18

Aura knew she should concentrate on what Mark said, but every time she peered into his ebony eyes, her mind drifted to a very different kind of therapy than what he was talking about.

“I don’t mind telling you, Aura, I was completely outraged when I heard what they’d done to you. Any off-campus excursions should’ve been cleared through your primary therapist—me. Taking a young woman suffering from PTSD to a disaster site where dozens of people were killed, including a young woman you knew, was inexcusable.”

“I kinda thought it sucked myself.”

“I understand that they thought you could help with the investigation—and frankly, I don’t care.”

“I didn’t want Seattle to happen, and I feel confident Perfume didn’t want Santa Monica. Especially since she died there.”

“But the fact remains that Shines are somehow causing these disasters, and if we can’t figure out why, fast, the government is going to lock you all up somewhere so you can’t hurt anyone. Are you familiar with the bill currently before Congress?”

“Aren’t there several?”

“Yes, but the first in line would give an Emergency Council the right to suspend Shines’ civil rights any time they declare an emergency. Which they could do at any time, for any reason they deem appropriate.”

“In other words, we wouldn’t have civil rights any more.”

“Exactly. And that’s why it’s so important that you cooperate with this therapy.” He reached out and took her hand. A shock wave raced through her body. She felt as if she’d been Tasered. “I will do anything to help you, Aura. Anything at all. But you have to understand that you cannot Shine. Not at any time. No matter what the circumstances.”

“I got it already, okay? Chill.”

He punched a few buttons on his tablet. “Got an interesting report from Coach Prater. Sorry I didn’t get to it sooner.”

She felt a sudden aching in the pit of her stomach.

“Says you won a dodgeball game.”

“And is that so amazing? I’m not a total dog biscuit, you know.”

He stared at the tablet. “It was the first time you’d ever played, you were one of the smallest persons on either team, you had the weakest throw…and you won because Tank made an astounding recovery from an apparent twisted ankle.” He laid down his tablet and stared directly at her.

Damn those eyes, anyway. She couldn’t lie to them—and she didn’t want to. It would be a complete waste of time. “I don’t see anything wrong with helping someone in pain. The gym walls didn’t come tumbling down.”

“Thank God. But why? Why does it happen sometimes and not others? We don’t know, Aura. And until we do, it’s not safe to use your powers.”

“I don’t believe a tiny little Shine like that could hurt anyone.”

“I’m betting Perfume didn’t, either.”

Silence descended like a blanket.

He released her hand. “I wouldn’t be saying this if I didn’t care about you. Do you understand that? So let’s plow into this therapy with a positive attitude, and I’m sure that in no time—”

They heard a knock on his office door. “Aura?”

“Yes?”

Joseph poked his head through the doorway. “You have a visitor.”

“I thought I wasn’t allowed visitors yet.”

“We’re making an exception.”

“Why?”

“Because we feel we have no choice.”

“Oh. Beverly.”

“Yes.”

“Later, Mark.” She pushed herself out of her chair. “Lead me to the slaughter.”

***

For some reason, Aura envisioned being led to a small cubicle where she sat on one side of an acrylic screen and could only talk to her visitor through a telephone receiver. That was not how it worked. Unfortunately.

Joseph led her to the library, a lovely mahogany room with ceiling-high wall-to-wall books accessed by a golden ladder on wheels. She wondered if she would get in trouble if she jumped on it and slid across the room. She decided not to find out.

Mnemo was in there reading an enormous thick tome. “Einsteinian physics?” she guessed.

Mnemo shook her head. “The Count of Monte Cristo.”

“A novel? Really?”

Mnemo shrugged. “Sometimes I like to escape. To someplace better. Where things work out the way they’re supposed to and everyone falls in love with the right person.”

“Mnemo,” Joseph said, “Aura’s going to have a visitor. Would you mind reading in the lounge for a bit?”

Mnemo slammed her book shut—after carefully marking her place—and left the library.

Great. Another Shine who hates me.

“I’ll send your visitor in.”

Beverly was dressed to the nines, as usual, in a sharp professional business suit that undoubtedly came from Rodeo Drive, where she shopped so frequently the salespeople were on a first-name basis.

“Hi, Beverly.”

“Oh my poor dear, how are you?” The only seating was a red curved burnished loveseat, which meant they had to sit within touching distance of one another. Unfortunately. “Are they treating you all right?”

“Well, so far no dismemberments.”

“I’ve heard of people getting messed up in less than an hour. These shrinks will play games with your head if you let them. Screw you up but good.”

“No one has tried anything like that.” She decided not to mention her session with Dr. Hope.

“Then—they’re nice to you?”

“They’re okay.” Beverly did not need to know about Perfume, or the threats from Dr. Coutant.

“And what about the doctors? They haven’t tried to…to take advantage of you?”

“Of course not.”

“You say that like it never happens, but you don’t know. If you’d heard some of the stories I’ve heard in the courtroom, you’d be worried, too.”

“I am not one of your clients.”

