Copper Beach

doing, but you won’t be able to resist my orders. You will open the vault for me, and then you will take your own life using your own gun. For the record, this is what I used on Cassidy. While she was trapped in the dreamstate, I gave her an injection of a fast-acting drug that stops the heart but leaves no trace in the body.”

    The crystals and stones in the display cases were drifting in and out of the paranormal mist now. Sam fought to focus his para-senses and discovered that he no longer had any control over them. He could hear every word Frye said, but he could not respond.

    “The difference between a true dreamstate and your present condition is that under the influence of the prism, you are aware that you are locked in a dream.” Frye walked slowly through the maze of glowing specimens. “Aware that you are powerless.”

    Sam watched one of the glowing rocks in the gallery burst into flames. The fire wasn’t real. He knew that. But in his dreamstate, it seemed very real.

    “I did bring a gun,” Frye said. “But this time, we’ll use yours.”

    He went behind the desk and picked up the pistol. Sam watched, helpless to stop him.

    Frye’s words echoed in his head. You are aware that you are locked in a dream.…

    That was the definition of a lucid dream. According to Abby’s friend Gwen, strong talents were especially good at manipulating lucid dreams: they just had to focus.

    With an effort of will, he succeeded in pulling his attention away from the burning stone. The paranormal flames were abruptly extinguished. But now the darkly glittering interior of one of the geodes summoned him into an endless black hole in the universe. In the distance, he heard a labored thud-thud-thud. His heart. He was using a harrowing amount of energy to overcome the effects of the prism.

    A spark of fire caught his eye. He managed to look down and saw that the stone in his ring was burning. Real energy. Not part of the dream.

    “You will open the vault for me now,” Frye said.

    Slowly, painfully, Sam began to unwind his arms. Each tiny movement required enormous effort. It was like moving through quicksand.

    And then he heard the light footsteps in the outer hall. A woman.

    Abby.

    “That will very likely be Miss Radwell, come to see what’s keeping you,” Frye said. “I didn’t plan this, but it’s going to work out well. When your new girlfriend walks through that door, she will be silhouetted against the light, a very easy target. You will kill her, and then you will open the vault. Afterward, you will turn the gun on yourself. Given your recent history of depression, no one will be terribly surprised.”

    The footsteps drew closer. Now he could hear a familiar clicking sound. Dog nails. Abby had Newton with her.

    Sam tried to call Abby’s name, but he could not get the words out.

    It was the damned recurring nightmare made real.

    The footsteps and the clicking stopped. Frye moved out from behind the desk and aimed the gun at the door.

    Sam pulled hard on his senses. This dream was going to have a different ending.

    And suddenly he knew intuitively how to shatter the trance. He focused everything he had left through the Phoenix stone. It was all he had to work with, his only chance to save Abby.

    He found the resonating frequency buried deep in the heart of the stone, the latent power that he had always known was there. In that moment, it was his to command.

    The Phoenix crystal blazed with dark fire, swamping the energy that Frye was using to maintain the dreamstate. Sam came out of the paralysis on a wave of raw power.

    Paranormal lightning arced from the ring, igniting Frye’s aura. Psi-fire blazed around him, enveloping him in flames. He opened his mouth in a silent scream. His body stiffened, as if electrified. The gun and the prism fell from his hands. Violent convulsions racked his body.

    He crumpled and collapsed without making a sound. The paranormal fire winked out. So did Frye’s aura.

    The door of the room slammed open. But it was not Abby who stood silhouetted in the doorway. Newton charged into the shadows, low to the ground, silent and dangerous. He locked his jaws around Frye’s right ankle.

    “Abby,” Sam said. “Call off your dog.”

    Abby appeared. “Newton. That’s enough.”

    Newton released the ankle and trotted back to her.

    “See?” Sam said. “He goes for the ankles every time.”

    Abby ignored that. “Everything okay in here?”

    Sam