Witch World (17 page)

“Yes.”

“Can you imagine if you move your right hand, the right hand of your body will also move?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s give it a try. Without opening your eyes, raise your right arm.”

I wasn’t sure, but I felt movement. Yet the movement was effortless. I didn’t have to try to lift my arm, it simply lifted.

“Your arm is in the air,” he said. “It might be your right arm, it might be your left, it doesn’t matter. Did you notice how easily it floated into the air?”

“Yes.”

“It happened automatically.”

“Yes.”

“That’s because your mind is inside your reflection.”

“Yes.”

“Now raise your other arm.”

Again, I felt movement, but no effort, and yet in my mind’s eye I could see both my arms in the air. In my body and in my reflection.

No, wait, that wasn’t exactly true. I saw only one image at a time. It must have been my body I was looking at, since my mind was
inside
my reflection, looking out at my body. That’s right.

But what difference did it make? They were carbon copies of each other, or reversed copies of each other, to be more precise.

I decided not to worry about it. Just to go along.

“Both your arms are now in the air,” he said.

“Yes.”

“Does it tire you to hold them up?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“They’re just images.”

“Good. And what are you?”

“An image. A reflection.”

“Because you have moved your mind inside the mirror.”

“Yes.”

“How does it feel to be a reflection?”

“Nice.”

“Do you have all of Jessica’s memories?”

“Yes.”

“Perfect. Let’s move on to the next stage. Remember back to last night. You were in this bedroom with Russell.”

“I remember.” And I didn’t mind he called himself Russell instead of Russ. Indeed, it felt more natural, like that was what I always called him.

“You were in this bedroom and you were kissing him.”

“Yes.”

“Then you took off your clothes and kissed him some more on the bed.”

“Yes.”

“Then you thought of someone else.”

“Yes.”

“And suddenly you wanted to be with that person.”

“Yes.”

“What was his name?”

“James.”

“You suddenly felt the urge to see James.”

“Yes.”

“What did you do next?”

“I stood and went to the window.”

“Go on.”

“I started crying. I told Russell I couldn’t do this.”

“Did Russell understand?”

“He was very understanding. He didn’t pressure me. Even though I know he has a crush on me, he respects my relationship with James.”

“How did he demonstrate this respect?”

“He saw I was upset and knew I was thinking of James. He told me to go to him.”

“Was it hard to leave Russell?”

“It’s always hard. He’s attractive and exciting to be near.”

“But you love James more?”

“Yes,” I replied firmly.

There seemed to be a long pause.

“What did you do next?”

“I dressed and left this suite.”

“Let’s follow your every act from right there. Are you fully dressed?”

“Yes.”

“You’re ready to leave Russell’s suite and go downstairs.”

“Yes.”

“Let’s go together. You open the door and leave the suite. Do you walk down the hallway to the elevators?”

“Yes.”

“Do you get in the elevator?”

“I push a button and wait for one to come.”

“Good. What do you do next?”

“When the elevator arrives, I step inside and push the button that takes me down to the casino floor.”

“Tell me what you see.”

“The doors slide open. I step away from the corridor of elevators and see the casino stretched out beneath me.”

“Do you see people gambling?”

“Yes.”

“What are they playing?”

“Slots, poker, dice, red queen.”

“Red queen?”

“Yes.”

“You see them playing twenty-two?”

“Yes.”

“Does it bother you?”

“Why should it bother me?”

“What do you do next?”

“I take a taxi back to my room.”

“Who do you find in your room?”

“James.”

“Where is he?”

“Inside, waiting for me.”

“Is he asleep?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Why is he awake?”

“He knew I was going to see Russell.”

“How did he know you were going to see Russell?”

“I told him I was going to see you . . . to see him. We discussed it, James and I.”

“Is James jealous you’re going to see Russell?”

“A little. He knows Russell cares for me.”

“But if it makes James jealous, why do you go?”

“We need Russell’s help.”

“Why?”

