“I appreciate that, but there’s nothing you can do. It either recovers or it doesn’t. We can’t afford to sit around and wait to find out what happens. Meanwhile I need to connect some dots.”
The impatience edging his words told her that she had asked the question about his vision too many times. She couldn’t help it. She was still trying to process the realization that Vincent Grant had tried to murder him tonight with a weapon that had damaged—possibly destroyed—his psychic-grade vision.
She breathed out and centered herself. He was determined to play the mission-comes-first role. She had to respect that. Also, he was right. They really did not have any options. They had to keep moving forward.
“I still can’t believe Vincent and Hatch are brothers,” she said.
“Half brothers,” Luke said. “It explains a few things.”
He was standing in front of the silver doughnut, studying it as if it held the key to unlocking all of his questions.
To distract herself she sat down at the small table and examined the odd-looking weapon. It was shaped like a chunky pistol with a fat, round barrel and an oversized grip.
Experimentally, she picked it up.
“It’s very heavy,” she said.
“Be careful. I’m pretty sure it’s dead, but when it comes to guns of any kind—”
“Always assume they are loaded. I know. It’s also awkward and cumbersome. I would have to use both hands to hold it and aim it. You couldn’t fit it into a shoulder holster and wear a dinner jacket over it like slick secret agents do with regular pistols.”
“That’s one of the prototypes that was stolen from the Wellses’ vault,” Luke said. “It was proof of concept. The idea was to refine it and make it more efficient.”
“We have to assume the other prototype is somewhere here in the compound, don’t we?”
“Yes. Probably in the hands of the smoking ghost.” Luke paused. “Unless he’s already deteriorated too much to use it. He may be dead by now.”
She chilled. “What about Vincent? How long before—?”
“I don’t know. Tobias and Xavier stopped the experiments as soon as they realized what was happening to people who fired the weapon more than once or twice. They assumed that a very strong talent could handle the guns but they called off the project before testing that theory.”
“I guess there was no one around to warn Vincent or the smoking ghost about the danger of firing the weapons,” she said.
“We can assume the man Grant called the Alchemist knows how dangerous the guns are. That’s why he hired other people as hit men.”
She turned the weapon carefully in her hands and opened her senses a little. The shock of awareness made her yelp. The heavy weapon clanged when she set it on the table and jumped to her feet. Bruce lifted his head off his paws and pricked his ears.
“Careful with that thing,” Luke said.
She backed away from the table, eyeing the weapon as if it was a rattler. “That gun was used to murder someone recently.”
“Sorry, I should have warned you. Grant said one of the guns had been used to murder the man who died in Deke’s cabin. Maybe it was that one.” Luke paused. “Or maybe that’s the weapon Grant used to murder the three homeless men I saw in his sketchbook.”
“I hate to admit it, but we may be in over our heads.”
“That occurred to me,” Luke said. “Unfortunately, we’re not in a position to call for help. No cell service and no landlines in the rooms.”
She shuddered. “Don’t remind me.”
“If we leave now—assuming we could get past the security gate—I doubt we’d be able to return with reinforcements in time to stop whatever is happening here. The message Deke held up in the hologram said we’re on the clock.”
“We have to find out what is going on behind that wall that you saw in the gallery, don’t we?”
“Yes.”
She braced herself. “You’re going back into the maze tonight.”
“I’m going to try to dream first.”
