Psychic Appeal- Urban Fantasy

Psychic Appeal Part 14

I awoke, I don't know how much later, in a small dark room. A single window, high above my head, let in the sun and illuminated my surroundings. Not that there was much to see. The room was small as a walk-in closet with stark white walls, its only furnishing a cot that squeaked more than a mouse. The steel door proved to be locked, and the window was barred. Escape was not an option. I would have to cut through at least four bars to make a space large enough for me to pass through. Athena probably wouldn't leave me in one place long enough to accomplish such a time intensive task--from the history I sensed in the room, no one stayed long. Fortunately, I didn't get any feedback that said people died in the room, just a lot of waiting and staring up at the window in fear. No, there was nothing to do but wait and hope someone made a mistake.

And pray they made it soon.

My astral rapist still had Vera. Jacob's body was lying somewhere in the Wastelands, and the dragons were about to, not only be evicted from Fairy, but attempt to invade and take over the human world. Not to mention the zombies that were on the loose all over Boston. For a lone psychic, my to-do list was getting pretty long. I wondered if Vera had seen my predicament in her scrying and, if she had, why hadn't she given some warning? I would've at least tried to hide a cell phone on me somewhere, or a knife, or chocolate. Something...anything to make me feel less powerless.

Aggravated, I sighed and pushed myself off the cot to pace the room. If Vera and I survived this, we were going to have a serious chat about her 'don't tell people their future' rule. I couldn't fathom how knowing what was coming could make it suck any less than it already did. It was one thing for her not to say anything about Mark, but if Mark had been the beginning of a long downhill run in my life, a good friend would've told me. If I had known I was going to become a serial boyfriend killer, I could've consigned myself to a nunnery before I did any more damage.

Several hours later, I had paced all I could pace, sat on the cot until the squeaking made me want to claw my ears off, and settled Indian-style on the cool tile floor until my butt cheeks were numb. The light in the room slowly faded to a gray dusk, and, with the dark, came an oppressive silence. When the sun had shined, an occasional bird would twitter by, but now there was nothing but empty quiet and blind night that lulled me into a light sleep.

Some time later, a loud metallic clang woke me. I jumped at the noise, my heart racing and looked wildly about trying to see through the inky black that pressed down on me. Footsteps sounded, heavy and full of purpose. I sat up, my breath stopped in my throat as they pounded closer and closer to stop outside my door. Metal screeched and something slid across the floor illuminated by a too-bright flashlight.

It was a tray of food pushed in through a small slot in the bottom of the door. I caught a glimpse of a sandwich and a bottle of water before the metal divider was slammed down. The footsteps stomped off, leaving me to feel for the tray in the dark, bright spots dancing in my eyes from the sudden harsh light.

I ate the sandwich, shoveling it down in a few big bites, barely tasting the turkey and Swiss cheese. The water I only sipped. There was no toilet in the room and, while I could pee in a corner if I had to, I would rather not. Sooner or later, someone would have to let me out to use the bathroom, at least I hoped so. I could've just dropped my shields and gone deeper into my cell's history to find out for sure, but that meant learning every gory detail of what happened to the people before me, and I wasn't ready to know the past that was about to be my future.

The renegades might keep their activities a secret, but their scare tactics were always public. They were a violent, aggressive organization that pursued their interests with a tenacity that did not respect human life. If I wasn't useful, if I posed more of a threat than a benefit, I had no doubt I would end up on the wrong side of a weapon and wash up on a sandy beach somewhere, green and bloated with rotting fluids. That was the picture I kept forcefully pushing from my mind. I didn't really want to add anymore. Besides, using psychic abilities to divine whether or not I would be able to use a bathroom seemed a little...well, cheesy.