Dream Eyes dl-2

by Jayne Ann Krentz

  Judson glanced at her, frowning. “As in magical wards? The kind used to ward off demons?”

  “I think that’s what she means, yes. She worries a lot about demons. That’s why she surrounds the house with the wind chimes.”

  Judson reached out to catch hold of one of the chimes. “I wonder what kind of alloy she used to wrap these crystals.”

  “I wouldn’t touch that if I were you,” Gwen said quickly.

  But it was too late. Judson had already snagged one of the metal strips between his fingers.

  Max hissed.

  “Damn.” Judson released the metal chime as if it were red-hot, wincing. “I see what you mean. That had a lot in common with touching a live electrical wire.” He surveyed the sculpture more closely, careful not to make physical contact. “But the shock was to my psychic senses.”

  “The one time I tried it, I got a bit of a jolt, too.”

  He looked down the long row of chime sculptures clashing and tinkling in the charged air of the fast-approaching storm. “Do they all have that effect on the senses?”

  “I don’t know,” Gwen said. “After the first go-round, I decided not to carry out any more experiments. But my guess would be that the chimes out here are all a little hot. And I’d advise you to be very, very careful inside because I’m pretty sure those are even hotter.”

  “I wonder how she does it?”

  “I asked her that once.” Gwen rapped on the front door. “She said something about tuning the frequencies of the stones and a lot of other stuff I didn’t quite understand.”

  “Sam is very interested in techniques for tuning paranormal crystals. I wonder if Louise would be willing . . . Huh.”

  She turned to look at Judson over her shoulder. “What?”

  She realized he was looking down at his ring. The amber-gold crystal was glowing ever so faintly.

  “My ring,” he said. He looked grim. “I think it’s responding to the chimes.”

  “Or maybe it’s picking up on your psychic response to the music.”

  “Maybe.”

  Max pawed the door of the carrier, meowing softly.

  Gwen turned back to the door and knocked again, more forcefully this time. No one responded.

  Judson abruptly set the cat carrier down on the porch.

  “Get away from the door, Gwen,” he ordered.

  She did not argue. Now she, too, could sense the darker currents swirling beneath the exotic energy of the chimes. The music of the sculptures had initially masked some of the violent energy that was seeping out of the house.

  “Oh, damn.” Her hand froze in mid-rap. She backed away. “Not again. This can’t be happening.”

  Judson was already at the door. The gun had materialized in his hand as if by magic.

  He opened the screen door and tried the doorknob. It turned easily. Gwen knew that was not right. Louise always kept her doors locked.

  When he opened the door, the draft stirred the chimes in the hallway. The spectral music sounded like the wailing of doomed souls.

  There was a sudden clattering somewhere deep inside the house. It was followed by the thud-thud-thud of running footsteps.

  “That’s not Louise,” Gwen said. “She had severe arthritis. She could never move that fast.”

  “Stay here,” Judson said.

  He raced down the hall.

  Max snarled and began attacking the door of the carrier with his claws and teeth. The spitting, hissing and scratching grew increasingly violent.

  “Stop that, Max,” Gwen said. “Please.”

  The door of the carrier flew open. Max shot out. He dashed across the porch and into the house.

  Before Gwen could react, she heard a familiar voice screaming in panic somewhere inside the house.

  “Let me go, let me go,” Nicole Hudson shouted. “Please, I swear I won’t tell anyone—”

  “Take it easy.” Judson’s voice echoed along a hallway. “No one’s going to hurt you.”

  To Gwen’s surprise, Nicole obeyed. At least she stopped the hysterical shrieking and subsided, instead, into jerky, frightened sobs.

  “Please don’t hurt me,” she whimpered. “I won’t tell Chief Oxley.”

  “Tell him what?” Judson asked.

  “About what I saw in the basement,” Nicole whispered. “Please.”

  “Let’s go see what it is you’re not going to tell anyone about,” Judson said. He raised his voice. “Come on in, Gwen.”

