Fireworks went off in the distance, part of some nightly entertainment at one of the other casino hotels. Mine was cal ed The Fortune Tel er: I could see the crystal bal revolving on the roof in reflection in the windows of the building across the street. Only part of it was complete. ‘T’ shaped cranes stood sentinel over the rest—the offices, apartments, and mal s that were waiting for the end of the recession so that their skeletons could be clad in something more attractive than iron girders. The rubble-strewn site to my right had weeds growing on the heaps, showing just how long the building project had been put on ice—ironical y, given the name, not something the hotel owner had foreseen. He could’ve done with a savant to tip him off.

I hugged myself, missing Zed with a ferocity that surprised me. Unlike my boyfriend, I didn’t know what the future held. I’d have to risk annoying O’Hal oran but I could lessen the chances by choosing a time when he should be asleep. I checked my watch: it was midnight. I’d leave it to the smal hours before making my move.

Turning away from the window, I contemplated my room, looking for anything that could help me. I’d already had to peel off the ski suit, being far too hot.

I’d put on the hotel robe but I real y wanted a change of clothes, feeling at a disadvantage in nothing but long thermals. There was a nightshirt neatly folded on one of the pil ows. I shook it out: it bore the hotel logo and looked like the kind of thing you could buy in the gift shop. Wondering if someone had thought to provide more of the same, I opened the wardrobe and found a neat pile of T-shirts and shorts. Did that mean they expected me to be here for a while?

This was al too much for me to take in. I felt out of place, unable to focus. The wonderful high definition perception I had with Zed had col apsed, throwing me back into my old Manga-izing habits, flat colours, disjointed images. I hadn’t realized until separated by hundreds of miles how I’d come to take his presence near me almost for granted. Even if we couldn’t spend a lot of time together, I’d had the reassurance that he was there. He’d grounded me, making al that I was learning about the savant world less frightening. Now I was open to al fears and wild guesses as to what was going to happen. He’d been my shield, not the ones I’d practised in my head.

I hadn’t seen it, but he had been acting as my soulfinder al along, even though I hadn’t acknowledged him. Now it was too late to tel him.

Or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe I could reach him.

Exhaustion crept up on me. I found my eyes blurring and I had to grab the wardrobe door as I swayed. If I wanted to have the energy for my plan, I needed to get some sleep. Even a few hours would make a difference. Changing quickly into the nightshirt, I set the alarm on the bedside clock and rol ed under the satin sheet.

The neon lights were stil pulsing outside when the alarm jolted me awake three hours later. A police helicopter circled overhead briefly then went north.

On the street below, cars and hotel shuttles continued to cruise the Strip, gamblers unwil ing or unable to stop even in the middle of the night. I dashed cold water in my eyes to clear my head.

OK. Time to take a chance on O’Hal oran having gone to bed. I had to hope that abduction made for a tiring day for him.

Zed?

Nothing. I probed the darkness in my head, feeling the absence of the muffling blanket that had been in place in the car. That gave me hope that O’Hal oran had dropped the shield.

Zed? Can you hear me?

No reply. I pressed my fingers to my temples.

Concentrate. Perhaps Zed was asleep too?

No, he wouldn’t be. He wouldn’t be sleeping knowing I’d been taken. He’d be straining to hear the least word from me. Perhaps what I was trying was impossible?

I paced the room for a moment, my toes sinking into the deep pile of the rug.

Or maybe I just didn’t know what I was doing? I thought back through the things Zed had told me about telepathy, how he had made contact with me despite himself. He’d said I was a bridge.

Perhaps it would work like shielding, but in reverse? Opening up and building a link rather than closing down and constructing barriers?

I tried again, imagining I was building a thin arching bridge between my mind and Zed’s. I saw it like an image stretching out of a comic book frame, breaking the conventions to close the distance to the next picture.

After an hour of migraine-inducing thought, I felt a change, a subtle flow of energy in the other direction.

Zed?

Sky? His thoughts sounded faint, moving in and out of reach like a thread of a cobweb dancing in the wind.

I’m in Vegas.

His shock was clear enough. You can’t … How can you … me … Vegas?

You tell me. You’re the savant, remember?

… miracle …

I’m OK. They’ve got me on the top floor of theFortune Teller.

Can’t … you. Breaking …

Fortune Teller. Top floor.

My head was screaming with the pain of maintaining the bridge but I was determined to get my message through.

I … you.

He wasn’t hearing me. I repeated my location.

… love you…. come for you.

No!

Easier … closer.

No, no. It’s a trap. The bridge was col apsing. I could feel it going, feel my stomach churning, head pounding. Just a moment longer. I love you too, butdon’t come. It’s what they want.

Sky! He’d felt the link fracture, scrambling my last words.

‘Zed.’ I was on the floor, perspiration running down my back, nausea gripping my stomach. I crawled on hands and knees to the bathroom and was sick.

Though shaky, I felt a little better for it. Hauling myself to the bed, I fel on the covers face down and passed out.

I did not wake properly

until mid morning. The sky

was a pale blue through the tinted windows, tiny puffs of cloud smudging the perfect surface. Feeling numb, I cleaned my teeth with the hotel-supplied brush and paste and got dressed. It seemed odd to be wearing shorts in the middle of winter but the climate control ed environment of the hotel meant it was always summer inside. My stomach growled. I investigated the contents of the mini bar and helped myself to a chocolate biscuit and bottle of Coke, then sat down to wait. I was in the middle of a crisis but things were strangely calm. The eye of the storm.

I didn’t dare risk trying to contact Zed again.

O’Hal oran would probably be up and about and I didn’t know enough about shield-busting to give it a go. I just hoped Zed got my message not to come rushing in. We needed a plan to get me out, not a second hostage.

There was a knock at the door. Not behaviour I expected of my kidnappers. It opened to reveal Gator carrying a tray.

‘Rise and shine, cupcake. You slept wel ?’

‘Not real y.’

Ignoring this, Gator dumped the tray on a table by the window. ‘Breakfast. Eat quickly. The boss wants to see you.’

I wasn’t sure I could manage anything. Deciding not to rile him by refusing co-operation over so smal a thing, I lifted the lid. Nope, I couldn’t stomach those eggs. I sipped at the orange juice and nibbled a slice of toast instead. Gator didn’t leave. He stood at the window pretending to shoot at the birds flying over the buildings, giving me a good view of his ponytail which he’d secured back with a leather tie.

He seemed in a cheerful mood, not at al on edge for someone who was part of a kidnapping. It struck me then that whoever was behind this must control this entire hotel or Gator would be less relaxed about holding me here.