Mindscape

by M. M. Vaughan

  “Are you nervous?” asked Philip from his bed on the other side of the room. Chris hadn’t told him about his meeting with Hugh. In fact, he hadn’t said much at all the night before and had excused himself to go to bed straight after dinner.

  “I don’t think I’ll be going,” said Chris.

  “Why?” asked Philip, sitting up.

  The picture of the teddy bear slamming into the wall flashed across Chris’s mind.

  “I sort of lost my temper with the psychologist. I don’t think Sir Bentley’s going to be pleased when he hears about it.”

  Philip shook his head, dismissing Chris’s concerns. “Don’t worry about that—Sir Bentley won’t know anything.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “They’re not allowed to say anything about your session to anyone.”

  Chris wrinkled his nose, unconvinced. “Really?”

  “Yes. My mum teaches psychology, and she used to be a psychologist. I promise you—unless you said you were going to kill someone or something like that, he can’t say a word.”

  Chris frowned as he tried to remember everything that had happened.

  “Chris . . . ,” said Philip slowly, “you didn’t say you were going to kill anyone, did you?”

  Finally, Chris shook his head. “I said a lot of things, but I didn’t say that.”

  Philip breathed a sigh of relief and smiled. “Well, then, it’s fine. What time do you have to meet Sir Bentley?”

  Chris looked over at the clock above the door and threw the covers back. “Oh, no! I’ve got fifteen minutes!”

  He clambered quickly down the ladder, rushed into the bathroom, grabbed one of the freshly laundered towels that Maura had left for them in the walk-in wardrobe, and jumped into the shower, the water splashing onto the glass wall of the aquarium filled with gently pulsating jellyfish.

  “See you later. Good luck!” shouted Philip as Chris rushed out of the room, his hair still wet.

  Chris ran into the dining room, took a large swig of orange juice, and grabbed a couple of pieces of toast, then rushed out.

  “Nice suit,” he said, passing Sebastian, who wore a bright-blue suit, black-and-white leather shoes, and a clumsily knotted yellow tie.

  “Gracias,” called Sebastian, tipping an imaginary hat as Chris ran off toward Sir Bentley’s office with his mouth stuffed full of toast.

  • • •

  Chris brushed the crumbs from his sweater and knocked on Sir Bentley’s door.

  “Come in,” said Sir Bentley.

  Chris opened the door. “Good morning, sir. Sorry I’m late.”

  “No problem, Christopher. How are you?”

  “Good, thank you,” said Chris quietly as he took his seat.

  “Did you meet with Mr. Valedictoriat yesterday?”

  He could tell by the sound of Sir Bentley’s voice that Philip had been right. Hugh hadn’t said anything, and while he wasn’t going to lie, he didn’t think it was necessary to offer more information than needed.

  Chris nodded. “Yes, sir, I did.”

  “Pleased to hear that. And how are you feeling about today?”

  “I still want to do it. I think it’s my responsibility, sir.”

  Sir Bentley opened up the briefcase and pulled out some papers. “Very well, as long as you’re sure. A car will be here in half an hour to take us to Holloway Prison. It’s not too far from here, about twenty minutes with traffic. First, though, let me explain a little more about what we know of Dulcia Genever and what we’re hoping to gain from our visit today.”

  Sir Bentley slid a photograph across the table, a mug shot of Dulcia Genever following her arrest before Christmas. Chris stared at it for a moment. Her pale face, completely devoid of any emotion, was framed by her jet black hair, and he was sure that even if he hadn’t known what she was capable of, he would have been able to sense the evil in the cold, piercing stare of her emerald-green eyes. A shiver ran through him.

  “You may remember some of this from last term, so excuse any repetition, but I want to be thorough. . . .”

  Chris sat forward and listened carefully as Sir Bentley ran through everything that he knew about Dulcia Genever—starting with how she had once been a pupil at Myers Holt, just like Chris.

