Ancient Vendetta Part 2

"Hi, David."

"Y'know, that's not such a big deal. Plenty of people have caller ID."

"So lovely to hear from you," Laurel continued pleasantly.

David rolled his eyes. He loved his sister--really he did--but it still pissed him off that he never managed to rattle her, no matter how much he tried. Laurel always remained serene and vaguely amused.

It drove him crazy.

"Do you know why I'm calling?" he asked sarcastically.

"You need my help with something," she replied promptly. "Something that calls for my unique abilities."

David was glad video phones weren't widespread. Laurel would have laughed herself silly if she could see him gaping.

"David, you get snippy when you have to ask a favor," Laurel sounded as though she were smiling. "And you never refer to my abilities if you can help it. That's not psychic, that's big sister."

"Must you do that?"

"It's so much fun," Laurel laughed. "But all right, what can I do for you?"

"Actually, a friend asked me to talk to you." The irony of the statement was not lost on David. If he ever needed to ask Laurel about something paranormal, that's the exact way he would go about it. But when he does actually use that line, it's the truth.

Laurel, being Laurel, knew it was the truth. "I may need his name, David."

"Well, this friend wants your help because he's worried about another friend." Who's on first? David thought irrelevantly.

"And you're worried, too. That's also in your voice," she added quickly so David didn't have to wonder.

"His name is Nick Stokes," David said, then waited. He'd seen Laurel know things just after hearing a name.

"He...yeah, okay."

David wasn't sure what to make of that. "Well, this guy I work with--actually we both work with Nick, he--"

"Dogs."

"What?"

"Dogs. Why are there dogs? Are there dogs involved? Does Nick have a dog?"

"No," David snapped in spite of himself. "There's no dogs. No one--"

"Dead dogs. One was a lure and the other--"

Oh.

"--was a test, but it became a...a step. It became a step. Are there dogs?"

"Well..."

"It began with dogs."

"Yeah," David admitted reluctantly. "I guess so."

"And Nick Stokes was...saved."

"Yes."

"But...he's not safe."

"What?" David couldn't help wondering how he was going to explain this to Gil Grissom should the need arise. Or worse, to Nick himself.

"Is he..? He's not well. Not safe."

David relaxed a little. "Well, it was a traumatic event. It would take awhile to recover. But I actually called you about--"

"A voice."

"Jesus, Laurel," David breathed.

"There's a voice and it's...it was...oh, David."

David tried not to freak out. The last time she'd said his name in that tone, their favorite cousin had been paralyzed in a car accident three days later.

"I think...David, I can't come out there--"

"No one asked you to," David nearly snarled--fear was making him short-tempered.

"And I'm not sure I'd be very helpful in this situation."

"What situation? You haven't told me a damn thing!"

Laurel didn't take offense at the ridiculous accusation. "There's someone at the university there in Las Vegas who may be able to help you. Certainly more help than I would be."

David knew there were plenty of weirdos in Nevada but at--"WLVU?" What? A psychic janitor?

"A professor of folklore. I have the contact information here somewhere..." There was the sound of Laurel moving around her house.

"Can't you just conjure it up?" David snarked.

"I've always sucked at addresses," Laurel replied mildly. "You know that."

"Wait--you said a professor?"

"She's also a Shoshone medicine man--well, woman. I believe Nick may need her."

Nick dutifully made another appointment with Dr. Kane at the end of his session, even though he didn't really see any point. The session he'd just finished hadn't done much to help him, and he didn't believe that more of the same would, either.

Of course, Dr. Kane might have been able to help more if Nick had told him honestly what was going on, but he didn't know how to explain something he didn't fully understand himself. At least he hadn't felt so much like a zombie when he went to see Kane. Sleeping on the couch might seem like giving in, but it was such a relief not to wake up completely exhausted once in a while.

That Warrick was usually there when he woke up did bother him, though. Or rather, it bothered him that he liked having Warrick there when he woke up. Warrick had a wife now. And whatever Nick had thought while they were partnered on swing shift, whatever kind of flirting Warrick seemed to be doing with him on occasion, no matter how intense Warrick had seemed in the days following his rescue, the fact was that Warrick was married now. He belonged to Tina and anything Nick may have hoped for needed to be put quietly back on the shelf.

Besides, it wasn't as though he hadn't had to deal with crushes before this, Nick reminded himself as he walked into his house. Look at how long he'd had a crush on Grissom--well, okay, he still had a bit of a crush on Grissom.

So if his feelings for Warrick ran deeper than a crush, then it would just take him a little longer to get over it. Odd, though, that his crush on Grissom had never gave him a painful ache in his chest and throat like the one he got whenever Tina was mentioned.

With a sigh, Nick pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind. He thought about making himself lunch but decided on a shower first. Although he hadn't discussed everything that happened in his nightmares with Dr. Kane, he had remembered all of them, and they had left him in a cold sweat. He felt disgusting and figured his appetite would be better once he felt clean and relaxed.

He was right. The hot spray felt even better now than it had that morning and Nick felt much of the tension from his session ease away. He bent his head forward to soak his hair, and then just as suddenly straightened again. The sound he thought he'd heard was gone.

Must have got water in my ears.

No. There it is again.

Breathing?

No.

This can't be happening now. I'm awake.

I'm awake.

"I'm awake," he said aloud. Then more forcefully, "I'm awake."

He stood frozen, listening intently. It was gone. He had just been imagining things.

Great just what I need. My nightmares are taking over my waking hours, too.

Nick took a deep breath and blew it out slowly, letting the water relax him again. When he found himself slammed against the shower's tiled wall, he was too shocked to do more than gasp.

A hand--it felt like a hand--gripped the back of his neck and part of one shoulder, holding him immobile against the wall. In fact, his whole body was immobile. It was a sickeningly familiar feeling.

"I'm awake," he insisted. "I'm awake!"

Then the grip on his neck tightened slightly. Not enough to cut off his air, only to stifle his voice.

And the other hand, that one wasn't keeping him still. Even worse, it was exploring.

Nick had thought nothing could have made him feel more vulnerable than being trapped in his bed.

But I'm awake! No one falls asleep in the shower.

So that's not breathing. That's not...

Moaning?

I'm awake so this can't--this can't--

And then he knew what was happening.

Oh, no, no, no...

Something...a leg? Forced his thighs apart.

Nick strained every muscle, but couldn't move. His terrified mind kept focusing on one thing.

I'm awake. Oh god, please, this isn't happening...

This can't be happening because I'm awake--I am.

Oh please please wake up...

Wake up!

Wake up before--

A strangled scream escaped him when something brutal and relentless forced itself inside him.

Nick thought he would pass out from the pain, but even worse--he didn't.

Instead, he was completely aware of the thrusting, the panting, the groaning as

the nightmare...it's a nightmare...

pounded into him for what seemed like an eternity.

Then with a guttural sound, everything stopped, and whatever had been there was just as suddenly gone.

Nick's legs gave out on him and he slumped into a corner of the shower, ignoring the water that still rained down on him. He huddled against the cold tile, trying to move as little as possible for fear of somehow triggering another attack. His mind was blank except for the one fact that he remained certain of--

I'm awake.

Gil knew the warehouse had been released as a crime scene less than two weeks after Walter Gordon's death. Once Nick had been found, the building had been given a cursory examination by the day shift CSIs covering the case and released. At the time, Gil hadn't thought anything about it--their main concern with the warehouse had been clues to Nick's whereabouts. With Nick safe, the building hadn't been nearly as important.

Although he wasn't entirely certain what he expected to find, it definitely wasn't what he saw when he drove up. The warehouse was gone and tents of various sizes and construction surrounded the pit where it had once stood. Leaving his kit in the Denali, Gil walked slowly toward the dig, because everything he saw suggested that's what this was.

As if to confirm his suspicions, a thin young woman wearing shorts, a WLVU sweatshirt and a fine coating of dust approached him. "I'm sorry, sir, but this is private property. You can't be here."

Gil held up his ID, and continued to survey what he could see of the deep wallow in the ground. "May I speak to the person in charge, please?"

She took a moment to read his ID, then glanced around. "This way," she said, leading him to a canopy under which a man was seated at a folding table that was currently covered with shards of pottery and index cards. His weathered face and lean, wiry body identified him so obviously as an archaeologist that it was almost clichéd. "Dr. Ramsey?"

The man looked up, his intelligent eyes landing on Gil immediately.

"This is Dr. Grissom, from the crime lab," the young woman continued. "He'd like to speak to you."

"Thank you, Kris," Dr. Ramsey nodded to her and she left them alone. "Wallace Ramsey," he said as he stood.

"Gil Grissom," Gil shook the offered hand. He kept his attention focused on the archaeologist, even though he was sorely tempted to look more closely at the dig. He doubted it had anything to do with was he was investigating, but that did nothing to diminish his curiosity.

"Dr. Grissom. I believe I've heard your name at the University once or twice," Ramsey gestured Gil toward another folding chair. "The building that stood here was a crime scene a few months ago, wasn't it? There was a bomb or some such thing."

"That's right," Gil nodded. "How long have you been here?"

"About three weeks. We've been making excellent progress," Ramsey gestured to the array before him. Then he frowned slightly, "Despite a glitch or two."

"How did the university become involved here?"

"The bank that owns this property demolished the warehouse and several artifacts were found. I was called in to verify and when it was established that this is a very promising site, the bank's board of directors voted to allow us eight months to conduct this dig."

Gil tried to recall the records that had been pulled. He was sure Walter Gordon had been listed as the owner. "The bank owns the property? Which bank?"

"Wells Fargo. The owner was mortgaged to the hilt, and when he passed it all went back to the bank. The owner--is he the reason this is a crime scene?"

"Yes." Gil said, knowing that this site would no longer yield any helpful information.

