Mind of My Mind (34 page)

partial amnesia. She had already proved that. Nothing would do for her but the truth. But

that truth was not entirely disillusioning.

"The Dietrichs deserve the love and respect you feel for them, Page, because you're

right about them. They are good people. They love children naturally. All we did was

focus that love on you, on the others. In your case we didn't even have to focus it much. I

didn't think we would. That's why I chose them for you—and you for them"

Finally Page looked up. "You did? You?"

"Yes."

She thought about that, then leaned her head to one side, against Ada's arm. "Then I

guess it's only right that you be the one to take me away from them."

Ada said nothing.

Page lifted her head, met Ada's eyes. "You are going to take me away, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"I don't want to go."

"I know. But it's time."

Page nodded, lowered her head again to rest it against Ada's arm.

Chapter Ten

MARY

A few months into our first year, the original group of actives broke up. Rachel and

Jesse moved out first—moved down the street to a house almost as big as ours. Then Jan

moved alone. I had had a talk with her about using her psychometry as a kind of

educational tool, or even as an art. At the same time, I told her to keep her hands off Karl.

I didn't have that good a grip on him myself at the time, but I had already decided that,

whether I got him or not, she wasn't going to. She left the next day.

Our new Patternists had been leaving us right along, taking over nearby houses, with

Jesse preparing the way for them with the mutes who already lived there. They all had to

learn to handle mutes—learn not to smash them and not to make robots of them. That

was something Jesse had been able to do easily since his transition.

Seth and Ada moved to a house around the corner and across the street from us.

Suddenly Karl and I were the only Patternists in Larkin House. We weren't back where

we'd started or anything. Doro had finally left us, and we had a pair of latents with us.

Everybody except Jan and Rachel was seconding somebody then. New Patternists too, as

soon as they could be trusted to handle it. But Karl and I were more alone together than

we had ever been before. Even Vivian didn't matter much any more. She should have left

Karl when he gave her the chance. Now she was a placid, bovine little pet. Karl

controlled her without even thinking about it.

I was a predator and, frankly, not a very good one. But that was all right, because

Karl wasn't as sure as he had once been that he minded being the prey. He was a little

wary, a little amused. He had never really hated me, though. Hell, he and I would have

gotten along fine together from back when he first climbed into my bed if it hadn't been

for the Pattern and what the Pattern represented. It represented power. Power that I had

and that he would never have.

And while that wasn't something I threw at him, ever, it wasn't something I denied

either.

The Pattern was growing because I searched out latents, had them brought in, and

gave them their push toward transition. It was growing because of me. And nobody was

better equipped to run it than I was. I hoped Karl could accept that and be comfortable

enough with it to accept me. If he couldn't . . . well, I wanted him, but I wanted the thing I

was building too. If I couldn't have both, Karl could go his way. I'd move out like the

others and let him have his house back. Maybe he knew that.

"You know," he said one night, "for a while I thought you'd leave, like the others.

There isn't really anything holding you here." We were in the study listening to the rain

outside and not looking at a variety show on the television. Neither of us liked television.

I don't know why we had bothered to turn it on that night.

"I didn't want to go," I said. "And since you weren't absolutely sure you wanted me

to, I thought I'd hang around at least a while longer."

"I thought you might be afraid to leave—afraid that when Doro found out, he'd just

order us back together."

"He might. But I doubt it. He's already gotten more than he bargained for from us."

"From you."

I shrugged.

"Why did you stay?"

"You know why. I wanted to be with you."

"The husband he chose for you."

"Yeah." I turned to face him. "Stupid me, falling in love with my own husband."

He didn't look away from me, didn't even change expression.

After a moment I grinned at him. "Not so stupid. We're a match."

He smiled thinly, almost grimly. "You're changing. I've been watching you change,

wondering how far you would go."

"Changing how?"

"Growing up perhaps. I can remember when it was easier to intimidate you."

"Oh." I glanced at the television for a moment, listened as some woman tortured a

song. "I'm a lot easier to get along with when I don't feel intimidated."

"So am I."

"Yeah." I listened to a few more bars of the woman's screaming, then shook my head.

