My phone buzzed in my hand. I stepped back from the small crowd that had formed around the order-pickup counter and tapped at its screen. I was expecting a message from my new boss... but the message wasn't from him.

It was from Polly.

I tapped again, bringing up her message.

Polly had sent me a picture, a rare selfie of herself with white-flecked hair like she had just stepped out of a snowstorm. But it wasn't snow—it was paint. Behind her, on full display, was the progress she had made on her embattled dining room. She had stripped off all the old ornate wallpaper—and with it, all of the charmed gold writing—and was now busy priming the walls a pure white.

I'm thinking of painting the walls yellow, she wrote alongside the picture. Or blue. Or maybe green? Something... fresh. Bright.

Bright sounds like a great idea, I typed back. Have you decided what you're going to do with the house, then?

No, not yet, Polly replied quickly, the message arriving with another buzz. Though I spoke with that realtor and she said there was plenty of interest. But I'm still not sure...

Now that she finally had closure over her past and what happened to Lillian, she had to decide on her future. One of those decisions was whether or not she'd sell her family home. It was full of memories, both good and bad...

My fingers hesitated over the screen as I tried to think of a reply. It was hard for me to give her advice. I couldn't tell her what to do with the house. I had the opposite problem. My memories weren't enough to tie me to any one location. In fact, I was still crashing in Ethan's chilly basement while I searched for yet another apartment.

"Order for Rachel?" called the barista at the pick-up counter.

My head snapped up. I dropped my phone into my pocket, intending to reply to Polly when I had a better idea of what to say.

"That's me!" I said as I stepped up to collect the tray laden with drinks and the small box of pastries. I surveyed the order. "One large black, two ice coffees, a tea and half a dozen of the chocolate croissants?" I said, double-checking everything. My new boss was particular and I was still eager to prove myself to him.

"That's right," the barista said. "And if—oh. It's you."

I looked up from inspecting the drinks. It took me a moment, but I realized I recognized her. The barista's hair was now a seafoam green instead of purple, but the silver piercings set into her dark skin were unmistakable. It was the same girl I had met during my ill-fated job application in this very coffee shop.

I gave her an awkward smile. It had been months since that bomb of an interview— when I had passed out after seeing a ghost—and I had only just worked up the courage to come back, hoping that embarrassing moment had been finally forgotten.

Apparently not.

The barista's cheeks darkened and she blinked, like she realized she shouldn't have said anything."Ah, well, y-you... Glad to see that you're doing well. Better."

I kept my smile up even though a large part of me wanted to just turn and run, coffee order be damned. Instead, I quickly stacked the drink tray on top of the box of pastries and bundled the whole thing into my arms, resting my chin on top of one of the cups to hold it in place. "Yes, much better," I assured her before I gave her one last polite nod and headed for the door.

On the street, I surveyed the road for traffic. Though the coffee shop was bustling, there weren't many cars out. I did one last look before I stepped into the road and crossed over. My phone buzzed again, this time more insistently. A call. I balanced the pastries in drink precariously in one hand while I dug it out of my pocket. This time, it was my boss.

I went to answer—

"Oh!"

Someone appeared from nowhere and crashed into me. I watched, horrified, as the drinks toppled out of my arms in slow motion, heading for the sidewalk.

But two quick hands caught them and righted everything before the drinks could spill anything.

The stranger offered the drinks back, helping me right the order in my arms. I blinked up at them as they towered over me but the bright midday sun blocked their face from view.

"I'm so sorry—" I began.

"No, it was my fault," they replied. "I wasn't paying attention to where I was going."

That voice... It sent chills across my skin, despite the warmth of the late-summer day. I know that voice.

The person stepped in to block the sun in my eyes and I could finally see his face.

"Luc!" I cried, almost dropping my coffee order again. I had to stumble back and press my armload to my chest to stop it all from falling.

It had been almost three months since I had last seen him. To my shock, in that time, he had shorn off almost all of his long black hair. It was now close-cropped and shaved at his neck. The only length that remained was hanging across his eyes.

He smiled down at me, but his smile didn't quite touch those emerald eyes. "Rachel," he said, his voice forming around my name in a way that was both all-too-familiar and strange. "Sorry, I... I wasn't expecting to see you."

"Why?" I said, averting my gaze. "I still work in the area."

"I know. Tory had mentioned that," he said shaking his head. "I just thought you were out, at least for the moment."

It finally dawned on me, then.

Had he asked Tory when I would be out, so he could avoid running into me?

The thought drove a sharp spike between my ribs. It took all I had to prevent my lip from trembling. My right arm tightened and the gold band that circled it flexed like it was straining.

"I was," I said, nodding down to the order that was still balanced precariously in my arms. I shifted it, trying to stabilize it. "Why are you here?"

