Stealing Shadows

No. Somehow she managed to defy him, to prevent him from capturing her. And you're no part of me. No matter what you think. No matter how many times you believe you've slipped into my mind without me knowing.

Vasek was more disconcerted than he wanted to admit. yom never knew. Never! Oh, no?

Her laughter in his mind, like quicksilver. yom never knew, he declared, but the assertion was hollow and he heard the emptiness of it. His sense of superiority was rocked, unsteady for the first time.

Of course I knew.

I don't believe you! He tried to penetrate her certainty, probe her claims, but her presence was smooth and cool and peculiarly detached. He felt her presence but not her spirit. And only those thoughts she allowed him to see.

Rage rose higher in him, hotter, wilder. No. He wouldn't. He had never -

You lose.

Ben didn't know how he managed to loosen the ropes enough to free his wrists. Perhaps it was because this particular monster had little experience in binding his victims since he tended to kill them quickly. Perhaps he had been distracted by the anomaly of a male captive, and it made him careless. Or perhaps it was simply that Ben's desperation gave him a strength he had not known he possessed.

He bloodied his wrists doing it, but his hands were still functional when he wrenched free of the ropes and bent to untie the ones binding his ankles. He kept his eyes on the unmoving, unblinking monster, praying he'd have time to act, to cross the few feet of space between them and get his fingers around that pasty throat and choke the evil life out of the bastard.

Cassie.

He had asked her what would happen if she went too deep, and she had replied with a faint smile that she would not come back. How deep was she now? And what would happen if the monster in whose mind she was trapped died before she was able to escape?

Ben hesitated for only a second, and in that second something heavy crashed through the windows, and two of Matt's deputies lay on the floor, guns drawn and pointed at the monster. And the monster was turning toward them, face twisting, a terrible triumph in the glance he threw Ben as his arm rose, the knife he held gleaming in a threat any cop would recognize and instinctively act to counter.

'No!' Ben shouted, lunging up from the chair.

He was too late.

'Cassie?'

The room was so deathly silent that Bishop heard the shots through the open line of the cell phone. They were close together, but he was able to count three of them, and each one made Cassie's slender body jerk. Then her eyes closed, a long breath escaped her, and she went totally limp.

Bishop eased her back against the pillows and felt for a carotid pulse. It was so faint, he could barely discern it, and her skin was like ice.

'Cassie?' He slapped her cheek sharply, getting absolutely no response. Over his shoulder to the deputy, he snapped, 'Call EMS.'

'My God,' Danny whispered. 'Look at her hair.'

'Get EMS here now!'

MARCH 10, 1999

'I've run every test I have.' The neurosurgeon Ben had flown in frowned at his clipboard. 'The MRI showed no tumor, no bleeding or swelling of the brain. There's no apparent injury or trauma, no disease we can detect. She's breathing on her own. The EEG shows brain activity, though of a kind I find unusual.'

Bishop, who'd been standing on the far side of the hospital bed gazing out the window, turned to look at the doctor. 'Meaning?' His voice was cool.

Dr. Rhodes shook his head. 'I mean there's activity in an area of the brain where there is normally little or no activity, especially during coma.'

'Is that good?'

'I don't know,' the doctor replied bluntly. 'Just like I don't know how that white streak could have appeared in her hair instantaneously. If anyone else had told me it just appeared like that – '

'I was there,' Bishop said. 'It appeared in a matter of seconds as she fell unconscious. Started at the roots and went right to the ends.'

Almost to himself the doctor muttered, 'The medical literature says that's an old wives' tale.'

'Rewrite the literature,' Bishop suggested.

'I may have to. On several counts. I just don't understand what's causing this coma. There's no medical reason to account for it.'

Sitting beside the bed, Ben said, 'So what you're telling us is that you have no idea what's wrong with her?'

'I know she's in a coma, Judge. I don't know what caused it. I don't know how long it will last. She may recover naturally.' Rhodes clearly felt helpless. 'I'm sorry. There just isn't anything we can do.' He looked from one man to the other, then sighed and left the room.

'She won't recover naturally,' Bishop said.

'You were her lifeline.' Ben's voice was harsh. 'Why did you let go?'

'If I had let go, she'd be dead.' In stark contrast, Bishop's voice was calm, even mild.

Ben reached over to touch Cassie's cheek gently, his eyes fixed on her face as they had been too many long hours during the last week. Her terribly still face. 'Then what the hell happened?'

'I've told you. She was trapped inside the mind of a maniac when he died. She wasn't strong enough to pull herself completely free of that psychic backwash of energy.'

'Completely free? Where is she?' 'Somewhere between.'

A laugh escaped Ben, and it held no humor whatsoever. 'Christ. That's helpful.' 'You asked.'

'Look, if you're going to stand there spouting bits of information like Yoda, at least tell me something I can use to get her back.'

'All right. If you want her back, go after her.' 'How? I'm not psychic.'

Bishop moved away from the window and toward the door with a shrug. 'Then she's gone. Have a memorial service for her and get on with your life.' 'Bastard.'

At the door the agent turned and gave Ben one last, steady look. 'You're the only one she's allowed to get close to her in more than ten years. The only one with a connection to her that is literally of the flesh. And you're the only one who can bring her back.' He walked out the door.

Ben stared after him for a moment, then returned his gaze to Cassie's still, pale face. He was finally getting used to the stark white streak in the black hair above her left temple, but her utter stillness was killing him.

He had tried talking to her. Pleading with her. He had watched Rhodes and the staff try various loud and seemingly painful methods to wake her, all without success. Her heart beat. She breathed. And there was activity in her brain.

But she was not here.

'… a connection to her that is literally of the flesh.'

What was that supposed to mean? That because they were lovers they shared a bond? Ben wanted to think so. But during the endless week past, when he had sat there staring at her, talking to her, trying to reach her, there had been no response at all.

The white streak had made him think of her aunt, and so in desperation he had combed through Alexandra Melton's journals, searching for something he could do to help Cassie. He had found unexpected and astonishing information, including the fact that Alexandra had left a warning for her niece to stay away from him or be destroyed.

A warning Cassie had clearly ignored.

He discovered that her mother and aunt had quarreled over how to raise her, the mother insisting her child be