“I’m having trouble breathing.” Alistair coughed, doubling over, gasping for breath, and gagging.
Jude was ready to bolt from his seat to help the psychic, when Alistair straightened, his face still red. “He passed from some lung ailment. I’m seeing cancer, but that’s not what killed him.”
“Dad had lung cancer when I was a kid and he had the lung removed. He never stopped smoking like his doctors told him to do. When COVID hit a few years ago, it took him.” Samantha buried her face in her hands.
“Jaxton believed the virus was a hoax and wouldn’t wear a mask or social distance?” Alistair asked, sounding like he already knew the answer.
“That’s right.” Samantha took a tissue out of her purse and dabbed her wet eyes. “Does my father have a message for me?”
Alistair set his hands against his temples. “Yes! He’s telling you how much he loves you and your dog, Betty. He’s sorry that he left his inheritance to NRA, when you had been so clearly struggling after your divorce and Betty needed surgery to remove the marbles she swallowed. You shouldn’t have had to sell your blood to pay for the operation. Jaxton says he should have spent more time with you, when your dick husband Marty left you for a stripper named Kandy Krush, using your life savings to get Kandy a boob job.”
“Sweet Jesus,” Ronan whispered. “This is like an episode of Jerry Springer. Do you think Kandy’s gonna come out from behind the stage and start a brawl with Samantha?”
Jude laughed along with Ronan. He sort of hoped that would happen. His life had been a bit dull lately being stuck at home and he wouldn’t mind being front and center when everything went to hell. Everly’s hand squeezing his arm calmed Jude’s bloodlust. He turned to his niece, whose eyes were as big as dinner plates. Shit, maybe it wasn’t the best idea to bring a seven year old to a show like this. “Are you okay, honey?”
Everly shook her head and covered her ears. She reached out to Aurora and motioned her forward.
Jude tapped Ronan’s shoulder and pointed to Everly, who’d slipped out of her seat and onto the floor, where she crouched with her head down, half-covering Aurora, which reminded Jude of theDuck and Coverfilm he watched in elementary school in Albuquerque, just in case there was an accident at Los Alamos. He was about to reach down to help Everly back into her seat when multiple air horns began going off.
People dressed in black tactical gear began to march down the aisles toward the stage. They carried signs in front of them, which Jude couldn’t read at his angle. He turned to Cope who wore a stunned look on his face. Neither he nor Ten looked scared. “What the hell do we do?”
“Wait and see how it plays out,” Ronan shouted over the growing din of voices. “If we were in danger, Ten and Cope would be urging us to get out.”
Jude reached down and managed to scoop up his niece. He settled her in Ronan’s lap. He held his hands over her ears, offering her more protection. When he reached for Aurora, shepractically jumped into Fitzgibbon’s arms. He motioned toward the exit and practically ran to get his daughter out of the theater. The din in the theater began to grow. Other people began to get out of their seats, looking confused. Should they leave the theater or stay and watch what was about to happen next.
As quickly as the air horn blasts started, they stopped. Jude’s ears were ringing from the sound. “Wolf, are you okay?” Jude asked.
The little boy nodded his head. “This is great, Daddy! We should come to the theater more often!” Wolf’s dark eyes glowed.
“FRAUD! FRAUD! FRAUD!” The people dressed in black began to chant.
Alistair looked shaken. His top hat had fallen off and he was gripping his hands together so hard, they’d turned white. “Can we get security in here please?”
The protestors turned from the stage to face the audience. Samantha, the woman who Alistair had been reading before the interruption got out of her seat and ran toward them. Shit, was she gonna start a fight with the instigators who’d interrupted her reading? With Ronan sitting with Everly, there was no way for Jude to escape the aisle they were sitting in.
Samantha ripped off her red hoodie to reveal the same black shirt the others were wearing. She climbed up on the stage and took the microphone from Alistair, grabbing his arm and yanking him toward the edge of the stage. “This man is a fraud!”
“Prove it!” Someone shouted from the back of the room.
“My nameisn’tSamantha. Idon’thave a dead father named Jaxston. I’m a member of Debunked, We’re a group of people who work to expose psychic fraud. Everything you just readabout me is fake. So was the Facebook page you took my information from! You’re a fraud! A conman! A grifter!”
Alistair yanked his arm back from Not Samantha. “How dare you question my gift!”
“This asshole gets his hands on the list of people who buy tickets to his events. He looks them up on Facebook to see what’s been posted online, then uses that information to trick people into thinking he’s really speaking to the dead.” Not Samantha sized Alistair up.
The man stood with his hands fisted at his sides and looked like he was about to take a swing. “I am not a fraud. My gift comes from Amity Wellington, Salem’s first witch.”
“Okay, then, read someone from the audience,” one of the Debunked team members shouted.
Jude watched in horror as Cope stuck his hand up and wiggled his fingers. He stood and stepped out into the aisle. “I volunteer, Mr. Hooke, read me.” Cope grinned as one of the event staff rushed to his side with a microphone.
What the fuck was Cope doing? This was quickly turning into a shit show. Was Cope going to try to help Alistair Hooke or was he going to pound the final nail into his coffin.
“You’re with them!” Hooke accused.
“He’s not with us. I’ve never seen this man before in my life.” Not Samantha said.
On the one hand, not knowing who Cope was meant he wasn’t on Debunked’s hit list. On the other hand, he was about to put the bullseye squarely on himself and possibly West Side Magick.
