One
A large, gloved hand reached out to knock on a white wooden door. The brass numbers 214 were arranged diagonally beneath the peephole. The hand reached up to knock again, but before it made contact, the door opened a crack and a curious brown eye peered out from the space.
The top of a wallet came into view, and the eyes behind the door widened in relief. The door briefly shut and then opened wider, revealing a young woman in her late twenties, if her torn jeans and Hard Rock Café T-shirt were any indication of her youth. She stood in the doorway and did not invite the person inside her apartment.
She talked for a few minutes, but no sound came from her lips, like a television with the volume turned off. The woman seemed annoyed and went to close the door, but the person who’d knocked stuck an arm between the door and the wall and pushed.
The woman stumbled back, her bare feet nearly tripping over the pair of well-worn running shoes sitting by the door. She regained her balance and turned to run into another room, with the intruder right behind her. She reached for the cordless phone, presumably to call for help, but the phone line was yanked from the jack on the wall before she could dial. Throwing the phone, she yelled something at the intruder. Her young face was contorted with anger, but her wide brown eyes betrayed her fear.
The room they were in was an office of sorts. With the blinds closed over the window and a low-wattage bulb in the lamp, the room was bathed in a dim, eerie, ominous glow. Along the right wall, two computer monitors, and various piles of papers sat atop a large, flat desk. As the intruder moved closer to the desk, the images on the monitors came into focus. On one was a graphic layout of a room similar to the one they were in. There were various objects strewn about the simulated room, and a computer-generated body lay prostrate on the floor. The other monitor displayed a large chart showing some sort of data. The desk drawer was open, and on a pullout shelf rested an ergonomic keyboard and mouse.
A leather-clad hand pointed to the monitors as the intruder presumably said something to the woman. She yelled at the intruder and waved her hands in denial, but the intruder pushed past her and yanked the mouse cord from its connection. After circling an end of the cord around one hand, the intruder grabbed the young woman, spun her around, and threw her face first into the floor. She was pinned with a knee to her back, and the mouse cord wrapped around her neck.
The cord tightened. The woman flailed, but her struggles diminished as her body was deprived of air. Within moments, she stopped moving, and the intruder, now her killer, released the cord.
The killer dragged her body back to the desk and hefted her into the chair before going to retrieve the mouse. After plugging it back into the computer, the killer positioned the woman’s left on the keyboard, making it appear as if her lifeless body was at work and set her left hand flat on the desk next to the mouse.
A large hunting knife came into view. The blade was easily six inches long, and there was an unusual golden cap at the end of the polished wooden handle. The killer placed the knife over the woman’s right index finger and pressed down until the finger snapped off from her hand then placed the disfigured hand on the mouse. After dropping the severed finger into a zip-top bag, the killer wiped the knife blade clean on a white handkerchief. It was edged in lacy trim and embroidered at one corner with the letters “MOM.”
The knife and the handkerchief disappeared from view. The killer took a quick look around and walked out, taking care not to trip over the woman’s toppled running shoes before carefully closing the door to Apartment 214.
Danika Brady bolted up with a gasp. Her stomach practically leapt into her nose as her mind spun with the images she’d just witnessed in her vision. She pressed one trembling hand to her mouth and the other against where her stomach was supposed to be, in an attempt to keep from throwing up her meager dinner from some hours earlier. A warm breeze from the register blew over her sweaty, trembling body, chilling her through her clingy, thin pink T-shirt. She whipped off the thick comforter and eased her feet onto the cold floor, trying to clear the fog in her brain and make some sense of the images floating around her now conscious mind.
“What in the name of Crom Cruach was that?” she asked to the dark, quiet room as she moved her trembling hand across her face. Her voice resonated around the mostly empty studio apartment. She took a deep breath to calm herself. That proved to be a mistake. The bile rose in her throat, and she lost the battle with her nerves.
She lurched off the futon bed, bare feet slapping against the wooden floor as she sprinted to the bathroom. She dropped to her knees in front of the toilet and barely had time to lift the lid before she heaved into the bowl. Reaching up a shaky hand to press the handle down, she leaned her face against the cool side of the white porcelain.
She staggered to her feet and went to splash some cold water on her face and rinse her mouth out. Deciding that just water wasn’t going to rid her mouth of the foul taste of regurgitated eggplant parmesan, she snatched the bottle of mouthwash from the countertop and swished some around before spitting the neon green liquid into the sink.
Wobbling out into the dark room, she made her way back to the bed. The wooden frame creaked a little when she sat down, and she took a few deep, calming breaths, making sure she was through with needing the bathroom, before reaching for the bedside lamp. She squinted under the sudden bright light until her tired eyes adjusted.
Glancing over at the face of her triangular wooden Zen clock, she grimaced when she saw that it was only four in the morning, as if the dark sky outside wasn’t obvious enough to indicate the early hour. She cursed her lack of healthy sleep patterns. One of these days she was going to sleep through the night.
She reached for the drawer in the bottom of the wooden nightstand next to the bed. It squeaked when she pulled on it to retrieve a sketching pad and a charcoal drawing pencil. Flipping to a blank page, she sat back on the bed, cross-legged, with the pad of paper on her lap and began sketching the horrific image in her head.
An hour later, she examined the finished drawing, depicting the gruesome image of the young woman’s lifeless body, perfectly placed at the computer desk, one hand resting on the keyboard and the other, missing an index finger, on the mouse. The dark shading around the woman’s neck left no question as to how she died.
Looking down at the drawing brought back the terror she felt at seeing the young woman die, and she felt the bile rise in her throat again. This time, she was able to force it down. Whether it was through sheer force of will or the fact that her stomach was empty, she didn’t know and really didn’t care.
“Iago,” she called out in a quavering voice.
