Originally posted by 
phoenix_cry79 at White Collar: Knock on Wood
This is a digital painting of mine based on the Tarot Card known as 'The Hanged Man' that goes along with the following story. The Hanged Man is a soul suspended between two worlds. He has a different perspective on things, what is right to him is seen as wrong to others. He may seem trapped by his ankle, but he has allowed himself to be hung willingly. He is waiting to be reborn, but such rebirth always comes with a sacrifice which he must be willing to make.
White Collar: Knock on Wood
Description: A series of unusual suicides lead Peter and Neal into the world of the occult, and a scam. However a sudden turn in Neal's luck (and sanity) leaves some believing in a true curse. As bad quickly goes to worse they find a dangerous enemy where they least expect to find one.
Length: 33 chapters (will be broken into six entries), 60,000 words
Rated: PG-13
I've never posted to Live Journal but I've been told to give it a try to expand to a new audience. If things work out here you'll be seeing more of me.
Detail of above painting:
I first posted this on FFnet back in 2011 you can read it there if you'd like. https://www.fanfiction.net/s/7500376/1/White-Collar-Knock-on-Wood
Prologue: Seven Years
"I hate this thing." Neal growled to himself.
It wasn't the fact that the anklet tracked his every move that was irritating Neal at the moment. It was the way it made it difficult to pull his sock up properly. There wasn't enough room to reached down through it to get to the sock and it was also too tight to push up his calf. Problem solving in the past he had devised a paperclip attached to a string that he fished through the anklet and clipped it onto the sock to thread it through.
Today however he was having more trouble with it than usual. With his leg propped up on a wooden foot rest Neal pulled at the string. When the trick didn't work he put a little more force into. The Armani sock suddenly gave way. Neal lost his balance and in an effort to regain it he stumbled back. There was a sharp cracking sound as Neal's elbow slammed into the full length mirror that was behind him. Looking over his shoulder Neal inspected the spider web pattern in the broken mirror.
"That's never a good way to start the day."
Huffing in frustration Neal took off the ruined pair of socks and hunted down a new pair. Managing to get this set properly pulled up he turned to his vast tie collection. Selecting a black silk tie with a red slash accent Neal slipped it around his neck and tied it with practiced ease. The broken mirror did little to help him know if the tie was straight or not.
Trusting his instincts with the tie he deemed himself acceptable for going out in public. Stepping out of the walk-in-closet Neal headed for the kitchen table. He was already late getting out of the house and Peter would be wondering where he was by now. Forgoing breakfast Neal picked up his house keys and hat. Glancing around the studio apartment Neal froze.
"What the..."
Neal blinked a few times to make sure he was actually seeing what he was looking at. There was an ebony black cat sitting on his bed. The cat stared at Neal with piercing green eyes. Startled by the unexpected house guest Neal just stared back at the animal. The cat was perfectly still except for a swishing tail.
"How did you get in here?"
The cat narrowed its eyes at Neal in an oddly disturbing fashion. The pair entered an accidental staring contest that the cat was clearly going to win. When there was a knock at the door Neal nearly jumped out of his skin. He couldn't be sure, but the cat suddenly looked smug.
"Neal?" June's voice came through the door.
"It's open, June."
"Neal, have you seen..." June stopped when she spotted the cat. "Ah, there you are, Sparkles."
"Sparkles?"
"It's my granddaughter's cat. I'm looking after her for the week. She must have snuck up here."
"Well at least this means I'm not hallucinating."
"No, not at all." June chuckled. "I'm sorry. You're not allergic to cats are you?"
"Deathly. I'll probably have to burn those sheets."
"Oh dear..."
"I'm just kidding. I don't mind the cat."
June smiled and went over to Sparkles. The midnight cat stood up and stretched out her back. June scratched between the cat's ears and she purred loudly. June apologized again for the cat and picked her up. The cat positioned herself so that she could look over June's shoulder. As June left Sparkles narrowed her emerald eyes at Neal again and hissed.
