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“Listen harder. Concentrate on the sound of her voice.”
Jon squeezed her hand, running warmth through her body. She licked her lips, trying to do as he asked. Like a radio suddenly tuned, the woman’s voice leaped into focus, and she told Jon, “She plans an attack. Tonight.”
“Who does she plan to attack?”
“I don’t know—” She hesitated.
The woman turned. There was malice on her face, malice in the air, so thick Maddie suddenly struggled to breathe. Jon called her name urgently, but he sounded so very far away. She stared at the woman with the vibrant green eyes until they all but filled her vision, became a turbulent ocean awash with venom.
“You are mine,” the woman spat. “Mine.”
Maddie screamed, and the dream disintegrated into darkness.
“MADDIE, COME BACK TO ME.”
She didn’t respond, didn’t move. She breathed in rapid gasps that shuddered through her body, and sweat trickled down her cheeks. Jon thumbed the droplets away. Her skin was cold despite the room’s heat.
He frowned and glanced at the fireplace. Flames flickered, slowly catching the small logs she must have placed there earlier. But the temperature in the room seemed to have jumped 10 degrees in the last few minutes, and the fire certainly couldn’t account for it. Was it his imagination, or something else?
She suddenly pushed his hand away, her eyes wide and unfocused like those of a dreamer fighting a dream. Her fear smothered him, making it difficult to breathe, to concentrate. He wondered why he was so open to her when he’d spent most of his life perfecting the art of blocking other people’s emotions—and his own.
She pushed her fingers through her hair, her hands shaking. He sat back on his heels, watching her carefully. Something had frightened her enough to rip her from the vision, but she was not yet aware of him or their surroundings. Her mind was still caught in the backwash of the trance.
Which meant her gift was raw. Few trained clairvoyants were unable to pull out of a vision cleanly. He wondered how strong her gift was, how true. And how long she’d gone without seeking help. He suddenly wished he could call his mother. She was a strong clairvoyant and would know how to handle this situation.
“Maddie,” he said softly.
The amber fire in her eyes began to burn more brightly as her awareness returned. She blinked rapidly, then took a deep, shuddering breath. The blanket of fear intensified.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. She pushed the chair backward and scrambled to her feet, every movement frantic, as if desperate to escape.
He reached out to caress her hand, but she jerked her fingers away from his touch. He frowned and rubbed his fingertips together. Now her skin was burning hot. What the hell was going on?
She stopped in front of the fire, her back to him, her stance withdrawn. She looked isolated and very frightened. The firelight ran through her hair, making it burn a vibrant, molten gold. Such a pretty color, he thought, and so at odds with the darkness that seemed to haunt her.
He had no real experience in dealing with untrained talents, and no real time to help her. Not with only five days to find the missing kids. But any information, however minor, might provide the breakthrough he needed. She’d definitely seen something in that dream, and that something just might make his task of rescuing the kids easier.
He sat astride the chair. Though she made no sound, her shoulders tensed. She was ready for a blow, whether a verbal or a physical one. Anger uncoiled in his belly, and for an instant, he was very glad he’d only just met her. Otherwise, he might have been tempted to seek out the fool who’d hurt her so much.
He leaned his forearms against the wooden backrest and fully opened the gate to his empathic abilities. He needed her to talk to him, and he had a feeling it would require all his resources. One wrong word and she’d retreat farther—mentally if not physically.
“Your gift is nothing unusual, Maddie,” he said softly.
She laughed—a harsh sound that made him wince. “What do you know about it? Have you ever suffered these dreams, or the endless taunts of your friends?”
He held back a bitter smile. In the ten years he’d worked for the Damask Circle, he’d seen and suffered more than she could imagine. “Clairvoyance is not so bad once you learn to control it.”
Her fingers clenched by her side. “But I can’t control it. I can’t control any of it.”
He had an odd feeling she wasn’t talking about clairvoyance when she spoke of control. Did she have another gift she couldn’t contain? “Didn’t anyone try to teach you? Your mother, perhaps?”
Again she laughed bitterly. “No.”
That one word spoke volumes. Obviously, she’d been left on her own to cope with her gift. Why? Abilities like this usually ran through generations, so surely there had been someone to guide her.
“Did your parents even know you were gifted?”
“They thought I was deranged.” Though her voice was bitter, her confusion washed over him, along with a hint of guilt.
