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  "Just keeping an eye on you." He took out his little black notepad. "Any particular reason you were talking to Martin Cross?"

  "That's between Mr. Cross and me, don't you think?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. I folded my arms, wanting him to know I wouldn't be playing nice. He hated when the families came to me after he couldn't solve the case. His face, which had slowly returned to its usual pasty pallor, reddened again.

  "If you do not cooperate and answer my questions, I will charge you with obstruction of justice," he blustered, but I knew it was hot air. He had nothing.

  "So you'll arrest me because I spoke to a guy? Mighty protective of you, Detective." I smiled, injecting a little charm into the turn to my lips. "I always knew there was a reason you followed me around twenty-four seven, Detective. I just never realized it was because you had the hots for me."

  A snort of laughter emanated from his dark-haired partner and I tilted my head to address him. "So who are you supposed to be? You the latest sorry sucker they found to babysit this fool?" I pointed a thumb at Fulbright, who choked with fury at my words. Not that being polite to Fulbright had ever been my strong suit.

  The stranger bowed his head, a little dip that revealed a hint of his eyes behind the tops of his sunglasses, along with a tantalizing few inches of skin at his neckline - skin covered in dark swirling tattoos. My stomach tightened, and I found it a bit hard to breathe. I had to force myself to concentrate when he spoke. "My name is Saleem. I'm assigned to partner Detective Fulbright for a short period of time. I'm sort of on temporary loan." His voice was smooth, liquid gold wrapping itself around me.

  He extended his hand and I took it, but instead of shaking it like a normal person would I froze. The rush of sensations that sparked through my fingers wasn't what had caught my attention, though it was strong enough to take my breath away. Although I was primarily a tracker, I possessed additional abilities many other trackers didn't. For instance, I was able to sense the magical ward around my house and would probably know if someone tried to tamper with it. At the moment, the mere touch of my hand to Saleem's told me he was Djinn.

  I must have been silent for too long. It gave Fulbright's fury a chance to simmer. "You can give Saleem his hand back and answer my damned questions," he snapped. But even as he spoke, his tone distracted me. Maybe it was the way he spoke the djinn's name, and the expression on his face as he said it, like he'd just thrown up and still had the taste of vomit in his mouth. I glared at him, then glanced back at Saleem who'd been watching me with very observant eyes. He knew I'd picked up on Fulbright's tone, but his only response was a 'that's life' shrug.

  I, on the other hand, wasn't calm. I was furious.

  I turned to Fulbright, intending to give him the tongue-lashing he deserved but Saleem cut me off. "It was good meeting you, Morgan. Have a nice day." With that he returned to the car and climbed in, all the while those deep dark eyes never left my face once. I shivered - the nice kind. Fulbright still stood there as if waiting for something. Oh, yes, those damned questions.

  "Okay, Detective, I'll answer your questions." A triumphant smile appeared on Fulbright's lips, then vanished as I spoke. "No, I didn't kill my parents. No, I didn't kill my sister. And no, I won't talk to you about Martin Cross because if he wanted you to know what we discussed, he would tell you himself since you were the lead on his daughter's case. Now since there isn't any law against me talking to Cross I will do so when and where I please. If you want to stop me, get a restraining order or something. Otherwise, leave me the fuck alone." He'd remained silent as I spoke, face taking on a vicious purple hue. I turned on my heel and walked back to my truck, sensing that any kind of proximity to the detective would be dangerous. More dangerous for him, but he didn't need to know that.

  He took a step toward me and a horn blared. Saleem had saved me from another dose of Fulbright's fury. The detective gave me one last disgusted glare and stalked off to his vehicle. I waited for the cops to leave my street before I started the truck and headed off in the opposite direction, not bothering to hide where I was going.

  ***

  Chapter 4

  With Fulbright and the delicious Saleem off my tail, I drove to the outskirts of town, wondering again why I bothered with these visits. I could just hear Drake's voice. “Why do you waste your time? The man probably doesn't even know you're there.”

  Drake didn't realize I went because I needed to. Because something deep inside me drew me to Samuel.

