The Southern Psychic Sisters Mysteries: The Complete Season One Read online

  “I’ll be working as much as I can while I’m gone,” I added. “I promise, it’ll be like I never left.”

  “Where is it you’re going again?” He narrowed his eyes.

  “Home,” I answered.

  “Which is where?”

  “Alabama.”

  The corner of his lip twitched. He leaned forward, making the roundness of his belly much more prominent. “Alabama? Are there roads and running water down there? I’ll bet it was a surprise to see that we city folk wear shoes every day.” He chuckled at his own brashness.

  I forced a smile to be polite. No matter where I went, southern stereotypes still followed me. I hated it. Yet another reason why I worked hard to keep my private life a mystery to most of my coworkers. Some of them knew about Bryce, but none of them knew his name or how long we’d been dating. Or that we’d broken up.

  “Good one. I certainly have never heard that one before.”

  “Well, good luck, Ember. I hope you have a nice visit.”

  “Me too,” I replied.

  * * *

  Touching down in Mobile, Alabama, brought back more memories than I was ready for. Most of them were of my dad and the times we’d people-watched at the airport before boarding a flight. He’d insisted on a family vacation to Bison Creek every summer. It all depended on how well the bakery was doing. Dad was a number cruncher, although he didn’t see numbers the way I did.

  Maybe if he had, he would still be alive.

  The heat was immediate, even though it was fall. The leaves up north were turning brilliant shades of orange, red, and yellow. But in the south, it was either green or not green. The humidity brushed against my skin as I stepped outside to find my rental car. It was a long drive toward the coast. Long enough for me to do some breathing exercises and repeat a few calming affirmations to myself.

  I had no idea what to expect, or the state in which I would soon find my mother.

  She’d sounded just fine on the phone, but I knew that she had been crying herself to sleep at night, wondering what had happened to her little girl and pleading to the universe to send her a prophetic dream about Aqua’s whereabouts.

  My windows fogged as I messed with the air conditioner. The familiar scent of must wafted through the car as cool air blasted through the vents. The product of too much moisture, it created a smell that reminded me of moldy fruit. But after a couple of days, I would get used to it.

  My jaw clenched when I saw the road sign for Misty Key. I would be arriving just in time for dinner. Stevie would have just closed the bakery and Mom was most likely serving her usual sweet chicken salad sandwiches with whatever bread was leftover from the day. They were better than anything I could cook. My time had been best spent in the office with Dad. Stevie took care of the books now in addition to being Head Baker.

  As the evening approached, the sky turned gray, and the wind grazed along the coast like it did before it rained. The highway took me along the shoreline, where I saw the waves of the gulf rolling alongside me. It was a peaceful sight—one I wished could stay that way. The highway went straight into town where the Crystal Grande Hotel stood like a beacon to passing tourists. Misty Key was a beach town, which meant that Main Street was filled with souvenir shops and ice cream carts.

  And, of course, Lunar Bakery.

  My family didn’t live far from the bakery. It was within walking distance from the house. Dad had often gone for long walks and ended up having his evening sweet tea in the peace and quiet of the darkened kitchen. He always took Yogi with him—hunting, boating, or working, his red bloodhound had been at his side.

  A droplet hit the windshield and then another. Within minutes, it was pouring. The south was funny that way. When summer hit, it was greener than an orchard of peach trees. But when it rained, it poured. It poured so much that a small pond formed in the center of Misty Key Square. When we were kids, Stevie and I would go there in search of toads.

  I slowed down as I passed the bakery.

  The lights were off, and the sign out front displayed the special of the week—Good Vibes Vanilla Cake. It was Stevie’s invention. Only she would think to pair herbs from the garden with vanilla beans. I glanced in the mirror and realized I was smiling. Misty Key was the keeper of a happy childhood. But it also harbored the guilt I struggled with every time I looked in the mirror.

  Seeing Main Street at dinnertime made the guilt so much worse.

