Psychic for Hire Series Box Set

by Hermione Stark

  “You’ve had a look,” said Finch. “Now let’s go.”

  But I was busy trying to shut the huge heavy door. The murder case report had said the door had been blown open by a mage on the morning after the murder, so I assumed this door was a replacement or had been expertly repaired. Even so, it seemed it must be the same type as the original door. I pushed it with all my might but the thing would not budge an inch. The larger part of it was recessed into the wall, and I could not see a mechanism for rolling it out and into its place.

  “How do you think it works?” I asked Finch.

  His attention had been distracted by some long thin skewers that were dangling off a rack on the wall beside the bed. “That is sick,” he said.

  “So they have weird decorative tastes. So what?”

  “They’re not decorative. They’re... You know, to keep things interesting in the bedroom.”

  The skewers varied in length from a few inches to a foot long. They appeared to be made of metal and had extremely sharp tips. “No way,” I said.

  “It’s true,” he said. “Sometimes they’re magically enhanced and very valuable. These look like ordinary ones.”

  “How would you even know that?”

  Finch touched the bed. “Do you think it’s the same one where she died?” he asked in a sickened tone.

  I darted over to the bed to touch it. It did not give me any insights. It was an ornately carved wooden beast of a four-poster bed.

  “Probably,” I said, doubting they would have bothered to replace that.

  Finch’s face looked stricken. Suddenly I realized that he was imagining Zezi in Leonie’s place.

  “Dude, chill out,” I said, patting his arm. “We’ll find Zezi. I don’t think she was in here.”

  He scowled. “How could you possibly know that?”

  “I guess maybe I would have felt it.”

  Finch’s feathery eyebrows drew together. “You mean you’re a psychic?”

  “Keep it quiet, would you? I don’t want these vampires to know. Are you going to help me with this door or what?”

  The door was intricately carved with imagery of flowers and birds and things. I resumed pressing my fingers against all of the nooks and crannies, trying to locate the mechanism, but it was hard going given that I was clutching my sword in one hand.

  Finch nudged me out of the way. “Here, let me.”

  He put his hands onto a circular carving at the center of the door. It was a ring of stone about two feet wide with more flowery carvings inside it. He held onto either side of the ring and twisted it. The door effortlessly rolled out of its recess in one silent movement and into a fully closed position. I was astonished. It had been so easy.

  I wanted to go out to see if I could break in from the other side but I already knew I would not be able to. The other side of the door had been completely smooth with no carvings, which clearly meant that this door could only ever be closed or opened from the inside. No way had anyone gotten into this room on the night of Leonie’s murder after Steffane had locked the door.

  I watched carefully as Finch opened it back up again. The door was halfway open when we heard footsteps rapidly approaching from the other side.

  “There they are!” said Rodrigge’s irate voice.

  “Oh crap!” said Finch.

  I peered over his shoulder and saw Rodrigge approaching with two Agency officers, who I recognized by their distinct black uniforms and the weapons belts around their hips. They looked a bit silly with their anti-mesmerism goggles on.

  “Oh shit, indeed,” I said grinning at Finch.

  Rodrigge stopped outside the door and pointed at me. “That girl is trespassing on my property and I want you to arrest her immediately!”

  I stayed where I was near the side of the door, my sword concealed behind it. It would do no good if the officers caught sight of it. Worse, they might try to take it away from me and I was pretty certain the sword would not let me give it up without a fight. It wanted blood, and I did not want to let it get anywhere near the Agency officers.

  Now how to get ourselves out of this pickle? An idea occurred to me and I nearly laughed. It was a darned good job that Finch was such a slight delicate looking fellow. Not scary at all.

  I opened my eyes wide. “Thank God you’re here, officers. My friend and I were so scared. This vampire,” I pointed at Rodrigge with my free hand, “Was trying to imprison us against our will! We had to run through these caverns and corridors until we found this chamber to hide!”

  The Agency officers took a look at little old me and then turned their frowning gazes at Rodrigge, who looked hopping mad. Slightly batty in fact.

  “Nonsense!” he shouted. “This girl is a liar. She forced her way into my home and now she refuses to leave!”

  The officers looked at me like they were doubtful that I could force my way into anything, much less a vampire’s nest.

  I clutched Finch’s arm as if desperate for his protection. Finch played along, putting his arm around me. I allowed a tear to roll down my cheek. “He invited us in for t-tea! We didn’t know he was a vampire. He said he needed staff for his soiree this weekend and we would be perfect. And then he…he…” I let my voice tremble and rise into a wail. “He tried to trap us! He wanted to drink our blood!”

  Both of the Agency officers reached to their weapons belts; one for his stunbommer, the other for his cagenet. Rodrigge took an astonished step back. His face contorted into apoplectic fury. He couldn't even deny it because his servants really had brought us tea and his wife really did try to drink my blood.

