Seeing Is Believing

by Lindsay McKenna

  She spotted many colorful flyers on a bulletin board. Going over, she began to read some of them. They were all New Age related. Smiling, Diana noted one flyer showing a vortex right where the airport sat! She wondered what the vortex energy did to the flight instruments on planes. Walks With Wolves had taught her much about vortices. They were a natural part of Mother Earth, and they existed all over the world in different sizes and degrees of energy output. The Sedona vortices were known to be among the most powerful in the world, mainly because there were four of them in such a small, concentrated area. That was why Native Americans held the region sacred. Too bad, Diana thought, that the white man had seen fit to build a tourist trap of a town on top of such sacred land, but it was typical of their attitude toward anything outside the context of their accepted reality.

  Feeling a little sad about the situation, she turned when she heard Wes coming. It was more a sense of his approach than actually hearing him, because he walked soundlessly. Hefting one of their bags, Officer Thomas guided them out the door, and they left the airport in a Sedona police cruiser. In the back seat, Diana remained quiet, inwardly attuning herself to the area’s vibrations. Occasionally, Wes gave her a strange look, a question in his eyes, but he said nothing.

  Thomas drove them to Los Piños, a five-star hotel and resort near Oak Creek, on the west side of Sedona. Diana appreciated the Santa Fe-style architecture of Los Piños. Its walls were stucco and painted a pink shade to mirror the red of the sandstone buttes, hills and mountains that surrounded them. Nothing here was more than two stories tall, so that every visitor might enjoy the dramatic scenery. The resort itself was a series of over fifty casitas, or small stucco homes.

  Wes leaned over and said, “People pay five hundred dollars a night to stay here.”

  “The Palm Springs of Arizona?” Diana ventured.

  “Yeah, this is a popular watering hole for the rich and famous. Officer Thomas was telling me that the Hollywood jet set comes here to get away from the gawkers and autograph hounds in California.”

  “Somehow,” Diana said, “I can’t feel sorry for them. Can you?”

  “No. They’ve made their bed, now they can lie in it.”

  “Can’t we all?” She hadn’t meant to sound derisive, but it came out that way. Giving Wes an apologetic look, she added, “It must be the vortex energy. I’ve been feeling out of sorts since we’ve landed.”

  “Vortex?”

  “Yeah,” Officer Thomas piped up with a laugh. “All the New Age hippie types come to Sedona swearing there are vortices here. A lot of them live in the area because of them. They’re nuts.”

  Diana held on to her anger. She saw Wes’s jaw tighten, because he realized she believed in vortices.

  “I think,” he said lightly, “that your opinions aren’t shared by everyone in the cruiser, Officer Thomas.”

  “Oh…er, sorry, ma’am. I didn’t mean to insult you. It’s just that…well, you know, we get some crazy fringe factions out here. You know how it is.”

  Diana smiled, just barely. “Officer Thomas, I am the fringe faction.”

  “Oh, er…”

  Wes laughed deeply. He saw the sparkle in Diana’s eyes and knew she hadn’t taken offense at his laughter, realizing it was directed at the embarrassed officer. “It’s all right,” he told Thomas, and sat back, grinning.

  “You’re enjoying this immensely,” Diana accused him.

  “Yeah, I am.” He placed his hand on hers. “Tell me about these vortices. What are they?”

  She could see that his question was sincere. His warm, strong hand over hers rattled her, but Diana realized Wes was truly trying to understand her, and a warm feeling unexpectedly flowed through her heart.

  “Vortices are natural areas where energy is discharged from inside Mother Earth. The energy is invisible to the naked eye, but can be seen by someone who is clairvoyant or has what is known as the ‘sight’.”

  “What kind of energy?”

  “Depends. Vortices are outlets. Energy builds up in and around Mother Earth, and it has to be discharged. You can think of vortices and their energy as her invisible circulatory system. Just as we have blood that runs through our arteries and veins, Mother Earth relies on her own ‘blood’—this unseen energy. Without it, she would die.”

  “Interesting analogy,” Wes said, trying to grasp her concept.

  Diana pointed to the west. “I can feel something over in that direction.”

