“Should I know you?” she asked.
“You’ve never seen me before, but you know me, inside, like I know you, don’t you?” His cryptic answer was coupled with a smile that revealed crooked teeth.
“What are you? Are you a shifter?”
His laughter was mirthless and rang unpleasantly inside her head. “No. Not a shifter. Not any more than you are.”
Sherrie struggled to understand what she was missing. She opened her mind further, reached toward him, invited him inside. “Explain.”
“Do you really want to know?” He was suddenly right in front of her. His body smelled like wet wool, and she could feel the warmth as if he were physically present. “It’s time you knew the truth about yourself.
About everything.”
“What truth? Who are you?” she repeated, so eager to learn his secret—and apparently hers—that she nearly forgot the danger. “Tell me.”
He touched her cheek with his hand then curved it around the back of her neck, never breaking eye contact. Even as she leaned toward him, listening, it struck her that she was under a spell, mesmerized by his eyes and drawn in by his suggestion of earth-shaking secrets. The Garden of Eden, she thought. The serpent and the fruit of knowledge. Christ, Sherrie, wake up!
She shook her head, breaking the spell, and pulled away. His hand was smoke. There was no insistent pressure on the back of her neck because he wasn’t real. This place wasn’t real. It was all a dream. The moment she perceived it that way, Sherrie was swept through time and space as though she was a yo-yo and someone had yanked her string.
She slammed back into her body with a force that rocked her off her heels, and she sucked in a deep breath that seared her lungs. Her eyes flew open as she cried out.
“Are you all right?” John was there beside her, holding her again.
Grant, on her other side, anchored her to earth and completed the connection, feeding her revitalizing energy. “What happened?”
“I saw him. I talked to him. Damn, it was like he was right in front of me, but it was more than seeing his face. I got a sense of what makes him tick.”
“And what is that?” Perron asked, while John helped her to sit and offered her juice.
Sherrie took a long swallow. She felt oddly guilty telling the intimate feelings of the stranger even if he was hurting the shifters. His soul had been so raw and exposed—hurt and loneliness entwined with rage and vindictiveness.
“It’s about payback,” she finally said. “I don’t know what shifters have done to this guy, or what he thinks they’ve done, but he’s mad as hell and he’s not going to take it anymore. That’s the gist of it.” She hesitated before telling the rest. “When he saw me, it was like he knew me and was expecting me. He was about to tell me some big secret when I pulled away and came back here.” She put her hand on her chest, feeling her heartbeat and reassured by the solidity of her breastbone beneath her palm. Traveling in the astral realm was a little disconcerting, and she was glad to be grounded with John crouched by her side, one hand resting on her knee and his worried eyes studying her.
“I don’t like putting you in danger like this.” He glanced at Perron. “We should go on alone, leave her here.”
“Unguarded. Good thinking. Especially since he can reach her whether we’re with her or not.” Grant tapped his temple. “Inside. Not a lot you can do to protect her from that, McGruff.” Sherrie stood, a little unsteady on her legs, but energized and ready to go. “I can lead you to him. It’s as clear as if I had a map.” She could almost see a neon line laid out in front of her. “By the time we find him, maybe we’ll know what to do.”
John nodded, but didn’t look happy as he shouldered the backpack.
Sherrie led the way from the clearing up the steep, rocky slope. The ground was treacherous, and shale slipped beneath her feet, making her stumble. Either John or Grant was always right there, ready to catch her.
As the sun rimmed the mountain peaks with gold, morning mist shrouded them. It was like walking through a primeval land where a dinosaur might emerge at any moment. The world was hushed, not even a birdcall disturbing the silence. The only sounds were their footsteps and the sliding stones beneath their feet.
After two nights with very little sleep, Sherrie should’ve been dragging, yet she’d never felt more keyed up. She had a sense of marching toward her destiny, which should’ve been frightening, but was invigorating. At last she’d know why she was here—not here on the mountain, but on earth. All her life she’d felt a little different, a little set apart from other people. She used to think it was because she and her mom moved so often that she’d never made very close friends, but when she was being honest with herself, she knew her “otherness” was more than that. As an actress, she’d tried on different personas, but none of them had filled the void, nor did hooking up with men. Maybe this stranger on the mountain, crazy or evil as he might be, could give her a real answer about herself.