by Jayne Castle
She glanced at his paint-spattered denim shirt. “How’s my picture going?”
Jasper straightened away from the counter. “That’s what I wanted to show you. Got the easel set up in the backroom. Light’s terrible in there but it’s not like it’s good anywhere else on the island lately. Damn fog.”
“Were you able to interpret my dreamscape vision?”
“I’m getting there. Haven’t got it all figured out yet but it’s getting clearer based on your descriptions. Usually I work with my own dream images. This is the first time I’ve tried to paint someone else’s dreamscape.”
“Let’s see what you’ve got.”
Jasper came out from behind the counter and started toward the back room.
“I’ll tell you one thing for sure,” he said. “I know this picture is important. I’ve got this feeling that I need to hurry up and finish it but I need more input from you.”
He walked through the doorway into the crowded back room, stood aside, and gestured toward the easel set up near the window.
“That’s what I’ve got so far,” he said. “See if it jogs your memory.”
Rachel followed him into the shadowed space. Another heavy wave of psi hit her senses. The room reeked of energy, and not all of it was from the antiques stored in the crates and boxes that were piled everywhere. Charlotte’s shop had been the scene of a murder not too long ago. Violent death always left a taint in the atmosphere of a place. It wasn’t the kind of stain that you could get rid of with soap and water.
The overhead light fixture cast a weak glow across the array of crates and boxes stacked around the room. The fog was so thick outside that the windows might as well have been draped.
“I see what you mean about the poor light,” Rachel said. “I’m amazed you were able to paint anything at all in this gloom.”
“Not like I had a choice.” Jasper stood in front of the easel, contemplating his unfinished creation. “After the last time we talked about your dream I did some dreaming of my own. Woke up this morning with the feeling that I had to get something down fast. I got here at dawn and started painting.”
Rachel moved closer to the easel. She caught her breath when she saw the unfinished canvas. The fierce brushstrokes and the violent palette Jasper was using struck her senses like flashes of lightning—frozen lightning. She did not need the icy, all-too-familiar prickle of awareness on the back of her neck to warn her that the partially finished image was important.
“Oh, Jasper,” she whispered.
“Yeah, I know.” Jasper eyed his work with a grim expression. “I’m not there yet. But does it feel right? Does it look like anything you’re seeing in your dreams?”
“It’s a frozen waterfall. I saw it the night I went sleepwalking into the Preserve.”
Chapter 18
“You’re sure you have no idea where that waterfall is located inside the Preserve?” Harry asked.
He stood in the back room of Looking Glass with Rachel, Jasper, and Fletcher Kane. They were gathered around the unfinished painting.
“No,” Rachel said. “Judging by where I found my bicycle, I walked into the Preserve at a point not far from my cottage. But all I know for sure is that I was gone for about twelve hours and that I came out near Calvin Dillard’s place.”
“That narrows it down somewhat,” Harry said. “You couldn’t have covered a great deal of territory in that span of time because the terrain is too rough.” He looked at Jasper and Fletcher. “Slade said that you two are able to get a short distance into the Preserve because of your ghost-hunter talent. Have you ever seen anything like this inside the fence?”
Jasper shook his head. “Not that I remember. But it’s a fact that the energy inside the fence sometimes plays tricks on a person’s memory.”
Fletcher’s patrician features tightened in a thoughtful frown. “You didn’t forget anything, Jasper. You’ve never gone into the Preserve alone. It’s too damn dangerous. I’ve always accompanied you. Which means that if you had ever seen this frozen waterfall and forgotten it, so did I. Damn unlikely that we would both forget precisely the same scene.”
“I agree.” Harry did not take his eyes off the canvas. The currents of psi from several decades’ worth of hot antiques swirling in the atmosphere could not mask his intuitive sense that the waterfall was important. “I need to talk to this Calvin Dillard. He’s our only witness to the time and place where Rachel emerged from the Preserve. Maybe he can pin things down a little more precisely.”
Rachel looked at him. “Do you think this waterfall has something to do with what’s going on inside the Preserve?”
“My gut tells me it’s important, but I don’t know how yet.” He glanced at his watch. “I want to question Pritchard and McClain before I talk to Dillard, though.”
Jasper looked out the window at the gloom-shrouded day. “Better get moving. The fog is getting heavier. Looks like another storm taking shape over the island.”
“Let’s go,” Rachel said. She raised her voice. “Darwina? Where are you? We’re leaving.”
Darwina appeared in the doorway and fluttered across the floor. She bounced to a stop at Rachel’s feet, chortling, and waved Amberella. Rachel scooped her up and plopped her on one shoulder.
Harry went outside with Rachel and Darwina. They walked down the empty street to the police station. The gray sky had lowered in just the brief span of time it had taken him to find Rachel at the antique shop. The fog was so dense now that he could not see the harbor. He could sense the energy of another storm gathering.
“It’s going to be another bad one,” he said.
“Yes.”
“Did you know that most of the town of Shadow Bay thinks you’re psychically fragile because of the fugue incident?” he asked.
She winced. “You talked to Myrna, didn’t you?”
“Don’t blame her. She was just being protective.”
