Jo Wheaton
could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times she’d actually been
scared. This was one of them. First of all, the psi connection was not
something she called up; it had happened all on its own, suggesting she was
losing control over her powers. And the bleeding. The bleeding had happened
many times before, but it had been before the Darkheart
curse. It had been before the five of them had been connected, it had
been before Amy.

The thought chilled her to the very marrow of her bones, did this mean the
beginning of the end? Was she dying? The thought made her giddy and a cold
smile came to her lips.

She tried to stand, her blond hair falling into her eyes; the glasses were
smashed under her knees. So much blood, too much. Oh how it hurt, the exquisite
pain that washed over her, filling every fiber of her being. She couldn’t move,
she could hardly think. She needed help, but who?

“Computer….” Jo managed to say in a blood filled
voice, “Shane…” She said, the phone dialing the
number of Shane’s cell phone. The voice of the
voice activated computer told her that the call was connecting.

“Shane.” She answered, and Jo
tried to speak, the event having drained her. How easily she was sapped of
energy now. Her body failing her, she didn’t bother trying to speak again.
Instead she used what little bit of power she had left.

Shane, come to me… Jo
sent telepathically, the open link of the phone carrying the voice across the
miles. The phone line went dead and she felt the voice in her mind, Shane’s
voice.

I’m coming Jo, hold on. Just hold on. Jo
slumped against the desk, more blood spilling from her nose, she’d never bled
like this before. Never had she been able to merge with someone other than her
close knit circle of friends. Jo wiped her nose, even though it was useless,
her energy sapped as she lost consciousness.

~*~*~*~*~*

Tina was sitting next to Helena,
and Helena
was telling her about her children, her life and her mother’s eccentricities.
Tina was utterly enthralled by the woman, noticing the little things, the way
her mouth moved to pronounce her words in crisp British fashion, the way her
brow wrinkled when she was amused or quizzical, and the motion of her hand, the
way she uncurled her fingers from the palm outward, one at a time as she
gestured to make a point. Tina was so absorbed
by her presence and their conversation that she didn’t see Shane
coming into the club and running to Jo’s private
office.