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"This justice belongs to the living," he said softly. "We can only right it after they've exacted it. He'll see his freedom soon enough, on the other side."
Trsiel moved between two cells. There was a man in each, one about fifty, but looking twenty years older, shoulders stooped, hair gray, skin hanging off his frame as if he'd lost a lot of weight, fast. The other man was maybe thirty, hunched over a pad of paper, writing as furiously as the first man had been praying.
Trsiel considered them both, then nodded at the writer. "He'll do. I'll be acting as a conduit. Through me, you'll see what I see, by tapping into a higher level of Aspicio sight powers. Give me your hand."
I reached out and grasped his fingers.
"I'm not sure whether this will work, or how well," he said. "So be patient...and be ready." He turned his gaze on the man. "Now..."
A wave of emotion hit me, so strong it was like a physical blow. I fought to free myself, but the undertow sucked me into a roiling whirlpool, then spit me out into a nursery. A giant's nursery, with soaring walls, stuffed bears the size of grizzlies, and a rocking chair so high I c
ould barely have climbed into it. Across the room, a huge woman stood beside a crib.
"Momma!"
The shrill plea screeched from my throat. It wasn't my voice, but that of a child, a preschooler's, still at the age where it's difficult to tell boy from girl.
"Momma!"
"Shhh," the woman said softly, smiling over her shoulder at me. "Let me feed the baby. Then I'll read to you."
"No! Read now!"
She waved me off and leaned over the crib.
"No, Momma! Me. Me, me, me!"
The baby screamed. I screamed louder, but he drowned me out. I gnashed my teeth and howled, stamped my feet and roared. Still she heard only him. Saw only him. Always him. Hated him. Hated, hated, hated! Wanted to pick him up and smash him, smash him like a doll, smash him until he broke and--
The nursery vanished.
A cat yowled, the sound piercing to the core of my brain. I laughed. A boy's laugh now, nearing puberty. Buildings loomed on either side, pitching day into night. An alley. I stalked along it, chuckling to myself. The cat yowled again, a shriek of terror, like a baby's...like a woman's. The cat had reached the end of the alley and was trying to climb the wall, claws scrabbling against the brick. The stink of charred fur filled the narrow alley. The cat's tail was burned to the bone, but it no longer seemed to feel the pain, no longer cared, only wanted to escape, to survive. It screamed again. I closed my eyes, and absorbed the scream. My groin tingled. A new sensation, strange but not unpleasant. Definitely not unpleasant.
I looked at the cat. Then I flicked open the switchblade. The cat continued to screech, darting back and forth along the bottom of the wall. It saw the knife, but it didn't react, didn't know what the knife meant. As I took a slow step toward the cat, I thought how much better it would be if it understood what was coming.
"No!"
The part that was still me tried to block the vision. For a split second, the scene did go black. But then a fresh wave of hate hit me. Hate and rage and jealousy intertwined, inseparable, one feeding the other, growing like a snowball rocketing down a hill.
"Bitch! Whore!"
I slammed the knife down. Saw blood splatter. Heard screams. A woman's scream, hoarse and ragged with animal panic, as confused and terrified as the screams of that cat in the alley. She pleaded for mercy, but her words only fed the hate.
I slammed the knife down again and again, watching flesh become meat, waiting for release, and, when it didn't come, growing all the more frenzied, stabbing and tearing, then biting, ripping mouthfuls of flesh--
Arms closed around me. I threw them off, seeing only the knife and the blood, feeling the hate, wanting it out of my brain, kicking and punching against whatever held me there--
I ricocheted back to reality so fast my knees gave way.
Trsiel's arms tightened around me. "Eve, I am so--"
"Goddamn you!" I wrenched free. "How dare--you could have said--goddamn you!"
I staggered across the room, legs unsteady, as if still unsure they were mine. The visions were gone, but I could feel them there, burying into the crevices of my brain. I shuddered and tried to concentrate on something else, something good. But the moment Savannah's image popped into my head, I felt him there, as if he was watching her through me. I shoved Savannah aside, someplace safe. When I looked up, I expected to see the killer in his cell. But we were back in the white waiting room.
"I'm sorry," Trsiel whispered behind me. "I didn't--it's not normally like that. I thought I could filter it, guide you, but you tapped in directly."
He laid a hand between my shoulder blades. I shrugged it off and stepped away. The images and emotions were fading, but my brain kept plucking them back, like picking at a scab to see whether it still hurt. I pressed my palms to my eyelids and let out a shuddering sigh.