  “Then, one day, we began receiving anonymous letters to Myers Holt from people with knowledge about the Ability. We had no idea who they were—we still don’t—but we did know what they wanted: money, in exchange for their silence.”

  “Did you give it to them?” asked Chris.

  “The problem with blackmailers, Christopher, is that they tend never to be satisfied. They ask for a little bit, then a little bit more. It never stops. So our plan was to meet with the blackmailers, hand them the money, and then, in the process, the pupils from Myers Holt would wipe the minds of the blackmailers so that they had no memory of the Ability whatsoever.”

  “Using Inferno?” asked Chris.

  “Precisely. Inferno was a very new technique at the time and had barely been tested. We knew that the person performing it had to be fairly close physically to the victim, and we knew how to do it, but there was no way to test it out until the actual moment. We trained as much as possible and took the pupils to the place where the blackmailers had asked to meet us.”

  Sir Bentley sighed and took a sip of water before continuing.

  “I don’t think I need to go into all the details. We were tricked. They didn’t want money—they wanted one of the pupils. They could make a lot more than a briefcase of money using the Ability. In spite of what Dulcia might believe, we didn’t abandon her—everything was planned by her kidnappers to make us have no doubt that she had been killed.”

  Sir Bentley paused for a moment and cleared his throat. Chris could tell by the deep furrows in his brow and the way he was keeping his head down that this was far more difficult for Sir Bentley to talk about than Chris had imagined.

  “Are you all right, sir?”

  Sir Bentley looked up at Chris as if he had forgotten he was there.

  “Yes, fine—there are some memories you just don’t want to dwell on.”

  Chris understood exactly what he meant.

  Sir Bentley shook himself and sat up straight. “Until the night of the ball,” he continued, “everybody involved had thought that Dulcia, or Anna Willows as she was known at the time, had died. But, of course, she hadn’t. She had been kidnapped, and although we have no information about the intervening years, one thing is certain: She spent a large part of that time planning her revenge.”

  “What about the boys?” asked Chris.

  “Apart from their age, obviously, we don’t know anything—not even their names. Dulcia has remained completely silent from the moment of her arrest. We need to make sure the boy is being cared for and that this matter is finished with. And although she tried to kill me, I don’t blame her for her anger.”

  There was a brief moment of silence.

  “So, what information do you need me to get from her?” asked Chris finally.

  “It’s quite simple. We have all the evidence we need to proceed with charges of attempted murder—she tried to kill me in front of hundreds of witnesses, after all—so it’s just a case of finding out whether she was working with anybody else, the name of the boy, and her home address—those three things. We’ll take it from there.”

  “What will happen to the boy?”

  “Nothing. We won’t be pressing charges, if that’s what you mean.”

  Chris nodded. “I don’t think it’s his fault.”

  “I agree. We will ensure that he is safe and get him the help he needs after everything that has happened.” Sir Bentley looked down at his watch. “We’d better get going. Ron and John will be waiting with the car outside. I’ll explain everything in detail on the way—but I’m sure it’s nothing you haven’t already practiced many times.”

  “Okay,” said Chris, standing up. And then something occurred to him.

  �
��What if she blocks me?” he asked.

  Sir Bentley nodded. “Yes, of course. Well, she does know about the Ability, so the moment that she feels the ringing in the ears, she will know that somebody is trying to access her mind, and she may well try to block you. However, she won’t know that you are there, so you’ll have the element of surprise on your side. By the time she realizes what’s happening, you should be well inside her mind, the ringing will have stopped, and it will be too late for her to push you out.”

  Sir Bentley grabbed his coat and hat from the wooden coat stand and, as Chris followed him over to the elevator and out of Myers Holt, something occurred to him for the first time, and he paled: In almost every one of the few instances that he had used the Ability since killing the boy, he had let his emotions get the better of him. In fact, thinking about the incident with Hugh, the angrier he felt, the more out of control his Ability was. He climbed into the car behind Sir Bentley and buckled up in silence as the car pulled out into the street, his mind fighting the thought that maybe he shouldn’t be trusted to use his Ability at all.