  “That’s Boynton Canyon.” Officer Thomas spoke up, trying to make amends for his faux pas. “They say there’s a vortex in that canyon, ma’am.”

  “Thank you, Officer.” Diana smiled over at Wes.

  “So you can feel them?” Wes was impressed at Diana’s ability to sense the presence of another vortex.

  “Yes, anyone who is sensitive can. Animals can. Insects and birds certainly do.”

  “Do you think Ruth Horner knew about the vortices? That she might have come here for that reason?”

  “I don’t know. If she was as psychic as you say she is, then I’m sure she felt them just as I now feel them.”

  “What do vortices do?”

  “Most release energy, but some have other special functions.”

  “Yeah,” the officer put in, eavesdropping on their conversation, “they say the one over on Bell Rock is a physical vortex that can heal you, and the one in Boynton Canyon brings back past-life memory recall.”

  “Exactly,” Diana said. She pointed to Wes. “In the Hindu religion, as well as many Far Eastern religions, they recognize that we humans also have an invisible energy ‘circulatory system,’ with major centers called chakras. They look like wheels with spokes in them, and they rotate. We have one on top of our head, one at our brow where the ‘third eye’ is located, one at our throat, our heart, our stomach, our abdomen and, finally, at the base of our tailbone. These chakras turn, like spinning propeller blades on an airplane, drawing in the invisible energy that surrounds us. The Hindus called it prana which is another word for life.”

  Scowling, Wes nodded. “Okay, so far so good. I follow what you’re saying.”

  Diana smiled a little and gestured with her hands. “Prana is sucked up into our chakras by the spinning blades and then distributed throughout our aura, that electromagnetic eggshell that surrounds everything, including human beings. If the chakras are open and running, we are healthy. If they’re closed or blocked, we can get very sick.” She placed her fingertips against Wes’s chest. “When my mother hugged you, healing energy flowed to your closed heart chakra, and it flew open. The blades started to spin, and that’s why you can feel again. You aren’t numb any longer.”

  Wes gave her a strange look. “How did you know I felt emotionally numb?”

  “My mother taught us that when the heart chakra closes down and stops spinning, you are cut off from your feelings, Wes. When it’s open you can feel. Don’t look at me like that. What I’m telling you is the science of metaphysics—those things that exist beyond the reach of our naked eyes.”

  Ruminating over her explanation, Wes pondered her impassioned plea. “So these vortices—how are they connected with our chakras?”

  She smiled, pleased by his grasp of her information. “Vortices are Mother Earth’s chakras.” She held her hand about six inches away from Wes’s heart. “You see, each chakra spins, and as it spins, it creates a flow and releases energy. You can actually feel it in the palm of your hand if you’re sensitive enough.”

  Wes felt something. Although Diana’s hand was well away from his chest, he could feel heat radiating from it. “I feel warmth.”

  She smiled. “Yes.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “My hand is making contact with the energy being sent out from your heart chakra, that’s all. It’s a nice feeling, isn’t it?”

  He nodded, more than a little impressed, but not willing to believe all of it quite yet. “Do you think Ruth Horner was out here to investigate these vortices?�
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  “I don’t know. Sedona is certainly rich with metaphysical phenomena,” Diana murmured. “But we need to get to her casita, and I need to touch something she owned before I’ll know more.”

  *

  Wes had Officer Thomas wait outside in the cruiser, then he opened the door to the casita Ruth Horner had vacationed in for two weeks. Placing his hand in the small of Diana’s back, he guided her into the posh residence. The interior was painted a dusky mauve, the drapes pale pink and the carpet pale green—all colors in keeping with the Southwest tradition, he supposed.

  Curious, he watched Diana after he removed his hand from her back and quietly closed the door. She moved to the center of the room and stood very still. Remaining silent, Wes realized she was picking up on something. He searched his own senses but felt nothing in the silence of this large casita filled with expensive, overstuffed furniture and art objects.

  “I feel a lot of anger in here,” Diana said in a low voice. Her eyes closed, she slowly turned, sensing, picking up information on the intuitive level. “There.” Opening her eyes, she pointed in the direction of a large pink-and-white-striped satin sofa. “The anger is really strong here, around the sofa.” She walked over and slowly moved her hand from side to side, allowing her ultrasensitive palms to pick up information.

