Trance by Kelly Meding Read Free Book Online Page A

you.”
    “I’m glad.” I tossed a lock of hair over my shoulder, relaxing under the spell of the friendly banter. “I’d hate to be stuck with a color that looked awful. Can you see me with green hair? Or orange, even? I’d look like a carrot.”
    “But a cute carrot.”
    I grinned. At the tender age of ten, such a simple compliment from Gage would have sent my girlish pulse racing. I noticed our direction and asked, “Hey, aren’t we eating?”
    “The motel room has take-out menus. It might be better to eat in until we know for sure what’s going on. Room’s the third one over,” Gage said, pointing.
    I followed his lead, a few paces behind. The door next to ours opened abruptly and a man in torn jeans and a stained flannel shirt stepped out, right into my path. I backpedaled and started to fall. The stranger caught me by the arm. Before my instinct to groin-kick him took over, a greasy blonde steppedout next to him. Her hair was unkempt, her clothes frayed, and she had a big black duffel bag slung over one shoulder.
    “Sorry about that,” the man said. “Didn’t see you comin’.”
    “S’okay,” I said and ducked my head, hoping to hide my face and eyes behind a curtain of hair. Should have been faster about that.
    The man glanced over his shoulder and nodded at Gage, who offered only a steely, suspicious gaze. His attention jumped to me. I winked at Gage, my head still angled away from the pair, and he relaxed just a fraction.
    “Cool contacts,” the woman said. “Very risqué.”
    Definitely not fast enough. “Thanks.” I ducked around the man and followed Gage into his room.
    He locked the door and slid the bolt. “You okay?”
    “I’m fine, bare minimum rating on the scare-o-meter.” The question surprised me. It was nice having someone around who cared, even if the question was probably more knee-jerk politeness than genuine concern.
    I turned the motel room’s heat up to a balmy 75 degrees and dropped my small knapsack on a cheaply upholstered chair, which matched the striped bedspread. Two abstract prints hung opposite each other on plain ivory walls. Ugly, but the quality was a step up from my personal squalor.
    Gage’s expensive-looking suitcase sat in the middle of the king-size bed, leering at me. I eyed it, not bothering to hide my jealousy. He probably had three sets of clothes, all neatly folded, a leather shaving kit, and clean underwear.
    Damn.
    “What?” Gage asked.
    I snapped my mouth shut, unaware I’d made a noise. Or maybe he heard the spike in my heart rate. Gage’s powers had fascinated me as a child. Instead of supersight or superhearing, all five of Gage’s senses were enhanced to an extraordinary degree. He could increase and decrease the amount of information they collected and received. Eyesight and hearing had been the strongest, with smell in the middle, and taste and touch trailing behind. That could all be different now, but I imagined I was close enough for him to hear my heartbeat if he tried.
    “Just admiring your suitcase,” I replied.
    “There’s a shopping center a few miles away—”
    “No.” He had just flipped a bad switch. Buying me dinner was one thing. I would not be beholden to him for little luxuries that I could do without. I’d managed on my own since I was sixteen; I didn’t need to be taken care of by Gage.
    “If you need something, we can get it, Teresa, and if it’s about the money—”
    “It
is
about the money, Gage.” I spun on my heel, hair flying, and planted both hands on my hips. “I don’t do charity. I took a handout from Cliff and look what it almost got me.”
    He closed the space between us in three long strides. Muscles in my arms and back coiled as I braced for attack, and I found myself eye level with his neck. I swallowed. Gage wasn’t Cliff. He was on my side.
    “Look at me,” he said, his voice soft and gentle. Warm breath tickled the top of my head.
    I looked down instead, but his hand cupped my