  I pulled up in front of the house, a part of me refusing to enter the grand old house, the other part wanting to rush in there and take Samuel away from it all. To take him away and fix him and make him whole again. It still felt like my fault, even though everyone, including Samuel himself, insisted it wasn't. But if I hadn't been so persistent, if I hadn't wanted to find Ari so badly, maybe Samuel would still be whole. Maybe he would still be around to guide me.

  Not that I needed his training anymore, though. Samuel Fontaine had once been the Master Teleporter. There was only one person who exceeded him in his ability to cross the Veils and enter the Other worlds. And that was me. A secret only Samuel and I knew. Both Omega and Sentinel could never be privy to that piece of information. Samuel contracted to both organizations so he was allowed on occasion to do his own search and rescue jobs. Storm had arranged for Samuel to train me, to help perfect my astral projection, thus putting in motion a friendship of a lifetime.

  But Samuel couldn't be hoodwinked. He'd forced me to admit my front as an astral projector was a sham. Then he'd taken it upon himself to train me to teleport better. How to jump better, faster, smarter. And to this day he was the only one who knew exactly how powerful I was. How far I could jump, how strong my self-protection was that I could move through most magical wards.

  I rested my head on the steering wheel. Maybe I should just start the car and go home. Maybe Drake was right and coming here only made things worse for me and for Samuel. No. I punched the steering wheel, as if it was Drake arguing with me. I'd come this far. And Samuel deserved some company. I got out of the car, controlling the urge to slam the door shut. Fishing in my jacket pocket for my keys, I jogged to the porch, as if by walking any slower I would give myself the chance to change my mind.

  Beneath the elegant French columns, with their flaking paint, I hesitated only a moment before I slipped my key into the lock, the rest of the bunch jangling against each other as I moved. I was about to turn it when the giant oak door swung inward so hard I had to let go of my keys or go flying inside with them.

  Cassia stared at me, her honey gold eyes as expressionless as she could make them. "Hello, Melisande."

  "Hi, Cass." The skin at her eyes tightened. She hated it when I shortened her name. But it didn't matter. She pretty much hated everything I was and everything I stood for, all on account of the fact I ruined her life. I wasn't in the mood for a stare down so I tugged my keys from the lock, and took special note of the dark glare Cassia gave them, as if I had no right to have them. I brushed past her and headed for the stairs.

  "He's not taking visitors," she said, her voice dripping ice as she pushed her tightly spiraled curls away from her face.

  I stopped, my foot on the first stair, my hand on a banister badly in need of staining, and glanced back at her. I smiled sweetly. "Well, good thing I'm not a visitor then, isn't it?" I watched as blood rushed to her dusky cheeks. She smoothed her skirt down, tamping down her anger with the same action. I really shouldn't bait her. She did take care of Samuel. But I couldn't care less if she left. I'd just hire someone else to look after him. I turned my back on her and left her to stew in her fury, taking the threadbare stairs two by two, knowing even Cassia would disapprove. Poor Cassia. Samuel's niece hadn't inherited his teleportation powers, and being born normal into an almost entirely magical family was a great burden to bear. The problem with Cassia was she bore it with vicious anger.

  Sighing, I pushed Samuel's door open and walked silently to the table by the
window. Today, he sat in his rocking chair beside the open bay windows. White gauze curtains billowed on a soft breeze and he seemed to gaze out at the trees but I knew he saw nothing of the view. My heart twisted for him.

  I drew a rickety chair close and sat beside him. "Hello, Samuel," I said, taking his hand in mine. His skin was papery thin, the fingers bony, muscles weak and wiry. His hand twitched as I held it and I smiled. I knew he knew when I visited.

  Samuel Fontaine was not an old man. He was maybe in his late thirties, not the age of a man who should be lingering in a rocking chair, withering away in the twilight of his life. I stared at his once handsome face, high cheekbones now jutting out too far, gorgeous green eyes now faded to a pale luminous non-color.

  But sexy Samuel's been gone a long, long time. Ever since his brain got scrambled doing a jump for Melisande Morgan. What a way to go. My fingers tightened on his and I had to force myself to remember his frailty. I began to pull away when his fingers gripped mine with an intensity I hadn't felt in months. My heart stuttered as I stared at him, eyes wide.

