by Dale Mayer
“I haven’t seen Linnea since we found the first mask,” Lacey said suddenly. She glanced around the room. “Why is that?”
“Because, when you found the mask, Linnea realized her sister was free, not still caught in the mask as she feared,” Jeremiah said quietly.
“And you?” Sebastian said. “Why is it you’re still here?”
“I figured that, if I had the mask, maybe I could find a way to get back to life again,” he said. “It caused my death and was obviously supernatural so if it did all that, it could also give me a chance to live again.”
Lacey shook her head. “But how does that make any sense? It hasn’t brought anybody back to life.”
“But now you have the whole second mask and this piece of the other mask,” he said persuasively. “Let me have them. Maybe the process needs both to reverse the damage done, they probably have to work together. And, if not, nothing’s lost. But, if it does work, then I get a chance to live again.”
She stared at him. “But you had a chance,” she said slowly, carefully. “And when the mask had you, you killed everyone around you.”
“That’s not my fault,” he cried out. “Besides that was back then.” He slowly rose above her, his frame getting larger and larger. “You don’t know that it would happen the same way again,” he roared. “I know more now. It’s a different mask too. It’s so powerful. It just needs to be controlled and I can do that. I did it once.”
“I still don’t understand the connection between getting that mask and living again. Whatever you were trying to do didn’t work the first time. Why would you think it would work now?” Sebastian said. “I’m so sorry you’re not here beside me in your physical body. You have no idea what I went through.”
As if Jeremiah lost what little control he had, he yelled, “You have no idea what I’ve been through all this time, watching you succeed, just a shadow at your side, coming at your beck and call. We were young, just starting out a new partnership, with so much possibility ahead of us … Only you got to live.”
“That’s not fair,” Sebastian said. “I wanted you to go find the light and to leave this Earthly plane so you weren’t trapped here. But you’re the one who refused to move on.”
“Wait,” Lacey said slowly. “You said if you controlled the mask once before and if you had it you could do so again—that means you wanted to kill those men. They did die at your hand, not because of the mask.” Her voice dropped to a hush. “The mask loved you because instead of the goodness and light energy of psychics, it found a willing recipient of the dark energy.”
His smile was terrible to behold. “I want another chance to live…” He switched his gaze to Lacey. “Get me the mask.”
“Because then you’ll be powerful enough to kill Sebastian, right? You wanted to kill him that night when you killed everybody else, didn’t you? You tried to kill him that night in the Mayan dig. But you couldn’t find him. Instead you found Callum.” She shook her head. “This is all about revenge, isn’t it?”
Finally she was getting it. “The mask was only part of the perfect storm. Maybe the carving you did, like some magical rune, called to the energy of the ugly soul from the grave you’d just opened up… bringing the mask you carried to life. The energy could feel your ugliness. The hate inside you. It helped you hone it, target the ones you wanted to kill. Your partners. Both of them. You reveled in your true nature. Instead of fighting it, it was helping you do what you wanted. Oh, it must have loved that. The mask wasn’t to blame. Sebastian wasn’t to blame. Instead that ugliness inside you was your own undoing.”
“Callum was my best friend next to you,” Jeremiah said, his head bowed, seemingly talking to himself. “I’d have done anything to not hurt him. It was supposed to be Sebastian. The three of us were supposedly equal partners, but everybody, including Callum, looked to Sebastian as the lead boss. It was always about him. I hated him even then. I’d hoped to find a way to get rid of him on that Mayan trip so it would be just Callum and me. Sebastian had the money though. But, if he died, the foundation would be ours without him.”
Wow, his own hate had contributed to his downfall. Once he’d opened up that pus of negativity … Lacey looked at Sebastian and the glazed look in his eyes, the shock of these words draining the blood away from his skin. She pinched his hand hard.
He jolted, gave her a hard look and said to Jeremiah, “Well, you failed to kill me. Now I’m alive, and you’re dead.”
