“Which we need to discuss, Jared.”
He nodded. “Later. Let’s see if our seer is back from lunch yet.”
We ambled along the sidewalk, the day idyllic even with the throng of tourists from the cruise ship in the harbor, and were nearly to the seer’s street when Jared froze and released my hand. His face twisted in pain as he bent forward, and he groaned and grabbed at his chest.
“Jared! What’s wrong? Jared!” I cried, but he didn’t respond with anything but a long exhalation.
“Are you okay?” I tried again. “Jared, talk to me!”
He remained doubled over for a good half minute and then slowly straightened, his features clouded. He rolled his shoulders and stretched, and I stepped closer to him and whispered to him, “What’s the matter, Jared? What happened? Is it the sun?”
He shook his head and stared at the cruise ship before slowly turning back to me, his normally full lips a tight line.
“No. Not the sun,” he said, his voice strained.
“Then…what?”
“I…someone…someone close to me…it must be either Carl or Christina.” The corners of his mouth pulled down and his jaw clenched.
“One of them has died.”
Chapter 22
“What do you mean? How can you know?” I stammered, trying to make sense of his words.
“Believe me, I know. I told you – I can read thoughts if the other person is connected to me and is in an emotionally charged state. I…I felt it. I felt the knife, and the fear, and…rage. Fury.”
He pulled his cell from his pocket, pressed a speed dial key, and raised it to his ear. A moment later his expression softened a fraction.
“Did you feel it?” he said into the phone. He listened and nodded once. “Do what you think is best. But if they got Carl, then they’re onto…they might know about the gathering.” He listened some more. “I’ll wait until I hear from you,” he said, and disconnected.
“Christina?” I asked.
He nodded and dialed another number, but got no answer. When the call went to voicemail, he thumbed the phone off and removed the battery with a few deft moves.
“In case they can track it. I don’t think they can, but if they have Carl’s phone, anything’s possible.”
I eyed him with concern. “You’re absolutely sure? This couldn’t be some kind of mistake?”
His expression hardened again. “I’m sure.” He took my hand. “Come on. I want to stay on the move.”
I didn’t resist, and he led me down a long tree-lined block to the seer’s house. This time when he knocked, a voice called from within, and moments later a woman who looked to be in her seventies with her hair in a bun peered at us over the rims of round steel spectacles. She spent a few seconds looking at me and then turned her attention to Jared.
“What brings you to me, night stalker?” she asked, her voice low and heavily accented – Russian, as far as I could tell.
“I’m in need of your services, Mother.”
“You bring this one to my abode?” She narrowed her eyes at me and then shifted her attention back to Jared. “What game is this?”
“No trick. We need answers that are buried in her past, and we have too little time.”
“Answers?” she hissed. “You must know the answers to any questions I could ask. Your kind always does.”
“I need you to help her remember. A past from long ago. Another life.”
The woman’s demeanor changed, and her expression softened a little. “Does she know what you are? Have you explained the…the danger?”
I cleared my throat. “I’m right here, you know. And yes, I know everything. But this isn’t about him.”
The woman appraised me with eyes as black as coals. “Well, then. I am Madame Véronique. Come into my salon and we’ll see what we can learn.” She looked back at Jared. “This is neutral ground, you understand? No tricks.”
Jared nodded. “I mean you no harm, Mother. I know the rules.”
“See that you abide by them, traveler,” she warned with a dark look, and then motioned for us to enter. “This way. On the right.”
The salon was a medium-size room, its tall windows draped with crimson velvet curtains suspended from ornate brass rods by wooden rings. Madame Véronique – unlikely name for a Russian, I couldn’t help thinking – followed us in and gestured to a loveseat by the window. “Traveler, sit there.” She eyed me and pointed to an overstuffed easy chair that faced one just like it. “And you, my dear, take a seat here.”
I did as instructed, my stomach a knot from sudden nerves. I gave Jared a troubled glance, and he offered me a reassuring smile that looked strained – understandable, given that as far as we knew, one of his closest companions had just died.
Madame Véronique took a step toward me. “Now, before we begin, what’s your name, child?”
“Lacey,” I answered in a small voice.
She leaned over and patted my arm reassuringly. “Don’t worry, Lacey. This will be painless, and when it’s over, you will feel relaxed and refreshed, as though you’ve taken a long nap and had the deepest, most satisfying sleep ever.” She paused. “Are you nervous?”
“A little,” I admitted.
“There is no reason to be.” She lit a candle on the table between the chairs and then walked to the light switch and flicked it off. The room was plunged into darkness, the only light the flame in front of me. “There. That’s better,” she murmured. “Are you warm enough? Comfortable?” she asked, moving to the chair opposite me and lowering herself into it.
“Sure. Everything’s fine.”
“Perfect. Now, what we’re going to do, Lacey, is hypnotize you so you can access your deepest memories.”
I pursed my lips. Everything I’d read in psychology about hypnosis was inconclusive at best. My skepticism must have shown, because Madame Véronique offered a smile that reminded me of a moray eel at feeding time.
“Not ordinary hypnosis, Lacey. What I do is…special. You don’t have to believe