Ramsey regarded him sympathetically. "Not the answers you were looking for."

"No. But that's something we both have to deal with in our given professions." Having gone as far as he could go on casework, Gil finally gave in to his nonprofessional curiosity. "What sort of answers have you been getting, if I may ask?" He studied the shards on the table. "Are these Paiute? Shoshone?"

Ramsey warmed to Gil's obvious interest, and with a fair amount of pride he said, "There are several indications that these are Anasazi."

Gil looked back down at the shards as though they'd suddenly turned to golden scarabs. "Anasazi."

"If we can confirm it, it will be the first proof we have that they lived in Nevada as well as New Mexico and Arizona."

Before Gil could ask any more questions, a studious-looking young man approached them. "Dr. Ramsey, we've found another one."

Ramsey seemed torn between elation and concern. "Partial?"

The youth shook his head. "Appears to be an entire skeleton."

"Size?"

"More than nine feet."

Ramsey sighed, "Take your time uncovering. Then lay it out in the same tent as the others. I'll get to it as soon as I can."

"Yes, sir," the young man hurried back down into the dig.

Now Gil's curiosity was nearly overwhelming. "If I may..?"

Ramsey looked up at him questioningly.

"Wouldn't the discovery of a skeleton be a bonus? Even if it is an animal?"

"Dr. Grissom..."

Gil's raised his eyebrows at the formal address.

"This is a very...sensitive subject. I'd ask as a professional courtesy that this go no further than you or I."

"As long as it has nothing to do with my crime scene, I can give you my word."

"These skeletons are human--or at the very least, humanoid," Ramsey said quietly, "And nine feet is not the largest we've found."

"How many have you found?" Gil asked, not bothering to hide his fascination.

"This makes seven full skeletons. That's not including all the individual bones we've uncovered."

"'There were giants in the earth in those days...'" Gil murmured.

"These skeletons have been found all over the world, but this could very well be the highest concentration of them found in North America," Ramsey explained. "And to find them in the same strata as artifacts such as these..." he gestured toward the table, then sighed again. "To discover signs of the Anasazi in Nevada is one thing, but these giant skeletons are still a very touchy subject among the archaeological community. Too much publicity about them, and the university could very well decide to cut our funding, especially if word of this spread to some of the more...alternative groups."

Gil frowned briefly, but then caught on. "Alien enthusiasts."

"Most digs don't have that to deal with, but here in Nevada..." Ramsey let his sentence trail off. "No, I want these skeletons kept quiet until they've been completely and fully analyzed."

"I understand," Gil said as he stood up. "It's difficult to keep objective if you're surrounded by too many varying opinions."

"Exactly," Ramsey smiled as they shook hands again. "I guess you would understand that as well as anyone."

"I do," Gil assured him. "And there's certainly no reason for me to pass this along to anyone."

The utter collapse of his marriage was not at the forefront of Warrick's mind as he drove the familiar route to Nick's place. It was secondary to the fact that Nick wasn't answering his home phone or his cell. Warrick supposed it was somehow appropriate, the lack of response from his friend was what finally finished everything off.

Tina had been trying to talk to him about something--probably their marriage being in trouble--but Warrick really had no idea because he had been wondering how Nick was after the session with Dr. Kane. He listened to Tina--mostly--while he tried Nick's numbers, and by the fourth or fifth try, Tina blurted out in frustration that she wished he'd told her he was in love with someone else before they'd gotten married. Warrick didn't protest quickly enough--he was considering several things that could have gone wrong with Nick's session--and by the time he registered her words, there was no point in protesting at all.

"You know, if neither of us contests it, we can have this annulled in about ten days," Tina didn't sound angry. Just very sad and surprisingly--rather understanding.

"I never meant--"

"I know."

"I'm sorry," was all he could think to say.

"I know that, too."

"I've got to go check on Nick."

"Then go."

And he did.

And that was that.

Warrick was actually relieved as he turned onto Nick's street. There would be no more conflict. He could focus all his attention just where he wanted. Telling Nick about his feelings at the moment was not the best idea, Warrick knew, so he would wait until his annulment went through, and Nick got over these night terrors. After that...Warrick couldn't help grinning as he parked next to Nick's truck.

Just as quickly his smile disappeared. Nick's truck meant Nick was home.

Shit. Warrick ripped off his seat belt and hurried for the door. He's stuck in the middle of a nightmare. I knew it. He rushed into Nick's house and skidded to a halt in the middle of the living room. Nick had pushed his black leather wingback over to the wall near the kitchen and was huddled in it.

"Warrick," he said cordially, as though the man hadn't just burst into his house.

"Nick," Warrick replied slowly. "You weren't answering your phone."

"Oh," Nick glanced toward the counter. "Was that you? I thought it might be a trick."

"Trick? Whose trick?"

Nick frowned in thought, then gave a vague smile, "...mine..?"

"Oh-kay..." Warrick took off his jacket and tossed it on the sofa. "What happened?" he asked as he stepped closer. "Another nightmare?"

Nick stared at him in silence while the seconds ticked away, then chuckled.

The hollow sound to it made Warrick's heart clench. "How was the session with Dr. Kane?"

Nick blinked, looking genuinely surprised. "Yeah. That was today, wasn't it?"

Oh god. Warrick crouched down in front of Nick and from that angle could see bruises on Nick's cheek and forehead. "Nicky, how did you get these bruises?"

Another chuckle escaped Nick, and then he started laughing.

Warrick was getting scared, and whenever he got scared, he also got angry. "Nick. What the hell's going on? You might have a concussion."

"God, I wish," Nick's choke was somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

"I think I should take you to the hospital."

"What kind?" Nick smiled humorlessly.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I think..." The laughter vanished and Nick's voice started to shake. "I think I'm done, Rick."

"Done?" Warrick frowned in confusion.

"I had...I was awake, Warrick. You can't...do that. People don't do that unless..."

"A nightmare? That's where the bruises came from?"

"The tiles in the bathroom. I slammed against the wall before--" Nick choked back several sobs and curled in on himself.

"Nicky..." Warrick wanted to pull Nick into his arms, but something about Nick's posture told him not to. For the moment, he settled for laying a hand on Nick's arm. "Nick, please, just tell me what happened."

Nick stared at him, and the brown eyes were so haunted, so defeated, that Warrick almost took his request back. "I was taking a shower."

"Okay..."

"And it--it happened again...I couldn't...move..." Nick focused on a point just over Warrick's shoulder. "I heard breathing first. And it slammed--something...I slammed against the wall. And then it...I could feel..." Nick pressed his lips together and squeezed his eyes shut.

While he was in the shower. So...hallucinations? Shit. "Nick, what else?"

"...wh--no...s-s--assault..."

Warrick had to strain to hear. "Assault? What do you..? Sexual assault?!" Rage coursed through him. "Goddamn--someone was here?!"

"No," Nick shook his head and started laughing again. "No one. No one was here." It wasn't long before the laughter melted into helpless sobs.

Horrified by what he was hearing, Warrick could only stare for several minutes. Jesus, I knew things were bad but... He tugged carefully on Nick's arm, and was relieved when Nick went willingly into his embrace. "Nick," he murmured when Nick's tears had subsided a bit. "This was right after you got back from seeing Kane?" Nick didn't reply, but Warrick felt him nod. "Maybe we should call him."

Nick stiffened. "I don't want to get put away."

"Nicky, no one's going to put you away."

"Well, what else is there to do with me?" Nick pulled away. "I mean...my god, no one--there has to be something seriously wrong with me to--"

"But, Nick, you know it wasn't real."

"No, I don't," Nick whispered fearfully. "That is, I know...I know it can't be real, but I felt--I could feel..." His voice dropped to little more than a whisper, "It hurt...and it still..."

Warrick swallowed hard. "Maybe we should get you to a hospital. Have someone take a look at you."

"There's nothing to see," Nick said, and the tears began again.

"C'mere," Warrick drew Nick back into his arms. "Nicky, I know you don't like hearing it, but post-traumatic stress can do some really weird things. And, my god, you've been so tired...it's no wonder you're--experiencing such vivid...that doesn't make you crazy, okay? It just means you need some help getting through this."

Nick was nodding again, but Warrick suspected that was just to placate him.

"You need sleep, Nicky. More than anything else."

"I can't," Nick whispered hopelessly. "I can't. I feel like I have to...watch."

"Watch?" Warrick frowned, and then several things clicked into place. The bathroom and bedroom doors were shut, and Nick had moved his chair to a spot where he could keep an eye on both his living room and kitchen. Oh, Nicky... "Okay. Then we'll get out of here and find somewhere else for you to sleep. My place is out--" he couldn't help a wry smile. "Technically, it's not even my place, I guess."

"What?" Nick looked at him.

"Tina and I...well, we're getting an annulment."

Nick's eyes widened. "Rick...oh god...Warrick, I'm so sorry..."

Warrick was a bit surprised to find how easy it was to just wave his marriage away. "Don't worry about it. Probably never should have happened. Hey, how about this? I'll call in to work. If you can't sleep here, we'll find you a hotel where you can--there's plenty to choose from."

"Warrick..."

"If you don't like that idea, we'll put the seat in my jeep down. You grab a blanket and pillow and you can sleep while I drive. It's always easy to zonk out in a vehicle."

"I can't ask you to do that."

"You didn't ask. I'm offering."

Looking troubled, Nick only shook his head.

"Hey," Warrick said softly. "What makes you think you gotta do this alone?" He could see Nick was struggling to keep from breaking down again, although a few tears did escape. "What do you say, Nicky?"

"Yes...please," he breathed.

Warrick smiled reassuringly.

And even more quietly--"Thank you."

