Psychic for Hire by Molly Fitz

Author:Molly Fitz [Fitz, Molly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Partridge & Pear Press

17

The fog of pink magic dispersed mere seconds later, and despite its brief presence, I felt almost naked without it.

The first thing that struck me, of course, was a gnawing absence followed by the intense cold. The temperature must have dropped at least thirty degrees. The smell of fish and rotting trash had also vanished, leaving behind the crisp, cool taste of clean sky.

I sucked in the fresh air and glanced around at the unfamiliar scenery, trying to make sense of what I saw. We appeared to be in some kind of park with wide open expanses of green and a cluster of brightly colored ramps, tunnels, and runways off to one side.

A border collie tore through the obstacle course, then jumped into his owner’s arms with a long leap. Along the far fence line, a pair of smaller dogs walked circles around each other, both wagging tails and sniffing butts.

Fluffikins staggered forward a few steps, then looked back over his shoulder at me. “Where are we?”

“What? Why are you asking me? You’re the one who brought us here,” I reminded him.

“It was the world magic, and you know that,” he hissed. Apparently, he’d become so wrapped up in the division between magicks and normies that he’d forgotten about the equally perilous divide between cats and dogs.

I lifted a finger to my lips to warn him that he should keep quiet, then whispered, “Yeah, well, I don’t see Melony or any of the others, anywhere. I thought it was supposed to deliver us to her location.”

“There must be some kind of magical wall keeping us from going any further.”

“So now what? Do we go back to Beech Grove?”

He growled and flicked his tail. “What’s with you and wanting to give up and go home non-stop?”

“You don’t even need me,” I ground out, still very much hurt by his previous revelation. “Why should I possibly risk my life when I add nothing?”

The black cat’s eyes bore into me and his whiskers twitched as if he was in deep contemplation.

“What aren’t you telling me?” I asked, reaching toward him with outstretched fingers. He’d let me pet him once as a way of showing me a vision from the past. If he wouldn’t tell me why he’d involved me in this, then maybe he’d be willing to show me. Or maybe I could sneak a quick jump into his memories and find out for myself.

He leaped back, fur twitching spasmodically. “Do not touch me without first receiving an invitation,” he growled.

Across the field, a beagle’s ears perked up. He became rigid and pointed toward us, then took off in a run.

I was just about to grab Fluffikins for safe keeping when he spun a quick circle near my feet. The dog yipped and ran to its owner.

I shook my head to rid it of the distraction and carried on with the earlier topic. “You’re keeping something from me. How can I be safe if I don’t know—?”

“I’m not telling you in order to

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