Alec returned to the door and opened it wide, motioning for her to enter with a cheerful, "Bienvenida, senorita."

His jacket was gone, and in his fitted shirt he looked particularly handsome. If only I didn't like him so much, she thought, her pulse racing. That would make everything so much easier.

She walked inside and Alec shut the door, leaving the three locks alone. "Put these on the table, would you?" Unexpectedly, he tossed both his car keys and house keys to Claire.

She fumbled in the dim light, trying to catch them, but missed. "Sorry, I can't see anything." Claire scooped up the keys from the carpet. "Can you turn on a light?"

"Aye, got it." Alec flicked a switch and then quickly opened the curtains.

Wow, Claire thought, glancing around the austerely furnished studio with its blank, off-white walls. He hadn't even put up a poster. It reminded her of every featureless place her mom had moved her into over the years-except a lot smaller. It was weird to think of a sixteen-year-old living here all by himself. Her glance fell on his sofa.

"Do you ... sleep on your couch?"

"Aye."

She suddenly felt very self-conscious, knowing that this was the room where Alec slept-and that they were together and alone. Alec moved into the tiny kitchenette, muttering something under his breath.

"What?"

Alec returned to the doorway. "I asked if you want anything to drink."

"Sure." He seemed to be studying her intently, as if he was waiting for something ... although she had no idea what it was.

"Anything in particular?" he asked.

"Do you have iced tea?"

Alec's eyebrows lifted, as if her answer conveyed some deep, inexplicable meaning to him-and then shook his head. "Sorry. No."

Why is he acting so weird? Claire wondered. She felt like she was going through some sort of social obstacle course. "Water's fine." He disappeared into the kitchen again, and she heard the sound of ice cubes popping out of a tray.

Claire wished she could use her psychic powers to find out what Alec was thinking, but sadly they didn't seem to work that way. Whatever you do, she instructed herself, keep your hands off him. The last thing she wanted right now was to get a vision and fall dizzily to the floor.

Claire sat down on the comfy sofa, plunking Alec's keys onto the rectangular wooden coffee table. She glanced around, desperately searching for some detail to quiz him on. The only other items in the room were an end table with a single lamp, Alec's guitar on a stand, and a large metal storage cabinet with a st.u.r.dy handle and a keyhole. He has a thing about locks, Claire mused, recalling the mysterious box in their locker.

Alec emerged from the kitchen with a tall gla.s.s of water rattling with ice.

"What do you keep in there? Gold?" Claire gestured toward the cabinet, hoping her tone sounded like witty repartee and didn't betray her intense curiosity.

"No, strictly uncut diamonds and vials of plutonium."

"So you really are James Bond."

"I like to think of myself more as the Jason Bourne type." He grinned.

Claire smiled and sat forward on the sofa as Alec crossed the room with her drink. Here was the perfect opportunity, she realized, to conduct a little test, to see if he had any extraordinary abilities. He offered her the gla.s.s. She reached out, wrapped her fingers around it, and then deliberately let the wet gla.s.s slip from her grasp.

"Oh!" she cried-antic.i.p.ating the impending crash-but before the word had even left her mouth, Alec's hand shot out in a blur and caught the gla.s.s in midair.

They froze, their faces barely a foot apart, gazes locked. Busted! Claire thought, her heart thundering. His hand had moved at the speed of light! Alec's wide eyes betrayed a sense of anxiety that Claire pretended to ignore.

"Sorry," Claire said softly. "It was slippery."

"Can't believe I caught it in time," he responded with forced cheerfulness.

"Yeah, nice reflexes." As she stared into his green eyes, adrenaline rushed through her, and it was all she could do to maintain a calm demeanor. She was right! Alec did have some kind of special powers.

And he was close. So close. And they were so very alone. It was scary and intoxicating all at the same time. Part of her wanted to yell at him, What the h.e.l.l are you?! And the other part (even knowing full well that it was the last thing she should do) wanted him to take her in his arms and kiss her.

Neither of those things happened. Alec tore his eyes away and carefully set the gla.s.s down on the table. Methodically, he lifted his guitar off its stand and brought it back to the couch, where he sat down beside her. Tension filled the air.

Claire's forearm and bare thigh below her short denim skirt were dangerously close to Alec's hand. She wanted more than anything in the world to reach out and touch him. Instead, she tugged her skirt down and edged over a bit on the couch.

Alec noticed her sideways move and frowned. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

Looking unconvinced, he strummed a few random bars on his guitar. "What should we sing?"

"You signed us up. Didn't you have a song in mind?"

"No."

He went quiet, turning to face her again. To her surprise, she saw fear and yearning mingled in his gaze, a mirror of her own bottled-up feelings. What was he afraid of? He reached up toward her cheek. Should she stop him? She felt certain that if his fingers came in contact with her skin, she would melt (for one reason or another)-but she was paralyzed. I don't want to stop him, she thought. Can't I have this normal, simple moment, like any other girl?

