by Dale Mayer
Jamie blinked. Then he said, “Stefan’s leaving now. I think I’ll have a nap.” He lay down on the back seat, curled up and, just like that, he was out.
Ned gave a gentle smile and said, “Well done.” Then covered Jamie up with blanket.
Surprised at Jamie’s quick collapse, Whimsy turned to look at Samson.
He studied her face. “You’re taking this all remarkably calmly,” he said.
“Hey,” she said. “It is pretty exciting. I’ve never broken anybody out of a mental hospital before.”
Samson chuckled. “It’s not the first time I have, but I’ll get everything fixed up as much as I can here, and then we’ll head home.”
She loved the sound of that. “Do you mean me too?”
“If you want,” he said. “At least this time. I’m not sure what’s happening, but obviously I need to take care of my brother.”
“I’m quite happy to help with that,” she said with a smile. “The thing is, I really want to go back to the island too.”
“Why is that?” he asked.
“Because of whatever is connected to Jamie,” she said, giving Samson a partial answer. How could she explain how much she didn’t want to leave Samson? There was so much wrong in her world, but he was the one thing that was so right. “I think it is also connected to me. I can feel waves washing toward me from Jamie. It’s a most bizarre feeling.”
“Seriously?” he asked her.
She nodded. “Yeah, seriously. It’s incredible. It’s powerful. I don’t know what it all is, but I’m struggling to have any willpower against it.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t come,” he said in a harsh tone.
“Absolutely I should,” she said. “There’s really no other option. This is necessary.”
*
For Samson the afternoon had been surreal. He didn’t understand how Whimsy was handling this as well as she was. But she’d taken to dealing with Jamie like a pro. And Samson had to wonder about that. He could also see a bond forming between Jamie and her. Hell, not forming—it was already strong. Was that a good thing? Samson wasn’t sure. Understandable maybe, given her own situation with her sister and maybe some guilt that Whimsy couldn’t help Marion. But Whimsy had been instrumental in getting Jamie out of that institution.
Samson wouldn’t have thought to use the same courtesy iPad to log into the actual medical file. But it made sense. It was the doctor’s fault for leaving himself signed in. Still, it was pretty tricky for Whimsy to consider that. And, now that it was done, Samson needed help from his lawyers to keep his brother away from there.
Samson reached for the car dash and placed a call to Heather. “Can you call up the legal firm, please? We need to start proceedings to make sure Jamie doesn’t go back to that place. Ned will be consulting as usual.”
“Is Jamie out?”
“He is,” Samson said. “I’m going to the apartment for the rest of the day, and, if we can get back to the island tomorrow, that’s the plan.”
“I have a lot of work for you to go over,” Heather said.
“I hate to ask, but how do you feel about working late tonight?”
“When don’t I work late?” she asked with a chuckle. “I’ll arrange for food to be sent up to the apartment. If you’re okay with it, I’ll add enough for me and Ned. We’ll join you up there and see what plans we can make.”
“That works,” he said. He ended the call and looked at Whimsy. But she was twisted in her seat to see Jamie. Ned was texting, likely gathering up legal steam to cover their asses. “Are you okay?”
She nodded. “Something is really weird about his energy.”
“Something is really weird about you talking about his energy,” he said. “This is also very new for you, and yet, you seem completely unfazed by it.”
“It’s not that I’m unfazed,” she said. “It’s more like I’m just … Somehow it feels natural.” She glanced at Samson, and her lips twisted into a smile. “And I know that probably makes me as crazy as he is.”
“Of which I’m not crazy at all,” Jamie piped up from the back seat.
She chuckled. “No, you’re not,” she said. “But that doesn’t change the fact that everybody thinks you are.”
“They always have,” he said. “I’ve always been what’s known as delicate, simply different. You know what? It’s not so much that as the fact that I see things and feel things differently than other people.” He lay quietly for a moment. “Did you connect with it?”
“Connect with what?” Samson asked as he drove the car through Seattle traffic. Each time he came back to the mainland, he hated the traffic more and more. He should have let Ned drive.
“I’m not talking to you. I’m talking to her.”
Surprised, Samson looked at his brother in the rearview mirror. “Her name is Whimsy.”
“I like Whimsy,” Jamie announced. “And I repeat, did you connect with it?”
“I connected to something,” she answered. “But I don’t know what.”
Samson sighed. “How can she understand? This is all so new to her.”
“You should have taught her when you were together on the island,” Jamie said in exasperation.
“He tried,” Whimsy said. “But I was pretty ill when I first got there. It hasn’t been long since my accident.”
“But it was no accident, was it?” Jamie asked with a yawn. “I could feel the pain.”
“My pain?” she asked.
Samson could hear the astonishment in her voice.
“Not really,” he said. “More like the pain of the universe, the understanding that somebody was deliberately hurting somebody else.”
“Isn’t that the nature of the animal kingdom? Survival of the fittest and all that?” she asked patiently. “How often do we see an animal kill another in order to have food to sustain themselves?”
“Sure,” Jamie said. “That’s normal. That’s natural. But to shoot you for his own gain, that’s something different.”
