Gertie’s reaction seemed to have made more of an impression on the telepath, because there was a slight hesitation before she reached for the arrow again.

“We don’t need details on everything,” I said, pausing her hand once more. “There’s… there’s a lot of death. You can ignore most of it. What we need is the reason behind it. What’s the point of it all; you understand?”

Her eyes were a little wider now, and her cheeks a little paler. But she nodded. And, very carefully, she took the arrow out of Agnes’s open palm.

And screamed.

It made me jump, because it was immediate, it was loud, and it was prolonged. Agnes tried to grab the arrow back, but the telepath had already collapsed onto the floor with it under her body. Her legs were shaking as if she was having a fit, and her head was whipping back and forth. But her hand was tucked underneath her, and she was wedged in between the settee and the coffee table.

“Help me move her,” I told Rhea, getting up.

“No!” Agnes yelled. “Don’t let them touch! If she has the gift, the visions may transfer over. I’ll do it.”

Rhea moved in front of me, her hands out at her sides, as if she was my guard in a game of basketball. Like I was dumb enough to try it anyway, after that warning! All she managed to do was to block my view, but while I was wrestling her out of the way, I heard the telepath’s voice.

“No. No, I… am in control. I am in control.”

The last phrase was said almost viciously, I thought to Agnes, as if maybe she was still tugging on her. But when Rhea finally moved out of the way, I saw Agnes standing over by Gertie, looking a little spooked. The telepath was sitting on the floor, the arrow held in a white knuckled grip in front of her, and a strand of her formerly perfectly coifed hair in her face.

“I am fine; I can control this. I am in control.”

That looked debatable to me, not that she appeared to be talking to us. I wasn’t exactly sure who she was talking to, but there seemed to be a difference of opinion. There also seemed to be a literal struggle going on, as the arrow moved and twisted in her fist, as if possessed.

I’d have dropped the damned thing like a hot potato, but the telepath held on. She snarled, her previously serene expression changing into something almost feral, and her eyes, formerly dark and lovely, suddenly glowing gold. They weren’t as bright as a vampire’s, and there was no tell-tale tingle up my spine such as a vamp would have caused. But there was something in there that wasn’t entirely human.

And it was pissed.