Psychic for Hire Series Box Set

by Hermione Stark

  “Sure, whatever I can do to help.”

  “Talk us through what happened that evening.”

  Charles Blair leans back in his seat and runs his fingers through his artfully arranged blond hair, which has been molded into a neat quiff with so much styling product that it retains its shape through the mauling of his frustrated fingers. He looks like the last thing he wants to do is talk about Friday evening.

  He crosses his arms over his chest like a sulky schoolboy. “India wanted to go out for Rachel’s birthday. She practically begged me. I said we could do a bar crawl. We ended up at The Half Moon for last drinks. It was nearly 2 o’clock in the morning. I went to settle up the bill. She and Rachel went outside, and they never came back. That’s all I know.”

  He says it as if he has rehearsed it in his head.

  “Did you go to look for them?” asks Leo.

  “Yeah I looked for them. They weren’t outside the bar. I figured they must have walked off and got a cab or something.”

  “Had you and India argued that night?”

  “No! We all had fun. You can ask anyone. Ask my buddies. They’ll tell you. I can give you their names.”

  “Weren’t you worried when India and Rachel left the bar alone?”

  “Why would I be? They were together, weren’t they?”

  “Not even with the Wolf-Claw Killer on the loose?” says Leo. “I’d have been worried if my girlfriend was out late at night.”

  “No one would have to be worried if you guys did your job and had caught him already,” Charlie snaps. “And anyway, India is already a werewolf. Why would the killer attack her? I thought they’d be safe together.”

  Charlie’s sulky and defensive attitude does not do enough to hide the guilt that he is clearly feeling. Storm can see it in his body language. But whether the guilt is from the fear of being blamed for what has happened to the girls or for a more sinister reason is not yet clear.

  “And what did you do after you couldn’t find them?” Storm asks.

  Charlie shrugs. “I was trashed. I went home and passed out.” He says this scathingly, as if it should be obvious what he did.

  “Did anyone see you?”

  “No.”

  “Did you get a cab?”

  “I wish I’d got a cab. Then I’d have a bloody alibi, wouldn’t I? I walked. I don’t live far from the bar.”

  “So you’re familiar with Shoreditch?” says Storm.

  “So?”

  “Why aren’t you helping with the search for your girlfriend?”

  “Why is it any of your business?” says Charles, his smart mouth running away with him despite his clear intention to seem cooperative. He seems to regret it. “Look, you don’t know my job, okay? What was I supposed to tell my boss? That some werewolf girl I’m dating might have killed someone? And now she is missing and I have to go look for her? We’re crazy-busy with this pitch. I wasn’t going to be able to take a day off, was I?”

  “How did you get along with Rachel?” Leo asks.

  Charlie shrugs. “Fine, I guess.”

  “Do you know whether she was having problems with anyone lately?”

  “How would I know that? India didn’t say anything about it.”

  “And were she and India getting along?”

  “Sure. Why wouldn’t they?”

  “Being cramped up together all the time in that small apartment must get complicated,” says Storm. “We understand that Rachel was paying all of the rent and the bills. Did they argue about money?”

  Charlie’s legs start shaking under the table, with frustration and impatience. “I helped India out with money, But Rachel didn’t like that. So why should Rachel complain that she was paying for everything? India never said that Rachel had a problem with India living with her.”

  “Do you know of any reason why anyone would have wanted to hurt either of them?”

  “No. Rachel was boring. Always talking about her work. Who would want to hurt her?”

  “And India?”

  “India’s India. She’s fun. She runs her mouth sometimes, but she’s harmless really. Why are you here questioning me when you should be out there looking for her?”

  “Rachel’s parents said that you and Rachel didn’t get along.”

  “That’s bullshit. Rachel liked me well enough. Believe me.”

  “Did Rachel have a reason to dislike you?”

  “I told you that she liked me just fine.”

  “Were you violent?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” he snaps.

  “Was India taking wolfsbane regularly to reduce her strength?”

  “So what if she was?”

  “Did you make her do that?”

  “No. She was already doing it. And damn right she should be. It’s up to werewolves to make sure they’re going to be safe if they’re running around in our society. She knew that.”

  “Did you ever hit India? Is that why Rachel never liked you?”

  “I never laid a finger on India,” he explodes.

  “That’s quite the temper,” Leo observes. “India was dosing up. She was the perfect target. You sure you never hit her?”

  “The hell I did.”

  “Did Rachel try to cause problems between you and India?” says Storm.

  “Everything was fine with me and India!” he says heatedly. “Why would she want to move in with me if things weren’t good? I asked her to move in with me that night, and she said yes. Ask my buddy Jacob. He was there.”

