Spill-what’s the deal with Hottie McDreamMan?”
“Sage?” I laughed.
“No, I mean Minister Sanders.” She threw a pillow at me. “Of course I mean Sage! He’s the one, right? The guy from your dreams. Oh my God-he’s real and he’s hot! Does he kiss as well in real life as he did in your dreams?”
“I wouldn’t know,” I admitted. “We haven’t kissed.”
“What are you waiting for?”
“So the whole randomly-popping-up-in-pictures thing doesn’t bother you?”
“Nope.”
“The whole strange-cultists-chasing-after-him? That doesn’t bother you either?”
“Nobody’s perfect, Clea.”
“How about if I told you he might be a serial killer? Would that bother you?”
“Debatable. Elaborate.”
I told her about the nightmares and about what I’d seen in his house. As I unrolled the story, her expression went from flip and giddy to openmouthed and riveted.
“Oh my God, Clea.”
“Crazy, right? And I still have no idea how he got into all those pictures.”
“That part’s easy.”
“Really?”
“Of course,” she said. “You’re soulmates.
“Rayna…”
“Fine, I know, you don’t like that word. But you can’t possibly deny that you have a deep, powerful soul connection. By definition you have that. You said yourself, he found you in four different countries and four different times. Out of all the people in the world at any given time, he found you. The only possible way he could have done that is if your souls were connected. He’s a soul-seeking missile.”
“But he told me he wasn’t there for any of the pictures.”
“Yes, he was! Don’t you get it, Clea? Your souls are connected-he’s always with you, whether he’s there physically or not. And you’re the one who told me about cameras capturing people’s souls, right? So that’s what it’s doing-capturing the soul that’s always with you, because you’re always connected. It’s very romantic.”
I thought about what she said, ignoring the last sentence because I knew by now that everything was very romantic to Rayna.
“Okay,” I ceded, “I’ll give you the connection. But what about the serial killer thing? What fi we’re connected because he tracks these women down, acts like he loves them, and then kills them?”
“Kills you. You’re them.”
“Yeah, thanks, that’s a much nicer way to put it,” I said, rolling my eyes.

Auteur: Hilary Duff