“But not knowledge. Not training. That you can still access.”
“I think so,” she said cautiously.
“Then I’m betting it’s all still there, Riley.”
“In pieces.”
“You can reconnect the pieces.”
“Yeah? How?” She was afraid her voice sounded as shaky as she felt.
“You made a start. You were able to use your clairvoyance at the murder scene.”
“Not like I’ve ever used it before.”
“There’s at least a chance the electrical jolt may have changed that for good.”
She realized her short nails were biting into her palm and forced herself to unclench her right fist. Staring down at the reddened crescents as they faded, she said slowly, “There’s a precedent?”
“Of sorts. Electrical fields affect us, Riley. Virtually all of us. But how depends on the individual. It can have unpredictable side effects ranging from very mild disorientation to a radical change in our abilities. But a direct jolt to the brain…The only similar case I know of involved a second-degree medium who was accidentally electrocuted. His heart stopped, but they brought him back.”
“And? He still sees dead people?”
“He couldn’t see them before, just barely hear them. Now he sees them in Technicolor and hears them as clearly as you’re hearing me. All the time, if he drops the shield it took us more than a year to teach him how to build.”
“Like living in the middle of a noisy crowd only you can see and hear.”
“Yes. Not pleasant.”
“He’s not with the team.”
“No. Maybe someday, but not yet. Right now it’s all he can do to have some semblance of a normal life.”
Riley would have preferred to go on talking about someone else’s troubles but reluctantly focused on her own. “So…the shock of that Taser might have strengthened or altered my clairvoyance to the point that I can actually experience visions.”
“It’s possible.”
“You didn’t mention that possibility before. Did you? Jesus, I don’t even remember if I reported in yesterday.”
“You did, briefly. And I noticed absolutely nothing unusual in the conversation, so you obviously were functional during those missing hours. As for whether we discussed the possibility that your abilities may have been altered, no, not specifically.”
“Did you think this might happen?”
“Honestly?” For the first time a hint of weariness crept into his voice. “There’s been so much going on here that I haven’t had a great deal of time to consider possibilities elsewhere.”
“Yeah, I saw you on the news. Looks like a tough one.”
“It is. But all the teams are currently involved in tough cases. Including you. Riley—”
“I know. I should return to Quantico. But the answers are here, Bishop. Besides, at least one man has died and there’s a strong possibility of another victim. And I’m involved. Somehow, I’m involved. I can’t just walk away from that.”
“An unknown assailant managed to blindside a trained agent and put you down hard on Sunday night.”
“Don’t rub it in,” she murmured.
Bishop ignored that. “You don’t know if it was meant to be a lethal attack, though all signs point that way. Your memories and instincts are, to say the very least, unreliable, and you’ve been burning energy at a rate far greater than normal for you. You’ve had two blackouts in the last forty-eight hours, losing well over half that time. You’re experiencing dreams and visions of what appear to be extreme black-occult rites, which we both know are as rare as hen’s teeth. And you have no backup.”
“What’s your point?” she asked, deliberately flip and not at all sure he’d let her get away with it. He usually didn’t.
“Riley.”
“Okay, it’s insane. I’m insane. Probably. I’m also scared, in case you’re not picking up on that.”
“I’m picking up on it,” he said. “Even without telepathy. The worse a situation gets, the more flippant you get.”
Riley frowned. “I’m that predictable?”
“It’s a defense mechanism. In your case, a survival tool.”
“As in ‘Don’t bother to kill the poor little lunatic blonde, she’s obviously out of her mind and, so, harmless’?”
“That’s part of it. And a different sort of…protective coloration. If you’re laughing about a situation or taking it lightly, then it can’t be all that serious, now, can it? Puts other people at ease and tends to stop them crowding you.”
Riley returned her gaze to the man waiting outside on the deck, and said, “I don’t think it’s going to work this time.”
“Not with everyone, at any rate. If Ash Prescott is your lifeline, you need to be totally honest with him.”
It didn’t surprise Riley that Bishop had picked up on her specific uncertainties; she wasn’t at all sure he wasn’t actually reading her thoughts, long distance. “I told him he was my lifeline. But…do you really think it’ll come to that?”
“I think it might. You’ve experienced two blackouts in two days, Riley, the second one longer than the first. That alone suggests your condition is deteriorating rather than improving.”
“Yeah, I was afraid of that. But the brain’s designed to repair itself, right? To build new pathways when old ones are destroyed?”
“Yes, more or less. Which is why I would expect your condition to stabilize. The fact that it hasn’t indicates some kind of continuing damage.”
Riley considered that for a moment, trying to think clearly. There was an idea on the edge of her mind, something she couldn’t quite reach, and it was maddening because she thought it represented at least part of the answer.
There was something…something I realized? Something that made sense?
Bishop said, “It’s also distinctly unsettling that you were functional during the blackouts.”
“You’re telling me. Ash has been filling in most of the missing time for me, and as far as I can tell, I was behaving normally.”
