“No. To tell you the truth, you both fell off the Society’s radar screen after your father was killed.”
“Then how come you know so much about my current history?”
“What I know was put together over the past twenty-four hours. The agency I represent is very good at gathering information in a hurry. But I didn’t have to read your file to guess how you would feel about being paraded around in front of the media as a police department psychic.”
“No?” Her chin came up a little. “Why is that?”
“Because I would feel the same way.”
She did not look impressed. “Is that so?”
“Given what you’ve been doing for the Oriana PD for the past eighteen months, I’m assuming you’ve got your aunt’s talent or something close to it. You hear voices in your head, right?”
She went very still.
“Relax,” he said. “I know where you’re coming from. I see visions.”
Seven
She was so stunned by his admission that it took her a few heartbeats to find her voice.
“Is that your idea of a joke?” she asked finally.
“No joke.” He watched her with his striking, enigmatic eyes. “The ability kicked in full force when I was in my late teens. Everyone expected me to be another para-hunter like most of the other males in my family.”
“What’s a para-hunter?”
“It’s a kind of psychic talent that jacks up an individual’s natural ability to hunt. Hunters have preternaturally fast reflexes and the ability to detect the psychic spore left by violence. In addition, they can also see well in the dark.”
She wrinkled her nose in disgust. “What do they like to hunt? Elephants? Moose? Snipe?”
He smiled. “Maybe, in ancient times, when the ability to hunt big game animals had a strong survival value. These days they tend to prefer to hunt their own kind. More of a challenge, I guess.”
Shock reverberated through her. “They hunt people?”
“Calm down. Most of the hunters I know work in law enforcement.” He paused a beat. “Although I have to admit that some go bad. None that I am aware of in the Jones family, however.”
“I see.” She glanced at the door, wondering if she should make a run for it.
“Take it easy,” he said. “I just told you, I’m not a para-hunter.”
She hesitated, annoyed. “Do you read minds, too?”
“No. The experts say that’s impossible.”
“What, exactly, are you?”
“Technically, I’m what’s known within the Society as a level-ten mirror talent.”
“What in the world is that?” she demanded.
“The best the experts can determine is that it’s a rare type of psychometry.”
“The ability to sense things by touch.”
“Right. Your clairaudience is another form.”
“Why do they call you a mirror talent?”
He rested his elbows on the arms of the chair and steepled his fingers. He had the air of an academic settling into a fireside lecture. “Ever heard of mirror intuition?”
She reflected briefly. “It’s what provides people with social cues, isn’t it? If we see someone frown or smile we understand intuitively what’s going on. We don’t have to stop and analyze the expression.”
“Right. And if we see someone pick up a knife we can tell pretty fast whether the person intends to cut his steak with it or try to slit someone’s throat.”
“I read an article about the phenomenon,” she said. “The theory is that it has something to do with special neurons in the brain. They allow us to mentally mirror the actions of others and make instant judgments. It’s a bone-deep survival mechanism.”
He tapped his fingers together once. “No one knows for sure how our mirror intuition systems work but one thing is certain, almost everyone has the ability to some degree. In fact, we take it for granted until we meet up with someone who doesn’t exhibit the talent, a person with autism or a mental illness like schizophrenia, for example.”
“You’re telling me that you have a paranormal version of that ability?”
He looked at her over the tips of his fingers. “With my form of the talent I can touch a knife or a gun or a rock that was used to kill or maim someone and intuitively mirror the reactions and responses of the person who used the weapon. I can sense what that person intended to do or what the victim anticipated. I’m also pretty good in a bar fight.”
She stiffened. “I beg your pardon?”
He smiled. “My ability makes it possible to second-guess an opponent. But I try to avoid that kind of exercise.”
“I should hope so.” She frowned. “Am I a mirror talent, too?”
“No. Clairaudient psychometry works differently. It’s not a visual talent. You are most likely a level ten like me, however.”
“How do you know I’m a level ten, whatever that means?”
“Members of the Society are ranked on what’s called the Jones Scale. It runs from one to ten, according to the level of psychic energy a person generates. The analysts came up with an estimate for you because your aunt never brought you in for testing when your psychic abilities developed in your teens.”
She wasn’t sure what to say. She could hardly believe that she was sitting there, discussing psychic talents with a man who acted as if such talents were the most normal thing in the world, like having brown hair or brown eyes. She had never had anything close to such a conversation with a stranger.
With the exception of Bradley, she had never even discussed the psychic side of her nature with anyone except Aunt Vella and her small, closely knit circle of friends. Vella had discouraged such conversations, reminding her always to keep her secret. Trying to explain herself to Bradley had been a serious mistake.
As if he knew what she was thinking, Zack gave her a sympathetic smile. “Damn, you’ve missed a hell of a lot by growing up outside the Society. How many other people with genuine psychic abilities have you met over the years, aside from your aunt and your father?”
“I tracked down people who claimed to be psychic,” she admitted. “Some worked as consultants to police departments. A couple made their living as fortune-tellers. One wrote a book on how to get in touch with your psychic side through your dreams.”
His teeth flashed in a brief grin. “I read that one. It was pure crap.”