Touched by Light

by Spangler, Catherine

  “And what would you call fracturing my nose?”

  She heard the edge in his voice. She’d crossed the line with that action, so he hadn’t hesitated to cross a personal line with her. Some of her anger dissipated, but damned if she would apologize to him now.

  “I’d say it wasn’t nearly enough,” she muttered, thinking she should have castrated him while she had the chance. “Get out, Adam.”

  “I don’t think so. We are going to talk tonight, Julia.”

  In her mind, she saw a stadium-type scoreboard and Adam was winning, three to one. And she was too wrung out to battle him head-on. “I won’t talk unless you get out of here and let me get dressed first.”

  “I rather like having you at a disadvantage. It makes things more manageable.”

  She glared at the shower curtain. “What, you can’t handle me under normal circumstances?”

  “Julia, there’s nothing at all usual and customary about you.”

  “Look who’s talking. Lots of normalcy in the Sentinel realm.”

  “Touché.” There was a hint of amusement in his voice. It always surprised her when he displayed a sense of humor. After a moment of silence, he said, “If I give you a few minutes of privacy, will you agree to have a calm, rational conversation with me?”

  “I’m always calm and rational.” Okay, except around him.

  “We’re not even going to debate that one. But I’ll wait for you in the living room. Let me do something first.”

  There was the sound of glass clinking, then a soft thud. “Step on the towel when you get out,” he said. “Most of the glass is now to the side, but this will protect you from any stray shards. Don’t keep me waiting too long.” She heard the bathroom door close.

  She peeked around the shower curtain, although she knew he was gone, because the vibrant energy that always crackled around him was absent. The bathroom was empty. One of her bath towels was folded double and on the floor by the tub.

  Surprised by his consideration, she pulled herself up, using the handicapped bar she’d had installed when she moved in nine years ago. A wave of dizziness hit her, brought on by too many things—news of William Bennett’s release, too much to drink, Adam Masters barging into her home and seeing her nude. A winning combination, guaranteed to unbalance any woman.

  And if he’d been put off by her rounded figure and generous thighs, then wasn’t that just too bad?

  The thought sent a surprising twinge of regret through her. She wasn’t a vain woman, had long ago accepted that Reynolds women tended toward plump bodies and plain looks. Since the attack, she had made no attempt at makeup or any other vanity. It shouldn’t bother her that a sophisticated, savvy man like Adam Masters might find her unattractive.

  Maybe the visual of her in the tub would be off-putting enough to make him go away. She suspected the statistical odds of that were slim. He wasn’t here because of her looks. Drawing a deep breath, she held on to the bar until she was steady.

  She stepped from the tub, careful to stay on the towel, and began drying off. This is totally unfair, she thought. After everything that had happened today, she still had to deal with Adam.

  Fate was definitely in full bitch mode.

  MIRIAM White sat at the desk in her bedroom, her laptop open before her. But it wasn’t the computer that had her attention; it was the fifty-dollar bill in her hand, the one given to her by the man who had upset Dr. Reynolds so badly earlier today.

  Miriam currently had Dr. Reynolds for two senior-level classes in math and physics, and she’d also taken her courses in previous terms. She’d never seen her professor rattled by anything. The woman was always calm, composed, and in total control of her class. She was brilliant and an excellent instructor, and Miriam admired the hell out of her.

  She’d been surprised to see Dr. Reynolds at the Red Lion Pub six months ago; even more astonished when the professor asked her questions about a really hot guy who’d been in the pub several days earlier. Then Dr. Reynolds had taken an unexplained leave of absence before returning to finish teaching the course. Miriam had thought it very strange at the time.

  Now, six months later and into the fall semester, Dr. Reynolds had surprised Miriam again with another appearance at the pub, this time slugging back liquor like the world was coming to an end. She’d appeared genuinely shaken up, which was odd enough. But then the man—Adam—had taken the seat beside her, and she’d been clearly agitated by his presence.

