Time passed after Barton and Nurse Harrington left. I'm not sure how much. I lay in bed watching the walls, wondering if I was ever going to get out of here.

My mind was still racing with what had happened. The overpowering urge that had forced me to go into the forest, the girl calling out to me, her spirit desperate with the need to be found...

When my fingers had closed around her skull, the vision had come to me of her death. I'd seen the same man Andrew had seen in his vision, the same man I'd seen in my dream. Andrew hadn't recognized the man, and neither had I. If he was on the staff or living as a patient in here, he was not someone I had come across. I wondered if there were patients being held in solitary rooms who never got out. Were patients tucked away somewhere? And if I kept making trouble, would I become one of them?

None of the patients I'd seen so far were extremely violent. Yes, there had been some incidents when a patient wigged out or made a scene, like I had. In those cases, the punishment came swift and harsh. But in the next day or two, I would see the same patient once again roaming the halls, usually heavily medicated. This place was not, as far as I knew, a facility that dealt with hard-core cases. They gave us the run of the place, only locking down at night. No way would they do that if they were worried about the patients constantly hurting each other.

Then it occurred to me how we might be able to identify the killer. Mildred had keys to the whole hospital. It would be easy enough to slip into the offices and see if we could find a list of patients. I'd filled out forms when I was admitted. They had to keep those hard copies somewhere. The records might not say "here's the killer," but they would identify patients with violent histories.

The image of the heart beating in the killer's hands flashed across my mind, and I choked back a sudden rush of terror. I didn't need the unfairness of adding someone else's horrors and flashbacks to my own growing collection. I already had enough nightmares of my own to last a lifetime.

Each time I had visions or an encounter with ghosts in this place, the sound of screams and pulsing heart beats filled the air. It hadn't been the sound of one heart beating—it had been the sound of many. The victim in the forest could not have been the only one whose heart had been taken. I shook my head, trying to make sense of it all.

I closed my eyes and forced myself to concentrate on the truly gruesome thing he'd done. He'd lowered the still beating organ to his mouth and taken a bite. And not just one, but several. Why eat the heart? Did it give him some kind of power? I had a lot of questions and no answers. Time was ticking away. Any day now, the killer would strike again, and we were no closer to finding out who he was. How could we stop him if we didn't have the slightest clue where to find him?

I physically jumped when the door suddenly opened. Dr. Barton walked in. This time the nurse was not with him. He walked over to the bed and looked down at me. "I don't know what you're playing at," he said, reaching over and undoing one restraint before walking around the bed and letting the other loose.

I sat up in bed, rubbed my wrists, and took a deep breath. For the moment I was free, but I wondered. How long would it last?

He grabbed my arm and twisted my wrist until my tattoo was showing. "Maybe you're a death dealer and you got the tattoo as a sick joke." His grip tightened. "But that's assuming I believe that you can actually talk to the dead. Death dealers are powerful mages. Those kind of mages wouldn't allow themselves to be overpowered." He let go of my arm and stood there, glaring down at me. "I've heard no spells. I've seen no banshees. The only proof you have of your so-called powers is a few words you said you heard from my dead mother's lips." He took a menacing step closer to me and demanded, "Who told you those things? Who filled your head with the idea to pose as a death dealer? You think you can trick me into believing you're actually one of them?"

I resisted the urge to scoot away and instead held my ground. I raised my chin and stared at him. "It's the truth. I'm not lying."

He waved his arm around. "Then show me your powers. Do a spell. Raise a banshee."

"I—I can't." I had refused to bind banshees to me. I had learned no real death dealer spells. So far, the only skill set I possessed was crossing spirits over. But that was not something I could do as a parlor trick on command to show the doctor. He couldn't hear or see the spirits roaming around this place.

Barton gave me twisted smile. "I didn't think so." He paused. "You should put aside whatever deluded fantasy you have about the death dealers. Posing as one of them will only put your life in danger. Do you know what's going on out there? What's taking place right now on the outside? The death dealers are fighting for their lives. Their sins have come home to roost. They've started raising zombies using stolen corpses, and if rumors are to be believed, a demon they raised has broken free. Every attempt they've made to banish the creature has cost them lives and ended in failure. Even if they manage to stop the demon, they'll never be forgiven. Redeemers are earnestly hunting them now, and as destructive as that cult is, no one is coming to the death dealers' defense. They've gone too far this time, and all of the mage community has turned against them."