Perplexed by the cat's reaction to him Neal was left standing alone in his apartment. A crack of thunder was followed by the start of a sudden downpour outside. As Neal looked over at the rain lashing against the glass his cell phone rang. He looked at the caller ID and cringed.
"Hi, Peter."
"Neal, where the hell are you? It's nearly nine, I want you here in five minutes."
"Peter, it's pouring down rain and you know I don't have a car."
"If you could get to work on time you would have missed the rain. You spend more time on your hair than I spend on my entire morning routine."
"And it shows." Neal muttered.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Just get here, we have a new case."
"Right."
Neal flinched as Peter hung up the phone with a clatter. As he hung up his phone it beeped at him. Checking the phone he saw that the battery was close to dying. This day had not started well and it didn't seem to be getting any better. Sighing heavily Neal looked out of the large glass doors that lead to patio as the sky lit up with a flash of lightning.
"Maybe I should just go back to bed..."
Chapter One: Out of the Rain
Peter looked up as Neal arrived. He looked about as happy as a wet cat, he kind of resembled one too. Soaked to the skin Neal went over to his desk and put the small waste bin up on it so that he could wring out his tie into it. He dragged his hands through his unruly hair in an attempt to tame it. Resisting any domestication Neal's black hair fell in a slightly curly tangle.
Neal did his best to keep his ultra suave composure, but he seemed a lot edgier than a little rain should make him. When he walked up to him Peter noticed that the shoulder on his blazer was torn at the seam.
"What happened to your jacket?" Peter asked.
"I missed the subway and while I was waiting for the next one a homeless guy thought I was Sammy Davids Junior and tried to take it to trade in for drugs."
"Wow, that's...very unlikely. Only in New York."
"My thoughts exactly."
"Well come on up to the briefing room, we've got a new case."
"Can I get changed into something dry first?"
"You keep another entire set of clothes here?"
"Of course."
"Right...of course." Peter shook his head sadly. "Fine, head down to the locker room, there's some towels there."
"Thanks."
"Just hurry up."
Neal nodded and went back over to his desk. He pulled a small duffel bag out of the bottom drawer and headed off to the elevator. Peter wandered over to the coffee for his fourth cup while he waited for Neal to get back. Fifteen minutes later Neal returned in a suit that held a few crease wrinkles in it, but at least it was dry.
"Feel better?" Peter asked.
"Not really."
"This case might cheer you up."
Peter headed up towards the conference room. Diana and Jones noted that the day was finally getting started and joined them. Diana looked the slightly ruffled Neal over and chuckled.
"Rough start to the day, Caffrey?" Diana mocked.
"I've had better days."
"Alright, children, settled down." Peter announced. "Yesterday business mogul Norman Richards committed suicide. Usually this wouldn't make it to my desk, however when investigators were looking into his financial records they found several unusually large withdrawals."
"To another account or cash?" Neal asked.
"Transfers to accounts. The accounts are quickly cleaned out and closed. We've traced each one back to different deceased individual."
"If you don't need the identity for long just cleaning up a dead person's ID can be a cheap and effective method." Neal pointed out. "I hear that a lot of Florida voters are technically dead."
"So are we thinking blackmail?" Diana asked.
"That's my first thought." Peter nodded. "However, the details have me thinking that this might actually be an extortion case. The victim has been acting strange for the past few months. After the suicide his business partner came forward and told us that Richards believed he was 'cursed'."
"Cursed?" Diana repeated doubtfully.
"Apparently our victim has always had an interest in the occult. His company's stock has plunged recently over a series of bad business decision that could also be viewed as 'bad luck' from a certain angle."
"Did he kill himself over the stock fall?" Jones asked.
"Unknown. All we know is that he had become increasingly reclusive according to his partner and the withdrawals became more frequent and for larger amounts near the end."
"Sounds like someone was squeezing him pretty hard." Neal said. "How much money in total?"
"Almost nine hundred thousand in two months."
"Ouch."
"He was worth more in non-liquid assets, but it put a serious dent in his hard cash flow."
"I bet." Neal agreed.
