Chapter FOUR-JEZEBEL

The thing about being a psychic no one told you was that you tended to be blind when it came to your own life.

I used to think my curse was limited to seeing the shadows of the dead, but now and then, I saw other things, too. Inexplicable things.

Things that inspired people to make up fairytales and folklore.

Magic.

Monsters.

Mysteries.

That kind of thing.

Now, I knew the man in the truck was okay, after all, Penelope had sent him, and his truck bore the Motley Crewd Ranch logo.

But I wasn’t expecting a psychic vision to fill my head the moment we locked eyes, which was probably why it hit me so hard.

It felt like a thunderclap in the stillness of my mind, jolting me out of reality.

My pulse started racing as the world around us blurred into insignificance.

The second I met his intense gaze I was struck by a vision so clear it rendered me speechless.

I saw flashes of images—vivid colors swirling together, landscapes shifting like sand in the wind.