Oracle: A Diana Hawthorne Psychic Mystery Book Read online

  Oracle

  A Diana Hawthorne Psychic Mystery

  Carissa Andrews

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Get Another Glimpse of Diana…

  Also by Carissa Andrews

  About the Author

  1

  WHY THE HELL do I even bother being polite to people?

  Pretty sure I’d fall over from disbelief if even one of them could care about anyone beyond their own godly selves. Truth-be-told, being around most of them really kinda pisses me off.

  The arrogant ass who cut me off on the already-narrow-sidewalk continues on his way, oblivious to the rest of the world. He doesn’t even spin his dark head of hair around to grace the woman he nearly toppled into the busy street with a passing look of apology. I oughta kick him in his annoyingly perfect-shaped ass.

  I give my sopping wet foot a shake, hoping it will alleviate the inevitable squish in my running shoe for the next three blocks. Of course, it doesn’t.

  There is simply no way I can be part of the human race.

  The thought makes me snicker.

  By the time I reach my office, I’m ready to peel my shoe off and throw it against the wall—waiting to see if it sticks like a wet noodle. Unfortunately, my first appointment is already pacing outside; hands wringing, and hair frazzled like she’s been pulling on it. Her eyes are wide as I walk up to my private entrance at the back of the building I rent out and shoot her a half-smile.

  Why do they always wait to hijack me at this time of the morning?

  “You must be Amber,” I state, matter-of-factly.

  She looks like an Amber. Tallish, blonde cropped hair, wide blue eyes, and pouty lips.

  Amber nods, her hair flopping up and down frantically.

  “Cool. Come on in,” I tell her, nodding to the black abyss inside. I push open the door, flick on the low lighting, and I take a seat to unlace my shoe. “Sorry about this, but I’m gonna need to go barefoot, or my foot’s gonna transform into a regurgitated prune.”

  I toss the shoe aside and fling the sopping wet stocking over the radiator in the corner before starting on the other foot.

  Amber still hasn’t said anything, not even a chuckle at my lame attempt at a joke. Instead, she stands awkwardly in the middle of the room, tugging on the frayed end of her sleeves and looking around.

  This is about a man.

  I sigh deeply. Why does it have to always be so obvious? Just for once, I’d love a challenge.

  “Okay, Amber…have a seat,” I say, pointing to the chair beside her.

  I walk around the small table to position myself directly opposite her. If I had more time, I would have set out the ambiance—a little incense, some crystals. Maybe even a little Enya going on in the background. Who doesn’t love Enya?

  She sits quickly, biting her lip, and grimacing like she chewed on a box of nails.

  I brush the bright pink chunk of bangs from my face and tuck it behind my right ear. With a deep, cleansing breath, I close my eyes, and clear my mind. Images rush in without restraint; faces, places. Hands holding hands. Steamy sex with a dark haired, green eyed man. The green expands from his eyes, turning into flashing green lights.

  Green means go.

  I open my eyes, already well aware of the answer.

  “Go ahead. What’s your question?” I ask.

  “Is he the right one? Should I stay with him? Does he really love me?” The woman blurts out her first words of the day in one big jumble. Her eyes are glossy as she pleads with me, searching my face for her answer.

  Knew it.

  I grin, searching for the best ambivalent words.

  “He can be, if that’s what you choose. I’m seeing green lights. They sorta mean universal energies are open to going forward confidently. However, the ultimate path will be decided by the actions you and he make…beginning now.”

  “Is that a yes?” Her tone is desperate as she scrunches her face and leans forward and digs her fingertips into the table’s edge.

  “It is a yes, at least for now. Free will has a way of course-correcting, though. So be careful. However, that said, what I see presently is he is very clearly meant to be in your life—as you are in his.”

  She nods, tugging her eyebrows in, clearly hoping for more.

  “What I want you to do,” I begin, “is remember to take things one step at a time. Be present with him in this moment, without jumping to the next. It’s your job to ground the two of you because he can’t. He isn’t to your level, yet. Do you understand?”

  I’ve found assigning a job helps ease a person’s mind and gives them an active role to focus on.

  Her eyes gloss over, and I reiterate, “You need to enjoy each other. Be happy where you are in each stage with Jason because if you—”

  Amber gasps, “I…how did you know his name? I swear, I didn’t say it. I was trying not to give too much away.”

  I wince.

  Even after all these years, I can still slip. As much as people want to believe what I say is real, they kinda don’t want to know for sure, either. I mean, what if it means I can sense everything, you know? Like that extra piece of pizza they ate when they shouldn’t, or the name of the man they cheated on with last night. The thought of it all wigs them out.

  And it should. Because I can.

  “I’m sure you mentioned it in our phone consult,” I lie with a cheesy smile on my face.

  “Yes, yes…I must have. Thank you, Diana,” she sighs, nodding to herself. Amber stands, shaking my hand absently.

  “You are most welcome,” I tell her. “Now relax and enjoy the ride.”

