The First Prophet

by Kay Hooper

  After a moment, Tucker rose from his chair and crossed the room to sit down on the couch beside Sarah. “How can you know all that, Sarah? What is it you’re tapping into?”

  “I don’t know.” She frowned a little, looking at him and yet somehow beyond him. “It’s a…place. A sort of crossroads where everything meets. Past, present, future. A place we all pass through. We leave a…an imprint behind, a sense of what we feel and think and are. I know what Lydia left there, so I know her. Who she was, what she thought and felt. It’s all there, and I can see it.”

  Tucker knew there was a theory of a universal consciousness, a kind of energy field made up of all the thoughts and knowledge accumulated by humankind in all its history, a field some people claimed to be able to tap into. Thinking of that theory was as close as he could come to understanding what Sarah was talking about. Even so, in all his study of the paranormal, he had never—ever—read or heard of any psychic with the abilities Sarah was beginning to display.

  He had the feeling that if the other side really knew what she was capable of, they’d be breaking down doors to get to her, and to hell with being sneaky about it.

  Sarah blinked and suddenly focused on his face. Her pupils were still enormous, but a smile played about her mouth. “Everything that was, and is, and will be is there. We’re there.”

  “We are?”

  She nodded. “We’re going to be lovers, you know.”

  Tucker’s first response to that was purely physical and immediate, but he rode out the surge of desire as if it were an unruly bronc and did his best to control it. He hadn’t realized just how badly he wanted her until that moment. “Are we?”

  Sarah nodded again. “It’s our destiny.”

  Even as he watched, her pupils were returning to normal, and it was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen. Hypnotic. He couldn’t stop staring at her, and his voice was almost absentminded. “Destiny. We’ve talked about that, Sarah. I don’t believe our lives are planned for us.”

  “Not our lives. Just some things. We will be lovers.”

  “And what if I don’t want to play along with destiny?” he asked, even as he wondered why on earth he was objecting.

  “You don’t have a choice. Not about this. Don’t you know? Haven’t you always known?”

  His mind flashed back to the first time he’d seen her, standing before the ruins of her home in her pretty dress, and he thought he had known, even then, that they belonged together. Why else had he so instantly involved himself in her life? And why had he been so wary of her, if not because he had known immediately and instinctively what she could be to him—and he hadn’t been ready to face that?

  He hadn’t been prepared to fall in love with the most complex woman he’d ever met in his life.

  Tucker drew a breath. “I thought you were probably still grieving for David, but…I wanted you from the moment I set eyes on you.”

  “David is dead,” Sarah said quietly. “Like Lydia. I couldn’t have saved him any more than you could have saved her.”

  Tucker reached out to touch her cheek. “Maybe I couldn’t have saved Lydia, but I failed her. I don’t want to fail you, Sarah.”

  She didn’t argue with him or reassure him, she just went into his arms and lifted her face with mute need.

  “Sarah…”

  “It’s destiny,” she whispered, just before his lips covered hers.

  “Anything?” Varden asked.

  Astrid frowned but didn’t open her eyes or remove the fingers pressed tightly to her temples. “If you’d stop asking me that, maybe I could make some progress.”

  “It’s taking too much time.”

  “You didn’t ask me how long it would take. You just asked me if I could do it.”

  “And you said you could.”

  She opened icy blue eyes and glared at him. “I can. But this isn’t easy, you know. No—you don’t know, do you? That’s sort of the point.” A mocking note entered her voice.

  Coldly, Varden said, “Don’t forget the other point. You know only because we allow you to. Stop being helpful, and…”

  He didn’t have to finish that sentence. Her boldness seeped away, and she closed her eyes once more. “All right, all right. Are you sure Duran okayed this? He must be getting desperate, if he did.”

  “Don’t you know that he did?” Varden asked dryly.

  “Of course not. Nobody can read Duran. Now shut up and let me concentrate…”

  Sarah woke with a slight start, though she had no idea what had startled her. The bedroom was quiet, lamplit. Even as she began to relax, Tucker pushed himself up on an elbow beside her and smiled down at her.

  “That was a short nap,” he noted.

  She couldn’t see the clock, but an inner sense told her it was still before midnight. “I slept most of the day, remember?” And it was difficult, now, for her to sleep more than an hour or two without waking, uneasy and anxious.

  Even, it seemed, in Tucker’s bed.

  “Mmm.” He leaned down and kissed her, briefly but not lightly.

  She reached up to push a heavy lock of fair hair off his forehead, then let her fingers glide through more of the silky stuff until her hand finally wound up at his nape. How long did they have? A few hours? This night? What would happen when tomorrow came?

  Time was passing so relentlessly, pushing them inexorably toward the future. Her future.

  That yawning grave.

  “Sarah? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” She pushed the whispering little fears out of her mind, determined not to spoil tonight.

  It might well be all she ever had of him.

  “Are you sure?”

  She nodded. “It’s just…I’m surprised, that’s all.”

  “Why?”

  Sarah felt her cheeks warm, which was, she told herself, ridiculous. “I’ve never— That is…”

  “Haven’t you?” His hand slid to her inner thigh and stroked her sensitive flesh lightly.

