Poison and Potions: a Limited Edition Paranormal Romance and Urban Fantasy Collection

by Erin Hayes

  “That’s impossible!” Kyra checked her watch. Ten after two. She had spent an hour alone with the doctor in his office and couldn’t account for any of it. Her skin crawled with fear. What exactly had she told him?

  She opened her mouth to ask, but he was already standing by the door, his fingers resting on the handle.

  “Unfortunately, we’ve run late, and my next appointment is waiting. Let’s plan on going over my analysis tomorrow at the same time.” He opened the door and gestured toward the foyer, before carving his peculiar, sloping smile back over his face.

  Kyra took several shallow breaths as she got to her feet. She proceeded through the reception area and toward the door, dully aware of a freshly-frosted Andrea back behind her desk.

  Out in the foyer, she leaned against the wall by the elevator and punched repeatedly at the down button. Her brain felt fried. The entire hour with the psychiatrist was a blank. Somehow, she had lost all control of herself. Dr. Brenner had lied to her. He had used his power over her to wander freely through the secret places of her mind. She had seen it in his eyes. That dark frightening charisma of his. Almost as sinister as the presence that had hounded her since the accident.

  Her head spun. She stabbed at the down button again, to no avail, then wheeled around, wrenched open the door to the fire escape, and bolted down the stairs. Safely back in her car, she locked the doors and gripped the steering wheel, fighting to quell the cresting wave of panic inside. There was no way she could go back to work in this state. After a few stuttering breaths, she pulled out her phone and dialed the office. She left a brief message for her assistant, Ellie, and turned the keys in the ignition. Her shoulders shook as she exited the underground garage.

  Once she reached her house, she jammed the car into park and stumbled inside. Deborah was the one who’d pushed her to try hypnosis. What exactly had she said about it? It couldn’t be normal to remember nothing afterward. Kyra kicked off her shoes, and pressed a hand over her eyes. She needed to know what Brenner had found out. She had no choice but to go back for the analysis. After that, she was done with the disturbing doctor and his mind games.

  She put the kettle on to boil and made herself a cup of decaffeinated tea. Curled up on her sofa, she opened her laptop and whittled away the rest of the afternoon staring at the screen of stacked emails and browsing aimlessly through several new client bids. At eight-thirty, her brain fogged with fatigue, she took two sleeping pills, crawled into bed and set the alarm for the morning.

  She woke with a start, drenched in fear, tangled in the sheets, and trembling violently. Her clock read three-thirty. Throwing back her comforter, she stumbled into the bathroom to get some water. Grabbing the faucets, she leaned over the basin, trying to slow her breathing.

  The nightmare that had wakened her revolved in her head like a scene from a horror flick. Brenner on the phone, hunched over in his leather chair, his back to the door as she entered. Swinging around to greet her, his face contorting. She had clawed her way around the walls in his office, searching in vain for an exit. Then he was on her, breathing in her face, stroking her hair, whispering in her ear as she craned her neck to turn from his gargoyled features.

  Something else in the dream had terrified her too. Her fingers shook as she gripped the edge of the sink. She splashed her face with ice-cold water, letting the visual sit in her mind, unsure of what exactly she was frisking her memory for. Words of some kind? She raised her head and stared at her sunken face reflected in the bathroom mirror. A fist of fear smashed into her belly.

  The embossed notebook on Brenner’s desk! Repeated on every line down the page, he had scrawled in intricate script—Rest in peace.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Outside the kitchen window, the moon hung in the night sky like a ghostly silver disc. Was the dream some kind of warning that Dr. Brenner was linked with the Soul Stalkers? That strange power he exuded had always struck a disturbing note with her. Kyra shivered against the chilly air. Her life wasn’t even close to returning to normal. It was imploding. The accident was behind her, but the fear it had triggered loomed larger than ever. Stalking spirits dogged her every step but there was no rhyme or reason to what was happening. She was flailing in the dark with an enemy she knew nothing about.

  The trill of her phone shot through to the ends of her hair like a live current. She stared at the pulsing lights on the screen, her mind in turmoil. Breathe. Spirits don’t tap wires. Who was calling her at four in the morning? She reached for the phone and stared at it. Ellie.

