Using blankets and sheets to dry off, we all sat in Luke's room.

Wendy was the first to break the silence. "What were those things chasing us in the woods?"

This time I found the words to explain, and I told them everything—except I didn't tell them the spirit pack had been chasing Weatherton. And I didn't tell them about seeing my mother or how she'd warned me of danger.

Luke stood there silently, watching me, and I wondered if he suspected I was keeping things from him. I didn't want to, but a small part of me still didn't know who to trust, because the killer could be anyone.

When I finished, they all just stood there looking at me in astonishment.

Mildred spoke first. "The staff will be wandering the halls soon."

Mildred shuffled from one foot to the other, standing in one place. Her hands twitched at her sides. She was a nervous ball of energy. She was free from her padded hospital room, but what would we do with her?

The staff would look for her once they noticed she'd disappeared. We had to find a place to stash her until the following night. She couldn't just roam the halls. Her long, wild, white hair was hard to miss.

I looked out the window. Rain slammed against the glass, and flashes of lightning lit up the sky. No sane person would hide in those woods, not with that fierce storm blowing overhead. But then again, Mildred isn't so sane.

I looked over at Wendy. The corner of her mouth twitched. As usual, she was reading my thoughts.

I sighed. "Mildred, you can hide in our room." We had no other solution and had to hope our luck held.

Mildred said in a quiet voice, "They might not know I'm gone, not right away. They didn't feed me every day. Sometimes it was a couple days before I saw anyone."

I frowned. "I'll smuggle something for you from breakfast. But there's one problem. Until we get out of here, we need to stick together. We're sitting ducks when we're alone."

Wendy looked over at Mildred. It wasn't a friendly look, but it was a far cry from the hatred I'd seen flash between them out in the woods.

Wendy turned and gave me a small smile. "I can pretend to be sick again and stay in the room with Mildred."

For the moment, Wendy and Mildred seemed to be in an uneasy truce. I was thankful for it. The last thing I needed was the two of them going at it like cats and dogs.

"It's a good idea. Luke and I can..." My words trailed off. Soon the sun would rise, which meant Luke would be gone again. "I mean, Dean and I can go to breakfast. We can stick together, and then later we'll all meet up." We were no closer to finding Weatherton, but it was getting too dangerous to stay. "As soon as it's dark, we can make a break for it. Weatherton is in a killing frenzy. If we don't find him today, we'll have to try to run for it and then contact the authorities."

"You'd better get going back to your rooms." Luke stepped forward and pulled me into his arms. "I hate that I won't be there to protect you during the day." He leaned in close to my ear and whispered to himself, "Dean, do you hear me? I know you can. You'd better make sure nothing happens to her. Guard her with your life." His face now inches from mine, he pulled me forward and kissed me hard on the mouth.

I pulled away, embarrassed to be kissing him with an audience, but he didn't seem to care and kissed me again.

When we finally parted, he pressed his forehead against mine. "Take care of yourself."

"I will, I promise. We'll be out of here soon. We'll be free."

I turned to join the other two and saw that Wendy and Mildred had already left the room.

I started to move away when Luke said,

"Weatherton is dangerous. There's power in the blood and flesh of the people he's killed. He's bound their spirits to him, using what's left of their spirits to add to his own magic."

"He's doing it all to try and impress the old gods, so that they'll grant him a body of his own and return him to life."

"Old gods who came before mages and death dealers." Luke traced the bear tattoo on my arm. "The skull with feathers, the bloodletting. There are all kinds of tribal magics that go back to when man first walked the earth. Every culture and continent has its religions and its own gods. He's mixing all this with death dealer magic to make something truly appalling."

I followed his logic. "The magic is older than our kind, and you've never seen any books on it. What if it's not passed down in writing? What if it's passed down verbally? In stories and folklore?"

Luke nodded. "Makes sense. But if that's the case, then there's no way for us to study it or find a counter spell."

"No way for us to protect ourselves against it."

He took my hand. "You have to remember, he's in a living body. Whoever he is inside is alive, which means they can be hurt. Look at Macaven. As powerful as he was, he was killed. If Weatherton is inside someone, you kill that person, that body, and Weatherton has no more power."

"His spirit will be released back into the in between."

And what if that body is Dean's? If I kill Dean, Weatherton's spirit won't be the only one released.

"Weatherton might be able to come back again into someone else," Luke said.

