St. Bruno’s Rest Home was about two hours northwest of Perriman, so it wasn’t a trip I could take on a whim. I had to work out my class schedule, my training at Carruthers and Michael’s strong objections to me making the visit by myself.
“I have my cell phone, a GPS and a spotless driving record. Why are on earth are you so worried?” Half amused and half annoyed, perched cross-legged on his bed, I watched Michael pace around the room. Ostensibly, he was sorting his laundry, but I’d tracked him moving the same sweatshirt back and forth for the last ten minutes.
“It’s two hours away, Tas. I love the Mustang, but she’s over forty years old.”
“And she’s always been lovingly and meticulously maintained by your family. She’s probably safer than any brand-new car out there.”
He balled up the sweatshirt for the third time and threw it into the canvas bag near the door. “I just don’t see why you won’t let me go with you.”
I sighed and dropped back onto the mattress. “Seriously, Michael? I told you. It’s not that I don’t want you to come. I just need to do this without you there to distract me.”
He sat down next to me, dipping the bed so that I slid toward him. “I thought you liked me to distract you.”
I reached up to touch the side of his face. “Always. But if you go, I’ll be handling your feelings and your thoughts along with my own. I need a clear head. I can’t concentrate when you’re right next to me.”
Michael caught my fingers and kissed the tips. “I could sit out in the car.”
I used his hand as leverage to pull myself into a sitting position again, swinging one leg over his lap as I followed the direction of his mind. “Don’t you trust me?”
He grabbed me by the hips and pulled me closer. “Of course I do. Can’t you feel it? It’s the rest of the world I worry about.”
I maneuvered so that I was fully on his lap, our eyes level. Michael sucked in a quick breath as our bodies met. I draped my arms over his shoulders and slated my mouth over his, passion meeting heat.
Michael was fighting to hold onto control, but that reckless streak in me, born last spring, had been rising again lately. I tightened my arms around his neck, and when he would have pulled back, I opened my lips, sucking in a quick breath before I attacked again.
“Tasmyn. . .” He dragged his mouth away just enough to trail them along my throat. His hands were under my shirt, pressing against my back, his nails sending delectable chills up and down my spine. “Are you trying to kill me?”
I giggled, loving the feel of that power. “If you go, I’m going right along with you.” I leaned back to give him more access as he nibbled along my collarbone. “I’m testing my control. Did you notice I didn’t blow us up or even set your room on fire?”
Michael paused for just a minute, and then he pressed his face against my neck. “I didn’t notice. I guess I was preoccupied.” He moved his hands to my shoulder blades, almost experimentally. “But Tas. . .” I heard the direction of his thoughts before he spoke the words. “You’re hot. Like, really hot.”
I shifted to see his face, trying to figure what was causing the freaking out I felt in him. “That doesn’t sound like a compliment.”
“I mean, like fever hot. Can’t you feel it?” Taking my hand, he held it to my cheek.
I shook my head. “I don’t know what you mean. It feels okay to me.”
“But you’re on fire. . .”As his voice trailed off, I saw dawning comprehension and horror in his eyes at the same time that a possible explanation hit me.
“You’re re-channeling that power, aren’t you? And keeping it inside. . .Tas, you could self-combust!”
“No, that can’t be it.” Even as I denied it, I knew he was right. I closed my eyes and focused on slowing my pounding heart, pulling back the raging desire and cooling my blood.
Gently, Michael lifted me off his lap and went into the bathroom. I heard the water running, and following his thoughts, I reached out my hand for the cool wash cloth without opening my eyes. Instead, he pressed it to my forehead and then to my cheeks.
“I swear I hear it sizzling,” he muttered.
“I didn’t do it on purpose!” I took the cloth from him and dabbed at the back of my neck. Now that I was calming down, sweat was breaking out all over my body. “I guess maybe it was sort of subconscious. I’ve been working so hard on getting a handle on everything.”
“You need to figure out how to redirect it differently,” Michael retorted. I opened my eyes and saw that his face was paper white. “It was like holding a furnace.”
