"Don't scream."  He rasped the words in her ear with eerie calmness, and Methra obeyed. To pull this off, she needed to play the part of helpless victim.  She was shoved to the ground, and barely turned her head to the side as a knee leaned heavily into her back.  The tiny rocks in the dirt surface painfully scratched her face.

"Please let me go..."

"Shhhh."  Her attacker cut off her pleading.  Strangely, he patted her shoulder as if to comfort her, yet continued to pin her to the ground with his weight.  She tried to turn her head, but he had positioned himself outside her range of vision.  A shame, she needed to scan his eyes.  His knee was grinding into her.

"You're hurting me!"

Suddenly, her arms were drawn roughly behind her, causing her head to rise up, and then her chin smacked back down on the ground.  She yelped.  A ripping sound, and something sticky pressed against her wrist.  Ah, duct tape.  She whimpered again, partly for verisimilitude, but mostly to keep from giggling.  Amateur. 

She put on a show of struggling as he blindfolded her and then dragged her to her feet.

"Walk!"  Despite the low, whispery volume, it was clearly a command.  No problem.  If he was leading her to Paige, it's exactly where she wanted to go.  She waited for him to shove her in the right direction, and began mentally counting her steps.

*********

It had taken the better part of an hour to fall back asleep, Franco holding me and stroking my hair, but we had managed it.  For all the good it did me - I was stirring awake just a couple hours later.  After a moment, I realized why.  A familiar tightening of the abdomen and a sinking sensation; one of my signs - this one meant something big was going to get resolved today.  I felt relief mixed with dread, knowing that I would probably find Paige, but not knowing if that meant she was okay or...I shuddered to consider the alternative.

Franco was already gone.  I knew he was expecting some early deliveries and he wanted to supervise them personally.   Trying to be so damn pragmatic.  True, there was nothing he could do about Paige, and he needed to be sure his restaurant's reputation did not suffer.  I was annoyed but not devastated.  As much as I needed him now, I could also use some time alone.  Time to track Paige down my own way.  It helped to know that the waiting was almost up.

Sleep's tendrils crumbled as my brain whirled with thoughts of the past week.  The murders, the kidnapping, the dreams, and the commandments.  I hadn't given much thought to God's Big Ten, as we called 'em at good old Saint Steve's, but I had studied hard to impress the nuns and knew them all by rote.  Thou shalt not covet; Thou shalt not bear false witness; Thou shalt not steal; Thou shalt not commit adultery - these were the last four.  Honor thy father and mother - number 5.  Thou shall have no other gods before me - number 1.  Was Paige guilty of violating any of these last 4?  Graven images?  Lord's name in vain?  Remembering the sabbath?  Or, I thought with some irony, Thou shalt not kill?

I got up and glided into the kitchen.  Grinding some too-expensive beans for my coffee, I mused at how much things had changed for me.  A few years ago instant coffee was all I needed, but married to a chef had forced me to refine my palate, and now I could not abide the stuff.  Bad enough taking Starbucks on my way to work, but who had time to brew?  Besides Franco.  I smiled ruefully as I thought about Franco's efforts to make me try new food concoctions - I, who would never eat my greens.  I put a new filter in the pot, and poured in the gourmet grounds.  Franco had changed my life in so many ways, it was unfortunate my dreams came back just a few weeks after he came into my life.  Then his sister's murder right afterwards.  Such a terrible coincidence. 

My reverie was interrupted by a plaintive, insistent violin concerto.  Ugh, I needed to change my ringtone.

"Hello?"  I asked warily.  It was only 6:30 a.m.

"Dr. Davis?"  A female voice.  Familiar, but different.

"Yes, who is this."

"This is Esperanza Flores.  Please don't hang up."

"Why are you calling me?"  I didn't hang up, but my voice, and my blood, had started to rise. 

"Doctor, I need to meet with you.  I know you think I called you before, but that wasn't me.  I mean it was, but it wasn't.  Please, I need to meet with you now."

"Meet with me?"  I was incredulous.  "Ms. Flores, why the hell would I do that?  You just admitted to calling me before, even though the police said you claimed you knew nothing about the call and provided some kind of alibi.  What kind of crazy game are you playing?  Where's my daughter!"  I was frantic now, and nearly yelling.

"Dr. Davis, I was on shift across town during that phone call,  that's the truth.  I never called you.   Let me explain.  You see, I had missed time for my sister's funeral but was back at work because I needed the money, and I was so tired, so I put my head down and..."

"Ms. Flores, get to the point."  Professionally I allow patients to ramble when its warranted, but I was upset and impatient.  It was also way too early, and I wasn't on the clock.

