Bree hesitated. That was something she'd only told Sophie, and even then, she'd felt she was guilty of underplaying it a little. Or maybe even a lot. She didn't want anyone to be freaked out by her. "Not really," she admitted. "I told a friend a little about it, but not in detail. You did know that deep reads can attune closely to feeling states, even unconscious ones, didn't you?"

"Knowing it in theory and experiencing it are two different things," he responded, voice still hard.

"Was it altogether bad?" Bree asked softly. She canted forward a little, trying to make it so he didn't have to turn his head to look at her.

He shifted down slightly on the couch and raised a hand to the back of his neck to hold the cold pack in place. His face flickered through a series of half expressions, and Bree realized that she still had no grip at all on how to read his tells.

He spoke slowly, and as he did, the anger seemed to slip gradually away. "At first, I didn't feel anything. I usually don't, when someone tries to read me. Sometimes I feel a sort of tickle or buzz in my head, but lightly, kind of like a mosquito. The last time you tried to read me, I felt something more like warmth, kind of like licks of fire off and on. This time, I felt the heat again, but more like a warm blanket surrounding me, and not just my head.

"Then I felt you start to move. At first, I thought you were going to fall off my lap, and it distracted me. But then I felt something else, something like a rhythm, like waves when you're standing in the ocean. You know how they're uneven, some bigger, some smaller, some come at you from the front, some from the side. But it feels like there's an overall pattern to it somewhere. I started to relax, because it felt good."

He started pulling at the fringe on the throw across his lap. "I actually thought I was just tuning into you, that you were in a trance state of some kind. I didn't think you were reading me at all. And my mind started to wander. I think you're right, I got to thinking about being a kid, about my first foster home. And all of a sudden, the memory got more detailed, more intense. I felt like I was being sucked down into it, like I was there. And at first, I felt you there with me, kind of like a watching presence. I tried to think of something else, but more memories kept coming, and I..."

He stopped, his throat moving, but he didn't say any more. Again, Bree felt awash in guilt. It sounded like she'd somehow triggered memories with the intensity of flashbacks. And she knew from bitter experience what those were like. She had to swallow back her own distress at some of what she'd seen. She'd have to live with those memories herself, though of course not to the same degree Leander did.

She slid off the couch, and onto her knees in front of him, in a gesture of supplication, and so she could look directly into his face. She took both of his hands and said to him, "Leander, I'm truly sorry if I caused you pain, if my seeing what I saw causes you more hurt. I had no idea that would happen. I've never had someone be aware of my presence in the read to that extent. I wasn't expecting to see what I saw, or for you to be aware of it either."

His mouth twisted. "I bet you weren't."

She shook his hands. "Don't. Don't go there. I'm not sorry about what I saw. Or rather, I am sorry, because you weren't prepared to reveal that information to me. But it helps me to understand you. That's what reading is supposed to be for. It's not meant for hurting people, it's meant for understanding, for helping, for healing."

He gave a harsh laugh. "You really believe that, don't you?"

She regarded him with mystification. "Of course I believe that."

"I wish I lived in your world, then."

"You do now," she replied, giving his hands a little shake. "You live in whatever world you make. Why not make a good one?"

"My G.o.d, you are soft."

She began to feel a little stupid. "Soft in the head?"

"Maybe that. Certainly soft in the heart." He drew her hands toward his lips, and kissed the knuckles on each.

Bree's unease turned to tenderness towards this strange, mercurial man, towards his pain, towards his masks and defenses. He was, in his way, more wounded perhaps than anyone else she knew, yet on the surface, seemed perfectly confident and unaffected by the tragedies in his life. She kept being drawn to trust him even though she knew she had even more reason now for caution. A history like his seldom yielded positive, well balanced individuals.

And there was still the question of his time with the Keltoi. If he was lying about being out, and of course there was no reason to trust him on that, he had information he could use against not only against Daniel, but against her.

Once again, she was up against a very slim set of options. She couldn't prevent him from using the information he had against her or Daniel by force. She certainly couldn't outwit him, she didn't have the talent for it. And she still couldn't read his tells for clues as to his intentions. She squeezed his hands, then let go and got to her feet. "Let me get those cold packs switched out for the hot packs."