Alec's hand brushed gently against her cheek. "Claire-"

As his fingers trailed along her cheekbone and paused at the corner of her mouth, his touch seemed to ignite a delicious warmth that spread across her face and down her neck, to burn like embers within her chest. But it was a thrilling sensation, totally different from the all-consuming heat that preceded a vision.

Claire took a sharp breath. He'd touched her. And it was okay. It was more than okay. Relief flooded through her, washing away all her questions and worries. Alec's eyes locked with hers, tentative yet smoky with desire. Claire could barely hear herself think over her thundering pulse.

She said softly, "Just kiss me, you idiot."

Alec needed no further invitation. He set the guitar on the table, his other hand sliding around her back, drawing her close until her upper body molded against his. Claire slipped her own hands up the length of his arms to settle between his shoulder blades. She could feel every contour of his chest pressing against hers through the thin layers of their clothing. Suddenly, his lips were on hers. The gentle touch was exhilarating, wondrous-everything she'd ever imagined a kiss would be. She felt herself shudder as his lips moved softly against hers, exploring, lingering.

And then, despite herself, Claire felt a dreaded, familiar blaze building deep inside her.

Please, no! Not now! her mind screamed, trying to will the heat away, but every inch of her body seemed to burst into flame. Her stomach churned, her head spun, and a rush of images poured into her brain.

seventeen.

She was looking at Alec's face. In a mirror. Through his eyes. He looked a couple of years younger, his hair slicked back but disheveled, his face bruised and bloodied. He wore a black leather bomber jacket and a bloodstained T-shirt. She felt the anger and adrenaline that was rushing through him.

A hand clamped down on her shoulder-Alec's shoulder-and spun him around. A gun was aimed at his face. The man who held it glared at him with hateful eyes. They were inside an auto shop full of cars from the fifties and early sixties, but all shiny and new. The signs were in French. A calendar on the wall gave the year as 1962.

"Give it up, hunter," the man spat out in French, but somehow she understood him.

Alec kicked the gun from the man's hand. The two exchanged a flurry of violent blows. Blood splattered on the concrete. Alec's fist hit his opponent square in the chest. The man flew backward as if hit by a battering ram, slamming into a hydraulic rack, and crumpling to the oil-stained floor beneath it.

Alec's right hand thrust out deliberately, stretching his fingers toward the car on the rack above. She could feel an invisible flow of energy course through his arm and surge outward, wrapping itself around the vehicle. Then, as if he was moving nothing more weighty than a textbook, he sent the car hurtling downward, toward the man. The victim's scream was cut short by the crash of the impact.

With a gasp of horror, Claire blinked and came back to herself, sickened, perspiring, and breathing hard. Instantly, she shoved Alec away and leapt to her feet. What had she just seen? The world was still spinning, the air shimmering like heat rising from a desert road. Looking down, she saw that her entire body was surrounded by an emerald-green glow that rippled off her skin like flames-just like she'd seen in her dream.

"Oh my G.o.d! What's going on?" Claire cried, staggering back in terror. "I'm on fire!"

"You can see that?" Alec returned her stare, unmoving. For some reason, he didn't look too shocked-more ... disappointed, if anything. "s.h.i.te. It is you. I really hoped I was wrong."

Claire dropped to the floor and started to roll to put out the flames when they dissipated as if by magic into thin air. She stared at Alec. "What did you do?"

"What do you mean?"

Overcome by a surge of nausea, Claire curled into the fetal position, dry-heaving, and then lay there, struggling to breathe. As her stomach settled, she started shivering uncontrollably. Alec moved to the carpet beside her, but she shrank away from his touch. "I saw you!" she cried, her eyes wet with tears. "You killed that man, didn't you?"

"Who?" Alec's expression was unreadable.

"Who are you?" she whispered, staggering to her feet.

He sighed. "Don't move." Getting up, Alec strode to a built-in cupboard near the bathroom and swung it open.

Claire panicked. What did he have stored in there? Whatever it was, she didn't want to find out. Grabbing his car keys from the coffee table, she bolted for the door.

"Claire! Wait!"

There was an odd whooshing sound and suddenly, impossibly, Alec was standing right behind her, reaching for her arm. If she'd had any doubts about his abilities before, they evaporated in an instant. Claire screamed and shoved the door back at him as she slipped through. It met his face with a heavy blow. Alec cursed as she raced away. She was at his car in a flash, her hands shaking as she fumbled with the key. As she yanked his car door open and jumped in behind the wheel, she heard that odd sound again, like a faint rush of wind, and all at once Alec stood outside her car door.

Claire gasped in terror and slammed her fist down on the door lock.