"What's most disturbing is that there was a similar death eight months ago. Another wealthy businessman, Alan Summers, was killed by a bus. In the finally report it was ruled that he stepped in front of it rather than was pushed. It was never decided if it was suicide or an accident. He also had several large withdrawals the months prior to his death. In his case no one looked too closely because he often bought odd high priced items. He had always been labeled 'eccentric'."
"Why is that the line between 'eccentric' and 'crazy' seems to be drawn by money?" Neal asked rhetorically.
"I don't know. That case was never solved. Now that we have another one I went back and took a closer look at Summers and found that some of the same dead men that received money from Richards also got paid by Summers. He also had a heavy involvement in the occult and there was one mention in the report where he'd told a friend that he thought he was 'cursed'."
"When you say 'the occult' do you mean a group in particular or just in general?" Neal asked.
"Just in general. They frequented fortune tellers, studied various astrologist, Summers even placed a 'psychic' on his pay roll for stock tips."
"So where do we start on this one?" Neal asked.
"How would you feel about having your palm read?"
"I'd feel ridiculous."
"Same here, but Summers and Richards had six fortune tellers in common."
"You think one of the fortune tellers put a curse on them?"
"No, but I think one of them had a way of making them believe that they did."
"Isn't fortune telling a class B misdemeanor in New York already?" Diana asked.
"It is if done for purposes other than amusement or exhibition." Peter confirmed.
"So any real 'fortune teller' that they were seeing probably won't have a public shop available to the public." Neal said.
"Good point, Neal." Peter mused. "But we need to start somewhere. We'll start with these six and see if they can lead us to a more 'powerful' seer. Posing as a wealthy business owner we'll make money no issue and lure out our extortionist by looking to get a curse lifted."
"I hear that can be expensive." Neal smiled. "If we make the mark irresistible the fortune teller will find us."
"Neal, have you been feeling unlucky lately?"
"You could say that."
"Then let's go find you some help..."
Chapter Three: Fortune Cookies
"I see your future, Peter, you end up murdered violently by your over worked, un-paid, under appreciated CI in a fit of passionate rage."
"Very funny, Neal."
"I'm serious, Peter, I can't take one more of these whacked out fortune tellers." Neal complained. "These places smell like my grandmother's attic. The fake accents are physically painful. I've been to Hungary, no one there speaks like that."
"There are only two more on the list and so far you haven't been able to get us a meeting with any real 'seers'. All of these people are coming up clean, so if this lead is going to work we need to get invited to a back door seance."
"Seances are for when you want to contact the dead, not remove curses."
"Whatever." Peter shrugged as he pulled the car into a street parking space. "Here we are, Madame Forella. Have fun."
Neal looked across the street at the psychic's store front. Like the others the window were dressed in a thick purple velvet curtain with a glaring neon sign proudly informing the public that they were open. So far the fortune tellers he'd been to had told him everything from 'you are about to come into unexpected riches' to 'avoid the Hudson river'.
"I'm telling you Peter, I might as well be at home cracking open fortune cookies. At least in that case you end up with a stale cookie to eat."
"Opening cookies isn't going to help us find an extortionist and possible murderer."
"Why aren't you checking any of these places out?"
"These people are con artists at heart, I figure you'd fit right in."
"They may be cons, but they are far from being artists." Neal huffed.
"What has put you in such a bad mood?" Peter asked seriously.
"I guess I just woke up on the wrong side of the bed."
"Clearly."
"Sorry."
"It's fine, we all have our bad days."
Neal forced a smile and got out of the car. He reached up to straighten his tie, but then had a better idea. Loosening the tie he undid the top button and then ruffled his hair, which had finally managed to dry. Taking a deep breath he put himself in the mindset of being in a panic. Considering how little he wanted to enter the fortune teller's shop it wasn't too difficult. His approach before wasn't working so it was time to try something new.
Hurrying across the street Neal pretended to be short of breath as he entered the dimly lit store. The front entrance was full of sage, incenses, crystals, and other paraphernalia for sale. In the back a middle aged woman in a renaissance dress sat at a velvet covered table. She had been playing a game of solitaire on a laptop. When she heard the little bell on the door jangle she had hastily closed the computer and hid it under the table.