  The warmth was spreading through her rapidly, but Sarah tried to concentrate. “No. I mean…like I said, it surprised me. To feel like that. I didn’t expect it.”

  “What did you expect?” He leaned down, nuzzling the sheet aside as his lips trailed over her upper breast.

  “Pleasure. But not like that.” Her fingers tangled in his hair and she shifted a bit to better feel the hard length of his body against hers. “Not like this.”

  “I’m glad I could surprise you.” His eyes gleamed at her in a fleeting glance. “It’s obviously something I won’t be able to do very often.”

  She wanted to tell him he was more right than he knew but had a hunch that this was not the best time to explain that the passion between them had sparked yet another aspect of her peculiar abilities.

  I’m not alone anymore. You’re with me.

  Something inside her had opened up to him, had flung itself wide and invited him in, and whether he knew it or not, Tucker had accepted the invitation. It was not something she had expected, or even wanted consciously, yet it was what she had needed. It was the most amazing sense of closeness Sarah had ever known, an inner warmth that seemed to wrap gently—and protectively—around her soul.

  It wasn’t that she knew what he was thinking or feeling. It was more than that. Deeper than that. She knew him better than she would ever know herself, and far, far better than he would ever know himself.

  What that would mean, to him and to her, Sarah didn’t know. The door that had opened so abruptly and shown her the “crossroads” where she had found the intimate knowledge of Lydia and the certainty that she and Tucker would become lovers on this night had closed just as abruptly. And since she had no idea how she had managed to tap into that place at all, she doubted the door would open again anytime soon.

  “Sarah…”

  “Hmmm?”

  “Dammit, pay attention to me.”

  She couldn’t help but smile when he lifted his head to show her a glare th
at was only half-feigned. “I’m paying strict attention to you.”

  “You were thinking. This is not the moment to be thinking.”

  “Even if I was thinking about you?”

  There was a glitter of amusement in his eyes, but he frowned and held on to the playful role of sulky male. “Well, even so, if you’re able to think about anything at all, I’ve obviously lost my touch.”

  His touch roamed up her inner thigh just then, and Sarah had to struggle for a silent moment to find the breath to murmur, “Perish the thought.”

  “Literally? You can’t think anymore?” He had pushed the sheet down, and his lips teased her breast with single-minded intensity.

  “Tucker…”

  “Don’t think about anything, not even me. Just feel.”

  She didn’t have a choice. He had quickly learned just how to please her, and he used all that knowledge now to keep her mindless. It was a gift, a glorious escape from fears and worries and dread of a future that loomed all too near and much too dark, and Sarah accepted it gratefully.

  And just as before, it surprised her that he could make her feel so much, surprised her that she was even capable of feeling so much.

  But when he came inside her, when her body surrounded him and they moved together, everything that had gone before seemed merely a prelude, a pale imitation of what they were truly capable of. The pleasure built and built and built toward some impossible peak Sarah couldn’t even imagine, and when they reached it at last it was together.

  One body. One soul.

  THIRTEEN

  Murphy wasn’t happy and it showed; she had never been known to hide her feelings. About anything. “This is not a good idea,” she said.

  “You’re ideal for the job I need you for, we both know that. You have a natural shield, and it’s the strongest I’ve ever encountered. They’ll never know you’re sharing information with me.”

  “You’re trusting I won’t tell them.”

  “I know you won’t.” His voice was calm. “You’ve given over your entire life, all that you are, to this war.”

  After a moment, she said, “Interesting that you call it a war.”

  “Don’t you?”

  “Yeah. And it’s one we have to win.”

  “I agree. Which is why I need someone on the inside to keep me, as much as possible, in the loop. Some information I’ll find myself, the way I found you, but there are way too many puzzle pieces still missing.”

  “Just how did you find me?” That was bugging her, and it showed.

  “I don’t believe in coincidence as a rule, but you happened to cross paths with one of my team whose ability is detecting other psychics. She was probing because we were on a case. She picked up on you. With a little luck and a lot of effort, I was able to find you, obviously. You aren’t completely off the grid, just mostly.”

  “Yeah? And what about you and your team? You’ve got a good shield yourself, Bishop, but that doesn’t mean one of your people or one of the bad guys you go after might not pick up on more than either one of us can live with. Literally.”

  “I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen. Aside from myself, the only other team member who knows anything about what’s going on is Miranda, my wife.”

  “And I’m supposed to trust you on that?”

  “Yes. You are.” He paused, then added, “It’s a two-way street. I can be a source for you, especially when it comes to information you might need on various…factions…of the government. I can get information for you more quickly than you could ever get it on your own.”

  “And all I have to do in return is keep you informed.”

  “I need to know what you know, Murphy. If for no other reason than I need to be sure that my team is safe, that Haven operatives are safe. I have to be certain none of them are targets, and that means I need all the information you can give me.”

  She drew a breath and blew it out impatiently. “That’s sort of the point of this setup, you know; the fewer people who know everything, the less damage done if somebody goes down. I’m not planning to go down, but let’s just say I do. Now I’ve got knowledge about you and your teams.”

