Free Dust to Dust by Heather Graham

us.”
    â€œAll right, there’s a place just down the street. I’mpretty sure they’re open. We didn’t suffer much damage around here.”
    Ten minutes later, they’d been served drinks and Lucien had put a call through to Sean to tell them where they were. Lucien was looking at her very seriously and Melanie knew that what she was feeling was dread. He was here because of the Alliance, of course.
    All the members of the Alliance led normal lives—or fairly normal, anyway—and they were scattered around the country. But when something was really wrong, Lucien stepped in. He was powerful; he’d lived through a lot, learned a lot, and his senses were as well honed as his physique. And right now she didn’t like the assessing way he was staring at her at all.
    â€œNice neighborhood,” he said casually. But Lucien was never truly casual.
    â€œI love it,” she assured him. “I have a grocery store just across the street, great neighbors and nice customers.”
    He leaned forward suddenly. “A good life,” he assured her. Then he asked her abruptly, “Why are people staring at me?”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œPeople keep looking at me.”
    Melanie laughed. “Well, this neighborhood does border Hollywood, you know. You’re tall, dark and handsome. They’re probably trying to figure out which show you’re on.” She leaned closer. “Our waiter just did a spot on CSI. The woman over there is on a soap. And the young guy over there, known as ‘The Ponceman,’ is a major leaguer with a show on the Internet.”
    â€œGreat, I thought we were going for privacy,” Lucien murmured.
    â€œTrust me, we’ll be plenty private here. It’s a neighborhood hangout. People may stare, but they leave you alone. They may look and whisper, but if you’re not Clooney or Pitt, they go right back to their own conversations. But what do we have to talk about that’s so private?”
    He arched a brow to her. His look asked, What in the world wouldn’t we need to keep private? He shook his head and looked down at the table, then stared at her in concern. “You’re doing it again,” he said.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œSketching,” he said.
    She froze. She looked down and saw that she had indeed been drawing again. She didn’t even remember taking a pen from her purse, but now she stared blankly at the picture she had created.
    She had sketched a road not three blocks from her apartment. In her drawing, the ground was practically exploding. A terrified woman looked on with her mouth open in a scream, and others wore detailed looks of absolute panic on their faces.
    â€œDo you recognize the area you’ve drawn?” Lucien demanded curtly.
    â€œYes, yes, it’s down about three blocks,” she said, still stunned at her own artwork.
    He rose and grabbed her arm. “Let’s go. Now! ”
    Â 
    Scott couldn’t leave until the following night. For some reason, flights to Rome were heavily booked.Summer, he figured. Schools were out. At least he had enough miles to upgrade to first class, and since he was tall, it was damned nice to have the legroom.
    He called his three employees to tell them to take care of their own problems but, if everything was all right, report for work on Monday. He only had three employees, but they were all good, young designers who didn’t mind doing the physical work of running the presses as long as they were able to get some creative work, to build up their portfolios. He took extra time to brief Kevin Ostrom, his office manager, about everything that might come up during his extended absence. He would try to check in periodically while he was away, but with Kevin in charge he felt confident that things would run smoothly.
    Since he had the time, he went to the office to check the damage and found that all his heavy equipment had stayed put, and