PsyCop 5: Camp Hell (38 page)

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t perform an additional exorcism,” Jacob offered. “just to be safe.”

I met Jacob’s eye and suppressed a smile. He’d like that. “I’m pretty sure it’s clean.”

“One hundred percent sure?”

I rolled my eyes and gave his knee a squeeze. “Yeah. Sorry.”

I stood, and my knees popped. Jacob followed, and his didn’t. He planted his hands on his hips and squinted toward the edge of the property line. “The aftermath of that fire in LaSalle lasted for decades,” he said. “But there’s nothing left of Camp Hell but an empty lot. Go figure.”

“Doctor Gillmore thinks the admin at LaSalle swept the fire under the carpet. Records from 1949 are nowhere to be found, even though some of the files date back to the Second World War. The Tribune buried the fire on page five with some vague mention that the number of ‘casualties’ was unclear, and some big rah-rah spin about how they were going to remodel. So the best we can figure is that money changed hands somewhere to cover it up.”

I poked some broken glass with the toe of my sneaker, and added, “I imagine Camp Hell’s coverup involved a lot more than just money.”

Jacob gazed longingly at a point between the north and east candle where the exorcism had happened without him. “I don’t think it would hurt anything to go over this spot one more time. I’m sure you’re a lot stronger than whoever else they’ve got on their payroll.”

I laughed, a short, sharp burst that surprised me, surprised both of us.

Jacob smiled tentatively. “What is it?”

I stared at the spot where Warwick’s nephew had warned me never to tell anyone what I could do, and then I slid my hand into Jacob’s and pulled him close. He slipped his other arm around me and held me. I kissed him, and tried to clear my mind of everything but him and me. I looked deep into his eyes, and tried to determine if I was ready to let him in on the one thing I’d been carrying with me since my first round of psychic testing.

He stared back at me like a man who’d fallen for me, hard. And that part inside me, the one that usually tells me to run, or to shut up, or to just play along and make myself invisible and hopefully whatever I’m dealing with will just go away? That part of me said,
Yes. Tell him.

“I’ve got more talent than everyone on their payroll put together,” I said. Jacob squeezed me tighter. His eyes never moved from mine. “I’m so far beyond level five it’s not even funny.”

Jacob held me so hard I was worried he might crack a rib, and he crushed his mouth to mine, filled my mouth with his tongue. I felt his fingers dig into my back, even through my jean jacket and two sweatshirts. His hand roved downward, and he took a good handful of my ass, and squeezed. I pressed my crotch against his thigh and enjoyed being manhandled.

Jacob kissed me until I thought we’d both pass out from lack of air, then he tore his mouth from mine and pressed his wet lips to my ear. “You have no idea what that does to me.”

I was fairly sure I did. But I still liked hearing him say it.

-end-

Beautiful • Mysterious • Bizarre
fiction by Jordan Castillo Price
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