Chapter 13

After eating dinner, Sean slumped on his couch, put his feet up on the coffee table, and flicked through the channels. Nothing struck him as interesting. Another young woman had died horribly on his watch. He couldn’t sit here as if nothing had happened. He picked up his phone and dialed his friend, Charlie MacNamara.

“Hey, Charlie,” he said, “how about going out for a drink with me?”

“There’s been another murder, hasn’t there?”

“Yeah. How did you know?”

“You always want to drink after finding a body. Bro, after what you’ve told me, I can’t blame you. Are we going to the same place, so you can stalk your favorite suspect?”

“Oh course.”

“See you in thirty.”

Sean changed into a fresh shirt and jeans and then headed out.

When he pulled up to the Red Orchid, a sign blocked off the full parking lot. Sean hadn’t expected it to be so busy on a Monday night. He rolled down his window and shivered in the chilly October evening. Wrinkling his nose, he rolled the window back up, pulled into line, and grudgingly paid for valet parking. The club, owned by Michael’s father, received rave reviews for its good food and great music. But for Sean, its allure was that Michael usually showed up at some point during the night. Sometimes he did magic tricks and illusions for patrons.

The music blared, just shy of deafening, and a crowd writhed on the dance floor. Sean scanned the people at the bar, saw Charlie, and made his way over.

“Here, my friend.” Charlie grinned, his green eyes crinkling at the corners, as he handed Sean a foamy glass of beer. The club specialized in hand-crafted beers and funky cocktails. “Let’s go find a seat. I ordered snacks.”

Weaving through the throng, they found an empty table. Sean sipped on his brew as he surveyed the crowd.

“How bad was it this time?” Charlie put down his drink and leaned over the table to be heard.

“Bad.” Sean took another swig. “A young woman, not even out of her twenties yet. God, I hope we catch a break on this case soon! I don’t know how many more mutilated bodies I can see.”

“Detective!” Michael stepped up to their table and leaned on Sean’s chair, a grin plastered on his face. “As if I hadn’t seen enough of you today.”

Sean glared at the man’s arm. Something seemed to writhe beneath the skin. Sean put a hand to his mouth to hide his gagging. As soon as he’d regained his composure, he turned back to Michael. “Just having a brew with my buddy. This place sells nice craft brews.” He lifted his beer glass.

“What do we have here?” Michael reached a hand to the back of Sean’s head and brought it around to his face, a coin held between his fingers. “Careful, Detective, you need to take better care of your money. I’ve seen your suits. The city certainly doesn’t pay you much.” He put the coin on the table, then with a laugh, walked away.

Two beautiful women joined him and hung on either arm. Sean dug his phone from his pocket and snapped a photo of the women. He doubted Michael would be stupid enough to do anything to them after Sean had seen them.

As he placed his cellphone on the table, the light caught on the coin. A serpent, its mouth gaping wide, showing long fangs, rose from the coin’s surface, poised to strike Charlie. Sean batted Charlie’s hand out of the way and flicked the coin into his empty glass.

“Hey, what’s going on, Sean?” Charlie shook his hand, nursing it. Sean might have hit it harder than he intended.

“Sorry, bro. I didn’t want you to touch that foul thing. Who knows where it’s been.”

Charlie glared at him, his mouth in a tight line, and tilted his head. His eyes flicked back and forth between Sean and the coin. “What did you see?”

“Nothing.”

Charlie continued to stare at him.

“I didn’t see anything! You know I don’t believe in all that psychic crap.”

“Ha!” Charlie laughed. “I remember the freaky things your Granny Eileen did and the stories she told us.”

“That’s all they were, stories. None of them could be real. I need another beer.” Sean wended his way back to the bar, his thoughts on the strange tales his Granny had told him and Charlie when they were kids. After the crazy few weeks he’d had, he wasn’t so sure they were only stories. He hadn’t had a day off where he could go visit her. A faint memory floated to mind of the three of them doing magic together. “Sean, boy, get a grip,” he mumbled as he waited for his beer. “Magic isn’t real.”

