This part was harder. In highly emotional situations, everyone leaves a piece of their essence onto objects, but the fire starter hadn’t been worked up over killing Neddy, so only a smidgeon of his remained on the knife. Still, detached or not, nothing tied two people closer together than death. Something about the door to the other world cracking open made essences merge and imprint more strongly, so once I pushed past the seething remains of Neddy’s rage and fear, I felt the fire starter’s distinct essence. It was only as big as a thread, but I wrapped all my concentration around it and pulled.
Black and white images were replaced with full color clarity. Instead of the grimy riverfront setting where Neddy had met his end, I saw opulent drapes surrounding me. At first I thought I was in a small room, but then I realized the midnight-green drapes hung around a large bed, cocooning it. The fire starter lay in the center, fully clothed, his eyes closed as though he were asleep.
Gotcha, I thought, torn between relief and dismay at finding him in what I knew was the present.
I’d only seen him before through the grayish tones of past memories, but spying on him in the present was different. No one else was in my head but me. Free from other people’s perspectives, I took my time studying the fire starter.
At first, he looked like a normal, well-built man in his thirties, but then hints of his uniqueness showed. His espresso-colored hair was past his shoulders—longer than most men dared, but on him it somehow looked supremely masculine. Black pants and an indigo shirt draped over muscles that appeared far harder than a gym membership usually accounted for, and though no flames clung to his hands, they were crisscrossed with scars that looked like former battle wounds. His high cheekbones were accented by stubble somewhere between five o’clock shadow and a beard, yet instead of coming across as unkempt, it was rugged and enticing. I hadn’t seen a man pull off that look so well since Aragorn in Lord of the Rings, and his eyes . . .
Opened, a rich copper shade encircled by rings of evergreen. I would have thought they were beautiful, but at the moment, they looked as though they were staring right into mine.
It unnerved me, but I reminded myself it was only coincidence. No one ever knew it when I used my abilities to establish a link. I could be the world’s biggest voyeur if I wanted, but my most fervent wish was to know less about people, not more—
“Who are you?”
I jumped. If I hadn’t seen his finely shaped lips move, I would’ve thought I’d imagined the words. Coincidence, I reminded myself again. Any second someone would come into my line of vision and I’d see who he was really talking to—
“I’ll ask a second time,” his deep, slightly accented voice said. “Who are you, and how the hell are you inside my head?”
That scared me into dropping the link at once. The ornate bed with its encircling drapes disappeared, replaced by ass-ugly wallpaper and a bed that would probably result in my getting bug bites. I let go of the silver knife as though it burned me, still reeling over what just happened.
“Well?” Jackal asked. “Did you find him?”
“Oh yeah.” My voice was nearly a croak from shock.
“And?” he prodded.
No way was I going to tell him the fire starter had somehow realized he was being been spied on. If Jackal knew that, he’d kill me on the spot so the fire starter couldn’t follow the link back through me to find him. It was possible. If he could feel me in his head, the fire starter could probably hear me, too . . .
With a flash of inspiration that was more reckless than smart, I knew what I had to do.