by Dale Mayer
A note of humor filled Stefan’s voice. Yeah, so any idea what that yellowy-orange is?
No clue, he said.
Can you lean up and over her a little bit to take a better look?
It’s all over her.
You mean, all across the torso and or all the way up and down?
Or it’s just like between her and me.
So, now look down at yourself, Stefan said, that same humorous tone in his voice that made Richard frown.
Yeah, it’s all over me too, he said. What the hell? Is this dangerous?
No, not at all, he said. That’s your energy.
Richard froze. What are you talking about? he asked, his voice harsh. I would never do anything to hurt her.
That’s exactly right, Stefan said gently. That orange energy isn’t trying to hurt her, though is it trying to protect her. It’s fading up and down over her body, but mostly from her hip bones to her neck, correct?
Yes, he said, but it’s also on me too.
That’s because you’re trying to protect her, he said. You’re also trying to create a relationship with her, one that will stand the test of time. So that orange energy is both of you playing that relationship dance, both of you putting out the same energy to see if you can meet, mingle, and be special to each other.
Does that happen with every relationship? he asked in shock.
Looking at your misspent youth? Stefan asked.
Maybe, he admitted. It wasn’t that misspent, but it certainly makes me wonder.
But, in most cases, when you break up with somebody, that orange energy fades. And it appears only if you really, really care and have developed that shared energy system.
This has developed faster than I had expected, he said.
Because it’s coming from the heart, Stefan said. You weren’t trying to have a hop-in-bed relationship quickly with her. You care about her. And that’s where the relationship has started.
Right, he said, so it’s completely different this time.
Exactly.
It was all too much information to absorb.
The black energy is reaching for me or toward me, he said, shaking his head and sitting up in the bed. The black energy immediately slid backward. If I move toward it, it retreats.
You can see it clearly?
Yes, it’s much darker. It’s not hazy or faded, like the other colors. It’s crisp, kind of like the gold that I saw that I helped make smooth.
Interesting. When you look at it, do you get a sense about what it is, who it is?
Is it a who?
It’s absolutely a who, Stefan said.
No, I just get this malevolence from it. I want it off her ankle, he stopped. It’s like a ball and chain around her.
Yes, often energy like that finds a part of the body that’s weak. Do you know if she has a weakness?
Like old injuries? I have no clue, he said. I’ll ask her when she wakes up.
I think that energy has probably been there for a long time, Stefan said. So that’ll be a little bit of an issue for you.
I don’t even know much about her history.
I’m pretty sure you can look that up in your files, Stefan said mildly.
He sank back down in the bed. Do these energies hurt her right now?
No, Stefan said. She’s been living with most of them for a long time.
Jesus, he said. Does everybody have this?
Yes, he said cheerfully, to one extent or another. Not necessarily bad. We keep friends and family close, so what you’ll end up finding is that lots of people the world over have energy from those who they care about. When you have somebody who hates you or somebody who is envious of you or somebody who wants something of you, it becomes a different kind of energy.
That black?
Yes, Stefan said. When you move toward it and when you reach up a hand to her ankle, what does it do?
Steadily he stared at the malevolent force that had suddenly appeared clearer to him. It’s retreating.
Put your hand over where her ankle is. Does she have covers on?
Yes, he said. It’s sliding to the other ankle.
The question is, does it leave?
It’s getting very, very thin, he said. It hasn’t disappeared, but it’s very, very thin.
Reach out and touch it, Stefan said, curiously. Tell me what it feels like, and be very aware of any images that flash in your mind.
That stopped Richard in his tracks for a moment, and then determinedly he reached out and grabbed for the black tendril around her ankle. I don’t get anything but cold, he said in astonishment. It’s really, really cold.
That’s fairly common too, Stefan said. Now what you need to do is get a feel for that energy there. See if you can recognize who it is when you meet the person again.
Meet the person again? he asked, hating that all this was happening in the middle of woo-woo land, and nobody was here to confirm that it was happening at all. He had never felt so alone.
And yet you aren’t alone at all, Stefan said. I’m here.
That’s not exactly reassuring, Richard said in a dry tone. How do I do that recognizing part?
Pull your hand back and then slowly reach it out, as if you’re being absorbed into it or as if you’re taking a piece of it for yourself.
Do I want to?
If you want to find out who it is who’s targeting her, yes.
Again he froze. Are you saying that black energy is my killer?
No, I can’t guarantee you that, Stefan said. But it is connected to an old case of mine and it’s obviously not a good, positive energy for her.
Right. So regardless of whether it’s part of this current nightmare, it’s not something we want to have there.
So reach out, sink into that little bit of energy, he said, and try to sense what it is, who it is, male/female, old/young, angry/dark.
Okay, here goes. He reached out a hand, closed his eyes, and mentally saw himself sinking into this black energy. Immediately he was caught up in a vortex. Anger, pain, and frustration swirled all around him. Jesus, he murmured.
Remember. I can’t see it, Stefan said, so tell me what you feel.
