The Sign of Seven Trilogy by Nora Roberts Page A

me.”
    â€œAw.”
    Despite the biting cold, it was pleasant to walk beside a man who naturally fit his stride to hers, to watch the clouds of their breath puff out, then merge together before the wind tore them to nothing.
    He had an easy way about him and killer eyes, so there were worse things than feeling her toes go numb with cold in boots she knew were more stylish than practical.
    â€œAre you going to be around if I think of some pertinent question to ask you tomorrow?”
    â€œâ€™Round and about,” he told her. “I can give you my cell phone number if—”
    â€œWait.” She dug into her bag and came out with her own phone. Still walking, she punched a few keys. “Shoot.”
    He rattled it off. “I’m aroused by a woman who not only immediately finds what she’s looking for in the mysterious depths of her purse, but who can skillfully operate electronic devices.”
    â€œIs that a sexist remark?”
    â€œNo. My mother always knows where everything is, but is still defeated by the universal remote. My sister Jen can operate anything from a six-speed to a wireless mouse, but can never find anything without a twenty-minute hunt, and my other sister, Marly, can’t find anything, ever, and gets intimidated by her electric can opener. And here you are, stirring me up by being able to do both.”
    â€œI’ve always been a siren.” She tucked her phone back in her bag as they turned to the steps leading to the long front porch of the hotel. “Thanks for the escort.”
    â€œNo problem.”
    There was one of those beats; she recognized it. Both of them wondering, did they shake hands, just turn and go, or give in to curiosity and lean into a kiss.
    â€œLet’s stay to the safe road for now,” she decided. “I admit, I like the look of your mouth, but moving on that’s bound to tangle things up before I really get started on what brought me here.”
    â€œIt’s a damn shame you’re right about that.” He dipped his hands into his pockets. “So I’ll just say good night. I’ll wait, make sure you get inside.”
    â€œGood night.” She walked up the steps to the door, eased it open. Then glanced back to see him standing, hands still in his pockets, with the old-fashioned streetlight spotlighting him.
    Oh, yeah, she thought, it was a damn shame.
    â€œSee you soon.”
    He waited until the door shut behind her, then taking a couple of steps, studied the windows of the second and third floor. She’d said her window faced Main Street, but he wasn’t sure what level she was on.
    After a few moments, a light flashed on in a second-floor window, telling him Quinn was safe in her room.
    He turned and had taken two steps when he saw the boy. He stood on the sidewalk half a block down. He wore no coat, no hat, no protection against the bite of wind. The long stream of his hair didn’t stir in it.
    His eyes gleamed, eerily red, as his lips peeled back in a snarl.
    Cal heard the sound inside his head while ice balled in his belly.
    Not real, he told himself. Not yet. A projection only, like in the dreams. But even in the dreams, it could hurt you or make you think you were hurt.
    â€œGo back where you came from, you bastard.” Cal spoke clearly, and as calmly as his shaken nerves would allow. “It’s not your time yet.”
    When it is, I’ll devour you, all of you, and everything you hold precious.
    The lips didn’t move with the words, but stayed frozen in that feral snarl.
    â€œWe’ll see who feels the bite this round.” Cal took another step forward.
    And the fire erupted. It spewed out of the wide brick sidewalk, fumed across the street in a wall of wild red. Before he could register that there was no heat, no burn, Cal had already stumbled back, thrown up his hands.
    The laughter rang in his head, as wild as the flames. Then both snapped off.
    The