  Gwen moved through the doorway. She groped for the hall light switch and found it. But when she flipped it, nothing happened.

  Judson appeared at the end of the hall. The gun was no longer in sight. He had a firm grip on Nicole’s arm.

  “I just tried the switch at the other end of the hall,” Judson said. “The power is out. Looks like someone got to the electrical panel.”

  “It wasn’t me,” Nicole whimpered.

  “What’s going on?” Gwen said. But she knew.

  “Where’s the body?” Judson asked Nicole.

  “Downstairs in the basement,” Nicole said. She gave him a pleading look. “Someone killed Louise.”

  “What makes you think she was murdered?” Gwen asked quietly. “Was there blood?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t go down there.”

  “But you’re sure she’s dead?” Gwen asked.

  “I think so. She died the way the others did.” Nicole looked at Gwen with an expression of veiled horror and then looked away very quickly. “Just like the others. Everyone will think it was a heart attack or that she tripped on the basement stairs. Or something. No one will be able to prove that it was murder.”

  “Let’s go take a look,” Judson said.

  “Please, I don’t want to go down there,” Nicole whispered.

  “Where are the basement stairs?” Judson asked.

  “That way,” Nicole muttered. She gestured toward a hall.

  Judson steered her in the direction that she had indicated. Gwen followed. Max appeared at her feet, crowding close. His ears were flat and his tail was high.

  “There you are,” Gwen said quietly. “I wondered where you went.”

  They halted in front of an open door midway along the hall. Concrete steps descended into an inky darkness split by a sharp beam of bright light that angled across the concrete floor.

  “A flashlight,” Judson said. “She took it with her when she went downstairs to check the electrical panel.”

  Max wove a restless path between Gwen’s legs and muttered urgently in the mysterious language of felines. The sepulchral music of the sculptures that hung from the ceiling seemed to grow louder. Should have closed the front door, Gwen thought. The draft was getting stronger.

  Nicole froze at the top of the steps. “I don’t want to go down.”

  “We’re all going down together,” Judson said. “And remind me to ask you later what the hell you were doing here in the first place.”

  Nicole started reluctantly down the steps. “I just wanted to talk to her.”

  “Did you bring your father’s old hunting rifle along for the chat?” Judson asked.”

  “No, I swear, I didn’t bring it.” Nicole stopped, gripped the railing and stared back at him. “I know what you’re thinking. Oxley came by the shop. He said you thought I took a shot at you out at the old lodge yesterday, but that wasn’t me. He asked me to show him Dad’s old rifle but I couldn’t find it. Someone stole it.”

  “Yeah?” Judson made it clear he didn’t believe a word Nicole was saying. “When did that happen?”

  “How should I know?” Nicole wailed. “I keep it in my grandmother’s cedar chest. I haven’t had any reason to open that chest in months.”

  “You’re lying,” Judson said. “We can go over the details later.”

  Halfway down the steps, another unsettling shiver of awareness stirred Gwen’s senses. She realized that Max was no longer talking to her. She glanced back and saw that the cat was not following her d
own into the basement. She could see him silhouetted in the doorway. He had gone very still, very alert, at the top of the steps. But he was not watching her and the others. His attention was fixed on something only he could see.

  The dark music of the chimes was growing more intense, almost painful. The wind keened through the old house. The shadows in the hallway lengthened as the storm gathered outside.

  The light shifted abruptly down below in the basement. Startled, Gwen turned quickly and saw that Judson had picked up the flashlight. She made herself take a deep, steadying breath.

  Judson played the light beam across the body. Louise was sprawled faceup on the cold concrete. The ropes of her long gray braids were tumbled around her head. She had always been thin, but in death she appeared gaunt, almost skeletal. Her sharp features were so starkly etched that it was as if her skin had been drawn tight over her skull.

  The violent energy pooling in the room left no doubt as to the cause of death. She knew from the way Judson was studying the body that he was picking up the same vibes and probably a lot more information than she could.

  “Poor Louise,” Gwen whispered.

