Gypsy Hunted: a psychic paranormal book with a touch of romance (The Gypsy Medium Series 1)

by Andrea Drew

  I swung the knob hard to the right. I was rewarded with his agony, the deep voiced animal cry bouncing around the corners and ceiling.

  “That was for my niece, remember her? You followed her home, you piece of shit. Haven’t you heard, numb nuts? Hell hath no fury like a telepath scorned. You should have left us alone.”

  16

  As Connor sped away from the police building after the pathetic excuse for an interrogation from Bite Me, he felt something gnawing at him inside his chest. It was like a curtain parting, unlike anything he had sensed before.

  Yet, another one of the pieces of information he was withholding from Gypsy was that he suspected he had abilities of his own.

  He remained unaware of his manic breathing and muttering under his breath. His neck corded as he beat at the steering wheel with the heel of his palm.

  The ability to block thoughts and prevent others from gaining any insight into what was going on inside, had been a big factor in the marriage break up. He was so used to shutting people out that he’d shut Jill out, too. It hadn’t been a conscious choice, purely instinct, but it had wounded her so badly they’d never recovered. It was something he’d pushed to the periphery, a kernel of knowledge he rarely thought about. Until he’d met Gypsy.

  This attempt to form a crack and peek inside his world was pretty intense though, determined, dogged, insistent.

  He scratched a cheek and rubbed a fist over the front of his shirt. He realized she’d somehow forced her way in. He could see her pictures, her messages.

  It was Gypsy.

  The connection he’d sensed on the night they met was probably a part of that. When she’d told him about her abilities, he’d barely batted an eyelid. He’d had similar experiences many years ago, but blocked them out. Like the night as a young boy that his mother had held a party at home. He’d retreated to his bedroom for over an hour before hunger had forced him out. The ordinary looking middle-aged woman sitting at a table in the corner of the dining room caught his eye.

  “Got a minute?” said the middle-aged medium. He wasn’t sure and so didn’t answer, eyeing off his sandwich with hunger.

  “Take a seat. It won’t hurt, I promise.”

  He had his doubts but shuffled over to the chair before her. He sat unmoving as she spoke to him, flicking cards across the table, which meant little to a thirteen-year-old boy.

  “You have the gift but you don’t want it. You can’t deny it forever, you know.” She peered at him across her glasses. Not sure what to say to that, he said nothing.

  “Your skills as a sentinel might come in handy, but at some point, you’re going to have to let someone in.”

  He found his voice, which was squeaky and annoying. “What’s a sentinel?”

  “A protector, a guard, it’s like a force field you put out. You can prevent psychics from getting a read on you, or anyone else for that matter.”

  He’d gotten up from the seat and simply walked away. She didn’t know what she was talking about, and he pushed the knowledge away to the deepest recesses of his mind. It wasn’t something he wanted to talk about, but it certainly made sense, striking a chord within him, a truth that rang like a bell.

  So now, when he felt the tugging, the pinging he knew it was Gypsy.

  She was in trouble.

  Holy hell.

  He viewed the picture she had used to break through, forcing it before him.

  She was at home, had discharged herself early, of that much he was certain. Aaron had climbed in through a window, thinking he could lie in wait for her, but she’d set a trap and was torturing him slowly.

  Good God.

  He pulled over quickly to send a text message to Ian Robson. Maybe he could get there before him. He jerked his foot down on the accelerator.

  Ian replied within seconds. He was on the other side of the city. Damn. He’d be there as fast as he could, but even with a siren, it would take him thirty minutes minimum. Connor knew that if he hammered it, he’d be there within five to ten minutes at the most.

  If he didn’t get there soon, either Aaron or Gypsy would wind up dead.

  #

  “Calm down? Calm down, I am−”

  “Stop, Mum!”

  Renee had never seen Leah like this. Breathing fast, punctuating her words with an occasional bang of her hands on the steering wheel, she was going off like a rocket with no direction, leaving a burning trail of octane in her wake.

  “Mum, that’s it. This is only making things worse. Plus you're driving, and it's not good to drive like this.”