  “How many of your buddies were there?”

  “Seven.” He lists them. “Two with their girlfriends.”

  “Did you see all of your buddies leave the bar?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Did any of them leave alone?”

  “Probably.”

  “Did any of them leave around the time that India and Rachel left?”

  Charlie shrugs. “I really don’t know man. You’ll have to ask them.”

  Chapter 9

  DIANA

  As evening grows closer, my nerves ratchet tighter and tighter. When Remi calls the search off at 9.15 in the evening, she insists that the volunteers must meet at the starting point for a debrief. I hope none of them will show up, but nearly all of them do.

  Around twenty-five of them are civilian volunteers, one of whom might be a murderer who felt the need to involve him or herself in this search according to Remi’s theory.

  As Remi takes a roll call and makes a note of anyone who hasn’t stayed, my nerves stretch to breaking point. My brain scrambles for ideas, but I am now too panicked to think of what to say to them all. Even if my psychic powers had been on point, I would have struggled to address this many people. Without them I am going to fail miserably.

  This day is about to go from bad to pathetic. It is going to be a farce. They are going to think I am making a mockery of them.

  I try to concentrate on what Remi is saying in case she has called me up. She is still debriefing each team. None of the volunteers report seeing any signs that India has been to any of the locations they covered. Remi ticks off the properties which have been completed, and I stand at her side feeling completely useless.

  I can feel DI Zael’s eyes on me. He and his officers are standing off to the side of the crowd, their arms crossed over their chests, waiting for the moment when I will have to prove myself. He seems to be eagerly anticipating the moment I am going to flop.

  I know how I would have started if I had my powers. I would have spoken to each of the volunteers in turn. I would touch their hands. I would try to get a sense of their involvement in this case from what they said, or any flashes of their memories that might pass through my mind when I touch them.

  I don’t know how my gift works, just that it does. Did. Randomly. In unexpected ways that sometimes didn’t seem to mean anything until they suddenly made sense.

  It is only since it has been gone that I had realized how much I had relied on it i
n my everyday life.

  The only way I can describe it was that it was like there used to be an invisible web all around me that some other sense of mine was attuned to, and which could guide me in the direction of things that I needed or away from any danger or unpleasantness. It was so subtle I never knew it was there. I had been able to trust my instincts on whether to trust a person or distrust them. Or I had known exactly how much time I had to run to a bus stop before the next bus might arrive without needing to check a timetable. It had helped guide me in all of the little things that I would do or say to someone every day. And then suddenly it was gone.

  And now I have to navigate the world blind of this extra sense, so I am constantly bumping into problems, tiny problems, that I might have completely unconsciously avoided before. It is as if my happy luck, my serendipity, has gone. Not that I had thought I was lucky when I actually had it. Not that I ever felt it had brought me any happiness.

  No wonder DI Zael had referred to it as mumbo jumbo. It sounds like mumbo jumbo even to me.

  Despite all that, there is a tiny mote of certainty inside me insisting that if my psychic gift had been active right now, and there was a clue to be found that would lead me towards India, then I would have found that clue.

  I may not have known what the clue was, but maybe my subconscious psychic mind would have followed it, and trusted it, and then maybe India would have been all right in the end. Somehow I could have helped her.

  But now that it is gone I feel humbled and helpless. It horrifies me, the idea that one of these people gathered here before me might have something to do with what happened to India and Rachel, and that I have simply no idea and no way of knowing.

  It almost makes me want to throw the amulet that Theo gave me into the bin. But if I do that I will have a worse problem.

  I remember the insidious words of the little voice, and how she would mutter and whinge and beguile, guiding me in my everyday life towards decisions that would benefit her, which I was never aware of. And now that I know she is capable of murdering, of killing in cold blood, how can I possibly justify letting her out?

  I cannot do that, because all it would take is one slip up on my part for her to do something terrible that I can never undo. That would turn me into a murderer. I cannot take off the amulet until I find some other way of keeping her in check, or of getting rid of her for good.

  Knowing this does not make my current task easier. Remi gives me a glance, checking if I am ready to talk to the gathered crowd. Not just the civilians, but the Agency officers and police officers who had also taken part in the search are watching me.

  Every one of them looks expectant. They have reached the end of a grueling and disappointing day. They are hoping I will perform a magic trick and fix it. They are hoping there is still a chance for us to go home victorious.

  Well, some of them are. Not DI Zael. Nothing would make his day brighter than for me to fail.

  “This is Diana Bellona,” Remi says, introducing me to the crowd. “She’s assisting us in this search, and she is going to ask you a few questions. I’d like you to cooperate with her.”