Leander leaned forward to let her retrieve them. He offered a rueful smile, and acknowledgement of the awkward ending to their conversation.

To Bree's relief, they didn't refer again to the reading, nor did Leander ask any more awkward questions about Daniel. He allowed her to switch the hot and cold packs a few more times before crying uncle and insisting he would go home and take it easy for a couple of days. She helped him on with his coat, and as he turned to her there in the small entryway, he said, "You know, I did ask for it. I did ask you to try to read me. So you shouldn't feel bad about it."

Because she was still feeling shaky from the after effects of the read, because she'd had a h.e.l.lish last couple of days, Bree got all tearful again at that. Leander took her into a careful hug, and she laid her cheek against his chest.

After a long moment, he pulled back, then reached up a hand to wipe a tear from her cheek. "I'd like to call you tomorrow, check on how your friend Kevin is doing and well, because..." He laughed. "Because I'd just like to call you. Is that okay with you?"

Bree wasn't entirely sure what he was asking with that question, but she was too tired to suss it out. She'd figure it all out later. "That's okay with me," she answered. With a final caress of her check, he turned to leave. Hanroi shot past his legs into the house, hissing as he went. She shut the door and leaned her forehead against it. Did she just tell Leander that it was okay for him to court her? After accidentally mind raping him? One day after Daniel told her there was no chance for them? Suddenly, she longed for a nice, uncomplicated chat with Gelsenim. He was just trying to permanently possess her. Comparatively simple, really. She laughed tiredly, and went off to feed and soothe her disgruntled cat.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO.

Leander left Bree's in an almost totally unfamiliar emotional state. He had trouble getting his car keys into the door lock, and after starting his car, he put his forehead against the steering wheel instead of pulling away. What the h.e.l.l had he been thinking to challenge Bree to read him? Was it just his usual cussed need to see what would happen if he pushed the boundaries? He had her on exactly the subject he'd wanted, within moments of revealing the hiding spell information to him. And he'd completely blown it. Worse than that, he'd apparently let her see some of the more sordid of his childhood memories, things he had never spoken of to anyone, though he knew Marton had guessed much of it.

He'd always wondered what someone else would see in him if they read him. Since he'd been old enough to be aware of it, he'd realized he had little clarity in his own self-concept. It was too easy for him to become what was wanted, at least for a time. It left him uncertain who he truly was. Well, apparently when someone read him, they saw a lot of sick s.h.i.t.

He felt nauseous as some of those memories intruded on him again. He gripped the steering wheel tight enough to make his hands ache, and his back and neck hurt from his hunched over posture. He welcomed the pain, wanting the distraction from what was going through his head.

And finally, it started to work. The memories receded, leaving him shaken but in the present. He leaned back in the car seat and let go of the steering wheel, hands falling loosely into his lap. He realized he was still a little angry at Bree. It wasn't fair, of course. She had clearly meant no harm. And her apology had affected him, more than he expected. He wasn't sure he'd ever encountered such a ridiculously earnest person. He was used to seeing people as basically selfish, as self-deluded and dishonest. She had genuinely cared that he'd been hurt, without some other agenda, and not even, he thought, because he was attractive. She'd seen him laid bare and hadn't rejected him for it. Instead, she'd apologized.

That triggered his anger again, which was definitely a more comfortable place to be. He put the car in gear and maneuvered out of his parking place and set off down the street.

She was an idiot for trusting him. She clearly had doubts about him, about his history with the Keltoi. It had been a calculated gamble to tell her that. Always, he found it was better to lay lies over an underlying structure of truth. And besides, he wanted her sympathy, and yes, had wanted to shock her a little. He'd also wanted her to see him as a source of information in return. And by disclosing something that seemed honest to the point of shooting himself in the foot, he hoped to further her budding sense of trust in him.

