Psychic Bellevue Novels & Stories

he says warily. I sigh, “Great. A crazy stalker, bigot parents and now a pissed-off Goddess. Let me know when I’m having fun,” I say sarcastically. Ezillus gives me a soft smile and steps closer placing a hand on my shoulder, “Lean on your animai and call on me should you need me. I know it’s easier said than done, but don’t count your parents out just yet, they might surprise you,” they say warmly. “You psychic?” They chuckle, “That would be Zarseti, but I can read minds, so trust me on this. Be well, Sebastian Balaskas,” they say before disappearing.

He writes, then says, “This is the name of an oracle. Not Tibetan. Chinese, but she is very good. You should see her.” “You want me to get my fortune told?” “Of course, we will reimburse you.” I’ve heard of psychics helping the police, but in this case it seems like going from fluffy to flaky. Still, I feel a chill at the thought of talking to a psychic. If there is such a thing as the real deal, could she pass me a message from Tracy? From beyond? As soon as the notion arises in my mind, I recognize it for what it is: the desperate hope that enables charlatans to drain bank accounts. But I can’t help how readily it presented itself. Maybe I’m not as much of a skeptic as I’d like to believe.

The bond behind her sternum tightened cold, the way it did when something outside her body reached inward. “I didn’t touch it,” she whispered. The phone buzzed again. Bea crossed the room in three long strides and plucked it from Nori’s pocket before she could think better of it. She glanced at the screen and swore. “They’ve got a lot of nerve,” she said flatly. Rafael moved closer. “What.” Bea turned the phone so he could see. BOND WELLNESS SERVICES We’ve noticed increased distress patterns following recent proximity exposure. You don’t have to endure this alone. Private consultation available today. Discretion guaranteed.

"Yup. I figured I'd check it out too, see if the woman's actually psychic or just stoned." I wrapped my arms around his neck. His skin was warm from the couch blanket, faintly lemony. His jaw was still unshaven from this morning and a little scratchy against my cheek. He reached the bed and sat down, pulling me into his lap. I ended up straddling him without much of a say. "Since when do you care about psychics?" "Since my studio got wrecked twice in one week. We're both starting to think it's cursed. I thought, why not? You've got meetings all week anyway. It's not like you'll be bored."

He probed flatly. With a solemn nod, Travis Jonahson went on to deliver his report, like he'd been doing for the past few weeks. "In the last week, Belinda Knight has been to a mortgage bank and has had multiple meetings with several stock brokers. Though there were a few supernatural beings in the mix, it didn't seem like she knew of their identities. Two days ago, she visited the Midsubvient State Hospital." Draven's ears perked up at the last phrase. "Hospital?"

But unable to contain her curiosity, she asked, “W-where did you hear such things?” Sella looked into Linda’s eyes and whispered in a low voice as if she was afraid to speak such things aloud! “From Emily! Every time she had the seizures she repeated about fulfilling her destiny! When I was in New York, one of my husband’s colleagues who is a psychologist said once that if Emily can be made to believe in some way that she is a going to fulfil her destiny, her subconscious mind might accept it and she can get completely cured!” “Oh!!” Linda sighed placing a hand on her chest!

“But can he do things?” “He has power of a sort, but he’s crippled mentally and physically. What we see could be just the leftover humanity that a power beyond doesn’t need, that was flaked off like a scab and tossed behind. We’ll talk more about this after we touch down. There’s someone I want to show you.” “Hold on. One last thing. Is he what he claims?” A chuckle. “What’s he claiming?” “He says he’s a psychic assassin. That he can get people to commit suicide by crawling into their heads.”

I take another sip, but it’s bigger. I might not be able to get drunk, but the psychology of it works as I feel myself relax slightly. I hadn’t realized how tense I was. That often happens. I’m always tense, ready to strike, constantly feeling like something will come after me. Paranoid? Definitely, but I'm not exactly sane. I’m damn demigod of death and necromancer. I literally can talk to dead people. I’m not going to be the perfect picture of sanity. “How bad is it?” Blaine asks, taking a sip of his scotch.

"The court is back in session." The wooden gavel struck the bench with a heavy, solemn sound that echoed through the small, high-security hearing room of the Bellevue Federal Complex. Unlike the grand, chaotic spectacle of his initial arraignment weeks ago, there were no flashing cameras, no shouting reporters, and no media circuses present today. The hearing was private, sealed under federal judicial seal. At the defense table sat Charlie. The psychiatric evaluation concludes that Charlie was suffering from severe psychological manipulation combined with acute grief-induced psychosis.

Because he already has bought me more clothes than I know what to do with. While driving he says that we are gonna make a quick stop by a psychic shop. The hell?! I don't believe in talking to people like that! I'm really trying not to look at him like he has lost his ever-loving mind. But I hope he knows what he's doing. We pulled into the parking lot and he turns to me... Manny P.O.V