  “Worse! How can it get any bloody worse, answer me that? Your dad's buggered off with a young floozy and now thinks he can just turn up whenever he feels like it and all is forgiven, while I work all the hours God sends to keep food on the table. Now my sister has disappeared, probably lying on her floor unconscious while some nutcase drags her–”

  “No! That's it, Mum, no more, stop!”

  The shock of Renee’s outburst silenced Leah. Renee watched as Leah took a deep breath and tried to will the calmness into her body, her lips forming a tight O as she blew the tension away.

  “That's it, deep breaths. Good work, Mum.”

  They drove along for another minute or two, silence restored. After a while, the silence reassured Renee, the slight rocking motion triggering a semi-conscious trance. With a jolt, she came to and saw they weren’t driving to her aunt’s place. They were going home.

  “Where are we going?”

  “What?” Leah was still distracted.

  “Where are we going?”

  “For God’s sake, Renee, we’re going home, isn’t that bleeding obvious?”

  She couldn’t believe it.

  “But you were just carrying on like a pork chop about Gypsy at her place on her own, and now you’re driving home?”

  There was a long silence while Leah fought the battle with her own overflowing emotions, and ultimately won.

  “You know what she’s like about that cat. She treats it like a damn human. If I go back to her place, she’ll ask me why I didn’t bring the cat with me and I don’t want another bloody scene like we had at the hospital.”

  “But you said she needs our help.”

  Renee had a feeling Leah wouldn’t say why she was delaying the trip to Gypsy’s. She must have some idea, and was too scared to face it. Renee, however, figured the trap they’d laid would do the trick and Gypsy would be fine. She couldn’t tell Leah any of it, and wished she’d stop being so hysterical.

  But collecting the cat before checking on Gypsy? Leah was in denial and had worked herself up to an almost hysterical state by delaying the confirmation she didn’t want to hear.

  “She does! She just won’t accept it. She’s as stubborn as a damn mule, and she’s driving me up the wall, I swear, and maybe you’re right, I might be overreacting a tad. It’s just that sometimes the pressure gets all too bloody much. I know you understand, honey, everything’s over the top today. We’ll pick up the damn cat and be in and out in a flash.”

  Good grief, she really had lost it. No point in going on about it, though. Renee knew if she did, it would be all downhill from there.

  “Okay, Mum, we’ll pick the cat up from our place and take him to Gypsy’s,” said Renee, doing her best to suppress a sigh.

  The car pulled into the driveway. Leah’s hand seemed to shake as she fumbled to get the key in the lock, or was Renee imagining it?

  Leah dropped her bags on the floor while she opened the door. She stepped inside and went looking for the cat, bending over, clucking her tongue, only stopping to call out, “Here pussycat, here puss.” Renee tried not to roll her eyes.

  “Should I grab the cat food then and put it in a bag, Mum?”

  “We have to find the damn cat first, but yes, do that and then see if you can find the kitty litter. Oh shit, where’s the damn box to put the cat in?”

  Renee grabbed a plastic bag and shoved the cat food in, then spied the kitty l
itter in the laundry. She wrinkled her nose as she picked it up with one hand. Ew, disgusting. She held it out in front of her as far as she could and walked outside to the rubbish bin. What a job. She emptied it out, trying not to pull her ugly face, but it was practically impossible. It stunk to high heaven. Returning inside, she slammed the front door closed.

  Mum had found Jerry. He was eating from his bowl on the kitchen floor, which had just been filled up, and she was sitting a few meters away on the edge of a kitchen chair chewing her nails.

  “Mum, do you need a hand with the cat?”

  “Of course, I do. I’m just waiting for it to finish eating so it doesn’t claw me again when I try to put it in that damn box. Jerry scratched me, the little bugger, when I picked him up from Gypsy’s place.”

  Not sure what to do, Renee eventually headed to the pantry and grabbed a snack. A muesli bar would do for now. She opened it and started chewing.

