The Psychic Next Door

[First Draft] Chapter 19: Blood

Yes, he had a dark and scarred past. His history with Lillian—and through her, a poor relationship with Polly—wasn't exactly appealing. But he was obviously repentant for the role he had played in the sad end of Lillian's life, even though he wasn't the cause. But you can't change the past of someone, focus on their flaws. I had plenty of my own after all—I was being dogged by a horrible spirit, that endangered anyone I loved. Not exactly a turn-on for anyone. And yet, Luc accepted me too, took me into his home. And we had found each other in our shared disasters.

And if this disaster taught me anything, it was to live in the moment; don't dwell on regrets—the what ifs and could've beens. It's wasted time. You never know when something will pop up and take it all away from you. And I was just thankful to have Luc now, in my darkest hour.

But as Luc and I got closer, Polly drew away. She couldn't forgive me for literally lying with the enemy—as she saw it. She still saw him as responsible, and therefore refused to trust Luc, which meant his powers remained stunted. I couldn't help but grow a little bitter towards her, because part of me believed that her reluctance to trust Luc—even a little—was keeping us from getting a clear reading with the cards, keeping us from figuring this out and stopping it.

Despite her anger towards me and her utter repulsion towards anything Luc was involved in, she was always very careful to keep a watchful eye on our every doing. She was especially vigilant while she watched us as we did our daily readings. She sat on the other side of the room—as far away as she could possibly get—but she would watch us. Her face was always stern, shrewd, careful not to show too much emotion that would indicate approval. But despite her front, I could tell there was something more there; she looked like she was waging some inner battle as she eyed us doing our routine.

"What a surprise," I said at last, my frustration slipping out. I knew my negative mood would do no good in encouraging our search, but my mood was the kind that wanted to poison everything. As I re-examined the infuriatingly familiar spread of cards, I clucked my tongue in disappointment. Like always, certain cards occupied their usual spots. I let a small scream escape through my teeth, before turning my gaze to Luc again. "Is there nothing else we can do?"

Luc shook his head in his hand. I looked at him, and my fouled mood dissipated as my heart broke; he just looked so defeated, almost on the verge of tears. I couldn't blame him; I was too. I knew what he was feeling. It had only been a month and I was already going stir crazy; if I had to spend another here, I felt I might go completely mad. But how long would we have to stay in here? Two months? Six months? A year? Forever?

And there were no options left, I reminded myself. Half of his powers wasn't enough to protect us to leave the apartment to go in search of answers. And maybe they weren't enough to be able to see into the future properly. I could see he felt as helpless as I did, which was a lot. We were at a complete standstill.

That murmur arose in my mind again. It whispered of giving up, urging me to just to walk out that door and face the thing, just so I would do something. The same whisper wondered if that would be enough to satiate the Beast, and that if I died willingly, that it would be satisfied and just leave Polly and Luc alone. But the logical part of me knew that the beast wasn't that discerning—it seemed to simply enjoy killing and wouldn't give up once it got someone's scent—but I hoped that its mysterious master would be—if it truly had a master at all.

A cough snapped me out of my internal conversation. I looked up at Luc first, but he wasn't looking at me. He was looking across the room, at Polly. She had been curled up against the wall, swathed in a blanket, her eyes narrowed and peering over the edge of her cocoon. But now she had stood up from her place on the floor, the blanket jumbled at her feet. She just stood there, looking at us, and the look on her face was cautious.