Jake was not exactly Aladdin to her Jasmine. To begin with, she was obviously missing a pet tiger, and Jake and she did not cozy up together on a magic flying carpet.
The world he showed her though was new—dazzling, fantastic, and a hell of a lot of hard work.
In the comfort of her hotel room overlooking Jackson Square, Miriya raised a trembling hand and mopped a stray blond lock from her sweat-dampened forehead. You’re somewhere between north and northwest-ish. Sort of eleven o’clock.
Jake’s voice chuckled. Do I need to buy you a compass and teach you how to read it? I’m a country boy, after all. Ah can read mah compass like the best of ’em.
And you’re moving.
Right again. How far do you think I am from you?
Miriya had to work harder to narrow down that information. She rose and walked around the room. The steady pulse of Jake’s presence in her mind altered so subtly that she had to focus on the minute differences created by a distance of twenty-five feet.
And if she compared the sensation of that pulse to the original throbbing rhythm she felt when she first connected with Jake’s mind when he had been standing in front of her in that very hotel room, he would be—
She rolled her eyes. No one had ever told her that math would be required to qualify as a psychic hound.
Only until you get better at this. Eventually, you’ll be able to eyeball it. Honestly, once you get beyond a mile or so, it all sort of becomes a blur. At some point, the difference between twelve thousand miles and twelve thousand and five miles becomes irrelevant.
What?
Some of the most powerful alpha telepaths can track people across the world.
Damn.
Yeah. You should meet little Jessica. Her range is literally halfway around the world. Never seen anything like it. Anyway, what I meant to say was that, as you get close, you’ll need the precision to know if someone is on the other side of the house or in the room next door.
And that’s when the math comes in useful?
Like I said, in time, you’ll learn how to judge distances without resorting to the back of a napkin.
Right, but until then—
With a sigh, she reached for a notepad and pen. Math had never been her strong suit. A frown furrowing her brow, she scribbled her notes on paper, struggled with the algebra, nibbled on the tip of her pen, and finally announced, “Half a mile.”
Close. I’m roughly a sixth of a mile away, crossing Rampart into Louis Armstrong Park. Nice work, Miriya. You’re a fast learner.
She had to be. What choice did she have? How does this help me find Charles? I don’t have a lock on his mind the way I do on yours.
But you know what his mind feels like. You’ve touched it before.
Yes.
When you get into the Mistick Krewe building, you’ll have to scan for his mind. You’re attack class; you can scan through physical obstacles. Once you find his mind, you should be able to get a lock on it. Charles Brandon has no psychic shields, so it shouldn’t be a problem. Then it’s just a matter of refining its location and finding him.
Miriya shrugged. The plan sounded straightforward enough. What could possibly go wrong?
Jake coughed. Um, there is that small matter of getting into the Mistick Krewe building.