Jeremiah’s gaze bored into Sebastian’s. “Only until I can figure out how to change that. I’ve spent all these years making sure I was right here at your side, so, when the opportunity arose, you could change places with me. I wanted you to be caught in-between like I am in this perverted existence that’s neither living nor dead.”
“Just because he dies doesn’t mean he’s caught in-between,” Lacey said. “You’re so full of poisonous thoughts of revenge and anger, you can’t even see common sense.”
He drew himself up to his full size and turned to glare at her. “I don’t like you.”
“That’s too bad,” she said with a smile. “I’m sure I would have liked you. But then I like most people. I understand they are who they are, good and bad, and that they need to have outlets for both. But murderous intent is not acceptable whether you’re alive or dead.”
Sebastian laughed.
“And just what do you think you’ll do about it?” Jeremiah asked. “I’ll spend the rest of my unnatural life haunting you.”
She nodded. “Well, you might, except for one thing.”
“And what’s that?” he snapped.
She smiled at Linnea, standing off on the side. “Linnea is here to say goodbye.”
Linnea reached out a hand. Lacey reached back. The two women connected, and an ethereal door opened behind Linnea. She stepped through the door, and, in that moment, the two women, their hands still gripped together, wrapped around Jeremiah and dragged him toward the door.
Sebastian stepped up behind her placing his hands on her shoulders, adding his strength to hers.
“No,” Jeremiah shrieked, fighting the women’s loving hold. “No, no, no. You can’t do this.”
“The door between life and death is right there,” Lacey said, her voice calm, controlled but authoritative. “Face your music, step toward that light and cross over. Or at least try. I have no idea what happens to evil souls like you.”
He gave a cackle of laughter, but Lacey placed one hand on his heart and gave him a hard-mental shove, with Linnea on the other side, her arms wrapped around him. Together Jeremiah and Linnea went through the door. As she stepped through, Linnea gave Lacey a wave. A flash of gold wrapped around her—but only her. And instantly the door closed.
Almost numb but strangely at peace. Lacey sank back down, picked up her coffee cup and took a sip.
Hunter looked at Sebastian. Sebastian looked at Hunter. They both turned to look at her.
“Did we just see what we thought we saw?”
She lifted her gaze. “I’m not sure what you saw, but I helped Jeremiah cross over, whether he wanted to or not, and no, I’m not sure where he went. I only saw Linnea in the light,” she said. Seeing their shock, she shrugged and added, “Honestly I’ve worked very hard to get to this point in my life. I wasn’t about to let some idiot like him ruin it for me.” She reached out and squeezed Sebastian’s hand.
He picked up her hand, bringing it to his lips, and kissed it gently. “Did I ever tell you what an incredibly beautiful person you are? Inside and out?”
She opened her eyes wide and shook her head. “No. I’m not. You see? If I was, I wouldn’t have sent him off to the other side. I would’ve understood it was his lesson still to learn and have left him alone.”
Sebastian shook his head. “No, you wouldn’t. Because you didn’t do it to save us or to stop yourself from being haunted by him. You did it to stop any threat against me.”
She stared at him for a long moment, a soft smile o
n her lips, and said, “You figured that out, did you?”
Sebastian nodded his head.
She shrugged. “I look after what’s mine very, very well. And nobody, absolutely nobody, gets to hurt those I care about–on this side or the other. He had to leave. No way would I constantly look over my shoulder to see if he was coming after you again.”
Sebastian tugged on her arm, pulled her into his lap and just held her close. Over her head he whispered, “You are the best.”
She chuckled. “I don’t think so, but you can spend the rest of our lives convincing me of that.”
He tilted her chin up and whispered, “Challenge accepted.” And he kissed her.
That kiss was for more than just today, for more than just tomorrow. It was for all time, both on this side and on the other, so that they could spend forever together.
Hunter slowly clapped and cheered across the table from them. “I guess my job here is done.” He stood. “I’ll carry Mark here back to his bed and let him sleep this off.”
