“You know, I wouldn’t have believed any of it if I hadn’t … Well, I was there. But that doesn’t mean I swallow the whole deal.” Her eyes flashed up to his, careful and calculating. “I did some reading up, about tests and research and that kind of thing. A lot of reputable scientists believe there’s something to psychic phenomena.”

“That’s comforting.”

“Don’t be snide,” she said, shifting in her seat. “What I mean is, they know they don’t completely understand the human mind. That’s logical. They look at EEG patterns and EMGs and stuff. You know, they study people who can guess what’s on the face of a card without lifting it up, things like that. But that doesn’t mean they go in for witchcraft or prophesies or fairy dust.”

“A little fairy dust wouldn’t hurt you,” Sebastian murmured. “I’ll have to speak to Morgana about it.”

“Seriously,” Mel began.

“Seriously.” He took her hand. “I was born with elvin blood. I am a hereditary witch who can trace his roots back to Finn of the Celts. My gift is of sight. It was not asked for or demanded, but given. This has nothing to do with logic or science or dancing naked in the moonlight. It is my legacy. It is my destiny.”

“Well,” Mel said after a long moment. And again: “Well.” She moistened her lips and cleared her throat. “In these studies they tested things like telekinesis, telepathy.”

“You want proof, Mel?”

“No— Yes. I mean, if we are going to work together on this thing, I’d like to know the extent of your … talent.”

“Fair. Think of a number from one to ten. Six,” he said before she could open her mouth.

“I wasn’t ready.”

“But that was the first number that popped into your mind.”

It was, but she shook her head. “I wasn’t ready.” She closed her eyes. “Now.”

She was good, he thought. Very good. Right now she was using all her will to block him out. To distract her, he nibbled on the knuckle of the hand he still held. “Three.”

She opened her eyes. “All right. How?”

“From your mind to mine.” He rubbed his lips over her fingers. “Sometimes in words, sometimes in pictures, sometimes only in feelings that are impossible to describe. Now you’re wondering if you had too much wine, because your heart’s beating too fast, your skin is warm. Your head’s light.”

“My head’s fine.” She jerked her hand from his. “Or it would be if you’d stay out of it. I can feel …”

“Yes.” Content, he sat back and lifted his glass. “I know you can. It’s very rare, without a blood connection, for anyone to feel me, particularly on such a light scan. You have potential, Sutherland. If you care to explore it, I’d be happy to assist you.”