Dream Eyes

evening in Seattle. His dreams were growing more powerful.
    The effect that Judson had on all of her senses had not lessened, either. A near-violent rush of awareness, an effervescent excitement mingled with dread and an uncanny sensation of
knowing
, shivered through her. The same intuitive certainty that had both compelled and alarmed her that night in Seattle came crashing back.
This is the one
.
    The paranormal fire that surrounded Judson roared in the cozy lobby of the old Victorian inn. But Gwen knew that she was the only one who could see the flames. The handful of guests seated in the wingback reading chairs did not look up from their books and magazines. Riley Duncan, the front desk clerk, did not take his eyes off his computer screen.
    Trisha Montgomery, the proprietor of the Riverview Inn, was seated across the table from Gwen in the tearoom. She, too, was oblivious.
    “Between you and me, you should try to stay out of Nicole Hudson’s way while you’re in town,” Trisha said. She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “That woman isn’t right in the head. You know as well as I do that she wasn’t what anyone would call stable two years ago. I can tell you for a fact that her mental health hasn’t improved in the past two years.”
    “Don’t worry,” Gwen said. She suppressed a small shudder. “I have no intention of crossing paths with Nicole if I can avoid it.”
    “That won’t be possible, not if you hang around for more than a day or two,” Trisha said dryly. “Wilby is one very small town.”
    Trisha was in her late thirties, an attractive woman with short, curly brown hair that framed a fine-boned, heart-shaped face. Gwen had met her two years earlier at the start of Evelyn’s research study. At the time, Trisha had been a newcomer to Wilby, a newly minted multi-millionaire who had made her fortune in the high-tech world. She had retired at an early age to do what she had always dreamed of doing—run a quaint B&B in the Oregon woods. To the surprise of just about everyone in town, she had made the old inn a year-round success.
    Gwen tried to pay attention to Trisha, but her eyes kept returning to the lobby where Judson was approaching the front desk. She knew that the storm of amber light that blazed around him was a vision conjured by her psychic senses. Normally, she kept her talent tamped down when she was around other people. But today she was tense and very much on edge and therefore not in full control. Her other sight had flared a moment ago when Judson had opened the door. Even though she had been anticipating his arrival, seeing him for the first time after a month of thinking about him far more often than was good for her had rattled her senses and raised her talent.
    What on earth was going on in Judson’s dreams that caused her to perceive him like this—a hard, relentlessly determined man walking through a storm of hot amber light?
    She had a talent for analyzing dreams, but she needed context to comprehend what her intuition was trying to tell her. Judson was still very much an enigma, and given his reaction to her offer of dream therapy that night in Seattle, she had a feeling that he intended to remain a mystery.
    He must have sensed that he was being watched because he stopped before he reached the front desk and raked the small lobby with a single glance, sizing up the handful of guests the way a predator considers potential prey.
    She knew that he had jacked up his talent a little because at that point some of the guests belatedly became of aware of something dangerous in their midst. A few of them raised their eyes from their magazines or broke off conversations long enough to glance around, instinctively searching for whatever it was that had raised the hair on the back of their necks.
    But as was so often the case, they chose to ignore the primal message that their senses were sending. After all, this was a warm, safe place, and the newcomer looked well dressed, calm and controlled. He made no overtly threatening moves.
    The guests went back to their magazines and conversation. Perhaps their intuition had told them what had been clear to Gwen when he walked through the door. They were safe. None of them was Judson’s intended prey today. He was here for her.
    With an effort of will, she forced her vision back down into the normal zone. The surreal ultra-light fire winked out, but the sense of recognition was as strong as ever. This was the man she