The Quickening Page 2

  She hated the helpless feeling of dread the nightmare left with her. She didn’t have time to try to analyze why it had returned, damn it! She had to make breakfast, get her daughter ready for daycare, and she had three clients scheduled today. She also had to go buy groceries, pick up her daughter, and a mountain of laundry to do.

  God, she was tired, and she hadn’t even started yet. Suck it up, princess. You made your bed; now lie in it. She may have made the bed, but she sure didn’t have time to lie in it. Would she ever get rid of that harping voice in her head? Her mother lived three hundred miles away, but she still managed to infiltrate Tiffany’s mind when she was at her most vulnerable.

  “Good morning, Mommy.”

  Tiffany’s heart swelled when she heard the little voice. And just like that, all was right again in her world. Her daughter stood in the doorway in her little pink footie pajamas and her baby fine hair ratted up from sleeping. She was the most beautiful little girl in the world to her. Tiff drew strength from that magic place that good mothers had, and finished getting ready for the day.

  *

  Kat Volchosky sat on her deck and watched the first gray streaks in the sky turn red, then orange in a brilliant sunrise that promised a beautiful day in the city of Seattle. She looked down at her empty glass before setting it aside.

  She was numb and couldn’t recall when she’d finished the drink. How long had it been since the ice cubes had melted? Four hours? Five?

  She was still in shock.

  From the instant Tiffany had stepped out of the elevator, she’d recognized her. From her dark red hair, to every freckle, and her sea-green eyes. She’d known.

  Kat had loved her through a thousand dreams and knew every nuance in every expression. The way her eyes lit when she was full of joy or the spark of temper, the way her lips softened before a tender kiss. She was the woman who lived in Kat’s spirit. She was flesh and blood, instead of unobtainable desire from a life lived in another time.

  Through the years, she continued to search the crowds for her, but eventually, she’d given up. Kat had almost convinced herself that her visions were the psychological fantasy of an adopted child searching for an identity. But deep down, she knew her dream woman was out there, waiting for her. She just had to find her.

  How could it be anything other than destiny that her friend Jordan met and fell in love with Sunny? Kat had heard of Tiffany and her daughter, Angel, for months, but for some twists of fate, she hadn’t been able to meet her until the night before.

  She still felt hurt, remembering how Tiffany had turned and left her standing there. She hadn’t appeared to recognize her. In fact, she’d appeared almost…frightened. That her lover from the past wouldn’t fall into her arms and weep with relief at the sight of her had never occurred to Kat at all.

  The sun’s rays crested the horizon and made her squint through the alcohol-induced haze. Now what? It was a hell of a way to start her vacation, sitting in one spot all night drinking her confusion away. What she really wanted to do was drive to Bremerton and chase Tiffany down. But after the shock and the less than inspired reception, Kat didn’t think that would be her smartest move.

  She rose and stretched before stumbling over the iron leg of the chair. She supposed getting some real rest should be at the top of her priorities. She set her empty glass on the sleek granite counter and continued to her room.

  A large mural on canvas nearly dominated the entire wall across from her bed. A female warrior seemed to rise from the edge of the frame in the forefront. She posed with one arm holding her blade, the other held in a defensive stance across the front of her body. Her biceps bulged with the controlled posture. She wore a leather tunic that hit mid-thigh. Her blond hair was held in place with an etched silver headband that allowed the long tresses to cascade down her back.

  A little behind the warrior and to her left was a circular hut. Wood smoke rose from the chimney and the front door was open to the day. Purple heather bloomed amongst the wild fuchsia and pansies in the front yard.

  The art had hung on her wall for well over a decade, but walking by it repeatedly for years had rendered it near invisible. Kat inhaled deeply, hoping to catch the scent of a past she only knew in her dreams. When it eluded her, she finally allowed herself to look at the small, white-robed woman who sat near the warrior with three puppies frolicking around her in the green grass. An unseen breeze lifted her red hair away from her heart-shaped face. Her sea-green eyes shone with love; she was clearly delighted in the late afternoon sun while she played with the dogs and watched the warrior move through sword practice.

