“So I get to be visible. Lovely.” But she sounded more resigned than upset about it, sighing as she reached for her coffee cup.

DeMarco said, “Your shield is stronger some days than others. So maybe tomorrow will be better.” He wasn’t frowning, but it was in his voice.

“Maybe.” She knew what concerned him, adding calmly, “Being visible to Nellie doesn’t necessarily mean the unsub will notice, even if he’s psychic.”

“Doesn’t mean he won’t.”

“We don’t know enough about him to worry about something that may not be a problem. We could all be visible to him. We don’t really have a clue what’s possible here. Abilities, I mean. Talents. Don’t borrow trouble.”

“All any of us can do,” Bishop pointed out, “is keep our guards up and shield as much as we can.”

DeMarco half nodded, but whether in agreement or merely acceptance was hard to say.

Since they had reached the coffee-and-dessert stage of the meal and their waitress had left them to enjoy, and since the subject of abilities had been opened, Bishop said to Nellie, “Miranda and I met one of your crows up on the mountain.”

“They aren’t my crows,” she objected immediately, a slight frown drawing her brows together.

Finn said, “They were watching the bank this afternoon.”

“I know that.” She didn’t quite snap it.

“Why?”

“I didn’t ask.”

“Why not?”

Nellie sent him a look, then directed her gaze at Bishop. “Did you talk to the crow?”

“Not one of my abilities, though we did get the sense they expected to be asked to help us.”

Finn murmured, “Maybe why they were all around the bank, watching. Waiting for you.”

Nellie continued to look at Bishop. “So did you ask them to help?”

“As I said, not one of my abilities. Only a sense of what they might mean, not true communication. You can communicate with them.”

“So could Gray. Why didn’t you bring him along?”

“On another case. And we go where the Universe wants us to be, whenever possible.”

Nellie considered that for a moment, then looked at Hollis. “It’s more emotions than thoughts, really. Have you sensed the crows? You’re an empath, right?”

“My control is virtually nil, so I don’t count it as a full ability, just enough of one to drive me nuts,” Hollis explained, then added, “I’m a medium first.”

The words had barely left her mouth when Hollis was aware of a sudden, bone-deep chill. She felt gooseflesh break out on her body as if cold air had swept over her. As if a door into some icy place had opened. She was immediately conscious of time out of sync, aware that even though she was not in the gray time, she was nevertheless looking into a place and time that was not her own. Which was different. And scary.

Visiting an otherworld always carried the risk that she might not be able to return to her own.

There was a weird, muffled silence. And, oddly for her, the group at their table seemed to fade back into a sort of visual haze, leaving her able to clearly see the restaurant as she looked around. And to see . . .