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A damned cat.
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“Show me the baby,” Journi murmured, her voice sounding otherworldly even to herself. She’d never known who she was talking to during these moments. Herself? The universe? Colonel Sanders? Whoever it was, when she asked, she received.
The cyclone slowed to a creep, and an image came into focus. Olivia Burke lying on a delivery table, her face flushed and damp, her knees drawn up. Harsh, bright light shone down on her lady bits, which were blessedly shielded by the hunched shoulders of a doctor who was suturing something between Olivia’s legs that Journi didn’t want to contemplate. Olivia was staring across the room at a huddle of nurses who were presumably busy with the newly birthed baby. Journi watched as the huddle parted and a beaming nurse emerged with a swaddled bundle. The bundle’s tiny face was pinched and pink, and it was squawking like a stuck piglet. “Congratulations, Mrs. Burke,” the nurse said, presenting the baby to its mother. “It’s a boy.”
It’s a boy.
Done.
Satisfied, Journi pulled back only to pause when the image flickered ever so slightly. Just enough for her to notice. Frowning, she waited with a growing sense of dread. Anytime a run-of-the-mill sooth deviated like this, it was never good. The tiny infant’s cries grew louder, more frantic, and it started to . . . bleed. Shockingly red blood spilled out of the swaddle, drenching the nurse’s arms and splashing the floor. Deep gashes appeared across the baby’s face as if torn by phantom claws. The infant screamed, the noise shearing Journi’s eardrums. Even though nothing she was seeing was real—yet—she thrust out her arm, crying, “No!”
But the baby’s shrill screams swallowed her voice, and all she could do was watch as tender flesh was torn from bone. And blood—God, the blood—flowed. It was a cartoonish amount of blood. So much so that it made glopping sounds as it spilled over. And that wasn’t the only bizarre thing. The baby was, beyond all belief, still alive even though it was now a pile of bloody pulp and splintered bone. Its skull-splitting shrieks made the entire vision vibrate, the edges of the hospital room blurring with each wail. The nurse who held the baby seemed oblivious to the carnage. She still smiled at Olivia with frozen cheer, her arms and scrub pants slick with fresh blood. Olivia too appeared unbothered. She was gazing at her new son with a slightly bored expression as if thinking she’d rather be getting a manicure right about now.
Journi pulled out of the vision so abruptly that she stumbled backward and collided with the side table, causing a vase to wobble precariously. Olivia grabbed it before it could fall, her expression startled. “Watch out!” she cried, seizing the vase as if it was a prized possession—which it probably was.
“Sorry,” Journi croaked, clearing her throat and struggling to ground herself. Every sooth felt as if it went on for hours when, in fact, only seconds elapsed. It always took her a moment or two to recover. This one was far worse. “I don’t know what happened.”
“What is this?” Olivia demanded. “Some kind of street-corner scam? I’ll have your license revoked.”
“No,” Journi said when her head stopped spinning. “No scam. It just happens sometimes, that’s all.”
Technically, it wasn’t a lie. Sometimes, her visions went awry. When they did, it almost always meant dark magic was afoot. It was the only thing that could distort a future in such a way. With a sinking feeling, she realized that whatever was festering in the Burke house was likely the source of her niggling unease as of late. Now, she had to decide what to tell Olivia. The vision could mean any number of things. Or it could mean Olivia’s baby would be spontaneously shredded by invisible claws shortly after being born. With the ever-evolving, candy-store variety of baddies inhabiting the world since the Rise, anything was possible. In the end, Journi decided it was best, for now, not to agitate her already-agitated client. After all, the vision might be completely harmless. Completely gross but harmless.
“What does that mean?” Olivia asked, her mouth pinched.
Hayley watched Journi with a startled expression as if she didn’t know whether to fetch her a glass of water or call the cops.
“It means you’re having a boy,” Journi told Olivia, attempting a reassuring smile. She didn’t do reassuring well. If you wanted intimidating, threatening, or sarcastic, she was your girl. But in her barrel of skills, comforting people floated in the dregs, along with smiling and pole vaulting.
Olivia considered her a moment, then seemed to accept the explanation. “You’re sure?”
