“I’m sick.”
“What?” Gabriel looked startled.
“I feel sick.” I got off him and wrapped a sheet around myself.
One of the troubles of being a vision girl was that a vision could hit you anytime, anywhere. My “gift” totally disregarded my private life, and after three years of reality checking and waking up in the middle of the night to find myself in a strange place and have it vanish minutes later, I still couldn’t get used to it.
Moving farther away from Gabriel, I pressed my fingers into my temples to still the throbbing in my head.
“Huh…” he looked genuinely puzzled. “Were you sick when you got here? ”
“No. Yes. I don’t know.” I momentarily shut my eyes. “Oh, nevermind.” It was exasperating enough to be spammed with incoherent visions – explaining them to someone like Gabriel would be just painful.
Sighing, I turned my head to look at him. In his late twenties, with brown eyes and gorgeous black hair barely touching his shoulders, he reminded me of the men I used to fantasize about back when I was still reading romance novels. And didn’t know Gabriel.
Like me, he was a supe and possessed a fair share of abilities normal people didn’t have. Unlike me, his gift was all smoke and mirrors. Gabriel could make people see things that weren’t really there: a painting on an empty wall, a white rose turned red, a pig, flying through the hazy sky… That sort of things. So if I could see things happening at different times and places, and visualize things super clearly, he could pay a $300 bill by shelling out 5 bucks.
Yeah, sometimes we just outcooled each other.
“I’ve got to go.” I got up from the bed and started picking my clothes off the floor where it had been dropped in a haste. My purse still sat over by the window where I tossed it along with my cool strappy stilettos.
“Hey, what- Clair! You’re leaving now?” Gabriel got up, looking righteously displeased. “So, what? You storm in here, get me all worked up, then hop off and leave? Is that a new thing or something?”
I fished out my bra from under the bed, and, deciding it looked a little too scruffy to wear, stuffed it in my purse as I picked it up. “Nope. It’s just your luck. I had a vision.”
“About me?” he asked, hope filling his voice.
“No, about me.”
His shoulders slumped. He’s been waiting for me to have a premonition about him since day one, after he found out I had a gift of clairvoyance. A vision of hope, riches and fame was the one he dreamt me to see for too long to make fun of it openly. Needless to say, we’re still waiting for that one.
My cell started ringing, filling Gabriel’s small apartment with noise. I groped inside my purse for a while before finally getting a hold of it. The Caller ID read Daniel Hardy, and I heaved a sigh of relief. Danny was my co-worker (sort of), and one of the few people I could trust and talk about my visions with. Mainly, I was concerned about my most recent one. I didn’t like what I saw, and the feeling of shame and guilt as an aftertaste bugged the hell out of me.
Ignoring Gabriel’s further questions about the vision, I answered the call.
“Hey, when a girl says ‘you’re like a brother to me’, what are the chances she means it in a kinky way?” Danny’s voice came muffled by the music and laughter in the background.
“None. And hello to you, too, by the way. I take it you’re not home.”
“At eleven p.m.? Please... you know me better than that.”
“Yeah…” I drawled. “I do. Where are you anyway?” Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Gabriel get up and put on his trunks. Huffing, he headed for the bathroom door, shutting it behind him with a thud. “Baby,” I muttered.
“Um, in the 8Ball… baby.” Danny sounded mildly bemused.
“I wasn’t talking to you.”
“Thought so.”
“I need to see you tonight though.”
There was a pause. “Er… You don’t need me to pick you up or anything, do you?”
“Please, spare me the enthusiasm,” I said dryly. “You don’t have to sound so eager just for my benefit.”
For about a month already Danny was driving my car after he lost his in a Pocker game to some telepath. That was such a stupid thing to do that I almost felt sorry for him back then. Now I just felt annoyed at his recklessness and my lack of transport. He begged me to lend him my Honda, claiming he couldn’t survive without a car with his weekly trips from L.A. to Vegas and back, so I complied. He also promised to act as my personal driver whenever I needed one. Not that I believed him.
“And no, you don’t have to pick me up. I’ll get there myself. I need to talk to you about something.”
