5. Paul #2
Because that’s all I hoped it was. I really, really wanted to be wrong I?—
“Shit! My phone!”
The woman’s cry jolted me out of the spiral I kept falling into as of late, and I came back to reality just in time to see her run back up the stairs. Although I was surprised by the very sudden and loud exclamation, I honestly didn’t mind witnessing her exit.
Peach, s—I mean, Peace . Serenity. Control.
Nowhere in that mantra was looking at a psychic’s backside.
Even if it was a very nice backside.
Get a grip!
I’d never felt so scattered in my adult life, and I was grateful for the sounds of more crashes and bangs to distract me from the pit that kept trying to lure me back into its repeating circles of worry. There were only so many times I could think the same thought before I drove myself mad.
“Sorry about that,” the psychic said, appearing at the top of the stairs once more, albeit a little more breathless and her hair mussed.
Naturally, it looked almost effortless on her rather than messy, something I’ve never been able to pull off without feeling like I looked like a bum. “Got my phone!”
She held it up and gave it a little shake before sliding it right into her shirt and what I assumed was her bra.
It was a bit disconcerting to watch a stranger do that so casually right in front of me, but she didn’t even seem to notice.
Well, if it wasn’t a big deal to her, it shouldn’t be a big deal to me.
“Let’s head out!”
And then she flashed me a smile that was so dazzling, I had to blink. I had been so caught up with the shock of her not being Ophelia, as well as everything else that had happened, that I’d never truly looked at her. Her features were delicate, in a way, but undoubtedly?—
“My wallet!”
This time I jolted less as she patted her pocket.
Sure enough, she ran right back up the stairs, and I began to wonder if the woman even needed a cardio routine.
Her T-shirt had revealed fairly muscular arms, but if the stair shenanigans were a regular occurrence every time she exited her house, maybe they hadn’t been earned in the gym.
More crashes. More bangs. And then what sounded like actual wood cracking.
Seriously, what is going on up there?
I didn’t get my answer before she appeared again, this time even more breathless, and her shirt had changed from an eighties band to one with a giant lizard on it.
She looked good, but I wasn’t sure why the outfit had changed.
However, I didn’t have a chance to ask, because she made it down perhaps two steps before glancing down at her feet.
I followed her gaze. She was wearing purple fuzzy unicorn slippers with iridescent horns sticking up from their foreheads.
Had she been wearing that under that garish robe?
This time there was no exclamation, no sudden shout, just a long, heady sigh before her gaze met mine. “I’ll go put some shoes on.”
“I do believe that would be prudent.”
Her ascent up those single two steps was quite a bit slower this time, and there was no interpretive percussive performance. A few minutes later, she appeared at the top of the stairs in sensible sneakers.
She began to descend, and I waited for another interruption, although I wasn’t certain of what she could have possibly forgotten. But this time she made it all the way down to the base of the stairs and gave me another one of those truly dazzling grins.
“By the way, I figured I should introduce myself. The name’s Cheribelle Donmoue, daughter of Ophelia Donmoue, daughter of Tabitha Donmoue of Haus de Donmoue . But you can call me Cherry . ”
“Cherry?” It was somewhat difficult to imagine calling a grown adult that. But in a way, it fit her. From the flushed pink of her cheeks, to the petal color of her lips, to the warmth and cheer she radiated.
“That’s the long and short of it. Well, the short of it, really.”
She was speaking quite differently now, and I couldn’t help but wonder if her previous way of speaking had been a character or if this was. Or maybe it was an aftereffect of the fates’ control.
“Paul,” I said, extending my hand. We’d skipped the introductions to talk about a double homicide. Not exactly the normal track most conversations followed. “Paul VanMarche the Third.”
She gave me a wan smile as she walked past me to open her front door. “I know.”
Right.
Of course she did.
What was I getting into with this oracle?
“I’ll show you the area where the incident with my younger brother happened first,” I said as we approached the main doors of the manor. I felt like a Katy Perry song about rapidly vacillating temperatures because I was back to doubting things again.
It wasn’t because I was any less impressed with the display Cherry had put on in her business, but because she hadn’t stopped talking the entire car ride until we’d reached the manor.
Apparently, her abilities extended beyond giving helpful readings to humans, as she spoke at length about the buildings we passed— Look!
That place is over a hundred years old. There’s that brick you have an affinity for!
( What? ) Oof, that couple there is having a fight.
Looks like someone has been texting someone she shouldn’t!
See that ice cream vendor? This is their first day back after their honeymoon.
Somewhere tropical, obviously! Ooh! Look at that cat!
