Dream Eyes

steps. Judson stopped to examine one of the musical sculptures more closely. It was a large piece, consisting of several thin crystals of varying sizes and shapes. Each was wrapped in a strip of silvery metal.
    “This is incredible,” he said. “At least some of the sound is coming from the paranormal end of the spectrum. I can hear it with all my senses.”
    “Evelyn’s theory was that the wavelengths of music move through both the normal and the paranormal zones,” Gwen said. “That’s why it has the ability to affect us so profoundly on the emotional level. Most people, including those with no obvious paranormal ability, respond to music on the psychic level.”
    “You know, I think one of these sculptures might make a great wedding gift for Sam and Abby.”
    “If you want to give them one of Louise’s sculptures, you’ll have to buy it in a local shop. Louise makes her living creating and selling what she calls her tourist chimes. But her personal wind chimes are different. They’re not for sale. She calls them wards.”
    Judson glanced at her, frowning. “As in magical wards? The kind used to ward off demons?”
    “I think that’s what she means, yes. She worries a lot about demons. That’s why she surrounds the house with the wind chimes.”
    Judson reached out to catch hold of one of the chimes. “I wonder what kind of alloy she used to wrap these crystals.”
    “I wouldn’t touch that if I were you,” Gwen said quickly.
    But it was too late. Judson had already snagged one of the metal strips between his fingers.
    Max hissed.
    “Damn.” Judson released the metal chime as if it were red-hot, wincing. “I see what you mean. That had a lot in common with touching a live electrical wire.” He surveyed the sculpture more closely, careful not to make physical contact. “But the shock was to my psychic senses.”
    “The one time I tried it, I got a bit of a jolt, too.”
    He looked down the long row of chime sculptures clashing and tinkling in the charged air of the fast-approaching storm. “Do they all have that effect on the senses?”
    “I don’t know,” Gwen said. “After the first go-round, I decided not to carry out any more experiments. But my guess would be that the chimes out here are all a little hot. And I’d advise you to be very, very careful inside because I’m pretty sure those are even hotter.”
    “I wonder how she does it?”
    “I asked her that once.” Gwen rapped on the front door. “She said something about tuning the frequencies of the stones and a lot of other stuff I didn’t quite understand.”
    “Sam is very interested in techniques for tuning paranormal crystals. I wonder if Louise would be willing . . . Huh.”
    She turned to look at Judson over her shoulder. “What?”
    She realized he was looking down at his ring. The amber-gold crystal was glowing ever so faintly.
    “My ring,” he said. He looked grim. “I think it’s responding to the chimes.”
    “Or maybe it’s picking up on your psychic response to the music.”
    “Maybe.”
    Max pawed the door of the carrier, meowing softly.
    Gwen turned back to the door and knocked again, more forcefully this time. No one responded.
    Judson abruptly set the cat carrier down on the porch.
    “Get away from the door, Gwen,” he ordered.
    She did not argue. Now she, too, could sense the darker currents swirling beneath the exotic energy of the chimes. The music of the sculptures had initially masked some of the violent energy that was seeping out of the house.
    “Oh, damn.” Her hand froze in mid-rap. She backed away. “Not again. This can’t be happening.”
    Judson was already at the door. The gun had materialized in his hand as if by magic.
    He opened the screen door and tried the doorknob. It turned easily. Gwen knew that was not right. Louise always kept her doors locked.
    When he opened the door, the draft stirred the chimes in the hallway. The spectral music sounded like the wailing of doomed souls.
    There was a sudden clattering somewhere deep inside the house. It was followed by the thud-thud-thud of running footsteps.
    “That’s not Louise,” Gwen said. “She had severe arthritis. She could never move that fast.”
    “Stay here,” Judson said.
    He raced down the hall.
    Max snarled and began attacking the door of the carrier with his claws and teeth. The spitting, hissing and scratching grew increasingly violent.
    “Stop that, Max,” Gwen said. “Please.”
    The door of the