And it was working, he would have sworn it was working when he had to go and agree to the idea of a read. He f.u.c.king hated to think what Marton would have said if could have seen Leander tonight. He'd say Leander had lost his edge, didn't have Marton's or the Keltoi's interests truly to heart. And he supposed Marton would have been right to say those things. He was losing his edge. Something about Bree put him off his stride. She wasn't playing a game, she actually did care about the greater good, enough to risk herself trying to help people during the riots.

More fool her. All Leander cared about was his own comfort and safety. Who else was there to care for it? Marton? Sure, he amused Marton, but he was under no illusions about the limits of their relationship. Marton would end him if Leander ever truly crossed him.

You make your own world. Why not make it a good one? Bree's words came back at him, but he thrust them away. Only someone who'd had a family, who'd never gone hungry, never had to fight for their life, who had never killed, could come up with such a Pollyanna philosophy. Anyone that stupid deserved to be taken advantage of.

He winced in self-disgust at that thought, remembering the way she'd settled against his chest in saying goodbye, remembering the feel of her tears on his fingers. Well, they didn't live in the same world, and they never could.

He made it onto Aurora, where he could give some vent to his frustration and drive faster. He would call her tomorrow, as he'd promised. And he'd make sure she agreed to another get together with him. He'd play on her guilt over the read if he had to. And by the end of that conversation, he'd have the G.o.dd.a.m.ned hiding spell and could be done with her. He didn't care anymore if he got to sleep with her.

A part of him protested the thought, and he pressed his foot on the accelerator in answer, briefly checking his mirrors for signs of cops. If he f.u.c.ked Bree, she'd probably find a way to attune with him again. Women always wanted some kind of emotional bonding during s.e.x, and he couldn't risk that with Bree.

She'd nearly seen too much during the read as it was. He was sure she'd seen images of Marton, but thankfully, she hadn't asked about those. Now that he was out of the situation, he could think of basically honest stories that wouldn't give away much with regards to his relationship with Marton, but being fresh from that mind f.u.c.k of a read, he wasn't sure he could have come up with something good.

He was able to get up to seventy once he got past the section of lights on Aurora, though he had to weave in and out of cars to do it. His eyes stayed glued to the road, his hands firm on the wheel. He was still in charge of the situation with Bree. He could have her whenever and however he wanted, and she'd sing for him, tell him everything he needed to find out, about Daniel Thorvaldson, and about what had happened with Scanlon's son. And any other f.u.c.king thing he happened to want to know.

Bree woke up in the morning to find the world had gone mad. Having slept most of the day away yesterday, she'd had trouble making herself sleep again at night, but had set the alarm for eight a.m., wanting to get her schedule back in order. She took a shower long enough to exhaust the hot water, trying to wash away lingering fatigue. She flipped on the radio in the kitchen while she made breakfast, and news she heard made her rush to the TV and turn it on. And there it was. Downtown Seattle billowing with smoke from a bomb that had gone off in one of the bank buildings. She put her hand over her mouth in disbelief. She knew things were bad, but somehow, she hadn't been expecting this. There was talk of a terrorist attack, though no one had stepped forward yet to claim responsibility. And then, to her horror, the news turned to footage of two similar attacks that had taken place earlier in the day, one in Miami, one in Houston. In each case, it had been around eight o'clock in the morning, when some, but not all workers were in the buildings to start their day. Over a thousand people were believed dead total. Images of people wandering in shock, bleeding, crying, desperate family members of missing people interviewed, the ragged maws of exploded buildings, dusty, jumbled rubble trapping survivors, all a.s.saulted her senses, her emotions. She felt suddenly, horribly alone in her little house as she absorbed the news. She remembered 9-11, and it had been a lot like this. It was hard to take in, hard to believe such mayhem was happening in her country, in her city. She got up and reached for her phone and called Sophie.

"Have you seen the news yet?" she demanded as soon as Sophie answered the phone.

"We just turned it on ourselves. It's just so awful, I don't have words. Do you think it's related to this whole Keltoi-demon war thing?"

"It must be. G.o.d, in a way, I hope it is," Bree replied. "That way, we have some idea what's going on and maybe we can do something about it."

"Like what?" Sophie asked doubtfully.