“I’ll talk to Zoe,” I promised.
“Please.” Michael smoothed the hair back from my damp forehead. “I can’t have you bursting into flames whenever I kiss you.” To prove the point, he dropped a light kiss on the end of my nose before he stepped back. “Now why don’t you grab a nice cold shower before my animal attraction tempts you again?”
He ducked just in time to avoid the wet washcloth I threw at him.
My near-miss at spontaneous combustion derailed our discussion of my visit to Nell, but I sensed that Michael was about to give in anyway. So when Cathryn texted me on Wednesday that my session that afternoon at Harper Creek had been cancelled—something had come up in Zoe’s schedule, and Cathryn herself had appointments to keep—I took it as a sign.
Hurrying up to my room, I changed my t-shirt for a camisole and cardigan and grabbed the keys to the Mustang. Michael and I each had a set, and I was glad that I didn’t have to wait for him to get out of class.
But I wasn’t going to hide what I was doing, either. I texted him as I walked over to the lot near his dorm, explaining how the day had unexpectedly opened.
I didn’t expect to hear back from him right away, but by the time I reached the car, he had replied.
Okay. BE CAREFUL and call me on your way home. I love you.
Relief flooded me. I hadn’t realized how much I had dreaded fighting with him over this visit, and I felt amazingly lighter just knowing he was on board.
The trip was mostly back roads, driving through the fields and then the rolling hills as I headed west. The GPS directed me to a state highway for about fifteen minutes, and then I took an exit that led to more winding pavement. Picturesque farms ran alongside me, but the cows didn’t even look up as I sped past.
Finally, I turned into a small driveway that led me to a fairly empty parking lot. The building in its center was only two stories high, painted that institutional tan color that made me feel slightly sick. I wondered if I associated it with the doctors and hospitals my parents had dragged me to see when I was very young as they tried to figure out why their daughter was a mental case.
I parked the Mustang and shot Michael a message that I’d arrived safely. The drive had been very peaceful, but now that I was here, my palms were sweating, and my heart beat sped up at the thought of walking in and seeing Nell.
I took in one deep cleansing breath, remembering Zoe’s advice about keeping my emotions and powers in check. The last thing I wanted to do was to shake everything off the walls in the hospital.
The air up here was significantly cooler than it had been at school, and I hugged my arms to my ribs as I walked toward the main doors. I fingered the business card Nell’s father had sent to me when he’d had his daughter moved back into Florida. It guaranteed my admittance to her room.
The stereotypical canned music flowed softly from speakers in the lobby as I approached a small counter in the center. The woman who sat there working at computer screen—her name tag read ‘Betty’--glanced up with a smile as I approached.
“May I help you?” She tilted her head, and I heard her think, Such a pretty little thing! Here to see a grandparent, maybe?
“No.” I shook my head and then flushed, realizing too late that I had answered her thought question instead of her spoken one. Nerves always did make me careless about that line. “I mean, yes, thank you.” I fished the card out of my pocket and sl
id it across the smooth surface of the counter. “I’m here to see Nell Massler. Her dad gave me permission.”
The receptionist examined the card before punching Nell’s name into the computer. I watched her eyes scan the screen and heard clearly the latest notes on the case.
No change. Patient remains in a persistent vegetative state. Unresponsive to stimuli.
I bit my lip as the familiar guilt and regret washed over me. I knew it wasn’t my fault that Nell was lying here in this depressing hospital—unresponsive to stimuli—but the final blow that stole her awareness had saved my life. I couldn’t help feeling a little responsible at least.
“Here you go.” Betty handed the card back to me and motioned down the hallway. “Room 137, on the left.”
“Thank you,” I smiled. The hallways were fairly nondescript, but I did notice the absence of the smell I’d come to associate with hospitals. Everything was clean and well-maintained. It didn’t surprise me that Nick Massler would install his daughter in the best facility money could buy. She’d never lacked for material wealth. . .it was just parental attention that she’d craved and never known.