She got to her feet and visibly slipped into her gypsy character. In a character of his own Neal made a big show of looking nervous and ready to bolt. He backed up into the door as it closed behind him and jolted in fright. The fortune teller gave him a distrustful look, but quickly recovered and smiled warmly.
"Velcome, yung man. 'ow can Madame Forella ease your fears?"
"Please help me." Neal begged.
"Of course, vhat do you need?" Forella asked. "Madame Forella ken sees into de meists of both present, past, und future."
"I...I don't need my future read." Neal stammered. "I...I...I'm cursed."
"Cursed?"
"Yes."
"Are you on drugs?" The woman asked dropping her accent.
"No, no, I swear. Please, you have to believe me. I need help, I can't live like this."
Neal rushed up to Forella causing her to take a few steps back. Not wanting to spook her too badly Neal stopped a few feet from her and dropped down onto his knees. Visibly shaking Neal panted for breath trying his best to appear on the edge of tears.
"I don't have anyone else to turn to, Madame Forella. Please."
"Listen, Kid, my name is Vicky. I'm not a rea..."
"Money isn't an issue." Neal interrupted.
Neal got back to his feet as he reached into his jacket. Vicky tensed and looked ready to run for the door herself until she saw the gold money clip that Neal brought out. He had a thousand dollars in cash along with six metallic colored credit cards. The money had come out of the F.B.I impound and the credit cards were fake, but they still had the desired effect on the fortune teller. He pulled five hundred dollars out of the clip and pressed it into her hands with a desperate pleading looking on his face.
"Please, please help me."
"I..." Vicky hesitated. "I may know someone...but she's not cheap."
Neal quickly handed over the rest of the cash Peter had given him. Vicky's eyes lit up and she tucked the healthy amount of money into her over exposed cleavage. Back in her gypsy persona she turned around dramatically and walked over to the mantle that held a small red lacquer box. Neal had noticed a similar box at two out of four of the other places he'd been to today.
Opening the box she took out a silver business card. Taking the business card Neal turned it over and read the embossed print. It was very simple, just a first name, an address in the warehouse district down by the river, and hours which happened to be from midnight to three am.
"'Josephine'." Neal read out loud.
"She is *very* exclusive, by appointment only."
"There's no number. How do I get an appointment?"
"She'll know you're coming..."
Chapter Four: Josephine
"I have a bad feeling about this."
"Peter, you can't tell me you actually believe in all this stuff."
"Not at all, Neal. But I'm also not a big believer in coincidence either and at least two men are dead, and this 'Josephine' might be out killer."
"They were both suicides." Neal pointed out.
"Summers was never determined and we're still waiting on the report for Richards."
"In either case I don't think I'll be in much danger tonight."
"Maybe I should go in." Peter offered.
"She'll be expecting me. We don't want to spook her. I'll be fine, Peter, you've got my back."
"We can mount a response in three minutes." Jones confirmed.
"See?" Neal smiled. "Nothing to worry about."
"Alright, we'll be listening." Peter said. "If you need us before any kind of deal happens just say 'I think that's all for the night'."
"Got it."
"Be careful, Neal."
"Always."
Neal smiled brightly as he secured the transmitting watch around his wrist. He offered Peter his ankle and Peter removed the tracking anklet just in case. They had parked the van a few blocks away from the address on the card to keep from being spotted. The warehouse district was pretty much abandoned at this time of night and the large utility van stuck out. Neal stepped out into the night air and looked around. There wasn't another soul in sight.
Walking at a brisk pace he made his way towards the address he'd been given. He could hear the waves in the near by Hudson river lapping up against the docks in the distance. The way was mostly lit by the bare bulbs that were above the doors of the various warehouses.
It was just past midnight and the moon was high in the sky. Arriving at the address Neal studied the large hand painted eye that was decorating the door. Under the eye was a small note taped to the door. Neal took the note off the door and unfolded it.
