Out of Body by Christopher John Chater

Author:Christopher John Chater [Chater, Christopher John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Astral Projection, OBE, NDE, out-of-body experience, astral plane, Supernatural, supernatural thriller, Horror, occult thriller, Occult, demons, devil, spirits, afterlife
Publisher: Chater Publishing
Published: 2015-08-15T04:00:00+00:00

Darren started the car and drove away.

He was lucky I was in the astral plane, because if I’d been physical I would’ve kicked his ass.

“Dude, why aren’t you saying anything?” I asked him. “Go tell someone Cindi came to see you. Tell her she was asking about the party at the mansion. Come on, man. What’s up with you?”

I knew what was up with him. He was driving a Bentley to his corner office where he was the CEO of a major corporation. That’s why he wasn’t saying anything. He was getting everything he always wanted. Hell if he was going to jeopardize his newly found wealth over a little guilt.

Was this the guy I’d been calling my best friend for the last three years? How had I been so blind?

“You’re their bitch,” I told him. “Nothing’s changed from your intern days, Darren. The only thing that’s different is the job title.”

Darren drove along Massachusetts Avenue, heading into DuPont Circle. He parked on the street in front of a psychic’s shop. A neon sign in the shape of a hand with the words “palmistry” on it hung in the window. Much to my surprise, Darren went inside.

The shop had a high-end boutique feel to it. Sleek bookcases were lined with paperbacks, a display tree featured expensive mystical jewelry, and a glass case contained rows of plants and herbs in decorative jars. A woman sitting behind a desk looked more like a hotel concierge than a psychic. She wore thick, black-rimmed glasses and a starchy skirt suit. Her dark hair was pulled back tight enough to make it shine and then it was coiled and wrapped up in a bun. Maybe about thirty-five, she had chiseled, masculine features that made her attractive in an “ice queen” sort of way. The business cards on her desk said her name was Pythia Arlington. Seemed like a fake name. The whole thing looked like a sham to me.

“Hey Darren,” Pythia said, studying him. “Long time no see. Your aura looks like shit. You been watching porn all night again?”

“I need some answers,” Darren said impatiently. He sat down across from her and plopped his hand on the desk, palm side up. It was like he had done this a hundred times.

“Let me take a look,” she said, caressing the lines on his palm.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” I said. Darren had always been adamantly against all things paranormal. The bastard said my mom’s new age necklace looked “silly.” How could he have been visiting a psychic all this time and not have told me?

“You stock market guys—always so frazzled. No matter what reading I give you, you still worry,” Pythia said.

“This isn’t about the market,” Darren said.

“Yes, I see,” she said, studying his palm. “You got some heavy-duty negative forces around you, my friend.”

He screeched, “Shit! Get ’em off me!”

“Someone is following you,” she said, as if a movie was playing on his palm that only she could see.

“Following me? The feds? Am

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