"Sorry, sorry.  Well, when I put my head down, and I know this is going to sound strange, but I had this dream.  In the dream my cell phone rang, and I picked it up.  A voice said, 'Hello, I need to speak to Dr. Davis.'  Then I heard your voice.  'This is Dr. Davis'.  The conversation continued, and the first voice identified itself as me!  I realized my mouth was talking, and I wasn't making the words."  She paused.

I remembered that conversation well.  It had ended with a death threat against Paige.  This time I waited for her to continue. 

"Doctor, I wouldn't even tell you I remembered this at all, but I really do want to help you.  Please, will you meet with me?"

She had a good point.  "Okay, my office - nine a.m.  And give me your cell number too."  I jotted it down, gave her my office address and hung up. 

My coffee was ready, and I took a long, leisurely sip.  Why did she need to meet with me?  Was this a trap?  I wasn't sure, but something about her story resonated with me, and I needed to hear more.  Besides, I remembered quite clearly the first call from Nona's "seester".  The woman I was just speaking with had no discernible accent.

******

Jimmy lay in his bed, lost in his own thoughts.  Jimmy Silent, Silent Jimmy, they'd been calling him that for ten years.  What else do you call a man who never utters a word - at least not with his own tongue. 

Most of his days were like dreams, and his surroundings were just background noise.  He went through the daytime on autopilot, his mind resting up for his nightly "travels".  He had nothing to say to them.  They mattered not at all.  Maybe it was because few of his prison brethren had the Gift, so he was locked out of their minds completely.  The Gift was his foothold into a person, without that little bit, well it was like trying to power a flashlight without a battery - pointless and frustrating.  A few prisoners had a small spark, in Miguel's case just enough that he was able to get the Lord's deed done.  But the rest - useless.

He slowed his breathing and let the sensations take over.  As his mind lifted he could see his mortal body growing smaller beneath him.  Soon, the dark pulsing spheres, souls of his prison brethren, dotted the landscape beneath.  He could feel his way to the agents he'd already possessed.  He felt the host body shudder its involuntary welcome, and he was in.

******

As I took my morning shower my thoughts drifted back to Nona Flores.  I was supposed to be her doctor, well at least I was going to be if she had not been killed before our appointment.  Was she going to discuss the Sanchez case with me?  Was she having nightmares?  Why did I care, she was dead now.  Still, something about that coincidence - and Methra seemed as surprised as I was.  So if Methra was involved...I didn't want to go there.

I remembered the call a week ago from Dr. Lipscomb's office.  A woman had said she was re-assigning cases - the doctor had left town suddenly on a family emergency.  I had never met Lipscomb, or even heard of him, even though his office was located in an office building not too far from the medical campus.  Apparently, the local board of psychology had recommended me as a solid practitioner in the area, and would I be able to handle eleven new clients?  I said yes, reflecting on karma - what if I needed coverage for my patients one day?  Little did I know, that day would arrive within the week, as I hadn't seen any of my patients since Paige's disappearance. 

I dressed hurriedly, got in the car and headed to the office.  I'd arrive a good half hour before my meeting with Esperanza, but I needed the time.  When it came to sheer coincidences, I was not a big believer.   I needed to see Nona's file again.

*******

Barton felt himself awaken but he couldn't move.  His arms and legs would not obey him.  As his eyes adjusted to his surroundings, he discovered the source of his immobility.  Blearily the events of his most recent "dream" filled his head: nailing the long boards together, fastening slip knots, stripping, climbing up the stool, and fitting his limbs into place.  He was terribly confused, and started to struggle in his bonds.  This just increased their tightness.

He spotted his clothes and a travel bag off in a corner.  Then he noticed the young girl.  She was standing right in front of him, watching him.  It was the same girl from his other dreams.  Last thing he remembered was cutting through her bonds while she slept. 

"Are you real?"  He asked her.

She nodded.

"Did I...did I hurt you?"

She nodded again.

"Please, believe me, I didn't mean to hurt you.  I...I wasn't in control."

She stared at him, thoughtfully.  Then she looked down at her feet.

"I think something has been making me do things.  I don't know what, but it made me tie myself here.  Paige, right?"  She looked back up at him.

Can you find something to cut me down?"

He motioned to his stuff in the corner and she rummaged around until she held up a small razor blade. 

Good thing he had his toiletry bag.  "Yes, that should do it."

She walked over and reached down for something beneath his feet pulling out a crudely made sign with a long thin rope coming out of two holes at each end.  He remembered.  "Please ignore that.  It, whatever it was, made me write that too." 

She propped up the stool and climbed up, then suddenly threw the sign over his head.  "What are you doing?  That isn't funny!"