Your timing stinks, Dani girl.
The familiar Gaelic of Iago’s voice echoed in her mind. His spiritual presence made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up while an extreme chill overcame her body. A chill that, as she knew from experience, only scalding hot water could alleviate. She closed her eyes, inwardly struggling to maintain her composure.
“I need your help,” she whined. Even though no one besides her could hear Iago, she found she could only speak back to him through her mind when she was perfectly calm, and perfect calm didn’t happen much in Dani’s life. Not having to speak out loud to him would come in handy in keeping other people from thinking she was crazy.
Did you have another vision?
Dani glanced down at the charcoal drawing and replied, “I think this time I might have witnessed a murder.” She rubbed her bare arms as she broke into all-over chill bumps, as she always did in Iago’s presence.
Well, you’ve certainly never seen one of those before.
Dani set the pad of paper down, hoping that removing the image from her view might also remove the image from her mind and began relating her vision. Her eyes filled with tears as she described the actual murder.
She paused and took a deep breath. “Helping someone find peace so he stops scaring the mayor’s daughter is one thing, but what I saw was awful,” she complained, her voice hitching.
You’re a medium, Dani girl. You don’t get to decide what you see. You can only interpret and act upon what you’re shown.
“I know,” she sighed. Dani had heard a similar lecture for almost her entire life. She knew what her spirit guide said was true, but it didn’t make this particular image any easier to see over and over when she closed her eyes.
She heard a buzzing in her mind, like a radio that was just tuned slightly off the station, and knew she needed to calm down so she could regain control over her mental shield, the internal barrier she erected to protect her mind from the unwanted encroachments of spirit world. As she continued to describe the horrible scene, she could feel the mental caresses that she knew were Iago’s way of giving her comfort the only way he could. As a spirit, his interactions within this realm were limited based on the power he chose to exert. A slight mental massage like the one he was giving her required little energy, whereas a full visible manifestation would require a tremendous amount of energy.
As she concluded her description of the vision, she let Iago’s mental caress continue to calm her. Slowly, the buzzing receded, and her mind was once again protected with her mental shield. She needed to keep up the mental barrier between the realm of the living and that of the dead to prevent any spirits from using her as an unwilling spiritual conduit.
When she was done, she let her mind wander. She thought of Cassandra, her adoptive mother, and wished in times like these that she was still alive. Iago did his best to comfort her in his own way, but she missed talking to Cassandra about this stuff. She missed human contact. Cassandra understood her and never made her feel like she was anything other than ordinary. To Cassandra, this kind of thing was ordinary, and there was nothing a big hug couldn’t cure.
Your vision sounds particularly gruesome.
Iago’s voice echoed in her mind and brought her back to the present. “It was gruesome,” she confirmed. “It was a man, I’m sure of it. The hands were too large to be a woman’s. And he was strong. I could see the fear in the poor girl’s eyes as she tried to fight the asshole off.”
Language, Dani girl.
Dani shook her head and sighed at the all too familiar lecture. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to get the image of the young woman out of her mind. Normally, when she had a vision, she would sketch it out before the image faded from her mind. She and Iago would analyze the image for its probable meaning and decide on what action, if any, she should take. This image, however, didn’t need any analysis, and its clarity wasn’t fading from when she first woke up. She opened her eyes and wiped away the tears that formed.
“Why isn’t this image going away, Iago? It’s still as clear in my mind as it was before I drew it out.”
Your powers are developing, and you’re obviously getting stronger.
“Developing how?” Dani stole a glance at the drawing and covered her mouth with the back of her hand, fighting the urge to rip the paper to shreds.
She had an average memory recall and didn’t like that this young woman’s death was staying with her, making Dani relive it every time she closed her eyes. Would it ever go away, like all the other visions? If she had more of this to look forward to, she might as well check herself back in to the nut house now and save herself the grief down the road.
Well, if the image isn’t going away just by drawing it like the others have, then maybe we have to do something about it.
“Like figure out who killed her?”
Maybe. Are you sure she’s dead? Maybe it’s a vision of what is yet to pass.
Dani creased her brow as she peered down at the drawing. “Is that possible?” All of her visions, as far as she knew, had been of events that had happened in the recent past.
Anything’s possible, Dani girl. I’ve seen the ability develop in certain people. But every time it does, the person the medium saw was close to her. You didn’t, by any chance, know this lass, did you?
Despite her frazzled state, Dani rolled her eyes. “No, I didn’t know her. Do you think I’d be acting so goddamned calm if I actually saw someone I know get murdered?”
Language, Dani girl.
“Considering I saw a woman get strangled, I think I’m doing remarkably well.”
How do you know you’d react differently?
“What?” Dani asked, trying desperately to keep the exasperation out of her voice.
How do you know you would react differently if you knew the person?
“Iago,” she warned. “It’s too damned early to get into one of your philosophical debates.”
She heard Iago sigh. We need to stimulate your mind to get it working better this morning.
“An argument with you is just going to piss me off.”
Language, Dani girl.
“Whatever. You’re wandering off subject again.”
What were we talking about?
Dani bit back the frustration and forced herself to relax. Talking to Iago was a lesson in patience most days. “And you say I need mental stimulation,” she grumbled before speaking up. “We were trying to figure out what to do about this poor girl when you started talking about ridiculous things like the possibility of intelligent conversation at five o’clock in the fuc — freaking morning.”
Why did you even call me if you didn’t want to talk?
“Why do you think I called you? It certainly wasn’t for your scintillating conversation. I’m hoping you can find out if she’s there.”
Oh, like I know every dead Tom, Dick, Harry, and computer girl that crosses over to the other side.
“Iago,” she warned. “I’m tired, I‘m cranky, and my patience is running dangerously low.”
