Free A Little Street Magic by Gayla Drummond Page B

the door didn’t push open. There wasn’t a handle for pulling, just a smooth surface, aside from the shallow indentions of the door’s outline.
    Hm. I imagined my telepathic links as power cords, because I was basically plugging into their minds. Made sense to me, but confronted with Dane’s “door,” I began to rethink that imagery decision. Maybe a rope was a better? Because a rope could unwind to become more than a single piece.
    Yeah. My link changed from a power cord to a thick rope, the end of which unraveled into four separate strands. They slid around each line of the door, and found tiny holds. Hah!
    I pulled, and nothing happened except Dane blinked. “Did you feel that?”
    “No, had one of those see-something-from-the-corner-of-my-eye moments.”
    Huh. Another pull, and he blinked again. “Did the same thing just happen?”
    “Yeah,” Dane said.
    I smiled. “I think you have an early warning system. Anytime ‘corner-of-the-eye’ visitors happen in batches, good chance someone’s trying to break through your mental shield.”
    “Now that’s cool, and important to know.”
    “Yeah.” I gave the link a hard yank, saw him blink, and felt the door open just a touch. Enough for the four-pieced link to slither through, and Boom! I was in his brain. “How about now?”
    “A third C.O.E. visit, but nothing else.” My grin tipped him off. “Oh, you’re in my head right now?”
    “You keep pushing your pizza every day agenda just to annoy me. Pest.”
    Dane laughed. “Okay, you’re in my head.”
    “Yeah. It wasn’t exactly easy.” I reeled the link in, and his mental door shut. My head was really beginning to pound. “And I’m out.”
    “Guess I’d better work on that.” Dane turned and settled into his seat. “Think Brock can break in?”
    “I don’t know. Stone doesn’t think he’s had that much practice with supes.” We’d made it to the highway, and would be home in minutes. “Hope Alleryn’s there, and hasn’t had to wait too long. I could sure use one of his pain remedies.”

    T he elf was there, waiting behind the wheel of a silver SUV that probably cost almost as much as my house. Alleryn hopped out the second Logan finished parking, opening the passenger door to look in.
    “What happened? Those are burn blisters. You still have hair, so I’d assume you weren’t the centerpiece of a bonfire.”
    “Mind if we get out?” Dane asked, leaning away from him. Without a word, Alleryn moved back. “Thank you.”
    Once out of the car, I recounted the pertinent events on the way to the house, finishing as we reached the dining room table. The elf listened, his grass green eyes intent on the visible blisters.
    “It’s rare, a psychic experiencing physical manifestations of trauma, but not completely unheard of. Is this the first time it’s occurred?”
    “No.” I told him about my first, and possibly only, precognition while Dane dumped my clothing in the washer, started coffee, and began poking around in the fridge. Logan sat at the table with us, watching Alleryn. Something he’d probably done every time the elf had worked on me.
    “They looked much worse at first, yes?” Alleryn examined the back of my hand, lightly running a fingertip over the remaining blisters.
    “Yeah. My skin was shiny pink and I think they were bigger.”
    “They should disappear in a few hours on their own. Are you feeling any discomfort?”
    “Big headache, nothing else.”
    He nodded, made a little gesture, and Logan’s sniff sounded right before an old-fashioned, black medical bag appeared on the table. “I’ll mix a draught for you.”
    “I’d appreciate it, and thank you for coming over so late.”
    Alleryn waved away my thanks, and stood to open his bag. “Have you heard the news?”
    “‘Mayor Thorandryll’? Yeah, it just doesn’t have that certain ring to it.” I accepted a cup of coffee from Dane. “Mm, thanks.”
    He gave Logan the other cup he carried, and asked the