“True. And her abilities were exceptionally strong at the subconscious level.”
“Yeah. But Dalton’s a telepath; in him, the meds dulled and blunted all his senses, including the basic five, so none of them could function properly, and he never got the opportunity to build a shield. With all the drugs out of his system now and all his senses really awake and functional for the first time, he’s like one giant exposed nerve. Even after nearly three years with no meds. They’re out of his system, but . . . he still has so much baggage to drag along behind him. No wonder he wants to stay put.”
“I know you took Diana with you to see him about a year ago, when he’d been off the meds. For a while.”
Bishop nodded. “Yeah, but she couldn’t help him, bad as she wanted to, except to tell him she’d found her way through it and he could too. That he wasn’t alone, not that the knowledge seemed to cheer him any. I couldn’t help him except to offer the meditation and biofeedback techniques we’ve developed, and given the state he was in, I doubt he was even capable at the time of being able to concentrate and focus.”
He shook his head, rather carefully since the painkillers hadn’t completely kicked in. “He didn’t want anybody close enough to touch him, but even though I couldn’t read him, I got the distinct impression he thought we were all freaks, himself included. And he was pretty definite about not seeing anyone else, most especially an empath. Probably because of his extreme emotional strain. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man that close to the edge. It all takes time and practice to learn how to cope, and it’s an individual thing, we know that. What works for one psychic is no help at all to another. He still didn’t have a handle on it six months ago; I have no idea if things are any better for him now.”
Miranda half nodded and looked across the table as Tony hung up the phone. “Kendra’s okay?”
“She didn’t feel a thing,” Tony replied. “Matter of fact, I woke her up from a nap. She asked if she should come in, but I persuaded her to go back to bed. Figure if she didn’t feel anything, she’s not meant to be a part of this. Whatever this is.”
Miranda nodded again, unsurprised. “Probably left untouched by this because of her pregnancy, and since I’ve never thought of the universe as particularly benevolent, I’m guessing it’s purely a matter of those called or otherwise affected being able to concentrate fully on this . . . situation without fluctuations in hormones or other nonpsychic distractions.”
“Makes sense,” Bishop agreed.
“I’m also guessing there may be a few more of our people as well as Haven’s who weren’t affected, for one reason or another. Many if not most of them likely felt . . . something . . . but not a summons. Something that powerful clearly directed out in numerous directions had to produce a spillover of energy, and it likely affected most psychics to some degree. And probably latents and nonpsychics as well, even though they won’t have a clue what happened.”
“A summons?” Tony rubbed his head, frowning. “Am I the only one who doesn’t know what’s going on? I have a hell of a headache that came out of nowhere, but I didn’t hear anyone—or anything—calling me, if that’s what you meant by a summons. I didn’t get anything like that.”
Miranda lightly touched the two legal pads. “These six people did. A definite summons, probably geared to each in some way unique to their abilities. None of them are in the unit. None are cops, or even investigators. Something they all have in common.”
“But psychics,” Tony said, leaning forward and peering at the legal pads. He possessed the quite-often-useful knack of reading upside down. “I don’t recognize most of those names, but I remember Bishop talking once about Dalton Davenport. Said he could have blown the top off our scale as a telepath if he’d had training and support, especially early on.”
Bishop nodded. “That’s the second thing every person on these two lists has in common. All are exceptionally powerful, or have the potential to be, even though most lack even nominal control.”
Tony grappled with that for a moment in frowning silence, then asked, “Is there a third thing they have in common?”
It was Miranda who answered. “Yeah. They’ve all met each other, spent some time together. For a while, they lived in a sort of group home. Some have known each other for years. And some of them were, at least at one time, close.”
“To each other? I take it you mean emotionally close? Or psychically close?” Tony lifted a brow.
“In some cases, both.” She nodded. “There have been a few . . . let’s call them informal support groups . . . and group homes . . . formed over the years in different parts of the country, usually whenever there were a number of psychics in the same city or area. Noah encouraged that from the beginning, set up the logistics along with John Garett’s help, and by now it’s official SCU and Haven policy. The homes are privately owned and run, inspected regularly by any . . . interested state or federal parties. There’s at least one doctor and nurse on staff, as well as visiting psychiatrists trained by our own people specializing in psychic as well as emotional trauma. And, of course, with no drain on the taxpayers, the FBI didn’t have much to complain about.”
“Though they did try,” Bishop murmured.
Miranda sent him a quick smile. “Not even they could argue with success, especially given the amount of knowledge we’ve learned about psychic ability.”
“Lab rats?” Tony asked, a bit troubled.
“No, nothing like that,” Bishop answered. These were and are people who . . . need to know they aren’t alone. Need to feel safe. Need to know there are others they can talk to openly about what they can do, and how they feel about that. No meds, no forced therapy, no medical procedures whatsoever. Just a safe place where they can live for a few months or as many years as they like.”
“Indefinitely?” Tony asked.
“If they need a safe place that long, then of course. John and I set up the group homes very carefully, and we have a list of very trustworthy caretakers as well as a healthy endowment to make certain the homes exist long after we do.”
Tony didn’t much like to think about a time “after” Bishop, which surprised him a little. Not that it had ever bothered him, because he’d never considered the matter before. But now he had a strong hunch that Bishop had “set up” a great many things so that the SCU as well as his “rogue” psychics would remain protected and enjoy useful lives long after he was gone.
Miranda continued, “We know that psychics are drawn to one another, and even if they’re reluctant to join us or Haven, they still need whatever knowledge we can provide, plus emotional support that mainstream medicine doesn’t offer. Just the relief of being able to talk to someone else who understands what it is to be psychic can break down a lot of walls.” She paused, adding wryly, “And build a few.”
The phone rang just then, and Bishop reached out to take the call, automatically hitting the speaker button. Before he could even say his name, a strong voice that sounded somewhere between highly irritated and intensely curious erupted from the speaker.
“What the hell was that?” Agent Hollis Templeton demanded. “I thought my head was going to split open, and even Reese got a nosebleed.”
* * *
? ? ?
NEITHER BISHOP NOR Miranda was surprised that Hollis was the first to call in; she was, arguably, the most powerful individual psychic in the unit.
Miranda asked, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, now. Hurt like hell for a few minutes there, but we finally managed to stop the pain. And Reese’s nosebleed.”
In the background, clearly on speaker, her partner, Reese DeMarco, could be heard to say with his usual calm that he appreciated that.
“It was a mutual effort and you know it,” Hollis told her partner, adding to those on the other end of the connection. “Neither of us was shielding at all, so we really got slammed.”