Devil's Advocate (The X-Files: Origins #2)(57)

She stopped, unwilling to put into words the red thoughts that filled her woozy brain.

“Don’t worry,” said Corinda. “I’m not here to play any mind games.”

“That’s a relief.”

“I could tell that you had another vision as soon as I saw you in the bathroom. I could feel it, Dana. And it must have been really powerful, because the air around you crackled with spiritual energy. Even now I can see sparks shooting off you.”

Dana looked at her hands and arms. “I don’t see anything.”

Corinda smiled at that. “We have different gifts, sweetie. It seems like it’s your destiny to see into darkness. It’s mine to see light. When I look at you, I can see your aura. It’s like seeing an electrical junction box that has too much energy running through it. I know it’s hurting you and I think I can help.”

Dana grabbed her hands and squeezed them. “How? Not even Sunlight could help. We did this weird astral projection thing and it fried us both.”

“Ah,” said Corinda.

“What?”

“Look, I don’t want to talk out of turn here, and I wouldn’t say a word against Sunlight. He’s amazing. But … people think he’s more of a big deal than he actually is. It’s that post-hippie love god groove of his. Everyone falls under his spell, and they think he can walk on water.”

Dana was surprised. “You wouldn’t say that if you were in the room with us just now.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong,” said Corinda quickly. “I’m not saying he doesn’t have power, but he isn’t an ascended master or anything like that.”

“I thought you two were friends,” Dana said.

“We are, we are. I just think it’s important to understand things as they are. Perspective is part of how we embrace the real truth.”

“Truth?”

“Truth is everything,” said Corinda. “Everything that I do here, everything that goes on at Beyond Beyond, is part of the search for the truth—don’t you know that? Meditation, yoga, astrology, divination—all of it is about unlocking information that is normally hidden from us. We have to learn to see differently and learn differently, to be open to pathways to the truth that are different from what they teach in school or preach in church. Essential truths are cosmic, and when we are brave enough to accept them and live by them, then we free ourselves to—”

Dana held up her hands. “Please! I can’t do any more of that stuff. Not today. My head’s going to burst. I just need to know who killed Maisie.”

“Sorry,” said Corinda. “You really must be overloaded. Sunlight wore you out with his games, and now I’m browbeating you with more.”

Dana wiped at her eyes, expecting to find tears, but there was nothing. Her eyes stung, though, and the room—even now—seemed to rock back and forth. Lights were too bright and sounds seemed to hammer and grate.

“If you know who the angel is, then tell me,” she begged.

“I’m sorry, Dana, but it isn’t as easy as that,” said Corinda, softening her voice and taking Dana’s hands in hers, kneading them the way she had before. “It’s not like I get a face, name, and life details. What I get is a series of impressions. A glimpse of a face and then some loose and cryptic images.”

Dana’s shoulders sagged. “Oh.”

“But it’s something certain,” Corinda assured her. “I know it is.”

Dana squeezed back. “Tell me.”

“I’ll do what I can,” she promised, “but this angel is strong. He knows who I am and he is afraid of me. He hides his face from me.”

“Can you try?”

Corinda sneered. “I’m not afraid of him. I have psychic defenses he knows he can’t get through. Now … breathe slow and let go. Imagine a doorway in your mind. Okay, now pretend that is the door to your inner mind and I’m standing on the other side. I want you to see yourself reaching for the knob, turning it, opening the door. That’s it. Now step back and let me in. Let me take your visions from you so I can decode them.” Corinda closed her eyes and took several long moments breathing slowly and deeply, and then she began to speak in a trancelike whisper. “I see a knife. It flashes silver. It clicks. Not a … hunting knife. Smaller. Something that folds.”

Dana listened, barely breathing.

“I see a silver knife in a strong hand. I see scars. On the knuckle of the … ring finger. On the side of the hand. An old injury. He … hurt it … fixing a car. A wrench slipped. Sharp metal. Last year? Yes.”

Dana murmured, “Is that him?”

“It is the angel,” said Corinda slowly, distantly.

“Does he have a tattoo? An eclipse.”

“Yes,” said Corinda.

“He’s a monster.”

“He is a human,” said Corinda. “A person. He is flesh and bone.”

“But—”

“He has power, though. Great power. He projects … He lies by planting … faces … in the minds of people like him. He wears masks … he wears Lucifer’s face as a mask. He is not the devil, though, but he is his voice. He speaks for him. He is evil.”

“That’s him!” cried Dana. “Can you see his face? His real face?”