Psych-Out

by Nova Nelson

  And then I realized it wasn’t just a sundress. It was a sundress with a person in it.

  Tanner realized it a split-second before me, and he was already off at a sprint by the time my feet got the message to get going.

  The dark hair and sandy skin rang a bell, but not loudly enough for my brain to put it together. Whoever it was, she was floating facedown and not moving.

  Tanner jumped into the fountain, taking large steps through it to get to the body, and I was only yards away from the fountain’s edge, already splashing through the overflow, when the first sharp pain hit me.

  It felt like a knife in my left lung, and bright light flashed before my eyes. I staggered, clutching my chest. Then just as suddenly, the pain was gone.

  Fairly sure I hadn’t just suffered a heart attack, and because there was a more pressing matter at hand, I pushed on.

  Where the first pain had hit me, the second one leveled me just before I reached the fountain’s edge.

  An invisible knife in each lung and one in my throat. My knees collapsed underneath me, and the bright light overtook my vision, but this time it didn’t fade away into Eastwind. This time, my eyes simply adjusted to the light, and before me lay the ocean, vast with sunlight glancing off the surface, and a man’s body floating facedown, bobbing gently, submerging when it hit the trough of each wave while flames of sunlight danced around him. His pants and shirt were dark and waterlogged, clinging to his torso and legs.

  Who was he? Why was this pain so unbearable?

  No sooner had I asked the questions than I was shown the answer.

  The man’s clothes were dry, and only then could I tell that it was a uniform, modern, likely military based on the pins above the breast pocket. He sat in a dark and dusty room across from a man, presumably a civilian, much better dressed than he, who smoked a rolled cigarette while he explained something at length in rapid Spanish.

  The bustle of a busy city street floated in along with beams of light through the slats of the blinds. While I didn’t understand the language, I knew a deal being made when I saw one, and with a few sharp and final words, the better dressed man slid a pile of worn coins across the table to the man whose ghastly fate I’d already seen. While the uniformed man seemed pleased with the reward, I wanted to shout to him that it wouldn’t matter. That no amount of metal could keep him from finding himself facedown in the ocean, not a sliver of land to be seen on any horizon.

  When the uniformed man stood, drawing my attention up from the table, I noticed something peculiar about this room. From the ceiling hung baubles not unlike the ones littering Ruby’s parlor. Was there a use for these beyond magical protection, or was there something going on here I was only just picking up on?

  “Nora!” Tanner’s voice cut through the vision like a machete, tearing it in two. The dusty room crumpled around me and I opened my eyes. Again, a blinding light greeted me, but this time it was just the sun as I stared up into it, cradled in Tanner’s arms. I blinked against it and raised an arm to shield my eyes.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  Tanner was dripping wet and stared down at me with wide eyes as he panted. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out! First Zoe is floating in the fountain, then you’re collapsing and gasping for air.”

  “Zoe … Clementine?”

  I remembered where I was and what had led up to the vision. I sat up, even as Tanner weakly tried to keep me down. “Is she alright?”

  “Never been better, I’m sure,” Grim said where he sat beside Tanner.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “Sheriff Bloom is here, though.”

  The angel was crouched over, her white wings spread, acting as a shield so that I could only see Zoe’s soaking-wet legs and feet. One of the East Wind witch’s sandals had fallen off at some point, and her neon-pink toenails caught my eye. They seemed absurd in the circumstance.

  Passersby had stopped to take in the spectacle but remained a respectful distance. I suspected that was due mostly to the town’s reverence for Sheriff Bloom more than anyone being especially disciplined; there was little the people of Eastwind enjoyed more than gawking.

  “Oh my goddess,” a woman said from behind me, and I turned to see Evangeline Moody sprinting over, Donovan Stringfellow only a few feet behind her. They came to a stop just to the side of Tanner and me, and Donovan looked from Sheriff Bloom, to a dripping wet Tanner, to me, where I lay still cradled in his arms and probably looking a little worse for the wear.

  “What the fangs and claws happened here?” he asked.

