"You are mine," the woman spat. "Mine." Maddie screamed, and the dream disintegrated into darkness.
***
"Maddie, come back to me."
She didn't respond, didn't move. She breathed rapid gasps that shuddered through her body, and sweat trickled down her cheeks. Jon thumbed the droplets away. Her skin was cold, despite the room's heat.
He frowned and glanced at the fireplace. Flames flickered, slowly catching the small logs she must have placed there earlier. But the temperature in the room seemed to have jumped ten degrees in the last few minutes, and the fire certainly couldn't account for it. Imagination, or something else?
She suddenly pushed his hand away, her eyes wide and unfocused like a dreamer fighting a dream. Her fear smothered him, making it difficult to breathe, to concentrate. He wondered why he was so open to her when he'd spent most of his life perfecting the art of blocking other people's emotions—and his own. She pushed her fingers through her hair, her hands shaking. He sat back on his heels, watching her carefully. Something had frightened her enough to rip her from the vision, but she was not yet aware of him or their surroundings. Her mind was still caught in the backwash of the trance.
Which meant her gift was raw. Few trained clairvoyants were unable to pull out of a vision cleanly. He wondered how strong her gift was, how true. And how long she'd gone without seeking help. He suddenly wished he could call his mother. She was a strong clairvoyant and would know how to handle this situation.
"Maddie," he said softly.
The amber fire in her eyes began to burn more brightly as her awareness returned. She blinked rapidly, then took a deep, shuddering breath. The blanket of fear intensified.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. She pushed the chair backwards and scrambled to her feet, every movement frantic, as if desperate to escape. He reached out to caress her hand, but she jerked her fingers away from his touch. He frowned and rubbed his fingertips together. Now her skin was burning hot. What the hell was going on?
She stopped in front of the fire, her back to him, her stance withdrawn. She looked isolated and very, very frightened. The firelight ran through her hair, making it burn a vibrant, molten gold. Such a pretty color, he thought, and so at odds with the darkness that seemed to haunt her.
He had no real experience in dealing with untrained talents, and no real time to help her. Not with only five days to find the missing kids. But any information, however small, might provide the breakthrough he needed. She'd definitely seen something in that dream, and that something just might make his task of rescuing the kids easier.
He sat astride the chair. Though she made no sound, her shoulders tensed. She was ready for a blow, whether verbally or physically. Anger uncoiled in his belly, and for an instant, he was very glad he'd only just met her. Otherwise, he might have been tempted to seek out the fool who'd hurt her so badly. He leaned his forearms against the wooden backrest and fully opened the gate to his empathic abilities. He needed her to talk to him, and he had a feeling he'd require all his resources. One wrong word and she'd retreat further, mentally if not physically.
"Your gift is nothing unusual, Maddie," he said softly. She laughed. It's harshness made him wince. "What do you know about it? Have you ever suffered these dreams, or the endless taunts of your friends?" He held back a slightly bitter smile. In the ten years he'd worked for the Damask Circle, he'd seen and suffered more than she could ever imagine.
"Clairvoyance is not so bad once you learn to control it."
Her fingers clenched by her side. "But I can't control it. I can't control any of it."
He had an odd feeling she wasn't talking about clairvoyance when she spoke of control. Did she have another gift she couldn't contain? "Didn't anyone try to teach you? Your mother, perhaps?"
Again she laughed bitterly. "No."
That one word spoke volumes. Obviously, she'd been left on her own to cope with her gift. Why? Abilities like this usually ran through generations, so surely there had been someone to guide her.
"Did your parents even know you were gifted?"
"They thought I was deranged." Though her voice was bitter, her confusion washed over him, along with a hint of guilt.
He wondered why. "Did they seek outside help, then?"
"Only in the form of psychiatrists." She snorted softly. "I lived a small town, Jon, with small town fears. I was an oddity, a freak. My parents tried very hard to make me appear normal, but people knew. " The horror of her childhood was evident in the dark swirl through her aura. He silently cursed the fools who had brought her up to fear, even loathe, her gift.
"Then tell me about your gifts." It was evident from the way she stood that he wouldn't get much more about her past until she trusted him more.
"There's nothing to tell. I'm just a freak."
If she was a freak, then what was he? What would she say if she ever saw him change? Not that she ever would. That was one secret he shared with the very few people whom he trusted completely. "Maddie, you have a gift that can be valuable if you want to save your nephew. It doesn't make you a freak." Only the attitude of uncaring people could do that. And someone in her past, someone other than her parents, had obviously torn her to shreds over her gift. He sensed that much.
He flexed the tension from his fingers and glanced at the clock on the wall. Ten o'clock. Time was running out. If he didn't get moving soon, another day would be wasted. "Tell me about the people you saw." Her shoulders tensed again. "I told you what I saw. It doesn't make sense." To her, it wouldn't. She didn't know the woman was a shapeshifter, and he had no intention of telling her. It would only lead to questions he didn't want to answer. "The clairvoyant image isn't always clear, especially if you haven't been trained. Sometimes you have to interpret."
Finally, she turned around and looked at him. He was pleased to see the fear in her eyes had retreated slightly.
"How do you know so much about clairvoyants?"
He smiled. "My mother and three of my sisters are clairvoyants." She raised a pale eyebrow, the ghost of a smile touching her lips. "Three of your sisters? Just how many do you have?"