“I have a one hundred percent accuracy rate,” Journi confirmed.
Olivia nodded, absently touching her abdomen. “Ronald will be pleased.”
Hayley relaxed and asked Journi, “Would you like to see Tilda now?”
Journi inclined her head. “Lead the way.”
Hayley started up the staircase, and Journi followed. Olivia brought up the rear but paused, her fingers going to her earpiece as she presumably got a call. “Marcello,” she said and then gestured distractedly for Hayley and Journi to go on. “What do you mean the painters need to reschedule?”
Hayley motioned for Journi, and they left Olivia to her skewering of the embattled Marcello. “Sorry. She’s a workaholic.”
“No problem,” Journi said, too shaken by the Carrie-worthy vision to care.
At the top of the stairs was an airy hall lit with natural light, and Hayley gestured toward the left. “This way.”
“Have you worked for the Burkes long?” Journi asked as they passed several doors.
“About a year,” Hayley said, smiling at her. “Olivia isn’t as bad as she seems. When she’s not working, she’s nicer.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Journi said dryly, spying an open door at the end of the hall where a child’s muffled voice wafted out.
Hayley laughed but then hesitated. “Downstairs, in your vision, you saw something, didn’t you? Besides the baby’s gender, I mean.”
Journi glanced at her. Genuine concern tugged at Hayley’s pretty features. She was worried about her employer. Or, perhaps, the baby growing inside her. “Yeah,” Journi confirmed. “I did.”
Hayley nodded as if she understood, but her frown deepened. “It was bad, wasn’t it?”
An image of the mangled infant swam in Journi’s mind, and she shook her head. “It wasn’t good.”
Pausing before they reached the room, Hayley glanced back down the hall as if checking for eavesdroppers. “I knew it,” she said. “There’s been something in the air lately. I can feel it.”
Journi studied her. She’d taken Hayley for a Middling, but sometimes people were good at cloaking their abilities. “You’re Deviant?”
“No,” Hayley said, sounding slightly embarrassed. “I’m a dud, but sometimes I get these feelings. Vibes, you know?”
Journi nodded. Even the most normal of humans could be receptive to magical energy. Especially dark magical energy. “You haven’t told Olivia?”
“God no,” Hayley said, cringing. “She’d fire me on the spot. She’s not the most tolerant of bosses.”
Major surprise there. Journi had a feeling Olivia’s tolerance toward the magically inclined only extended to business transactions. Rubbing elbows with one on a daily basis was probably beneath her. A large percentage of Middlings viewed Deviants like Journi as just that—deviants. Abnormal. Freakish. Journi was, admittedly, all those things, but still.
“Look,” Journi said, not wanting to give Hayley any reason to jeopardize her job. “It might be nothing. Maybe it was the spicy fish tacos I had for lunch.”
The joke seemed to put Hayley at ease, and she smiled. “I just don’t want to see anything happen to Tilda or the baby. Maybe I could talk Olivia into having the house cleansed.”
If something dark really was brewing under the Burkes’ roof, it would likely take more than a sage-smoke ritual to banish it, but it couldn’t hurt. “I know a witch. She’s the best at what she does, and her prices are reasonable.”
Gramma Jude could always use the extra money, and Journi wouldn’t mind getting her read on the situation.
Hayley nodded and asked, “So, what was in the vision?”
Journi hesitated. If she revealed what she’d seen and Hayley ran screaming to Olivia, Hayley could lose her job and Journi could be reported to the Association for inciting panic. Besides, she wasn’t hired to fend off impending doom. She was hired to identify the baby’s gender and glimpse the little girl’s future. Nothing more. “The baby was crying,” she said finally. “A lot.”
Hayley looked skeptical. “Babies cry a lot in general.”
“Not like this.”
Hayley considered it. “Weird. But like you said, it could be nothing, right?”
Doubtful. “Right.”
“And the baby was healthy, right?”
Aside from being reduced to SpaghettiOs. “Right.”
Hayley visibly relaxed and started for Tilda’s room once more. “Probably just a fluke,” she said more to herself than to Journi. “Halloween makes us all a little spooky.”