“To help us find . . . someone.”

“Who?”

I disliked the question. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know who you’re trying to find?”

“No. Wait. Stop.”

“Shh. It’s all right, we can stop.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re safe. Nothing can harm you.”

“I . . . I don’t know.”

“You think something can harm you?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“About what?”

“Why I went to Russell for help.”

“Are you embarrassed that you started kissing him?”

“Yes. But . . . there’s something else.”

“What?”

“I can’t tell you!” I shouted.

I heard my voice rise in volume. At the same time I felt a sudden constriction in my heart. It appeared to come out of nowhere. The sensation made it hard to breathe. It took me completely by surprise. One minute I was looking forward to returning to my hotel room to see James and the next instant my mind was filled with a terrible burden. I could hardly bear it.

“Stop. I want to stop,” I heard myself gasp.

“We can stop in a moment. Why did you go to see Russell?”

“I told you. To get his help.”

“Why did you think Russell could help you?”

“He’s connected.”

“Did he tell you he was connected?”

“No! But he knows people. Powerful people. He can help us.”

“Help you with what?”

The crushing pain increased tenfold. I could hardly draw in a breath. The air could have been choked with smoke.

“I can’t tell you!”

“Can he help you find someone?”

“Yes! No!”

“You said yes. Can he help you find someone?”

“Yes! Yes! Now please stop!”

“Who are you trying to find?”

“I don’t know! I don’t want to know!”

“What’s her name?”

My chest pain seemed to burst and assume a form of terrible loss. I had just been asked the only question that mattered because
she
was the only thing that mattered—to me. I couldn’t bear to think of her, though, to even admit that she existed. I was afraid if I did my pain would become great enough to kill me.

“Lara,” I wept.

“Who’s Lara?”

“No!” I screamed and my eyes flew open and I ran toward the mirror and hit it with my nose. Blood spurted out my nostrils, on the glass, as I fell to the floor. In an instant Russell was by my side but I pushed him away and leaped to my feet. It was not as if I used my muscles, though. I simply willed myself to stand and I was up. Russell was unable to stop me.

I had to get away. I couldn’t face the truth about Lara. The agony was too great and besides, she wasn’t real, I couldn’t let her become real.

I rushed toward the door and threw it open.

A man stood in the hallway. A handsome man with my eyes. I hadn’t seen him in years but he wasn’t someone I was likely to forget.

“Daddy,” I cried as I collapsed in his arms.

WHEN I AWOKE, MY FATHER WAS SITTING BESIDE ME ON
the bed. I hadn’t seen him in years but he didn’t
feel
like some distant figure. This man seemed familiar, like we had talked yesterday, although I couldn’t recall any recent memories of him. I knew then the bond between a father and daughter never really dies. It was wonderful to see him. I squeezed his hand when he touched mine.

“Dad,” I whispered.

“Jessica. It’s me. I’ve been here all the time.”

He was talking about
here
, wherever here was.

I had forgotten what a powerful presence he had. He was six-three, taller than Russell and James, and had beautiful green eyes and dark maroon hair, which he wore past his collar. His features were closer to mine than my mother’s. They were even sharper, somehow richer, perhaps as a result of time. He had
obviously seen a lot in life. His hands were large, even for his size, strong but also nimble. His gestures were so smooth. He looked like a doctor, a healer, and he looked like my dad. He
was
my father, I had to remind myself. I was still recovering from the shock of seeing him.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

“Like an idiot.”

“Why?”

“Because of the way I behaved. Russell did an experiment with me and I panicked for no reason.”

My father shook his head. “You remembered something extremely painful. It’s only natural you would try to run from it.”

“But what I remembered never happened. There’s no reason it should upset me.”

My dad gestured to the closet mirror. “Maybe it did happen.”

“Are we talking about Alice and the Looking-glass here?”

He nodded seriously. “There’s a reason Lewis Carroll wrote that novel.”

“There was a red queen in that book.”

“It wasn’t a coincidence.”

