Mind Game (GhostWalkers #2)(30)
Author: Christine Feehan

“That’s incredible. No wonder you wanted to be able to heal people. I’ve read about such things, but certainly never witnessed it. What was his name?”

Nicolas smiled. “Just Grandfather to me. Nicolas was one name he went by, but he had many.”

“You really loved him, didn’t you? You must love having his name.”

Nicolas watched her fingers, the strange little rhythm she tapped in the air. She seemed unaware of it. He remembered feeling the rhythm as she tapped her fingers against the mattress in the cabin in the bayou. It obviously was a habit. “Yes I did, Dahlia. Growing up with him was a humbling experience. You can’t imagine how perfect a childhood it was for a young boy. My grandfather taught me to track and to survive in any kind of condition, but most of all he taught me to respect life and nature.” Her fingers fascinated him. There was something hypnotic about the way she spun her fingers in the air. “What are you doing?”

She looked startled. Her mouth formed a question, but she followed his gaze to her fingers. Faint color crept under her skin and she closed her hand into a fist. “I do exercises with small balls. It helps to alleviate the constant bombardment of energy. I had a collection of balls made out of mineral stones, mostly crystals. The different properties help with various types of energy.” She shrugged as if it didn’t matter. Nicolas could see it clearly did.

“I may have saved a few of your favorites. I tossed the ones I saw in your bedroom into the pillowcase right before I noticed the explosives.”

Her entire face lit up. Nicolas felt as if he’d just been handed a Christmas present. She nearly jumped at him, and he braced himself for her touch. At the last moment she changed her mind and simply brushed her soft lips over his face.

Heat seared his cheek. That brief, wisp of gesture seemed shockingly intimate. He reached up and touched the spot with his fingertips.

Dahlia’s color deepened even more. “I’m sorry, that was thoughtless of me. I know you don’t like to be touched anymore than I do. I’m acting out of character around you. I honestly don’t throw myself at people on a regular basis.”

“I think we’ve established I don’t mind your touch, Dahlia,” he said. He drew the pillowcase from his pack and fished around for the peculiar balls made of varying crystal and stones. They were cool to the touch, smooth and hard. His fingers brushed hers as he handed them to her. At once he felt the warmth, as if the spheres took on life when transferred to Dahlia. He looked down to see their hands together, his large, hers small, and something immediately tugged at his brain. The memory of his spirit vision came rushing over him.

“Thank you, Nicolas.” She took the small spheres from him. One set was amethyst. Her fingers caressed them immediately, rubbing and rolling them together. Another set was made of rose quartz and still another was made of aquamarine.

It was a small thing, but it brought her pleasure, and that was all that mattered to him. “Do you believe crystals aid in healing?” he asked curiously.

“I don’t know about healing, although they’re reputed to be able to focus the energy and help. I do know they help me tremendously. When I need to be calm, any of these three sets really work, some of the others to a lesser degree.”

“Both of my grandfathers used crystals,” Nicolas said.

“What was your other grandfather like?”

“He was from Japan, and his name was Konin Yogosuto. After Grandfather Nicolas died, I went to stay with him. I was ten. He lived simply. He was a master in martial arts and had a great number of students.”

“And you became one of them?”

Her black gaze teased him. At once he felt his body’s reaction, the tightening of his muscles. That was easy enough to accept. It was the way his heart warmed, seemed to swell in his chest, that bothered him. He made every effort to appear serene, as he had spent so many years learning to do. “Not right away. Interestingly enough, like Grandfather Nicolas, Grandfather Yogosuto also believed in healing first and had as many people come to him for ailments as to learn the way of life. He was a very quiet man. When he said something, I listened.”

“So you had two grandfathers raise you and no women. I had two nurses raise me and no men. Interesting that we turned out somewhat similar.” She raised her gaze to his. For a moment there was silence.

Pain. An aching loneliness. Nicolas was beginning to understand what she meant about energy. He could feel a sadness emanating from her, and it touched him in places he hadn’t known existed. If there was tenderness in him, it seemed to be reserved for Dahlia. He watched her swallow, the line of her throat delicate. She looked vulnerable in the large chair, sitting with her legs tucked up.

She forced a small smile. “Did you ever have a dog? I always wanted a dog. It wasn’t that they wouldn’t let me have one, it was a matter of control.” She looked down at the table, anywhere but at him. What had ever possessed her to blurt out such intimate details to a perfect stranger?

“You were afraid they’d control you through the dog?”

Dahlia was silent for a moment, undecided whether to keep going or to end the conversation. Finally she nodded. “Everyone seemed to be in control of me, and I didn’t want it to go any further.”

“How could they control you?”

She shrugged. “I needed the house and the remoteness of the location.”

“You have money, Dahlia. A lot of money. You could get your own house in a remote location.”

She ducked her head; the amethyst spheres swirled in her fingers. He watched as they spun in her palm with remarkable precision. In minutes they were no longer in her palm but floating beneath her fingers, continuing the smooth action of rotating just as if her fingers were doing the manipulating.

“Dahlia.” He said her name to get her attention and waited until she reluctantly looked up at him. “You allowed them to control you. Why did you do that?”

She was silent so long he thought she might not answer him. “I wanted a family. Milly and Bernadette and Jesse were the only people I had. I stayed to keep them. It was a trade-off.”

Nicolas bit off a word he rarely used and turned his head away from her to stare out the window. For a moment his vision blurred and he blinked rapidly to clear it. “It was a hell of a trade-off, Dahlia. You might have been better off with the dog.” The moment the words were out he wished he could take them back.

Dahlia stood up and shoved back her chair. Her hands were shaking. She put them behind her back. “I need a little space if you don’t mind.” If she burst into tears she would never forgive him . . . or herself.