He gave another tight smile. "Just a quick errand. Dropping off papers to Sorensen."

"Ah. Right," I said. Sorensen, my new boss. Luc had sublet the storefront to him and now I worked for him like I was included in the deal. Luc had decided to take some time-off after... everything, and that included his work. No work, no need for a storefront.

The order slipped in my arms again. I gasped and struggled, trying to hold onto everything, including my phone.

Luc reached out and held the order in place. "Here, let me help. I'll hold it until you can put everything away."

"T-Thanks," I said, forcing my own smile. I let him hold it for a moment so I could slip my phone back into my pocket. I had long missed that call from Mr. Sorensen. The drinks were getting both cold and warm. I needed to go...

But Luc...

During these months, even though I had been focused on cleaning up my own messes, I still thought of him. Often. More often than I'd admit to Ethan, or Polly, or even to myself. Wondering where he was, how he was doing...

And now he was right here in front of me.

"H-How have you been?" I asked, my voice shaking, as I took back the drinks and box of muffins. Our fingers brushed in the exchange and it sent a shiver through me. I wonder if he felt it, too.

"Well enough," he said with a polite nod. "Working on... stuff. On myself, mostly." The last part came out as a rush, almost a confession.

"I'm glad to hear that," I said, my voice evening out. "You deserve some time for yourself. You've spent so long worrying about everything else, everyone else..."

"...that I've forgotten to take care of myself," Luc finished for me.

I smirked. Damn psychics. "Exactly."

We just looked at each other for a moment. A moment that seemed to stretch on and on. A moment I didn't want to end...

"Rachel," he said, breaking our silence. "I've... missed you."

A rush of heat spread across my face that had nothing to do with the bright sun. My mouth opened and closed, unable to force words out.

A blush of his own coloured his cheeks as he continued. "Sorry. I have no right to say that to you. But I'm trying this new thing where I'm being honest with people I care about and I... I wanted you to know. That I do. Care about you, still, I mean."

I fought the urge to throw the drinks to the ground and crush myself to him. "I... miss you, too," I whispered. "But, I..."

I didn't have to finish. He closed his eyes and nodded. He understood. "I know. There's still a lot of unresolved... stuff between us. Even so, if that's okay, I'd still like to, maybe, have coffee with you. Catch up. Or something."

I nodded back. "Or something," I agreed.

"Great," he said. His green eyes sparkled in the sunlight, his smile finally touching them. "I'll let you go, now, before all the ice in your drinks melts."

I looked down at the bundle in my arms. I could've happily stood there all day with him, but he was right. The ice in the coffee was dissolving fast. Dammit. "Right. I'll, uh, see you, then, I guess?"

He nodded. "I'll see you." And then he turned and continued down the street.

I wanted to watch him leave, but I had to force myself to turn away. God, I thought I was done with this. But just seeing him again reminded me that I was very much not-over him.

Was agreeing to a coffee or something a bad idea?

I wasn't sure.

Maybe I never would be.

After all, I was no psychic.

I hurried down the street, in the opposite direction, back to the shop.

The shop had been much changed. The window was no longer draped with thick velvet curtains I had picked up at the thrift store, but hung across were simple beige blinds, already slotted closed to keep the bright sun out. The painted hand that stretched across the glass was no more, replaced with two lines of simple text:

EARL SORENSEN

PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR

I tried to use my elbow to turn the handle, but the door opened before I had a chance. I stumbled but caught myself before the drinks slipped free again.

"Sorry!" I cried out, turning to who had let me in. "I know I missed your call, but I didn't really have any free hands." It was half-true and I hoped it would be enough for Mr. Sorensen to forgive me. Thankfully, he was no psychic either.

But it wasn't Mr. Sorensen who greeted me—it was Ethan. He had his finger pressed to his lips and his silver eyes peered out from beneath his platinum bangs. "Shh," he hissed. "Dad is with a client."

"Oh, shit," I whispered back. "Sorry!"

He quickly grabbed the pastries and coffee out of my hands, dumping them unceremoniously on my receptionist desk. "That was me on the phone, by the way," he whispered back. "I was trying to warn you—"

"Warn me?" I echoed back in a whisper. My brow furrowed.

"Rachel, is that you?" came a booming voice.

I shrank back.

Sorensen poked his head out of his office. His 'office' was just a few tall wooden dividers that separated the small front room for a bit of privacy, but at an intimidating six-foot-five, he easily towered over them.

With platinum hair and cutting silver eyes, Mr. Sorensen looked a lot like his son, only twice his size in both height and width. His white-blonde hair was cut short, emphasizing the slight receding of his hairline, and he had a matching white mustache that cut across his top lip. He looked a little like a scary, buff Santa.

"Ah, there you are," he said, looking down at me.

"Yes, Mr. Sorensen?" I asked.