  Eva stared in horror, hugging her arms around herself. “Is that Zoe?” she asked.

  “Yes,” said Tanner. “And it’s a long story. Or rather, it’s a short story, but I don’t know how to tell it.”

  Eva looked at me as she asked, “Is she dead?”

  “I don’t think so,” I added, though I really had no idea at this point. I could see why people would assume I was the expert on the subject, though. But it wasn’t like I could see someone’s spirit pop out of their body upon the moment of death.

  … Or maybe I could. Oh, hellhound, did I hope that wasn’t one of my undiscovered powers.

  Donovan stepped closer to Eva, who was nearly a full foot shorter than him, and put his arm around her, pulling her comfortingly against his side. She didn’t resist, but continued hugging herself as they looked on.

  “We heard the commotion,” Donovan said, nodding in the direction they’d come from, “and someone shouted that there was a body in the fountain.” It was then that I realized he must have come from Franco’s Pizza, where he worked. It was only a block down the street. What was Eva doing there? Just grabbing a drink? Flirting with the sexy bartender?

  None of your business, Nora! And it’s best for everyone if he moves on, right?

  I turned my attention back to Zoe and the sheriff, and a moment later, I could have sworn I saw Zoe’s bare foot twitch. Then a second more and the movement was unmistakable as her legs kicked and loud coughing rose up above the quiet crowd.

  Sheriff Bloom’s wings lowered halfway as she turned and called, “Tanner. Nora.” She motioned for us to approach, so, obviously, we did. Bad idea to refuse the orders of any sheriff, let alone one that’s also an angel.

  Plus, after glimpsing her vengeful tendencies at the Lunasa Festival, not only did I have a bit of a girl crush on her, but I was also quite terrified of getting on her bad side.

  Zoe was still recovering, spitting out fountain water and looking around dazedly as we arrived by Bloom’s side.

  “What happened?” the sheriff asked us.

  I spoke first. “We were just walking by and we saw her floating facedown in the fountain. It was overflowing. And then I don’t …”

  Tanner smartly interrupted me before I got too in-the-weeds about collapsing. “I jumped in after her and pulled her out, but I couldn’t tell if she was breathing. I tried to jumpstart her heart the magical way, and when that didn’t work, I started CPR. After a few minutes, I was pretty sure she was a goner, then you showed up.”

  A few minutes? Was that how long I was out? As with dreams, perhaps there was no accounting for time with visions, if that’s what I’d experienced. And it seemed likely that it was.

  “And are you okay, Nora?” Bloom asked. “I saw you collapse.”

  I nodded quickly. “Just slipped.”

  She cocked her head to the side, pressing her lips together into a thin line. She didn’t bother veiling her skepticism.

  Admittedly, it wasn’t a very good lie, let alone one that could fool a walking lie-detector like her.

  But she let it drop when Zoe attempted to speak again.

  Bloom insisted the witch take it easy for a moment until she could get her bearings, at which point Zoe asked, “What happened?”

  “You don’t remember?” asked Sheriff Bloom.

  “No.”

  “What’s the last thing you do remember?”

  “I was at the an
imal sanctuary, and I realized we were low on eucalyptus leaves.”

  Bloom nodded. “Okay, so maybe you went out to get more and … somehow ended up in the fountain?”

  Zoe nodded compliantly, then paused and shook her head. “No. Because Oliver was coming over to work on our lessons, so I asked him if he could bring some with him.”

  “And what time was that?”

  “Only an hour ago, I think. Maybe twelve thirty?”

  I met Tanner’s eyes for a moment, and we both knew this wasn’t good.

  It was four fifteen.

  “Do you remember anything else between then and now?” Bloom asked.

  Zoe scrunched up her nose and coughed, and when she could speak again, she said, “Maybe, but it’s all kind of blurry.”

  “Sheriff Bloom?”

  The four of us turned to Donovan, who’d been the one to speak. His pants were soaked to just above his knees, and one of his arms was dripping wet as he held out an object.

