Watcher's Web by Patty Jansen Read Free Book Online Page B

his words, and at times
she thought he was speaking in his native language. His voice
scared her. It sounded like he was ready for the loony bin.
    She must have
dozed off a bit anyway because all of a sudden, the light was blue,
and she lay on her back in the leaf litter staring up at the tree
canopy. A damp smell rose from the forest floor, but it had stopped
raining.
    Brian was
still asleep, on his side, his back facing her, his jacket covering
his shoulder and body. His hair was loose and spilled into the leaf
litter.
    Overnight, it
had turned brilliant white.

Chapter
6
     
    W HITE
HAIR ? That was
ridiculous. No one had white hair except elves in fairytales. No
one under forty at any rate.
    Well, she had
to hand it to him—without that dye he looked younger, his face kind
of high-class with a long, straight nose, high cheekbones and thin
but well-defined lips. His eyes were closed, his eyelashes
half-moon crescents of silver hair. His eyebrows, too, had turned
white. Albino.
    He was
handsome. Not drop-dead gorgeous like some sultry-eyed teenage
football hero who’d be arrested for drunk behaviour and groping
women by the time he was twenty-five, and fat and ugly by the time
he was thirty, but the type of handsomeness that didn’t age.
    But why the
disguise?
    Who the bloody
hell was he with his dyed hair and his accent and his evasive
replies? Why was he on the flight, why had he suggested the pilot
wait for her? Why did he seem to notice things about her other
people didn’t and ignore things that other people mentioned? Did he
perhaps have anything to do with . . . the plane
crashing, with the web, with the male voice on the other end?
    As quietly as
she could, she crossed the space between them and crouched on the
moss next to him.
    She breathed
out slowly, and let the strands of mist flow from her, tentative.
The blue mist snaked around his sleeping form, caressing him like
ghostly fingers. It wasn’t right, using it on a person, and it was
something she hadn’t done for a long time. He might notice; she
might find out something she’d rather not know. Worse, she might go
too far and that thought sent shivers along her spine. Back in the
time of innocence, she had done so many things that still gave her
nightmares. She had never known what harm these threads could cause
until it was too late. The mist was weak—she needed energy,
sunlight, food to work this trick. The strands snaked over his
jacket, and sought out the warmth of his skin. Buried in his
arm.
    She
braced for the onslaught of memories she was about to face. Animals
were easy—their emotions were simple, but
people . . .  Painful and ugly memories,
heartbreak, lies and treason, that was the kind of shit people’s
minds unleashed. Once she had probed a classmate and had hurt for
days with what she had found in the girl’s memories. Adults
actually did that to
their children?
    But with Brian
. . . nothing came.
    He had no
thoughts, no dreams. What the hell? Everyone had dreams, even if
they didn’t remember them. How could he have no thoughts? He’d have
to be dead. No, for some reason his thoughts were inaccessible to
her. She stared, heart thudding, trying to think of reasons, other
than that he had some sort of training in avoiding having his
thoughts probed.
    His chest
moved with a deep breath. In-out. The exhaled air ticked over her
hands like a horse’s swishing tail. He stirred and mumbled. As
Jessica retreated, he opened his eyes and stared at her as if he
knew she’d been doing something.
    “Good morning.
Slept well?” Her voice sounded too high.
    He sat up,
groaning. “I’m sore everywhere.” He frowned at her. “Is anything
wrong? Did I say something?”
    “No.”
    Jessica
couldn’t meet his eyes, and turned to her pack instead. She
trembled. Who was this man?
    “I think we’d
better be going.”
    Shit. He
was going to notice that his hair had turned white, and wonder why
she hadn’t said anything. It was the sort