Mind of My Mind (24 page)

I didn't have time to think about reacting. What happened, happened automatically.

And it happened even faster than Jesse had moved.

He was mine. His strength was mine. His body was worthless to me, but the force that

animated it was literally my ambrosia—power, sustenance, life itself.

By the time Jesse realized what was happening and tried to twist away, there was

almost nothing left of him. His strand of the pattern thrashed feebly, uselessly.

I realized that I could leave him that way. I watched him with a kind of detached

interest, and it occurred to me that if I let him go he would grow strong again. He was

terrified now, and weak, but he wasn't getting any weaker on his own. He could live, if I

let him, if I wasn't too greedy. He could live and grow strong and feed me again.

I opened my eyes, wondering when I had shut them. I felt higher than I ever had

before. I held out my hand and looked at it. It was shaking. I was shaking all over, but,

God, I felt good.

Everybody was looking at Jesse slumped in his chair. The surprise they were all

radiating told me that he had just lost consciousness. They were not quite aware yet of

what had happened. Rachel began to realize it first. She began turning toward me—in

slow motion, it seemed—meaning to get her revenge. She thought Jesse was dead. She, a

healer, thought he was dead, but I knew he was alive.

She finished turning. She was going to rupture a good-sized blood vessel in my brain.

I took her.

She didn't hand herself to me the way Jesse had. She fought me briefly. But somehow

her struggles only helped me drain her strength. I was more conscious of what I was

doing with her. I could see how my mental image of her shrank in proportion to the

amount of strength I took. I took less from her than I had from Jesse. I didn't need

anything at all from her—except peace. I wanted her to stop her useless struggling. I

wanted her not to be able to do what she wanted to do to me. That was all. I let her know

it.

Jesse! Her thought was full of bitterness and anger and grief. I tried to soothe her

wordlessly the way I might have handled a frightened child. She struggled harder,

terrified, hysterical, giving me more of her strength by her struggles.

Finally, she stopped, exhausted. Jesse. Grief now. Only grief.

He's alive, I sent.

He's dead! 1 saw him die.

1 tell you he's alive. You took too quick a look. I pressed through her grief so that she

could see that I was giving her truth. He is alive. 1 didn't want his life. 1 don't want yours.

Will you make me take yours anyway?

You aren't going to kill me?

Not unless you make me.

Then, let me go. Let me see Jesse.

I let her go, opened my eyes again. Evidently, closing them was some kind of reflex.

Now the others were looking at Rachel, were turning to look at me. I felt better than ever.

But steadier now. No more shaking. I felt in control. Before, I'd felt ready to take off and

fly across the room. Everybody was staring at me.

"They're both all right," I said. "Weak, I guess. Put them to bed. They'll regain their

strength." Like Rachel's crowds going away to regain their strength. I remembered Jan

suddenly and looked at her.

She stared back, round-eyed.

"How about you?" I said.

"No!" I thought she was going to get up and run out the door again. "No."

I laughed at her. I don't think I would have done that if I hadn't been so high. I might

have had a lot more to say to her, but I wouldn't have laughed.

"What did you do?" asked Karl.

I looked at him, and I could have hugged him for no reason at all. No. There was a

reason. A big one. "I found out something," I said. "I just found out that I don't have to

kill."

"But what did you do to them?"

Abruptly I was annoyed, almost angry at him for wanting details now, when it was all

so new, when I just wanted to sit back and savor what I was feeling. Doro came up

behind me, put his hands on my shoulders, and massaged gently.

"Calm down a little," he said. "I know you feel good, but calm down."

"High," I said. I grinned at him. "I feel high. You know."

"Yes. See if you can rein yourself in enough to tell us what you did."

"You know."

"Tell us anyway."

"Took some of their strength." I leaned back, relaxed against the couch, pulling my

thoughts together. "Only some. I'm not a monster. At least not the kind you made me

think I was." Then, as an afterthought. "I took more from Jesse. I didn't know what I was

doing when he jumped me."

"Seth, check Jesse," Doro ordered.

Apparently Seth did. I didn't pay any attention. "He's still breathing," Seth said after a

moment.

"Rae," Doro said, "how do you feel?" Rachel was conscious then. But she didn't say

anything. Curiosity reached me through my private haze. I looked at her.

She was crying. She wasn't making any noise at all, but her whole body shook. She

made a sound of pain as we all turned to look at her, and hid her face in her hands. She

was shielded to the others. But to me she radiated shame and defeat. Humiliation.

That reached me and cleared the nonsense out of my head. I stood up, half expecting

to find myself staggering. I was steady enough, though. Good.

I went to her and took her arm. I knew she wanted to be away from us. Tears,

especially tears of defeat, were private things. She looked up, saw that it was me, and

tried to pull her arm away.

"Stop acting stupid," I told her. "Get up and come on."

She stared at me. I still had hold of her arm. She started to get up, then realized how

weak she was. She was glad enough to lean on me then.

She swallowed, whispered, "What about Jesse?"

What in the name of heaven did she see in him? "The others will see that he gets

upstairs," I said. I glanced back at Doro. "She'll be okay."

