by Kay Hooper
Nothing. Paris’s face remained completely relaxed and without expression, even as her fingers clung to Dani’s.
Clung and…
When Dani realized what was happening, she tried to pull free of her sister’s grip, but it was impossible. There might not have been much more than a spark of consciousness left in Paris, but it was enough to do what she meant to do.
I’ve got something for you, something you can use. I think it was always supposed to be yours anyway.
It lasted only a few seconds, and then Paris’s fingers relaxed. Dani was afraid for a moment that it had been her sister’s vital life force that had passed from Paris to her, but the machines monitoring her continued to beep quietly and steadily.
Dani watched her sister breathe for a few moments longer, thinking, remembering, then gently tucked Paris’s hand beneath the covers and stepped back away from the bed.
Bailey was there almost instantly, pausing before reclaiming her chair to eye Dani and say calmly, “Try to keep your distance from the machinery in this place.”
“Why?”
“You’ll see. Don’t worry, I’ll watch over Paris. Anything that goes after her has to come through me first. And I don’t give way without a fight.”
“Thank you.” Dani didn’t understand what she meant about machinery. But Bailey was right. She found out.
Hollis and Jordan sat companionably silent in the conference room of the sheriff’s department, their solitude broken only when Dani, Marc, and Bishop arrived—with two newcomers.
Gabriel and Roxanne Wolf were so clearly brother and sister that the information didn’t even have to be provided—though Jordan found out later that they were, in fact, fraternal twins. He was tall, lean but obviously powerful, and had shaggy pale-blond hair; she was also tall, slender without being thin, and had pale-blond hair cut shorter than her brother’s. They were around thirty, were clearly athletic, and shared eerily identical green eyes of the very rare sort: a bright, almost primary shade that seemed iridescent.
After introductions, the group settled in around the conference table, and Hollis was the first to say, “Dani, I’m sorry about Paris. I hope she pulls out of this.”
“I hope we can help her do that,” Dani responded.
Jordan said, “You know we’re willing, Dani. Anything we can do, say the word.”
“It’s a question of time.” She looked around the table. “I know we’re all committed to finding and stopping this monster as soon as possible, before he gets his hands on another woman, but the attack on Paris and me has…altered the situation.”
“Altered it how?” Gabriel asked.
“Several ways. For one thing, when somebody reaches into your mind with theirs, you get a sense of identity. Or, at least, I did, especially since it wasn’t his first visit. And one thing I’m sure of now is that whoever attacked us psychically has more in his game plan than killing women.”
“Like what?” Hollis frowned. “By the way, now that I’m seeing auras, yours looks a little weird. Almost…metallic.”
“I’m not surprised,” Dani said.
Jordan was staring at Hollis. “You see auras?”
“Apparently. Seems like every case I’m on brings a fun new toy for me.” She eyed him. “Your aura is surprisingly calm, mostly blue and green.”
Jordan had no idea what that meant and decided not to ask. He had a hunch he was better off not knowing.
Dani was saying, “I caught just enough of a glimpse into his mind to know two things: He’s brilliant, and he’s powerful. And I got the sense that he’s been planning this for a long time, months at least. Probably even before Boston.”
“Planning what?” Hollis asked again.
“To get more powerful. And to get rid of an enemy he views as very dangerous.” Dani nodded toward Bishop.
“Bishop made an enemy,” Gabriel murmured. “Fancy that.”
“Gabe,” his sister said warningly.
Bishop shook his head. “No, he’s right. I make plenty of enemies.”
“Then what makes this one different?” she asked.
“Ask Dani.”
Dani didn’t wait to be asked. “All I can tell you is that his plan is somehow focused on Bishop—and the SCU. And that we’re all here because he wants us to be.”
Gabriel scowled. “I don’t much like being a puppet.”
“Then we have at least one thing in common,” Bishop told him.
Jordan said, “Okay, maybe a dumb question. Granted, we need to find this bastard before he has time to do any more damage. What does the timeline have to do with Paris? Afraid he’ll come back and try to finish the job?”
“I’m afraid he has to.”
“Why?”
“Because she has—or had—something he wants. And I think he made his first real mistake in believing he could get what he wanted from her and attack me at the same time. It took more energy than he planned and left him without enough to get the job done.”
“I’m still in the dark,” Jordan complained.
“He wanted something he could use as a weapon,” Dani explained. “Not many psychic abilities can be used that way, but Paris had one of them.”
Gabriel sat up straighter. “Her secondary ability?”
Dani glanced at Marc, then nodded. “Yeah. And not so secondary anymore, at least not for me—as we discovered at the hospital. I think the doctors were much more happy about me discharging myself after I shorted out two of their machines.”
“Say what?” Jordan’s voice was a bit faint.
She hesitated, then held up her right hand, thumb and index finger touching. As she rubbed them together, everyone in the room could hear the crackle of energy, very obviously intensifying with the friction she was creating. When she abruptly separated the two fingers, a visible thread of electricity arced between them.
