mystic caravan mystery 02 - freaky lies (15 page)

“That’s sweet,” I said. “That still doesn’t mean you have the same future.”

“I … but … .” Debbie bit the inside of her cheek, flustered.

“I’ll cut the cards,” Dakota said, taking the deck from my hand and shuffling before handing them back to me. “There’s no reason to get upset, Debbie. This is just a game.”

“I told you my mother had the gift,” Debbie argued. “She made me promise to visit a psychic when I found the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. I promised her on her death bed that I would do it.”

“Fine.” Dakota blew out an aggravated sigh as he slicked his hair back from his forehead with a grimy hand. “Can we get this over with? I want to get out of this place as soon as possible. Everyone here is freaky.”

That was rich coming from a sociopath, and the more he talked the more he convinced me that’s exactly what he was. “It won’t take long,” I said, doling the cards out into a ten-card Celtic cross formation. I shot Dakota one more challenging look before focusing on the cards, taking the opportunity to reach out with my mind again as I pretended to be distracted by Debbie and Dakota’s future. What I saw reflected in the cards was troubling. The void where Dakota’s warm core should be was even worse.

“What do you see?” Debbie asked, eagerly leaning forward. “Are we going to be happy forever?”

“There’s no such thing as being happy forever,” I answered, giving myself time to consider how best to handle the situation. Reading people is a tiresome business, and I often don’t get involved in petty squabbles or domestic disputes. Debbie’s future was something else entirely. “You can’t always be happy. It’s impossible.”

“Oh, I know that,” Debbie said, laughing lightly. “I didn’t mean that. It’s just … I need to know. Will we have kids?”

I made up my mind on the spot. “You will,” I confirmed, flicking my eyes toward Dakota before focusing on Debbie. “You’ll have a daughter.”

“Oh, yay!” Debbie clapped her hands as she bounced up and down on her chair. I didn’t miss the look of disdain – or roll of the eyes – Dakota shot in my direction. “Will we have a son, too? I’ve always wanted more than one kid.”

Here’s where things would get tricky. “No.”

Debbie faltered. “No?”

“No,” I repeated. “You’ll have only one child.”

“How come?” Debbie looked crushed by the news while Dakota appeared unruffled. “I’ve always wanted a big family.”

“You’ll have only one child because after you give birth to your daughter your husband will kill her one evening when she refuses to stop crying,” I supplied, my stomach churning as visions of Debbie’s brief future flashed through my head. “When you realize what’s happened, he’ll beat you to death as you try to cover your infant daughter’s dead body with your own.”

“I would never lay a hand on Debbie.” Dakota finally gathered the energy to be affronted. “You’re making that up. Aren’t circus psychics supposed to make up good things?”

“I don’t make things up,” I said, forcing myself to remain calm instead of slapping the crap out of him. “And I don’t lie.”

“B-but … .” Debbie’s lower lip trembled. “I don’t understand.”

“He’s not a good man, Debbie,” I said, deciding to lay all of my cards – so to speak – on the table. “He’s a sociopath who is incapable of loving you. If he hasn’t let his fists fly in a moment of rage yet, which I doubt, he soon will.

“You’re a nice person and you will believe him when he apologizes and promises it will never happen again,” I continued. “You’ll be wrong, though, and you’ll endure a miserable two years until you get pregnant.

“The good news for you is that he’ll stop hitting you while you’re pregnant,” I explained. “He’ll also stop having sex with you and turn his attention to your neighbor’s sixteen-year-old daughter. He’s going to beat her, too. He won’t kill her until after you’re dead, though. While the cops are investigating him for your murder – he’ll dump your body in a river and burn your daughter’s body in a barrel – he’ll lose his temper with the teenager before finally getting arrested.”

“But, that can’t be,” Debbie protested, although I couldn’t stop myself from internally smirking as she darted a worried look in Dakota’s direction. She already had suspicions about him. That was really why she wanted to visit a psychic. “Dakota would never hurt me.”

“That’s right, baby,” Dakota said, slipping his arm around Debbie’s shoulders. “I would never hurt you.”

“He’s lying,” I said, refusing to let Dakota snow Debbie. I couldn’t save her life if she didn’t want me to, but I wouldn’t let her leave without knowing everything. “He’s the one who killed your cat.”