  “I will. I mean, I’ll try. Thank you.”

  Our exchange comes to an end and I find myself alone. Blissfully—peacefully—alone.

  Unfortunately, it’s not meant to last long.

  My assistant, Renaldo bounds through the door moments after Amber exits. If he weren’t so damn good at his job, I’d fire his flamboyant ass for being late every day.

  “Well, hey there, sunshine. How’s the most ah-mazing boss in the world?” he says, doing a flourish of his hand as he takes the seat recently vacated by Amber.

  With my face deadpan, I slowly blink from him to the clock on the wall.

  He ignores me. As he always does.

  I sigh, “I’d be even more amazing if I had a decent assistant who could tell time. Or at least bribe me with coffee.”

  “If that’s what you really wanted, you would have foreseen someone different to hire, honey. Instead, you’re stuck with me,” Renaldo says, his pearly whites shining broadly. “Besides, you know you love me. Warts and all.”

  I roll my eyes. Damn if he isn’t right. All signs pointed to having him by my side, though I’m still not sure why. The universe has a funny way of making paths clear for everyone but me. All I can figure is it must be a sick cosmic joke, because I’m sure as hell not clued in.

  “So how many lovesick birds have you dealt with in my absence?” he asks, gathering his hands up by his chin and fluttering his eyelashes.

  “Just the one,” I laugh, giving him a kn
owing look, and ending with, “So far.”

  “And I’m sure there will be many more for the day. It’s almost Valentine’s Day, after all. I better get the front stocked up with lovers’ potions and scented candles. I’m telling you, we need some blindfolds and whips on display with the whole Fifty Shades of Spanking obsession still sweeping the nation. We’d make a killing,” he winks, dashing to the front of our small store entrance.

  The instant he says it, I know he’s right. We’d make a ton of money, but that would mean dealing with more people. I have enough to deal with, thanks. Then again, I suppose it’s why I hired him.

  “You’re not paid on commission,” I call after him, shaking my head. “You get that, right?”

  “Maybe the idea of lust-bunnies having passionate kinky sex is enough mental payment for me,” I hear him call back.

  “Brody withholding again?” I say, chuckling.

  “Oh, honey, do not get me started,” Renaldo says, hands on his hips.

  “Darling, I have already foreseen it.” I poke my head through the doorway and watch his bright face freeze. I wait just long enough for the color to in his cheeks to drain before adding a final, “Kidding.”

  He lowers his eyebrows and starts dusting furiously.

  “There’s a special kind of hell for people like you, Diana Hawthorne.”

  “Don’t I know it,” I chuckle.

  Honestly, he has no idea how right he is. Whatever this is—this life I lead, it’s like a Groundhog Day loop of hells especially crafted for me. I mean, ironic much? I can’t stand people, but here I am working in close proximity daily—as I try to do for them what I’ve never been able to do for myself. It’s kinda messed up, actually.

  If I ever meet God—or whatever—I’m gonna give him a piece of my mind.

  The bell of the shop door dings, as a man and woman walk in. The man’s a closed book—apprehensive and skeptical. His aura exudes disdain, while the woman on the other hand is drowning in grief and worry.

  Renaldo shoots me a sideways glance before trotting over to them in his signature walk.

  “Why hello there, is there anything I can do for you?” he says, cocking his head slightly to the side. His perfectly groomed, dark hair flops slightly with the gesture, showing off his accentuated part he’s had his stylist carve in.

  The man’s left eye brow twitches upward, but his lips tip down.

  I turn around and walk back into my reading room. There’s no question, they’re heading my way and I need to cleanse myself first. There’s a helluva lot of grounding I need to do before they invade my space.

  Standing in the middle of my mental circle of light, I call upon the universal energies to wash away all the shit no longer serving me, so I can become an open vessel to help those who need my gifts. The white light washes through my system, taking away anything unwanted, or clinging to me from the previous encounter with Amber. Not to mention, discarding any of my own BS from perfect-ass-man.

  “Eh-hem,” Renaldo clears his throat, but by the time he knocks on the doorframe, I’ve taken my final cleansing breath before releasing the light.

  Turning around, I grin as genuinely as I can.

  “These lovely folks would like a word with you, if you have a moment, Diana,” he says, swinging his hand out to put them on display. “It’s important.”

  “Absolutely. What can I do to help?” I ask, widening my arms to suggest they take a seat.

  The woman moves quickly, clutching something small in her hand. The man stays behind, his eyes scrutinizing my every move. I hold my ground, waiting for him to finish comparing dicks.

  Finally, he moves to the open seat beside his wife.

  I catch Renaldo’s eye as he diva air snaps and walks out.

  Moving slowly, I extend my energy out, getting a feel for the situation before they even say a word. This situation—the reason they’re here—is more important than most. It’s about a child.

  Missing? Dead?

  I light a white candle and take my seat opposite them.

  Watching both closely, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know the wife is distraught—outta her mind worried. The husband has reserved himself for the worst. Oh, and he thinks I’m complete bullshit.