  • • •

  The gates of Holloway Prison opened slowly to let the car carrying Chris and Sir Bentley pass. Chris had only seen prisons as depicted in films and television and was half expecting to be greeted by chained inmates in striped uniforms shouting and rattling their chains, so he was relieved to see that the reality was quite different. In fact, Chris was escorted from the car by the prison warden, a serious-looking man in spectacles and a somber suit, to a surprisingly modern building without once seeing an inmate. Had it not been for the tall walls surrounding them, he might have thought he was entering a large office building.

  “This way, please,” said the warden. “You two can wait here,” he said to Ron and John. Ron looked annoyed, but John nodded and sat down on a chair, pulling Ron down by the sleeve to join him.

  “We won’t be long,” said Sir Bentley. “Come, Christopher.”

  Chris walked silently behind the warden as he explained how Dulcia Genever had been doing since her arrest.

  “She hasn’t said a word since she arrived. She’s barely eaten, in fact. I’m not sure what you’ll get out of your meeting.”

  “Thank you, but we’re really just here to observe,” said Sir Bentley.

  “May I ask why?” asked the warden.

  “Just a routine check,” said Sir Bentley.

  “And the boy?” asked the warden, opening a door.

  “He’s my grandson. Just here to see what his grandfather does.”

  The warden nodded, but Chris could tell by the way he pursed his lips that he was unconvinced. “Very well. I’ll turn the light on for the two-way mirror. To remind you, you can see her but she cannot see you.”

  Chris turned to the dark wall that Sir Bentley was facing and waited.

  Click.

  The wall suddenly revealed itself as a window into the adjoining room.

  The cell was empty except for a single seat in the corner and a bed that looked as if it hadn’t been slept in. On the chair, with her back turned away from them, was Dulcia Genever, her black hair tied up, her hands on her lap.

  “Could you leave us for a few minutes?” asked Sir Bentley.

  The warden hesitated and then, finally, nodded. “Yes, of course. I’ll be waiting outside if you need me.”

  Chris waited for the door to close and turned to Sir Bentley, who seemed lost in thought as he stared through the two-way mirror. “Can she hear us?” he whispered.

  “No, not a thing,” said Sir Bentley, still looking straight ahead. “She has no idea we’re here—I promise. Do you need a minute, or do you want to get started?”

  Chris knew that this would have been the right time to admit to Sir Bentley that he wasn’t sure he was able to control his Ability anymore, but his desire to learn more about the boy won over. “No, I’ll start now.”

  “You know what you need to do.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Chris. He could feel Sir Bentley watching him as he looked at the back of Dulcia’s head, only a few feet away from him, and let his mind go blank.

  And then he waited.

  Entering the mind of a person, he had found in the course of his time at Myers Holt, was so easy for him that he barely had to think about it before he was standing in the Reception of the mind, but nothing was happening.

  Chris shook his head and blinked.

  “Everything okay?” asked Sir Bentley.

  “Yes, sorry. I think I need to start again.”

  Chris turned his attention back to Dulcia and let his eyes lose focus. And then he waited. And waited.

  “Christopher?”

  Chris looked up at Sir Bentley, confused. “I can’t get in. I think she’s blocking me.”

  Chris had blocked others, by filling his Reception with a familiar rhyme that filled his mind so entirely, nobody could enter, but it had never been done to him. People had tried, but Chris had always been too quick for them, and he had stopped them without any effort whatsoever.

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” said Sir Bentley. “She has no idea that we’re here. Try again. Make sure you focus on the back of her head and imagine standing in her Reception. By looking at the exact point where you want to go, it should make your Ability stronger.”

  Chris turned. Third time lucky, he thought, focusing once again on the back of Dulcia’s head.

