Psychic Lies (Wiccan Haus Book Four)

by Sara Daniel

  She yanked her hands free. “I want vetting powers. I have none. I’m a fraud, and I’m a fake. If you can’t give me some, nothing can heal me.”

  Oh by the Goddess, what had she just admitted? No one was to know the truth. No one.

  But Cemil didn’t look horrified or shocked or suspicious. “Good. The first step is admitting what you do and don’t have.”

  “Your secret is safe with us. The Wiccan Haus is on your side,” Sage added, standing next to her.

  “You don’t understand. I thought maybe if I tried hard enough I could turn off my real powers and just be ordinary. I thought I’d found a man who liked me as an ordinary woman. But I can’t turn off my powers, and he’s using his truth-finding power to learn things about me.” Things she couldn’t allow anyone to discover.

  “Say it out loud. Your real powers are in sex,” Cemil encouraged.

  Her knees shook, and her stomach twisted. She’d given them the clues they needed to guess her darkest secret, as if she wanted them to find out. She continually made one bad choice after another, each worse than the one before.

  “We’ve known since you made your reservation that you’re an Orgasmic Psychic,” Sage said gently. “You have a rare, amazing power. You should be proud of it.”

  Spoken by someone who’d never been cursed with such a power. “It’s horrible,” Fiona promised. “There’s absolutely nothing orgasmic about knowing a man’s thoughts during sex.”

  “Were Armando’s thoughts really so revolting? I thought better of him. Myron said he’d be good for you,” Sage said.

  “No man is good for me,” Fiona shot back, even though he really hadn’t thought anything that horrible. His power had freaked her out. “If they aren’t having disgusting thoughts about other women while they’re fucking me, they’re trying to figure out how to use me to get something else. Usually, they’re doing both.”

  “If he was thinking about someone else, you haven’t met the right man,” Sage said.

  “I don’t care about meeting the right man.” No matter that her soul believed she’d already met him.

  “You will once you embrace your power.” Cemil was equally confident in his wisdom.

  Clearly, the Rowans didn’t know everything, or they’d know the Fates and her soul had already chosen Armando as her mate. They also didn’t understand the bigger issues at hand. “Embracing my power is even worse. I’d have to accept my fate as a well-paid prostitute for the Syndicate or its enemies. I’d rather die.”

  “That isn’t the only option,” Sage said.

  “No, but it’s better than being forced into sexual slavery for the spy network and eventually killing myself like my birth mother did. I was raised a Vetter. I love my Vetter family.” A family she’d brought shame on by pretending to have powers she did not. A family that now wanted nothing to do with her.

  “If you really want to help me heal,” Fiona continued, “I need you to help me get rid of this power before anyone finds out. If I can’t be a Vetter, I’ll settle for being a woman with no powers.”

  Sage and Cemil exchanged a long look. Then Cemil squeezed her hands again. “You’ve come a long way by simply admitting the truth to us, Fiona. You can heal, and you can accept what you have. Give it a few more days. With the right partner, you’ll never feel like you’re being used, and you’ll never have to worry that the Syndicate will take ownership of your body.”

  Both Sage and Cemil smiled at her, as if they believed a simple can-do attitude would cure everything.

  Fiona didn’t share their optimism. “Sexual slavery for the Syndicate isn’t even the worst that could happen. I’m an unmated Orgasmic Psychic. My power can make some races so powerful they could put the entire Para world in jeopardy. If I don’t keep my power a secret, I could be kidnapped by a bounty hunter and forced to mate.”

  “You’re safe at the Wiccan Haus,” Cemil assured her.

  She’d felt safe within the Vetter community too, but she no longer had the security of her family. Talking aloud about her powers for the first time since she was a teen had brought a brief moment of relief. But now the weight of her secret traveled from her shoulders to her chest and settled heavier than ever. She’d made herself more vulnerable. If anyone besides the Rowans found out, the Para world could be at risk.

