The Awakening: A Sisterhood of Spirits Novel (14 page)

“I know you do, but she upset you, and I can’t stand to see you like that.”

“It wasn’t entirely her fault. I had a part in that as well.” She wasn’t sure yet what role the entity in Jordan’s apartment had played, and she wasn’t ready to analyze it.

“She’s dark, Sunny. There’s something inside her that’s twisted and broken, and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“She’s not broken, Tiff, just deep and guarded. There is something about her, something exciting that I can’t immediately read. And that alone makes me want to know her better.”

“But—”

“Tiff,” Sunny said gently, knowing where her anxiety was coming from. “Not everyone is like your ex. Now,
he
is twisted and broken. I’m sorry that Jordan hits that button for you, but they aren’t the same.”

Tiffany sighed dramatically. “Touché. Okay then, I’ll reserve judgment and hold off making the Voodoo doll until later.”

“You didn’t really make one, did you?”

“No, but Shade might.”

Sunny laughed nervously. As far as she knew, none of them had ever messed with dark magic, but with Shade, one could never be entirely sure what she was up to. “Well, I’ll let her know if and when we need one, okay?”

“She’s hot,” Tiffany said.

“Who? Shade?”

“No, dumbass, Jordan.”

And with that smart remark, Sunny knew she could count on Tiffany’s support. For a second, she wondered what normal friends did when they didn’t always know what the other was thinking or feeling. It had to be easier.

“Jordan is pretty fine, isn’t she?” Sunny looked at her dress choices again. “The red one it is.”

*

Agnes answered the door and whistled. “Why are you all dolled up?”

“I have a date after our appointment.”

“I’m so nervous. I’m scared of ghosts,” Agnes said, wringing her hands.

Sunny smiled to reassure her. “This one isn’t bad, and he wants very much for me to give you a message.”

The blood drained from Agnes’s face even as her eyes grew misty. “Harold? My Harold is here?”

“Actually, the name he’s giving me sounds like Thumper.”

“Oh, oh.” Agnes blushed. “It’s what I called him, because—well, never mind. He’s been gone for twenty years.”

“He says he knows you still talk to him every day.”

“You can tell him that I’m still mad too!”

“He says he knows you love him.”

“He was my first and only love. There never was another in my life.”

“Why is he laughing and showing me a mailman?” Sunny asked.

“Oh, come on, Harold. It was only twice, and love had nothing to do with it.” Agnes turned red again. “Did he
watch
?”

Sunny tried not to chuckle and hastened to change the subject. “No, of course not.”
Stop it, Harold. I’m not telling her that you did.
“He said he just wanted to keep you honest.”

“He always did. My world started and stopped with him. He always made me laugh. Our daughter was so serious all the time, and as she grew older, ashamed of her hippie parents and our past.” Agnes paused. “Harold? Did you know that Lucy became a
Republican
?” she whispered the last word.

Sunny fought the urge to laugh. She was charmed by Agnes and pleased that this reading was going so well for her. “There’s a tiny woman standing next to him, nodding her head.”

“Is she wearing pearls?”

“Yes. Is she your mother?”

“She’s standing next to my husband?”

“Yes, but she seems quite content for him to talk.”

“I find that hard to believe, since my mother hated Harold and she loved to be the center of attention. She never understood our generation and was horrified when we ran off together.” Agnes’s eyes seem to be looking to a faraway place, reliving memories from the past.

Sunny patted her hand. “Agnes? Harold is stepping back now, but he wants you to know that he’s always close and watching over you and Steve.”

“He’s leaving so soon? But I have so many things I still want to say.”

“He’s telling me that he hears you and will be waiting for you when you cross over.”

“Oh my God! Is it soon?” Agnes’s eyes bugged a little.

Sunny shook her head. “No. Just that he’s there. He’s laughing again. He’s quite the character isn’t he? See you later,
chicken little
.”

Tears tracked through the makeup on Agnes’s face. “He called me that because for me the sky was always falling. See you, Thumper.” She choked up. “I love you.”

“See? That wasn’t bad at all, was it?” Sunny asked her.

