There was nothing in the warehouse. Sally was almost disappointed. Almost.
When she projected her astral self, she had expected to see the empty factory floor transformed into some spectral realm of dark delights. But it just looked like the same old crappy warehouse.
The whole astral projection bit was relatively new to her. It was an extension of her telepathic abilities, and when properly developed, she was supposed to be able to travel to other dimensions and planes of existence. To date she’d managed to successfully project herself into two locations—the cafeteria of the Mereville Group’s Toronto field office, and the bathroom in her condo.
She wasn’t exactly the Neil Armstrong of astral projection, but so what? Practice made perfect, right? And she didn’t need to be perfect today. She only needed to be bait.
Charles had walked along the edge of one of the concrete channels and was now examining the motorized pulley assembly that controlled the large bay door.
Sally’s astral body drifted over to him, swimming through the air. Even though the action required no actual movement of her ethereal form, she found herself stroking through the air with her astral arms and legs anyway. She propelled herself toward the ceiling, then spun herself around so she was looking down at the top of Charles’s head.
His hair is thinning, Sally thought. Poor Charles.
She swung back and did a slow circle of the warehouse, her astral body passing through the rust-pocked rafters. She glanced out one of the intact upper windows. Fog pressed against the glass, but with her astral eyes she could see through it to the city beyond. There was so much energy out there, so many people packed tightly together—she was glad the warehouse was isolated out here on the lakeshore. She probably wouldn’t have been able to do what she needed to do if they were any closer to the city.
She was about to bank around and do another circuit when she happened to glance down and saw Toby waving at her from the open doorway. Waving not at her body, which stood motionless on the factory floor, but at her astral form floating fifty feet overhead.
The shock of being seen in her present state was enough to break her concentration, and Sally felt her consciousness snap back into her body with enough psychic momentum that she actually stumbled a few steps and almost fell on her ass.
“What do you call that?” Toby said. “Psychically chumming the waters? It wasn’t bad, but you could use some work on your astral backstroke.”
“You could see me?” Sally said. She felt a strange compulsion to cover her body, as if she’d been seen naked. Which, in a way, she supposed she had.
Toby shrugged. “It was a surprise to me, too. Mostly I move stuff around with my mind. I’ve never seen anything on the astral plane before.” He looked around the interior of the warehouse. “Maybe it’s this place.”
“Maybe,” Sally said.
“Did you pick up anything?”
“Not yet.”
“You got plans later?”
The question was so unexpected it threw her off balance for a moment. “What?” she said. “You mean if we’re still alive?”
“Yeah,” Toby said. “If we’re not all horribly massacred by the ghost of a prehistoric sea creature, I was wondering if you wanted to check out Northern Lights with me.”
“The northern lights?” Sally said. “You mean the aurora borealis? I don’t think you can see them in Toronto.”
“No,” Toby said. “Northern Lights. It’s a vape bar in the Annex.”
Sally looked at him. “You vape?”
“Oh sure.” Toby reached into his jacket and took out something that looked like a flute with a case of the mumps. “It’s a pungi. Instrument used by snake charmers in Nepal. Converted for vaping, of course.”
He put it in his mouth and swayed from side to side in an enticing manner.
Sally shook her head. “I’m afraid the only snake you’ll be charming tonight will be your own.” With a grin, she added: “And if you keep this up, I’m gonna file a sexual harassment complaint against you.”
Toby slapped a hand over his heart, looking wounded. “You would do that to me?” He called over to Charles. “Hey Chuck, does the Mereville Group have a human resources department?”
“Of sorts,” Charles said. “But they’re not exactly human. And if you keep calling me Chuck, I promise you’ll find out all about them.”