One Step Ahead
K Hanna Korossy

Roger finished feeding on the psychic—Dede?—and licked his spike carefully clean. Mmm. Had other wraith discovered how delicious psychics were? Oh, well, more for him.

He didn't give a second glance to the body slumped over the table, just made his way around the room, looking at her stuff. Roger stopped in front of the picture of Dede with an older black woman. Another psychic? Probably. Which meant she would most likely come check out what had happened to her friend.

Roger cocked his head. If she was a real psychic, she would see him coming. She was older, probably more experienced at what she did. But if she was looking for signs of him in the room… Well. He'd just have to leave her one.

He returned to the door and fondled the knob, making sure it was laden with his poison. It shouldn't do more than unsettle anyone who briefly touched it. But if, say, a psychic were to handle it, looking to pick up some vibes, it would definitely leave her confused, maybe hallucinating. Defenseless against his return.

Smiling widely, Roger checked to make sure the coast was clear, and left the scene of the crime.


Missouri Moseley had been a psychic since she was a small child, trained at her Mamaw's knee. She knew her craft, and she knew her mind, far more than most people. The moment she touched the doorknob, she not only saw the wraith who'd been there and murdered Dede, but also recognized the little parting gift he'd left her, and why.

And in that moment, she knew this would be her last day on this earth.

The wraith would think it was because he'd won, fooled her, beat her. Let him. She would have the last laugh, even if from the other side of the Veil.

Because despite his poison's taint, she could see it all, and true. The futures where she left with Dean. The one where she stayed home. The one where she came back to Dede's that night. The one where she went into hiding. There were plenty in which she stayed alive, long after the monster was dead.

But there was only one in which Patience, James, Dean, and his sheriff friend all survived. And it was a future in which she did not.

She would take it. She'd lived a long, good life, even if she wished things had gone differently with James and that she'd gotten to see Patience again, not just in her mind's eye. If her passing meant those she loved would live, that was a price she would gladly pay.

So she gave Dean a message for Sam, told him to take care of her family, and hugged him goodbye. She had a few phone calls to make, one person to see, and several things to bury or unbury.

And then she would come back to the scene of the crime and face her death without flinching.

The End