Page 44 of Deadly Blooms (Psychic Unraveled #1)

“Absolutely. And this one,” she said, trailing her finger down Graham’s arm, “reminds me so much of your great-uncle too. I wonder if he’s as good in bed?”

I blinked. “I—what?”

She leaned in, her tone low and sickeningly sweet, like she was trying to impress me or assert dominance—I wasn’t quite sure. “Didn’t you know? Silas and I were lovers.” She made sure the entire precinct heard. Her eyes sparkled like she loved witnessing me vomit in my mouth.

“He never mentioned it.” I stared at Graham— Uncle Silas— watching a flush of red creep up his neck.

Portia tilted her head like I’d disappointed her. “Strange. I always thought he kept mementos close.” Then her tone softened—mocking, almost wistful. “I can feel his presence even now.”

Oh good. Let’s just tell the world he’s here. Maybe we can have a community-wide exorcism.

I forced a smile, but didn’t respond. Then I saw it, a glint on her fur stole. Her brooch—a silver burst—pinned just below her collarbone. It was missing two crystals, and the surrounding prongs were bent.

“You’re missing a few stones,” I said quietly, pointing.

Her eyes followed my finger. “Oh, I probably snagged it on something.” She unclipped it like it meant nothing, and dropped it into her bag, clasping it shut with a small snap.

“You simply must come to our Beach Bonfire Night,” she cooed, already halfway out the door. “Saturday the 30th. Bring this one with you.” She winked at Graham. “November’s always been my favorite month.”

Then, she was gone. Just a wake of high-priced perfume and menthol cigarette smoke all wrapped up in extravagance and chaos clinging in the hallway.

“No—,” the word shot out of me too loud.

Captain Nettles snapped his eyes to me. “Something I should know?”

I straightened. “Just… we don’t have time for charity events right now. We’ve got a killer to find.”

He gave me that stare—the stare of a disgruntled parent. “ We are looking for the killer, Miss Maxwell. You are not part of the investigation.”

That didn’t sit well with me. I knew I didn’t have the resources or skills the police had, but dammit, I wasn’t going to sit around waiting for someone to attack. I didn’t have to tell Nettles what I thought—I’d just cause problems. So, I just nodded in agreement and played along.

Nettles narrowed his eyes at Graham, “Why are you here, anyway? Today’s your day off.”

Graham opened his mouth. Nothing came out.

“She’s with me, sir,” Derek said, voice steady. “We ran into Graham, so I figured we could grab the Harbourview Heights files and finish up on that paperwork. Maggie just tagged along.”

The captain looked between us. “You two an item or something?”

“Oh! Uh…” Derek stammered.

“Yeah,” I said, sliding my arm around Derek with a practiced smile. “Kind of new.”

Derek flushed. I squeezed his waist for good measure.

“Well, Captain, we should get on that. The night is wasting away, and we were hoping to have it finished for Graham to bring back when he comes in tomorrow.” Silas said.

I gasped. “Silly Graham, always playing jokes. Come on, Maggie, let’s go.” I mimicked Silas’s slip-up.

The captain grunted. “Alright. Handle it.”

Before Graham—or Uncle Silas—could mess it up, I grabbed a bicep and dragged them around the corner.

Then smacked them on the back of the head.

“Now, young lady! I?—”

“If you refer to yourself in the third person again—” I snapped. “—while you are in his body, I swear I’ll have Katie trap your ass in a salt circle! You’re going to get us caught, have Nettles commit Graham, and lose him his promotion. Knock it off!”

Uncle Silas smirked, unbothered. “You’re just mad the old chap went all aflutter when you told the captain you were dating the paranormal investigator. If only you could feel the way his phallus moves when we look at you.”

“Christ, let’s just find the damn file.” Derek pushed past and led us into the records room.

The place reeked of old paper and coffee. Metal cabinets stretched wall to wall.

“No computers?” I asked.

“Backup system,” Derek replied, pulling open a drawer.

