Chapter 35

Men in tactical gear were lined up in front of me. More darts hit my shield. When they realized they weren’t hitting me, they resorted to barking orders. “Get down on the floor, now!”

I heard one of them say something else. “Three down, one fled, and another with some kind of shield.”

All at once, the men lowered their weapons and took a step back. Someone in a white shirt pushed his way through them. It was Special Agent Middleton. “Mr. Sutton, what are you doing here?” he asked.

“I was invited by the mad woman of the house,” I said, getting to my feet.

Looking past the men to where Jacquelyn had been sitting, I noticed she was gone. I looked at Middleton. “What happened to the plan to take her out at range?”

He looked around the room as if surveying their handy work. “We couldn’t get a clean shot.”

“She has a hostage you idiot,” I said, and I moved to push past him and his men. They grabbed me and quickly bound my hands behind my back. “What are you doing? I have to find Rachel!”

Middleton stepped in front of me. “You were warned not to get involved in this case again,” he said. “Now you’ll go down with the rest of them.”

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” I said. “Jacquelyn is dangerous.”

He smiled. “So are you.” He held up a small purple plastic applicator that reminded me of those inhalers that help with asthma. Someone grabbed my head. Middleton pinched my nose and waited for me to start breathing through my mouth, then he pressed the applicator to my lips and sprayed it into my mouth. I couldn’t help but inhale it.

They let me go while I coughed. I couldn’t breathe for a second, but then that cleared up. I was on my knees with my hands tied behind my back. I looked up at Middleton. His aura was gone. “No way,” I said under my breath.

Middleton grinned down at me like a madman. “Face it, Ral. You’re no better than anyone else.”

I got to my feet, feeling a touch dizzy. Hands grabbed my arms. I pulled against them, putting my face in Middleton’s. “If she kills Rachel, I’ll make sure you are held responsible.”

He shook his head with that mad grin. “Get him out of here,” he said.

The men in tactical gear pulled me back but we didn’t get far when the one to my left suddenly sank partway into the floor and then stopped. He had sunk to his mid-thighs. Then he let out a roar of pain and squeezed down on the trigger of his rifle, shooting into the crowd of agents in front of us. His rifle wasn’t a tranquilizer gun and the noise was thunderous. Several other men were shot and fell to the floor.

Chaos quickly took over.

Everyone who hadn’t been shot quickly dove for cover. The other man holding me, pulled me further back, away from the wild shooting. For that much I was thankful.

One of the other men maneuvered around to try to help the one sunken into the floor. I saw something move up behind him, grab his shoulders, and yank him back into the wall leading outside. He didn’t smash into the wall or break it, he merged with it. He screamed once and then went limp. I couldn’t see his aura to know whether he was dead or unconscious.

“What the hell is going on?” Middleton screamed.

The man holding me was looking around, pointing his rifle at everything except me. He was distracted enough that I tested my bindings. My hands were bound together, unlike handcuffs which keep your hands close but give some room between them, usually, only enough so that you don’t hurt yourself should you move your hands. I was held pretty tight though. Probably zip cuffs. Something they could carry dozens of and not have to worry about the weight. But how could I get out of them?

I saw movement again, this time across the room. One of the men was pulled from behind the far couch into the floor of the gallery. Like the first agent, he didn’t pass out but went into a storm of pain. He had the foresight to drop his rifle first though, so he wouldn’t shoot anyone else by accident.

“Get them out of here,” Middleton barked.

The agent holding me pulled me into the kitchen and pushed me down behind the island, giving me more protection than anyone else. It was kind of him to do, but I also understood that I was a valuable catch. More agents showed up, carrying Bethany, Alexandria, and Yaeko in to lie on the floor in front of me. The four of them took up defensive posts around us.

If Jacquelyn wanted to kill me, this wouldn’t stop her.

I looked the women over. None of them appeared to have anything I could cut my binds with.

Something fell over. The sound made the agents jump and point. Nothing was there, so they went back to their defensive postures.

