Fired Up

bandage that covered a portion of his head and one ear. The cone-shaped gadget on his neck that prevented him from scratching at the bandage detracted somewhat from the warrior image, but he was alpha enough to handle the indignity. Phyllis had given him a new chew toy when he had arrived. Worked for him.
    For decades, Phyllis Harper had been known as the Psychic to the Stars. She had been the favorite confidante of celebrities, producers, media moguls and others who reigned in Hollywood. In addition she had also consulted for various politicians, CEOs and assorted underworld figures. The pink velvet-flocked walls of her living room were hung with framed photographs of her with famous people. The house had been paid for by her long series of lovers.
    Following her official announcement of retirement she had moved back to her hometown of Seattle. She no longer accepted new clients, but she still took phone calls from those who had sought her advice over the years and the occasional old lover.
    Chloe had always felt a special connection with her aunt. Phyllis was the only one in the family who truly understood her talent. That was because Phyllis possessed a very similar ability. Although Chloe was the more powerful talent of the two, they had both been stuck with the downside that accompanied the sensitivity to dreamlight.
    Phyllis picked up the pot with a hand that sparkled with diamonds and other assorted stones. She winked.
    “Your prints are positively glowing today,” she said. “What’s his name?”
    “He’s a client, Aunt Phyllis.”
    “Yes, I know all about your silly rule. You know I don’t approve. I had affairs with any number of clients over the years, and no harm ever came of it.”
    “You lived in Hollywood. I live in Seattle.”
    “I don’t see why that should matter.” Phyllis tilted the pot to pour the tea. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen that particular kind of energy in your prints.” She set the pot down. “He must be very interesting.”
    “He is, but that doesn’t change the fact that he is still a client,” Chloe said. “Besides, I told you that I’ve entered a new phase in my life.”
    “The celibacy thing. Ridiculous decision.” Phyllis clucked disapprovingly. “I’m sure it will pass. But I can see that you’re here on business. What can I do for you?”
    “My new client hired me to find an old family heirloom. Aunt Beatrice and Uncle Edward helped me track it down. Looks like it’s currently in the hands of Drake Stone. He’s still doing shows in Vegas.”
    Phyllis beamed. “I know Drake. Charming man. I remember how concerned he was when the news broke that he was gay. But I was able to assure him that the publicity could be managed in a way that would actually boost his career.”
    “I thought there was a good chance that you would be acquainted with him. Can I talk you into making a phone call to arrange an introduction? It’s a little hard for a small-time PI like me to get through to a famous star like Stone.”
    “Certainly, dear. What shall I tell him?”
    “That I have a client who would very much like to purchase a certain antique lamp from him.”
    “Not a problem. That’s all?” Phyllis managed a tiny frown. It could not have been easy given the amount of cosmetic surgery she’d had over the years. “Why do I have the feeling that things might be somewhat more complicated than you’re letting on?”
    “My client’s name is Jack Winters. And the family heirloom is the Burning Lamp. Ring any bells?”
    “Oh, my,” Phyllis murmured. The vivacious energy that had animated her a moment ago dimmed abruptly. Her heavily made-up eyes narrowed with shrewd intelligence. “That definitely complicates the picture. Do you think he actually is a Winters? A true descendant of Nicholas Winters, I mean? The name is not that uncommon after all.”
    Chloe thought about the nightmare energy that had slammed through her last night. “I’m pretty sure he’s the real deal.”
    “Why does he want the lamp?”
    “He believes that he’ll turn into some sort of psychic monster if he doesn’t find it.”
    “But surely he realizes those old tales about Nicholas and the Burning Lamp are just myths and legends.”
    “He’s convinced they’re real,” Chloe said.
    Phyllis sniffed. “Then he must have a few loose screws.”
    “If I refused to accept every client who had a loose screw I’d go out of business in a week.”
    “How did he find