Circle Of Fire

And therefore, no one about hunting him. Trapped down this damn well, he'd be easy pickings. A day had passed since he'd been shot. By all rights, he should be safe, but he'd learned over the years never to relax his guard.

Had learned the hard way that should be safe never meant it was.

He toed the water lapping the edges of the small ledge. The water had been his salvation in more ways than one—it had broken his fall and, no doubt, saved his life. And it was drinkable, which meant he wasn't in any danger of dehydration. But it might yet kill him, too. His abilities gave him some protection against the cold, but he knew he was starting to push his limits. His plunge into the water had soaked every bit of his clothing, and now he was so cold it hurt to move.

If Madeline did find the courage to come to his rescue, she might discover nothing more than a five-foot-ten icicle.

Madeline—what was he going to do about her? How could he convince her she was sane and he really needed her help? What had happened in her life that made her so afraid?

A wave of dizziness hit him. There was nothing he could do except ride out the feeling. He probably had enough strength left to contact her one more time. If he couldn't convince her to help him, he'd just have to hope that someone in the Circle realized he was in trouble and came to his rescue.

Because if someone didn't, more kids would die.

The snow had turned to rain, which fell in a soaking mist. Rivers of water were beginning to run past the house, scouring tiny trenches along the freshly graded driveway. The tops of the cedars, claret ashes and silver birches that crowded the fence line were lost to the mist, and though dawn should have come and gone, night still seemed to hold court.

Maddie raised the coffee mug she held between both hands and took a sip. The wind was bitter, but the wide old verandah protected her from the worst of the storm, and her threadbare coat kept her warm enough for the moment. She couldn't face going indoors just yet. The old house was too big, too full of ghosts…

Except for one.

She sighed and leaned back against a veranda post. She couldn't shake Jon from her thoughts. Couldn't shake the desperation she'd glimpsed in his eyes.

What if he wasn't a ghost, but alive and in dire need of her help?

She sipped her coffee and stared out across the snow-flung wilderness of her yard. In a last ditch effort to salvage her life, she'd bought this house and its untamed three acres six years ago. It had become her haven, the one place she felt truly safe. She had no real wish to be anywhere else. The flowers she raised in the barn she'd converted to a greenhouse made small luxuries possible, and she had enough money invested to see her through the hard times. Even Jayne had given up her efforts to get Maddie back into what she called 'mainstream' life.

Maddie chewed on her lip. The question she had to face was simple. Could she simply stand by and let Jon die?

Ifshe believed he was real, then the answer was no. That was the crux of the matter. Part of her was afraid to believe, part of her afraid not to. She took another sip of coffee and shivered as the wind ran icy fingers across the back of her neck.

Then she stiffened. Something told her she was no longer alone. Slowly, she turned.

Jon stood several feet away, his face as pale as the snow behind him, blue eyes still bright despite the shadows beneath them. He looked like death, and the thought chilled her soul.

'What can I do to make you believe me?' he asked softly.

There was a hoarseness to his voice that had not been evident a few hours before, an edge of weariness and pain that tore at her need to stay safe.

'Maybe it's not a case of me believing you. Maybe it's just a case of knowing I can't help you.'

He ran a hand through his hair and looked away, appearing to study the silvery drops dripping steadily from a hole in the gutter. 'Then you have killed me as surely as those who shot me,' he whispered after a moment.

'No!' She closed her eyes. How could she ever survive the weight of another death, whether or not it was her fault? 'Isn't there someone I could contact, maybe a friend in a better position to help?'

'My companions live in Washington, and my time is running out.' He looked at her. 'You're my only chance, Madeline. Please.'

Something in his eyes made her want to reach out and touch him. She clenched her fingers around her coffee cup and turned away, knowing she had to react with her mind—not with her emotions, and definitely not with her heart. They had only led her to tragedy in the past.

'Why won't they suspect me?'

'You are… ordinary.'

Ordinary.She almost laughed at the bitter irony of it. How often had she heard that in the past? No one suspected the truth, not even her sister.

'Madeline, I don't mean—' 'It doesn't matter,' she said, turning to face him. 'I can't change what I am. Nor can I deny I'm afraid.

But I just can't run off wildly without some proof.'

He sighed. 'I'm in no position to prove anything to anyone.'

Mist drifted around him, darkening his hair where it touched. She wanted to reach out and touch him, to feel the heat of his body, to hold him close and caress away the lines of pain from his face. Maybe I am insane. I want to touch this ghost in ways I never touched my husband. Shaking her head, she stepped away from him.

Something flickered in his blue eyes, and a slight grimace twisted his generous mouth. It was almost as if he'd sensed the reason for her fear. But that's ridiculous—he's a ghost, not a mind reader. The sharp ring of the telephone interrupted the heavy silence. Maddie glanced at her watch and frowned. It was barely seven—who would be ringing her at this hour? She headed inside to answer it, then hesitated, meeting Jon's steady gaze.

'We won't meet again,' he murmured. He reached out, as if to touch her cheek then let his hand fall.

'For that, I'm sorry. Stay safe, Madeline.'

'No…' Maddie watched him fade until there was nothing left but the warmth of his voice in her thoughts.

She closed her eyes and fought the rise of tears. Damn it, why should she cry for a ghost, when she hadn't cried for her husband? She bit her lip and watched the mist swirl around the spot where he'd stood. Maybe because Jon had shown her more warmth in the few hours she'd known him than Brian had ever shown in the six years they were married.

The insistent ringing broke through her thoughts. She took a deep breath then ran down the length of the verandah to the back door, fleeing her thoughts as much as running for the phone.

Slamming the back door open, she snatched the receiver from the hook and struggled to get her boots off. 'Hello?'

'Maddie?'

She froze. It was Jayne… Oh lord, let Evan be safe. Yet the note in her sister's voice told her something was terribly wrong. 'What is it?'

'It's Evan,' Jayne sobbed. 'He's disappeared, Maddie. Just gone… without a trace.'

Chapter Two

'I need your help. You can see things… I need to know…' Jayne's voice faded into silence.

Maddie closed her eyes and leaned back against the wall. After all the years of denials, after all the years of fear, Jayne was not only acknowledging her abilities but also asking for help. It was a miracle Maddie had never thought she'd see, and one that left her oddly frightened.

If Jayne knew, maybe Steve did.

And maybe he knew about Brian, too. She took a deep breath. No, if Steve suspected anything, he would have reported it.