CHAPTER EIGHT
KENNEDY
I want to think I’m doing okay in the months since I left Las Vegas and any hope of Reaver returning. But on days like today, when I wake up with a pit in my stomach, I wonder if it’s all just fake bravery.
Grabbing my phone, I open one of the many dating apps I downloaded but have never used for anything but scrolling.
“Too good looking.” Swipe “Too small.” Swipe “Too blond.” Swipe.
Swipe.
Swipe.
Swipe.
“Is it too much to ask for a rugged, six-and-a-half foot, slightly damaged Archangel with commitment issues? Hey, Siri.”
“Umm Hmm.”
I pause for a moment as I stare at my phone. What the hell? At least she’s not going to laugh at me. “Is there an Archangel dating site?”
“One moment while I search the internet for Archangel dating.”
I flop back down on my bed and cover my eyes with my arm, thankful that Siri is just a computer-generated voice and hopefully will hold no judgment.
“Here are some sites that may help you with Archangel dating.”
Grabbing my phone, I quickly turn it over to see several archeological websites staring back at me. “Not exactly what I was hoping for, Siri. But thanks for the effort.”
The moment I close my eyes, the beeping of my alarm reminds me that despite not wanting to function in the world, I still have a job.
And today, I’m meeting with a new client.
A woman who claims to dream about past lives and demons.
The latter is the reason I decided to take her on.
I’m a behavioral psychologist, not a dream researcher, but lately, I have been searching for clients with paranormal connections.
Salem even suggested that I give up my work with humans and set up with Michael.
But that seems too close to what I’m actively trying to avoid.
My office isn’t too far away, and the day is shaping up to be beautiful. So instead of taking the T like I normally would, I walk along the Charles, enjoying the sights and sounds of a late summer morning in Boston.
When I pick up my coffee and bagel from a local shop just outside my office building, it’s still an hour before my appointment is scheduled to arrive.
My office is in a historic Boston building.
Michael has added several security features, like the fact that I have to insert my key into the elevator to unlock access to my floor.
This is probably why I’m startled to see a woman sitting outside my door when I step off the elevator
It isn’t a shared practice, so she’s either lost or here to see me, potentially making her my demon-dreaming client. It’s funny how I was practically laughed out of the office when I spoke to a colleague about taking on such a case. If this woman is indeed my client
My professional side kicks in. Thank God for years of clinical training, because it usually takes me some time to become the esteemed professional I am.
“Morning,” I say with a smile. When the woman sitting on the floor looks up, I’m momentarily stunned by her beauty.
She has long blonde hair, porcelain skin, and sparkling blue eyes that are so light, they’re almost eerie.
“I’m sorry, didn’t expect anyone here so early,” I continue, trying to hide my discomfort and momentary inferiority complex.
“I… I’m sorry the doors downstairs were open, and I—” She cuts herself off as she stands and brushes off her pants.
She is much taller than I had first thought when she stands, unusually tall for a woman, most likely six feet or more.
For a moment, her body language is confident.
Then, as if realizing I’m here, her shoulders slump as she nervously looks around the hall, presumably for a means of escape.
“It’s okay,” I quickly say as I hold up my hand to keep her from fleeing. “Come on in,” I add as I rummage through my bag for my keys. “Would you like half a bagel? Best in the city.”
She shakes her head but follows me into the office.
The large space has an amazing view of the capital building and Boston Common.
Normally, I would never be able to afford such a space, but Salem’s husband, Michael, insisted that since he owns the building, it was no problem at all. Must be nice to be immortal.
“I can just come back. I didn’t mean to be so early. It’s just…I figured I would wait outside, but then the door was open.” Her voice hitches as if she may break down at any moment, and it’s easy to see her body shake, as if she’s petrified to be here.
I try my best to give her a reassuring smile. “Just sit. It’s fine. I don’t have another appointment for a bit.”
The truth is, I don’t have many patients at all lately.
