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“To be the strongest,” he said, as if that answered everything – because it did.
“Aren’t you going to give me some terribly sad backstory?” Zach asked. “Aren’t you going to tell me how your mother died when you were young and you just wished you could have saved her? Or perhaps it’s fear – fear of something bad happening to yourself – and you want to learn how to see the whole of your own future by getting stronger?”
“No backstory,” the psychic said idly. “No tragedy. I just want to be the strongest. And as long as people like you are around, there’s always the chance that one of you will kill me to get stronger instead.”
“But why would anyone else do that?” Zach asked. He sounded nonplussed. “I don’t want to be the strongest. I have no ambitions. Especially not if I would have to kill people to gain that strength.”
“Enough of this,” the psychic snarled. The stupid old man was just trying to save his own life. If he had the opportunity, he would be a killer like the psychic. “I’m done talking. It’s time that you gave me your power.” He picked up the knife he had set down next to himself when he had first tied Zach up, walking closer to him. He grabbed Zach by the hair.
Zach lifted his eyes almost in defiance. The old man’s neck was open. Ready for a slash that would drain his life and give his power an outlet. “You don’t have to do this to get stronger,” he said.
“Stupid old man,” the psychic said. “I’m not going to believe anything you say. You were lying. You never saw any of this coming.”
“But I did,” someone said.
The psychic was aware of a breeze at his neck, the passage of someone moving behind him. His eyes darted to the side and he spun, ready to use the knife – only to falter when he saw that she was holding a gun.
The curtain in the window behind her shifted a little with the wind outside. He’d left it open. How clumsy of him. He hadn’t imagined that anyone would be coming to save him, not out here.
She must have climbed in while his back was turned.
She was supposed to find out at the funeral. He was supposed to attack her there. This wasn’t right.
“You,” he said, with some surprise. It was a change in the order of proceedings, yes. He was supposed to kill Zach first and then get her at the funeral. But the funny thing about causing a vision blind spot was that it affected him as well – but she, this agent, must have been outside of it. She must have seen what was going to happen after all.
It didn’t matter. It was just a change in the order. He would kill her first, then her friend. The old man was tied up. He wasn’t going anywhere.
“Put down the knife,” she said. The gun was pointing right at him.
But she was law enforcement. She had rules to follow. She had to think before she shot.
“No,” he said, smiling pleasantly. “Why don’t you put down the gun?”
“Zach’s right,” the agent said. “You don’t have to do this. Psychics don’t get stronger by killing one another. It’s proximity. If you spend time near another psychic, you get stronger when you leave them again.”
“It’s true,” Zach nodded. “I started being able to do all kinds of new things since I met Laura. Kinds of visions I’d never had before.”
“And I’ve started having stronger, more visceral visions since I met Zach,” Laura explained.
“Strong enough that you could see me coming,” the psychic murdered. That was something to watch out for. Whatever incremental gains they would have from being around each other, even if it wasn’t as strong as his gains from murder, they were getting stronger. He had to find a way to stop them from getting together in the future. It was the only way to guarantee his own survival.
“See?” The agent tried to plead. “This is madness. Just stop. You don’t have to kill anyone. You can get stronger by being around us.”
He looked up at her. Through all the fog, the uncertainty, the fear that they would turn on him, one thing became so vividly clear to him that its existence could not be denied. It was as strong as if he had seen it in a vision.
“Even if I agreed to stop,” he said. “You’re an FBI agent. You can’t let me go free. And you can’t risk that I’ll tell the world about psychics and out you. You have to kill me.”
Laura bit her lip. “And because you believe that you’ll never stop killing.”
“Yes.” He looked at her, and he knew. There was only a split-second to see it, but he knew. He had misjudged her. She wasn’t bound by the rules at all. He lunged forward with the knife, seeing his last opportunity to stop her from taking him out.
Then she fired, and he knew more than felt that the bullet entered his heart, and the last thing he thought was to wonder why he was suddenly looking up at the ceiling.
***
“I’m sorry he came for you,” Laura said, shaking her head.
Zach blinked, looking away from the lukewarm cup of thin coffee the local precinct had been able to provide for him. The fact that they were sitting in a private waiting area and not an interview room was a blessing, but Laura still wished they had allowed Zach to go home.