  “This was murder,” Judson said.

  Nicole cringed and turned away from the body. “You can’t blame this on me.”

  Judson ignored her to sweep the beam of the flashlight around the small space. The light raked across crates and boxes filled with crystals, mirrors, and the metals that Louise used in her sculptures.

  Judson shifted the light again, aiming in another direction. “The electrical panel is over there on that wall. But she was here, near this crate when she died. If she came downstairs to check the panel, why did she end up over here?”

  The light danced across a handful of palm-sized crystals in the shape of teardrops that lay on the floor near the body. Gwen followed the ray of light and was not surprised when a ghost appeared in one of the crystals.

  “I knew you would get here sooner or later,” the specter said. “Took you long enough.”

  Judson moved the light past the crystal. The ghostly image disappeared.

  “Wait,” Gwen said. “Move the light back to those crystals on the floor.”

  Judson did not ask any questions. He swept the beam back to the stones.

  “See a ghost?” he asked matter-of-factly.

  “Yes.” Gwen went toward the crystals.

  “Ghost?” Nicole yelped, beyond terrified now. “You two are crazier than the old witch was.”

  Gwen did not bother to respond to that. Neither did Judson. He kept the beam of light aimed at the crystals

  Gwen crouched down to take a closer look. The ghost snorted in disgust.

  “So much for that psychic talent of yours,” the ghost said. “What good does it do you? You’re always too late. Now you’ll have to live with the knowledge that you couldn’t save me from the demon, just like you couldn’t save Evelyn.”

  “Don’t start with me,” Gwen said. “You’re the one who claimed to be a witch. Shouldn’t you have seen this coming? You knew I was in town. You could have picked up the phone. Except you don’t have a phone, do you? Or anything else in the way of technology.”

  “Oh, shit,” Nicole whispered. “Does she really think she’s talking to Louise’s ghost?”

  “Something like that,” Judson said. He kept the flashlight aimed at the crystals. “Keep quiet.”

  “You want me to shut up?” Nicole was incensed. “She’s the one talking to a dead woman’s ghost.”

  “You think that makes her weird?” Judson said. “You’re the one who had an affair with a serial killer.”

  “What?” Nicole gasped. “No, no, that’s not right. It can’t be right. Zander couldn’t have been the killer. Gwen’s the one who murdered those people two years ago and now Evelyn and Louise.”

  “Quiet, both of you,” Gwen said. “I need to concentrate. What were you doing here, Louise?”

  “I knew all about your little problem with seeing ghosts at crime scenes, remember,” the ghost said.

  “I remember,” Gwen said.

  “Obviously, I came down here to see what was wrong with the electrical panel, but then the demon appeared. I knew that he had come to kill me. I was about to be murdered. I did my best to leave you a message.”

  “You managed to open this box of crystals before you died,” Gwen said, looking the scene over.

  “The demon didn’t understand that I was trying to leave a message for you.”

  “Just like Evelyn did with the photo.” Gwen studied the scene, thinking. “Very few people know about my thing with ghosts.”

  “No, you’ve kept that quiet all of your life, haven’t you?” the vision said.

  “It’s awkward.”

  “Tell me about it. I see demons, remember? At least I used to see them.”

  Gwen opened her senses a little further, deepening the trance as she sought to see the unseen. “Tell me something I don’t already know.”

  “I would if I could, but you know it doesn’t work that way. All I can do is lay a heavy guilt trip on you so that you’ll feel compelled to find the person who did this,” the ghost said.

  “The first step is to figure out why someone would want to kill you.”

  “Witches have never been popular, but we have our uses. Evelyn had need of my talents, remember?”

  “How were you involved in this thing?” Gwen asked.

  “Obviously, I knew something that Evelyn knew. After the demon got rid of her, he had to get rid of me, as well.”

  “But why now?”

  A violent series of hellish musical chords crashed through house. The explosion of wild notes charged the atmosphere with a fierce, painful energy. At the top of the stairs, Max screeched.