“I know.” Rachel made a face. “Geez. One little twelve-hour fugue episode and everyone assumes I’ve been traumatized for life.”
“She meant well.”
“Of course.”
“I told her I was pretty sure that she and everyone else in town is wrong about the condition of your psyche.”
Rachel brightened. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“However, on the gossip front, it appears you were right. Looks like the entire town assumes that we did not spend last night in separate seats in the SUV.”
“Really?” Rachel’s smile was smug. “Well, in that case imagine what they’ll say when they find out that you’re staying with me tonight.”
“I am?”
“You have to sleep somewhere. Your cabin burned down, remember?”
“I could stay at one of the B and Bs.”
“Yes,” she said. She stopped smiling. “You could do that if you like.”
“I’d rather stay at your place.”
She smiled again. “Okay, then, it’s settled.”
He wanted to ask if she intended him to spend the night on her sofa again but he realized he did not want to risk the answer. Better to take the conversation in another direction, he decided.
“Did seeing your dream image of the waterfall on canvas trigger any other memories?” he asked.
“When Jasper showed it to me, I got a flash of another image, a huge icicle suspended overhead like a chandelier. But it was made of hot crystals, not ice.”
“Psi-hot crystals?”
“Yes, I’m sure of it. Harry, remember those rain-stones in the jar in my kitchen?”
“Yes.”
“I told you I thought they were important. Now I think I may know why.”
He stopped and turned to face her. “Why?”
“I think the frozen waterfall that Jasper is painting is made of a solid piece of rainstone. But in my dream the stone is energized, it’s not cold like the crystals in my kitchen.”
Chapter 19
“I’m telling you, I
don’t remember what happened last night.” Vince rocked a little in his chair. He watched Harry with a pleading expression. “I don’t remember anything after we left the B&B and got into that dumb little rental buggy.”
“You ditched the Vibe before you got to the cabin,” Harry said. “Remember that?”
“No, I swear it.”
Rachel, sitting quietly in a corner of the police station lunchroom, watched uneasily as agitation flared in Vince’s aura. It wasn’t the wildly gyrating currents of anxiety that worried her—that kind of energy was only to be expected under the circumstances. It didn’t indicate guilt, just that Vince was scared.
He had good reason to be nervous, she thought. He was being questioned, after all, and Harry, for all his cool control, or maybe because of that control, was more than a little scary even though he was not using his talent. He faced Vince across the table.
What alarmed Rachel was the glacial blue of a particular band of wavelengths on Vince’s spectrum. The currents in that region appeared frozen—not extinguished, but rather in some sort of suspended state. She had never seen anything quite like it.
“I think you remember a little more about what happened after you got into the Vibe,” Harry said, calm but relentless. “You remember driving out Gatehouse Road, don’t you? How did you find the turnoff?”
Vince’s face screwed up in fierce concentration. “I think I remember driving out of the B&B parking lot.” He hesitated. “It was night. I do remember that.”
“What was the weather like?” Harry prodded.
Vince blinked and then frowned. “It was starting to rain. Wind was gusting. I remember wishing we had some better rain gear. All we had with us were a couple of jackets.”
“You had a few other things with you, Vince,” Harry said. “You had a device you could use to set a fire and a couple of mag-rez pistols.”
“No.” Vince slumped in his chair. “I don’t remember those things.”
“Where did you get the accelerant?”
Vince scowled. “The what?”
“What did you use to torch the cabin?”
“I don’t remember.”
“You bought the explosive device from someone.”
“No.”
“Where did you get the guns?”
Vince started to say he could not recall that information, either, but he hesitated, grimacing again. “I think we found them somewhere.”
“You just happened to find two very expensive, very illegal mag-rez pistols lying around on the street?” Harry asked as if he were inquiring about the weather.
“No, not on the street.” Vince cheered up again, eager to offer hard facts that might placate his questioner. “We found them somewhere else.”
“Where?” Harry asked, patient as a specter cat stalking prey.
“I dunno. No, wait, I think they were in a metal box in the trunk of the car.”
Harry opened his mouth to ask another question, but Rachel had seen enough. She spoke quietly from the corner.
“Vince?”
Vince stirred and turned his head to look at her. She realized he had forgotten her presence in the room. Harry was looking at her, too. She knew he was sending her a silent reminder that he had told her to stay quiet. She ignored him. Sometime in the past half hour Vince had become a patient who needed her help.
“Was there something else in the box with the pistols?” she asked softly.
Vince started to deny it, but confusion flashed through his aura, disturbing all of the currents except those in the frozen section.
“I think so but I can’t remember for sure,” he said. He sank deeper into his seat and into his misery.
“I might be able to help you remember,” Rachel said. Harry gave her a hard look but he did not try to silence her.
Vince shrugged. “I don’t see how.”
“I read auras,” Rachel said. “I can see yours now.”
“Yeah?” Vince shrugged. “So what do you see?”
