The First Prophet (44 page)

It was much later that evening when Tucker had a chance to sit down and really talk
to Brodie. The other man had returned to the house nearly an hour after his departure
with a calm face and little to say, but when he and Tucker were alone—Sarah was in
the shower, while Murphy stood guard outside the house and waited for Nick to join
them—he was entirely willing to fill Tucker in on the details he had missed.

“Why can’t we go public with this story?” Tucker asked after he heard it. “Break it
wide open.” He had his own opinions on the subject but wanted to hear Brodie’s.

“Think about it. Conspiracy theories run amok in our society these days. If it isn’t
about Kennedy’s assassination or Watergate, it’s aliens or the space program or Vietnam
or the mess in the Middle East—or just the government trying to pull something over
on us. The very mention of a conspiracy theory makes people shake their heads and
smile—and the idea isn’t taken seriously. And that’s at best. At worst, we’re labeled
nuts. So, we wait.”

“Wait for what?”

“Hard evidence. Proof. Enough proof to go public. Enough proof to convince even people
who don’t believe in psychic phenomena
or
conspiracy theories that the threat is real. And growing.” He shook his head. “We
wait, and we watch, and we listen. Look for evidence. Try to get to and protect the
people we know are in immediate danger. And build our network of people who do believe—and
want to fight.”

“In case you never find enough proof?”

“It’s a possibility.” His smile was both faintly amused and more than a little weary.
“When the shit finally hits the fan, we may be the only thing standing between the
bad guys and the future.”

“I’ve never thought of myself as a revolutionary,” Tucker said slowly.

“Maybe you’d better start. You have a personal stake in the fight now. And we need
all the help we can get.”

“What can I do? I’m a writer, not a soldier.”

“I’m a lawyer,” Brodie said dryly. “Cait was…was a waitress putting herself through
school. Nick’s a builder. I couldn’t tell you what Murphy is or was, except hard as
nails. Among the others I know personally in this thing, there’s a truck driver, an
architect, an engineer, two doctors, several nurses, a Nobel Prize–winning scientist,
a very young student, a country-western star, and a billionaire. They aren’t psychics.
They aren’t soldiers either. We don’t need soldiers, Tucker. We just need people who
believe in the fight and want to help.”

After a moment, Tucker silently held out his hand, and the two men shook firmly.

“What about this ‘traitor in your own house’ business? Or do you think Duran was lying?”

Brodie frowned. “As much as I hate to admit it, I’m afraid he might have been telling
the truth. It’s not his
style to kill without reason, and Cait’s murder was utterly senseless. And even though
we’re reasonably sure it was Varden’s plan to set a trap for Sarah—whether he was
a red herring in Duran’s plan to get Leigh or not—killing Cait doesn’t seem to figure
into that either. It just doesn’t make sense.”

“Unless it was done by somebody bent on weakening your group? Taking out a link of
the chain and, worse, spreading suspicion and mistrust among you?”

“That could be it. We’re still so scattered, so dependent on one another for information
and support, that taking out a single link throws all the rest into confusion. Losing
both Cait and Leigh means we’ll be cutting and rerouting lines of communication for
weeks. Maybe months. And we’ll have to move some people, some of Leigh’s contacts.”

“Because you don’t know what she’ll tell the other side?”

Grim, Brodie nodded. “Exactly. That’s why we’re so careful, why so few of us know
the complete setup of the group. The more who know it all, the greater the risk of
the other side getting the information.”

“What would they do with the information?”

“What they’ve done in the past. Destroy some of our outposts or safe houses—and infiltrate
the group. Our psychics can spot most of them, but they use tools—like that cop back
in Richmond—and the tools aren’t always so easy to spot, even for psychics.”

“But that’s someone from the other side. What if
Duran was telling the truth? Have you ever had to fight a traitor among you?”

“No.”

“Are you sure there’s never been one?”

“As sure as we can be. But if Duran was telling the truth…then we’re all going to
have to be a lot more careful.”

After a moment, Tucker nodded. “What’s next for Sarah and me?”

“First,” Brodie replied, emphasizing the word only slightly, “we find the safest place
possible for Sarah. Richmond is okay for the time being; they’ll avoid the place for
a while after the fire, that cop’s murder, and all the publicity. But we’ll have to
get another psychic in the picture to help Sarah learn how to use her abilities.”
He looked steadily at Tucker. “She’s pretty incredible already, as I told you. Until
we learn the limits of her abilities, we don’t know how she’ll be able to use them—but
you can bet they’re the best weapons she can have against the other side.”

“She’ll always be a target, won’t she?”

Brodie didn’t sugarcoat it. “Yes. Leigh was left untouched for years, but when Duran
saw his chance, he took it. And her.” He shook that off with an obvious effort. “But
the news isn’t all bad. We’ve found through trial and error—costly error—that total
secrecy is the worst possible tactic we can use to protect our psychics. The answer
isn’t to hide Sarah away. It’s to make her as visible as possible. The more people
who are aware of her
existence and abilities, the less likely she is to…disappear. Or have an accident.”

Tucker’s jaw tightened. Grimly, he said, “I know one way of alerting a few million
people to her existence and abilities. I’ll write a book about her.”

Brodie smiled. “Already thinking like a soldier, I see. Good. Just don’t mention our
nutty conspiracy theory, okay? Not until we’re ready to go public.”

