He still didn’t believe it. “The light from the house must have illuminated the forest some.”
Carol gave a short laugh. “Yeah, right. Even you couldn’t believe something so ludicrous. I’d envisioned following the others into the woods. I hadn’t been turned yet. The vision was vague. I only knew Lelandi wasn’t with the men and women there. But I recognized some of Darien’s people and tried to warn Lelandi about what Darien and his people were.
“She wasn’t from Silver Town, and because she was smaller, I thought she wasn’t one of you. I thought she was like me and that Darien intended to change her. I’d never suspected anyone could be born as a werewolf.”
Silva leveled her gaze at Ryan. “Yep, so how do you explain that?”
Carol loved how Silva needled Ryan. She knew if Lelandi was here, she’d gang up on him, too. Not that Carol couldn’t hold her own, but it was nice to have the ladies backing her up. She’d never had friends like that before.
Ryan’s forehead wrinkled as he considered Silva in a disgruntled way. “Aren’t you supposed to be bringing us sandwiches?”
Silva smiled. “Yesiree.” She said to Carol, “He gives you any trouble, sugar, you just let me know.” She sauntered off with the tray of beers for another table.
That’s when the whole group from the gathering seemed to arrive at the tavern en masse. Darien walked in first with his arm possessively around Lelandi’s shoulders. He looked straight at Ryan and Carol sitting at his table, but instead of making a fuss, he escorted Lelandi to a table nearer the restrooms.
Carol took a relieved breath, glad at least Darien didn’t seem to be bothered about this. Maybe Ryan had been right in thinking that Darien had set this up, so he didn’t mind giving up his table to them because of it.
As Jake followed them inside, he grumbled, although sounding more amused than truly annoyed, “Sam needs a talking-to if every time we come here, he’s allowing some outsider to sit at our table.”
Darien slipped his arm down lower, around Lelandi’s waist, and leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Worked out well the last time.”
Five men escorted Becky to a table. Marilee had several others falling all over her as they grabbed a table and stuck it against another farther away. Mervin was with the second group and gave Ryan another hard look.
Carol studied the women for a moment, still trying to remember where she’d seen them. At the hospital? As patients? But they weren’t from around here. Then again, Lelandi had said she’d interviewed them, so maybe they’d been here for a couple of days prior to the gathering. Or maybe earlier to see what Silver Town had to offer before they even expressed an interest in attending the gathering.
“So where were we?” Carol asked Ryan, ready to end this. There was no convincing the stubborn man of science that what she could envision could really happen.
“You were saying you saw our kind shifting while you were still strictly human. Then Darien would have had to turn you if one of Lelandi’s pack hadn’t during the battle.”
“Probably. But you missed my point. I didn’t physically see them shape-shift in the woods. I saw it in a vision of the future way before the battle commenced. When I eventually did see the scene for real, I had already been turned.”
She could tell he didn’t believe a word of it. No reaction, no expression to indicate what he was thinking. Trying to figure out the next question he’d ask her to see if he could tear her story into bits and prove it was all something made up from a way too vivid imagination?
She ought to tell him about the ghost she once saw. That was sure to go over really well. When she’d told some friends about it, the ones who believed in apparitions had known she was telling the truth. The others had had the same look as Ryan did now. Disbelief, not even a small smirk in amusement. No, he was not amused. He was too steeped in scientific fact to believe in ghosts or anything else in the supernatural realm.
“I bet you never read about fantasy worlds when you were young. Never believed in the Easter bunny or Santa Claus,” she said.
He gave her a broad smile that made her wish she hadn’t made the comment.
“What?” She let out her breath. “Don’t tell me you and your kind don’t believe in fantasy worlds. You’re a living, breathing fantasy—all of you…well, us—if you want to really get technical.”
“Fantasy is in the eye of the beholder. We are the stuff of legends, not fantasy exactly.”
“Right, so I have psychic visions, and you think that’s fantasy. But for me, it’s real.”
For an inkling, he appeared to consider her words as plausible. But then he said, “I believe we’ve established that fact.” He shrugged. “Me believe in Santa Claus? Only if he wore a wolf suit sometimes.” He smiled again.
“Our versions of fairy tales might surprise you. Little Red Riding Hood? The wolf, as caring about children as a good family dog might be, was trying to escort Little Riding Hood home safely to her grandmother. The woodcutter was the villain. He didn’t give the wolf a chance to prove he was one of the good guys. The woodcutter took one look at the wolf and immediately labeled him as a beast of prey. Our kids, of course, read the original version also, so they know what others are talking about. But we feel we’re a little more open minded.”