  Other huts dotted the landscape and more women in flowing white robes were captured in different positions of the idyllic slice of life depicted in the painting. One hung sheets in the breeze, another carried water alongside her partner who carried firewood. It was a snapshot of a different life and ancient time that Kat had painted from memory. The warrior guarding her priestess and home, as she should have been on that day.

  That day.

  She hadn’t been crazy after all. Here was the proof her dreams had been real.

  Kat thought about heading into the bathroom to splash water on her face and form a plan, figure out what she should do next, but after sitting on the soft bed, she fell onto her side and promised herself she would only close her eyes for a second.

  *

  Tiffany’s new office at the Haven still smelled like fresh paint. She was early so she took the time to unpack her scented candles. She lit the last one and looked at her clock. Her first client was late. She sat in the room’s armchair and stared out the window. It seemed like the first moment of real peace she’d had in weeks.

  She watched the soft rain gather on the window, forming tiny streams that ran down the glass. The light from the clear crystals on the wide ledge sparkled and lit a single drop, just one out of the thousands falling.

  Suddenly, in the face of a million tears streaming from the sky, coming together and drifting apart, Tiffany felt lonely. She loved Angel beyond measure, but sometimes she ached to have someone significant in her life. Sunny had Jordan. Shade had, well, Shade had whoever she wanted. They may have been superficial, but at least she was keeping warm at night. Tiffany hadn’t been on a date in well over a year. It just wasn’t high on her list of priorities. Not to mention how awkward it was to explain what she did for a living to any would-be suitors. Even if anyone was interesting enough to try, they had to pass Sunny’s and Shade’s approval. The last time she ignored their warnings had dire consequences for her. In the end, dating wasn’t worth the trouble. She simply wasn’t attracted to anyone and it certainly wasn’t worth hurting herself or Angel in the process.

  She turned when she heard the soft tap at the door. “Come in.”

  Sunny’s head poked in. “Mrs. Larrick cancelled her appointment.”

  “Did she say why? If she isn’t feeling well, I can go to her house.”

  “Her daughter flew in from Cleveland. She rescheduled for next week.”

  “Oh, okay.” Tiffany turned back to the rain.

  “You want to talk about what’s upsetting you?”

  Tiffany sighed. Lately, there was always something in her life upsetting her. She was too weary to put up any blocks against Sunny’s inquiring mind. It wasn’t that she wanted to shut her out, or that she didn’t love her. It was that Tiffany was so damn tired of being the needy one of the trio. Sunny was brilliant and confident. Shade was fearless and grabbed the brass rails of any task in front of her. Tiffany felt like the weak link.

  “Tell me,” Sunny said. “Where are these dark thoughts coming from? I think you’re the strongest person I know.”

  “How can you say that?” She should have known that Sunny could directly read the heart of the matter.

  “Tiffany, you’ve risen above every challenge life has thrown at you. You’re loyal, sweet, funny, and you go out of your way to help people.”

  Tiffany’s throat tight
ened and she felt the tears building behind her eyes. “I don’t feel strong, Sunny. I’m scared most of the time. Oh, let’s be honest. I’m usually scared.”

  “Get a little perspective here. You deal with spirits on a daily basis. Sometimes even with a side of demon, sprinkled with a little a poltergeist activity. That’s not exactly flowers and sunshine.”

  “The nightmare is back again.”

  “The one with chanting, red-robed tribal witches dancing around you?”

  Tiffany shook her head. “No, the other one.”

  “Well, no wonder you’re full of uncertainty today. A little massacre is enough to put anyone’s morning off.” Sunny reached for Tiffany’s hand, and the contact sent a little burst of white energy through her system. Tiffany welcomed Sunny’s comfort.

  They were interrupted by a short, sharp squeal.

  “What was that?” asked Tiffany.

  “It came from reception.” Sunny bolted for the door with Tiffany right on her heels.