I was staring at the counter too. It was where the sound had come from. I spotted a knife handle. That was what I needed.

There was only one problem, or — more accurately — three problems. I couldn’t get to the knife without stepping on someone. The agents all had their backs to me, but I wasn’t willing to break one of the women’s spines just to get to a knife.

I heard another scream and more shooting. The agents and I all ducked when some of those shots ricocheted through the kitchen.

I looked up at the knife handle again. It had moved further over the edge of the counter. If it fell, the heaviest part might go down first, which would have been the blade. Bethany lay closest to the counter. She might be hurt if the knife fell.

Another scream and more shooting. I watched the knife jostle and fall.

I remembered Mr. Shepherd telling me that I was a Psionic, which meant my powers were based on my mentality rather than my physicality. The drug they had wouldn’t work on me.

I watched the knife fall and didn’t want it to.

It stopped. In mid-air. Only an inch from Bethany’s back.

I focused on that knife like it was the most important thing in the world. I wanted it to come to me, to cut me free. As silently as it had been while sitting in the knife block, the knife glided over behind me. I felt it sawing at the zip cuffs. I closed my eyes, focusing on my hands, waiting for release.

One of the men in the kitchen screamed. It startled me, but I pulled my hands free and the knife fell to the floor.

The men behind me turned and spotted me. “Hey!” he yelled.

I pushed him and he slammed into the far wall.

Another Agent looked around the island at me. I pushed him too.

I didn’t see the last agent. I peeked around the other end of the island. He lay on the floor, having been shot by the one that screamed. That agent was a few feet away, partially melded into the floor.

I looked out through the doorways leading to the living room. I could tell there were still agents in there, but they weren’t ready to leave their cover just yet. To my right was an opening leading to the gallery and what looked like a short hall to a porch near the garage. To my left, the breakfast nook was torn up and a door led out to the terrace. If I could get down from the terrace, I could go around the house and come in the front, hopefully without being shot.

I checked on the women, even Yaeko. They were still unconscious. The tranquilizers would probably keep them under for hours. For now, there was nothing I could do for them. I checked the doorway leading to the living room again. Everything looked clear. Then I saw movement and one of the agents was pulled up and into the fireplace. There wasn’t a fire, but his melding into the stone didn’t require it either. He started shooting and then dropped his rifle.

I ran for the door.

Out on the terrace, I didn’t even slow down, I hopped over the rail and dropped to the ground.

The landing hurt but didn’t cause any real damage. I got to my feet and ran around toward the garage. Then I saw lights. Black SUVs and sedans filled the driveway and lined the street in front of the house. I spotted a few agents hidden behind those cars. Was that where Rochelle was? I wasn’t going to check. Middleton was willing to arrest me for being there. Rochelle, no doubt, would do the same.

There had to be another way to get upstairs.

I ducked back around behind the house. Under the terrace, lined up with the door above, was a door leading back inside. As far as I knew, no one was down here, so I went in. The layout was similar to the upstairs, except for the wall separating the kitchen and living room. Down here it was open. I went straight across toward the stairs.

The stairs had two landings. I got down on my knees and peeked around the corner of the second landing. I didn’t see any agents, but I heard Middleton say, “Search the entire house, they couldn’t have gotten far.”

I raced to the next flight and up to the upper floor. Fear and anger rode along. I didn’t have time to quietly search so I focused on all of the doors along the hall I stood in. With a yank of my hand, all of them flew open, whether locked or not.

Rachel came out of the room at the far end of the hall and looked around. She spotted me and covered her mouth.

I went to her. “Are you hurt?” I asked very quietly.

She shook her head, and tears streamed down her face. Her voice, however, was strong. “They have Grace.”

I shook my head and put my fingers to my lips. I led her back into the bedroom and closed the door. “No, they took Grace back to your place.”

“What? Why?” she asked.

I shook my head. “Now’s not the time. We’ve got to find a way out of here.”

“What’s been going on?” she asked. “I thought I heard shooting.”

I glanced back at the door. “Yeah. Federal Agents have invaded the house, but Jacquelyn is fighting them.”

