Mind Over Mind (26 page)

CHAPTER 30

Two hours later, Joshua pulled back into the parking lot of the hospital, singing to the radio. He waited until the end of the song before turning off the engine. He’d had a great afternoon—and all he’d done was grade Sachiko’s practice tests and get a chaste, preoccupied kiss when he left.

I’ve got it so bad
, he told his reflection in the side mirror. His reflection smiled back in agreement.

He hummed on his way down the hall, but his happy thoughts died away when he entered Ydrel’s room and saw the grim faces within.

Ydrel was sulking, his face a mixture of anger and depression he’d seen only once before, at his birthday party. Edith sat in one of the hospital chairs, looking from Ydrel to her hands, her mouth turned down in a frown and her eyebrows furrowed. Malachai, meanwhile, lounged against one wall, his face stern and impassive. His gaze never left the boy on the bed.

Joshua cleared his throat, and all eyes turned to him. “What’s up?”

Ydrel drew himself up to speak, looked at Malachai, and deflated back into his sulk. Edith and Malachai glanced at each other. He raised his brows in that permission-giving way of his.

She spoke. “Joshua, would you come with me for a moment?”

They found an empty room. Edith regarded him with a look of anger and disappointment that made him feel guilty without knowing why. She gazed at him for what seemed ages while he fought the urge to squirm. “I understand Ydrel had a visitor today?”

“Well, yeah, he had several. His aunt and uncle. Sachiko Luchese, though he was asleep when she dropped by—oh, you mean Clarissa?” The narrowing in her eyes told him exactly what she meant, but he pushed ahead anyway. “Neat kid. She was here for a couple of hours in the morning. The three of us played UNO, but she and Ydrel did most of the talking. I wish you had been there to see how well he—“

“And where did you get the idea that Ydrel was allowed to fraternize with unauthorized visitors?”

“One of the nurses brought her by. I thought—“

“The nurses have been reminded of the potential danger of Ydrel’s fragile mental state. You, however, should have known better. You were told to keep Ydrel company and to keep an eye on him, not to start a party in his room.”

Anger took over Joshua’s mouth. “The nurse brought Clarissa. It wasn’t my idea. But to be frank, I thought it was a good one. ‘Bout time someone started treating Ydrel as a regular kid. I thought that’s what you wanted, too. I know that’s what his uncle wants!”

“And just how would you know that?” Edith demanded. Ten minutes later, his ears ringing with the warning that she would personally drive him back to Colorado if he admitted another unauthorized visitor or consulted with a patient’s family behind her back, Joshua accompanied Edith back to Ydrel’s room. As soon as they entered, Ydrel pinned the psychiatrist with such a look of betrayal that Joshua felt her freeze. Malachai was watching intently.

Jerk. How much of my getting chewed out is thanks to you? If you think I’m going to let you see me upset, you have another think coming.

“Sorry, dude,” Joshua shrugged. “Looks like we’re going to have to cancel the party.”

Ydrel blinked, then smirked. “That su—stinks. I was looking forward to a beer.”

The tension was broken. Edith slipped easily past Joshua and gathered her purse and briefcase. With some quick admonitions to get well, which Ydrel didn’t bother to acknowledge, she and Malachai left. Malachai pointedly shut the door behind them. Ydrel glared at it with almost tangible hatred. “Bastard.”

Joshua felt an uncomfortable stirring in the air, one recently familiar. “Uh, don’t set fire to anything, OK?”

Again, Ydrel blinked and looked away. “Wouldn’t give him the satisfaction,” he muttered. “You OK?”

“I’ll live. You?”

Ydrel continued to glare at the door. “Didn’t I tell you? Malachai’s going to do his best to keep everyone convinced that I can’t function in the outside world. And for all that she brought you into my life, I don’t think Edith believes I can, either.”

“Edith’s scared for you,” Josh replied, but he couldn’t deny what Ydrel said, either.

Ydrel leaned back against the pillows and lowered his bed. He hissed through his teeth as he squirmed to get more comfortable.

“When’s the last time you had a pain killer?” Josh asked.

“This morning. I was waiting until my aunt and uncle left to ask for another, then Malachai came, then Clarissa dropped by to talk and…Well, might as well get used to not talking to anyone but nurses and interns.” He pressed the call button by his bed.

“You’re not Catholic, are you?”

