Eye of the Falcon (Psychic Visions #12)(105)

“You don’t have to. I’m going to be a policeman,” he yelled. “I’m going to hunt down robbers.”

He broke contact and raced away, past the adults at the entrance to the tent, and roared like a banshee.

She carefully eased her chair backward, and, using some of the antibacterial soap, washed the hand he’d held. It wouldn’t change the fact the little boy would die—and sometime in the next three days.

She shuddered, hating that part of her talent. The last thing she wanted to know was who would die prematurely. But unfortunately these forces showed her a cone over those who had less than three days to live.

So far the cone hadn’t been wrong. She’d seen enough of them to know. She sat back, sipping water from her bottle, trying to calm her nerves.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a spider walk across her table. She looked at it in fascination. The amusement park was definitely not the cleanest place, and certainly loads of food were here for rodents. But she hadn’t seen much in the way of spiders. She wasn’t afraid of them but neither did she like them. As far as she was concerned, if they left her alone, then she’d leave them alone.

This one didn’t get the message.

It walked across her table, heading for the fortune-telling ball. She watched, wondering at the odd light around the bug. She saw auras all the time. Rarely around animals though. But the spider definitely glowed. She smiled at the oddity. “Where are you from?”

Something inside told her to pick it up. But she hesitated. Just because she wasn’t killing the thing at first sight didn’t mean she wanted it crawling all over her. The spider went up on its back legs, reaching out one of its front legs to touch the glass ball. A mist swirled deep inside the ball.

And those eyes … How many eyes did spiders have?

The spider speared her with a look she found fascinating. She leaned forward, studying the bulbous critter carefully. Then, unable to help herself and yet cringing as she did so, she touched the spider. It scrabbled onto the back of her hand.

Instantly images assailed her.

Blood. A woman giving birth. A toddler—a boy. And a name flashing in neon inside her brain—a name she’d never forget. Reese.

Shuddering, she stared at the spider in horror. It stared at her. As if it knew her. As if it knew something about her.

She brushed it off her hand and onto the table and backed away, knocking her chair over in the process, staring at it in horror. “What do you know about Reese?”

Of course the spider didn’t answer. How could it? But it gazed at her with that same knowing look. She shuddered.

Just then a large man stepped through the tent opening, dragging in a young boy with him. The man took one look at her and laughed. “Well, look at this. The fortune teller is scared of spiders.”

He walked over, flicked the spider to the ground, and lifted his leg to step on it.

Before he could, she scooped it off to the side away from the man. “I’m not afraid of it,” she said quietly. “And I don’t kill anything unnecessarily.”

He snorted. “You’re a charlatan, just like all the rest of the idiots here.”

“No, I’m not,” she said warily. “What can I do for you?”

“Well, seeing as how I’m here, you might as well tell me the truth. I’m trying to acquire a piece of property. A pretty cabin on a lake. Will I get it or not?”

With a sneer he tossed a five-dollar bill on the table. Too many people were in her life with the same attitude. Most of the time she could ignore it. This man, however, … still it was her job.

She hated to reach out for his hand, but it was necessary, and his closed around hers, holding her tight. And once again images slammed into her. A mountain lake. A cabin with paths up and down to the lake.

And in the lake, a woman’s face floated just beneath the surface.

Queenie broke contact and sat back down again, holding her hand against her chest, her nerve endings fried, her body already shuddering. She didn’t know what the hell was happening. But something was wrong. She gazed at the man and said, “The property owner is dead.” Her gut clenched. She should keep her mouth shut. She didn’t need to start anything, …but she couldn’t stop her visions or stop speaking of them. … For some reason she saw a whole lot more than she’d like. Girding herself for his reaction, in a cold voice she added, “But then you already know that, … don’t you?”

He narrowed his gaze, a black thundercloud forming. “Bitch,” he roared, storming out of the tent and dragging the little boy with him.

Not that it mattered. His face was emblazoned in her mind for a long time to come.

But the face from the lake would be there a lot longer. That poor woman had been murdered. And even now floated undetected in the chilly water.

Queenie spun around, grabbing her Closed sign, and hung it on the curtain that separated her from the front of her tent, then yanked the curtain closed.

She couldn’t do any more of this tonight. She wasn’t sure what was wrong, but, for some reason, her abilities were heightened to a new level right now. And it scraped along her nerve endings to the point she couldn’t deal with anything. She returned to the table, dropped her headpiece there, and picked up her purse.

Instantly the spider raced up her arm and onto her shoulder. She shuddered and flicked it off. Only it returned to run up her pant leg instead. She danced around, trying to shake it off.