"He would need an open vessel. Or someone on the edge of insanity." I looked back toward the door. "There's a whole building of patients to choose from."

"True, but it might take him time to worm himself into someone and gain a hold on them. And if you got him loose of the body he's currently in, you might be able to use your magic to cross him over."

"Cross him over into the depths of hell." Gladly. Where else would such a sadistic madman go? "But what if...?" I couldn't meet his gaze.

He lifted my chin, so our eyes met. "What if...?"

I squared my shoulders. "Dean didn't have a choice when you took him over. What if the person that madman is inside is someone innocent? Someone who couldn't help but be overpowered by him?"

Luke's expression turned hard. "If we're going to stop him, the only way is to kill the vessel he's inside."

"But that person isn't responsible for what Weatherton has done. You can do things when you're aware that Dean can't control."

Luke's voice softened. "We might not have a choice but to kill."

And if the vessel, is you? I wanted to ask. If the killer is inside Dean, will I—can I—do the unthinkable?

* * *

Mildred and Wendy waited for me outside the room, and we made our way down the empty halls.

Mildred looked nervous. "Keep those ears of yours listening. That's how they caught me before. I didn't hear them coming. I walked around a corner and right into their arms."

Wendy led the way through the rat's nest of corridors and stairways until we stood in front of our room.

I paused my hand on the doorknob. What will I find when I open the door? Another heart? Or something worse? I took a deep breath and walked into the room.

It was empty.

I turned to Mildred; my relief apparent. "It might be best if you sleep in the bathroom. That way you'll be out of sight."

"Don't worry about me. I never did have much use for beds," she answered.

I went to the drawer and took out an extra robe, handing it to her. Wendy threw her a pillow. Mildred caught it and, without saying another word, walked into the bathroom and closed the door.

Wendy changed into dry clothes then went over and lay on her bed. After pulling on my own new clothes, being careful to select a long-sleeved sweatshirt—I didn't want the nurses asking questions about my new bear brand—I lay down on my own bed.

I put my hands behind my head. There was no way I could sleep with a killer out there.

"We sleep in shifts," Wendy said.

"Right. You go ahead and sleep first. I'll wake you in a couple hours."

Without another word, Wendy rolled over and faced the wall. A few minutes later, the sounds of gentle snoring filled the room.

I watched the door.

What'll I do if the killer bursts in? If it comes down to my life or someone else's, am I prepared to do whatever it takes to stay alive? Am I prepared to kill if the face of the killer is someone I know?

Or worse, someone I love?

* * *

I was still awake and on watch when Nurse Harrington entered our room to wake us. Now if we can just keep her from going in the bathroom...

"There's quite a bit of drama going on this morning," the nurse said. "I really shouldn't say anything."

Out of all the staff, Nurse Harrington seemed the most eager to chat with patients. Most of the other staff usually spent their time ignoring or yelling at the patients. I could tell by the expression on her face that she was bursting to spill whatever information she had.

Before I could ask, she blurted, "Caroline and Larry ran off together!"

Wendy and I just looked at each other.

When we didn't respond, Nurse Harrington added, "The young nurse, Caroline? You know who she is. She spent a lot of time with the two of you."

An image of the poor woman lying on the floor with her head bashed in flashed across my mind. I hoped the horror I felt didn't show on my face.

Nurse Harrington didn't seem to notice our silence. "From what I've heard, Caroline was on the night shift working with Larry, the orderly. He's the one with long black hair."

Larry's image would be forever imprinted on my mind. He was a mean and vicious man, and I wasn't sorry he was dead. But Caroline had been sweet and kind.

Nurse Harrington took a deep breath and continued. "They must have been secretly dating. Honestly, I don't know what Caroline sees in him. But when it comes to love, you never know. I've seen the oddest couples." She chuckled. "Anyway, when the morning staff came in, the two of them had vanished. They left a note. They've run off to get married! I have no idea why they'd do it like that. Up and leave their jobs, I mean. But Caroline did tell me her mother is a bit controlling. I guess they're off getting a fresh start on life. It's romantic, don't you think?"

"Very," I answered, getting out of bed.

The nurse started to head toward the bathroom, and I threw a panicked glance at Wendy. She abruptly gave a little cry and fell back against the bed.

"Are you alright, dear?" Nurse Harrington stopped and went to her side.

"I'm afraid I'm still not feeling well. I wonder if I can stay in bed a bit longer?" Wendy asked.