For once, Joshua caught him off guard. Ydrel’s eyebrows furrowed. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“I met the hospital priest. Neat guy. So, if you were interested, I could see if he can visit and perform the Anointing of the Sick for you. It’s his job, after all. Or I can see if there’s a Christian chaplain who does hospital visits. I mean, it’s no replacement for a beautiful girl…Oh, don’t look at me like that. I’m in love; I’m not blind!”

“You’re pretty religious, aren’t you?” Ydrel asked abruptly.

“God and my faith have gotten me through a lot.”

“I’m not sure I can believe in God anymore.” Ydrel spoke quietly, his face turned away from the intern. “Too many people talk about ‘God’s will’ and how God gives them the right to hurt other people. Taking their land. Killing.”

“That’s not God. That’s human nature. Religion is a useful scapegoat for people who want power or don’t want to get along with their neighbor. God gave us some pretty simple rules: don’t kill, don’t steal, don’t covet. Jesus said just love God and your neighbor.” Then he smiled, thinking of his reaction to Malachai just an hour earlier. “The hardest kind of simplicity.”

“Should you ever kill? What about self defense? What about Hitler?”

“Guess it depends: are you a martyr, or a suicide? That’s a sin, too. Hitler…Hitler should have been laughed into anonymity. Once he became so powerful, though, I don’t know. I can’t think of any other way to have stopped him for certain. And there is such a thing a just war, you know.” He wanted to ask why the sudden and intense concern, but couldn’t figure out a way to ask without sounding psychiatric. He waited, hoping Ydrel would open up, but instead, the young man asked, “Does this Anointing of the Sick stuff work for non-Catholics?”

“God is there for everyone, regardless of their specific beliefs.”

“Do you think the priest might stick around afterward and talk to me? He’s staff, after all, right? OK, then—as long as it doesn’t get you fired or anything.”

_*

Ydrel opened his eyes in the dark room and glanced at the red numbers of the digital clock. 1:05. He picked up the phone before it could ring.

“Is the coast clear?” Clarissa asked.

“She’s talking to her boyfriend,” he told her. “We’ve got about an hour before she decides she’d better walk around, and everybody else feels pretty peaceful.”

“I’ll be right there!”

Ydrel brought the bed fully upright, then used a little telekinesis to bring the hairbrush from the table to his hand. He wasn’t quite sure why he was concerned with his appearance, except that Clarissa was the first normal non-psychiatric person he’d talked to in years and he wanted to keep a good impression.
Of course, if I’d wanted to do that, I probably should have let the phone ring at least once before answering it.

Clarissa entered the room, and the thought was lost. As soon as the door was shut, she pulled off her robe. Underneath, she wore jeans and a T-shirt, and no back brace. She walked with athletic grace and plopped on the bed beside Ydrel and sat facing him.

“So the back’s OK?”

“A little twingy, but I’ve got an appointment with the chiropractor. Better than the brace. But never mind my back. How did you know to pick up the phone when you did?”

She was smiling at him, her eyes so curious. Her mind so open.

He shrugged. It wasn’t like he’d thought up a convincing lie, anyway. “I’m psychic. Truly. That’s why I was committed.”

She raised her brows, impressed. She believed him!

“Psychic? That is way cool!”

“No,” he replied in the same tone of voice, “that totally sucks.” But for once, he smiled as he said it. She believed him!

“Come on! You can read minds!”

“And I always know what people think of me.”

“What about empathy? If you can actually experience what other people feel—”

“Then I get overwhelmed in a crowd. Or, if the person is a strong projector, I lose track of what emotions are actually mine.”

“Fine, then. Telekinesis!” she challenged.

“You don’t want to see what I did to my room in my delirium. I don’t know how I managed not to hurt anyone.”

She leaned back. “OK. You win. Sucks to be you.”

For some reason, that made him laugh, and a lock of hair fell into his face.

She reached out to brush it back gently. “Anyone ever tell you, you have gorgeous hair?”

“No. Usually I get asked why I keep it so long.” Other than the priest, who had held his hand briefly before he left, and Joshua, who occasionally laid a hand on his shoulder, no one touched him for non-medical reasons. He hoped she wouldn’t stop.

She didn’t. Instead, she toyed with it in a very pleasant way. “Tell ’em girls dig it.”

“Oh, I don’t even want to open that can of worms.”