"You aren't paying any attention to this noise, are you?"

"No."

I got up and turned off the television. Now there was only the soft, rustling sound of

the rain outside. "So, what are we going to do?" I asked him.

"We don't really have to do anything," he said. "Just let things progress as they have

been."

I stared at him in silent frustration. That "silent" part was an effort. He laughed and

moved over next to me.

"You don't read me very much any more, do you?"

"I don't want to read you all the time," I said. "Talk to me."

He winced and drew back, muttering something I didn't quite catch.

"What?" I asked.

"I said how generous of you."

I frowned. "Generous, hell. You can say whatever you've got to say to me."

"I suppose so. After all, if you read me all the time, I'll begin to bore you very

quickly."

So that was it! He was afraid he was going to get paid for some of the things he'd

done to his women. He was afraid I was going to try to make a male Vivian of him. Not

likely. "Keep that up," I said, "and I won't have to read you to be bored. You're not

pitiful, Karl, so, coming from you, self-pity is kind of disgusting."

I thought he would hit me. I'm sure he thought about it. After a moment, though, he

just sort of froze over. He stood up. "Find yourself a place tomorrow and get out of here."

"Better," I said. "There's nothing boring about you when you get mad."

He started to walk away from me in disgust. I got up quickly and caught him by the

hand. He could have pulled away easily, but he didn't. I took that to be significant and

moved closer to him.

"You ought to trust me," I said. "By now you ought to trust me."

"I'm not sure trust is an issue here."

"It is." I reached up and touched his face. "A very basic issue. You know it."

He began to look harassed, as though I was really getting on his nerves. Or maybe as

though I was really getting to him in another way. I slipped my arms around him

hopefully. It had been a long time. Too long.

"Come on, Karl, humor me. What's it going to cost you?" Plenty. And he knew it.

We stood together for a long moment, my head against his chest.

Finally he sighed and steered us back to the sofa. We lay down together, just

touching, holding each other.

"Will you unshield?" he asked.

I was surprised but I didn't mind. I unshielded. And he lowered his shield so that there

were no mental barriers between us. We seemed to flow together—frighteningly at first. I

felt as though I were losing myself, combining so thoroughly with him that I wouldn't be

able to free myself again. If he hadn't been so calm, I would have tried to reshield after

the first couple of seconds. But I could see that he wasn't afraid, that he wanted me to

stay as I was, that nothing irreversible was happening. I realized that he had done this

with Jan. I could see the experience in his memory. It was something like the blending

that he did naturally with the shieldless, mute women he had had. Jan hadn't liked it. She

didn't much like any kind of direct mind-to-mind contact. But she had been so lonely

among us, and so without purpose, that she had endured this mental blending just to keep

Karl interested in her. But the blending wasn't an act that one person could enjoy while

the other grimly endured.

I closed my eyes and explored the thing that Karl and I had become. A unit. I was

aware of the sensations of his body and my own. I could feel my own desire for him

exciting him and his excitement circling back to me.

We lost control. The spiral of our own emotions got out of hand. We hurt each other a

little. I wound up with bruises and he had nail marks and bites. Later I took one look at

what was left of the dress I had been wearing and threw it away.

But, my God, it was worth it.

"We're going to have to be more careful when we do that again," he said, examining

some of his scratches.

I laughed and moved his hands away. The wounds were small. I healed them quickly.

I found others and healed them too. He watched me with interest.

"Very efficient," he said. He met my eyes. "It seems you've won."

"All by myself?"

He smiled. "What, then? We've won?"

"Sure. Want to go take a shower together?"

At the end of the Pattern's first year of existence, we all knew we had something that

was working. Something new. We were learning to do everything as we went along.

Soon after Karl and I got together, we found latents with latent children. That could have

turned out really bad. We discovered we were "allergic" to children of our own kind. We

were more dangerous to them than their latent parents were. That was when Ada

discovered her specialty. She was the only one of us who could tolerate children and care

for them. She began using mutes as foster parents, and she began to take over the small

private school not far from us. And she and Seth moved back to Larkin House.

They had been the last to leave, and now they were the first to return. They had only