“There’s a part of your aura that appears to be frozen,” she said. “It looks a little like the aura of a person who has undergone hypnosis, but this is not quite the same thing. Hypnotic suggestions usually affect a different section of the spectrum and fade rapidly over time. The iced-over psi in your energy field is in the dreamlight sector and shows no sign of thawing, at least not in the immediate future. It could be weeks or months before your conscious memory of events returns, if ever. But I think the things you saw and did last night will start showing up in your dreams one of these days.”
“I don’t understand any of that para-psych babble,” Vince grumbled. “What does that mean?”
“If I’m right,” Rachel said, “someone did more than merely hypnotize you. Whoever put you under went straight to the dreamlight currents of your aura. That takes a very rare kind of talent.”
Vince trembled and started to stutter. “H-how do I know y-you’re telling me the truth?”
“You can let me try to restore the natural oscillation pattern of the wavelengths in the part of your aura that is now frozen.”
Vince did not look convinced. “How do I know I can trust you?”
“All I’m going to do is touch you,” she said. “I promise that you will be awake the whole time. If at any point in the process you want me to stop, I will.”
Vince took a deep breath. “Okay. Just do it.”
Rachel looked at Harry. His jaw tightened. She knew he did not like the idea of her having physical contact with Vince. But Rachel had seen enough of Vince’s aura to know that he was no longer a threat. He was just plain scared.
“Trust me,” she said to Harry. “It will be okay. Vince isn’t going to hurt me. We need answers and this is the only way we’re going to get them.”
Reluctantly, Harry got to his feet and motioned her to take his place. Then he went to stand directly behind Vince.
“Hands on the table, Vince,” he said. “One false move and there will be dreams, all right, the kind of bad dreams you had last night at the cabin.”
Vince flinched but he placed his bound wrists on the table.
Rachel sat down across from him and put her fingertips lightly on one of his hands. He was shivering.
“Vince, do you feel ill?” she asked.
“No.”
“You’re terrified and not just because you’ve been arrested,” she said quietly. “I think that whoever hypnotized you implanted a command intended to keep you from talking about anything you might remember. The command triggers a panic response if someone asks you for the truth about what happened last night, maybe about other things as well.”
Vince gritted his teeth. “Just do whatever it is you’re going to do and get it over with.”
“Right.”
She gathered herself, heightened her talent, and focused energy through one of the charms on her bracelet.
Vince’s aura was still fundamentally strong. He had the natural vitality of youth and good health on his side. But the ice in his dreamlight was deathly cold.
She studied the frozen wavelengths for a moment, trying to decide how to approach the task. Then she began to pulse gentle, stimulating currents of energy into the paralyzed sectors.
Vince was shaking with fear. There was a wild panic in his eyes. But he did not beg her to stop.
For a moment Rachel worried that nothing was happening and that she could not reset the natural wavelengths of Vince’s aura. But gradually the ice-cold hue of the frozen currents began to warm with the familiar colors of healthy dreamlight. The bands of energy started to pulse in what she sensed was Vince’s natural pattern.
Vince jerked his hands away from Rachel. He stared at her, shocked. She could almost see his lost memories slamming back into his conscious mind. His mouth dropped open. He sucked in air and tried to come up off the chair, but Harry’s hand clamped around his shoulder, forcing him back down.
“What did you do to me?” Horror flashed in his eyes. “It’s just a
dream, a nightmare. Eric and I didn’t set fire to the old house.”
“We were there,” Harry said. “We saw both of you.”
“We didn’t set that fire, didn’t try to kill you two.” Bewildered, Vince groaned. “Why would we do that? We don’t even know you guys.”
“Good question,” Harry said. “Why did you do it?”
Vince blinked several times as more memories returned. He sank wearily back into his chair. “Because he told us to do it.”
“Who?” Harry asked.
“Mr. Cosgrove.”
“Who is Mr. Cosgrove?” Harry asked.
Vince shrugged. “I don’t know. He just showed up at Second Chance House a couple of days ago and offered us a job.”
“What is Second Chance House?” Rachel asked.
“It’s this homeless shelter for street kids in Frequency City,” Vince said. “Eric and I hang out there.”
“Why did Cosgrove send you and Eric to kill Miss Blake and me?” Harry asked.
“Not Miss Blake,” Vince said. “Just you. Cosgrove said you were a real bad guy who had killed some people. He said you were going to kill more people if we didn’t stop you. He told us to take the ferry to Rainshadow Island and firebomb that old cabin while you were inside.”
“But I wasn’t the only one inside,” Harry said.
Vince gave Rachel a beseeching look. “I swear we didn’t know you were in there with him, Miss Blake.”
“I understand,” Rachel said.
“Where did you get the incendiary device and the two pistols?” Harry asked.
Vince went blank-faced again. “Incendi-what?”
“The device you used to torch the house.”
“Oh, that. Mr. Cosgrove gave it to us and showed us how to work it. Then he gave us the pistols and showed us how to use them, too, although we didn’t get much practice in before we left Frequency City.”
Rachel leaned forward. “Now I have a question for you, Vince.”
“Yeah?”
“What is the significance of the tattoo on the back of your hand?”
“Huh? This?” Vince started to raise one hand to glance at it. He stopped when he realized that his wrists were secured together. “You get one when you’re accepted into the Circle at Second Chance House.”
