“Blissful,” he said, his voice full of warning.
“He broke into my house last night.”
“And you didn’t call me?” Roan sounded really ticked now.
I cringed. “Roan, what was I supposed to do? We have this whole stupid gift thing hanging over our heads.”
He argued. “But that shouldn’t matter. If you’re in danger, I don’t care about some stupid gift interaction. I want to know you’re safe.”
A slow smile curled on my lips. “Well maybe there’s something we can do about that.”
“Like what?”
“Are you free tonight? There’s something I need you to help me do.”
Roan didn’t hesitate. The concern in his voice made my heart tighten. “I’m always free for you. What is it?”
I explained, and though he was unsure, I pushed him into coming. “Roan, I promise everything will turn out all right. I swear. But you have to trust me.”
“Okay,” he said slowly, “I trust you.”
“Great. See you then.”
I made one more phone call and had everything arranged for eight o’clock.
“Areyou sure you and Roan should be in the same vehicle?” Owen said from the comfort of the back seat of my old Land Cruiser.
I glanced at Roan. “It should be okay, don’t you think? It’s only for a little while.”
He nodded. “I’m pretty sure. We’re not using our gifts.” Roan turned around and glanced at Tart and Owen. “You two spend a lot of time together.”
From the rearview, I watched Tart twist her fingers. “I’ve explained to Blissful that Owen and I aren’t together at all. Our relationship is completely professional.”
Roan drummed his fingers on the door. “Good to know.”
We were about two minutes from our location. “You know what’s so funny?” I said.
“What’s that?” Owen asked.
I kept my tone light, amused. “Y’all told me that the reason you gave me away is because you wanted to keep me out of the hands of folks like my dad. But I’ve heard of other people who run a group that uses folks like me. The people who run it are Mary and Henry Fletcher. Have y’all ever heard of them?”
Tart and Owen exchanged a look. “No, never,” she said.
“Are you sure?” Roan said, flipping down his mirror and glancing back. “From what Blissful says, they’re really bad. They like to gain clairvoyants’ trust and then use them to make spirits in haunted houses more visible, so they can scam regular people out of their money. They’ve put a lot of folks in some dangerous situations.”
“One clairvoyant was killed,” I said.
“No.” Tart shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “I’ve never heard of them.”
We approached the old gas station, and I came to a stop.
“What’s this?” Owen said.
“Oh, this place is neat. A really haunted spot. I thought you might like to take a look at it.”
Owen hiked an eyebrow. “Are you sure Roan should be here with you? It looks dangerous.”
I opened the door. “It’s fine. Come on.”
