Chosen Ones 1 - Storm of Visions by Christina Dodd

Author:Christina Dodd
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9781101101957
Publisher: PENGUIN group
Published: 2011-03-02T06:58:59+00:00

Chapter 21

Crystal ball in hand, Jacqueline stepped into the attic. She’d played here when she was a kid. Large, bright, and empty, it hadn’t changed.

The walls and floor were painted white. Dust motes floated along on the sun rays pouring through the big windows on the west side and covered everything in a fine layer. A door on the far wall led to another room like this one, and a storage closet filled the corner.

She’d run through this room, pulling a toy dog on a leash. She’d played with her dolls, and read her books.

Then one day, when she was eight, she’d stopped coming. She didn’t remember why. She only remembered being afraid.

Now she wasn’t afraid. She was a little tipsy. She was a lot disgruntled. The smell of smoke tainted the air, and that stupid crystal ball was not only heavy; it was so slick, she tucked it under one arm to keep from dropping it.

Wandering through the big room to the cupboard, she opened it. Old coats hung on hangers, and old drapes were folded on the shelves. She went to the door and tried the knob, and looked inside. The room beyond matched this one—the same windows, the same sunlight, the same cupboard—but the shadows seemed deeper. She couldn’t see a source of the smoke, though, so she shut the door and meandered into a square of sunshine on the floor.

She held the crystal ball in the light and watched the colors, blue, gold, green, slide across the shiny surface.

Zusane effortlessly slipped in and out of her visions, but mostly Jacqueline felt silly trying. How did a person bring on a vision? Chant? Do yoga breathing? Perform a rain dance?

The wine had relaxed her. That would probably help. . . .

This wasn’t going to work, and worse, the smell of smoke was getting stronger. She should go back downstairs and tell McKenna that they had a wiring problem or something up here. It could cause a real problem if a fire started, and they didn’t need any more problems. The explosion was enough. . . .

Man, this was boring.

The smoke made Jacqueline’s eyes feel funny, and she was briefly alarmed.

Then the colors disappeared from the surface of the crystal ball. Deep in its center, a flame glowed red, followed by a blast of yellow. The globe slid out of her hand. In slow motion, it twirled in the air and landed on the floor with such a heavy thud shards of wood blew into the air—and froze in motion.

The world became sepia-toned, and she realized . . .

This was it. A vision. Irving was right. She might not want to, but she had the ability. This was a vision.

Then someone screamed in her ear, high and panicked and pure terror. The shriek jerked Jacqueline back to the real world, but when she looked . . . she wasn’t in the attic.

She stood in the aisle of an airplane, a private jet with a dozen luxurious seats set around tables and a flickering fifty-inch television dominating one wall.

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