"There's a note on the door." Neal said for Peter's benefit. "'Please come in, you are expected'."
Neal folded the note back up and placed it in his breast pocket. Having an open invitation he gripped the door knob and slowly opened the door. Neal wasn't sure what to expect when he stepped into the small warehouse, but the last thing he figured he'd encounter was a full grown male lion.
It took Neal a second to realize that the animal was a stuffed taxidermy standing guard just inside the door. Neal looked closer at the animals glass eyes that he could swear were staring right at him. A little disconcerted by the lion he took a step away. The warehouse was over flowing with oddities and antique furniture. Full suits of Medieval armor stood posed for action. Piles of old parchment lay in messy stacks between bronze statues of mythical creatures. Artwork, old chandeliers, full sets of china in large display chests, antique furniture, and items Neal couldn't even identify added to the general clutter.
"This place is amazing. There must be millions of dollars worth of antiques here." Neal whispered. "It looks like an episode of 'Hoarders' only with nice stuff."
Walking up to one painting in particular Neal studied it intently. He smiled as he recognized the work. Neal jolted when the lights suddenly snapped off. Instantly lost in the inky darkness he tried to recall the twists and turns through the alleyways of stuff he'd made to get to this point. A set of over head lights turned on that lit a path from where he was standing towards the back.
Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves Neal headed down the newly made path. Eventually he came to a set of stairs that lead up to a medium sized room that had been built to over look the warehouse. The red velvet curtains covered the large glass panels that made up the walls, but Neal could see candle light flickering between the curtains.
Reaching the top of the stairs Neal came to another door. Putting himself back into the shoes of the panicked businessman who believed he was cursed Neal slowly opened the door and stepped inside. The interior of the room was decorated in warm rich colors and had a feel of an opium den about it. Wrought iron stands held candles in all the corners that cast a flickering light.
The center of the room was dominated by a table with a black velvet floor length table cloth over it. In the middle of the table was a stand made of three silver snakes that held a crystal ball about the size of a healthy grapefruit. There were two chairs at the table, but no one was sitting there.
Looking past the table Neal finally spotted Josephine. She was younger than Neal expected. Lounging in a giant pile of velvet pillows she was wearing a complex black corset topped dress that billowed out at the hips in a mix of lace, silk, and gauzy material. Her skin was a deep mocha color and flawless. Josephine's face was framed by thick long black curly hair that added to her exotic beauty.
Josephine's white smile beamed from her dark face as she stared at Neal with penetrating green eyes. Unsure of what to do next Neal just stood in the middle of the room waiting for her to make the first move. Josephine was as still as a statue as she continued to study him. Neal decided that it was going to be up to him to break the ice.
"Hello, um...my name is Steven. I...uh..."
Josephine suddenly got up from her bed of pillows gracefully and walked over to Neal. She circled him a few times, running her fingertips over the front of his shirt as she passed by. Eventually she stopped in front of him and stared into his sapphire eyes with her emerald gaze. Neal found himself somewhat hypnotized, like a bird caught in a snake's stare.
"Your soul is not that of a 'Steven'." Josephine said suddenly. "Nicholas, perhaps 'Nick', suits you far better."
"Okay...I'll tell my parents they got it wrong."
"You don't have any parents." Josephine stated. "At lease none that you can contact. No brothers, no sisters...no serious lover at the moment. You're almost alone in this world, and yet I sense that someone out there knows where you are at all times."
Neal was a little taken aback by the accuracy of Josephine's words. He doubted that any of the fortune tellers he'd been to today could have lead her to know his real name for any research. He figured that if she knew he worked for the F.B.I she wouldn't even be talking to him. Neal wondered if there was something in his body language that helped her come to her conclusions about him.
"You doubt me." Josephine smiled.
"Not at all. In fact I'm hoping you can help me with a curse."
"Come. Sit."
Josephine offered Neal a seat at the table. Glancing around he noticed another door near the back that probably lead to an office. Playing along for now Neal sat down at the table. Josephine walked over to a shelf and brought back something wrapped in a piece of red velvet. Opening the velvet she revealed an old set of tarot cards.