She looked at him coldly.  "Skipping my day of rest is not funny at all."  Day of rest?  He spent his days preaching the book, so he skipped a few Sundays when folks were in church.  He was doing the Lord's work, he was entitled to his rest too.  Wasn't he?

Barton never got the chance to ask, and began screaming instead.  Jimmy had flipped open the razor and begun the Lord's work in earnest.  He hummed softly to himself as the blade sliced easily through hair, skin and muscle fiber.  Wrist, wrist, thigh, thigh, chest, chest, chest.  He liked to save the neck for last.  Blood flowed gloriously from the sinner's wounds, covering the ground, and the girl, with its sticky warmth.  Some got on the placard as well, but no matter, the words were still legible.

Remember the Sabbath and Keep it Holy.

*****

She'd counted 568 steps when he pushed down on her shoulders. 

"Sit."  She did, and he bound her legs together. 

The rocky ground and musty air told Methra they were out of the open desert.  But where?  He suddenly shoved her backward causing her to shriek when her head hit a wall. 

"Where am I?  What are you going to do to me?  Please answer?" 

Silence. 

Then, not complete silence.  Someone was sobbing, somewhere nearby. 

"Paige?  Is that you sweetie?"

"Me..Methra?"  Her voice was faint and trembling.

"Yes, it's me.  Are you okay?"

"No, yes, I don't know.  I...I..."  She started sobbing again.

"Are you hurt?"  Paige didn't respond.  Methra couldn't determine if her attacker was still present, but decided to chance something.  She deftly flexed her trained body so her wrists were in front of her.  Her teeth and 30 seconds freed her arms.  Duct tape, ha, she thought.  She pulled off her blindfold and began working the tape on her legs.

As her eyes adjusted to the glaring sunlight, she could make out the entrance to a cave.  "Paige?  Are you in there?"  Methra called out as she freed her legs.

"Yes." 

Methra ran inside and stopped cold.  Paige's hands were tied to a plank in what looked like a slip knot.  Her clothes were covered in blood, and on the other side of the plank, no the crucifix, Methra could see bare feet dangling.  Methra ran over and freed her.  Paige fell into her arms deathly still for a moment. 

"Paige, what happened?" 

Paige started to open her mouth, and then let out a shriek and started howling, as if in pain.   Suddenly she hunched over and her body wracked with spasms.  She heaved and vomited all over the floor.  She was hyperventilating when Methra grabbed her and held her in a tight embrace until the younger girl's shaking began to subside. 

"Shhhh, shhhh, that's my sweet girl."  Methra knew what was coming, and longed to change places if she could.

Finally, Paige was ready to speak.  "Methra.  Methra, it was me.  I did it.  I killed him.  I don't know why, or how, I was just free and I had the razor in my hand and something was making me do stuff and oh..."  She started shuddering uncontrollably.  Methra held her tight, reassuring her.

"Paige, it wasn't you.  It wasn't you.  It wasn't you."  She repeated it several times, like a mantra, and Paige slowly calmed down.

Methra held her without speaking.  This confirmed that the Order was right about the Com Killer.  He was evil, he was powerful, and he was too much for just her.  She closed her eyes, and reached out with her Initiate mind.  She needed backup.

*****

Traffic was traffic, and it was 8:45 by the time I arrived at my office.  No matter, I pulled out Nona's file and opened it up again.  I noticed there were only two prior visits with Dr. Lipscomb.  She was having nightmares, and waking up in odd places.  Not much elaboration, Dr. Lipscomb was a terrible note-taker.  Still, nothing there I hadn't seen before.  I tossed the file back in the drawer and pulled out the next one.

Will Engram.  Right, that was the patient I was supposed to see before I got the call from Paige's school.  I opened his file.

Name: William Franklin Engram
Age: 54
Height: 5’10”
Weight: 195
Eyes: Brown
Hair: Brown

Will was married with two kids in college.  I read further.  He had also started seeing Dr. Lipscomb recently, first visit was a month ago.  He was having communication issues with his wife, but she refused to acknowledge it.  They had separated once, several years ago, but gotten back together "for the kids sake."  Now  the kids had moved out, and they were fighting all the time. 

Hmmm.  Nothing strange there, sounded like a typical marriage going stale.  Happened all too often.  I started to close the file, but jumped when someone knocked on the door - file dropping from my hand.  Dammit.

"Be right there,"  I called out as I picked up the papers and shoved them back in the folder.  A photo had slipped out too, and I turned it over as I picked it up. 

My heart stopped as the face came rushing back into my mind.  Only the last time I'd seen it was in a dream, the one with Father Preston.  There were dead "sinners" all around, and a man and woman had a placard: Thou shalt not commit adultery. 

That man was Will Engram.