Page 7 of Kill Me Again: Psychics

Chapter Three

Baxter

Two weeks later

Unlike the necromancy department—which, having been Calisto’s constant shadow for years, I was all too familiar with—there was no such thing as a psychic emergency. People’s minds stayed readable no matter how much time had passed. It meant there was no shift system at play, and we worked normal daylight hours.

Today, that meant all the other psychics were in attendance, as having used his ID on the door and the lift—again—Kendrick led me into the department.

“Leonardo!” I said to the muscular, blond-haired man sitting at his desk.

He rolled his eyes. “Leo. How many times do I have to tell you my parents christened me Leo?”

I perched on the corner of his desk and grinned. “I like Leonardo. He was my favorite turtle. He was the best at hand-to-hand combat. I bet you liked Raphael because he was the muscle.”

Leo’s brow furrowed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you do. Teenage Mutant Hero Turtles.” I ticked them off on my fingers. “Leonardo, Michelangelo, Donatello, and Raphael. They were huge when we were kids. Everyone had a favorite. Even if it was just because you liked that color best.”

Leo continued to stare at me blankly.

“He’s too young,” Silas offered from the desk closest to the window. “We all are. Except maybe Kendrick.” He turned to the man who’d just eased his tall, rangy body back into the chair I’d presumably forced him out of. “Do you remember the turtles, Kendrick?”

Kendrick shrugged. “Vaguely.”

An awkward silence settled over the room. Nobody wanted to be the one to mention the elephant in the room: that I might look a similar age to Leo and Silas, but in reality, I’d been born almost twenty years before they had. Our cultural references were completely different. And I kept forgetting that.

“Anyway,” I said, changing the subject. “What’s on the agenda work-wise?”

The three men shared a conspiratorial look I didn’t much appreciate. It said they knew something I didn’t.

“What?” I narrowed my eyes.

“Nothing,” Silas said quickly.

Kendrick leaned back in his chair. “I have a police consultation at eleven. Since the positive outcome in the Satanic Romeo case, they want to use the department more.”

By department, he meant him. No one had called on Leo and Silas for help yet, and I didn’t expect them to let a newbie like me near a suspect anytime soon, if they didn’t trust the other two.

Silas flicked open his diary. “Wall-to-wall domestics for me. He said, she said sort of stuff.” He pulled a face. “Oh, and I have to follow someone this afternoon and find out what secret they’re keeping. Is it an affair? Do they secretly work for M15? I’m betting it’s an affair. It always is.”

“Coma patient at ten,” Leo provided. “Then meetings this afternoon with potential clients who want reassurance I can find out what they need without scooping anyone’s brains out.”

“And me?” I asked.

Kendrick shrugged. “You’ll have to ask Cade.”

Which meant there was nothing lined up for me. Same as yesterday. And the day before that. I levered myself off Leo’s desk and went to my own, spending five minutes sorting through drawers and lining everything up neatly until even a neat freak like Calisto would have approved. Then I sat there, bored. “Why do I have to come in if there’s no work for me?”

“Duh! To get paid,” Leo said.

“I could take your coma patient.”

Before Leo could respond, Kendrick swiveled his chair to face me. “Jobs are assigned. You know that. If Cade wanted you to see the coma patient, he’d have put it on your roster. So…”

“So,” I echoed.

No one answered. Everyone was suddenly very focused on what they were doing, or at least pretending to be. I suspected the latter. When another five minutes passed in silence, I stood and headed for the door. “Where are you going?” Kendrick asked. “You don’t have your ID.”