“So the most likely scenario we’re left with is that you experienced the time, lived through it with perfect normality, and afterward, for some unknown reason, lost the memory of it. Or at least can’t access it.”
“That’s what it sounds like.”
“And we don’t know what triggered either of the blackouts.”
“If something did.”
“Blackouts are always triggered by something, at least in our experience. You were using your abilities the second time, but not the first; do you recall any commonalities in the moments just before the blackouts?”
She was about to say no, but then Riley paused and thought about it more carefully. “Just before the first blackout, I was talking to two people from that group of satanists I told you about here on the island, Steve and Jenny; when I woke up after that blackout, it was from a dream in which I was watching the celebration of some version of a Black Mass—with Jenny serving as the altar.”
“And the second blackout?”
“Happened just minutes after I experienced that vision at the crime scene. In the vision, the celebrants were masked, but the woman could have been Jenny again. The priest might have been Steve. I can’t say for sure, but…”
“A possible connection.”
“The only one I can think of.” Riley was conscious of a chill as she realized it was becoming more difficult to concentrate, to focus. She was losing energy again. Already, she was losing energy.
Damn, damn, damn…
She forced herself to go on. “Ash…suggested the possibility of another psychic. So did Gordon. Someone able to influence my mind. My memories.” And maybe sap my energy?
“It is possible. Your deteriorating condition argues there’s something more at work than the single Taser blast. And if there is a combination of black-occult practices and genuine psychic ability manipulating the situation down there, clearly with some success, you can’t han
dle it alone.”
“Bishop—”
“Nobody handles that sort of thing alone. A psychic with the drive to create dark energy and the ability to tap into it? With the ability to use it? We know evil exists, Riley, that it’s a real, tangible force.”
“Yeah, but—”
“A force you’re vulnerable to, especially now. Your natural defenses have been weakened, all but destroyed; how could you protect yourself from an attack on that level?”
Riley didn’t have an answer.
Bishop didn’t wait for a response. “If nothing else, black-occult practices would provide the perfect opportunity to channel negative energy. Whether in an attack meant to disable or destroy, or to achieve some other specific purpose. You’re the expert on the occult; you know better than most that such rituals are incredibly dangerous in the wrong hands. Whether intentional or not, controlled or not, they create an enormous amount of negative energy—which could well be one of the things affecting you now.”
She hadn’t thought of that; it had never happened to her before. Then again, she could count the genuine black-occult rituals she had been witness to on the fingers of one hand. With fingers left over.
“Damn.”
“Assume the worst, Riley. Assume you have a very powerful enemy out there. The Taser attack may only have been the beginning.”
“I don’t know who I could have threatened in such a short time, at least not to that extent.”
“Which is the answer you need to look for. Whatever’s happened to your abilities, your memories, the one thing you know for certain is that you were attacked.”
It was, perhaps oddly, something Riley needed to hear, to be reminded of, and by someone who could view the situation with cool logic.
She felt a bit steadier, a bit more centered. She could do this. She was a pro, after all, experienced in investigation. Trained in self-defense and more than able to take care of herself. Knowledgeable about the occult.
She could do this.
She was almost positive she could.
“So you’ll let me stay on the case?”
“There are conditions, Riley.”
“Okay, but—”
“Listen to me. You chose Ash Prescott as your lifeline, and we both have to trust that you knew what you were doing. Keep him close. Follow what leads you can, look for what connections you can—and report back tomorrow. By the end of the day on Friday. Just as we originally agreed. If there’s been no progress in the investigation, or you black out again, even for ten minutes, then you’ll be recalled to Quantico. Period.”
This time, Riley knew better than to argue. “Understood.” She was still fighting to hold on to her concentration and hoped he wasn’t picking up on it. “Bishop, one last thing. The serial killer in Charleston. You were going to look at the files?”
“Yes, I have. You don’t have to worry about John Henry Price, Riley.”
She leaned against the counter, too relieved to even attempt to hide it. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“Bad enough it’s a copycat, but—”
“Investigate your case, Riley. Report in tomorrow, sooner if anything changes. And be careful.”
“I will.” She cradled the receiver and continued to lean against the counter for a moment, then pushed herself away and went to grab another PowerBar before heading back out to the deck to talk to Ash, trying to convince herself that she couldn’t actually feel the energy draining out of her as though someone had pulled the plug.
Bishop closed his cell phone and stared down at the folder open on the table before him.
“You lied to her,” Tony noted, his tone neutral.
“I withheld part of the truth.”
“A lie by omission is still a lie, boss.”
“That,” Bishop said, “depends on whether the end justifies the means. In this case, it does.”
“And is the end going to be a happy one?”
Without directly replying to that, Bishop said, “Riley needs to feel certain of her trust in her lifeline.”
“And one truth too many cuts that line?”
“In this situation, probably. With her abilities, instincts, and memories unreliable, the smallest doubt could cause her to pull away from him. Isolate herself even more. Put her in greater danger.”
“This wouldn’t exactly be a small doubt.”
