Mind Over Matter Read online

  Mind Over Matter

  C J England

  © copyright March 2007, CJ England

  Cover art by Jenny Dixon, © copyright March 2007

  New Concepts Publishing

  Lake Park, GA 31636

  www.newconceptspublishing.com

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

  To the makers of great paranormal movies and shows---Thank you all for letting your imaginations run free and not being afraid to push the creative envelope. These stories all give us a taste of what might be.

  And to Dr. Judith Orloff, who gave me hope that my own empathic gift could be used for something more than knowing when my kids were fibbing to me.

  Thank you.

  Prologue

  The sound of a car screeching out of control made everyone turn and stare. The driver of a dark blue pickup truck ran the red light and then stomped on the brakes, realizing he didn’t have the right of way. By then it was too late.

  Eighteen year old Shanna Thompson screamed as the truck came barreling down on her family’s station wagon. She didn’t think. She didn’t speak. She just acted, even as her father shouted, “No!”

  Using her telekinetic gift, she lifted the station wagon out of the way. It made her cry out in pain as the overextended power ripped through her young body, but she did it just the same. The pickup sped past underneath them, the top of the cab ripping off one of the station wagon’s tires as it blew by.

  Shanna screamed again when she saw the truck was headed for a school yard. The station wagon dropped like a stone when she lost control of her powers. She scrambled from the car, ignoring her father’s angry shouts.

  “No,” she cried as she watched it crash through the school yard gate. She sent her power at the truck and caught it just as it knocked over a set of swings. Blood poured from her nose at the effort of keeping the truck aloft.

  A woman’s scream made her jerk around and the truck fell to the earth.

  “She’s a Psy!” the woman shouted. “Crazy Psy killed that kid!”

  Whirling back around, Shanna stared into the school yard. Where the swing set had been, now rested a mangled mess of metal. And in the middle she could see two tiny feet.

  She hadn’t been in time.

  Worse yet, she’d exposed herself, and now she might be blamed for the whole accident. Ignoring the fear that rose up inside of her, she raced over to the child in the school yard. Maybe he was still alive.

  But the second she touched him, she knew it was too late. Life had left the small form. Tears burned in her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I wasn’t strong enough.”

  She heard a low murmur and turning, saw a crowd was gathering. By the looks on their faces, they all thought the worst. It was time to go.

  Shanna turned and ran back, hiding behind the station wagon where her family was waiting.

  “Oh, Shanna,” her mother sobbed as she wiped futilely at the blood on her daughter’s face. “What have you done?”

  Her eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry, Mama. I just reacted. I couldn’t help myself.”

  “You know what this means, don’t you, Boo?”

  Shanna’s tears overflowed at her father’s pet name for her. “Yes,” she whispered. She’d lived in fear that this day would come.

  Those with psychic powers or Psys as they were called by those who considered themselves normal were desperately feared by ordinary people. The government, bowing to public opinion, had created a special organization to keep tabs on all the people deemed different. P.A.P.R.A., the Psychic and Paranormal Registration Agency, was responsible for finding and documenting all psychics.

  Once documented, those people had to undergo rigid psychological profiling and testing to determine whether or not they were safe to be allowed in the general public. Those thought to be benign were allowed to live normal lives, after being tagged with subcutaneous locator chips--just in case.

  Those that the tests deemed violent or to have dangerous tendencies were put to work in the PAPRA institute and used for labor and research. They never tasted freedom again.

  All this was because it was feared that with their abilities, psychics might try to take over the world.

  Not surprisingly, there were many with paranormal gifts who thought the testing was morally and legally wrong. They refused to be tested or documented. Those with the strength to fire a change went rogue, calling on all psychics to refuse the governmental edict. A grass roots movement to end all the testing and disband PAPRA was underway.

  Most Psys just wanted to be left alone to live in peace. They hid their abilities and blended in with the normals, or mundanes as they were called. They raised their families and stayed below the radar, always living with the fear that someday they would be discovered.

  For Shanna, that day had come. But with luck and by following the contingency plan that had been in place since before her birth, the rest of her family might escape unexposed.

  She looked around at her shaken family. She was one of four siblings. Her oldest brother Adam’s face was grim as he met her eyes. Three years her senior, his gift was reading minds as well as seeing the future. He held out his arms and she fell into them.

  “Damn it, Shanna,” was all he could manage through his own tears. “Why didn’t I see this coming?”

  After a moment, she traded his arms for her younger brother’s. Ethan had the remarkable ability of talking to spirits. When the time was right, he could also read inanimate objects and see whatever they had been around. He gave her a hard hug and a kiss on the forehead. Even at sixteen, he towered over her slender five-foot-six frame.

  Last was Ethan’s twin sister, Althea. She was sobbing her heart out. As an empath, she felt all the painful emotions in the car, and it overwhelmed her. Of all of them, her gift was the most difficult to live with. But her talent for feeling other people’s true emotions, as well as using that skill for healing, was one that would be highly sought after, if she was discovered.

  And Shanna would never let that happen. It was time to put their plan into action.