  “She’s got a sword!” he shouted. “She stabbed my wife Marielle. Look, she’s hiding it. The sword is in her hand!”

  I grimaced, realizing the game was up. But when I glanced at my hand it was empty. The sword was gone. It had vanished without a trace. There was no need for me to cover up my dismay. All I had to do was pretend it was distress at Rodrigge’s horrid accusation. I lifted up my empty hand to show the officers, making a woebegone face at having been accused of such a thing.

  Rodrigge scowled. He shoved Finch aside and dashed into the room to check if I had dropped the sword behind the door. When he saw it was not there, he dropped on his hands and knees to check beneath the bed.

  Audriett Ronin chose that moment to arrive with a folded sheet of paper in her hand. She saw her son on his hands and knees and she looked disgusted. “What are you doing, Rodrigge?” she snapped. “Get up at once!”

  Rodrigge bounced upright so fast that I was surprised he didn’t ricochet up and hit the ceiling. If he wasn’t a vampire his face would have been red.

  Audriett flapped her hand at the Agency officers as if they were gnats. “Shoo!” she said. Both officers hastily stepped backwards.

  She handed me the slip of paper. “I found it. Joshua Ashbeck was her brother’s name. But the man’s been dead for nine years. I doubt this will get you anywhere.”

  Chapter 13

  STORM

  It was 3:00 am and Storm was pacing in his lounge telling himself that Saskia would be home at any moment and that he would only regret it if he threw his phone at the wall in frustration. He had already called her four times. The calls had again gone straight to her answerphone and he had finally left a voice mail.

  Where the hell was she? Had she lost her phone? What if someone had taken it from her? What if she was in trouble? He was seriously considering attempting to trace her phone.

  Storm clenched his fists as he prowled up and down the room. He had told himself that driving around town looking for her would be futile — London was too big and it was not like she had any favorite haunts given that she was new to town. And even if he did find her, she would be furious at him for coming to get her. She wasn’t a child any more, as she liked to remind him. She was twenty-one and able to take care of herself.

  The problem was that she wasn’t able to take care of herself, as she had proved when he’d tracked her down in Las V
egas a few days ago, drunk out of her mind and shacking up with some older guy that she had insisted was a fantastic new-age lifestyle guru whose ‘homestead community’ she intended to move into instead of going back to university to finish the final year of her degree. She had been furious at Storm for frightening the guy off, but what was Storm supposed to have done? Leave her there to begin the slippery slide down towards ruining her life? Storm had been in that place himself once. He knew how all too easy it was for things to spiral out of control.

  An hour of pacing later Storm finally decided that he would call again. There could be no harm in leaving just one more voice mail. She couldn't accuse him that that was unacceptable big-brother behavior right? Storm dialed her number again, preparing in his head the very reasonable message he would leave in a very reasonable tone requesting for her to please call him back to let him know that she was safe.

  On the third ring Saskia answered the call. “What do you want?” she snapped.

  “Er, hi,” he said, taken by surprise and unprepared for this. “Where are you?” Despite himself, his voice rose accusingly at the last part.

  “None of your business! Look, I’m fine, okay? I’m with friends. So stop calling me!” She abruptly hung up the phone.

  Storm was utterly relieved. And furious. What friends? She didn’t have any friends in London that he knew of. But then again, he hardly knew Saskia at all. Their father had died when Saskia had been nine and Storm fifteen. Their older sister Evie had been just seventeen.

  Given that their world famous actress mother was already dead — having been murdered some years earlier — they were parentless. Storm and Evie had been sent to live with a relative, but a judge had put Saskia into foster care for her safety. All because the press had speculated that their famous father — actor Avan Storm — had not taken his own life, but had had a helping hand. From a family member, they’d speculated. Saskia had been so angry to have to live with strangers. She was still angry.

  But that had been so long ago. She was twenty-one years old now. Storm and Evie had both had to grow up fast so why couldn't Saskia? Why the hell couldn't she behave like a reasonable adult for once? Why couldn’t she have just told him that she planned to be out so that he didn’t have to spend half the goddamn night worrying?

  Storm grimaced, remembering his own juvenile behavior a few days ago. That he had gotten blind-drunk and belligerent was bad enough, but that Diana had caught him at it was just typical. He was thankful that Saskia had not seen him like that. It had been the first time he’d lost control and let himself slip into a dark place since he was twenty — not that Saskia would ever have believed it. She would have called him a hypocrite. And maybe he was. He never felt himself around her. He felt endlessly guilty, for all the things she had never had, the things he couldn't make up for.

  She had been just five when their mother had died. Their remarkable angelus mother, Inaya Ashara. Too young to even remember how wonderful their mother had been, how loving, how kind, how much fun. How dark when the mood took her but he didn't like to think about that. It had been the good memories of her, of which there had been so many, that had got him through the hardest times. But Saskia had been too little to have those memories to guide her in her tough times. He should have done more for her back then, when she had been so little. It was too late now.

