very dark time of night. Or maybe it was because her pulse had not yet settled down to its normal pace. Maybe it was simply because Rafe had crossed the invisible barrier between client and something else earlier in the evening when he kissed her. Whatever it was, Orchid could not resist the urge to talk to him now.
'Promise you won't laugh, but it's as if I'm being stalked by a psychic vampire. Every night he gets a little closer.'
'Psychic vampire, huh? I take it this is not one of the romantic kind that you put into Dark Desire?'
She blinked. 'You've read it?'
'Curiosity got the better of me. I picked it up earlier today. Started it tonight after I took you home.'
'You don't have to give me a book report,' she said.
'The plot is interesting.' He sounded as if he were choosing his words with exquisite care. 'I like the mystery element. And the descriptions of the focus link between the hero and heroine was intriguing.'
'Thanks.'
'Reminded me a lot of what happened between us earlier tonight.'
'I have an excellent imagination,' she said.
'Obviously. Maybe it's connected to the fact that you're an ice-prism.'
'Hmm. I hadn't thought of that. You may be right. I don't know very many other ice-prisms but the ones I've met all have a strongly creative side to their natures. Morgan is an artist.'
'What about Theo Willis?'
'Theo loved music. It was his passion. He wrote it and he played the vio-piano.'
There was a short silence.
'Tell me more about your dream,' Rafe said again.
There was a cozy intimacy in this conversation that was oddly comforting, Orchid thought. 'There's not much else to tell. I've been having the same dream or a very similar one every night for almost a week. Tonight was the worst one yet.'
'What's the vampire like?'
'I can't see his face but I can feel the power of his talent.'
'Strong?'
'Very, but that's not the scariest part.'
'What is the scariest part?'
'The talent doesn't feel normal.'
'That's logical, isn't it? If you're having nightmares about a very powerful talent, it stands to reason the talent would not feel normal.'
'You're strong,' she said. 'In fact, you're the most powerful talent I've ever focused. But you feel normal.' Not like Calvin Hyde.
There was an acute pause on the other end of the line. 'Normal?'
'Okay, maybe normal isn't quite the right word. I can't say your kind of power is what anyone would call commonplace.'
'I was afraid of that,' Rafe said.
'But you don't feel unnatural, if you see what I mean.' There is no evil in you, she added silently.
'What you're really trying to say is that I feel primitive.'
'Damn it, don't put words in my mouth. That is not what I mean at all.' Orchid glowered at the phone. 'For your information, your talent does not feel primitive.'
'No?'
She frowned, thinking about it. 'Actually, from a synergistic point of view, your para-energy and your physical senses are far better integrated than those of most talents. Evolutionary speaking, you may represent the wave of the future.'
'I'm not sure I like the word evolution any more than the word primitive.'
'Too bad, you're stuck with it. We all are. Any scientist will tell you that paranormal powers are evolving very swiftly among humans here on St. Helens. No one knows what the future holds, but chances are we'll see increasing variations and mutations.'
'So now I'm a mutant?' But his tone was lighter now, almost amused.
'You and me both. Ice-prisms aren't exactly thick on the ground.'
'True. Let's get back to your dream. What does this talent in your nightmare feel like?'
Orchid looked down and saw that she had crumpled a fistful of sheet in one hand. 'It feels . . . crazy.'
'I flunk I'm getting the picture at last'
'What do you mean?'
'You're starting to wonder if the dreams are a sign that you're going off the deep end, aren't you?'
She closed her eyes. 'It occurred to me that the dreams might be some form of psychic hallucination. Maybe something generated by whatever it is that makes me an ice-prism.'
'You can forget that theory.'
She opened her eyes and glared at her own image in the mirror. 'What are you? A syn-psych expert?'
'I don't need to be a syn-psych expert to tell you that I didn't feel anything crazy when we linked tonight. Not even after you manipulated that prism to fracture my talent. You surprised the hell out of me but you didn't scare the hell out of me. For the record that's an important distinction.'
She smiled weakly. 'I don't think there's much that would scare you, Rafe.'
'Everyone is scared of something. Are you okay now?'
'Yes. Thanks.' It was true, more or less. At least her breathing had returned to normal.
'You don't need me to come over there and comfort you in person?'
She grinned. 'I don't think so. Thanks, anyway.'
'I was afraid you'd say that. Go back to sleep. We've got a big night ahead of us tomorrow.'
'I suppose you want your money's worth out of me.'
'Damn right. Clementine Malone charged me a fortune for your services. Goodnight, Orchid.'
'Goodnight. Oh, and Rafe?'
'Yeah?'
'Thanks for calling when you did.'
'Maybe we're developing some kind of mental telepathy.'
Orchid chuckled. 'Don't be ridiculous. Everyone knows there's no such thing as telepathy.'
In a world where the list of normal paranormal skills spanned a broad and growing spectrum, telepathy had never appeared in the population. Like psychic vampires, it showed up frequently in novels and films, but those were the only places one could find them.
Just as well, Orchid thought as she hung up the phone. It would not have been a good idea for Rafe to be able to read her mind at that moment. She was not certain she wanted to read it herself. Her thoughts were a jumble of vague uncertainties and distant possibilities.
That was the problem with waking up at three in the morning. Things looked different at that hour.
She left the light on and leaned against the pillows. For a while she thought about trying to go back to sleep. But now that she no longer had the reassuring sound of Rafe's voice to buoy her, she sensed the return of the cold, edgy unease that was swiftly becoming her constant nighttime companion.
She pushed aside the covers and padded into the kitchen, turning on lights as she went. She opened the icerator door and took out some leftover pasta casserole. The second letter from ParaSyn was still on the kitchen table where she had left it that afternoon after opening it. The content was similar to that of the one that had arrived earlier in the week. But this time, in addition to the authoritative tone, a hint of a threat had been added.
. . . We sincerely hope you will agree to return to ParaSyn for this important follow-up research. In the three years since the first study was terminated prematurely, our researchers have discovered some disturbing facts about the nature of ice-prisms. We do not wish to alarm you, however, our experts feel that these findings could impact the long-term para-psychological health of people with your type of psychic energy.
You owe it to yourself and to others with your kind of paranormal power to complete the study. Please contact my office at your earliest convenience.
Sincerely,