Alec stared in at her through the car window, bleeding from a gash in his forehead. "Claire, get out of the car," he said calmly. "You don't know what you're doing."

Claire didn't wait to hear more. She stuffed the key into the ignition, stomped on the clutch, and gunned the car into reverse. It lurched and groaned and then slipped into gear. As Alec leapt out of the way, she backed the car out of the parking s.p.a.ce and with a screech of tires swerved around toward the street.

Incredibly, the car began to falter. Claire stomped harder on the gas pedal. The engine was roaring-and yet for some reason the vehicle slowed down even further. What the h.e.l.l was happening? Claire floored it, causing the car to lurch forward. But then it jolted to a complete standstill, slamming Claire into the steering wheel and then back against the seat.

Crying out in pain, her foot still pressed hard on the gas, Claire looked over her shoulder. Her eyes widened in terror. Alec was standing just a few yards behind the car, his arm extended toward it, a look of deep concentration on his face. He was stopping the car with his mind.

Alec's eyes bore into hers from beyond the gla.s.s, blood running down his face. The car slowly started to inch away from him. At the same time, she saw his feet slowly sliding forward along the pavement. Was the car pulling him? Was its weight and power more than he could handle? Claire faced the steering wheel again, refusing to let up on the gas. In the rearview mirror, she saw Alec's face tighten and his arm start to tremble from the continued stress. At last, with an exasperated look, he lowered his arm. The car roared forward unhindered into the street. The tires squealed as Claire yanked the wheel hard, struggling to maintain control as she made the sharp turn at full throttle. Glancing back, she saw Alec standing in the driveway behind her, shaking his head.

Claire drove to a supermarket parking lot about five miles away, where she waited, blinded by tears, until Erica pulled up in her SUV. Only when she saw her best friend's face did Claire feel safe enough to unlock the door and get out.

"Thank you for coming to rescue me," Claire said, leaping into Erica's vehicle and hugging her tightly.

Erica pulled back and stared at her, a worried look on her face. "Tell me again, what happened with Alec? You were talking so fast on the phone, I could hardly understand you."

Claire sank back against the seat and heaved a sigh as she buckled up. "Just take me to your place, now. I want to get as far away from here as possible."

"So," Erica said slowly. "You're saying that you saw Alec murder a man with a car. In a memory. Of his. Fifty years ago. But he only looked maybe fourteen."

"Yes."

They were lying on Erica's four-poster bed, staring up at the ceiling of Erica's s.p.a.cious room, surrounded by lavender walls, designer curtains, and cla.s.sy hardwood furniture cluttered with stacks of books and tchotchkes from Erica's various travels. The cartons from their take-out salad lunches sat on the floor.

Claire was finally beginning to feel normal again. Her neck ached slightly, but she'd refused medical attention, insisting that all she needed was an ice pack for the mild bruises on her upper chest from the seat belt and steering wheel.

"And then," Erica continued, "when you tried to escape in Alec's car, he magically held it back for at least a minute."

"Yes."

Erica rolled over to face Claire on the bed. "Tell me you're at least kidding about the last part."

Claire took a pillow and put it over her head, batting it with her fist in exasperation. "G.o.d, are we still debating this?" She ripped off the pillow and hurled it at Erica, who ducked just in time. "It was just like what I saw underneath the scaffolding! He reaches his hand forward like this-" Claire demonstrated the action again. "And he can move things-push or pull them-without touching them. I told you! He's telekinetic. And I know what it feels like. I was in his head today. It was like I mentally grabbed that French car myself and pulled it down off the rack-as if it weighed almost nothing."

"Holy c.r.a.p." Erica sat up now, wide-eyed, grabbing her boba milk tea. "Well, I guess that confirms all the alien superpower stuff you were obsessing about before."

"Finally, she believes me." Claire set the ice pack aside with a relieved sigh.

"There's one thing I still don't get. If the memory happened fifty years ago, how was Alec alive? And how could he have been only fourteen?"

"I don't know. Whatever he is, I think he ages way differently than we do."

"Neat." Erica sipped her drink slowly, deep in thought. "How did you get the vision? Did you touch him? Or his guitar?"

"No." Claire realized she'd left out that detail. "It ... um ... happened when he ... kissed me."

Erica's eyes bugged out. "WHAT? He kissed you? And you conveniently forgot to mention it?"

"I was getting to it," Claire said defensively.

"How was it?"

"How was what?"

"The kiss."

"Are you kidding me?" Claire stared at Erica, incredulous. "I barely escape with my life, and you're asking if Alec's a good kisser?"

"Claire, we don't know that your life was in danger. Did Alec make a move to hurt you?"

"Well, no, but-"

"But nothing. You got a scary vision, freaked out, and ran-totally understandable-but that doesn't necessarily make Alec a bad guy."

"Erica, I saw him kill a man."