The lethargy stayed with Catlyn throughout the day on Sunday. Every muscle hurt. She could barely shuffle from her bed to the bathroom from the sensation of experiencing an enormous weight gain. She gulped three aspirin to quell her headache, then trudged back to bed, pulling the covers over her head. Thankfully, she didn’t have to go into the store for work. Late in the afternoon, hunger—and the insistent meowing of her cats—spurred her from bed. She fed her fur-babies, then slurped down two cans of tuna. Her bed called her back to its sweet, dark confines.

Catlyn awoke the next morning, the sunlight sneaking under her blinds. The heaviness in her body had lifted some, she could now move without pain. Mittens sat on Catlyn’s chest and batted her nose to wake her. Boots purred at her feet. Catlyn sighed with happiness; her beloved fur-babies were acting normal again. The previous day blurred in her memory. “I can’t believe I slept all day and ignored you.” She stroked Mitten’s soft fur. The cat bumped her hand, purring louder. “I’m so sorry, kitty.” Boots heard her and slunk to her side to receive his share of loving.

After feeding her cats, Catlyn fixed her own breakfast, humming as she cooked. She sat at the snack bar to eat. “What the hell?” A full pound of bacon and half-a-dozen eggs filled her plate. She only remembered pulling a couple of slices of bacon from the package and cracking a single egg. Her hollow stomach cramped, and she wolfed down the food. Finished in record time, Catlyn did the dishes and cleaned up the kitchen.

She leaned against the sink, considering. The only explanation for her unprecedented appetite was her new spirit guide. Her cats sat on the back of the couch, staring at her, their tails swishing in agitation.

“Hello?” she said out loud and in her thoughts. “Are you here? Maak? Maak?”

Contentment flooded her. She waited, but no other response came from the spirit tiger.

Throughout the morning, Catlyn tried to talk to Maak and to ask her questions. The only communications she received were emotions, feelings, and an occasional visual image. Everything Catlyn had studied said totems and spirit guides appeared to their chosen people. They actively worked with them, aided them in decisions, told them where to go or what to do, and answered questions. Some even shared great wisdom. But her guide did none of these things. After their first conversation, Maak hadn’t spoken a word.

“It’d be nice if I knew what was going on,” she finally said to the cats sitting across the room from her. “Why is she here? Why me? What work do we have to do? Where did she come from? Something, anything, would be helpful!”

An image of the strange trees and ferns she’d seen in her shaman journey floated into her mind.

“Is that where you’re from? Is that your world?”

A tidal wave of homesickness swamped her.

Along with immense hunger. Catlyn flung open her fridge, grimacing at the bare pickings. The freezer held even less. Her insides cramped painfully. Not three hours ago, she’d eaten a huge breakfast. She shouldn’t feel this starved. Another hunger pang gripped her. “All right, all right! I’ll feed you.”

Catlyn snatched up her purse. As she descended the stairs, an acrid scent tickled her nose. At first, she thought it was Smoker Dude’s awful cigarettes. She sniffed, turning her head to locate the source. Her watcher for the day, Blond Guy, sat in his car with the window down. Disappointment engulfed her, and a snarl lifted her lips. She’d hoped her new bodyguards would scare away her hated stalkers. The slight breeze brought the strange aroma again. Her mouth dropped open as she breathed in deeply, then coughed on Blond Guy’s contempt for her, heavily laced with impatience.

Emotions don’t have a smell, she chided herself as she hurried to her car. A black truck with Jade’s company emblem on its window was parked along the curb. A tall, lean man with short red hair stood next to it. The sunlight brought out the red-gold highlights in his scruffy beard. His hands fisted as he scowled at Blond Guy. Her guard abandoned his staring contest with Blond Guy when she appeared, and he sauntered toward her.

The scent of concern and confidence wafted to her.

“Good afternoon, Catlyn.” His friendly smile lit his light-green eyes.

A blush crept over her face as he assessed her from head to toe.

“I’m Dilan McGowan. Are you feeling better today? Todd mentioned you were ill Saturday night, and you didn’t leave your apartment at all yesterday.”

“Yeah, I’m okay, just exhausted. All the stress from the last few weeks caught up with me, and I crashed all day. I’m headed to grab some lunch at the Bamboo Grill.” She salivated at the thought of fresh sushi.

“Thanks for letting me know. I’ll make sure you’re safe.” He glared back at Blond Guy’s black sedan. Dilan opened her car door for her, before stalking to his truck.