That much Journi could agree with. And not because it had anything to do with costumes and haunted houses. Even before the Rise, the veil between worlds was thinnest during Samhain, but after? It may as well have been Swiss cheese. Not only could you poke your finger through it, but you could practically cannonball through it. It made things like divination, astral projection, and communicating with the dead hella easier. It also enabled nasties to be hella nastier.
Tilda’s room was, like the rest of the home, posh and immaculate. In fact, if it weren’t for the girl sitting on the floor, you’d never know a child inhabited it. Everything was beige, cream, and plush, and the toys were wooden. No bright-colored plastic in sight. Even the kid herself was fashionable. Pristine designer clothes and perfect blonde corkscrew curls secured with an enormous bow. She was in the middle of a very prim and proper tea party with a cat.
A damned cat.
Journi sighed. So, not only would she be forced to interact with kids and cats during trick or treat, but she’d also have to do it while on the job. Obviously, she was being punished for something.
“Tilda,” Hayley said, picking up a stuffed bunny from the floor like it might burn the carpet if it laid there too long. “There’s a nice lady here to see you.”
Tilda looked up midway through pouring an empty teapot, and her eyes grew owlish as she took in Journi’s tattoos and piercings. The cat, sleek and white, also gave Journi a lazy onceover but didn’t bother to get up. It was lying on its side on the floor as if the frilly, pink dress it wore had sucked out its will to live. “Are you a witch?” Tilda asked in an awed voice.
Journi had to admit Tilda wasn’t entirely repulsive. She was small, quiet, clean, and cute if you were into that sort of thing. And given the beige wonderland she lived in, it wasn’t surprising that she’d taken Journi’s love of black clothing and makeup as proof of witchery. “No,” Journi said. “I’m a soothsayer.”
Tilda’s eyes grew somehow rounder. “A toothsayer?”
“No, silly,” Hayley said, straightening the already-straight coverlet on the bed. “A soothsayer. She sees the future.”
Tilda looked at Journi as if she was a unicorn. “Whoa.”
The kid evidently lived an isolated life. As far as bumps in the night went, soothsayers didn’t top the weirdometer. You could see far stranger things walking down the street. “Not as glamorous as it sounds,” Journi said and crouched by Tilda. “Trust me.”
“I like your jewelry,” Tilda said, staring at Journi’s nose ring and stud like a crow eying a shiny bauble.
“Thanks,” Journi said and cleared her throat, glancing at Hayley for the go-ahead.
Hayley sat on the floor beside Tilda and pretended to take a drink from one of the miniature teacups, making the kid giggle. “Journi is going to peek at your future, okay?” Hayley asked her. “Doesn’t that sound fun?”
“Will it hurt?”
Hayley smiled. She was one of those people who were simply good with kids. Who could soothe them with a word or make them laugh as easily as flipping a switch. It was a skill Journi had never developed. “Of course not.” Hayley tickled Tilda’s side, eliciting another round of giggles. “You think I’d ever let you get hurt?”
Tilda shook her head. “Nope.”
“That’s right, kiddo,” Hayley said. “So, what do you say?” She pretended to knock on Tilda’s forehead. “You wanna let Journi look inside this cute little noggin?”
Grinning, Tilda nodded and looked at Journi expectantly.
Journi glanced at the cat. It sat beside Tilda, its expression bored or haughty—Journi couldn’t tell which. The feline version of Resting Bitch Face. Journi looked back at Tilda. “I need your hand.”
When Tilda hesitated, Hayley cleared her throat and smiled pointedly at Journi as if to say SMILE.
Journi sighed inwardly but did her best. “I won’t bite. I promise.”
At Hayley’s encouraging nod, Tilda held out her hand and murmured, “Okay.”
Journi closed her eyes and took a deep breath before taking the girl’s hand. As with before, the world fell away, and Journi was submerged into the seas of Tilda’s future. Yet-to-be-made memories coalesced around Journi, and she sifted through the shimmering possibilities, her fingers sliding over the silken strands as if they were harp strings until she found the one she was looking for. When she seized it, she murmured her intentions and waited for the vision to take shape. The Glimpse package was the most basic one she offered, and it provided up to three key insights into a person’s future. Olivia had requested to know which of the five prestigious kindergartens in Bexley would accept Tilda into their program, what Tilda would score on her aptitude test, and who she would make friends with on the playground.
