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"Then why did he try to strangle you?" Sheila pressed, trying to understand what had led to this violent encounter.
Sage hesitated, her grip tightening on the ice pack. "He...he came to me for a reading, to know his future." She swallowed hard, glancing up at Sheila for a brief moment. "He didn't like what I saw."
Intrigued, Sheila leaned in slightly. "What did you see?"
Sage's voice trembled as she recounted Derek's future. "I saw a downward spiral of misery and self-destruction. His life would become an endless cycle of pain, betrayal, and loss. Ultimately, he'd meet a violent end at the hands of someone he trusted."
Sheila frowned, mulling over the implications of such a dark prediction. It was understandable, if inexcusable, that Derek had reacted with rage, but it still didn't explain why Sage had tried to flee. She needed to dig deeper to uncover the truth hidden beneath the surface of this strange and unsettling encounter.
Finn raised an eyebrow, his gaze moving from Sage to Sheila and back again. "Is it true that you often predict doom and gloom for your clients?" he asked.
Sage looked wounded. "I...I just tell the truth."
"Really?" Finn asked. "Because your website seems to highlight only negative predictions you've given your clients. It's almost like you've got a...I don't know...a thing for death."
Sheila studied Sage carefully as she processed the question. The psychic's fingers nervously twisted the edge of the ice pack, her breaths shallow and guarded.
"Death..." Sage whispered, looking down at her lap. "It's a part of life. We can't escape it. But it holds so many secrets, so much power." She paused, swallowing hard. "I'm fascinated by its mysteries, by what we can learn from it."
Sheila shivered, remembering the two tarot cards left at the crime scenes. She couldn't help but wonder if there was more to this woman than met the eye. Was her interest in death purely academic, or was it something darker, more sinister?
As Sage spoke, Sheila noticed the way her eyes seemed to glaze over, as though she were lost in her own macabre thoughts. The room felt colder, the atmosphere heavy with the weight of unspoken fears and suspicions.
"Predicting death is just a small part of what I do," Sage continued quietly, her voice gaining strength. "But it's something that gets people's attention. They want to know if they can avoid it, change their fate. It's not my fault that they're drawn to it."
"Or that they end up dead," Finn muttered under his breath, his jaw clenched in frustration.
Sheila shot him a warning glance, urging him to keep his cool. They needed answers, not accusations. Turning her attention back to Sage, she tried to put her own unease aside and focus on the task at hand.
"Tell me more about your fascination with death," Sheila said, her eyes never leaving Sage's face. "What is it that draws you to it?"
"Death is...transformation," Sage murmured, a faraway look in her eyes. "It's the ultimate unknown, the final frontier. When we die, we leave behind everything we've ever known, ever loved... And what waits for us on the other side? It's a mystery that has haunted humanity since the dawn of time."
Sheila watched as Sage's features shifted from melancholy to something akin to wonder. The contrast between her dark words and the almost reverent expression on her face sent a chill down Sheila's spine.
"Maybe it's because I walk the line between life and death every day," Sage mused, her voice barely more than a breath. "I see people at their most vulnerable, their most desperate. I glimpse their futures, whether bright or bleak. And when I encounter death in my visions, I can't help but be drawn to its power, its mystery."
"Power?" Finn asked, his brow furrowed. "You think death is powerful?"
"Of course," Sage replied, meeting his gaze unflinchingly. "It's the one thing that connects us all, no matter who we are or where we come from. Death is the great equalizer, the one force that can bring even the mightiest to their knees. It's both terrifying and awe-inspiring."
As she spoke, Sheila found herself unable to tear her eyes away from Sage. There was something strangely captivating about the way Sage described death, something that made her heart race with both fear and curiosity.
"Listening to you," Finn said, "one might think you were describing a long-lost lover."
A cold smile spread across Sage's lips as her gaze shifted from Sheila to Finn. "And listening to you, one might think you were a skeptic. Would you like me to prove that what I do is real? Want me to predict your future?"
Finn visibly stiffened, his jaw clenching as he shot a quick glance at Sheila before addressing Sage. "No, I don't believe people should know their futures."
"Ah," Sage replied, her tone dripping with mock disappointment. "Afraid of what you might hear?"
"Knowing the future takes away the power of choice, of living in the moment," he answered tersely. But Sage seemed not to care for Finn's rationale.
Sage ignored his refusal. "I see shadows around you, deputy. Dark clouds that threaten to swallow you whole. A storm is coming, and it will test you in ways you cannot imagine." Her voice held an edge of cruel delight, as if she truly enjoyed sharing these ominous predictions.
Finn's face darkened, his fists tightening at his sides. "Enough," he said, clearly struggling to keep his composure. "I said I don't want to hear it."
Sensing the tension building between Finn and Sage, Sheila knew she needed to intervene. Redirecting the conversation, she pulled out two photographs from her pocket and presented them to Sage. "Do you recognize these women, Juliette Reed and Natasha Petrova?"
