Mind Over Mind

by Karina L. Fabian

  “There’s one other thing we should think about,” Joshua told him when he’d stopped for a break and to drink some water. “Reserves. You should have a way to store energy. After all, when you’re out in the world, you may not be near a convenient ley line, right?

  Ydrel nodded, polished off the bottle in a series of quick swallows, and turned his attention to the issue. His first thought was to pile it, like batteries or ammunition, near his barriers.

  “Your body stores energy in your fat cells,” Joshua suggested. “Not that you should get obese or anything.”

  “No, I see what you mean. Make it an extension of my body.”

  “Yeah, like a sword,” Joshua agreed.

  A sword! Ydrel remembered his sword, the one from the land of mists. If he could embed it with enough energy, he might even be able to break free of the Master’s spell! Could he find it without the Master calling him, and power it without drawing the Master’s notice? He resolved to try, but later. It was one thing he did not, could not, explain to Joshua. Besides, he felt better and stronger than he had in ages. He didn’t have to accomplish everything tonight.

  “I feel so…steady,” he finally told Joshua. “I think I could take on anything.”

  “Really?” Joshua said thoughtfully.

  Suddenly, a burst of anger flared across Ydrel’s senses like a fireball. That bitch! How could she—! Ydrel blinked. “Hey! What was that about?”

  As suddenly as the anger hit, it was gone, replaced by low-level surprise. “Thought you said your shields could take it.”

  “Well, it wasn’t as bad as it might have been, but still, I wasn’t expecting it. I’ve been concentrating on storing the energy, not putting it into defenses.”

  “You need to get used to doing both, plus whatever else you want to do, psychic and otherwise. Leastways, that’s how they train them in the books. Or do you want to go around in life with a t-shirt that says: CAUTION: PSYCHIC. PLEASE REFRAIN FROM USING STRONG EMOTION WITHIN 50 FEET?”

  Despite himself, Ydrel laughed. “And on the back, I could put: SAME TO YOU, FELLA. You’ve got a point. Try that again.”

  “Oh, I will.”

  And he had, tossing out bits of emotion or memory at random, first making Ydrel block it, then block it but still identify it—part of the radar his subconscious was working on. Joshua returned to reclining on the couch, and talked to him a little about Colorado, about college, about books—about everything but “the bitch” who had made him so angry.

  “So, who was she?” Ydrel asked, reaching through his shields toward Joshua’s emotions.

  “Ex-girlfriend,” Joshua answered shortly. “Don’t go there.”

  And the colossal wave of anguish and hurt that waited behind the anger made Ydrel retreat back to himself in a hurry.

  They snacked until only crumbs were left—or rather, Ydrel did. Joshua stuck to crackers and water, with the occasional Diet Coke. Joshua would find some new memory or thought to toss at him. When Ydrel got good at identifying and deflecting emotional ones, Joshua turned to physical memories.

  “Are you all right?” Ydrel asked after Joshua hit him with the memory of a chair. “’Cause that really hurt!”

  “I could use some more Tylenol, but I’ll live,” he answered. “What’s next on the agenda?”

  “Bathroom break,” Ydrel said and rose to relieve himself.

  When he returned, Joshua was asleep on the couch.

  CHAPTER 22

  “Joshua? Come on, Joshua, wake up, please?”

  For a confused moment, Joshua wondered what Sachiko was doing in his apartment. Then he remembered that he wasn’t in his apartment; he was in the infirmary. He had fallen asleep working with Ydrel. Ydrel had actually cleaned up the room while Joshua slept, and then fetched Sachiko. She looked him over and declared he needed more than just Tylenol. How he’d managed to walk on his own to the infirmary without throwing up or passing out, he’d never know. He was pretty sure he’d done both those things once he got through the infirmary doors.

  The doctor took x-rays, diagnosed him as post-concussive, and told him he was going to stay in the infirmary under observation for the day. Edith, who was kicking herself for letting him go so long without getting checked, offered to go to his apartment and pick up some clothes, so he gave her his keys and allowed the doctor to escort him to his room. Eric, the on-staff massage therapist, was waiting for him there.

  “Did you really take down a berserk patient and then spend three hours doing sit-ups with a catatonic?”