"Shuffle the cards." Josephine ordered.
Neal reached out and took the cards and began to shuffle them. When he was done he placed them on the table. She instructed him to cut the deck and he did so. Josephine reached over and picked up the new top card and flipped it over for Neal.
The card had a drawing of a man hanging from the bough of a tree by one foot. The man had his hands bound behind his back, however his expression was not one of suffering. He looked peaceful and serene as he dangled from the height.
"This card is you." Josephine said quietly. "The Hanged Man."
"That doesn't sound good."
"This is a very misunderstood card. Some see it as the card of a Traitor, others as the sign of a Martyr. The simple truth is that the Hanged Man is a soul suspended between two worlds. He has a different perspective on things, what is right to him is seen as wrong to others. He may seem trapped by his ankle, but he has allowed himself to be hung willingly. He is waiting to be reborn, but such rebirth always comes with a sacrifice which he must be willing to make."
Neal was becoming more uncomfortably with Josephine. He subconsciously rubbed his left ankle with his foot where the anklet usually rested. Josephine reached out and flipped over another card. An older man dressed in red robes sat on a stone throne accented with golden ram's head statues. He had a scepter in one hand and a golden apple in the other.
"This card is the person closest to you." Josephine declared. "The Emperor. He is the 'All Father', giving guidance to all children to ensure that they become responsible adults. The Emperor is brave and straight forwards, however his downfall is that he can be controlling, demanding, and bound to the letter of the law."
"So I've noticed." Neal muttered.
"Excuse me?"
"Nothing. Josephine, this is all very enlightening, but the curse..."
"You have an impatiences that betrays you as a young soul." Josephine smiled. "So much to learn. Give me your hand."
Neal hesitated to give Josephine his hand. She chuckled demurely and reached out to gently take his wrist. Neal felt a chill down his back as she brushed his palm with her fingertips and traced the lines etched in his skin. She brought his hand to her dark cheek and pressed it against her warm skin while she stared into his eyes. She suddenly wrinkled her brow in an expression of pain.
"You lost someone, a woman, a lover." Josephine said with genuine sympathy. "You lost her to death, a violent and unexpected one."
Neal paled visibly. He didn't like talking about Kate with anyone, let alone a stranger who shouldn't know anything about what had happened. Trying to pull away he decided that he'd had enough. She tightened her grip on his wrist and continued to hold him captive with her unnatural green eyes. Neal's heart was starting to race painfully, he didn't think she had any special powers, but she certainly knew more about him than she should.
"I'm sorry if I have upset you." Josephine apologized.
"I...I thought palm reading was about the future."
"Your palm tells my your future, it is your eyes that tell me your past."
"Can you help me with the curse or not?"
Josephine studied Neal for a moment before removing his hand from her cheek. She gave the back of his hand a kiss and released him. Neal watched her expectantly. He had the feeling that they were both trying to con one another and they both knew it wasn't working. Josephine chuckled and shook her head.
"I can not help you. You are not cursed."
"That makes me feel better. What do I owe you for your time?"
"I do not charge for my services."
"In that case perhaps you'll allow me to buy something from your collection down stairs."
"The items are not for sale."
"I am very interested in the painting of the white duck, it is strikingly beautiful."
"I am sorry, it is not for sale." Josephine repeated.
"Aren't you worried that someone might steal from you? You have millions stored here."
"None would dare steal from Josephine."
"Alright. Thank you again. ...I think that's all for the night."
"Good night."
Neal had said the phrase to bring Peter and the others for a good reason. Now he just had to stall for a few minutes for them to get here. Getting to his feet slowly Neal admired the perfect sphere sitting on the snake stand on the table. After a few moments of contemplation he reached out to touch it.
"Is this real crystal? Most of the ones I've seen are glass."
"Don't touch that!"
Josephine grabbed Neal's wrist to stop him from touching the precious crystal ball. There had been true panic in her voice. Neal wondered what would be so special about the hunk of crystal that she would defend it so fiercely. He pulled away without touching it and she released him.