Not because there isn’t a demand for behavioral psychologists.
Clearly, there is. But lately, I have found myself searching for patients with unusual issues.
If I had to give myself my professional opinion, I would have to say that because I have no one but Salem to talk to, I may seek counseling by helping others.
After all, it’s not like I can say, “Hey, I know a bunch of fallen angels, and oh, by the way, vampires are real.”
“If you’re sure,” she says with a nervous smile before going to the windows. “It’s an amazing view.” Her voice pauses as if there is more to say, and it’s only then that I realize I haven’t even bothered to introduce myself. For all this poor woman knows, I’m the cleaning woman.
“I’m Kennedy, by the way, or Dr. Helbreder, if you prefer. Whatever makes you more comfortable.” I had decided long ago that when I had my own practice, I would be as formal or informal as my patients needed. Their comfort level is the most important in helping them open up.
I watch her body visibly relax when she smiles. Something about it sends shudders down my spine. But again, like in the hallway, she quickly morphs, and her smile that seemed malevolent just a moment ago softens into a demure upward curve as she gives me a little laugh.
“I know. I saw your picture on your social.”
Her comment makes me want to smack my hand against my forehead. “Of course,” I admit, shaking my head. I completely forgot about Salem having set up a page for my business when I moved into this space. “And you must be Aradia.”
It takes her a full minute to confirm who she is. “Yes,” she answers with a smile. “I’m Aradia…Aradia,” she repeats under her breath.
My office is divided into three sections: reception, where we are now, and a small office area with a window into reception. I chuckle to myself. Eventually, maybe I’ll hire a receptionist. Then there is my main office, which, if I’m honest, doesn’t have quite as nice a view as the reception area.
“Well, I’m just going to pop this into my office and I’ll be right out,” I say as I hold up my bag with my bagel inside. “Make yourself comfortable,” I add as I unlock the adjoining door and walk the short hall to my office.
Stepping inside, I shut the door behind me, my mind finally seeming clear for the first time since meeting Aradia. My brain is bombarded with questions about how she got to my floor. I remember inserting my key to unlock it, yet she was already upstairs waiting.
Could she have lied?
Or perhaps the system isn’t functioning properly. I’d have to call Michael and inform him of some issues with his security system. Still, it’s odd that she was here so early.
With a deep breath in and a calming breath out, I grab a clipboard for her paperwork and head back into the waiting area.
“Thanks so much for—” The word waiting is hanging in the air when I realize the room is empty.
“Aradia,” I call out, but the room is small, and I don’t think she’s hiding under any of the chairs.
Opening the door, I check the hall, which is empty as well.
I rush to the window to see if I can see her exiting the building.
After all, a six-foot-tall blonde woman shouldn’t be hard to spot.
I stand at the window, watching the city below pass by. “Shit,” I mumble, knowing I should have started the session with Aradia when she was here instead of worrying about my breakfast.
I’m lost in thought when the door behind me opens, startling me. The woman standing at the entrance is the exact opposite of Aradia. She is petite with raven-black hair and the greenest eyes I have ever seen. Even from this distance, I can see their emerald color.
“Good morning. Can I help you with something?”
The woman gives me a timid yet genuine smile. “I’m Aradia Leland. I have an appointment with Dr. Colebrook at nine.”
I never understood the phrase my blood ran cold, but standing here with another woman claiming to be Aradia, I can physically feel my blood chilling in my veins.
“You’re Aradia Leland?” I question, my voice sounding far more accusatory than I intend. But the odds that both women could be named Aradia are slim.
The woman before me just nods, her face marred with confusion.
“I’m sorry. Please come in. I’m Dr. Colebrook or Kennedy if you prefer.
I have some paperwork for you to complete before we start.
I just need grab your ID if that’s okay?
” I ask more to confirm her identity than needing to complete the required paperwork.
Although in hindsight, I should have led with that with the first Aradia. Lesson learned.
