Sensing you (Sensing Series Book 1) Read online

  Sensing Series Book One

  J.M. ADELE

  Gift or Curse?

  SENSING YOU

  Copyright © 2016 J.M. Adele

  All Rights Reserved

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means without the prior written permission of the author of this book.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead is purely coincidental. Any actual places, products or events mentioned are used in a purely fictitious manner. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various places/products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission and is by no way sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Edited by Eeva Lancaster

  Cover design by Book Flare Publishers

  Photo from Shutterstock © Sofiephoto

  Formatting by The Book Khaleesi

  Kindle Edition

  Coming Home Series

  Shattered Home (available in eBook)

  Remembering Home

  Finding Home

  Leaving Home (Coming 2018)

  Coming Home (TBA)

  Sensing Series

  Sensing You

  Convincing You (Coming 2018)

  Indulging You (TBA)

  To my EB.

  As I released this book into the world, you had to leave us.

  For sixteen years, you saw me through all sorts of sorrow and joy.

  You brought me comfort just by being.

  Thank you.

  I’ll be seeing you.

  Aussie Glossary

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Epilogue

  Other Titles by J.M. Adele

  Excerpt From Remembering Home

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Agro - Aggression

  Bogan - An uncouth person

  Chippie - Carpenter

  Dacks - Pants

  Glove Box - Glove compartment/ Jockey Box

  Goldy - The Gold Coast in Queensland, Australia

  Grub - Food

  Knackered - Exhausted

  Op Shop - Thrift store

  Pulling someone’s leg - Teasing them.

  Ranga - Redhead

  Rocky - Rockhampton, Queensland, Australia

  Shirt-front - to push your chest into another person’s. Usually an aggressive move

  Sneakers - Running shoes

  Sparrow’s fart - Before dawn

  Squiz - A glance or a look

  Taking the piss - Having a laugh

  The box - Television

  Tucker - Food

  Uni - University

  Ute - Utility vehicle/ Pickup truck. A car with a tray on the back for hauling loads

  My mind wandered to that place where my dreams flee, replaced with vaporous intruders and penetrating horrors. My body twitched and jerked, struggling to find consciousness as the misty form of a woman drifted into my room.

  Not again.

  She wore a floral, summer dress. One strap was torn and hung loose from her shoulder, and dark bruises circled her neck. Reaching out her hand, she wrapped it around my foot. My body stilled. Inside my chest, my heart froze while my stomach threatened to prolapse. She pulled on my foot, imploring me to listen. I knew she couldn’t really drag me away, but I felt the icy touch, the drag of her fingers on my terrified flesh. I wondered if I would somehow disappear. My hands reached desperately for the pillow.

  “Stop,” I pleaded.

  “You have to help me. You have to stop him.”

  My whimpers turned into sobs. “Please … g-go away.”

  I felt another presence. Heard the shaky rumble of his voice as he told the lady to leave.

  “Daddy,” I whispered, relieved. He smiled at me with sad eyes.

  But the spirit refused to budge.

  “I’m sorry, honey bunch. I love you,” my father’s voice whispered, heavy with regret.

  The wretched fingers of loss clawed their way into my chest, pulling apart my ribcage as if just learning of his death.

  I dropped the pillow, and reached out to him. “Nooo! Daddy!” My screams were useless. He was gone.

  Wrenching my sweat-soaked body upright, my throat ached as the scream continued to escape the depths of my chest. I pressed my lips together to cut off the sound, but that only lasted a second. My mouth opened wide again as I gasped for much needed air.

  A hammering sound filled the room. My muddled brain mistook it for the pulse in my ears, but it was the beating of a fist on my bedroom door.

  “SHUT UP!” My housemate screeched as she continued to pound.

  I was definitely awake now. My hand circled my throat. I needed to check for myself if my screams had stopped. Yup. All good. “Yeah, keep your skin on!” I tried to shout back, but my voice came out hoarse.

  “Fucking freak,” she mumbled before I heard the shuffle of her feet on the tiles.

  Again, frozen fingers grasped my toes and pulled. I snapped my foot back, leaving her hand suspended and empty. I watched my stubborn, unwanted visitor through narrowed eyes, and a whole lot of false bravado.

  “He’s coming. He’s going to take another.”

  “Okay got it. You can go now. You’re not wanted here. Leave.” My voice was low, but firm.

  Her face went blank, and her hand dropped from its raised position. The holographic image of her faded, but the chill running up and down my body remained.

  I liked to think I could run from this, but there’s no hiding from things unbound to time or matter. My stupid sixth sense was telling me the proverbial shit was going to hit the proverbial fan … soon.

  Fuck my life.

  Brad—Six Months Ago

  Screaming sirens and the roar of engines pierced the pre-dawn tranquillity. Red and blue flashing lights blocked my view and I could see a motorcycle cop gesturing for me to pull over. Ah, fuck. Dropping through the gears, I eased off my bike’s throttle, and pulled over behind the bacon.

