Mind of My Mind (19 page)

"Either plan on it or do something about it myself," muttered Rachel. Then she

frowned. "How do you know my name? I didn't tell you."

"Yes you did. This morning, when this whole damn thing started. When it was

supposed to be ending for me." Suddenly, Mary seemed to sag. She looked more than

tired, Doro thought. She looked a little frightened. Doro had made her rest for a few

hours before Rachel's arrival. But how much real rest could she get thinking about what

was in store for her? Thinking about it but not really knowing?

"What are you talking about?" demanded Rachel.

"I finished my transition this morning," said Mary. "And then, as if that wasn't

enough, this other thing, this pattern, just sort of snapped into existence. Suddenly I was

holding six other actives in a way that I didn't understand. Holding them, and calling

them here."

Rachel was watching her, still frowning. "I thought there were others, but this whole

thing was so insane I didn't trust my own senses. Are the others coming here, then?"

"Yes. They're on their way now."

"Do you want us here?"

"No!" Mary's vehemence startled Doro. Had she already decided that being "one of

the owners" was so bad?

"Then, why don't you let us go?" said Rachel.

"I've tried," said Mary. "Karl has tried. My husband. He's been an active for ten years

and he couldn't find a way out. As far as I can see, the only person who might have any

helpful ideas is Doro."

And both women looked at him. Mary's whole attitude had changed. Suddenly she

was edging away from the chance she had all but begged for earlier. And she kept

passing the buck to Doro—kept saying in one way or another, "It's his fault, not mine!"

That was true enough, but it was going to hurt her if she didn't stop emphasizing it.

Rachel had already all but dismissed her as having no real importance. She was an

irritant. No more. And healers were very efficient at getting rid of irritants.

"What kind of call did you receive, Rae?" he asked. "Was it like a verbal command,

or like—"

"It was like getting hit with a club at first," she said. "And the noise . . . mental static

like the worst moments of transition. Maybe I was picking up the last of Mary's

transition. Then I was drawn here. There may have been words. I was only aware of

images that let me see where I was going. Images, and that terrible planted compulsion to

go. So here I am. I had to come. I had no choice at all."

Doro nodded. "And now that you're here, do you think you could leave if you wanted

to?"

"I do want to."

"And you can't?"

"I could, yes. But I wouldn't be very comfortable. At the airport, I realized that I was

only a few miles away from here. I wanted that to be enough. I wanted to get a hotel

room and wait until whoever was calling me got tired and gave up. I went to a hotel and

tried to register. My hand was shaking so much I couldn't write." She shrugged. "I had to

come. Now that I'm here I have to stay—at least until someone figures out a way to make

your little experiment let me go."

"You'll need a room here, then," said Doro. "Mary."

Mary looked at him, then at Rachel. "Upstairs," she laid tonelessly. "Come on."

They were on their way out when Doro spoke again. "Just a moment, Rae." Both

women stopped. "It's possible that in a few days you'll need my help more than Mary

will, but right now she is just out of transition."

Rachel said nothing.

"She'd better not even catch a cold, healer."

"Are you going to warn the others away from her too when they get here?"

"Of course. But since you're here now, and since you've already made your feelings

clear, I didn't think I should wait to speak to you."

She smiled a little in spite of herself. "All right, Doro, I won't hurt her. But get me out

of this, please. I feel like I'm wearing a damned leash."

Doro said nothing to that. He spoke to Mary. "Come back when you've got Rachel

settled. I want to talk to you."

"Okay." She must have read something of what he wanted to say in his tone. She

looked apprehensive. It didn't matter. She was an adult now, and on the verge of being a

success. The first success of her kind. He would push her. She could stand it, and right

now she needed it.

She came back a few minutes later and he motioned her into a chair opposite him.

"Are you shielded?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Can you tell by your pattern whether anyone else is near here—about to arrive?" His

own ability had told him that no one was.

"No one is," she said.

"Good. We won't be interrupted." He looked at her silently for a long moment. "What

happened?"

Her eyes slid away from his. "I don't know. I was just nervous, I guess."

"Of course you were. The trick is not to tell everyone about it."

She looked at him again, frowning, her small, expressive face a mask of concern.

"Doro, I saw them in my mind and they didn't scare me. I didn't feel a thing. I had to keep

reminding myself that they were probably dangerous, that I should be careful. And even

when I was reminding myself, I don't think I really believed it. But now . . . just meeting

one of them . . ."

"You're afraid of Rachel?"

"I sure as hell am."

It was an unusual thing for her to admit. Rachel must have thoroughly shaken her.

"What is it about her that frightens you?"

"I don't know."

"You should know."

She thought for a moment. "It was just a feeling at first—like the feeling I ignored

when I tried to read you this morning. A feeling of danger. A feeling that she could carry

out those threats she kept not quite making." She stopped, looked at Doro. He said

nothing. She went on. "I guess the dangerous thing about her is the one you hinted at just

before we went up. That if she can heal the sick, she can probably make people sick too."

"I didn't say you should guess," said Doro. "I said you should know. You can read her

every thought, every memory, without her being aware of it. Use your ability."

"Yeah." She took a deep breath. "I'm not used to that yet. I guess I'll be doing it

automatically after a while."

"You'd better. And when I'm finished with you here, I want you to read them all.

Including Karl. I want you to learn their weaknesses and their strengths. I want you to

know them better than they know themselves. I don't want you to be uncertain or afraid

with even one more of them."

She looked a little surprised. "Well, I can find out about them, all right. But as for not

being afraid . . . if a person like Rachel wants to kill me, I'm not going to be able to stop

her just because I know her." She paused for a moment. "Now I know—I just found

out—that Rachel can give me a heart attack or a cerebral hemorrhage or any other deadly

thing she wants to. So I know. So what?"

"What else did you find out about Rachel?"

"Junk. Nothing that does me any good. Stuff about her personal life, her work. I see

she's a kind of parasite too. It must run in my family."

"Of course it does. But she's got nothing like your power. And you've seen a thing

you don't realize you've seen, girl."

"What?"

"That you're at least as dangerous to Rachel as she is to you. Since you can read her

through her shield, she won't be able to surprise you—unless you're just careless. And if

you see her coming, you should be able to stop her."

"I don't see how, unless I kill her. But it doesn't matter. I was reading her again as you

spoke. She's not about to come after me, now that you've ordered her not to."

"No, she wouldn't. But I won't always be standing between you and her. I'm giving

you time—not very much time—to learn to handle yourself among these people. You'd

better use it."

She swallowed, nodded.

"Do you understand what Rachel does? Do you see that you are to her, and to the

others, what she is to her congregations?"

"A kind of mental vampire draining strength . . . or something from people. Strength?

Life force? I don't know what to call it."

"It doesn't matter what you call it. She has to take it to do her healing, and healing is

the only purpose she's found for her life. Can you see that what she sets up at each of her

services is a kind of temporary pattern?"

"Yes. But at least she doesn't kill anybody."

"She could, very easily. Ordinary people have no defense against what she does—the

way she feeds. If she took too much from her crowds, she'd begin killing the very old, the

very young, the weak, even the sick that she intended to heal."

"I see."

"See, too, that while you can take from her, she can't take from you."

"Because I can shield her out."

"You don't have to shield her out. Let her in if you like."

"What do you mean?" She looked at him in horror.

"Exactly what you think I mean."

She frowned. "Are you telling me it's all right for me to kill now when, just a few

hours ago, you said—"

"I know what I said. And I still don't want anyone killed. But I'm gambling on you,

Mary. If you survive among these people, I have a chance of winning."