  Wes walked over and held out his hand in the same general area. His frown deepened. “I don’t feel anything.”

  “That’s okay.”

  He looked more closely at the sofa. “Officer Thomas said they found nothing in the casita. Ruth Horner and her luggage had literally vanished.”

  “I don’t think so.” Frowning, Diana closed her eyes and placed both hands on one of the sofa’s plump seat cushions. She continued to feel, to receive impressions. “Fight. There was a terrific fight. I feel her anguish.” Jerking her hands off the couch, Diana straightened and shivered. “A horrible fight.”

  Wes moved closer, hearing the tremor in her hushed tone. Without thinking, he placed a hand on her shoulder and felt the tension thrumming through her. It was difficult for him to think that she might be making all of this up. He already felt he knew and trusted Diana enough to realize she felt something.

  “What kind of fight? Physical? Verbal?”

  Releasing a sigh, she twisted her head to look up into Wes’s grave features. She liked having his hand on her shoulder, and the feeling of stability it gave her. Even more, she liked what she saw mirrored in his eyes: concern. How could she ever have thought he was violent as Bob had been? The violence she felt around him had come from his experiences in Delta Force, one of the most lethal military teams in the world.

  “I don’t know. At least, not yet. Let me touch some more things….”

  Wes looked around. “While you’re doing that, I’m going to nose around. I don’t trust the local cops to see everything. They must have missed something.”

  “Okay.” Diana felt him move away, and she closed her eyes again. By closing them, she automatically switched to the right hemisphere of her brain, where her sensing equipment was located. She could feel more by moving her hands lightly across fabric, a desk or chair, than by looking at it. Information, sometimes pictures, would flow into her mind’s eye, that screen where her third eye was located. When she opened her eyes, the pictures or symbols disappeared.

  She moved slowly, sensing, feeling. The anger was worst around the sofa, although in the bedroom, she felt a confusing mix of emotions. Touching a pale pink satin comforter that covered the king-size bed, she felt tears, sadness. When she skimmed her left palm upward toward the pillow, the sensation became stronger. By the time Diana actually felt the pillow, the one she was sure Ruth Horner had slept on, she wanted to cry herself.

  “Are you okay?” Wes stood in the entrance to the bedroom. He saw the grief-stricken expression on Diana’s face as she held a pillow against her body.

  “Y-yes.” She put the pillow back down and wrapped her arms around herself. Wes came over and stood inches from her. When he placed his hands on her arms, she whispered, “Ruth Horner was a very sad woman. She cried so much. So much…”

  Wes tightened his grip on Diana’s arms. Her voice was shaken, and he felt her empathy for Ruth Horner. “Lean on me,” he entreated softly near her ear. And she did. Wes stifled a groan deep within him as she leaned shyly against him and he took her weight. She felt good. Everything felt so right with her. She was warm and soft and rounded in all the right places, fitting perfectly against the hard, more angular planes of his body. Even her hair smelled fragrant—a scent he could swear was gardenia. Without thinking, he placed a kiss against her thick, black hair, shining in the light from the stained-glass windows behind them.

  Diana felt his kiss, felt the pressure of his mouth against her hair and trembled. Not from fear, but from anticipation. If only…if only he was kissing her lips. Her fingers were firm on her arms, and he was stalwart, his body hard but at the same time comforting. She closed her eyes, surrendering to him in every way—although she knew he didn’t realize it. Wes wasn’t much of an intuitive, not perceptive enough at reading body language to realize the gift of herself she’d just given to him. But it didn’t matter, because he was opening up. With time, she knew he would be able to read even her most subtle body signals. Did they have that time?

  Opening her eyes, Diana forced herself away from Wes, away from the strength and invitation of his body. Although she ached to turn and slide her arms around his neck, she fought the urge. She must concentrate on the job at hand.

  “Earlier I picked up a very different feeling near the clothes closet,” she said, hoping he didn’t notice that she was blushing. Her cheeks felt hot, and she kept her back turned to him as she moved toward the closet.

