Page 87 of It takes a Psychic

Oliver gestured toward the figure on the platform. “See for yourself. The body is well preserved, so it’s obvious he looks nothing like the images of Vance in the photos and videos from the Era of Discord. The clothes this individual was wearing when he went into the Vortex machine are definitely post–Era of Discord. I’d say they date from about forty years back—definitely not from a century ago. Finally, there is no sign of Vance’s signature crystal pendant.”

“Face it,” Leona announced. “You’ve all been scammed. In fairness, it’s not because you are natural-born dumbasses—at least not entirely. Someone has been using the crystals in those pendants you’re so proud of to hypnotize you.”

Fury roiled through the crowd.

“Pissing off the people with the pitchforks was not part of the plan,” Oliver said in low tones.

Leona ignored him because the crowd was in the process of turning into a full-blown mob.

“That’s a fucking lie,” Burt yelled. “No one could hypnotize me. I’m too strong.”

Harp grunted. Her eyes narrowed. She touched the pendant that dangled around her neck. “For all we know, you two are the ones who are trying to hypnotize us. You don’t want us to know the truth. That’s it, isn’t it?”

“They’re both lying,” the bartender shouted.

“She’s still got the key,” Edith said. “We need to get it.”

Baxter aimed the camera at Leona. “Darla, are you getting all this?”

Darla did not respond. She stared at the dead man, stunned.

Harp raised the flamer, aiming it at Leona. “Give us the key.”

“I suggest we all calm down,” Oliver said in his Guy in Charge voice.

But this time it had no discernible effect on the crowd. There was too much energy churning the atmosphere, Leona realized. The powerful human emotions of rage and confusion were being enhanced by the paranormal atmosphere and the senses-blinding glare of the Vortex crystals.

“Get the key from her,” Edith shouted.

The crowd, with Harp at the forefront, surged forward.

“This is not going quite the way I had planned,” Oliver said. “We need a distraction.”

He plucked the pyramid crystal from Leona’s fingers and tossed it into the Vortex chamber.

“It’s all yours,” he announced to the crowd.

Harp swung toward the machine. The others followed. Mob mentality was a powerful force, Leona thought.

“This is our cue to exit,” Oliver said.

He released his grip on her shoulder, seized her hand, and hauled her toward the entrance, which was no longer clogged with people. She felt a shiver of heavy energy envelop her and recognized the vibe of Oliver’s aura. She knew he had gone into his nothing-to-see-here persona and had wrapped her and Roxy inside the invisible cloak of his talent.

The crowd ignored the three of them, intent on recovering the pyramid crystal.

She glanced back once just as Oliver was pulling her through the doorway. It seemed to her that there was something different about the energy pouring out of Vortex. The instability was rapidly growing worse. She could feel the mounting danger in the wildly oscillating currents.

And then they were through the doorway and racing down the glowing green quartz corridor. Roxy, riding high on Oliver’s shoulder, fluffed out and chortled.

“We need to find a better hobby,” Oliver said. “Running away from the bad guys is getting old.”

“This is plan B?” Leona asked, breathless. “We run for our lives? I wasexpecting something a little more sophisticated in the way of an exit strategy.”

“Actually, this is plan C,” Oliver said. “Plan B went to green hell when you pissed off the crowd by calling everyone dumbasses and informing them they had been scammed and hypnotized.”

“It was the truth.”

“That’s not the point.”

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