Fine. I’ll see what I can find out. Do I at least get a name with which to work?
“No. I couldn’t hear any sound. She did live in Apartment 214, though,” Dani told him.
Oh, that helps me immensely.
Dani felt Iago’s presence abruptly leave, and she was left with only silence and the lingering chill from her connection to the other side. What the hell was she going to do now? Yesterday she was living her version of a normal life, and today she had a murder to solve.
The charcoal image of the dead woman came into her peripheral view, and she couldn’t just ignore it. This young, frightened woman had reached out to her from beyond the grave, and now Dani had an obligation to help her. The trouble was, she didn’t know how.
She stared at the drawing, wondering who the poor woman could be. Iago was right that a name would be helpful, but all Dani had was the woman’s physical features and her apartment number. One thing was certain, though, whoever she was, she was terrified when she died, and Dani was certain she died for what was on her computer.
Sighing, Dani stood and walked across the small living room. The air was more comfortable now that her connection to Iago was gone, but she still felt the chill bumps on her skin, not to mention the heebie-jeebies from throwing up earlier. She was glad she had the contractor fill her walls with extra thick insulation to keep the outside chill from seeping into her living space and making her even colder.
Dani had inherited Cassandra’s house and her New Age store after her adoptive mother died four years ago. She didn’t know the first thing about maintaining an old, Victorian-style home. Even without Iago’s temper tantrums that caused light bulbs to burst and electronics to seize up and fizzle, learning to care for the old, persnickety house that Cassandra loved so much was more than she could possibly handle. So, she sold the large house to a sweet middle-aged couple with two children who she knew would love it and care for it as much as Cassandra had.
The store, on the other hand, was something Dani knew well. She’d worked there in the summers during high school and whenever she could when she was in college. Cassandra had always kept the store’s extra inventory and shipping supplies in a storage area on the second floor. The space was as large as the store and plenty big enough for Dani to live in. A contractor, whose wife was a regular customer, gave Dani a generous estimate on a renovation, and soon the storage area became new her home.
If she were the type of person who entertained often, the space wouldn’t have been adequate. But since most of the people she knew thought she was insane and pretty much avoided her, the small space was plenty big for her and Iago.
Dani stepped into the bathroom and flipped the light switch. Nothing happened. She cursed, remembering her disagreement with Iago yesterday. It was some small matter that Dani couldn’t even recall, but it got Iago agitated enough to make the light bulb on the bathroom wall explode. She should just give up and live by candlelight.
Dani reached under the counter for a new bulb, gingerly removed the shards of the old one from the fixture, and screwed the new one in. She blinked as the room illuminated and tossed the broken bulb in the trash. It clinked against the other broken bulb she’d replaced three days ago.
Turning to glance at herself in the mirror, as she blinked rapidly to get rid of the bright blue dot in the center of her field of vision, she wasn’t surprised to find her long, red hair a mess of disheveled curls and her usually bright and cheerful green eyes bloodshot. She was a restless sleeper to begin with, and her visions didn’t help when they woke her during the night. Her poor, exhausted face revealed every minute of sleep she’d missed.
She ran her hands over her cheeks. She never liked all the freckles that decorated her pale skin. Some people thought they were cute, but she didn’t. She couldn’t hide them with a tan, because going out in the sun just made her burn, which made even more freckles appear. She’d tried all the latest mineral make-up products claiming to provide the make-up look without the caked-on feel. But to her, it still felt like her face was encased in spackle.
Dani reached into the shower to twist the squeaky shower faucet. She let the steam fill the room before stripping out of her silky pink boxers and T-shirt and stepping under the hot spray. The water felt heavenly, and her muscles started to relax as the last of the chill finally seeped out of her body. The only time she ever felt truly warm was when she was standing under a scalding hot shower.
She tried again to clear her mind of the vision as she washed and conditioned her hair with her favorite ylang-ylang gel. Her thick, wild hair was impossible to manage unless she slathered it with conditioner, and on rainy days her hair would still frizz out anyway, and there were a lot of rainy days in the Pacific Northwest.
Dani let the water cascade over her body until it started to cool. She sighed. She was going to have to get a bigger water heater that could accommodate her need for hot and lengthy showers, since this heater was already turned up as high as it could go. Reluctantly, she turned off the faucet and stepped out, reaching for a lime-green towel on the wall.
I found her, Dani girl.
Dani squeaked, whipping the towel off the rack to cover herself as she looked around the room.
“I thought I told you not to pop in on me when I’m naked.” She felt the familiar tingle at the base of her neck, followed by the chills from the spirit world. Crap. She just got out of the hot shower, and now she was cold all over again.
Please. You know I can’t see you.
“Still. It’s creepy.” She tightened the towel to shield her nude body and tried to retain as much warmth as she could.
I will never understand your misplaced sense of modesty. In my day, we often performed rituals in nothing but the glorious skin in which we were born. It was considered sacred.
“Yeah, well, a few things have changed since the dinosaurs roamed the earth. Now get out and wait for me in the other room.”
You’re being ridiculous, you know.
“Leave,” she instructed, speaking the word to him in Gaelic. She pointed to the door to emphasize her point, more for herself than for Iago, because she knew he couldn’t see her.
She heard his undignified snort, and his presence vanished.
Iago spoke to Dani in his native Irish Gaelic, and Dani translated as she listened and spoke back to him in English. When she did utter something to him in his own Gaelic tongue, Iago knew she was serious and usually out of patience. When that happened, there was no arguing with her.
Dani dried off and wrapped her hair in the towel before slipping her nightclothes back on. She walked into the kitchen and turned on the gas burner under the kettle. Iago could wait. She was cold again, thanks to him, and she needed a hot drink.
