Waiting For A Star To Fall (Autumn Brody Book 2) (24 page)

Closing her eyes, she concentrated on the memory of him coming to her aid beneath her boarding school, pulling her battered body into his arms. Pulling her away from evil's grasp. His reassuring promise that she was safe... The feel of his leather jacket...
Let me out!
she screamed silently with one final yank of the door.

As it fell open, spilling her into the hallway, she didn't know whether to laugh or cry. What she
did
know was that it was time to flee. Scrambling to her feet and clutching her side, she jammed the elevator button hard, throwing herself into the car as its metal maw opened.

Nineteen floors sailed by as Autumn kept her focus on Andrew, on the moments that defined their relationship.
Music in the editing suite. The cabin weekend with Veronica and Evan. Music festivals. Late-night movie marathons. Central Park
. With every passing second, her body warmed up, shedding the icy cold of the murderous ghost's claim upon her.

The doors opened at last on the 38th floor. Rushing into the hallway, she collided roughly with Ray and yelped in pain. His strong hands gripped her shoulders, examining her body carefully for... what? Wounds?

"Ms. Brody! What are you doing out here?
How
did you get out here?" As she slumped against the wall to catch her breath, his voice softened. "Are you okay?"

"Just got the wind knocked out of me, Ray," she reassured the protection officer. "I… I think I was sleepwalking? I remember sleeping and then I was in the elevator."

Frowning, he helped her towards her suite. "But I should have seen you. I've been in this hallway all night."

"Bathroom break?" she deflected.

"I call hotel security before I leave and have them stand down. I'll have to talk with them about their vigilance, I suppose." He paused in front of her door, gesturing to the way she held her ribs. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Please don't tell Andrew. He worries too much. Painkillers just make me wonky."

"Fine," Ray relented. "Just stay in your room, alright? He may be a lightweight compared to me, but that man will tear apart heaven and hell if anything happens to you. I'd like to avoid his wrath."

"Deal."

Swiping back into the suite, she quickly secured the security latch and tossed her key card on the sofa. From the bedroom, she heard a stirring and winced.
He's awake. Wait for it...

"Autumn!"

"Shh! I'm coming back to bed."

Pasting on a smile, she returned to the bedroom, where Andrew was upright in bed, a moment away from leaping to his feet. Waving for him to lie back down, she tugged her tank top down and yawned.

"Where did you go? Are you hurting?"

"No more than I have been," she replied, sitting on the bed. "I got up to pee and heard a weird sound in the hall. I checked in with Ray. Must be the Percocet playing tricks on me."

Satisfied with her perfectly rational (and completely bullshit) answer, Andrew patted the mattress, beckoning her back into his embrace. "You are pretty loopy on meds. I remember how you kept confusing words after you broke your wrist. You'd completely swap verbs that sounded sorta alike, but meant wildly different things."

"I'm glad I amuse you," Autumn grumbled, nestling under the covers.

"Just one of many things I love about you," he replied sleepily, kissing her cheek. "Sleep, babe."

Easier said than done. As Andrew snored quietly behind her, Autumn's mind drifted through a series of violent images and the overwhelming helplessness she'd felt inside the storage room.
I was trapped. Powerless
. She'd vowed to never let anyone make her feel that way again.

To close the door, I've gotta open it. Well fine
, she thought bitterly.
I opened it, alright. Now, it can stay shut for all I care. Boarded over. Barricaded.
The notion of helping troubled souls was romanticized bullshit.

I am no one's conduit.
Closing her aching eyes, she pushed away anything she couldn't tangibly hold or scientifically define.
I'm done with all of you. Stay away. This is my life
.

Unknown to her, the universe was laughing at the notion.

Monday morning was a series of disappointments, marching in quick succession through Autumn's phone. Although Gabriel had been able to recall someone moving away from the vicinity of his car the day before, the description he provided boiled down to every generic Caucasian male with brown hair in history. Having only seen him from behind, they didn't even have an approximate age to work with. The parking garage cameras were astonishingly poor, providing no coverage of Gabriel's car and no useful angles of the mystery male.

The first set of lab results had come in for the letters, and with them, more frustration: no DNA, no fingerprints. The stationery was a specialty brand, but the company had moved at least five thousand units via twelve stores in the New York area in the past three months. Between cash sales and sheer volume, there was no way to narrow down a list of potential suspects. Not even a cross-reference against those in possession of an ARC panned out, much to Kevin's frustration.

The one glimmer of hope Autumn spied in the day was a message on her voicemail from Zoe Ferguson, the stage manager in charge at the O'Rourke. True to her word, she had been in contact with her colleagues past and present, looking for signs that Veronica's stalker might have harassed other actresses.

