“Since when has Aurora-Victoria been frightened of approaching Phoe?” I asked, puzzled. Phoe wouldn’t bite Aurora’s head off.
“She’s not. But Aurora claims that if anyone tries to lead Phoe, everything will backfire. Aurora said Phoe has to do this alone. And soon.”
Klutz shrugged, and it was annoying. The man wouldn’t break his old lady’s confidence, and I’m sure Klutz understood more than he was letting on. It was okay to say let Phoe find the answers on her own, but Phoe needed more than ‘research’.
“What’s Phoe looking for?”
“Can’t say.”
“You’re not helping, Klutz. You come in here all doom and gloom but hold shit back. That helps no one. If you really wanna help, tell me everything.”
Klutz looked upset, but stuck to his guns. “Ace, Veep, honestly, what Aurora saw was foggy, patchy, and brief. She got an intense feeling that Drake was in danger; she understands Phoe is vital, as is what she’ll find. But Victoria also senses thatif anyone tries to lead Phoe to answers, we’ll lose Drake. Aurora said it was almost as if someone was targeting Drake, and if we move to protect him, they’ll amp up their efforts. But that doesn’t make sense.”
“No, it doesn’t. Okay, I’ll inform Phoe. That’s all I can do.”
Phoe
Lucky me. Research what? Learn what? I’d no clue and had spent three hours scrolling through the net searching for something that would stand out. Exasperated, I slammed my hand down on the keyboard and rolled my neck. This was a needle in a haystack. The laptop screen flickered as it did several things from where I’d hit it, and then a clairvoyant popped up.
“Do you need healing? Are you broken-hearted? Do you want to know the future?”
“No, but I fuckin’ need a drink,” I growled. I went to turn off the scam artist and then paused. Not every psychic was a fraud. While rare, some were genuine. I picked up my phone and texted Eddie to bring me a pot of tea. I got a thumbs-up and smiled. Eddie had her kind moments sometimes.
And after a deep breath, I dived down the rabbit hole. Alarm bells rang loudly as I clicked on numerous websites and closed just as many down. Then something caught my eye. A forum about psychic healing. I opened it and began reading. Most were complaints and warnings about frauds. Beneath the cautions, a thread spoke about a healer named Stitch.
Every comment reinforced how genuine she was. I kept digging, and there was an odd complaint or two, mainly from people she’d refused to see. However, most claimed Stitch was real.
I clicked the link and froze. Well, now, that was a surprise. Stitch belonged to an MC called the Royal Harlots, who had links to the Royal Bastards. I pulled my phone out and dialled a number I never expected to use.
“Warden,” he snapped down the line as an answer.
“Warden, it’s Phoenix Michaelson,” I said, and there was a pregnant pause.
“What’s up?” he asked in a gentler tone.
“You’ve a relationship with the Royal Harlots in Portsmouth. There’s a lady called Stitch—Warden, is she genuine?”
Warden paused, and I could tell he was considering his words. “Who needs her?”
“Drake.”
“Drake’s ill?”
Now it was my turn to pause.
“Phoe, I can’t help if I don’t know,” Warden said.
“Drake’s depressed. But it goes beyond that. He’s hurting so badly because of the war. Warden, Drake’s borderline. I need Stitch.”
Warden took a few moments. “I have Slasher, but Drake won’t take kindly to me offering Royal Bastard aid. Drake could see that as us thinking Rage is weak or a prelude to a takeover. But from the Harlots—yeah, Drake would accept Stitch. The Harlots don’t allow men, so wouldn’t be a threat to Rage MC. I’ll reach out and give Stitch your number. Phoe, a healer might not be beneficial.”
“Don’t they heal?” I asked, confused.
“Physical injuries usually. An empath is more for mental and psychic wounds. They have a woman, Belladonna, who’s one of the strongest I’ve come across. Speak to Sapphire and see what they suggest.”
“Thanks, Warden.”
“No probs,” he replied and cut the call. I stared at the laptop screen and hoped that I’d done the right thing.