It’s polydactyl! —and now I found myself longing for peace and quiet.
Except there was nothing all that peaceful about showing a stranger the scene of the crime that had completely changed my life, so that would have to wait.
“Incident with your younger brother?” she asked, and I had to remind myself that while her powers seemed to cover a broad scope, it didn’t necessarily tell her everything.
Although I couldn’t be sure, I’d felt something when our hands had touched back in her office.
Not quite like sticking a fork in a socket, but there had definitely been a crackle.
I figured she had to rely on the fates to tell her some things and could focus it with physical connection, but other than that, she couldn’t always control what she saw.
I supposed I could just ask her for a thorough explanation, but there were more pressing matters at hand.
“Yes, a support beam nearly crushed him to death after the detectives cleared out. In fact, I believe it would have if he had not been physically removed from the space right before it fell.”
“I hope you guys didn’t clear out the beam already, did you?”
“No, the crew that’s supposed to take care of it is coming this afternoon. I believe they’ll be here within the hour.”
“Fortuitous timing, then. It’ll be easier if I can get a direct read from it.”
Ah, I hadn’t thought of that. I was indeed glad that the timing had worked out, because I didn’t really want to explain to Chris and the others why I’d had to postpone the crew coming to take care of it.
Somehow, I didn’t think they would find “I had to wait for this random psychic to get a reading of the scene” to be a valid reason.
“I guess we’re lucky then,” I said.
She looked over her shoulder and winked at me, her blue eye catching the light. “Lucky is my middle name.”
“Isn’t that a little on the nose for an oracle?” Why was talking to this rather eccentric woman so easy? Maybe it was a manifestation of her abilities?
“Maybe, but let’s hear yours before you go casting stones.”
I paused, then let out a short sigh. I’d played myself. “Fenris.”
“ Ha! Pot meet kettle. Anyway, let me get a look at this near-death site.”
It was interesting. Some moments, Cherry’s levity lifted my mood, helped me cross the turbulent wave of emotions in me, but then, suddenly, it seemed entirely inappropriate.
Like she was experiencing the situation entirely different from me, or that she didn’t understand the gravity of it at all.
As someone who was accustomed to reading people pretty much instantaneously, I definitely wasn’t used to being on such uncertain footing.
“Here it is,” I said, leading her to the transitional hallway where the fallen wooden rafter still took up most of the floor area. “Exactly as we left it.”
“Shame about wasting that expensive whiskey,” she murmured as she walked past me, her gaze locked on the errant beam.
“How—” Right. Psychic. I needed to get used to that, or I was going to make a fool of myself.
I stood back to watch as the woman did her thing. And apparently, her “thing” was staring at the beam without blinking.
Was she being possessed by the fates again?
It was hard to say since I didn’t know the woman, but she went so unnaturally still, which seemed antithetical to her normal state of being.
Really, it was fascinating. As a wolf shifter, I’d grown up within the magical community.
Sure, I had a few human friends, but I’d mostly interacted with other shifters, witches, sorcerers, cryptids, and the like.
I found myself both puzzled and charmed by this psychic. Her unpredictable nature made me nervous, and the ordered side of my brain warned me that she was dangerously chaotic, but also… I liked the uncertainty. The newness.
Maybe it was the trauma. Maybe it was just an extension of her power. Who was I to say?
So, I waited. I waited and studied her as she studied the scene. The minutes stretched on, a rubber band building more and more tension, until suddenly she pressed her hand to the beam.
Ah, so I was right. Touch was involved in her abilities. Was that a benefit or a hindrance?
It was all so interesting…
“I see,” Cherry said, and that irreverent sort of flair of hers was completely devoid from her voice. “I’m ready to move on to the next site.”
The next site.
She said it so simply, but it was anything but that. I needed to go back into that room.
Again.
Although I’d just been there the night before, trailed my fingers over the artifacts of memories past, the idea of going in there was daunting.
Especially since I wouldn’t be alone in the privacy of my own head.
I would have an audience of one, and a psychic at that.
Did her abilities extend into telepathy?
I didn’t think so, but again, I hadn’t asked.
“Of course,” I said, instead of saying any of the things that had just gone through my head. “This way.”
Her disposition remained subdued, and it took quite a lot of peace, serenity, control not to pester her with questions.
I wanted to know if she’d seen anything, if any of those fates that talked to her, and occasionally seemed to take over her body, had any input.
We walked to my father’s study in silence, agitation trying to rise within me.
But I managed to contain myself, as had always been my duty, and opened the door. I stepped to the side, uncertain if I should go in first or let her, but my answer came when Cherry strode inside.
Here goes nothing.