“I seem to be a better conductor than Paris was,” Dani said absently, watching the little light show. “She couldn’t sleep with an electric alarm clock on her nightstand, because it would short out while she was sleeping. When she was awake, the only thing she occasionally affected was the odd touchy computer or something like that.”
“Wow,” Jordan said.
Dani looked at him, then shook her hand slightly. With a couple of pops and crackles, the energy dissipated. “Most of us carry around a static charge at one time or another; the human body is filled with electrical energy. My mind just knows how to channel it now. Focus it, direct it.”
“Ah. An honest-to-God weapon. Like a laser?”
“Not that focused.”
“Not yet,” Bishop murmured.
Without looking at him, Dani said, “It’s an ability I’d just as soon have temporarily and give back to Paris as soon as possible. One of Bishop’s guardians is at the hospital watching over her, but I think all this guy needs is time to…recharge his own energy before he tries again.”
Roxanne said, “So you think he targeted Paris deliberately? Because he wanted her ability?”
“I think so.”
“How did he find out about it?”
“I don’t know for sure. But—”
Marc spoke up, saying, “Paris’s ex-husband likes to drink. And he tends to rant about Paris, to anyone who even pretends to be listening, when he drinks. All about Paris, especially the things that spooked him. I’m thinking maybe Dan said the wrong thing to the right person. In fact, I’d bet on it.”
Roxanne lifted her brows at Dani. “Your twin married a man named—”
“We pondered the subtext of the names, believe me,” Dani told her wryly. “Probably something Freudian about it. Or just unlucky chance—all the way around.”
“Moving on,” Gabriel murmured.
Dani nodded. “Thank you. Moving on—the point is that I think this guy will try again, and as soon as he regains his strength.”
“How do you know he lost it?” Jordan asked.
“Bitter experience. Every psychic I k
now is drained to some extent when they use their abilities. An attack like that one required an enormous amount of energy, especially since he wasn’t in physical contact with Paris or apparently even close to either of us. I was out nearly eighteen hours, and that was after he expended most of his energies attacking both of us; I’m betting he’s still out.”
Gabriel pulled at his earlobe briefly. “So you’re saying that Paris’s ex did his drunken-rant act in a bar where our killer happened to be? I love a good coincidence, but—”
“Not so much of a coincidence when you think about it,” Marc said. “Dan worked for a company in Atlanta. We’re a bit far out to be a true bedroom community, but we have more than our share of commuters who live in Venture—and his job involved a lot of travel. All up and down the East Coast. He passed through Boston at least three times last summer.”
“All kinds of things lining up now,” Roxanne said. “So this serial was laying low in Boston, maybe keeping an eye on the investigation into his murders, maybe just having a scotch between victims, when he heard a drunken salesman in a bar talking about his very talented ex-wife. And it seemed like a good idea to get out of the spotlight up there and head south.”
“I think it was a lot more deliberate than that,” Dani said. “I can’t prove it, because so far there’s nothing anybody would consider to be evidence—but I know the sense I got from that voice in my mind. That other personality. He was already focused on Bishop, on the SCU. He was planning on a fight. Maybe he intended to make his stand there in Boston, or maybe he was already on the verge of moving on. Either way, hearing about Paris brought him to Venture. Because Paris was here, and she had a very cool ability he wanted for his very own.”
“He’s a psychic vampire,” Jordan guessed hesitantly, half afraid someone would laugh at him.
But this wasn’t a group to easily dismiss the seemingly fantastic.
“There are plenty of energy vampires in the nonpsychic world,” Bishop told him. “You probably know at least one yourself. They wear out their friends just having a normal conversation, suck the energy right out of the room.”
Jordan frowned. “Actually, I know two people like that. But this guy—am I right in thinking he’d have to have some kind of specialized ability? I mean, to steal another psychic’s abilities?”
Listening to the clock ticking louder in her head, Dani said, “Probably. To be honest, I don’t really care how he does it. Or why. I just want to find him, and before he has the strength to finish the job he started. He’ll go after Paris again, and, guardian or not, he could kill her before he ever realized she no longer has the ability he wants so badly.”
Jordan nodded quickly. “So we go back to the warehouses.”
“And,” Marc said, “start checking property records for the last couple of months. I’m betting he likes his accommodations to be a little more comfortable than a warehouse, wherever he does his dirty work. I doubt he’s stayed at one of the motels all these weeks, because it would have been noticed. A rental or a lease is more likely. But we’ll send deputies out to check the motels anyway.”
“Which will also be noticed,” Bishop said.
“It’s the weekend and getting late, so maybe not so much. In any case, I figure we’ve got maybe forty-eight hours max before the news breaks wide open.” He eyed Bishop. “And speaking of news, shouldn’t you be in Boston, all visible for the Director?”
“The Director had to fly to the West Coast for a few days and is due back in D.C. by Wednesday,” Bishop replied. “I’ve got several of my people wasting time in Boston running a shell game to disguise my absence, so I should be covered until then. If the hunt is still on in Venture, I go back to coming down here as often as I can on a corporate jet that does a regular twice-daily run from Atlanta to Boston and back.”