It was Bobby's night off, Ronnie was at a conference, Warrick had called in sick and Nick was still off. The night shift was practically down to a skeleton crew. That was probably why David thought it would be all right to discuss the situation in the break room. Archie was far too curious about what Laurel Hodges had to say to worry about where they had the conversation. He knew that as long as they kept an eye on the door, they'd probably be fine.

One thing that did surprise Archie, though, was the way David kept things short and to the point. Normally, David would have loved expounding in front of a captive audience, but it was obvious this was not his favorite subject.

"According to Laurel, Nick needs...professional help."

"Professional?" That was not what Archie expected to hear. "Like a shrink? I think he's already seeing one."

"More along the lines of a medicine woman."

Whoa. "Medicine woman. Seriously?"

David let out an aggravated sigh, then pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. "Laurel has a...colleague here. Glenda White Feather. She's also a professor at WLVU."

"Wow," Archie took the paper. "This is just like on--"

"So help me if you find some sci-fi show to compare this to..." David let his voice trail off threateningly.

"This is unbelievable."

"Then don't call!" David's voice began to rise. "It was your bright idea to call in a psychic in the first place. I just got stuck as the middlemen. Against, I might add, every--"

"Okay, okay," Archie made quieting motions with his hands. "Keep it down. I didn't mean unbelievable as in I don't believe it. I meant unbelievable like...this is a whole new thing for me unbelievable."

Pacified, David lowered his voice again. "Laurel said this woman should be able to help with the voice."

Archie frowned. He'd never played the tape for David--the trace tech had never shown the slightest interest in hearing it. "What did your sister say when you told her about the voice?"

"I didn't."

"Wow."

"So when you go see Ms....White Feather, you might want to bring a copy of it."

"When we go," Archie corrected.

"Me? Where'd you get that idea?" David snorted derisively. "I already talked to one psychic for you."

"Your sister," Archie said pointedly. "This woman will know you. I mean, wouldn't your sister have called her?"

"Probably. What does that have to do with it?"

"Well...you're the contact person, then, right?" Archie had hoped David would come along--almost as back up. Considering David grew up with a sister who was psychic, he was bound to know more about this sort of thing than Archie did. "I mean, yeah, I'll go. But you'll come with me, right? You know all about this stuff."

David pursed his lips in annoyance. "No, I don't. I'm a scientist, in case you've forgotten."

Archie decided things were desperate enough to hit a low blow. "But even if it's weird, I thought you'd do it if it helps Nick."

"Help Nick how?" came a new voice. "What's all this about psychics?"

Both techs looked to find former tech Greg Sanders standing in the doorway to the break room. Archie realized with a sinking feeling that they had no idea how long he'd been standing there. He turned to glare at David and found David was glaring equally hard at him. "Why weren't you keeping an eye on the door?"

"Why weren't you?" David shot back. "This whole damn thing was your idea."

Greg sauntered into the room and joined them at the table. "So which one of you is going to tell me what's going on?" Then, with no apparent shame at such outright blackmail--"Because if I've just got time on my hands, I'm sure there's plenty of people who will want to hear that you guys are consulting psychics."

Gil carefully set the receiver back in its cradle and stared at the phone on his desk, silently willing it to clear up all the questions Kelly Gordon had refused to explain. According to her, she had called for Nick several days in a row before being told he was off on sick leave, and so had decided to call him instead. She asked if he could arrange for Nick to visit her, and despite Gil's efforts, she wouldn't say why. She did say when, however--"As soon as possible."

They finally settled on the day after tomorrow, and after that, Gil did everything he knew how to do to keep her on the line and get more information. She did stay on the line--Gil had a sneaking suspicion she liked hearing someone other than inmates or guard--but she didn't give him so much as a whisper of anything new.

After reminding himself that mind over matter rarely worked, Gil picked up the receiver again and dialed the number for Nick's cell phone. It was only after the second ring that he realized Nick was probably sleeping, he was about to hang up when the cell was answered.

"Hello."

What the hell did I dial? Gil looked at his phone in bemusement. "Warrick?"

There was a long silence at the other end. "Gris?"

"Sorry for bothering you. I meant to dial Nick's number."

Another silence, then a sigh. "You did."

"Where are you?"

A longer pause. "A few miles from Caliente."

That made Gil hesitate before speaking. "I thought you called in sick."

"Actually, I didn't. I just said I couldn't make it in."

When Warrick started hedging like this, Gil knew things couldn't be too good. "Where's Nick? Can I talk to him?"

"Do you have to? He only fell asleep about an hour ago."

Which explained why Warrick was keeping his voice so low. "Where are you guys going?"

Warrick sighed heavily. "Nowhere. I'm just hoping he sleeps better in the jeep than he has been at home."

Oh. Gil knew Nick's nightmares had been getting worse, but he'd been so intent on investigating the Gordon case that he hadn't taken time to visit Nick very often. "It's that bad?"

"I don't know what else to do, Gris," Warrick sounded rather weary himself. "I went to see him tonight before work and--it's getting serious. He needs a solid 18 hours before he'll even begin to be properly rested. Hell, if he can get four hours in a row, I'll be happy."

Gil let out a sigh of his own. This probably meant a visit to Kelly Gordon was not a good idea, but if it was something about an accomplice--"Okay, I'll let you go. Do you think Nick could get in here to talk to me tomorrow? If not, I can go to his place."

"I think he'd rather go to the lab," Warrick said. "I'll bring him just before shift starts."

"All right. Let me know if you need anything. And don't worry about your time off."

"Okay. Thanks, Gris."

Gil hung up and stared at the phone again. Was there ever going to be a point tonight when the damn thing provided answers instead of more questions?

When he first returned to work after his ordeal, Nick had worried he wouldn't be able to handle working surrounded by all that glass. That concern now seemed laughable. The cool, clean atmosphere the glass provided was soothing to his shattered nerves and just being in the lab provided him with a sense of security.

He felt far removed from what had happened the day before--it was somehow easier to believe that what occurred in the shower had been a nightmare after all. Nick would have been able to completely dismiss it as such if it weren't for the occasional twinge of pain.

It had been strange to fall asleep near the city limits heading out of town and then awaken on the Strip going in the opposite direction. In the meantime, Warrick had told him with a grin, they had traveled to Caliente and back. Nick could only gape, because he couldn't believe he had slept for more than six hours and he didn't know how to thank the man who would drive all night just so he could sleep through it. Although six hours wasn't nearly enough to solve all his problems, Nick felt refreshed enough to return to his place--once they'd stopped by Warrick's to pick up a few of his things. After everything Warrick had done, Nick felt the least he could do was offer him a place to stay until he'd found somewhere new. That he automatically felt more comfortable with Warrick there went without saying.

The rest of the day had passed uneventfully. Nick felt so good after his six hours and was so used to existing on much less that he didn't try sleeping again. He caught up on his reading while Warrick crashed on the sofa and then they'd just hung out together for the rest of the day--something they hadn't done since Walter Gordon entered their lives.

He was feeling a little stronger, but the need for sleep was beginning to press down on him again when he walked into Grissom's office. Grissom's expression when he entered told Nick he still looked like the walking dead--and Nick knew the bruises on his face probably didn't help. Seating himself in the chair in front of Grissom's desk, Nick summoned what he hoped was a casual smile. Then he just prayed that Grissom wouldn't begin with--

"How are you, Nicky?"

So much for that. Unable to come up with an answer that was both honest and reassuring, Nick just sighed and shook his head.

"Okay, nevermind," Grissom nodded his understanding. "I received a phone call from Kelly Gordon yesterday. She would like you to visit her--again."

"Oh." Nick didn't bother asking how Grissom knew about his first visit. "I wonder what brought that about. The last time I saw her she didn't seem...well, who could blame her?"

Grissom just stared at him, looking a bit flummoxed.

"What?" Nick asked.

"There's...something I completely overlooked."

Bronze this moment. "You?"

"I need to tell you..." Grissom took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes wearily. "Nick," he sighed. "The tape Walter Gordon left with you--it was recovered."

Oh. Ohhh. This is another dream. At least it's not as bad as the others. It's just humiliating. Like the one where you show up at a crime scene and all of a sudden you're naked and it turns out to be an evalu--

"Nick," Grissom said his name firmly.

Nick blinked, Grissom's tone brought him swiftly back to the office. Not a dream. Oh, God. "When...when did you get it?"

"Just after you first returned to work," Grissom said. He sounded steady even though he looked uneasy.

"Why didn't you..? Why didn't I..? Why?"

"Nicky..." Grissom sighed again and shook his head. "I believed I was doing the best thing for you. It was poor judgement on several levels."

"So...the team has been..?" Why didn't Warrick tell him?

"No. Only myself and Archie. Brass knows of the tape but hasn't heard it. We only examined the side with Walter Gordon's voice and that's what I want to--Nick?"

Nick was sure he should be feeling something by this point--curious, at the very least. Maybe betrayed? Violated? That last brought a grim inward chuckle. Instead, he felt a vague interest, and that only because he knew he was supposed to react.

"Nicky, there was a second voice with Gordon's on the tape."

That snapped him back into the conversation. "An accomplice?"

"It appears that way, yes. The tape has been too damaged for Archie to have much luck. Jim and I have been to see Kelly Gordon, and it certainly seems as though she knows something, but she hasn't given us anything."

"And you think she'd be willing to tell me whatever it is."

"Yes. She's the one who called, after all."

It occurred to Nick that he should be angry--furious--about so much of this, but he just couldn't muster the energy it required.

"Nicky." Grissom's voice took on that sharper tone that Nick knew meant focus, "Nick. I want to make sure you're up to this. That's why I need to know how you're doing. The night terrors--are they still very bad?"

"I'm having them when I'm awake," Nick said without thinking, and saw Grissom's expression tighten. "At least I think I'm awake," he shrugged.