“No. Not from her point of view.”
“It’s a little shaky from mine,” Tony admitted. “I love a good coincidence, but if working with you has taught me anything it’s that we’re usually not that lucky. A connection between two seemingly unrelated things—or people—usually means something nasty. For somebody. And for there to be any connection at all between John Henry Price and Ash Prescott at this stage is more than a little creepy. To say the least.”
“Price is dead,” Bishop said, and reached out to close the file in front of him.
“Mmmm. Except that, in our business, dead doesn’t necessarily mean gone. And it sure as hell doesn’t mean harmless. Somebody is, after all, killing those people in Charleston.”
Bishop got to his feet. “We aren’t in Charleston, we’re in Boston. Where people are also being killed.”
“You’d think there was something in the water,” Tony offered.
“You’d think. I’ll be in the interview room, going another round with that so-called witness.”
“Pity you haven’t been able to read him.”
“That won’t stop me from trying again.”
Tony waited until he reached the door of the conference room before saying, “Boss? You don’t like hanging one of us out on our own, do you?”
“Is that what you think I’ve done to Riley?”
“It’s what you think you’ve done. What you feel you’ve done.”
“Tony,” Bishop said, “sometimes working with an empath—”
“—is a real pain in the ass. Yeah, I know. But I’m not really an empath. The emotions have to be pretty strong for me to pick up on them.”
“You’re not helping.”
Tony grinned faintly. “Sure I am. It’s my job to point out that Riley’s a big girl—so to speak. She can take care of herself. I was there that day in the gym, remember? She took on you and Miranda. At the same time. And damn near beat you both. I’d call that tough enough.”
“Physically, no argument.”
“But this isn’t about physical toughness, is it? It’s about knowledge. Whoever put her down with that Taser knew they couldn’t do it any other way.”
“It’s a dangerous enemy who knows you that well.”
“An enemy you should keep close?”
Bishop didn’t answer.
“You didn’t warn her.”
“I warned her.”
“Not specifically.”
“She knows she has an enemy there. Nothing I could say would make her more guarded or wary, just…”
“Paranoid?”
“No. Dangerously uncertain of the one person who can help her survive the next few days.”
“Let’s hope she figures out who that is,” Tony said. “Because he looks suspicious as hell even from where I’m standing, boss. All of them do. Who does she really trust when the crucial moment arrives? A new lover with a bloody connection to the serial killer who almost killed her? An old army buddy who’s been less than honest with her? Or the small-town sheriff with his own agenda? Who does she pick to hang her survival on? How does she make that choice?”
“She listens to her instincts.”
“And?”
“And pays attention to what they’ve been telling her all along.”
Riley had finished one PowerBar and was eating another when she rejoined Ash on the deck and reclaimed her sun-warmed chair.
“What did Bishop say?” he asked.
Condensing the conversation, Riley replied, “He thinks it’s unlikely—but possible—that another psychic is having an effect on me. Far mo
re likely it’s the Taser attack. He mentioned a case where a jolt of electricity changed a psychic’s abilities. If that is what’s happening to me, there’s no way to really know what was damaged or changed in my brain until we see the effects of it.”
She decided not to go into the possibility that negative energy created by black-satanic rites could also be having an effect on her, though she wasn’t quite sure why.
Who am I doubting? Myself? Or Ash?
“It’s a miracle it didn’t kill you,” he said.
Riley began tying the empty PowerBar wrapper into knots. “I’m still trying to figure out how somebody could sneak up and blindside me. That’s not supposed to happen, you know, not to us ex-army types with FBI training to boot.”
Slowly, Ash said, “Maybe they didn’t have to sneak. Maybe whoever it was…”
“Was already with me? Yeah, the thought had occurred.”
“Which, I suppose, explains your reluctance to trust anyone.”
“Wouldn’t you be reluctant?”
“I’m not arguing. Just saying.”
She eyed him, hesitated, then said, “You might as well know. I told Gordon about the attack on Sunday and the amnesia. At least, I’m pretty sure I did, unless that’s another memory I can’t trust.”
Ash didn’t appear to be upset by that. “You two served together and have known each other for years; it makes sense that you’d trust him before anyone else. Does he know about the blackouts?”
“No, I haven’t talked to him since those started. At least…” She frowned. “I don’t remember talking to him. Unless I did on Tuesday afternoon during that missing time. After we had lunch, I walked along the beach to the Pearson house and talked to Steve and Jenny—and the next thing I remember, it was yesterday morning.”
He was also frowning. “I picked you up around six-thirty Tuesday; we had drinks and dinner, then came back here. You wanted to do some research online, and I had paperwork to deal with.”
“Um…is that usual for us? Both working here?”
“I wouldn’t call it usual, but we’ve done so a few times. Here or at my place.”
“I’ve been to your place?”
A little laugh escaped him. “Of course you have, Riley. But we’re usually here at night because my condo is on the small side. I’m keeping an eye out for a bigger place, by the way.”