  As expected, Leah had grown impatient and grabbed the cat before it finished eating. Of course, it scratched her, and she screamed at the top of her lungs and shoved it in the box.

  “Mum! Gentle…”

  “Oh, not now, Renee!”

  Leah was sitting on the chair crying, her right hand up, trying to hide her contorted face and failing miserably.

  Renee stood inches away from Leah. She put one hand on her mum's shoulder and Leah’s head went further down, until it connected gently with her chest.

  “Oh, I’m sorry.”

  “It’s all right. Seriously, please don’t say you’re sorry.”

  “I wish I was a better mum…”

  Oh no, not this again. Renee knew this was a culmination of all the garbage lately. Renee felt a rush of warmth, wanting to comfort her mother.

  “Don’t say that, Mum, seriously…”

  Leah was at the sniffling stage, so with a pat, Renee went to get her a tissue from the box on the bench.

  “It’ll be all right. That’s what you always tell me, remember?”

  “I know, I know.” She was calming a bit now, the flow of tears slowing. “It’s just, I’m meant to be the strong one. It’s my job to look after you, and here I am…”

  “Mum, don’t be silly. I told you we need to stick together. Let’s go see Gypsy so she can give us both an earful.”

  Leah managed a thin smile as she looked up at her daughter. “When the hell did you get so smart? Or maybe I wasn’t paying attention properly…”

  Renee rubbed her mum's back until Leah picked up her keys, threw them into her handbag, and leaned down to pick up the handle of the cat box.

  “Come on, let’s take this bag of bones over to meet her royal highness,” Leah said. Renee knew everything would be okay, especially if the plan they’d set up kicked in.

  *****

  Although I’d put the scalpel in the bag, I couldn’t bring myself to use it on Aaron. Not only did it cross the line between retribution and psychotic, but I wouldn’t do well witnessing that much blood. Glancing across at the workbag, I saw the slight sheen of the crowbar slung across the top, dark heavy metal calling my name.

  Now that could be interesting.

  I gripped one end so tightly my fingers turned white. Metal jarred against clanging metal as I pulled up the crowbar.

  The bastard hadn’t even bothered to wash the blood off.

  “Look what I found, Aaron. Ringing any bells?”

  His eyes were round, his face ashen. Yep, he recognized it all right.

  “I’m feeling indecisive right now. My problem is…what do I do with this crowbar? Do I swing it back as high as I can, smashing down until it caves your skull in? Or do I continue for round two of the tens machine? Both sound appealing, especially because either way, you’ll get what you deserve and can’t hurt anyone else. What do you think?”

  “Take off the pads, bitch face, fucking take ‘em off!” His animal screams were at a frenzied pitch.

  The curses sealed it for me. I picked up the crowbar and swung it, feeling its weight and wondered if I could really do it. As evil as he was, killing was different altogether. I wanted him to suffer, but I wasn’t fully convinced of murder no matter how much I thought he deserved it.

  All I wanted at that moment was to hurt him as he hurt me.

  I stood beside his exhausted form, swinging the rod back and forth, legs slightly apart in a golfer stance.

  “The others were for Joanne, and Renee, but this one’s just from me to you.”

  As I pushed my hips out to gain momentum, I heard an almighty bang downstairs. Someone had forced the door in, and I knew who it was.

  Connor.

  #

  Connor ran away from the car letting the door fall closed and he bounded up the steps to Gypsy’s front door, flicking sweat from his hands. He didn’t think she’d answer, but he pounded on the front door regardless. The screams of his nephew filtered down through the door.

  Aaron was in agony that much was certain.

  He pounded harder.

  “Gypsy! Open up!”

  If she was as determined as he believed, he had to get in there damn quickly.

  He took a couple of steps back and rammed the old wooden door with his shoulder, and it bounced slightly in its frame but didn’t give.

  Heading halfway back across the front garden, he stared at his target before he ran toward it and shouldered the door again, feeling his body weight make contact, and was shocked to feel the door open with a loud snap.

  He remembered with chagrin his comment to Gypsy the night they met.

  “It’s not like you see on television. It’s not all kicking in doors.”