The first thing Journi saw was Hayley leading Tilda up the steps of a regal building. Above the massive oak doors hung a gold-lettered sign that read The Schoolhouse at Crimsley. Tilda looked pale and nervous, and Hayley was doing her best to reassure the kid, cooing to her about all the fun things she could look forward to, like finger painting and scavenger hunts. Journi watched until they were swept inside the building by the river of uniform-clad children and their respective nannies.
Satisfied, Journi moved on.
Next came Olivia opening an envelope and unfolding the sheet of paper inside, while Tilda looked up at her, clutching a stuffed bunny to her chest. Olivia shrewdly scanned the document, then nodded as if pleased. “Well done,” she told Tilda with a scant smile. “You tested at gifted level.”
Though Tilda clearly had no idea what that meant, she beamed up at her mother as if thrilled by even the barest of praise.
Lastly, Journi watched Tilda as she swung on a swing set, her polished shoes dragging the gravel and her fingers gripping the swing’s chains as she stared at the girl swinging beside her. “I’m Tilda,” she said. “What’s your name?”
The kid smiled, her freckled cheeks like pink apples, and said, “I’m Kennedy Davenport. Wanna be friends?”
Tilda smiled back, and the two began swinging in tandem.
Journi was about to pull out when, once again, the vision corroded, its edges blackening like charred paper. As with the infant, deep lacerations split Tilda’s porcelain skin, and blood spilled forth in glossy rivulets, splashing her starched uniform. Unaffected by the rending of her own flesh, Tilda suddenly looked over at Journi as if seeing her.
Journi gasped. Phantom eye contact sometimes happened in visions, but it was always freaky as hell, and she never got used to it.
Tilda kept on swinging as invisible claws tore her apart, exposing bone and muscle, the creak of the swing’s chain sounding louder than it had any right to.
Journi’s uneasiness mutated into fear. What in the hell were these visions trying to tell her? Clumsily backing out of the horror show, she returned to Tilda’s bedroom with a startled inhale. For a moment, Journi was so disoriented, she sat there sucking in air, her heart pounding. Distantly, she heard Hayley saying her name, her voice concerned. Journi’s head spun as she tried to make sense of it all. In both visions, only Olivia’s children were slaughtered. Neither she, the nurse, nor Kennedy Davenport had been filleted. That meant someone or something was targeting the kids, both born and unborn, of the Burke household. Why?
“Journi?” Hayley’s voice broke through the miasma. “Are you okay?”
Though it took some effort, Journi nodded, blinking as the room came into focus. “I’m fine.”
Hayley seemed unconvinced, and the worried look in her eyes said she knew Journi had seen something terrible. Instead of pushing, however, Hayley focused on Tilda and forced a smile. “See? That wasn’t so bad, now was it?”
Though Tilda seemed frightened by Journi’s reaction, she shook her head. “No.”
Journi realized she was still holding Tilda’s hand, and she let go, clearing her throat. She opened her mouth to speak, but the sound of Olivia coming up the stairs, vehemently ripping Marcello a new one, interrupted her. By the time Olivia reached the doorway, Journi had steadied herself enough to stand.
“Well?” Olivia asked, inspecting the room as if searching for department-store décor that might have snuck in when she wasn’t looking.
It took Journi a moment to realize she was speaking to her and not the beleaguered Marcello. Hesitating, Journi glanced down at Tilda, who was petting the cat, unaware of the bloody future awaiting her. Though Journi suspected Mrs. Burke would balk at the news, she had a right to know that her kids were in danger. Still, it was a conversation best had without Tilda present. “She’ll be accepted into the Schoolhouse at Crimsley and will test at the gifted level.”
Olivia’s eyebrows rose. “And friends?”
There was something about discussing Tilda as if she wasn’t there that felt obnoxious, but Journi said, “Friend. Kennedy Davenport.”