“Fighting them how?” she asked.

I shook my head. “I don’t know. Somehow she’s been forcing them to meld with the floors and walls. I’d rather not stick around to find out what she might do to us when she’s done with them.”

Shouting came up from downstairs. Boots were coming up. I saw shadows on the wall of the stairwell. I pushed Rachel ahead of me, back into the room she had come from.

We heard more yelling and gunshots. I pulled Rachel down to the floor. We crawled over behind the bed. I looked around. One end of the bedroom had a large sitting area with windows curling around it. There were two other doors at the other end, beside the door leading out into the hall. I pointed at them. “Where do they lead?”

“A bathroom and a small balcony,” she said.

I nodded. “The balcony,” I said.

I moved over to that door. The handle was locked. I was too frustrated for delicacy and hit it with my push. It held.

“I heard something,” someone said out in the hall. Then there were more shouting and shooting.

I stood up and tried the handle. The door had glass, but the frame of the door as well as the frame the door was mounted in were all metal. We weren’t going to break through.

The door to the hall burst open and a man in tactical gear popped in. He lowered a rifle at me. I brought up my shield. He opened up with gunfire.

My shield caught all of the bullets.

The man was jerked back into the wall, melding with it. He groaned in pain and then went limp.

Jacquelyn materialized in front of me.

“Jacquelyn,” I said softly. “Stop.”

She glared at me. “You brought this on us. This is your fault.”

I glanced at the doorway. I didn’t hear anyone else in the house.

I shook my head. “No,” I said. “They’re after you. You brought this on yourself.”

“You lie,” she hissed. “You told them where to find us. You betrayed us.”

“I told them where to find you,” I said. “I told them that I saw you in the alley Thursday night. I even saw you in the security tapes at the hospital this morning. You killed Dan Baxter.”

She looked me over. “You can’t prove it.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” I said. “Now you’ve killed agents from Homeland Security. There won’t be anywhere you can go. They will find you.”

She smiled. “Maybe. But it won’t be today. And it won’t save you.” Then she stepped closer.

I held up my shield.

Jacquelyn’s fingers hit the surface of my shield and stopped. She looked at it, pulled her hand back, and tried again. She couldn’t penetrate the shield.

For an instant, I think both of us were shocked.

Another Agent and Middleton came in through the doorway. Jacquelyn became a smoky, translucent version of herself. I could see the Agents pointing rifles at us through her. They fired. The bullets hit my shield. Nothing seemed to hit her, as if she wasn’t there.

Middleton stopped shooting and waved down the other Agent. All of us could see Jacquelyn, but none of us could touch her. Yes, Detective Stanfield and I had talked about the possibility of Jacquelyn being intangible, but seeing her like this was entirely different.

More shouting came from downstairs. Jacquelyn turned slowly, as if she had all the time in the world, to see who else had come into the House.

Detective Stanfield and several police officers came into the room.

Middleton started barking orders, telling them all to get out. The officers took away their rifles. One began reading their Miranda rights. The Agents were being arrested. I was shocked and confused.

Pain hit my chest and spread out.

I looked down.

Jacquelyn’s fingers were in my chest only up to the first knuckles. There was no cut, no blood. My shirt didn’t move, nothing changed, but she was reaching into me all the same.

I had been distracted by the police arresting the Agents and dropped my shield. I felt like I had been saved, and allowed Jacquelyn through my defenses.

Some part of my brain kicked into high gear. Everything slowed down. My thoughts were a whirlpool of emotions and ideas. I had to focus. I had to find a way to stop Jacquelyn. I remembered Thursday night. Anthony Hoyle had been pressed against the brick of the building, scratching with his nails, not just in pain, but to try to get away. The Yelp I had heard from him had to be her walking through him. She stood behind him, on the other side of the wall where I couldn’t see her, and squeezed his heart. When he fell, she had let him go, and I was there to watch him die. There had been nothing I could do at the time. His heart was damaged and I couldn’t repair that.