“Work related or am I about to get drawn into some personal drama of yours?”
“Oh, just be there when I get to the club. See you in half an hour.”
“I’ll be holding my-.”
I hung up.
Gabriel emerged from the bathroom, fully dressed and decent-looking. His black designer shirt clung to his body and I almost bit my lip. He might not be rich, he might be living in a shabby mouse-sized apartment, but he knew how to present himself like there was nothing in the world he needed.
“Good, you’re out,” I flipped my phone shut. “I’ll grab a quick shower before going. I’m meeting Danny in half an hour.”
“Ah. So you choose that badly dressed rain dancer over me? After I canceled my plans for the night and cooked for you?”
I rolled my eyes at both the reference to Danny’s shaky shamanic skills and the cooking comment.
“Oh, please," I waved my hand at him. "You cook for everyone. Even for the ones you don’t like.” And he did. I found it surprising how he always managed to fix something up whenever I was around or when he had guests. Sometimes I wondered why he even bothered wasting so much effort on becoming an actor or a model or whatever he wanted to be there, when he could be a perfectly decent chef. Although his tall, dark looks argued my logic.
Still naked and holding onto my clothes, I shimmied past Gabriel into the bathroom, gracing him with a quick peck on the cheek. “Besides, I want to see Danny not because I find your company unentertaining. We just have... work stuff to discuss.”
“Oh?” he looked at me skeptically. “Then why aren’t you meeting with Eric? Isn’t he the one you should be running to when the 'work stuff' happens?"
“Oh, Eric is… busy.” I tried to fumble for more terms describing busyness, but couldn't come up with anything coherent. “You know how he has work to do, agency to run… And–and all that other, really important stuff–”
Gabriel arched an eyebrow in a way that signaled his bullshit meter was starting to zing "false".
“-that he does.” I finished, clamping my mouth shut.
“Whatever. I don’t care why you don’t want to see him. I don’t like him anyway.”
“Yeah, well, the feeling is mutual,” I muttered.
Eric–my boss and mentor wannabe–didn’t harbor any warm feelings toward Gabriel. He considered my relationship with him unhealthy, and he very much disapproved of the “risk” I was taking by getting intimate with another supe, the one he believed couldn’t be trusted. I didn’t really blame him. Opening yourself up to another person with special abilities during sex could result in giving some of your power away. Sometimes the outcome could even be a small temporary power swap.
However, it wasn’t our case with Gabriel. He and I could be acquaintances, but we weren’t close in the deep emotional sense - not anymore, anyway. Besides, supposing he wasn't exactly a Dadley Do-right, I'd known him long enough not to worry on that account much. He never posed a threat to me, in this life or the ones before that. Not that he could remember them much, but then again not many supes could.
As for why I didn’t want to talk to Eric about my vision, even though that’s what I usually did… Well, these days we just weren’t chummy enough for me to anticipate a heart-to-heart with him. Plus, tense and tired as I was, I didn't feel like trying to make a conversation while he sat on his high horse and glared down at me.
I shrugged my gloomy thoughts away. No good in reminiscing while there were more important things to do. “I’ll be back in a jiffy," I told Gabriel. "And then, if you're not too busy, you could give me a ride to 8Ball.”
I was pretty sure I heard him groan as the bathroom door clicked shut behind me.
Ten minutes later–not before looking myself over in the mirror–I emerged from the bathroom, wearing tight black jeans and a red halter top. I brushed my long chocolate brown hair and let them fall in shiny waves around my shoulders. As for my face, the only makeup I was wearing was smoky eye shadow and some eyeliner, but since there was enough color in my cheeks and lips, I wasn’t in danger of looking pale. Without trying too hard, I looked polished enough to go clubbing, even if it wasn’t my original plan.
Convincing Gabriel to give me a ride to the club has taken all of thirteen seconds, not that he was a happy camper. I got the impression he wanted to drop me off at the nearest bus stop and drive away into the night to manifest whatever plans he initially had there. I felt like talking during our merry trip would be pushing my luck, so I wisely kept my mouth shut.