  This time, Chris imagined that he was standing in her mind already, and as he focused more and more on the image a low haunting sound began to fill his head, softly at first.

  “ ‘Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are. . . . Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you . . .’ ”

  Chris tried to ignore Dulcia’s singing and focused his mind even more. Slowly, his surroundings started to dim until they went black, and then, as if a button had been switched on, he was alone in a black room and the sound of the singing suddenly filled his head so loudly that his eyes began to stream and he raised his hands to the throbbing in his head.

  “ ‘TWINKLE, TWINKLE, LITTLE STAR, HOW I WONDER WHAT YOU ARE. . . . TWINKLE . . .’ ”

  Chris felt the noise of the singing weighing him down, pressing in around him until he thought his ears were going to burst. He looked around desperately for the door to Dulcia’s mind, but the singing continued to increase in volume and he felt himself spinning with pain. Spinning and spinning and . . .

  “Christopher? Christopher!”

  Chris felt two arms around him, and all of a sudden, he was back in the room, collapsed on the floor, with Sir Bentley trying to lift him.

  “Everything okay?” asked the warden, opening the door. “My goodness! What happened?”

  “Bring the boy a glass of water, please. Quickly.”

  The warden rushed out, and Sir Bentley gently lifted Chris to his feet and led him over to a seat on the back wall.

  “She was blocking me. She was doing it before we even started,” said Chris, his head still spinning. “There was nothing I could do.”

  “Don’t talk, Christopher.”

  “I’m sorry, sir, I really tried,” whispered Chris.

  “I know you did,” said Sir Bentley. “You did everything you were supposed to do.”

  • • •

  Standing by the window of the playroom in Darkwhisper Manor, Ernest watched Chris and Sir Bentley in his mind as they left the prison. Even though their mission had been unsuccessful, Ernest’s heart was racing wildly and his hands remained clenched tightly—the whole incident having caught him unawares. He had, of course, known that Dulcia would be interviewed, he just hadn’t expected the Ability to be used on her so soon. Ernest was furious with himself—he should have seen it coming. But he hadn’t, and the sight of Christopher Lane arriving at the prison had hit him like a punch in the stomach.

  As it turned out, luck had been on his side for once: For the time being, Dulcia had blocked Christopher. He didn’t know how long he had
until they tried again—although he had no doubt that they would—or what their intentions were once they entered her mind, though he could guess. He couldn’t risk another surprise—he was going to have to put his plan into action immediately. Ernest ran to the dining room and started to rip down the drawings of Chris from the wall. All the while, he could think of only one thing—that Christopher Lane wiping Dulcia Genever’s mind was not something he was ever going to allow to happen.

  • CHAPTER SEVEN •

  Chris returned to Myers Holt to a picnic that Maura had prepared for them in the Dome and an avalanche of questions from his friends. Despite feeling exhausted, and miserable about his failure to access Dulcia’s mind, he didn’t think they would forgive him if he didn’t tell them everything.

  “Do you think she’s just been repeating the same song over and over since she was arrested?” asked Daisy once Chris had finished.

  “I guess so,” said Chris.

  “She must have known that we would try to access her mind,” said Lexi.

  “That, or maybe she just heard ‘Twinkle, Twinkle’ on the radio and couldn’t get it out of her head,” said Rex.

  “Seriously?” asked Philip, looking amazed at Rex’s stupidity.

  “No, of course not, Einstein,” said Rex, “it was a joke. Doesn’t anyone have a sense of humor anymore?”

  “Yes,” replied Lexi, “it’s just that you’re not very funny.”

  “Only compared with your face, Frizzo,” said Rex.

  “Will you two stop flirting for one moment, please,” said Philip. “I want to hear what happened.”

  Rex turned bright red.

  “Nothing else happened,” said Chris. “They gave me a glass of water, and we left.”

  “Do you presume that Sir Bentley will require your services once more to attempt Mind Accessing?” asked Sebastian.