“Obviously. If you were, I’d have gotten you sprung a long time ago.” Beverly pulled her briefcase onto her lap and popped it open. Beverly never carried a purse. But that extra-large briefcase went with her everywhere. “I’ve drafted some papers. We’ll have to go to federal court. Bring a habeas corpus action.”

“What if this PA2 bill passes?”

“I’ll argue that it’s unconstitutional. It completely abridges the civil rights of a certain class of people, a violation of the Equal Protection clause of the Fourteenth Amendment. We’ll have to establish Shines as a protected class, but I think it can be done. Does Congress think it can override the entire Bill of Rights in one fell swoop? If so, they should’ve consulted with me first. Even if those bozos don’t know what the Constitution is, I do.”

“Beverly, I don’t want you to make a fuss.”

“Dear, sometimes you don’t know what’s in your own best interest.”

“Really, Beverly. Please. Don’t.”

“You’re going to lie down and take this?”

“I didn’t say that. But I don’t think any judge is going to help me.”

“There are currently fourteen civil actions filed against you by people and businesses in Seattle. They’re trying to put together a class action suit.”

“Then deal with that. Don’t try to litigate me out of here.”

“Do you want to be incarcerated forever?”

“I’d rather be here than in Mordock. And that’s where they’d put me if by some miracle you got me sprung from this joint. They’d find an excuse. And what if you lose?”

Beverly’s back stiffened. “Do you know how many cases I’ve lost in all the years I’ve practiced? One. Out of a hundred and six. And that was only because some scrawny Oklahoma lawyer made my client cry on the witness stand.”

“Memory jog—I’m not your client. I know you like to play with people. It’s all a game to you. But this is my life and I don’t want you messing it up.”

“I’m your mother. Interfering is my job.”

“Don’t I know that. All too well.”

“Are you suggesting I messed up your childhood?”

“Frankly, Beverly, you were never around enough to mess up my childhood.”

“Someone had to make a living. After your father disappeared.”

“This is my life, not a case. So stop meddling and leave me alone.”

Beverly folded her arms across her chest, a sure sign that she felt wounded. But she would never say that. She would never let it show. Just like me.

“Do you know how much I worry about you?”

“Not as much as you worry about your clients.”

“Are you criticizing me for having a job? I had to do something, didn’t I? Your father didn’t give a damn about you, so I—”

“Don’t talk that way about my father!”

“Really? After all these years? He abandons you, I protect you. So he’s the hero. Parenting is so unfair.”

“He did not abandon me.”

“Then where is he, huh?”

“I don’t know. But I know he wouldn’t—”

“You know nothing about him. He was never a strong man. Smart, yes, but strong, never. And the truth is, after you nearly died, he lost it. Cracked. So I had to be strong. Had to take care of things. I didn’t have the luxury of running away.”

“You did run away.” She turned her back so Beverly wouldn’t see the tears. “You just did it in a different way.”

“Fine. Just fine.” Beverly snapped her briefcase closed. “I came to see if I could help you. I almost lost you once. I don’t want it to happen again. The last time—” Deep breath. “You were too young. You barely remember it. You have no idea how hard it was on me.”

She pressed her hand against her forehead. “Just give me some time, okay? To figure out…I don’t know. I’ve got all these people telling me there’s something wrong with me. But I don’t feel like there’s anything wrong with me. I’m different, sure. When did that become a crime?”

Her mother’s eyes widened. “Aura! You haven’t—You haven’t—”

“No. I haven’t Shined.” Not that she was going to tell Beverly about, anyway.

“You know, if you get caught doing that again, even I won’t be able to help you.”

“Thank you so much. I know.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. “I have to go to my next session. Attendance is mandatory.”

“Fine. Fine.” She grabbed her briefcase. “Can I visit you again? Sometime? I mean—not tomorrow. But sometime?”

“Sure. Whatever.”

Beverly held out her arms and, for a moment, she thought the woman might actually embrace her. A thought that both softened and terrified her.

She held up a finger, cutting that possibility off at the pass. “And no lawsuits.”

“Right.” She lowered her arms. “If anyone asks, I’ll just say my daughter is taking a rest cure at an island-fortress nuthouse.”

“Say I’m vacationing near Malibu.” Her lips turned upward slightly. “Sounds cooler.”

Beverly started toward the exit. “Oh, I almost forgot. That boy wants to visit you.”

“Taj? Taj Sharma?”

“Right. The Indian. I suppose I don’t need to say—”

“That you don’t approve. No, you don’t need to say it.”

“You told me the two of you were just friends.”

“We are.”

“His father’s a police officer, you know. The boy has been by the house. He seems very concerned about you.”

“He’s a good friend.” She did not add: who was around when I needed someone. Who was there when I felt lonely or depressed. Who defended me when the other kids made fun of me. Unlike you. “So if he wants to visit me, great.”

“I see.” Beverly inhaled deeply. “Do be careful, Aura. I want to help you. But the climate outside these walls—it’s getting crazy. And crazy people do crazy things. You’ve had enough of that in your life. So please don’t stir up any more trouble. I am good at what I do.” Beverly placed a hand on the side of her cheek. “But there are some things—and some people—even I can’t protect you from.”