that Raymond’s ladder was tipped over and lay on its side in the parking lot. Flakes of snow were already gathering upon it. In fact, the snow was coming down more and more heavily, despite the weather forecast that had called for clearing skies.
Second, there were droplets of blood on my car and the cars immediately around it, the ones closest to Raymond’s ladder. They were rapidly freezing and they glittered under the parking lot’s lamps like tiny brilliant rubies.
“What?” Thomas asked as I brought Molly back in. “What is—” He stared out the windows for a second and answered the question for himself. “Crap.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Molly?”
She gave me a wild-eyed glance, shook her head once, then bowed it and closed her eyes, speaking in a low, repetitive whisper.
“What the hell?” Thomas said.
“She’s in psychic shock,” I said quietly.
“Never seen you in psychic shock,” my brother said.
“Different talents. I blow things up. Molly’s a sensitive, and getting more so,” I told him. “She’ll snap herself out of it, but she needs a minute.”
“Uh-huh,” Thomas said quietly. He stared intently at the shuddering young woman, his eyes shifting colors slightly, from deep grey to something paler.
“Hey,” I said to him. “Focus.”
He gave his head a little shake, his eyes gradually darkening again. “Right. Come on. Let’s get her a chair and some coffee and stop standing around in front of big glass windows making targets of ourselves.”
We did, dragging her into the bistro and to the table nearest the door, where Thomas could stand watching the darkness while I grabbed the girl some coffee from a dispenser, holding my hand on top of my silly head the whole while.
Molly got her act together within a couple of minutes after I sat down. It surprised me: Despite my casual words to Thomas, I hadn’t seen her that badly shaken up before. She grabbed at the coffee, shaking, and slurped some.
“Okay, grasshopper,” I said. “What happened?”
“I was on the way in,” she replied, her voice distant and oddly flat. “The security man. S-something killed him.” A hint of something desperate crept into her voice. “I f-felt him die. It was horrible.”
“What?” I asked her. “Give me some details to work with.”
Molly shook her head rapidly. “D-didn’t see. It was too fast. I sensed something moving behind me—m-maybe a footstep. Then there was a quiet sound and h-he died. . . .” Her breaths started coming rapidly again.
“Easy,” I told her, keeping my voice in the steady cadence I’d used when teaching her how to maintain self-control under stress. “Breathe. Focus. Remember who you are.”
“Okay,” she said, several breaths later. “Okay.”
“This sound. What was it?”
She stared down at the steam coming up off her coffee. “I . . . A thump, maybe. Lighter.”
“A snap?” I asked.
She grimaced but nodded. “And I turned around, fast as I could. But he was gone. I didn’t see anything there, Harry.”
Thomas, ten feet away, could hear our quiet conversation as clearly as if he’d been sitting with us. “Something grabbed Raymond,” he said. “Something moving fast enough to cross her whole field of vision in a second or two. It didn’t stop moving when it took him. She probably heard his neck breaking from the whiplash.”
There wasn’t much to say to that. The whole concept was disturbing as hell.
Thomas glanced back at me and said, “It’s a great way to do a grab and snatch if you’re fast enough. My father showed me how it was done once.” His head whipped around toward the parking lot.
I felt myself tense. “What?”
“The streetlights just went out.”
I sat back in my chair, thinking furiously. “Only one reason to do that.”
“To blind us,” Thomas said. “Prevent anyone from reaching the vehicles.”
“Also keeps anyone outside from seeing what is happening here,” I said. “How are you guys using this place after hours?”
“Sarah’s uncle owns it,” Thomas said.
“Get her,” I said, rising to take up watching the door. “Hurry.”
Thomas brought her over to me a moment later. By the time he did, the larpers had become aware that something was wrong, and their awkwardly sinister role-playing dwindled into an uncertain silence as Sarah hurried over. Before, I had watched her and her scarlet bikini top in appraisal. Now I couldn’t help but think how slender and vulnerable it made her neck look.
“What is it?” Sarah asked me.
“Trouble,” I said. “We may be in danger, and I need you to answer a few questions for me, right now.”