I backed up a bit. Was this Amanda Lee talking? The woman who had sprinkled salt around her windows and chimney to block spirits and also blacked me out when I’d tried to empathize with her?
When she lifted a finger, I knew there’d be caveats.
“This isn’t empathizing, understand? We’re attempting this experiment only one time, and you’ll have a specific purpose for coming into me. I think that’s part of the reason you can make humans hallucinate—knowing exactly what you want to get out of them.”
Such as making them happy, like I’d done with Wendy.
Or getting them to blurt out their crimes.
Amanda Lee was very serious now. “I’m warning you. I won’t give you emotional access, Jensen. The moment I feel you worming your way into my soul instead of my head—and I’ll know if you’re doing that—we’re done. This is only a test, and I’m trusting you.”
I nodded, eager to get started. Part of the reason I’d had a lot of friends way back when was that I’d never double-crossed them.
And I knew Amanda Lee had researched that.
Hell, I felt her confidence in me with every psychic vibe she was sending my way. Maybe she’d even foreseen the outcome of exercising my skills.
“What’s my goal?” I asked. “How about I get you to tell me about a minor scare in your life?”
That wouldn’t be so hard on Amanda Lee’s emotions—not like the far more horrific hallucinations I would be throwing at Gavin.
“We can be more ambitious than that.”
“But I don’t want to freak you out.”
“That’s the point, though. Scaring me. I want to see how you handle something a little more strenuous than the images you gave to Wendy.”
Okay. That did make sense. But it wasn’t like I was looking forward to booing her, much less booing me.
She understood my reluctance. “Don’t worry. I’ll be here, and if I feel you going into a time loop, I’ll pull you out again.”
“What if you’re too affected by the hallucination to do anything?”
She laughed. “We’ll begin with something mild.”
If she was this certain about it, I should be, too.
“All right,” I said. “Name your cup of terror.”
“Certainly. But one more thing—what I’m asking you to show me is a traumatic moment that will elicit a powerful reaction from me. Not strong enough to send me spinning, but enough to matter.”
“So what do you have in mind?” No pun intended.
She laughed again. “Don’t look so scared, Jensen.”
Not scared.
When she saw my resolve, she said, “I was in a car accident once, around the time you died. I won’t tell you any more details than that because I’d like to see what comes out of your spontaneous imagination. Are we set?”
I sucked it up. “Set.”
With another reassuring smile, she let herself relax, folding her hands on her lap as she waited for my touch.
I floated toward her, hovering over her cheek, tempted for one second to merely empathize, just to see the ins and outs of my partner.
But I pressed my essence against her skin hard instead, going deep, rushing right into her head, and—
Cactus, sand, desert, right outside the pool house window, rushing past, just like this pool house was a car, speeding down a road.
In front of us, a stretch of gray highway cut by headlights, whirring under the tires of the room.
The spinning sound of rubber over concrete. Eyelids getting heavy.
One blink. So tired.
Another blink, eyes closing longer this time.
Tired. Such a long trip.
We leave our eyes closed, giving in to the lull of the highway.
Blankness. Finally, some peace after an endless day… .
The electronic scream of a horn.
Our eyes blast open as—
I jerked out of the hallucination, pushing out of Amanda Lee and into the real world so quickly that I practically skidded to a stop near the opposite wall.
Across the room, which had gone back to normal, she was gripping the bench cushion, her gaze shocked, her body trembling.
Was she cold from my touch, just like Wendy had been?
“Why did you stop?” she asked.
“Because we were about to crash!” God, why else would I have stopped?
“Damn it.” She was shaking her head. “This is what I was afraid of. You’re holding back because you don’t want to experience what comes next. We weren’t really going to crash, even if I saw the other car coming toward us in this room as if it was really happening.”
Her criticism stung because she was right.
Was I really that much of a chicken?
“Your body,” I said. “You’re trembling, like you’re afraid. Like there’s adrenaline tearing you up.”
“I’m fine.” Then her voice gentled as she ran a gaze over me. “You’re no grayer than you were before, but how do you feel?”
I took stock of myself. “Fine, too.”
“That’s good.” She rubbed her arms, warming herself, then straightened in her seat, getting comfortable again.
Determination in action.
“Just for the record,” she said, “I didn’t live in California at the time. The accident happened back east, during winter, in the daylight. And I didn’t fall asleep at the wheel. Even so, I can feel my heart beating out of my chest right now. Everything was very real, so kudos for that.”
This woman was definitely a warrior. I wanted to be one, too.
“I’m ready whenever you are,” I said, sidling up to her.
She nodded, and I pushed against her cheek, zooming right into the hallucina—
Winter outside, snowy trees, gray sky flying past the pool house windows.
Tires over slush-laden concrete, the floor of the room becoming the road.
The sound of the radio. Air Supply. Mushy love.
Getting lost in the song, humming along with it.
“Here I am, the one that you love…” An oldie but goody—
The blare of a horn as two headlights appear on the wall, like a truck just now came over a hill, bearing down on us.
A scream. Yanking the wheel to the right, toward a guardrail emerging out of the wall—
I barely felt myself starting to pull out of her, but I wouldn’t. Not this time.
Flying all the way back into her, I saw—
—a guardrail, rushing toward us, the wheel out of control underneath our hands, taken over by the tires.
We crash, our seat belt strap knifes the air out of our lungs, our knees hit the dashboard, the car hood bunches, steam hisses from the engine.
The radio still plays.
“. . . asking for another day…”
We don’t move because our body won’t let us.
Got to start the car, we keep thinking, willing our hand to reach up and turn the key in the ignition.
Dull thoughts, knees hurting, steam hissing.
Got to start the car again…
This time, when I pulled out of her, I did it shakily, slowly, like I was getting out of that scrunched, seething compact car and stumbling away from it.
I was weaker, but still okay. Amanda Lee, though?
Not so sure.
“Hey,” I said, going back to her. She was dazed, her hand cupped over her chest, her body quaking harder. Was she only freezing from my touch? Or worse?