  My mother waved as I pulled into the driveway. Yogi waited next to her, his tail wagging and his tongue catching drops of rain. I took a deep breath as I parked and grabbed my purse that was nestled comfortably in the front seat. Mom didn’t care about the rain and ran to hug me.

  “Come on in,” she said. “Dinner is on the table.” She grabbed my bag and hurried inside the house. Yogi waited, looking up at me as I hesitated to move.

  “Hey, boy,” I said quietly, wiping a strand of wet hair from my face. “How bad is it in there?”

  Yogi barked, one short, curt bark.

  “That bad, huh?”

  My childhood home reminded me of the little beach cottages for rent along the coastline. It sat on stilts high enough to park your car underneath, as did all the other houses in our neighborhood, and a palm tree graced the front entrance. Long porches stretched along both sides of the house, and the color of the door changed with Mom’s mood. When I was a kid, the door was normally lemon yellow. Today it was blue. A deep aqua blue.

  I walked inside to a cozy family room complete with decorative pillows, woolen blankets, and a collection of candles sitting on the mantelpiece. Yogi wiped his paws and led me upstairs, where my mom had placed my suitcase in my old room. My stomach went sour when I saw a stack of envelopes on the bed.

  “I thought you would want to get changed before you eat,” Mom suggested. She wore a thick navy sweater, even though it was warm outside. Her light brown hair was tied up in a bun, revealing chestnut eyes to match. They were sunken with a ring of puffiness around the edges.

  “Mom, are you okay?”

  “I have hope,” she replied.

  I grabbed her arm and squeezed the bulky layer of clothing.

  “You’ve been eating properly and taking your pills, right?”

  “Oh, you sound just like those society ladies.” She frowned and dismissed my comment.

  “You’re still part of the Misty Key Women’s Society? I thought you quit after Dad died.”

  “I’m back again,” she informed me. “And yes, the ladies are just as gabby and judgmental as before. I love it.” She played with her necklace, a dainty silver chain with a small moonstone. Sometimes she teased that she would leave it to the daughter she liked best when she died. It was her way of coaxing us to always stay on her good side.

  “How is the bakery?”

  “Your sister is doing a great job, but she could always use help,” she responded, raising her eyebrows. “You’ll have to look through the books while you’re in town.”

  “If Stevie will let me,” I replied, taking a deep breath and brushing aside the stack of letters on my bed. I set my purse down in front of them. I would throw those letters in the trash too, once Mom left the room.

  “You can’t hide from them forever.” She eyed the pile of letters I’d attempted to cover.

  “Who says I’m hiding?” I lifted my chin, trying to appear as if the frequent notices to renew my Seer license were no big deal. “I have other priorities right now, and dinking around with cosmic rays or whatever is not one of them.”

  “I see.” My mother glanced at me, but she did it in a special way. It was like she saw right through me. And she probably did. Her eyes darted around the room—from the cross-stitched pillow of a star constellation on my bed to the framed picture on my wall of my dad and me at my high school graduation.

  “What, no lecture?” My heart raced, and my stomach churned with all of the arguments we’d had about me wasting my future. “No talk about how I’m wasting my thirties? No sto
ries about how numerology is a rare talent that I should celebrate? No side tangents about how the Clairs have stopped wars and saved numerous souls?”

  “I don’t have to lecture you,” Mom commented. “You do that all on your own.”

  “Well, I don’t intend on renewing my Seer license. I just want to make that clear. I know the consequences, and I’m prepared to deal with them.”

  “You would ruin centuries of tradition for a desk job in New York City?” My mom tugged at her moonstone some more. If she were to die tomorrow, that sparkling gem on her chest would definitely not be left to me.

  “It’s more than a desk job. Listen, Mom, I don’t want to argue with you. I’ve had a very stressful week, and I just want to focus on finding Aqua.” I straightened my blouse, finally ready to face my big sister who was downstairs at the kitchen table. No doubt Stevie had a long list of accusations prepared just for the occasion.

  “Oh, yes.” She briefly hung her head and sighed. “You and Bryce.”

  “I don’t need to tell you what happened, then.”

  “Nope.” She shook her head.

