Dead Ice
Page 128
Something brushed my shoulder. I thought it was my own hair, until I went to move it and realized it wasn’t. I looked around the room without moving my head, letting my own power search outward, and I kept it aimed at Gillingham. She was the only other psychic in the room; if it wasn’t her doing something I’d search farther out, but I’d learned that you start with the obvious and then try weirder stuff.
I couldn’t get a good read on what was onscreen, because whatever was trying to get my attention was dividing my focus too much. Two things happened at once, that soft brush at my shoulder, and again I might have thought it was my own hair, but I knew the difference now. It wasn’t me, and Gillingham’s energy sort of pulsed a soft red.
“Pause the videos, please,” I said.
Brent did what I asked without questioning it. The zombie’s face was caught in a scream like a clip from a horror film. Shit.
Manning asked, “Is something wrong, Blake?”
“Yeah.” I turned and looked at Gillingham. “What are you doing?”
She smiled that innocent smile that went with the big eyes and freckles, the Peter Pan collar and all the rest. She’d dressed to look inoffensive, harmless, but it was just camouflage for something else.
“I’m sitting here,” she said, voice mild.
“Cut the crap, Gillingham, I saw you.”
“Saw her do what?” Brent asked.
“She’s touching me psychically. I don’t know why, but it’s distracting me from actually being able to aim my gifts at the screen.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.
“You’re trying to do something to me and my shields are noticing it, blocking you, so your gift translates it to something normal, is that it? A bug on your skin, a cat rubbing against your legs, hair brushing against your arm, some sensation that grabs a person’s attention, so they think that was it, and don’t notice you.”
She smiled some more.
“Agent Gillingham,” Manning said, “are you messing with Marshal Blake?”
“I don’t know what you mean, ‘messing with,’” and she made little quote marks with her fingers.
Larry said, “Teresa, you think you’re good, but what you are is powerful. Good would be if you could peek inside people’s shields without announcing yourself.”
“How did you know it was me?” she asked me.
“Why should I tell you?”
“Because I’m trying to get better and the only way to do that is feedback.”
“Are you telling me we waited for your plane for hours, and you’re just here to practice your psychic snooping skills, and not to help on this actual case?” I could feel the anger start bubbling up.
“It was your suggestion that you wanted to look at the videos using your necromancy that had them send me. They wanted me to observe you working, and get a feel for your talent when it’s not being used to actively raise the dead.”
“I don’t care about that. What I care about is, did you actually come here and aren’t planning to help solve this case?”
“I’m here to help, of course.”
“How?”
“What?”
“How can you help?”
“We’ve discovered that some psychics can use their talent via electronics to a surprising degree. If you can do that, then we want to have you involved in the live event from these perpetrators.”
“What do you mean, live event?”
“I can answer that one,” Brent said.
“Then answer it,” I said, and my voice was still not friendly at all.
“They started out just advertising zombie sex tapes, but then they asked their customer base what they wanted to see.”
“You’ve seen the tapes that have more storyline to them,” Manning said.
“Storyline, what storyline?”
“The ones where the younger man seemed to be afraid, and it was made to appear as if he were being raped by the zombie.”
“That was toward the end, right?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“I’m afraid by the time we got there I was sort of glazed over with too much horror porn, but I remember it vaguely.”
“It is hard to watch this stuff and keep a fresh eye,” Manning agreed.
“That’s why we watch it over and over,” Brent said, and he looked tired at the thought, “so we can be as sure as possible that we don’t miss something that might help.”
“They’ve grown more sophisticated in story, and more ambitious on the kink,” Manning said.
“Don’t call this kinky; it’s an insult to everyone who lives an alternative lifestyle,” I said.
“Like yourself?” Gillingham said.
“I didn’t mean to insult you, Marshal,” Manning said. She gave Gillingham a dirty look.
“What I do, or don’t do, in my private life is none of your business, Agent.”
“Yes, of course, I’m sorry.”
“I can’t tell if you’re this stupid, or if it’s all an act so no one sees you coming psychically,” I said.
“It’s both,” Larry said. “She is a disaster socially sometimes, but they dressed her so she’d look like this.”
“Like the favorite second-grade teacher that we never had,” I said.
“Or Sunday school teacher, yeah,” he said.
“Tell them it’s too much. They’d do better if she was just dressed like a normal American woman of her age and socioeconomic level,” I said.
“Duly noted, I’ll let them know.”
“Did you know that’s why she was here?” I asked.
“No, I just know she can follow psychic ability like a dog on a scent. I honestly thought she was here to help us aim our talents at the bad guy on the videos.”
“It only works if the feed is live,” Gillingham said. “I mean, I might be able to get impressions, but to follow it back to the bad guy it has to be currently happening.”
“Have you tried to follow this bastard before?”
“Yes, and it didn’t work.”
“Why not?”
“We’re not sure, but higher-ups think maybe it’s just too different from most psychic ability.”
“What does that mean, too different?” I asked.
“It’s like I don’t understand the necromancy enough to trace it.”
“Or he’s better at detecting you, like Anita,” Larry said.
“He doesn’t feel as powerful over the computer as she does sitting here,” Gillingham said.
“It’s not as strong over the computer sometimes,” Brent said.
“You pick it up, too?” I asked.
He nodded. “I’m not nearly as gifted as the three of you, but I actually seem to get more via electronics. One of our instructors says that he’s found other computer techs who actually have more talent to feel things over the computer than in real life. They don’t even have a name for it yet, but apparently it’s a talent just like the others.”