"I need your help," he said in his deep voice—another thing he shared with his son. "I need you to take some notes for me."

"O-Of course," I said. I eyed Ethan, trying to silently communicate with him. What were you trying to warn me about? I spelled the words out in my head, so Ethan could see them.

Ethan just looked resigned and shook his head. "Too late," he whispered and turned to take a seat in my chair behind the receptionist's desk.

That didn't comfort me, but I was sure that if it was something dangerous, Ethan would've dragged me out of here. So I did as his dad—Mr. Sorensen—asked, and followed him between the dividers.

As the shop was small, Sorensen's 'office' was pretty cramped. It barely had enough room for a desk—covered with papers and folders—and a few chairs for his clients to sit in. In those chairs were an older couple, a man and a woman, squeezed tight together. They both turned as I entered the space.

Then the woman leapt up from her chair.

"Rachel!" she cried and then ran at me.

I froze.

The woman pulled me into her arms and held onto me tight. Shock muddled my mind and it took me a moment to realize that I knew her.

So, this is what Ethan had tried to warn me about.

"Oh, Rachel, it's so good to see you!" she said as she finally freed me from her grip. She had tears running down her cheeks, but something told me those tears were not for me.

"Mrs. Murphy, w-what are you doing here?" I sputtered, still half-dumb with shock. I

Mrs. Murphy was the mother of Rick—my cheating ex. I had known her since I was a freshman in high school when she had taken me in when my own mother had thrown me out. We had been close, but I hadn't seen her or even spoken to her since my ugly breakup with Rick.

"It's Rick," Mr. Murphy said, now standing up, too. His expression was similarly grim. "He's gone missing."

"W-What?" I stammered. "I... I had no idea. Missing? For how long?"

Mr. Murphy nodded. "Over a month, now. The police are having a hard time finding any clue of where he's gone, but someone recommended Detective Sorensen. Said he has good luck with particularly hopeless cases."

I glanced at Mr. Sorensen, who had sat back down behind his desk. I wondered if anyone knew that Mr. Sorensen's success was because of his roster of psychic contacts, including his own son.

"He is one of the best," I agreed.

Mr. Sorensen gave a strange smile. "I'm sure Rachel will be happy to catch up with you after we're through here, but we should continue. Time is of the essence."

"Of course," Mr. Murphy said, leading his wife back to their seats. She gave my hand a squeeze before she sat down again.

I gave her a heartening smile before I took my own seat on a stool in the corner behind Mr. Sorensen. He offered me a yellow pad of paper clipped to a board, and a pen for my notes. The first page was already half-filled with his scrawled notes. I folded the page over to reveal a fresh sheet, then balanced it on my knee. I poised the pen and waited for them to begin again.

"Now," Mr. Sorensen started, folding his hands across the top of his desk. "You say your son was last seen on the evening of the twelfth?"

I scribbled furiously, jotting down everything he said, or at least the most important parts.

"Yes, he was last seen, on security camera, leaving his apartment two streets over. That new condo development."

I scribbled that down, too, but my scarred arm began to twinge. Despite the golden band wrapped around my wrist, given to me by the Gathered, the scar still acted up from time to time. I paused to shake it out and glanced up. Mrs. Murphy was dabbing at her eyes with a kleenex, while Mr. Murphy was handing his phone over to Mr. Sorensen, a bit of grainy security footage already up on his screen.

On the screen, Rick walked out of the sleek glass doors of his condo building. He paused for a moment to glance at his phone, before walking off-screen. The footage played on a repeat, Rick leaving his building again and again.

Mr. Sorensen began to ask questions about the footage but their intermingling voices were drowned out as a hum began to buzz in my ears. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to clear it. It rose sharply, almost deafening, before fading out and becoming a low murmur.

I opened my eyes, blinking quickly... and noticed that their son was now right there, standing just behind them.

His form had been sapped of colour like he was covered in grey dust. Dark circles hung under his eyes, eyes that were staring out at me. I wanted to scream and point at him, but the way my scar twinged again told me that his parents wouldn't be able to see him if I did.

"Rachel," he whispered, his hoarse voice managing to carry over his parents' continued conversation. "I need your help."

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So that's it for THE PSYCHIC CURSE series! While we may have resolved the story of Luc's generational curse, this may not be the end of Rachel's journey into the world of psychics and magic. If there's interest, I may continue the series as a sort of paranormal mystery series. 

As for Luc? Well, let's just say he has some of his own shit to sort out, but he may pop up again in Rachel's future... Only a psychic could know for certain.

🔮

If you are interested in reading more about Rachel, Polly, Tory and Ethan (and the rest of the gang!) follow me at YvetteRussell for updates. I'm going to take a break from this world to explore some other stories, but if there's enough interest, I'll start writing the new series sooner rather than later. For now, though, check out my other books, also on Wattpad!