  The dream-trance shattered, Gwen whirled around.

  “Max,” she said.

  The big cat was silhouetted against an ambient glow of ultra-light energy. His back was arched, his tail rigid. He snarled at something that could not be seen from the basement.

  Nicole shrieked.

  “What’s happening?” she yelped.

  Gwen grabbed her shoulder. “Hush,” she whispered. She used a little energy to drive home the message.

  Nicole stopped the earsplitting scream, but she started to shake uncontrollably. “There’s something here in this house, isn’t there? It’s going to kill us just like it killed Louise.”

  Judson was at the top of the stairs, flattened against the wall. He looked down the hallway in the same direction that Max was staring.

  “There’s no one in the house,” he said. “But there’s too much energy building in the atmosphere. We’re getting out of here now.”

  Gwen gave Nicole a firm push toward the stairs. “Go.”

  Nicole rushed up the steps. Gwen followed.

  The ghostly music of the clashing chimes howled and shrieked through the house, penetrating the very walls. The floorboards shuddered under Gwen’s feet.

  Judson led the way back toward the front door. For the first time, Gwen noticed that his ring was hot.

  “What’s going on?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure,” he said. “But these damn wind chimes are churning up some serious energy. It feels like the music has reached a critical point and now the currents are oscillating out of control.”

  Nicole reached the top of the stairs. “I don’t understand. The music is horrible, but how could it be dangerous?”

  “I don’t think any of us wants to hang around to find out,” Judson said. He looked at Gwen. “You two go first. Head for the car and do not stop running until you’re both inside. Got that?”

  “Yes,” Gwen said.

  Nicole was hysterical now. Gwen half dragged, half pushed her through the house. Max stayed close, so close that Gwen was afraid she or Nicole would trip over him. That was the last thing they needed.

  The clashing and clanging and rattling of the chimes grew more wildly discordant. The sense of rising energy was
thick in the air.

  The chimes rose to a senses-shocking crescendo just as they reached the living room. A paranormal storm exploded around them. The raging currents of fiery music crashed like powerful waves, churning the atmosphere.

  Instinctively, Gwen fought the onslaught by heightening her talent. It worked to some degree, shielding her senses from the worst of the energy, but she knew she could not keep up such a high level of counterforce for long.

  Nicole gave a choked scream and fainted. The suddenness of her collapse caused Gwen to lose her grip on the other woman. Nicole crumpled to the floor in an untidy heap. Max screeched.

  The path to the front door was blocked by a cascade of searing energy.

  Judson reached up and grabbed the nearest sculpture suspended from the ceiling. Gwen saw the shudder that went through him when he made physical contact with the dancing wind chimes. He gritted his teeth against what she knew had to be a sharp jolt to his senses. He yanked the chimes from the hook and smashed the device on the floor.

  The green crystals, each framed in a strip of dark metal, clattered and thrashed and then fell silent. But the dark music in the house grew louder and more ferocious. The paranormal flames flared higher.

  “So much for that tactic,” Judson said. “The energy storm is blocking every route out of the house. We’re going to have to run through it.”

  “I’m not sure that’s possible.” Gwen looked down at Nicole. “I think we might lose consciousness like she did.”

  “We’ve got a better chance of getting out of here if we maintain physical contact,” Judson said.

  She wanted to ask him why he believed that to be true but concluded that it was not the best time to discuss his theory of para-physics. They had no choice but to run the experiment. Neither of them would be able to sustain much more of the assault on their senses.

  “All right,” she said. “Plan B it is.”

  She reached down to grasp one of Nicole’s wrists. Judson grabbed the other.

  “Whatever you do, don’t let go,” Judson said.

  Max hissed.

  Judson scooped him up into the crook of his arm. To Gwen’s amazement the dazed cat did not attempt to scratch or claw his way to freedom.

  The music rose and fell in nerve-shattering waves as if the sculptures were engaged in some demonic orchestral battle. The energy was growing hotter and more intense by the second.