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I grunted and mumbled something under my breath, ducked my head under the seemingly scalding water for a few seconds, and then said, "Did you pick up on what happened last night?"
"Indeed," the fallen angel replied.
"What was your read, then?"
There was a moment of thoughtful silence, and then Lasciel responded, "That Karrin feels a certain distance between the pair of you is a professional necessity, but that she is considering that time and circumstance might someday render it irrelevant."
I sighed. "No," I said. "Not that. Stars and stones, I don't want dating advice from a freaking helltart. I meant the things that attacked people at the convention."
"Ah," Lasciel said, with no trace of offense in her tone. "It was obviously the attack of a spiritual predator."
Takes one to know one, I thought. I rolled a stiff shoulder under the hot water. "If that's true, then the attacks weren't about violence," I said thoughtfully. "Which explains what I saw in that bathroom, where the old man had been attacked. Whatever did it was intent on causing fear. Causing pain. Then devouring the... what? The psychic energy it generated in the victims?"
"That is a somewhat simplistic description," she said, "but one that is as close as I expect a mortal can come to understanding."
"What, you're a mortality bigot now?"
"Now and always," she replied. "I mean no insult by it, but you should know that your ability to comprehend your environment is very strongly defined by your belief in a number of illusions. Time. Truth. Love. That kind of thing. It isn't your fault, of course-but it does impose limits upon your ability to perceive and understand some matters."
"I'm only human," I said. "So enlighten me."
"To do so, you would have to release your hold on mortality."
I blinked and said, "I'd have to die?"
She sighed. "Again, you have only a partial understanding. But in the interest of expediency, yes. You would have to cease living."
"Then don't bother enlightening me," I said. "I have plenty of would-be teachers already." I rinsed and repeated my shampoo and made myself smell like Irish Spring. "The survivors of the attacks, then. They're going to have taken a spiritual mauling."
"If the theory is correct," Lasciel's voice responded. "If they are indeed wounded in spirit, it would seem conclusive."
I shuddered. That kind of damage showed itself in a number of ways, and none of them were pretty. I'd seen men driven to agonies of madness by spiritual attacks. Murphy had been subjected to such an assault and spent years learning to cope with the night terrors it had spawned, until the spiritual and psychological wounds had finally healed. I'd seen some who had been subjected to a psychic sandblasting by vampires of the Black Court who had become nearly mindless bodies, obeying orders, and others of the same ilk who had turned into psychotic killing machines in service to their masters.
The worst part of it all was that almost the only way for me to see something like that was to open my Sight. Which meant that every horribly mangled psyche I'd come across remained fresh and bright in my memory. Always.
The top shelf of my mental trophy case was getting crowded with hideous keepsakes.
The not-truly-hot water coursed over me, a small but suddenly significant comfort. "Go away," I told Lasciel. Then I added, "Leave me the hot water. Just this once."
"As you wish," the fallen angel's voice replied, polite satisfaction in her tone. The sense of her presence vanished entirely.


Proven Guilty Chapter 15, Page 103-105