“In other words, your family has assumed the burden of guarding the secret of the Phoenix?”
“That’s what it comes down to, yes,” he said.
“What happened to Knox?”
“He’s dead.”
“Let me get this straight,” Gwen said carefully. “The members of your family are the only ones who know about the Phoenix stones and the fact that there’s an abandoned mine full of paranormal crystals somewhere out in the desert?”
“We wish we were the only ones who knew about those crystals. Life for the Coppersmith family would be a whole lot simpler if that was the case. Knox is dead, but it turns out there’s nothing harder to kill than rumors of a lost mine that supposedly holds a cache of priceless stones. Dad is sure that Hank Barrett, for one, is aware of the story of the Phoenix.”
“But, then, your father is a tad paranoid about Hank Barrett,” Gwen said.
“True, but you know the old saying: even paranoids have enemies.”
“The history of the Phoenix sounds like a dangerous secret to know.”
“It is,” Judson said.
“Abby knows about the mine and the stones, doesn’t she?”
“Yes.” Judson turned in the seat to face her, one arm resting on the wheel. “And now, so do you.”
Seventeen
She was halfway across the state of Nevada when the ghost in the mirror stopped her.
“You need to go back to the beginning and start over,” the ghost said. “You missed something important.”
“I probably should have waited until tomorrow to make this road trip. I’m exhausted. It’s been a very long day.”
“I’ve got news for you,” the ghost said. “It’s been an even longer day for me. And tomorrow doesn’t look like it’s going to be any shorter. Being dead is incredibly boring when you’re stuck in a mirror.”
“Sorry, you’re right. I’ll go back to Oregon and try this again. It’s just so damn frustrating.”
“Yes, I know. But you need to find what you missed before you set out on this road trip.”
“I’ll try.”
“Don’t forget the names that I wrote on the back of the map. They’re important, just like the names of the cities I circled.”
“Right.”
“Remember how we matched things up the last time in order to find the pattern,” the ghost said.
“I remember.”
“And please hurry, dear. I’d really like to get out of this mirror.”
“Gwen, wake up.”
Judson’s voice shattered the delicate threads of the trance dream. Gwen slipped into the strong, disorienting currents of the river between the underworld and the waking world and struck out for the far shore.
When she opened her eyes, she saw Judson silhouetted against a senses-dazzling fire of amber ultra-light.
She reached for his hand to lead him out of the lightning storm.
“Judson,” she whispered. “Come with me.”
His hand closed around hers. He was very warm to the touch. She knew intuitively that the heat was paranormal in nature. She could see it in his eyes. Or was it her own temperature that was rising?
“Come with me,” she said again. “You need to leave this place.”
“Take it easy,” he said. “Everything is okay. You’re safe.”
“You’re the one who is in danger.”
“Not now,” he said. “Not tonight.” He sat down on the edge of the bed and put a hand on her arm. “You’re still dreaming. Time to wake up.”
A heavy weight thumped down beside her on the bed. Max meowed loudly.
She realized that she was still swimming in the dark, eerie river of dreams. It wasn’t the first time she had found herself trapped in the strange currents. She crossed this river every time she went into and out of one of her own trance dreams.
She always made the passage as swiftly as possible because it was a dangerous place, a scary place with unseen depths. Each time she made the treacherous passage, part of her was afraid that if she did not reach the safety of the opposite shore quickly, she would be swept over the falls into a cauldron of churning energy from which there would be no escape.
But she’d had a lot of practice making the crossing.
She took a deep steadying breath, pulled on her talent and hauled herself up out of the treacherous currents. She lowered her talent and allowed the real world to coalesce around her.
The first thing that struck her was that she was not alone. Judson was there. She had forgotten to lock the connecting door.
She had a rule about deep dream trances. She never went into them unless she could be sure that she would be alone and undisturbed. She had learned long ago that her self-imposed lucid dreams, like her habit of talking to ghosts, unnerved others.
She was propped up against the pillows on the bed, dressed in her nightgown and the white terry cloth bathrobe and slippers provided by the inn.
Max meowed again and butted his head against her shoulder. Automatically she reached out to stroke him.
She looked at Judson. With her senses lowered, he no longer appeared enveloped in hot ultra-light. In the deep shadows, she could tell that he was wearing the crewneck T-shirt and the khakis he’d had on earlier.
“Oh, crap,” she said. “Sorry about that. I should have locked the door. Didn’t mean to alarm you.”
Judson did not let go of her hand. “It was just a dream.”
“No, it wasn’t just a dream. It was a trance dream, and you don’t have to act like it fell into the category of normal. People are always freaked out by the way I dream. I told you, my talent is a serious problem when it comes to relationships.”
“Oh, yeah, right. You send men screaming from your bed. You know, I have to tell you, that sounds interesting.”
“Okay, maybe not screaming. But there were some extremely awkward partings back in the days when I was trying to fall in love and pretend that I was normal.”
“I know where you’re coming from,” he said. “I told you, my talent gets in the way of relationships, too.”
She was very conscious of the feel of his strong hand wrapped around hers. His eyes still burned.
She knew that she was out of the dream, but there was a familiar, dreamlike quality in the atmosphere. An effervescent energy swirled around her, teasing and arousing her senses. A liquid heat built inside her lower body.
High wire, she reminded herself. No net.