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

Ren shakes his head and shrugs.

“So this is my fault?”

“Hell no. Serves him right. You don’t get to be as renowned as you are by telling bullshit.”

My eyes widen and I smirk.

“I’m renowned?”

Ren flicks his hand in the air absently, “As if you didn’t know. Pu-leeze. Well, if you ask me, you have two choices.”

“I do, do I? And what are they exactly?”

“You have to decide—does it matter he thought you were full of rainbow farts, or doesn’t it? If it does—and I’m pretty sure it does—then you need to go out there and show that man who’s boss. I mean, you’re Diana Hawthorne, dammit. He’d do well to remember it.”

He nods his head in final punctuation to his declaration.

“I think he’s already acquainted—it’s what freaked him out, remember?”

“Then show him why it matters. Find those men, close the loop on the case you both worked on. I can handle the fort here.”

“And how do you plan on doing that?”

My lips flatten into a thin line, and I can’t help but envision Ren throwing a party—frat style—while I’m away.

“Duh. I’ll have a massive sale with all the goodies we just got in. And I’ll raffle you off on a date,” he says, grinning.

“Deal. With everything but the date,” I say, standing up and pushing away from my desk.

“Where are you going?” Ren spins around in his chair as I make for my coat.

“Following your advice. I’m going to show Blake who’s boss.”

10

FOR THE LIFE OF ME, I can’t remember the way to Blake’s house. I wasn’t paying enough attention when he was driving—and God knows I can’t use my abilities to locate him. I try tapping into Aiden instead, but the damn kid is in town. All signs are pointing to the college, so that’s a whole helluva lot of no help.

“C’mon, Diana. There has to be another way—” I say to myself, my hands sliding down my face.

My eyes widen, and I could smack myself in the face for the stupidity. You don’t realize how much you rely on your abilities until they go on the fritz like this. Deductive reasoning goes out the window when it’s easy to just know something.

I pick up the green, corded phone in my kitchen and call the store. After a few moments, Ren picks up.

“Inner Sanctum Books and Gifts, Renaldo speaking. What can I do for you?” he says with his signature lilt in his voice.

“It’s me. Can you do me a favor?”

Dropping his “shop” pretenses, he says, “Of course. Have you found Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome yet?”

“Er—yeah, not yet,” I say, shaking my head. “That’s why I need your help. Do you have a number for Ted and Lacy?”

“Yeah, I think so. Hang on,” he says, setting the phone down with a thud.

A scrambling sound erupts on the other end, then a small thump before he picks up.

“Okay, got it. Ya got a pen or something?”

“Sure, go ahead,” I say, getting my pen and notepad ready.

“Alrighty. It’s 273-3593. Hopefully they’ll be able to getcha hooked up.”

The double entendre in his voice doesn’t go unnoticed, but I let it slide all the same.

“Thanks, Ren. I appreciate it. Now, get back to work.”

“Of course, slave driver. There’s oh, so many people here to contend with now that you’re gone.”

I can practically hear him roll his eyes.

“Well, then it’s your job to drive more people into the shop, isn’t it? Get those MyFace ads up and running, would you?”

Ren’s sigh is thick. “Facebook, dear. Facebook.”

“Whichever. Pull more people in to the store, kay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Gonna be harder now without our illustrious psychic. But I’ll do my best. Ciao.”

He hangs up before I even get the chance to say goodbye.

Shaking my head, I immediately dial up Ted and Lacy’s number before I lose my nerve.

“Hello?”

“Is this Lacy?” I ask.

“Yes. Who’s this?”

“This is Diana Hawthorne.”

“Oh—oh, hi, Diana. What can I do for you?” Lacy says, her voice instantly perking up at the sound of my name.

“Well, a couple of things actually. First—how’s Esther doing? She okay now that she’s been back home?”

“So far. We’ve been dealing with nightmares, but nothing we can’t handle—thanks to you and Mr. Wilson.”

“Great, that’s what I was hoping to hear. I mean, not that she’s having nightmares, but that she’s adjusting after such a traumatic ordeal. I hope she continues to get better.”

“I’m sure she will. We have a great psychiatrist working with all of us.”

“Good. I’m sure there’s a lot you all need to talk about. Say, the other thing I was wondering about—do you happen to have Blake Wilson’s address or phone number handy? I’d like to get in touch with him, but I don’t seem to have any of his contact details here.”

“Sure—let me have a quick look. I’m pretty sure it’s in my phone. Can I put you down for a second while I have a quick look?”

“Absolutely, take your time,” I say, tapping the end of the pen on the notepad in front of me.

After what feels like eternity, Lacy comes back to the phone.

“Okay, I have both. His number is 273-4414, and his address is 22341 Wild Rebel Road.”

I snicker to myself at the street name.

“Thanks, Lacy. I appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it. It’s the least I can do. Is—is everything okay? With the case, I mean…”

“Oh yeah—everything’s fine. I just have some questions for him. Don’t worry. It’s nothing to do with you or Esther.”

“Oh, thank goodness.” Lacy’s sigh of relief is palpable.

“Well, thanks again. Talk to you soon,” I say, hanging up the phone.

I stare at the details on the page.

Do I call? Or do I show up unannounced?

The social anxiety in me says to call and be done with it. The psychic in me wants to see his reactions and get a better read on him and the situation.

“Dammit.”

I rip the piece of paper off the notepad and grab my car keys. Walking out the back door, I