Gift of Fire

would you prefer the one on the other side? Maybe all four at once?”
    She started to tickle him unmercifully. There were some distinct advantages to having lived with a man for a while—you knew exactly where he was most sensitive.
    If the atmosphere at lunch had been strained, the mood at dinner was stretched almost to the breaking point. It snapped just as the meal ended.
    Things started out quietly enough. There was a subdued tension hanging over the stone room, but Verity assumed that was only to be expected. She didn’t know if the others had come to the same conclusion she and Jonas had about the cause of Elyssa’s fall, but she knew the subject was on everyone’s mind.
    Maggie Frampton served the meal of leftovers in stony silence. Verity had a hunch her headache had returned. Slade Spencer made his appearance after having apparently served himself several drinks in the salon. He handled his knife and fork with exaggerated care. Anyone who drank the way Slade did had some serious ghosts, Verity decided.
    Preston Yarwood was sunk deep in a painful, angry silence that Verity noticed immediately. There was a lot of pain in the room, she realized, but she didn’t know how to relieve it. She found herself eating quickly, wanting to escape. Jonas didn’t seem inclined to linger over the meal either.
    As soon as possible, Verity put her crumpled napkin on the table and gave Jonas a quick, questioning glance. He nodded briefly and finished the last of his sandwich.
    Preston Yarwood chose to break his self-imposed silence just as Verity started to push back her chair. He raised his head and pinned Jonas with a look of dark, anguished rage.
    “She thought you were for real, you know,” Yarwood said in a strained voice. “She thought you were a genuine, grade A, goddamned real psychic.”
    Verity tensed and shot Jonas an anxious glance. He ignored her. Putting both elbows on the table, he regarded Yarwood with quiet challenge. “Is that right?” he asked softly. “I wonder where in hell she got that idea.”
    “Cut the crap, Quarrel. You know damn well where Elyssa got that idea. I know all about you. You were at Vincent College.”
    “A lot of people were at Vincent College.”
    “You were tested in their Department of Paranormal Research,” Yarwood said belligerently.
    “So what? I heard you were tested there too. But they didn’t find any trace of psychic talent in you, did they, Yarwood? What makes you think they found any in me?”
    “Oh, they thought they had found something, all right.”
    Yarwood picked up his glass and took a large swallow of the martini he’d been nursing through dinner. “I know all about those damn lab technicians and their bloody stupid research techniques. They found something. It was supposed to be a big secret. You were their prize guinea pig and no one wanted to lose you to a major-league research institution. So they kept it quiet. But there were rumors, lots of rumors. All those museums and private collectors who wanted you to check out their acquisitions believed you were for real —just like Elyssa did.”
    “But you know better, right, Yarwood?”
    “Why are you playing these fucking games with me?” Preston demanded furiously. “I know about you. I know just how for-real you are. You’re so goddamned real, you tried to kill a man in that damned lab! And maybe you tried to kill Elyssa, too.” Yarwood leaped to his feet.
    “Why would I want to kill Elyssa?” Jonas asked softly. His eyes held a savage gleam.
    “How the hell should I know? Maybe because you didn’t like the fact that she knew too much about you. Maybe you want to keep your damn talent a secret, so you can use it to rip off people like Doug Warwick. All I know is, Elyssa almost died out there on those cliffs, and I don’t believe she fell accidentally. The only one around who’s got a track record when it comes to attempted murder is you, you fucking psychic bastard.” Yarwood stomped out of the room.
    Slade Spencer had watched the small scene with bleary eyes. He said nothing. Jonas’s fingers flexed as he toyed with the handle of his dinner knife.
    Verity sat frozen, staring at the empty doorway. She was so furious that for an instant she couldn’t even move. Then she found her tongue. “How dare he accuse you!” She leaped to her feet.
    “Sit down, Verity.”
    “I will not sit down. That man made a terrible accusation. I’m going to set him straight.” She started to move