“So why can’t you ‘will’ Deryl to us?” Joshua snapped.
“We tried to will ourselves to him!” Tasmae flared back.
“Okay! Listen, let’s just both calm down. We won’t get anywhere if we’re fighting.” Tasmae nodded. Joshua took a deep cleansing breath. “Good. All right. For whatever reason, we’re not where Deryl is. Why would that happen? Could Alugiac have taken him somewhere else?”
“There is no ‘somewhere else.’” Tasmae rolled her eyes impatiently, but kept her temper contained. She was holding onto her anger, however, and from the way she shook, Joshua guessed it was the only thing that was keeping her from collapsing completely.
He tried to take on a soothing tone. One of them had to stay cool. “Metaphorically speaking, Taz. Could Alugiac have hidden him in another illusion, or maybe Deryl has fled?”
“Maybe we weren’t meant to confront him directly. If we find Deryl, we will find Alugiac, and I could not defeat him the last time. I’m not used to doing things in the Netherworld. It’s supposed to be for communicating with the Ydrel.”
“I think if this is the same place—dimension, whatever—that Deryl got dragged into by the Master, it can be more. But tell me what you know about this pla—about the Netherworld. What’s happened to you here?”
“Before Alugiac, not much. I would Call Deryl to me through it, to receive his information. Then he refused me. He said he wanted to talk and to see me. He complained the place was dark and boring, so I imagined for us the grove where I had gone to pray and Call. Then today, I Called him, and Alugiac was there. Deryl knew him, called him Master—” She closed her eyes, her face screwed tight with anguish.
He grasped her shoulders. “We’ll find him. Just tell me the rest. Who’s Alugiac?”
“My—he was once a great healer until contact with the Barins infected his mind. He joined them. He led them to kill my mentor. To kill me. And he was here! Then Deryl had a sword and was telling me to run. I attacked Alugiac, but these…creatures…blocked me. They would have killed me had Deryl not stopped them.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. One minute they were about to overwhelm me; the next, I was back in my own body.”
“Deryl talked about being forced to battle creatures for the Master; obviously, both of them have more experience in this place than we do. I don’t think Deryl knew they were the same place,” he quickly reassured Tasmae. “And trust me—he may call him ‘Master,’ but Deryl was no willing apprentice. He was absolutely terrified by him, yet trying to break away. I’m sure he’s fighting him as best he can now. We just have to figure out how to get to him and how to help him.”
Tasmae nodded and took a long deep breath. When she spoke again, she sounded more like her controlled, warrior-trained self. “Perhaps that’s why we did not get to him immediately. If they know how to manipulate this…dimension…then perhaps we’re meant to learn how before we can confront Alugiac.”
“Or how to avoid Alugiac altogether. Frankly, after what you and Deryl have told me, this is one dude I do not want to meet, especially in this creeped-out version of a dark alley.” He shuddered then, and Tasmae grabbed him by the arm.
“Don’t think about it,” Tasmae warned. “You might alert him to our presence. So how do we learn to manipulate this world?”
“You sure you can’t just Call Deryl?”
“I think it would bring Alugiac as well.”
“Last resort then. So how did you manipulate the Netherworld?”
“I’ve only changed the setting.”
Joshua snapped his fingers. “’Change worlds.’ That’s what Rod Serling said. You have the power to change worlds. He was helping us. And he said I had to use my talent to get us all out of here safely.”
“Which one, Joshua? You have so many.”
Joshua laughed. “Not by the Earth sense of the word. Besides, he called me a psychiatric intern with ambitions in music. And he showed up when I whistled his show’s theme song. It’s got to be music. The question is, how do I use it?” He paused, thinking, then smiled and started to whistle a lead in, then began to sing.
“What are you doing?”
He ignored her as he sang the first verse and chorus of Geno Vanelli’s “Black Cars Look Better in the Shade.” Then he paused, waiting to see what would happen.
