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There was a pause. “All right. Why don’t you
come to my office? I know it’s late, but there are still a few
people around. Just come right up. I’ll tell my secretary to expect
you.”

I drove the familiar route into town without
seeing the fields as I turned over in my mind what I was about to
say. I felt almost sorry for John Remington; perhaps he had gotten
caught up in a situation that spiraled out of his control. After
the other night, I rather thought he might be relieved to admit his
guilt.

Remington’s office was on the tenth floor. I
could hear minds moving around, the bits and pieces of random
thoughts coming from each level as I rode the elevator up. The
congressman had been honest about that, at least. I wasn’t walking
into an empty building.

His secretary looked up as I approached. She
smiled, but there was something just the slightest bit off about
her expression—a hint of bewilderment, of confusion.

“The congressman is expecting you,” she said.
“But he’s up in his garden, on the roof. He said he thought it
would be better for you to talk without distraction.”

The hair prickled at the back of my neck. I
wasn’t stupid, and I’d had experience with being led directly into
a trap. I grimaced apologetically at the secretary.

“I have a real problem with heights,” I said.
“Could you call the congressman and ask him to come back down
here?”

She shook her head. “He didn’t take his
phone. I know, because I just tried to call him myself to deliver a
message, and I could hear it ringing in his office. Sorry.”

I shrugged and took a deep breath. If I could
stay close to the doorway, prop it open, I might be able to stay
close enough to be safe. Following the direction the secretary had
indicated, I opened a door and climbed a set of wooden steps.

There was no door at the other end; the
narrow corridor simply opened onto the roof. I could stand on the
third step from the top and see almost the entire garden.

I gazed around, casting my mind to try to
hear Remington before he saw me. What I heard froze my blood. It
was fear, complete and utter terror. And then I spied him.

Congressman John Remington was standing on
the very edge of his roof garden. His back was to me, and I pulled
in my breath with a hiss as he swayed.

“Mr. Remington!” I screamed. “Don’t
move—don’t do it—please, don’t jump—let me get help--”

“NO!” He didn’t turn his head, but his voice
was adamant. “No one else. Just. . .you. Come up here. Sit on the
bench. But don’t come any closer than that.”

A chill ran down my back, and I left my perch
on the steps. Remington was steadier now, but I felt his
despair.

“Why did you come here, Tasmyn?” It was the
congressman speaking, but I had the oddest sensation that the words
were not his. I couldn’t hear a corresponding echo in his mind; it
was almost as thought he was a ventriloquist’s dummy.

“I told you. I have information about Nick
Massler. I wanted to hear your. . take on it.”

“Tell me.”

I looked around cautiously, feeling a prickle
on my skin, as thought someone else were near.

“I. . .Nick Massler.” I took another deep
breath. “He didn’t kill Helene Gamble. But you knew that, didn’t
you?”

A strangled laugh came from the man on the
edge. “Of course I knew it. Nick has many faults—I can probably
name every one—but murder is not one of them.”

I swallowed hard and shifted on the wooden
bench. “So you admit it? You murdered Helene? Or arranged for it to
be done?”

Remington gurgled and put his hands to his
head. The swirl of confusion in his mind became louder and more
insistent.

“No!” he screamed at last. “No. I didn’t know
anything about the girl or the murder. No. . .” He choked on a sob,
and turned his head just enough that I could see the tears running
down his face.

His body convulsed, and once again he
reminded me of a puppet, this time one whose strings had been cut.
He teetered closer to the edge, and without thinking about it, I
darted to the edge of the roof and grabbed at him.

I caught hold of his jacket and pulled.
Remington tumbled toward me, and we landed in an undignified heap
on the gravel floor of his roof garden.

Scrambling to get out from under him, I held
tight to his arm, kneeling at his side. “Mr. Remington, please.
Don’t move. Stay right here, please.”

“Giving orders now, Tasmyn?”

I spun on my knees, wincing at the sharp
pain. Six feet away from us stood Emma, her face
expressionless.

“Emma! What are you doing here? Help me,
please. The congressman was about to jump.”

She raised one side of her lips. “He was
supposed to jump. Do you know how hard it was for me to get him to
the edge in the first place? He’s got a very strong mind and a
healthy sense of self-preservation. I might have to just toss him
over.” She shook her head in regret. “Loses the integrity of a real
suicide when the body is tossed. But I can handle that later.”

Heart pounding, I rose to my feet. “What are
you talking about, Emma?”

She leaned against one of the raised
flowerbeds, smiling at me. I tried to probe her mind, concentrate
on her feelings, but all I picked up was the benevolent fondness
she’d always emanated toward me. No animosity. But there was a very
focused concentration of power streaming from her mind.

Emma flicked her glance to Remington.
“Congressman, get up and move over to this bench.”

With jerky movements, he stood and walked to
the bench, his legs dragging as though reluctant. With dawning
dread, I realized he was struggling against Emma’s manipulation. He
sank onto the bench, his face contorted with the frustrated
effort.

“That’s better.” Emma sauntered over and sat
next to him still smiling at me. “Tasmyn I assume this is the point
in the story where I share all the details of my dastardly plan
while you figure out how to stop me.”

“Why, Emma? Who are you working for?”

She laughed. “Not Nick Massler, if that’s
what you’re thinking. No, poor Nick, always the victim of
circumstance. Will it make you feel better if I tell you he had
nothing to do with Helene’s murder?”

I didn’t answer, and Emma shook her head.
“The good congressman here didn’t know anything about it, either,
but his guilt over Alyse made him an easy target. Not a leap to
make you think he’d set up his buddy for a second time.”