"Of course. I'll come back and take your temperature. There's an awful bug going around. I can have them bring you some breakfast. Something light? Maybe toast and juice?"

Wendy gave the nurse a weak smile. "That would be great."

"Oh, and there's some awful news, too." The nurse looked over at me. "You might not have heard. Of course, you haven't. It was on the news this morning." Once again, she didn't wait for me to ask. "I know you're a death dealer—everyone does. The word has spread. I was so surprised. Never in a million years would I have thought that you'd associate with those types of people." She gave me a disapproving glare. "But since you're one of them, you'll want to know..." She stopped and stared at me, obviously waiting for me to ask.

"Know what?" I prompted.

"Three hundred death dealers. They were at some gathering or ceremony, or maybe it was a special holiday. Honestly, I can't remember—"

"What happened to them?"

"They're all dead! Slaughtered like livestock, the news reporter said, and then a bunch of the bodies were stolen for who knows what purpose. They think it was the Redeemers." She gave me another disapproving look. "Honestly, the way people think about your kind, it could have been anyone."

Her words shocked me. Three hundred death dealers killed? And then I had another thought. Three hundred people all dead because of me. Killed because I raised zombies and released a demon into the world, and everyone blamed them for my actions.

Tears spilled down my cheeks. Without another word, I turned and walked out the door.

Nurse Harrington followed close behind me. "Did you have a restful sleep last night?" She seemed unaware of the pain her news had brought me.

I wiped the tears away. "I did. I slept like a log," I lied. "I can't wait for breakfast, I'm starved." I sounded calm, but inside a whirlwind of emotions raced through me. Guilt, anger, fear. Even if we made it out, we wouldn't be safe. People were killing death dealers. Luke and I would be fair game once we escaped.

Nurse Harrington patted my shoulder. "That's the thing, dear. You can't eat before the procedure."

"Procedure?" I looked at her in confusion. That's when I noticed two orderlies trailing us.

Her fingers tightened on my shoulder. "I didn't want you to make a fuss in front of your roommate. Dr. Barton's written the order. You'll get lightning therapy later this afternoon. It's best if you come with us now and we get you ready. We find that sometimes people get a bit...agitated...before they have it. Spending time beforehand on your own in a nice, quiet room keeps everyone happy."

Nurse Harrington must have seen the shock and panic in my eyes. I started to move away, but before I could take a step, I felt the prick of a needle in the back of my neck.

"Come, now. Don't put up a fuss." She pulled the needle out.

I twisted away from her and ran dead-out down the hall toward Luke's room. I only took three steps before the drug started to take effect. My mind fuzzed and my limbs grew limp. Strong arms grabbed me from behind. I struggled against them futilely.

Nurse Harrington watched the orderlies holding me. "There's no use fighting. You know how much good the lightning therapy did you last time."

If they gave me shock treatment, my memories might be lost again. We were escaping tonight. If I got the procedure, how long would I be in a mental funk? I tried to kick and scream, but a hand covered my mouth.

Nurse Harrington addressed one of the orderlies. "The doctor's orders said that if she resisted in any way, she was to be sedated and restrained." Then she leaned in and whispered in a honey-sweet voice, "You make this so much harder on yourself by struggling. Relax, my dear. Before you know it, the whole thing will be done and over with."

I cried out Luke's name, but the palm across my mouth muffled me. I yelled for him again as everything around me faded to black.

* * *

I woke up in a familiar room with one bed and white padded walls. I had woken in this room once before, not knowing who or where I was. This time my wrists were in restraints. I looked around and sensed I was alone. I had no idea how much time had passed.

No one knew where I was. Wendy thought I'd headed off to breakfast. She would be in the room all day. It would take her a long time to realize I had disappeared and was in trouble.

But Wendy was a reader, —the strongest of her kind. If I focused my thoughts on her, maybe she would hear me. I brought her face into my mind and concentrated. Goddess, let her hear me.

I took a deep breath and then—with all my concentration focused on my room and the reader within it—mentally screamed Wendy! Help me!

There was no way to tell if she heard me, but I paused to listen for a response anyway. I tried a few more times, hoping she would at least feel something and come to check it out before giving up.

I was struggling in vain against the restraints when the door opened. Nurse Harrington came in. She walked over to the bed and looked down at me. Her expression turned grim. And then her face began to change.

