“You’re far too young to marry.”
“I didn’t say anything about marriage.” He ducked his head to hide his burning face. “But she might be afraid. Perhaps she would feel more comfortable with our clan.”
“I doubt seriously she’ll wish to leave her clan and move to a new one,” said Raelene. “But since I’m the only one who can train her, she might live with us temporarily.”
Kaevin’s breathing eased. It somehow seemed extremely important to have her nearby.
“I had another thought,” said Raelene. “We can’t know why she transported Kaevin, apparently by accident. She could do the same with someone else or something else. Someone or something dangerous. I believe it’s imperative to find her quickly.”
Kaevin felt a heavy knot in his stomach. Was it the idea of her being in danger? Or was it simply the idea she might transport someone else to her—someone besides him?
Chapter Two
Images of the boy invaded Alora’s sleep all night long. She had no idea whether it was another vision or simply a fantasy she’d made up in her head, but she dreamed she could see him sleeping in a dark room. Despite her fright from his sudden appearance in her bathroom, Alora felt an urge to try it again—this time, with clothes on. The problem was, she didn’t know exactly how it had happened. She only knew the water seemed to help.
“Uncle Charles?” she asked, with a tremor in her voice. “Would you be willing to help me with an experiment?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Maybe. But it depends on what you want to do.”
“I’d like to see if I could make that boy appear again. But this time, I don’t want to be alone. I want you with me. You could even have your shotgun, in case he’s dangerous. But I think he’s safe, and he seems to know something about my mother. So I’d like the chance to talk to him.”
“How are you going to do it?” A deep furrow appeared between his brows.
“I was thinking we could go outside to the hot tub. Since it happened when I was in the water, I think that could help. It might take a while, though, because I don’t know what made it happen.”
“Okay. I like the idea of having a gun, just in case. I’ll get my hat and coat. It’s in the twenties out there.”
Alora had on shorts and a T-shirt over her swimsuit. She slipped her feet into her boots and pulled on her coat to cross the patio to the hot tub. Charles, dressed in warm layers, settled in a chair next to the tub with his shotgun balanced across his lap and a book in his hands. Bozeman curled up at Charles’ feet, sniffing the air before laying his head on his paws.
Once inside the hot tub, with the water warming her frigid skin, Alora sank up to her neck in a corner. She rested her head on the side, attempting to relax while watching for the boy to appear. She tried closing her eyes and loosening her muscles. She even tried rubbing the stone in her navel, but nothing happened.
“I’m sorry, Uncle Charles. I don’t think it’s going to work. Are you getting cold?”
“I’m warm enough for now. Bozeman is keeping my feet warm for me. Are you getting waterlogged?”
“My feet are getting pruny. Maybe I’ll just try a few more minutes before I give up.”
Her mind wandered over the details of her uncle’s revelation of the truth. Did her mother really look like her? She tried to imagine herself with deep green eyes like the boy’s. And she wondered about her father. Was he really a bad person? Maybe after all these years, he had changed. Or was he even alive? Maybe he’d been killed in some kind of gang war? Maybe she could have a DNA test and put it up on some website that helped people find their long-lost relatives. All these years she’d thought he was dead, but now she might have a chance to meet him. What did he look like? Did she get her height from him? And her eyes? Her mind drifted. All was quiet except for the occasional scolding call of a chickadee.
One second she was gazing at a pine tree with snow-laden boughs, and the next second she was looking at him. Not in full form, only that disembodied head. But it wasn’t the boy—it was a man. A man with long jet-black hair and a beard. A man with piercing blue eyes. He was attractive, almost compellingly so. Alora felt drawn to him, drawn to his power and presence. And he seemed a bit familiar. She stared at him, mesmerized, until Bozeman’s growl caught her attention.
“Uncle Charles?” she whispered. “Do you see him?”
Charles dropped his book and grabbed his shotgun, raising it with white knuckles, his eyes scanning the area. “No! Where is he?”
“To whom are you speaking?” asked the man. “My name is not Charles.”
Alora ventured another look at her uncle, who apparently couldn’t hear the man’s voice either. She tried to keep her voice steady even as her heart pounded rapidly in her chest. “I wasn’t talking to you. What’s your name?”
“I am called Master Vindrake.” He seemed disappointed at her response to his name. “And what is your name? You look very familiar to me, and I do wonder why you have called me. However, I must admit I don’t remember your name.”
“I’m...” She paused as some sense of unease prevented her from saying her name aloud. “I’m... Lena.”
“Lena? I’ve never heard of this name.” He was staring at her through squinted eyes when his brows flew up and his mouth formed an “O.” He stretched his lips into a smile, and his voice caressed her with smooth velvet. “Wendelle. Your mother was Wendelle. Hello, Lena. I am your father. And I am extremely pleased to meet you.”
She gulped air as she responded, “My f-father?”
Her fear must have been evident on her face and in her quivery voice, because his eyes began to water and he pressed a fist to his trembling mouth. “Lena? Are you afraid of me? I’m your father. I love you. I don’t know what poisonous lies you’ve heard about me, but I assure you they are merely that—lies. Your mother stole you away from me and, all these years, I believed you were dead. I would never have neglected you or your training had I known you were alive.”