“No problem.”

“In the meantime, we’ll work up a plan of where and how best to…position her.”

“She’s going to hate this,” Tucker said.

Brodie nodded sympathetically. “Most of them do, at first. The instinct is to hide,
to pretend not to have dangerous abilities, certainly not to stand in a spotlight.
But it’s the only way. As far as Sarah’s concerned, I think she’ll find out she’s
more of a fighter than she ever suspected. I think she already has.”

“I think you’re right,” Tucker said.

“I nearly decked him when he spoke to me suddenly out of the dark,” Tucker said much
later as he and Sarah lay in bed together catching up. “But since he had the goggles
and I couldn’t see a damned thing, he was able to dodge me until he could convince
me he wasn’t one of them.”

Sarah didn’t ask how Brodie had managed to do that. “I was very glad to see the two
of you appear behind Varden, I can tell you that. He wasn’t behaving as I’d
expected. Most people have the sense to try to escape a burning building—especially
if they believe there’s only one way out.”

Tucker’s arms tightened around her. “He was too obsessed with getting his hands on
you.”

“And unless Duran was lying in that message to us, it probably got Varden killed.”

“Brodie said he was pretty sure Duran had been running the show, at least as far as
the lake, because he saw him there. But somewhere between there and Portland, whether
in a setup Duran planned or on his own, Varden must have set his plans in motion.”

“And grabbed you.” Sarah moved a bit closer.

“I had no idea they could get inside my mind like that. I didn’t even realize what
was happening until it was too late.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Tucker. Um…you do realize, don’t you, that we sort of have
a thing between us?”

“A thing? Well, I guess that’s one word for it.”

“I’m serious. This connection.”

“Yes, I noticed it.”

“Does it bother you?”

“Don’t you know?”

“Dammit, I’m trying to be courteous and not pry into your thoughts.”

He chuckled. “I appreciate the effort.”

“Well?”

“No, it doesn’t bother me. You don’t believe that yet, of course, but you will. Eventually.”

She lifted her head from his shoulder to stare at him.
“Brodie told you some of the stuff I’ve been doing the last day or so, right?”

“He did.”

“And none of that bothers you? Not the telepathy, or the out-of-body thing, or the
lockpick I was able to send to you?”

“No. Although I’d like to try the out-of-body thing when I’m not drugged. Brodie said
the consensus seems to be that you can only do it through our connection—to wander
around where I am if we’re separated, or wander around near your own body.”

She eyed him in fascination. “That was the consensus, yes. Because I tried to go somewhere
on my own and couldn’t. I had to—to use you as a doorway.”

“We’ll have to experiment.”

“Tucker, this really doesn’t bother you?”

“Well, no. I love you, you know. That would probably account for it.”

Slowly, she began to smile. “This is very sudden.”

“Yes, it was. At first sight, I think.”

“You know I love you too.”

“This connection is a wonderful thing.”

“I guess we’ll never be able to say we don’t understand each other, huh?”

“Not with a straight face.”

Sarah’s smile widened as he pulled her over on top of him. “It’s going to be interesting,
isn’t it?”

“Oh, yeah,” Tucker said. “That’s one word for it.”

The plan to leave for Richmond in the morning was delayed somewhat when Sarah announced
at breakfast that they had to go to Holcomb first.

Tucker had more or less forgotten about that, so he was surprised. And since Sarah
was staying very quiet and still on her side of their connection, he had no idea why
it was so important to her.

Brodie was distinctly unhappy.

“What’s in Holcomb?” he demanded.

Vaguely, Sarah said, “Something I have to do. It won’t take long. And it’s important,
Brodie.”

“We’ve been heading toward Holcomb since we left Richmond,” Tucker said, and shrugged
when Brodie frowned at him. “It was always her goal.”

“Have you two checked out the weather? It’s getting very cold out there, and it looks
like we may be in for early snow. Heading farther north, even for a little while,
is probably not a good idea.”

“It’s important,” Sarah repeated.

That was all Brodie could get out of her, and since Tucker would only shrug and smile,
he was no help at all. Finally giving in, Brodie consulted briefly with Murphy and
Nick, and the group split into two, with the Jeeps heading in different directions.

Brodie had been right about the weather. It was extremely cold for the second day
of October, and they ran into some snow flurries as well as a bit of sleet. But the
drive to Holcomb was fairly short, and when Brodie parked the Jeep in a one-hour parking
place on Main Street, the worst of the weather was still holding off.

“Now what?” he asked Sarah.

“Do you mind waiting here? This is something Tucker and I have to do.”

Brodie frowned, but even the most suspicious glance around this extremely small and
peaceful town could discern no threat whatsoever; it was a postcard-perfect image
of small-town America.

“Don’t be long,” he requested.

Sarah led the way, walking beside Tucker along the sidewalk toward the edge of town.

“Where are we going?” he finally asked her. They were walking up a slight hill, and
the only thing he could see in this direction was a pretty little church at the top
of the hill. “If you mean to make an honest man out of me, I think we need blood tests
and a license first.”

“Not much farther.”

“Sarah, why is it that you have to be here?”

She didn’t answer until they stood before the small church. Then she stopped and looked
up at him gravely. “We didn’t come here for me, Tucker. We came for you.”

Even then, he didn’t understand. Not until she took his hand and led him around the
church and into the neat graveyard behind it.