Her favorite yellow mug was waiting for her in the drying rack. Picking it up, she smiled at the familiar saying printed on it in big, bold black letters: If I was put on this planet to accomplish a set number of things, at the rate I’m going, I will never die.
She set it on the counter and spooned in some roasted chicory powder. Once the kettle whistled, she shut the burner off and poured the steaming liquid into the mug. She stirred it up, gripped the warm ceramic with both hands, and went to sit on the bed.
“Okay, you can come out now,” she announced as she blew on the hot liquid.
Have I told you how crabby you are in the morning?
Iago’s voice sounded annoyed, and the bulb in the lamp next to the bed flickered. She looked out of the corner of her eye, waiting for the explosion, but the bulb managed to remain intact.
“Not today, no.” She suddenly remembered what their argument had been about yesterday. “But you did mention it several times yesterday when I yelled at you for singing the Irish national anthem at the top of your lungs at three in the goddamned morning.”
Language, Dani girl. I was watching the Irish Nationals practice to take on the hated English in the Six Nations rugby match. I got a little emotional during the sound check at practice. Instead of that ridiculous song they use for the combined team, they actually sang the Irish national anthem. I got caught up in the moment and accidentally poofed myself here. I did apologize for that, you know.
“Yeah, after you caused the light bulb in my bathroom to explode. You scared the crap out of me. If you would have been here, I would have strangled you.” She glared at the empty room, knowing he would imagine her facial expression.
She heard his chuckle. We have to work on that temper of yours. It’s worse than my wife’s mother, and she was possessed by a demon, I’m sure of it.
“My temper?” she squeaked. “I should buy stock in General Electric with all your outbursts. I could be a millionaire by now.”
She heard Iago snort, but he otherwise didn’t comment.
“So, you said you have information about the woman in my vision?” she asked, trying to get Iago back on track. “You said you found her?”
Oh, yes. I found her.
“So, she is dead.” Dani tried to conceal the disappointment in her voice. In the back of her mind, she’d entertained the notion that the vision might have just been a dream, a sick and twisted dream, but still a dream and not reality. Iago’s discovery confirmed the worst.
Yes, and her spirit is confused and quite displeased.
“Do you suppose she knew the man who killed her?”
I can’t say for certain she even knows she’s dead. It happens often to those who die suddenly.
Dani let out a loud curse. “Mac an donias!”
Iago sighed. You know I don’t like it when you curse in my language, Dani girl.
“I have to do something to help this poor girl, Iago,” she said, again ignoring his comment about her vocabulary.
I shudder to ask, but what are you thinking?
“Well, for starters, I’m going to talk to the police and let them know what happened.”
Are you sure that’s the best idea?
“Chief Mitchell will listen to me.” She took a sip of her chicory coffee and walked to the small dresser on the other side of the bed from her nightstand. “Pop out while I get dressed.”
Dani girl, think about it. You can’t just go to the police and say you saw a murder. They’ll think you’re crazy.
“They already think I’m crazy. Now, will you leave?”
Iago snorted again. Fine. I don’t know why I bother trying to talk sense into you sometimes.
Iago’s presence left, and she tried to shake off the chill that had settled deep in her bones. Yanking the T-shirt over her head and dropping the boxers to the floor, she sorted through the clothes remaining in her dresser. Needing something to cheer her up, she chose a long, multi-colored crinkle skirt and a tight white shirt with rainbow print. The silly words on it reflected her mood: I’ve lost my mind, and I’m making no effort to look for it.
Seeing the condensation on the windows and the thin layer of frost on the cars parked on the street below, she opted to slip on a pair of white leggings under her skirt. Unwrapping the towel from her head, she ran her fingers through the still damp curls and pulled her hair into a quick braid, securing the end with a beaded band. She liked to wear her hair down, but it tickled her face and got in the way when the wind blew it around.
Snatching her nightclothes from the floor and the damp towel off the bed, she headed back to the bathroom to toss the items into the hamper, which was already almost full. She put a trip to the laundromat on her mental list of things to do in the next few days.
She studied the assortment of make-up on the counter and wondered whether she should bother trying to conceal her freckled face today. It’s not like she had anyone to impress. There definitely wasn’t anyone standing in line to be her friend, let alone her boyfriend. Just about everyone she knew thought she was crazy and avoided her like she had some exotic tropical disease.
The last man she’d dated hadn’t handled certain aspects of her life very well. She seethed at the memory and tried not to think further about it. Devon Sharpe was not worth her time.
Iago had never liked Devon and had taken every opportunity to point out all the man’s flaws. If she’d have been thinking with her head instead of her heart, she would have listened a little better to Iago’s criticisms, but she was smitten and hadn’t seen beyond Devon’s tall, dark, and handsome appearance and his bright, sparkling blue eyes. She was disappointed in herself for not seeing him for the jerk he was until it was too late.
Now that she thought about it, she’d bought most of the stupid make-up cluttering her counter because Devon had made a snide comment about her freckles. Just to spite the twerp and everyone like him, she decided not to wear any of it today. In fact, she picked up all the bottles and brushes and tossed them all in the trash. She wasn’t ever going to wear any of it ever again.
Smiling at her sudden surge of independence, she vowed to never again go through life trying to live up to someone else’s expectations. She was known around town as ‘Crazy Dani,’ and that was just fine with her.
Marching back out to the living room, she pulled her comforter off the bed and righted the futon back into its couch form, folding the blanket and hanging it on a quilt rack against the wall next to the dresser. Picking up the pad of paper, she tore off the top sheet and folded it carefully, slipping it into her skirt pocket. The sketchpad and charcoal pencil went back into the bottom drawer of the nightstand.
She finished off her chicory coffee before heading to the kitchen and rinsing out her mug. As she stood at the sink, she gave a brief thought about eating something, but her stomach was still too upset from the vision to keep anything down, so she just grabbed her coat, headed out the door, and down the stairs to the shop.
