Killer Moon (Psychic For Hire 2)

I have never ever spoken to such a large group of people before. Inside I am shaking. I don’t know if my voice will come out without trembling. I’m surprised that I’m not shaking on the outside too.

“Hi everyone,” I say, a slight tremor in my voice betraying my nerves. DI Zael hears it even if no one else does. He is not even bothering to hide his smirk.

“Thanks for helping us with the search today,” I continue, imagining that I am Storm, who would not quiver. Trying to use the tone of voice that he would use. But then I feel stuck. Because I have no idea what Storm would say next.

And they are waiting for me. Waiting for me to say something important and useful in this grave situation. And I have nothing. Absolutely nothing.

I take a quick glance at Remi. She gives me a small smile and a nod to encourage me to continue. She thinks I have stage fright. She has no idea that it is more than that. The idea of letting her down in front of DI Zael and all of these people makes me want to crawl into a hole.

How I wish the little voice inside my head could speak to me now. Nemesis would know exactly what to do, even without my psychic skills. She would make up some crap and everyone would fall for it. Heck, she had been so smart and sassy. I could sure use some of that about now. I feel like a rabbit, like prey, frozen in headlights. Nemesis is a predator. It would never have even crossed her mind to feel this way.

I straighten my shoulders. If she can do it I can do it. Just thinking of her and standing like her makes an idea pop into my head. A crazy laughable idea that will come to nothing, but she would have pulled it off with such panache no one would have questioned it.

Maybe no one will question me either.

“I want everyone to think,” I say, injecting the confidence into my voice that Nemesis would have. “If you were an animal, what kind of animal would you be? You don’t have to say it out loud. Just think it and hold it in your mind.”

DI Zael’s eyebrows shoot up towards his forehead. He does not look impressed. His officers, all taking their cues from him, do not look impressed either. One of them is shaking his head in disapproval. The civilians look from me and Remi to DI Zael and his officers. Some of them shift from foot to foot, looking uncomfortable.

This is a somber occasion and no doubt they find my question inappropriately incongruous.

“Put your hands up if you have an animal in your head,” I say, determined to go through with this.

Only half of them put their hands up.

“The rest of you aren’t thinking hard enough,” I say firmly, giving them no room for maneuver. “Think of the animal that you would be and when you’ve got it put your hand up.”

One by one more hands go up. This puts pressure on the last few people to participate, and eventually all of the hands are up, including a couple of DI Zael’s officers. DI Zael’s is not. Nor are those of the officers standing nearest to him.

I fix them with a pointed look and wait, tapping my shoe on the ground to show my impatience. Making it clear that he and his people are holding us up. He scowls, and eventually his hand goes up. His people follow suit.

“Now those of you who have a prey animal, something like a rabbit or a sparrow, step over to the left,” I say pointing. “And everyone who has a predator animal step to the right.”

The large group separates itself neatly into two. Not unexpectedly, most of the Agency team and DI Zael and his officers are all in the predator group, as are fewer than half of the civilians.

“Everyone who picked a prey animal can all go home. If Agent Bronwyn is done with you?” I look at her.

Remi nods, and a few of them depart. Most of them stay to watch, their curiosity piqued.

“The rest of you,” I say. “Think of India Lawrenson, and think of what animal she would be.”

I wait. It only takes a few moments until most of them have their hands up and are shuffling impatiently, clearly having picked an animal in their heads.

When all the hands are up I point to the person at the very left side of the group. “Tell me what animal you thought of.”

He shrugs. “Wolf.”

DI Zael sniggers.

I ask the rest of them what animal they thought of. Every single one of them says wolf. Even Remi says wolf, with a slightly chagrined expression on her face. DI Zael mutters something under his breath. Three of his officers laugh.

I try not to glower at him. I make sure to keep the confidence in my voice when I say, “And now think of Rachel Garrett. What animal would she be?”

This time it takes longer for all the hands to go up. DI Zael’s goes up grudgingly, and all the while he watches me with a sneering glare, as if he can’t wait to snarl the words mumbo jumbo at me again.

I make each of the civilian volunteers tell me one by one what animal they thought of. They all say things like rabbit, hamster, puppy, horse. One says goldfish. Only one of them picks a predator animal. He says Fox.

“What’s the point of all this?” says DI Zael, losing his patience.