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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 space 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 hell 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 glass, 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 spacious room, surrounded by lavender walls, designer curtains, and classy 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. “God, 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 crap.” 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
.”

“Alec might have had a good reason.” Erica set her drink down on the nightstand and faced Claire crossed-legged on the bed. “Maybe the guy was an evil vampire. Or a dangerous double agent. Or both.”

“So what are you saying? That Alec
is
a Slayer—or a telekinetic spy?”

“It’s possible. Or he
could
be genetically engineered. Never discount the sci-fi angle.”

“This is all insane.” Leaning up on one elbow, she drew invisible circles on Erica’s quilt with her fingertip. “It’s too much, Erica. Everything that’s been happening since Book Day—all these weird psychic episodes and danger warnings, and at the same time, I meet a guy with superpowers of his own—what am I supposed to make of all this? Is Alec the reason I’m in danger, or not?”

Erica shook her head, frowning. “I don’t know—but you need an answer, and fast.”

“No problem. I’ll just call Merlin. Or Dumbledore. Get my phone. I have them both on speed-dial.”

“Claire Bear.” Erica met her gaze affectionately. “You already have a wise wizard to consult with: the person who’s sending you that warning.”

“Assuming it really
is
a person, and not just a voice in my head. But even if that’s true, how am I supposed to consult with someone who sends random, incomplete messages?”

“Brian said it’s probably the same message being broadcast over and over. We just have to figure out how to help you hear the whole thing.”

“
Great
,” Claire replied sarcastically. “Let’s call 1-800-PSYCHIC, and ask them to patch me through to the sender.”

“There
are
ways for you to get in touch with whoever’s talking to you.” Erica reached under her bed and withdrew a thick, oversize paperback book called
So, You’re a Psychic?
“I bought this last week, and I’ve been reading a little every night, to see if I could learn something useful.”

Claire glanced at it dubiously. “And…?”

“I know it sounds crazy, but there’s all kinds of fascinating stuff in here. According to this, you need to try some combination of astral projection and channeling.”

“I’ve read about that stuff online,” Claire replied, still doubtful. “It said astral projection is about going somewhere with your mind, and channeling is about contacting spirits. How does either one help me?”

“Think big picture, Claire. Astral projection isn’t just about finding some
place
; it can be used to find
someone
. Channeling is about listening to someone
who’s talking to you
. Somebody is out there traveling the psychic moors, calling out your name. Your job is to either meet them on the moors, or to bring the moors to you.”

Claire stared at her. “You’ve been reading
Wuthering Heights
again, haven’t you?”

“Just go with the metaphor.”

Claire sighed. “What do I have to do?”

Erica adopted her most sagelike tone, clasping her hands dramatically. “We have to put you in a trance.”

Claire sat in the lotus position on the plush carpet, propped up against Erica’s dresser with a large throw pillow as a backrest. It was after dinner now, and the sun was going down. The curtains were drawn, leaving the bedroom in near darkness. Erica sat across from her, methodically lighting a semicircle of candles around them.

“Love-you-too-Mom. Bye.” Claire hung up the phone. “Miracle number one: Mom is fine with me staying over. Miracle number two: She’s meeting that guy for a coffee date.”

“Wow,” Erica said. “She’s really coming out of her shell fast. I mean that in a good way.”

“Yeah. Now that she thinks I’m fine, she’s easing up on me and starting to think about herself for a change.”

“Which is rather ironic, since, for the first time ever, you’re not really fine at all.”

“Hey. I thought you were supposed to be helping me
relax
.”

“Sorry! Forget I said that.” Erica lit the last candle and then touched the match to some incense she’d placed between them. A strong herbal fragrance began to permeate the room. “
Now
, my child,” Erica intoned as she picked up the psychic book and opened it to a particular page, “are you ready to begin?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Claire leaned back against the pillow and closed her eyes.

“Take several slow, deep breaths,” Erica said calmly and quietly. “Choose an image that you associate with the voice you’ve been hearing, and focus on it alone.”

Claire nodded silently. She called to mind the silhouette she’d seen each time the voice had called to her: the amorphous, faceless figure, rimmed by glowing yellow light, against a backdrop of inky darkness. “Okay, I see it.”

“Good. Now be silent. Concentrate on your breathing. Every time you exhale, try to release all your other everyday thoughts and emotions, including any anxieties or skepticism. Hold on to that image, and just … be.”

As Erica continued, Claire followed her instructions.

Claire kept the silhouetted image before her closed eyes, but despite her best efforts, she couldn’t feel anything. The sounds around her were too distracting. She heard the tick of a clock. The swoosh of a car passing on the road outside. The muffled explosions of a video game from Erica’s brother’s room next door. She concentrated harder.
See it
, she commanded herself.
Feel it
. Suddenly—to her surprise—the silhouetted image seemed to grow a bit sharper, its edges more defined. Claire could now make out that the figure had a feminine frame. Her pulse quickened in excitement.

A phone rang loudly. Claire’s eyes snapped open, the spell broken.

“Crap!” Erica snatched up her phone, glanced at the caller ID, and barked into it, “Brian! Not now! We’re doing psychic stuff!” She quickly ended the call and turned to Claire. “Sorry, I should have shut it off before we started. Did it work? Did anything happen?”

Claire nodded eagerly. “I was just starting to see something when the phone rang. I think it was a woman.”