  At the bottom of the stairs, Agnes stood with her hands covering her mouth.

  “What happened?” Sunny rushed to her.

  Agnes pointed to the phone. “The caller said he sees dead people and they’re coming this way.”

  “Oh, honey,” Tiffany said. “It happens all the time. Didn’t you see the movie, The Sixth Sense?”

  “Oh. Little bastard.” Agnes straightened her tie-dyed shirt and primped her curls. “It’s not nice to mess with old ladies.”

  Tiffany bit her lip to keep from laughing. “No. It’s not. Where’s Aura?”

  “I came in because I was in the neighborhood and she said she had an important errand to run. I took messages like she showed me. I was doing a great job too.”

  “It’s all right, Agnes. Don’t let them scare you. Do you want me to take over?” Sunny asked.

  Agnes stalked back to the reception desk in her purple high-top tennis shoes. “No, I’m ready for them now. I promised your mother. Go on with you; go back to work. I got this.”

  Tiffany caught Sunny’s eye. They hurried back to the stairs and waited until they were upstairs before giggling.

  “Oh, I should be ashamed, but the look on her face!” Tiffany put a hand to the stitch in her side. “I haven’t seen that expression since we did the investigation for her last year.”

  “Poor Agnes. She’s not cut out for this work. I’m surprised she agreed to answer the phones at all, she’s so scared of anything paranormal. Which reminds me, Mom said something the other day about permanently hiring a new receptionist.”

  “She did? Why?”

  “She’s tired, Tiff. She said she’s ready to retire from the whole thing. I know that she’s earned it, but I’m not ready for her to leave.”

  “Me either. Who’s going to keep everything straight?” Tiffany felt a moment of grief. Aura was always there for comfort, strength, and advice. She was the mother she’d always wanted. She depended on her. “I love Agnes and all, but—”

  Sunny laughed. “I wouldn’t worry about it. Agnes is temporary for now. You know Mom wouldn’t leave us with anyone who couldn’t handle it.”

  Tiffany knew she wouldn’t, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t miss her terribly.

  Sunny’s head tilted a fraction to the right. “My appointment is here. Let’s meet up later, okay? Then you can tell me why you ran away last night at the opening.” She left before Tiffany could argue with her.

  “How come you always get the last word?” Tiffany muttered to the empty hall. She went back into the room, curled up in the soft armchair, and waited for her next client.

  *

  Kat woke slowly, aware her cheeks were stiff with dried tears. The emotion she wouldn’t give in to while she sat on the deck the night before had snuck out while she slept.

  Coffee would give her a needed boost, and time to form a plan. She’d just stepped out of the shower when her phone rang; it was her editor, Liz. Kat debated letting it go to voice mail but picked it up anyway.

  “Kat.”

  “What?”

  “Where are you?”

  “Home.”

  Liz sighed. “That’s not here.”

  “You do know my vacation starts today, don’t you?”

  “I’m sorry. I must have missed the e-mail. Do you want to call me back later?”

  “No. This had better be good. What’s up?”

  “I received a phone call this morning, and I think you’re going to want in on this.”

  “What do you have?” The last thing Kat wanted to talk about was work when she felt hung over, but habit had her grabbing a notebook from the counter, and she sat at the breakfast bar to take notes.

  Liz paused a moment, then continued. “One of my contacts at the Seattle Police Department called. He wants to keep this on the down-low.”

  Kat felt a little prickle of interest. She was an insatiably curious person, and anything that someone wanted to be kept secret was usually interesting and worth looking into. But damn it, she didn’t want to get sucked in. She needed time off to get herself sorted out. “And?”

  “Well, he wants to talk to you about the article you did on that ghost hunting crew who found the murdered teenagers. What’s their name again?”

  “Sisters of Spirits. SOS.” Kat heard a slight ringing in her ears. There was no such thing as coincidence. Hadn’t she just been trying to figure out how to get back to Bremerton and Tiffany? Now she would have a legitimate reason to contact her. “Why?”