The top of a wallet came into view, and the eyes behind the door widened in relief. The door briefly shut and then opened wider, revealing a young woman in her late twenties, if her torn jeans and Hard Rock Café T-shirt were any indication of her youth. She stood in the doorway and did not invite the person inside her apartment.
She talked for a few minutes, but no sound came from her lips, like a television with the volume turned off. The woman seemed annoyed and went to close the door, but the person who’d knocked stuck an arm between the door and the wall and pushed.
The woman stumbled back, her bare feet nearly tripping over the pair of well-worn running shoes sitting by the door. She regained her balance and turned to run into another room, with the intruder right behind her. She reached for the cordless phone, presumably to call for help, but the phone line was yanked from the jack on the wall before she could dial. Throwing the phone, she yelled something at the intruder. Her young face was contorted with anger, but her wide brown eyes betrayed her fear.
The room they were in was an office of sorts. With the blinds closed over the window and a low-wattage bulb in the lamp, the room was bathed in a dim, eerie, ominous glow. Along the right wall, two computer monitors, and various piles of papers sat atop a large, flat desk. As the intruder moved closer to the desk, the images on the monitors came into focus. On one was a graphic layout of a room similar to the one they were in. There were various objects strewn about the simulated room, and a computer-generated body lay prostrate on the floor. The other monitor displayed a large chart showing some sort of data. The desk drawer was open, and on a pullout shelf rested an ergonomic keyboard and mouse.
A leather-clad hand pointed to the monitors as the intruder presumably said something to the woman. She yelled at the intruder and waved her hands in denial, but the intruder pushed past her and yanked the mouse cord from its connection. After circling an end of the cord around one hand, the intruder grabbed the young woman, spun her around, and threw her face first into the floor. She was pinned with a knee to her back, and the mouse cord wrapped around her neck.
The cord tightened. The woman flailed, but her struggles diminished as her body was deprived of air. Within moments, she stopped moving, and the intruder, now her killer, released the cord.
The killer dragged her body back to the desk and hefted her into the chair before going to retrieve the mouse. After plugging it back into the computer, the killer positioned the woman’s left on the keyboard, making it appear as if her lifeless body was at work and set her left hand flat on the desk next to the mouse.
A large hunting knife came into view. The blade was easily six inches long, and there was an unusual golden cap at the end of the polished wooden handle. The killer placed the knife over the woman’s right index finger and pressed down until the finger snapped off from her hand then placed the disfigured hand on the mouse. After dropping the severed finger into a zip-top bag, the killer wiped the knife blade clean on a white handkerchief. It was edged in lacy trim and embroidered at one corner with the letters “MOM.”
The knife and the handkerchief disappeared from view. The killer took a quick look around and walked out, taking care not to trip over the woman’s toppled running shoes before carefully closing the door to Apartment 214.
Danika Brady bolted up with a gasp. Her stomach practically leapt into her nose as her mind spun with the images she’d just witnessed in her vision. She pressed one trembling hand to her mouth and the other against where her stomach was supposed to be, in an attempt to keep from throwing up her meager dinner from some hours earlier. A warm breeze from the register blew over her sweaty, trembling body, chilling her through her clingy, thin pink T-shirt. She whipped off the thick comforter and eased her feet onto the cold floor, trying to clear the fog in her brain and make some sense of the images floating around her now conscious mind.
“What in the name of Crom Cruach was that?” she asked to the dark, quiet room as she moved her trembling hand across her face. Her voice resonated around the mostly empty studio apartment. She took a deep breath to calm herself. That proved to be a mistake. The bile rose in her throat, and she lost the battle with her nerves.
She lurched off the futon bed, bare feet slapping against the wooden floor as she sprinted to the bathroom. She dropped to her knees in front of the toilet and barely had time to lift the lid before she heaved into the bowl. Reaching up a shaky hand to press the handle down, she leaned her face against the cool side of the white porcelain.
She staggered to her feet and went to splash some cold water on her face and rinse her mouth out. Deciding that just water wasn’t going to rid her mouth of the foul taste of regurgitated eggplant parmesan, she snatched the bottle of mouthwash from the countertop and swished some around before spitting the neon green liquid into the sink.
Wobbling out into the dark room, she made her way back to the bed. The wooden frame creaked a little when she sat down, and she took a few deep, calming breaths, making sure she was through with needing the bathroom, before reaching for the bedside lamp. She squinted under the sudden bright light until her tired eyes adjusted.
Glancing over at the face of her triangular wooden Zen clock, she grimaced when she saw that it was only four in the morning, as if the dark sky outside wasn’t obvious enough to indicate the early hour. She cursed her lack of healthy sleep patterns. One of these days she was going to sleep through the night.
She reached for the drawer in the bottom of the wooden nightstand next to the bed. It squeaked when she pulled on it to retrieve a sketching pad and a charcoal drawing pencil. Flipping to a blank page, she sat back on the bed, cross-legged, with the pad of paper on her lap and began sketching the horrific image in her head.
An hour later, she examined the finished drawing, depicting the gruesome image of the young woman’s lifeless body, perfectly placed at the computer desk, one hand resting on the keyboard and the other, missing an index finger, on the mouse. The dark shading around the woman’s neck left no question as to how she died.
Looking down at the drawing brought back the terror she felt at seeing the young woman die, and she felt the bile rise in her throat again. This time, she was able to force it down. Whether it was through sheer force of will or the fact that her stomach was empty, she didn’t know and really didn’t care.
“Iago,” she called out in a quavering voice.
Your timing stinks, Dani girl.