"I think you should leave." Josephine said coldly.
"I'm sorry to have intruded."
Before Neal could turn to leave Peter kicked in the door with his weapon drawn. Jones and Diana were close on his heels also ready to use deadly force. Neal raised his hands up peacefully and stepped to the side to give them a full view of Josephine to let them know that she wasn't armed.
"F.B.I." Peter barked. "Hands where I can see them."
"You are trespassing" Josephine snarled. "I have done nothing wrong."
"She has a point. Why did you call us up here?" Peter demanded.
"There is a very famous painting downstairs. Jean-Baptiste Oudry's 'The White Duck', stolen in 1990 and never recovered...until now."
"That will be enough to hold her for now and issue a warrant for the rest of this place. Jones, arrest her."
Josephine looked like she was about start lashing out at the Agents physically, but despite her anger she allowed Jones to cuff her hands behind her back as he started reading her her rights. Out of sheer curiosity Neal reached over and picked up the crystal ball. It was a lot heavier than Neal had thought it would be and cold to the touch.
"Wow, this is real crystal."
"Neal, put that down." Peter chastised. "That's evidence and you're getting your fingerprints all over it."
"Sorry."
Josephine looked over at Neal holding the crystal ball and she smiled mischievously. She shrieked to get everyone's attention, which worked well. Neal had started to put the ball down, but he froze at the horrendous sound.
"You are a traitor!" Josephine howled at Neal. "You came here without a curse, but I place one on you now!"
Josephine tore herself away from Jones for a second. He was able to catch her quickly, but she had moved in close enough to allow her to spit violently at Neal. Neal jerked back as her hot saliva struck his face.
"I curse you, Neal Caffrey!"
Neal put the crystal ball back in its place and reached up to wipe the saliva off his face. He felt a flash of dizziness and had to reach out and put his palm on the table to steady himself. Peter had Jones take Josephine away before walking up to Neal.
"You okay?" Peter asked.
"I'm fine."
"How did she know your full name?" Peter asked concerned.
"I don't know...she knew a lot more than she should have."
"Peter," Diana called out "check this out."
Peter and Neal went over to where Diana was holding the other door that Neal had noticed open. It was a large closet that had piles of cash on shelves along with a stack of file folders. Peter opened one of the files and found that it was the identity of one of the dead men that she had opened an account for to get money from Richards. There was a laptop in the closet, but it was password protected. Peter gave Diana instructions to get everything into evidence and to get the laptop to the lab.
"Looks like we got her." Peter smiled brightly.
Neal just nodded in reply. Suddenly a little warm Neal reached up and loosened his tie. Despite the fact that it was over Neal's heart was racing painfully. He shook his head to clear it and tried to put everything Josephine had said out of his mind. Neal didn't believe in curses, but he had to admit that he wasn't feeling very well all of a sudden.
"This was a fast case, maybe even a record time. I guess your luck has finally improved, Neal."
"Yeah...I guess so."
Chapter Five: The Hanged Man
Neal woke with a sharp gasp. It was hard to breathe, he felt like there was a heavy weight sitting on his chest. Opening his eyes he discovered a large black ball of fur laying on him. The amorphous blob of fur suddenly had two emerald green eyes. Sparkles saw that Neal was awake and hissed at him before running off.
"If you hate me so much, why are you sleeping on my chest?" Neal demanded of the cat. "How do you keep getting in here anyway?"
Sparkles trotted over to the door and began pacing back and forth as she meowed. Rolling his eyes Neal got out of bed. Getting to his feet he instantly lost his balance and landed on his hands and knees. While he took a moment to catch his breath Sparkles bounded over and rubbed her head under Neal's chin while she purred.
"Cats are so weird."
"Meow?"
"I'll let you out, but you need to stay out. Understand?"
"Meow?"
Neal shook his head sadly at the fact that he was talking to a cat. He carefully got back to his feet. He hadn't gotten to bed until three am, but it was still dark outside now so he couldn't have slept for more than a few hours. Going over to the door Neal opened it enough to allow the cat to slip out and back down stairs. Just as Neal was getting back into bed his phone started ringing. Furrowing his brow at the late night call he picked it up off the night stand and slid it open.
