“It’s all right,” she said. “We’re safe here. For now.”
Tucker released her arm when she started forward again. He didn’t like this—all his instincts were screaming at him—but he followed her into the house nevertheless. In this situation, he felt he had to defer to Sarah, to accept her lead. She was the psychic, not him.
Still, he was uneasily aware that her belief in fate was strong enough to place them both in danger; Sarah was, he thought, perfectly capable of walking into a house she knew was dangerous only because she was utterly sure fate intended her to be there. That was one reason he continued to try to convince her that her choices could determine her own future—though he didn’t flatter himself that he’d made much headway.
Sarah’s blind spot was her belief in destiny, and until she could see past that, she was so vulnerable it was terrifying.
So Tucker walked into Neil Mason’s house with all his senses wide open, as alert to possible danger as he’d ever been in his life. Even so, the first few minutes seemed to be designed to put him at his ease. Mason showed them into a pleasant living room and invited them to sit down, then went away briskly to fetch coffee. Music played softly in the background, unobtrusive but soothing. A fire crackled brightly in the rock fireplace, dispelling the chill of the morning here at the end of September.
It was all very…pleasant. Very ordinary.
It made Tucker extremely wary.
“If you don’t trust him,” he said to Sarah, “then why are we here? There are other psychics we can try, including two more right here in Syracuse.” He stood near the leather couch watching her move restlessly around the room.
Sarah paused to scan the titles of some books on shelves near the fireplace and answered him in an absent tone. “It’s important that we talk to him.”
“Why?”
“Because he knows.”
Tucker drew a breath and held on to his patience. He thought that Sarah was being deliberately vague and uninformative, and it bothered him. She claimed that trust was not an issue with them, yet ever since the lake he’d had the feeling that she knew more about this situation than she was willing to say; if it wasn’t a lack of trust that kept her silent, then what?
“Knows what, Sarah? You said he knew we were coming here. Is that all?”
“No.” She moved back to the fireplace and looked at the flames for a moment, then lifted her gaze to meet his. “He knows why they’re after me.”
Tucker refused to get too excited. “Will he tell us?”
She tilted her head a little as though listening to a distant voice. “I don’t know. Probably not.” Her reply was matter-of-fact.
“And you still don’t know if he’s with the other side?”
“No. But leave this to me, Tucker. I have to handle him my own way. It’s important.”
Before Tucker could say anything else, Mason returned with a tray and the opportunity was lost. But Sarah had told him nothing to reassure him, so Tucker refused coffee and remained on his feet when Sarah came over to sit on a chair across from the couch. He moved to where she had been standing at the fireplace and turned his back to the flames so he could keep an eye on Mason as well as have a clear view of the door and windows.
“He’s very cautious,” Mason said to Sarah, handing her a cup of coffee and sitting down on the couch.
“He has reason to be. We both do.”
“I imagine so. But I’m harmless. You might reassure him of that.”
Sarah smiled. “Today, he’s a guard. And a guard should always be wary.”
Tucker elected to remain silent, as much as he disliked being discussed as though he’d left the room. He leaned his shoulders back against the mantel, crossed his arms, and watched them. And within a very few minutes, it occurred to him that what he was seeing was a performance where each word and gesture was both meticulous and deliberate. A dance where each knew the steps and the music, and where only one would remain standing when it was all over.
“How did you choose me?” Mason sipped his coffee.
Sarah set her cup on the coffee table untasted. “We have a list of surviving psychics in this general area. You were at the top.”
Mason smiled at her, that curiously tolerant smile of a parent for a child, a master for a neophyte. “Ah. Then you didn’t hear me calling to you?”
“No.” Sarah appeared undisturbed by this. “Was I supposed to?”
“Well…if your abilities are genuine, I would have thought…However, it’s no matter. You’re here. Where you were supposed to be.”
This time, Tucker had to bite his tongue to remain silent.
“Was I supposed to be here?” Sarah was innocently surprised.
Mason’s smile widened. “Of course. You must know that. The visions and dreams, the voices in your head—they must have told you.”
“Destiny.” Sarah nodded thoughtfully.
“Exactly.”