When twenty minutes later we arrived at the place, the street outside the building was filled with people. Perhaps 8Ball was not as famous as some of the clubs out there, but it certainly had its charm. Plus, it was one of the rare hot spots in L.A. that had a V.I.P. area for supes. It had pretty strict rules about who could enter, and only people who managed to convince the patrons of their “superiority” (and for superiority read supernaturality) were let into the V.I.P. zone.
Still in the car, I glanced at the line outside the club. Judging by the count of heads and the date in today’s paper, Friday it was. Gabriel pointedly didn’t turn off the engine or tried to park anywhere, his entire posture indicating he could be spending his time with much better use. I tried to lighten up the mood a little. “You want to come with me? It’s crowded tonight. Lots of impressionable youths to gawk at your chest hair,” I grinned. “Should be fun for you.”
“As if,” he cut me a dirty look. “Thank you very much, but I have plans of my own. Not to mention standards. If you don’t mind, I’d actually like to make the best of what’s left of the night. Well, try, at least. Besides,” he glanced, somewhat disdainfully, at the club’s neon logo with a trademark billiard ball, “if this becomes my regular hangout, I might as well make starring in commercials the peak of my career. No way would anyone of that crowd see somebody more famous than that anyway.”
I blinked. Sheesh.
“Yeah, you’re a classy party crasher,” I patted his arm, getting out of the car. “Have fun at your celebrity-filled whatever.”
“It’s a yacht!” I heard him yell behind me as I purposefully started toward the club’s second entrance. Mentally smacking myself for not bothering to ask where he was going before, I continued walking without chancing a glance back, lest I would get tempted to jump back into the passenger seat and beg him to take me along.
How I wished for once I could enjoy the classy Hollywoodish side of Los Angeles instead of the creepy-crawly one I had no idea I was about to face.
Ability to capture most impressive moments of your past lives can give you a great view on just how many ways there are to make love. Sticking to the same lover over the lifetimes, however, should make you feel nostalgic rather than audacious. Turned out, it’s the 21st century edition of Kama Sutra for Dummies that gets people back together, and probably saves marriages.
Initially, I came to Gabriel to relax, but thanks to some burst of creativity on his part, I was having a hard time relaxing. My legs were so in the air, and my head was spinning so much from looking at the chopper-like conditioner on the ceiling, that I was hit with nausea every time Gabriel attempted some clever maneuver with his body.
While I pondered if it was a good idea to use him as my own personal stress-reliever, Gabriel, looking completely oblivious to my musings, was busy leaving what was probably a world class hickey on my neck. With every brush of his body against mine, I could feel my senses tingling. I really wished I could focus on that sensation alone, but my brain just didn't want to let go of things.
Gabriel, on the other hand, considered sex with me a roller coaster experience. He knew I was strong and adventurous enough to try most of the things he offered, so he didn't waste his time on melancholic thoughts. Maybe it was one of the reasons I kept letting him practice his love skills on me whenever I felt bored. But I often wondered if, trying to re-impress me (and by re-impress I mean impress again, because he managed to do it quite a few times before), he was overworking it.
“God, I love what I’m doing to you,” he whispered.
I tried not to roll my eyes. “Isn’t it ‘what you’re doing to me’?”
“Er… Yeah. That’s what I meant.” He smiled brightly before proceeding to nibble on whatever skin his mouth came in contact with.
So he wasn’t exactly a Michelangelo of words. But considering that it was me who kept coming back for some guilt-free pleasure time after time, I guess he wasn’t the one with the issues here. Besides, with looks like his…
Apparently I looked a little too thoughtful, because Gabriel eventually noticed my attention was elsewhere.
“What's on your mind, love?”
“Nothing,” I answered briskly.
I felt a little annoyed at his choice of a pet name, with my disastrous love life and all, but I’d known Gabriel long enough to realize that every woman ever hitting his mattress was a ‘love’ to him. And with as fucked up a financial plan as his, I wasn’t surprised it was a full motion waterbed mattress. Another reason to feel nauseous. Seriously, it’s like I was starring in a porn version of Pirates of the Caribbean. I almost wished I had a paper bag with me.
