Page 51 of It takes a Psychic

She pulled herself together and walked past the bed to the window. She stood there for a time, gazing out into the luminous fog, remembering the scene in the lab with Matt.

“…You stole my research,” she said. “Did you really think I would be okay with that?”

“I did not steal your research,” Matt insisted. “We were a team.”

“In that case, why isn’t my name on that paper you published in theJournal of Para-Archaeology? You never even told me you had submitted to the journal. We agreed to wait until the final results were in.”

“There’s a team from the University of Cadence working on a similar project. I couldn’t take the chance that they would publish first.”

“That is no excuse for taking full credit for the Mirror Chamber analysis. I’m the one who took the measurements and the readings from those artifacts and ran the resonance tests.”

“We were a team,” Matt insisted.

“Ghost shit. You used me. That’s what our relationship has been about all along, isn’t it?” she said. “You always intended to use me. I’m a better para-archaeologist than you will ever be and you know it. You needed me to assess those mirrors. You never would have been able to analyze them on your own. Admit it.”

“You’re overreacting.”

“You’re a lying, cheating fraud. Don’t you dare tell me I’m overreacting. You want to know what overreacting looks like? Allow me to demonstrate.”

She grabbed the small Alien mirror off the lab bench and rezzed her talent. The artifact exploded in a dazzling, senses-stunning display of paranormal fireworks that lit up the room. For a harrowing moment it seemed as if the entire lab would go up in flames…

Okay, so she might have overreacted. She had gotten things under control very quickly, but she would never forget the panic and shock in Matt’s eyes. He had stared at her as if she were a monster. Maybe he was right.

She knew in that moment that if—when—he told their colleagues what had happened in the lab, her career in the academic world would befinished. She had done the only thing she could think of. You had to fight fire with fire. But in the end, her tactics hadn’t worked after all. She had lost her job and her once-promising future. Probably one of those karma things.

She was turning away from the window when she caught the shadowy movement at the corner of her eye. The hair on the back of her neck stirred. Her palms tingled. Her intuition kicked in, warning her to pay attention.

The shadow shifted in the fog. It occurred to her that she was silhouetted against the room lights, making a perfect target of herself. She moved quickly, de-rezzing the lamps before returning to the window.

The shadowy figure had gone very still now. She could not see the face or make out any details but her senses told her that she was being watched.

Curious to see what would happen, she closed the drapes, moved to the side of the window, and peered out through the narrow slit between the curtain and the wall. Down below the figure moved again, disappearing into the mist.

She waited awhile but the watcher did not return.

Abandoning the vigil, she turned on the bedside lamp and changed into the flannel pajamas. A short time later she crawled into bed and picked upAchieving Inner Resonance. She turned to chapter six and reread the mantra:I will put aside negative thoughts and focus on the positive aspects that will allow me to move forward. I will see the flower of opportunity that blossoms in the shadows.

For some reason, she was unable to concentrate. She put the book aside, de-rezzed the lamp, and lay still for a while, wondering if Oliver was in bed. Then she wondered if he had seen the figure in the fog. Maybe it had been a trick of the light.

Eugenie’s old lecture on the subject came back to her.Stop doubting yourself. If you don’t trust your own senses, no one else will, either.

She had seen someone out there in the fog.

Chapter Twenty-Three

She dreamed the old dream,the one that took her back to that fateful day at the orphanage.

“You need to push harder,” she says. “I can’t see the sign.”

She was six and a half years old and she was learning that people often needed directions and instructions. She was good at giving both—not that everyone appreciated her help.

She and Molly were alone in the walled garden, playing on the swings. It was a rare treat. Usually they had to share the swings and slides with the other girls, but for some reason Ms. Inskip had sent them outside on their own that afternoon.

Her name was Leona No Middle Initial No Last Name. Molly’s name was Molly No Middle Initial No Last Name. The Inskip School for Orphan Girls was the only world they had ever known, but they were sure of two things. One was that last names were important. The other was that there was a bigger, more exciting world beyond the school grounds waiting to be explored. They knew it was out there because the sign on the other side of the high walls offered proof.

“I’m pushing as hard as I can,” Molly says.

“Do it again. I can see part of the sign now.”

---