Alex looked at the lamp. It was preposterous, for that lamp could not make her wishes come true, Alex was hardly foolish enough to believe so. Hardly romantic enough to believe so. Nothing could bring Blackwell back from the dead, and that was what she was actually wishing for—or even transport her back in time to him. She had to keep a firm grip on reality.
“It’s just a beautiful old lamp,” Joseph said firmly.
He was right. Alex nodded, determined to leave the shop, the lamp, and her romantic fancies behind, to return to her hotel, to get a good night’s sleep.Take it.The words popped into her head. Harsh and low and firm.
And she felt him behind her, smoldering now with power and energy and determination.
She had not felt his presence since she had left New York.
The difference in the atmosphere was startling—stunning.
“Alex?” Joseph was startled. “You’re white. Are you feeling unwell again?”
Alex could not answer. The voice was there now, stronger, insistent, inside of her mind.Take it. Buy it. I insist.
I insist.The words rang inside of Alex’s head.I insist. I …He had never spoken to her like that before.
“Alex?” Joseph said very cautiously.
His tone was so strange that Alex glanced up, and saw that he had lost much of his coloring, too. “What is going on here, Alex?” he whispered, glancing past her—glancing around the shop warily.
“I’ll take it,” Alex said dryly. And she felt his presence soften. She felt him smile. “How much?” she managed.
The old man interjected, “One hundred fifty dollars.” He pushed a piece of paper in front of Alex with $150 scrawled on it.
Before Alex could even nod, Joseph’s hand covered hers. He caught Alex’s eye. “You don’t want this lamp,” he said harshly.
Alex could still hear the voice inside of her head, although it was a memory now …I insist.“I must have it.”
Joseph’s lashes lowered, his hand slipped away from hers. He turned to his father and spoke harshly—the two men argued briefly. Joseph faced Alex. “He’ll sell it to you for fifty dollars.”
“Thank you.” She dug into her backpack. Her pulse was slamming. Both men watched her sign the traveler’s check. Alex’s hand was shaking.
And Blackwell said, “We can leave now, Alexandra.”
4
ABOVE ALEX’S HEADthere came a sudden, strange wailing.
Alex stood on the steps of the store beside Joseph. She was both frightened and exhilarated; she was also, oddly, reluctant to leave. Joseph stared at her. Alex managed a smile. “I plan to visit the museum tomorrow,” she said.
He brightened. “I know this museum like the back of my hand.” His gaze flickered. “Can I give you a tour? I promise you that you will not be disappointed.” He hesitated. “I’ll even show you a secret tunnel.”
Alex nodded, pleased. “Good night, Joseph. It was great meeting you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He watched her as she hefted her backpack, still carrying the lamp in her hand, and walked away. Alex felt his eyes upon her until she had turned the corner. How strange. She was still trying to figure out when and where they had first met. She was positive that they were not strangers.
The sun was setting. A strange Arabic cry came from loudspeakers somewhere above. Alex paused. She realized now that the wailing was the Moslem call to prayer from a nearby mosque.
Several Arabs who had been strolling ahead of her on the narrow street flung themselves onto the ground, facing the east. Alex held the lamp more tightly. It seemed somewhat warm. She was suddenly aware of being exhausted. An image of Joseph still danced in her head. She was also aware of the fact that Blackwell had left her. But she knew now that he had been present in the shop. He had spoken to her very personally, and he had also spoken out loud. Both Joseph and his father had been startled, both of them had heard a man’s voice. Though neither had mentioned it.
Blackwell’s spirit was here in Tripoli. She had been right to come. But they were still separated by time. Did hearing his voice mean he was somehow trying to break though whatever barriers existed between them, in order to reach her? Alex trembled at the very notion. But why? What did he want?
It was growing dark now, and she did not move, watching the praying men, afraid to disturb them. Alex was a little bit dizzy. If she felt faint again, though, it was her own fault; she had pushed herself far too hard after such a long and arduous trip. She realized now that she had been so overwhelmed with all that had transpired that she had left the small shop on foot when she should have been looking for a taxi.
The men had finished praying and were continuing down the silent and dark, nearly deserted street. Alex started after them. The lamp had become even warmer in her hands.
Almost burning her palms.