  “He wants to try having them work with some cold case files, and maybe get some input and new leads to follow.”

  “Why doesn’t he call them himself?” Kat asked. And how fortuitous for me that he doesn’t.

  “It’s complicated.”

  “How so?”

  “Spoken like a true reporter. I asked him the same thing. He said he didn’t want to go into it over the phone. He wants to meet with you in person.”

  Kat glanced at the clock. “Okay. Give me his number.”

  Liz gave her the information and hung up. Kat made the call, dressed, and was out the door within a half hour. She circled the parking lot until she finally found a spot. When she went in the building, she went through the motions and exchanged small talk with officers at the security checkpoint. Her mind wanted to race on two different tracks. The professional side dealt with possible stories and angles, but the emotional side, the tired and lonely one, still reeled from her meeting with Tiffany.

  She looked down the ugly concrete hallway, and the green rolling hills of her ancient home superimposed over the cement floor. Maybe I shouldn’t have gotten out of bed after all. She didn’t want to crack up at the goddamn police station.

  With what felt like massive effort, she pulled back mentally and focused on the door in front of her. She willed the sounds and smells of the police station to flood her senses—to keep her in the present. She wondered which of the myriad of scents lingering underneath the smell of sweat, stale air, and burnt coffee represented despair. Gradually, she felt more centered, more present, and able to concentrate on the task at hand. She knocked on the door.

  The man who answered was dressed in plain clothes. He poked his head out, craning his neck, as if he were looking to see if anyone noticed she was there. That he was nervous was obvious to Kat, but she dismissed it. If he was so worried about what he was doing, he should have met her for coffee somewhere. Not her concern. He showed her in, and pointed to the one visitor chair in front of his desk.

  “Detective Parker,” she said and gave a short nod before sitting and retrieving her notebook from her briefcase.

  “Please keep this off the record,” he said.

  “I’ve already told you I would. These are for my use.”

  A moment of silence stretched between them. Kat decided she would take the lead. “So, you’re interested in working with SOS?”

  Parker nodded. “I am. But you have to understand my position.”

  Kat heated
with a flash of protective anger. “What? Is the problem that you’re working with psychics, or that the department still wants to keep some distance between itself and Jordan Lawson. Which is it?” Kat was pissed that Jordan’s integrity was in question at all. She’d blown dirty cops out of the water and been shot. She was a hero, not a snitch.

  “I’m going to be honest with you. It’s kind of both.” He held up a hand to stop her protest. “Personally, I know that most of us here think what Lawson did was admirable. We don’t hold an official or serious opinion on psychics. I may be grasping at straws here, but after reading your story on how this SOS group solved the missing runaways’ case, I thought it was worth a shot. I’m getting some flack over it. But I want to know for myself that I’ve done everything in my power to solve these cold cases. The victims deserve that. I want to see if this group can open new leads for me.” He stopped talking and looked at her expectantly. “But it would be easier to work through you. We know you, and we know you’re good and honest. You don’t mess around. If you work with them and feed the information to me, I can keep some distance but still get the answers I’m hoping for. I’ll meet with them myself if I feel it’s necessary, but this way would be more…diplomatic.”

  Kat decided to cut him a break; he looked and sounded sincere enough. She gave him some credit for trying to peek around the thin blue line, even if he wasn’t willing to cross it openly. “Let me see what you have to work with.”

  *

  Tiffany’s cell phone buzzed on the table. She startled and realized she had dozed off while waiting. She must have needed it. The melancholy she’d felt earlier had subsided for the most part and she felt almost refreshed. “Yes?”

  “Shawna Waters is here.”

  Tiffany smiled. Agnes’s voice was prim. “I’ll come down and get her. Thank you.”

  She passed the mirror in the hall and grimaced. Her eyes were slightly puffy from her impromptu nap, and she tried to put some order into her wild curls, but changed her mind when they refused to cooperate. Instead, she pulled the hair band from her wrist and pulled the mass into a high bun, out of her way. She smoothed her sweater over her jeans and called it good.