She leaped to her feet and rushed into the other room. Rex was waiting in front of the door. She opened it for him. Rex chortled a cheery farewell and dashed off across the porch, clutch gripped tightly in one paw. He disappeared into the night.
Charlotte closed the door and walked back into the kitchen. “Rex is not a normal dust bunny.”
“Who knows what’s normal for a dust bunny?”
“Good point,” she admitted.
Slade met her eyes. “I’m not normal, either. I need to know what the hell is happening to my talent. I’ve decided to run some experiments tonight.”
“You can run them here, with me.”
“No,” he said. “Not a good idea. I don’t know what to expect.”
“There are only two plausible outcomes,” she said, keeping her voice as calm and reasonable as possible. “One is that the experts are right and you’ll take a heavy psi-burn from which you will not recover. The other is that I’m right, in which case, you’ll get a handle on whatever is going on with your para-senses. Either way there’s no reason to go through this alone.”
“That’s how I work, Charlotte. Alone.”
“Maybe that was the way you worked in the past but things are different here on Rainshadow,” she said.
“Yeah?” He smiled but there was no amusement in his eyes. “What’s different?”
“I’m here. Face it, Chief, you’re not alone tonight.”
He seemed to struggle with that concept for a moment, then he shook his head. “No.”
“Give me one good reason why I should let you do this on your own. Aside from your natural hardheaded stubbornness, that is.”
“You said there are two plausible outcomes but what if you’re wrong? What if there’s a third?”
“Such as?”
“What if it turns out I can access the stormlight at the far end of my talent but I’m not able to control it?”
She touched the pendant at her throat. “Whatever is waiting for you, I’m absolutely sure that you can control it. But if I’m wrong, I’ll know it before you do. I’ll stop you.”
She was not absolutely certain she would be able to do that but she had no intention of letting him know that she had a few tiny doubts. In any event, the possibility that he might not be able to control his talent was the least of her concerns. He was going to run his experiment tonight with or without her and she could not let him face his worst nightmare—permanent psiblindness—alone.
He got to his feet and went to stand at the window. He looked out into the night for a long time and then he turned back to her.
“Okay,” he said. “We’ll do this together.”
Chapter 22
SLADE SAT ON THE SOFA. HE WAITED WHILE CHARLOTTE walked through the small house, turning off the lights. With a few notable exceptions, psychic energy could be worked night or day. But according to most of the Arcane experts, it was easier to focus the strong stuff in darkness. The visible energy from the sun and artificial illumination did not necessarily dampen talent but it could interfere with control. At the very least, it was a distraction.
He did not need any additional distractions, Slade thought. What he needed was absolute control.
Charlotte put out the last light, the lamp on the end table. The living room was plunged into a darkness lit only by the low-burning fire. She sat down in an old, padded reading chair and tucked one black denim-clad leg under her.
“Start whenever you’re ready,” she said. “I’ll keep an eye on your rainbow. If I get any bad vibes, you’ll be the first to know.”
He looked at her. She was a dark shadow silhouetted against the night that filled the window behind her. He kicked up his talent a little so that he could see her more clearly. Her eyes gleamed a little with psi. He could feel the whispers in the atmosphere that told him she was slightly jacked. It was good to have her here, he thought. He was not sure it was wise on his part but he could not deny that it felt right.
“Thanks,” he said, without thinking.
“No problem,” she said.
She understood what he was thanking her for, he thought. There was no need to explain. There didn’t seem to be anything else to add so he sat forward, legs braced a couple of feet apart, and rested his forearms on his thighs. He pulled his senses into a strong, clear focus.
Charlotte removed her pendant from around her neck and held the mirror in the palm of her hand.
He took his talent up slowly but steadily, watching for the thunderstorm of ultralight that was always waiting for him out on the paranormal plane. He slipped past the comfort zone and eased his way farther out onto the spectrum. The first, faint shadows of power pulsed in the distance.
“I can sense the storm,” he said quietly. “Not that far off.”
“You’re in full control,” Charlotte said. “How do you feel?”
He thought about the question, assessing his senses. “Good. But I’m picking up the currents of the heavy energy out there. This is about as far as I’ve tried to go since I got burned by the gas.”
“The reflected bands of primary ultralight in your rainbow are still steady and strong. There are no indications of rogue waves or instability.”
“I hear you but from my perspective it’s like looking into a thunderstorm or a hurricane. I know that there has to be some natural pattern but I can’t detect it from the outside.”
“You always talk about it in terms of a storm front,” she said.
“That the nearest analogy I can find.”
“Maybe it’s not an analogy. Maybe what you perceive is a true psychic thunderstorm or a paranormal hurricane.”
He focused on the roiling, seething darkness. “Maybe. So?”
“Energy is energy. That’s one of the oldest laws of para-physics. More to the point here, para-energy works on some of the same principles as normal energy.”
“What are you getting at?”
“It occurs to me that if your talent is capable of generating a storm of ultralight it seems logical that the forces involved will be organized in the same way that a normal storm is, around a core. Think eye of the storm.”
“You’re saying that I can control this damn hurricane if I find the calm place at the center?”
“I don’t know,” Charlotte said. “We’re both winging it here.”
He saw that the mirrored pendant was glowing with a silvery light in her hand.
“You said everything looks stable,” he said.
“Yes.”
“Looks like the only way to find out what’s going on is to go into the storm.”
“I think you’re right,” Charlotte said quietly.
There was no point hanging around out here in limbo, Slade thought. He would treat this like any other job. Go in, do what needed to be done, and get out. If he was lucky.
“One thing before I do this,” he said.
“Yes?”
“If the center of the storm turns out to be chaos I might not survive it.”
“You’ll survive,” she said fiercely.
“Physically, maybe, but we both know that’s not what I’m talking about. I might not be the same. If that’s how this ends up I want you to know that you are not responsible in any way. I made this decision.”
“For heaven’s sake, Slade, this is no time to go melodramatic on me.”
“You’re going to feel guilty if this doesn’t work.”
“No, really, I won’t,” she said urgently.
“Yes, you will. I don’t want that. And I sure as hell do not want you thinking that you have to continue to sleep with me just because you encouraged me to take the risk of a bad burn.”
“Stop talking like that. Stop it right now.”
“I was going to do this, remember?” he said. “If I get burned, I get burned. If the parapsychs and the medics were right, it was going to happen sooner or later, anyway.”