Page 62 of Cadaver Lab: Mind Over Murder

The memories of the worst of her own past traumas. Then the disturbing images seemingly funneled directly into her brain from the brain ghost. Horrific scenes that blocked out all vision right before blackness consumed her as she lost consciousness. And how, according to what people told her, Liam had pulled her off the tracks just before the train went through.

“I can only assume it was the brain ghost affecting—invading, controlling, whatever—my mind. That has to be what caused my collapse. But whatever it was, when I woke up I could no longer see the ghosts,” Natalie concluded.

“Explain this brain ghost,” Letisha said with a furrow between her heavily plucked and sharply shaped eyebrows.

Exhausted, Natalie glanced at Liam.

The plea must have been clear in her weary expression, because he pushed off the wall he’d been leaning on and took a step forward.

Even Letisha, usually an ice queen, reacted when Liam recounted the events that followed the arrival of the new brain in his lab, starting with the menacing whispers Natalie had heard. That was followed by Pompous Doug’s death and the two attacks on Margaret Trout, both people Harper had publicly argued with, as if the spirit was trying to frame her. Then there was the attack on Alice, and finally Natalie.

Letisha, who’d sat still and silent as she appeared shocked by the tale Liam told, set down her coffee cup before shaking her head. “That’s⁠—”

“Unbelievable. I know.” Natalie scowled, sure now it was a bad idea to call Letisha.

She should have known no one outside of her immediate circle of friends would believe her. That Margaret Trout did was a miracle in itself. And she only believed because she’d seen it with her own eyes. Felt its sinister power.

Letisha leveled a stare on Natalie. “I was going to say frightening. Horrifying, actually. And completely believable, including why you became ‘ghost blind’ as you call it. In fact, I’m not surprised at all.”

“Really?” As Natalie tried to decide if Letisha was being smug that Natalie had lost her abilities or not, the woman stood and stepped forward.

Letisha squashed Natalie’s face between her two palms, closed her eyes and began to hum. Long and low. Kind of like a yoga chant.

Tall and thin, and adorned as she was in her usual over the top attire and accessories and a wild mop of black hair silvered with the beginnings of gray, Letisha looked like a deranged carnival fortune teller as she towered over Natalie and accosted her cheeks.

Like a switch had been flipped, the humming stopped, Letisha’s eyes flew open and she dropped her hold on Natalie.

“You’re burnt out,” she said, then turned back to her chair, sat down and lifted the coffee.

Natalie let out a sniff. “I could have told you that.”

Of course she was burnt out. Between the shop being open seven days a week, worrying about the lawsuit against Harper and the never-ending losing battle with the brain ghost, she was exhausted. Mentally and physically.

Letisha rolled her eyes. “I meant psychically. The brain ghost—can we really not come up with a better name for it? Anyway, it connected with you, or you connected with it… Either way, it latched on to your ability and essentially overloaded your psychic circuits.”

“So you’re saying my ability is… fried? Like a burnt-out fuse?” Natalie asked.

Letisha bobbed her head, sending a lock of hair swinging across one eye. “In a matter of speaking.”

“It does seem like a feasible explanation,” Liam said. Harper nodded in agreement.

Natalie didn’t want feasibility studies. She wanted her power back.

She swallowed, one question uppermost in her mind. Finally, she drew in a breath and asked it. “Will it ever come back, do you think?”

As far as she knew blown fuses couldn’t be fixed. They were just dead. Forever. You tossed them away in the trash and moved on.

Move on… that was something she wasn’t sure she would be able to do. At least not easily.

Letisha lifted one shoulder. “With time and rest, I suppose it’s possible. Your mind could heal and your ability might return. But I really don’t know.”

“But that’s good, Nat. You could heal,” Harper said, ever the cheerleader.

Natalie nodded, not really sharing Harper’s enthusiasm.

“Have you seen this happen before? This psychic burnout,” Liam asked, sliding easily into researcher mode.

“Something similar, yes. It happened to a friend of a friend. One of the members of my moon circle.”