Eye of the Falcon (Psychic Visions #12)(12)

But he had yet to float on a cloud.

He smiled in joy, closed his eyes, and reached out with his arms, letting a burst of energy from his heart go free. When he opened his eyes again, the sky had darkened. Not with a cloud or a storm approaching but with night. And somehow the dark midnight sky was even sharper and clearer. He still floated on his crisp white downy bed, but the stars were so clear, it was as if he could touch them. He was amazed at the feeling.

He didn’t quite understand what was going on, and he wanted to because, as soon as he could, he’d repeat this—at least he’d try to. He twisted his head to see land below him. But it was a long way down there.

As he searched, he couldn’t identify his location. There were trees and meadows, forest and fences, plus the odd house dotted the landscape. But not any recognizable landmarks to tell him where he was. He sent out a cry in his mind, asking, “Who needs help?”

There was no answer. None. He frowned and then realized a tiny faint trail of energy surrounded him, as if somebody had floated in this spot in recent times. There was a familiarity to it. He didn’t quite understand. He tried to track the energy, but it disappeared beneath him. As he rolled over to stare below, the world disappeared as clouds moved in.

He tried to brush away the clouds, but there was no moving them. He rolled off the cloud, pointed himself toward Earth and dove. Just as he thought he was about to break through the cloud cover, he sat up in bed.

His beloved Celina rolled over and placed her hand on his arm. “A nightmare?” she asked gently.

He scrubbed his face, pulling his hair back off his forehead. “I have no idea,” he admitted. “But it was the same energy as before.”

“The woman crying for help?”

He turned to look down at his wife and nodded. “I haven’t heard or seen that energy in a few days. I was afraid she’d died.”

Celina sat up, wrapped her arms around him, and just held him close. He knew how lucky he was to have her love him like she did. Well, he was more than lucky. He was truly blessed. He burrowed his face in the nape of her neck and crushed her close.

“Can you sleep again?”

A shudder rippled down his body. “I don’t know,” he whispered. “Maybe.”

They lay back on the sheet, arms wrapped around each other, just giving comfort, both knowing that, at any moment, he could be pulled into another dream, another vision, or, the worst case, another nightmare.

And he could do very little about it.





Chapter 5





Issa opened her eyes, her body frozen, afraid to move for the pain she knew would shoot through her system. She studied the coverlet over her, the white pillowcase under her head, wondering how long she’d been here. She had no sense of time. No idea how long she’d been away from her own home, how long she’d been kidnapped. She didn’t know if the men who’d done this had enough time to track her down or if they’d chosen to run. An insidious anger flowed through her. For what those men had done to her. What they said they’d done to her pets …

She had so much hatred that she didn’t know how to stop it from poisoning her soul. Those men had enough hatred for everyone in the world. And all because of her family apparently. Although the kidnappers hadn’t explained, she didn’t understand and couldn’t even begin to sort out why they needed her. … Yet the boss would use any method to get the answers he wanted. Answers she hadn’t been able to give because she didn’t have them.

At least she was alive.

She focused on that. She didn’t know if she’d gone from bad to worse because pillowcases did not mean she was safe here. Somebody had treated the wounds on her feet. Although sore, even as she lay here, she knew they’d been cleansed. And the hands on her body had been gentle, caring, but that didn’t stop the fear inside her.

So whoever this was, she’d thank him, but, at the same time, she needed to get the hell away. Potentially the sheriff would be after her too. In the deep recesses of the confusion of her brain, memories were mixed up. She was so afraid she might have killed one of her guards.

She’d been covered in blood when she’d crossed the stream, falling as her raw feet struggled to keep her footing. It had been a relief to realize, when she stepped out on the other side, that most of the blood was gone. And then Roash had found her. She’d seen his broken wing and done what she could to make it easier for him.

That he brought her here was a miracle. But, as someone who needed more than one miracle, she hoped more were available. Her bladder was full. She had no idea how long since she’d gone to the bathroom. Neither did she remember the last time she’d had water.

Her body was dehydrated and broken. But, using the same methodology she’d always used to connect to Roash, she’d used it to help herself. Hence, Roash still sported a broken wing as she’d taken enough of his spirited energy for her own use, but that had left him short. How sad was that? She felt bad about that, but she’d been in desperate need. At the crooning beside her ear, she turned her head slightly to see the big falcon standing guard on the headboard. She murmured, “Hey, big guy. How are you doing?”

Roash rumbled back at her. Not a cry but more a murmur of gentleness. She smiled and took that comfort back under again as she slept. This time deeper, easier, and more peaceful.