“One more word out of you, Wells, and I’ll come out of the trance before the killer opens the door. If that happens you won’t get any more answers.”
Bruce whined. Apparently Luke got the message. At least he stopped talking. Sophy fought the fear and frustration that sluiced through her veins as she waited to witness a murder. She absolutely hated this part.
“The ghost is watching the door, waiting for it to open,” she said, so consumed with dread and so off-balance from the knowledge that Luke had invaded the trance that she did not realize she had used the wordghostuntil it was too late.Shit. That was not good. But at least Luke didn’t question it.
A spectral shadow loomed in the doorway.
“I see the victim. He’s about to enter the cabin.”
“Just one person?” Luke asked.
She decided to ignore the interruption because it dawned on her that his voice was like a chain or a rope—a lifeline she could use to pull herself out of the trance if her worst nightmares came true and she got trapped.
She wanted to scream a warning to the individual who was about to be murdered by Smoking Ghost but that would be pointless. She wasn’t watching the unfolding horror in real time.It’s over, she thought.There’s nothing you can do now.
She went very still and waited, her throat tight, her breathing shallow, her pulse racing.The ghosts aren’t real.Not real.
The victim walked into the room.
“Smoking Ghost raises the gun,” she said. “No, not a gun, but it’s aweapon of some kind.”
The brilliant flashes of fierce energy slammed into the victim. Her first thought was that the killer had unleashed a lethal paranormal talent. The ability to kill with psychic energy was rare but there were rumored to be a few monster talents who could do it. The fact that such individuals existed was one of the excuses the Foundation used to justify its quasi police force and Halcyon Manor, the private prison disguised as a psychiatric hospital.
The victim froze as if struck by lightning, mouth open on a silent scream. He convulsed, clutched at his chest, and crumpled to the floor.
The killer stopped firing the weapon. For a moment he seemed overcome with the thrill of the kill. And then he lurched into action.
“The killer is dragging the dead man out of the cabin,” Sophy said. “Nowthey are both gone.” She paused. “Does your uncle smoke?”
“No.”
“Areyou sure?”
It was weird to be able to communicate like this from the trance but it gave her a newfound sense of normalcy. That was even more weird. She was not accustomed to feeling any version of normal when she was on the other side like this.
“Deke wasn’t the killer, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Luke stated with unflinching authority.
Well, of course he would protect a family member, she thought. In his place, she would have cheerfully lied through her teeth if necessary.
“How can you be certain?” she asked, curious to see if he had a logical response.
“Uncle Deke would not have gotten worked up to a sick fever pitch by the thought of murdering someone. I’m not saying he wouldn’t kill in a life or death situation. But he would not have gotten off on the prospect of ending a life. And by the way, I am offended by the suggestion that my uncle is a sociopathic murderer.”
“I am, of course, relieved to hear that my aunt isn’t dating a sociopath.”
“I’m aware that the Harpers don’t think too highly of the Wellses.”
“What a coincidence. I’m aware that the members of the Wells clan believe all Harpers are cat burglars, safecrackers, and low-rent con artists.”
“After what I paid you for the reading tonight, I’m willing to testify that whatever else you are, you are not low-rent,” Luke said. “I suggest we forget ancient history, at least for now. We don’t need the distraction.”
He had a point. Also, she needed to get out of the trance. She was pushing her limits. Time seemed to flow differently when she was in the waking dreamstate. It was easy to lose track. But she had learned a few things over the years and one was that thelonger she remained in the trance, the faster and harder the ice fever would strike when she emerged.
“So, we’ve got an unidentified dead man and a deranged killer who smokes,” Luke said. “Is there anything else you can tell me?”
She thought about the strange gun the killer had used. “The weapon is very odd. It fires some kind of energy. It reminded me of a strobe light.”
There was a brief moment of silence while Luke processed that.
