Кей Хупер - Out of the Shadows

"Let me."

Miranda knew he was the stronger telepath, and since their connection had been severed so brutally hours before, she couldn't borrow that strength, so she merely nodded.

Bishop took Bonnie's hand, and almost immediately his face tightened. Half under his breath, he muttered, "Goddammit, it is him. I touched his mind once before. Cold and slimy, so black with evil it's like a bottomless pit." He concentrated, then said, "He hasn't won yet. Bonnie's protecting herself, at least partially. But she's weakening."

Bewildered, Seth said, "He? You mean someone's — inside Bonnie's mind?"

"An old enemy," Miranda said. "We think he's been waiting, watching her. Now that she's vulnerable ..."

Seth caught his breath and let out an anguished groan. "I knew there was something here, something not right. I could hear it sometimes, almost see it. And the way that damned Ouija board kept turning up like it had a mind of its own and wanted Bonnie to use it — "

"Don't blame yourself," Miranda said. "There was nothing you could have done to prevent this, Seth."

"I could have warned her," he said miserably. "She didn't seem to feel anything, any threat, not like I did."

"No, she wouldn't have. Her mental shields were up in order to protect her. That. . . makes us sort of blind to a threat like this one."

"Dammit," Seth muttered. "Dad, can't you — "

Colin Daniels shook his head. "Some things are beyond today's medical science, son. This is one of them. I can't help her. It's up to them."

Seth gave his father a faintly surprised look, though whether that was due to the admission of the limitations of science or to the clear acceptance of the paranormal, he didn't say. He just returned his anxious attention to the bed where Bonnie lay and muttered another helpless curse under his breath.

Miranda waited until Bishop gently released Bonnie's hand, then said as steadily as she could, "I still don't know how to save her."

"I do." He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. "I've fought him before, Miranda. I crawled inside his head until I could predict what he'd do before he thought of it himself. Tracked him, hunted him. And killed him. I killed him once, I can do it again."

"After what happened today, you can't possibly have the strength to — "

"With your help. Your strength and abilities added to mine will be enough to fight him and win. He can't withstand both of us."

"The connection was destroyed," she reminded him. "It can only be rebuilt in a physical joining."

"No, there's another way. Something else can forge a bond, and even stronger than the one we had before. If we let it."

She stared up at him for a long moment, and even in her desperate need to save her sister, vital seconds ticking away, the last lingering tinge of fear made her hesitate.

Bishop looked at her steadily, and waited.

In the end, Miranda realized her hesitation was only a reflex, an instinctive urge to protect herself. But that wasn't necessary anymore. She had known the truth long before now. She held out her hand, and when his fingers closed over hers, she smiled at him. "Let's get the bastard."

He smiled in return. "Reach for me, Miranda. Reach out with your mind."

Miranda obeyed, closing her eyes to concentrate better, opening her mind to him.

It was astonishingly simple. Her mind and spirit knew his so well that reaching out to him was virtually involuntary, and when he met her halfway, his mind wide open and welcoming, she had a curiously fateful sense of having come home. She could feel the gossamer threads of energy and awareness forming between them, touching and twining, stronger and more solidly anchored than ever before so that their connection was deep and sure.

Ready, love?

Ready, she affirmed.

Let me fight him. Lend me your strength and will, but don't take an active part in that; force him to concentrate on me while you help Bonnie.

Miranda wasn't at all surprised to realize that she knew, now, how to help Bonnie. And her trust and confidence in Bishop were absolute. I know what to do. Get him.

Eyes still closed, they reached out their free hands and touched Bonnie.

"What — " Seth began, but his father grasped his arm and sent him a warning glance.

"Wait," he murmured. "Just wait."

Miranda wasn't even conscious of them. She was entirely caught up in what she and Bishop were trying to do. The only direct mind-to-mind connection she had ever known was the one with Bishop, so she was surprised at the very different sensations when she slipped with him into Bonnie's mind.

It was dark, but that dimness was shot through with flashes and pulses of energy like red lightning. They didn't brighten the darkness so much as slice through it. Angry. Hungry. And it wasn't silent. Almost below the level of awareness was a rustling sound, a kind of rhythmic whispering that rose and fell, sometimes intense and sometimes fading.

It's him , Miranda realized. He's everywhere.

No, it only seems that way. His energy is scattered, diffused. He thought she'd be an easy target, but he was wrong. Here — look. There's Bonnie.

Miranda looked where he indicated, and saw in a far corner of the darkness what appeared to be a small, crystal cocoon. It was opaque, hiding what lay within, but it gleamed, the red tendrils of Harrison's frustrated anger glancing off it harmlessly.

Like a diamond , Bishop observed. She imagined the hardest substance she knew and hid herself within it. You taught her well, love.

Miranda wasn't at all sure this was anything of her teaching, but there wasn't time to think about it.

Go to her , Bishop said. Be ready. When I have Harrison contained, help her free herself. It will take all three of us to throw him out — and all the way to hell.

Thought was deed here; Miranda found herself kneeling by the crystal cocoon. She put one hand on the cool, polished hardness of one of the facets, and turned her head to watch as Bishop stalked the killer.

She thought later how odd it was that so much of what happened was visible to her, but decided in the end that it was only the human mind's way of understanding, interpreting the pure electrical impulses of the brain as images.

It was fascinating. And terrifying.

Bishop, the one she knew best, was wholly visible to her, lithe and powerful as he moved through the darkness, his spirit luminous with energy and purpose. Harrison, his energy diffused as Bishop had said, was at first only the red lightning flashing through the darkness, scarlet tongues of flame that began licking at Bishop as his threat was sensed and understood. Then the flames became brighter and hotter as Harrison concentrated his attack on Bishop, circling him, seeking a weakness in his defenses.

Without even being consciously aware of it, Miranda sent more of her energy through to Bishop, knowing without having to think about it that the attack was a deadly danger not because Harrison was stronger but because Bishop was intent on fighting — not on defending himself.

Again and again the flames circled and probed, darting in to reach for Bishop. He seemed to sense every attempt a bare second before it was made, eluding the threads of energy with an almost mocking ease. Miranda could hear the angry hiss of energy as Harrison was thwarted, and just as she realized that Bishop was deliberately baiting his adversary, Harrison abruptly took on a ghostly human shape and launched himself at Bishop with a roar of insane rage.

Miranda waited only long enough to see the two spirits literally locked together in a struggle so fierce and powerful that threads of white hot and angry red energy arced from them continuously. She quickly turned back to the crystal cocoon and sent an urgent summons.