  Wes nodded and stood for a moment, absorbing the last sensations of Diana’s body against him. The moment had been too short, and he felt denied. Did she? He turned, but she was moving away from him. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she seemed a trifle nervous. Perhaps because of his boldness?

  Wes didn’t have much experience with Diana’s kind of woman—a woman who’d been hurt by another man. He was terribly unsure about how to approach her. What was appropriate? What wasn’t? Shaking his head, he followed her over to the light blue French doors. The closet was large, covering half the wall in front of them. When Diana turned, he felt instant elation. Her cheeks were bright pink, and her eyes… He groaned to himself. Her eyes were a soft, velvety brown with gold flecks. Yes, she’d liked him holding her, kissing her hair. Wes wanted more. Much more. Suppressing his clamoring needs, he put them aside and focused on what she was saying.

  “When I came into this room, I felt a lot of confused energy. I felt repugnance and disgust, along with a lot of grief.” Lifting her hands, she added, “I don’t know what to make of it, Wes.”

  “What did the bed area feel like?”

  “Grief, sadness.”

  “Can you conjecture why?”

  “She was sad. Crying over something.”

  Scratching his jaw, he said, “She was married once, you know.”

  “What caused the divorce?”

  “I don’t know. I asked the same question of the chief of the Psi-Lab, and he said only that her husband, Richard Horner, didn’t like the long hours she spent at work.”

  Diana lightly ran her hand along one French door. “I see.”

  “What do you feel here?”

  “Something…odd. Dangerous.” She shook her head. “Wait, let me see if I can be more specific.” She faced the closet, closed her eyes and placed both hands on the French doors. For a minute she was silent.

  Wes waited patiently. He saw Diana’s brow furrow and her mouth curve downward. “What is it?”

  Jerking her hands away from the closet, she whispered, “Something evil is in there!” She shook her hands to fling off the energy they’d accumulated by having contact with the closet doors.

  Frowning, Wes pulled her away. “Stay back,” h
e warned, before carefully opening one of the doors. It was dark inside the closet, but he knew in a casita like this, where no expense was spared, there would be a light switch. Fumbling, he found it. Once the light was on, he hauled both giant doors outward and folded them back for a better view.

  “Look!” Diana gasped, pointing up to the right-hand corner of the closet about the clothes rack.

  Wes tensed momentarily, his hand automatically going for his revolver beneath his jacket. His gaze settled on the red object in the corner. “What the hell…”

  “Wait! Don’t touch it!”

  He glanced at her as she came over to where he stood. “Why? What is it?”

  “I think it’s a rattle of some kind.”

  “So?” He itched to reach up and retrieve it.

  Gulping, Diana stood on tiptoe to get a better look at it. “It is a rattle! A ceremonial one, from what I can tell. Wes, don’t touch it, please. It could be dangerous.”

  “How?” There was disbelief in his voice. It looked like a gourd that had been sloppily painted a red color, with two black feathers attached to the wooden handle.

  Gripping his arm, she kept her gaze fastened on the gourd. “Rattles are like loaded guns, Wes. You don’t handle them unless you know exactly what they are and what you’re doing.”

  “Explain.” He was fully aware of her fingers digging into his arm, as if she was afraid he wouldn’t listen to her warning.

  “Rattles are like pipes—they’re all different. Usually, they’re made out of a gourd of some kind, or a turtle shell or deer hoof. People making rattles, if they know what they’re doing, will fill them with stones. Those stones usually come from around an anthill.”

  “Do you mean it’s dangerous if someone throws it at me?” he asked wryly, a grin crossing his mouth.

  Diana’s heart wouldn’t stop pounding. She sensed real danger and wasn’t in the mood for his teasing. “This isn’t funny, Wes! I’ve seen people pick up a rattle and get thrown clear across a room, unconscious by the time they hit the other wall. Rattles are nothing to play around with. If the maker of a rattle is a good person, it can be beautiful, healing and powerful. But if a sorcerer—a person with evil intent—makes one, the rattle can kill. Please, you’ve got to believe me!”