  "Mel?" his voice rasped, as if he hadn't used it in years.

  "Samuel? Yes, it's me." I nodded and smiled, tears threatening to overflow.

  He blinked, his expression slightly unfocused. Then he frowned. "Are you eating? You look skinny."

  I snorted. "Don't worry about me. It's you we are concerned about. We need you back Sam-sam." I leaned close and he placed a palm on my cheek. The curtains billowed into the room, white clouds surrounding us in this impossible dream.

  "I know, baby. But I'm not done yet," he said, smiling. "The girl . . . She needs me."

  My stomach tightened. "What do you mean?"

  A few seconds of silence crawled by as Samuel studied my face with far away pale green eyes. "Patience, Melisande. And don't forget what I taught you," he said softly, his voice fading. "Don't forget . . ."

  "Samuel?" I called him, but I knew he was already gone and my heart ached for him.

  "He spoke to you?" Cassia's voice rang out, so bitter and cold it dropped the temperature in the room by a few degrees. Maybe the woman was magical after all.

  "Yes." I whispered, still holding on to his hand. He'd spoken. He was still there. And what had he meant? 'I'm not done yet?' What did that mean?

  "What did he say?" Her question broke through my thoughts, an angry tide breaking onto my happy, grateful shore.

  I looked up at Cassia and grinned. "He said I was skinny. And he told me not to forget what he'd taught me." I didn't see any reason to tell her the rest. I suspected she'd overheard the last of Samuel's words so that's just what I gave her.

  "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Cassia snapped, her honey eyes flashing. "He hasn't been lucid for months, and you waltz in and he just talks to you out of the blue and says don't forget what he taught you?" She snorted, hands on her hips, eyes wide. "Who the hell do you think you are? You just come in here whenever you feel like, say whatever you want and then leave him to me? Who do you think looks after him? And he talks to you?" Her laugh was hoarse, underlined by a deep bitterness.

  I watched Cassia, her anger an almost palpable thing. She was struggling with her own burdens but all I wanted to do was to slap her as hard as I could across the face.

  "You know what? I'm a bit tired of your whining and moaning. I know you've had it tough but we all have our own bloody demons to deal with. As far as I'm concerned you can just suck it up." The color drained from her skin and I was certain she wasn't sure whether to be shocked, upset or angry. "Take Samuel for instance, he's way worse off than you. Maybe someday we will have him back – from what he said today I am hoping his condition is temporary and wherever he is he's okay and he will come back. But until then we have to wait. So quit feeling sorry for yourself. If you feel this is all too much and looking after Samuel is a burden, then by all means leave. I'm sure we can find someone else to take care of him."

  I'd never voiced my opinion to Cassia before. I'd always steered clear of her, left her to her anger. Now, in the face of my words and my own fury, she seemed startled, unsure of herself.

  "You can't make me leave." She lifted her chin.

  Really? After everything I said, that was all she got? "I'm not making you leave, Cassia. I'm just saying if you aren't happy taking care of Samuel, we can find someone else." I was careful to use the word 'we'. A gentle reminder that my presence here was with the kind permission of Samuel's extended family. Not that I needed their permission, but they had eased Cassia into accepting me in the house and I appreciated that.

  Now, I watched Samuel's niece as she considered my words. She didn't respond and for Cassia, being short of words was unusual. Then she turned abruptly on her heel and left the room.

  "Well, I suppose I got my answer, then," I said to myself.

  Samuel chuckled and when I glanced at him, a little shocked, my heart sank with disappointment at the blank expression in his eyes. Then he tilted his head and stared out the window. Sighing, I got to my feet and kissed his cheek. Then walked out of the room and left him there alone again.

  As I drove all I could think about were Samuel's words. "I'm not done yet. The girl . . . She needs me."

  ***

  Chapter 5

  I left Samuel's, my thoughts a blur. What had he meant? Who was the girl he mentioned? My subconscious knew already where I intended to go and though my mind replayed Samuel's words over and over again, I drove myself through Chicago's abandoned quarter, heading for Storm's place.

