The corners of Brendan’s mouth quirked. “Well, if you think about it, we did choose these two for their psi ability, didn’t we?”
She stared at him. “Are you being serious?”
“I don’t know,” Brendan said. He sounded tired, and she noticed again that he had dark circles under his eyes. “Might be good for the atmosphere.” She stared at him in disbelief. “We want them psyching themselves out, don’t we? We’ve only got three weeks, and we’re not here for our health. It can’t hurt to have them amped up.” There was an edge in his voice, too, and she wondered about that.
Laurel took the article back from him and read aloud: “ ‘The poltergeist ultimately takes complete control of reality. And like drug addicts, the human percipients cut their ties to the world and become addicted to the whims of the poltergeist.’ ”
She looked up from the article, at Brendan. He looked at her, puzzled. “What’s bothering you about it?”
If she were completely honest about why it was bothering her, it was that she had a queasy feeling about Leish suddenly showing up like that, randomly.
Above them there was a scream, then muffled pounding in the floor. They both froze and looked up, and for a suspended moment Laurel knew exactly what Brendan was thinking—that something was finally happening … something. And she saw his excitement—the almost rabid look in his eyes—before they both ran for the stairs.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Upstairs, Katrina paced in the little lounge with the slanted ceiling. She was beside herself, on the verge of hysteria. Brendan had bolted into the room just ahead of Laurel, and now he took Katrina by the forearms, stopping her wild circling. She was hyperventilating and trembling, her eyes dilated.
“Calm down, Katrina. Just tell us what happened.” Brendan glanced at Laurel.
“My room. In my room,” the girl gasped.
Brendan crossed the lounge in three swift steps and strode down the hall toward Katrina’s room, Katrina trailing fearfully behind. Laurel followed with a building sense of anger.
They all crowded into Katrina’s room, looking around them. The mirror above the hearth was cracked, as was all the glass in the framed prints.
Katrina was talking very fast, and her eyes were dilated with excitement (and pot, Laurel realized). “I’ve been outside since this morning. I just came back to my room and …” She gestured grandly.
Laurel stared at the mirror and for a moment she was back in her dream … the sound of the mirror shattering behind her …
She shook it off, pushed it away.
Laughter rang out behind her and she snapped back to the present. She turned to see Tyler hovering behind her in the hall. He looked past her to Katrina and started clapping, slowly. “Good one, baby doll. How many points does she get for that, Professor Cody? ’Cause I definitely think she’s winning.”
Laurel had to turn away to cover a smile, but Katrina caught it and shot her a look of pure fury.
“You don’t believe me and I hate you. I didn’t do it. I didn’t.” She burst into tears.
What a little liar, Laurel thought, with a viciousness that startled her.
Just as Katrina was obviously angling for, Brendan stepped to the bed to soothe her, crouching in front of her, holding her shoulders. Laurel was appalled at the wave of jealousy that washed through her.
“Katrina, it’s fine, you’re doing just fine.” Brendan squeezed the girl’s shoulders lightly. “All we have to do is check the monitors—” he stood and stepped to the camera, but stopped, looking at it.
Katrina sniffled from the bed. “I … I turned it off when I changed my clothes earlier … I forgot to turn it back on. I’m sorry,” she said winningly.
Laurel shook her head in complete disbelief.
Brendan took out his EMF reader and stepped to the wall to hold the device close to a shattered picture frame. The device was silent. To tell the truth Laurel had never understood what electromagnetic levels had to do with anything and was skeptical that it meant anything real.
“The levels are normal,” he said in a neutral voice, and moved to the other frames one by one to check. “Three … three point three …” He shook his head. “Nothing.”
And again Laurel heard the disappointment in his voice.
He turned to the girl and said heartily, “Katrina, I want you to journal this for me, okay? Fill out your mood sheet, and an incident description page. Tape record your thoughts and feelings, if you want. When you’re through,