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True enough, I had only learned these tidbits of information, such as the power to force ghosts away, because I was motivated. I needed to solve the cold case of Lizbeth Knapp, which led to a demon and furthered my knowledge with witchcraft and all that magical hoopla. The difference was, I truly didn’t want to know anymore, but my hand had been forced.
Sure, I accepted my path with the Memphis Police Department to solve cold cases, but it stopped there. If I didn’t need any of this information to find Kipp, I wouldn’t dig deeper. With that, in this very moment, I knew Wayde was right.
He was about to take all I knew and somersault the shit out of it.
Chapter Eight
I stared into Wayde’s dark eyes and lifted my chin, ready for the revelation I suspected would shock me. But deep down, I’d welcome being stunned stupid a thousand times over if it brought me closer to Kipp. “All right, so you’re telling me I have more gifts than I realize?”
Wayde took a seat across from me in the other wingback chair in the room, and crossed an ankle over his knee. “You hold the key to the veil.”
After inhaling a long breath, the musky scent in the room had me rubbing my nose. “Why can’t things be simple and explained in terms that we normal folk understand?”
Gretchen laughed.
Wayde didn’t; he folded his arms like a big ole’ grump. “Your connection to the Netherworld is your gift. It’s not seeing the dead, or conversing with them; it’s that connection that fuels your power.”
Shifting on the couch, I leaned against the wooden back, more than uncomfortable. Not only from the hard cushion, but also the subject matter. “My gifts are fueled by the Netherworld?” Even as I said it, it seemed absurd. “How do you know this about me?”
He picked lint off his pants. “A long time ago, I heard of Nettie and her unique talents. When Gretchen told me about you, your gifts sounded similar.” His head lifted, eyes flat. “After researching Nettie again, I realized your gifts are exactly the same. Meaning, you have access to the Netherworld that neither I, nor anyone else I know, possesses.” He gestured toward the book. “It’s the same connection Nettie had—a power giving you the right to journey through the veil and cross into the Netherworld.”
I settled the book on my lap and absorbed that bit of insanity. “Are you suggesting I only have to tell myself to go there?”
He nodded. “Your connection to the Netherworld allows you to see and do the things you can. It’s how Nettie did the same thing.”
I gawked at Gretchen in slight horror. Even though Dane had told me I held a connection to the Netherworld, he never explained it in such depth that Wayde just had. From the way I heard it, I accepted my death when I crossed into the Netherworld—something I still didn’t entirely believe—but that my life was saved before I fully crossed over. Which meant I took a part of the Netherworld with me, which explained why I held the gifts I did. I wasn’t sure I liked that my connection to the mystical world ran as deep as Wayde suggested.
Gretchen finally shrugged at me, a little wide-eyed and unable to sit still in her seat. Her worry and silence unnerved me, forcing me to take a harder look into Wayde’s explanation for a logical reason to deny it. After I mulled it over a moment, a big flaw appeared in Wayde’s theory.
Turning to him, I pointed out the obvious. “While this is interesting and all, I hate to break it to you, but I don’t feel any different than I did before the accident. Wouldn’t I feel something if I held such a strong connection to the Netherworld? So, whatever power this is you’re talking about, I don’t have it.”
He stretched his legs, and the antique chair squeaked beneath him. “You must, or you wouldn’t be able to see ghosts. It’s there, I simply doubt you understand it, and have been blind to it, which is exactly what I told you before. You’ve shut down and closed your eyes to what is right in front of you. If you paid more attention, then I suspect you’d sense it.”
I frowned. “The only thing I sense when ghosts are around me is a goose bump type of feeling, that’s it, nothing any other time.”
Wayde arched an eyebrow. “I do not get goose bumps when ghosts come around.”
His admission stole the wind out of my lungs. Wayde was a medium and it surprised me he didn’t experience the creepy feeling. To Gretchen I asked, “Do you not feel anything like that?”
She shook her head, standing from her seat. “My body is not physically affected when a ghost is near, but more so emotionally.” She strode toward the far window. “If a ghost is angry, I’ll feel angry, which is how I understand what they’re feeling.”
I exhaled the breath I’d been holding. Dane had said as much himself. I’d seen it with my own eyes. He always seemed to know when Kipp was pissed or experienced a strong emotion. So, that made sense. Still, I hadn’t realized my goose bumps were out of the ordinary.
Gretchen stared out the window into the dark night, arms folded, then turned to me. “I can usually tap into any powerful emotion coming off a ghost and sometimes the space where the ghost is looks almost like a heat wave—like a shift in energy—but I’ve never had goose bumps from i
t, or a creepy sensation.” She cocked her head, watching me carefully. “Does that happen every time?”
I nodded slowly.
Before I could answer, Wayde interjected, “The goose bumps are because you’re sensing the beyond. It’s not the ghost itself; it’s the sensation of being back in the Netherworld. Your body is remembering the time. Are you able to feel their touch?”
I nodded again, totally spooked. “They feel cold.”
“Well then, think, girl.” Wayde looked at me as if my head was empty. “If a ghost has no physical strength in this world, how are you able to feel its touch?”
A sudden iciness slid through my veins and I wrapped my arms around myself, chilled to my bones. “I don’t feel a touch, just coldness.”
Wayde inclined his head, leaning back in his seat and placing his arms upon the armrest. “But they have no power to touch anything.”
