by Mlyn Hurn
“Just wait until I get back. Surely you can do that.”
“I’m missing one whole watering, though.”
Sean turned his eyes from the road toward Rayne for a second. She could feel his emotions even though she was looking out the window of the truck cab. Lifting the soft drink in the large cup, she sipped it slowly. Sean had bought them lunch for the ride back home. That was when he had told her he wanted to stay, but he had to hurry home and change clothes. Tonight was a meeting of local business owners, and of all nights, this one included dinner and he’d agreed to give a short talk. He would have sent Bob, but Colleen had reminded him three times yesterday and twice this morning after his return that they had Lamaze class tonight. It was the longer one, with the video and tour.
“All right,” Rayne told him quietly a few moments later. “I’ll wait for you.”
“Promise?”
Rayne turned to look at him, surprised that he seemed to know her that well. “Yes, I promise.”
Sean grinned at her. “No toes, fingers, legs and eyes crossed, right?”
She couldn’t resist him, even though she hadn’t gotten her way.
It was nine o’clock now, which was the time she liked to start filling the buckets. She couldn’t remember how many times she wished she’d spent the extra money she’d gotten on an irrigation system, even if hadn’t covered the whole area. And it hadn’t become a problem until she’d received the warning to be wary of people poking around. The PSI agents had gotten a tip a couple of months ago. That was when she had had to resort to conventional watering methods. No more “rain dancing” until the commotion settled down once again.
As a very young child, she had discovered her powers over water. She could move it, as in making waves in her bathtub while nothing moved. When she was five, she made waves appear suddenly in a completely placid lake when there wasn’t a breath of wind. At age eight she got to see the ocean for the first time, and the last as far as her grandmother was concerned. It was a very wet group that piled back into the old car for the trip home.
It was only after they had to leave their grandmother did Rayne begin studying other things, among them casting spells and Native American lore regarding the making of rain. At age thirteen, she brought a light sprinkle, and it only covered a really small area. But at eighteen, there was a spectacular thunderstorm, with lightning galore. She soon discovered the big storms were easy, it was getting the rain to fall in a small isolated area that was hard. Only after listening to a friend from near her grandparents’ farm complaining about the rainstorm that seemed to be traveling across the whole breadth of the country did she realize that while it might be fun, her powers definitely had consequences.
Thus it was when the drought started a few months earlier, Rayne had thrown caution to the wind, and started “making rain.” When she was in town one day, she heard people complaining about how the weather station couldn’t explain some unusual cloud patterns. Combined with the warning about the PSI agents, Rayne stopped her nightly dancing in her field. With immeasurable displeasure, she began the backbreaking work of hand watering.
“Do rain…do rain…do rain!”
Rayne turned her head to look at the brilliantly colored parrot perched on the bar she made for him so he had a good view on the porch. “Hush, Homer.” Looking at the sky, she pleaded for either help with the bird or patience for her in dealing with the recalcitrant parrot. “Why is that the only thing he wants to say anymore?” A moment later she turned to the parrot. For a second she questioned in her mind whether or not the damned bird was grinning at her. “If you get me in trouble, Homer, I won’t be the only one who gets screwed!”
Homer merely shifted his claws on the perch, and then bent his head to scratch with his beak. “Do rain…do rain.”
Rayne shook her head, leaning it back on the cushion of the chair. “Shut up, Homer. I’m not letting a damned parrot talk me into doing anything!”
“Grrrrrmmmeeeeeeooooofff.”
A second later she felt the brush of the soft fur against her leg. The swish of a tail batted back and forth, barely missing her drink resting on the table. “Hey, Mohan! You are going to knock something over with that tail of yours.”
“Cccchhhhhuuuuffff…ccchhuuuffff.”
