Кей Хупер - Blood Ties

“If that is him…what’s the point of wearing Quentin’s face?” She was trying to work it out aloud, hoping Brooke would offer a tidbit here or there; it seemed to be her preferred way of revealing information. “I know it’s not Quentin, he knows I know, so why go on doing it? To keep me rattled? Off balance? Because he thinks it’s fun? Why?”

Since those questions elicited from Brooke nothing but an expression of mild interest, Diana tried a different tack.

“He wants to live again. Samuel wants to live again. In the flesh. Has he tried to? No, he can’t have. No spirit leaves the gray time without a door. And only mediums make doors. Right?”

“You’d know better than I would, Diana.”

She ignored that. “That’s the one ability he went out of his way to avoid, the one ability he didn’t want. According to Hollis, to the reports, mediums might well have been the only thing he was truly afraid of, and there was no indication he might possess that ability. Or… if it’s latent in him, it’s something he suppressed his whole life. So it’s reasonable to assume he can’t make a door for himself. Even with all his power—wait. His power. He’s been weakened here, hasn’t he? Because power is drained here, energy is drained. He’s been here too long. If he couldn’t make his own door out of here in all this time, he really can’t now.”

“Not without help,” Brooke murmured.

“What, my help? I can’t get myself out of here. Which means I can’t find the door I made to get here, even assuming it’s still there, assuming it’s open, or assuming I could open it. What makes him believe I could—or would—help him?”

Brooke merely waited.

“If he could have forced me, he already would have. I think. Which means he can’t force me. Or… it means he knows I can’t get myself out of here, can’t find the door I made.” A sudden realization hit Diana. “Wait. If the door I made is still open, even a little bit… Hollis will be drawn to it. When she’s asleep, when her defenses are down.”

She stared at Brooke, a new fear crawling over her. “Is that what he’s waiting for? Hollis? Because he could follow her back out the door even if I can’t? Jesus.”

“Don’t you think Hollis can take care of herself?”

“Not in here. Not alone.” Diana bit her lip in a moment of indecision, then turned and began to retrace her steps. At least, she thought that was what she was doing; the endless corridor pretty much looked the same way no matter which direction she chose.

Brooke followed her. “Where are you going, Diana?”

“Well, I’m not staying here where he thinks he can trap a few psychics, not if Hollis could turn up any minute. This could be a different kind of trap now, one to catch her.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“I believe this is a bad place and I want to leave it. Now.”

The words had barely left her lips before the gleaming sterile corridor sort of shivered around her—and she found herself standing in the silent gray time Main Street of Serenade. There was a bench practically behind her, and she wasted no time in sitting.

“Diana?”

“I just need a minute, that’s all.” She stared, frowning, up and down the eerily silent and gray street. “And you don’t have to tell me there are no minutes here. I know that. But I need to rest awhile. It’s getting… a little hard to breathe.”

Brooke was silent.

“I… don’t seem to remember getting shot. Shouldn’t I remember that if I’m not going back?”

“I don’t know. Should you?”

“You’re really not going to tell me, are you?”

“Tell you what?”

“If I’m dead. Or if I’m going to die.”

“Everything dies. You know that.”

“And you know what I mean.”

“All I know is that you have truths to discover here. Before you can move on… or go back… or do whatever it is you’re destined to do. First you have to find the truth. All the truths.”

“But no pressure,” Diana muttered. “Look, whatever happens to me, Hollis doesn’t deserve to get sucked into this place. Isn’t there any way I can warn her to stay out?”

“Do you think a warning would have any effect?”

Briefly, Diana put her head in her hands. Then she straightened and stared at Brooke. “You know, this answering-a-question-with-another-question shit is getting old.”

Brooke smiled.

“So’s that,” Diana told her. She looked away from the guide to study the street again, something nagging at her. “I was shot. I was shot… on purpose. The sniper picked me. All of us were running around in the open, we didn’t have our vests on, and if he was watching yesterday—or the day before, whenever—then he probably had all of us marked as cops, maybe as SCU. So why me? I’m not even a full agent yet. This is—was—my very first case as an investigator. Why was I the target?”

“I’m not allowed to reply with a question,” Brooke said.

Diana ignored her. “If the sniper saw the SCU as his enemy, why not pick someone who … counted? Someone who’d be more of a trophy for him. Miranda was there. Quentin. Hollis and Reese. Why did he pick me? Unless I was a bigger threat somehow. Or… I had something he wanted. Something his boss wanted. Like maybe… the ability to open a door into—or out of—the gray time. He must have known it was the only sure way to get me here, at least on his timetable.”

She turned her head and stared at the silent guide. “He’s not just in here trying to get out, he’s influencing things out there. Calling the shots—literally. The sniper, the murders: It’s all about Samuel.”

Serenade

Galen prowled uneasily from window to window, not even aware of what he was doing until Ruby spoke.

“You really want to be out there with them, don’t you? With your friends?”

“With my team,” he said.

“Sorry you’re stuck here watching over me.”

“I’m not stuck, Ruby.” He made an effort to soften his voice. “Look, Bailey said you didn’t sleep on the jet, and you haven’t closed your eyes since we got here. Why don’t you go try to rest for a while?”

“I’m not sleepy. Bailey said soldiers have to learn to sleep when they can. And I get that. She’s sleeping now so you’ll sleep later.” Ruby studied him with those too-old eyes. “Except I don’t think you will sleep later.”

“I will. When there’s time.”

“When this is over, you mean.”

“If you like.”

Ruby was silent for a long moment, then said almost casually, “Are the voices still talking to you?”

He stopped prowling and stared at her. His immediate instinct was to deny, but somehow instead he found himself asking, “What do you know about that?”

“About your voices? Just that you hear them. Since the church. Since what we did to Father. Since things changed for a lot of us.” She paused. “Are they still talking to you?”

“Whispering,” he said finally. “I can’t understand what they’re saying. Can’t quite hear them.”

“Maybe because you aren’t listening hard enough.”

“What do you mean?”

Curled up in the big armchair near a dark fireplace, Ruby returned his stare with an odd serenity. “You’re… shut inside yourself. I expect that’s so you can help your team. So you can guard other people, keep them safe. Keep me safe. But it makes a shell around you. A hard shell. Maybe the voices can’t get through well enough for you to understand what they’re saying.”

“Maybe I don’t want them to,” he found himself replying.

“Are you afraid of what they might tell you?”

Damn .

Galen thought it was ridiculous for him to be confiding in a twelve-year-old girl, but he couldn’t seem to stop the conversation.