For a moment I saw another face superimposed over the top of the portly nurse's—a harsh, angular face with eyes that seemed to suck in the light. I shook my head and the image faded, leaving only the nurse's smiling face. It must have been a side effect of the drug they'd given me.

The nurse gave me a wide grin. "Thought you were so smart, huh? You and your friends."

It wasn't until she spoke that I realized her eyes had not changed back. The black eyes of a killer glared at me even as the nurse's pleasant smile remained.

I stared, unable to hide my shock and confusion.

"That's right. Your boyfriend isn't the only one who's special. I squat inside this body, listening to everything going on around me, and when it suits me, I come out. And then I do what I was born to do. This place is wide open to me." He touched the nurse's face. "This one more so than most. She's the perfect tool!"

Henry Weatherton.

"Killer," I growled, trying to move back. But there was nowhere to go.

I struggled hard against the restraints.

"Killer?" A wicked laugh came out of Nurse Harrington's mouth. "Such a pedestrian word. I hunt and give sacrifices to my gods, a pure and grand gesture."

"There is nothing pure about murder."

"No? I'm helping those poor souls ascend to something greater. These puny mortals can become part of a great masterpiece. I'm like a painter." Weatherton gestured wide. "And this is my canvas."

Oh, Goddess. He is completely mental. The desire to get away was so strong I could taste it, but the restraints held me captive. Unless I could get my hands free, I wasn't going anywhere.

I'm not a victim. I'm a death dealer, I reassured myself. I have power. I have magic. But the strong drugs continued to course through my blood. My thoughts were fuzzy, unfocused. I took a breath, smothering my panic. You have to concentrate. The power is inside you. If you can just concentrate, you can call it up.

"It's no use." Weatherton laughed. "You think I'm a fool? Even if you could conjure up your magic while sedated, the charm won't let you."

He pointed to my wrist, and I noticed for the first time the silver bracelet wrapped around it.

"True, they don't hold very powerful charms here, but don't you think they'd take precautions in a hospital full of mage-born? There are enchanted things that can hold the magic at bay."

I was desperate now to keep his attention on me and away from the impending lightning therapy. If I can stall him, maybe Wendy will find me. "I've met your gods." I spat the words at him.

Rage and madness filled his expression. "You've what?" Weatherton glared at me, nose to nose. "Who—?" Understanding replaced his anger. "Morgana. I forbade her from telling you my body's name, but I never thought she would betray me so. How could she bring such an unworthy one before those magnificent beings?"

"I didn't just see your gods. One of them noticed me. One of them came to me," I lorded over him.

He cracked a hand across my cheek. "Liar!"

I breathed through the stinging pain. "I'm not lying. One of them left a mark on me." I lifted my arm up.

Weatherton grabbed me and pulled up the sleeve of my sweatshirt. He gasped. "This is a trick."

"No trick. I called to one of those creatures of yours, and it came to me."

He slapped me again, and I tasted blood. "They are not creatures. They are gods. They are greater than any other magics, older and more powerful."

I breathed through the stinging pain. If I can just keep him talking... The doctor has to come soon. I looked at the door.

Weatherton followed my gaze. "You think you're so smart, but you aren't. I was there under your nose the whole time." He laughed. "Well, no worries. You won't be remembering them much longer. The doctor is planning on doing the procedure, but I have a surprise planned. It seems there was a bit of a mix up. and the healer they called to come and do the Styrmir therapy was actually never called. So they've decided to use one of the old machines they used to use to apply the electricity. No worries. It's perfectly safe. Or would be safe if it is used properly.

"You know, if I distract him for just a second and give the knob on the machine a proper twist, how many volts do you think I can zap through you?" He stepped closer and towered over me, then tapped a finger against my forehead. "How many volts can we get running through that noggin of yours, do you think?"

"The doctor will never let you do it!"

"Won't he? He's not a fan of yours. I've seen the way he looks at you. I imagine he would like to inflict a bit of pain on you himself." Weatherton moved his finger back and forth in the air, tsking at me. "You were a bad girl to scratch the good doctor after your first treatment session. A man like that doesn't forget such a slight. He's been looking for an opportunity to get even. And now I'll give him one."

"He won't let you do it!" I shouted. Wendy, where are you?