  Curious, and feeling protective of her favorite professor, Miriam had done something she rarely did. She lowered her self-imposed mental barriers and tapped into what her grandfather called “the sight.” She’d seen something she couldn’t begin to explain, something that had put her on the shaken up side of the equation, right along with Dr. Reynolds.

  “Miri, what you doing? You look like you seen a ghost.”

  She looked up, managed a smile for her father, who stood in the doorway. Although he’d come to America in the late 1940s, when he was a young boy, he still had an accent, most likely because his parents and grandparents had continued to speak Romani in their homes.

  And although he was well-educated—a chemical engineering degree from Rice University—he sometimes lapsed into old childhood language patterns, especially when he’d been working eighty-hour weeks at his petroleum engineering firm.

  “So you okay?” he asked.

  She could tell him about it, about how she had used her ability today, and the startling results. She could tell him that Adam’s aura was unlike anything she’d ever seen, that it was all white light. No colors, none of the rainbow spectrum of blue, green, red, yellow, orange, violet (varying arrays in most people); no black (usually signifying evil); no gray (usually signifying illness).

  Just . . . pure light. Not any sort of normal human aura pattern that she had ever seen.

  And while her father probably couldn’t explain what Adam’s aura meant, he wouldn’t think what she’d done was strange. He had the sight, too, as had his father before him, and his grandmother before that.

  But she didn’t want to share this with him tonight. It didn’t feel right. She managed a smile. “I’m fine, Papa. Just thinking.”

  “You think so much, Miri,” he said fondly. “Too serious, working too much. You need to get out more, have fun. Maybe even find a nice young man.”

  Next he’d start going on about her hair and makeup and all the earrings. It was the only thing on which she defied him. She enjoyed being a little wild and different. It made life more interesting—and with her abilities, she really was a little weird.

  “Ah, Papa, you’d just terrorize any man I bought home,” she teased, although that might actually be close to the truth. Anyone she dated would be subjected to her family’s intense scrutiny. “Besides, I meet a lot of people at the pub. I’m very happy with work and school.”

  He looked at her over his glasses. “Bring a nice boy home for Mama and me to meet. Maybe we surprise you.”

  “You might. Good night, Papa.”

  “Good night.” He went on toward the kitchen, to indulge in his nightly ritual of Blue Bell vanilla ice cream.

  Blowing out a breath, Miriam stared at the fifty-dollar bill. Funny thing about all the anecdotal stories regarding Gypsies—there was truth mixed in with the lies and the misinformation and the prejudices. There was actually a reason why one of the marks made by Gypsies, at least in those in Miriam’s Romanichal lineage, was that of fortune-telling—and psychic abilities.

  Miriam not only saw auras, but she also had psychometric abilities. She could read the history of an object by touching it, or pick up emotions of the person who had possessed the object, sometimes seeing events surrounding that person. She rarely tapped either ability, because she felt that doing so invaded people’s privacy, and it fostered volatile situations and subjective conclusions.

  Blessed with very high intelligence, she preferred logic and objective reasoning. She was her father’s daughter,
through and through. While she respected her Romanichal heritage and was also proud of being an American, her real passion was pursuit of knowledge in the sciences. She wanted to be an engineer, not a fortune-teller.

  Thank goodness she was able to control her abilities—to shield herself and block them at will. She only resorted to her gifts when she thought it was necessary or would be helpful to someone. Today, not only had Dr. Reynolds been extremely rattled when Adam showed up, but something about the man had reached past Miriam’s barriers, setting off her internal radars.

  So she’d read his aura, which had been surprising enough. But then he’d handed her the fifty and strode off after Dr. Reynolds. Staring after him, Miriam had made the decision and opened herself to the energies absorbed by the bill.

  The rush of images and energy had been startling, overwhelming, alarming, and . . . intriguing. She didn’t exactly understand what she’d seen, but one thing was certain: The life force and events surrounding this Adam were beyond anything that was normal. It was as if he was not of this Earth.