“How do you know I was shot?” she asked, her voice soft, quiet.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I try not to connect with people. There’s just too much chaos. And I didn’t connect with the bullets as they wounded you. But I was more connected to the water, and I could feel you drowning. Those that were connected to you were upset. They need you. They couldn’t let you die … And I couldn’t let that happen.”
Those connected to her? What did that mean?
“Are you the one who called Samson to come get me? And who was connected to me … I don’t understand.”
“No,” he said. “I tried to, but he doesn’t always listen to me. He does, however, listen to the voices around me. And I can amplify them, so he has no choice but to listen. The others were crying out. You are important.”
“Thanks a lot for that,” Samson said. “It’s a little hard to deal with one thousand voices crowding into my head all at once, you know?”
“If you’d listen to me,” Jamie said wearily, “I wouldn’t have to do that. I burned through a ton of energy trying to get you to notice. You know that, right?”
Samson just sighed.
They’d been through this conversation many, many times. It still didn’t have an easy answer. Not that there was any specific question to solve, just the fact that Samson was often really busy with his work, and he couldn’t have answers for everything.
He pulled into his apartment building. “Are you okay to walk?”
Jamie sat up. “We’ll see, won’t we? Can we take the elevator?”
“I’ll help him,” Ned said as he hopped out.
“Of course,” Samson said, exiting the car and opening the rear passenger door, helping his brother to his feet. Critically he studied Jamie as he wavered, and the fatigue in his eyes was almost a glassiness. “You’re still under the influence of drugs, aren’t you?”
Jamie nodded and yawned. “Yeah. I’m standing on sheer nerves alone.”
Hesit
antly he moved toward the front door. Samson gave him an arm and a shoulder to assist him inside. Ned stepped up on the other side of Jamie.
Whimsy looked anxiously at Jamie. “How is it you can connect with all things?”
“Because I disconnect with the physical things keeping me grounded. And I don’t necessarily connect to all things but to the energy of things,” he said finally. “I’m not sure it’s explainable.”
“No,” she said. “And yet, you’re not doing a bad job of it.”
Within minutes they were at Samson’s penthouse apartment. When the double doors opened, Jamie stumbled forward and said, “I’ll skip food and go straight to bed.” And he headed down the hallway, lurching unsteadily but still walking on his own.
Samson watched him go, a frown forming on his face.
“You don’t think he’s okay?” Whimsy asked.
Samson nodded. “He took off with a bottle of my best wine. I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”
Whimsy raced ahead and snagged the bottle of wine from Jamie’s hand.
Chapter 15
“You don’t get to have that,” Whimsy scolded Jamie.
Jamie just sent her an odd look, disappearing into his room and shutting the door behind him.
She glanced at Samson and held up the bottle of wine. “Has he got a drinking problem?”
“It seems to only affect him when he’s on drugs,” he said wearily. “I don’t understand the compulsion to add alcohol to drugs, but it’s something he does.”
“That makes no sense.” She put the wine into his hands and walked out to the living room. As she did, she watched as a tall graceful woman in her early fifties walked in the door, carrying a few bags and a box. “Let me help you,” she said, racing forward.
Heather smiled and said, “Thank you. Ned’s bringing in more.”
With everything laid on the dining room table, Whimsy was surprised to see that much food. “There’s enough to feed an army here.” Yet she was famished, so maybe not.
“I wasn’t sure how hungry everybody would be,” Heather said, then bustled about in the kitchen, grabbing plates and cutlery.
Whimsy, happy to have something constructive to do, opened up the containers, leaving them on the dining table, then placing all the removed lids on the kitchen counter area. “It smells divine,” she said as she returned to join the others.
“It’s Greek from on the corner,” Heather said. “We use their services a lot. Their food is excellent.”
“Well, it smells like it.” Whimsy sat down. “Will Jamie come out to eat?”
Heather shrugged. “He might. It depends on how he’s feeling. If he’s still dealing with drugs, then not likely.”
“And Samson?”
Heather lifted a veiled glance toward the hallway where Samson still hadn’t emerged. She caught Ned’s gaze and motioned toward the door with her head. Ned nodded and walked down there. Whimsy could hear voices, and then finally the two men emerged. They both grabbed plates, served themselves decent portions, and then sat down beside Whimsy.
Ned looked at her. “Did you ever contact any of your friends?”
She shook her head. “Not really. I emailed the couple we’d gone kayaking with but no one else. Although I haven’t really had time. But I don’t think I should, not after the gunman found us at Mark’s place. Finding out my former fiancé was partly behind what happened to me has been enough of a shock. That he did it for money … I know he was always broke but hadn’t realized it was that bad, he did love to gamble though …” she said slowly. “I was trying to avoid having any more of my happy memories destroyed by contacting friends and finding out they weren’t who I remembered either.”
“I don’t think it’s good idea to reach out to anyone beyond this room of people, not until the gunmen are accounted for,” Samson said.
“And not until the police or medical authorities associated with the Woodrow House have been handled too,” Heather offered.
Whimsy nodded. “Part of my particular struggle is, in this last six months when I was engaged, it seems like I lost most of my friends,” she confessed. “I don’t even know how it happened, but somehow our friends were his friends.”
