Yet you summoned hurricane winds to batter a warehouse. You brought down the rain to drown a building. You parted the waters from the storm so you could walk through. And before all that, you had psychic communications with a man in another room, blocking repeated attempts by an outside force to control him. You could see his astral projections, for God’s sake, while you were locked in some room miles beneath the earth. What bit of science explains any of that?

“It doesn’t,” she whispered.

It all paled in comparison to knowing each time she’s had the horrific dreams of the storms, that she was, in fact, bringing them. That they weren’t dreams; it was William connecting with her unknowingly from afar, triggering whatever weapon was inside her. She distinctly recalled his confused and frightened look in the dreams.

She looked back at him. It sure would be easier to hate the unwilling commander of all their destructive abilities if he weren’t a genuinely honest guy who happens to look like Prince Harry.

When he jerked, wrenching his face towards her, she actually gasped in surprise. William thrashed to the other side, his eyes squinted and his hands clutching the armrests. He began to shake.

“William!” She took his face in her hands, only to have him pull away. His teeth were chattering.

“Jane, what’s happening?” Ryan cried out.

“What’s going on back there?” Quincy yelled from the cockpit.

Jane took a deep breath. She closed her eyes, trying to recall the sensation of when William had come to her repeatedly in their government cells.

She felt it immediately, a pathway. She saw him.

William was in flames.

He struggled to move, as if he wanted to go further into the fire. But his arms, his wrists, his legs, all were enveloped in long, slick stretches of tar. The substance then split, climbing up his back and wrapping around his throat.

A moving mass sprang from the corner of her eye, shooting out and immediately enveloping her in writhing wall of shining black scales.

As it closed in around her, she wanted to scream. Pure rage emitted from the twisting and thrashing, a wrath so pervasive that she choked, unable to breathe.

Just a glimpse of William then, a fragment of his face, trying to get through. She could see his fingers, then a hand. She grasped it with both her hands. At the moment they touched, it was if a million flashbulbs went off before her eyes.

They gasped for air. Jane tried to get her bearings as William nearly fell out of his chair.

“What happened?” Quincy said, standing with Ryan and Lily in the aisle.

“It was waiting,” he said with a delirious look in his eyes. “You came for me.”

“Are you alright? What was that?” Jane demanded.