  She couldn’t tell if he was good or evil, although Dr. Reynolds certainly seemed apprehensive about him. Enough so that she’d drawn a gun on him, which had truly shocked Miriam and spurred her to call 9-1-1.

  More concern snaked through her. She couldn’t ignore what she’d seen. She’d opened the door when she lowered her shields and tapped into the sight.

  Now she’d have to do something. At the very least, she could try to warn Dr. Reynolds about Adam, to reinforce the professor’s own obvious reactions to the man.

  Miriam didn’t know if her logical, ultra-intelligent professor would listen to her. It would probably destroy any respect she had for Miriam, any chance at a letter of recommendation for graduate school.

  Even so, she had to do something. Miriam sighed. She’d speak to Dr. Reynolds tomorrow.

  And hope to God it helped somehow, although after what she’d seen . . . She shivered. There were a lot of things out there—unseen things that weren’t human, that were astounding and at the same time, utterly terrifying.

  Darkness and light, balanced precariously against one another.

  She had the unsettling feeling she’d just unveiled the face of a supernatural vortex that could go either way.

  THREE

  STROKING the long-haired Siamese that had insisted on invading his lap, Adam waited for Julia in a living area that was tastefully decorated, but felt cold and sterile. She doesn’t spend any time here, he thought, looking around the room, which was done in sage green and gold. The sofa and loveseat had a formal, unused look, with every cushion in military precision formation.

  There was none of her personal energy, no clutter, no knickknacks; everything was spotless. The bookcases along the far wall were the only exception to being unused, as they contained books that were obviously well read and carried Julia’s vibration.

  No, the heart of the house was the office across from the bedroom. He’d seen it after he let himself in through the front door, readily dealing with two dead bolts and then locating and disarming the security system.

  He hadn’t been inclined to ring the doorbell and have Julia refuse him entry. The urgency of the situation and the inconvenience of having to heal his nose and bruised face, not to mention dealing with bloodstains on his Gucci suit, had, to his way of thinking, negated formalities and good manners.

  No one else ever defied him, much less inflicted physical injury. As a Sanctioned, he was one of the most powerful beings on Earth. He was responsible for every Sentinel and conductor in Texas, and for ensuring any Belians in the state were tracked down and removed. His was a disciplined, well-orchestrated operation, and no one had ever questioned his authority.

  Until Julia. He had to admit she offered intriguing—if not painful—challenges. But he no longer had time to be indulgent. He had to take action fast.

  He heard her coming down the hallway. Despite her handicap, she moved with surprising quietness, but his highly tuned hearing could pick up sounds that human ears couldn’t.

  She stepped into the living room. She had on a long, navy blue terry cloth robe over flannel pajamas, and wore plain navy slippers. She was well covered, probably a defensive tactic against him. A smile quirked the corners of his mouth. “Nice pajamas.”

  She looked down at the pattern of frolicking poodles. “They were a gift from Marla. You know she has a thing for poodles.”

  Adam thought of Bryony, Marla’s toy apricot poodle who generally hated Sentinels, yet managed to be highly entertaining. The dog had even been part of the wedding procession when one of Adam’s best Sentinels, Luke Paxton, had married Julia’s sister. “Yes, I do recall that.”

  She stared at him, no trace of humor in her eyes. The knuckles on the hand gripping the cane were white with tension. “So talk.”

  He gestured to the armchair, which he’d left vacant in deference to her leg. “So sit.” He saw the protest coming and headed it off. “No, Julia, we will not have this conversation with you standing. And I will be here as long as it takes to come to an acceptable outcome.”

  Her expression hardened. “Meaning until you have your way.”

  He didn’t see any sense in pretending otherwise. “Sit, Julia. Please don’t make me force your compliance.” He rarely strong-armed humans; it was his sworn duty to protect them. But in crucial situations, or where Julia was concerned, sometimes it was a necessity. Not that she ever appeared intimidated by him.

  “You really are a jerk, Adam.”