She raised her brows. “I take it the wolf is not the bad guy in The Three Little Pigs, either.”
“Nope, he was totally framed.” Ryan gave her that wolfish grin that suited him so well. He pulled out his credit card, tapped it on the table while watching her, and then finally asked, “Do you feel there’s a reason for having the visions?”
She shrugged. “You don’t believe anyway.”
“If I did, why do you think you have them?”
“I have no idea why some people have a psychic connection and others don’t. Probably just like no one knows why some have a photographic memory or can create music without any training or are geniuses in mathematics or quantum physics. Makes life more interesting when we’re not all the same. Don’t you agree?”
He studied her, and she swore he was mulling that over. Maybe he wasn’t hopeless after all when it came to believing in something that wasn’t exactly scientifically proven.
She sighed deeply. “No one in my family has any paranormal abilities. At least not that anyone is willing to speak about. No one wanted me to reveal my talents, either. I even had nice little discussions with a psychiatrist, starting when I was seven.
“Dr. Metzger attempted to brainwash me for three years, trying to convince me I had an overactive imagination. That paranormal abilities weren’t possible. That they couldn’t be recreated in a scientific environment. In other words, those of us who have these abilities make mistakes like lab rats and don’t get it ‘right’ all the time. So, we’re phonies. All of us.”
Ryan’s jaw tightened fractionally. She wasn’t sure what the message was there.
“You know what made Dr. Metzger finally give up on me?” She raised her brows, waiting for Ryan to signal for her to continue. She’d never discussed the reason with anyone except her mother because the psychiatrist had been so mad at Carol. She wouldn’t have told Ryan, but for whatever reason, she wanted him to believe her. Not that telling him the story about the doctor would make any difference, but…
Ryan didn’t say anything for a moment and then asked, “What made him give up on you, Carol?”
“I saw his wife and unborn child die in a car accident before it happened. At least I assumed it was going to happen. I didn’t know anything about them. They might have died years earlier. But I saw his very pregnant wife driving the car, and she looked the same as the picture he had of her on his desk, probably taken shortly before the accident. I was sure it was a vision of some future happening.
“I wouldn’t have told him about it, but I thought maybe, just maybe, he could stop her from driving into the city. We lived in Denver at the time, but he lived out of town. In my vision, it was winter, and the roads were icy. Their car skidded on the slick roads and crashed into a tree. He didn’t believe me. Got really angry instead. Said I was creating the tale because I was mad at him for trying to help me. Help me! Ha!”
She silently fumed, remembering that day so well. Hot tears had filled her eyes, her throat closing.
“He said I was a horrible person for making such a story up.”
No one had ever said anything like that about her. Not someone who was supposed to have her best interests at heart. Carol took a deep breath, the feelings of that day swamping her with regret. For years, she’d wished she’d never said a thing to him about his wife. At least she hadn’t had to see him any further after that.
She looked at the table, fighting bitter tears. “He slammed his fist on the desk and cursed me. The frost giant and his icy blue eyes turned darker and colder. Tears rolled down my face. I was only ten at the time. No one had ever gotten that angry with me over anything.”
“Hell, Carol. His license should have been revoked.”
Carol shook her head. “The worst was yet to come. When I left his office, he called my mother in, and behind his closed door, he told her he wouldn’t see me any longer. That I was hopeless. That I was making up horrible stories. My mother asked what kind of stories, but he wouldn’t elaborate. I heard him tell her through the door of his office that if I was committed, I’d quickly get over my need to make up these stories.”
Ryan looked on the verge of getting up from his chair and coming around the table to comfort her, but she didn’t need his comforting touch. She’d dealt with the issues, and they were in the past. At least that’s what she kept telling herself. Yet the memory of Metzger’s piercing eyes and the way he’d slammed his fist on the desk was forever imprinted on her brain.
“My mother kept asking me what I’d said to Dr. Metzger. I couldn’t tell her, not until later that night. In the beginning, I really had hoped the ‘special’ doctor could help me sort out my abilities. Sometimes I wished I didn’t have them. Sometimes I wished everyone else did so they knew what it felt like. But denying my ‘talents’ wasn’t feasible. So I just didn’t let on that I had them.”
