Gift of Fire (Gift #2)

Theoretically the rock would channel and enhance that energy.

Verity saw that Jonas's eyes were open and he looked bored. He had joined the circle reluctantly, at Elyssa's urging. Catching Verity peeking, he flashed her a sexy grin. She smiled back at him ruefully. Talk about a waste of time, she thought. But this sort of thing was part of humoring the client, as she had explained to Jonas earlier.

"We must all focus together," Yarwood said with a hint of rebuke.

Verity realized that Preston must have caught her and Jonas exchanging their silent joke. Obediently, she closed her eyes again. Yarwood resumed droning in a steady, hypnotic chant.

Jonas started to tickle Verity's palm with his middle finger. She ignored it for as long as she could, but after several moments she couldn't stand it. She tightened her hand around his, and he stopped. As soon as she loosened her warning grip, however, he started in again. Verity nudged him with her knee. Jonas turned the tickling action into a long, intimate stroking that was blatantly erotic. His finger slipped slowly from her palm to her wrist and back again in a movement that she knew was meant to simulate sex.

Verity used her nails briefly to punish him. Jonas obligingly stopped the teasing motion of his finger until she withdrew her nails from his skin, then he started it up again.

Verity tried desperately to concentrate on something else. She thought about the legendary treasure, picturing the frozen vision of the Renaissance man seated at the writing desk with the full treasure chest behind him.

Something shimmered in her mind.

Startled, she stopped playing hand games with Jonas. He stopped too, as if sensing her surprise. The shimmering feeling came again. Verity opened her eyes and stared at the crystal. The shard of pink rock sat in the middle of the circle. It wasn't glowing, or changing color, or doing anything mysterious.

But Verity's earrings suddenly felt very warm.

She frowned intently and closed her eyes again. Her imagination was working overtime. Preston Yarwood continued to talk, urging everyone to project harder. Verity wished he would shut up. She felt a sudden need to concentrate.

The shimmering image in Verity's mind began to take shape. She became very still, gripping Jonas's hand hard.

This wasn't like the times she had entered the psychic corridor with Jonas. This was different. There was a faint image appearing inside her head, but it had nothing to do with the time tunnel.

She knew that Jonas was aware that she was suddenly distracted. His fingers closed tightly around hers.

On the other side of her, Oliver Crump also started to squeeze her fingers more firmly.

Verity studied the picture in her head. It was a dark stone room. Against one wall of the forbidding little room was a heavily carved chest, fashioned out of black wood.

A cold draft sliced suddenly through the salon. The fire flickered and nearly died.

"Maggie must have left a window open," Elyssa Warwick complained. "It's cold in here."

Her words broke the spell. The image in Verity's mind vanished abruptly, and her earrings no longer felt warm. On her right, Oliver Crump slowly released her hand. When she opened her eyes she found him looking at her with a strange expression. Jonas squeezed her left hand so tightly Verity thought he might cut off the circulation in her fingers.

"I think that's enough projecting for this evening," Jonas announced as he got to his feet and pulled Verity up beside him. "It's late, and Verity and I are going to bed. Good night, everyone."

"I'm with you," Doug Warwick said. "I wish there were a television in this place."

"At least we've got booze," Slade muttered, walking to the liquor cabinet. He surreptitiously uncapped his pill bottle. "Good booze at that." He downed the pills with a stiff shot of whiskey.

Verity had noticed earlier in the evening that Spencer's bruises had worsened slightly during the past twenty-four hours. It was not uncommon for a bruise to show more color two or three days after it had been caused. She winced as she said good night to him, hoping that every time he looked in the mirror he didn't think of contacting a Sawyer.

"I'll have Maggie find that open window," Elyssa murmured as she swept out of the room. "She's really not the most efficient housekeeper, is she?" Preston followed her.

Oliver peered at her intently through his wire-rimmed glasses. "Good night, Verity. Sleep well."

"Let's go." Jonas tugged Verity toward the door, using more force than was necessary. As soon as they reached their bedroom, he said sternly, "All right, what happened back there?"

Verity pulled her wrist free of his hand and sat down. "I'm not sure," she said honestly. "Did you see it, too?"

"See what?"

"An image of a room. A stone-walled room with a black chest sitting in it. I would swear it's the chest we saw in the vision. I was just sitting there in that circle, Jonas, thinking about the treasure and wondering where it might be when all of a sudden this picture of a small dark room popped into my head.

I thought you might have seen it too."

Jonas paced the length of the room, rubbing the back of his neck. His expression was grim. "I didn't really feel or see anything. I just got the impression you were suddenly somewhere else." He shot her a sharp glance. "I hope you're not going to get sucked into believing in this psychic crap about crystals and astral energy and the rest of that nonsense."

"I got sucked into believing in your psychic abilities, didn't I?" Verity retorted.

He stopped pacing long enough to throw her a severe glance. "That's different."

"I see. Thank you for pointing that out."

"You didn't really see an image of a room tonight, did you?" he demanded.

"I saw it."

"it was your imagination."

"Possibly." She shrugged. "Or maybe I was picking up on someone else's thoughts," she said slowly, thinking of Oliver Crump. "Jonas, you don't suppose that someone in that group really is psychic, do you? You and I were just playing parlor games tonight for the sake of the client, but some of the others were actually trying to project through that crystal. What if one of them really did pick up on something, and I got some of the backlash, the way I do when you use your powers?"

"I can't believe that any of those idiots are genuine psychics," Jonas said coldly.

"They're not idiots, Jonas. Two of them are clients. One of them is a very nice man who's studying herbs and crystal healing techniques, and one of them believes sufficiently in his own psychic powers that he once paid to have himself tested."