  Chapter 7

  BY THE TIME ARMANDO FINISHED HIS SWIM, cleaned up the ruined picnic, and returned from the lake, he was late for dinner. Fiona was at a corner table, her plate already empty. She said something to her tablemate, a bodacious blonde in a barely-there dress, and the woman immediately stood and escorted Fiona from the room, leading her in a wide berth around Armando.

  After a half-hearted stab at his meal, he cajoled another carryout box from the staff. But no matter how many times he knocked on Fiona’s door, she refused to open for him. He left the box in the hall, taping a letter of apology to the top, but she didn’t even reach an arm out to take it after he walked away.

  His hope of repeating last night’s relaxed, enjoyable meal on her chaise dissolved as the hour grew later. His concern increased that sex with him had somehow traumatized her. If she wouldn’t talk to him, she had to open up to one of the Rowans. They could help her heal.

  He called the front desk and attempted to convince Myron the staff needed to come upstairs and conduct a well-being check.

  “Cemil, Sage, and Serena have seen and talked to her. She doesn’t need any more visitors tonight,” Myron said tartly.

  Good, she was being cared for. Unfortunately, it didn’t bring him any closer to straightening out whatever misunderstanding had come between them. “What do your cards say I need to do to get through to her tomorrow?”

  “A different approach than today.”

  As if he hadn’t figured that out already. But he’d already decided to set aside his questions about Philippe until he’d earned her trust and built a relationship with her. If only he could make a break in the investigation without involving her or leaving the island. Then he wouldn’t be hiding anything or trying to deceive her in any way. He’d be free to get to know her, maybe buy her a lifebond ring and ask her to bless it with her Vetter assessment.

  He could do that if he swallowed his pride and admitted that Cyrus’s retro-cog ability was superior to his truth-finding one. Cyrus could touch the lifebond ring and see the truth of who had murder Lizbet Jinsin while she wore it.

  Considering Cyrus was one step away from throwing Armando off the island for attempting to conduct a Syndicate investigation, cooperation wasn’t a guarantee. But it mattered to Fiona’s healing, and for that reason Armando thought he had a chance.

  Just after sunrise, Armando followed the labyrinth of hallways to the portal where Cyrus was overseeing the security detail.

  “You’re too late to go through,” Cyrus said, sparing him a glance.

  “I came to ask you a favor. I need your retro-cog power to touch this and tell me what happened to Lizbet Jinsin the night of her lifebond ceremony.” Armando held up the silver ring.

  Cyrus’s face turned almost purple with rage. He raised his gloved hand, not to take the ring but as if he might slap it away. “You arrogant, ballsy asshole. What part of ‘no Syndicate investigation is to be conducted on my island’ do you not understand?”

  Armando pocketed the ring. “The future of the Department of Truth-Finding hinges on solving this case and bringing her murderer to justice. It’s not about me. It’s about the greater good of protecting the citizens of the Syndicate.”

  “Practice your fucking greater good policy somewhere else,” Cyrus said through clenched teeth. “Pack your things. I want you out of here when the portal opens again tonight.”

  “If you don’t care about the greater good, then do it for Fiona’s healing. She was the Vetter for the lifebond ring. Yes, I came here to investigate her originally, and yes, I engaged in unprofessional conduct, and I violated your trust. For that, I apologize. But I’m not investigating Fiona at
all anymore. Further, I think she’ll be able to move on if she has the facts of what happened, instead of just speculation.”

  Cyrus looked no less furious, but he seemed to have his anger back under control. “If you want to help her heal, stay the hell away from her. And stay away from me too. I’ll see you at the portal tonight.”

  Armando wasn’t nearly ready to leave Fiona behind, but he still had until sundown, an entire day to try to make up to her for whatever had happened at the lake. He just needed to figure out how to get past the Rowan siblings, and Myron, to see her.

  He turned back down the hallway, no blue lines to guide him this time. He’d completely humiliated himself and his power in front of Cyrus. For nothing. His pride demanded he get away from the man and legend that were impossible to live up to.

