Paranormal Crime Unit:
The Touch
Book 1
By Arvel Amaya
It was never good when witches came into my shop. Most of
them didn't like me, at least the ones with power. The woman sitting on the
battered wooden bench was very powerful. She had long, curly red hair and wore
a black power suit with a powder blue blouse that made her look as if she would
fit better in a business meeting than in a new age bookstore. She looked up at
me with mismatched eyes - one brown, one a pale blue that matched her shirt -
that were hidden behind black-framed glasses. She smiled at me. I paled.
"Henri, are you okay?"
I tore my gaze away to look at my part-timer, Allison. She
was giving me one of those worried looks she reserved for when she thought I
was overworking myself.
I nodded and immediately turned to look back at the witch.
My time working at PCU had me quite aware of exactly who the woman was. I had
seen glimpses of her in photos and on scenes, though this was the first time I
would actually meet her. What was she doing in my shop?
Allison sighed. "Well, that's your next customer. She
didn't have an appointment, but insisted you would be willing to see her."
"I don't think I really have a choice in the
matter," I mumbled.
I could almost feel Allison frowning at me. I waved her off
and made my way to the woman. As soon as I approached, she closed her book,
adjusted the bag on her shoulder, and stood, holding out her hand.
"Henri Abbey? I'm glad you were willing to see
me."
For a second, I looked at her hand, hesitant to take it. I
wondered if this was some sort of test, and then dismissed the thought as
paranoid. Besides, I had my gloves on. I reached out and took her hand, shaking
it. Nothing, not even a twinge. The gloves had never failed me before. I didn't
know why I thought this time it would be different.
"You're Virva Balmont."
A pleased smile curled her lips and she let go of my hand,
never commenting on why I was wearing gloves in Orlando's summer heat. "I
wasn't sure if you would recognize me."
"I've seen you before. You're pretty famous."
She arched an eyebrow. "Famous or infamous? I think in
your circles it would be the latter."
I knew she was talking about my time in the Paranormal
Crimes Unit. Virva Balmont was one of those people who always managed to stay
just on the edge of legal or at least managed not to get caught on the wrong
side. "I'm retired." It felt strange to say that. I was only
thirty-four.
"That's not what I heard," she said.
I didn't comment on that. I wasn't planning to divulge any
information that I didn't have to. "So what can I help you with?"
"Straight to business, I see." She smiled,
obviously not put off. "I need some help finding something I've
lost."
I wasn't sure if I wanted to get involved in whatever Virva
might be looking for, but I didn't want to piss off one of the most powerful
witches in the States. I would simply have to make sure to tread carefully.
"Let's go to the back room." I turned and began
leading the way. We stepped into a narrow hall, which had three rooms. I walked
past the stock room and my office to the one closest to the back entrance. I
opened the door and walked in. Virva looked around her in surprise.
"Very bare."
I shrugged. I didn't have the glitzy hangings that most
people expected when they walked in to see a fortuneteller, but then again, I
didn't consider myself a fortuneteller. The only thing that was in the room was
a table, a few chairs, and four miniature iron statues that sat in each corner
of the room. Virva glanced at them with interest.
"I didn't realized you dabbled," Virva said.
"Protection is protection."
Virva laughed and then sat down at the table. I sat across
from her. She tucked her hands under her chin and smiled at me. I frowned. This
wasn't exactly how these sessions of mine worked.
"Want to explain to me what it is you're searching
for?"
"My assistant. It looks like he's gone missing. I would
like to find him."
I frowned. "Missing or on the run?"
"Missing," Virva said. "He has no reason to
run from me. I can assure you his loyalty has never been a question."
I squinted at her, not sure if I trusted her. I didn't want
to be used to hunt someone who would rather not be found. "Why can't you
find him yourself?"
She frowned. "I've tried, but my assistant has
a...condition, that makes it hard for my brand of magic to stick."
My brow furrowed. "And mine will?"
She shrugged. "That's yet to be seen, but the cards
seem to think so."
"Cards?" I blinked. "You did a reading?"
"Three, and in each one you showed up, so here I
am."
I looked down at the table, trying to hide just how much
that disturbed me. I didn't like the idea of coming up in any witch's reading.
Not all witches were bad, I knew that, but that didn't make me trust them.