  Despite his headache, Joshua laughed at how the rumors were already growing. “Sachiko took down Mr. McDougal. I just got in the way. And I was sitting and rocking, though I don’t know how long. It hurts, though.”

  “Strip to your underwear and lay down. We’ll see what we can do for those muscles.”

  Joshua had fallen asleep with Eric working on his abdominals.

  He still didn’t have anything on, which he discovered as he sat up in bed. Sachiko handed him a shirt and he gratefully put it on. He didn’t mind Sachiko seeing him shirtless, far from it, but it was cold under the air conditioning. “What time is it?”

  “Three o’clock.”

  “Already? I really sacked out!”

  She laughed shortly. “More than you think. You’ve been out for almost 36 hours. We weren’t even going to wake you, but...” Her voice caught. “It’s Isaac. He hasn’t eaten in over 24 hours. He’s stopped breathing a couple of times. I don’t think he’s going to last the day.”

  “Someone called his family?”

  Sachiko actually snarled. “His grandson will try to make it tonight—’important meetings’ or some such bullshit. Ydrel’s been with him since yesterday evening.”

  “How’s he doing?” He finished buttoning his cuffs and took the tie she handed him.

  “Remarkable. He’s upset, naturally, but he’s not lost, like he usually is around Isaac. Josh, I know you’re still probably feeling awful, but you’re the only one on staff who has any experience with this sort of thing, and you’ve spent a lot of time with him lately. Plus, I don’t think Ydrel will leave his side for anybody else, and I’m not sure it’s a good idea he be there when—”

  “Hey, it’s OK. I feel fine, honest.” He started to get up, and remembered just in time that he had no pants on. “Uh, how about if I catch up?”

  She smirked. “I’ll meet you outside.”

  “Ko—?”

  She paused with her hand on the doorknob.

  “Has anybody called a rabbi? I don’t know much about Jewish traditions, but he is pretty religious, I thought.”

  “I’ll check.”

  She shut the door, and he hurried to finish dressing. Just as he shrugged on his suit coat, Dr. Caldwell came in and gave him a cursory exam, and made him promise to return to the infirmary if he felt any signs of dizziness or nausea. Sachiko was just hanging up the phone as he approached the infirmary desk.

  “Rabbi Rosenbaum will be here in about half an hour,” she said as they headed down the hall. “I’ll need to talk to security and arrange an escort.”

  “I’ll go on to his room, then.”

  She gave him a long sideways glance. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  He wanted to put his arms around her and reassure her, but she’d made it clear that she didn’t want any “personal displays of affection” at work. He settled with a smile. “I’m fine. And I appreciate your getting me up.”

  “All right, then.”

  He left her at the nurses’ station and went on to Mr. Goldstein’s room. No one had bothered to open the curtains or the blinds; despite the mid-morning sun, it was dark and dim, and kind of morbid, especially with the air conditioning cooling the room to a temperature more suited to tombs. He went straight to the windows and pulled back the curtains, opened one enough to let in a little natural air in. Immediately, the place felt better. He pulled a chair next to Ydrel, who blinked owlishly at him.

&nbs
p; “How you holding up?” Joshua asked.

  “Fine, I guess. I just, I don’t know what to do.”

  “You’re doing everything you need to,” Joshua reassured him, then took the dying man’s hand from his. “Mr. Goldstein? It’s Joshua. We’ve talked a few times. I wanted you to know your grandson is going to try to visit tonight. Also, Rabbi Rosenbaum is coming in a little while. Would you like to see him? If so, just squeeze my hand.” He felt the slightest pressure along his fingers. “OK, sir, we’ll have him come right in. In the meantime, though, you just do what you need to. Don’t worry about us. You’ve done so much on this earth, you deserve to rest. Ydrel’s here with me, and I know he feels the same way.” He glanced at Ydrel.

  “’Course I do.” His voice husky with unshed tears.

  Joshua gave him the old man’s hand back and they sat in silence. A few times, he took the opportunity to study Ydrel. Sachiko was right: although he seemed sad and even a little scared, he was nonetheless centered and certainly within his own mind. In the warm afternoon light, Joshua could examine his eyes. He didn’t see any of the wild “pinning” he had come to associate with what Ydrel called his psychic abilities.