"I don't know, like keep fighting the Keltoi where we can. Like figure out this demon thing so maybe we can either get rid of them or get a few on our side," Bree replied angrily.

"I don't think demons set the bombs," Sophie told her, obviously trying to balance Bree's heat with a little calming logic.

"Maybe not. Or maybe it was someone possessed. Or maybe just some f.u.c.king Keltoi who were paid well."

"Or maybe it has nothing to do with any of that. There's unfortunately no shortage of violent, crazy people in the world," Sophie said reasonably.

Bree ground her teeth. She didn't want reason. She wanted to be angry, wanted to feel like she could do something. She realized Sophie wasn't the right person to call in that kind of mood. Her first instinct was always to calm troubled waters, to pause and consider. And usually, that was what Bree appreciated in her, what she counted on. Not today. "Well, I mean to find out, in any way I can. And I think I'll start with Dion."

"It may be too soon for the council to know anything, or the Ecclesias," Sophie cautioned.

"I know you're right, but it won't hurt to put in the call."

Sophie clearly read the writing on the wall and didn't try to dissuade her further. She signed off with a demand that Bree call to check in later. Bree immediately called Dion, but got his voice mail. Then, reluctantly, she tried Javier Ortiz. He was probably swamped with responsibilities and had no reason to tell her anything, but he was someone who might actually know something. He didn't answer his phone either. He probably saw it was her and chose not to answer. She slammed the phone down with frustration, watching the terrible scenes on TV being replayed. She paced around a bit, trying to work off her upset, but then it occurred to her to call Daniel. She knew he'd be p.i.s.sed too. He answered after only two rings. "Are you watching the news?" she asked.

"Yeah, for about the last hour. f.u.c.king Keltoi."

Bree felt a thrill of satisfaction hearing him echo her own sentiments. "So you think it's them?"

"I know it's them. The cities targeted all have unusually large and organized clans of Keltoi. New York and L.A. are missing on that list, but I have no doubt something will be staged in each of those cities as well. Of course, I could be wrong. Maybe there will be some terrorist group that will lay claim to all of it. But if they don't, I would bet you anything it's all part of the Keltoi's political agenda."

"Can I come over and watch the news with you?" Bree asked impulsively. "Maybe we can figure out something to do, some role for ourselves in all this. I can't just sit here and do nothing."

There was a long pause while Daniel thought it over, and Bree felt a moment's intense embarra.s.sment. Maybe he'd think she was going against the whole "working relationship only" thing. "You know, as friends, as colleagues," she added awkwardly. "I only have three clients today, and they're not until late afternoon."

"Sure, come on by. I could run down the street to the donut shop if you haven't eaten. I think the situation calls for excessive sugar and caffeine."

Now there was a man after her own heart. "Perfect," she told him. "I'll be there in a half hour."

She managed to make it out the door in record time, driven by a sense of intense restlessness. The anger and shock were fading a little, but she felt full of purpose, an arrow nocked and half pulled, awaiting a target. She pulled up at Daniel's just as he was returning from the store, paper bag in hand. He must have showered but not shaved, because his hair was damp and his cheeks were dark with stubble. Her breath caught in spite of herself as he looked back over his shoulder at her. She trotted up, taking the bag so he could use both hands on his door lock. "Hey," she said in simple greeting.

"Hey yourself. Come on in. I put some coffee on to brew before I left, it should be ready." She followed him into his living room, pulled off her coat as she went and dropped it over the coat tree. He'd left his TV on, and she settled herself on his old leather couch and put her booted feet up on the coffee table, thought better of such rude behavior, and put them back down again. The sound was down low, but the pictures she'd seen out of Miami earlier were replaying.

In a moment, Daniel returned with the donuts arrayed on a plate in one hand, and a wood cutting board put into service as a makeshift tray, holding two cups of steaming coffee along with some milk and sugar. He set them down with extreme care on the coffee table in front of the couch. He was p.r.o.ne to abrupt movements, and wasn't the most graceful sort. Bree imagined he'd make a lousy waiter. She was deeply grateful for the coffee. She poured milk into hers and inhaled deeply, then chose a chocolate glazed donut, while Daniel snagged a cinnamon-sugar cake variety.

