Holding Court by K.C. Held Page B

premonitions, or whatever the hell you want to call what I do. So I’m sure she loved getting a phone call from King Henry essentially asking her if I was as batshit crazy as the character I’m supposed to be portraying. Not to mention, she was at the airport, about to board a plane for Paris.
    “Actually, she suggested I speak with your grandmother. Who is on her way here now.”
    I groan. “Super. That should be helpful.” Not. “Why don’t you just fire me and be done with it?”
    “Mistress Verity, there may or may not be a dead body somewhere on my property. If there is, I need to find it. If what you saw was a vision of some sort, I would like to keep it from coming true. And I don’t think firing you will help me accomplish either of those things.”
    There’s a knock at the door, and Gran comes bursting in. She looks from me to King Henry and back again.
    “So, you’ve got retrocognition now, too? Guess we should have seen that coming,” she says to me. “No pun intended.”
    “Mistress Gilbert, thank you for joining us,” King Henry says. “Please, have a seat.”
    Gran sits down and takes my hand. “The same thing happened to your Great Aunt Dorcas, you know. Of course, she wasn’t always trying to avoid using her gift like you do, so she recognized the visions for what they were.”
    “This wasn’t a vision, Gran. I swear—”
    “Don’t worry, kiddo, we’ll work this out. In the meantime, I think you’ve given poor Mr. Bacon here quite the scare.”
    “Gran, I’m telling you, I didn’t—”
    “I assure you, Mr. Bacon—do you prefer Mr. Bacon or King Henry? Or perhaps Your Majesty? Was I supposed to curtsy? I’m not used to being in the presence of royalty. How about if I call you Hank? I feel like we’re friends already, don’t you?”
    Hank is starting to get that glazed look he had in the antique shop when first confronted with my fruitcake family.
    “Certainly, but could we—”
    “You can call me Viv. Although I do like the sound of Mistress Gilbert. Anyway, Hank, I assure you that my granddaughter is perfectly sane and surely a wonderful addition to your staff here at Tudor Times. We’ve been encouraging her for years to seek out a mentor who could help her with her gifts. The addition of retrocognition to her psychic abilities could be the perfect impetus.”
    “Retrocognition? I’m not familiar with the term,” King Henry says.
    “In its simplest terms it means being able to see past events. Which is, I’m sure, what must have happened here tonight. You do know that Lunewood Castle is an authentic sixteenth-century castle brought over stone by stone from England? Of course you do. Well, there’s no telling how many people died in this place over the centuries, and no doubt some of them met a rather unfortunate end.”
    I’m about to protest, but Gran squeezes my hand. Hard.
    “Was the girl you saw wearing modern clothes, dear?” she asks me.
    “No, but—”
    “Well, there you go. It was obviously a flashback from the past.”
    “You are certain of this?” King Henry asks Gran.
    “No one’s been reported missing, have they? Juliet’s vision was no doubt just a new facet of her psychic ability. One that I’m sure she’ll master in no time and use to every advantage here in her position as the Psychic Maid, or whatever she’s called. Won’t you, dear?” She gives me the look that means do-exactly-what-I-say-or-pay-the-consequences-and-they-will-suck.
    I nod.
    King Henry considers us both for a long moment.
    “Well then, Mistress Verity, please let me know if there’s anything I can do to help you, er, adjust. Perhaps Angelique has some tips she could share?”
    “Sure,” I say. “Good idea.” Angelique should be really helpful. I’ll get right on asking the fake psychic about my new fake psychic power.
    “In the meantime, if you should have any more visions of dead bodies on the premises, I ask that you inform me immediately.”
    “Understood,