“I know.”

Her gaze lifted to meet his, and she realized that he did know. But he didn’t understand, not really. He still didn’t understand. She managed a faint smile. “Can’t help being a coward, you know. It’s the way I’m made.”

“You aren’t a coward.”

“Sure I am. Do you think I’d be doing all this if you weren’t with me? I’m leaning on your strength, Tucker. And your confidence. And your belief that, somehow, we can change a future burned into my mind. Left alone, I’d still be back in Richmond. Waiting to die.”

Tucker shook his head. “You are not a coward, Sarah. You were blindsided by all this and it shook you off your balance, but there’s nothing fainthearted in you. A coward would never have left Richmond, with me or anyone else. A coward wouldn’t have survived—with astonishing calm, by the way—seeing men come to kill her on two separate occasions.”

She didn’t believe him but shrugged slightly. “If you say so. But I know what’s inside me, and right now there’s little but fear.”

“Fear can help you. Every soldier knows that, Sarah. It can keep your instincts and your senses sharp, keep you alert to danger. And it doesn’t make you a coward.”

“It does if it keeps you from acting. I’m afraid to open myself up, to deliberately try to look into dark places I’d rather not see.” She got up abruptly and went over to the window. The curtains were partially drawn, but through the narrow opening, she looked out on city lights. It looked very cold out there, and she felt very alone.

Softly, she added, “I’m really afraid to do that.”

“Sarah…”

He was behind her, too close, but there was nowhere she could go. She was trapped. Trapped. The hot throbbing behind her eyes was like an alien heartbeat. In a voice that was suddenly harsh and angry, she said, “You have no idea how it feels, none at all. I told you once, at the lake, but you didn’t listen. There’s something inside me, Tucker, something alien. And it’s growing. It whispers to me, telling me what I should do and how I should feel—and I don’t trust it.”

“Sarah—”

“You think it’s just another tool, like your laptop, something you can use to get information. Push the right button and get what you want.” She did turn and look at him then, through hot eyes, and her voice was low and strained. “But it’s not that easy. It’s like claws inside me, do you understand that? Something alive and struggling—and hurting me. Every bit of information I manage to tear free leaves bloody wounds behind it. How long do you think it’ll be before I bleed to death?”

“Sarah.”

“Leave me alone.” She avoided his intent gaze and tried to move around him, but he was too close.

“You’ve been alone too damned long.” He put his hands on her shoulders to keep her still. “Sarah, you’re right, I can’t even imagine what it’s like—and I make my living imagining things.” His voice was low, steady. “But I can understand fear. And the only thing I know for sure about fear is that we have to face what frightens us. We have to. Otherwise it can cripple us.”

“Then I’m crippled.”

“Not yet. You’re only crippled if you let yourself be.”

She looked up at him, feeling so nakedly vulnerable that it actually hurt. “Everything I’ve seen has been…darkness. Violence. Death. I don’t want to see that anymore, Tucker.”

His hands tightened. “Then don’t look for death or violence. Try to control it, Sarah. Ask yourself a specific mental question and concentrate on finding the answer to only that. I don’t know if it’ll work—I’m not psychic, so I can’t know that. But I know the mind is an incredible instrument, one that can be focused and fine-tuned. One that can be controlled. I believe you can do that. If you try.”

Sarah didn’t know if she could try. What she did know was that she didn’t want to. And she knew she was too weary to be standing here this close to Tucker. She knew that tonight it would be all too easy to make a mistake. She wanted him to put his arms around her and hold her. She wanted him to kiss her again. She wanted him to hold the darkness at bay.

She wanted him.

But Tucker had made it clear to her that he considered their brief kiss at the lake a mistake. He had avoided even the most casual touch since then, and he had withdrawn so completely from her that Sarah found it difficult to gauge even his mood, much less his thoughts. Even now, with his hands on her, all she sensed from him was wariness and reserve.

And even knowing that, even being painfully sure that he didn’t want her, she still wanted him.

Before she started clinging to him like an idiot and made a total fool of herself, she carefully drew back away from him until his hands released her. “I’m really tired,” she said. “I think I’ll turn in.”

She was at the door of the sitting room before it occurred to her that he would have to go through the bedroom in order to get to the bathroom. She paused and looked back at him. “Don’t worry about disturbing me when you need to use the bathroom. I always…I sleep like the dead.”

Still standing at the window, Tucker merely nodded. “Good night, Sarah.”

“Good night.”

Sarah tried not to think very much after that. She pushed the bedroom door to but didn’t completely close it. She thoughtfully left a light on in the bathroom when she was finished in there so that Tucker would be able to see his way. Then she shed the robe, climbed into the huge bed, and turned off the lamp.

She wanted to sleep, to just close her eyes and let everything stop for a while. She needed that. But when she closed her eyes, the worries and questions and thoughts refused to stop.

Who are they?

Try to control the thing inside you. Try to see something to help us.

Why are psychics so important—or such a threat—to them?

There isn’t much time left. I feel that.

Why did this have to happen to me?

All I see is death.

Tucker needs to find Lydia.

Am I going to die?

Am I going mad?

Finally, even though she knew she was too tired and afraid to make the attempt, Sarah concentrated on closing out everything except one single, vitally important question. Who are they? She fixed it in her mind until it was so clear she could see the letters of each word.

Then, hesitantly and very afraid, she tried to open up her mind, her senses, and invite the answer to come.

At first, all Sarah saw was the question, bright as neon. Gradually, though, the question dimmed and all around it the blackness lightened. She saw a large, featureless building very briefly, just the flash of the image, but it made her skin crawl, as if she stood briefly at the mouth of a dark cave where something unspeakably brutish dwelled. Then she heard the low murmur of many voices, what they were saying indistinguishable but rousing in her another powerful primitive response as the hairs on the back of her neck stirred a warning.

Wrong. It was all wrong, worse than bad…

Then she saw the shadows. They were many, all shapes and sizes, tall and thin, short and squat, manlike and bestial. Nightmare shapes. They moved rapidly, flitting across her inner field of vision with an energy and purpose that was chilling. Arms reaching out. Hands grasping…something. She couldn’t see what they were doing. Couldn’t see what it was they caught and held so avidly. She couldn’t see their faces.

She couldn’t see their faces.

Panicked, Sarah wrenched herself out of it without even realizing she was going to. When her eyes opened, she found herself sitting up in bed, her heart pounding and breathing rapid and shallow, as if she had awakened from a nightmare. Was that it? Had her psychic abilities actually shown her something that was real, or had her fears and worries simply been given frightening shape by her anxious mind?