“Was it you?” I couldn’t imagine it—couldn’t
fathom Emma slaughtering poor Helene—but apparently I’d been way
off base this entire time,

She met my eyes squarely. “I wasn’t in the
room. My DNA isn’t there. But weak minds are incredibly powerful
weapons.”

“Who did you use?”

Emma waved it away, a detail that didn’t
matter. “No one you know. He’s out of the picture, so to
speak.”

On the bench, Congressman Remington grunted
and moved one hand in Emma’s direction.

“Ah-ah-ah.” She narrowed her eyes at him, and
his arm flopped back to his side. “Well, Tasmyn, time’s up. John
here has a date with the sidewalk, but you’re the one who’s going
to take the fall.”

My heart pounding, I edged toward the steps.
“You can’t manipulate me, Emma. I know how to block you.”

“You can try. And yes, you’ve been harder
than the others, but I’ve gotten a few suggestions in now and then.
Things you were predisposed to believe anyway. But I don’t need to
manipulate you today. It’s going to be sad, especially for your
boyfriend. Because you’re in the middle of a love triangle with
Nick Massler and Congressman Remington. He’s going to kill you
in—what do they call it? a fit of passion? And then the guilt will
make him jump.”

“And you think Nick is going to back this
up?” The world was spinning, but my voice sounded oddly strong.

“The Nick angle is being handled right now.
You don’t have to worry about him.” Emma stood. “Tasmyn, I know
about what happened with you and Nell Massler, so I’m sure you
think someone is going to come blazing in to rescue you. But I’m
not crazy, and I’m not acting alone. This is far bigger plan that
even I understand. You’re just a little part of it, a tiny piece.
What happens to you doesn’t matter.”

I raised one eyebrow. “That’s where you’re so
wrong, Emma. And you might know what happened with Nell, but that
was a long time ago. I’ve learned a trick or two since then.”

Without moving, I opened the floodgates on
the surge of emotions that were just below the surface. The power
poured into me, and I tingled from head to toe. I moved one
finger—just the smallest gesture—and a gust of wind nearly knocked
Emma off her feet.

She grabbed for the bench, but before she
could recover, I focused on the ground around her. A ring of flames
burst up as she screamed.

I was oddly detached, watching her dance
within the fire. Remington leaped off the bench and ran toward
me.

“We’ve got to get out of here, get
downstairs, call for help--” He was babbling, grabbing me by the
shoulders. I shook him off and cocked my head toward the steps.

“Get down there. Here.” I dug my cell phone
out of my pocket and tossed it to him. “There’s a Cathryn Whitmore
in my contacts. Call her, tell her we need help here. Do it now.
Go.” Even as I kept up the fire around Emma, I gave the congressman
a mental push that had him stumbling onto the landing and down the
stairs.

As he disappeared, I turned my full attention
back to Emma, who was glaring at me even as she hugged herself to
keep out of the fire. I felt the power from her mind, trying to
reach mine, but with a laugh, I batted it away.

“Emma, you have no idea what you’re dealing
with.” I lowered the fire just enough that she could hear me
without giving her room to move. “There’s no way you can win now.
John’s calling for backup, but truthfully, I don’t need anyone
else. I can take care of myself. . .” I shot a flame closer to her,
threatening her face. “And I can take care of you, too.”

The power was bubbling now, set free for the
first time in months. It was intoxicating, coloring everything
around me. I could end this all now, get rid of Emma once and for
all. No loose ends.

And as quickly as the thought ran through my
head, I heard something else. A quiet but firm voice, full of love
and understanding even as it stilled my hand.

This is the choice.

I almost thought it was Nell, and I glanced
around. But it wasn’t. . .not really. It reminded me of Marly, but
again, not quite.

I was tingling again, but this time the wave
that engulfed me was so purely love that tears filled my eyes.
Impressions flitted across my mind; I saw Zoe, Aline, Caroline
Brooks.

I pulled the power back, and it was as
effortless to rein it in as it had been to release it. As the fire
lowered into a smolder ring, I called into the earth, into the
potential of those tiny seeds. Vines sprang up and tangled around
Emma’s arms and legs.

She struggled, but the plants didn’t yield.
The magicks were strong and positive.

“Emma, I don’t want to hurt you, but if you
keep trying to get into my mind, I’ll knock you out.”

“I’ll handle that for you, Tasmyn.”

Ben Ryan stepped from the other side of the
garden. Emma immediately stopped moving, as her eyes trailed the
man approaching us.

“Ben.” She breathed his name, half in relief
and half in trepidation. “She could do things. I didn’t know.”

He stood next to her, not speaking. For
several beats, none of us moved. And then Ben flicked his hand in
Emma’s direction. She sagged, her head drooping. Only the vines
kept her from hitting the ground. Instead, she hung there, a
grotesque puppet, eyes wide and staring.

“What did you do?” My breath was gone, and
the peace I’d known vanished into terror.

“I knocked her out, just as you suggested.”
Ben smiled, but there was no joy, nothing but pure, chilling
evil.

“Ben, how. . .?” My voice trailed into
silence.

“Tasmyn, let’s not waste time. You’re not in
the minor leagues any more. I’m not a little girl playing with
powers or a crazy woman obsessed with you.”

I couldn’t look away from him. “You forgot
the crazy minister who wanted to drown the sin out of me.”

“Ah.” Ben perched on the edge of the highest
raised bed. “No, I didn’t forget. That was a different ballgame.
You never gave that little episode its proper importance in your
life. But we won’t go into that now.”

“Whatever this is, whatever you’ve done, it’s
over. John’s calling for help, and I think you can see I’m more
than capable of defending myself.”

“Of course you are. I’m not fighting you. And
no one is coming, at least not right now. We’re going to chat.”

“I don’t want to talk with you. I want to
leave.”