"Damn," Rafe said as he followed her toward the door. "I hate it when this happens."
"When what happens?"
"When naive, amateur investigators set out to solve a case for the sake of a principle."
"Really?" One hand on the doorknob, she glanced back at him over her shoulder. "Why do you set out to solve cases?"
"I do it for the money."
"Liar." She opened the door and walked out into the night.
The dream bore down on her with the relentless, heart-stopping power of a jungle storm.
The psychic vampire sent forth the questing probe from the heart of the night. Talons of strange, unnatural energy lanced across the metaphysical plane, seeking, groping, clawing for a prism.
All of her instincts, psychic and physical, fought the terrible summons. She knew that if she weakened, she would be trapped forever in the eerie embrace.
Darkness howled across the psychic realm. Paranormal power crackled like lightning. The vampire was closer, closer than the last time. She must awaken. If she did not, she would see the creature's face. She did not want to confront the predatory thing that sought to imprison her. Her only hope was to wake up before it was too late . . .
Orchid's eyes snapped open with shocking abruptness. She sat straight up in bed, aware that she was soaked to the skin with perspiration. Her nightgown clung to her breasts and the place between her shoulders, yet she was chilled to the bone.
This was the worst it had ever been. The vampire had been so close this time.
The jarring warble of the phone broke through the last remnants of dazed, mindless fear. Orchid blinked and reached out to turn on the bedside light. At the same time she forced herself to do some meta-zen-syn breathing exercises.
The phone rang again, an imperious summons. She realized that it had been ringing for some time. She glanced at the clock as she picked up the receiver. Nearly three in the morning. She had been asleep since shortly after Rafe had brought her home sometime after midnight.
"Hello?"
"Orchid?" Rafe's voice came through the line with the bracing impact of a bucket of cold water. "What's wrong? Are you all right?"
"Yes." Orchid fell back against the pillows with a sigh of relief that she sincerely hoped Rafe did not hear. It would probably not be a good idea for him to know how grateful she was for his call. "Yes, of course. I'm fine."
"You don't sound fine."
"You awakened me in the middle of a bad dream." It occurred to her that his timing could not have been better. "I'm all right now. Why in the world are you calling at this hour?"
"I don't know. You tell me."
"This is not a good tune to go cryptic on me. I don't think very clearly at three in the morning."
"I'm telling you the truth. I woke up out of a sound sleep with the feeling that I had to call you right now. So I did."
Orchid shivered. "Weird."
"Yes."
"I'm glad you did," she confessed. "I've had that particular dream before. Several times during the past week, in fact. I don't like it very much."
"I could tell. What's the dream about?"
"I'm sure you've got better things to do than listen to me tell you about my stupid nightmare."
"No, as a matter of fact, I don't have anything better to do. I'm just lying here looking up at the sky."
"The sky?"
"I've got a window in my bedroom ceiling. Both moons are out tonight."
"Oh." She had a sudden, disturbing image of what it would be like to be in his bed gazing up at the twin moons.
"Tell me about your dream."
Orchid knew that she should say goodnight and hang up the phone. Dreams were very personal. Much too intimate to discuss with a business client.
But the impulse to confide in him was overwhelming. Perhaps it was the hour. Three in the morning was a very dark time of night. Or maybe it was because her pulse had not yet settled down to its normal pace. Maybe it was simply because Rafe had crossed the invisible barrier between client and something else earlier in the evening when he kissed her. Whatever it was, Orchid could not resist the urge to talk to him now.
"Promise you won't laugh, but it's as if I'm being stalked by a psychic vampire. Every night he gets a little closer."
"Psychic vampire, huh? I take it this is not one of the romantic kind that you put into Dark Desire?"
She blinked. "You've read it?"
"Curiosity got the better of me. I picked it up earlier today. Started it tonight after I took you home."
"You don't have to give me a book report," she said.
"The plot is interesting." He sounded as if he were choosing his words with exquisite care. "I like the mystery element. And the descriptions of the focus link between the hero and heroine was intriguing."
"Thanks."
"Reminded me a lot of what happened between us earlier tonight."
"I have an excellent imagination," she said.
"Obviously. Maybe it's connected to the fact that you're an ice-prism."
"Hmm. I hadn't thought of that. You may be right. I don't know very many other ice-prisms but the ones I've met all have a strongly creative side to their natures. Morgan is an artist."
"What about Theo Willis?"
"Theo loved music. It was his passion. He wrote it and he played the vio-piano."
There was a short silence.
"Tell me more about your dream," Rafe said again.
There was a cozy intimacy in this conversation that was oddly comforting, Orchid thought. "There's not much else to tell. I've been having the same dream or a very similar one every night for almost a week. Tonight was the worst one yet."
"What's the vampire like?"
"I can't see his face but I can feel the power of his talent."
"Strong?"
"Very, but that's not the scariest part."
"What is the scariest part?"
"The talent doesn't feel normal."
"That's logical, isn't it? If you're having nightmares about a very powerful talent, it stands to reason the talent would not feel normal."
"You're strong," she said. "In fact, you're the most powerful talent I've ever focused. But you feel normal." Not like Calvin Hyde.
There was an acute pause on the other end of the line. "Normal?"
"Okay, maybe normal isn't quite the right word. I can't say your kind of power is what anyone would call commonplace."
"I was afraid of that," Rafe said.
"But you don't feel unnatural, if you see what I mean." There is no evil in you, she added silently.
"What you're really trying to say is that I feel primitive."
"Damn it, don't put words in my mouth. That is not what I mean at all." Orchid glowered at the phone. "For your information, your talent does not feel primitive."
"No?"
She frowned, thinking about it. "Actually, from a synergistic point of view, your para-energy and your physical senses are far better integrated than those of most talents. Evolutionary speaking, you may represent the wave of the future."
"I'm not sure I like the word evolution any more than the word primitive."
"Too bad, you're stuck with it. We all are. Any scientist will tell you that paranormal powers are evolving very swiftly among humans here on St. Helens. No one knows what the future holds, but chances are we'll see increasing variations and mutations."
"So now I'm a mutant?" But his tone was lighter now, almost amused.
"You and me both. Ice-prisms aren't exactly thick on the ground."
"True. Let's get back to your dream. What does this talent in your nightmare feel like?"
Orchid looked down and saw that she had crumpled a fistful of sheet in one hand. "It feels . . . crazy."
"I flunk I'm getting the picture at last"
"What do you mean?"
"You're starting to wonder if the dreams are a sign that you're going off the deep end, aren't you?"
She closed her eyes. "It occurred to me that the dreams might be some form of psychic hallucination. Maybe something generated by whatever it is that makes me an ice-prism."