The problem with using the abyss trick was that while it was visually impressive, it did not effectively blind anyone beyond a radius of about twenty to thirty feet. Human-generated paranormal energy had its limits.
But at least two of the Puppets were close enough to be hit with the lightning shock produced by the paranormal forces involved. North studied the footsteps that seethed on the concrete floor of the garage. They glowed with a twisted energy that indicated a deeply disturbed aura. He followed them, careful to keep his grip on Sierra’s hand. He knew from the way she moved that she could see their surroundings almost as clearly as he did.
The footsteps led to the orderly who had confronted them with a gun the night they had taken the crystal tuner from the locked ward. He was cowering between two cars, sobbing in panic. When North touched him he flinched violently and screamed.
“I can take care of him,” Sierra said.
She palmed her locket. Energy sparked. The Puppet crumpled, unconscious, to the cold floor.
The next set of footsteps radiated equally erratic currents. They led to a second man, who was clearly in the grip of a panic attack. Sierra did her thing with the locket. He collapsed.
“Two down,” North said. “That leaves us with Ralph and Joe.”
He turned, searching for more footprints. A car engine roared. Tires screeched.
“They’re getting away,” Sierra said.
North lowered his senses. The abyss evaporated. The dazzling light of the glass bomb had dissipated. In its place was the cold, dull glow of the garage fixtures.
One of the two vehicles the Puppets had used was rapidly speeding down the ramp toward the exit.
“Gone,” Sierra said. “What do we do now?”
North took out his phone. “Now we call Olivia LeClair and ask her to arrange for a local Foundation team to pick up the two Puppets we took down. With luck they will be able to give the cleaners a lead on Loring and the others.”
“And we head for Vegas.”
“Right. Forget packing a bag. We can’t waste any more time. We’re going straight to the airport.”