Eye of the Falcon (Psychic Visions #12)(19)

She wondered at the images and the memories that flowed through her mind. As much as she loved her mother, certain things her mother had done Issa hated. Once again her mind went to the box she never had a chance to go through. Both boxes.

She needed to know what was behind all this. She could only hope her captors hadn’t found the boxes. She was sure they’d searched the cabin many times over. She’d only discovered the root cellar accidentally after she bought the property. It made sense as it was an old homestead originally. With the cabin modernized and upgraded for electricity and running water, the cellar might have been forgotten over the years.

The trapdoor blended into the rest of the woodwork. Even the latch itself was wood and lay flat, matching the grain. When she had moved in, she’d made one pass on the floor on her hands and knees with a scrub brush, clearing away the years of emptiness and disuse. When her brush had caught on the handle, she’d been delighted with her find.

Her eyes drifted closed again, only to be startled awake as more memories slammed into her mind. Men in huge trucks. Her heart caught in her stomach. She didn’t recognize the trucks, but they were driving in the city. She highly doubted they were anywhere close to here, as, from what she could see out the windows of Eagle’s house, the countryside spread to all corners around her.

Tired and sore, she rolled over in bed, grimacing as her shoulder pulled. She tried to settle back into sleep. More images slammed into her mind. Disjointed, yet some completely in sequence, but in a different country. Sky scenes, urban scenes. As if the blow to the head had unlocked or shaken loose the filing system she had used to tuck everything away. Now it floated free through her mind, the chaos of mental folders tossed to the wind with bits and pieces going everywhere.

She tried to blank it out. Tried to go back to sleep. Just as her eyes closed, once again a beautiful white face popped into her mind. Humbug. Tears welled up. Her kidnappers had said they’d shot all the birds they could find on her property. She had no doubt they had. Those men were monsters, uncaring of life, big or small. They had a goal, a mentality that said they came first. And everybody else was roadkill, so get out of the way or join them.

According to them, she’d been in the way. And she still didn’t understand how that worked. But if they’d hurt Humbug … He was the gentlest big baby she’d ever met. But he needed care. He’d be lost without her. A bullet would’ve been the easiest death for him. Troubled, she fell into a deep sleep.

*

Eagle shifted on the couch. He’d slept on it before but not in a long time. It was hardly the top-of-the-line accommodations. His military days of sleeping on the hard ground were over. It certainly was not that he was old, but some injuries were just so much worse when springs pressed against them. He shifted again and then froze. What was that?

Eagle threw back the blankets silently, straightening up and padding across the floor. He checked out the windows first. There was nothing moving in the night. But something was wrong. He moved from window to window and slipped across to Issa’s bed. There he froze. Her eyes were wide open; she stared straight ahead at the ceiling above her, unblinking …

“Issa, are you okay?”

There was no response. Neither did she blink or shift at the sound of his voice. Unnerved, but knowing catatonic states could be caused by many issues, he approached quietly. Roash rose from the night table beside her.

He frowned. “What are you doing in here still?” He glanced at the window open barely enough for the falcon to squeeze through. That was reassuring. He didn’t want to have to consider any more metaphysical events. Because he was just out of explanations for those. He was a straightforward man, believed what he could see, what he could touch. But he’d used his intuition enough times to save his life to know he couldn’t discount that sixth sense either. Proving it was something completely different. And the weird events since finding Issa were something else again.

He studied her face and that huge gaze staring straight up. He swore he saw something move across her features. Not like a grimace of pain or wave of fear but a shadow, … shaped like wings. He gave his head a shake. “Man, you need to get some rest.”

But he couldn’t tear his eyes away from what he was seeing. He leaned over her, feeling this buzzing sound in his ears. He stared down into her eyes. His head was slammed with images: blue sky, clouds, green forest below. He pulled back, his heart bouncing around in his chest. What the hell was going on? He walked around her bed to approach from the other side, and one of Roash’s beautiful golden eyes glared up at him.

“I’m not trying to hurt her. I just need to know what the hell’s going on.”

That incredible gaze of Issa’s turned slowly as if tracking his progress. But he didn’t get a sense she knew he was here. No recognition shone in her eyes, no sense of awareness of her surroundings. Like a galaxy floated through the bright color of her irises. A blue that glowed with mystery—and shone with an odd sense of timelessness.

He leaned over her so he could stare straight down into her eyes, and immediately the tingling started. Wary, he forced himself to stay in place. And images caught and held him again. Blue sky, clouds, raindrops dripping off leaves. This time the view from inside the tree up against the trunk. Water droplets rolling down branches and twigs. And in the early morning, sun peeking through, differently this time and yet stunning.