Page 13 of No Surrender
Despite the food and candy, Simon felt the drain from the morning séance. He checked the time, realized that he could sneak in a twenty-minute nap, and set the alarm on his phone. The couch in his office wasn’t large enough for his whole frame, but he arranged pillows and artfully slumped to fit.
Dreams of a pleasant walk on the beach with Vic gave way to a vision with the suddenness of a summer storm.He saw a young woman dressed in a 1980s-style fast food uniform with a name tag that readLisa. She looked familiar, and he realized she was the skittish ghost he had seen at a distance—only here she was alive and well. Simon tensed as he saw her get off the bus, show up for her shift at Leo’s Ice Cream Shoppe, clock in, and joke with co-workers.
From the light outside the store’s windows, Simon knew time passed. When her shift ended, the dark-haired woman rode the bus back to the stop. Someone grabbed her from behind, but Simon couldn’t see the attacker. Then everything went dark.
Simon fought his way awake, punching the air and struggling against phantom restraints. Pillows flew, and he nearly fell off the couch before he came back to himself.
“Boss? You okay?” Pete stood in the doorway, looking concerned.
Simon nodded, not quite ready to trust his voice.
“Bad dream? Vision?”
Simon held up a finger to ask for time and cleared his throat. “Yeah—still don’t know who she is, but I saw our timid ghost right before she died.”
“Did you learn anything?”
“She liked ice cream. Her name was Lisa.” Simon took a deep breath. “Someone grabbed her when she got off the bus. I couldn’t see who, and that’s when the vision stopped.”
“That’s more than you had before.” Pete had a knack for looking on the bright side that balanced Simon’s caution.
The phone alarm interrupted them, reminding Simon of his appointments. “Guess it’s got to wait until later. Better go make money to pay the rent.”
Fortunately, the psychic readings had nothing to do with the Slitter or the long-ago disappearances. His clients wanted guidance to find lost objects and make decisions, hoping that his abilities could give them the information they needed. Simon knew that his insights weren’t guaranteed, but they provided assurance and helped his clients make more informed choices. Their gratitude let him know how much that mattered.
“Go home,” Pete told him when the last client left. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look as wilted as last week’s lettuce.”
“That bad, huh?” Simon didn’t doubt the accuracy of the metaphor since it described exactly how he felt.
“I can close,” Pete volunteered, but Simon shook his head.
“Let’s close together in case the reporters come back.” Simon and Pete made quick work of it, and to Simon’s relief, none of the journalists were in sight.
He had texted back and forth with Vic throughout the day. Although Vic and Ross seemed safe, Simon had the feeling something bad had happened that Vic couldn’t share in a message.Sometimes it’s hard to tell foresight and anxiety apart.
That wasn’t exactly true.Anxiety is seeing what could go wrong with every scenario. Foresight is knowing which path is most likely to happen.Remembering that difference proved hard in the moment, especially when Vic’s safety depended on it.
Simon insisted on accompanying Pete to his car, much to the other man’s chagrin. “No one wants to talk to me,” Pete protested. “I don’t know anything.”
“Lucky you.”
Simon waved as Pete pulled away and then hurried to his car. In good weather on quiet days, the distance between the shop and the blue bungalow made a pleasant walk. That gave Simon time to let go of the day’s hassles before he got home to Vic. With reporters on the loose, Simon had opted to drive.
Still feeling jangly, Simon took the long way home since he knew Vic wouldn’t be back yet. Eluding the reporters had been a win, but he couldn’t expect his ruse to work for long. Maybe the start of the trial would pull most—if not all—of the journalists off to the courthouse to ambush lawyers and jurors.
He drove by their house to confirm that no one was camped out nearby. Wardings and spelled protections kept those with evil intent outside the fence, but that didn’t stop someone from loitering down the block.
The visions and ghostly appearances gnawed at Simon, leaving him feeling like he was putting a jigsaw puzzle together with pieces missing. Visions were almost never frivolous. The question was whether the psychic understood the meaning of the message.Something about what I saw was important. But what?
He still beat Vic home. Simon changed into a slouchy T-shirt and sweatpants, then made a cup of coffee as his thoughts swirled. The idea of “caves” bugged him, making him certain he was missing something that would be obvious in retrospect.
Without pausing to give himself too much time to think, Simon pulled out his phone and started down his contact list. Since coming to Myrtle Beach, Simon had built what he jokingly referred to as his “Skeleton Crew”—people with untrained and somewhat minor paranormal abilities. Without a mentor and surrounded by people skeptical of anything supernatural, naturally talented people often struggled with doubts, prejudice, condemnation, and incorrect diagnoses of mental illness. Often they became runaways and ended up in transient places like Myrtle Beach, where no one looked too closely at where they’d been.
Simon had made it a mission to find them and make sure they had what they needed to survive, including guidance in using their gifts and help avoiding the most common missteps that put novice practitioners in danger. His mentoring was casual and ongoing, acting like a big brother more than a teacher, although his university experience served him well.
Most of all, he wanted to protect those whose gifts had, until now, caused them nothing but pain, rejection, and fear. And to keep them away from those who wanted to take advantage of their abilities.
Simon’s Skeleton Crew was spread across town, a fluid group, transient because they didn’t fit in wherever they went. He hoped that while they stayed, he could offer training, affirmation, and a community, anything that would help them stay alive and have a chance to grow into their abilities.
