Into the Light
Authors: Sommer Marsden
Eternal Press
www.eternalpress.com.au
Copyright ©2007 by Eternal Press
First published in 2007, 2007
Things That Go Hump In The Night
In case you're wondering what a girl with a name like Martee Hollywood does for a living, I'll fill you in. I'm a psychic medium.
You can stop laughing now.
I was born that way. Just like I was born with a double
e
at the end of my name instead of the standard
y
. It's the hand I was dealt, and I've chosen to play it. A girl's got to make a living (I use the term loosely) and it's best to use your natural talents. My talent happens to involve dead folks.
Let me take a moment to clarify. A medium is always a psychic, but a psychic isn't always a medium. Psychics operate mostly on their highly sensitized intuition and deal with past, present, and future. Most specialize in the future. A medium can have a heart-to-heart with a deceased individual. I'm both. I can tell if you'll marry your new beau and then have a chat with your dead Aunt Ida.
The Seekers: Into the Light © 2007 by Sommer Marsden
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic of mechanical including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locals is entirely coincidental.
Things That Go Hump In the Night 6
Dying For Love 19
My name is Martee Hollywood. My father wanted a boy. When I emerged, kicking, screaming, and pissed off as usual, he went with the name anyway. According to Pop, he compromised by giving me the “more feminine” double
e
at the end of my name.
My mother swears she tried to change his mind. She blames it on the pain medication.
The Hollywood was Holstein, once upon a time. Pop was a talent agent. Holstein just doesn't cut it when you're sweet-talking a club owner into using
Rita and Her Dancing Donkeys!
in their dinner theater. And so the Hollywood moniker was born, and it stuck. I was thirteen before I knew my real surname was Holstein. By then, it was too late. I was who I was. I still am.
In case you're wondering what a girl with a name like Martee Hollywood does for a living, I'll fill you in. I'm a psychic medium.
You can stop laughing now.
I was born that way. Just like I was born with a double
e
at the end of my name instead of the standard
y
. It's the hand I was dealt, and I've chosen to play it. A girl's got to make a living (I use the term loosely) and it's best to use your natural talents. My talent happens to involve dead folks.
Let me take a moment to clarify. A medium is always a psychic, but a psychic isn't always a medium. Psychics operate mostly on their highly sensitized intuition and deal with past, present, and future. Most specialize in the future. A medium can have a heart-to-heart with a deceased individual. I'm both. I can tell if you'll marry your new beau and then have a chat with your dead Aunt Ida.
My “gift” became evident when my first imaginary friend turned out to be the spirit of a little girl who'd lived in my family's house during the fifties. She'd been run down by a Studebaker driven by the middle-school principal. She told me he was drunk as a skunk and dozing off at the time he hit her. From what she says, he never felt the impact. Went on with his life while hers suddenly ended. So much for my “gift."
I spend my time working for the Seekers, a paranormal research team started by my best friend and former lover, Trip Ericson. We get distress calls more than you'd think, and they're not all about thumps in the attic. We run the gamut of the paranormal. Last week a woman called because the full moon is approaching, and she suspects her husband is a werewolf. I say she's off her meds, but hey—you just never know. That much I've learned.
I've actually fallen in love with my work. It gives me something to do. As of this writing, a personal life is just a pipe dream. Who can hump the handsome blind date with a ghost staring over her shoulder? Maybe you can, but, to be honest, it freaks me out.
"The new owner called last night,” Trip said.
We sat in the van and stared at the neglected Victorian monstrosity. The paint was a faded pink with sickening aqua gingerbread trim. Everything about the house looked crooked. The steps slanted to the left, the porch tilted to the right. I was getting vertigo just looking at it.
"Upset?” I asked. I took a sip of bitter, cold coffee and shivered. Even coffee can't stay hot in thirty-degree weather.
"Not really. Unsettled would be a better description."
"Ghosts do that. They unsettle us."
Make no mistake—there were ghosts in this house. More than one. I was too far away to tell how many, what genders, or what their stories were, but I knew they were there. I could feel them even as I sat at the crumbling curb out front. Ghosts tend to stick to their territory. I'd make contact the moment I crossed the threshold.
"Mikey coming?” I asked.
"He should be here any minute. He's bringing Missy and Liz with him."
"The whole gang,” I noted.
"I thought you'd be happy.” He ran a hand through his already disheveled black hair and lit a cigarette.
"I'm thrilled. I'll take all the help I can get."