Anger, frustration, pain, mostly frustration though. He wants something from her, and he can’t get it.
Right, Stefan said. Can you figure out what that is?
No, Richard said. He quickly dropped the energy. Jesus, it feels dirty, like I want to get up and have a shower right now.
And you can bet it gives her an icky feeling every single day of her life. It’s probably been there for a fairly long time.
And she wouldn’t have noticed?
Have you noticed that it’s now around your ankle?
Richard stared down and swore. He reached down with both hands, ripping it off, tossing it to the ground.
Rather than tossing it to the ground, Stefan said, wrap it up in white light.
He immediately threw a white blanket on it, tucked it up in his mind, and said, Well, now that I have a blanket with this bloody black energy, what do I do with it?
Don’t give it back to her. You’ve already got that imagery, so send it out the window. Send it back to its owner.
He got out of bed, needing the visual of the window, and going over, opened up the window, and then ordered the energy out the window and back to the owner.
Now what would be an interesting test right now, Stefan said, is to watch where that blanket goes.
He froze. You’re telling me this image and this conversation I’m having with you could lead to the person who put that black energy around her ankle?
Stefan chuckled. Absolutely.
He watched as this figment of his imagination sailed across the city, heading over toward the far north, where the Olympic Coast was. You know how bizarre this is? he asked.
Stefan chuckled. Most of my world is bizarre, he said. I use all kinds of methods to find serial killers and pedophiles, all the sludge of the earth. But more than th
at, we have people who can use energy to help us.
The criminals also use energy to help them find all this?
Yes, Stefan said. Think about it. If they had the ability to slide under a door, unlock a door, and get into where somebody was sleeping, how would you feel as a cop?
As the women who are likely the targets, very violated, he said. How come we never hear about this?
Because you don’t want to, Stefan said simply. It’s bad enough that I have to deal with it, and I step in when the cops can’t do something. Sometimes I can’t do anything. Sometimes I can’t help at all. Those cases are when I get very frustrated. I put all my time and effort into connecting with a killer or pedophile, and I can’t find him. Those are the cases that drive me nuts. It’s also why I don’t have a 100 percent record. And why some cops don’t believe in me. But, when I do find the criminals, and I do bring them down, it’s a satisfaction that’s hard to explain.
No, not at all, Richard said quietly. Because that’s what I do all the time.
Imagine if you were doing that, Stefan said, but on an energy level as well.
So, can I use any of this in my day-to-day work?
Absolutely, he said. If nothing else, it helps you to understand your suspects and your witnesses.
By looking at the energy on their system?
Absolutely.
Like the gold and the red?
Yes, Stefan said. And often, with battered women, you’ll see a lot of black. Their partners will often have tentacles that go deep into their chakras, and they’re so emotionally frozen and paralyzed by the abuse that they can’t get out of their relationship. It’s only when they’re severed by death that the women are freed.
God, that seems like a jail cell.
Well, isn’t it? Look at that black energy from Cayce’s ankle. The bottom line is, there’s a reason that’s around the ankle. It’s exactly like a ball and chain.
Richard turned to look at Cayce still in bed. She looks more at peace.
That’s the black darkness that you pulled from her brain. Her fears, her thoughts, her worries about her other models.
Right, to be expected. He walked back over, crawled into bed, and said, Now what?
Now, Stefan said with a smile, you get to sleep.
And, just like that, he disappeared from Richard’s mind. With a smile on his face, Richard wrapped an arm around Cayce’s waist, tucked her up closer, listening. Immediately she snuggled backward, until they were spooning from knee to chest, and, with that same smile on his face, he fell asleep.
*
“It wasn’t working. It’s never working.”
“Forget about it,” she said in a firm voice.
He glared at her.
She shook her head. “Stop. This will just drive you crazy.”
“I’m already crazy,” he said.
“I don’t want you to think that your talent is gone,” she said. “I just don’t feel like you’re in the right space.”
“Is that how you view it? As my talent being gone?” He slowly straightened and stared at her in full awareness.
She shook her head immediately. “Of course not. I don’t know that this medium is the right one for you now.” She walked back into the kitchen, put on coffee, and said, “Come on. Let’s have a cup of coffee and sit down and relax.”
He wasn’t sure if she was mollifying him or what, but it was pissing him off. He strode into the kitchen. “Do you believe my talent is gone?” he snapped.
She stared at him, turned her back as she ground up the coffee beans, and said, “As I’ve told you time and time again, no.”
He grabbed her shoulders, spun her around roughly, and pinned her against the counter. “Say it,” he said. “Say it.”
“No,” she said. “I won’t say it. I’m not getting sucked into that.”
“What’s wrong with me?” he asked, sinking down on the nearest kitchen chair. She didn’t say anything, and he wished she would. He wished she would fight back. He wished that she would do something.
She brought the coffee over to the table and nudged a cup in front of him. “Enjoy your coffee,” she said.
He lifted his head and stared at her. “I told you that I love you, right?”