  The cop kicked out his stand and casually strolled over, flipping the cover of his ticket book before looking at me. “Morning, sir. Could you please dismount and turn off your engine?”

  I did as he said. My headlight died, just like my chance of getting home without getting caught by the pigs.

  “Any reason why you’re not wearing a helmet?”

  I’m fucked.

  Truth is, I didn’t want to wear the fucking thing like a good little boy. I just wanted to feel the wind in my hair, and hide behind a bandana like an outlaw.

  “It was stolen while I was taking a piss.”

  His bland expression flattened by a fraction. The guy had clearly heard every sort of bullshit excuse from every kind of nut job. “Did you realise you were speeding around the bend back there?”

  “Nuh. What speed was I doing, cunt-stable?” He ignored my jibe and
started jotting down my license plate on his ticket book. “Don’t you guys have an app for that now?” His pen paused for a millisecond before he continued to write the government a cheque for an obscene amount of my money.

  “I’m going to need your driver’s license. Have you been drinking tonight?” He narrowed his eyes, obviously unamused. His look told me that he’d like to add the word ‘dickhead’ to his question.

  I shook my head. Even though I did have a drink late last night, technically, I haven’t had anything today. He tested me anyway and I just scraped in under the limit.

  I’ve got nothing against the pigs. They’ve got a shitty job, and we’re all buggered without them. I was just being a petulant little shit because my care factor was in the negative. I wanted to stir up trouble. I wanted the adrenaline rush of skirting the edge of danger. Riding the winding roads of Mount Glorious in the early hours of a Saturday morning had felt like a good plan. If I happened to take a corner too wide and launched into sweet oblivion, well, I’d crack one last smile before my exit. If my face remembered what to do. There was nobody home to answer the door anyway, if the cops came knocking. So, what would it matter?

  He handed my license back with the ticket, explaining my offenses, and the consequences that came with them. Five hundred and ten dollars and four demerit points later, I still felt no remorse. As I stood there with my arms folded and legs apart, I felt the adrenaline continue to pump through my veins, feeding the anger that thrived in my shrivelled heart. I was pissed that I didn’t just slide off the edge of the mountain. Now, I was stuck waiting for a cop car to take me to the nearest train station.

  I didn’t want to go back to that house. I didn’t want to go back to living the nightmare I’ve been forced to endure. I did not fucking deserve to live at all.

  Ronnie—Present Day

  Rhythmic breaths screamed through my lungs. As my feet hit the pavement, shocks ricocheted up my body. I was sharing the dawn light with a handful of diehards, braving the onslaught in order to flog our bodies into a state of fitness, discipline and beauty, or in my case—numbness. This torture was as necessary to me as breathing. Sometimes I run twice a day, even more when I'm not working. It was a feeling I revelled in. The pulsing of muscle, the surging of blood and endorphins, the sting of fatigue and lactic acid … it’s my bliss.

  I lifted the collar of my singlet to wipe the sweat from my neck as I passed another runner. If there’s one thing I didn’t like about running, it was the sweat. The feeling of it trickling down my neck was particularly offensive. It reminded me too much of … unwanted visitors. They’re never too far away. As inescapable to me as the need to take a dump, and about as pleasant.

  My arms and legs continued to pump as I turned my head to gaze across the brown, Brisbane River, watching the city wake up. Vehicles either scurried home for the day, or started out early on the Riverside Expressway. Cranes perched themselves on infantile skyscrapers, stretching their necks, ready to cast their lines for the next piece of the puzzle. I couldn’t hear anything but the thumping of rock music through my earbuds, though, and that’s just the way I liked it. But I could smell the river, and the overlay of wet clay on the humid breeze.

  I swivelled my head back around just in time to notice an Ibis scavenging for treasures left over from last night's social scene in South Bank. Heaving my body up, I leaped over the bird, spinning in mid-air so that I landed facing the direction I’d come from. It opened its long black beak, giving me the stink eye and probably squawking at me. Not that I could hear it. I was tempted to give it the finger. I was tempted to give anything the finger, if it got too close.

  My head jerked up at some movement behind Featherbrain. A young woman stood applauding with a huge grin on her face. Smart arse. I resisted the urge to bow and flip her the bird. Turning back, I pushed my aviators up the bridge of my nose, pulled down the shade of my baseball cap, and yanked two handfuls of my long, brown hair to tighten my ponytail. It flapped against my back as I ran, acting like a blanket in the sticky heat.

  My peripheral vision registered that I’d gained a companion. The young woman had started running beside me. She was actually keeping pace, so I picked it up a notch. She kicked it up a gear, too.

  Smart arse.

  I flicked my eyes sideways to get a better look at her. Wearing bright blue shorts and a loose yellow tank with the words ‘MADE LAST CENTURY' embroidered across the chest, she barely reached my shoulders. Wait a minute. Her chest wasn’t rising and falling from breathing hard, only from the swing of her arms … and she looked a bit hazy around the edges. She stopped moving her legs and turned sideways, but her body continued to move along with me.