Uncle Silas leaned in the doorway, arms crossed.

God, what is it about that body that looks so good doing nothing? Uncle Silas had no right taking it over. If I was going to get turned on by that man, my uncle needed out.

“Still no access, Derek?” Uncle Silas mused, like he hadn’t just nearly tanked our whole cover.

Derek didn’t look up. Just yanked a file with a little too much force. “Just because they handed you a login the same year they started digitizing cold cases doesn’t make you the messiah of modern law enforcement. You’re not even a cop.”

He stepped forward, file in hand—but the moment he slapped it against Uncle Silas’s chest, something shifted.

Just a flicker.

The smirk faltered. The posture dropped—shoulders slumped, eyes lost focus. I saw Graham, but only for the briefest second. He was there, behind his own eyes. Blinking. Dazed.

Then gone.

Uncle Silas righted the posture again, like he was adjusting a crooked tie. “Well, that was rude.”

“Let’s get out of here.” I said, slipping past them, my heart thumping hard enough that I heard it in my ears. I wasn’t sure how much longer Graham could keep this up.

Graham

The thick blackness consumed me again. This time, nothing but my memories kept me company.

It wasn’t something I looked forward to—being so close to them—the memories.

It was easy for them to find me. No distractions to quiet the nightmares.

Nothing. It was the kind of blackness that smothered you until you grasped at anything else to keep you sane.

The emptiness filled your throat. Seeped in, choking you, coating your lungs, your ribs until you couldn’t breathe.

I couldn’t see. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t scream. I was just here—trapped beneath whatever-the-hell-Silas-was while my body played puppet.

Shell’s voice was the first thing to breathe through, taking me back.

“Graham, they’re gone…”

I’d finally woke from a nap that felt so goddamn good after a double shift. Her voice was shaky, quiet—slicing through my bones like a hot wire pulled tight. I knew it right then that I’d never see them alive again.

For two weeks I hunted Parker Donovan like a rabid wolf.

Slept in the truck. Only ate when the pain grew too strong.

Beat answers out of men who should’ve been shot.

I lost pieces of myself every single day, and when I found them, and found him on top of her—I pulled the trigger until my gun was empty.

It didn’t bring them back. But it felt good to see him suffer.

They weren’t the only ones he took. Donovan had kidnapped and killed over forty-three mother-daughter pairs in nine years.

Somehow, no one had found the bastard. Until he stole from me.

Killing him was second nature. I didn’t even care who heard me admit it—that I enjoyed it.

He deserved the death he got, my only regret is that I ran out of bullets.

Even if I had gotten to them before he did what he did, he would have just moved on to some other poor soul.

Killing him was supposed to stop the madness.

But it didn’t stop the screaming in my head. It started it.

Now it was just Silas in there. Quiet. Looming. It was as if someone were standing on the other side of a thin paper wall, waiting to break through.

I wasn’t alone. Not really.

Because Maggie showed herself too.

Not physically. Not even her voice. Just her.

The smell of her shampoo when I stood too close. The way her fingers brushed my arm— like she didn’t mean to—even though she did. The way her mouth flushed and parted from some smart-ass comment I’d made, like she didn’t know if she wanted to kill or kiss me.

Probably both.

The night I was stabbed, and she stayed with me while we waited for EMS. I thought I was going to lose it. But her hands on my skin, the low focused hum in her throat as she concentrated. I could feel her breath on my neck for a moment—just one—and I let myself lean into it.

I let myself imagine what it would be like to fall.

Because she was fucking beautiful— not just her body, but the grit and the life under it, the fire in her chest. The way she looked at me like I was a puzzle worth solving, even if half the pieces were missing.

She reminded me of what it felt like to want something just for me.

To be wanted back.

And I swear to God, when she gets me out of this, if I managed to drag myself back to the surface—I wasn’t going to waste it.

I’ve already lost one woman I couldn’t live without.

I’ll burn down this entire goddamn world before I lose another.