"Be careful with this thing you hunt," Dia said, rubbing her arms lightly. "I do not think it will be easy to stop."
"The things we hunt never arc."
"No." She hesitated. "I'm sorry for dipping into your private life. I know you didn't want to hear that, and it wasn't my intention - "
I waved her apology away. "Don't worry. At least it wasn't totally bad. And at least there's some hope of my dreams coming true, even if not in the form I desire."
She smiled. "Which makes no sense when said like that."
"Tell me about it," I said wryly.
She pressed her hands against the sofa and stood up. "Would you like tea? Coffee? My next reading isn't for another hour, and it's so nice to see someone other than clients for a change."
Technically, I could be classed as a client, given she now worked for the Directorate, but I knew what she meant. While I had my doubts that Dia and I could ever be pals, I wasn't about to walk away from a prospective friendship. I had few enough of those, too.
All of which was my fault. I tended to be the prickly, standoffish type - a leftover of my hellish days with the pack, no doubt.
"Coffee would be good," I said with a smile.
"Good." She walked around the sofa and headed to a side door, but stopped as her daughter came choofing around the corner again.
"Where does she get the energy?" I asked with a grin.
"Heaven only knows," Dia muttered, then bent and asked, "Risa, would you like a drink? And some cookies?"
The little girl nodded so fast her pigtails were a blur of white. And then she stilled, looked at me, and pointed.
"Death, Mommy. Death." I stared at the finger pointed so firmly in my direction, then at the wide, violet eyes. There was no fear in those eyes, only a matter-of-factness that chilled me.
Whatever it was she was seeing, she believed it.
"Where do you see death, Risa?" Dia asked, her voice as matter-of-fact as her daughter's. Like seeing these sort of things was an everyday occurrence. And perhaps for the two of them, it was.
"Here." The little girl patted her left shoulder.
A chill ran through me. I clenched my fingers and resisted the urge to say anything.
"Can you describe him for me?" Dia asked.
The little girl screwed up her nose. "Dark, floaty. He smiles, Mommy."
"Does he reach for Riley?"
She shook her head. "He watches."
"Nothing else?"
"No."
"That's wonderful. Now, would you like a cookie?"
Pigtails went flying again as the little girl nodded enthusiastically.
"Then we'll race you to the kitchen."
The little girl took off. Dia rose to her feet and looked at me.
" 'That's wonderful'?" I asked, eyebrow raised.