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“In a manner of speaking,” she said with a shrug. “I thought about him, and suddenly he was in my sight—here.” She turned away slightly. “I don’t really have control of these visions. They come on their own, although at times, when I concentrate, I can get a flash of something …”
“Can ye see into the future, lass?” Chance asked with a frown.
“Not exactly—but when I do, sometimes, only sometimes, I can alter it if something bad is about to happen. Most of the time, I cannot.”
“Do ye know the difference between the future and the present?” Chance was getting to the point, and in her heart she knew it.
“What do you mean?” she asked hesitatingly.
“I mean, did ye know when ye saw him here that it wasn’t in the future?”
“Yes, I knew, but I hoped that when we got here, we would find something to allow us to follow.”
“Aye, then,” was all Chance said as he took her measure and looked away. He then added one more question: “How can we use this ‘gift’ of yers, lass, if ye can’t always get a vision when ye want to?”
“You can use it when I do get a vision. It is one leg up and better than what you’ve got!” she answered, annoyed that he viewed her as an object to an end and yet pleased that she had a quality he found useful.
Chance frowned and gently set aside the naked woman, who had sidled over to him and was rubbing her body up and down the length of his. She wouldn’t be distracted from her purpose, however, and began trying to undo the zipper of his leather pants.
Irritated, Royce took the woman’s arm and with some Fae force laid the woman back in her bed. However that did not deter her, either—the woman simply switched targets and reached up to cup Royce’s breasts. Royce slapped the girl’s hands away, exclaiming in shocked accents, “Oh … do … stop …” while scrambling away from the persistent woman’s ravenous grasp.
Royce looked up and discovered Chance staring at her with a lazy gleam in his eyes. She shook her head. Males—even Fae males—always seemed to find the sight of two females touching one another sexually extremely arousing. What was up with that? she asked herself.
However, Chance returned to the subject at hand and aske
d her, “Can ye concentrate now—can ye get scent of him off the woman and concentrate on a vision now?”
“Perhaps …” she answered and then chewed her bottom lip as she began to work her mind to that end.
“Then do it!” he snapped.
Royce made a face at him and then watched as he strode over to the pretty, who had begun crawling towards them across the bed, and whispered a spell in ancient Gaelic. He told her to be at ease. It occurred to Royce that he had a deep-seated kindness in him. She sighed because the spell would work for now—but not for long.
He turned back to her and said, “Well?”
She said irritably, “I am not a machine. You can’t just press a button and produce a vision, but I am trying.”
“Try harder!” snapped Chance.
“Okay, Chance, easy pal,” interjected Trevor. “She got us this far. We didn’t have a clue where to start before.”
Chance jerked his head with his exasperation. “Ye say she got us this far—how far is that, lad? How much closer are we?”
Royce sighed and thought that he was right. She eyed him as she put some effort into it and said, “If you could be quiet …”
She walked off to the other side of the room and closed her eyes. Pestale’s scent even disguised in Dark Magic was particular to him. They wouldn’t be able to track it, for it didn’t lead anywhere but stayed stagnant all around them, but she might be able to force a vision from it. It was strong and filled the entire room. He smelled like heather and something else, something mysteriously intoxicating …
Suddenly, something unexpected happened. Something more than a vision. She was with him—no, she was inside him, looking through his eyes …
She gasped, stepped back, and lost it. Nothing like that had ever happened to her before. It was, she knew at once, the black magic that surrounded him and pulled her within.
Chance was with her at once. He held her and steadied her. “Ho there, lass, what is it? What happened?”
“Nothing …” she answered—this was not something she was ready to share.
Doubt was clearly in both men’s eyes as they regarded her. A twinge of guilt trickled through her because she was hiding something. The fact that she was tuned into something she could not name was too disturbing to tell them. She almost felt ashamed. Then all at once Pestale’s scent wafted through her senses and formed a picture in her mind of him …
And that vision was crystal clear and beautiful with undulating mountains rolling towards a wide, dark lake. “Ireland—he has gone to Ireland,” she said.