"
Hi Autumn,
" the message began. "
It's Zoe. I've tapped everyone I can in the Broadway world and I think I might have something that can help you and Veronica. Would you both be able to meet me at the theatre this afternoon? Maybe at three or so? I have some things to do today, but I should be free by then. Have Veronica call me if that doesn't work. See you.
"

Autumn had slept through the call, her painkillers knocking her out until eleven. Glancing at the time, she mulled her next move.
Three hours to kill.
Could they be productive at all?

Andrew was in the living room of their suite, running through the interviews he'd shot on Saturday. Autumn remained in bed, propped up by pillows, watching him from afar. The expression on his face while he worked on a project always captivated her. Somewhere between child-like wonder and a beyond-his-years seriousness, yet simultaneously both... she could never describe it. She simply knew the look to be his
working face
, which meant something incredible was coming together.

Apparently, she also had a
working face
. Andrew had once compared it to "a dreamy delirium grounded in determination."

Reaching for her purse on the ground beside her, Autumn absently pawed through her belongings. Taking inventory, as she explained it. Ever since the incident in the tunnels, she'd felt a compulsion to be prepared for everything and anything. Bank cards, cash, medications, keys—it wasn't that she was the only one to carry these things; it was that the world literally came crashing down if she found herself without them. Back home, she also carried a tiny multi-tool, including a knife that resembled a dull scalpel. It was legal, her father assured her. It also made her feel safe.

As a bonus, it came with a corkscrew and other useful gadgets. She pointed them out to anyone questioning her choice of possessions.

A stray rectangle of cardstock caught her attention as she dug deeper. Withdrawing it from her purse, she stared at the business card.
Madame Audrina. She gave me her card that night.
Autumn tapped it absently against her knee, debating her impulsive idea. Would it make things better, or worse? Wasn't she trying to slam the damn door shut on all of this?

Surely Audrina knows how to shut them up. She can't be talking to the dead 24-7
.

A sideways glance at Andrew told her that he would be content to keep working for the rest of the afternoon, if she let him.
Does he really expect me to stay in bed all day?
It was a foolish question: of course he did. He was angry enough that she'd been up and doing things yesterday.

She'd never sneak by him. Kevin was also nearby, Veronica and Evan opting to stay in their suite for her day off. No, if she wanted to do this in person, she would have to get him on board.

"Andrew?"

He tore his headphones off with a vicious tug, spinning in her direction. "You okay?"

"I'm fine. The pain, anyway. I... I have something I want to do today."

Abandoning his gear, Andrew approached the bed. "You're supposed to rest. It's bad enough you're going to the theatre later."

"Just hear me out," she insisted, passing him the card by way of explanation.

Examining the text, his shoulders slumped in defeat. "I'm listening."

"I want it to go away. Maybe she knows how?"

Autumn could see him struggling with the pros and cons on multiple levels: rest versus activity; digging into things he didn't fully understand versus trying to ignore them; her precarious mental health and the impact of exploring her gift. With one final look at the card, he handed it back to her.

"I'm going with you," he announced, shutting down any argument with an urgent kiss.

* * *

Audrina was sitting on her tiny porch when they arrived, nursing an iced tea from Starbucks while flipping through a copy of
Time
magazine. Spotting them between page flips, she closed the magazine and waved them closer.

"I hate at least half of the crap they say in this magazine, but it's force of habit," she sheepishly admitted, tapping it against her thigh. "Come on in."

Audrina didn't generally work days ("
People want the ambiance of the night for a psychic,
" she'd explained on the phone) but she was willing to meet with Autumn at two. The place was as Autumn remembered it: "lived in" and favouring antiques in the decor.

"Take a seat at the table," Audrina urged them. "Did you want something to drink?"

"I'm fine," Andrew replied, settling at the farthest seat from the psychic. "Autumn?"

"Nothing for me, thanks." Scooching her chair closer to the table, she waited nervously for Audrina to take the lead.

Tugging her hair into a high ponytail, Audrina rolled her neck and exhaled slowly. "I'm glad you came back. I know our last meeting was a tremendous shock. It wasn't easy for me to accept my gifts as a teenager."

"I'm still not convinced that 'gift' is the right word," Autumn grumbled. "I'd say 'pain in my ass' covers it."

Audrina shook her head wistfully. "We all go through it. The adjustment, the acceptance. It's not unlike the stages of grief. We're grieving the
normal
life that we're promised from birth. But it's really an awakening. It's self-acceptance."

"All the same, I need to shut it down, whatever this is. It's becoming too intrusive." Autumn kept her words vague, unwilling to share the terror of last night with Andrew.

Audrina's brow furrowed, her head tilted slightly. "One moment... Ah. I see now. I've described it to you before. It's a door. It doesn't stay shut. Right now, yours is wide open, which isn't ideal." Turning to Andrew, she added, "You're going to have to be strong as she learns to cope."

"I don't have anything to do with this," he protested. "I'm still trying to understand what 'this' is."

Audrina settled back in her chair. "A skeptic. I know. Melissa explained it when you arrived."

Andrew's face drained of colour. "I'm sorry—what did you say?"

