Free Shimmer: A Novel by John Passarella Page A

Good. That will serve you well, Ms. Maguire.”
    “Don’t listen to him,” Fallon said, grinning. “Logan was being chivalrous. And, please, call me Fallon.”
    “If you’ll call me Ambrose,” he said and she nodded agreement. “You wish to learn more about yourself?”
    Fallon nodded hesitantly. “I want to know what’s happening.”
    “I sense layers within you, young lady,” Ambrose said. “More than you know.”
    “That’s me, the Onion Queen,” she said dismissively.
    Ambrose ignored the quip and raised his hands to either side of her head and then, almost as an afterthought, asked, “May I?”
    Fallon looked from his left hand to his right and back again. “Depends,” she said. “What are you proposing?”
    “He wants to perform a kind of psychic phrenology,” Liana provided. She crossed the room, sat in one of the burgundy armchairs, and folded her hands in her lap.
    Fallon addressed Ambrose. “You want to be psychic friends?”
    “Phrenology,” Ambrose said, hands still poised mid-air.
    “He wants to read you,” Logan explained. “By feeling the shape of your skull.” He grinned wryly. “To see if you’re ripe.”
    Fallon looked at Ambrose uncertainly. “I bet you’re giddy in the produce aisle.”
    “I’m quite serious about this.”
    “Will it hurt?”
    “I’d be surprised if you experienced any pain.”
    “Not quite the assurance I was hoping for,” Fallon said. “But… okay.”
    “Thank you,” Ambrose said and gently placed his fingertips on either side of her scalp, just above her forehead.
    “Wait,” Fallon said. “You don’t read minds, do you?”
    “Certainly not through my fingertips,” Ambrose said. “Rest assured, there is nothing emotionally, physically, or psychically invasive about this… procedure.”
    “Then… how does it work?”
    “Wish I knew,” Ambrose admitted with a twinkle in his eye. “May I proceed?” She nodded. After taking a deep breath, Ambrose closed his eyes in concentration. Every few seconds he inched his fingers across her head, a fraction of an inch at a time, until they had crossed over the crown and descended to the nape of her neck. With a sigh, he dropped his hands to his sides, opened his eyes and leveled his watery blue gaze at her again. “Interesting,” he said softly. “Extremely interesting.”
    Her scalp tingled. She resisted the urge to press her own palms against her head, but couldn’t suppress the shudder that rippled down her spine. “Care to share?”
    He scratched the gray stubble on his jaw for a thoughtful few moments, then turned his gaze to Logan. “First, tell me the circumstances of your meeting.”
    Logan mentioned that he’d sensed a connection with her across a crowded classroom and initiated contact. Fallon frowned at him, perturbed.
As if I’m an extraterrestrial life form.
She decided to interrupt. “I thought Logan looked familiar, but couldn’t figure out how or why. Later, I found his portrait in my dream journal. An image I drew two weeks ago. Two weeks before meeting him for the first time today.”
    “Hmm,” Ambrose said. “Prescient dreaming. Go on.”
    Logan snapped his fingers. “She said that Barrett looked strange.”
    “Blurry,” Fallon corrected. “Hot… but blurry.”
    “Well, the ‘hot’ part wasn’t germane,” Logan said, showing mild resentment.
    “Depends on the context, hot shot,” she said, smiling. “And on who’s initiating contact.”
    Ignoring their playful verbal jabs at each other, Ambrose nodded seriously. “A sensitive. I suspected as much. And yet, there is more. Much more.”
    “More what?” Fallon asked.
    “Potential.”
    “Meaning, what? I have a very big head?”
    “A most unusual head,” Ambrose said. “Not the outside, but what I sense within. Something special.” He turned to Logan. “She’s a wonderful find, Logan.”
    “I’m eighteen,” Fallon said angrily. “Not some ancient artifact on display in a museum. Can you