  “Ellie?” She whispered.

  “Hey, are you okay?”

  “I’m ... It’s four in the morning.”

  “I know it’s a crazy time to call. I’m sorry. I couldn’t shake the urge to check on you. Are you all right?”

  Kyra closed her eyes. “Remember that psychiatrist I went to see on my lunch hour?”

  “Yeah, you mentioned him.”

  “I had this awful nightmare about him.” Kyra inhaled a deep breath. “I was trapped in his office and I couldn’t find any way out. His features started contorting into some kind of demon or something.” She bit her lip. “It felt ... evil. I don’t know how else to describe it.” Kyra eyed the door to her dark hall uneasily.

  “It sounds evil. If you want to ask my pastor about it I can call him on my way to work today.”

  Kyra sighed into the phone. “Why not? Maybe a man of the cloth can tell me what an angel was doing on the I-95 the day of my accident. That’s what started this whole thing, so maybe that’s where I need to begin.”

  “Angels wage war on the dark side. You must have been in danger.”

  Kyra squashed the phone tight against her cheek. What was it the angel had said? We have snatched you from—

  “Are you coming in today?” Ellie asked.

  “Yeah. I’ve several deadlines to meet. And I’m supposed to meet with Brenner again at lunchtime.”

  “You might want to rethink that.”

  “It’s just a follow-up. I need to know what he found out. Why don’t you come with me? You can be my lucky charm and ward off evil.”

  At eleven fifty-six, Kyra and Ellie stepped out of the elevator and walked across the foyer to Dr. Brenner’s office.

  “This place is opulent,” Ellie muttered.

  Kyra rummaged in her purse for her water bottle. “Brenner’s not exactly running a charity. He’s four hundred an hour.”

  Ellie raised her brows and peered through the glass into the reception area. “I’ve never been in a ritzy psychiatrist’s office before.”

  Kyra swallowed a mouthful of water and stuffed the bottle back in her purse. “Yeah, well, this is your unlucky day.” She pushed open the door and held it for Ellie, then froze when she caught sight of the dark-haired woman sitting on the couch in the waiting area. Opposite her was the kid from the police station.

  A flash of recognition flitted across Martina’s face. Kyra abruptly turned on her heel and slipped back into the hallway, her thoughts hurtling in myriad directions. What was the body shop receptionist doing there? Her heart thumped like a frozen slab inside her chest. She’d been looking for clues, a pattern of some kind. The fluttering in her gut told her that crossing paths with this woman again was not a fluke. But what did it mean?

  “Where are you going?” Ellie asked.

  “Looks like Dr. Brenner’s already scheduled someone into the lunch hour slot,” she said, with a dismissive gesture toward the reception area. “Probably a misunderstanding. I’ll call this afternoon and make another appointment.”

  “She might just be waiting on someone—”

  “She works at Collision One,” Kyra interrupted. “Where I had my car towed.” She threw out her hands in bewilderment. “I keep seeing her everywhere I go lately, it’s creepy. I don’t want to get into conversation with her about why I’m here, or why she’s here for that matter.”

  Ellie drew her brows together. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
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  “I’m fine. I’ll reschedule. Besides, I’m meeting with your pastor after work. Maybe one expert analysis is enough for today.” She tilted her head, looked back through the glass into the waiting room and stiffened. The hairs on the back of her neck tingled. The kid’s eyes were locked on her, his face framed in his hoodie, hands stuffed in his pockets.

  Overshadowing him, like a pall of gloom, was a murky shadow.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Martina twisted around on the leather sectional in the psychiatrist’s waiting room and craned her neck over a potted palm to see where Kyra Williams had gone. Weird how that woman showed up everywhere, like she was shadowing her. She had recognized Kyra’s rental car at the police station, but she’d been too embarrassed to acknowledge her; too frantic to get to Taggert. She picked at her fingers nervously. If only she’d kept Tag home from school that morning. They would be looking at the Chicago skyline by now.