The familiar Gaelic of Iago’s voice echoed in her mind. His spiritual presence made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up while an extreme chill overcame her body. A chill that, as she knew from experience, only scalding hot water could alleviate. She closed her eyes, inwardly struggling to maintain her composure.
“I need your help,” she whined. Even though no one besides her could hear Iago, she found she could only speak back to him through her mind when she was perfectly calm, and perfect calm didn’t happen much in Dani’s life. Not having to speak out loud to him would come in handy in keeping other people from thinking she was crazy.
Did you have another vision?
Dani glanced down at the charcoal drawing and replied, “I think this time I might have witnessed a murder.” She rubbed her bare arms as she broke into all-over chill bumps, as she always did in Iago’s presence.
Well, you’ve certainly never seen one of those before.
Dani set the pad of paper down, hoping that removing the image from her view might also remove the image from her mind and began relating her vision. Her eyes filled with tears as she described the actual murder.
She paused and took a deep breath. “Helping someone find peace so he stops scaring the mayor’s daughter is one thing, but what I saw was awful,” she complained, her voice hitching.
You’re a medium, Dani girl. You don’t get to decide what you see. You can only interpret and act upon what you’re shown.
“I know,” she sighed. Dani had heard a similar lecture for almost her entire life. She knew what her spirit guide said was true, but it didn’t make this particular image any easier to see over and over when she closed her eyes.
She heard a buzzing in her mind, like a radio that was just tuned slightly off the station, and knew she needed to calm down so she could regain control over her mental shield, the internal barrier she erected to protect her mind from the unwanted encroachments of spirit world. As she continued to describe the horrible scene, she could feel the mental caresses that she knew were Iago’s way of giving her comfort the only way he could. As a spirit, his interactions within this realm were limited based on the power he chose to exert. A slight mental massage like the one he was giving her required little energy, whereas a full visible manifestation would require a tremendous amount of energy.
As she concluded her description of the vision, she let Iago’s mental caress continue to calm her. Slowly, the buzzing receded, and her mind was once again protected with her mental shield. She needed to keep up the mental barrier between the realm of the living and that of the dead to prevent any spirits from using her as an unwilling spiritual conduit.
When she was done, she let her mind wander. She thought of Cassandra, her adoptive mother, and wished in times like these that she was still alive. Iago did his best to comfort her in his own way, but she missed talking to Cassandra about this stuff. She missed human contact. Cassandra understood her and never made her feel like she was anything other than ordinary. To Cassandra, this kind of thing was ordinary, and there was nothing a big hug couldn’t cure.
Your vision sounds particularly gruesome.
Iago’s voice echoed in her mind and brought her back to the present. “It was gruesome,” she confirmed. “It was a man, I’m sure of it. The hands were too large to be a woman’s. And he was strong. I could see the fear in the poor girl’s eyes as she tried to fight the asshole off.”
Language, Dani girl.
Dani shook her head and sighed at the all too familiar lecture. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to get the image of the young woman out of her mind. Normally, when she had a vision, she would sketch it out before the image faded from her mind. She and Iago would analyze the image for its probable meaning and decide on what action, if any, she should take. This image, however, didn’t need any analysis, and its clarity wasn’t fading from when she first woke up. She opened her eyes and wiped away the tears that formed.
“Why isn’t this image going away, Iago? It’s still as clear in my mind as it was before I drew it out.”
Your powers are developing, and you’re obviously getting stronger.
“Developing how?” Dani stole a glance at the drawing and covered her mouth with the back of her hand, fighting the urge to rip the paper to shreds.
She had an average memory recall and didn’t like that this young woman’s death was staying with her, making Dani relive it every time she closed her eyes. Would it ever go away, like all the other visions? If she had more of this to look forward to, she might as well check herself back in to the nut house now and save herself the grief down the road.
Well, if the image isn’t going away just by drawing it like the others have, then maybe we have to do something about it.
“Like figure out who killed her?”
Maybe. Are you sure she’s dead? Maybe it’s a vision of what is yet to pass.
Dani creased her brow as she peered down at the drawing. “Is that possible?” All of her visions, as far as she knew, had been of events that had happened in the recent past.
Anything’s possible, Dani girl. I’ve seen the ability develop in certain people. But every time it does, the person the medium saw was close to her. You didn’t, by any chance, know this lass, did you?
Despite her frazzled state, Dani rolled her eyes. “No, I didn’t know her. Do you think I’d be acting so goddamned calm if I actually saw someone I know get murdered?”
Language, Dani girl.
“Considering I saw a woman get strangled, I think I’m doing remarkably well.”
How do you know you’d react differently?
“What?” Dani asked, trying desperately to keep the exasperation out of her voice.
How do you know you would react differently if you knew the person?
“Iago,” she warned. “It’s too damned early to get into one of your philosophical debates.”
She heard Iago sigh. We need to stimulate your mind to get it working better this morning.
“An argument with you is just going to piss me off.”
Language, Dani girl.
“Whatever. You’re wandering off subject again.”
What were we talking about?
Dani bit back the frustration and forced herself to relax. Talking to Iago was a lesson in patience most days. “And you say I need mental stimulation,” she grumbled before speaking up. “We were trying to figure out what to do about this poor girl when you started talking about ridiculous things like the possibility of intelligent conversation at five o’clock in the fuc — freaking morning.”
Why did you even call me if you didn’t want to talk?
“Why do you think I called you? It certainly wasn’t for your scintillating conversation. I’m hoping you can find out if she’s there.”
Oh, like I know every dead Tom, Dick, Harry, and computer girl that crosses over to the other side.
“Iago,” she warned. “I’m tired, I‘m cranky, and my patience is running dangerously low.”
Fine. I’ll see what I can find out. Do I at least get a name with which to work?
“No. I couldn’t hear any sound. She did live in Apartment 214, though,” Dani told him.