“So you know why they’re playing twenty-two downstairs?”

“It’s because we’re in witch world,” he said.

The name sounded too familiar to joke about.

“It’s real?” I asked.

“As real as the real world. Maybe more so.” He stood. “Let’s talk in the living room. We have the place to ourselves. Russell
went out to run an errand. But first you might want to wash up. I’m afraid you smashed your nose again.”

I grabbed his hand before he could leave. “What about Lara?”

“She’s real as well.”

I wiped away a sudden tear. “My daughter. I have a daughter.”

“I know it must be hard to believe. But you are a mother.”

I felt a stab of pain again. “They took her, didn’t they?”

My father hesitated. “Yes.”

“Is she safe? Will they hurt her?”

“She’s fine. They’re afraid to hurt her.”

“Can we get her back?”

“We’re going to get her back.” He patted my shoulder. “Go ahead, wash up—we have much to discuss.”

Before rejoining my father in the main suite, I took a quick shower. Since I had left my hotel and been kidnapped by the taxi driver, my body and clothes had been put through the wringer. Besides washing off the sweat and dust, I had to scrub to get the dried blood off my face. My nose was bruised but it didn’t feel broken.

My father was drinking coffee when I entered the living room wearing a hotel bathrobe. He quickly poured me a cup and I settled into a leather chair while he sat on the main sofa. His company made me feel safe for the first time in what seemed like ages.

He smiled. “I can’t imagine what’s running through your mind right now.”

“You mean you can’t read it?” I asked, half teasing. But he replied seriously.

“Your mind would not be an easy one to pry open.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re unique.”

The fact was easier, and at the same time harder, to take coming from my father. I knew it was for real. “Russell said there are ten unusual genes,” I said.

“Ten that we know of. Some of the genes overlap to create different abilities. For example, a person could have three extra genes and possess six unusual abilities. However, that would only happen long after a person had mastered their basic three gifts.”

“Of these ten genes, how many do you have?”

“Five. James has five too, which is rare. Russell has four. And you, my dear, have a whopping seven, which is even more rare.”

“Wow.”

“Wow is right. There are only a handful of people in the world who possess that many. Most are a member of what we call the Council. They’re an ancient group. One of their members has eight witch genes.”

“Witch genes? Why do you call them that?”

“Because most of us discovered our powers long ago, when the world called anyone who was different a witch.” My father shrugged. “It’s just a name. Saying someone has witch genes
is the same as saying someone has reached the next stage in human evolution. Their appearance is a natural event.”

“I assume you know what genes give what kind of powers,” I said.

“I do. But I’m not going to say what powers your seven genes represent.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“It’s important the abilities appear spontaneously. That you don’t force them to come.”

“I won’t force them. I just want to know what they are.”

“Knowing will spoil your innocence. You have to trust me on this. I have a lot of experience in this area.”

“Can you tell me if there is a specific gene for longevity?”

“There’s a gene for healing. Many witches are born with it. When you learn the ability to heal others, you’ll also discover you can heal yourself, and continue to repair your body and prevent it from growing old.” He added, “I can tell you this much. You have that one.”

“So if someone slit my throat, I could fix it before I died?”

“No. You’d be dead before you could repair the damage. But you can heal almost anything in your body if you have the time.”

“So a bullet between the eyes would kill me?”

“It would kill any witch,” my father said.

“Thanks for the heads-up. Now I bet you know what I’m going to ask next.”

“How old am I? Are you ready for a shock?”

“This whole day has been nothing but one shock after another. So yes.”

“I was born not long before the Elizabethan era began, in the year 1528, in London, England.”

“Oh, Lord,” I gasped.

He chuckled. “I was lucky I possessed the healing gene. Even before I became connected, I was somewhat psychic. I accidentally exposed my gift and was tried and sentenced to death. But I was fortunate to be hanged instead of burned at the stake. It would have been difficult for a newborn witch to bring himself back after being turned to ashes.”