I thought it was time to take matters into my own hands. “Gabriel… On your back. Now”
“Huh? Wha…”
I didn’t wait for him to finish. Instead I untangled myself from his weird Tantric embrace and, in a quick, smooth motion, flipped us over. As my vision aligned itself with gravity again, I was relieved to feel the blood stop washing away all my good brain cells. At least I hoped that's what I felt.
“Now, that’s much better.” I smiled, happy to finally let my hands explore Gabriel’s chest freely. As I was raking my nails over it softly, I noticed something shift within my line of vision. I looked up, and for a moment everything seemed normal.
I took a deep breath, returning my attention to the man between my thighs. Nothing’s happening, I told myself. I can go right back to relaxing. I brushed my long hair away from my face and took Gabriel’s hands into mine, guiding them to slide over my neck and chest, finally resting them on my breasts.
He was saying something, but I couldn’t make out the words, as if I was underwater. The world around me started to shimmer and shift into something entirely different. Gabriel’s face melted away, along with the rest of him. In a blink, I was no longer straddling him, but instead lay sprawled on a wet pavement, position awkward and uncomfortable.
Here we go again.
I looked around, trying to quickly assess the situation, as I always did when a vision hit me. The street around me was wet as if it has been raining. I looked up at the sky, and even though it wasn’t completely dark yet, it seemed the sun would set in half an hour or so.
Further ahead of me, I could see a car turned over and on fire. Oh, hell! It was my car. Danny was laying on the ground a few feet away from it. He was trying to put out a small fire on the sleeve of his brown leather jacket. His favorite. Ouch.
I finally decided to pay attention to my own persona and for the first time noticed my disheveled state. The wicked tight jeans I was in were slashed at one knee, the spot looked bloody. I had a few cuts on my hands, and it felt like a lot of me was bruised.
With some effort, I managed to get myself into a half-sitting position, my body buzzing from the aftershocks of something fairly similar to a hard fall. Supporting myself on my hands, I tried to sit upright. The world started spinning around me, apparently insisting I stay down. It was almost pretty, really. Like I was on a carousel or something. Too bad everything was in a sort of blur, so my ability to enjoy the ride was limited.
I heard the shouting on my right and turned my head to see Eric, looking royally pissed off, scream something in the direction of a man heading to a black BMW. When I was able to make out who it was, I instantly understood what got Eric so fired up.
Adrian, wearing one of his usual black suits, and an equally usual neutral look on his face, was about to get into the car. Before he did, he turned to look at me, expression turning almost regretful. For a split second I wondered if he cared for what I thought of him at that moment. He shut the door behind him and, in a flash, his car was gone. Nah.
“Are you happy now?”
I looked up to see Eric towering over me. His face was so angry and disappointed, I instantly got a dreadful feeling that this time it was something I did.
“Is this what you wanted?” he demanded.
I didn't know why, but I felt ashamed. Like I deserved that blame in his voice. I shut my eyes, afraid I might actually show some emotion for once and cry in front of him like some little girl.
“No,” I answered, feeling sick. "It's not."
The picture changed again.
Gone were the wet pavement and the pretty bonfire a.k.a. my-car-used-to-be. I had no bruises. I was right back where I left off - in my ex’s apartment. On top of him, actually. Everything was all right.
Only it wasn't.
I sighed. For the second time this night, I wished I had a paper bag with me.
Summary
When it comes to supernatural community, Clarissa Morgan’s place in it is undecided, to say the least. She is young, hot and clairvoyant, and she never knows if the supes she comes in contact with want her for her looks or for her gift. Or maybe some of them actually want her for her sparkling personality? She doesn’t know. But what she does know is that sometimes being a vision girl sucks.
Her “gift” often takes her places she would rather not go, and makes her see and feel things that are just plain hurtful sometimes. Not to mention she is one of the few supes who can recall most of her past life experiences, given the effort. Seeing into your past could teach you plenty, but it could also break your heart, knowing that people you loved lifetimes ago more than anything are the same people who hate you now and want you gone.
