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undeserving of your reputation. It's almost a challenge of some sort. Prove that you are good as everyone says you are." Grant looked up at her.

    "Challenge? Prove myself? That sounds so wrong." The whole concept sounded wrong. "I'm not the one saying I'm good. That's what other people say. More to boost morale than anything. The media plays up the successes at disaster sites. There's so much pain and suffering, no one wants to focus on the many losses." She hunched her shoulders, hating the influx of memories.

    "I don't think it matters who said what. What matters is that this person believes what's been said. Supposedly people are going to die if you don't participate. It sounds very personal to me."

    Kali massaged the building tension at the base of her neck. This was unbelievable. "So, because he wants to make this a game, I have to play, too?" Running her fingers through her hair, she added with a touch of humor, "At least we know he's male."

    Stan tilted his head, a puzzled frown between his brows. "How can you be so sure?"

    Kali snorted. "This is classic male - my penis is bigger than your penis, I'm-better-than-you-are kind of male behavior. Even the mano-a-mano style of competition. A shrink would get that immediately."

    Grant appeared interested in his notebook again, a muscle twitching at the corner of his mouth. "I imagine one would," he admitted dryly.

    With a smirk, Kali leaned back, feeling marginally more in control.

    "Now according to the letter, he said you're to use your mad skills. Even more troubling is that your skills appear to be competing against He, written with a capitalized H - which is likely to mean God, bringing a religious fanaticism into play here."

    "As if he’s seeing himself as God?" Stan asked, shock and disbelief in his voice. He sat there with his hand to his throat, his face pale and aged. "That doesn't sound good."

    Grant nodded. "Definitely a possibility. Although he might also see himself as a messenger, a servant of God. Back to the mad skills part, does that mean anything to you, Kali?"

    She swallowed hard. "I’d have to guess my search and rescue skills."

    Her face froze in place. Her breath caught in her chest. This letter writer couldn't know about the Sight. No one knew. Hell, she didn't know much about the visions. Her stomach knotted and the band around her temple tightened with each question. Somewhere along the line it all became too much and Kali dropped into silence.

    "And the worst line of all is the last one. Game on." Grant stared off in the distance. "I’d interpret that to mean whatever this is, it's about to start."

    Stan added, "Or it has already done so and we just don't know it yet."

    Kali shuddered. Shivers wracked her spine and a horrible feeling of impending doom filled her heart, boding no good for whatever was coming.

    The men left soon after, taking the evidence with them.

    Kali closed her eyes in relief as they walked out.

    Mad skills. Surely, that was conjecture.

    It had to be. Nothing else was possible.

***
    As he walked to his car, Grant forced himself not to look behind him. The energy tug telling him to return to her was hard enough to deal with. His heart made a small jump for joy.

    Kali Jordan.

    She'd changed. Not surprising. Life hadn't been easy on her. Maybe it was due to the circumstances or what life had dished over time, now she appeared distant. To him she looked every bit as stunning as the first time he'd seen her. She’d been addressing a large group of government employees during a FEMA training seminar. A natural beauty with a ready smile, she'd been energized about her topic, her face animated with excitement, her hands waving wildly to make her point. Passionate.

    She still was, only more restrained.

    Stefan had been right. Again.

    She was an incredibly strong psychic but quite undeveloped. Stan hadn't mentioned that fact. But then, he might not know. Stan wasn't the most intuitive type around. Grant wasn't