“Give me a minute,” she snapped. “I need to get a sense of the atmosphere in this space before I can begin the reading.”
Walking with ghosts was always a grim business, and murder scenes were the worst, especially at night. She dreaded the work but she was stuck with a psychic talent for it. In addition, she felt a moral obligation to use her abilities when called upon to do so. It was, however, a hard way to make a living, because business was not brisk. Few police investigators took psychics seriously. Most cops assumed she and others like her were frauds. Investigators who did believe she was the real deal rarely had a budget that allowed for hiring psychic consultants.
She had vowed to cut back on the pro bono work but that was proving difficult. Turning down the handful of clients who trusted her to help solve horrible crimes sent her on a very unpleasant guilt trip.
She paid the rent with a real job, one she loved. She was a librarian who had found her niche consulting for private libraries and collectors who specialized in books and materials that dealt with the paranormal. Granted, that meant she often did business with what most people would call eccentric clients. But she and her sister, Chloe—also a librarian—had been raised by their aunt. Bea was a librarian and a professional psychic consultant who operated the Shop on Hidden Lane. Sophy and Chloe had grown up in a business that thrived on eccentric customers. They knew how to deal with them.
“The sooner you get started, the sooner you can go back to selling crystals, wind chimes, tarot cards, and the rest of that tourist junk in your aunt’s shop,” Luke prompted.
Sophy shoved her hands into the pockets of the ankle-length puffer coat and glared. “Pro tip, Wells. Insulting my aunt’s businessis not a smart way to establish a professional working relationship based on mutual respect.”
“I’m not here to establish a relationship of any kind.”
“Oddly enough, I got that impression.”
“I want answers. I have one priority, and that is to find my uncle. My grandmother told me that you agreed to take the job. I’m paying you what I suspect is double the going rate for this kind of work.”
“Triple, actually. Special price for a Wells.”
“Figures. I expect results.”
“As if I had a choice,” Sophy grumbled. “Your grandmother said she thinks your uncle’s disappearance has something to do with that stupid pact between the families.”
“My grandmother has very, very good intuition,” Luke warned softly. “Psychic-grade intuition.”
“I’ve heard that.”
She kept her tone neutral this time because she really did not have any option. It had been annoying to get the phone call from Angela Wells, the matriarch of the clan, informing her that Luke was on his way to see her, but she knew her duty as a Harper. The pact had to be honored. Angela had made it clear she was convinced Deke’s disappearance was connected to the events of the past. So yes, there had been no choice but to agree to take the job.
Now that she knew Bea was involved with Deke and might be in danger, however, she could not simply read the scene for Luke and walk away. She had to make sure Bea was safe.
“Just to be clear,” she said, leaning into her most assured tones, “reading the scene is one thing. The kind of cleaning you have requested is…complicated.”
No one in the underworld of the psychic community had any serious objections to crime scene consultations. True, there were not that many talents who could do it for real. A lot of fraudsworked these gigs. But whether or not the practitioner could be trusted was the client’s problem. There was nothing inherently unethical about the practice.
Cleaning up the paranormal evidence of a crime, however, while not technically illegal—after all, that kind of evidence could not be presented in a court of law—was severely frowned upon in a certain quarter of the paranormal community—namely the Agency for the Investigation of Atypical Phenomena, otherwise known as the Foundation.
The organization assumed it had the right to police the members of the psychic community. And, okay, maybe some entity had to take on the responsibility, because regular law enforcement could not be expected to deal with the bad guys who were amped up with paranormal talents—for the most part regular law enforcement didn’t even believe psychic criminals existed. The Foundation had a role to play, but it was a well-known fact that its agents were inclined to be extremely judgmental.
The Harpers, like many others who made their livings with their psychic talents, preferred to keep a low profile.
Wells, Inc., on the other hand, was said to take contracts with the Foundation. No surprise. It was just like the Wells family to work both sides of the street and get away with it, Sophy thought. The clan was powerful. It had nothing to fear from the Foundation.
“Let me worry about the complications of a housekeeping job,” Luke said.
“All right.” She took a deep breath. “I’m ready.”
She paced to the far end of the room and took off her black-and-crystal-framed glasses. She slipped them into a soft case and dropped the case into the depths of a coat pocket. Reaching into another pocket she took out the oversized mirrored sunglasses and put them on.
“Please turn off the light,” she said.
She could tell from his expression that Luke had some questions about the glasses, but he was smart enough not to ask them. Instead, he went to the wall switch and flipped it. The weak bulb in the overhead fixture winked out, plunging the room into the sort of absolute darkness that can only be found in an isolated mountain cabin—a cabin like this one.
She was braced for the familiar flash of acute claustrophobia—had trained herself to breathe through it—but that didn’t stop the panicky sparks that snapped across her senses. She wondered if Luke was experiencing a similar sensation. She hoped so. It would serve him right.
She reached into a third pocket and took out the small set of metal chimes and the little wooden mallet.
With the claustrophobia under control, she steeled herself and kicked up her talent. The darkness was slowly infused with an eerie gray radiance. The temperature in the already cold room seemed to drop a few more degrees.
