"Let me,” Ginger said.
Her mellow tones set his teeth on edge. She took a small bottle of water from the refrigerator and carefully wet the cloth before holding it out.
"Thanks,” he said, managing to keep his voice neutral despite the anger surging through him—an anger that was born not only from worry, but his own inability to protect her. Damn it, this was the precise reason he couldn't afford to have her in his life.
He touched the cloth to Nikki's forehead. She sighed, and awareness surged through the link. He only partially raised his barriers. He needed to know what had happened, and the only way to do that immediately was to use the link.
Michael?
Her mind voice was full of uncertainty, as if she feared that by simply acknowledging it the link would disappear again. As it would once he knew what had happened to her. Are you okay? He wiped her cheeks and neck, then placed the cloth back on her forehead. Her sigh shimmered through him. Yes. I just wasn't expecting that to happen. What exactly did happen?
Confusion surged, touched by fear. I'm not sure. But my psychometry ability has been taking some strange turns lately. First I go so deep into Matthew's mind that I actually start acting out what he's doing, and now this. When I touched Ginger's hand, I was hit by images. Weird images, filled with flames and chanting and emotions .
He frowned slightly. Going deep into Matthew's mind didn't really surprise him. She'd had the psychic strength and the capability to do it all along, but she hadn't realized it until he'd merged their minds with Jake in an effort to find where Jasper had him hidden. But touching the blonde's hand and seeing images was something she should not have been able to do. That was a form of clairvoyance, and as she said, her gift was seeing the past from inanimate objects, not humans. What do you think these images were? Nightmares lingering on the surface of her thoughts, perhaps?
No. They were memories. Ginger isn't human. I'm not sure what in hell she is. Michael glanced out the window for several seconds, watching the dark landscape go by. Four hearts beat steadily into the silence—Nikki's, the chauffeurs, Rodeman and his wife. Ginger looked, sounded, and smelled human. If she wasn't, then she was the best damn imitation he'd ever seen. What exactly did you see?
The images didn't make any sense.
Tell me. Whether they make sense or not doesn't matter right now. Seline might see their meaning, even if he couldn't. He had to contact the old witch before the morning, anyway, to let her know they'd arrived safely.
Okay. She hesitated. Heat whispered across the link, embers of memories stirred briefly to life. There was a man dressed in black, chanting. His words seemed to compel flames from the rock. I could feel anger, humiliation and hurt. Whether it belonged to the figure or the flames I'm not sure. Is Ginger evil?
Confusion washed through the line, a timorous wave of yellow. Michael frowned, wondering why her emotions seemed to come through as colors. Odd, to say the least. She's not evil—she's not anything. She just is.
His frown deepened. How could someone not be anything ? It didn't make any sense. Her sigh shimmered. I told you it didn't make any sense . She was reading his thoughts again. The link had to be more open than he'd thought. I told them you'd eaten something on the plane that disagreed with you.
Okay. She hesitated. Just for an instant, her spirit reached out to his, entwining them in a dance that was gentle and yet shocking in intensity. Then she was gone, from his thoughts and his soul, leaving him aching for more.
"Shouldn't have eaten that chicken,” she murmured aloud.
He touched her face, his fingers still trembling from the power of the dance. “I did warn you about airline food,” he said softly. “You feeling any better?"
She looked up at him, her dark amber eyes filled with laughter and longing. At that moment he knew she was going to make it as hard as she possibly could for him to walk away a second time. But walk he would.
Because he'd rather see her lonely than dead. Because he didn't want to see her used in some madman's sick plot of revenge against him. Jasper had tried and failed, but others might succeed.
"A little,” she said, then glanced across at Rodeman and his wife. “Sorry about fainting on you. I think it was a combination of bad food and the heat."
"Don't you worry about it, little lady. Why, Ginger here, she faints all the time." Ginger smiled and patted her husband's hand. “I have only fainted once in the time we have been together. That, too, was caused by something I ate."
Her voice still grated against his nerves. Why? It wasn't exactly harsh on the ears. “How long have you two been married?"
"Three moons,” she said. Heat crept across her pale cheeks. “Three months, I mean." Michael raised an eyebrow. Moons was an interesting phrase to use.
"Moons, months, who cares, huh?” Rodeman chuckled and clasped wife's hand. His touch seemed more possessive than gentle. “As long as we're happy, time don't mean a damn." Michael had a feeling it was an expression often repeated. Maybe he was trying to convince himself as much as everyone else. “So this is not your honeymoon?"
"Hell, no. But Ginger was feeling poorly, and I thought a holiday might do her some good."
"What made you come here?” Nikki said softly. She wasn't looking at Ginger or Rodeman, but at some point in between them. Perhaps she was trying to get a reading on the blonde. "I asked to come.” Ginger shrugged. “I have never been here before, and I have heard much about it."
"Did you hear about Vance Hutton's disappearance?” Michael asked casually. Ginger didn't react. Didn't blink. Rodeman almost slipped off the seat. “Hutton disappeared? When?
How?"
"Walked out on his wife a few days ago and hasn't been seen since."
"Well, I'll be damned,” Rodeman muttered. “Didn't they just get married?"