Chapter 72

Dana closedthe door to Claire's bedroom and walked aimlessly to her living room, sinking down on the couch.

"How is she?" Jake asked, walking into the room.

"The same," Dana replied.

Claire had gone catatonic the moment she lay down. Dana watched it happen. She'd helped the girl into her bed and watched the startling emptiness consume her eyes.

It was like flipping a light switch. One second Claire was there, the next she blinked out into oblivion.

That was three hours ago, and still there was no change. Dana checked on Claire every twenty minutes, feeling more and more helpless. She didn't know what to do. Calling Dr. Dvita was the obvious move, but she didn't trust the man. Her gut told her he was somehow wrapped up in all of this. She just didn't know how yet.

"I think you might be right," Jake admitted, taking a seat next to her. "This is more than PTSD."

Dana looked up, forgetting how drained she was the moment she heard the tone of Jake's voice. He knew something. Facing him, she asked, "What were you two talking about on the porch?"

Jake reached for his cell phone and opened an app. With a few clicks, the screen filled with images of her home. "I had cameras installed along with the security system. I didn't want to take any chances after the break in."

Dana looked at him, not at all surprised he'd gone to such lengths. Jake idled at overprotectiveness on a good day. After the past few days they'd had, she was amazed he hadn't started passing out ankle monitors. "I can see that," she replied, brushing past the privacy violation. "Why is it relevant to your conversation with Claire?"

Jake tapped a few more commands into the phone, pulled up a camera view of the back of her house and rewound the feed, pausing the image. "This is Claire's window." He pointed to the time stamp. "This is when she told us she snuck out for air."

He pressed play and Dana watched the video. The image never changed. Then, suddenly, there she was—Claire—darting across the backyard and out of view. Dana looked back at the closed window. It never opened. "She didn't go out the window?"

"No."

"Then how did she get out?"

"I don't know yet. But the bigger problem is where she went."

"Tell me," Dana said, knowing Jake had already figured it out from his tone.

He switched apps and pulled up a feed of text messages, handing Dana the phone so she could see for herself. She read the conversation that was obviously from the spyware on Claire's phone. The text thread was between Claire and Betty, and it had been going on since Jake gave Claire the phone.

Dana looked up when she'd finished reading through the messages. "She went looking for Max?"

Jake nodded. "And I think she found him."

"Why didn't you tell me about these messages earlier?"

"I wanted to see where they led."

"Sometimes it's better to prevent the problem, rather than solve it," she suggested.

"Sometimes, but in this case I was right. We needed to know if we could trust her, what she's hiding. Now we have the answer to both. The end justifies the means."

"Jake, we're supposed to be a team and you're still going off and doing stuff like this without telling me. You can't keep apologizing, then asking for forgiveness."

"I don't apologize, you know that. And I won't do it here. It got Claire to tell me more about her and Max. I ran a basic background check on him. I'll send you the info so you can share it with Hartwell. He can use facial recognition software to help find him."

Dana exhaled. She was too exhausted to go down this road again. She needed to reconcile that maybe she and Jake would never fully trust each other enough to get on the same page, but now wasn't the time. What little focus she had left needed to be dedicated to figuring out what was really going on with Claire before she ended up in the Reaper's sights.

"There's something I need to show you, too." Dana led Jake into her office and pulled up the last page she'd been researching on her laptop before Hartwell's phone call interrupted her.

"So far, we know the Reaper is targeting patients from Passages. And I think I found the connection." Dana pointed to the webpage she had open. It was an ancient Islamic legend of the Seven Sleepers and she quickly walked Jake through the crux of it.

"Seven young men in danger of religious persecution sealed themselves inside a cave. They were each given a blade to take their own life rather than renounce their faith. They fell into a deep slumber and miraculously woke centuries later. The tale grew in popularity and can be found throughout history in Greek, Syriac, Arabic, Persian and Latin, as evidence of resurrection.

"Since then, the names of the Seven Sleepers have been synonymous with immortality. They've been inscribed on all matters of talismans—amulets and seals, but most commonly, blades.

"In many occult practices, blades inscribed with the names of the Seven Sleepers were used for sacrificial rituals believed to bless the victim with immortality and ensure their resurrection."

"Okay," Jake drawled, rubbing his jaw. "And this ties into the D.C. Reaper case, how?"

