Sizzle and Burn

someone’s throat.”
    “I read an article about the phenomenon,” she said. “The theory is that it has something to do with special neurons in the brain. They allow us to mentally mirror the actions of others and make instant judgments. It’s a bone-deep survival mechanism.”
    He tapped his fingers together once. “No one knows for sure how our mirror intuition systems work but one thing is certain, almost everyone has the ability to some degree. In fact, we take it for granted until we meet up with someone who doesn’t exhibit the talent, a person with autism or a mental illness like schizophrenia, for example.”
    “You’re telling me that you have a paranormal version of that ability?”
    He looked at her over the tips of his fingers. “With my form of the talent I can touch a knife or a gun or a rock that was used to kill or maim someone and intuitively mirror the reactions and responses of the person who used the weapon. I can sense what that person intended to do or what the victim anticipated. I’m also pretty good in a bar fight.”
    She stiffened. “I beg your pardon?”
    He smiled. “My ability makes it possible to second-guess an opponent. But I try to avoid that kind of exercise.”
    “I should hope so.” She frowned. “Am I a mirror talent, too?”
    “No. Clairaudient psychometry works differently. It’s not a visual talent. You are most likely a level ten like me, however.”
    “How do you know I’m a level ten, whatever that means?”
    “Members of the Society are ranked on what’s called the Jones Scale. It runs from one to ten, according to the level of psychic energy a person generates. The analysts came up with an estimate for you because your aunt never brought you in for testing when your psychic abilities developed in your teens.”
    She wasn’t sure what to say. She could hardly believe that she was sitting there, discussing psychic talents with a man who acted as if such talents were the most normal thing in the world, like having brown hair or brown eyes. She had never had anything close to such a conversation with a stranger.
    With the exception of Bradley, she had never even discussed the psychic side of her nature with anyone except Aunt Vella and her small, closely knit circle of friends. Vella had discouraged such conversations, reminding her always to keep her secret. Trying to explain herself to Bradley had been a serious mistake.
    As if he knew what she was thinking, Zack gave her a sympathetic smile. “Damn, you’ve missed a hell of a lot by growing up outside the Society. How many other people with genuine psychic abilities have you met over the years, aside from your aunt and your father?”
    “I tracked down people who claimed to be psychic,” she admitted. “Some worked as consultants to police departments. A couple made their living as fortune-tellers. One wrote a book on how to get in touch with your psychic side through your dreams.”
    His teeth flashed in a brief grin. “I read that one. It was pure crap.”
    “Yes, it was.” She smiled suddenly. “Good to know someone else came to the same conclusion.” She hesitated. “The book was on the best-seller lists for several weeks.”
    “There are a lot of gullible people out there and lots of frauds who are only too happy to take advantage of them.” He regarded her with a thoughtful expression. “I’m getting the feeling that, with the exception of your aunt, every so-called psychic you’ve met as an adult has been either a fake or a flake.”
    “My aunt was a major exception.”
    “I know. And I’ll bet every time you looked into her eyes you wondered if you were seeing your own future.”
    The intimate knowledge in his expression was a little unnerving. She wasn’t accustomed to being around anyone who understood her this thoroughly. She couldn’t think of a response.
    “I’m going to tell you something that is not in that file,” he said, glancing at the envelope. “One of our analysts constructed a psychological profile on you. The conclusion was that it was a miracle that you weren’t confined to an institution or heavily medicated when you first came into your parasenses.”
    Ice formed inside her but she managed to keep her face politely expressionless. “Does that mean your analysts think I’m going to end up in an institution, like my aunt?”
    “Hell, no.” There was easy, absolute certainty in the words.
    She held her breath, afraid to trust. “Why are they so