“Hmmph,” Mehoo-Jimmy said again, frowning. “I’ll believe it when I see it. You don’t have time to find a man with all the hard work you do.” She narrowed her eyes at Nina. “The best I can do is send out a prayer that the man will find you.”
For some reason a shiver went down Nina’s spine. She thought again of the man in her dream, the one whose face was always shadowed.
“Don’t do that, Mehoo,” she begged. “I’m fine just like I am, really.”
“We’ll see.” The old lady turned her attention back to her half eaten burger. “We’ll just see.”
“Well, right now, I see it’s time for me to go.” Nina glanced at her watch. Actually, it was past time. She hopped up and dropped another kiss on Mehoo-Jimmy’s wrinkled cheek. “Love you, Mehoo. I’ll see you later.”
“Good-bye, eecho. Be well and safe. And thank you for lunch.” The old lady smiled and shooed away a cat before taking another bite of the burger with her big false teeth.
Nina waved as she slid behind the wheel of her car. Time to go to her shift at Massage Envy, which would last until nine. She loved working at the museum, but it did make for some long days.
She sighed wearily as she took a back road that led to South Tampa. The long hours had never bothered her before, but back when she first started her demanding schedule, she hadn’t been woken at least once a night by the dreams. And once she woke up, she couldn’t get back to sleep. Couldn’t get him out of her head.
How much longer could she keep going like this with little to no sleep? And why couldn’t she stop having the dreams?
Not for the first time, Nina wondered uneasily if something was wrong with her. Was she having some kind of mental breakdown? Going crazy?
Of course I’m not going crazy, she denied to herself uneasily. Everything is going to be fine. I’m sure tonight I’ll be able to sleep without dreaming. Tonight will be the night the dreams finally end.
But she didn’t believe it—not really. The man with the shadowed face was too real to just fade away like that. He wanted something from her—something Nina was afraid to give.
But what?
Chapter Three
Sylvan frowned as he stared down at the male lying on his exam table. According to Saber, Reddix had collapsed with no warning. Saber had thought it might be due to exhaustion and truly, anyone seeing the dark circles and ragged appearance of the Touch Kindred warrior would say the same. But Sylvan’s tests, performed quickly and discretely while the male was unconscious, said otherwise. The RTS Reddix suffered from was extremely serious—obviously more so than even his best friend knew. Sylvan wondered if Reddix himself had any idea of his dire prognosis.
He sighed and shook his head. Well, there would be time enough to tell him. In the mean time, he would let Reddix rest as long as he could. Not that the rest appeared to be doing him much good. As Sylvan watched, the big male body jerked and his eyes tracked restlessly under his lids. Was he registering the emotions of others even in his sleep? Or was he simply dreaming?
There was no way to know…
It took a long time to find the swamp witch’s hut. Hours of slogging through the putrid water coated in yellow and purple algae, pushing the low hanging branches and vines out of his way. Most of the vegetation on Tarsia was bright orange and yellow, colors that reflected the light of the planet’s red sun and hurt Reddix’s eyes, which were made more sensitive by his RTS. Still, at least he was away from the crowded city, away from the constant intrusive buzzing hum of emotion that always surrounded and invaded him.
The fact that the rotten smell of decay, the fetid heat, and the stinging flies that kept buzzing around his hooded face were preferable to his own cozy home on the outskirts of the city told Reddix volumes about himself. The RTS really was getting worse. If he didn’t get a handle on it soon…
But he refused to think about that. Up ahead, he saw a wooden shack with a wisp of purple smoke coming from its crooked chimney. That must be the place.
Slogging through the blackish-purple mud, he came around to the front of the ramshackle place. But just as he was raising his hand to knock, a voice called his name.
“Reddix…Reddix, son of Redan, second in command of the Clans of the Touch Kindred.”
Reddix frowned. The voice seemed to have come from inside the shack, but he couldn’t feel any emotions coming from the low wooden structure.
“Come in,” the voice, a low, feminine contralto continued. “Come in, I’ve been expecting you.”
A shaft of unease pierced him. How could she be so close without him feeling her emotions? Generally when he was within twenty yards of a person, he began to feel what they felt as sensations against his skin. The closer he got or the more people there were, the more magnified the feelings. Touching intensified it even more, which was why Reddix went out of his way to keep his hands to himself. He wasn’t touching her, but from the sound of her voice, the witch was just on the other side of the door. Why couldn’t he feel her?