“You forgot ‘sitting pretty in her dim lit covers,’ and it’s my favorite verse,” a husky mezzo voice pouted from the distance. A tall, lithe woman in tight jeans and a halter top sauntered toward them.
“Lattie!” Joshua exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”
She gave a half laugh, half huff. “What are you asking me for? I was in the middle of a perfectly good dream when I heard you singing and here I am. So what’d you want me for?”
Now Joshua huffed, though without amusement. “I just need a car.”
She smirked, tilted her head. “That song’s not about a car and you know it.”
Joshua was spared a reply when Tasmae stepped between them. “Where’s Deryl?” She demanded.
“Who’s Deryl? For that matter, who are you?” She eyed Tasmae up and down, appraisingly, the tip of her tongue playing over one side of her lip. She looked over Tasmae’s shoulder to Joshua. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend? She looks like she likes the rough stuff. Maybe we find her friend and—”
“Dammit, Lattie, just lend me your car!”
With a victorious grin on her face, she sidled around Tasmae, who circled her warily, and held out her keys to Joshua. Just as he reached for them, however, she snapped them back. “Why my car? Why not yours?”
“I didn’t want your car. I just need a car.”
“Yet you didn’t sing ‘409?’ ‘Pink Cadillac?’ ‘Big Black Car?’”
“It was the first song I thought of,” Joshua growled. She just grinned wider. He kicked himself. She was goading him, he knew it, and he’d let her make him react.
“And you didn’t even change the words. Sure there isn’t some Freudian ulterior motive going on?”
“Not a chance.”
“Uh huh,” She said disbelievingly. She gave him one of her long slow looks, lingering around his belt line. “Maybe a change of costume?”
“Joshua, we’re wasting time,” Tasmae warned.
But suddenly, LaTisha was in the outfit, the one from Joshua’s daydreams, the one that had never failed to get his blood boiling and him into her bed no matter what his previous resolutions. She twisted a little, posing. “Do I cut a perfect silhouette?” She purred.
This time, however, he found nothing alluring about her. She just looked cheap and annoying. “LaTisha, are you going to help us or not?”
“Maybe I should drive?” She stuck her key in her mouth.
What did I see in you? Joshua pursed his lips, thought a moment, then pitched his voice up. “American Woman—”
She chuckled. “Cute.”
“Get away from me-ee—”
She again wore her street clothes, and her expression grew serious. “You’re never coming back to me, are you?”
“After what you did?” He shook his head, biting back everything he really wanted to say to her. Tasmae was right; they were wasting time. “Right now, I really, really need to find our friend, and if you can’t help, then just go on back to your dream, okay?” He tried to sound stern, but found his voice shaking.
She looked down, played with the keys in her hand. “Yeah, sure. Would it help if I said I was sorry?”
Joshua studied his feet, wondering what he should say. What he wanted to say. He’d so seldom seen her vulnerable like that. He wondered how sorry she was and exactly what she was sorry for.
“Joshua!” Tasmae hissed.
He sighed. “Maybe in the real world, the waking world, it might mean something. But I can’t talk
about it right now.”
“Sure. I understand. I’m going to make it up to you, somehow. Someday.”
“But not now?”
She shrugged. “Would a dream be enough? Good luck finding your friend.” She turned and walked into the mist. Soon she was gone.
Joshua released the breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding. He could feel himself shaking inside. He so badly wanted to sit down, but the fog was over his knees. He shut his eyes and forced himself to take a couple of long slow breaths. Why her? Why now?
She hadn’t left them her car keys, either.
Tasmae struck him on the shoulder, making him open his eyes and look at her. “What was that all about?” She demanded.
“I don’t know.”
“Deryl is being held prisoner by the most dangerous madman in our world and you’re wasting time talking to—” She flung her arm toward the mist, evidently unsure what to call LaTisha. “What were you doing?”
“I said, I don’t know!” Joshua shouted. “I screwed up, all right? I just wanted to get us a car, a way to travel around this muck!”