"No." Guilt and horror washed over me. The death dealers were dying, and it was all my fault. I betrayed them twice over, and they were being painted with blame for the messes I'd made. I'd known it was bad, but I hadn't known how bad.

I hung my head in shame, but obstinacy made me say one more time, "I am a death dealer and spirits do talk to me."

"We're going to get to the bottom of this." Barton loomed over me; his eyes filled with hostility. "I won't let you make a fool of me. You're free to go back to your room...for now. If this was some kind of trick you pulled, thinking it would get you out of here, you couldn't be more wrong. You signed the papers admitting yourself. The only way you'll get out of here is when I decide to let you out."

I edged off the bed. I should just stay quiet and walk out the door, but I need to know... "Did they find anything in the forest?"

"The cops came. I hope you're happy."

I could tell by the look on his face that he wasn't telling me everything.

"They found bones." His gaze suddenly wouldn't meet mine. "But who knows if they're human? They might very well be animal bones."

I knew those were human bones. I'd held a skull in my hands. We stood there in silence for a few moments. The gauntlet had been thrown. He'd decided we were now enemies and was going to do his best to keep me in this place and make my life hell.

Barton looked at me again. "I have eyes on you, death dealer," he said with enough sarcasm to turn the title into a shameful rebuke. "I will get to the bottom of all this. I give you, my word." He gestured toward the door. "The nurse is in the hallway. She'll escort you to your room."

I walked past him without saying a word. What was there left to say?

Nurse Harrington stood waiting for me. We walked in silence back to my room. She opened the door, and I followed her inside.

She pointed at the bed. A pile of clothes sat on the edge. "The doctor thought you might be more comfortable in these."

I walked over to examine a pair of gray sweats, a plain, gray T-shirt, a pair of white socks, and white tennis shoes. I had graduated from hospital gowns and slippers to real clothes. Did that mean the doctor believed me, and more treatment was no longer in my future? It hadn't seemed that way. More likely, it meant he planned to keep me in here indefinitely. Mildred wore regular clothes—a series of dresses she'd brought in with her—and she'd been in here for years. Usually, patients sporting the white hospital gowns were in between procedures or transitory.

I started to change my clothes.

The nurse walked over to the window and opened it. "You missed dinner, but I've arranged for a tray to be brought to you."

"Thanks." I glanced over her shoulder out the window. I could see a half dozen cars parked over by the edge of the forest. "Dr. Barton was telling me they brought the police in?"

She nodded. "They're out there now, digging. They think it might be the Kincaid girl."

I stopped and stared at her. "Who?"

"The Kincaid girl. Her name was Gloria. She went missing when I first came to work here. It must have been close to what, twenty years ago? They always thought she ran away."

"Why do they think it's her?"

"They found a necklace. I remember it was mentioned in the posters her family put up." Nurse Harrington looked back at me. "They plastered them all around town. They never believed she ran away. It's hard to believe she's been dead all these years, lying just out there in the trees." She shuddered. "Gives me the creeps, thinking about it. I go out there now and again to smoke a cigarette on my breaks. But only in the daytime. I've never liked the forest at night. They say it's haunted." She turned away from the window to face me with a curious expression. "Is it true you're a death dealer?"

"I am." Twenty years. The girl in the forest went missing twenty years ago. If that's true, is her death connected to the recent murders?

"Then you can feel ghosts. You can talk to them?"

I nodded.

"Is that how you found her?"

I walked over to stand next to the nurse and looked out the window. I could see the policemen moving in and out from under the trees, carrying bags of evidence to cars parked on the grass. It looked as if they were about done, and they were packing up to head home. As I watched, one of the cars at the end of the line turned off its lights, backed up and turned around, running over the corner of the garden as it left. "Her spirit called to me."

She turned and looked around the room. "Do you feel more spirits in this place? I mean, there have been rumors for years that the hospital is haunted, but I've never really believed them." She gave me a sheepish smile. "I'll admit, when I work the night shift, I don't like to walk down the halls by myself."

Andrew said that even people with the slightest bit of magic could feel the ghosts in here. I believed him. The ones I felt were all extremely powerful and desperate to be heard. The nurse must not have any magic in her if she couldn't feel any spirits.

"I've felt spirits here."

She raised her hand to stop me. "Don't tell me more. I'll be too scared to work after dark. I'd rather not know."

I looked back out the window and saw a group of policemen walk out of the forest carrying equipment. Barton hadn't bothered to mention that they'd found a necklace or that they might have identified the body. He'd wanted me to believe they'd only found animal bones.

Why had he lied?

*****