“I’m not sure,” he said. “But these damn wind chimes are churning up some serious energy. It feels like the music has reached a critical point and now the currents are oscillating out of control.”

Nicole reached the top of the stairs. “I don’t understand. The music is horrible, but how could it be dangerous?”

“I don’t think any of us wants to hang around to find out,” Judson said. He looked at Gwen. “You two go first. Head for the car and do not stop running until you’re both inside. Got that?”

“Yes,” Gwen said.

Nicole was hysterical now. Gwen half dragged, half pushed her through the house. Max stayed close, so close that Gwen was afraid she or Nicole would trip over him. That was the last thing they needed.

The clashing and clanging and rattling of the chimes grew more wildly discordant. The sense of rising energy was thick in the air.

The chimes rose to a senses-shocking crescendo just as they reached the living room. A paranormal storm exploded around them. The raging currents of fiery music crashed like powerful waves, churning the atmosphere.

Instinctively, Gwen fought the onslaught by heightening her talent. It worked to some degree, shielding her senses from the worst of the energy, but she knew she could not keep up such a high level of counterforce for long.

Nicole gave a choked scream and fainted. The suddenness of her collapse caused Gwen to lose her grip on the other woman. Nicole crumpled to the floor in an untidy heap. Max screeched.

The path to the front door was blocked by a cascade of searing energy.

Judson reached up and grabbed the nearest sculpture suspended from the ceiling. Gwen saw the shudder that went through him when he made physical contact with the dancing wind chimes. He gritted his teeth against what she knew had to be a sharp jolt to his senses. He yanked the chimes from the hook and smashed the device on the floor.

The green crystals, each framed in a strip of dark metal, clattered and thrashed and then fell silent. But the dark music in the house grew louder and more ferocious. The paranormal flames flared higher.

“So much for that tactic,” Judson said. “The energy storm is blocking every route out of the house. 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.”

“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 usually happens, isn’t it? Those guys always land on their feet.”

“Spalding did not land on his feet. Spalding is dead.”

“Ah.” Gwen fell silent.

He drank some wine and lowered the glass, aware of the exhaustion that was settling into his bones. They were sitting in front of the fireplace in Gwen’s little parlor, their feet propped on the needlepoint hassock. There was a bottle of generic red from the Wilby General Store and the remains of a takeout pizza on the table between them.

The bio-cocktail of adrenaline and psi that always followed a heavy drain on the psychic senses was still washing through him. He was edgy and restless. What he really needed was some fast, overheated sex with Gwen, but it wouldn’t be chivalrous to suggest it, given what she had been through today. Instead, he was using alcohol to bring himself down harder and faster. Soon he would crash. Maybe tonight he would not dream.

Max was crouched on the windowsill, staring out into the night. Gwen said he looked depressed, but in Judson’s opinion the cat looked ready for revenge.

I’m with you, cat, Judson thought.

“I wonder if Nicole will remember anything about what happened,” Gwen said.