Dream Eyes (Dark Legacy #2)(42)
Author: Jayne Ann Krentz

Judson was at the top of the stairs, flattened against the wall. He looked down the hallway in the same direction that Max was staring.

“There’s no one in the house,” he said. “But there’s too much energy building in the atmosphere. We’re getting out of here now.”

Gwen gave Nicole a firm push toward the stairs. “Go.”

Nicole rushed up the steps. Gwen followed.

The ghostly music of the clashing chimes howled and shrieked through the house, penetrating the very walls. The floorboards shuddered under Gwen’s feet.

Judson led the way back toward the front door. For the first time, Gwen noticed that his ring was hot.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“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.”

Twenty-five