  Thankfully she did not tell them I was a psychic. She didn’t have to. Zael has already sown those seeds. I don’t want Remi to have to look a fool when I fail.

  I take a deep breath and force myself to look into the eyes of every single person in the crowd. The evening has brought a chilly breeze. Some of them are shivering slightly, having left their jackets at home. They are impatient to be gone. Their good deed is done. There is no need for them to come back tomorrow. Many won’t. No wonder Remi wanted me to seize this chance to catch anyone dodgy.

  I have never ever spoken to such a large group of people before. Inside I am shaking. I don’t know if my voice will come out without trembling. I’m surprised that I’m not shaking on the outside too.

  “Hi everyone,” I say, a slight tremor in my voice betraying my nerves. DI Zael hears it even if no one else does. He is not even bothering to hide his smirk.

  “Thanks for helping us with the search today,” I continue, imagining that I am Storm, who would not quiver. Trying to use the tone of voice that he would use. But then I feel stuck. Because I have no idea what Storm would say next.

  And they are waiting for me. Waiting for me to say something important and useful in this grave situation. And I have nothing. Absolutely nothing.

  I take a quick glance at Remi. She gives me a small smile and a nod to encourage me to continue. She thinks I have stage fright. She has no idea that it is more than that. The idea of letting her down in front of DI Zael and all of these people makes me want to crawl into a hole.

  How I wish the little voice inside my head could speak to me now. Nemesis would know exactly what to do, even without my psychic skills. She would make up some crap and everyone would fall for it. Heck, she had been so smart and sassy. I could sure use some of that about now. I feel like a rabbit, like prey, frozen in headlights. Nemesis is a predator. It would never have even crossed her mind to feel this way.

  I straighten my shoulders. If she can do it I can do it. Just thinking of her and standing like her makes an idea pop into my head. A crazy laughable idea that will come to nothing, but she would have pulled it off with such panache no one would have questioned it.

  Maybe no one will question me either.

  “I want everyone to think,” I say, injecting the confidence into my voice that Nemesis would have. “If you were an animal, what kind of animal would you be? You don’t have to say it out loud. Just think it and hold it in your mind.”

  DI Zael’s eyebrows shoot up towards his forehead. He does not look impressed. His officers, all taking their cues from him, do not look impressed either. One of them is shaking his head in disapproval. The civilians look from me and Remi to DI Zael and his officers. Some of them shift from foot to foot, looking uncomfortable.

  This is a somber occasion and no doubt they find my question inappropriately incongruous.

  “Put your hands up if you have an animal in your head,” I say, determined to go through with this.

  Only half of them put their hands up.

  “The rest of you aren’t thinking hard enough,” I say firmly, giving them no room for maneuver. “Think of the animal that you would be and when you’ve got it put your hand up.”

  One by one more hands go up. This puts pressure on the last few people to participate, and eventually all of the hands are up, including a couple of DI Zael’s officers. DI Zael’s is not. Nor are those of the officers standing nearest to him.

  I fix them with a pointed look and wait, tapping my shoe on the ground to show my impatience. Making it clear that he and his people are holding us up. He scowls, and eventually his hand goes up. His people follow suit.

  “Now those of you who have a prey animal, something like a rabbit or a sparrow, step over to the left,” I say pointing. “And everyone who has a predator animal step to the right.”

  The large group separates itself neatly into two. Not unexpectedly, most of the Agency team and DI Zael and his officers are all in the predator group, as are fewer than half of the civilians.

  “Everyone who picked a prey animal can all go home. If Agent Bronwyn is done with you?” I look at her.

  Remi nods, and a few of them depart. Most of them stay to watch, their curiosity piqued.

  “The rest of you,” I say. “Think of India Lawrenson, and think of what animal she would be.”

  I wait. It only takes a few moments until most of them have their hands up and are shuffling impatiently, clearly having picked an animal in their heads.

  When all the hands are up I point to the person at the very left side of the group. “Tell me what animal you thought of.”

  He shrugs. “Wolf.”

  DI Zael sniggers.

  I ask the rest of them what animal they thought of. Every single one of them says wolf. Even Remi says wolf, with a slightly chagrined expression on her face. DI Zael mutters s
omething under his breath. Three of his officers laugh.

  I try not to glower at him. I make sure to keep the confidence in my voice when I say, “And now think of Rachel Garrett. What animal would she be?”

  This time it takes longer for all the hands to go up. DI Zael’s goes up grudgingly, and all the while he watches me with a sneering glare, as if he can’t wait to snarl the words mumbo jumbo at me again.