"This happened to Daniel?" Forthill asked.
"I'd have to take a closer look to be certain, but it's probable. Kid's gonna have it tough for a while," I said. "It's like emotional trauma. Someone dying, that kind of thing. It tears people up the same way. They don't get over it fast."
"I've seen it too," Forthill said. "I haven't brought this up yet, but I thought you should know that Nelson came to me earlier this evening."
I nodded at the cot that had been occupied when we came in. "That him?"
"Yes."
"How'd he strike you?" I asked.
Forthill pursed his lips. "If I didn't know you sent him, I would have thought he was having a bad reaction to drugs. He was almost incoherent. Very agitated. Terrified, in point of fact, though he would not or could not explain why. I managed to get him calmed down and he all but fainted."
I frowned, running the fingers of my right hand back through my hair. "Did you have the sense that anyone was following him?"
"Not at all. Though I might have missed something." He essayed a tired smile. "It's late. And I'm not as spry as I used to be, after ten o'clock or so."
"Thank you for helping him," I said.
"Of course.Who is he?"
"Molly's boyfriend," I said. I glanced across the room, at the mother holding her son. "Maybe Charity doesn't need to know that part, either."
He blinked and then sighed, "Oh, dear."
"Heh. Yeah," I said.
"May I ask you a question?" he asked.
"Sure."
"These creatures, these phages. If they are what you say, beings of the spirit world, then how did they manage to cross the house's threshold?"
"Traditional way," I said. "They got an invitation."
"From whom?"
"Probably Molly," I said.
He frowned. "I have difficulty believing that she would do such a thing."
I felt my mouth tighten. "She probably didn't know they were monsters. They're shapeshifters. They probably appeared to her as someone she knew, and would invite in."
Forthill said, "Ah. I see. Someone such as you, perhaps."
"Perhaps," I said quietly. "Makes it the second time someone has used my face to get a shot at Michael's family."
Forthill said nothing for a moment. Then he said, "It occurs to me that these creatures killed without compunction in your previous encounters. Why would they carry Molly away instead of simply murdering her?"
"I don't know yet," I said. "I don't know how my spell managed to bring them to Molly. I don't know precisely what these things are, or where they hail from. Which means I can't figure out why they've been showing up, or where they might have taken the girl." I waved a hand in a frustrated gesture. "It's driving me insane. I've got tons of facts and none of them are lining up."
"You're tired," Forthill said. "Perhaps some rest-"
I shook my head. "No, Padre. The things that took her won't rest. The longer she's in their hands, the less likely it is we'll ever see her again." I rubbed at my eyes. "I need to rethink it."
Forthill nodded at me and rose. On the other side of the room, Charity was covering her exhausted son with a blanket. Even Alicia had surrendered to fatigue, and now only the adults were awake. "I'll leave you to it then. Have you eaten recently?"
"Sometime in the Mesozoic Era," I said.
"Sandwich?"
My stomach made a gurgling noise. "Only if you insist."
"I'll see to it," Forthill said. "Excuse me." He went over to Charity and took her arm, leading her out as he spoke quietly to her. Now that her children had been cared for, she looked like she might come apart at the seams. They left the room together, leaving me in the dimness with Mouse and a lot of sleeping kids.
I thought. I thought some more. I picked up all the facts I knew, turning them every which way, trying to figure out something, anything, that would let me put a stop to this insanity.
The phages. The answer was in the phages. Once I knew their identity, I could begin to work out who might be using them, and what I might do to learn more about them. There had to be a commonality to them, somewhere; something that linked them together, some fact that could provide me a context in which to judge their motivations and intentions.
But what the hell could they have in common, other than being monsters who fed on fear? They'd shown up randomly in a bathroom, a kitchen, a parking lot, a conference room. Their victims had been disparate, seemingly random. They had all appeared as figures from horror movies, but that fact seemed fairly unremarkable, relatively speaking. Try as I might, I could find nothing to join them together, to let me recognize them.
Frustrated, I rose and went over to Daniel's cot. I called up my Sight. It took me longer than normal. I braced myself and regarded the boy.
I'd been right. He'd taken a psychic flogging. The phage had been worrying at his mind, his spirit, even as it had threatened his flesh. I could see the wounds as long, bleeding tears in his flesh. Poor little guy. It would haunt him. I hoped he would be able to get a little rest before the nightmares woke him up.
I stared at him for a good while, making sure his suffering was burned indelibly into my head. I wanted to remember for the rest of my life what the consequences of my screw-ups might be.
I heard a sound to the side and glanced up without thinking, turning my Sight upon the source of the sound-a restlessly stirring Nelson.
If little Daniel had been the recipient of a savage beating, Nelson's spirit had been in the hands of Hell itself. His entire upper body was disfigured under my Sight, covered in hideous, festering boils and raw, bleeding burns. The damage was worst around his head, and faded gradually as it descended his torso.
And each of his temples bore tiny, neat holes, sharp and cauterized, as if by a laser scalpel.
Just like Rosie.
Chains of logic cascaded through my brain. My head swam. I shoved the Sight away from me, and my ass fell straight down to the floor.
I knew.
I knew why my spell had sent the phages after the Carpenters.
I knew why Molly had been taken. I could make a good guess at where.
I knew what the phages all had in common.
I knew who had sent them. The realization terrified me with a fear so cold and sharp that it literally paralyzed me. I could barely clap my hand over my mouth to keep from making whimpering sounds.
It took me a while to force myself to calm down. By the time I did, Forthill had returned bearing sandwiches. He settled down on a cot, clearly exhausted, and went to sleep.