St. Damian’s was a reasonably secure facility but the emphasis was on making certain the patients did not get out. Zack quickly discovered that far less consideration had been given to preventing unauthorized intrusions. With the assistance of a small J&J alarm-negating tool, he had no trouble slipping into the building through a basement window.

In spite of the reassuring news from Shelbyville, he had not been comfortable with leaving Raine on her own tonight so he had deposited her with Pandora at a goth hangout she seemed to know well. Perhaps he was feeling a little overprotective. So what?

He hoped that the hospital laundry would turn out to be in the basement and luck was with him. At that hour of the night the facility was not staffed. He borrowed a set of freshly washed gray scrubs, pulling the top over his black T-shirt. The loose-fitting pants felt bulky and awkward over his trousers but with the hospital lights dimmed for the night, he didn’t think anyone would notice. His soft-soled running shoes and a plastic ID badge finished the look. The badge was on backward, concealing the fake ID. Just an accident. Could have happened to anyone dressing in a hurry.

St. Damian’s maintained a large staff. In addition, a little research earlier in the evening had turned up the fact that, like most hospitals, it occasionally relied on temporary agency help to fill in when there was a staffing crunch. It seemed reasonable that an unfamiliar orderly in the hall would not cause undue concern. The plan, however, was to avoid any such encounters, if possible.

The most serious problem was that he was running hot, all his senses jacked up to the max. That meant there was no way to tune out the background static that infused the entire building. He was primarily sensitive to the darker passions—violence and fear and the adrenaline rush that came with the anticipation of the kill—but other stuff sometimes seeped in as well, stuff like despair and psychic pain. There was plenty of that in a psychiatric hospital.

He knew that once he got upstairs into the wards, just walking across the floor would be uncomfortable. The thick soles of his running shoes would not be able to block out all the bleak energy that would cling to every surface.

Tensed against the psychical shock waves that awaited him, he loped up the stairs to the third floor. At the door he paused, listening intently. He heard no sound in the corridor. When he stepped out into it, he found it empty.

Bright lights marked the small nurses’ station at the far end of the corridor. All but a few of the overhead fluorescents in the corridors were off, however, as he had anticipated. The doors to the patients’ rooms were mostly closed, although one or two were open partway.

Raine had told him exactly where 315 was located. Luckily it was at the end of the hall farthest from the nurses’ station. He started toward the room and found out immediately that he had been right about the floor.

Some sensitives claimed that walking through a hospital or a police station or any other highly charged environment was like walking through a graveyard and discovering that the occupants were still partially alive. He disagreed. He always found graveyards to be relatively peaceful places. Hospitals, on the other hand, were anything but.

The door to 315 was closed. He opened it as quietly as possible and walked into the room, moving with the confidence of an orderly who has just entered to do a routine check. He closed the door gently behind him.

Moonlight spilling through an uncovered window revealed a figure in the bed. Zack could see that the patient, a teenager, was watching him with wide, frightened eyes. It didn’t take a psychic to pick up the raw energy of terror. For some reason the kid was looking at him like he was the monster from under the bed.

“I’m sorry,” Zack said softly. “Didn’t mean to scare you. Just a routine check to make sure you’re okay.”

The frozen kid did not move or speak.

This was not going well. He would have to come up with a Plan B.

“I’m leaving now,” Zack said, holding up both hands in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. He took a step back.

“Are you going to kill me?” The boy’s voice quivered so badly it was barely audible.

Zack stopped edging toward the door. “No. I’m not here to hurt you. I just wanted to take a quick look around the room. Make sure everything is okay.”

“I don’t believe you,” the boy whispered. “You’re glowing too hot. None of the other orderlies do that.”

Understanding slammed through him. “Well, damn. You’re picking up my aura, aren’t you?”

The boy did not respond. He just continued staring with those big, frightened eyes.

Zack shut down his parasenses. “Is that better? I’m no longer jacked up.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I’ve closed down my paranormal senses. I can’t shut them off entirely, but I can dial them back. I’m not putting out nearly as much energy now. Most folks wouldn’t be able to detect an aura when I’m running cold like this. My name is Zack, by the way.”

“Are you a vampire or something?”

“No such thing as vampires. I’ve got some psychic abilities, that’s all. And I think you do, too. You know what they say, takes one to know one. What’s your name?”

“Josh.”

“Nice to meet you, Josh. How come you’re in this place?”

“I’m crazy.”

“Yeah? What did you do? Set fires? Torture small animals?”

“No. Nothing like that. I like animals.” Josh levered himself up on one elbow, shock and outrage overcoming his fear. “I sort of see light waves around people.”

“Yeah, figured that was it.” Zack went closer to the bed. “Who put you in here?”

“My stepmom. She got my dad to go along with it. Told him that if I stay with them, I’ll traumatize her kids and the new baby.”

“Because you see auras?”

“Is that what they are? The light waves?”

“Uh-huh.”

Josh hesitated. “Yours are really strong. I thought you said you shut them down.”

“I did. But level tens give off a lot of energy, even when we’re in neutral. Not everyone can sense that energy, though. Only other people with highly specialized parasenses.”

“You sound as crazy as me.”

“People who don’t have a strong paranormal nature often think that those of us who do are wack jobs. You got access to a computer in this place?”

“Sure. Dr. Ogilvey let me bring one with me when I checked in. My stepmom said I spend too much time on it. But Dr. Ogilvey told my folks that it was important to me and that I should be allowed to do normal things that other kids my age do, like go online.”

“Dr. Ogilvey seems like a pretty decent guy. He just doesn’t believe that it’s possible for folks to have paranormal senses.”