She pulled back her hand. “Oh! Are you…?”

“No,” he groaned. “I mean, I don’t know. I— My abilities hit me just as I hit puberty. In an all-boys boarding school. Then in various mental hospitals. I’ve experienced plenty of other people’s feelings, but I’ve never had a chance to explore my own. I told you it sucks to be psychic.”

She returned to caressing his hair, slower, more deliberate moves that felt nice in a different way. He liked that, too. “But you have a handle on that now? You can block others out?”

“Yes…”

She kissed him.

Her kiss was gentle and it sent warm shivers along his spine that he enjoyed very much—until he remembered when he’d had those feelings before. He pushed her away. “Don’t.”

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s just—” He couldn’t tell her about the Master, how the only time he’d ever felt like this was when he’d been made to after he’d killed something. “I—What’s the point? I mean, you get to go home tomorrow, and you’ll see your friends at the gym and tell them about this great adventure and how you kissed this crazy psychic guy. And me, I have to go back to—” He stopped, seeing her eyes water with tears. He felt ready to cry, himself.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to be that way. I just thought—I’d better go.” She turned.

Ydrel caught her hand in a sudden firm grip. When she turned to protest, he clamped a hand over her mouth and jerked his head toward the door.

They listened to the footsteps stop just before his threshold.

“Don’t wanna go back,” Ydrel whined in a sleepy little-boy voice, as he moved his legs to make it sound like he was tossing and turning. “I don’t.” Then he gave a snorting kind of snore and sighed. Under his hand, he could feel Clarissa trying hard not to laugh.

He thought hard toward the listening nurse:
Poor baby. Best to let him sleep as well as he can.

A moment later, he heard the footsteps continue on. They waited. Gently, Ydrel removed his hand from her mouth and twined it into her hair. “She’s back at her station. Clever idea with the pillows, by the way; she thought you were still in bed. Clarissa, I’m sorry. I know that’s not how you meant this, and it’s really important to me that we part as friends. Besides,” and now he smiled and gently caressed her hair, “who knows when I’ll get the chance to kiss a beautiful girl again. You really are beautiful.”

And he pulled her toward him.

After a few minutes, the warmth and tingling overcame the fear and he reached up with his other hand to stroke the back of her neck. When her tongue snaked along the inside of his mouth, the feelings made him gasp.

Then he felt a familiar, urgent scritching in the back of his mind. The Miscria. With a sigh, he pulled away, but just enough that they were still touching forehead-to-forehead and nose-to-nose.

“Made up your mind?”

“Yeah.” Again that persistent scritching. Urgent. Almost desperate. He sighed ruefully. “Sucks to be me.”

“Get well and get out.” She gave him one last kiss and tossed the robe back on, checking the hall carefully before scuttling back to her room. He stared at the door for a long time, not sure whether to laugh or to cry. Finally, he gave himself to the Miscria’s call before he really did dissolve into tears.

_*

“Where have you been?” The strength of Tasmae’s projected anger rubbed against his raw emotions like sandpaper on a sunburn. He snapped back with projected anger of his own.

“I was sick. I’ve been in the hospital! I almost
died
! For pity’s sake, it’s only been a couple of days. Give me a break—“

“Days?! Six weeks!” Confusion mixed with anger, echoed and enhanced by his own.

“Weeks? But, how—”

“Almost—died?”

Suddenly, a maelstrom of images and emotions accosted Ydrel’s mind: Anger. Fear. Confusion. Responsibility so heavy it pulled him down.

His knees buckled. “Tasmae, stop.”

I am the Miscria. An older woman smiles down on her. “Tonight you shall be ordained; then we will complete your training. You have the strongest talent yet, but there is much I must teach you.” Her teacher at banquet, raising her cup, falling back, an arrow through her chest.

He felt a wave of grief so fierce it made him retch.

“Tasmae, please stop!”

I am the Miscria. Half trained, half brilliant. The Ydrel confuses. The Ydrel refuses. Others begin to doubt her ability to lead. She begins to doubt herself. People, friends, fighting and dying because she cannot lead. Because she has failed.

Thick waves of worry obscured his vision.

“Tasmae!”

I AM THE MISCRIA! The Ydrel says wait. The Ydrel says no. The Ydrel does not come. I call and he does not come. I am forsaken. We are forsaken. The world pulls itself apart; invaders, demons, fall from the sky. NO!