tips of Rowan’s fingers crackled with energy. She swung around, directing this energy to the café bar. What looked like red lightning jumped from her fingertips to shatter the glass cases. I flinched, throwing my hands up in front of my face, even though the glass would likely never fly that far. The scent of ozone filled the air.

  Rowan flickered in and out, like an image being turned off and on, as she became increasingly translucent.

  “She’s using up her energy,” Mia shouted.

  Rowan solidified and turned toward Mia.

  “Not fast enough,” I responded.

  Rowan’s eyes were lit up from behind, like a candle had been lit inside her skull. She lifted her hands toward the ceiling again. That red energy moved across her fingertips.

  “Behind the booth,” Tony shouted, and we flung ourselves in that direction. Rowan lowered her hands toward us. Red lightning arced from her. The booth’s table fractured and tendrils of smoke rose where the wood burned.

  I met Catherine’s wide eyes on the other side of the booth. We were smushed up against the bottom of the booth’s seats, trying to stay out of the line of fire. “It’ll be okay,” I yelled to her.

  “No, it won’t,” Rowan roared. She’d stepped closer and stood mere feet from where we cowered.

  Energy flowed nearby, drawing my attention. A glance at Catherine and my jaw dropped open. Her eyes looked like Rowan’s, lit up from behind. She faded in and out, becoming translucent and then opaque.

  “What the—”

  Rowan’s cry cut off my words. “You will stop or you will die!” Flickering in and out like a flashlight with a dying battery, probably an accurate analogy, she shot off one last stream of lightning. The energy landed where Catherine was. My heart leapt into my throat – until I realized I could see through the talent agent. Her eyes closed.

  “Catherine!” I yelled.

  Silence filled the café. That scent of ozone crowded out all other smells. Rowan was gone. Catherine had solidified again and lay curled on her side next to a large splintered piece of the table. Tony rose from the behind the booth’s back, assisting Mia up. She had a nasty bruise forming over her right eye.

  I scuttled forward to grab Catherine. I tilted her head up, heaved a sigh of relief when I saw she was breathing. “Catherine? Can you hear me?”

  Tony and Mia stumbled around the remains of the booth and joined me beside Catherine.

  “Is she okay?” Mia asked.

  “Catherine,” I repeated. “Can you hear me?”

  “Wha—” she mumbled, then stopped. Her eyes fluttered open. “Is everybody okay?” she rasped out.

  “Thankfully, yes,” Mia answered.

  Tony helped Catherine to her feet. Mia and I followed them to a couple of two-top tables. The café had emptied during the attack. That seemed for the best; no collateral damage.

  The four of us collapsed into chairs and stared at each. “That was exciting,” I said with a crooked smile.

  Mia laughed, as always sounding like tinkling bells. Tony shook his head, but I saw the corners of his eyes crinkle with a half-smile.

  Catherine still looked shell-shocked. “I thought you had three days. Rowan attacked us.”

  “Yes,” I confirmed.

  She stared at me. “You have to stop the investigation.”

  “No.”

  “Catherine’s right,” Tony argued.

  “No.”

  “Is there anything we can say to change your mind?” Mia questioned.

  “No.”

  “What if I refuse to cooperate?”

  “It wouldn’t matter, Catherine,” I answered softly. “Based on everything we’ve seen and heard, although my head wants to explode thinking about it, there are multiple possible timelines, and the archangel says we shouldn’t stray from the path.” I shook my head to stop any of them from interrupting. “Besides, now we have an even bigger question to answer. Though I suppose it’s just an offshoot of the original investigation,” I mumbled, more to myself than to them.

  “What bigger question could there be besides determining Catherine’s role in all of this?” Mia asked.

  I placed my hands palms-down on the table, sliding my fingers back and forth for a moment, before stilling. “Did anyone besides me see Catherine phase in and out? Just like the ghost.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “What are you talking about, Liz? I didn’t phase in and out of anything,” Catherine protested. She looked at Tony and Mia for support.

  “We were behind the booth,” Mia admitted, “so we didn’t see anything.”

  “What do you mean, she phased in and out like the ghost?” Tony asked me.

  “Did you guys see Rowan phasing in and out?” I asked in response.

  Mia nodded and Tony answered, “She flickered, yes.”

  “And you saw the way her eyes lit up?” They nodded. “That’s what Catherine did too.”

  Catherine shook her head. “No, there’s no way.”

  “How did you feel during the attack?” I asked.

  Catherine suddenly became interested in her cuticles. “I don’t know.”

  “Yes, you do,” I pressured.

  She gripped the side of the chair and looked between the three of us. “Okay, I felt weird.”

  “Weird in what way?” I pushed more.

  Catherine frowned. “I can’t describe it too much more than that.” She brightened. “Actually, that’s not true. My eyes felt hot. Burning. Sounds and smells faded in and out.”