  Part of me was annoyed that she knew so much about my personal life. But the other part of me was relieved that I didn’t have to talk about it. Mom already knew everything there was to know and I wouldn’t be forced to retell my breakup story over and over again so she could analyze it.

  “Good.” I headed for the door. “As you would say, Bryce and I just weren’t meant to be.”

  “As long as you’re okay.”

  “I’m great,” I lied, although Bryce’s betrayal still stung. I’d never felt as blindsided as I had when we’d split up. I’d also lost my appetite for sushi thanks to him. “Breaking up with Bryce was for the best.”

  “I’m glad you have it all figured out.”

  My nostrils flared. I knew there was more sarcasm to her comment than truth.

  “I do.”

  “Let’s eat then.” She tilted her head toward the staircase. “You must be hungry after such a long drive.”

  I wasn’t.

  If anything, the long drive had given me time to come up with plenty of reasons to refrain from entering the kitchen altogether. The number one reason being my sister Stevie.

  Chapter 3

  Like the rest of the house, the kitchen looked the same. Natural lighting was important to Mom, which was why she’d insisted on installing two skylights above the sink and the kitchen table. Sitting down to a meal felt like sitting outside. The white cabinets and the collection of crystals on the counter added to the serene ambience. The rain pattered outside and provided the perfect amount of white noise to drown out the sound of clanging silverware and Yogi’s constant whining for his next scrap.

  Mom sat at her usual end of the table as she scooped another helping of sweet chicken salad onto her grandson’s plate. Orion accepted the extra serving, setting down his latest comic book and eagerly biting into the day-old bread. Yogi wagged his tail as I lifted my sandwich toward my mouth. He hadn’t left my side, and I wasn’t sure if it was because he’d missed me or he thought I was a messy eater.

  Stevie hardly touched her food as she surfed through emails on her phone. So far a mere glance was the only communication I’d received from her. It was better than a slap in the face. Stevie looked just as I remembered her, with her jet-black hair and a sleeve of tattoos that represented her star sign. Being the eldest, she’d been named after my dad, Steven, but the two of them couldn’t be more different. My dad had been a conservative, God-fearing, sensible man and Stevie had a hard time saving curse words for when customers weren’t around. She also had my mother’s gift for baking, which was why Lunar Bakery was still in business.

  “Sweetheart, eat something,” my mother urged her. “I added more sugar and sweet pickle relish just the way you like it.”

  “I don’t have much of an appetite this evening,” Stevie responded in her usual tone. The way she glared at people as she spoke came across as intimidating to everyone who didn’t know her. But really, it was her way of concentrating on one soul at a time. Being a medium meant that she was constantly distracted with inquiries from both the living and the dead.

  “I guess Orion and I are the only ones interested in these leftover cheddar croissants?” Mom passed the platter toward me, studying my plate. I’d taken a couple of bites of my dinner, but that was about it.

  “I ate on the plane.” I blurted out the excuse before I could think of a better one. My eyes darted to the food in the center of the table and a copy of the day’s local newspaper. I cringed when I came face-to-face with the Misty Messenger. It brought back a slew of unwanted memories that made me even more anxious and eager to escape to the privacy of my own bedroom.

  “You’re lucky to be alive,” Orion stated, his bright blue eyes leering in my direction. His hair was jet-black like Stevie’s, but the origins of his eye color remained a mystery—much like the identity of his father. “A lady died once from a bite of poisoned shrimp. Her insides melted and came oozing out through her ears.”

  “Where did you read that?” Stevie scolded him. “You know how I feel about you surfing the web when I’m not around.”

  “Strange Ways to Die,” Orion proudly responded. His cheekiness matched that of his mother. “Auntie Ember gave it to me last Christmas.”

  “That’s right. I did.” I nodded in agreement, pursing my lips together as Orion gave a mischievous grin.

  “Oh, I just love the shrimp they serve down at The Steamer,” my mom said. “Your pop and I spent one too many anniversaries there drinking our fair share of mint juleps.”