"Here." Dana opened a second tab in her browser. "This is an illuminated manuscript depicting the origin of the Grim Reaper according to Christianity. It listed the names of the priests ordained with the order of messorem animarum, which translates to Reaper of Souls."

Jake's brow furrowed when he tore his gaze from the screen to meet Dana's. "You're saying these priests were given a license to kill?"

"These are the first known Grim Reapers in history." Dana had trouble keeping the excitement out of her voice. Though in her realm of study, this wasn't a field she'd ever delved into before. But if she was right, this discovery not only held historical value, but it might also be the key to unlocking the most current nightmare plaguing D.C.

"Look at the names," Dana said, using her cursor to highlight each one.

Martinian.

Dionisius.

John.

Constantine.

Malchus.

Serapion.

Maximian.

Jake's attention snagged the last name. "Max is the only name on that list."

"It's not the names of our victims." Dana split her screen to show both browsers. "The names of the first Grim Reapers, match the names of the Seven Sleepers."

Jake blinked, confusion and disbelief creasing his brow. "What are you saying?"

"Christians believed the myth of the Seven Sleepers was a mockery of their religion. One they refused to let grow. Believing time was meant to devour all things, they sent Reapers, their ordained agents of death, after them. They believed only the death of all Seven Sleepers could rid the world of sin and restore their beliefs. Each took on the name of one of the Seven Sleepers and hunted them down to cleanse the world of their unholy sins."

"So, some old priests went on a witch hunt to kill people with these unfortunate names to prove their religion was better?" Jake asked.

"That's one way of putting it," she replied. "But look at this." Dana opened another tab. "The priests carved phrases into their blades so that, as Reapers, they wouldn't have to see their own reflection in their blades when they killed."

"Let me guess. ‘Life is death is life' was the phrase of choice?"

"Yes!" Dana exclaimed, elated that Jake was getting it. "I think this means there's going to be seven reapings."

He frowned. "Three murders already, that means four more patients are going to be targeted."

"Yes. But what I can't figure out is how we make sure Claire isn't one of them."

"I think we start by finding this Max person," Jake suggested.

Dana shook her head. "I think Dr. Dvita is the key. It was his DID research that led me to the Seven Sleepers."

She quickly ran through how the psychologist's lengthy research into a dissociative identity disorder known as Folie à deux—an uncommon psychiatric phenomenon where delusional ideas or behaviors are transferred from one to another or many others through hypnosis—brought Dana to the revelation of Seven Sleepers and the Grim Reapers.

Jake scratched his head. "I don't follow."

"The most famous case of Folie à deux involved a married couple who suffered a shared delusion derived from the Anatolian legend of the Seven Sleepers. The case resulted in the husband murdering his wife under the deluded pretense that she would be resurrected."

Dana paused to pull up another article. This one was a publication singing Dr. Dvita's praises for his research pertaining to Folie à deux. "He's spent a lifetime researching the cultural and religious implications of this disorder. He believed it could be controlled and even cured through hypnosis. Jake, what if he's taken it too far?"

He rubbed his face. "And what, subliminally brainwashed one of his patients into thinking they're a Grim Reaper so they can wreak havoc on the city?"

"We saw him hypnotize Claire and bring forth some other identity."

"Yeah, but what you're suggesting is a leap."

Dana crossed her arms. "Fine, let's hear your theory then?"

"I think Claire's wrapped up in feelings for this Max kid. He's bad news, but she can't see it. You should've heard her, Dana. She thinks she's in love with him and has made him out to be some sort of saint. She's hell bent on protecting him. And this," he pointed to Claire's closed bedroom door. "This is her coping mechanism. We can't keep letting her retreat and shut the world out."

"And we can't keep ignoring the signs of her Dissociative Identity diagnosis. Jake, I don't want this to be true either, but it all fits. And Dr. Dvita is behind it. I know it."

"Even if you're correct, right now all you have is a wobbly theory."

"I know, but it could be enough to get me the warrant I need to access Dvita's files."

Jake started to object, but Dana's phone interrupted. They both stared at the screen. Jake's expression told her they were sharing the same worry. Was there another body already?

The caller ID read unknown. "Put it on speaker," Jake instructed.

Dana complied, quickly answering. "This is Dr. Gray."

Agent Spector's voice filled the room. "You got what you wanted. We're handing this case back."

"What does that mean for Meredith?" Dana asked.

"We no longer need to speak to Miss Kincaid."

"Then I guess we're done here," Dana said, curtly.

"Almost."