Paranormal sleuth Mark Shotridge dreams of an Alaskan cruise ship in trouble and books passage to investigate his vision. After leaving Seward the first night at sea, Mark has another vision that suggests someone has been thrown overboard into the icy waters of the north Pacific.
Though no one is reported missing, Mark begins to question his special abilities. But soon a crew member is found murdered in his cabin, and Mark is certain there is more going on than he originally suspected. As the body count rises, he realizes a serial killer might be on board.
With his psychic abilities put to the test, can Mark stop the ruthless killer and unravel the mystery behind the murders before the ship docks in Vancouver?
BUY THE BOOK *** BUY THE eBOOK *** READ THE EXCERPT
EXCERPT:
Mark looked in both directions along the promenade. Something jingled again in the back of his mind, beckoning him to the rear of the ship. He turned and walked toward the stern, maintaining caution with each step. Using his telepathy to scan ahead of him, he searched for any indication of danger, but he sensed nothing. As he approached, the soft hiss of the wake behind the ship became louder. He stopped and looked out over the stern railing at the broad wake, lit by the dim overhead lights. The foam disappeared into the blackness behind the ship.
What’s going on here? Frustration prompted a return of the nagging question. Every time I think I feel something’s wrong, I find nothing. Am I losing my touch?
Everything seemed to be in order. The sound of the wake and the cold morning breeze on his face calmed him, rather than indicated something was wrong. In contradiction, his psionic power rang loudly in his head. He took another deep breath, inhaling the frigid air, and tried to relax.
He extended his right hand to lean on the rail. As he made contact with the metal, he suddenly felt a sharp, excruciating pain in his right side, and doubled over in agony. Mark reached across with his left hand to grab his side, unable to release his right. He became disoriented and light-headed as though he was falling from a great height, swaying from the feeling.
A shock of black hair flashed before his eyes followed by a naked, portly body tumbling over in the air as it fell. A impression of light-headedness came over him, like he was doing flips off a springboard. Then he had a violent sensation of icy cold water over his head. The cold was painful, sapping all his strength and stealing his breath. He gasped for air, but he could not find the surface. With extreme effort, Mark yanked his right hand back from the railing, clutching it with his left. The painful and terrifying sensation began to fade.
“Gotta watch out for static electricity there, son!”
Mark jerked his head around as the military man and his wife approached at a brisk pace. Both wore sweatshirts and pants with sneakers, clearly out for morning exercise.
“Excuse me?” Mark asked, startled and very uneasy, since he had felt no other presence on the promenade when he walked out onto the deck. Also, his telepathy had not sensed them when he had used it just seconds ago.
“I saw you put your hand up there then snatch it back like you had been zapped or something,” the man said with a huge smile, as he and his wife strode past. Mark realized his vision had lasted an instant, although it seemed like several long, horrifying minutes.
“Yes, that’s it,” he grinned weakly, still holding his hand as though it had been injured. “Nasty shock.” Mark did his best to look casual. “It’s a cruise. Aren’t you supposed to sleep in?” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant.
“We did sleep in,” the woman beamed with a cheerful smile as they headed up the direction from which he just came.
Mark waited until the couple had walked away a short distance. From this vantage point at the stern, he could see the entire length of the port side of the ship. Turning in the opposite direction, he hurled his telepathy forward to the other side of the ship.
No one there. At least, I hope no one is there.
His failure to sense the presence of the military man and his wife left him rattled.
Mark glanced back at the railing, scanning it with his percipience, careful not to invoke the horrific vision he just witnessed. Something else was there, grabbing at his attention.
A handprint! His mind's eye saw an image, where someone had clutched the railing, leaving an impression of their hand behind.
What am I seeing? Is it residual heat? Paint? A chill ran over his body that had nothing to do with the cold air. Blood!
He took off in a frantic run to the starboard side. Bolting through the doors opposite the ones from which he’d exited, he bounded up the stairs to Deck Ten, officers’ quarters. The elevators would be too slow. As with the bridge, the corridor to the officers’ quarters was barricaded against would-be intruders by a less-than-intimidating door adorned with a keypad. No time to figure out the combination now using his usual methodology. Mark gave the interior doorknob a nudge with his telekinesis and the door opened. He searched the immediate area with his telepathy, found the mental signature he was looking for and crept to the Security Officer’s cabin as silently as possible.
Mark knocked on the door to Dale Jacoby’s cabin. He didn’t want to arouse any of the other officers. He waited for a few seconds, and then knocked again, a little louder this time. On the other side of the door, his clairsentience told him Dale had awakened, and was climbing to his feet.
“Who is it?” Dale demanded from the other side of the door, his voice heavy with sleep and almost incoherent.
“It’s Mark. Open up!” he hissed. “Hurry!” He waited a few more seconds. Dale opened the door and blinked in the bright lights of the hallway.
“Shotridge? What the hell is going on? What time is it?” he said, gruff and confused. The white terry cloth robe he wore had the Netherlands Star logo on the left lapel.
Mark rushed past him into the cabin and told him to close the door.
“Someone’s been thrown overboard,” he declared, once inside.
“What? What makes you say that? Who was it? Did you see this happen?” Dale gasped, wide awake now.
“I don’t know who, but whoever it was, they were shot or stabbed prior to being thrown overboard.” Mark described his vision and experience. “I’m pretty certain it was a male, and he was naked when he was thrown overboard. I think he was still alive when it happened, although he would not have lasted long once he hit the cold water. Hypothermia would have set in almost at once and in his injured state he wouldn’t have the strength to tread water.”
“How do you know all that?” Dale was skeptical and caustic.
“The image I received showed a body unclothed, and I could also see some body hair and short black scalp hair, but that’s about all. The vision happened too fast for me to concentrate on the victim.”
Mark waited until Dale had thrown on some jeans, a Mist of the Ocean sport shirt assigned to all of the officers, and a jacket. They left the cabin. Mark led Dale down to the Lower Promenade, to the stern railing where he had his horrible vision.
LIKED THE EXCERPT?? CLICK HERE TO BUY THE BOOK
No comments:
Post a Comment