“Of course,” she says, shaking her head as she digs into her large purse, pulling out her wallet a moment later and handing me her ID.
I tamp down the urge to grab it from her fingers as quickly as possible, less she thinks I’m the one in need of phycological help. Let’s face it, I am. But not because of this little snafu. Gently, with a calm I am not feeling, I take the offered card and glance down at it.
Clear as day, the name Aradia Leland stares back at me with her smiling face in the picture. Of course, this woman has a great license photo. Why wouldn’t she? Mine looks like I have a part-time gig living under a bridge, charging tourists three gold pieces to pass.
“Thank you. Let me grab a few things for you to fill out,” I say with a smile as I head into the small office.
The window that looks into the lobby area is thankfully closed, so Aradia doesn’t see the panicked look on my face as I try to figure out what the hell happened earlier this morning.
And who was the woman that claimed to be Aradia?
Putting together the required items for her to fill out, I make a copy of her license and open the window, handing her a clipboard with a couple forms. “Here you go, Aradia. All I need is for you to fill these out, and I’ll be right with you.”
Sliding the partition closed, I grab my phone from my bag and call Salem as I walk a few feet down the hall to my office.
“What’s going on?” Salem asks instead of a greeting. “I thought you had your new patient this morning?”
“Yeah, I do,” I whisper as if Aradia can hear me through the walls. I take a minute to explain my strange run-in with the first Aradia quickly.
Salem lets out a long whistle. “That is odd and yet still not the strangest thing I’ve heard today. So, the first woman told you she was Aradia and then disappeared?”
“Yeah, she said she was—” I stop mid-sentence thinking back to my interaction with the first woman. “Shit,” I breathe out.
“What?”
“I…I might have just assumed she was Aradia and said her name. I don’t know Sal. Maybe I’m going crazy.”
Salem lets out a laugh. “Oh, for sure. But not because of this,” she mocks. “Well, I can only say that one isn’t who you think they are. My bet would be the one who ghosted you before the appointment.”
“You’re probably right,” I agree. “I’ve got to go,” I sigh. “I’ll call you later.”
It takes me a few minutes to center myself enough to return to the waiting room and get Aradia. The interaction with the first woman still gnaws at my brain as I try to figure out if I said her name first or if she did.
With the best fake smile I can muster, I open the door to the waiting room. Half of me is expecting it to be empty… again. But this Aradia is sitting, bouncing her leg nervously as she waits.
“Sorry about the wait,” I apologize as she stands and walks over to where I’m holding the door open. Watching her approach, I’m still baffled by this morning’s events and the fact that this Aradia is the complete opposite of the first.
“It’s not a problem at all. I’m just a bit nervous about being here,” she says with a smile as she hands me the clipboard, and we walk down the hall to my office.
“I’ve only been in Boston a few months,” she adds.
“I’m not even totally unpacked yet. My dog, Argos, isn’t really happy about…
I also tend to babble when I’m nervous.”
I take the time to reassure her that this was a safe space to talk about whatever she wanted. It doesn’t have to be about one topic, it can be anything or nothing at all. My time is her time, and however she wants to spend it is up to her.
During our one-hour session, I try to not let my mind wander, especially when she starts talking about believing in past lives and her odd dreams involving one man.
I never considered my new career path and what that would mean for my own situation.
I am now actively searching for people with a…
paranormal connection, for lack of a better term.
The moment Aradia starts talking about the tall, handsome man that has plagued her dreams her entire life, I know we’re onto something, and I also know if I pursue this path, I’ll need a bit more guidance from Michael.
The hour passes quickly, and Aradia talks about many things, including her past life memories. I jot down many notes, probably having more questions than Aradia does at this point.
“Do you think I’m crazy?” she asks as the little buzzer for our session chimes.
I let out a soft laugh. “No, I don’t. There are things in this world that people can’t explain. And I want to help explain them. Stories like yours, I believe, are more common than people realize.”
Aradia nods. “I do feel a bit better having told someone.”