  “Mr. Verdad,” Cyrus called after him. “Don’t make me send Rekkus to get you when it’s time to go. And I will send him. Because if I come, there won’t be anything left of you to stuff through the portal. My siblings happen to be proud of the fact that no one has ever died on this island. I don’t intend to make an exception for the lousy likes of you.”

  Fiona walked slowly around the edge of the lake. Her long black skirt billowed in the wind as she watched Serena’s colorful mermaid tail rise, crest in the horizon, and then arch back under the waves. She longed to capture the image on paper, to sketch it or skip straight to painting it. But she had no paper, no easel, no brushes, pencils, or paints.

  Yesterday she had most regretted leaving her skirt behind. But clothes were replaceable. Those paintings of the sunrise, her first attempts at art in too many years, were not. And they were gone. Even if someone had found her supplies and clothes, the papers had likely scattered in the wind and blown in the lake.

  She returned to the Haus and stopped by the front desk to see if someone from the staff had picked them up. “Is there a lost and found where I can look?”

  “No one has reported anything,” Myron said. “I can check with Rekkus and our grounds crew.”

  “Please. I would appreciate it.” She glanced over the counter at the deck of cards that Myron was oddly ignoring. “Can you check the cards, as well? Maybe they’d be able to point me in the right direction.”

  “Did you lose something?” Armando strode into the lobby from the outside.

  Her soul swelled at the sight of him. Yes, my mind. She knew about his truth-finding power, and she still longed to mate with him—to open her soul and allow his thoughts and his words to become one voice in her head. “I left my painting supplies by the lake yesterday and forgot to go back. I’m trying to find out if anyone picked them up.”

  “I did.” He smiled his heart-stopping smile. “I have it all in my room. Do you want to get it right now?” He held out his hand to her.

  Fiona hesitated. Now that she knew his power, touching him had more consequences than just what it did to her insides.

  “I can send someone to transfer it to your room if you prefer,” Myron offered.

  “No, I’ll do it.” Their rooms were on the same floor. As much as Fiona needed to keep her distance, her soul demanded she seize this precious minute in his company.

  She accepted Armando’s warm, smooth hand that made her own look pale and tiny by comparison.

  “Your pictures are striking. You have an eye for capturing raw beauty,” he said as they walked to the elevator and rode up.

  She shrugged, embarrassed, but more pleased with his assessment than she cared to acknowledge. “The Wiccan Haus makes it easy. Everything is beautiful.” She’d meant the scenery, but she looked at him as she spoke, and her words took on greater meaning. He was a beautiful man, strong and smooth.

  “I have another theory. Your beauty shines through on the page.” He slid his finger down her cheek as the elevator door opened.

  “I made it pretty clear yesterday that any beauty I have is only skin-deep.” She pulled away from his touch and stepped out of the elevator onto the second floor.

  Armando followed her. “Should we talk about yesterday?”

  “No.” Her stomach churned. If only she had a normal power and could have a normal relationship, maybe she could have attempted a relationship talk. But what man wanted a woman who bolted in the middle of sex whenever she didn’t like what he was thinking? Better to let him think she was fickle and vicious. “How far down the hall are you?”

  “Right here.” He stopped and opened the door directly across from hers, gesturing for her to walk in first.

  “Oh, I didn’t realize we were so close.” But of course, he already knew. He’d been to her room. She stepped inside. The room was identical to hers. Except in his room, her paintings hung from the walls, were propped along the cupboards and spread across the bed.

  Fiona stopped and stared. “Oh my.”

  Armando shifted his feet. “I, uh, would have taken them down if I’d known you were coming in.”

  “This is amazing.”

  “It doesn’t scream crazy-stalker-guy to you?”

  “No, I’ve never imagined anyone would want to hang my stuff before. Even though these are only half-finished and rough renditions, I feel like I could be a real artist.”

  “You already are,” Armando whispered against her ear. He stood so close behind her she could have followed her soul’s demand to lean against him.

  Instead, she walked into his room to retrieve her easel and paints. Armando gathered the paintings that were spread on his bed. She led him across the hall to her room, and then set her supplies against the wall just inside the door. He handed over her paintings and sketches. She carefully spread them across her own bed.