“I know. I told him that he has a good aura, sort of warm and bright. He thought I was either hallucinating or making it up.”

“He wouldn’t be the first person to suppress his own psychic nature. Lot of folks do that rather than deal with the fact that they’ve got extra senses.”

“You sure you’re not another crazy?”

“If I am, at least I’m not living here at St. Damian’s. I’ve got a life. Even got a lady friend who’s also psychic.”

“Huh. Isn’t that sort of weird?”

Zack pulled out his wallet and removed a card. “Seems normal to me. But then, I know some stuff you don’t know.”

“Like what?”

“I know about an organization for people like us. I’ll give you a link and the password you need to access the site online.”

“Cool.”

“I need a pen.”

“There’s one over there on the desk,” Josh said, sounding awed.

Zack looked around. There was just enough light to make out the pen and a pad of paper on the small desk near the window.

“I see it.”

He walked to the desk.

“Man, you give off a lot of energy,” Josh whispered. “All kinds of colors but they don’t have names.”

“That’s because paranormal energy comes from a different part of the spectrum than visible light. It emanates at wavelengths that the human eye can’t see.”

“So, I’m like one of those birds that can see ultraviolet light that people can’t see?”

“Exactly. The average psychic can’t detect that kind of energy, either, at least not as visible light. Only certain individuals—you, for instance—who happen to have a special type of sensitivity can detect other people’s aura patterns. It’s a gift.”

“Some gift. It landed me in a loony bin.”

“Don’t worry. I’m going to talk to some people. We’ll find a way to get you out.”

Josh made a soft, derisive sound. “Think so?”

“I know so,” Zack said.

“You don’t know my stepmom.”

“Trust me. There are people who specialize in this kind of work.”

“What kind of work?”

“Helping people with psychic abilities adjust to their senses and figure out how to act normal so they can live in the real world.”

“Yeah?”

There was so much aching hope in the single word that it was all Zack could do not to take him down the stairs and drive him straight to the nearest Arcane Society office. But there were rules against that kind of thing, not to mention a few laws. Fallon didn’t like it when a J&J agent was accused of kidnapping. Fortunately, there were other options. The Arcane Society had a whole team of experts trained to handle situations like Josh’s.

“No problem,” Zack said. “Just takes a little time because we have to work through the system, for everyone’s sake. Meanwhile, though, I want you to check out this Web address I’m going to give you. You’ll find out that you’re not alone and that you’re not crazy.”

He picked up the pen on the table.

Searing, frantic, desperate psychic energy screamed through him. Faint, ghostly images flashed across his mind.

He jacked up his senses and the visions became sharper and more vivid.

…He saw his hand closing around the pen—no, a woman’s hand. He sensed a feminine essence…

…Felt her struggle to write a message, the fierce determination to write the note before…

…before she died…

“Mister?” Josh was scared again. “Are you okay? Your aura’s going all weird.”

“I’m all right.” He dialed back quickly. The images faded from his head. He was able to grip the pen, although he could still sense an electric trickle of energy.

He wrote the Internet address and the password for the Arcane Society site that had been established for trusted outsiders who showed a serious interest in the paranormal. There were other sites for members only but Josh wasn’t ready for that. He would find the basic facts and, most of all, the reassurance he so badly needed at the first stop.

He handed the card to Josh. “Next time you go online, take a look at this site. Meanwhile, I’ll talk to some people who should be able to convince Dr. Ogilvey and your folks that you’d do better with some different therapy.”

Josh took the card, gripping it very tightly. “What happens if they can’t convince Ogilvey and my parents?”

“Then we take more drastic measures. But these guys are experts, and Dr. Ogilvey really does want what’s best for you. They’ll know how to talk to him in his professional language.”

“Okay,” Josh said, still afraid to believe.

Zack gripped his shoulder. “Are you going to be okay here while this process works itself out? Could be a while. A few weeks, maybe.”

“Yeah, sure. It’s not so bad. First thing Dr. Ogilvey did when I arrived was start cutting back on my meds. I went off them altogether on Monday. I’m feeling a lot better now. I can handle this place.”

“Good. Meanwhile, for what it’s worth, my advice is to stop seeing auras.”

Josh gave him a quizzical look. “You mean pretend to stop seeing them?”

“Right. With luck, Ogilvey and his staff will conclude that the reason you were seeing them in the first place was because you were over-medicated. Overmedication gets blamed for all kinds of stuff.”

“Should have thought of that myself.”

“Look, I hate to leave you. I know you’ve got questions. But I’ve got to get out of here before someone comes around to check on you.”

“Don’t worry. They only cruise through a couple of times at night. Last bed check was about an hour before you got here.”

“You sure?”

“Trust me, I’ve had plenty of time to figure out the routine here,” Josh said.

“In that case, mind if I take a quick look around before I leave?”

“Sure.” Josh hesitated. “Uh, why?”

“Because I’m a private investigator and I’m looking into a case that involves the woman who was in this room before you.”

“Oh, man, that’s what you do? You’re a for-real private investigator?”

“Pretty real. Most of the time.”

Josh folded his legs, tailor fashion, under the sheet. “So what’s your psychic power? Is it like mine?”

“No.” There was a glass on the table. He picked it up. Nothing. “I can sometimes sense someone else’s aura in a very vague, unfocused way if the person generates a lot of power and is standing fairly close. But I can’t see it clearly the way you do. I can’t read it.”

“What about if you were standing close to a crazy person?”

“Crazy people sometimes give off wild, chaotic energy that I can sense.”

“Do I, uh, give off that kind of 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.”