“Will he be okay?” she asked anxiously having completely forgotten about the poor man. “Will he remember any of this?”
“Not likely. And yes, he should be fine. Likely wake confused and with a hell of a headache.” He walked over to where Mark was slumped. “Even better, he won’t have a clue what happened.”
“Well, that’s a relief.” Lacey stood staring down at the unconscious Mark as Sebastian opened the doors for Hunter. “You’ll come back after and have breakfast?”
He grinned. “Well, maybe.” He walked out to the hallway, calling back as Sebastian walked ahead to open the other doors. “But I don’t want to disturb the two of you.”
“You won’t.” She chuckled. “We have more than just this lifetime to spend together now. You’re more than welcome to be a large part of that.”
His laughter floated toward her. “In that case, can you put on more coffee please. It’s been a hell of a morning already”
“Done.” She watched as the three disappeared into the other hallway. Then realizing they’d be back in just a moment, she raced to put on more coffee. It might have been a hell of a morning already for him, but she’d never had a better one. And given where they’d started, the future had never looked brighter.
This concludes Book 14 of Psychic Visions: Unmasked.
Read the first Chapter of Deep Beneath: Psychic Visions, Book 15
Psychic Visions: Deep Beneath (Book #15)
Chapter 1
Whilma Connor paddled her kayak forward across the ocean. She loved the way the waves lapped over the front of the bow and came up along the side. She couldn’t resist stopping her strokes and dragging her fingers through the cold water. She stared into the blackness underneath. That was one thing about the ocean. You never knew what floated just beneath the kayak. It could be a whale; it could be a shark, or it could be a million different schools of small fish, depending on where you were. It was fascinating. A lot of marine life populated this area, but she hadn’t been lucky enough to see any yet today. She glanced over at Mark, feeling a heavy gust of cold wind biting at her face. The squall Mark had mentioned earlier. She studied the skies, then the path they had to travel back, and frowned.
“You still up for this, Whimsy?” Mark asked. “We have a way to go, if you want to reach the spots you were looking forward to. But, with the weather turning ugly, we won’t have much time.”
She was beginning to have some misgivings about this trip. She could see Sarah and Wallace, now small figures in the distance, and realized that maybe she and Mark should have turned back with them. Looking at the nearing squall, she said, “That is coming our way and building.”
“Yes, it is,” Mark said calmly. “Let’s get closer to the shore. Then we can reconsider.”
She nodded.
He turned and struck out strongly.
The trouble was, by the time she turned and followed him, the squall was almost upon them. “Wow, that came up fast,” she said, pulling hard on her paddle and examining her every strike.
They paddled hard toward the shore, where the waves should be a little bit calmer. Instead they broke on the beach with an exuberance that normally she would have loved. But fighting those waves in this kayak wouldn’t be much fun. She stared back out at the deep water. “Maybe we should go back out there, out of the reach of the storm,” she shouted. “I’m not making much progress.”
“The tide will be too strong,” he yelled back at her over the waves.
She put her back into her strokes. “We need to go in closer …”
But the waves and winds stole her words. If she could just make it to shore … They could always camp out and wait for the squall to pass, then get back in their kayaks and paddle home again.
She put her head down and just focused on moving one arm and then the other. The rain started then, pounding on her head and her shoulders, adding a gray sleet to the horizon around her. The bad weather had come up so damn fast and had overtaken her world. She could barely make out the shore ahead, yet the force of the current pulled her farther and farther out into the ocean.
Mark was closer to the shore and still fighting the elements. But he was stronger and in better shape.
She angled her kayak’s nose toward the shore, but almost immediately the waves turned her kayak away. She couldn’t keep it on a steady course.
Panic roiled inside her. She glanced around for any possible way to get to shore quicker, to get out of this until the world calmed down. There were no boats on the water as far as she could see—which wasn’t very far in this squall. They had been smart to stay away from this harsh element of Mother Nature.
It would only get harder from here on out until the storm died down or turned off in another direction. Meanwhile, she was in for the fight of her life. She kept paddling, but the storm pulled her right back out, deeper and deeper into the churning ocean.