"You know, I will never be able to get how someone could do something like this to innocent people who are just showing up for work," Bree commented around a mouthful of half chewed donut.

"I know what you mean," Daniel replied, eyes glued to the images on the TV screen. "I mean, on one level, I get it. There are people who are so lacking in a conscience that they don't care who they hurt in pursuit of their goals, and there are those who think the means justify the ends. But what I don't understand is being the one to actually plant the bomb and watch it blow people to bits. I can't imagine being able to live with myself."

Bree felt in total sympathy with Daniel on that. "Yeah, it just boggles the mind. I mean, how can you watch people's faces, the people coming out the building, the people looking for their families and not feel some kind of guilt?"

"Maybe they do feel guilt, on some level, if they're not monsters, or they're not in an advanced state of possession."

"Well, not enough guilt by half, if you ask me," Bree commented between slugs of coffee. She was enjoying the sensation of the caffeine and sugar getting her even more wound up. It was a way to stay angry, to not let herself feel too much about what she was seeing.

"Agreed," Daniel replied, then wiped his mouth on one of the the paper towels he'd provided in lieu of napkins. Bree found herself feeling strangely comfortable with him. Though they'd largely stuck to business in the last few months, either working on teaching her casting or on the demon research, they had sometimes hung out socially here at his place, watching a movie together, or just chatting after one of their work sessions. So there was a certain normalcy to the scene. She hoped it spoke of the possibility of them being able to be around each other in future without so much weirdness and angst.

"Did you try contacting Dion? I bet the Seattle Powered Council called an emergency meeting."

"Yeah, I tried. He may be in the meeting, come to think of it. Although, I turned my ringer off. I hate listening to that stupid thing. Let me check my messages." She got up off the couch and went to root around in her coat pocket for her phone. She had two messages, both from clients canceling their appointments, one directly saying she was too upset about what was happening and wanted to be with her family. That left her with one client for the day, and she half hoped he'd cancel as well. She wasn't feeling in a good s.p.a.ce to do calm, healing work although, she reflected, it would probably do her good to have to shift into that vibe. Well, she wouldn't be the one to cancel, not after how much she'd been doing of that lately.

She went and plopped down next to Daniel again. "No Dion," she told him. She reached for a second donut, not so much hungry as greedy for distracting sensation. They watched the news together for awhile, just venting their outrage and speculating on what public reaction would be.

"Paranoia," Daniel predicted. "You remember what it was like after 9-11."

"And total fear-mongering," Bree added. "There's no way this isn't going to be a factor in the November elections."

"I almost feel like this is happening too soon, if that's the true goal. If so, I'm concerned things are going to get worse again before the elections."

"Daniel, we've got to do something," Bree told him, still looking more at the TV than him. She couldn't seem to stop watching. "I know that sounds ridiculous on one level, but honestly, if I can't feel like I'm doing something proactive to stop all this, I'm going to bust into about a million pieces."

"I'm with you on that," he told her. "And I'm not without ideas." There was something in his voice as he said it that caused Bree to fully look at him for the first time since she'd got there. She could see the anger in him without reading, and more unsettling, a grimness to his expression. She had a bad feeling he was about to say something that she wasn't going to agree to.

"One of the things I've considering is having you call Gelsenim. Do you remember how I sent him out on some intelligence gathering last year?"

"Yeah, but he wasn't that helpful," Bree reminded him, watching him carefully. His face was striped with the shadows caused by the intermittent morning sun coming in through the wood blinds, making it hard to judge his expression.

"Well, from what you've told me, he's gotten more intelligent as he's gotten more time with you. And besides, the Keltoi use high level demons effectively that way all the time. If there's one we can access without being harmed, why don't we go for it?"

"'Without being harmed' are the operative words there, Daniel. I probably won't be harmed, but what about you?"

