Devil's Advocate (The X-Files: Origins #2)(55)

“It’s okay, Dana,” he said as he pushed her gently to arm’s length and looked down at her. “We can try again another time.”

Tears, unexpected and red hot, rolled down her cheeks. “But … but I have to try again now. Let’s start again. I can’t just stop. Not when I’m this close to knowing who the killer is. I can’t.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, “but this kind of thing drains a person. You’ll be out of it for a couple of hours. You should go home and lie down. I’m going to soak in a tub and then eat a couple of pounds of protein.” He gave a small laugh. “We may only wear these suits of flesh and bone, but the body has limitations. We have to honor that. So, no, as much as we both want to know the truth, it is simply not possible right now. We’re both exhausted, and that makes it highly dangerous.”

“But—”

“Go home, Dana. Wait, here, take this,” he said, and took six sticks of the special incense, wrapped them in a silk handkerchief, and gave them to her. “It’ll help you center yourself. Light one and meditate, or just light it and sleep. It’s better than chamomile tea for soothing jangled nerves. Go on, take them. Good. Now, we should leave it all here for now. We can’t do what we can’t do.”

And that was it.

She picked up her school backpack from where she’d dumped it by the door and left, wobbling as the world rocked uneasily on its creaky wheels.

In the hall she saw Corinda going into the ladies’ room, and Dana followed her. A stall door clicked as she entered, and Dana crossed to a sink and washed her face with soap and cold water. When she looked into her own reflection, she was surprised at how flushed she looked. And her pupils were huge. All from floating around in …

In what?

Not actual outer space. That was nuts.

In her imagination? In the spirit world? Dana realized that she had no idea how to label what had just happened, but she felt like she finally might begin to understand God. How He could be all-seeing, all-knowing, connected to all beings. Was this like the religious ecstasy she had read about in stories of certain saints?

The toilet flushed, jarring her out of her thoughts, and Corinda stepped out of the stall.

“Hey,” she said. “I didn’t know that was you out here. How was your session with Sunlight? He’s amazing, isn’t he?”

“That doesn’t begin to describe it.”

Corinda took her place at the sink and washed her hands, then accepted a paper towel that Dana took from the dispenser. As she dried her hands, she studied Dana.

“Don’t hate me for saying it, sweetie, but you look like crap.”

“Thanks. I feel like crap.”

Corinda reached out and brushed a strand of red hair from Dana’s face. “You saw something, didn’t you?”

“I…”

“I can see it,” said Corinda softly. “You saw the killer’s face, didn’t you?”

“I think so,” said Dana, her own voice small and scared. “But it wasn’t clear. I couldn’t see exactly who it was. I’m so close, but I just … can’t.”

Corinda’s face was serious and her gaze penetrating.

“Maybe,” she said, “I can.”





CHAPTER 49

The Observation Room

7:01 P.M.

“He’s here,” said Danny.

Agent Malcolm Gerlach usually responded to comments with a mixture of snark, indifference, and mild threats. Not this time. He shot to his feet, pulled on his black suit coat, and smoothed his tie.

“Okay,” he said nervously. “Show him in.”

The technician went out and returned in under a minute. He held the door open for three people to enter the room. Two were agents in identical black suits, with wires behind their ears and merciless faces. The third man was tall, heavyset, with jowly cheeks, wavy gray hair, and merciless eyes. He was immaculately dressed in a smoky blue suit and hand-painted silk tie, and he carried with him an air of immense power. Danny, who was used to being cowed by Agent Gerlach, now saw the red-haired man fidget like a grubby schoolkid as their guest entered the room. Danny had no idea what the man’s name was. When he was mentioned at all, which was rarely, Gerlach and some of the other top agents referred to him as the First Elder. No actual name was ever given, and Danny was too smart, young as he was, to ask questions.

“Have a seat, sir,” said Gerlach, gesturing toward a comfortable leather chair that had been brought down that morning from the priest’s old office. Now it was clean and polished and placed beside a table on which were a fresh pot of coffee and some expensive little cakes.

The First Elder glanced at the chair and his mouth turned down in a sneer. But he sat down anyway. Gerlach poured coffee into a porcelain cup and backed away, almost giving the impression that he was bowing. In any other circumstance Danny would have been embarrassed on the agent’s behalf. Not now. Not with this man. No way. Danny stood apart from Gerlach, back against the wall of monitors, but he wished he could be absolutely anywhere else but here.

“We had a meeting last week,” said the First Elder without preamble. “We had a lengthy discussion about this operation.”

Gerlach stood as straight as a ramrod. Danny could see sweat glistening on Gerlach’s forehead and upper lip. The agent said nothing.