This was more than a dream. My senses were far too clear than the lulling fog of a dream. The connection was too strong. It could only be a memory.

My small hands bunched around and tugged the tall grass on the hill. It was itchy on my bare legs. My chest bundled and coiled as I tried to hold back my displeasure.

"Nora, you don't have to be so upset," her voice laughed out. She read me all too easily.

I looked up to see my mother. Her pink lips curved effortlessly into a smile. She looked like springtime herself. Her very light, straight blonde hair flew with the breeze. Her skin was soft and clear and warm like sunshine. Her eyes were bluer than the sky, and her voice was prettier and silkier than flower petals.

"I don't like it. I don't like it at all," I grumbled. I didn't need to say it out loud. I never hid anything from my mother

"Just because love is a little different for you and me, doesn't mean it has to be bad. It can actually be quite wonderful," she said. She took my hand in hers. "As psychics, we can sense the connections between the spiritual and physical worlds. The stronger the connection is to us, the more affected we become. You can feel it, can't you?"

I closed my eyes and nodded. More pertinent than the warm feeling of my mother's hand was our psychic connection. The fact that we shared a mother-daughter, psychic bond made our connection unlike any other.

"When you fall in love, the connection is a lot more direct and infinitely stronger than what you've ever experienced. When your bodies become one, your spirits become one as well. It's very similar to becoming..."

"Possessed," I finished for her. When powerful spirits force connections onto weaker spirits, it can be known as a possession. The otherworldly had a habit of taking over the living or haunting certain places they were connected to.

As psychics, we had to train our spirits and bodies to not be overwhelmed by the connections around us. Very few psychics had enough power or experience to directly interact with spirits. The exception was my mother and, later, me. I still had much to learn.

The psychic trait is heredity. Over the centuries of human existence, psychic powers had nearly been depleted due to crossbreeding and the unfortunate period of time when they burned "witches" at the stake. My father came from a psychic line as well but had little more power than what you would label "intuition" and "luck." He had a very good gut feeling. The only way you could really tell that he came from a line of psychics were his piercing violet eyes.

Despite our strong psychic heritage, I inherited most of the power; my sister had none. The only trait she inherited was the eyes. In a certain light, her eyes would shine purple. She wouldn't have nearly as much trouble I would.

"It's not fair," I said. I took my hand from my mother and crossed my arms defiantly across my chest. "I don't want to be possessed. I'm never going to let myself fall in love."

"Nora, love isn't always something you can control. I know, it sounds scary, but when you're in love with someone, you learn to trust them."

I wanted to believe my mother. I really did. But after the events that happened fifteen years ago, I promised myself I would never let myself become that vulnerable. Ever.

When I woke up, I was a little more than disoriented. Connections to the past could make the present seem unreal. I had to take a moment to figure out where I was. By the looks of it, I was in a hotel. American. What I was doing here, I wasn't quite sure. I needed some coffee.

Any coffee I would find in this hotel probably wasn't going to cut it. It'd just make me in a worse mood than I was now. I walked out in a daze, looking for the green sign to save me. I was drawn into a Starbucks.

There were surprisingly very few people in the coffee shop. I was able to walk right up to the counter. I closed my eyes and concentrated on the strong coffee smell. I could almost inhale the caffeine.

"Good morning, princess."

And the irritation zipped right back into me. I opened my eyes to see the barista grinning at me. His hair was blond and sticking up in crazy directions behind his visor.

I was still wearing my pajamas. "Princess" was scrawled out in purple script across my chest. I didn't have the patience for this.

"Tall latte with a shot of vanilla and a double shot of espresso. No foam," I ordered, ignoring him.

"How about a name?" he asked, writing my order on a cup.

"Elenora," I said unwillingly.

"Okay, how about a date?" he asked, smiling even bigger.

"No," I answered quickly and coldly.

"Ouch, but I'm afraid I can't take no for an answer, princess," he said, completely unfazed. "See, I've already paid for your drink, so this is technically our first date."

What was this guy's deal? In just a moment, I got a read on him. Much more than I wanted, in actuality. First off, he wasn't a barista. He some sort of undercover detective desperately wanting to show off. Second, he had this really strong attachment to me. I had dealt with people being attracted to me before, but this was on a different level. Usually, it was enough for my strong disinterest to cause them to become at least slightly discouraged. I had to be more harsh.

"I said no, you arrogant prick. Now, focus on your job before someone gets hurt," I said. The criminal was supposed to show up any minute now.

His eyebrows raised at that. He dispensed the steaming milk into the cup. "Remind me never to mess with you in the morning."

That wasn't good enough. He wasn't catching on. I ignored him as best I could and focused on what exactly I was doing back here.

"Here you go, princess," he interrupted my chain of thought. He leaned across the counter, keeping my cup just out of my reach.

I grabbed the cup. My eyes widened with surprise. This wasn't my order.

He threw me a wink. "I thought you could use a triple."

I narrowed my eyes at him. I couldn't believe I just let myself react like that. His sheer idiocy caught me off gaurd. I'm almost positive he didn't notice my minute reaction.

I brought the cup to my lips and took a sip. It certainly was strong. And quite possibly the best latte I ever had. Of course, I couldn't give him the satisfaction. I turned around and took a few more sips as I headed to the door. Just as I was about to head out, the criminal the detective was waiting for showed up.

The air was tense. The detective was sending strong vibes that this man was dangerous. The detective was feeling very protective of something. I had a feeling he was going to do something stupid.

"Freeze!" the detective-barista shouted, drawing his gun.

He really was an idiot. Whatever the criminal had originally been planning, he immediately changed his mind. He was going to use me as a hostage. Before he could lay a single finger on me, I forced my palm up under his jaw. His teeth slammed together, and his head hit the door. I punched him in the stomach with the same hand, and smashed my latte into his face.

He fell to the floor, temporarily incapacitated and screaming from the burns on his skin. The coffee sleeve stayed gripped in my hands. That detective had written his phone number and a few hearts. I threw it into the trash.

"Nice going, genius." I looked back at the very astonished and blank-minded detective. "Weren't you undercover for a reason?" I reminded him.

I stepped over the Chu syndicate criminal on the ground. What a waste of coffee. Still, the incident was a refresher. I remembered why I was dreaming about the past again. To think I would end up back here after all these years. So much had changed, but that didn't matter. I wouldn't stay long. The precinct was sure to have more coffee. I'd find out what was up with my sister and go. No need to make this ordeal any of my business.