Oracle: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Series (A Diana Hawthorne Supernatural Mystery Book 1), Carissa Andrews [read my book .txt] 📗

Unfortunately, it’s not meant to last long.

My assistant, Renaldo bounds through the door moments after Amber exits. If he weren’t so damn good at his job, I’d fire his flamboyant ass for being late every day.

“Well, hey there, sunshine. How’s the most ah-mazing boss in the world?” he says, doing a flourish of his hand as he takes the seat recently vacated by Amber.

With my face deadpan, I slowly blink from him to the clock on the wall.

He ignores me. As he always does.

I sigh. “I’d be even more amazing if I had a decent assistant who could tell time. Or at least bribe me with coffee.”

“If that’s what you really wanted, you would have foreseen someone different to hire, honey. Instead, you’re stuck with me,” Renaldo says, his pearly whites shining broadly. “Besides, you know you love me. Warts and all.”

I roll my eyes. Damn if he isn’t right. All signs pointed to having him by my side, though I’m still not sure why. The universe has a funny way of making paths clear for everyone but me. All I can figure is it must be a sick cosmic joke, because I’m sure as hell not clued in.

“So how many lovesick birds have you dealt with in my absence?” he asks, gathering his hands up by his chin and fluttering his eyelashes.

“Just the one,” I laugh, giving him a knowing look. “So far.”

“And I’m sure there will be many more for the day. It’s almost Valentine’s Day, after all. I better get the front stocked up with lovers’ potions and scented candles. I’m telling you, we need some blindfolds and whips on display with the whole Fifty Shades of Spanking obsession still sweeping the nation. We’d make a killing,” he winks, dashing to the front of our small store entrance.

The instant he says it, I know he’s right. We’d make a ton of money, but that would mean dealing with more people. I have enough to deal with, thanks. Then again, I suppose it’s why I hired him. He can deal with it.

“You’re not paid on commission,” I call after him, shaking my head. “You get that, right?”

“Maybe the idea of lust-bunnies having passionate kinky sex is enough mental payment for me,” I hear him call back.

“Brody withholding again?” I say, chuckling.

“Oh, honey, do not get me started,” Renaldo says, walking to the doorway with his hands on his hips.

“Darling, I have already foreseen it.” I say, watching his bright face freeze. I wait just long enough for the color in his cheeks to drain before adding a final, “Kidding.”

He lowers his eyebrows and spins on his heels. “There’s a special kind of hell for people like you, Diana Hawthorne.”

“Don’t I know it,” I chuckle.

Honestly, he has no idea how right he is. Whatever this is, this life I lead, it’s like a Groundhog Day loop of hells especially crafted for me. I mean, ironic much? I can’t stand people, but here I am working in close proximity daily as I try to do for them what I’ve never been able to do for myself. It’s kinda messed up, actually.

If I ever meet God—or whatever—I’m gonna give him a piece of my mind.

The bell of the shop door dings, as a man and woman walk in. The man’s a closed book; apprehensive and skeptical. His aura exudes disdain, while the woman on the other hand is drowning in grief and worry.

Renaldo shoots me a sideways glance before trotting over to them in his signature walk.

“Why hello there, is there anything I can do for you?” he says, cocking his head slightly to the side. His perfectly groomed, dark hair flops slightly with the gesture, showing off his accentuated part he’s had his stylist carve in.

The man’s left eye brow twitches upward, but his lips tip down.

I walk back into my reading room. There’s no question, they’re heading my way and I need to cleanse myself first. There’s a helluva lot of grounding I need to do before they invade my space.

Standing in the middle of my mental circle of light, I call upon the universal energies to wash away all the shit no longer serving me, so I can become an open vessel to help those who need my gifts. The white light washes through my system, taking away anything unwanted, or clinging to me from the previous encounter with Amber. Not to mention, discarding any of my own BS from perfect-ass-man.

“Eh-hem,” Renaldo clears his throat, but by the time he knocks on the doorframe, I’ve taken my final cleansing breath before releasing the light.

Turning around, I grin as genuinely as I can.

“These lovely folks would like a word with you, if you have a moment, Diana,” he says, swinging his hand out to put them on display. “It’s important.”

“Absolutely. What can I do to help?” I ask, widening my arms to suggest they take a seat.

The woman moves quickly, clutching something small in her hand. The man stays behind, his eyes scrutinizing my every move. I hold my ground, waiting for him to finish comparing dicks.

Finally, he moves to the open seat beside his wife.

I catch Renaldo’s eye as he diva air snaps and walks out.

Moving slowly, I extend my energy out, getting a feel for the situation before they even say a word. This situation, the reason they’re here, is more important than most. It’s about a child.

Missing? Dead?

I light a white candle and take my seat opposite them.

Watching both closely, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know the wife is distraught—outta her mind worried. The husband has reserved himself for the worst. Oh, and he thinks I’m complete bullshit.

“So, where would you like to start?” I say, simply.

“I—well, I mean we—” the woman begins, blinking wildly as she searches for words.

“It’s okay. Let it come out as it should,” I say, leaning in and waiting for the oncoming storm.

“How old are you?” The man blurts out.

If it wasn’t written all