"What? Like a flashback?"

That sent a jolt of surprise through him. A flashback. A flashback. Of course. Nick desperately grasped at that idea, but just as quickly realized it wasn't likely.

"Could these 'awake' nightmares be things that you didn't remember about the abduction?"

Reluctant though he was to let go of the idea, Nick shook his head. "I don't think so. I mean, if they were--well, they gave me a thorough exam in the hospital. I'm sure they would have found signs--evidence if that--" Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up! He abruptly swallowed the rest of his sentence, but Grissom was looking a bit horrified and had obviously caught on. Nick pressed his lips together and looked away--at the floor rather than the insect-lined walls.

"You've been seeing Dr. Kane about this, haven't you?" Grissom asked carefully.

Unable to speak, Nick merely nodded.

"Nick, if you'd rather not visit the prison, I completely understand. I can--"

"When?"

"Tomorrow afternoon? She said as soon as possible. Say three?"

"Sure. I'll meet you there."

Grissom tilted his head doubtfully. "Why don't Jim and I stop by your place and pick you up?"

Thinking there was a vague chance he could sleep in the car, Nick nodded.

"Those bruises, Nicky?"

"Yeah," Nick touched a tender spot on his forehead. "That happened when--while I was in the middle of a nightmare."

They sat in silence for several minutes, then both spoke at the same time.

"I'd better be going," Nick stood.

"If there's anything I can do to help," Grissom's words overrode his.

"No. I...I'm working on it," Nick said, but that didn't erase the doubtful expression from his supervisor's face. Nick hated that expression, even though he knew logically that it didn't mean Grissom was finding fault with him. He tried to sound as capable as possible when he said, "Talk to you this afternoon, Gris."

He even managed to keep his head up and shoulders straight until he was out of Grissom's office.

Warrick resisted the urge to phone Nick. Instead, he went to his locker and began to change clothes so he could head out to the suspicious circs he'd been assigned. Nick had taken a cab home after his visit with Grissom--despite Warrick's protests--and Warrick had managed to hold off calling for just over an hour. When he had, Nick had said he was going to try getting some more sleep.

That had been two hours ago and Warrick didn't want to risk waking Nick up when he still needed sleep so badly. On the other hand, if Nick somehow got stuck in the middle of a nightmare... Warrick sighed. Maybe he would call once he got this latest case underway.

He held off another two hours, until his scene was processed and was showing itself to probably be a suicide after all. On the way back to the crime lab, he dialed Nick's number. It rang four times, and Warrick was prepared to turn toward West Charleston, but it was answered on the fifth ring.

"'lo..."

"Nick?"

"Hey, Rick," Nick said sleepily.

"Oh, no." Guilt coursed through him. "I woke you up."

"S'okay. I just went to sleep...what time is it?"

"Nearly three."

"Really?" Nick's voice cleared a little. "Oh. Then that's four hours I've been sleeping."

"No nightmares?" Warrick asked.

"No." Nick paused, "No. Y'know, I don't think I dreamed at all." A yawn. "Not that I can remember, anyway."

"Shit, and I woke you up."

"Don't worry about it," Nick assured him. "I think it's that six-hour drive of yours that put me on the right track."

"Okay," Warrick couldn't keep the smile off his face. "Well, I'll let you get back to sleep, then."

"Actually, I'm gonna grab something to eat. I'm starving. Then I'll sleep some more." Nick sounded wonderfully lazy rather than exhausted.

"Then...maybe I won't phone again before my shift is over," Warrick suggested tentatively.

"That's right, you're staying at Hotel Stokes," Nick actually seemed cheerful again. "Don't expect a complimentary breakfast."

"I'll grab something on the way back."

"Enough for two, yeah?"

"Mooch."

"Says the man sleeping on my couch."

I'm up for other suggestions, Warrick thought, but managed to keep from saying it. He laughed instead--it came so easily. "I'll talk to you later, Nicky."

"See ya, boss."

His good mood lasted until nearly the end of his shift, when he learned that everyone on graveyard--except Greg, who had somehow pulled a Sara before Sara and maxed out on overtime--were now working a double because the entire dayshift was covering a gun fight. He dialed Nick's number, and this time it was answered on the second ring.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Nick."

"Where's my breakfast?" Nick asked, and although he didn't really sound like his old self, it was a respectable imitation.

"How about a late lunch?"

That was enough to explain the situation to a co-worker. "Working a double?"

"Yeah, day shift is covering a gunfight in North Vegas."

"I saw it on the news," Nick said. "Something like four dead, seven injured."

"More like six and ten," Warrick corrected, relaxing into a familiar work conversation. "Figures the press is already there, though. Anyway, we're on if anything else comes up."

"Okay. I'm actually thinking of going back to bed again," Nick sounded a bit embarrassed by the admission.

"Good," Warrick smiled. "I'll talk to you this afternoon."

"Later," Nick said around another yawn.

"Later, Nicky," Warrick hung up and tried to stop grinning before someone in the crime lab saw him and started asking questions.

Having maxed out his overtime on two triples and three doubles the week before, Greg couldn't help feeling a little left out as he made his way to the locker room. He was the only graveyard CSI not on this double. He'd managed to beat Sara with overtime because he'd worked as secondary on cases with her, Warrick and Catherine during the previous week. Normally he only seconded one or two CSIs any given week, but Grissom had been busy with other things.

Passing by the A/V lab, he saw Archie and Hodges in a heated discussion. After finding out about Archie and the tape, and Nick and some voice, and Hodges and a psychic, there was no way he was going to pass on by. He had no intention of spilling the story to his fellow CSIs, because he wasn't entirely sure it wasn't an elaborate tech scheme, but if it was the real deal, he definitely wanted to be in on it.

Figures. I finally get out in the field and the lab busts loose. Either they're pulling, like, the most complicated pranks in the world, or they're doing some covert ghostbusting. Why didn't things like that happen when I was in DNA?

He was very sure though, that both men were serious. Archie would never pull a stunt that would hurt Nick, and Hodges' sense of humor--what little there was--just didn't lean that way.

Ergo, I want in on this chat, Greg decided, walking into trace. "Hey, guys? What's up?"

Hodges rolled his eyes and pointedly turned away, but Archie looked at Greg as though he was with the calvary. "You working a double?" he asked immediately.

"No, I'm maxed out."

Archie turned to Hodges who immediately began shaking his head. "No. No. I'm not going and I'm definitely not going with him."

Ignoring Hodges, Greg raised his eyebrows at Archie.

"I'm pulling a double to go over the surveillance from that gunfight," Archie explained. "Bobby is, too, so I want Hodges to go see Professor White Feather because I can't."

"And I don't see why it has to be done today," Hodges added.

Archie stiffened, "Because we don't know that it'll only take one visit and to wait anymore could be--didn't you see Nick tonight?"

Hodges looked away, muttering something under his breath. Greg hadn't even known Nick was coming in, but he'd seen him a few days before and Nick hadn't looked too great then. "Is he a lot worse?"

"He's got bruises," Archie said.

Terrible unease began to coil in Greg's stomach. "Bruises?"

"You have no way of knowing how he got those," Hodges pointed out, refusing to get excited.

"So you don't give a damn what happens to Nick," Archie accused, obviously finding Hodges' ennui completely out of line in this case. "You figure we should just write him off."

That brought a little of Hodges' temper to the fore, "Yeah, because that's exactly what I just said."

Greg glanced at the door, relieved to see the hallway was still empty. "Guys, take it easy..."

"I just don't think chasing shadows is going to do Nick any good."

"Shadows!" Archie slapped his iPod against Hodges chest. "You listen! You listen to that thing in there with Nick. Because I'm fucking sick of having to do it!"

"Arch..." Greg wasn't sure what else to say, because Archie wasn't the sort to lash out, even when he was pissed off. David was too startled by Archie's actions to reply and instead, he slowly took the iPod Archie was still shoving at him.

"I've got to keep listening and analyzing that until we figure this out, and goddamn it, I've had enough!" Archie's voice cracked slightly. "Because whether I'm right or Grissom is, Walter Gordon was not the only voice there with Nick and until we figure it out one way or another, Nick could still be in danger."

Greg swallowed hard, trying to loosen the sudden tightness in his throat.

Hodges looked down at the iPod in his hand and back at Archie. "Is it on here for her to listen to?"

Archie nodded, Greg thought he might have shocked himself with his outburst, as well.

Then Hodges turned to him, "Should I phone and see if we can meet with her today?"

"Sure," Greg decided this wasn't the best time to comment on Hodges' suddenly subdued attitude.

"I'll call from outside, just to be safe." Then his dry tone returned full force, "And if we do go see her, we're taking my car. Not that death trap of yours."

"Fine," Greg nodded, feeling a slight smile tug at his lips. "I'll be out in a minute."

Hodges darted a quick glance at Archie, "We'll call if this turns up anything." It was probably as close to an apology as the man ever got.

"Okay, thanks."

Greg waited until Hodges had left, then turned back to Archie. "Arch. You gonna be okay, man?" he asked, unable to express just how unnerving it was to see the normally placid tech so agitated.

"Yeah. I'm just--" Archie sighed, "You know how when you listen to something over and over, your reaction to it is eventually dulled?"

"Sure."

"It doesn't happen with this. Greg...it's evil, I swear. I don't care how weird that sounds."

"Okay," Greg tried to look and sound reassuring. "We'll figure something out. But are you going to be okay to work?"

"Oh." Archie smiled humorlessly. "Sure. Hours of dull surveillance tape ending in gunfire? It'll be a nice change."

"All right, then. Way to rattle Hodges' cage, by the way."

Archie's smile became more genuine, so Greg felt at least somewhat successful as he left the lab and then the building. Outside, he headed toward Hodges' car, only to find the trace tech waving for him to get in.