"I think how I got through seeing Kevin and working on him spoke pretty well of the fix I put in place. And G.o.d knows I felt plenty of emotion this morning when I saw the news. I'm still feeling more calm overall than I have in months. I think I'm ready to see what a little demon contact does. We need to know if I'm going to be able to be a functioning part of the demon research anyway. And besides, I know Gelsenim has been cooperative with you lately, but I'm not counting on him staying that way. We need to know that I can banish him in case of an emergency."

"I hear a lot of 'ifs' in all that," Bree protested automatically, but she forced herself to slow down. The truth was, she was both afraid of seeing Daniel's new system tested that hard in case it failed and she couldn't fix it, while another part of her almost hoped it did fail so she could try her own version of a fix. Still, he was going to want to test out having some demon contact at some point. Maybe if we went slow, she was thinking when Daniel interrupted her thoughts. The sun had gone back under a cloud, and she could see his face again. He was giving her a look of exasperation.

"We can go slow," he told her impatiently. "We can call him and banish him, check my restraints, then call him again for longer if everything is cool."

"Well, excuse me for not wanting to see your little house of cards go tumbling down so soon," Bree responded with far more irritation than the situation called for. She immediately regretted the loss of temper, but fortunately, her comment didn't seem to upset Daniel all that much.

"No, I get it. You want us both to be safe. Maybe it's false pride talking, but I think I've got it figured out now. I think it will be safe. But like I said, we'll go slow."

"That's what I was thinking," Bree admitted.

Daniel smiled, and Bree realized she had forgotten what one of his smiles looked like. And there went her telltale heart, galloping along in response. She forced her eyes back to the TV screen. "So what were these other ideas of yours?"

"I'd rather not go too far down that path until we really are certain who caused all this. If it is the Keltoi, then we'll talk strategy and tactics. And besides, I'll want to hear what the Ecclesias will advise, and what the local Keepers will want to do. That will give us a far better idea of what our role might be, what niche we might take on."

What he said sounded perfectly reasonable, but it didn't quite satisfy her itch to do something immediately. "Okay, when do you want me to call Gelsenim? I don't have a client until four."

"Tell you what, why don't we stoke up on some more calories, then maybe we can both do a little meditation to prepare. Then we can try it out."

"Sounds good." Bree reached obediently for a third donut. She really ought to be having some protein instead. She promised herself she'd have something more substantial for lunch. She checked her phone again after they had both eaten their fill and were ready to start doing some meditation. Daniel had gone on up to his work room to start his.

She saw that Leander had called. She didn't even think seriously about returning his call. She knew he'd said he wanted to help, but Daniel was the person best suited for that job, so long as his internal restraints held. She was feeling cautiously optimistic on that score. She knew he tended to be over confident, but on the other hand, he did seem quite well after some serious emotional hits. It was a little strange to her, how his emotions were still there, clear to see, but he still seemed muted somehow.

She did her meditation in the living room with the TV turned off. It took her some time to settle. The images from the bombings kept intruding. After a bit, she tried opening her eyes and looking at one of Daniel's paintings. She chose the one hung up on the brick wall to the east. It was a spring scene in a forest on a misty morning, trees formed in a not quite natural way that seemed to have them caught in a slow and subtle dance. There was a bright delicacy to the spring green of the small leaves on the tips of the branches, contrasting with the deeper shades where the stream depicted faded off in the mist in a thicker part of the forest. It caught a feeling of awakening while making you wonder just a little if the awakening was a good thing. It captured her. She allowed herself a moment of infatuated awe at Daniel's talent as a painter, something she had worked hard to repress before when she had been so set on not falling in love with him. Sadly, more evidence that his distance made it somehow safer for her to have these feelings.

She sighed and made herself close her eyes again, and this time, surprisingly, she was better able to settle into her meditation. When she felt she was ready, she went on upstairs. Daniel was sitting on the floor on a pillow, in a patch of sunlight, and his eyes opened as she approached him. "Are you ready?" she asked.

"As I'll ever be," he replied, getting to his feet and setting his pillow under the long wood table, out of the way. They settled into familiar postures across from each other. Daniel raised the wards and cast the sound stop spell. "So, just call him, tell him this is a test, and ask him to leave. I'll banish him if necessary."