Eleven years in PCU tended to make trusting anything paranormal hard to do. It
was sort of ironic since I was a psychic, but then again maybe that was why I
felt that way.
"So what did you bring me to read?"
"You seem to accept things very easily."
I looked at her, hard. "Does it seem that way?"
She looked at me, startled, and then laughed. She slid her
purse from her shoulder and placed it on the table. She reached inside and
immediately I tensed. My hand slid under the table, reaching for the gun
strapped there. Guns were a lot more effective than people gave them credit
for. Sure, they wouldn't kill many of the magical creatures on their own, but
when you carved glyphs on them, they worked a whole of a hell lot better.
Virva stopped. "You really don't trust me, do
you?"
I gave her a strained smile. "I didn't know I was
supposed to."
She shrugged and pulled out a long glass bottle and then
closed her purse. She slid her purse to the side. I let go of my gun and
straightened up. "What's that?"
"It's a static bottle. It keeps thing froze in
time."
I studied it. "I hope you don't think I plan on opening
it."
She sighed. "Fine, I'll open it, but you'll want to be
ready. I don't know how long his essence will stick."
"What do you mean?"
"You'll see. You might want to take your gloves
off."
I admit, I was curious. My curiosity had gotten me into
trouble over and over again, but I had yet to learn my lesson. I tugged one of
my gloves off. Virva gave me a toothy smile and then unsealed the bottle.
A wisp of frost seeped from the bottle. Virva turned the
bottle upside down, shaking it. A small roll of paper slipped from the bottle
and onto the table. I braced myself and reached for it.
For a moment, nothing happened. I frowned. I could feel
something there, but every time I tried to reach for it, it would slip away.
That was odd. Usually, everything was clamoring for my attention. I looked at
Virva and she shrugged.
"I told you his essence tends not to stick."
"How long ago since he touched this?"
"A day and a half is my estimate, though I put it in
the static bottle as soon as I found it."
I raised my eyebrow. "It sounds like you thought
something might happen to him."
"No, but it was unusual for my assistant to go off for
hours without contacting me. Besides, I had a feeling."
"A feeling?" I asked, skeptically.
"I'm a witch. I've learned to trust my feelings."
She leaned towards him. "Now, Mr. Abbey, if you're done interrogating me,
I hope you will continue with your little psychic trick before there's nothing
to look for."
I glared at her and then nodded. I closed my eyes and wondered
just what this guy was. Everyone, even paranormals, left a bit of his essence
behind, but Virva was right. The longer I tried to touch the essence the more
it began to fade. I pushed harder, but it just pulled away faster. I let out a
grunt of frustration. Trying to catch it wasn't working and neither was just
the usual "here I am." Maybe it needed a bit more coaxing.
It probably wasn't a smart idea, but I never could back down
from a challenge. The best way to draw out anything supernatural was to make
myself more appetizing. Power was always appetizing. Even regular old humans
couldn't manage to stay away. The problem with being a powerful psychic though,
was that there were a lot of things that wanted to eat me. That's why I tended
to tone it down as a general principle.
I concentrated on letting my power out a little more, not to
chase, but as a big glowing ball of power. In front of me I heard Virva gasp.
Psychic trick, my ass.
Virva, though, wasn't my concern. It was the little bit of
essence still hanging on to the paper. I could feel it hesitate and then
suddenly it was scurrying forward. Gotcha!
I started to smirk when everything suddenly changed and it wasn't me that held
it, but it holding me. I felt like someone had reached out and grabbed me and
suddenly I was tossed into a vision.
I was standing in a shop, one of those expensive ones where
there were no products on display, just a richly furnished lobby with a ledger
sitting on the counter. A tall man, who had to be at least 6'5" with broad
shoulders, stood with his back to me. He had a tight body of coiled muscle that
reminded me of a panther. He was talking to someone on the phone. It was
strange. Most of the time, when I was in a memory, I was looking through the
eyes of the person whose memory it was and had to step out of it. Being already
outside the viewer's eyes was rare.
I stepped in closer, trying to get an idea of who he was
talking to. I could hear a voice, someone screaming. They didn't sound angry,
more as if they were scared. I tried to make out the words, but they kept
slipping away. Even now, the memory was fading. I walked through the counter,
cringing a little. I didn't like walking through objects in memories. It made
me feel like a ghost. I stepped closer, hoping to hear some clue or at least
read his lips.
