From Ashes to Immortality (ch1)
Many people walk round the world picking up only the faintest film of detail in their environment. The flotsam and jetsam of life; of bills and barbecues, and annoying neighbours and the 'To Do' list that manages to grow longer each day, crowds out our natural instincts. We notice the dust and leave the substance to side swipe us, looming large and crashing suddenly into the arena of our awareness. Then we bemoan the way life, "blind-sided us". When it is we, who are truly sightless.
Missouri Moseley did not have this flimsy excuse. She not only lived by the data she gleaned from her sharply honed senses, but she used the full benefits of her genetically grown psychic abilities; her sixth sense, to both make a living – and stay alive. It was like her Momma always said; "When you glimpsed what lurked behind the curtain, it sure as hell got a good peak at you too".
Missouri had lived on her own for decades now, since the passing of her Momma. Her Kansas home had been well fortified through the generations by the Mosley family. It had been the safest spot for the then, 25 year old witch just coming into the full bounty of her abilities. As she bade goodnight to deluded Mr Gunderson whose dreams of fame and fortune were never likely to materialize short of some televised police car chase, she subconsciously pulled her shawl protectively round herself. The weather was pleasant for this time of spring, and the source of her discomfort was a cause for concern. She could not quite pinpoint the feeling of foreboding that curled round her and made her shield herself securely behind her family home's heavy redwood door.
Hastily making her way towards the kitchen to grab some salt, the psychic deliberately checked the various charms and sigils guarding against any direct supernatural attack. From room to room her keen surveillance showed that none of the subtle markings had been tampered with, but the cold feeling in the pit of her stomach continued to grow. Most people would probably laugh off the prickling sensation as nothing more than the hee-be- jee-bees. But Missouri was not most people and took her intuition and her gifts seriously.
Grabbing the industrial sized rock salt from the condiments cupboard, she made her way back towards her supernatural arsenal of sorts in the living room. The iron fireplace tools had seen more than their share of work over the years; before she had made the rule about limiting the seances held on her property to four a year. Just as she entered the rusticly decorated living area... the lights went out.
Missouri's breath hitched in her throat and came out as a feeble little gurgle. It was not that she was new to being in perilous situations – they were just par for the course when you had the gift or chose to use it in the service of hunters. But there was normally at least a flickering warning that proceeded the darkness. She found herself wondering if this now ruled out spirits as her mystery would-be assailants.
Dropping to her knees, as a precaution she crawled the short distance to the telephone table. The ominous silence from the handset told her that her electricity wires were probably not the only thing that would need repairing – that was assuming she would be around after … No thinking that way was a sure-fire way to wind up dead! She scolded herself, even though her heart was pounding out a jazz percussion in her ears about now and her mouth was so dry, wiping her tongue across her lips had a cheese grater sensation to it. Damn it! Yes she was psychic but she was no supernatural action woman – that was why she helped all those plaid clad boys with guns for!
Missouri found herself feverently praying that anyone of the seasoned hunters she had aided over the years would burst through her door right about now, because fear was fast becoming her enemy. She could not afford her senses to be clouded by her fear, or she was as good as a blind cowering, helpless woman alone in the dark – and that was not who her Momma raised!
Firming up her resolve, she started to move physically and mentally. You were only dead meat when you stayed dead still … or some such Rambo non-sense, when she remembered which alchol fuelled hunter's handbook that came from … she'd embroider it on a pillow for them! Now where had she put that infernal mobile? She had one Robert Singer on speed dial!
Still at a crouch she began digging her hands into the jacquard material of her Momma's favourite armchair. She liked to sit there when doing readings; not only did it help give an imposing impression, but she would often get the faintest hint of her mother's perfume. Right now however, kneeling on the rug, hands scrabbling frantically in the dark for her lifeline, Missouri didn't much care what kind of impression she was giving!
Her hand brushed a cold smooth object and she almost crowed in triumph.
" You just wait Caspar – I got a friend who's just dying to set you straight!" she mumbled even as she punched number two viciously.
The answer on the other side was quick, but groggy sounding.
"Hello? Missouri?" the gravelly voice of the older man enquired in a daze.
"Bobby – I need you, there's... some... one or thing come for me! When can you get here?"
There was an unhealthy rasping cough on the other side before she heard a muffled conversation – which she assumed was distorted because he had covered the phone. Briefly the sound of a short – sharp disagreement could be heard, and Missouri caught a brief psychic impression of a large red-headed nurse in her fifty's with orthopaedic shoes. Bobby was out of commission. Her blood pressure went up three notches.
"Listen woman" Bobby's gruff voice held only half the venom his words promised " I'm a grown man – I KNOW what bed rest means … I Will NOT GIVE UP my phone so you can tell Heckle and Jeckle over there in the corner to drop that brain wave before I hide it somewhere real personal on their person!"
Missouri rolled her eyes but didn't bother joining the verbal fray. Instead she popped her head up cautiously scanning the room for apparitions or other tell-tale signs of paranormal activity.
"Missouri – you still there? I can't dance worth a lick right now, but get yourself to the basement and wait there till I boys to you. They are hunting near by."
She didn't need to ask which "boys" as just then she picked up a line of images; a tricked out laptop, an over sized sneker, a battered leather jacket and a sleek black muscle car. Winchesters!
The psychic had only met the two young Winchester boys a few months back, and apart from Sam's as yet untapped psychic abilities, she had been a little underwhelmed. Oh their Daddy had trained them well – they were just so new. Even the hard case elder brother new far less about the battleground he had taken up arms on than he realised. She was about to voice her concerns when Bobby's mobile went dead. Her heart sank – Bobby as Cavalry was a familiar thing to her, she had trusted him before and never been let down, but these boys...
Safe to say that, when the weighty feeling of dread in the air gave way to the brick smashing through her living room window; Missouri knew it was an entirely worldly threat. Any attempt on her life from an 'otherworldly' source would never seek to scare her. Oh no if her supernatural enemies finally decided that she was an obstacle, they would not make the mistake of
leaving her alive. They were not that foolish. So now the question became... who was?