Page 2 of They Call Me Wicked

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“Wicked! It’s about time you showed up. Get your ass over here!”

“Woah, Chief, calm down! It’s not like the body is going to get any colder!” I grin in the direction of his voice, feeling for his aura so I can make my way over to him.

“I don’t need your sass today, Wicked. Just get over here and do your job!” He snipes at me, but I brush off his shitty attitude. The chief of police, Alan Richards, is a bastard most of the time, but he’s got a heart of gold, even if he does try to hide it from me. Someone should tell him how pointless the endeavor is. No one can hide anything from me.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming. No need to get your panties in a bunch, Sugar-Snap.” I let out a low whistle and the answering squeaks from my trusty partners in petty crime make me smile. I bend low, reaching my hand out and my palm meets a coarse, almost stinging patch of hair. I lace my hand in to meet the dense and fluffy undercoat and channel my connection with him. I don’t actually need the physical connection to follow him--we’re close enough spiritually--but I won’t ever say no to a good head scratch for my two favorite beings in the world.

“Good boy, Gizmo.”

He lets out an answering squeak, his body shifting beneath my hand with the effort of his response as his warm, wet nose nudges against my forearm. I whistle again--though this time with a lower tone--and Gizmo takes off, his aura guiding my way as he sends vibrations to alert me of the objects on the ground that I need to avoid.

Truly, I have no idea how it all works, but the closer I get to them emotionally, the easier it is to intuitively know where things are when they pass those objects. As long as I follow their direct path, I can basically get echoes of where they walk, and know how not to fall on my ass or smash my face into something. Weird, but handy.

I follow Gizmo as he makes his way to the chief, smiling widely when his echo suddenly arcs up over Alan’s form as he climbs his way up to his shoulders.

“Is this really necessary, Wicked?” Alan huffs out, but he doesn’t try to remove Gizmo. He actually stands precariously still–pulsing with reservations on moving–as if he’s afraid to dislodge my beloved trash panda.

He should be. I would murder anyone who even accidentally hurts them.

“Don’t question my methods, Snookums. It’s insulting.” I whistle again and smile to myself when Snitch climbs up my pant leg, his claws digging into my skin as he settles himself on my shoulder.

Gizmo and Snitch are the best thing to ever happen to me. I raised and trained them from the time they were babies to be my partners in all things, and two years later, they are my everything. Hell, they’re even registered as actual seeing-eye raccoons. They have cute vests and everything! Not that they ever let me put them on.

“So, what do we have here?”

“Female, probably about forty. Well-dressed and looking like she’s on the wrong side of the tracks.” I tune into Alan’s vibrations as he speaks, getting pulses of the crime scene as he mentally focuses on the details.

Broken glass covers the ground with splatters of blood among the wreckage. No obvious weapons in sight, but that means nothing. I follow the glass along the ground to its source, a broken window to a shitty restaurant that doesn’t get much traffic as it is, but will probably end up going out of business now that a murder has occurred right out front.

What a shame.

A female with blonde hair, that was once pinned in a regal, neat bun, is now in disarray and covered in blood. She’s lying on the ground in an obviousunalivesort of way with one Louis Vuitton heel broken and hanging off her foot. Her very expensive, knee length wool trench coat, that was once a soft cream, is now dirty and bloodied, soaked in whatever leftover rain and human mess that was on the pavement.

When the slightly blurry and chaotic mental images stop coming, I whistle. Snitch answers me by scrambling to the ground and moving carefully to avoid contaminating the scene in any way. As I get closer to the body, the air seems to get heavier with the remnants of anger, sadness, and jealousy. Crouching low, I focus on the vibrations of the area and use Snitch as a beacon to find the woman’s lifeless form. Ignoring the sounds of police and civilians alike, I press my hand to her cold corpse and my perspective shifts.

I’m gazing down at the manicured nails of the victim as she avoids looking at whoever is in front of her. She’s speaking to them, but the words aren’t clear. Her fingers fidget with the ring on her left hand as she turns to peer into the restaurant, her gaze focusing on a man sitting alone with his back to the window.

“What about our marriage? What about our kids?” A voice surfaces, sounding distorted and angry, like it’s coming from the end of a long tunnel. It pauses a moment before continuing, “Do you love him?” The view blurs as her eyes fill with tears, but her silence speaks a thousand words. “You selfish fucking whore!”

Then everything goes black.

I wince as the vision ends, pushing my consciousness forcefully back into my own mind.

Fucking ouch!

That happened quickly. Usually I cut the vision off before I have to die with the victim. If I don’t, then I’m left with a headache and a shitty mood for days.

“Anything?” The chief’s voice pulls me back to the present as I stand, rubbing the hand that touched the corpse on my jeans as I focus past the pounding in my skull.

“Yeah. The woman was meeting a lover, cheating on her husband. The husband found out and followed her here, only to confront her outside of the restaurant. She gave away that she loved the...mistress? Mister-ess? Whatever. After that, he lost it. Autopsy will reveal blunt force trauma to the head, but I couldn’t see the murder weapon. But yeah...it was the husband. It’salwaysthe husband. Where exactly is he anyways, Chief?”

“We haven’t gotten ahold of him yet.” He sighs heavily as he steps up next to me, his aura battering me with his exhaustion and pain.

“Right. Well, I’m sure it’ll be entertaining as fuck to watch him pretend to be devastated by the ‘news’. Can I be there,pwetty pwease?” I stick out my bottom lip as I turn my face in his direction, plastering on my best begging pout.

“Hell no, Wicked. You should know better by now. No being the face of the department when you have no people skills!”

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