"She's out doing some sort of consultation," Hodges explained when Greg was inside. "But she said if we met her there in an hour, she'd probably have time to talk to us."

"Cool," Greg was glad to hear something going right. "So where are we going?"

"Uh..." Hodges picked up a post-it from the dash. "It's 4672 Carney Lane--off Boulder Highway."

Greg frowned at the familiar street, then felt that terrible unease creeping up on him as he realized what it was. "What--what kind of consultation?"

"I don't know," Hodges shrugged. Then he peered at Greg with a frown, "You look weird."

"That address--that's Walter Gordon's warehouse."

Archie was pleased and surprised when it only took a couple of hours to find the video evidence from the gunfight. Now all he had to do was wait for reports from the CSIs and detectives on the case so the time line could be properly established.

He took a quick stroll through the quiet hallways to stretch his legs and rest his eyes. The crime lab was practically deserted, all the day CSIs were still in North Vegas while, according to the board, Catherine and Sara were on a 419 at the SNWCF and Warrick was working a home invasion in Spring Valley. Turning the corner, Archie decided to grab a soda before going back to work.

"Archie?"

Archie glanced back over his shoulder and saw Grissom beckoning to him through his open door. Taking a deep breath, he backtracked and stepped just inside the office.

"Any progress?"

"Sure. I've got the surveillance tape all lined up for day shift to see." It was the first time Archie had ever tried to project utter cluelessness.

Grissom gave him one of those looks that was more telling than any words.

It was time to come clean, Archie finally decided, and hoped he still had a job when he was finished. Closing the door, he seated himself in the chair before Grissom's desk. He started to speak, then stopped, and chewed his lip nervously.

The entomologist knew something was up and perched on the side of his desk rather than sitting behind it. "I'll need a copy of Walter Gordon's recording. I want to play it for the daughter. To see if she recognizes the voice."

Here goes nothing. "And the other side?"

"Excuse me?" Grissom's voice held just a hint of warning.

He thinks I'm still looking for permission to listen to it, Archie thought with a dark amusement. He braced himself, then said, "The same voice is on the other side, as well."

"You listened to Nick's message?" Grissom's entire attitude dropped several degrees.

Archie swallowed in spite of himself. "No. That is, not after his first few words. I filtered his voice out, and only went by the readings for it. And then only turned it up when there was a noticeable spike in the volume and treble."

Grissom's look pretty much demanded further explanation.

"When the ants began attacking," Archie said quietly.

"And the voice was...what?" Grissom asked, still cold. "Underneath Nick's message?"

"It was in the box with Nick."

"That's impossible."

Archie clenched his teeth briefly and then continued, "It also registered outside human range. And it's not in English."

Grissom looked as though he was debating whether to remain angry or let his natural curiosity take over. Not much of a contest, really. "Any idea on the language?"

"No."

"I'll have Jim review Walter Gordon's contacts, perhaps--"

"Captain Brass knows about this?"

Grissom looked vaguely surprised at being questioned by a lowly tech, "Yes, I needed his help."

Oh, what the hell. You're already in deep. "I told Bobby."

"Bobby...Dawson?" Grissom's expression began to darken again. "Why?"

"Because I needed to talk to someone about it."

Grissom relented a bit, obviously seeing his frustration. "About your theory that this voice is inhuman."

No longer nervous, Archie snapped, "That is not a theory."

"Look, Archie--"

"Bobby mentioned that Hodges' sister might be able to help," Archie said, figuring he might as well get it over with while he was too ticked off to worry about the consequences. "So we told David and he called her. She recommended a professor at WLVU. Greg happened to overhear us, so today he and David have gone to talk to her."

There was only silence, and Archie realized he might have made his boss too angry to speak. Finally-- "I can't even begin to express how out of line you are."

In for a penny... "Actually, I thought the same thing when you decided to keep it a secret. Especially from Nick."

That seemed to take some of the wind out of Grissom's sails. "I made a judgement call."

"So did I," Archie shot back immediately.

Grissom lifted his chin slightly in acknowledgment.

"Listen to the voice," Archie spoke more respectfully now that his burst of anger had subsided. "Not to Nick. You're right, no one should be listening to that--I didn't. I still don't want to. But listen to the voice in there with him."

"All right." Grissom stood up.

Archie quickly rose as well, and led the way to the A/V lab. Handing Grissom a set of headphones, he quickly retrieved the CD and queued up the files. "This is a digitized copy of the original, straight off the tape," he explained. "I'll just filter Nick out." He took out the cracking of the plexi-glass and amped the voice as well.

Grissom nodded.

Archie pointed to the display, "Just so you know--when these waves spike, that's when Nick has started...yelling."

"Play it," Grissom ordered, his eyes on the display.

Setting the recording in motion, Archie kept his eyes on Grissom's face. He already knew the damn thing by heart and wanted to track the man's reaction.

Grissom's expression tightened, and grew darker as the recording played. When the waves spiked, Grissom reached convulsively for the headphones, but then lowered his hands--Archie could see it had taken a very conscious effort. "Again," he said, but his voice held none of its usual strength.

Archie complied.

Finally, Grissom removed the headphones, slightly paler than when he'd put them on. "Did you--"

"I ran every test I know how to run," Archie said firmly. "Even called a friend of mine from LA to see if there was anything new I hadn't heard about yet and tried a couple of his suggestions. That recording was made all at once--it was a blank tape. The echoing pattern on the voice runs parallel to Nick's--it might not be human, but it was recorded in the same place."

"There's an explanation for this," Grissom insisted as he put the headphones down. "We just haven't found it yet."

Archie barely repressed a sigh.

"What. The. Hell?"

David glanced over at his passenger. "I thought you said this was where the warehouse was."

"It's gone," Greg sounded dazed.

"That must be the sort of observational skill that got you into the field so quickly."

Greg's glare was actually getting fairly effective, David decided with amusement.

"The new owners must have decided to start fresh," Greg said as they got out of the car. "I guess it would be easier that cleaning up bits of Walter from everywhere."

"Archaeological dig?" David mused as they crunched across the gravel.

"Looks like," Greg nodded.

"We agree. My life is complete."

They approached the tents, but before they got close to the actual dig, they were blocked by a tall, lanky man. "Hey, we don't just let anyone into a dig."

Greg pulled out his ID, "I'm with the Crime Lab."

The man shrugged. "Unless you're with the University and have authorization, you don't go in."

David shot Greg his most withering look. "I don't know what Grissom's told you, but that doesn't get you in everywhere." He turned back to the taller man, "We're supposed to meet Professor White Feather here. Just tell her...David Hodges--Laurel's brother--is here."

"Oh," the watchdog relented a bit. "I'll get her. Don't go any further."

"That was actually...civil," Greg said with dry amazement.

David noticed that Greg was edging closer and closer to the pit, and dragged him back a couple of steps. "Look, I'm not crazy about being here, but now that we are, try not to get us booted."

"That must be her," Greg said, nodding toward the figure emerging from behind a tent.

The short woman was not fat, but definitely solid-looking. David got the impression she was in her fifties, at least, even though her bronzed skin was unlined. Long black hair pulled back in a braid showed only a few streaks of grey. Overall, David thought she was far too ordinary-looking to be a shaman and psychic of the degree his sister claimed.

"May I call you David?" she asked as she held out her hand.

"Certainly," he replied.

"And I'm Glenda."

"Greg Sanders," Greg said when she turned to him.

"And you're the one who has been here before," she noted as they shook hands. "Under very unpleasant circumstances."

Greg looked suitably impressed, but still asked, "Do you know what happened to the building that was here?"

"I understand from Dr. Ramsey that the land is worth more without it," Glenda explained. "It was during demolition that artifacts were discovered."

"Then you're here as a professor of folklore?" David asked.

"Officially," she sounded amused, even though her facial expression didn't change. "But there have been strange occurrences here, otherwise Dr. Ramsey would have just asked me to recommend books on the subject."

Greg looked intrigued, but David was determined to keep things on track. "That's not what we're here about, though. Laurel told you--"

"Actually," Glenda paused and tilted her head. "It is what you're here about. Nick has ties to this place."

Greg frowned slightly. "Well, actually--"

"You found the dog here," the solid black eyes fastened on Greg.

"Yeah, we did," Greg's voice shook slightly, but David could tell it had nothing to do with Glenda's accuracy.

"That was the ladder," Glenda nodded. "Nick took something away from here with him."

"I doubt it," Greg said slowly. "He would have likely been unconscious."

"Yes, and he was barely here ten minutes, but it was long enough. It went from the dog--the ladder--directly to Nick. It only manipulated the other man. He was hollow and of no use, and it had no strength to leave the grounds until the hollow man brought Nick to him."

David wasn't sure what to say. This was nothing like his sister's visions, when she spoke haltingly and felt things as she went. Glenda White Feather relayed her visions the same way he or Greg would relay evidence. David wanted to ask her to distinguish between fact and vision, but thought that might sound disrespectful, and whatever he believed or didn't believe, he knew a powerful woman when he saw one. Obviously respected by her colleagues and probably even more so by her tribe, she likely didn't have her words doubted very often.

Even Greg must have sensed it, because his tone was very respectful when he asked, "The hollow man, do you know his name?"

"He hardly needs one any longer. Even when he was on this earth, he had nothing left inside," Glenda shook her head regretfully. "Such an empty man to cause so much pain to others--Walter Gordon."

Greg swallowed hard and after a glance at David, he walked away. David let him go. "So this...thing was actually responsible for Nick coming here."

"It compelled the hollow man to bring Nick to him, and that took much of its strength. The hollow man's intentions had already formed--it merely took advantage of them."

"Hey!" Someone shouted from the pit. "You can't be here!"