  She turned to her mother. “I have to go, now, before they realize I’m with you.”

  Her tiny mother wrapped her arms around her. “Oh, Shanna. I can’t believe this is happening.”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered again. “I couldn’t let anyone be hurt.”

  “I know.” Her mother sighed. “You did what you thought best at the time. You call us and let us know you’re okay.”

  “Now, Maggie. You know she can’t,” her father, Steven said gruffly. “But you do have the safe numbers, right?” At Shanna’s nod, he grabbed her and hugged her hard. “You call those. We’ll get the message.”

  “I will.” Shanna’s throat ached from tears she refused to shed. In one fell swoop, her childhood was over. She didn’t regret saving her family, but now her life would be changed forever.

  She looked around her. You could see they were all related. All the siblings had dark hair and golden hazel eyes. It was why she needed to get out of there fast. If the authorities saw her with them, they would know her family were Psy, too.

  “Here,” muttered Ethan. He handed her the backpack that was always kept close by, in case of an emergency.

  “I love you,” she whispered. Swallowing hard, she looked at each of them one more time, committing them to memory. Then she turned and disappeared into the crowd, knowing that she would probably never see her beloved family ever again.

  Chapter One

  Seven Years Later

  The smoke-filled room looked like a hundred others he’d
seen in his career. Inebriated men leaned over the scarred bar, slurping down shooters of Jack Daniels or staring longingly at their empty beer bottles.

  Bryan Campbell sipped at his own drink, grimacing at the watered-down taste. He watched the woman on stage shimmy and dance around the pole, gyrating like her life depended on it.

  He snorted. It probably did. In a dive like this, there wasn’t much job security. His experienced gaze traveled over the bar patrons. They were a boring lot. Old men, out to get their nightly jollies by watching a pretty young thing strip for them as they fondled themselves under the table. Tourists and conventioneers who wanted to get a taste of the darker side of life. And those younger men who thought they were God’s gift to the women who worked here, always looking for a little grope in trade for that pitiful tip.

  He sighed. This was the tenth bar he’d visited in as many days. When the tip had come in that they could find their quarry at some bar named Pussycat in Charleston, North Carolina, he’d had no idea what he was getting into.

  Bryan soon realized that bar owners in this harbor town weren’t very creative in the naming of their establishments. He’d been to the Pussycat Lounge, the Pussycat Bar, What’s Up Pussycat? and the Pussycat Club. He’d sat down at filthy bars in Pussy Galore and Don’t Pussyfoot Around.

  Then there were the colors. Bryan had yawned through shows at the White Pussycat, the Black Pussycat, and the Neon Pussycat. Now he sat in the Pink Pussycat and he was ready to call it a night. He’d been here for several hours and hadn’t seen anyone that fit the description of the woman he was searching for.

  Idly, he pulled the photo from his pocket. Taken by a witness with a cell-phone camera, the image was grainy and distant, but it definitely confirmed the perp was a woman, slender, dark haired and young. In the picture he could barely make out her profile.

  His stomach churned in suppressed rage. It was her type that gave all psychics a bad name. She was an undocumented Psy with a talent for tossing things around. Apparently in a temper she’d destroyed a car carrying a family. They weren’t hurt, but then she’d turned around and used her murderous rage against a small child playing innocently on a playground. He’d died instantly.

  For seven years, the PAPcops had been looking for this girl. And when she hadn’t been found by regular forces, they’d called in an expert. He grunted in irritation. If he’d been given the assignment when it happened, she would have been found immediately. But his kind was brought in only on special cases.

  And apparently, with Election Day coming up and the parents of the dead boy screaming for justice, now she was a special case.

  As a Level Ten documented psychic, Bryan was given those assignments that were considered unsolvable. He had a strong detector talent, and could pick up the emanations of others and track them down. He also had another special ability, one that had come in handy several times. But that was one that he kept to himself. Not even the agency knew about it.

  Frowning at the bureaucracy of the government, Bryan tossed back the rest of his drink and threw a five dollar bill on the bar. Obviously, this place was a washout too, even with the psychic residue he could feel here.

  Nodding at the sour-faced bartender, he turned to leave--and saw her.

  His entire body tightened and his cock sprang to full attention. The woman who had just walked in exuded sex from the top of her head to the soles of her feet. He shook his head slowly. He knew that sexuality wasn’t a psychic talent, but the way this lady sent out vibes, she should be registered with PAPRA as a lethal weapon.

  She was about medium height and build, with nice size breasts and long legs that made his mouth water. When she turned to speak to a man nearby, he could see that her tight little ass was built just right for a man’s hands.

  Bryan watched as she smiled at the bouncer and walked over to the end of the bar. She and the bartender had a few words, then the man fixed her a drink--non alcoholic--that she sipped quietly as she looked around the room.

  She was gorgeous. So beautiful, he wondered immediately what the hell she was doing at a place like the Pink Pussycat.

  She had long dark hair that flowed past her shoulders to about mid-back. Her face was triangular with a small chin and wide forehead. Eyes the color of a polished amber gazed at the other patrons. When her eyes met Bryan’s they widened and a faint blush touched her high cheekbones before she turned away.

