Excerpt from KARMA'S A BITCH

Hi! Here's a special sneak peek to see how Darwin's pet psychic abilities actually work!

“Lady Elizabeth giving y’all some problems?” I placed the receipt on the counter with a pen and reached out to stroke a silky brown ear. Sylvia had rocked the grooming, even topped it off with a jewel-encrusted bow holding the dog’s bangs out of her eyes. A tiny, pink tongue reached out and licked my hand.

Youch! As the tongue made contact, a prickly current traveled up my hand. With it came an image and the scent of cheap perfume. I felt my face flush, the hair on my arms stand up.

Leaning back, I stared at Lady Elizabeth, who panted and then sneezed, which sounded a lot like, “see!” The energy buzzed around inside me like a swarm of mad bees, the image still glowing hot in my mind.

 I glanced at an oblivious Sarah Applebaum and rubbed my nose, even though the sickening sweet perfume smell came from my sixth sense, not my sense of smell.

“We tinkle on the pad, not in the shoes.” Sarah kissed one of Lady Elizabeth’s fluffy feet and admired her cherry red nails. “I don’t know what’s gotten into her lately.”

 I had a pretty good idea but couldn’t exactly blurt it out. “Does your husband look a bit like a young Leslie Neilson?”

Sarah Applebaum blinked. “Well, yes, I suppose so. Why?”

“And I don’t suppose you have a daughter? Blonde? Fond of black lace?” I said this last part under my breath.

“No. A son, actually. He lives in Texas. Do you know my husband?”

“Oh. No. I um,” I tucked an unruly wave behind my ear and glanced at Sylvia for help. But Sylvia just stared at me, arms crossed, dark eyes searching under an arched brow. No help there.

I shrugged. “I must be thinking of someone else.” How to get out of this one? I held up a finger. “Hold on a sec, I have something for you to try.” I power walked down the aisle, back to the storeroom and flipped on the light. Jumping up and down and running in place, I tried to dispel the energy still coursing through my body. As far as vision-energy went, this was fairly tame but still, I didn’t need a repeat incident of the last time.

Sylvia cleared her throat behind me.

“Wha-yow!” I yelled, hopping around and holding my heart. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

Sylvia grinned, her rich brown eyes sparkling with humor. “What are you doing? Do you need to use the potty?”

 “Ha ha. No.” I turned back to the shelves in front of her, my cheeks burning. “Just looking for something for Lady Elizabeth.” I ran a finger over a row of 30 ml brown bottles with glass pipettes, reading the labels. “Aha…elm, honeysuckle, red clover.” I palmed a bottle and pondered the dog’s situation. “Probably will need something for her emotional stability.” Tapping my chin, I plucked another bottle off of the shelf. “Grey spider flower and chamomile should do it.” Spinning around I almost barreled into Sylvia, who still stood in the doorway watching me.

“Some of your magic flower essence for the pee peeing pooch?” Sylvia asked.

“For the pooch, yes.” I nodded. “For the pee peeing, no.” Then, lowering my voice, I added, “and it’s not magic.”

Sylvia, who grew up in a large Catholic family, lovingly referred to my flower essence creations as “woo woo” stuff. To me, raised in a house where concocting flower essence was like cooking a family recipe—and really, on the low end of the freaky scale in our house—it seemed as natural to hand out a bottle of flower essence as it would to hand out an aspirin. Although, now that I had fled to St. Petersburg, Florida from my family’s Savannah, Georgia home for a chance at normalcy, I realized all the people who had whispered behind our backs and shunned us may have had a point.