David turned to see Greg jogging back toward them. "What the hell are you doing?" he demanded.

Greg ignored him. "Are those real? I saw a skull. Is that real?"

Glenda nodded.

"Is that what..?"

Glenda nodded again. "This is the site of a massacre."

Ohhh... David nodded as well. "Was it..?" he hoped he was phrasing his question properly. "Was it whites of natives or vice versa?" He frowned when he saw Greg shaking his head.

"No. This happened long before the white man ever set foot here," Glenda explained. "The artifacts are Anasazi."

"Whoa," Greg turned as if to go back, so David caught him by the collar.

"So this dig is a big deal," David noted. "No wonder they're being so closed with it."

"Oh, I don't think that's why," Greg snorted, straightening his collar. He looked at Glenda. "The skull was nearly two feet in diameter."

"Most of them have double rows of teeth," Glenda added.

"Wait," David held up his hand. "A human skull that's two feet in diameter would have to belong to someone--" It was really too ridiculous to finish.

"There's a legend from the Ute tribe about their ancestors. How they were continually attacked and enslaved by a tribe of giants they called the Bibachee-Nee. The Bibachee-Nee were brilliant, depraved and vicious. After decades of subjugation, several tribes that were formerly at war banded together, and there was a great slaughter of the Bibachee-Nee. This dig may very well be evidence of that slaughter."

"How does that have anything to do with Nick?" David asked, hoping she wasn't going to say what he thought she might.

"One of the Bibachee-Nee had enough hatred, enough of a thirst for vengeance to sustain him over the centuries," Glenda took on that lecturing tone again. "Its strength ebbs and flows, but ultimately it is growing stronger. Initially, much of its power was drained just communicating with Walter Gordon in a way the man would understand." She looked at Greg again, "You have an example of its voice?"

David was impressed in spite of himself, because Greg had taken possession of Archie's iPod on their way over. Greg dutifully took out the iPod and handed her the earbuds. Once Glenda had them on, he began playing the file.

Glenda remained expressionless while she listened, then asked Greg to repeat it. "It almost sounds like a combination of Ute and Pueblo," she said once she returned the buds to Greg. "It shares many characteristics with both. That would make sense, since both Nations claim the Anasazi as ancestors." She looked toward the dig, and stood in silence for several minutes. "The Baichee-Nee came from here," she finally said. "It came from this dig--pulled itself up using the dog. This site will have to be cleansed, but one of them has locked itself onto Nick." She turned back to them, "Since the last sunset, Nick has had a respite. Baichee-Nee had business elsewhere, and could not attack Nick while building its strength again. It will recover soon, though. The respite will end well before the next sunset."

"Respite from what?"

"Attacks," Glenda replied without hesitation. "For revenge, for amusement. Nick is young and strong-hearted and vulnerable, practically a feast for the creature."

"So...what exactly does this creature want from Nick?"

"It doesn't want him dead," Glenda replied at once, obviously knowing that was what David really meant. "It wants him alive to terrorize, to...play with. But Nick will only be able to endure it for so long. Although Baichee-Nee wouldn't be directly responsible for Nick's death, it would still be the cause. Nick would have to be cleansed if he is going to be saved."

Greg looked at David, and David could tell he wanted to find a reason not to believe any of it. Glenda White Feather certainly sounded like she knew what she was talking about, though. "I don't think Nick is going to buy any of this," David finally said.

"Perhaps he wouldn't have believed it a month or even a week ago, but the news may actually come as a relief to him at this point," Glenda said matter-of-factly.

Greg had another concern. "I don't know how we're going to explain this to Grissom."

David almost felt more alarmed by that than anything else he'd heard. "Who says we have to?"

"Dr. Grissom?" Glenda raised her eyebrows. "Of course. You both work at the Crime Lab, then?"

"How did you--?" Greg stopped, looking embarrassed. "Nevermind."

Glenda smiled reassuringly--it was the first time her face was anything other than placid since they'd met. "Dr. Ramsey mentioned that Dr. Grissom was asking about the owners of this land."

"Grissom was here?" Greg asked, and David would have bet any money his voice hadn't cracked like that in years.

"Yes, after it was established this had nothing to do with his case, Dr. Ramsey said they had a short discussion about the dig itself. He actually walked Dr. Grissom to his car, and Dr. Grissom asked to be notified should anyone else not affiliated with the university come by."

Greg lips made a soundless "oh."

David wondered how much ass he would have to kiss in order to get his old job in LA back.

Gil had been going over all the information he had on Walter Gordon, Kelly Gordon and Nick's abduction with the hope of finding something new. The only other person even remotely involved was Kelly Gordon's boyfriend, and he was also in prison. Gil was considering doing a more thorough background on the boyfriend, but had his doubts about how helpful it would be. He was actually quite glad for the distraction when the phone on his desk rang.

"Grissom."

"Gil, do you know where Nicky is?"

Jim's words, and especially his tone, sent Gil into red alert mode. "I assume he's at home," he said, determined not to show his unease. "We aren't scheduled to go pick him up for hours."

"And why did you send Catherine and Sara on this call? I expected someone from day shift."

Gil pondered but could only remember Catherine breezing in to say she and Sara would take the 419. "Where are you?"

An aggravated sigh. "The women's state prison."

"Oh." Oh.

"I've been trying Nicky, but I can't get a hold of him."

"Kelly Gordon?" Gil asked, forcing himself to loosen the white-knuckled grip he had on the receiver.

"We're assuming, since she was recently assigned to her own cell." Jim took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. "I don't know what to tell you, Gil. Kelly Gordon was--"

"Murdered," Gil said heavily.

"Shredded," Jim corrected.

He stopped by Grissom's office to clear up some facts about the recent case they had worked together, but seeing his supervisor on the phone, Warrick waited just outside the door.

"...know that it's even her? Until we test for DNA--"

That made Warrick wince slightly in sympathy, cases where the only means of identifying the victim was through DNA were usually pretty nasty.

"Well, I'll do that as soon as I'm done here, I--" Grissom sighed and glancing up, saw Warrick. "Just a minute, Jim."

"I can come back later," Warrick offered once he had Grissom's attention.

"No. When was the last time you spoke to Nick?"

Although the words were innocuous enough, Grissom's tone sent a jolt of fear through him. "Just before I started my double. Why?"

"Kelly Gordon was murdered. Jim's been trying to reach him."

Fuck. He didn't take the time to answer, but just bolted from the lab. Nick hadn't had time to tell him everything about his meeting with Grissom, but Warrick knew about the possibility of a Walter Gordon having a partner and that Kelly had asked to talk to Nick.

Speeding toward Nick's place propelled by frantic worry was becoming an all-too-familiar sensation, as was the task of trying to convince himself that everything was probably fine. Warrick thought he should probably give up on the latter, since he'd rarely arrived to find that things were fine.

As soon as he was inside, Warrick's eyes went to the bedroom door. It was slightly open, revealing the darkened interior. With a cursory glance around the rest of the apartment, he headed for the bedroom and immediately heard a steady thumping. Son of a bitch. He took his gun out of its holster, but kept it lowered at his side.

He pushed the door open, but even with the light from the living room, it was too dim to make anything out. Warrick flipped the light switch, and his mind initially rejected what he was seeing. Once it registered, he still stood frozen while his whole reality shifted in an instant.

Nick was on his bed, on his knees, but bent over so his chest was touching them and his head was pressed against the mattress. Both arms were pinned behind his back at what had to be a painful, nearly impossible angle, and although they were taut with strain, they were immobile, and only Nick's fingers clenched and unclenched helplessly. His body was moving in a violent rhythm that should have been impossible for him to achieve alone. The room was silent except for the sound of the headboard beating against the wall and the creaking of the mattress, which was sunken as though it was supporting something three times Nick's weight.

A choked sound made its way past Nick's throat, breaking Warrick's dazed spell. With no real idea how to free Nick, but knowing bullets would be useless, he holstered his weapon and took Nick by the shoulders. Then the silence was broken by Nick's pained cries and an unearthly voice snarling at them in some language Warrick didn't know--didn't want to know. He was dimly aware of something rushing past him, and of seeing a moving shadow out of the corner of his eye, but his attention was focused on Nick, who had slumped into a prone position on the bed.

"Nick," Warrick sat with his back against the headboard and tried to take the shaking man into his arms. "Nicky..."

"No, no," Nick tried to move away, his hands tangled in the sheets as though trying to hold himself still.

"Nicky, it's me," Warrick wanted to say it was okay now, but he knew it wasn't.

Nick raised his head just enough to stare at the wide leather watch band Warrick always wore. "Rick..." He tried to inch closer, moaning in pain at the movement.

Warrick carefully gathered him close, wrapping one of the blankets securely around him. "I gotcha, baby. I'm right here."

Burying his face in Warrick's shoulder, Nick clung to him for dear life.

For all Warrick knew, that was exactly the situation.

Gradually, Warrick became aware that although the snarling had stopped, there was still something muttering in that same language. Looking around, he saw a murky shadow above the door, roiling and undulating and occasionally slithering down toward the bed only to retreat again, making more furious noises. "Yeah, you'd better back the fuck off," Warrick told it, even though he had no idea how to actually fight if he had to.

"Wh-who are you talking to?" Nick whispered as he slowly became aware of his surroundings.

"I...don't know," Warrick admitted, bending protectively over him. "But, Nick...I don't think you were ever dreaming." That this was happening in a lit room, in the middle of the day, made it impossible to refute, yet somehow made everything more surreal at the same time.

Nick drew in his breath sharply, then let out a stuttering gasp.