"Maybe he won't have a choice. Maybe I'll just slit his throat before he can say a word." Weatherton slid his finger across Nurse Harrington's throat. "Then who will know? It will be just you and me in the room. I can tell them you went wild." His expression instantly changed back to Nurse Harrington's normal mien. He raised his voice to sound like her. "Oh, mister police officer, sir, she just went berserk, out of her mind, and she got loose! She killed the Dr. Barton before I could stop her."

Weatherton's grim expression returned, along with his deeper voice. "They're going to believe a nice, stable, hardworking nurse"—he smoothed his hands down the white uniform— "over an unstable patient like you. You know, if we get enough volts running through you, then those memories of yours will burn out forever."

I twisted and bucked, but my bonds held tight. Short of cutting them, there was no way I was getting out.

"Actually, I have a better idea. I was going to kill you. I won't say I haven't been thinking about it for a long time. You ruined all my beautiful plans. I wanted to kill you, but now that I've seen that mark, I realize what a waste it would be to be done with you."

He leaned in. I felt his hot breath against my cheek. "You have powerful magic. I've felt it flowing through you. You tried to hide what you were, but I saw from the very beginning. And now you've been touched by the gods. I don't know how you did it or why they chose you." He scowled and curled his hands into fists. "Why would they choose you over me? What is it about you that called to them?"

He looked at me with an uncontrollable anger.

"Now, what if I just turn the knobs enough to clear your thoughts away? What if I turn you into an empty vessel? Think of the fun I'd have possessing such a body. Think of the power I'd have! The things I could do!" His eyes glittered. "Now wouldn't that be something?"

The fear inside me was so intense I could barely breathe. Through the roaring of blood in my ears, I heard a knock on the door. Weatherton seemed to stop and gather himself. He turned, and when he glanced back over his shoulder, I realized I was looking into the face of the nurse once more.

Nurse Harrington walked over and opened the door just a crack. I heard her say something before she returned to my bedside. "Now, now, cookie, you should stop getting so upset."

Is that really Nurse Harrington, or is Weatherton controlling her? "Listen to me. There's a madman inside you. You're strong. You can keep him from coming out again. You have to fight him. If you just fight—"

She patted my arm. "You've gotten yourself excited. Let me give you a little something to calm you down again." She pulled out a needle from the pocket of her uniform and concentrated on the bright blue vein visible in the crook of my elbow.

The needle slid under my skin, and I screamed in frustration. "Weatherton, do you hear me? You won't get away with this!"

The nurse just watched me, her face full of concern and sympathy. She obviously thought I was a raving lunatic. There was no way she'd believe anything I told her.

My muscles relaxed, and my vision narrowed. Another loud knock came at the door and then people walked in. I tried to focus on their faces, but my vision was too blurry. My brain was fogging up, and I had a hard time thinking clearly.

The bed moved. They're taking me into the procedure room. Any minute and I'd have electricity flowing through my body. If Weatherton had his way, that electricity would destroy my mind.

And then he would possess my body.

* * *

When I woke up, a mask covered my mouth. As hard as I tried, my eyelids were too heavy to open. I could hear machines beeping next to me, then a woman spoke.

"The patient is all ready, Doctor."

I tried to move my arms, but they were bound. So were my legs. At any moment, the doctor was going to go through with the procedure. I twisted my wrist, and my fingers grazed the surface of the table. I could move my fingers. Great.

Nurse Harrington's explanation of lightning therapy came back to me: "You're completely still—well, except for your left foot. They need a way to see if the shock is going through your system, so they don't numb your foot."

But I'm not numb. I could feel myself wiggling both my feet and my fingers.

"Doctor, the patient is under." Nurse Harrington said.

No, I'm not! I screamed inside my head.

"Good. Let us proceed." I recognized Barton's voice.

I felt fingers at my forehead, and cold plastic things being pressed down against my skin. And then the mask was removed, but before I could make noise, they shoved something in my mouth. The beeping of the machines got louder.

"Okay, let's get this show on the road. Nurse Harrington, you may proceed," Doctor Barton commanded.

No, wait—

The thought barely entered my mind when the pain hit. I bucked; my body burned by a white-hot fire soaring through my limbs. The agony coursed through my blood and rammed into my brain. I thrashed up and down, out of control. I jerked and twisted again and again against my restraints. There was nothing now but the pain.

It consumed me.

And then it was gone. I lay still and breathless against the table.

They removed the object from my mouth, but I couldn't speak. I could only suck in mouthfuls of air. Breathing was painful. I felt as though I had been run over by a truck. Wendy... Wendy... Help...