She gave him the ghost of a smile. “I love you too,” she admitted. “I’m just not sure I can live with you anymore though.”
He stared at her in horror. “Please don’t leave me,” he cried out. “Dear God, please don’t leave me.”
“It’s not what I want to do,” she said, “but your frustration is driving me batty. It’s making you much more aggressive and much more unpleasant to be around.”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry.” He reached across the table and grabbed her hands. “Please, don’t leave me. Nobody else understands.”
She gripped his fingers and said, “I know that.” She squeezed his fingers. “But either I walk away from this, or you find another way to make that outlet happen because I can’t keep doing this.”
“Nobody else understands,” he kept whispering. “I’m a different person than everybody else.”
“Of course you are,” she said, “because you don’t dare let them see that you feel like you’re a failure.”
“No, I don’t let them see. I can’t let them see. They would never, never let me keep doing the work I’m doing,” he said.
“Of course not,” said this woman, who was the most special person to him, reaching out and gripping his fingers again. “But you’re telling yourself that you’re a failure constantly,” she said, “and that’s really hard for me to keep rebutting. You won’t listen to me, and you won’t listen to yourself. Who will you listen to?”
They both looked at each other, and the word came out immediately. “Cayce.”
Chapter 17
Waking up as Cayce was, warm, cozy, and being cuddled, was not what she expected. Her eyes flew open when she realized somebody was in bed with her. Richard’s electric blue eyes met hers.
“Oh, my God,” she said.
He leaned a little bit closer, kissed her on the tip of her nose, and asked, “Did you sleep well?”
She slowly sat up, stretched her arms over her head, while she tried to collect her wits, and nodded. “You know what? I think I did.” She frowned. “I hate to think it’s because you were here, but I feel pretty decent.”
“Perfect,” he said. “Do you mind if I have a shower?”
She nodded right away as he got up and strode from her bedroom in just his boxers, heading over to the room she’d unsuccessfully assigned him to last night. He was so nonchalant, so casual, about his heavily muscled body. Not a bodybuilder’s body, but the body of a working man. Just a little bit of extra skin around his waistline made him all the more endearing.
When he came back twenty minutes later fully dressed, he raised an eyebrow. “You staying in bed all day?”
She gave him a lazy smile. “I’m pretty sure you gave me orders to not go to work today.”
“Absolutely I did,” he said with an approving smile. “But I hadn’t really expected you to stay in bed.”
“Well, maybe I will,” she said. It was starting to sound like the best idea yet.
“That’s fine,” he said. “I’ll go see what there is to make for breakfast.”
“Delivery service?” she said in a cheeky tone.
He turned, flashed her a bright smile, and said, “Oh, I don’t think so. Maybe a cup of coffee to get you going, but for breakfast? You’ll have to come downstairs.”
She pouted, loving the interplay between the two of them. “Well, you get the coffee going,” she said. “I’ll jump into the shower.”
“Perfect,” he said, as he headed downstairs.
As soon as he was gone, hearing his footsteps running down to the first floor, she hopped out of bed with a laugh. She didn’t know why she felt so good, but she did. She twirled around in place, then danced her way to the shower. As soo
n as she stepped under the hot water, she worked on her hair, wondering if she should get it cut super-super short, so it’d be that much easier to keep clean of paint, then decided she loved her long blond tresses and didn’t dare part with them. She shampooed and conditioned her hair, then worked her body over with a loofah sponge from top to bottom. When she was finally done, she stepped out into her bedroom with her robe on, seeing him standing there, holding a cup of coffee.
He made a bow in front of her and said, “Ma’am, your coffee.” He walked over and put it on the night table. “Bring it down with you. Five minutes until breakfast.” And, with that, he disappeared.
She stared at the empty doorway in amazement. Then she walked over to her closet, figuring out what she wanted to wear. If she was staying home, she wanted to be cozy. She pulled on leggings and a nice soft tunic. Skipping socks and shoes or heels, she picked up her coffee, took a sip. Then she stepped back into her bathroom to run a brush through her hair, quickly turned the wet strands into a braid, popped an elastic at the end of it, and curled it around her shoulder. She picked up her coffee and walked downstairs.
As she walked into the kitchen, she lifted her nose. “I don’t know what you’re cooking, but it smells delicious.”
“Good,” he said. “You want to set the table?”
She looked over at her little table, nodded. She put her coffee down there and quickly brought over knives, forks, and juice glasses.
As she walked to the stove, he said, “With that braid, you look about eighteen.”
“Well, that’s a number I’ll never see again,” she said.
“Would you really want to?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Eighteen wasn’t a good year for me.”
“Is that when Elena returned the favor?”
She froze, turned to look at him. “I did mention that, didn’t I?”
He nodded slowly.
She smiled. “Yes. That’s when Elena returned the favor.”
“I’m sorry you lost her,” he said, in the softest of tones.
Her smile turned sad. “I am too,” she said. “But I also have to remember that we had the time that we did, and that’s got to be worth a lot too. And I’m really, really happy that I got the chance to know her.”