Page 36 of Countdown to Murder (A Paranormal Halloween #3)

I unlocked my office, turned the lights on, and set out bottled water for my new patients. The husband had insisted the couple needed an evening appointment and had offered to pay five times my normal rate if I’d agree to see them at nine o’clock in the evening.

It wasn’t the money so much as — something I couldn’t put a finger on. I’d gone to school to be a therapist so I could help people, and I had a feeling I was capable of helping this couple.

Also, I was curious as to why they’d wanted me and no one else.

I’ve acquired the unadvertised reputation for helping people in the BDSM lifestyle without getting hung up on their kink, but this gentleman had said nothing to make me think he and his wife were a part of the lifestyle.

Still, I had the impression this would be an interesting session.

My office looked different at night, and my normal lighting wasn’t enough without the sunlight spilling in from the windows.

I lease a fifth-floor office in one of those towers that invariably get built near hospitals.

The waiting area is typical with chairs and a fish tank, but I’ve worked to decorate my inner office with a homey feel.

Kieran and Gwen Dixon arrived five minutes early.

They were both stunningly beautiful, and dressed as if they’d come from a magazine fashion shoot.

They fit well in proportion to each other, but as they approached me I realized they were both short.

I’m five foot two inches tall, and Gwen was a few inches shorter than me.

Kieran was perhaps four inches taller than me, but next to other men he’d be quite small.

Maybe it was the cut of the clothes, but I only noted their height in relation to me, and not until they were close enough to shake hands.

I welcomed them in and invited them to take a seat. I’d situated two of the chairs together, with a small table between. Close enough they could hold hands if they wanted, but far enough away to give distance.

I once again regretted the need for the harsh overhead lighting. The fluorescents interfered with the cozy, warm atmosphere I’d worked so hard to achieve.

“Did you bring the questionnaire I emailed?” I asked them.

“Apologies,” said Kieran, “but we seem to have walked out and forgotten it.”

This was unfortunate, as it meant I’d have to spend five to ten minutes asking questions instead of thirty seconds skimming the answers.

Before I could turn to walk to my chair, Kieran reached for my hand, looked into my eyes, and said, “My Lady, you will not take notes during the session, and you will accept what is said as fact without wondering how it can be true.”

I felt something attempting to poke through my shields, as if he were trying to get to the place my thoughts originate.

Someone coming through my shields could only be seen as an attack, but I was in therapist mode, where I’m focused on my patients and not myself, so I held my temper.

I removed my hand from his and lowered my voice to slowly say, “Mr. Dixon, I am not your lady, I will take any notes I wish, and I will decide what to accept and what not to accept as fact. This is what you’re paying me for. Please trust me to do my job.”

His face was one of surprise. Shock. And Gwen’s face matched his — as if they’d suddenly discovered I was from the planet Jupiter and had rings circling my head.

After spending five seconds staring at me, they looked at each other, and Gwen reached for his hand and told him, “Let me make an attempt, with your help.”

Gwen spoke in an odd voice and looked at me with piercing eyes. “Miss O’Shea, while we are here you will not take any notes, and you will accept the things we say without surprise and without question.”

The two stood as one, as if they were part of the same aura, and whatever was trying to get through my shields made it into my brain this time. Their combined energies were trying to override my will and seemed to be attempting to place a marker.

When I edit a home video and wish to put in a special effect, I mark the beginning and end, and then tell the program what effect to use on that section of video.

Somehow, Kieran and Gwen had combined their power in an attempt to put some sort of double whammy on me, as if to mark a section of memory yet to be written.

It didn’t work, but it was impressive and more than a little alarming.

Most of humanity would have no idea the couple had done anything, and likely would’ve fallen for the suggestion. Thoughts come into people’s head and they assume they thought it, having no idea other people and beings could put thoughts into their heads.

While I analyzed what they’d tried to do and made sure they hadn’t actually managed to do something, they visibly relaxed, as they apparently thought their little mind trick had worked this time.