  “My wand!” said Zoe, relieved. She reached for it but began hacking up water again before she could take it from him.

  Donovan addressed the sheriff. “I don’t know exactly if this will help you or not, but I just found this jammed in the main drain of the fountain. The magic in it is probably what caused the fountain to clog and overflow.”

  Bloom’s brow creased. “Zoe’s wand? Huh. That doesn’t make sense.”

  Donovan set his piercing blue eyes on me. “Looks like we got another whodunnit for the town’s most reluctant detective.”

  “I think Sheriff Bloom can handle it just fine,” I said. “I’m done with all that.”

  “Right.” His grin couldn’t have looked any more forced. “Like I said, ‘reluctant.’ ”

  “No,” I corrected. “Because that implies I do it anyway. I’ve given it up. Seriously.”

  Donovan laughed, leaned over, and handed Zoe her wand. “Sure you have. And I’ve given up using my wand to clean dishes.” He rolled his eyes.

  And yet again, Donovan had found the perfect way to get under my skin and stick there. I was determined now more than ever not to get involved in this mystery.

  No matter how freaking badly I wanted to.

  Tanner brought the hot tea upstairs on a tray and set it on the center of his bed next to me.

  Yes, we’d finally gone upstairs to his bedroom. It was very clearly the bedroom of not only a West Wind witch, but also a bachelor. Old clothes were thrown over the back of a chair, and when we’d first come up, the bedsheets were flung over, like he’d leaped out of bed that morning and not looked back. Around a window overlooking the street were a half dozen floating shelves with potted herbs and vines spilling over. The whole room smelled earthy and nourishing, and I was glad the West Wind in him had won out over the bachelor in that way. Herbs: good. Sweaty socks: no thanks.

  Despite finally finding myself tucked under the covers in his bed after what had seemed an unnecessary amount of build-up, the situation wasn’t under the pretenses I might have expected for him inviting me upstairs for the first time. Something about finding one of our friends floating facedown in a fountain really killed the mood for us. And the vision had left my nerves on edge and slight tremors in my hands, which Tanner had noted when he took one in his on our walk back to his place.

  “Grim and Monster are settling in on the couch,” he said. “I think she’s finally found the best place to burrow in his fur.”

  He sat on top of the quilt on the other side of the bed—his usual side, judging by the tossed quilt and sheets and more lived-in state of the nightstand—and poured each of us a cup from the small kettle.

  “It’s probably best if we don’t mention you saw that,” I said. Grim pretended he merely tolerated Tanner’s familiar, a tiny but fierce (and sometimes vengeful) munchkin cat, but I knew theirs was a stronger friendship than the hound let on.

  “Agreed,” said Tanner.

  I adjusted the quilt, pulling it higher up my body as I leaned against his headboard, and we sat in silence for a moment while I blew on my hot tea. It smelled sweet and spicy, which was exactly what I needed: something indulgent, not strong and bitter like the kind Ruby preferred.

  “You had me really worried,” he said, and when I looked at him, his gaze was locked onto the surface of the tea in his mug, which he clutched in both hands. “What happened?”

  I shrugged. “Not exactly sure. I think I had a vision.”

  He looked at me then. “A vision? Is that something Fifth Winds can do?”

  “Apparently.”

  “Were you wearing your amulet?”

  I grabbed the chain around my neck, untucking it slightly to show him.

  “And still you lost control?”

  I sighed. “Yep. Probably would have been even stronger if I hadn’t been wearing this thing.”

  “What was the vision about?”

  I tried to remember it, but the memory was hazy. “A man … I think he drowned.”

  “In Eastwind?”

  I shook my head. “No. It was in an ocean. They were speaking Spanish.”

  “Wait, isn’t that the language of queso?”

  I bit back a smile. “Yes, queso is Spanish for cheese.” While bits of culture from my old world had snuck into Eastwind over the years—take Franco’s Pizza, for example—the Spanish language had not. “But that’s why I don’t think it was in Eastwind. I don’t know Spanish, but I’ve heard it spoken enough to know when I’m hearing it.”

