Free The Witch Is Back by H. P. Mallory Page B

of my life lately. “Um, it’s actually been pretty slow.”
    He nodded but didn’t say anything more, just continued watching me as if he was more than content to stare at me all night. I smiled up at him, really not knowing what else to do, and took a seat at my reading table, motioning to the empty seat across from me. He nodded and pulled out the chair, seating himself so that he faced me. I reached for my cards, which were on the table, but he suddenly moved his hand on top of mine, preventing me from grabbing them.
    There was that weird feeling of energy reverberating from his hand again, though it wasn’t anywhere near as strong as it had been the first time we’d touched. Given the Santa Ana conditions lately, I guessed there were lots of electrons in the air. But really, I knew I shouldn’t have been focusing on the static electricity buildup in my store—my attention should have been on this man who had come in for a reading …
    “I thought you wanted me to read your cards?” I asked, my tone dubious.
    “Can you read me without the cards please … Jolie?”
    It was the way he said my name. He seemed familiar with it—as if he’d said it a million times. And that bothered me and not just because I didn’t understand it. I’d never told him I could do anything besides reading cards …
    “I never said I could do anything beyond reading tarot cards,” I said in an even voice, which was a feat of itself considering how hard I was shaking inside. It was becoming apparent that this man was here for another reason.
    “In the phone book you’re listed as a psychic,” he answeredin a matter-of-fact sort of way. “Psychics can do more than read cards.”
    I gulped. Okay, he had a good point. But that didn’t keep me from feeling freaked out and unable to relax. “I can try to read you without the cards, but my visions aren’t very reliable,” I said in a small voice.
    “I have faith in you,” he answered, smiling, but I was past smiles. At this point, I just wanted to get through our appointment so he could go on his merry way. I motioned for his hands, and when he placed them on the table, I clasped them in mine. Then I closed my eyes.
    And nothing happened, which was normal. Being psychic wasn’t something that came easily—visions usually appeared to me when I least expected them. When I actually tried to drum them up deliberately, they were as recalcitrant as stubborn goats.
    I opened my eyes and found him staring at me. I suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable again—like this man had an agenda and he wasn’t about to divulge it anytime soon. “I’m not getting anything,” I started. “Maybe we should reschedule for another day.”
    “Do you mind trying again?”
    I sighed. “It’s probably useless. My visions come and go as they please.” Neither of us said anything for a few seconds. “Are you sure you don’t want a card reading instead?”
    But before he could respond, I was suddenly struck by a series of images that unfurled behind my eyes. It was as if someone had unlocked a drawer full of angry wasps. Pictures circled through my head like a twister. I clenched my eyes tightly shut and felt my hands tighten over his. Channeling psychic information was never easy, and it usually took an emotional toll on me. And given the fact that so much information was spiraling through my brain at the moment, I had a feeling I’d need a long nap after this meeting.
    “What’s happening?” he asked in a concerned voice.
    “I see something,” I whispered. The sensation of pure energy seemed to vibrate through my entire being. He might not have been a vampire but he was definitely something otherworldly. If his crazy electric blue aura hadn’t convinced me before, I was convinced now.
    I swallowed hard and forced myself to focus, to absorb the darkness behind my eyes—to allow it to take me where I needed to go. I felt the visions begin to slow down and I reached out for one,