"You weren't aware of anything paranormal?"
"Nothing I saw or sensed." Quentin leaned back against the headboard of his bed, the cell phone to his ear. "But I could tell something was going on with her. She was pale, her eyes were fixed and dilated, and her hand was like ice. But the storm was about to break, and we both know storms scramble all my senses as often as not. I'm either blocked or really distracted."
"Obviously they don't block Diana."
"No. If anything, I'd say they affect her strongly the other way. Isn't Hollis like that too?" he asked, naming the unit's only medium.
"Yes. Much more apt to sense spiritual energy, and her spider sense is intensified as well. She says it's like all her nerve endings are raw and exposed."
"That can't be fun," Quentin noted.
"She's still learning to cope with all her abilities, so, no, not fun. And it must have been terrifying for Diana."
"I'll say. She's clearly a medium, and a strong one. Probably how she was able to draw that sketch of Missy. She doesn't know the first thing about sorting through psychic impressions, so to her it's all a jumble. What she feels, what she thinks, what she senses. Hell, probably what she dreams as well. Pretty much a state of constant confusion. And all the doctors and meds and therapy over the years have only made things worse for her."
Bishop was silent for a moment, then said slowly, "Quentin, you do realize that virtually all psychics with a background and condition similar to Diana's never learn to incorporate their abilities into their lives and function normally?"
"Those we know about so far, yeah. But she's strong, Bishop. Really strong. If I can just get through to her, I know I can help her."
"I just don't want you to be... disappointed... if you aren't successful. Talented as they may be, some psychics really are beyond our ability to help."
"Not Diana."
Accepting the other man's determination, Bishop said, "All right. Then, judging by what you've told us, probably the most important thing is for you to keep her grounded. Literally."
"What do you mean?"
"She told you that she was able to see you and Missy at the same time out on the veranda because she was touching you, keeping you partway there. Right?"
"Yeah. But she can't possibly understand how her abilities work, not when all the doctors have spent a lifetime convincing her she's simply crazy."
"I'm sure that's true — consciously. But we know our abilities come with instincts, and it's likely that some part of her, however deeply buried, does understand how they work. If she really was shaken off her guard when she told you about this, then it's very possible that she told you the absolute truth. She was able to see you when that psychic door was open because she was touching you. You were, in a very real sense, anchoring her on our side of the doorway. That could also explain the strobelike flashes; because you were anchoring her, she wasn't able to get a complete fix on the other side."
Quentin digested that, then asked slowly, "So she needs an anchor? A lifeline?"
Miranda, also on the speaker phone in Bishop's office, spoke up then to say, "Most mediums we've encountered don't; they're able to exert enough control to... stand back, in a sense, when they open that door. To look through, but not travel through. To keep themselves safely on their own side. But a medium like Diana, untrained and at the mercy of her own powerful abilities, may well be unable to do that. Without an anchor."
"So... what would happen? Worst-case scenario, if she were to cross over psychically, pass through that doorway she opened, without an anchor on this side, what would happen?"
"What mediums do," Bishop said, "leaves them wide open to spiritual energy, and we know a great deal of that energy is negative. Anger, grief, loss, regret, hate. Even a strong medium with good control is vulnerable to those destructive energies; a medium with strong abilities but lacking control could easily find themselves yanked into that other dimension we've theorized but can't prove exists."
"It's a miracle that hasn't already happened to Diana," Quentin said.
"How do you know it hasn't?"
That surprised Quentin. "Could it have?"
"Easily. If she has a history of blackouts, especially. Judging by what she said to you, she recognized that gray time between the flashes well enough to have given it a name. Which means she's been there before, probably many times over the years."
Quentin gave himself a mental kick for having missed that. "Without an anchor?"
"Her instincts could be good enough to have pulled her back to our side eventually. Find out whether she's experienced blackouts. If she has, and if they've increased in intensity or duration over the years, then Diana may be reaching a point in her psychic development when an anchor will become necessary for her own safety. At least unless or until she learns how to exert more control."
Quentin stared across his pleasant room, not seeing any of it. "And without an anchor, one of these visits to that gray time would be... permanent? She wouldn't be able to come back?"
"It's possible, Quentin. We don't know for sure. We've encountered psychics so damaged they were catatonic, beyond anyone's reach. Those we could read at all were... a blank slate. Empty. Were they the physical shells of mediums psychically trapped on the other side? We don't know. Could Diana suffer that fate? We don't know."
Quentin drew a breath and released it slowly. "You're a comforting bastard today."
"Sorry."
He sighed. "You two knew Diana would be here now. But you didn't set it up so she would be?"
"No," Bishop replied. "Her doctor had already signed her up for the artistic workshop to be held this spring. All we did was place Beau as the instructor."
"And have him suggest The Lodge as a setting?"
"Yes."
"To help her?"
"To help both of you."
"Wait a minute," Quentin said, realizing. "How did you even know about Diana? To know that her doctor had signed her up for the workshop, you had to be — what? — watching her?"
There was a brief silence, and then Bishop said, "It's taken years to build the unit, Quentin, you know that. And you know that I spent a great deal of time in the early days checking out various reports of psychics and paranormal events."
"Which was it, with Diana?"
"I had a source in a major psychiatric research hospital in the Northeast. He told me about Diana. Years ago."
"I gather you never tried to recruit her."
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because she was so heavily medicated at the time it would have been useless and potentially harmful."
"But you kept her on your watch list."
"Yes."
"Okay." Quentin was grappling with yet another puzzle. "But why were you so sure she needed to be here? Is she connected to The Lodge? To what happened here twenty-five years ago?"
"You tell me."
"Bishop."
"I'm not trying to be deliberately obscure, Quentin. We don't know what the connection is, only that one exists. You and Diana are both meant to be there, now. Beyond that, there isn't much we can tell you."
"Has it ever occurred to you," Quentin said politely, "that one day one of us might just get really pissed off about your chess playing?"
"I don't play chess."
"The hell you don't."
Sounding a little rueful now, Bishop said, "If it ever becomes a game to me, Quentin, I sincerely hope you kick my ass."
"You're a black belt," Quentin pointed out. "I'm only going to kick your ass if you let me. Or if I'm armed."
"Good thing you're usually armed."
"I could get Galen to help me," Quentin said thoughtfully, referring to one of the more mysterious members of the unit. "I'm sure he'd welcome the opportunity. I've got a hunch he's always wondered who's tougher."