“Thank you, dear. That was the best gift I have ever gotten, aside from my grandson. So are we done here? No more ghosts? Because I can handle it if they’re my husband and mother.”

Sunny sat back. “Agnes, I have to be honest with you. There are more.” She could have lied to make her feel better and said there weren’t, but the haunting would continue. So much of her job as a psychic medium was actually being a psychologist, which was why she’d gotten a degree in it. “They don’t mean you any harm.” She hurried her explanation when Agnes’s lower lip began to tremble. “Some of them come because it was a happy place for them when they were alive.”

“That’s a good thing, right?” Agnes narrowed her eyes. “You said
some
.”

Sunny told her of the harmless children playing in the courtyard.

“Oh, I’ve heard them, or at least I thought I did.”

“They come to knock on doors, run in the hallways, that sort of thing.”

“Are they trapped here?”

Sunny shook her head. “Some spirits just like where they are and decide to stay or visit.”

Agnes sat up straight. “Well, I can handle that, then. What about the others?”

Sunny thought of the dark entity most prevalent in Jordan’s apartment, and refrained from mentioning it. She didn’t want to feed Agnes’s fear after her positive reading. “The team will be here later tonight, and we’ll know more after the investigation. We’ll do our best to help clear your building, Agnes. I promise.”

*

Jordan watched Sunny emerge from Agnes’s wing across the courtyard and hurried to meet her. She’d just reached the bottom of the stairs when the outer door opened.

“Oh.” Sunny held a hand to her heart. “You startled me.”

“I’m sorry. I saw you coming.” She looked at Sunny’s strappy heels. “I wanted to save you the trip. You look amazing.”

“Thank you. So do you. Whose car are we taking?”

“If you don’t mind, I’ll drive.”

“Okay, I have a change of clothes in my car. I’ll just leave it here and get ready after dinner.”

Jordan helped Sunny into her truck. She’d forgotten the investigation. She tried to steer the conversation in a direction she was more comfortable with. “What kind of music do you like?”

“It depends on what kind of mood I’m in. Could be anything from AC/DC to Bach.”

That didn’t help.
Jordan pointed to her black case. “Pick one.”

Sunny flipped through the sleeves and handed her a Nickelback CD. “This is a good one. I like them.”

Jordan’s nerves settled a fraction. They had at least one thing in common. She searched for more small talk. “Hey, did you catch the football game on Sunday?”

“Oh, I don’t watch television.”

Jordan was shocked. “What?”

“I have a little one. I watch the news once in a great while, but it’s usually so depressing and violent.”

Now what?
Jordan
lived
in that world. Her GPS told her she’d reached her destination, and she pulled into the parking lot. “I hope the food is good here. I don’t know the area yet, but my partner recommended it.” Right after he’d high-fived her. She looked over at Sunny and felt awkward. Sunny was beautiful, light, and breezy, and Jordan was, well—
not.

What am I doing?

“This place is excellent. Your partner has good taste.” Sunny pulled her shawl around her shoulders.

Jordan ran around to open her door and helped her step down. Sunny’s hand was warm in the chilly evening air, and the contact made her almost giddy. The lights on the boats in the marina reflected off the water in the Silverdale Bay.

“The view is amazing here,” Sunny said.

Jordan hadn’t taken her eyes off Sunny. “Uh-huh.” Oh God, what was she going to talk about? This was a mistake, a huge mistake, and Jordan didn’t know how she was going to get out of it. All she could do now was pray she didn’t make a bigger ass of herself. Jordan had never been on a date like this before. The women in her past were strictly pizza and beer. Sunny was pure champagne and dancing. And, oh shit, she couldn’t dance.

While the hostess led them to a table by the back windows, Jordan’s gaze couldn’t help but land on Sunny’s hips and the way the smooth red material clung to her curves. She wanted to reach out and touch. Sunny looked over her shoulder and smiled before licking her lower lip.

The sight of her little pink tongue slammed Jordan between her thighs as if Sunny had stroked her with it.

Sunny folded her shawl over her chair and faced Jordan before sitting. The low neckline of her dress outlined her breasts and gave a delicious hint of cleavage. Red stones set in a delicate silver chain sparkled in the candlelight, distracting and drawing her in at the same time.