Rayne looked down at the animal anxious for her attention all of a sudden. For a moment she closed her eyes and offered up a prayer that Mohan had decided to stay away from the commotion that morning. Most people didn’t react too well with a one hundred and fifteen pound Amur tiger. Well, technically Mohan wasn’t pure tiger anymore. Shortly after she had settled here, she had gone to the nearest animal shelter, hoping to bring home some sweet pets to love. What she had found were the two puppies that now resembled small horses, an obnoxious parrot and an animal that wasn’t identifiable—by sight anyway.
Looking into the small, white-and-black-striped cat’s history, she had discovered that nearby had been a government facility before the war. Rumors had gone around about testing, using animals and so on. But at the end of the war, it was shut down, except for a minimal maintenance crew. After the animals all died, it was closed permanently. Mohan was now full-size and was probably the result of crossbreeding a cat and a Siberian tiger.
Rayne was always careful around her, because no matter how house-trained an animal might be, a person couldn’t erase millions of years of instinctive behaviors. She’d never seen Mohan show the slightest interest in hunting anything. If something smaller came into her vicinity, she was usually the more timid at the unexpected meeting. And luckily, all of her menagerie seemed to be amicable. The only trouble was Homer, who up until he’d adopted his newest phrase, had been particularly fond of phrases he’d learned at his previous owner’s place of business, a strip club.
“Ccchhhuuuffff!”
Rayne rubbed Mohan’s head as she rested it on her leg. She’d gotten used to the unusual sound, which she had learned was typical of tigers when greeting their caretakers. Whenever she looked into those sad, pale blue eyes though, she couldn’t help but wonder at what terrible things they must have done to some of the animals at the research center.
Glancing back into the house through the window, she saw that it was almost ten. Sean had thought he’d be back here around nine thirty at the latest. She knew he would be exhausted by the time he did get here, and she hated the thought of him having to water before he could sleep. She was tired, so she was damned sure that he had to be exhausted. Since he’d gotten up earlier, he’d had even less sleep last night.
As she scratched behind the big cat’s ears, she mused out loud, “If it did rain, it would have to be for at least thirty minutes to do any good. A downpour would only run off with the dry ground. Where as a nice, slow and gentle rain would have enough time to soak in and not cause any flash floods lower in the deeper sections of the valley.”
Rayne stood slowly, pushing the big cat away. It wouldn’t be easy to do, but if she were careful with her foot, and worked quickly, she could be done before Sean got there. He probably wouldn’t believe her if she said she’d done the watering, but perhaps she could say that Billy had shown up. That way Sean could get the rest he needed, if he chose to do it here. One part of her brain told her that it was the fact that he had spent the last two nights here that was the real cause of their lack of sleep. Still, Rayne sensed that if he wasn’t here she would spend the night tossing and turning.
“Quite the conundrum,” she murmured as she walked unsteadily down the steps. To concentrate the rainfall, she’d have to get into the middle of the field. Usually she didn’t care if the rain fell outside the growing field, but if the roof was soaked, or the grass wet, Sean would definitely be suspicious.
* * * * *
Progress was slow as Rayne walked, or rather hobbled into the field. To the man watching her from a well hidden spot a few hundred yards away, it was obvious the cut she’d sustained that morning must have been deeper than he had originally thought. Anto
n DeVeau lowered the specially equipped night-vision binoculars for a moment. There had been a moment this morning, looking at the photographs on the woman’s living room wall, that he had gotten a distinct flash that told him Rayne was the psychic he’d been searching for this last year.
Anton was a direct descendant of the overlord Marcel DeVeau. Marcel had been a close friend of Tyre Leyton. Approximately fifteen months earlier, Anton had gone to Paris to close up his grandmother’s home following her death. He had been astonished to find a personal diary that, even though it was not signed anywhere, had become obvious to Anton as he read through the old pages that the author was his grandfather. He was surprised to learn that his grandfather had been assigned a special task, which unfortunately was interrupted by the rebellion and the subsequent overthrow of the psychic regime.
