“The being looked into my soul. He spoke to me as my father, as if he knew me. He was trying to deceive me.”

She places a hand on his shoulder, fingering the dark locks of hair along his neck. “Mick, you know what I think? I think the minisub’s collision knocked both of us woozy, and—”

He pushes her hand away. “Don’t do that! Don’t patronize me. I wasn’t dreaming, and I’m not having schizophrenic delusions either. Every legend possesses its own reality. Aren’t you even familiar with the legends of your own ancestors?”

“They’re not my ancestors.”

“Bullshit.” Mick grabs her wrist. “Like it or not, there’s Quiche Maya blood flowing in these veins.”

She pulls her arm away. “I was raised in the States. I don’t believe in any of that Popol Vuh nonsense.”

“Just hear me out—”

“No!” She grabs him by the shoulders. “Mick, stop a second and listen to me—please. I care about you, you know that, don’t you? I think you’re an intelligent, sensitive, and extremely gifted person. If you allow me, if you trust me, I can help you through this.”

His face lights up. “Really? That’s great because I could really use your help. You know, we only have eleven days until—”

“No, you misunderstand.” Be maternal. “Mick, this is going to be very hard for you to hear, but I have to say it. You’re showing every sign of suffering from a severe case of paranoid schizophrenia. It’s got you so confused, you can’t see the forest for the trees. It could be congenital in nature, or it could just be the effects of eleven years in solitary. Whatever the case, you need help.”

“Dom, what I saw wasn’t any manifestation. What I saw was the interior of a very high-tech, very alien spacecraft.”

“A spacecraft?” Oh, God, I’m out of my league.

“Wake up, Dominique. The government knows it’s down there, too—”

Classic paranoid delusions …

“That nonsense they fed you aboard the Boone was just a cover-up story.”

Hot tears of frustration roll down her cheeks as she realizes the devastating error of her ways. Dr. Owen had been right all along. By opening her heart to her patient, she had destroyed her objectivity. Everything that had come to pass was her fault. Iz was dead, Edie under arrest, and the man whom she had reached out to, the man who she had sacrificed everything for, was nothing more than a paranoid schizophrenic whose mind had finally snapped.

A sudden thought crosses her mind. The closer we get to the winter solstice, the more dangerous he’ll become.

“Mick, you need help. You’ve lost touch with reality.”

Mick stares at the perfectly cut limestone block beneath his feet. “Why are you here, Dominique?”