I debated with myself and decided I probably had a much better chance of figuring out what was going on if I played along, so I said, “Of course,” and turned around to walk to my chair.

How did I know they were trying to poke around in my head?

I spent a good part of my mid-twenties sitting in Native American sweat lodges, and my late twenties meditating on a Chinese mountain with monks.

I took the phrase “finding myself” to a whole new level.

I’ve spent a lot of time learning how to shield myself physically and psychically, and even more time learning which thoughts are my own and which thoughts were being placed into my head by others.

These abilities saved me from their little trick.

“Here’s the questionnaire you asked us to fill out,” Kieran said as he offered it to me. “Please look it over and return it to us.”

Hmmm. Interesting. They did fill it out, but I couldn’t very well ask why they’d lied — not without letting them know their little trick hadn’t worked.

Uneasy, I nonchalantly moved from my comfy chair to my desk, so I’d be able to draw my gun without them seeing.

I need to draw in a good bit of energy to use my metaphysical weapons, and if they could mess with someone’s mind, it seemed a good guess they could sense someone loading up on energy. A gun seemed simpler.

I accepted the paper from Kieran on my way to the desk, and looked it over.

They’d been married three hundred and fifty-four years, and they had a good sex life (the choices were unsatisfactory, satisfactory, good, great).

Before the current issues came up they fought less than once a month, and.

.. what? They’d been married three hundred and fifty-four years?

Alrighty then. Things were certainly getting interesting.

My friend Aaron was thousands of years old, and Nathan was around eight hundred years old, so I didn’t immediately assume this couple couldn’t be the age they claimed.

I’d been around not only those two shapeshifters, but also a number of werewolves, and in my experience, the shifters had a specific kind of energy — one I’d learned to pick up on when I met someone, and neither Kieran nor Gwen had come across with the spicy, hot, volatile energy of the shifters.

I glanced through the rest of the form and looked up, meeting Kieran’s gaze, then Gwen’s. “Okay, so what brings you to see me?”

Kieran reached over and took Gwen’s hand, and she said, “Kieran and I are having jealousy issues and would like help working through them.”

Kieran blanched at her words, but didn’t argue with his wife.

I was still thrown off by the amount of time they’d been married, and needed to verify it wasn’t a mistake.

Instead of asking a neutral question, I commented, “You’d think that after more than three centuries together, you’d have figured out you love each other and are there for each other.

I assume a specific circumstance is causing the problem? ”

Gwen blushed, and for the first time I noticed how pale she and her husband were.

“Yes, in a manner of speaking, but first we need to explain some things. You see, we are vampires and we feed on human blood. Kieran and I have both had human companions over the years who acted as a food source.” She turned her gaze to her husband.

“Humans who we cared about and who cared about us, whom we fed from in a mutually beneficial relationship.” Her eyes tracked back to me.

“This was considered necessary, and we both treated each other’s humans with respect. ”

She spat the final word out, telling me this was probably at least part of the problem, but I kept listening without comment.

“In recent decades, we’ve had access to bagged blood from the blood bank, and as a result we’ve spent a long while without human companions.

However, I don’t find bagged blood as fulfilling as lifeblood direct from the source, and I’ve taken on another human companion.

” She looked at her husband again. “For the first time ever, Kieran is jealous of my human.”

Acting lessons. I needed acting lessons.

My sixteen-year-old daughter is currently playing the lead in a local production of Cats and is practicing for the production of Alice Through the Looking Glass, which starts next month.

I fell back on some of the things I’ve heard her acting coach say about how to keep her face composed for a certain emotion, and I worked hard to appear professionally detached.

If I pulled this off, I should try out for something myself.

I looked at Kieran. “Do you agree with her explanation? Do you have anything to add?”

“She has her facts correct, but neglected to mention she is in love with her human companion.”

Indignant, Gwen practically spat, “Of course I love him! But only as a companion, the same as you’ve loved your past humans! I don’t love him as I love you!”