Oh, that helps me immensely.
Dani felt Iago’s presence abruptly leave, and she was left with only silence and the lingering chill from her connection to the other side. What the hell was she going to do now? Yesterday she was living her version of a normal life, and today she had a murder to solve.
The charcoal image of the dead woman came into her peripheral view, and she couldn’t just ignore it. This young, frightened woman had reached out to her from beyond the grave, and now Dani had an obligation to help her. The trouble was, she didn’t know how.
She stared at the drawing, wondering who the poor woman could be. Iago was right that a name would be helpful, but all Dani had was the woman’s physical features and her apartment number. One thing was certain, though, whoever she was, she was terrified when she died, and Dani was certain she died for what was on her computer.
Sighing, Dani stood and walked across the small living room. The air was more comfortable now that her connection to Iago was gone, but she still felt the chill bumps on her skin, not to mention the heebie-jeebies from throwing up earlier. She was glad she had the contractor fill her walls with extra thick insulation to keep the outside chill from seeping into her living space and making her even colder.
Dani had inherited Cassandra’s house and her New Age store after her adoptive mother died four years ago. She didn’t know the first thing about maintaining an old, Victorian-style home. Even without Iago’s temper tantrums that caused light bulbs to burst and electronics to seize up and fizzle, learning to care for the old, persnickety house that Cassandra loved so much was more than she could possibly handle. So, she sold the large house to a sweet middle-aged couple with two children who she knew would love it and care for it as much as Cassandra had.
The store, on the other hand, was something Dani knew well. She’d worked there in the summers during high school and whenever she could when she was in college. Cassandra had always kept the store’s extra inventory and shipping supplies in a storage area on the second floor. The space was as large as the store and plenty big enough for Dani to live in. A contractor, whose wife was a regular customer, gave Dani a generous estimate on a renovation, and soon the storage area became new her home.
If she were the type of person who entertained often, the space wouldn’t have been adequate. But since most of the people she knew thought she was insane and pretty much avoided her, the small space was plenty big for her and Iago.
Dani stepped into the bathroom and flipped the light switch. Nothing happened. She cursed, remembering her disagreement with Iago yesterday. It was some small matter that Dani couldn’t even recall, but it got Iago agitated enough to make the light bulb on the bathroom wall explode. She should just give up and live by candlelight.
Dani reached under the counter for a new bulb, gingerly removed the shards of the old one from the fixture, and screwed the new one in. She blinked as the room illuminated and tossed the broken bulb in the trash. It clinked against the other broken bulb she’d replaced three days ago.
Turning to glance at herself in the mirror, as she blinked rapidly to get rid of the bright blue dot in the center of her field of vision, she wasn’t surprised to find her long, red hair a mess of disheveled curls and her usually bright and cheerful green eyes bloodshot. She was a restless sleeper to begin with, and her visions didn’t help when they woke her during the night. Her poor, exhausted face revealed every minute of sleep she’d missed.
She ran her hands over her cheeks. She never liked all the freckles that decorated her pale skin. Some people thought they were cute, but she didn’t. She couldn’t hide them with a tan, because going out in the sun just made her burn, which made even more freckles appear. She’d tried all the latest mineral make-up products claiming to provide the make-up look without the caked-on feel. But to her, it still felt like her face was encased in spackle.
Dani reached into the shower to twist the squeaky shower faucet. She let the steam fill the room before stripping out of her silky pink boxers and T-shirt and stepping under the hot spray. The water felt heavenly, and her muscles started to relax as the last of the chill finally seeped out of her body. The only time she ever felt truly warm was when she was standing under a scalding hot shower.
She tried again to clear her mind of the vision as she washed and conditioned her hair with her favorite ylang-ylang gel. Her thick, wild hair was impossible to manage unless she slathered it with conditioner, and on rainy days her hair would still frizz out anyway, and there were a lot of rainy days in the Pacific Northwest.
Dani let the water cascade over her body until it started to cool. She sighed. She was going to have to get a bigger water heater that could accommodate her need for hot and lengthy showers, since this heater was already turned up as high as it could go. Reluctantly, she turned off the faucet and stepped out, reaching for a lime-green towel on the wall.
I found her, Dani girl.
Dani squeaked, whipping the towel off the rack to cover herself as she looked around the room.
“I thought I told you not to pop in on me when I’m naked.” She felt the familiar tingle at the base of her neck, followed by the chills from the spirit world. Crap. She just got out of the hot shower, and now she was cold all over again.
Please. You know I can’t see you.
“Still. It’s creepy.” She tightened the towel to shield her nude body and tried to retain as much warmth as she could.
I will never understand your misplaced sense of modesty. In my day, we often performed rituals in nothing but the glorious skin in which we were born. It was considered sacred.
“Yeah, well, a few things have changed since the dinosaurs roamed the earth. Now get out and wait for me in the other room.”
You’re being ridiculous, you know.
“Leave,” she instructed, speaking the word to him in Gaelic. She pointed to the door to emphasize her point, more for herself than for Iago, because she knew he couldn’t see her.
She heard his undignified snort, and his presence vanished.
Iago spoke to Dani in his native Irish Gaelic, and Dani translated as she listened and spoke back to him in English. When she did utter something to him in his own Gaelic tongue, Iago knew she was serious and usually out of patience. When that happened, there was no arguing with her.
Dani dried off and wrapped her hair in the towel before slipping her nightclothes back on. She walked into the kitchen and turned on the gas burner under the kettle. Iago could wait. She was cold again, thanks to him, and she needed a hot drink.
Her favorite yellow mug was waiting for her in the drying rack. Picking it up, she smiled at the familiar saying printed on it in big, bold black letters: If I was put on this planet to accomplish a set number of things, at the rate I’m going, I will never die.