“This isn’t a place! There’s no ‘traveling!’ Why can’t your human mind comprehend that?”
“Fine! You’re the brilliant military mind. You dragged me in here! You tell me what to do!”
Tasmae stopped, breathing heavy in her anger, but looking a little lost herself. “You’re a mind healer,” She said softly. “I thought you’d know.”
Joshua bit down on his lips and pinched his brows with one hand as he took hold of his temper. “I’m sorry, Taz. We’re in this together. But you’ve got to understand that this is totally new to me—even more than it is to you. I don’t know what I’m doing.”
She looked at him, and he saw the disappointment in her eyes. He tried not to feel resentment. How many times would he have to bail out his friend? Why was this all on him?
Perhaps she sensed his frustration, for she shut her eyes. He imagined her abandoning him there, but instead, the scene changed to a small but well-lit cave with a few large cushions.
“Thanks,” he muttered as he sank into one.
“This was one of my hiding places in the last war,” Tasmae explained as she sat in front of him. “Alugiac shouldn’t be able to sense us here. You’re right about one thing. We need to plan. And we need more information. But I don’t know how to get it.”
“Let’s start with what we know.” Joshua leaned back against the wall and gazed at the ceiling while he thought out loud. “Serling said you have the power to change the world—obviously, he’s right there. What else can you do?”
In answer, Tasmae got up and again pulled her dagger from her hair and moved through a few steps of some martial arts form. She attempted a complex high kick, but fell among the cushions. “Anything I can physically do in the waking world, but nothing more,” She said as she stood up, rubbing her elbows. She concentrated on the wall opposite them, and it dissolved then resolved into the weapons wall of the salle. She picked out a sword and a dagger that she strapped to her calf. “And now I’m armed.”
“Sweet. That’s a comfort, though I think we’re better off avoiding a physical fight. I’m betting for every minion you bring down, monster or otherwise, Alugiac will think up three more. Can you Call in the cavalry if you need to?”
She frowned. “Again, I think that would not be the best plan. I don’t know if I can, or if there was something special about the Ydrel and Miscria. I have never heard of another Kanaan in the Netherworld. Except Alugiac.” She shivered.
“Try Salgoud. You know him pretty well, right?”
She sat down, moving the sheathed sword aside with a practiced gesture. “He is like a father to me. And he is our greatest war leader. If we could defeat Alugiac here, now, it would give us a great advantage in the upcoming war.” She closed her eyes and concentrated.
After a few minutes, she shook her head. “It appears we are on our own.”
“Not quite. I brought LaTisha, or whatever passes for LaTisha in this world, here.”
“Yes. Why did you do that? What help was she? She is not your soul-mate—what hold does she have on you?”
Joshua squirmed uncomfortably under her gaze. “None! Like I said, I didn’t plan for her to appear—I was just singing a song to get us a car.”
“But she said that song wasn’t about a car, and she seemed to think you’d sung it on purpose to bring her here.”
“No, she said I had some Freudian alternative motive,” he contradicted, then sighed. “Maybe she’s right. Maybe I need to be aware of any subconscious messages or associations I have with a song.”
He tapped his fingers on his lips, rehashing their conversation, then gave a surprised laugh. “You know what else she said? She asked me why I didn’t change the words. She always did have a way of seeing the obvious when others didn’t. Maybe she helped more than we thought.” He shook his head ruefully.
“She also tried to distract you,” Tasmae warned.
“Right, right. She definitely had her own agenda—which is something else to keep in mind. We’re not dealing with automatons…”
“So you can summon people—or perhaps a psychic specter of real people.” She shuddered.
“What?”
“The Remembrance. Gardianju was in the Netherworld with Deryl. They were attacked by…she called them demon specters. I think they were minds that Deryl could not block. Perhaps it’s a human talent?”
“Maybe, but let’s neither of us think about demons or anything if we can help it.”
Tasmae shifted, restless. “Agreed. What else?”
“I don’t know. We didn’t get a car, but that was my fault. Lattie did offer her keys.”
