Read Online Storm of Visions by Christina Dodd - Free Book Online Page B

pale and unconscious, on the floor. They knelt there, waiting and anxious.
    Charisma joined them and sat at Zusane’s head, brushing at Zusane’s aura . . . or something.
    It must have worked, because Zusane groaned—not an attractive, breathless moan, but a full-bodied, despairing moan. She opened her eyes, and with relief, Jacqueline realized her mother was back from wherever she’d gone. Zusane clung to Jacqueline with desperate hands, almost childish in her despair. “It’s the worst thing that could have happened. The end of the world.”
    “Tell me,” Jacqueline coaxed, and stroked Zusane’s hair off her sweaty forehead.
    “I never in my worst nightmares foretold this, but now . . . now . . . now I have seen it. I have felt it. The explosion rumbled the ground beneath my feet. The fire burned my hands and face. I wanted to run, but couldn’t.” Zusane gave a sob, all the more heartrend ing for being harsh and agonized. “The Gypsy Travel Agency is no more.”
    The guys glanced at each other.
    Samuel said, “The Gypsy Travel Agency’s building is old, but solid. What could have happened?”
    Zusane replied with conviction. “Sabotage. Sabotage! Now, when everyone has gathered for the Choosing. The offices, the library, the sleeping quarters, all of it—blew up. It’s burning. Everyone inside is dead. Dead. The directors are gone. The Chosen Ones are gone.” In a trembling whisper, she said, “They’re all gone.”
    Charisma continued to brush at Zusane’s aura. “Don’t worry. We’re still here.”
    “Oh, God.” Zusane staggered to her feet. Putting her manicured fingers to her forehead, she muttered, “The world is lost.”
    “Mother!” Once again, Zusane’s rudeness left Jacqueline speechless. And embarrassed. And wondering why everyone looked at her as if she was the crazy one. “I’m sorry,” she said to Charisma. “When she comes out of a vision, she’s—”
    “Truthful?” The girl seemed unruffled.
    “That, too.” Personally, Jacqueline thought her mother used the truth as a weapon and a tool, and could twist it to her purposes at any time.
    Zusane swayed on her feet, then visibly gained control of herself. “One good thing will come out of this disaster.” She took a snowy handkerchief from her purse and blotted her damp forehead and upper lip. “At last, you’ll have to face up to responsibilities.”
    She was talking to Jacqueline. “What are you talking about?” Familiar panic began to rise in Jacqueline’s throat.
    Zusane dropped the handkerchief to the floor. “I mean I have a party to attend. In Turkey.”
    Jacqueline picked it up. “You can’t be serious.” Not even Zusane could scream like a woman seeing bloody murder, announce that her own company had been blown to smithereens. . . . Not even she could be selfish enough to then breeze away to attend a party.
    “You’ll have to take the reins for your little group. They will be lost without a psychic.” Zusane glanced at Tyler, frowned as if puzzled, then lowered her voice. “A competent psychic.”
    “Not me,” Jacqueline protested frantically.
    Zusane took Jacqueline’s wrist and once again showed her her palm. “You know what that means.”
    Jacqueline stared at the eye, etched into the skin, black and emphatic, and drawn with the skill of da Vinci for the Mona Lisa .
    She didn’t care. She hated the mark. “It means I’m a freak.”
    “A freak, yes. But a prescient freak.” Zusane dropped Jacqueline’s hand and collected her black satin opera-length gloves out of her purse and pulled them on, a slow, intricate process with which Jacqueline was far too familiar.
    For all that Jacqueline had been raised on the legend and the traditions of the Chosen Ones, she had never wanted to be one of them, if for no other reason than her mother wanted her there. Now, because of a fatal moment of weakness, she had stepped into the circle. She figured that had all the weight of a Girl Scout bridging