She set it on the counter and spooned in some roasted chicory powder. Once the kettle whistled, she shut the burner off and poured the steaming liquid into the mug. She stirred it up, gripped the warm ceramic with both hands, and went to sit on the bed.
“Okay, you can come out now,” she announced as she blew on the hot liquid.
Have I told you how crabby you are in the morning?
Iago’s voice sounded annoyed, and the bulb in the lamp next to the bed flickered. She looked out of the corner of her eye, waiting for the explosion, but the bulb managed to remain intact.
“Not today, no.” She suddenly remembered what their argument had been about yesterday. “But you did mention it several times yesterday when I yelled at you for singing the Irish national anthem at the top of your lungs at three in the goddamned morning.”
Language, Dani girl. I was watching the Irish Nationals practice to take on the hated English in the Six Nations rugby match. I got a little emotional during the sound check at practice. Instead of that ridiculous song they use for the combined team, they actually sang the Irish national anthem. I got caught up in the moment and accidentally poofed myself here. I did apologize for that, you know.
“Yeah, after you caused the light bulb in my bathroom to explode. You scared the crap out of me. If you would have been here, I would have strangled you.” She glared at the empty room, knowing he would imagine her facial expression.
She heard his chuckle. We have to work on that temper of yours. It’s worse than my wife’s mother, and she was possessed by a demon, I’m sure of it.
“My temper?” she squeaked. “I should buy stock in General Electric with all your outbursts. I could be a millionaire by now.”
She heard Iago snort, but he otherwise didn’t comment.
“So, you said you have information about the woman in my vision?” she asked, trying to get Iago back on track. “You said you found her?”
Oh, yes. I found her.
“So, she is dead.” Dani tried to conceal the disappointment in her voice. In the back of her mind, she’d entertained the notion that the vision might have just been a dream, a sick and twisted dream, but still a dream and not reality. Iago’s discovery confirmed the worst.
Yes, and her spirit is confused and quite displeased.
“Do you suppose she knew the man who killed her?”
I can’t say for certain she even knows she’s dead. It happens often to those who die suddenly.
Dani let out a loud curse. “Mac an donias!”
Iago sighed. You know I don’t like it when you curse in my language, Dani girl.
“I have to do something to help this poor girl, Iago,” she said, again ignoring his comment about her vocabulary.
I shudder to ask, but what are you thinking?
“Well, for starters, I’m going to talk to the police and let them know what happened.”
Are you sure that’s the best idea?
“Chief Mitchell will listen to me.” She took a sip of her chicory coffee and walked to the small dresser on the other side of the bed from her nightstand. “Pop out while I get dressed.”
Dani girl, think about it. You can’t just go to the police and say you saw a murder. They’ll think you’re crazy.
“They already think I’m crazy. Now, will you leave?”
Iago snorted again. Fine. I don’t know why I bother trying to talk sense into you sometimes.
Iago’s presence left, and she tried to shake off the chill that had settled deep in her bones. Yanking the T-shirt over her head and dropping the boxers to the floor, she sorted through the clothes remaining in her dresser. Needing something to cheer her up, she chose a long, multi-colored crinkle skirt and a tight white shirt with rainbow print. The silly words on it reflected her mood: I’ve lost my mind, and I’m making no effort to look for it.
Seeing the condensation on the windows and the thin layer of frost on the cars parked on the street below, she opted to slip on a pair of white leggings under her skirt. Unwrapping the towel from her head, she ran her fingers through the still damp curls and pulled her hair into a quick braid, securing the end with a beaded band. She liked to wear her hair down, but it tickled her face and got in the way when the wind blew it around.
Snatching her nightclothes from the floor and the damp towel off the bed, she headed back to the bathroom to toss the items into the hamper, which was already almost full. She put a trip to the laundromat on her mental list of things to do in the next few days.
She studied the assortment of make-up on the counter and wondered whether she should bother trying to conceal her freckled face today. It’s not like she had anyone to impress. There definitely wasn’t anyone standing in line to be her friend, let alone her boyfriend. Just about everyone she knew thought she was crazy and avoided her like she had some exotic tropical disease.
The last man she’d dated hadn’t handled certain aspects of her life very well. She seethed at the memory and tried not to think further about it. Devon Sharpe was not worth her time.
Iago had never liked Devon and had taken every opportunity to point out all the man’s flaws. If she’d have been thinking with her head instead of her heart, she would have listened a little better to Iago’s criticisms, but she was smitten and hadn’t seen beyond Devon’s tall, dark, and handsome appearance and his bright, sparkling blue eyes. She was disappointed in herself for not seeing him for the jerk he was until it was too late.
Now that she thought about it, she’d bought most of the stupid make-up cluttering her counter because Devon had made a snide comment about her freckles. Just to spite the twerp and everyone like him, she decided not to wear any of it today. In fact, she picked up all the bottles and brushes and tossed them all in the trash. She wasn’t ever going to wear any of it ever again.
Smiling at her sudden surge of independence, she vowed to never again go through life trying to live up to someone else’s expectations. She was known around town as ‘Crazy Dani,’ and that was just fine with her.
Marching back out to the living room, she pulled her comforter off the bed and righted the futon back into its couch form, folding the blanket and hanging it on a quilt rack against the wall next to the dresser. Picking up the pad of paper, she tore off the top sheet and folded it carefully, slipping it into her skirt pocket. The sketchpad and charcoal pencil went back into the bottom drawer of the nightstand.
She finished off her chicory coffee before heading to the kitchen and rinsing out her mug. As she stood at the sink, she gave a brief thought about eating something, but her stomach was still too upset from the vision to keep anything down, so she just grabbed her coat, headed out the door, and down the stairs to the shop.
dreamwriter.earth
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