Debbie’s eyes flew open as she involuntarily jerked away from Dakota. For his part, the man appeared calm, but his flaring nostrils told me otherwise. He wasn’t used to being called on his actions. He didn’t like it. The fact that a woman – in his mind someone beneath him – didn’t help matters.

“How did you know about that?” Debbie asked, her voice barely a whisper.

“She’s making it up,” Dakota snapped.

“He didn’t like Captain Cuddles,” I said, cringing at the tortured feline’s name. Debbie loved the cat beyond reason. Dakota was another story. “He told you he accidentally left the door open and Captain Cuddles escaped. In reality, he caught the cat and beat it to death against a tree.”

Debbie’s hand flew to her mouth as she gasped, knocking her chair over in her haste to get to her feet. “How could you?”

Dakota’s face drained of color when he realized Debbie believed me. His denials, however weak, were generally enough to get him out of trouble. He coasted through life … until now. “She’s lying!”

I opened my mouth to argue but Debbie cut me off.

“How did she know his name?” Debbie’s tone was accusatory. “She didn’t just pick that out of thin air. I knew you hated my cat.” Debbie turned and stalked toward the tent flap. “Don’t follow me, you … cat killer!”

“Debbie!” Dakota moved to give chase but instead turned his angry eyes toward me. “You’re going to regret messing with my life.”

“You’re going to regret messing with that cat,” I shot back. “Karma is going to deliver a nasty blow to you because of that … and soon.” I’d seen Dakota’s future should Debbie believe me, and it was about to take a turn for the worse. Debbie, on the other hand, would escape and thrive.

“Oh, yeah?” Dakota sneered, unconvinced. “How do you figure that? Do you think the cops are going to take the word of a psychic?”

Debbie picked that moment to poke her head inside the tent, her face flushed as she glared at Dakota. “I’m calling PETA, and they’re going to get you!”

“Son of a … .” Dakota scurried after his soon-to-be-ex-girlfriend. “She’s lying, Debbie!”

“Have a good life,” I called to the man’s back. “Actually, Debbie should have a good life. Your life is going to blow.”

“This isn’t over,” Dakota warned. “Not by a long shot.”

I’d already seen how this would end, so I wasn’t surprised. “Bring it on.”

14

Fourteen

I
closed my tent down shortly before nine, taking extra care to scan the encroaching darkness before turning toward the midway. I was resigned to what would come next. I saw two paths when I read Debbie and Dakota’s future. I could live with only one of those paths.

The midway was open until ten, and while the rest of the circus grounds were quiet – and eerily empty – I heard raucous laughter emanating from that direction, so that’s where I headed.

The blinking overhead lights and excited visitor squeals led me to my destination, and when I reached the edge of the midway I took a moment to soak in the ambiance. When other people picture their homes they see decks, porches, framed photographs and quilts. When I picture home I see … garish chaos. To each his or her own, I guess.

The sound of screeching children drew my attention to the area next to the ticket booth, where a clown made a big show of pretending to throw a bucket of water on several delighted children. Of course the bucket was empty except for confetti, but the children didn’t know that and seemed to be having a good time. It was only after a few moments of observation that I realized who I was studying.

“Isn’t he dreamy?” Nixie appeared at my side, her cheeks flushed as she stared at the clown. “He’s so … wonderful.”

I fought the urge to gag. Percival’s accent may be fantastic, but he’s still a grown man who dresses up like a clown. “He’s wearing a purple wig and shoes ten times too big for him.”

“Imagine if they weren’t, though,” Nixie intoned, staring at the shoes with nothing short of lust in her aquamarine eyes.

“You know that’s a myth, right?” I asked.

Nixie was distracted, lending only half an ear to our conversation as she focused all of her building crush energy on Percival’s antics. “What’s a myth?”

“That thing about foot size influencing … um … penis size,” I answered, glancing over my shoulder to make sure a young child – or judgmental adult, for that matter – couldn’t hear our conversation. “That’s a myth. Feet have no bearing on … that.”

Nixie wrinkled her nose. “Oh, my … do you have to ruin my fun?”

I shrugged, trying to relax, even though I knew it was impossible given how my night would end. “I just wanted to make sure you realized that Percival isn’t packing a bazooka before you fall in love with him.”

“What in the holy heck are you guys talking about?” Luke asked, sidling up beside me and slipping an arm over my shoulders.