"Nicky?" Warrick felt moisture under his hand and glanced down. He let out his own grasp of shock when he realized it was blood. Nick's skin, perfectly smooth a moment before was now riddled with scratches and bruises. Some were fresh, but most ranged from yellowed to dark purple, from newly scabbed over to nearly faded. Even as Warrick watched, several more appeared on his back, almost like large bite marks and also not new--if he had to guess he'd put it at two days before. "Oh my god..."

"Warrick," Nick shifted and almost managed to bite back a whimper. "I think...oh God...I think I need a hospital..."

Warrick was about to say he might be able to take care of them himself, but then Nick shifted again and another moan escaped through his clenched teeth. The implication struck Warrick like a blow. "Oh, Christ..." he swallowed hard and pressed his face into Nick's hair. "Okay."

The nebulous, smoky shadow chuckled at them, making Nick cringe closer. It let out another spat of incomprehensible sounds, but the malice and spite in them were obvious. Then the waves and tendrils began to curl in on themselves, and in a matter of minutes, it was no longer there.

Warrick barely allowed himself to breathe and was certain Nick was doing the same. The sudden warbling caused both of them to jump, Warrick swearing loudly while Nick gasped at the pain the movement caused him. "Shit," Warrick let out a shaky laugh. "My phone."

His breathing shallow, Nick nodded and tucked his head back down against Warrick's shoulder.

Keeping his right arm securely around Nick, Warrick fumbled his phone out and on left-handed. "Brown," he said, panting a little.

"Warrick?" the voice on the other end was cool, but still managed to convey a wealth of concern.

"Grissom."

"Is Nick all right?"

"No," Warrick said, trying to get his own voice under control. "I'm gonna get him to a hospital."

"What happened?"

Warrick surveyed the ceiling again. "I'm...not sure."

"Was someone there?" Grissom was starting to sound impatient about his lack of answers.

"Someone..." Warrick looked down at the ugly marks on Nick's skin, then around the room. "I think...that's a no."

"Warrick," Grissom was definitely getting testy. "Someone killed Kelly Gordon and now they may very well be after Nick. Stop being so damn vague and tell me what's going on."

"I don't think it's about someone, Gil," Warrick said carefully. "I think--Jesus, I know this is...I'm pretty sure it's something."

"He's never going to believe that," Nick whispered hopelessly.

"Who have you been talking to?" Grissom demanded. "Has any--there you are." His voice turned icy in an instant, confusing Warrick until he heard the entomologist's next words. "No, you sit right there. I want to talk to you."

Warrick had no idea who Grissom was talking to, but he felt a little sorry for them. He could count on one hand the number of times he'd heard his supervisor sound like that. "Gris, maybe I should--"

"Just a minute," Grissom said, then snapped at the other person again. "No, it's not Nick, it's Warrick. He's taking Nick to the hospital. No, you can't talk to--Greg!" Grissom sounded both amazed and furious.

"Warrick?" came Greg's voice.

"Greg?" Warrick blinked. "Did you just grab the phone away from Grissom?"

"What?" Nick roused a little when he heard that.

This day was getting weirder by the minute.

"Yeah," Greg replied offhandedly. "Look, where are you guys going after? Back to Nick's?"

After another scan to reassure himself that he and Nick were the only two in the room, Warrick said, "I hadn't really thought about that yet. Probably...not."

"No, you've got to," Greg said firmly. "Give me a shout when you're done at the hospital and I'll meet you at Nick's, okay?"

"Y'know what, Greg? There's stuff going on that--"

"It's connected to Nick, not the building. It doesn't really matter where you go except that if it has to give chase, that might make it angrier."

Warrick pulled Nick closer on pure reflex. "How do you..?"

"I'll explain later, okay?"

Seeing as Greg seemed to know exactly what was going on, Warrick agreed.

"What's going on?" Nick asked when Warrick disconnected the call.

"I'm not sure," Warrick admitted. "Did...you didn't tell Greg about this...thing, did you?"

"I didn't even know it myself," Nick whispered. "I thought I was going...and then today I was able to sleep so well, so I thought--maybe that sort breakdown was somehow what I needed..."

"Greg wants to meet us back here when we're done at the hospital."

"What? Why?"

"I don't know, but he talks like he knows something about it. We'll call him after we get you fixed up, okay?"

Nick hesitated, then nodded.

"Providing that he makes it out of Gris' office in one piece, that is."

Flashing his very best smile, Greg handed the receiver back to his boss. "He's taking Nick to the hospital."

Grissom was not impressed. "Sit down."

Greg sat.

"What do you think you're doing?" Grissom demanded coldly. "Where were you?"

"Hey, c'mon, Gris," Greg tried to maintain his smile. "Y'know, on my time off I do...my stuff. I don't know if you really want to get into that, but I guess--"

"Greg."

Greg fell silent. He couldn't think of anyone who wouldn't after hearing Grissom say their name like that.

"What is this professor supposed to do to help Nick? For that matter--Hodges' sister?" Grissom's lip curled slightly. "What the hell are you people trying to do?"

Looking anywhere but at Grissom, Greg tried to think of the best way to start.

"Where is Hodges, anyway?" Grissom demanded.

That was a little easier to answer. "Well...he chickened out and went home. He figured that you might let Arch and me off the hook for this, but that you'd get his ass fired for sure." Greg didn't add that he though Hodges probably had every right to be worried--Grissom rarely bothered to make a secret of his disdain for the chemist. "Glenda's supposed to call him when she's ready."

"Glenda?" Grissom raised his eyebrows. "Is that the professor?"

"Of folklore," Greg nodded. "But she's also a medicine woman--Shoshone. And a psychic, too, I suppose. Hey," his smile returned almost involuntarily. "Guess where she asked us to meet her."

"Greg..." Grissom sounded several steps beyond exasperated.

"At this dig out on Carney Lane. Go figure."

Grissom blinked several times. "What did you say?"

"Dr. Ramsey had asked her to go out there and take a look around. Seems that some really strange stuff was happening on that dig, and I don't just mean those giant skulls," Greg said, and proceeded to relay the legend Glenda had told them.

"Greg," Grissom interrupted impatiently. "What does any of this have to do with Nick?"

"It's funny, Hodges asked the exact same question." When Grissom's stare intensified, Greg cleared his throat and continued. "Glenda--Professor White Feather--says that one of the Bibachee-Nee have...well...she thinks it used the dog to lift itself out and then attached to whoever Gordon brought to the warehouse--Nick, as it turned out."

Grissom stared at him in silence until Greg couldn't help shifting uncomfortably. "You believe," the entomologist said slowly. "That Nick's recent problems are being caused by the ghost of a giant that was slaughtered by a near-mythical race."

Greg winced, "Well, when you say it like that..."

"All right," Grissom sighed. "I'll need to speak to her."

"Why?"

"Excuse me?" Grissom sounded as though he felt Greg's question was a direct challenge.

Knowing it wasn't in his best interest to piss Grissom off any further, Greg hoped the truth would prove enough of a diversion. "I'm not sure you'll be able to reach her. Maybe if you called right away, but...she said she was going to prepare before she saw Nick." Although tempted, he decided it was probably better not to go into the quick little lesson he and Hodges had received about finding someone's totem animal. He certainly wasn't going to mention the white sage, Piñon needles and cedar he'd been handed, along with a grey pot to smudge them in. "She gave me some instructions that should help in the meantime."

"Really," Gil's voice was flat.

Greg felt himself beginning to waver in the face of Grissom's abject disapproval, but then remembered that Warrick had definitely understood him. "Even if Professor White Feather's recommendations don't help, they aren't going to do any harm."

"We don't know that," Grissom countered. "If we're wasting time that needs to be employed elsewhere, it could be harmful. Kelly Gordon was to speak to Nick today, and she was found dead this morning."

Since the last sunset, Nick has had a respite. "Baichee-Nee had business elsewhere..." Greg murmured, recalling Glenda's words.

"What?"

"How was she killed?" Greg couldn't help leaning forward.

"We've only begun investigating," Grissom replied, suddenly looking uncomfortable himself. "Actually, I have to go down there to have a look. Then I'm going to be talking to Nick about this situation."

"Good," Greg said, blithely ignoring the inherent warning. "Glenda said the more people that are around him, the safer Nick will be." He stood, "I'm just gonna go fill Archie in before I head out to Nick's." Then he beat a hasty retreat before he pissed his supervisor off any further.

As he headed for the A/V lab, Greg wondered just how angry Grissom would be to learn that the reason he trusted Glenda White Feather was because when she spoke of ancients and entities, she sounded just like Gil Grissom talking about maggots and beetles.

Greg was waiting in Nick's driveway and gave a little wave as they pulled up next to him. Warrick returned the wave, then turned to his passenger, who was sound asleep. Reluctantly, he spoke, "Nick? Nick, we're back."

Nick roused slowly, so Warrick got out and walked around to the passenger side. The nurses had shot Nick with a couple of strong painkillers and God knew what else for infection, leaving him a little out of it. The doctor at the Mountain Sky Medical Center had wanted to keep Nick overnight, which Nick flatly refused. The doctor had urged him to file a police report, which Nick also refused. That had been one of his main reasons for not going to Desert Palms where he would have likely been recognized by staff. Nick left AMA and Warrick, still mindful of Greg's strange warning, didn't try to talk him out of it.

Warrick kept a firm grip on Nick's arm as he slowly climbed down. Seeing this, Greg came around to help as well, closing the vehicle door and taking Nick's other arm until the Texan shook his head stubbornly. "I can walk," he insisted, apparently unaware of the wobble in his legs or how skewed his path for the door was.

"Humor us," Warrick said, and Nick did, although not without a--rather slurred--word or two about the situation.

By the time they settled him on the sofa, Nick seemed a bit more alert. Warrick was just glad that the meds were too strong for Nick to focus much on the pain or the attack, it gave the exhausted man something of a reprieve from the horror he'd been enduring. "Hey, G," he looked up and gave Greg a vague smile.