  Nonetheless, Ydrel seemed to pick up his thoughts. “My defenses are holding pretty well,” he said, “though I’m eating into my reserves.”

  “We’ve got some quiet time; replenish them now.”

  Ydrel nodded and closed his eyes. Joshua took the old man’s hand.

  A few minutes later, there was a light knock on the door and a man in a conservative suit but with a small round cap on his head poked his head in. Joshua waved him in. “Mr. Goldstein, the rabbi is here. Shall we leave the two of you alone? Squeeze for yes.”

  Again a slight pressure. The two got up to leave, then stopped as the elderly man spoke, “Ydrel,” he breathed.

  Ydrel rushed back, leaned close to his dying friend. “I’m here.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I—you’re welcome.” Gently, he kissed the old man’s head, then hurried from the room.

  Joshua lingered a few minutes with the rabbi. When he emerged from the room, he found Ydrel leaned against the wall near the door, hunched over so that his hair fell over his face, arms crossed, seemingly staring at a point on the floor six inches from his feet. Sachiko hovered nearby, looking helpless. Apparently, she had offered her sympathy and been refused. She gave Joshua a distressed look.

  “Hey, Ydrel, when’s the last time you ate?”

  “I don’t know. Yesterday, I guess.”

  “Well, you’re ahead of me. What say we go to the kitchen and grab some sandwiches or something?”

  “I don’t know,” Ydrel glanced at the door, his face screwed up with indecision.

  “The rabbi’s praying with him. There’s nothing we can do for a while. The best thing is to stock up on some food before you go back to him.”

  “Well…” Ydrel’s looked up and right—visual construction, Joshua thought—and his pupils narrowed momentarily. Then he nodded sullenly.

  “Good. Let’s go. I’m starved.”

  *

  Joshua waited until they got to the kitchen. “You OK?”

  “Why’d you make me tell him it was OK to die?!” Ydrel burst out in reply.

  Joshua sighed. Here we go. “Sometimes, people are ready to die, but they…hang on. Sometimes, they’re waiting for someone; sometimes, they’re scared of what will happen; sometimes, they’re more afraid of hurting someone.”

  Ydrel flopped miserably into a chair. “You think he’s hanging on because of me?”

  Joshua pulled up a chair, turned it around and sat with his arms draped over the back. “I don’t know. That’s why the rabbi’s here now, too. If it makes you feel any better, this isn’t the first time I’ve told someone something like that.”

  “How can you stand it?”

  “Ydrel, Isaac hasn’t really been living for a while now. And a lot of his days lately have been torturous—you know that more than any of us. It sounds cliché, but when he dies, he’ll finally find peace, even joy again.”

  “You really believe that?”

  “Yeah, I do. He was a good man, and very faithful. God will take care of him.”

  Ydrel pulled up his legs, resting his chin on his knees. “There were times, I wished he’d just die, so I wouldn’t have to share his memories, anymore. But now, I—” His voice caught. He looked away.

  He looked very young and vulnerable sitting with his arms wrapped around his shins and his forehead resting on his knees, blond hair falling in wisps around his face. Still, Joshua made no move to comfort him. He’d refused Sachiko’s comfort; this was just something he needed to work through on his own. Joshua gave him a few minutes.

  “Ydrel?” he asked when the tension in the boy’s hunched-up shoulders seemed to have relaxed a little. “You’ve got your radar focused on him, right?”

  The psychic looked up, surprised. “How’d you know?”

  “I saw you do it. That means you have a choice. We can stay here and linger over lunch until after, or we can grab something fast and you can be with him through the end. You’ve done a lot for Isaac already, way more than anyone could have expected. Even Isaac knew that, or he wouldn’t have spent his last energy thanking you. No one would think less of you for not being there. It’s totally your decision.”

  “Would you stay with me?”

  “Sure. If that’s what you want.”

  He heaved a large sigh, then unfolded himself. “Then let’s grab something fast and go. I don’t think we have a lot of time.”