  She threw another curious glance in the direction of the door. Why would someone like Kyra Williams need therapy anyway? How hard could life as a blond bombshell be? Maybe she was along to support her girlfriend. Martina twisted her lips and studied the carpet tiles. Hal had done a good job of scaring off the few friends she’d made—almost made over the years.

  She startled when a deep voice called her name. “Mrs. Doyle, and Taggert, I presume. Welcome. I’m Dr. Brenner.”

  She eyed the tall, expensively-dressed figure standing in the doorframe of his office. She’d never been fond of doctors of any breed, and something about this one made her blood run cold. Dark, shifty-eyed, fat lips, too squeaky-clean in his shiny suit. She pasted on a smile and stood. Tag’s gonna hate him.

  “My lunchtime client hasn’t shown up so we might as well get started early,” Dr. Brenner added gesturing to his office.

  She signaled to Taggert to be civil, but he ignored her as they followed the doctor inside. They sat down in matching chrome-and-white leather chairs that faced the desk. Martina threw a hesitant glance around the room. A sea of glass and black granite. Too stark for her taste. And a nightmare to clean. She’d scrubbed enough houses to know.

  She shot Taggert another look. He stared at the floor, arms crossed. All locked up inside his sullen self. No telling what he was thinking, but he had the “anything’s gonna set me off” look all over him. She pursed her lips and studied her badly bitten nails. Good luck prying that boy open. She had a bad feeling about this appointment, and they hadn’t even begun.

  “So, Mrs. Doyle.” Martina jerked her head up. Dr. Brenner intertwined long, smooth fingers and looked intently at her. “How are you feeling about what happened?”

  Shouldn’t he ask Taggert that? She drew her brows together and shrugged. “Mainly I’m worried how this is gonna affect my son’s future.”

  “Of course you are,” soothed Dr. Brenner. “We’ll address that in due course, but let’s start at the beginning. I’ve read through the transcripts and signed the paperwork agreeing to be Taggert’s court-appointed therapist. As the probation officer has explained to you, I take on a number of pro bono cases for research purposes. Currently, I’m studying the benefits of hypnotherapy for young addicts.” He paused, as if to let the significance of his words sink in, before turning to Taggert. “I’d like to set up a series of weekly sessions with you, as well as several meetings with the entire family. How does that sound?”

  Taggert shrugged and flipped the corners of his lips down. He made a hacking sound at the back of his throat, eyes planted firmly on the legs of the desk.

  Martina grimaced. Could he be any more ornery?

  Dr. Brenner shifted in his chair, a flash of irritation in his eyes. “Would you like to discuss what happened, Taggert? We can do that privately, without your mother or your father present.”

  “I don’t have a father.”

  “I understand you feel hurt—”

  Martina flinched as Taggert vaulted to his feet and sputtered a few choice cuss words. “I ain’t staying for this.” He threw his hood up and made a beeline for the door.

  “Taggert,” she pleaded. She scrambled up and slammed her shin against his empty chair. “Forget Hal! I told you we’re leaving him, didn’t I?”

  Taggert hesitated at the door and swiveled, his face scrunched tight and hard beyond his years. “You just don’t get it, do you? Hal’s gonna kill us, Mom.” He hung, like a jammed piano note, on the word Mom, before he turned and exited with a baggy-legged, swagger. “I’ll take the bus home,” he yelled from the reception area.

  The thudding of his footsteps echoed around the crater in Martina’s heart. For a moment she stood frozen to the spot, one fist jammed to her mouth. Worthless mother! She stifled a sob, then grabbed her purse from the floor and hurried toward the door. “I have to go after him. There’s no telling what he’ll do that wound up.”

  Dr. Brenner held his hands up and slightly apart, like a priest about to pronounce a blessing.

  “Mrs. Doyle, Taggert’s been through a lot. It might be best to let him calm down first. He needs space—to process things. This must be hurting you as much as him. Why don’t you close the door and sit down. You and I can discuss the situation together.”

  Her eyes misted. The seductive sound of his sympathetic voice gave her pause. There was nothing she could do with Taggert so bent out of shape anyway. Her gaze slid to the floor. “I s’pose you’re right.” She traipsed back to her chair, pulled a tissue from her purse and dabbed at her eyes. When she looked up again, the doctor loomed over her. He reached down and squeezed her shoulder, a smile pulling at his lips.