"Hey," Greg smiled in return, but Warrick could see him mentally cataloguing the bruises on Nick's face along with the marks that weren't covered by his shirt.

"So what's going on, Greg?" Warrick asked as he sat next to Nick. "You said you would explain everything."

"Well, maybe not everything," Greg replied as he sat on the coffee table facing them. "There's some of it that I don't get. I wasn't involved in all this until recently, but the other people have--it's about that tape. The one Walter Gordon..."

"Left with me in the box," Nick sighed. "Grissom already told me they'd heard another voice."

"Yeah, but on the other side--" Greg faltered to a stop when Nick dropped his head.

"What?" Warrick asked.

"I left messages in case I wasn't found in time," Nick's voice hitched slightly.

Warrick couldn't help jumping in when he heard that, "Hey, no one had that right. Not without telling Nick. He should have been informed the minute the tape--"

"Wait, wait," Greg held up his hands. "As far as I know, no one has heard any of that. Archie said he filtered out your voice because--well, because. But he picked up another voice in there with you, and that's what we've been working with."

"In...in the box with me?" Nick whispered, and several shudders went through him. Warrick grabbed a blanket from the end of the couch and draped it around him, wondering how long it would be until the medication knocked him out completely.

Apparently, Greg noticed too, because he quickly went on to relay how word of the mysterious voice went from Archie to Bobby to Hodges to Hodges' sister, took a slight detour when Greg found out and then went on to Professor Glenda White Feather.

Warrick was fully prepared to be pissed of on Nick's behalf, since Nick was obviously too tired to bother, but after hearing about the legend and White Feather's assurance that this...Bai--Bibachee--whatever could be driven off, he decided he probably owed Archie a beer or two instead of an ass-kicking.

"She wants to come and see you tomorrow," Greg said. "If that's okay."

"I have an appointment tomor--" Nick frowned. "Wait. That's today."

"What's today?" Warrick asked, already deciding it would be better to cancel any visit with Dr. Kane.

"I'm supposed to go with Grissom and Brass to talk to Kelly Gordon," Nick straightened as best he could and started to shrug off the blanket.

Warrick prevented that, wrapping it securely around Nick's shoulders. "Yeah. That's off now."

"No, I can go," Nick insisted, and he did sound a little stronger. "They think it has something to do with--"

"She's dead, Nicky," Warrick said quietly.

"What?" Nick looked from Warrick to Greg, who nodded, and back again. "What happened?"

"I don't know," Warrick said. "But it sounds pretty bad. They need DNA for identification."

"Nick..." Greg said tentatively. "Since last night...did you get kind of a break? Like more sleep?"

That made Nick focus, and Warrick as well. "How did you know that?"

Greg hunched one shoulder briefly, always a giveaway of his nervousness. "Glenda--Professor White Feather--said that you'd had a respite since...since the last sunset. That the Baichee-Nee had business elsewhere. But it would come before the next suns--"

"Yeah, it's been back," Warrick said shortly.

What little color that had been left in Nick's face was gone. "Do you think--Kelly knew and...and meant to tell us?" his voice was wispy, and almost nonexistent by the last word.

Warrick and Greg exchanged frightened looks, then both stood. "Come on, Nicky," Warrick urged. "You need to lie down. Get some more sleep while we're here."

Greg crouched by the sofa. "Glenda said the more people that are around you, the less likely there is to be an attack. So Hodges and Archie want to know if they can stop by later."

"Okay," Nick's eyes were damp. "What if Kelly had been--"

"And Glenda gave me some stuff that's supposed to help," Greg lifted a buckskin bag into Nick's line of vision. "Something called smudging. She told me how to do it--it's like a cleansing thing."

"Yeah, okay," Nick whispered.

Warrick nodded to him and Greg got the hint, moving away from the couch. "C'mon, Nicky, try to sleep a little, okay?" He sat on the very edge of the sofa and laid a hand over Nick's rapidly beating heart. "Cath and Sara were on it--and Brass, too. Grissom's on his way out there. They'll take care of it. They'll figure it out."

"This is...I don't know how to handle this..." Nick's voice broke a few more times.

"I know," Warrick soothed. "I know, baby. But you've got a lot of back-up. We'll get you through this." He continued to give Nick all the reassurances he could muster until the exhausted man's breathing evened out and the tense muscles had relaxed. Only then did he move away, walking to Nick's dining table where Greg was taking everything out of the buckskin pouch. From there he could discuss things quietly with Greg but still keep a close eye on any disturbances to Nick's sleep.

Greg glanced over at Nick when Warrick joined him, then consulted the notepad beside him again. That he had taken notes from this professor was something Warrick found both amusing and a bit disturbing. "Do you believe in all this stuff?" he asked as Greg checked the contents of a smaller, beaded bag.

"What stuff?" Greg consulted his notes and dumped several pieces of charcoal into the pot. "The ghosts, the psychics or the smudging?"

"All of the above," Warrick said, watching as Greg used a taper to light the charcoal.

"Do you?" Greg experimentally sniffed at a second bag, this one woven with blue beads.

"I believe what I can see," Warrick returned. "And I saw something...attacking Nick. I don't know what it is and I don't know how to stop it. But I know it's real. This other stuff, though..."

"Well," Greg dumped some of the blue bags contents into his hand, then sprinkled that over the smoldering coal. "The smudging is something that I don't know much about, but I do believe Glenda."

"Really?" Warrick was briefly distracted as the scent of cedar wafted up from the bowl. "But you just met her today."

"I can tell when people know what they're talking about and she does," Greg sprinkled something else that he got from a different bag--pine if the smell was anything to go by. "If she thinks this will help Nick, then I'll go along with it."

Greg was definitely taking it seriously, Warrick decided, because except for the strange ingredients, he could have been back working in his DNA lab. "What about this thing, though? You never saw it."

"No, but you did. And Archie heard it. I believe both of you."

Warrick shook his head, this was not what he expected from some as immersed in science as Greg had always been. "So ghosts...psychics...none of this is a problem for you?"

"I didn't say that," Greg tilted his head, his eyes tracking the tendrils of smoke that were rising. "Most things can be explained, but there are some questions out there that we just don't have the answers to, and maybe never will. Why did the Anasazi disappear? Who built Stonehenge? Who wrote the Voynich Manuscript? What does your wife think about you calling Nick baby?"

His last question threw Warrick off completely. Then as he thought back he realized that he had called Nick that without even knowing it--more than once, actually. "That's none of your damn business," he told Greg sharply, because he didn't know what else to say.

"See? Another mystery for the ages." Greg might have meant it for a flippant remark, but there was a slight edge to his tone.

"We're getting an annulment," Warrick muttered despite what he'd just told the rookie CSI.

Greg relaxed visibly. "One less mystery for the ages, then." He added something from the last beaded bag--sage, Warrick assumed--and picked up a large feather. "Okay," he wafted the feather through the smoke a few times. "Where is--damn," grabbed his ringing phone. "Yeah?...Oh....Yeah, I'm just starting. Where are you?...Well, aren't you coming over here?...Yeah. Of course I'm sure." Greg looked at Warrick. "It's cool that Hodges is coming over, right?"

Warrick was breathing in the scents from the smudge and thinking they weren't all that bad together. He nodded in response to Greg's question, hoping that with a psychic for a sister, Hodges might be able to answer more questions that Greg.

"Yeah, it's fine....Okay? Later." Greg snapped the phone shut and shoved in back in his back pocket. "The guy is seriously covering his ass," he said, making Warrick snort. "Okay," Greg took a deep breath. "I'm supposed to start where the most activity has been."

"In the bedroom."

"Really?" Greg raised his eyebrows suggestively.

Warrick steeled himself not to lash out at Greg's teasing tone.

His expression was enough to give the situation away, though. Greg's humor vanished and he turned greenish-grey. "Glenda said this thing was--but I didn't think it could possibly..." he swallowed hard and placed the stone bowl on the piece of buckskin in his palm. "I'll start there, then."

"Do I go with you?" Warrick asked.

Greg shook his head, "Stay out here with Nick." He walked into Nick's room, but Warrick had barely sat back down in the living room before he emerged again, carrying a bundle of sheets.

Warrick got up, "What are you doing?"

"I don't know when Nick will sleep in his bed again," Greg said, dumping the sheets in Warrick's arms. "But I don't want to chance these being forgotten. Besides, Glenda told me to get rid of anything negative, and I think this counts."

"Yeah, it does." Warrick saw blood every day on the job, but these streaks made him feel queasy. "I'll find out where he keeps clean ones when he wakes up."

Greg went back into the bedroom, and Warrick looked around for Nick's hamper. He finally found it in a corner of the bathroom, and was shoving the sheets down into it when the door slammed shut. Seconds later, he heard the bedroom door slam shut as well. "Greg?" he called, wondering why all this noise was necessary.

"Warrick?" Greg's alarmed exclamation came from the bedroom. "What's going on?"

No. No way. Warrick tried to turn the doorknob, then used both hands. He managed to move it slightly, but something abruptly pulled it shut again. No goddamn way. He strained his ears to hear anything from the living room, but the sound of Greg pounding on the bedroom door drowned out everything else. "Greg! Get it together, man!"

The banging stopped.

"Rick?" Nick voice was still far away and rather drowsy. "What's going on?"

Oh, nononono...

"Warrick? Greg?" Closer now. Alert and concerned. "Are you guys okay?"

No, Nicky... Warrick was about to say it out loud, but a loud crash and a pained cry told him he was too late.

"Nick?" Greg sounded truly panicked now.

"Nick?" Warrick pounded uselessly on the door, then tried wrenching it open without success. "Nicky!"

Hideous laughter filled the house.

On to Part 3 (chapters 13-18)