The breadstick Jordan held snapped into pieces, bringing her out of the sexual trance. “Is it hot in here?” Jordan pulled at the collar of her shirt.

Sunny turned on her megawatt smile. “Is it?” she asked, then looked at the menu.

Oh yes, Jordan thought. Dinner. How was she going to eat and get through this barbaric ritual when all she wanted to do was slide Sunny onto her back and see what was under that dress?

“Are you okay, Jordan?”

“Huh? Oh yeah, I’m good.” She fumbled for her water glass and took a long drink. No, she wasn’t. She was a fish out of water and had no idea what came next.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No.”
Yes.
Jordan wished for a hole in the floor so she could drop into it and end this slow torture.

“Okay, I’ll go first,” Sunny said. “Where are you from originally?”

“I was born in San Francisco, moved up here when I turned eighteen.”

“So were my parents,” Sunny said excitedly. “Haight-Ashbury district. Was your mother a hippie too?”

Too close.
“What about you?” Jordan asked quickly, deflecting the conversation away from herself.

“From Seattle, but I was too young to remember the move here to Bremerton. Is your family here as well?”

Jordan shook her head.

“Siblings?” Sunny asked.

Should Jordan tell her of the parade of foster brothers and sisters? “Nope.”

“Really, Jordan, you’re not letting me get a word in edgewise. I’m finding it impossible to hold my train of thought while you keep interrupting me.”

Jordan laughed. “Enough about me; let’s talk about you.”

Sunny unfolded her napkin and placed it in her lap. “Thank you,” she said primly. “I’m an only child too. Did you ever get lonely?”

Every single moment of every single day.
“Not really.”

“My parents didn’t give me a chance. Oh, there were times I wished I had a sister to share secrets with and play with, but my mother couldn’t have any more children.”

The waiter came and took their orders. Jordan was amused at how he stammered slightly when Sunny smiled at him.
I know how you feel, buddy.

After he left, Jordan jumped in with another question. “What did your parents do for a living?”

“My mother was a dancer before she met my father. He said the first time he saw her at a rally in Golden Gate Park, he knew he was going to marry her. He was a student at the university, and after he graduated, he wrote books on parapsychology. My mother did tarot readings along with being a medium.”

“Is that why you do these…investigations?” Jordan asked.

Sunny laughed. “My parents were ghost hunters long before anybody thought it was cool to take it up as a hobby or television entertainment for the masses. In fact, they took a lot of ridicule for their way of life. Until the day my father died, he was on a personal quest to prove that there is life after death.”

“Is being psychic something that you learn? I mean, you know, like reading people’s body language for responses to the questions being asked?”

“I think that everyone has a sixth sense. How much they retain after being ridiculed for having an overactive imagination and beat over the head with limiting, outdated beliefs when they’re young, now that would be a better question. I was four years old the first time I met a spirit. It was the night my maternal grandmother died. I think I was almost ten before I realized that not everyone could.”

“You actually see them?”

“In my mind’s eye,” Sunny answered. “I get images while they talk to me.”

“And you think everyone has this ability?”

“Don’t you? As a police officer you have that intuition, that gut feeling inside that you know something is going down or you’re certain that someone is lying, but you call it instinct, right?”

Jordan nodded. Of course she did, and she’d earned it. It came from living and working on the mean streets, hard won after painful and very real experiences.

Sunny sighed loudly when the waiter brought their food to the table.

“What?” asked Jordan. “Isn’t it what you ordered?”

“It’s perfect.”

“Then what’s the matter?”

“I always feel that initial feeling of guilt when I order meat. God, I love it, but it horrified my mother that Dad and I didn’t fully convert. I can still hear her voice in my head. Is that
flesh
on your breath, young lady?”

Jordan chuckled. “Vegetarian Nazi?”

“Militant.”

Jordan picked at her food. She was finding that watching Sunny eat her steak was more interesting. She had a dreamy look on her face that was almost orgasmic in nature. It set the butterflies in her stomach back in motion.

“What made you decide to become a police officer?”

“Oh, you know, I wanted to save the world, blah, blah.” Jordan kept her voice casual. “What made you decide to become a medium?”