“True commitment,” Gabriel said politely. Before anyone could comment, he got to his feet and began unfolding a large map onto the conference table. “Roxanne and I have been checking out warehouses and other likely buildings during the last few days; I think if we compare notes, you’ll be able to cross off over half the ones on your list.”
20
IT WAS NEARLY MIDNIGHT when Marc parked his cruiser in the driveway of his house a few blocks from the sheriff’s department, and Dani was still arguing.
“Marc, I slept for eighteen hours. I—”
“You didn’t sleep for eighteen hours, you were out for eighteen hours. Big difference. And,” he added before she could interrupt him, “I did not sleep.”
“I didn’t say you shouldn’t rest, I said I didn’t need to.”
“You also said I was your guardian—or words to that effect—and your guardian sticks to you like white on rice. And you stick to him.”
“I just feel like I should be doing something to help find the killer,” Dani said.
Marc turned off the car and opened his door just enough for the interior light to come on. He looked at her steadily. “Are you afraid to dream this time, is that it?”
“I’m always afraid to dream. But that isn’t it. I don’t believe the killer has regained enough energy to come after anybody, and it’s not like I can plan to have a vision dream, you know that. It happens or it doesn’t. Passive, remember? I’m tired of being passive. I need to be doing something, Marc, something useful.”
“Listen to me. Everything that can be done is being done. Everybody who’s not absolutely dead on their feet is out in teams searching buildings or at the station combing through property records. The only thing you or I could add would be two more pairs of tired eyes. We both need a break, Dani.”
She really couldn’t argue with that truth—or didn’t want to. But she did say mildly, “All my stuff is at Paris’s house.”
“And all my stuff is here. Come on, I’ll find you something to sleep in for tonight, and we can go by her place in the morning so you can change.”
“What, you mean there aren’t any bits of female clothing left behind by overnight guests? I thought every man had a drawer full of those.”
“Fishing, Dani?”
She got out of the car, waiting until he joined her on the walkway to say dryly, “Of course I was fishing. Since when was I ever subtle about stuff like this?”
“Stuff like this?”
She decided it was probably a good thing for him that she really was tired, because otherwise she would have picked up something and hit him instead of replying with the simple truth. “Continuing the process of reconnecting.”
He stared at her, one brow lifting.
“I’m really too tired to play games,” she confessed. “And that is what we’ve been doing the last few days. Isn’t it?”
His front porch light was on, and he stood there at the door, keys in hand, and looked down at her steadily. “That depends. Are you planning on sticking around this time?”
“I thought I would.” She hadn’t realized she was going to say it until she did.
“Then,” Marc said as he unlocked the door, “we’re definitely reconnecting.”
She followed him into the house, struck immediately by the fact that he had totally redone it; a decade before, this had been the house left to him by his parents, but now it was unquestionably Marc, an uncluttered, clean-lined Craftsman, both masculine and sophisticated.
“Nice,” she told him, looking around.
“Well, the eighties look sort of dated the place. And I really didn’t like dark green and pink as a color combo.”
“It’s not my favorite either.” She cleared her throat, allowing herself to become aware of the tension between them. The very deliberate choice surprised her, not because she made it but because she was able to.
Huh. It’s like opening a door. A weird kind of control I’ve never had before. Was I shielding without even thinking about it? Or just suppressing until I had the time and energy to deal?
“I know it’s late,” Marc said. “But I have some ice cream from Smith’s in the freezer.
If that’s still the ritual.”
“It is.” She went with him into the bright kitchen and was quickly sharing with him a bowl of the best homemade vanilla ice cream in the world.
“This alone could have brought me back to Venture,” she told him.
“Mmm. I thought it took a vision. And a threat to Paris.”
“I didn’t know the threat was to her.”
“I think on some level you did.” Marc shrugged. “But either way, you knew something bad was coming here. And you came back to help.”
Dani put down her spoon and looked at him steadily. “You’re wondering if I would have come back here eventually, without the vision.”
Lightly, he said, “Is this more of Paris’s abilities? Are you clairvoyant now?”
Without answering that directly, she said, “It doesn’t take a clairvoyant to see the obvious. Marc, I like to think I would have matured enough at some point, even without a vision, to stop running away from who I am. But all I really know for sure is what I told you before. There’s nobody waiting for me back in Atlanta. There never has been.”
For a moment she didn’t think he was going to respond, and then he said, “I don’t have a drawer filled with bits of clothing left behind by overnight guests. I haven’t been a monk, Dani, but…there was never anybody I wanted to bring home. Not since the beautiful assistant left the magic show.”
Dani didn’t know who moved first and didn’t really care. All she knew was that the instant his arms closed around her and his mouth covered hers was the first time she truly felt she had come home.
It was the nightmare brought to life, Dani thought.
The vision.
The smell of blood turned her stomach, the thick, acrid smoke burned her eyes, and what had been for so long a wispy, dreamlike memory was now jarring, throat-clogging reality. For just an instant she was paralyzed.
It was all coming true.
Despite everything she had done, everything she had tried to do, despite all the warnings, once again it was all—