Another desk was situated in the middle of the wide hallway. Nurses moved around on their silent shoes, but none of them spared me more than a passing glance. I only picked up what I would expect to hear from their thoughts: patient names, tasks to be completed, paper work to be done.
Nell’s room was nearly at the end of the corridor. I paused for just a beat to repeat my calming breath routine before going through the open door.
There was just one bed in the room, against the far wall. A few machines sat in the corner, but only one small monitor was connected. I saw the steady flicker of a small light, but happily the volume had been muted.
I hadn’t seen Nell in person since the day she’d tried to kill me. My last clear memory before I passed out was of Reverend Pryce holding her arms as she screamed and flailed. Of course, that didn’t count our more recent dream visits.
But it was still a shock to see her lying so very still. Her long hair still had the same beautiful dark sheen as it spread across the pillow. She had always had almost alabaster skin, but now it was nearly translucent. Her hands were loosely draped around her middle, one palm up, as though she had been asking for something when she fell asleep.
I moved cautiously closer to the bed, keeping my mind open and alert. Part of me was still afraid that Nell might suddenly leap from the bed and hold a knife to my throat, even while I remembered our last encounter, when she’d risked her own life to save mine from Marica.
But there was nothing from the bed, not anything like the darkness I’d come to expect from Nell’s mind, not even the static I picked up when someone was blocking me. There was only. . .blankness. Nothingness.
I reached out a tentative hand to touch her arm. Her skin was cool to the touch, and I braced myself for the inevitable onslaught of feelings I usually picked up from touching anyone. But again, there was only a blank slate. The monitor on the far of the bed didn’t register anything but the same rhythmic blinking.
“Hello.” I jumped and caught my breath, my heart pounding. A woman in purple scrubs stood at the door, gazing at me. One eyebrow was raised in question, and I felt her surprise at seeing me next to Nell’s bed.
“Hi.” I turned but didn’t move away from my spot. “I’m a—a friend of Nell’s, from high school. Her father gave me permission to visit.”
“Of course.” The nurse came into the room and stood at the other side of the bed. I felt her curiosity more than anything else. She fussed with the blanket for a moment, checked an intravenous tube I hadn’t noticed until that moment and ran an affectionate hand over Nell’s hair.
“I’m Sandy,” she said, smiling across at me. “I’m usually Nell’s nurse on weekdays, when I’m on duty. It’s wonderful to see you here; she doesn’t get many visitors.”
That didn’t shock me. Nell didn’t exactly have a huge fan club in high school, and she hadn’t left King on the best of terms with anyone, even the girls who had claimed to be her best friends. And then of course, she had been hospitalized out of state for over a year before her coma.
“I should have come sooner,” I confessed. “I’m at Perriman College, just a few hours away. But you know—freshman year. It’s hard. And. . .” I glanced down at Nell’s face, the dark lashes sweeping over the snow white cheeks. “I wasn’t sure I could do it. See her like this.”
Sandy nodded. “No one finds it easy. Most of our patients here are like Nell. But most have visitors at least in the beginning. If it’s a long term situation, those visits usually taper off as time goes by. But Nell here, she’s young. I wondered why there weren’t family or friends coming by, even once a month.”
“Her father still comes?” It was a question; I hadn’t spoken with Nick Massler for months, and in the letter that had arrived with Nell’s new address and permission to visit her, he had been short and to the point.
“Not often.” Sandy shook her head. “I guess people think it doesn’t make any difference. You see you’ve come in, and we’re talking here, and you’ve even touched her. But there’s no reaction, no change. People find it hard to make the effort when it doesn’t seem to make any difference.”
“That’s sad,” I remarked.
“Yes, it is. Well, I’ll let you visit with Nell. Go ahead and pull up that chair there. Do you have any questions before I go?”
I swallowed hard. “Can she hear us, do you think?”
