She lowered her hand find gave him a confused look. "There's something really strange going on here."

"Tell me about it." In two hundred years, he'd never encountered this problem before.

"I thought I heard your voice—never mind." She stepped back, eyeing him warily. "Who are you?"

"I am Giacomo. My English-speaking friends have called me Jack for so many years, that I think of myself that way when I'm speaking English. You may call me Jack."

"I'm not your friend." She shivered from the cold psychic waves surrounding her.

He stepped toward her. "What is your full name?"

She stared at him, her eyes wide, as if she were completely entranced, but he knew she wasn't. He couldn't breach her mind. He had no idea what she was thinking.

A noise in the hallway drew his attention. He peered into the living room just as two paramedics rolled a gurney inside.

He shot a wave of psychic power at them. You will leave the hotel, go back to your ambulance, and have no memory of ever being here. Go now.

The two men turned and rolled the gurney down the hall.

"How did you do that?" Officer Boucher whispered.

He turned toward her. "I know none of this makes sense to you, but you must believe me. No one was harmed tonight. Nothing bad happened here."

She frowned. "What about the guy on the floor?"

"He's sick. I'll take care of him. You didn't find any wounds on him, did you?"

"No. But there's so much blood."

"I'll make sure it's all cleaned up." He offered her the empty gun. "Please go, Officer Boucher."

She accepted the weapon. "I–I don't feel right about this. I can't just act like nothing happened."

"There's nothing you can do but go. I'm sorry."

She stood there, chewing her lip and frowning. "This isn't right."

"Your partner is outside waiting for you. Good-bye, Miss Boucher."