"Hello? ...Hello?"
When there was no sound, not even that of an empty open line Neal pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at it. There was no call. Searching the call log he saw the last call had been from Peter the previous morning. Neal could have sworn that he'd heard the phone ring. He dismissed it to not getting much sleep and crawled back in bed.
"Meow?"
Neal had just put his head on the pillow when he heard Sparkles again. Rather than get up again he grabbed his extra pillow and hid under it. He was almost back to sleep when there was a sudden clatter of breaking glass. With a rush of adrenaline Neal jumped up out of bed. Panting for breath he looked around frantically for an immediate threat. When nothing presented itself Neal guessed who was to blame.
"Damn it, Sparkles!" Neal growled.
Going over to the lights Neal turned them on to see what the cat had broken. Looking around the small studio apartment Neal couldn't find anything out of place. The cat wasn't around and nothing seemed broken. Confused he started to prowl the apartment looking for the source of the broken glass noise. Going into the walk in closet he found the mirror that he had shattered earlier had fallen out of its frame and was scattered across the floor.
"Just great."
Neal went to turn around but stopped when he could have sworn he saw movement in the broken shards of mirror. Glancing around there didn't seem to be anything or anyone else in the room. Carefully stepping closer Neal peered into the shattered glass. He backed away from the myriad of reflections of his own eyes that had stared back up at him.
With his heart pounding hard against his ribs Neal tried to calm himself. He wasn't use to having anxiety attacks and he didn't understand why he seemed to be having one now. Suddenly feeling nauseous Neal rushed into the adjoining bathroom and dropped down in front of the toilet as he was violently sick. When he was done he sat back on his heels and pulled a towel down off the rack.
Burying his face in the towel Neal concentrated on taking a few deep breaths to settle himself. His shoulders were aching from the muscles being pulled tight from stress. Although after having thrown up he did feel a lot better. Exhausted Neal tried to find the strength to go back to bed. The sixth sense that told him when someone was near suddenly prickled his skin.
"Meow?"
"Leave me alone!" Neal barked.
By the time Neal stood up the cat was nowhere to be found. Neal was just grateful to have it gone. Fighting another bought of nauseating dizziness Neal slunk back into bed. Pulling the covers over his head he fell into a restless sleep.
Hours of battling against nightmares later Neal's phone started to ring. Untangling himself from the sheets Neal made sure to check the caller before answering this time. A streak of black motion in the corner of his vision startled him. He scanned the room for the cat, but he didn't see anything now. The phone continued to ring irritatingly.
"What?" Neal answered.
"Neal?" Peter asked in surprise.
"Yeah." Neal replied wearily. "What's happening?"
"Well here at the office we're getting work done. Josephine is definitely our extortionist, but we can't figure out how she ran her scam or why her marks ended up dead. She not talking."
"You push someone far enough and they'll start pushing back."
"You think she had them killed because they were trying to get out of her scam?"
"They may have been threatening to expose her."
"Makes sense."
"Peter," Neal said pathetically "can I have the day off? I'm not feeling well."
"We can handle things around here without you. Do you need me to get you anything?"
"No. I'll be fine. I just didn't sleep well."
"Okay, get some rest."
Neal reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose against a massive headache. He felt like he'd been hung upside down like the man on the tarot card that Josephine had shown him.
"Peter...what's your star sign?" Neal asked suddenly.
"My what?"
"Star sign, horoscope."
"Aries."
"The ram?"
"Yeah, why?"
"No reason." Neal shrugged. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"Okay. Feel better."
"Thanks."
Neal hung up the phone and fell back into bed. Staring up at the ceiling he recalled the details of the Emperor card that Josephine had told him represented Peter. The throne that the man had been sitting on had been decorated by golden ram heads. As for the Hanged Man Neal had to admit that he felt stuck between the world he used to live in and new one Peter was showing him. Closing his eyes Neal felt like the room was spinning slowly.
"It's just a coincidence."