She was at a point of no return. Each kayaker was paired up, and each pair carried a megaphone with them, in case they got caught up in fog or whatever, but their megaphone and flare gun was in Mark’s kayak, not hers. She had her cell phone—doubted she could get reception out here—but that was it. She preferred to travel light. She didn’t even have the thermos of coffee. He had that too.
As she peered through the sleeting rain, the dark clouds whirled around her. If she weren’t so intent on her imminent survival, she could make some curious shapes out of the blackness crowding in on her. With a shake of her head to get that fanciful notion out of her mind, she focused on finding her kayaking partner. She could barely see Mark now. He was farther ahead and still paddling, his head down, fighting his own battle against the waves. He couldn’t reach her now. If nothing else he should be able to blast over those waves and beach himself safely.
And that’s what she was determined to do as well. Keeping her focus in check and her panic at bay, she once again turned so that she directly faced the shore and gave it her all.
When the lightning lit the clouds and the thunder cracked overhead, she barely heard anything. Not so odd as she was drowning in the pounding rain and the heavy waves slashing at her and at her kayak. The latest swell swamped over her vessel. If she didn’t have a proper rubber skirt, she’d have already abandoned her sunken kayak and been floating alone in the channel. As it was, the waves kept breaking over her again and again. Paddling at this point was almost impossible. Yet, if she didn’t paddle, she would be taken farther and farther out into the sound.
She looked up and around to find a couple small sailing crafts coming into her view, heading toward the marina themselves. They couldn’t hear her screams nor did anyone appear to notice her panicky waving arms.
She thought she heard yelling and screaming, but it came from behind her a distance. She glanced back at one of the small yachts there. People were on the bow, fighting. Whimsy had bigger problems than they did.
Exhausted, she turned her face toward the shore. Paddled right, le
ft, right and left.
Another wave slammed into her, twisting her sideways and sending her even farther from shore. When the next crack sounded overhead, she cried out, terrified, wondering if she could win this fight … Her arms were too weak now. Her body no longer answered her orders to paddle. She was soaked and freezing and terrified that she’d flip over and out of her kayak and end up floating out into the ocean with no one the wiser in those early crucial moments.
She was a decent roller in the kayak, when needed, and, as long as she kept her paddle, she’d have a chance to right herself and to possibly steer at some point. She couldn’t see the shore any longer and had no way to orient herself. But she wouldn’t think on that. All she could do was concentrate on staying afloat. To that end she tucked the paddle tight against her chest and just waited out the fury of the squall. Even though cold and wet and miserable, she was still capable of surviving a storm out here.
The trouble was, her vision was fading, and her muscles were cramping to the extent that she was afraid she couldn’t hold on to the paddle much longer.
Another huge wave caught her kayak broadside.
Under she went.
She still had her paddle, and, holding her breath, she braced it up and used her hip motions to flip herself and her kayak back upright again. As soon as she did, another wave washed her and her ride back under again, and the paddle was wrenched out of her hands. Upside down, strapped securely into her kayak, her vessel was tossed about in the waves above as she was tossed about underneath. She was fine with a quick once-over dunk into the waters as she flipped her kayak back upright. But submerged in this weather? No she’d have to detach from the kayak and that would leave her floating out in the ocean trying to survive until she could be rescued. And drowning was not the way she intended to die. And especially not now. Her love of water refused to contemplate that end, despite her current circumstances.
She quickly slipped out of the rubber skirt edging in the kayak. Hanging on to the frame, hoping it would stay afloat, she popped up to the surface and gasped for air. Another wave broke over her head. She tried to flip the kayak upright, but it was taking on a lot of water. And in no way could she empty it in these squall conditions. A big wave tossed her up and separated her from the kayak; she cried out as she went underwater again, her breath sucked out from the repetitive blows of the churning ocean. She struggled to return to the surface, and a buckle on her life jacket snapped.