“That might explain why so many techies spend all their time online; they get addicted to feeling the buzz,” I said.
I couldn’t get a good read on what was onscreen, because whatever was trying to get my attention was dividing my focus too much. Two things happened at once, that soft brush at my shoulder, and again I might have thought it was my own hair, but I knew the difference now. It wasn’t me, and Gillingham’s energy sort of pulsed a soft red.
“Pause the videos, please,” I said.
Brent did what I asked without questioning it. The zombie’s face was caught in a scream like a clip from a horror film. Shit.
Manning asked, “Is something wrong, Blake?”
“Yeah.” I turned and looked at Gillingham. “What are you doing?”
She smiled that innocent smile that went with the big eyes and freckles, the Peter Pan collar and all the rest. She’d dressed to look inoffensive, harmless, but it was just camouflage for something else.
“I’m sitting here,” she said, voice mild.
“Cut the crap, Gillingham, I saw you.”
“Saw her do what?” Brent asked.
“She’s touching me psychically. I don’t know why, but it’s distracting me from actually being able to aim my gifts at the screen.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.
“You’re trying to do something to me and my shields are noticing it, blocking you, so your gift translates it to something normal, is that it? A bug on your skin, a cat rubbing against your legs, hair brushing against your arm, some sensation that grabs a person’s attention, so they think that was it, and don’t notice you.”
She smiled some more.
“Agent Gillingham,” Manning said, “are you messing with Marshal Blake?”
“I don’t know what you mean, ‘messing with,’” and she made little quote marks with her fingers.
Larry said, “Teresa, you think you’re good, but what you are is powerful. Good would be if you could peek inside people’s shields without announcing yourself.”
“How did you know it was me?” she asked me.
“Why should I tell you?”
“Because I’m trying to get better and the only way to do that is feedback.”
“Are you telling me we waited for your plane for hours, and you’re just here to practice your psychic snooping skills, and not to help on this actual case?” I could feel the anger start bubbling up.
“It was your suggestion that you wanted to look at the videos using your necromancy that had them send me. They wanted me to observe you working, and get a feel for your talent when it’s not being used to actively raise the dead.”
“I don’t care about that. What I care about is, did you actually come here and aren’t planning to help solve this case?”
“I’m here to help, of course.”
“How?”
“What?”
“How can you help?”
“We’ve discovered that some psychics can use their talent via electronics to a surprising degree. If you can do that, then we want to have you involved in the live event from these perpetrators.”
“What do you mean, live event?”
“I can answer that one,” Brent said.
“Then answer it,” I said, and my voice was still not friendly at all.
“They started out just advertising zombie sex tapes, but then they asked their customer base what they wanted to see.”
“You’ve seen the tapes that have more storyline to them,” Manning said.
“Storyline, what storyline?”
“The ones where the younger man seemed to be afraid, and it was made to appear as if he were being raped by the zombie.”
“That was toward the end, right?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“I’m afraid by the time we got there I was sort of glazed over with too much horror porn, but I remember it vaguely.”
“It is hard to watch this stuff and keep a fresh eye,” Manning agreed.
“That’s why we watch it over and over,” Brent said, and he looked tired at the thought, “so we can be as sure as possible that we don’t miss something that might help.”
“They’ve grown more sophisticated in story, and more ambitious on the kink,” Manning said.
“Don’t call this kinky; it’s an insult to everyone who lives an alternative lifestyle,” I said.
“Like yourself?” Gillingham said.
“I didn’t mean to insult you, Marshal,” Manning said. She gave Gillingham a dirty look.
“What I do, or don’t do, in my private life is none of your business, Agent.”
“Yes, of course, I’m sorry.”
“I can’t tell if you’re this stupid, or if it’s all an act so no one sees you coming psychically,” I said.
“It’s both,” Larry said. “She is a disaster socially sometimes, but they dressed her so she’d look like this.”
“Like the favorite second-grade teacher that we never had,” I said.
“Or Sunday school teacher, yeah,” he said.
“Tell them it’s too much. They’d do better if she was just dressed like a normal American woman of her age and socioeconomic level,” I said.
“Duly noted, I’ll let them know.”
“Did you know that’s why she was here?” I asked.
“No, I just know she can follow psychic ability like a dog on a scent. I honestly thought she was here to help us aim our talents at the bad guy on the videos.”
“It only works if the feed is live,” Gillingham said. “I mean, I might be able to get impressions, but to follow it back to the bad guy it has to be currently happening.”
“Have you tried to follow this bastard before?”
“Yes, and it didn’t work.”
“Why not?”
“We’re not sure, but higher-ups think maybe it’s just too different from most psychic ability.”
“What does that mean, too different?” I asked.
“It’s like I don’t understand the necromancy enough to trace it.”
“Or he’s better at detecting you, like Anita,” Larry said.
“He doesn’t feel as powerful over the computer as she does sitting here,” Gillingham said.
“It’s not as strong over the computer sometimes,” Brent said.
“You pick it up, too?” I asked.
He nodded. “I’m not nearly as gifted as the three of you, but I actually seem to get more via electronics. One of our instructors says that he’s found other computer techs who actually have more talent to feel things over the computer than in real life. They don’t even have a name for it yet, but apparently it’s a talent just like the others.”
“That might explain why so many techies spend all their time online; they get addicted to feeling the buzz,” I said.