  “No more knowledge than you could find tapping into any law enforcement database. The other side has to know about the SCU and Haven. That’s why I need more information from you and the people you’re working with. As far as I can tell, none of my psychic agents or operatives have been targeted. Yet. There must be a reason for that.”

  “Yeah, I imagine there is. But I can’t give it to you.”

  “Not directly, no. But over time the information you can provide me will be pieces of the puzzle. Until I can put it all together.”

  She scowled. “Look, my source says you can be trusted, but my trust has to be earned.”

  “I understand that. Ours is a relationship I hope to build on.”

  “It may take a while,” she warned.

  “That’s all right,” Bishop said. “I’m a very patient man.”

  It was several hours later when Tucker woke. He propped his head on one raised hand, the better to watch Sarah as she slept, but otherwise didn’t move. He still felt a bit shaky, and it wasn’t only because his muscles had been pushed to their limits tonight. Something else had been pushed to its limits, maybe beyond them. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he knew he’d never be the same again.

  He gazed at Sarah’s sleeping face, and a wave of aching tenderness swept over him. It was stronger than anything he’d ever felt before, so intense it was more than a little terrifying. He had known her hardly more than a week, yet he couldn’t imagine his life now without her in it. The wariness he had so often felt around her no longer troubled him. He had never felt so close to another human being, so…wrapped up in her.

  And so afraid for her.

  How could he protect her from the other side? How could he keep her safe?

  That agonizing question had barely risen in his mind when a sudden realization struck. Jesus, not only was the pistol in the other room, but he wasn’t at all sure he’d used the dead bolt and night latch on the door after he’d pushed the room service cart back out into the hallway hours ago.

  Careful not to wake Sarah, he slid from the bed and found his shorts and jeans. He would much rather have remained in bed with her, absorbing her warmth and her scent, watching her sleep and waiting patiently for her to wake so they could make love again. But things left undone nagged at him.

  It was after threeA.M. but since he was wide awake now and Sarah seemed to be sleeping deeply, he figured he might as well try to get something accomplished while she got the rest she undoubtedly needed. He was hardly in the mood to wade through more statistics of dead and vanished psychics, but he could try to refine the program he’d written to look for some kind of pattern in the morass of facts and speculation.

  Somewhere, there had to be a pattern, something he was missing. There had to be. Nothing this extraordinary and far-reaching could have existed for so many years without leaving evidence of its existence. Surely…

  He opened and turned on his laptop first, then looked around for the gun.

  And didn’t find it.

  He couldn’t believe he’d left it in the Jeep, but the longer he thought about it the more convinced he became that he had done just that. He remembered shoving the pistol into the storage compartment between the Jeep’s front seats just after they’d left Neil Mason’s house. He’d been so worried about Sarah, he didn’t think he’d given the gun another thought.

  “Shit. Some hero I am,” he muttered aloud. How the hell was he going to protect Sarah without the damned gun? Throw rocks at them? Oh, yeah, that would be just great.

  Before he even realized he was going to, he had pulled on a sweatshirt and sat down to put on his socks and boots. He paused then, frowning, because there was something else nagging at him. But it was a distant thing, out of reach and only vaguely troubling, and he shrugged it away.

  The important thing,
the only thing that mattered, was to protect Sarah. He had to go and get the gun, so he could protect her.

  He remembered to take the door keycard, and the keys to the Jeep. He remembered to test the door carefully after he closed it, to make sure they couldn’t get in and hurt Sarah while he was gone. He remembered to be cautious as he walked down the hallway, to be alert, and to check the elevator warily before getting in.

  He even remembered to lock the elevator open on the right garage level, so it would be there waiting for him and he wouldn’t waste time. Because he had to get the gun and get back upstairs so he could protect Sarah.

  The garage, like most of its kind in the wee small hours of the morning, was badly lit and filled with shadows as well as eerily silent and cavernous, so that Tucker’s normally quiet footsteps echoed hollowly off the concrete and metallic surfaces. The Jeep was parked not too far from the elevator, so it didn’t take long to walk to it, but he was nevertheless aware of a growing anxiety by the time he reached it.

  He had to protect Sarah.

  He was straining to listen but heard nothing. His head was throbbing oddly, and it was getting difficult to think, as if a fog crept into his brain. For a moment, as he stood beside the Jeep, he couldn’t even remember what he was doing there.

  The gun. That was it. He had to get the gun and protect Sarah.

  It took him several minutes to figure out how to use the keyless entry gadget to unlock the Jeep doors, and he shook his head in bafflement when he finally got the driver’s door open.

  Christ, what’s wrong with me?

  He leaned in and opened the compartment between the seats. The usual vehicle clutter met his puzzled stare. A couple of folded maps, some paper napkins and two paper-wrapped straws, the sunglasses he hadn’t needed today. Yesterday. A flashlight. And in the bottom, when he pushed the rest aside and searched all the way down, a tangled and gritty nest of coins, gum wrappers, and general Jeep lint.

  But no gun.

  Tucker stood there, leaning across the driver’s seat, and scowled. Where the hell was the gun? He’d left it right here—