Tierney glanced up when Ian and I came in and gave us a nod and as much of a smile as he could, given what he was standing over.
He knew us and we knew him. Vivienne Sagadraco believed in her agents being sound in mind and body. To that end, after the conclusion of particularly bad cases, each agent was required to have at least one session with Dr. Tierney to work out any trauma they may have experienced as a result. It also gave Tierney a psychological baseline on every agent should any big issues come up. He knew all of our strengths and weaknesses. In an organization whose employees hunted monsters, his appointment calendar stayed full.
Dr. Tierney gave a resigned sigh. “I can feel the static from here. I believe I’ll need a chair for this one.”
One of the lab techs rushed to comply, rolling a desk chair over to him.
Yep, he knew this was one nasty blade. It must have been giving off evil vibes with a capital “E.”
He sat, and a gloved Dr. Clare Cheban, SPI’s lab director, put the spearhead—with its dinner napkin—on a metal tray and held it out to Tierney.
The psychometrist gave her a half smile. “Don’t take the tray away, Clare. I have a feeling I’ll want to get rid of it quickly.”
Tierney picked up the spearhead with his bare hand, careful to keep it directly over the tray, wrapped his fingers around the spearhead’s base, and closed his eyes.
Everyone in the room waited in complete silence.
Within seconds, Tierney dropped the spearhead to the tray with a clank and kicked back with his feet to propel his chair as far away from it as possible. The back of the chair slammed into a lab table. Tierney didn’t even seem to notice. His eyes were open, but he was still seeing what touching the spearhead had shown him. He squeezed his eyes shut, leaned over with elbows on knees, and did some deep breathing, smooth exhaling. When he sat up, he was definitely seeing us, but he looked really confused.
Moreau was the first to speak. “Dr. Tierney?”
“Yeah, I’m here. Give me a minute.”
More silence.
“First,” Tierney began, “I would say that it’s definitely old, at least as old as the tests showed, possibly older.”
“What makes you think it could be older?” Dr. Cheban asked.
“This wasn’t forged by humans. It just appears that way.”
Cheban blinked. “And you can tell this how?”
“The hands I sense making and then wielding this weapon don’t belong to any human.”
No, that wasn’t in the least bit creepy. I resisted the urge to back up a step.
“This individual is something more, much more.”
“We just passed creepy, and went straight into spooky,” I muttered.
Tierney nodded. “I agree completely, Mac.”
“What has it been used for?” Ian asked tightly.
“War and killing, both with great enthusiasm.” He paused. “I said ‘enthusiasm,’ didn’t I?”
“Yes, you did.”
Tierney’s full attention was now on Ian, intent attention.
“I didn’t get that from the spearhead . . . I knew it by looking at you, just now.”
Suddenly I wasn’t the only one who wanted to leave the room. My partner looked like he wanted nothing more than to be right behind me.
As far as I knew, Ian, Moreau, and I were the only ones in this room who knew about Ian’s connection to the St. Michael’s medal. Like me, Moreau had to suspect that whatever message the ghoul was trying to send with the spearhead, it’d been intended for Ian. I flicked my eyes to Moreau, and he shook his head almost imperceptibly.
That meant Tierney knew that all by his lonesome. Like I said, spooky. But sometimes, especially around here, spooky turned out to be a good thing. Maybe Tierney could find out what Ian didn’t know.
I cleared my throat in Ian’s general direction.
Ian was intent on Alain Moreau. “Sir, may I pick up the spearhead?”
Huh?
“I believe the ghoul left it for me, and while I’ve never seen it before, it’s familiar—if that makes any sense.”
Tierney chuckled. “This is SPI, Ian. Nothing makes sense here. Is there any history of psychometry in your family?”
“Not that I’m aware of.” My partner attempted a little smile. “We’re plain, vanilla humans.”
“You stopped being plain the day you signed on the dotted line to work here.” Then Tierney glanced at Moreau.
“If it’s something you feel you need to do,” Moreau told Ian.
I drew breath to tell Ian that he might want to sit down, but my partner was too quick.
He picked up the spearhead.
And it glowed as bright as a tiny sun.
12
THAT was unexpected.
Ian dropped that spearhead on its tray even faster than Tierney had. And when he did, the spearhead stopped glowing.
I stood perfectly still. “Has anything like that ever happened before?”
Ian likewise wasn’t moving. “No.”
“Interesting.”
“I don’t think so.”
“I’m sure you don’t.” I glanced around at SPI’s lab-coated brain trust, some of whom had quickly donned protective eyewear against the glow, all of whom looked way too excited by what had just happened. “Any theories or explanations?”
“None,” Dr. Cheban said. “Agent Byrne, could you—”
“No.”
“But if we could just get a measurement of any electromagnetic—”