move, but someone was bound to come for her if she didn’t show herself.
When she moved to the door, something brushed her ankle and she cringed away from the animal-like touch … then realized her robe was on the floor again. She stooped to pick it up and tossed it on the bed before she opened the door.
The long upstairs hall was dark; they hadn’t brought nearly enough lightbulbs to cover the entire house, and it was a long walk to either staircase. The house seemed empty … no one stirring.
What if they’ve left me here? What if I’m alone? she thought, completely irrationally.
She quashed the thought and glanced down both sides of the hall. She decided that in her current state she didn’t need to pass by the closed door of that room—Brendan’s room—in the dim light. She walked instead toward the Spanish side of the house, and she hurried.
She passed into the perpendicular corridor and took the turn onto the main stairs. Through the huge arched window she could see the moon almost full above the gazebo, which glowed white in the dark shadows of the garden, like a deserted altar …
All right, stop it.
She looked away from the window and hurried down the dark stairs. There seemed to be no light below at all, and panic started to rise, from her stomach to her throat… .
It was not until she reached the bottom that she heard the murmuring of voices in the great room, and the relief made her legs weak.
She stepped through the archway of the great room. The three of them were lounged in the chairs and sofa grouped at the center of the room, with a few candles lit in the candlesticks, reflected flickering in the mirrors. Katrina was curled like a cat on the sofa, Tyler propped on pillows on the floor, Brendan in a leather armchair. He looked up at Laurel.
“Dr. MacDonald. Are you all right?”
The concern in his voice made Katrina stiffen on the couch.
“I’m fine,” Laurel said, and realizing she would have to say more than that, she added, lying, “I didn’t sleep well last night—guess I needed to make up for it.” She looked around at them, looking for anything that would divert attention from her. There were Zener cards spread out on the low table in front of the sofa, and another table had been set up for testing, with the Zener-card display board in the middle, sorting boxes beneath it. There were two straight-backed chairs on opposite sides of the board. “Did I miss anything?”
“It’s been a slow day,” Brendan said casually, but there was a note of anxiety in his voice. “Nothing to report at all. We ran some two-person tests, sender and receiver and vice-versa… .” He trailed off and Laurel sensed some kind of concern in his voice. But he quickly continued on.
“We’ve been talking about past psi experiences.” He stood, offering Laurel his seat, the leather armchair. Laurel was about to decline and take one of the straight-backed chairs, but she saw Katrina glaring at her, so with a touch of rebellion she crossed and sat in the leather armchair. It was warm from Brendan’s body.
He moved to lean back into the curve of the grand piano. “Katrina was just telling us—”
“No,” the girl said, looking stonily at Laurel.
On the floor, Tyler raised his eyebrows. There was a silence, then Brendan laughed awkwardly. “Mr. Mountford, then. Anything to contribute?”
“I’m lucky,” Tyler said.
Everyone looked at him. He shrugged. “I don’t know what that means scientifically. But cards, dice, raffles—I win things a lot. I kind of know when to get in and when to get out.” He grinned, a twisted smile. “I don’t always pay attention, mind you. But when I do, I pretty much know.”
Laurel thought of Uncle Morgan: “I’m good at cards.”
And where did that get him? A wave of unease swept through her. What have we brought these kids into?
Brendan was speaking. “That’s how Dr. Rhine first developed the Zenercard tests, and the dice tests. He wanted to test assertions by gamblers that they could influence the fall of the dice, and the lay of the cards. His findings backed those gamblers up. Of course, Rhine asserted that we all have innate psi ability. So far I haven’t had much luck with the lottery, though,” he quipped, and Katrina laughed, a musical, lilting, inviting laugh.
“And Dr. MacDonald?” Brendan asked. He looked across the room at her in the moving candlelight. Katrina’s