Though Olivia seemed annoyed by the number, she murmured, “The Davenports are a prominent family. Good.”
Journi shoved her hands into her pockets and gestured with her chin. “Can we talk somewhere privately?”
Olivia frowned, glancing at her daughter as if noticing her for the first time. Or, rather, noticing the cat for the first time. Olivia’s mouth thinned, and she pointed downstairs. “What did I tell you about having that fleabag inside the house? Take it outside. Now.”
Tilda’s smile faltered, but she obediently picked up the cat.
Hayley rose, guiding Tilda. “Sorry, Mrs. Burke. It was me who let him in.”
Going by the guilty look on Tilda’s face as she passed, Journi doubted that was true.
Olivia seemed to buy it, though, and snapped, “You know it’s only allowed on the porch. If I see it up here one more time, you’re fired.”
“Of course,” Hayley said, her face turning pink. “It won’t happen again.”
As the two hurried out of the room, cat in tow, Olivia sighed. “I don’t know why my husband insisted on getting Tilda that thing. Dirty little creatures.”
Journi was no fan of cats, but even she had to admit they were fastidiously clean animals. Still, all she said was, “We need to discuss my visions, Mrs. Burke.”
“What about them?” Olivia asked impatiently. “If you’re trying to talk me into buying something else, forget it.”
Journi fantasized about boob-punching her. “No. Not that. I saw some things I think you should know.”
Olivia arched a brow. “Such as?”
Oh, only your children being eviscerated. “I have reason to believe your baby and Tilda may be in danger.”
Olivia blinked. “What?”
“In my visions,” Journi began, “they were being . . . harmed.”
“What do you mean harmed?” Olivia demanded, her expression going from shocked to angry.
“I’m not trying to scam you, lady,” Journi said. “I’m just telling you what I saw.”
Olivia’s outraged skepticism said she disagreed. “And what did you see, exactly? Aside from what I paid you to see, that is.”
Journi wanted to point out that soothsaying didn’t work like that. That it wasn’t a vending machine. “There were lacerations. And blood. A lot.”
Olivia grew more incredulous. “Inflicted by whom?”
Journi gritted her teeth. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know,” Olivia repeated, looking on the verge of an oh-no-you-didn’t. “So, you thought you’d scare me and that I’d, what, whimper and pay you to tell me more? Please.”
“No,” Journi said, striving for patience and failing. “I thought you’d heed my warning. I’m good at what I do, Mrs. Burke, and I’m telling you your kids are in danger.”
“But you can’t tell me who or what will be responsible?”
Journi sighed. “No. Not yet, but—”
“Let me guess,” Olivia said. “Now is when you offer me a great deal? Or maybe you’ll direct me to someone else who specializes in cases like this? Someone you coincidentally know?”
Reminding herself that it was for the kids, Journi refrained from taking a trip to Fist City. Barely. “My grandmother is a witch. She can cleanse the house and see if she picks up any vibes, but that’s not—”
Olivia held up a hand. “I’ve heard enough. I think we’re done here.”
Journi pressed her lips together. This stubborn, overblown woman’s kids were going to get hurt, or worse, because she refused to climb off her high horse. “Look,” Journi said, losing all pretense of politeness. “It doesn’t have to be me, but somebody needs to figure out what is going on here, or you’ll regret it. Trust me.”
Olivia’s features hardened. “Are you threatening me?”
“No,” Journi said. “You’re threatening yourself. For your kids’ sake, I hope it’s a threat you’ll take seriously.”
With that, she shoved past a gaping Mrs. Burke and walked away.
She could almost taste her outrage as she jogged down the stairs. This was a stellar example of why Journi required payment up front.
“I’ll report you to the Paranormal Business Association!” Olivia shouted after her. “You’ll be blacklisted!”
“Have fun with that,” Journi called back, rolling her eyes as she stopped to pick up her helmet from the side table. She’d encountered Olivia’s type before and had lived to sooth another day. The reputation of Say It Ain’t So wasn’t important right now. What was important was the two innocent lives at stake. Olivia may not want her help, but Journi knew someone who would.