“Whether shoe size has anything to do with penis size,” Nixie replied, transfixed by Percival’s horn-honking prowess. “He’s … breathtaking.”

Luke and I exchanged a dubious look before my best friend chuckled. “I wish that myth was true,” he said. “It would make it so much easier to pick up men at the gym.”

“I agree,” I said, giggling as Luke poked my ribs. “It would make man shopping so much easier.”

“It would,” Luke nodded. “You look cute tonight, by the way. That skirt should get Kade’s attention. Good job.”

I frowned, my good mood fleeing. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, you know how those skirts of yours drive him crazy,” Luke said, unruffled by my tone. “He thinks they’re sexy, although I have no idea why. If I were straight I’d want to see more skin. He must be defective or something.”

I couldn’t decide whether that was a slam against Kade or me. “You are already defective,” I grumbled, crossing my arms over my chest. “You’re completely defective.”

“You love me anyway,” Luke said, pressing a soft kiss to my cheek before pulling away slightly to study me. “What’s wrong?”

Most people think Luke isn’t intuitive because he’s gregarious and obnoxious when the mood strikes. They’re wrong. Luke’s outspoken personality hides myriad things, including the fact that he can read certain situations better than most. I just happened to be the one thing he could read without fail. “Nothing is wrong.”

“You’re lying,” Luke said, wagging a finger. “You’re hiding something from me. Spill.”

I was hiding more than one thing from him and I wasn’t keen on spilling either secret. Still, when an opportunity arises, you have to take advantage of it. “I’ll tell you if you promise not to show those cheerleading photos to Kade.”

Luke’s concern turned to glee in the blink of an eye. “Oh, there’s no way I’ll promise anything of the sort, Poet,” he said. “Those photographs are power. I’ll never give that up.”

“Was that the night you did the cheer?” Nixie asked, clearly missing the signs of my obvious distress. “How did that go again?”

“Give me an L,” Luke prodded, grinning.

“I did not cheer your name,” I hissed. “That’s not even remotely what happened.”

“When I tell Kade the story I’ll include some enhancements,” Luke said, unperturbed by my unhappiness. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure we both look good when I’m done editing the real deal.”

Somehow I doubted that. “I will give you anything you want,” I said. “I’ll cook you breakfast for a month.” I was desperate. He had me over a barrel and we both knew it. “I’ll make sure each meal has sausage, too. That’s your favorite.”

“I am a big fan of sausage,” Luke agreed, wriggling his eyebrows. “You cook me breakfast every morning anyway. I’m not ceding my power for such a paltry prize.”

I knew it wouldn’t be that easy. Instead of negotiating from a place of weakness I decided to turn things around. “I won’t cook another meal for you ever again unless you promise not to show Kade those photographs.”

Luke widened his eyes to comical proportions. “Are you blackmailing me?”

“Hey, consider it karma.”

“Well, that’s just mean,” Luke sniffed. “I can’t believe you’re threatening me. Where is the love?”

“Well, believe it,” I said. “I tried being nice. Now I’m going to be nasty.”

“What’s going on here?”

I froze when I heard Kade’s voice. Generally I can feel his approach; somehow my mind always recognizes his when he gets close. I was distracted tonight, though – by several things – and he caught me off guard. “I … nothing,” I replied hurriedly, pasting a bright smile on my face. “How are you tonight?”

Kade narrowed his eyes. He studied me for a moment before he turned to Luke. “What’s going on?”

“She’s blackmailing me,” Luke replied, not missing a beat. “She’s threatening to revoke my food privileges if I don’t promise not to show you the cheerleading photos.”

“Oh, well, that’s just low,” Kade admonished, shaking his head with mock severity. “How can you do something so terrible to your best friend?”

I knew exactly what he was doing, and I refused to play. “He’s not showing you those photos!”

“We’ll see,” Kade said, scanning the crowd. “We’re closing in thirty minutes. Once that’s done I believe you owe me dinner.”

“I’m not feeding you ever again if you look at those photos,” I threatened, refusing to back down. “You don’t need to see them. Trust me when I say you’re … not missing anything.”

“She’s lying,” Luke interjected.

“Oh, I know,” Kade said, grinning. “I’m going to see those photos.”

Crap on a cracker. This clearly wasn’t going to be my night. “Then I’m not cooking you dinner.”