  “It looks like you already got a new key, but you’ll definitely need your crystal for the return trip home. I didn’t want it to fall out of your skirt and get lost, so I put it in my pocket.” He reached in and drew out the sparkling yellow orb.

  Something metal fell to the floor and rolled across the hardwood, coming to rest at the tip of her shoe.

  Fiona reached down to pick up the gray, circular object. When she saw what it was, she yanked her hand back. Her soul silently screamed in despair; she was so stupid. She’d started to believe Armando was interested in her as a person.

  “You recognize the ring?” He crossed the room to retrieve it, lifting it between his thumb and index finger.

  Of course she recognized Lizbet Jinsin’s lifebond ring. He knew she did. She didn’t have to have sex with him to confirm he knew she was the disgraced Vetter. He’d likely known before she’d met his gaze in the check-in line and her soul had chosen him as her mate.

  The more important questions were the ones she didn’t have answers to. Why was he questioning her? How did he get the ring? And what would he do when he learned the truth behind her lies? “Who are you?”

  “Armando Verdad.” He didn’t pretend to misunderstand her.

  “Mr. Verdad, Head of the Department of Truth-Finding.” She gave a short, humorless laugh at her own stupidity. “I ridiculed you two nights ago. Seems the joke’s on me.”

  He looked pained. “Crazy-stalker-guy isn’t that far off. I originally followed you here to investigate you in regards to Lizbet Jinsin’s murder, but I changed my mind after we talked at dinner that night. You convinced me you had pure intentions when you vetted their lifebond ring.”

  How could he believe her intentions were pure when she’d lied to him about everything and he knew it? “So what do you plan to do with me?”

  “Get to know you. Be your friend. Cross the line into more than friends if you’re interested. Make up for the disaster in the lake if you’ll let me.”

  None of those things had anything to do with the lifebond ring. Was it possible he suspected she had Orgasmic Psychic powers? Her instinct was to push him away, but the last time she’d done that, she’d made a spectacle of herself, running half-naked across the island.

  If she wanted control over her life, she needed to find out what he wanted and if he k
new more about her than her Vetter background. Unlike Armando, she didn’t have a truth-finding power. She couldn’t trust the answers that came out of his mouth. To learn what and how much he knew she had to use the only power she did have.

  “I’ll definitely let you.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and plastered her lips to his. He threatened every hope she had of creating an ordinary life, but she wouldn’t go down without a fight. She skimmed her tongue over the seam of his lips.

  He opened for her, kissing her back with enough enthusiasm that, if she hadn’t known better, she would have believed he wanted her for her body and not for her secrets.

  She did know better. She skated her hands under his shirt, over his hard abs, and around his lean back. Taking a step, she nudged him with her body through the doorway into the hall. “Let’s go to your room.”

  “Why?” he asked, his voice husky with desire. Damn, he was good.

  So as soon as she learned what he wasn’t telling her, she could escape and put locked doors between them while she dealt with the truth. Sex always left her upset and disillusioned. It was the curse of her power.

  A man who used sex with her for ulterior motives was even worse.

  Chapter 8

  “WHY SHOULD WE GO TO YOUR ROOM?” Fiona repeated. “Because everything that was piled on your bed is now on mine, and I want you now.”

  I want you now—lie.

  Yet she was kissing him and touching him like it was Apollo’s truth. And he sure wanted her now. Armando walked in step with her across the hall to his room. He kicked the door closed, slamming it with more force than he anticipated.

  She jolted in his arms.

  “Second thoughts?” he asked.

  “No.” She pushed his shirt higher, attempting to work it over his head without unbuttoning it.

  No—lie.

  Right now his power was a curse. Her words wouldn’t ease his conscience as long as she fed him lies. Armando caught her hands and shrugged his shirt back down his torso. “Before we rush into sex, let’s set the mood, maybe find a way to pipe some music in here. I want to take things slow and make sure we’re both on the same page.”