As soon as I reached his side, the man stiffened. I was
wondering what had been said to cause it, when he turned and looked straight at
me. I sucked in a breath. Bright gold eyes looked straight into mine. It was
impossible. It was a memory after all. There had to be someone behind me. I
started to turn to see when he spoke.
"I know you." His voice was like deep velvet and
sent a shock of electricity through my entire body.
And then everything stopped, as if the entire world was
holding its breath. I could only stare at him. He had a square jaw and soft
pink lips. His skin was a warm gold. Dark lashes surrounded his eyes, making
his gold eyes seem even brighter. Silky brown hair fell across his forehead.
It was true. There was something about him that was
familiar. Familiar in a way that I only read about in fairy tales and seen in
chick flicks. "This can't be happening," I whispered.
Then suddenly everything started again and he wasn't looking
at me. He was talking on the phone. He said something in a different language.
I was still trying to wrap my head around what had happened when he hung up the
phone and tore a piece of paper from the ledger. He scribbled on it and then
hurried out of the shop.
The memory ended and I opened my eyes. I looked down at the
paper. It was completely dead, nothing else left in it. I never seen anything
like it, but nothing about this whole thing was normal. I reached down, picked
up my glove, and slid it on with a shiver.
"Any time you would like to share, I would very much
appreciate it," Virva said, her words cutting through the fog around my
mind.
"Just give me a second," I said, rubbing my
forehead. I hated having her see me like this, but I was shaken up badly. I
straightened up and took a deep breath, my eyes scanning over the paper.
I'll be back in an
hour.
M.
A man of few words. I realized then that Virva had never
told me her assistant's name. I wondered if that was on purpose or not. Virva
shifted in her chair, crossing her legs. She wasn't a woman who was used to
being kept waiting.
"He left in a rush. He was talking to someone on the
phone. It sounded like they were scared. I think he went to help."
She frowned. "Who?"
I shook me head. "I couldn't make out most of the
words. But, he said something, in a different language. "Dua puluh
menit."
She nodded, but didn't look completely satisfied.
"Anything else?"
I shook me head. "That's all I got."
She sighed. "Not what I expected, but I supposed that's
how these things work."
I felt a sliver of irritation go through me. I stood up, and
she followed suit. I walked her to the front where she gave her credit card to
Allison.
"Still, it wasn't a complete loss. I've been wanting to
meet you for some time, Henri."
I didn't feel the same. I just nodded.
Allison handed her back her credit card and she stuffed her
pocketbook back into her purse. She waved her hand. "I'll be seeing you
soon, Henri."
"I doubt that," I couldn't help saying.
She laughed as she strode out of the shop. "The cards
never lie."
There was the sharp jingle of the bell and then she was
gone. Allison whistled. "That woman is too hot to handle."
I looked at Allison. "Were you checking her out?"
She gave me an impish grin. "Maybe."
I shook my head. "That one you want to stay away from,
believe me."
"If I didn't know you were gay, I would think you were
jealous."
I snorted. I rubbed my head. I felt a headache coming on.
That was one of the drawbacks of the whole deal. Feedback. There was only so
much a psychic could take in before it tried to pour back out. That little note
had taken a lot more out of me than I thought. "Allison, cancel all my
appointments, will ya?"
She gave me a quizzical look and nodded. I took a step
towards my office when suddenly my pocket started to vibrate. "Shit."
I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone. Not many people had my cell
number and most of the people who did never called me just to chitchat.
"Hello."
"Henri, we need you at a scene," Jarrod Warner's
crisp voice said.
"No 'How it's going?' Or 'Did you catch that Miami
game?'"
"Miami sucks."
"They're better than the Lions."
"Hey, the Lions are getting better."
I grinned. "If you say so."
There was a pause. "We really need you on this
one."
I frowned. If Jarrod was saying that I knew that whatever
they had for me was going to drain me, but that was the thing with me. I had
never been able to say no to a case. It's why I was working as a consultant
instead of recovering from what my shrink labeled as PTSD. "All right.
Give me the address."
Exciting! I wonder what they need Henri for...
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