"Weird, isn't it? Like I said, we don't know why that would be true. Maybe it's just a chemical thing in our brains; the same hardwiring that makes us inclined to be cops or investigators also makes our psychic abilities work from the positive pole. And whatever wiring gets crossed to produce a sociopath also causes any psychic energy to be negative in those particular brains."

"Because it's all about balance."

"That's the theory."

"Mmm. So in this case my own abilities aren't going to work the way they always have?"

"If I had to guess, especially after your experience today, I'd say probably not. Energy affects us. And negative energy can affect us in some really bad, really painful ways. I speak from bitter experience."

"But there's no way for me to know just how my abilities may have changeduntil the change becomes obvious?"

"Yeah, pretty much. The good news is, it's seldom a drastically different ability but an expansion or enhancement of the ability or abilities you already possessed."

Tessa had been warned about that, but as with so many things about being psychic, experience was really the only teacher. Up until now, she had never experienced any drastic change in her abilitiesuntil she sat in that bathroom stall inside the Church of the Everlasting Sin and deliberately opened up her mind, expecting the usual jumble of thoughts and emotions.

She had not expected actual physical sensations.

Her body still felt sore from the waves of pain it had endured inside the church.

And no use telling herself it had all been in her mind. Like most psychics, she had long ago discovered the often unpleasant truth that what happened in the mind could be and, in fact, usually was far more "real" than anything the outer five senses could claim.

She tossed and turned for what seemed like hours, her mind replaying what she had seen and heard and sensed in that place, all the disjointed emotions and fragmented thoughts. Always circling back to that final, oddly chilling statement.

I'm hungry.

Who was hungry? Hungry for what? Everyone had certainly looked well-fed and, besides, every instinct told her it was not food that voice, that presence, hungered for. So what was it?

And who was it that had offered the simple I see you?

A friend, or at least a potential ally? Someone trying to tell her that another mind up there was capable of communicating in silence and secret?

Or bait on a hook?

Tessa pulled her pillow around so that she was as much hugging it as resting her head on it, conscious of a strange, unsettling feeling. She kept wanting to look over her shoulder, though every time she did there was only her bedroom in the Gray family home, illuminated for her by the light she left on in her bathroom. It was, admittedly, a space that was still strange to her, but until this night she had not felt uneasy here.

Not felt as though someone was watching her. Almost as though someone was, even now and very lightly, touching her back.

Ridiculous. There's nobody watching. Nobody touching you. You're just tired and you need to sleep. So sleep. Get some rest, and tomorrow everything will be clearer. Tomorrow you'll have a better handle on what's going on here.

Tessa wasn't at all sure she believed that, because a certainty inside herdeeper than instinctinsisted that during or after her trip to the Compound, something was different, changed, maybe even her. And it was a difference she didn't understand.

She needed to understand, but her thoughts chased themselves in circles uselessly until finally, exhausted, she slept.

And dreamed.

"YOU SENT for me, Father?"

"Yes, child. How do you feel?"

Bambi smiled. "Oh, I feel wonderful, Father. I always do, after Testifying."

"I'm glad to hear that, child." He positively beamed as he came around his desk and took her hand. But even with the smile, he looked pale and weary, and his eyes were darkened and held a curiously flat, almost empty shine. "I want you to sit here and talk to me for a little while."

"Of course, Father." She sat down in the single low-backed visitor's chair in front of his big mahogany desk.

He perched on the edge of the desk, still holding one of her hands. "You've been happy here with us, haven't you, Bambi?"

"So happy, Father. It's just like I said in my Testimony. I found peace here. I found God here."

"And God is happy you found Him. He loves you very, very much."

Bambi began to tear up. "I feel that. Thanks to you and the church, I really do feel that, Father."

"I know you do, child. And God knows. But it never hurts to pray to Him and give thanks for your happiness." He slipped off the desk and went around her chair, releasing her hand so that both of his could rest on the top of her head, just as they had earlier in the church.

And just as in the church, she bowed her head and squeezed her eyes shut.

"Pray with me," Reverend Samuel said, half-closing his eyes as his voice thickened. "Give thanks with me, child."

"Yes, Father. I give thanks to God" She jerked suddenly and moaned, her head tipping back.

He cradled her head in his hands, his fingers moving gently as though massaging her scalp, his own head moving side to side like some creature searching blindly. "Give thanks to God," he said hoarsely. "Give thanks to me. Give yourself to me, child."

Bambi moaned again. Her hands, resting on the arms of the chair, twitched spasmodically and then curled over the wood, fingers tightening until they turned white with the force.

"Give to me, child. Give me all that you are, all you have."

"Yes, Father yes oh, God it feels so good"

Her breasts rose and fell jerkily and her body shuddered. Again and again, as though shaken by wave after wave of sensation. Long minutes passed. Her face paled, then flushed, then paled again. Her moans grew quieter, weaker. Her hands relaxed their grip on the chair, fingers loosening and finally letting go.

Reverend Samuel lifted his head, his eyes opening. He looked down at her for a moment, then took his hands off her and walked around behind his desk.

He was changed. His face showed a healthy color, his eyes were bright, and his every movement showed a dynamic energy. Even his hair looked more silver than gray. He seemed almost to glow.

"Thank you, child," he said softly. He settled into his chair, then pressed a button on a very elaborate-looking phone system.

The door opened, and Reese DeMarco stepped into the room.

"Bambi and I are done," Samuel said.

"Of course, Father." DeMarco went to the visitor's chair and picked Bambi up, holding her limp body easily. His face was completely without expression. "Will there be anything else tonight?" he added, waiting there with the young woman cradled in his arms.

"No, I think not. Good night, Reese."

"Good night, Father." DeMarco carried Bambi from the room, closing the door quietly behind them.

Samuel leaned back in his chair and chuckled. "It's good not to be hungry," he said.

Tessa sat up in bed with a gasp, her heart pounding.

Oh, my God.

He was feeding off them.

"He's aa goddamn psychic vampire."

"Sounds like it," Hollis agreed.

Tessa turned to face the other woman, cradling her cup in both hands as she took a cautious sip of the hot coffee. "You don't seem surprised," she said finally, slowly.

"Well, we had the suspicion it would work like that. Or that it could, at least. A brain apparently hardwired to steal psychic abilities is already stealing energy. Somewhere along the way, he must have realized he could steal enough to replenish whatever he expended."