The diary had revealed the story of a woman who had caught Tyre’s attention in the year 2065. Because of association with Tyre, whether she was a natural psychic or not was never questioned. As time went on, Marcel wrote in the diary that the woman became known as Tyrea, adopting the name of her master when she became his recognized concubine. By this time, Tyre had been in power for seventeen years. A law had been passed which prohibited two psychics of equal power mating, due to the circumstances that they might then procreate. It was unknown if that child would have greater power than the parent, and Tyre’s government didn’t want to find out.
Four years later, 2069, Marcel noted that suddenly Tyrea had left without word to anyone. Anton read that his grandfather had been surprised by the depth of anger Tyre expressed at being deserted by the woman. Marcel wrote that he had long suspected that Tyre felt much more for the woman than one usually saw between a master and his concubine. He suspected his sire’s anger hid an aching heart. Tyre searched for the woman for several years, but as the rebellious outbreaks grew in frequency and depth, his attention was pulled away from matters of the heart. Then in the year 2100, only nine months to be exact, Tyre had given Marcel a task. Marcel was to do everything in his power to find Tyrea.
In the diary, Marcel recorded his arguments with Tyre over what he considered a waste of his precious time when the rebels were almost knocking on the palace doors. That was when Tyre had revealed the truth to his friend, and swore him to secrecy. Tyrea had been pregnant when she disappeared years earlier. Tyre had learned that she had died shortly after giving birth, but a child had survived. Marcel argued that he could be of much more use here, but his ruler had been insistent, finally revealing the truth. Tyrea had been a natural psychic. He did not know what level, but he suspected it was high, considering the concern Tyre was now expressing.
Anton read between the lines that Tyre had feared a son had been born, who could possibly defeat him by being a much stronger psychic. Marcel had noted all of his findings as he began his search, but the end had come too soon. Marcel had been in Paris, briefly visiting his wife, when word of defeat reached them. The diary ended with Marcel writing that he had not succeeded in his final task for his sire, but hopefully he would die nobly, thus honoring Tyre with his death.
Anton lifted the binoculars once again, focusing them on where he had last seen the beautiful woman. He had not been unaware of her beauty when he had finally met her. In the sunlight, she had been tanned, healthy looking and damned sexy. His immediate reaction to the woman’s beauty surprised him still. He had been so devoted to rebuilding a strong psychic presence in the world for so long, that he had ignored a personal life for himself. Something about Rayne was making him have all kinds of personal, erotic thoughts.
Like that thin cotton dress she’d had on that morning. He could tell that she’d been naked beneath it by the way the sunlight had shown through the lightweight material. Standing in her living room, he had entertained thoughts of taking her on the floor. Anton didn’t regard himself as a Neanderthal, but he was fully aware of his own attractiveness to women. There had been no doubt that a woman, living in the middle of nowhere, would welcome the attentions of someone like himself into her lonely existence, even for just a few hours.
The arrival of the other man had taken him by surprise. His surveillance had been completed a month ago, but then he had been required at the Center to discuss what he had found. No one acted without discussing their actions with the New Psychic Council and obtaining approval. The presence of this man, Sean something, had surprised him. The brawny teenager he’d seen from time to time had not worried him in the least. The minute Sean had burst into the living room, Anton had felt the change. With all of his psychic focus on discovering Rayne’s identity, he had given no attention to the other man.
It unnerved him to think that the other man might have truly been a psychic, and in his temporary rapture with Rayne, he had missed the opportunity to psychically assess him. Telling himself to forget the past and concentrate on his assignment, he focused the binoculars on the porch. Scanning the length of the porch, he didn’t see her so he shifted his gaze toward the lawn in front of the house. Still not finding her, he wondered if she had decided to water the field after all. Starting at the front row, he began scanning the rows. He located her standing in the middle of the field.
“What the fuck?”
