“That is the ADHD demon talking.”
“I take it back, I no longer love you.”
He laughed, then gave me a chaste kiss. “As if you could lie to me.”
I flushed at that, feeling so seen, so understood. When I was with Paul, I wasn’t some weird alien whose brain didn’t work like anybody else’s. I was just Cherry.
“Though,” he continued. “If you get it done now, I’ll be happy to give you whatever reward you want.”
Nowthatwas certainly motivating. “Deal!”
I ran up the stairs. I got all the way to my office, genuinely committed to finishing my work, only to realize I had left my energy drink in the living room where I’d been talking with the kid and his dog.
“Damn.”
Back down the stairs, but this time, I was interrupted when I was almost to the bottom.
“Ah, there you are,” Paul said. “I was just coming to look for you. It appears that we have a potential client.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. She’s not on the schedule, but she is at the door, and she seems quite distraught.
That sounded intriguing. “I’ll head to the greeting room. Let her in.”
“Will do.”
I hurried to what had once been my reading room but now was the place where I interviewed folks who wanted an official empath and PI to solve whatever case was plaguing them. I sat down and pulled my notebook in front of me, clicking the end of my pen the necessary even number of times before a dark-haired woman swept in to sit across from me.
“Are you the psychic everyone’s been going on about?” she asked, her tone blank enough to match the wall she had behind her. But instead of being bricks of protection laid on top of each other like Paul’s had once been, hers were rows and rows of bars stretching on endlessly through my roof into the sky beyond.
“Empath, actually. But you can call me an oracle if that’s easier.”
“Empath, oracle, seer, I don’t care what you call it. I only care whether you can help me or not.”
“What is it you need help with?” I asked neutrally. If the woman was going to try to give me nothing, then I wasn’t going to give her much either. From what I could see, she was in very fine clothes, some even vintage, but there were bite marks on her nails that spoke of stress, and her lipstick was seeping slightly into what I was pretty sure were marks from her chewing on herlip. The lady was genuinely having a hard time and doing her best not to show it.
“You see, I’m being framed for killing a man.”
“That’s never very fun.”
“No, it isn’t. Especially when that man happens to be connected to one of the biggest crime families amongst the magical folks on the West Coast.”
I was right, thisisintriguing!
“Framed, you say? All right, I’m open to helping you. But why don’t we start with your name?”
“Bohemia. Bohemia A. Irene. It’s a traditional name, so I prefer to go by my middle one.”
“And what’s that?”
“Addison. I will accept Addie for short.”
I quickly jotted down her name asIrene, Addiebefore looking at Paul. Although I didn’t say anything, I didn’t have to in order to know we were on the same page.
Looks like we have another case!