A whisper at my ear. "Oops... Did I forget to give you the numbing medication? My mistake." Weatherton, that creep. "You deserve to feel the pain. All the trouble you've caused me. All the plans you ruined. I could've gone on for months, maybe years, quietly enjoying my kills. But no, you had to stick your nose into my business. Bring attention to what I was doing. Hunt me down. I'll make you pay." Then the voice was gone.

With great effort, I managed to turn my head to the side. Weatherton stood close by. I could see the madman shining out of the nurse's eyes. And then my situation grew even worse—Weatherton loomed over a body.

Dr. Barton lay dead on the floor. His throat had been sliced from ear to ear, and a pool of blood slid down his white coat onto the floor.

Weatherton smiled. "The good doctor objected when he realized you weren't immobilized. He thought we should stop, since you were moving all over the table." He laughed hysterically. "You looked like a bucking bronco, you did. Barton was getting on my nerves anyway. It's better now that it's just the two of us."

Weatherton walked over to a machine. His fingers glided toward a knob below a range of numbers. "What do you think? More volts? Ready for another round? How many do you think we should do this time?"

No, no, no, no, Wendy—

He twisted the knob.

The electricity arced through me, and my muscles jerked and jumped. Tears streamed down my cheeks as the pain raced through me.

And then it stopped.

I shivered on the table, gasping for air, trying to function past all the hurt.

Weatherton sneered. "How many volts do you think it will take to get all those pesky memories burned from your mind?"

I felt a breeze across my face and could have cried with relief. Thank the Goddess, I'm not alone. Ghostly fingers slid across my arm.

Weatherton reached for the knob, and the lights overhead flickered. He hesitated. Then he reached again toward the machine. But before he could touch it, the lights flickered and then went out.

There was a pounding at the door, then it burst open.

I heard a woman scream, and the table suddenly jostled as someone pushed against it.

Then there was nothing but silence.

The lights in the room turned back on. Mildred was standing over me with a mop in her hand, holding it high above her head like a weapon.

Luke leaned over me. "Are you okay?"

I looked into his eyes. Blue eyes stared back at me. Not Luke. Dean.

Dean released the restraints around my legs and hands and helped me sit up.

"Do you know who I am?" he asked, his eyes anxious.

"I-I...know you." I sucked in a deep breath. It still hurt to breathe. I wondered if I'd broken a rib. I felt battered and bruised, and a horrible pain radiated from the center of my forehead.

Dean helped me to my feet. My legs shook, and I started to fall, but Dean caught me. He lifted me into his arms and carried me out of the room.

"Where is he?" I asked.

"Barton? He's dead," Dean answered.

I shook my head. "N-no. The nurse. Nurse Harrington."

Dean looked down the hallway. "She ran away as soon as we came in."

Mildred waved the mop around. "She was huddled against the wall when we came in. Seeing Barton killed traumatized her, I think. Who was it, child? Who came in and killed the Doctor? Did you get a good look at them?"

"I'm okay. You can put me down." My face was only inches from Dean's. His grip tightened around me, but then he gently lowered me to the ground.

As soon as he did, I unclasped Weatherton's bracelet from my wrist and threw it to the ground. Free of the charm, I had my powers back. I was no longer defenseless.

For the first time, I looked at Wendy. She looked terrified. I reached out a hand, and she grasped my fingers in hers. "Thank you." Wendy's eyes softened.

I looked over at Dean. "How did you guys find me?"

Dean moved closer to me and reached out as if to take my hand, but his fingers stopped short of touching mine. "Wendy. She knew something was wrong. She came and found me, and we went looking for you. We couldn't find you anywhere." Dean's expression turned grim. "Then Sabrina came. The girl that died last month. I haven't communicated with the other side since the second trial. I've made a point of closing myself off from it as much as I can. I can feel when things are in the room, but I do things to distract myself so I don't make contact. But I couldn't keep the girl out. When we were looking for you, she popped up and wouldn't go away. She told me where you were and that you were in grave danger."

Weatherton said he forbade his victims' spirits from helping me. I wondered what that little tip would cost Sabrina.

"There were orderlies waiting for me in the hall," I told them. "There was no way I could get away. They drugged me when I started to put up a fight." But that wasn't the important information. I announced, "Weatherton is inside Nurse Harrington."

They all gasped in surprise.

