The Witch and the Englishman Read Free Page A

were costume shops and gaming shops and tobacco shops and coffee shops and Irish bars and gay bars and Greek cafés.
    When I passed the fourth Starbucks, I finally took notice and pulled into the drive-thru. I ordered a decaf latte with half and half only, secretly longing for a mocha, but knowing I was going to need all the psychic help I could get in a manner of minutes. So, no caffeine, dammit.
    Now sipping contently, I headed back out into the heavy traffic and put my mind on what I had seen during my initial scan of Billy Turner. Yes, I knew his last name, too. I could have told him that, but I didn’t want to freak him out too much. Besides, I was already freaked enough for the two of us.
    After all, I had seen, quite literally, his death.
    If what I had seen was correct—and thanks to Millicent, I had little doubt that it was correct—it was going to happen soon.
    In a matter of days, in fact.
    I considered calling Samantha Moon, but I knew she would be with her kids, probably making them a dinner she couldn’t eat. I also considered calling my other good friend, Bernice, a psychic of a very different type—that is, the not-so-very-talented-type—but she was working the evening shift at The Psychic Hotline. Yes, not all psychics at the Hotline were cut from the same cloth. My experience was that many were shams, although some had a hint of real ability, like my friend, Bernice.
    For now, though, I figured I needed more information. That meant I needed to talk to Billy directly, and in person. There was still a small chance that I had not read Billy correctly, which I doubted. I had to quell that doubt, which was another reason why I had agreed to meet him face-to-face. The fact that he was also cute had almost nothing to do with it.
    Almost.
    I glanced at the address I had written down. Unbeknownst to Billy Turner, I had remained psychically connected to him after the phone call had been disconnected. Once I made a connection with someone, I could stay connected with them as long as I wanted. In this case, I passed in and around his house, noting the house number and street address. Yes, I’m kind of like a superhero.
    Perhaps most disconcerting was the darkness I’d felt in the house, the darkness that Millicent had alluded to. And it was a real darkness, too. Bad things had happened there at one time in the house’s past, of that much I was sure. What those bad things were, remained to be seen.
    Soon, I turned onto his street, which was lined with big homes and big trees and wide patches of bright green lawns.
    A wonderful place to live, I thought. Or die.
     
     
    Chapter Four
     
    Billy immediately answered the door, looking a bit embarrassed and surprised to see me.
    “I’m Allison.”
    “ I can’t believe you’re really here,” he said.
    “ I could pinch you,” I said, “if that would help.”
    “ Maybe later—wait, sorry, that sounded creepy. It’s just that...”
    “ What?” I asked, as I stepped into the big home.
    “ Well, I hadn’t expected you to be so, well, lovely.”
    “ Hearing you say that in your cute English accent makes me almost believe it.”
    He smiled at that, and as he did so, I saw again what I had seen earlier: the black aura that surrounded him. I could see auras around most people. In fact, I could see them around just about everyone. Auras were an interesting thing, and I was only just beginning to learn about them. From what I now gathered, thanks to my many conversations with Samantha and Millicent, auras were an extension of our spiritual bodies. Most were interlaced with color. The colors often indicated someone’s mood or intention. I was learning to understand what the colors meant.
    There was, of course, no mistaking the meaning of the color black. Samantha had told me the story of her son, Anthony. She had seen the black aura around her son—and had known he would die unless she did something about it. Well, she had done something—something big—and it