"Your mother. She says if you don't believe me, that I should remind you of the time you caught her singing Geri Halliwell while cleaning out the attic when you were twelve."

Autumn's hand slid across the table, seeking Andrew's in solidarity. From the way his mouth hung slightly open, lower lip quivering, she knew that the psychic's words were true. He brushed roughly at the tears threatening to fall from his eyes.

"No one knows that story. No one."

Audrina's face was sympathetic as she slid a box of tissues across the table. "I hate springing these things on people, but it's the only way with a skeptic. Now, as I was saying, the key to controlling the dead is a firm grip on the living. It's like meditation: you need to ground and centre. The more centred your life is, the more control you maintain. When things are unbalanced, our gifts go a little... haywire."

"I have anxiety," Autumn blurted out. "An anxiety disorder. I've dealt with depression. Staying balanced takes a lot of effort. Too much fucking effort, sometimes," she confessed sadly. "How can I possibly protect myself when some days are a challenge from the minute I wake up?"

Audrina mulled this over for a moment. "You're going to need tokens. Talismans. The amethyst ring is one, without question, but you'll need something you can touch and immediately associate with grounding energy. Hematite is a wonderful grounding stone, but it need not be a crystal or stone at all. I have a client who carries a Monopoly game piece. It reminds her of her mother, of childhood security. Does this make sense?"

"A constant." Autumn deliberately ignored Andrew's puzzled expression. "That's helped so far. Mentally. But an object... That makes sense."

Turning to Andrew, Audrina added, "You have the right object. You're the constant. When you return home, you need to find the music box. You'll know it when you see it."

"Music box? Does that mean anything?"

Andrew was clearly overwhelmed. "Yeah... My mom had this old one on her dresser. Their valuables are in storage. The house, it's still there in Whitby, but just in case, my aunt had certain things put away." Looking to Autumn, he asked, "Is she... here?"

"She's peaceful, so the connection is faint, but she's pushed through the static." Audrina smiled at the couple, gesturing to Autumn. "She loves her. She's grateful that you brought him back out of his shell. That you laugh with him....” Audrina tilted her head slightly and chuckled. “
He's too serious
, she says.
Always has been
."

Andrew smiled at this, squeezing Autumn's hand. "She used to nag me to read less and watch cartoons more."

"She likes me?" Autumn asked shyly.

Audrina held up a finger, closing her eyes. "Yes!" She giggled. "Apparently, he's a sucker for a redhead—her words. But yes, she does. She thinks you're too hard on yourself, though. You're not a liability for him. Everything is reciprocated. You don't see that you're supporting him as much as he supports you. He hides it better, that's all."

"So true," Andrew mused quietly.

"I hope this has been of some help. Really, it's like any skill: it takes practice to balance the spirits. You can eventually reach a place where they know not to approach at certain times, or know that you'll listen better on Sundays at five on the dot. In the meantime, until you can get home, I have an idea..."

Audrina excused herself, heading upstairs as Autumn and Andrew remained at the table. Andrew seemed bewildered, torn between the science he loved and the need of an orphaned child for his parents. Autumn could only offer her hand, helpless to ease the ache in his heart. From time to time, she'd imagined how it would feel to lose her parents; each time, she immediately burst into tears and shoved the very thought into the darkest corners of her mind.

"Which Geri Halliwell song?"

Andrew huffed, smirking. "The 'Look At Me' one. She said it was sassy and spoke of actual feminist thought. I'm not sure I agree, but it's one of my fondest memories of her. She kept it on repeat to spite me."

"Or maybe to make you laugh," Autumn suggested.

"About that... She eventually understood that I laugh less at slapstick humour and more at clever things. Puns. Satire."

Autumn grinned. "It's one of your best qualities. Hooked me from the start."

The sound of footsteps broke the moment, the couple quietly awaiting the return of the psychic. Her fist stretched out towards Autumn, who opened her palm in return. Into it tumbled a black crystal, roughly the size of a large marble. It felt cool to the touch until she closed her hand around it and felt an odd tingling in her skin.

"Black tourmaline," Audrina explained. "A grounding stone, but also protective. It will complement the amethyst nicely. I sense that personal objects will be easier for you to work with, but this will help for now."

"Thank you." She turned it over in her hand, rotating the crystal in all directions, studying its surface.

"Autumn? It's getting close to three." Andrew rose slowly, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Hmm? Right! We have a meeting." She extended her hand to the kindly woman. "Thank you for this. I really appreciate it."

"No trouble at all," Audrina answered, holding her hand tightly. "Just remember: you are in charge, even if they make it seem like you're not. You follow me?"

Oh, she definitely understood what Audrina meant. "Got it. Um, how much do we owe you?"

Audrina waved her away, reaching for her iced tea. "No charge."

"But, the stone—"

"Inexpensive. A gift." The psychic's indignant look halted Andrew as he reached for his wallet. "Don't even try it," she admonished him.