The nurse tilted her head. “Well, the jury’s still out on that, but most of us who work here think so. There have been people who have come out of comas with some sort of memory of what went on around them. And sometimes we notice responses that can’t necessarily be documented medically. I think, why not assume she can? Talk to her, tell her what’s going on in your life. First year of college—that’s got to be exciting!”
Sandy patted my shoulder as I sank into the chair. I reached out again and smoothed a hand over Nell’s shoulder, wincing at the boniness.
“Hi, Nell,” I began. “So. . .I should probably begin by saying thank you. What you did when Marica—last spring—it saved my life. You bought me time, and you made a difference. I don’t know if anyone told you that. I don’t know if you even knew that I’m okay. And I made the changes we talked about. I ended things with Rafe, and I’m back with Michael. Everything is good again, Nell. Thanks to you.”
I paused, not sure how to go on from there. With my friends, I’d be chatting about classes and life in the dorm, but I’d never had that kind of relationship with Nell. She’d hated me on sight and most of our conversations consisted of her threatening me, warning me away from Marica or pointing out my shortcomings. In her dream visits, she didn’t waste time on small talk. So I wasn’t really sure what she’d want to hear.
Then I remembered her letter, the last words she’d sent to me, the confirmation that her visits to me had been more than just dreams all along.
“Marica is gone.” I slid my hand down her arm and squeezed Nell’s fingers. “She was institutionalized for a while here, and then someone came over from Romania and took her back home. I heard she won’t be allowed back in this country.” I closed my eyes, tamping down the small sparks of terror that even the idea of Marica Lacusta still gave me. “So I’m safe, and so are you.”
If I were hoping for a response, I was disappointed. There was no movement from the bed, no change in the silent monitor.
“I guess if I were you, Nell, I’d have a spell or a chant. . .some way to bring you back. If this is a mystical coma--” I dropped my voice; no need to give the nurses any excuse to check me into a padded room. “If this came from magiks, maybe there’s a way to bring you back. But then, I never did have your talent in that area.”
It was true. Marica never worked with me on spells; she was more interested in developing my natural talents. Which made me think. . .
Gripping Nell’s hand a little t
ighter, holding it palm to palm with my own, I closed my eyes and focused on her mind again. It was still blank. I reached within myself, into the deep well of power that frightened me as much as it intrigued me.
It was a delicate balance. I couldn’t blast her; I wasn’t sure what that might do. But maybe just a little push, a little infusion of energy. . .I saw the stream channel into Nell and waited to see if anything changed.
Nothing. In fact, it almost felt as if I were hitting a wall of some sort. Frowning, I amped up my stream just a bit. This time I was certain—it wasn’t reaching Nell. Something was blocking me.
I loosed my hold on her hand and stood, stretching. I hadn’t really expected it to work, but it was frustrating to be completely helpless in the face of her comatose state. I curled up in the chair again and spent the next hour updating Nell on her so-called friends from high school, as much as I had heard.
“. . .and Liza got into a school in California. I think she was as surprised as the rest of us.” I glanced up at the clock on the wall as I noted the shadows moving across the room. It was getting late, and the idea of driving unfamiliar back roads in the dark didn’t excite me.
“Nell, I have to go now. I need to get back to school. . .Michael will be worried.” I swallowed hard. Part of me wanted nothing more than to get away from this room as fast as I could, but the idea of leaving Nell here, alone again, broke my heart.
“I’ll come back soon. I promise. I’m sorry it took me this long to visit, but now—now I know where you are. I’ll be back.”
“Tasmyn, are you ready for your first mission?”
Startled, I looked up from my plate of raviolis, expecting to see Cathryn standing at my shoulder. The dining hall was fairly busy for the lunch hour, but my table was empty, save for my own food and a pile of books from my sociology class. Unless Cathryn had picked up a new trick—invisibility—she wasn’t anywhere near me.
I glanced around the room one more time, and then I saw her. She moved from the food area toward me with her typical feline grace, and as that thought crossed my mind, I clamped down the purple veil, making sure I was off-limits.
Endless Page 10