  “Believe me, I understand how desperate you are to save your son. I can teach you some techniques to influence him, to help him change the entire course of his life.”

  Her heart leaped at the spark of hope he offered. Her deepest longing was to get Taggert off the path he was on and headed somewhere with a future. There wasn’t anything she wouldn’t do or try to make that happen. And Dr. Brenner really seemed to care—maybe he could help them.

  He continued in a tranquilizing tone. “Hypnotherapy will release your tension and allow you to build up the emotional strength you need to gain control of the situation. With your permission, I can work with you right now.”

  Martina sucked on her bottom lip and slid her purse to the floor. “If you think it will help Taggert ….”

  “Excellent. Let’s move ahead. First, I want you to begin to relax.” He moved closer, cradled her head in his hands and applied a light pressure with his fingertips.

  Surprised by his touch, she looked up and let his dark, bottomless eyes penetrate hers, shocked by how much she craved the warmth radiating through a stranger’s hand. She fought to hide the tremor that rippled down her arm. How long had it been since a man had laid a comforting hand on her? She went limp under his gentle fingers, willing him to take away her pain. If she had been unsure at first, that instinct was gone. She wanted to be stronger, powerful even, for Taggert’s sake.

  “I’m going to ask you to close your eyes and release all tension.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut just in time to trap the salty tears lining her lashes.

  “Now, slowly begin to slip away to a restful place and travel with me as I take you on a voyage.”

  The room was still, scented with honeysuckle, filled with the doctor’s compelling voice.

  “Three, two, one, coming back.”

  Martina opened her eyes and blinked a few times to center herself. Dr. Brenner was sitting on the edge of his desk, his lips tapering into a flat smile. “Great work.”

  She studied the herringbone carpet tiles. Great work? Bewildered, she shot a sideways glance at the doctor. “What happened? I don’t remember what we talked about.”

  He curved his lips into a smile. “That’s why it’s extremely therapeutic to deal with issues while under hypnosis. The pain can be erased.”

  “But, what did we deal with?” Her voice fluttered in confusion.

  �
�Unfortunately, we’re out of time for this session, and I need to review my notes before I determine a treatment program. You can schedule a follow-up analysis next week.”

  Martina rose like someone emerging from a coma. The room spun. She stumbled through the door Dr. Brenner held open, and nodded at the platinum blond receptionist with the fuchsia lips, whose name escaped her. Her breath came in short stabs as she staggered out to the foyer.

  Something was terribly wrong. Dr. Brenner said she would feel stronger after hypnosis. Not panicked, like this. Her hand trembled as she tried to press the button in the elevator. By the time she reached her Corolla in the underground parking structure, her legs were close to buckling beneath her. She flopped onto the front seat of the car and stared through the windscreen at an abandoned soda cup on a graffitied concrete post. A thickening fog of gloom dulled her senses. Taggert was gone. Her life was a mess. No one could help her.

  She sucked in a breath. The small, quietly insistent voice in her head pressed her. It’s your fault Taggert’s in trouble. You’re a worthless mother.

  She put the car in drive and crawled through the lower parking level. A vehicle nosed up behind her and the driver let loose with his horn. The noise jarred through her head. For a split second, she imagined herself crumbling into powdery pieces.

  She pulled out onto the street and merged with the traffic. There was no point in leaving Hal. He’d find her in the end. And Taggert would never agree to go with her to Chicago; he didn’t believe she could pull it off. Eddie had probably discovered by now that the money was missing. There might be a warrant out for her arrest already.

  She drove in a trance onto the I-95. A curved section of the freeway with a steep embankment impressed itself on her thoughts. The torrent in her head grew stronger, more persuasive. No one cares if you live or die. Why keep going? She needed to find that embankment. The rabble in her head insisted.

  Easier to do what they said and follow along. It always was. The image in her head grew clear. A wavy stretch of freeway, banked by a steep ravine dotted with purple wildflowers, coaxed her closer, a dark, dreadful thought formulating around it.