  He spied a staircase at the end of the short hallway. Connor ran through the hallway in two strides, bounding up the stairs to her bedroom.

  There she was, mouth set in a line of fury, eyes dark and bloodshot, hair wild.

  His blood went cold. She was obviously set in her mission of destroying his nephew.

  He took a tentative step toward her.

  “Gypsy, no, not like this.” He caught his breath, conscious of keeping his voice quiet, calming and in stark contrast to the blood racing through his limbs, palms facing her, hoping to soothe and steady her.

  The hair billowed around her face as she turned to him. He could almost see the electricity, making her hair crackle.

  “If not like this, then how? He’ll get eight years max, and be out in two. How the hell is that justice for anyone?”

  She’d at least hung her head and lowered the crowbar a little. It was now at her waist rather than eye level. He could hear her breathing loudly through her throat and nose, and her chest heaved as she struggled to control it.

  Connor moved closer to her, hands away from his body.

  “Is this what you want? Jail time? You’ll be arrested, Gypsy, and I know you don’t want that. Think about Renee, your sister, about me…”

  She turned to him, every inch of her screaming at him to keep his distance. Gypsy was pumped, a live wire ready to strike.

  “Hang tight, Aaron, I’ll get to you.” Connor said. Touching her elbow lightly, he moved her to the chair at the bottom of the bed. “Sit down for just a minute. Please. I promise you’ll get justice. I’ll make sure of it.”

  *****

  Luckily, for Aaron, Connor had arrived and talked me down. I was ready to send Aaron into oblivion and was struggling with the impact of what had happened and what I now realized I was capable of. I dropped the crowbar and stared at my trembling hands. The adrenaline of sweet revenge had sustained me, but as I took deep breaths and began to calm down, I realized that Connor was right. The slime ball wasn’t worth being locked up away from my loved ones.

  I watched as Connor sat beside his nephew and spoke to him in a quiet rumbling voice, probably attempting to soothe him. He didn’t sound like he was having the impact he’d hoped for in light of Aaron’s whimpers of pain and contorted face.

  I wondered how Connor was coping with all of this. It was
one thing to be a cop, another to have a close family member turn out to be a kidnapper and stalker rolled into one filthy package.

  I’d known it was Aaron, instinctively and subconsciously detected it when Connor visited me in hospital, but I buried it deep. I should have known more, trusted my instincts and followed them more closely. Despite the terror, the blood racing through my veins, every nerve ending on high alert, some small part of me was relieved that Connor hadn’t been the bad guy I feared. In fact, I didn’t want to admit that I’d ever questioned his motives. How was he coping? How did a person go on functioning after finding out that someone they loved, trusted, and cared for across an entire lifetime, had gone wrong like this?

  “If I untie you, can I trust you? You won’t do anything stupid?” Aaron’s eyes were bulging, his voice hoarse.

  “Course I fucking won’t. Keep the psycho bitch away from me.” His voice indicated his cries had reduced from terror to anger.

  I turned to Connor, incredulous. “You’re not serious? You’re going to untie him?”

  When Connor spoke again, his voice cracked. “I’m thinking about it. He’s looking at jail time, no matter how this plays out.” He stared at the hunting rifle beside the bed. I hadn’t got to using that. Truth be told, I had no idea how. It was Mark’s and had been sitting in the cupboard for God knew how long.

  “If I untie your hands, don’t let me down, Aaron. You’ll need an ambulance for that ankle. I’ll call it in. Ian will be here soon.” Connor’s voice was dry and croaky, but in that instant, it sounded safe, reassuring, a beacon of hope. The relief surged. This might turn out okay, just maybe.

  Aaron’s head snapped up. Despite the grimace of pain written across his face, his bloodshot stare was fixed on his uncle.

  “Ian? Ian who?” However, Connor already had the phone to his ear.

  “I have a suspect injured on the scene. We’ll need an ambulance.” Connor paused as he looked across at Aaron. “Right ankle caught in a rabbit trap.” Another pause. “That’s right, a rabbit trap.”