similar to the injuries you sustained in the past?”
AnnaCoreen nodded, lips so tight they’d gone white.
“What the hell is happening to me?” Alex asked.
“It’s like an empathic stigmata,” AnnaCoreen murmured, then grasped Alex’s forearm and studied her wrist. “The marks you arrived with are gone. How long ago did you flash on your sister’s captivity?”
Alex stared first at her right wrist and then her left, trying to assimilate the fact that not long ago, she’d had large purple bruises and raw skin, and now all signs of the injuries had vanished. How was that even possible? Of course, how she got the bruises wasn’t even possible, so why should it shock her that they’d healed in an unbelievable amount of time?
“How long, Alex?” AnnaCoreen prodded.
“An hour and a half maybe?”
“So the marks fade fairly quickly,” AnnaCoreen said.
Drawing away, Alex fought back a shudder. Could this get any worse?
“Clearly, your empathic ability goes well beyond residual energy from a recent traumatic event,” AnnaCoreen said. “I believe it’s more of a postcognition hybrid with strong empathic overtones. Whereas Charlie’s ability is more empathically focused with only slight postcognition, yours appears to be both empathic and acutely postcognitive. You relived Charlie’s deepest, darkest memory, one that will never leave her.”
A horrible thought struck Alex. “Will this happen every time I touch her?”
“You’ve touched her since, have you not?”
“Yes. I think so. Nothing happened.”
“Perhaps once you’ve made the connection to the energy, it’s somehow discharged. Like static electricity. That’s how Charlie’s ability works, too.”
“So it’s like the energy recognizes me,” Alex said. “Like syncing an iPod.”
AnnaCoreen’s lips quirked with the hint of a smile. “I’m afraid I don’t know how that works.”
“Once you plug your iPod into your PC the first time and set it up, your PC recognizes the iPod the next time you plug it in. It’s, like, ‘Hi, how ya doing?’ instead of ‘Who are you and what do you want?’ ”
“Yes, that’s possible. Sort of like a cookie that gets placed on your hard drive the first time you visit a Web site. The next time you visit, the Web site recognizes you because of that cookie.”
Alex laughed softly, not at all amused. “I’m a technological wonder.”
“These are all semi-educated guesses, of course.”
“So, really, what’s happening is that my postcognitive empathy hybrid whatchamacallit can tap into something further back in someone’s past than Charlie’s can, right? I mean, her thing happened three months ago, so . . .” She trailed off, and despite her effort to keep it at bay, she thought of another woman, this one writhing in agony after being ruthlessly shoved down a flight of stairs.
Focusing on AnnaCoreen, she tried to frame her question tactfully. “That man. He was your husband?”
AnnaCoreen nodded, and her hand gripped the arm of the rocking chair. Her tension was back. “He was a good man when I married him, but our life together didn’t develop as planned.”
“Did he . . .”
AnnaCoreen knew exactly what she meant and gave her a sad smile that didn’t touch her eyes. “No. My friend—”
“Richard.” The name from the . . . flash, that’s what Charlie called them, the name from the flash came to her as easily as the fear and pain.
“Yes, Richard. He arrived before Frank could hurt me further.”
Alex struggled to focus on AnnaCoreen and not the memory. God, it was going to haunt her forever. As it apparently haunted AnnaCoreen.
When the older woman added nothing more, Alex got that she no longer wanted to talk about it. But Alex had one more important question, and a cold band of dread began to tighten around her chest. “How long ago did it happen?”
“Thirty-two years.”
CHAPTER TEN
B utch McGee pulled the Mustang to the curb and killed the engine in
AnnaCoreen nodded, lips so tight they’d gone white.
“What the hell is happening to me?” Alex asked.
“It’s like an empathic stigmata,” AnnaCoreen murmured, then grasped Alex’s forearm and studied her wrist. “The marks you arrived with are gone. How long ago did you flash on your sister’s captivity?”
Alex stared first at her right wrist and then her left, trying to assimilate the fact that not long ago, she’d had large purple bruises and raw skin, and now all signs of the injuries had vanished. How was that even possible? Of course, how she got the bruises wasn’t even possible, so why should it shock her that they’d healed in an unbelievable amount of time?
“How long, Alex?” AnnaCoreen prodded.
“An hour and a half maybe?”
“So the marks fade fairly quickly,” AnnaCoreen said.
Drawing away, Alex fought back a shudder. Could this get any worse?
“Clearly, your empathic ability goes well beyond residual energy from a recent traumatic event,” AnnaCoreen said. “I believe it’s more of a postcognition hybrid with strong empathic overtones. Whereas Charlie’s ability is more empathically focused with only slight postcognition, yours appears to be both empathic and acutely postcognitive. You relived Charlie’s deepest, darkest memory, one that will never leave her.”
A horrible thought struck Alex. “Will this happen every time I touch her?”
“You’ve touched her since, have you not?”
“Yes. I think so. Nothing happened.”
“Perhaps once you’ve made the connection to the energy, it’s somehow discharged. Like static electricity. That’s how Charlie’s ability works, too.”
“So it’s like the energy recognizes me,” Alex said. “Like syncing an iPod.”
AnnaCoreen’s lips quirked with the hint of a smile. “I’m afraid I don’t know how that works.”
“Once you plug your iPod into your PC the first time and set it up, your PC recognizes the iPod the next time you plug it in. It’s, like, ‘Hi, how ya doing?’ instead of ‘Who are you and what do you want?’ ”
“Yes, that’s possible. Sort of like a cookie that gets placed on your hard drive the first time you visit a Web site. The next time you visit, the Web site recognizes you because of that cookie.”
Alex laughed softly, not at all amused. “I’m a technological wonder.”
“These are all semi-educated guesses, of course.”
“So, really, what’s happening is that my postcognitive empathy hybrid whatchamacallit can tap into something further back in someone’s past than Charlie’s can, right? I mean, her thing happened three months ago, so . . .” She trailed off, and despite her effort to keep it at bay, she thought of another woman, this one writhing in agony after being ruthlessly shoved down a flight of stairs.
Focusing on AnnaCoreen, she tried to frame her question tactfully. “That man. He was your husband?”
AnnaCoreen nodded, and her hand gripped the arm of the rocking chair. Her tension was back. “He was a good man when I married him, but our life together didn’t develop as planned.”
“Did he . . .”
AnnaCoreen knew exactly what she meant and gave her a sad smile that didn’t touch her eyes. “No. My friend—”
“Richard.” The name from the . . . flash, that’s what Charlie called them, the name from the flash came to her as easily as the fear and pain.
“Yes, Richard. He arrived before Frank could hurt me further.”
Alex struggled to focus on AnnaCoreen and not the memory. God, it was going to haunt her forever. As it apparently haunted AnnaCoreen.
When the older woman added nothing more, Alex got that she no longer wanted to talk about it. But Alex had one more important question, and a cold band of dread began to tighten around her chest. “How long ago did it happen?”
“Thirty-two years.”
CHAPTER TEN
B utch McGee pulled the Mustang to the curb and killed the engine in
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