“In which case, you’re walking around with an artifact that a lot of people would be willing to kill to acquire. Where did you get it?”

“An antiques shop in Seattle. It was just sitting on the sales floor. The dealer told me no one had shown any interest in it.”

Harmony gave her an unreadable look. “Until you came along?”

“It has a psychic signature. Harmony, this camera belonged to my grandmother. My mother had it, too, although I never saw it while I was growing up. There are some photos locked inside. Not regular pictures. Psychic holograms. I’ll show you one.”

She picked up the camera, pressed one of the crystal buttons and focused a little energy through it.

The hologram of the camouflaged trailer park flashed into existence in the middle of the kitchen. Harmony took a quick, startled breath. Then her expression changed to recognition.

“A Bluestone operation?” she asked. “The trailers are the right era.”

“Harlan thinks it’s the community that was established for the Vortex staff. There’s another image that indicates it’s on an island in the San Juans.”

“The landscape certainly looks like the San Juans. Which island?”

“An invisible island with no name, according to my grandmother.”

“Your grandmother?”

“I can somehow hear her voice in some of the images.”

Harmony rose slowly and walked around the hologram. “I recognize some of the names on the trailers. They’re in the ancestry records. All filed under ‘Deceased or Disappeared. No Known Descendants.’ ”

“Harlan says my grandmother’s real name was Goodwin. Grace Goodwin. That name is on one of those trailers.”

“I’ll see what I can find in the files later. Did your grandmother leave any other message?”

“Yes,” Olivia said. “One of which is Here there be monsters. There’s also something about stopping said monsters by quenching the lightning in the mirrors.”

Harmony’s eyes blazed with a strange energy. “Your grandmother was the Vortex oracle.”

“That’s what Harlan thinks.”

“Well, well, well.”

Olivia closed her eyes and slumped in her chair. “Don’t say it.”

“We know very little about the talent, but there are indications that it tends to go down through the female line.”

Olivia opened her eyes. “Harlan mentioned that. He’s convinced I’ve got my grandmother’s talent—assuming Grace Goodwin really is my grandmother. But I don’t believe I’m an oracle.”

Harmony sat down. There was an understanding, sympathetic look in her brilliant eyes. “You mean you don’t want to believe it.”

“That, too.”

“I don’t blame you. It’s a calling, though, not a career choice. If you are an oracle you’re stuck with the talent, like it or not. The worst thing about it is that the visions are more emotional than informative. You feel them, you sense them, you know they are real, but they are extremely difficult to translate in a way that is helpful.”