  He groaned and his heat level increased as her full lips sucked at the straw in her drink. He decided right there and then to buy stock in whatever company made them. He wished he was the straw right now.

  He grinned. Maybe this place wasn’t a washout after all. He might not have found a murderer, but he might have discovered a bed partner for the night. He carefully adjusted himself before his erection got painful. This was going to be fun.

  Bryan had only taken a few steps, when the woman put down her drink and disappeared behind the curtain next to the bar. It took him several seconds to realize that she worked here.

  His grin widened. Well, working in a place like this, she was bound to be a little freer with her favors. Not only would this be fun, it would be easy too.

  * * * *

  In the back room, Shanna laid her forehead against the crooked mirror and prayed that she’d stop shaking. One look from that man at the bar had set all her nerves singing. Never had she felt an attraction so strong before.

  His pale blue eyes had snagged hers when she happened to glance his way, but she’d seen them darken with appreciation as he looked at her. Her whole body felt like an electric shock had gone through her.

  She groaned and then forced herself to begin the task of putting up her mass of hair. She knew better than to think about him. Her life did not include dating, or even getting to know a man. It was too dangerous.

  She’d learned the hard way the cost of being impulsive.

  Blinking back tears, she darkened her makeup, preparing for her nightly job as a waitress. She’d worked in so many of these places they’d begun to run together. But at least here, the pay was steady, and for the moment, she was safe.

  Tucking a pencil behind an ear, she picked up her tray. Taking a deep breath, she walked back out on the floor, heading to her usual section. Tonight there were just a few men sitting around the stage.

  Lancy, the stripper of the night, was dancing tiredly, her bleached blonde hair screaming for a touch-up. She chewed her gum and nodded at Shanna when she walked by.

  Moving slowly, she made her rounds, taking drink orders and avoiding hands. When she went to the bar to get her drinks, she noticed that the blue-eyed man was gone. Relief warred with disappointment. The last thing she needed in her life was a man, even one that made her panties go damp. But he’d been so hot looking.

  She arranged the drinks on her tray and headed back to the stage. She’d just handed out the first set of drinks when, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed someone sit down.

  She turned to let him know she’d seen him and froze. It was him. Blue Eyes. And he was even better looking close-up than he was far away. His body was big and hard, and under the tight fitting T-shirt he wore, she could see his muscles ripple. She wondered absently how he would feel to the touch.

  Her gaze trailed over chin-length blond hair that looked like it needed a quick combing. Her fingers suddenly itched to run through it. His ice blue eyes were seamed at the side, like he was out in the sun a lot. He had a strong face that wasn’t handsome, but he had a masculine aura about him that was very attractive.

  And judging by the quirk of his sensuous lips, he knew exactly how he was affecting her. Stepping back a little, Shanna swallowed the urge to toss a table at him. Instead, she finished up handing out drinks and then slowly made her way over to him.

  “What can I get you?”

  Bryan grinned, ignoring the desire to tell her that she was what he wanted. She probably heard it all the time, and it was a lame joke anyway. “How about a gin and tonic?”

/>   “Lime or lemon?”

  He raised his eyebrow. The bartender hadn’t even asked that. “Lime.”

  Without another word, she turned and went to the bar. Bryan leaned over and watched, appreciating the fine sway of her ass as she walked away.

  It wasn’t long before she was back. “Four-seventy-five,” she said briskly.

  Bryan handed her a ten. “Keep it.”

  Her eyes widened. “Thanks.”

  She turned to move away, but Bryan caught her by the arm. An electric shock went through him, and he felt his cock twitch. Wow! He smiled up at her sexily. “What’s your name?”

  She gulped and tried to pull away. “Anna.”

  He let her go. “Thanks, Anna. Come back in a few. I’ll be ready for another one, pretty quick.”

  She pursed her lips and almost looked disapproving. Then she nodded curtly and strode off.

  He finished his drink and waited for almost twenty minutes before she appeared at his side. He turned to snarl at her about her lousy service, but shut up when he saw a fresh gin and tonic appear in front of him. Bryan shook his head. “What if I’d wanted a beer?”

  “Do you?”

  “No,” he frowned. “But that’s not the point.” When she just stared at him, he sighed and handed her a twenty. “Keep the change.”

  “That’s a fifteen dollar tip,” she said quietly, chewing her lips nervously.

  “I know.” He reached out and caught her hand, taking her unaware. They both gasped at the shock that ran through them. Bryan had to clear his throat before he could speak.

  “I think you’re worth it.”

  Instead of being flattered, she narrowed her eyes. “And just what does that mean?”

  Bryan kissed the inside of her wrist, ignoring the buzz that tickled his lips when he touched her. “Let’s just call it a down payment for later. Or if you want, you could give me a nice little lap dance right now.”

  Shanna’s mouth dropped open. For a moment she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She’d been propositioned before, but could always laugh it off. For some reason, it hurt that this guy thought she was a whore.