He nodded, went over and draped Jesse's big body over one shoulder, then followed

Rachel and me upstairs.

Chapter Eight

MARY

The meeting just dissolved. Nobody made me any promises. Nobody bowed or

scraped. Nobody even looked scared—or felt scared. I checked. Once they got over their

surprise, they were even reassured. They could see that Jesse and Rachel were going to

be all right. They could see that all I wanted from them was a little co-operation. And

now they knew they would be better off if they co-operated. The atmosphere of the house

was more relaxed than it had been since the day of my transition.

Seth Dana came up and grinned at me. "Don't you get the feeling you should have

done this two weeks ago?"

I smiled back and shook my head. "I don't think so. Two weeks ago, I would have had

to kill somebody."

He frowned. "I don't see why."

"Everything was too new. You were all on short fuses. You and Ada hadn't gotten

together and mellowed each other, so one or both of you would have been against me. If

you had, Karl probably would have, too. He was about ready to strangle me anyway,

then." I shrugged. "This is better. People have had time to cool off."

He gave me an odd look. "What do you think might have happened if you'd waited a

little longer than two weeks, then, let Jesse and Rachel do some mellowing?"

"Jesse and Rachel weren't mellowing. They were feeding on each other's hatred,

building each other up to jump me."

"You know," he said, "I got the impression at first that you just threw this meeting

together on the spur of the moment."

"I did."

"Yeah. After two weeks of watching everybody and making sure your timing was as

right as you could make it."

Clay Dana came over to where Seth and I were talking. Close up, he looked sort of

gray and sick. I thought he must have just had a bad bout of mental interference.

"Congratulations," he said to me. "Now that we all know the new pecking order, do either

of you have any aspirins?"

Seth looked at him with concern. "Another headache?"

"Another, hell. It's the same one I've had for three days."

"From mental interference?" I asked.

"What else?"

"I thought you weren't getting as much of that now as you used to."

"I wasn't," he said. "It stopped altogether for a few days. That never happened in the

middle of a city before. Then, three days ago, it started to come back worse than ever."

That bothered me. I hadn't paid much attention to Clay since he arrived, but I knew

that anything new and different that went wrong with him, with his out-of-control mental

ability, would eventually get blamed on me, on my pattern.

Seth spoke up as though on cue. "Look, Mary, I've been meaning to ask you if you

could figure out what was happening to Clay. He's been in really bad shape, and it just

about has to have something to do with the pattern."

"First the aspirins," said Clay. "Find out what you want after—Hey!"

That "Hey!" was almost a shout. I had gotten rid of his headache for him fast—like

switching off a light.

"Okay?" I asked, knowing it was.

"Sure." He looked at me as though he suddenly wanted to get away from me.

I stayed with him mentally for a few moments longer, trying to find out just what was

wrong with him. I didn't really know what to look for. I just assumed that it had

something to do with the pattern. I took a quick look through his memories, thinking that

that uncontrolled ability of his might have tuned in on the pattern somehow. But it hadn't

in any way that I could see.

I scanned all the way back to the day he and Seth had arrived at the house. It was

quick work but frustrating. I couldn't find a damned thing. Nothing. I switched my

attention to the pattern. I had no idea at all of what to look for there and I was getting

mad. I checked the pattern strand that stretched from Seth to me. Seth was in mental

contact with Clay sometimes to protect him. Maybe, without realizing it, he had done

something more than protect.

He hadn't.

I had nowhere else to go. There was something especially galling about suffering a

defeat now, just minutes after I had won my biggest victory. But what could I do?

I shifted my attention back to Clay. There was a glimmer of something just as I

shifted—like the glimmer of a fine spider web that catches the light just for a second and

then seems to vanish again. I froze. I shifted back to the pattern, bringing it into focus

very slowly. At first there was nothing. Then, just before I would have had a strong, clear

focus on the pattern strands of my six actives, there was that glimmer again. I managed to

keep it, this time, by not trying to sharpen my focus on it. Like looking at something out

of the corner of your eye.

It was a pattern strand. A slender, fragile-seeming thread, like a shadow of one of the

comparatively substantial strands of my actives. But it was a pattern strand. Somehow,

Clay had become a member of the pattern. How?

I could think of only one answer. The pattern was made up of actives. Just actives, no

latents until now. No latents period. Clay was on his way to transition.

The moment the thought hit me, I knew it was right. After a ten-year delay, Clay was

going to make it. I tried to tell myself that I wasn't sure. After all, I had never seen

anyone who was about to go into transition before. But I couldn't even make myself

doubt. Clay was going to come through. He would belong to me, like the others. I knew

it.

I brought my attention back to Seth and Clay, who stood waiting.

"That took long enough," said Seth. "What did you find out?"

"That your brother's not a latent any more," I said. "That he's headed toward

transition."

There was a moment of complete silence. Then came quick, bitter disappointment

radiating from both men. They didn't believe me.

Seth spoke quietly. "Mary, Doro himself gave up on Clay years ago, said he wouldn't

ever reach transition."