  “So, where would you like to start?” I say, simply.

  “I—well, I mean we—” the woman begins, blinking wildly.

  “It’s okay. Let it come out as it should,” I say, leaning in—waiting for the oncoming storm.

  “How old are you?” The man blurts out.

  If it wasn’t written all over his face, I’d be taken more aback. The left side of my mouth quirks.

  “Honey,” the wife warns, her eyes wide and forehead scrunched.

  “It’s a reasonable question,” he says, his voice deeper and nostrils flaring.

  I lean back in my chair.

  “Ted, it is Ted, right?” I say, crossing my fingers, watching his expression shift slightly when I get his name right. “How old were you when you realized you could breathe?”

  He shifts uncomfortably in his chair, his eyebrows tugging in as he searches for an answer.

  “I thought as much,” I say, not letting him define his answer. “Look, what I do comes from outside myself. I’m not the one in charge—something much bigger is. I don’t presume to understand it fully or even try to. So, either we can get down to business so we can find…” I close my eyes searching for the name. “Esther?”

  I open my eyes to see his lips press into a thin line.

  “—or we can have a philosophical debate about age,” I finish.

  His wife, Lacy, I gather—grabs his right hand in her left, clutching it so tightly her knuckles turn white.

  She whispers, “I told you she was the real deal.”

  Ted’s nostrils flare, but he keeps his trap shut.

  Finally, we can get somewhere.

  “Lacy, I need the necklace in your hand, if you don’t mind,” I say, pointing to her free hand.

  With a shaky extension, she reaches out and lets the dainty silver necklace tumble into my palm.

  Instantly, I’m inundated by flashes of a blonde, brown-eyed eight-year-old girl. She’s playful, flamboyant, incredibly intelligent. She loves reading, dogs, and more than anything else—her parents. This is no runaway.

  “Can you—do you sense where she is?” Lacy asks, her voice cracking.

  I take a deep breath and shake my head.

  “Unfortunately, it doesn’t always work like that. Objects hold energy—yes—but they’re not necessarily tied to her present, future, or even the event itself. I get snippets, but I need context. How long has she been missing?” I ask.

  This isn’t the first missing child I’ve dealt with, but this one is more urgent somehow. They’re all urgent—but this one is important for some reason.

  “Three days,” Lacy says breathlessly. “The police—they can’t find any leads. They’re frantically searching—but it’s not fast enough. She’s only eight.”

  Tears stream down her face as she reaches out for the necklace. I place it gingerly into her palm and she clutches it to her chest.

  I take another cleansing breath and try to settle into the energy. Esther is alive, that much is for sure—but beyond that, everything is slightly obscured.

  “Were there any clues or items out of place at the scene?” I ask, knowing full-well the police never declared an actual scene. They didn’t have enough to go on.

  “We don’t know—not for sure. We have some guesses as to where—or even who may have done this—but the police are having trouble making a connection. We were hoping—” Lacy looks tentatively at Ted, who sits stone-cold in the chair, still processing.

  “Okay, what do you think you know?” I ask—trying to open their minds enough for me to dig around.

  Ironically, it’s Ted—not Lacy who begins to relay the most information. Despite his stoic stature, he thinks about the day of the event and all of the situations lead
ing up to her disappearance. The people he suspects. The whys.

  I catch a flash of a man with a litter of puppies—the one thing Esther would love to get her hands on. It’s also the one thing Ted and Esther could never agree on. She wanted one in the worst way, and Ted couldn’t deal. One more mouth to feed when he was worried about losing his job. His company is restricting and he’s afraid they don’t need him. A puppy right now was the last thing they needed. Especially since he hadn’t voiced his concerns with his wife.

  “Good, good,” I say, nodding at Ted.

  His eyes widen, and he glances at Lacy, “What in the hell is this woman doing? What in the hell have you dragged us into?”

  “The man, the one with the puppies—who is he?” I say, standing up and leaning with my fingertips pressed on the glass table between us.

  “He—uh—” Ted blinks rapidly, clearly reaching his max-spook point as his chair screeches backward when he stands up and backs away.

  I hold my hands up apologetically. It can be a lot to take in when you’re expecting a fake.

  “Tell her, Ted. Please,” Lacy begs.

  Ted glances from Lacy, back to me. His mouth gapes open slightly as his eyes search the not-so-distant past.

  “I dunno. He’s a guy who peddles puppies in the park. He’s always creeped me out, but I thought he was harmless. Esther and I—we talked about him and how she isn’t supposed to talk to him. Lately, I dunno, he’s been persistent with us. Esther wants a puppy in the worst—anyway, he wouldn’t take no for an answer,” Ted finally admits.

  “Okay, I need you to take a seat and hold out your hands,” I tell him, pointing at the chair he’d kicked aside.

  He does so without question, though I can tell he doesn’t understand why. His brain is on overload, but curiosity and a glimmer of hope starts to take seed.