The binoculars revealed that the woman was twisting and turning, with her hands raised skyward. Granted, she wasn’t moving smoothly, or evenly, but he guessed she was dancing. Why the hell would she be dancing in the field at—he glanced at his watch—almost ten at night? Before he could formulate any further thoughts concerning Rayne, there was a loud clap of thunder overhead. Less than a second later, rain was pouring down on his head.
Cursing loudly, Anton fumbled to get the binoculars back to his eyes. Quickly he relocated Rayne. She was standing in the same spot, clapping her hands while the rain soaked her clothing. Her joy in the gentle rain drenching her, and her plants, was unmistakable. Logically, her happiness at having rain would make sense—after all, she was a farmer. Watching her, Anton lowered the night-vision binoculars to reveal her clinging clothes. Beneath the wet cotton dress, he easily saw the way her breasts were defined with taut nipples. Moving them down more, he lingered at her hips and thighs, enjoying how the material was caught between her legs as she moved back into the lane. From behind, her ass was perfect and heart-shaped.
The appearance of bright lights shining up Rayne’s gravel road blinded him and he dropped the binoculars. Quickly he moved back under cover so the lights couldn’t highlight him watching Rayne. He considered waiting until the lights left again, but he didn’t like getting wet, and sitting here with water filling his expensive shoes wasn’t his idea of fun. It was an easy decision to head back toward the small town and visit the local bar. Maybe there he could find out what had changed since his last visit.
Chapter Nine
Sean slammed the door of his truck. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. At dinner he’d had a glass of wine, and before he’d had a whiskey from the cash bar. Surely that wasn’t enough liquor to make him hallucinate, was it? In college, he drank a hell of a lot more at fraternity parties. Looking up at the sky, he verified that he was standing where he could see stars, and clear skies. Still, about thirty yards away, he could see that it was raining on Rayne’s field. The same field that he had been thinking about speeding up a way to water it more quickly. When the field went fallow, he was going to have irrigation and watering installed.
And to be perfectly honest, he had always assumed it was an old lady’s daydream. Then he saw Rayne walking towards him, out of the field.
His breath caught in his throat as he saw how beautiful she looked soaking wet. The rain obviously wasn’t bothering her in the least. In fact, he could see that she was smiling. Something about her screamed erotic and sensual, but it seemed to be more than just the clinging dress to her body. These feelings were much deeper, more elemental than simple lust. She was part of the rain, even part of the nature that surrounded them.
Sean knew this woman was getting
under his skin. When he wasn’t with her he was thinking about her. The most alarming thing was the way he was thinking and planning in his future, including her in his plans and dreams. He was assuming she would be in his life, now, tomorrow and next year.
When he had decided to retire and settle down, marriage was not part of the picture. Women, plural, was what he had planned on, perhaps making up for the solitary life he’d led during his years working as an agent. Rayne was more than unexpected…she was a shock to his physical, emotional and psychological well-being. Yet every time he thought of her, he felt something inside him awaken and move through him. Perhaps he was imagining this as well, but when he was with Rayne it seemed as if his psychic power was enhanced, or purified in some way he couldn’t explain. His mind, though, kept shying away from acknowledging what was happening.
“You’re early. I didn’t think you’d be here for another hour or so.”
Rayne’s words didn’t make a lot of sense just then, so lost in his thoughts had he been until her voice disturbed him. “So much for resting your foot and you following the doctor’s orders. Did you think you’d start watering without me? Good thing it started to rain, huh?”
* * * * *
Rayne wasn’t sure if he was being sarcastic or not. Unfortunately, she’d stopped focusing once she saw his lights start up the gravel road. She could feel the rain lessening as she walked toward Sean, and it stopped when he crossed the lawn to meet her on the soft grass.
“Too bad it didn’t last longer. I guess it was just a fluke.”
“Let’s go inside and get you dry. The ground looks damp enough to hold until morning. I’ll water before I head back to my place.” Sean moved before Rayne could react and swung her off her feet and into his arms.
“I can walk,” she protested as he walked up the steps.