"Yes." Gabriel nodded.
"It is my belief that she is channeling the contents of the memory palace into your consciousness by using her remote viewing skills."
Frankie entered the conversation. "You mean she's dumping everything inside her own head straight into Gabriel's?"
"Exactly. Her mind is obviously strong enough to contain all of that data. Yours," he looked expressionlessly at Gabriel, "is not."
A tense moment of silence. Mullins continued. "The obvious answer to the predicament is to destroy the memory palace. But how that is to be accomplished, I don't know."
"Maybe Gabriel can scan her," Frankie said. "Enter her mind."
"And do what? As far as I know he is not-what is it you called it-an extreme magician himself." Mullins smiled without humor. "So what would his weapon be? He doesn't have any information overload to dump into her mind. The flow only goes one way. The only thing that might happen is that he'll end up getting lost inside the palace, unable to find his way out again."
Mullins did not elaborate. He didn't have to. Getting lost inside the labyrinth of another mind was every RV's personal fear. Sometimes-not very often-an RV would find himself unable to sever the connection between his own mind and the host mind. This was very bad news. You could end up in a coma, stuck in the twilight world of psi-space: betwixt and between. It happened very rarely, but it did happen. RVs understood the risk, but because the statistical probability of it happening was tiny, it was not something they dwelled on obsessively. But the knowledge was always there. In this case, the odds of something going wrong must be pretty good indeed.
The bleep of a tiny alarm broke the silence in the room. Mullins touched his wristwatch. "Time for my medication." He pushed his hands down on his knees and got to his feet with difficulty. His body language made it clear that the meeting was over.
"Alexander, if you think of anything else…" Frankie's voice was without hope.
"Of course." Mullins's tone was courteous but the words sounded empty.
As he opened the front door for them, he turned to face Gabriel directly. He was standing so close, Gabriel could smell the man and it was an old man's smell. Mullins's eyelids were sagging and a watery pink in color. The signs of aging were shocking, somehow. He had always thought of Mullins as omnipotent.
He had loved this man once, had craved his approval. Gabriel knew he had arrived at Mullins's doorstep tonight with the expectation of finding salvation. Mullins would know the answer and bring an end to the nightmare. And Mullins would forgive him for Melissa Cartwright, the way a parent forgives a child unreservedly.
"I don't know if you've changed, Gabriel. I hope you have." Mullins worked his mouth, and again Gabriel saw the outline of dentures moving against the thin lips. "If you're going into battle against this woman, there will be no room for infantile self-indulgence. And this time you can't walk away."
Gabriel flinched.
"You were a member of a team once. But you considered yourself too strong for the team. You could have asked for help, but no, not you-you were the Lone Ranger. All that macho swaggering… and look where it got you, where it got Melissa. If you had come to the group with your problem, we might have been able to help you clear the block. But that would have been too demeaning for the great Gabriel Blackstone. And then, when you could have made amends, you didn't. If you had allowed yourself to slam that last ride-who knows what it might have revealed?
"You've always winged it, Gabriel. You've always trusted to talent. Well, this lady is not just talented. She has a trained mind."
A pause. "Frankly, I don't think you stand a chance."
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
The trip back to London was accomplished in near silence. Frankie's face was deeply fatigued and her hands gripped the steering wheel slackly.
When they stopped in front of his apartment building, she turned to Gabriel.
"Are you sure you don't want me to stay with you? I still think you shouldn't be left alone."
"I'm OK." He did actually feel a little better. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but it did feel as though the throbbing headache, which never seemed to let up these days, was easing somewhat. Not enough for him to do cartwheels, mind you, but enough to give relief. He didn't know why Minnaloushe was laying off, but he was grateful for the reprieve. Maybe she had given up on the whole thing. Now, that, he thought wryly, was wishful thinking indeed. When was he going to accept that Minnaloushe had no feelings for him? When was he going to replace the Minnaloushe of his memories with the cold-blooded killer she was?
He glanced at Frankie. To his horror he saw a tear fall from her eye.
"Oh, darling, no." He gently wiped the tear from her cheek with his thumb.
"I'm scared. I'm so scared for you. Aren't you terrified? You must be."
"We're going to find a way out, Frankie. I firmly believe that." Which was a big fat lie, but this was not the time to own up to the fear. "Don't cry, Frankie. Don't cry."
She said, eyes still brimming, "I'm sorry about Alexander. You were right: we shouldn't have gone. It was a total bust."
"No, that's not true. Alexander did manage to explain the mechanics of what is happening to me… even if he did it in his usual mordant style."
"What do you mean?"
"The memory palace. I think he's right, Frankie. I think all this stuff Minnaloushe dumps into my brain during a mind attack is information contained in the memory palace. I never thought of it that way, but it's the only thing that makes sense."
"So we need to shut down that palace."
"Yes. Too bad Alexander could only identify the problem, not solve it."
"He is still so angry." Frankie swallowed. "I never thought he'd still be so angry."
"He hasn't forgiven me yet. But he's right, Frankie. For years I've told myself I am not to blame, but the truth is if I hadn't been so arrogant she might still be alive. And if only I had allowed myself to slam that last ride, I might have accessed information which could have led us to her before Newts cut her. But I stopped the ride from happening because I was… sulking."
"You've changed." Frankie spoke slowly. "And I don't just mean this belated mea culpa. It's more than that. I've noticed it these past few days. Something has happened to you-something good. You used to be heartless, in a way. Always charming, but there was an indifference in you. A coldness."
He tried to smile. "Maybe you misjudged me."
"No. Something happened to you, which has changed you to the core. Who knows?" She sighed. "Maybe we have the sisters to thank for that."
"So it wasn't all in vain." His voice was wry. "I shall die a better man."
"Don't you dare talk about dying! I can't bear to lose someone else I love." She took a deep breath. "We're not done yet. We have one option left. What if we went to Morrighan? Tell her what we know. Ask for her help. If anyone can get through to Minnaloushe it would be her. She may not want to believe Minnaloushe is a killer, but it's worth a shot."
"She'll believe us. The diary told me that. The last entry I accessed made it clear she was having serious suspicions about her sister."
"So what are we waiting for?"
Gabriel hesitated. "I don't want to place her in danger. If Minnaloushe thinks Morrighan has turned against her, who knows what she'll do? I'll have to talk to Morrighan at some point. But I want to make very, very sure she's safe first."
"You're in love with her, aren't you?" Frankie said suddenly.
"Who?"
"Morrighan. You're in love with Morrighan. When you talked about the diary, your entire face changed."
"She's a very gifted writer."
Frankie offered a sad smile. "You're such a romantic, Gabriel. I've always said so, despite that hard-ass swagger you cultivate so assiduously. Look at you, falling in love with a woman because she writes a diary. It sounds almost medieval. Like the chaste passion burning between a lady and her knight who can only yearn from afar.",