Psychic Appeal- Urban Fantasy

Psychic Appeal Part 2

The next evening, Mark floated into the bathroom just as I finished lathering my legs in preparation for a close shave. It'd been a long day at the shop with too few paying customers and a never-ending chorus of 'just looking'. All I wanted was to relax, but Mark had other plans.

"Someone's coming," he said coming to hover at my side and watching my twice-weekly hair removal ritual with interest-- something I had never let him see in the year we dated. Being able to pass through walls and doors provided him carte blanche access into the realm of female beauty secrets. Not exactly what I would call an on-the-haunt perk, but he seemed to enjoy it.

I had liked it better when he couldn't walk through closed doors.

I glanced down at my legs which were covered with cucumber melon scented foam and the purple towel wrapped around my body. I was not ready for company. "Who?"

"He wants to hire you as an investigator." A gleam of anticipation shone in his eyes and made the white streaks in his aura shine extra bright. He loved clients. "Hurry, or you won't have time to get dressed."

I frowned. I didn't want to investigate anything. Moonlighting as a psychic PI was part of the reason my boyfriend was now a ghost. "Mark, we discussed this."

"I know, but this guy really needs your help."

"How do you know ?"

"Look, just hear him out. It took everything I had to get him here."

"What do you mean by that? You've been guiding people my way?" My voice rose as I spoke and I looked at Mark through narrowed eyes.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets with a shrug, and leaned against the wall, only to disappear into the linen closet before he could respond. I rolled my eyes at the interruption and ran more bath water to rinse off my legs while I waited for him to reappear.

He popped into the tub a few moments later, brushing against my foot. I jumped, not expecting an ice-cold draft to hit me through the warm water. "Hey, careful!"

"Sorry." He stepped out of the tub, his exit marked by just the faintest ripple in the water. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"I could have cut myself with the razor." I set the razor in question on the edge of the tub, and finished washing the cream off my legs. Shaving would have to wait and a loud knock at my front door confirmed it. "They're here? Now?"

I ran out of the bathroom in search of clothes, leaving Mark to drift behind me. In response to another series of knocks I called, "Hang on. I'll be there in a minute."

In my bedroom, I located the laundry basket and upended the clean clothes I hadn't had a chance to fold yet onto the bed. I snatched up a pair of underwear, some jeans, and a T-shirt, throwing them on in record time, but I still wasn't fast enough for whoever was waiting at the door. They knocked again, much harder this time. The doorframe rattled from the force of my 'customer's' pounding.

"I'm coming." I grabbed a towel and tousled my hair with it on the way to the front door.

Releasing the dead bolt, I muttered the magic word that would turn off the wards on the entrance to my apartment and opened the door mid-knock. A man of medium build with sable brown hair and dark gloom-filled pools for eyes stood in my doorway. He wore a smartly cut navy suit that outlined his trim frame--very GQ in a brooding probably-should-be-taking-anti-depressants way. Cute enough that I felt the pull of attraction despite his angsty vibe, a feeling that was quickly replaced by guilt at my reaction. I had no business looking at other men. Not with Mark hovering over my shoulder.