“Do we need a car? There is no ‘to’ and ‘from’ here.”
“‘The only reason for time is so that everything doesn’t happen at once,’” Joshua quoted. “So the reason for space is so everything doesn’t happen in the same spot. Regardless of what you’re telling me, my mind insists there is a ‘here’ and ‘there,’ and Deryl is ‘there.’ We have to figure out how to get to him. We need somebody we can ask, somebody I can associate with a song.”
He fell silent again, running songs through his mind. He couldn’t believe how hard it was to come up with a song when he knew so many. Meanwhile, Tasmae fidgeted, toyed with her hair, got up and looked over the weapons, sat back down, got up again—
“I’m trying to concentrate,” he muttered through his teeth.
“Deryl’s falling away from us. I can feel it.” She looked younger and more scared than he’d ever seen her.
“Can you telep to him?”
She shook her head. “I get a kind of angry static. It is Alugiac’s doing. It must be! I may be able to push through it, but then he may find us before we are ready for him. We don’t have a lot of time,” Tasmae pressed. “He is playing games with Deryl’s mind.”
“Games! That’s it.” Despite himself, Joshua broke into a grin. “I have an idea, but it’s going to sound weird.”
Chapter 25
Deryl stared in askance at the lovely blond woman in bed beside him. She was looking at him, not in surprise, but with concern, like his being there wasn’t unusual, but his behavior was.
“Hon, what is it?” She asked again.
He licked his lips, tried to quell his confusion and panic, and asked, “I know this is a weird question, but how did I get here?”
“Oh, God.” Suddenly, she was up on hands and knees and leaning toward him. “What’s the last thing you remember?”
“I was at SK-Mental, but it was an illusion. Alugiac—”
“The last real thing, Deryl! The last thing you remember that doesn’t involve aliens or time travel.”
He wanted to protest that the aliens and time travel were real, but couldn’t make h
imself do it. He couldn’t bear to see the fear in her eyes. He dropped his gaze, caught a clear view down her chemise, and quickly turned his head and focused on the dressers in their room. He shook his head—why did he think this was their room? “All right, then,” he said, playing the game and buying himself some time. “‘Real world…’ SK-Mental. I’d figured out how to teleport—that is real, Clarissa—”
“I know.”
“All right. Good. Malachai drugged me. I took Joshua hostage. I was desperate. I just wanted a couple of minutes alone.” Holding broken glass against his best friend’s throat…
Anxiety clutched his stomach. He had to make her understand, to not be afraid. “Clari, I never meant to hurt him!”
“Shhh.” With her right hand, she set her fingers lightly over his lips, and he stilled at her touch. “I know. And you didn’t. Now, we’re not going to panic, got it? Dr. Acker said if this happened again, just to start from when you last remember and help you remember back to the present.” But her face closed with pain and her hand trembled against his mouth.
This isn’t real! Don’t play this game! His mind screamed protests, and there was an odd ache at the base of his neck, but he found himself filled with the need to reassure her. He gripped her hand in his and spoke gently. “Come on. We’ll work this out together. Why don’t you tell me about Dr. Acker. He’s my new doctor, right?”
She sniffled and tried to laugh. It came out shallow and breathy, but she seemed to be calming down. Her fingers closed around his thumb as she nodded and explained. “After the fiasco at SK, your aunt and uncle found Dr. Acker. He’s a psychiatrist and a neurosurgeon. He believed you, and did some real tests—MRIs and all that—and found there was a certain spot in your brain that was overactive. Any of this ringing a bell?”
“I, I don’t know.” The pain at the base of his skull made it hard to think. He released her hand and rubbed at the back of his head, stopping as his fingers moved over a long, slightly upraised scar under his hair. “He operated on me?”
She smiled and nodded encouragingly. “Yes! Yes, he did a partial lobotomy. He disconnected the part of your brain that was making you ‘psychic.’ I never did understand all the details. He could tell you better.
Mind Over Psyche Page 25
