Dream Eyes

We’re going to have to run through it.”
    “I’m not sure that’s possible.” Gwen looked down at Nicole. “I think we might lose consciousness like she did.”
    “We’ve got a better chance of getting out of here if we maintain physical contact,” Judson said.
    She wanted to ask him why he believed that to be true but concluded that it was not the best time to discuss his theory of para-physics. They had no choice but to run the experiment. Neither of them would be able to sustain much more of the assault on their senses.
    “All right,” she said. “Plan B it is.”
    She reached down to grasp one of Nicole’s wrists. Judson grabbed the other.
    “Whatever you do, don’t let go,” Judson said.
    Max hissed.
    Judson scooped him up into the crook of his arm. To Gwen’s amazement the dazed cat did not attempt to scratch or claw his way to freedom.
    The music rose and fell in nerve-shattering waves as if the sculptures were engaged in some demonic orchestral battle. The energy was growing hotter and more intense by the second.
    But now there was another kind of fire igniting the atmosphere of the small space around the four of them. Gwen realized that the fresh tide of energy came from the stone in Judson’s ring. It glowed like a miniature sun.
    The countercurrent of psi flooded the atmosphere. The chimes trembled and shook violently in response. Gwen heard glass and crystal fracture.
    In the next instant, the terrible music was suddenly muted. Gwen could still hear the chimes, but it was as if the sound was coming from another room or even another dimension. The paranormal firewall blocking the path to the door receded. The relief was almost overwhelming.
    “I can dampen the wavelengths in a narrow space around us,” Judson said. “But not for long. Let’s go.”
    Together they hauled Nicole toward the front door. The amber ring burned with astonishing energy. Gwen sensed the raw power that Judson was controlling and knew that such an extraordinary expenditure of psychic power would exact a cost later. At the very least, Judson would be exhausted.
    They made it through the door. Gwen grabbed the cat carrier when they dashed across the porch, and then they were out in the driving rainstorm. The explosion came seconds later. The currents of paranormal energy generated by the chimes swept outward like tentacles seeking to draw the intended prey back into the house.
    There was a low, heavy
whoosh
followed by a great roar. Gwen looked over her shoulder and saw that the house was on fire.
    Judson turned his head to look. “Damn it to hell and back. There goes whatever evidence the killer might have left. Fire usually destroys most traces of psi.”
    “I don’t understand.” Gwen stared at the blaze, her heart pounding. “There was no fire, just a lot of paranormal energy. How could it explode like that?”
    “As Dad discovered one day forty years ago at the Phoenix Mine, if you get enough psi burning in a confined space, it can explode across the spectrum into the normal range.” Judson dropped Nicole’s wrist and unclipped his cell phone. “Oxley is not going to like this.”
    “How are we going to explain it to him?”
    “No problem,” Judson said.
    Gwen blinked. “Really?”
    Judson’s mouth twisted humorlessly. “The thing about paranormal events is that if you think about it, you can usually come up with a perfectly logical, perfectly normal explanation.”
    “Is that so?”
    “In my experience,” he said, punching in the emergency number, “no one ever wants the truth, anyway.”

Twenty-five
    A gas explosion,” Gwen said. She smiled, coolly appreciative. “You know, that actually sounded like a very plausible explanation.”
    “Thanks,” Judson said. For some reason—probably because he was still in the post-burn buzz—he liked that she was impressed with how smoothly he had pulled a rabbit out of a hat for Oxley. “Got to admit, I’ve had practice.”
    She glanced at him, curiosity shadowing her eyes. “In your consulting work for that government agency you mentioned?”
    “Government agencies are really good when it comes to cover-ups. It’s an art form. I learned a lot working for Joe Spalding.”
    “The director of the agency?”
    “Yes.”
    “Abby mentioned that the agency—your client, I believe—was closed down due to funding cuts?” Gwen said.
    “Funding is always a problem with government agencies.”
    “Did Spalding become a lobbyist? That’s what