“Yes.” She made another attempt to pick up the coffee cup. This time she succeeded. Not a drop was spilled. Empowered, she took a fortifying swallow and set down the cup. “You know, it occurs to me that I didn’t have these problems until you showed up.”

“You’re blaming me for your talent?”

“Why not? No coincidences, remember?”

She was oddly shocked when she saw a flash of anger and something that looked a lot like hurt in his eyes and his aura. The emotions vanished in the next instant. Harlan was back in control.

“I don’t have time to argue about this,” he said.

“Too busy saving the world from Vortex?”

“And maybe finding your mother’s killer in the process.”

Olivia winced. “That’s harsh but, okay, you have a point. Continue with the inquisition.”

His mouth tightened but he let the comment go.

“You went into the trance or whatever you want to call it when I asked you if your grandmother had a safe room.”

Olivia got another jolt of anxiety, less intense this time but enough to kick up her pulse and send a frisson of alarm across her senses. She forced herself to breathe.

Harlan watched her with a wary expression. “Are you all right?”

She gave him a flashy smile. “You bet. Never been better.”

“I sense sarcasm.”

“Impossible. You’re immune. Let’s move along. You’re a client. I’ve got a job to do. I am determined to be mature and professional about this case.”

“Good. So, what do you think triggered a trance—”

“Stop.” She held up a hand, palm out. “Do not use that word around me.”

“What happened to ‘mature and professional’?”

“I’m serious, Harlan Rancourt. I was not in a trance.”

“All right,” he said in the patient tone one might use with a stubborn child. “Walk me through your nightmare.”

She thought about it. “In the past I think I’ve had small slices of the same nightmare. I just couldn’t make sense of them. I’ve heard someone tell me to run. This time I realized it was my grandmother’s voice. She was speaking to my mother, not me. She says, ‘The monster is coming. I will hold him off as long as I can. Run.’ ”

“Go on.”

“I hear a heavy steel door close.”

“A vault door?”

“I think so. I’m with my mother in the darkness. There’s a weird cobalt blue mirror on the wall. It’s full-sized. Like a door. Mom takes my hand and somehow leads me through the mirror. After that—nothing. Just darkness.”

“And you think this happened when you were five?”

“That’s the last time I saw my grandmother so, yes, I would have been five. Assuming this is a real memory.”