Mikey is Trip's cousin and constant partner in crime. They are inseparable, and I'm almost certain they share one brain between the two of them. Missy is a romance writer by day, a ghost hunter when she gets the call. She claims it gives her plenty of romantic, tragic material to work with in her novels. She sells quite a few of them, too. Looking at her mousy exterior, it's hard to believe she writes some of the steamiest novels I've read. The group was complete with Liz. Liz is our gal Friday. Hot coffee, cigarettes, new batteries, extension cords—you name it, she fetches it.
I put out a silent prayer to my companion angels to whisper in Liz's ear to bring me hot coffee. It probably wouldn't happen. That falls under the heading of personal gain, and that, in the spiritual world, is a no-no. Getting paid for what I do is pushing the boundaries, but acceptable as long as I'm fair and reasonable with the folks I work with.
My worst payment ever consisted of twenty dollars and a hand-knitted afghan. The woman who gave it to me needed me to release several confused yet harmless spirits in her house. I did the job and hugged her after she paid me. That afghan is damn warm, too.
"Here they come” Trip stubbed out his cigarette and zipped his jacket. “Looks like Lizzie brought fresh brew."
I mouthed a silent ‘Thank you,’ and heard a faint tinkling in my left ear. That's the angels signaling that I'm not alone. I'm hardly ever alone. I'm used to it now.
"Gang's all here!” Mikey hopped from foot to foot on the shattered concrete. “What're we looking at, Trip? Spill it fast, ‘cause I'm freezing my balls off."
Liz gave him a stern look for his language and passed out scalding hot cups of coffee.
"Bless you, Liz. I was dying. I need a caffeine fix.” I took a sip and burned my tongue. After a curse, I took another.
"Let it cool,” Liz scolded. Always the mother hen. She does daycare on the side to supplement her meager Seekers’ income.
"Screw it. I just need the jolt. Doesn't matter if I taste it."
"Listen up, ladies” Trip's breath feathered out in white plumes. “The current owner, Mr. David Richards, says he's heard women laughing. No women currently live with Mr. Richards. On more than one occasion he's also smelled pipe smoke. He's not a smoker. At night, when he sleeps, the furniture is rearranged to resembles the original owner's layout. He found a box of photos in the basement furnace room this week. Needless to say, he's unsettled. Not necessarily scared, but wary."
"That's not too bad,” Mikey said. “No ectoplasm, flying furniture, or otherworldly booby traps this time. We're dealing with an afterlife Martha Stewart."
This earned him a giggle and blush from Missy. Missy wants to get in Mikey's pants so bad it's sick. The sad part is I'm an empath. I pick up on people's emotions. It's such a strong gift that if I'm not careful, I can mistake them for my own.
A surge of excitement blossomed in my belly and a quick zing of arousal shot through my groin. I was picking up on Missy's feelings.
I said a quick prayer and closed my eyes. Imagined myself surrounded by bright white light, and blocked her out. Once I got in the house I'd have to shut the defenses down. For the time being, it would keep me from dry-humping Mikey on Missy's behalf.
"You okay?” Trip asked. His bright blue eyes looked tired and glassy. The fatigue didn't stop them from being gorgeous.
Picture perfect recollection flooded my brain. I saw in perfect detail our last steamy night together. Those blue eyes looking so serious as he thrust into me. For a moment, I felt his mouth on my nipple, his hands holding my hips firmly. The grand finale had taken place on the sturdy butcher block in my kitchen. I felt a flare of arousal all my own and pushed it away. Bright lights wouldn't fix this one. I owned these feelings.
"I'm fine. Just cold, tired, and ready to get moving."
He nodded. “Good. Let's go then. Everybody have what they need?"
The great part about being the psychic in the mix is that I don't have to lug equipment. I
am
the equipment.
Mikey gathered several duffel bags while Missy grabbed what looked like an oversized briefcase. Liz followed suit and wheeled two suitcases up the crooked front walk.
Trip settled his arm around my shoulder and gave me a squeeze. “You sure you're okay, darlin'?"
I allowed myself to relax against him for a moment, breathing deeply to steal a whiff of his own personal scent. I forced myself to back off and gave him a smile.
"I'm fine. Really. I think I just need some R-and-R."
"You were thinking about us, weren't you?” Trip always cuts to the chase. He's a no bullshit kind of guy. It's one of his most redeeming qualities.
"Nope.” I didn't even convince myself.
"You broke up with me, Martee. I'm always here if you change your mind."