“Wait a minute,” he finally said. “Gant… Yeah, I knew I’d heard that name before. You’re the psychic.”
I wasn’t surprised at what he said. Between media coverage and word of mouth, I didn’t meet too many cops in the state who hadn’t at least heard of me-in one sense or another. Unfortunately, the rumors weren’t always true or particularly flattering either.
“Yeah, something like that,” I half agreed rather than launch into an involved explanation.
In truth, his assessment was probably closer to the mark than I really wanted to admit. Witch or not, my facility was at least as much psychic as it was magick, probably even more so. The big difference was that I didn’t make a career of bilking grieving families out of money to tell them vague and ambiguous stories about their departed loved ones with whom I was supposedly conversing. Instead, I worked for free to offer the police vague and ambiguous clues in order to stop the voices inside my head. Unfortunately, my payoff never lasted long.
“I thought so,” he replied then snorted out a small laugh. “Yeah, my sister is all about the psychic stuff. She watches the shows on TV and everything.”
“As long as she’s entertained,” I said with a slight nod and no enthusiasm whatsoever in my voice. “But, do her a big favor and tell her not to spend money on telephone and TV psychics.”
“Yeah, I’ve told her that. The way I see it they’re just a bunch of crooks, right?”
I shrugged. “Probably not all, but most of them, yeah, that would be my guess. All I can say for sure is that no amount of money is worth having dead people bounce around inside your head on purpose, so that should tell you something right there.”
“What about you?” he asked, giving me a stoic nod. “What makes you different from them?”
“I only do this because I haven’t got a choice,” I replied.
My headache had been ramping up ever since we’d arrived, but for the most part I was once again becoming acquainted with the pain and, more importantly, treating it as nothing more than the usual chronic nuisance. Or so I thought.
I had scarcely finished speaking when a violent stab of agony drilled its way through my brain with enough force to make me grimace and stumble forward before catching myself. I reached up with both hands and cradled my head between them as if it was going to explode.
“Something wrong?” the officer asked.
“Shining…example…of what…I…just said,” I groaned the sentence in a halting rhythm.
Nausea was beginning to churn in the pit of my stomach, and my ears were ringing as the parking lot seemed to undulate beneath my feet. I stumbled in place once again, nearly pitching face first onto the asphalt.
Felicity instantly took hold of my shoulder in an attempt to steady me. Ben was only a half step behind her as he came forward and grabbed me beneath the arms then propped me back against the van and held me up.
“You gonna be okay, Kemosabe?” my friend asked.
“Do I look like it?” I answered between clenched teeth.
Felicity spoke up, directing herself to the state trooper with an air of calm authority. “Officer, the next town isn’t far from here, aye?”
“Yes ma’am, Wright City. Do we need to get him to the hospital?”
“No,” she replied, urgency seeping into her voice. “But we need salt, and a lot of it.”
CHAPTER 26:
“Been almost fifteen minutes,” Ben stated in a matter of fact tone. “He should be getting back here any time now.”
We were all sitting in the van once again, but the vehicle was stationary, parked where Ben had originally nosed it in upon our arrival. We were waiting for everybody’s favorite seasoning to be delivered to us, which was something I hadn’t been expecting. All I knew was that Felicity had made the urgent comment, and then Ben had picked it up and run with it. How he managed to convince a Warren County Sheriff’s deputy to make a lights and siren run for as much salt as two twenty-dollar bills could buy, I had no idea. I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to know either.
I had my eyes closed, but I could hear movement up front. Judging from the sound, I assumed my friend was twisting around in his seat to check on me since I was sitting in the back. Both Felicity and he had been doing that quite a bit.
My blind assumption was proven out when he spoke again, and his voice came at me from a more direct angle. “How you doin’, Row? Hangin’ in there?”
“It isn’t as bad as you two are making it out to be,” I mumbled. “It’s just one of the headaches. You should be used to them by now. I am.”
Of course, the believability of my comment was rendered null and void by the obvious strain in my voice. The truth is, I wasn’t even managing to convince myself.
“Yeah, right,” he countered. “And it was just another one of those headaches earlier too, and then ya’ started bleedin’ all over the place. What if that happens again?”
“It won’t.”
“Oh yeah, and how do ya’ know that?”
“Because this isn’t Emily Foster trying to communicate with me.”
“You’re sure about that?”
“Yes. I can tell by the way it feels.”
“Bullshit. Pain is pain, Row.”
“Trust me, it isn’t.”
“Uh-huh, well big deal. So maybe it’s not Foster. What if it’s the Jane Doe?” He pressed. “Do I need ta’ remind you she died the same way? She might just decide ta’ make ya’ bleed too, and she might not be as nice about it.”
Before I could object again, Felicity spoke up. “I have to agree with him, Row. You don’t really know who it is trying to talk to you, and you told me yourself that it feels odd. It’s not worth the chance. You can’t afford to lose any more blood. Your body can’t take it.”
“I still say you two are being paranoid,” I groaned. My voice still wasn’t convincing, especially to me.
Ben turned his attention toward my wife. “So, Firehair, lemme ask ya’ somethin’. The salt didn’t work at the morgue, so what makes ya’ think it’ll work here?”
“Actually, it did work at the morgue,” she replied. “Just not the way I intended.”
“Coulda fooled me. You wanna explain that one?”
“Simple. It made Emily Foster leave. It just didn’t keep her from wreaking a little havoc first.”
“You call the white man bleedin’ all over the floor a little havoc?”
“Okay, a lot of havoc. It’s just an expression, Ben.”
“Uh-huh… So what you’re sayin’ is that it was s’posed ta’ keep all that from happenin’ in the first place?”
“Yes.”
“Yeah, okay…” he grunted. “So ‘splain that one. Why didn’t it work right?”
“There were extenuating circumstances. It’s complicated. Better you just trust me and not worry about it.”
A lull fell between them for a few heartbeats.
“Wait…” he finally said, distress welling in his voice. “Was it my fault? It wasn’t ‘cause there was pepper in there with the salt too, was it? Dammit, I knew I shoulda picked those out!”
“No,” she replied, her own voice a mix of forced reassurance and mild irritation. “That wasn’t it. The pepper didn’t matter.”
“You sure?”
“Aye, Ben, I’m sure. It wasn’t your fault.”
“Good. So, why didn’t it work right then?”
“Like I said, it’s complicated.”
“Uh-huh… Complicated as in you think I won’t understand, or complicated as in you’re hidin’ somethin’?”