  “What made you see the vision?”

  “I have no idea. It involved water, so maybe seeing Zoe triggered it.”

  He sipped his tea, then asked, “You think it was a spirit reaching out to you? Were you channeling?”

  I hesitated. “Maybe. It felt like that … but then it also didn’t. Channeling feels heavy, like I’m holding up the spirit with my body. This didn’t feel that way. I— I don’t understand. I probably should have headed straight to Ruby, actually.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t,” he added hurriedly. “I feel like we never get to spend time together with work and your studies.”

  “Yeah,” I looked down at the charcoal gray quilt, smoothing a palm over it absentmindedly. “I’m sorry.”

  “Do you need some space?” he asked.

  “What?” Was he breaking up with me? Did he think I wanted to break up?

  “On the bed,” he said. “I can move the tray out of the way in case you want to lay down or … whatever.”

  “Oh, uh, yeah, sure.”

  He set the tray on the ground, and I scooted a little closer to the center. So did he, once he finished his tea and set the cup on his cluttered nightstand.

  “You know, there’s a subject that we’ve never really broached with each other,” he began, “and I feel like maybe we’ve both been purposefully avoiding it.”

  No matter how all-in you are to a relationship, hearing a sentence like that from your significant other will make your heart stop beating for a split second and a wave of dread rush through you. I mentally inventoried all the things he could be referring to, starting with love, marriage, children, moving in together…

  But then I pulled the mental ripcord and stopped the free fall with one simple, mature question: “What’s that?”

  “Our parents.”

  I refrained from laughing with relief since the topic of our murdered parents was hardly a laughing matter. “What do you mean?”

  “Nora, it’s a small town. I’m sure you’ve heard about mine. They didn’t just die, they were— well, you haven’t even asked me about it. And yours. You haven’t told me anything about them. And trust me, I know why you don’t talk about it. It’s probably the same reason I don’t. But, I dunno, it does seem like something we should get out in the open now that we’re together. And we’re probably the only two people who would understand one another.”

  “Why do you think I don’t want to talk about it?”

  “Because you don’t talk about it.�
�� He pulled me closer to him. “You have a fresh start here. When people look at you, they only see the Nora they met half a year ago when you came to town. Everything before that is a blank space. In everyone’s mind, you didn’t exist until you showed up here. Obviously, that’s not true, but that’s how it works in Eastwind. They only see mature, has-her-life-together Nora. And that’s how you’ve always been to people. You’re lucky that way.”

  I thought I knew where he was going with this, but I wanted to hear it in his words. “And you’re not so lucky?”

  “No matter what I do, no matter how many things I accomplish in my life,” he continued, “it’s always colored by the fact that my parents were murdered. I could become mayor of Eastwind, and you know what the headline of the Eastwind Watch would be? From Tragedy to Redemption: the Rise of Tanner Culpepper.” I chuckled and so did he. “See what I mean?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “Yes, something terrible happened to me when I was young, but I don’t want that to be my identity. I just want to be Tanner. I don’t want extra credit for everything I do because things were hard for a while. I don’t want to be this town’s poster child of resilience.” He paused. “And yet, I see it reflected back at me so often, sometimes I can’t help but think of myself in those terms—victim, orphan, underdog. And I hate it.

  “Do I want to figure out what happened to my parents? Of course. Are there some nights where all I can think about is burning through this town on a mission until I get answers, and Gaia help anyone who stands in my way? Obviously. But I don’t want that to be me. I don’t want to be a victim. Does that make any sense?”

  “Of course it does.” I set my tea down on the cleaner nightstand on my side and tugged at the covers until he got the message and climbed under next to me. He lifted his arm and I moved in, resting my head against his chest. “I want answers, too,” I said. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get them, though, now that I’m here. And yes, I think that’s more of blessing than a curse. If I’m really lucky, I’ll give up hoping for it before too long.”

  “It’s not fair,” he said. “Not only do people by definition have no choice in becoming victims, but we can’t seem to shake the title in anyone’s eyes once word gets out.”