Reluctantly, Riley set aside her snack fantasies. They’d sit here until the end of time if her grandmother caught whiff of the fact that she wasn’t taking this seriously. She took a reluctant breath and willed the cotton candy clouds to appear.
“Now, exit your spiritual space and return to the present.”
The clouds that had just materialized disappeared like a balloon popping, and Riley wobbled in her seated position. She felt like she did in Wander’s flow yoga classes, two steps and a half-dozen breaths behind everyone else.
“Go back again,” Elanora insisted.
By the fifth forced exit from the land of pastel puffiness, she was dizzy and listing into her mother. When she’d once again made peace with the earth’s gravitational forces, Riley raised her hand again. “Can we take a break? I’m getting spiritual vertigo.”
“Rest is for the weak,” Elanora snapped.
“I’m okay with being weak if it means I get five minutes to remember gravity,” Riley said, opening one eye.
Her grandmother was sipping a very large bloody Mary that had appeared out of nowhere. “If you are incapable of performing the exercises like everyone else, then you are excused. Just don’t complain to me when your powers take control of your life rather than the other way around. Mark my words, Riley Thorn, youwillregret it.”
The joke was on her grandmother—Rileyalreadyregretted it.
But she stayed put anyway. Her mean old lady grandmother had the vaguest of points. There was no point in dabbling in being psychic. Either she learned to control her gifts or she let them control her.
Elanora met her gaze and gave a stiff nod. “Again.”
* * *
Riley lostsense of all time as the summer sun and humidity battled it out to ruin the day for humans. Burt had long since retreated into the house, following the scents of bacon and coffee.
They’d graduated from spiritual touch-and-gos to intense focus exercises that involved clutching sharp crystals and sniffing incense that smelled like dried crap and moldy berries to heighten the clarity of their spiritual senses.
“It’s odd. I keep getting the distinct whiff of death and roses,” Wander said, sounding like she was underwater somewhere. Her sister had a psychic snoot that could sniff things out like a dead aunt’s favorite perfume or what a student had for dinner last night.
Riley wished she would have been the one with the sniff-a-voyant nose. Her sister would be a much better psychic than she was.
Somewhere in the middle of memorizing a very long Latin mantra, Riley felt herself slipping into the cotton candy world like a kid on a slide in a McDonald’s playground.
She found herself blinking at the puffy, colorful clouds. “Uh, did you guys need something?”
The clouds pulsed with light, and she heard far-away whispers layered over the drone of her grandmother’s voice.
She squinted through the fluffy fog, hoping for a glimpse of Bianca Hornberger or Larry Rupley. Neither was there. Instead, Riley found another man. A stranger to her. He was chunky and Caucasian, the kind of pale that made her think of vitamin D deficiencies. His straggly hair was tied back in a ponytail. His shorts were stained. And his t-shirt and socks were holey. And dirty.
Riley caught a whiff of something musty and unpleasant.
There was a vibe there. Aggressive disdain, she decided. As if he’d never agreed with anything that had happened to him in his entire life.
Was he connected to the wealthy, plastic Bianca? Or did he have something to do with Larry’s disappearance?
The clouds pulsed again, and she felt her vision self levitating over the Susquehanna River. She tried to look down to make sure her body was still there, but instead she was drawn to the grungy, exploding stranger.
“Okay. So a grungy guy disappointed with life and the West Shore,” she summarized. The clouds lit up as if she’d solved a Wheel of Fortune puzzle. “Great. So how is he related to Bianca? Or Larry?”
There was no immediate response.
“Look, guys, if he’s not related, I need to focus on one puzzle at a time. Well, okay, two. I need to find out who killed Bianca Barbie, or it would be nice if you could tell me where Larry went.”
A silver cord materialized, encircling the man’s waist. “Okay. Did exploding stranger have lap band surgery?”
The cord projected into the air. Riley followed it as it arched across the river and traveled above the city.
“Well, hell,” she said.
