succeeded.”

“When did you discover that he was a problem?” Davis asked.

Phillips came to a halt, his expression grim. “When I realized that he was conducting unauthorized experiments on a small number of the most severely traumatized patients.”

“Patients like Brinker?” Celinda said.

“Yes.” Phillips’s mouth tightened at the corners. “The nature of Brinker’s parapsych illness made him extremely vulnerable.”

“What sort of experiments did Hollings perform on him?” Davis asked.

“Hollings was a leading light in dream state research. As you may know, new research has confirmed that the dream state is the only state in which the barriers between the normal and paranormal planes are not clearly defined.”

“No,” Davis said. “Can’t say I did know that.”

“The study of the dream state is a new and rather esoteric field,” Phillips explained. “Hollings was fascinated with the subject. He was also an expert with psi drugs. I fear he combined the two skills to conduct experiments that can only be described as mind control.”

Davis watched him closely. “How did he attempt to control Brinker?”

“To be quite honest, I have no way of knowing how much damage he did to poor Brinker, because shortly after Hollings was dismissed, Brinker, himself, disappeared. In the past nine months I have sent a number of letters to the address that we had on file for him, but he never responded.” Phillips rubbed his forehead in an agitated way. “Now you tell me that he is dead.”

“I want to talk to Hollings. Where did he go after he left the institute?”

“Certainly not to a reputable hospital or clinic here in Cadence. I would never have given him a reference, and he knew it. In fact, I filed a complaint with the License Review Board of the Association of Para-Psychiatrists. But by the time they got around to acting on it, Hollings had vanished.”

“What do you mean?” Celinda asked.

“To be frank,” Phillips said, “I suspect he assumed a new identity. All I can tell you is that the last time I checked, there was no doctor in the city practicing under that name.”

Davis looked thoughtful. “Brinker had an apartment here in town. That means that if Hollings is involved in this thing, he’s probably still in town, too.”

Phillips raised his brows. “What makes you think Hollings is connected to Brinker?”

“I know coincidences when I see them, and there are a lot of them here. The fact that both Brinker and Hollings have a connection to this place is one of them.”

“I see.” Phillips inclined his head with a grave air. “I wish you luck in finding him.”

“Thanks.” Davis closed the folder and got to his feet. “The Guild appreciates your cooperation.”

“Let me be quite clear about something,” Phillips said, surprisingly brusque. “I did not cooperate in order to please the Guild.”

Davis looked at him, waiting.

“I offered my assistance because I trust you, and I trust your motives.” Phillips’s eyes narrowed. “And because I don’t want Seton Hollings doing any more damage with his talent.”

Davis was silent for a few seconds. Then he seemed to relax a little.

“I appreciate it,” he said.

Phillips met his eyes. “I also did it because I am hoping to convince you to return to the institute so that my staff and I can learn from the mistakes we made with you. Thus far, your case still comes under the heading of one of a kind. But in the last several years, a number of new types of psychic talents have begun to emerge in the population. New forms of psi trauma are appearing along with those talents.”

“Forget it,” Davis said. The ice was back in his voice. “I’m not interested in becoming a research subject again.”

“Being a doctor is a lot like being a policeman, Davis. As soon as we subdue one criminal ailment or condition, another pops up. We are always fighting a new war. We need allies and spies and raw intelligence. You have a great deal to teach us. I am asking you to help us in this never-ending battle.”

Davis shook his head. “No more drugs.”

“No drugs,” Phillips promised. “You have my word on that.”

Davis looked at Celinda. She gave him an encouraging smile, letting him know silently that she approved of Phillips.

“I’ll think about it,” Davis said.

Chapter 33

SHORTLY BEFORE MIDNIGHT, DAVIS CLOSED THE CADENCE City directory and dropped it on the floor beside the sofa. He leaned back, stretched out his legs, and looked at Celinda.

“Who the hell knew there were so many people running around claiming to be experts in various forms of psi therapy?” he said.

She put down the pad of paper she had been using to take notes. The task of sorting through the list of practitioners in the directory in an attempt to pick out the mysterious Dr. Hollings had not been successful.

The balcony door was partially open. Max and Araminta were outside on the railing. They were sitting very close together, taking in the night. A few minutes ago Max had come inside long enough to fetch another cookie for Araminta.

Glumly she eyed what she had written.

“From the looks of it, most of them are self-proclaimed therapists and counselors,” she said. “The number with genuine parapsych degrees of one kind or another after their names is only a small subset.”

“The problem is that the city-states don’t have any laws dictating who can hang out a shingle calling himself a therapist or a counselor.” He picked up her list. “We’ve got everything from shady gurus to full-fledged doctors of para-psychiatry here.” He frowned at one of the names she had written. “What the hell is a psychic lifestyle counselor, anyway?”

“I’m not sure, but it’s nice to know there are some out there in case I ever need one.”

He leaned his head against the back of the sofa and closed his eyes, thinking. “None of the people on that list jumps out at me. Got a feeling our man doesn’t advertise in the phone book.”

She considered that. “It wouldn’t be surprising, not if he’s going after a high-end clientele. Promises, Inc., doesn’t advertise, either. We work strictly by referral.”

“Referral,” Davis repeated. He raised his lashes halfway, a predatory gleam in his eyes. “I’ll bet your competitors know who you are, though, don’t they?”

“Definitely.” She was unable to suppress a twinge of pride. “Everyone in the matchmaking business here in Cadence is well aware of Promises, Inc.”

“Maybe the way to find Hollings is to talk to some of his competitors.”

The psi energy of the hunter was pulsing strongly in him. He was running on adrenaline, she thought. Whether he realized it or not, he had not completely recovered from the heavy psi burn in the ruins.

“There’s nothing more you can do tonight,” she said. “You need sleep, Davis.”

“I’m too rezzed up to sleep. I’m closing in on him; I can feel it.”

“All the more reason why you should rest.” She got to her feet and held out her hand. “Come on, let’s get you into bed.”

Instead of coming up off the sofa, he captured her wrist in his hand and tumbled her down onto his lap.

“Got a better idea,” he said.

He kissed her before she could offer a protest. She did not require her psi senses to realize that he was more than just restless and edgy; he was as hard as quartz. The adrenaline and testosterone bio-cocktail that had aroused all of his hunter’s senses was having some predictable side effects.

She put her arms around his neck and kissed him back. Holding her locked in the embrace, he reached out

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