  It wasn’t unusual for her to litter a conversation with potholes.

  “I could use a mint julep right about now,” Stevie muttered under her breath.

  “There’s also an entire chapter on black death,” Orion continued. “Speaking of which—”

  “Yes, we all know that you want to be a plague doctor for Halloween,” Stevie interrupted. “But remember what happened last year?”

  “Fine.” Orion rolled his eyes. “But how was I supposed to know that Becky Grimen had never heard of the Ebola virus, or the signs and symptoms exhibited by patient zero?”

  “You’re ten years old,” Stevie pointed out. “Let’s focus on the lighter side of Halloween.”

  “You mean the candy?”

  “Sure.” Stevie clenched her jaw as she sat up straighter.

  “Auntie Ember,” Orion went on. “Do you want to see my pet tarantula? Yogi almost ate her once.” Orion raised his eyebrows and smiled again. I smiled too, glad that at least one member of my family wasn’t put off by my presence.

  “I’m sure your aunt has better things to do,” Stevie said. She turned toward me, observing my choice of attire. I was wearing a black pencil skirt and matching blouse, which clashed with her after-hours uniform of a tank top and jean shorts. When winter approached, she would switch out her tank top for a shirt with sleeves.

  “I would love to see your room, Orion.”

  “Yes,” he murmured with excitement.

  “Finish your dinner first,” Stevie insisted.

  A few moments of silence passed as we all picked at our food. Yogi gave up on begging for scraps and sat quietly at my feet. Stevie looked at her phone some more, and Orion flipped through the pages of his comic book as he tried to finish his food. My mom stared out the window at the pouring rain. The palm trees in the yard swayed back and forth, and gray clouds continued to roll in and block the last bit of sunshine for the day.

  My mom gulped as she tugged at her moonstone.

  “I had a dream last night,” she breathed.

  Stevie immediately looked up.

  “You know where Aqua is?” Stevie leaned forward.

  “I was waiting until we were all together,” my mom explained. “It is important that we all discuss this as a family.”

  “Is she alive?” I asked, my chest tightening with every passing second.

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; “Yes, but her time is scarce.” She took a moment to steady her breathing as a tear formed in her eye. “She’s somewhere dark. She’s confused. And there was a clock.”

  “A clock?” Stevie repeated.

  “Yes.” She dabbed at the corner of her eye. “That means that she won’t be alive for long. We have to find her before it’s too late.”

  “Oh, thank the stars,” Stevie muttered. “I knew she couldn’t have just eloped like the police think she did. Aqua would never do something like that without telling me.”

  “So, you think she was abducted?” I questioned my mother.

  “I know it.” She clasped her hands together to stop them from shaking. “There was nothing unusual about the morning she went missing. She got ready to make her usual trip to Crystal Grande Hotel to deliver bread. She fed Yogi. She had weekend plans with Rickiah. And then, she just never came home.”

  “And the self-centered pricks at the hotel claim nothing unusual happened that morning,” Stevie added.

  “Her crest reading with Lady Deja is scheduled for next month.” Mom sniffled. “She was so excited to get her Seer license and start working for the Clairs.” Her sniffles gave way to sobs.

  Stevie jumped from her seat and wrapped an arm around her. My heart sank as I saw the pained look on my mother’s face. I didn’t know what it felt like to lose a child, but I imagined that it was close to some of the darkest feelings I’d ever felt in my own life. I walked to the other side of the table to offer a hug, but Stevie stuck out a hand.

  “Stop right there,” Stevie stated, addressing me directly for the very first time. “Your services are not needed.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “We manage just fine without you around here and today is no different.” Stevie’s eyes narrowed as she shot me a foreboding glare.

  “She’s my mother too,” I argued.

  “She’s my mother too,” Stevie mocked. “Do you hear yourself? You don’t even sound like a southerner anymore. You dress like the receptionist at the Crystal Grande, and you hardly smile. You’ve erased all traces of Misty Key from your life, and now you expect us to behave like you never left.” Her pale cheeks turned a shade of crimson.