  Storm looked at his clock and groaned. It was past 4:00 am. He had to be in at work in four hours.

  What he wouldn’t give to have a stress free life. Someone to come home to who wasn’t his angry troublesome little sister. Someone to go to bed with and wake up with every day. And he could have that. But there would be a sacrifice. One he had been running from his whole life.

  There was no point thinking about that now. He had enough to deal with.

  So he went to bed and woke what felt like just minutes later, alone in his bed, his eyes gritty and his head thumping with a headache. It was like a loud bass was crashing around inside his skull. It took him some moments to realize that a loud bass was crashing, but not in his skull.

  He winced as he hauled himself out of bed and went to investigate. The music was coming from the lounge, accompanied by shrieks of laughter. He opened the door and was at first relieved by what he saw. It was only Saskia and Jenny, her foster sister, dancing around the lounge. Better here than elsewhere, he thought. And better Jenny than someone else.

  He hadn’t seen Jenny in years. He had thought she was living back in California. He smiled and was about to greet her when he caught sight of what was spilled onto the glass top of the coffee table.

  His smile faded. He went into the room to take a closer look and Saskia caught sight of him and said, “Oh shit.”

  She moved to put herself between Storm and the table, as if hoping he hadn’t seen what was on there.

  “Storm!” Jenny said, the word a cry of delight.

  He barely knew her but she flung herself bodily at him, landing with a thump against his chest. He had to catch her before she fell over. He let her go immediately. She did not.

  “Your brother is soooo hot,” she said to Saskia very loudly, her words emerging slurred. Storm saw that her pupils were abnormally dilated. She was high.

  He firmly pushed her away from him, and grabbed the little bag of pink powder from the tabletop and turned to Saskia. “What the hell are you playing at?” he demanded.

  The powder was glowing faintly, clearly of magical origin. He didn’t know to which of them it belonged, but he strongly suspected it was Saskia’s. The look of anger she gave him in response to his scowl told him that he had been wrong. It wasn’t hers, and she was furious with him for thinking it was. But she didn’t deny it. She wasn’t about to drop her friend in it.

  “So what?” she snapped, snatching the plastic bag away from him, and in doing so spilling all of the powder over the carpet. Jenny gave a cry of dismay.

  “Now look what you’ve done!” Saskia said.

  “You didn’t think I was going to let you keep it?” he said, trying not to snap.

  “What were you going to do?” sneered Saskia. “Flush it down the toilet? You can’t do that to our things. We are not children. You can’t tell us what to do!”

  The two girls stood next to each other side-by-side, like a wall of sisterly solidarity, both of them glowering at him. Saskia and Jenny looked more like sisters than Saskia and Evie ever had. His own little sister was as golden haired as their famous father had been to the point it sometimes hurt to look at her. Though Jenny’s hair was a kind of darker chestnut plum, the two girls looked as alike as twins. And right now they were making him feel like a brute. That was until Jenny smirked and said to Saskia, “Your brother’s so hot when he’s mad.”

  But Saskia was in no mood to back down. “You’re such a hypocrite,” she said, her voice high with anger. “Don’t tell me you never did SoulGlow. I bet you did worse!”

  Storm couldn’t even deny it. But he had been a different person back then when, between the ages of fifteen and twenty, haunted by the darkness of his memories, he had thrown himself into many different forms of nihilism, and done far worse than SoulGlow. But he had no intention of speaking about that. Not to Saskia. He could never explain to her his reasons.

  Saskia waited, a fleeting expression of hope crossing her face which swiftly turned to bitterness. “I thought so,” she said. “You and Evie and your secrets! I am sick of them. You think you’re both so much better than me! You can go to hell! I don’t need you!”

  “Saskia, it’s not like that,” Storm tried to reason.

  But she wasn’t having any of it. “You never tell me anything!” she shrieked. She grabbed Jenny and started dragging her towards the door. “Come on Jenny. Let’s get out of here.”

  Storm moved swiftly towards the door to intercept them. “No,” he said. “You can stay. I’ll go.”

  He had to go to work anyway, and he would much rather that they stayed here to rest after a whole night out on th
e town. Maybe Saskia would have calmed down by the time he got home this evening. He doubted it, but he could hope. Maybe then he could talk some sense into her. Tell her to go back to university and not throw away the good things that she had in this life.

  He went to his bedroom to get dressed for work and found that his phone was ringing. He went to answer it and caught a glimpse of the time on the screen. It was already 8:30 am. He was thirty minutes late, and his boss was calling him. Damn it!

  He answered, intending to tell the chief that he would be in within thirty minutes, but the chief did not give him a chance to speak.

  “Storm, see me at my office as soon as you get in. We have a situation.”