“Amen,” Heather said with feeling.
Chapter Four
Heather waited with Jack in Jan’s overlarge living room. Ida’s cottage fit the older woman—small, comfortable, and cozy. Jan’s had the exact opposite feel, much like the man himself. The space was dark, overpowering, and made her claustrophobic. He’d decorated his walls with stuffed animal heads, and the eyes following her as she moved gave her the creeps.
Jack adjusted the straps of his backpack. “I’m still not happy you broke into my car.”
Jan smiled. Though silver-haired, he had a large, rangy build and a spry step. His dark eyes saw much, but he spoke only when he had something important to say. The entire town steered clear of him in a bad mood, and on nights like these, when the clouds cast an eerie shadow over the town and, in particular, over Jan’s house, Heather could well believe the man as possessed as the children claimed him to be.
Jack sighed when Jan remained silent. “We’re going to do this the hard way, then?”
They stared at each other, and Heather could feel the psychic tension building. She glanced at Ida, who shrugged.
“Jack, we should—” Heather started to say, when Jan laughed.
“Full of power, this one.” He clapped Jack on the back, but Jack didn’t flinch. “Strong too. You’ll need that. The mountains are cold.” Jan had given them both sleeping bags they’d strapped to their packs. “The way to the Source is dangerous but necessary.”
“Whatever. How about you tell me how you know who I am?”
“I see what’s important.” Jan tapped his forehead. “Jack Keiser, you’d best be touching me and taking me with you.”
Jack’s face darkened, but he gripped Jan’s hand tight before letting go. Now what was that all about? Jack hadn’t said anything about his own psychic abilities. Heather could see his monstrous strength apparent in the way he moved, how he’d held her up so easily, and in the shape and feel of his massive muscles. But psychically, what could he do?
Jack let go of Jan’s hand. “Right. We have to go.”
Jan nodded. “Down this street, take a right at the second alley. Heather, it’s the one by Heidi’s house. Everyone’s at Edda’s tonight celebrating Edda’s new tea blend. Ida and I will be going, and we’ll tell them you decided to spend some time alone together. You have until tomorrow afternoon, I’d imagine, before the others grow suspicious when they don’t see you. Make the most of it.”
“You’d imagine? I thought you saw things,” Jack asked.
“Not everything, unfortunately. I know what I know, and nothing more.”
Jack nodded, accepting the explanation more easily than Heather first had.
As she studied her new partner, Heather thought he looked intimidating. And sexy as hell.
She flushed, remembering what they’d done not an hour ago in Ida’s house. She hated that she wanted to do it again. Jack and she had barely broken the ice. She knew his name and that he worked with her brother in Bend. And that he was psychic, somehow. She knew nothing else about him except how he felt inside her. He hadn’t even been very nice to her during the short time they’d been acquainted, except for those killer orgasms.
So why did she want to know everything about him?
“You coming?” he asked in that growl that made her want to shiver.
“Yes.” She hugged Ida and Jan, thanked them, then put her pack on and followed Jack out the door. She’d save her questions for later, when they’d put some distance between town and themselves.
An hour later, she figured they’d entered a safe enough zone, far enough from the town that she could talk in a low voice and not worry about being overheard. If anyone had ventured out, they wouldn’t be on the path toward the Source, not when unauthorized visits were forbidden and punishable by town law.
Wind pushed the clouds around, and the moonlight filtering through the trees above made the forest look friendly—a lot less intimidating than the man currently glaring back at her.
“What?” she asked, forcing herself not to snap at him.
“Just making sure you’re still there. You’re surprisingly quiet for a woman.”
“Thanks.” She rolled her eyes, liking him less the more he spoke. “So what’s your deal?” Why do you carry such large burdens of pain and suffering?
He turned back around and lengthened his pace, forcing her to hurry to keep up. “My deal?”
She refused to let him goad her. Nice Heather had returned, and nice Heather would remain in control. “You know I can heal. What exactly can you do?”
Jack didn’t answer, and for a while she didn’t think he would. A few minutes later, he stopped and leaned against a tree. He took out a water bottle and downed the contents. His “You should drink” sounded more like an order than a request to her, but she needed to hydrate, so she didn’t argue.
After drinking half her water, she put the bottle away.
“I’m in charge of the psychics at home,” Jack finally answered. “Squad leader, you could say. I have a gift for cutting through bullshit to get things done.”
She could see that. Jack radiated power. “I’m guessing you lead by intimidation. That’s not exactly psychic.”
“You think? There are a lot of big guys out there, but not all of them can strike fear the way I can.”
He had a point. “So you just glare at people, and they get the sudden urge to obey you?”
He grinned, and holy Hannah, but the difference in a few facial muscles turned him from cold and sexy to downright handsome. She blinked.
“Why? You feel the urge to obey me, Heather?”
Did she. She swallowed around a dry throat. “N-no.”
“Too bad.” He licked his lips, his gaze intent on her mouth.
“Stop it.”
“Stop what?”
“Please.” She snorted. “I’m not buying that innocent look. What happened before… It can’t happen again. We have to get this done and get out of here.”
“Good point.” He stood straight and took a step toward her. “Care to explain what the hell we’re doing, tramping through the woods, on the run from psychic whack-jobs at eleven at night?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Enlighten me.” He crossed his arms, covered by the jacket he wore. She couldn’t see his bare arms, but she could almost feel the corded forearms under her palms, the way she had not long ago.
She bit her lower lip but hurriedly let it go when his gaze narrowed on her mouth. With a sigh, she answered him. “Chronicles was written by Johann Stallbridge. That you know. But what you don’t know is that he encrypted a message for one of his descendants. The first person to be able to read it has to act. And that’s me.”
“What do you have to do?”
“I’m not exactly sure yet.”
“Of course you’re not.”
“No, wait.” She hurried to explain, to get the look of disgust off his face. “I learned some things. But”—she gave him a stern look—“you can’t tell anyone about this.”
“Who would I tell?”
“I’m serious. Not even Owen knows.”
His eyes narrowed. “Okay.”
And like that, she trusted him. So strange. “My great-grandfather found out that he wasn’t the first of our family to visit the Source. His ancestors had come from this area hundreds of years ago. And he thought that’s why we have psychic abilities, because we were shaped by the power found here.” She paused, trying to find the right words to tell him without making her family look bad.
“Go on.”
“Johann decided to see the Source for himself. Back in 1886, he arrived, made friends, and settled into life here. But he wasn’t content to sit around and follow rules. He found the Source on his own. And then he took something. I’m not sure what, but I know I have to give it back.”