Her belly stuffed with sushi and a shopping bag loaded with more steak than she could afford, Catlyn returned to her apartment. After putting the food away, she debated on what to do for the rest of the day.

Stacks of jewelry supplies filled the third-hand bookcases lining her living room walls. A half-finished project lay on the table, covered to keep her curious kitties away from it. She wandered to stand over the table. She reached for the covering, only to drop her hand as a deep lassitude swept over her. Instead of working, she picked up a novel and stretched out on the couch. Mittens and Boots curled next to her, and she absently petted them as she read until hunger drove her to the kitchen.

This time, she made sure she seared the steak before slapping it on a plate. A growl escaped her as she reached for it. Mittens’ scrambling claws as she pelted out of the kitchen startled Catlyn. She shook her head and meticulously placed her dish on the breakfast bar and gathered utensils. “No,” she said sternly to her new body mate. “We’ll eat civilized.”

With great care, Catlyn cut the steak into small pieces and chewed slowly. No matter how “evolved” her new spirit totem was—who seemed awfully corporeal to want food—it was her body, and she’d control it.

Sean rubbed his gritty eyes. After leaving the club last night, he’d stayed awake until the wee hours of the morning. He’d studied the new crime scene data, comparing it to his files on the killer, searching for something—anything—he’d missed. He hadn’t found anything. This new one was even more gruesome and awful than the others. He needed to clear his mind.

On his way in to work, he stopped at the Jupiter Moon coffee shop where he’d first met Catlyn. He knew her schedule at the metaphysical store varied. It was a crap-shoot if he’d see her again or not. He’d started getting his coffee here on the off-chance he’d meet her here again. Even after seeing her with her boyfriend, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. She played a prominent role in his dreams. Warmth crept over his face as he recalled a particularly steamy one. He’d never fallen for someone after meeting them once. Remembering their first meeting in this same spot made him smile. His lips thinned into a frown as he remembered the frightened look in her eyes when she’d walked to her car like someone trudging to the gallows. It had triggered his protective instincts. At least, that’s what he tried telling himself. But the bigger part of him believed she was something special. Someone worth getting to know.

“Detective McLarkin?” a quiet voice asked from behind him. He whirled around to see the woman who’d been in the forefront of his thoughts. He admonished himself for daydreaming when he needed to stay alert. Things may have quieted down now the Iron Maiden Killer had struck again, but Sean doubted the other strange crimes, connected or not, had disappeared.

“Hi, Catlyn, isn’t it?” He grinned at her, hoping his smile was charming and not a leer.

Her smile lit her face. “Do you live around here?”

“Just stopped here on my way to work. What about you?”

“The same.”

“They have great coffee.” Couldn’t he think of something less inane to say to her? He was an experienced interviewer and could get criminals to tell him their life stories. Yet when faced with talking to a beautiful woman, he felt tongue-tied. They shuffled forward a few steps.

“So, Detective McLarkin, do you work on missing person’s cases?”

He shook his head, rubbing his hand against his thigh. “No, only when they become murder victims.”

“Then, I hope we don’t meet under official circumstances. My friend is missing.”

“How long?”

“A week now.”

“Is it common for her to disappear for a few days?”

Catlyn shook her head. “No, she’s conscientious. She left me hanging without canceling her appointment, which she’s never done before. It isn’t like her to take off, even with a new boyfriend, without letting anyone know where she’s going.”

“I hope you find her alive and well.” After that long, Sean doubted her friend was still alive. He hoped the body they’d found yesterday wasn’t her friend’s. As mutilated as it was, it may take days for them to identify the victim.

His heart plummeted when she ordered an iced chai latte and a mocha frappuccino. He surveyed the shop but didn’t see her boyfriend. They chatted while waiting for their drinks, and he redeemed himself with the small talk. He walked outside with her and noticed her glare at an empty parking space. Her face lit up with a smile, and she handed the mocha to a red-headed man with a wide, muscle-bound chest. Jealousy ripped through him. He’d lost out again. Then he noticed the logo on the man’s shirt. He worked for the same company as Charlie did. Why does Catlyn, a psychic, need a bodyguard? They only take on high-profile clients. Who is this woman?