  Oh. She’s a spirit.

  I slowed down again. She had an advantage over me. Smart Arse was unavoidable. As I passed the Wheel of Brisbane lying in wait for its first volunteer, I wondered who she was with so I could tell them to put a leash on.

  As if they’d believe me.

  "Gonna be a beautiful day," she yelled with enthusiasm as she jogged beside me. I wanted to smack it out of her.

  I continued to ignore her and sped up again. Not many people could keep up with me once I got going. I really should do a fun run or two. Hmm, running in a crowd. How horrific. I suppressed a shudder.

  "You are super fit, aren't you? How often do you run?"

  I pointed to my ear buds and shook my head, mouthing, "I can't hear you." Punching the volume up, the music beat against my eardrums like my head was between two clashing cymbals. When she reached over to take out my ear bud, I stumbled to a stop, grabbing at the cord.

  Damn, she knew how to move things.

  "Hey!" I yelled before thinking.

  "Would you stop for two minutes, Elektra?"

  "Pfft! Elektra. Good one. Too bad I don’t carry a Sai or you’d be a goner." I hissed the words under my breath while fiddling with my earphones.

  "I've been watching you for weeks. I really need to talk to you," her pretty eyes pleaded.

  She looked young; late teens, maybe early twenties. Her family must’ve been devastated that she was taken so young. Reluctantly, I softened towards her, but only a little.

  "Okay. Just a tip. If you're trying to make a friend, it's probably best not to admit that you've been stalking the person, first."

  "Lol," she said with a smirk and a lift of the eyebrow, flicking her bronze ponytail back over her shoulder.

  "Oh God, she speaks in text.” I snorted and turned back to the path. She followed my lead. Great. My shoulders slumped as I let out a sigh. “If you really need to talk to me, you're going to have to run."

  I turned off the music and tucked the ear buds into the pocket of my running shorts, before I took off at a jog. Everything felt thinner, my skin, my clothes, the oxygen content in the air. I had the irrational urge to duck for cover in the garden. But I pulled the brim of my hat lower instead.

  "Cute shorts. Where'd you get 'em?"

  With an exaggerated eye roll, I answered, "The Op Shop."

  "Ooh, I used to love op shopping," she sighed.

  That was unexpected. She looked a bit too pampered for the second-hand-shop scene.

  The whoosh of air from being overtaken by the exercise crowd grated on my personal space. It was one of my pet hates. I ground my teeth and chewed on the flesh of my cheek, wiping the trickling sweat off my brow.

  "Are you going to get to the point any time soon? I have to get ready for work." My lips barely moved. I was so good at it; I could do a side gig as a ventriloquist.

  "Okay, okay. I need you to find my brother and give him a message for me," she half mumbled.

  My jaw and hands clenched in unison. I’d heard some version of this question for as long as I could remember.

  I need you to tell my kids I love them and I’m Okay.

  Tell my son I buried five thousand dollars in the backyard, in a Milo tin.

  My wife doesn’t know I had a son.

  I didn’t want anything
to do with anyone’s family bullshit.

  "Can’t you find him yourself? You can walk through walls, you know."

  "I haven't lost him, obviously. He's just ignoring me because I did something stupid."

  “Like die?” I glanced at her and watched her face fall as the words left my mouth. I wanted to suck them back in and crunch them until they were dust. Swinging my gaze back to the path, I resurrected my hard exterior. I couldn’t let her get to me. I wanted to keep my sanity. "Can't help you," I said curtly, omitting the word ‘sorry’ on purpose.

  "Wait! Hear me out, " she pleaded.

  "No."

  "Oh, come on, you're starting to sound like your flatmate."

  My head whipped around and my feet faltered. "Stop stalking me!"

  "I'm sorry, but I've seen you around on campus, and my brother starts his degree there this week.” She twisted her hands together before dropping them back to her sides. “What if I told you your life is about to change for the better because of me?"

  Change? No, I didn’t like the sound of that at all. I wiped my hands on my shorts, erasing any trace of panic as I rolled my eyes. "Unless you can tell me the lotto numbers, I'm not interested."

  "I’m going to save your life," she said soberly.

  Her expression made me pause, turning my thoughts back to the dream, and the visitor I had this morning. I wiped my hands again as the chill returned to my foot, winding its way up my leg. My heart rate sped out of control. I did jumps on the spot, jiggling my shoulders to dislodge the bad juju.

  "Look, whatever you’ve heard about me is rubbish. Yes, I can see you. No, I’m not a PI. Seriously, how do you think I’d be able to reach out to a complete stranger with the opener, ‘Your dead sister sent me?’ I'm just not interested, and I'm afraid your time is up. So … good luck with that." I stabbed my ear buds back into my ears.

  Looking around to get my bearings, I saw that we’d reached the Maritime Museum, and the end of the path. I turned west so I could head back to my car. The tension in my shoulders worked its way up my neck. What a shit start to the day.