  CHAPTER 23

  Isaac died around 6:30 that evening. Ydrel and Joshua were with him to the end, then Joshua escorted Ydrel, white faced and trembling, to his room. The boy shrugged off any attempts at sympathy, however, saying he just wanted a hot shower and to sleep, so Joshua left him with the reminder that Sachiko was available if he needed anything.

  He got to the nurses’ station just in time to overhear Monique telling an orderly about how Dr. Malachai handled Isaac’s grandson. She waved him over and began her story again. It seemed his grandson was annoyed about making the trip for nothing—”’For nothing,’ that’s what he said!”—and demanded to know what arrangements had been made for the body. Dr. Malachai gave him a lecture about family responsibility. “Dr. Malachai was furious! But he was so polite, and when he was done, was Isaac’s grandson ever red. It was a beautiful thing to watch.”

  “Wish I’d been here to see it,” Joshua said. “Where’s Sachiko?”

  “Taking care of Isaac’s room—cleaning up, packing the personal effects, you know.”

  Joshua nodded, tried to keep his voice casual. “I think I’ll go see if she’d like a hand.”

  “That won’t be necessary.”

  Joshua turned at the sound of Dr. Malachai’s voice. “It’s OK, sir. I volunteer at a nursing home. I’ve done this sort of thing before.”

  “And Sachiko was a hospital nurse for several years before she came to work here. She’s well-qualified to handle the situation without the aid of the remarkable Joshua Lawson.” He smiled, but the comment grated on Joshua’s raw nerves.

  “I’m not doing this for an ego trip, sir.” It was all he could do to keep his voice guileless, without the growl he wanted to express.

  “And I’m not suggesting that,” the senior psychiatrist answered just as smoothly. “However, you have had an extremely difficult few days. You’ve done remarkable work, been through a traumatic experience, and you’ve been injured. You’ve earned your pay—and your reputation. Now, it’s time to go home.” Before Joshua could protest, he added, “I will meet you at the security gate in five minutes. You are to drive home, get a good night’s sleep and return tomorrow ready to work. There are quite a few people asking about your performance with Ydrel on Monday, and I want you to prepare something we can show everyone. Do you understand?”

  I understand you’re taking me away from what little support I ha
ve right now. “Yes, sir.”

  After that, he had no choice. He went docilely to his car, but he didn’t drive home right away. Instead, he took out his cell phone and left a message on Sachiko’s answering machine. Next, he drove to the nearest Catholic church he could find, lit a candle, and prayed the rosary, twice. Then he knelt there until his knees hurt and his thoughts had spun down to nothing. After that, he went to a noisy restaurant and ordered the biggest chocolate dessert on the menu.

  It was past 10:00 when he did climb the stairs to his apartment. He heard his phone ring and rushed to grab it, hoping it was Sachiko. It was his parents.

  “Were you ever planning to call us and let us know that you’re OK?” his mother demanded.

  “Lay off, Mom,” he said wearily as he tossed his keys on the table. “I just got home. I went to church, then went and got a big brownie cake with chocolate sauce.” He knew she’d know what he meant. She knew his habits well.

  “So your Alzheimer’s client died? You poor baby. Are you OK?”

  He sat down on the edge of the day bed. Homesickness hit him so hard he wanted to curl up into a tight ball of misery. “No,” was all he managed to choke out.

  An hour and a half later, he felt calmer and sleepy, so he hung up and went to bed. No sooner had he gone to sleep than the dreams came. Isaac, lying in bed, crying. Crying for the wife he couldn’t protect against the savagery of the Nazis. Then he became his grandfather, crying for the daughter he couldn’t take care of if he died.

  “It’s OK, Grandpa. Dad and I will take care of her for you, promise.”

  His grandfather turning to smile at him, tears in his eyes.

  Tears of blood.

  Joshua woke, his own cheeks wet with tears. It was an old dream—a memory, really—but tonight it was too much. He didn’t want to face sleep and a return to the dream, so he snapped on the light. His keyboard rested invitingly on its stand in one corner of the room, but it was too late at night to play with his landlady right below him. He went instead to the computer to check his e-mail. Not that it helped: Rique e-mailed to report that LaTisha was in Santa Fe and had asked about him. Not that I disapprove, but why’d you two break up, anyway?