“That often happens,” Heather said in a maternal voice. “You don’t see it coming, but slowly, piece by piece, you start to lose the world you had when you were single. How long did you know him before you became engaged?”
“Two years ago,” she said, “we met at on campus and started dating. We got engaged six months ago. I was always so busy that I didn’t really see him for who he was.”
“If he had something to do with your attempted murder, then, no, you didn’t,” Ned said.
At his wording, she froze and looked at Samson. Just then Ned’s phone rang. He got up and walked a few feet away. They waited in silence for him to return.
He spun around looked at her, sorrow in his eyes. “It’s a little more complicated than you know. Mark did put into his statement that he fell in love with you through the process and did want to marry you. That he truly loved you but his gambling habit was bigger than him and he needed money. Hopefully we’ll get more out of him after he’s had time to contemplate his future.”
“If he’d loved me any more,” she snapped. “I’d be dead.”
“True enough. Too bad he’s not dead. It would be simpler all around.”
Samson lifted an eyebrow and said, “You can always count on Ned to call a spade a spade.”
Ned raised his cell phone. “Working on Jamie’s current problem now. Already got an injunction against Woodrow House signed by a judge. Now it’s just a matter of getting it served before the cops show up here.”
“Thank you, Ned,” Samson said.
Whimsy picked up a skewer of souvlaki and pulled the meat off the wooden stake before putting it into her mouth. She sat back and closed her eyes. “This food is divine.”
“It is, isn’t it?” Heather agreed, smiling.
Whimsy thought about her future and everything else going on. “I’ll need to deal with my apartment.”
“What do you need from there? Seems your ex-fiancé took most of it with him.”
“He did, and I don’t need much, just my clothing, I guess,” she said, frowning. “And how pathetic is that? You’d think, as a twenty-nine-year-old adult, I’d have more to show for my life than that.”
“I think the letters at the end of your name is why you don’t,” Samson said gently. “Most people who are on a path to becoming a doctor have very little else in their life because that process is all-consuming.”
“I was never much of a clotheshorse,” she confessed. “And I don’t do knickknacks. I’m not a hoarder. I never really noticed my surroundings.”
“That makes it easy now,” Ned said. “Are you returning to the island with Jamie and Samson?”
“I’d like to.” She slowly turned to look at Samson. “I’m not sure he said I could though.”
“Last time the subject was brought up,” Samson said, “you made it pretty clear you were going regardless.”
She nodded. “I want to, yes.”
“Do you know about the work they do over there?” Heather asked, her voice suddenly stern.
Surprised, Whimsy looked at her. “I fell into it.”
Samson gave a hard snort. “She was saved by whatever is going on down there. Jamie sent me to the beach to revive her.”
Heather’s eyebrows lifted. “And do you understand it?”
“I don’t understand anything,” Whimsy said, “but I’m connected to Jamie for some strange reason, and I’m connected to whatever it was in the sound.” She was about to take another bite of food when a lance of pain jolted through her head. She shuddered and made a small cry. She looked at Samson to see his face was twisted in pain too. “What’s happening?” she cried out.
Ned reached across and grabbed her hand. “Most likely Jamie.”
She stared at Ned, her pupils large and gl
assy. “What’s he doing?”
“He could be doing anything from trying to communicate through the drugs to punishing you,” Ned admitted. “It’s easy to forget Jamie is still an adolescent boy in general. He acts like a man much of the time but can act out without warning.”
“Well, he’s not acting out with me,” she said, her voice tight. She pushed her chair back. “My sister acted out all the time. I’ll treat him the same way I treated her.” She stormed down the hallway.
*
Samson watched her go. The pain rattled through his brain. He struggled to his feet to go after her.
Heather reached out for his hand. “Leave them.”
“I can’t. She doesn’t understand.”
“No, but she certainly jumped into the deep end of whatever is going on in this craziness.” Heather’s voice was strong and sure. “Let them work it out. Maybe it’ll stop Jamie from taking over your brain, like he’s doing right now.”
Samson had to get control of his own brain. Stefan had warned Samson that Jamie’s abilities had to be curtailed, that Jamie couldn’t be allowed to take over at will. But Samson had been remiss. All the trips back and forth to the center, he’d been torn with guilt and had allowed all of it to take over his own objectivity.
He sat down again and reached up with his hands, pressing his fingers deep against his temples. He sent a message to Jamie. Knock it off.
Instantly the pain in his head lessened.
I am your brother, Samson whispered in his mind. You’ve got no business hurting me—or anyone.
The pain eased more.
Samson could hear Jamie’s voice in his head.
I didn’t know I was hurting you, he said in a sulky voice.
Yes, you did, Samson snapped. You were punishing me.
You wouldn’t let me have the wine, Jamie said. You let her take it.
You’re not allowed to have it, particularly not when you’re on medication. You know that.
And you sent her to stop me, Jamie snapped.
No, I didn’t, but you were hurting her too, and she decided to stop you herself.
There was a welcome silence in his head; then Samson slowly stood up. Jamie? he asked. Did you hurt her?