I looked over at Wendy and asked, "Couldn't you tell she was possessed?"

Wendy looked down at the ground, embarrassment coloring her face. "I haven't spent much time around that nurse. It was always Caroline or one of the orderlies that did things with me. Maybe if I had been around her longer... There was something odd, an echo I could hear when she was in the room with us, but I didn't have time to think much about it before she hustled you out."

I wondered if Weatherton had kept his distance from Wendy on purpose. He would have known she was a reader and worried that if he spent too much time with her, she might spot the wrongness inside Harrington.

But Andrew had been around Nurse Harrington quite a lot. I'd seen the two of them together often in the common room. Andrew had never mentioned there might be anything wrong with her. But then, how much had the protection pouch he wore muted his powers?

Wendy answered, "The pouch wouldn't make a difference. It keeps the voices out of your friend's head, but he should have sensed that something was wrong with the nurse if he'd been with her for any amount of time."

If that's so, why didn't Andrew say anything? Why didn't he warn me?

I shook off the thought, trying to focus on what we should do next—find Weatherton and show him just what I'm capable of. That idea stopped me cold. Weatherton was in Nurse Harrington's body, but she didn't know he was in there. She wasn't a killer. There had to be a way to get him out without harming her.

"What now? Do we go after Harrington? I mean, Weatherton?" Dean asked.

"I don't think Weatherton will give up so easy. He was hoping to turn my mind into mush with the electric shock. He wanted to turn me into an empty vessel so he could hop in. He blames me for ruining his twisted plans." I couldn't stop the catch in my voice, the horror still all too real. "He didn't give me the drugs to numb me. I felt everything when the current ran through me."

Mildred sounded shocked. "You're lucky you didn't break any bones. I've talked to patients who went through the treatment years ago, the way they used to do it in the past. Are you okay, child?"

"I'm sore. I feel like I've been hit by a semi, and my head feels three times too big. I have a terrible headache, but I'm here in one piece. I know who all of you are. I know my name."

"If he had gone through with it, if he had been able to complete the therapy..." Dean trailed off.

Wendy looked up and down the hallway. "Weatherton doesn't seem like the type to run scared. He's probably regrouping and waiting to come after you again."

I looked back into the room. "We can't stay here. Someone will come along soon. When they find Barton's body, they'll think I had something to do with his death."

"You wanted to get out of this place. We might have no choice but to make a break for it now," Dean said.

"It's too risky trying to escape in the middle of the day. They'll see us running across the yard. We need to figure out how to turn the electricity off. The switch is in the gatehouse, but there's an orderly. We'll have to get rid of him somehow. Unless it storms again, and the rain shorts the fence out."

Dean closed the door on the horrible room with its torture table and stink of blood and death. "The storm is raging again. Maybe we'll get lucky, and everyone will decide to stay inside where it's warm and dry."

"If we aren't lucky, they'll catch us all and put us in padded rooms. If we're drugged and in straitjackets, we'll be sitting ducks for that lunatic," I answered.

"What other choice do we have? We need to get out of here."

"How do you suggest we escape? We can't just waltz out of this place in broad daylight,"

"I heard the nurses talking. There's supposed to be a big storm tonight, and when the old electric fence gets wet enough, it shorts out. The way I see it, we have two choices." Dean held up two fingers. "We can make a run for it now and take our chances that the storm will short out the fence and cover us, or we can head to the vacant part of the hospital. Hide out, hope no one comes looking for us, and then when it gets dark, we make a run for it."

Wendy's eyes widened. I could tell both ideas scared her.

"What if Weatherton has the same idea?" I asked. "What if he heads there to hang out? Or heads back to his ritual room to do more of his twisted mojo?"

"If we run across him in that part of the hospital, empty like it is, then all bets are off." Dean's eyes narrowed. "We beat him until he stops getting up."

"It won't be him we're beating," Wendy said, speaking my thoughts aloud. "Nurse Harrington is an innocent victim in all this. She didn't ask for that monster to jump inside her."

"If we come across her, we won't kill her," Dean said. "We'll just knock her unconscious, tie her up, and head for the hills."

And leave a killer behind? I realized Dean'slook was calculating, and I wasn't sure I believed his attempt to placateWendy. If we found Weatherton, could we overpower him? He'd been workingancient, powerful spells—magic we didn't really understand. What kind of magicdid he truly possess, and were we a match for it?

***