Sizzle and Burn

in the strainer wafted upward.
    “One thing about blackjack and sex with Mr. Jones,” she announced to the cats, “they definitely took my mind off the voices last night.”
    Batman finished his treat and looked hopeful.
    “You know you only get one at night,” she told him.
    The cats gave up trying to use their psychic powers on her.
    She removed the strainer from the mug and set it on the small dish beside the kettle. Carrying the mug in her right hand, she went into the living room. Her black ballet-style slippers made no sound on the bare hardwood floor.
    The translucent origami shapes of the wall sconces cast a subdued glow across the low black leather sofa and chairs. The gas fireplace was outlined in gleaming black tiles. A deck of cards stood waiting on the black granite coffee table. Two elaborately designed climbing trees for the cats, complete with secluded sleeping quarters and a cat gym, stood near the window that overlooked the condo gardens. Batman and Robin liked to look out at the view.
    The only colorful objects in the room were the three art glass sculptures. Each was positioned on a white pedestal and lit with a tiny, low-voltage halogen lamp suspended from the ceiling.
    Gordon and Andrew complained that the place, with its white walls, uncarpeted floors and black furnishings, looked like a modern art gallery or a meditation center. But she liked the calm, tranquil, uncluttered effect. On bad nights it was an antidote to the voices.
    She went to stand at the window, mug in hand, and looked out at the condominium gardens. She wondered if Zack had gone to bed yet or if he was on the phone to Fallon Jones, trying to find out more about what had happened between Wilder and Vella. She could tell the revelation that the two had been involved in an affair had caught him by surprise, just as it had her. He hadn’t been faking it.
    A chill sparked down her spine. It was as if someone had touched the nape of her neck with a live wire. The mug in her hand trembled. Several drops of hot liquid dampened her fingers, making her draw a quick, startled breath. Some of the tisane splattered on the hardwood floor.
    “Oh, damn.”
    She stared down at the spilled liquid, baffled by the sudden attack of nerves. Zack had been on her mind virtually all day but this was the first time the thought of him had rattled her like this.
    She turned around and hurried back into the kitchen. Setting the mug down on the counter, she yanked a couple of white paper towels off the stainless steel holder and returned to the living room.
    Crouching, she mopped up the spilled tisane. When she was satisfied that she had got it all, she went into the kitchen again, opened the cupboard door beneath the sink and dropped the crumpled towels into the trash.
    Now her pulse was racing. She looked at her fingers. They were shaking.
    What was happening to her? She had been feeling fine only a few minutes before. Now something was very wrong, something involving Zack.
    It was ridiculous, but she couldn’t overcome the overwhelming urge to call him, just to make sure he was okay. He’d written the number of his cell phone on a card and given it to her before they left Shelbyville. Just in case we get separated and you need to reach me , he’d said.
    What had she done with the card? It was imperative that she find it. She tried to think. It wasn’t easy because the adrenaline was pounding through her now, filling her with a sense of frantic urgency.
    Batman meowed loudly at her feet. Robin wrapped himself around her legs. The cats were channeling her anxiety.
    This is crazy. Oops, wrong word. Not crazy. Just weird. Really, really weird. For Pete’s sake, slow down and focus.
    She had dropped Zack’s card into her purse before getting behind the wheel. Her purse. Where else would one put a card with a phone number?
    Okay, that made the next step simple.
    She hurried into the foyer and opened the closet door. Her purse was right where it was supposed to be, on the shelf next to her keys, a pair of gloves and a stack of neatly folded scarves.
    When she reached for the purse, the back of her hand brushed the side of her black raincoat hanging nearby. Dark psychic energy splashed through her, acid hot.
    … Let the witch know she’s being hunted. Make her afraid …
    “No.”
    Instinctively she jerked back, promptly tripping over Batman, who had come up behind her. She staggered and fell against the wall. She grabbed for the door handle to