  “That would make sense,” I said, thinking it through.

  “What would?” Mia asked.

  “The light from her eyes, whatever it is, must be some form of energy; thus, accounting for the burning sensation. And, the flickering… if Catherine was phasing in and out of our timeline—” I held up a hand to forestall questions I couldn’t answer. “—which is only a guess, then it’s logical that her senses would do the same.”

  Catherine snorted. “Logical. As if any of this could be called that.”

  I laughed. “No doubt.” I sobered quickly. “But I don’t think I’m wrong. I think Catherine phased in and out of our timeline, our existence, whatever you want to call it.”

  Catherine had gone an unhealthy shad
e of white. “What does that mean?”

  “I have no idea. Except that there isn’t any chance, in this timeline or any others, that I’m stopping the investigation now. Not when it’s gotten so interesting.”

  Mia rolled her eyes again; she really needed to stop doing that. I wondered what it was about me that seemed to trigger it. I focused on her when I realized she was talking. “—support Liz.”

  “Wait, did you just say that you support me?”

  “Yes, Liz.” She smiled at me and then turned a half-frown at Catherine. “I don’t understand why you’re so important. But, you’re clearly more than an empath. And, regardless of the concerns that Rowan has expressed… and trust me, I have my own concerns about the future repercussions… the bottom line is I agree with Liz that we need to help you figure out who—”

  “Or what,” Catherine corrected with a one-shoulder shrug.

  Mia nodded. “—or what you are.”

  Tony sighed. “I’m not happy lives are at risk.” He met my gaze. The frank fear there startled me. “But I agree with Liz and Mia. Catherine, you need to figure this out. And, Liz is right that you don’t know that not taking action will help the timeline. Plus, the archangel said to keep going.”

  Catherine held up her hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, you’ve convinced me. What do we do first?”

  “Mia has professional engagements, so she’s out,” I said.

  “I can get coverage if you guys need my help,” Mia offered. “I’d hate for you to be short-handed.”

  Catherine patted her on the arm. “That’s not necessary. You and Liz got the serial killing genie. Now it’s my turn.”

  “And, Tony is going to need to repair the damage to his café, so he’ll be a less active partner, too,” I continued. “Sorry about that, by the way.” He shook his head with a laugh and reached out to squeeze my hand resting on the table. My eyes widened at the tingle his touch elicited; he smiled wolfishly in response.

  “You’ll make it up to me,” he replied.

  “Mmm, okay,” I mumbled. Mia bit back a laugh and glanced knowingly in my direction. My face flushed and I broke eye contact with Tony. We could deal with our attraction later.

  “In all seriousness, though, if you need any help, please ask,” he added.

  “We will,” Catherine assured him.

  “That leaves me and Catherine,” I concluded. “Which is fine. I have several ideas.”

  “They are…?” Catherine prompted.

  “Tomorrow morning, on-air, we launch the investigation.”

  “Shouldn’t we discuss your plans first?” Catherine asked.

  “And give you a chance to try to talk me out of it? Not at all.”

  “Fair enough,” Catherine said.

  “What are you planning to say?” Mia asked.

  I smiled a Cheshire-cat grin. “You’ll have to tune in to find out.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “Okay, spill it,” Marilyn ordered. She narrowed her purple eyes (contacts, I always assumed) at me when she delivered the request.

  “What do you mean?” I asked, failing, I’m sure, to maintain an innocent air.

  “Close your eyes.”

  I obeyed, and her voice moved closer when she leaned in to work. A brush feathered shadow across one eyelid and then the other. “What story are you doing this morning that they bumped your original story?”

  “You’ll get to see soon, along with everyone else,” I teased her, careful not to move, lest she draw a line across my face. Her tsk-tsk at my failure to enlighten her elicited a chuckle.

  “Open your eyes.”

  I complied, and she cemented my face into place.

  Marilyn sighed. “Okay, you’re done. Pain in my butt.” She glared a final moment, but a wink belied the words and tone. She ran a hand through her spiky platinum blond hair before turning to leave. “This better be worth it.”

  “It will be,” I called after her. In truth, nerves fluttered more than I was letting on. While it was true I had joined Mia last year in tracking down a serial killer who had turned out to be a deadly supernatural being, I personally had never been targeted before. It unnerved me to know that Rowan directed her threat at me. Of course, I still didn’t even know if she meant she’d kill me, or if my death would be a consequence of continuing the investigation.

  I furrowed my brow and watched the brunette in the mirror mimic me. I smiled, pleased that my lipstick was even and no stains appeared on my front teeth. I stood, smoothing one hand down my bright pink sheath and the other down a single short flyaway curl.

  A head appeared in the doorway of my dressing room. She opened her mouth but stopped when she saw me.