  “I won’t argue that point.” He wasn’t a mind reader, but he could clearly pick up her tempestuous emotions, could see the red and orange flashes in her aura. Normally, she was calm and emotionally contained, to the extent that he had trouble reading her. Today was an exception.

  She walked to the chair, casting the cat curled in his lap a contemptuous look. “Traitor,” she muttered. “No more Fancy Feast for you.”

  Cats loved Adam; they seemed to sense his uniqueness and responded to the heat and light that was an intrinsic part of his energy. In return, he appreciated their discriminating intelligence and aloofness; their I-don’t-care-what-anyone-thinks-go-to-hell-if-you-don’t-like-it attitude. His own life was lived much along those lines.

  He watched Julia laboriously settle into the chair. He didn’t like the pallor of her skin, the pain haunting her eyes, or the fact that now that her anger was abating, her aura had a faint gray tinge. She was mentally and physically exhausted, but he feared they were running out of time and he had to press forward. Since this afternoon, he had a new concern.

  “What do you know about the bartender who was at the Red Lion today?” he asked, addressing the latest matter first.

  Julia looked confused. “The bartender? Do you mean Miriam?”

  “Is that the name of the young woman who served our drinks, then called the police on us?”

  “She called the police on you. She happens to think very highly of me. And yes, her name is Miriam. Miriam White.”

  “You know her?”

  “She’s one of my students. I’ve had her in several of my classes. She’s the one who gave me Luke’s name after Marla disappeared, which led me to you—unfortunately.”

  His concern increased. “Anything else you can tell me about her?”

  “Why are you asking?” Julia’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, no. Don’t tell me she’s a conductor. You are not going to involve her in your weird schemes, Adam. I mean it. She’s a nice girl, and one of my brightest students.”

  He held up a hand to head off a possible tirade. “She’s not a conductor, as far as I can tell. There was just something about her, like she somehow knew I was different.” He considered, decided to let the matter go. “Forget it. I’m sure she was just concerned because you were upset.”

  “You think?” Julia muttered.

  “Let’s talk about the reason for my visit,” he said, addressing the more crucial matter. “I told you earlier today that a Sentin
el is missing.”

  “Do you think he—I assume we’re talking about a man—is dead?”

  “This is a male Sentinel, his name is Matt Stevens, and he’s not dead. But he hasn’t contacted me in over five days, and he’s not answering his phone or responding to e-mails. I sent someone to his house in San Antonio, but he wasn’t there.”

  “Then how do you know he’s still alive?”

  “Because I’m picking up intermittent flashes of his life force. Then it will fade out, as if he’s losing consciousness, although even then, I should still be able to sense him. Perhaps he’s somehow being shielded from me. Then I’ll detect his essence again, and then it will wink out. I’ve never experienced anything like this before.”

  “Can you sense the life force of every Sentinel in Texas?” she asked, jumping to the obvious conclusion.

  “Yes.” Adam realized he would have to answer Julia’s off-topic questions. She possessed a brilliant intellect, further enhanced by good common sense. Her intelligence was a definite asset. Besides, she would balk if he didn’t explain things to her; he knew firsthand how stubborn she could be.

  “Think of every Sentinel in the state as a computer in a network, with me as the network server,” he explained. “I can sense and track the individual energy patterns for each Sentinel in the network.”

  “Can you communicate through this so-called network?”

  “Not usually. Most Sentinels don’t have the ability to send or receive telepathic messages over great distances.”

  “But you can?” she asked, catching the fact he hadn’t included himself. Even tired, she didn’t miss a beat.

  “I can telepathically communicate with other Sanctioned or High Sanctioned.” Since the High Sanctioned didn’t have physical bodies, telepathy was the only way he could commune with them.

  She angled her head. “How about conductors? Can you track them as well?”

  He knew she wouldn’t like the answer, but opted for honesty. “Yes. Once I’ve met the conductor and familiarized myself with his or her energy pattern, I can keep track of that person.” Basically, he internalized the energy and it became part of him. He was a conduit of numerous life energies.