Miranda knew she had to act, and now. But she also knew that the extra pistol she had stuck into the waistband of her jeans at the small of her back was too many long seconds away from her hand because of her heavy jacket.
She also knew there was no choice.
She went for her gun.
Seeing or sensing a threat more immediate than Bonnie, MacBride moved with lightning speed, his gun jerking around to point at Miranda. He fired, and in the same instant Bishop was there in front of her, throwing his body between her and that lethal bullet. As her fingers closed over her own gun, she heard the shot, heard the sickening wet thud as the bullet struck Bishop. Everything in her cried out in desperate, violent protest, but it was too late. With dreadful suddenness, their connection was severed, his hot agony washing over her and through her, and Miranda could barely see as she drew her gun and leveled it at MacBride.
And it was her vision. Bishop lay on the ground, momentarily out of her sight. Bonnie tied up and helpless, the gun aimed at Miranda, a shot echoing — and the agony of death.
But not hers.
She fired three times, hitting MacBride dead center in his chest, and even as he fell she was dropping her own gun and kneeling at Bishop's side.
Terrified by the deathly pallor of his face, she stared at his once white T-shirt, horribly marked by a spreading scarlet stain. She fumbled with the shirt, pulling it up so that she could see how bad it was. The wound was a small, round hole in Bishop's chest, neat, hardly bleeding now. It looked so innocent. So minor. But Miranda knew all too well the irreparable damage a bullet did to the human body. The ripped muscle and shattered bone, the internal organs torn beyond repair ...
She pressed both hands over the wound, bearing down, trying with all her might and will to hold life in his body. He couldn't leave her. He couldn't.
"Randy, you have to untie me," Bonnie said.
"I have to stop the bleeding," Miranda said, vaguely surprised that she sounded so calm.
"That won't help him now." Bonnie's voice was very thin and very steady. "Look at where the wound is, Randy. His heart's already stopped."
"No."
"Randy—"
"No!"
"Listen to me. You have to untie me. Now, before it's too late."
Miranda was trying to listen for another voice. "Noah?" She touched his cheek with bloody fingers. "Noah, please ..." She looked at her sister with blind eyes. "I can't feel him anymore, Bonnie."
"I can."
Miranda blinked, saw her sister clearly. "You can feel him? Then—"
"It's not too late. You have to come untie me, Randy. Hurry."
"I don't want to leave him," Miranda whispered. But even as she said it she was crawling across the damp, sour mulch to Bonnie, finally understanding her sister's urgency. She worked on the ropes, the task made more difficult by the bits of dirt and bark sticking to the blood that coated her fingers.
"Hurry, Randy. There isn't much time left."
"You can't," Miranda protested.
"Yes, I can."
Fiercely, Miranda said, "Do you think I could bear it if I lost both of you?"
"You won't lose either of us," Bonnie promised, her voice holding steady.
The knots finally gave way, and Miranda was still protesting as they hurried back to Bishop's sprawled, motionless body.
"You'll have to go too deep, give too much of yourself—"
"You can pull me free before it's too late." Kneeling on one side of Bishop, Bonnie looked across at her with absolute trust. "But not until he's back. Promise me."
"Bonnie—"
"Promise me, Randy. You know what could happen if you pull me free too soon."
Miranda closed her eyes briefly, desperately aware of critical seconds ticking away. "All right. Just do it, Bonnie."
Bonnie leaned forward over Bishop's body and placed both hands over the wound in his chest. She drew a deep breath and closed her eyes, and Miranda saw her shudder, saw the color seep from her face as she poured everything, all her strength and will and her vital life force, into the effort to heal a mortal injury.
Miranda put her hand against Bishop's cold cheek and prayed silently to a God she had never believed in.
TWENTY-ONE
When Alex and Tony burst into the greenhouse, the brilliant fluorescent light over the onetime work area provided more than enough illumination to see clearly. The body of John MacBride lay sprawled on a mound of rotting mulch, his bloodied shirt and open, staring eyes mute testament to the sudden violence of his death.
A few feet away, Miranda sat with Bonnie's head in her lap, gently stroking her sister's hair with one hand. Behind her, his arms wrapped around her and his scarred cheek pressed to her temple, was Bishop. He was almost rocking her in an oddly intimate, comforting embrace.
Tony felt a bit embarrassed looking at them, which surprised him somewhat. He felt like an intruder.
Miranda looked up at them calmly. "What took you so long?"
"We were miles away." Tony hunkered down to check MacBride's carotid pulse just to make sure. "But that's a hell of a transmitter you've got there, lady. Even at that distance, it jerked me up out of my chair when you called."
"Did I call?" she asked vaguely.
Tony tapped his temple with two fingers as he straightened.
She grimaced. "Sorry. I wasn't even aware of doing it."
"Yeah, that's what makes it remarkable," Tony said dryly.
Alex said, "Hell, even I heard it. Jesus, Randy."
Miranda wondered if she was, even now, broadcasting like a beacon, but didn't worry too much about it. She was so tired she doubted she had enough psychic energy left to disturb anybody, at least for the moment.
"Is she all right?" Tony asked, staring down at Bonnie's relaxed face.
"She will be. But we should get her off the cold ground, I think."
Tony gazed at her steadily. "So it's over?"
"Just about," Miranda said.
Bishop stirred for the first time, easing away from Miranda and climbing to his feet, and it was only then that the two other men saw his bloody shirt.
Tony eyed him for a few seconds, then said, "Cut yourself shaving?"
Alex was open-mouthed with astonishment. "For Christ's sake. Liz got it right. I swear I forgot all about it, but even the white shirt—" He grunted suddenly and looked oddly amused. "It wasn't symbolic at all. It was literal."
Politely, Miranda said, "Alex, are you telling me that you knew this would happen?"
He grimaced. "I'd forgotten all about it, but Liz — had a vision. She said even before he got here that Bishop would give his life for somebody here in Gladstone. Not that he looks all that dead to me."
"Next time," Miranda said to her deputy, "you might want to share information like that."
"I didn't really believe it at first," he said apologetically. "And then, when I did . . . things were happening and I sort of forgot about it." He looked at Bishop again with a slight frown. "That's definitely a bullet hole. And a lot of blood. So, if you'll forgive me for asking — why aren't you dead?"
"Let's just say I had a guardian angel," Bishop replied.
Tony knelt down and studied Bonnie for a moment. He lifted one of her hands, saw the bloodstains, then looked at Miranda intently. "Wow. Her other ability."
"Yes," Miranda said, meeting his gaze just as seriously. "But that stays between us. She hasn't the strength to heal the world, so she just helps some of those who cross her path. Which is as it should be."
After a moment, he nodded. "Definitely as it should be." With surprising strength, he gathered Bonnie in his arms and rose to his feet. "We have a cruiser coming right behind us. I say we leave the deputies to stand guard over this place for the moment while you three have a chance to get cleaned up and maybe rest an hour or so. I'd say you've earned it."