The breeze died down just then, so the whispering leaves were stilled and silenced. The sidewalk was well lit, as it was all the way to her apartment complex.

A car passed her, then another going in the opposite direction.

An ordinary night in Venture.

See? There's nothing wrong. Just your imagina-

In the moment of absolute silence, after the car passed and before the breeze stirred up again, Marie heard something. A very distinctive sound she recognized.

The click and whir of a camera.

Not the digital cameras so prevalent these days, but the old-fashioned kind that used film and different shutter speeds according to the light, and-

She heard it again. Her mouth went dry, and she could feel her heart begin to thud against her ribs.

Without wasting another second, Marie continued on her way home, one hand diving into her shoulder bag and closing around the slightly reassuring can of pepper spray, while the other fumbled with the keys she was already holding to find the big whistle on the key chain. She walked briskly, head up, just the way her father had taught her.

"Don't look like a victim, Marie. Walk like you're going somewhere, but make sure your eyes keep moving, keep scanning the area. And listen to your instincts. If they tell you to run, you run like hell. If they tell you to yell, then you yell your head off. Use the whistle. Don't be afraid of being embarrassed if it turns out to be nothing. Embarrassment isn't permanent. Being dead is."

A truth he, as a doctor, certainly knew.

Marie brought the whistle halfway up to her lips but no farther. Because as suddenly as the fear had gripped her, it let her go. She felt no sense of menace, no threat, no anxiety. Still, she didn't slow her brisk pace or cease scanning her surroundings continually.

And she didn't relax even a bit until she was inside her apartment, the timer-activated lights welcoming and the door triple-locked behind her.

She didn't truly relax until she had gone methodically through her apartment, checking every window and door, every closet. Even under her bed and inside the bathtub and shower.

Only then did she sink down on the foot of her bed with a shaky sigh, relaxing her death grip on the pepper spray and whistle.

That's when she saw the necklace lying on her dresser.

It was the nightmare brought to life, Dani thought.

The vision.

The smell of blood turned her stomach, the thick, acrid smoke burned her eyes, and what had been for so long a wispy, dreamlike memory now was jarring, throat-clogging reality. For just an instant she was paralyzed.

It was all coming true.

Despite everything she had done, everything she had tried to do, despite all the warnings, once again it was all-

Wait. This isn't-

"Dani?" Hollis appeared at her side, seemingly out of the smoke, gun drawn, blue eyes sharp even squinted against the stench. "Where is it?"

"I-I can't. I mean, I don't think I can-" Why do I feel so confused? I've been here before. I've done this before. So why does it all feel… different?

"Dani, you're all we've got. You're all they've got. Do you understand that?"

Dani said, "If somebody had just listened to me when it mattered-"

But they did listen. I know they did.

I remember that much.

Don't I?

"Stop looking back. There's no sense in it. Now is all that counts. Which way, Dani?"

Impossible as it was, Dani had to force herself to concentrate on the stench of blood she knew none of the others could smell. A blood trail that was all they had to guide them. She nearly gagged, then pointed. "That way. Toward the back. But…"

"But what?"

"Down. Lower. There's a basement level."

"It isn't on the blueprints."

"I know."

I told yon all this before. Didn't I?

Didn't I?

"Bad place to get trapped in a burning building," Hollis noted. "The roof could fall in on us. Easily."

Bishop appeared out of the smoke as suddenly as Hollis had, weapon in hand, his face stone, eyes haunted. "We have to hurry."

"Yeah," Hollis replied, "we get that. Burning building. Maniacal killer. Good seriously outnumbered by evil. Bad situation." Her words and tone were flippant, but her gaze on his face was anything but, intent and measuring.

"You forgot potential victim in maniacal killer's hands," her boss said, not even trying to match her tone.

"Never. Dani, did you see the basement, or are you feeling it?"

Feeling? Wait. That's not the way my abilities work. I just dream things. I'm not clairvoyant.

Paris is.

Paris …

"Stairs. I saw them." The weight on her shoulders felt like the world, so maybe that was what was pressing her down. Or…"And what I feel now… He's lower. He's underneath us."

"Then we look for stairs."

Dani coughed. She was trying to think, trying to remember. But dreams recalled were such dim, insubstantial things, even vision dreams sometimes, and there was no way for her to be sure she was remembering clearly.

But this is the vision-dream. I know it is. It's the vision-dream, and for the first time I know that's what it is even while I'm in the middle of it.

While I'm dreaming.

Because I am dreaming.

I have to be dreaming.

She was overwhelmingly conscious of precious time passing and looked at her wrist, at the shiny Rolex watch that told her it was 1:34 P.M. on Tuesday, October 28.

Wait. Why is the watch different? And why is the time different? More than an hour earlier. Why would it be earlier?

"Dani?"

She shook off the momentary confusion, or at least attempted to. "The stairs. Not where you'd expect them to be," she managed finally, coughing again. "They're in a closet or something like that. A small office. Room. Not a hallway. Hallways-"

"What?"

The instant of certainty was fleeting but absolute. "Shit. The basement is divided. By a solid wall. Two big rooms. And accessed from this main level by two different stairways, one at each side of the building, in the back."

"What kind of crazy-ass design is that?" Hollis demanded.

"If we get out of this alive, you can ask the architect." The smell of blood was almost overpowering, and Dani's head was beginning to hurt. Badly. She had never before pushed herself for so long without a break, especially with this level of intensity.

Marc appeared out of the smoke as abruptly as the other two had and took her hand in his free one. In his other hand was a big automatic handgun.

Wait. The sheriff's department personnel carry revolvers, don't they?

"Where to now?" he asked. "I can't see shit for all this smoke."

And why is that hugging me when Marc shouldn't even be here?

What the hell is Marc doing here?

Hollis replied to his question. "Dani is guiding us."

He looked down at her, his expression totally professional but his eyes worried and gentle. "I always knew the beautiful assistant was the real magician," he said. "Like the man behind the wizard's curtain. Where to, Dani?"

She felt a wave of dizziness, of almost wild uncertainty. This was wrong, so wrong in so many ways.

This isn't the way it's supposed to happen!

It was Bishop who said, "You don't know which side they're in."

"No. I'm sorry." She felt as if she'd been apologizing to this man since she met him. Hell, she had been.

Hollis was scowling. To Bishop, she said, "Great. That's just great. You're psychically blind, the storm has all my senses scrambled, and we're in a huge burning building without a freakin' map."