Sizzle and Burn

energy?” Josh asked uneasily.
    “No.” He put his hand on the base of the lamp. It was silent.
    “What are you looking for?” Josh asked.
    He moved on to the closet, braced himself for a jolt and eased the door open. “My talent allows me to pick up the psychic residue left by someone who was in the grip of a violent or powerful emotion.”
    There was nothing on the handle of the closet door except the usual layered static.
    “You felt something when you touched that pen a moment ago, didn’t you?”
    “Yes. A woman used it to write a note.”
    “What was violent about that?”
    He didn’t want to scare the kid to death, he reminded himself. “She was very worried about something at the time and desperate to leave a message for someone.”
    “That is so weird.”
    “Not any more weird than seeing auras.”
    Josh smiled for the first time. “Guess not. So, what do you think you’ll find in here?”
    He could not tell him that he was looking for traces of a killer who murdered a woman in this very room. Josh wouldn’t be able to sleep in that bed again.
    “Just seeing if there was anything else left behind,” he said.
    He wrapped his hand around the bed railing.
    …and jumped straight into a nightmare.
    He released the railing with a reflexive action.
    “Find something?” Josh asked, fascinated.
    “Yes,” he said. “I did. I have to go now, Josh.”
    “Okay.” Josh waited until he was almost at the door. “Zack?”
    He turned at the door, waiting. “Yeah?”
    “I can see how a guy with your talent could do some cool things like be a private detective or a cop. But what happens to people who see auras?”
    “Believe it or not, some of ’em become shrinks.”

Forty-three
    T he relentless pounding of the heavy metal rock music penetrated the restroom walls. Raine could feel the floor vibrating beneath her feet.
    She exited the graffiti-decorated stall and went to the sink to wash her hands. It was almost 2 A.M . and there was still no sign of Zack. On the positive side, she hadn’t experienced any more of the disturbing episodes like the semi panic attack that had alarmed her so badly when he encountered the knife-wielding illusion talent. On the negative side, she had no idea how much she could rely on such a sensation to warn her that he might be in trouble again.
    She readjusted her earplugs and then, taking a deep breath to fortify herself against the roar of the music, she opened the door.
    The restroom was dimly lit but the hallway was even darker. The route back to Noir’s main room was a narrow corridor draped in black. The only illumination was a string of eerie blue lights embedded in the floor beneath heavy glass. She looked down, watching where she placed her feet.
    A figure brushed past her and vanished into the men’s room. In the gloom he was little more than a dark shadow. With her attention focused on her footing, all she saw was a leather-clad pant leg and a heavy black boot.
    The scent of smoke laced with a strong, acrid-sweet herb drifted around her. Someone in the men’s room was either burning incense or smoking something strange. She had a hunch it was the latter. She wrinkled her nose, trying to avoid taking a deep breath.
    But the smoke grew stronger, not fainter. Out of the corner of her eye she thought she caught a hint of movement in the heavy black drapery to her left. It undulated as though a powerful current of air had moved over the fabric.
    No, not over the curtain, under it. The motion was caused by something or someone standing between the drapery and the wall. One of the club’s patrons had ducked behind the curtain to take a quick hit of something that was no doubt highly illegal.
    Out of nowhere a tide of voices rose in her head. She recognized the screams of rage and pain and sick, euphoric elation.
    …Need to swim in the blood. Need to bathe in it…
    …Die-die-die. Want to feel it when she finally stops breathing. Need it. Need to know I have the power to take her life…
    Old voices from a cold case she had worked with Bradley, she realized. They were intermingled with a lot of blurred static that clung to the hallway.
    …Need another hit. Gotta have it now, now, now. Don’t care what I have to do. Gotta have the stuff. Nothing else matters. Nothing…
    …Stupid bitch. Has it coming. She deserves to suffer. Make her pay…
    …Going to kill him this time…
    Panic welled up, as disorienting as the sea of ghostly voices. Zack was wrong