"Mr. Cameron! Are you all right?"
I looked into the large green eyes of Laurie Hendricks. They were remarkably beautiful eyes, framed by thick dark lashes, their color deep and vivid. Now they were very wide and troubled. The smooth plane of her forehead was faintly creased with worry and her lips were parted over even white teeth. She was someone I had never really seen before. I had been abstractedly aware of red hair and a pair of slim calves crossed and a figure that strained a sweater—but I had never clearly seen the person.
Was she the one?
"You okay, professor?"
My eyes shifted to Mike Boyle and I had a quick impression of his massive, powerful body towering over me.
"Yes, I—I think so."
I stared at each of them—Laurie, Boyle, the blond youth, the little brunette with small, demure features, the red-faced stranger who appeared to be more angry than concerned. The memory of the car's fender brushing past me as I fell returned so vividly that a reaction hit me. I had to fight down the impulse to get away, to run, to limp, to hobble, even to crawl, just so that I could be away from the thing that watched me, luring behind anxious human eyes.
"What the hell did you do that for?" It was the stranger speaking, the driver of the car.
"I—I tripped."
"Jesus Christ, you could have got killed!"