The Psychic Guardian Angel Book 1 First Casualty
What do you do when you have a supernatural gift? Run away from it or embrace it?
First Casualty snippet –
Daniels, August 2000
Great Grandma Nan has been dead since my mother was a little girl, but that hadn’t stopped her from visiting me every once in a while to deliver a cryptic message. She appeared in my dreams, maybe in my room, and we’d talk for a few minutes before she disappeared.
The first time she visited, Great Grandma Nan told me, “Jacob, pay attention to your feelings. But don’t mind how others react.”
I followed my feelings and led a woman and her son away from a Metro Transit bus stop seconds before a truck crashed through it. The second part of her message was intended to prepare me for the woman’s reaction. After Mom told her I had guided us there, the woman was afraid of me.
Another time, Great Grandma Nan stated, “Listen with your heart.”
I helped find a little kid who was separated from his mom at the Minneapolis Farmers Market. I simply knew where he was and told Emily, a telepath I was having a psychic conversation with, where to look. Emily followed my directions and led the police to the boy. I watched as he was reunited with his relieved mother, who was unaware of how he had been found.
Then Great Grandma Nan came and remarked, “Hard times are coming. Be careful. You’ll have to be strong.”
After she left, I woke and could not fall back to sleep. I lay there and stared at the ceiling, then read for a while. The book may not have been the best choice. Keeper of the Children by William H. Hallahan. It included out-of-body experiences and murderous cats. Then I meditated.
It didn’t work very well. I couldn’t see, hear, or feel my breath, couldn’t find focus. I may have fallen asleep, though, because I had a vision of myself being chased. Since I normally don’t have visions, it had to have been a nightmare, which meant I had to have fallen asleep.
After that, I got out of bed. Yoga was better at getting me thinking about something else, namely, not falling. In spite of how good my balance is most days, it was a concern here. My mind would drift, and I’d begin to lean, which is the first step in falling out of a tree pose where I stood on one foot, the other foot off the floor and pressed against the knee holding me up.
I traveled back and forth across the living room, practicing the Tae Kwon Do routine my instructor Mr. Lee had taught me. He would be glad to hear I was doing exercises outside of class, but since I wasn’t actually hitting something, I didn’t feel any better.
When I knew he’d be awake, I called my friend John Thompson. He was willing to play some tennis, something we did on a regular basis. We would often play doubles, with John and our friend Warren Marsh playing against John’s sister Rachel and me. John and I met at the courts near Loring Elementary. Most days, playing singles, we’re about even. If I can consistently return his serve, I can sometimes win. This time he beat me badly. He jogged around the court, arms and racquet over his head as he chanted, “And the crowd goes wild. Thompson slaughters Daniels. Thompson slaughters Daniels.”
As we walked away from the courts, John asked, “What’s wrong with you today? You played like crap.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“I can’t believe how many times I aced you,” he commented. “I may beat you on quite a few serves, but usually, you take a whack at it and are pretty good at getting to the ball.”
“Your serve was really good today,” I told him.
“No, it wasn’t. I hit a lot of them into the net, and you didn’t even know it. Half of my aces came off my lame second serve. I probably could have used third or fourth serves and gotten away with it.”
“There are no third or fourth serves,” I pointed out.
“I know. But you stood there and watched the ball go by.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I felt like I was playing alone.”
“Didn’t stop you from gloating when we finished,” I noted.
“Of course not,” John replied. “Opportunities to gloat are rare, so you have to take advantage of every chance you get. So what’s your deal?”
“I don’t know what’s going on.” I drew a deep breath. “I feel like I’m supposed to be somewhere but have no idea where, when, or why.” We walked part of a block in silence. “Add that to nightmares and sleeping like crap and ‘Thompson slaughters Daniels.’“
“And the crowd went wild,” John added, his arms over his head.
John’s mom pulled the family’s Ford Taurus to the curb next to us. “Headed home?”
“We are,” John confirmed. “Are you?”
“I wasn’t supposed to work today,” Mrs. Thompson noted. “But I went in for a while, made sure everything was organized for the new girl. Then I stopped at the grocery store. Now, I have the rest of the day off, so yeah, I’m on my way home. Get in.”
We piled in, and John rode in front next to Mrs. Thompson. He chattered away about how Thompson had slaughtered Daniels. I kept my gaze locked out the window, hoping I might pick up a clue as to what I was supposed to be doing. Everything looked the same as it did most days. Yet the thought I was supposed to be somewhere doing something wouldn’t go away.
Mrs. Thompson parked the car at the curb in front of the house and popped the trunk. We circled to the rear of the Taurus, and she loaded John’s arms with her purchases. He gave me a dirty look as I walked up the sidewalk, unencumbered beyond our racquets and tennis balls. I smiled back. I’ve told him before that his mom likes me best.
We took the three steps onto the porch, and Mrs. Thompson pulled open the screen door. Her right hand slid the key into the lock, her left closed on the doorknob. She inhaled sharply and twitched a little taller. “Something’s happened to Rachel.”
I guess we found out why Jacob was there. Find out what his next move will be and how he will use his gifts on June 6th when First Casualty: Book 1 in the Psychic Guardian Angel series is released. Until then head over to Amazon and pre-order it today.