  “I’m on my way,” I informed the production assistant. She nodded and her head withdrew. A final glance at my flawless appearance in the mirror, a reminder to the butterflies in my stomach that this would be helpful, and an exaggerated wink at the newscaster in the mirror. It was show time.

  “Good morning in the Valley,” I greeted viewers to my morning show, Entertainment Daily. “Thank you for spending your morning with us.” I perched on a cushy blue chair, legs crossed at the ankles, knees kept together. Demure, yet with my pink stiletto heels, sexy. I loved this combination. The camera closest to me lowered into position and I allowed my smile to slip.

  “This morning we start with a story that isn’t uplifting and fun, that isn’t so positive.” I took a deep breath. “Yesterday, a supernatural being told me I would die in three days.” I ignored the gasps I heard from the production staff; this was partly why I didn’t tell anybody ahead of time what I would be saying. It was a good thing I had such a strong relationship with our producer. I shifted toward another camera. Needlessly dramatic, to be honest, but the public expected it.

  “Today is Day Two.” Continuing to ignore additional gasps and whispered comments, I explained to the viewers about Rowan’s visit to Soprannaturale, though I chose not to name the café. This next part would be trickiest; to ask for assistance without throwing a spotlight on Catherine. I didn’t care about it being on me. Heck, as a media personality, I loved it. But as it stood, she barely agreed to this investigation.

  “According to this time-traveling ghost, I’m slated to die tomorrow. Not if I can help it,” I assured my viewers, pleased to hear the steel in my voice.

  “Today I ask you for help. There is a woman in town. She is human, but with supernatural abilities. Possibly much more than she ever thought. I am seeking additional information about her.” I held up a hand. “Before anyone asks, I’m not divulging her name. Now, I can practically hear some of you asking, How do I know if I know anything about her if I don’t know her name?” I smiled and nodded. “Trust me, she’s impacting the supernatural energy in Las Vegas. If you have sensed something, seen something, whatever, please get in touch with me. My email is below on the screen, or you can go to our website to access it there. I’m just a human, asking the supernatural world for help. Help me help this woman, and maybe save my life in the process. Thank you.” I gave a final smile without showing teeth and waited for the director to indicate the live feed stopped.

  I stood, wavered slightly, reached a hand out to steady myself. A blur of well-wishes reached my ears. I nodded in response to words I wasn’t truly hearing during the walk back to my office. The ringing of the telephone greeted me before I had taken a seat behind my utilitarian desk. I kept my gaze on my desk, for the first time wishing I didn’t have floor-to-ceiling glass surrounding my office. Today it felt way too much like a fishbowl. A different ring cut through the office phone ring. I snatched my cell out of my top drawer.

  “Elizabeth Addison,” I identified myself when I didn’t recognize the number, though it was a Vegas area code.

  “Liz?”

  I recognized the voice. “Robin?” She and I hadn’t had the best relationship, but in the last month or so, she’d broken her blood vow as a demon’s minion and
rediscovered her witch’s magic. She could be a powerful ally – and source of information.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Blood thrummed through my body and my heart rate beat a fast pitter-patter. But this was excitement, not nervousness. Catherine and I were about to have an audience with the Witches Council.

  Did they call it an audience? My knowledge of protocol was sorely lacking. Good thing Robin had issued the invitation.

  The witch stood beside us outside the large, squat, metal-gray building off of Industrial Road. She pulled on the end of her brunette ponytail, her brown eyes staring straight ahead.

  “Are you ready?” Robin pulled the door open before we even answered her question.

  “Yes,” I answered anyway. Catherine didn’t move. I tugged on her arm. “Hey, are you coming?”

  She fixed her unfocused expression on me.

  “Is everything okay?” I mean, she was somehow connected to the possible deaths of untold people in the future. But still. This seemed different.

  Catherine offered a low wattage smile. “I’m coming.”

  Robin led us across the linoleum floor, past several hard, plastic chairs, to an unassuming door at the back wall. She rapped her knuckles three times. Within seconds, the door opened to reveal a stunning redhead with a big smile and brown eyes. She enveloped Robin in a hug before addressing me and Catherine.

  “Hi, Elizabeth, I’m Jessica. I recognize you from your show,” Jessica gushed.

  “Call me Liz,” I responded.

  “Liz. And you must be Catherine.”

  Catherine nodded though stayed silent.

  “Thank you so much for agreeing to see us,” I said. “It seemed your area of expertise.”

  “When we saw your broadcast…” Her smile faltered. “Anything we can do to help you both.” She turned, calling over her shoulder. “Please, follow me.”

  Robin, Catherine, and I followed Jessica down a short hallway. She knocked twice on a door on the left, then eased it open for us to enter.

  I gasped at the antique wall sconces and silvery wallpaper that reflected the light.