  Surely he would be able to make some kind of sense of what Samuel had said. I parked and headed up the stairs of what used to be an old high rise apartment building. Today it was owned by Storm, and housed a few hundred special kids, gifted kids, paranormals who were lost. I'd been one of those children not so long ago. Would have fallen through the cracks in the human system if Storm hadn't found me. If Fulbright had had his way I'd have ended up in Juvie with all the hardened human delinquents. Would not have been good for them.

  But I'd been lucky. I met Dr. Chloe Murdoch and that got the ball rolling in Storm's direction. Fulbright had wanted an assessment, had been positive he'd get one back saying I was a psycho family killer. He'd sent me to a social worker, Dr. Murdoch, hoping to get a recommendation to have me put behind bars. Only it didn't work that way. Not for Dr. or Chief Murdoch.

  Chloe Murdoch just so happened to be a Sensitive. I'd been supercharged after the murder, so high on adrenalin I couldn't see straight, terrified of anything that moved. The sight of seeing my parents slaughtered had shocked me so badly I'd jumped for the first time in my life and been lost in the ether. Terrified, I'd struggled to get back despite having no idea how. Panic or adrenalin worked eventually and I returned to the bodies of my dead parents and to a missing sister. Then, I had Fulbright hammering me hour after hour to confess to knowing something about my parents' murder, to admit I was protecting the bastards who had stolen my sister. He insisted I give them up if I knew what was good for me. I was eleven, grieving, guilty and terrified.

  By the time I'd been taken in to see Dr. Murdoch I'd wet myself, from fear, from waiting too long, who knows. Chloe helped get me cleaned up, got me some clean clothing and calmed me down just by laying her hands on me. I didn't know it at the time but Chloe had the ability to take away fear and anxiety just by touch. And she'd chosen the best profession to be in to use such a gift.

  I hadn't needed a sedative or anything, just Chloe holding my hand and stroking the back of it, asking me silly questions like what my favorite ice cream was and did I like shaved ice and cotton candy. I could hear Fulbright in the next room – I still had a connection to him, could still smell him so strong on me, he'd grabbed my arm a few times so I had a strong link to his feedback. He was fuming, thinking Chloe was full of bullshit and that rubbing the back of my hand ain't gonna get them dick. He needed her to get me into Juvie so he had me where he wanted me but the doc wasn't doing what she was supposed to.

&nbs
p; He was getting antsy and almost barged into the room when someone stopped him. All I got was him saying “Yes, Chief” and cursing inwardly that 'of course the chief would agree with whatever his wife said.' Then Chloe distracted me and I was glad because Fulbright wasn't the nicest of men and when he got angry he said some pretty nasty things.

  I parked and headed inside. Storm kept a ground floor office with a door's-open policy for the kids. Being an Immortal, he didn't need to do the kind of outreach work he did, so admiring Storm for his charity work was easy.

  Admiring Storm himself was even easier. Easy in the blond, blue eyed, Greek god kind of way that made me pretty certain Storm was a god in disguise and just didn't want to tell us which one. Not that it was weird crushing on a guy who was hundreds of years old.

  Today his door was open as usual and I walked right in, through the empty front room and into the inner office to find the Immortal typing diligently on his laptop.

  "Hello, Melisande, is everything all right?" He frowned, studying my face as if he could find the answer on the contours of my bone structure.

  I shook my head. "No. I've just come from seeing Samuel and I'm worried." I gave him a quick rundown of what happened at Samuel's but mentioned nothing about the girl. Again I just felt that bit of information was too unusual and instinct told me it wasn't something I was meant to go telling all and sundry, even if they happened to be Immortal.

  Storm rubbed his jaw, the short bristles making a soft ticking sound. "What could he have meant by 'I'm not done yet'?" he asked, more to himself than anything.

  "Do you think he's somewhere on some kind of mission that he hasn't told us about? Something that has to do with astral projection?" I asked. It sounded like the most plausible option but then I frowned. "But I didn't even know Samuel could astral project. Do you know if he could?"