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“She says, ‘You’re in this place because of me.’ ”
Pallas turned the words over in silence for a moment, trying to make sense of them. “Is the woman your mother?”
“No,” Ambrose said. Very certain.
“Your sister?”
“No.”
“Is the woman your ex?”
“No.”
“Can you see her aura?”
“No.”
“Why can’t you see her aura?”
“I don’t know.”
“What is she holding in her hand?”
“A phone,” Ambrose said.
“Ask her why she is holding a phone.”
Ambrose went silent, but she knew he was struggling to ask the question. It was clear he was meeting resistance, because the energy of the dream abruptly became even more chaotic. The storm metamorphosed into a full-blown hurricane.
Horrified by the possibility that she was losing control and that she might send Ambrose into a permanent dreamstate—a coma—Pallas struggled to rebalance the violently oscillating wavelengths.
“I can’t see her aura,” Ambrose said from the depths of the dream. “I can’t identify her until I see her aura.” His agitation got worse. He was suddenly on his feet.“Why can’t I see her aura?”
Pallas tightened her grip on his hand and leaped out of the chair.
“Ambrose, wake up,” she said, fighting to keep her tone calm but firm. “You must come out of the dream now.”
He looked at her then, really looked at her. She knew he was no longer in the dream trance, but a dangerous energy burned in his eyes.
“I’ve been a fool,” he said.
“Why?” she asked.
“She answered my question,” Ambrose said. “She told me why she was holding the damned phone.”
“Why?”
“She said that with today’s tech you can run the world with a phone.”
“Why is that important?”
“Because it’s not the first time she’s said that—or, rather, texted it,” Ambrose said. “There’s only one person in this mess whose aura I have never viewed. For most of the past year she has run my world with tech. I think the woman in my dream is Iona Bryant, the perfect virtual assistant.”
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
I guess your talentisn’t as useful as one might think,” Pallas said.
“I can’t view auras through a computer screen.” Ambrose stalked across the room to the console that held the small coffee maker. He selected a premeasured packet of coffee and dropped it into the machine. “Or in an email or a text message.”
