Sizzle and Burn

G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS
Publishers Since 1838
Published by the Penguin Group
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    Copyright © 2008 by Jayne Ann Krentz
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.
    Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
    Krentz, Jayne Ann.
Sizzle and burn / Jayne Ann Krentz.
p. cm.
ISBN: 1-4295-9699-6
1. Psychic ability—Fiction. 1. Title.
PS3561.R44S54 2008 2007028161
813'.54—dc22
    This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
    While the author has made every effort to provide accurate telephone numbers and Internet addresses at the time of publication, neither the publisher nor the author assumes any responsibility for errors, or for changes that occur after publication. Further, the publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

For Frank
As always, with all my love
Thanks for the sizzle and burn!

One
    B urn, witch, burn….
    The voice was a dark, ghostly whisper in her head. Raine Tallentyre stopped at the top of the basement stairs. Gingerly she touched the banister with her fingertips. That was all the contact she needed. The voice, thick with bloodlust and an unholy excitement, murmured again.
    …Only one way to kill a witch. Punish her. Make her suffer. Burn, witch, burn….
    It was the same voice she had heard when she brushed against the counter in the kitchen a few minutes before. It whispered of darkness, fear and fire. The psychic traces were very fresh. A deeply disturbed individual had come through this house in the recent past. She could only pray that the freak was the type who limited himself to twisted fantasies played out in his head. But she’d had enough experience to know that probably wasn’t the case. This bastard was the real thing, a human monster.
    She shuddered, snatched her hand off the banister and wiped her palm against her raincoat. The gesture was pure instinct, a reflex. The coat, long and black, was wet because it was pouring outside but no amount of water could wash away the memory of the foul energy she had just sensed.
    She looked back at Doug Spicer and heard another voice, her aunt’s this time. The warning came straight out of her teenage memories. Never tell them about the whispers in your head, Raine. They’ll say you’re crazy, like me .
    “I just want to take a quick look around the basement,” she said, dreading what lay ahead.
    Doug peered uneasily down into the darkness at the foot of the stairs. “Do you really think that’s necessary, Miss Tallentyre? There will probably be mice or maybe even rats or snakes. Don’t worry, I can take the listing without a thorough examination of the basement.”
    Doug was the proprietor of Spicer Properties, one of three real estate companies in the small town of Shelbyville, Washington. She had contacted him when she arrived that morning because he was the only agent who had bothered to get in touch with her after learning of Vella Tallentyre’s death. He had inquired delicately about taking the listing. She was more than happy to give it to him. It was not as if she had been besieged by enthusiastic agents. For