She, too, gazed off toward the distant town for a few moments, her wings thrumming softly as she beat them slowly in the dawn stillness. The others grew still and silent, waiting.

Tia became still, and her quiet voice throbbed with power as she told her family what she had dreamed.

THREE

MONDAY, LATE MORNING

Bishop looked at the four people sitting across from him at the big table in the SCU conference room.

“It’s something different for us,” he said finally. “A different sort of beginning, at least.”

DeMarco was impassive, as usual, his powerful body seemingly relaxed, but Bishop could feel the tension, which was not usual, not these days at least. And DeMarco’s gaze rested on his partner’s profile more often and more intently than was the norm for him while here at the office.

Quentin was tense as well, though he didn’t bother trying to hide it. He also showed concern for his partner and wife in quick glances, and the humor that normally lightened his lean face was totally absent. He looked, in fact, a little grim. He had very nearly lost Diana once, and that haunting memory would always be with him.

Bishop got that.

Diana was still, her face closed, delicate features not revealing much even to Bishop. She didn’t appear to be unusually tired; having visited the gray time for most of her life she was . . . acclimated, for want of a better word.

And Hollis, obviously still tired despite the sleep she insisted she had gotten, her deceptive slender fragility more obvious than usual, was the only one of the four who looked, utterly and completely, the way she had to be feeling: spooked, shaken, and almost angrily baffled.

She viewed baffling things as puzzles needing to be solved; it was one of the qualities that made her such a good agent and a gifted profiler. One of many qualities.

“We have to go,” she said. “That was a gilt-edged invitation from the Universe if I’ve ever seen one.”

DeMarco said, “Going in before something really gets started, assuming that’s what we’d be doing, could be a huge advantage. Just being on-site and familiar with the location should help us move faster and more effectively.” He had been in the military for years, and it showed.

“We haven’t been invited,” Bishop noted neutrally.

Hollis looked up then, her unusual blue eyes meeting his tarnished silver ones. “Salem might not know something bad is coming or already there, but we know.” Her voice was tense and a little hurried. “You’ve sent agents into a situation on the strength of information from a spirit before. Me, for one.”

“Not a situation like this one,” he said.

“We have a solid contact in law enforcement there,” Hollis said, her voice still tense. “Two contacts, actually, within the five families. And we don’t have to worry about the usual hide-what-we-are bullshit with other cops, because Deverell is an empath and he’s not the only psychic there in law enforcement by far.”