Текст книги "Pandora's Daughter "

Автор книги: Iris Johansen

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CHAPTER THREE

LORD, SHE WAS WONDERFUL, Grady thought.

Standing there before the elephant enclosure, bending down to talk to the small boy, Megan was everything he'd known she could be. She was smiling and she seemed to draw all the light to her on this cloudy day. At fifteen she'd been slight and straight as a board, but she'd still had that smile that was part mischief and part breathless anticipation. Now there was maturity in her body and warmth and loving understanding in that smile.

He could see how the little boy responded, laughing, and drawing closer to her. Who could blame him? Stop standing here staring at her, remembering what Megan had been and what she was right now. Think about what she could be. Do what you have to do.

"MAY I RIDE THE ELEPHANT?" Davy asked. "I bet he'd like me."

"I'm sure he would." Megan offered him her popcorn. "But I don't think they let little boys ride the animals. Maybe we could go to the petting zoo instead."

"I want the elephant. All they have there are boring goats and stuff." Davy's endearingly hoarse voice was filled with disgust. "Not even a gorilla."

"How terrible." She tried to think of an alternative. Davy was not a whiner but he could be stubborn once he got an idea in his head. "I don't know why they didn't recruit King Kong for you. What about riding the train?"

"I guess that would be okay." He looked longingly at the elephant. "If you're sure they won't let me ride _ii

"I'm sure." She pushed him gently toward the train. "But we'll talk to your mom and see if we can't do—" Swirling darkness. Voices. Voices. Voices.

"Megan?"

Davy was tugging at her sweater and looking up at her with a frown. "Aren't we going to get on the train?"

She shook her head to clear it. The voices were gone now. Strange. No, somehow... not strange. Frighteningly familiar. "You bet we are." She settled him on the seat and sat down beside him. Her heart was beating hard, fast. What the devil was wrong with her?

Mama.

"Look at the seals, Megan." Davy was leaning eagerly forward as they passed an outdoor pool. "I saw a movie about a seal. It was funny."

"Animals can be funny. But then so can people, Davy. The only difference is that sometimes we don't realize we're—"

Voices!

Stronger. Louder. Screaming. Indistinguishable roaring, echoing. Voices. Voices. Echoing. Echoing.

No!

She crumpled in the seat as the pain hit her. Davy screamed.

She had to get up. Davy was scared. Had to take care of– The voices faded and then vanished.

She was vaguely aware of the uniformed conductor beside her, his face concerned, saying something... She slowly sat up in the seat. Davy was crying.

She instinctively put her arm around him and drew him close. "It's okay..." Her voice was slurred. She tried to steady it. "Everything's okay, Davy."

"Would you like me to take you to the first aid station, Miss?" The conductor said. "Do you have someone you'd like me to call?"

"No, I'm fine." But she wasn't fine, she thought in panic. Dear heaven, the voices... What if it happened again? Davy. She had to protect Davy. "Maybe I am a little unwell. Perhaps you could have someone stay with me for a little while until I can get Davy's mom here to pick him up?" She reached for her phone. "I'm going to call your mom, Davy. I must be coming down with flu or something." She gently stroked his hair as she hugged him close. "You remember a few months ago when you got sick? You were great after a few days but you felt a little wonky for a while."

"Wonky," he repeated, burying his head against her. "I don't want you to be sick."

"I'm only a little sick. I'm a doctor so I know things like that. By tomorrow I'll be okay." She brushed her lips against his forehead. "So will you help me by just being quiet and holding my hand? Sometimes that helps to make people feel better."

"YOU'RE BACK EARLY." PHILLIP looked up as she came in the door. "I wasn't expecting you for another couple hours. Didn't Davy like—" He broke off as he saw her face. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." She moistened her lips. "Just a bad headache. I had Jana pick up Davy at the zoo. There wasn't any use ruining his day."

"You never have headaches."

"Well, I do now." She headed for her bedroom. "I'm going to try to sleep it off. I'll see you in a couple hours."

She leaned against the door after she closed it behind her. She hated lying to Phillip. Since that first day they'd met at her mother's funeral, they'd always been honest with each other.

It couldn't be helped. She couldn't face anyone right now. She wanted to crawl into her bed like a wounded animal into its cave.

Cave.

Quarry.

Mama.

A man... Dark eyes holding her own. Fear flaring. Fear dying. Was she going mad? No, Mama had said.

She couldn't remember what she had said. It was blurred, like the voices, like the pain...

Sleep. Take a nap. Let everything drift away. After she woke she'd be able to think and plan how to handle this weirdness.

She crawled under the covers and curled up in a ball. It was going to be okay. She could handle whatever was happening to her. She just needed a little time to clear her head and decide what action to take.

And pray that the voices stayed away.

"I WANT TO SEE HER," GRADY SAID when Phillip opened the door two hours later. "And I don't want any arguments or protective crap, Phillip."

Phillip stiffened. "Why should I argue? I'm the one who phoned you. Remember?"

"But by this time I'm sure you've been mentally cursing me and considering the possibility that you'd be better off without my interference."

"Maybe."

"May I come in?"

Phillip didn't want to let him in, he realized. Grady had changed in the years that had passed. He had been only a young man of twenty-five when he'd approached Phillip about taking on the care of Megan. Now he must be in his mid-thirties and although still lean, still darkly handsome, beneath that glittering exterior he seemed weathered and scarred by experiences Phillip could only imagine. Even when he was younger he'd had an aura of power and confidence that was a little intimidating. Now that power was refined, more subtle, but infinitely stronger.

He shrugged and stepped aside. "I couldn't stop you, could I?"

"Yes. You could shoot me." He came into the house and closed the door. "But that wouldn't be smart. I may not be what you want for Megan, but you don't like burning your bridges." He glanced around the living room. "Nice. Cozy."

"We like it," Phillip said. "Megan and I picked out the furniture when we moved into the house after her mother's funeral. It was a new start for both of us and I wanted her to feel perfectly comfortable."

"I'm sure she does. You did a good job in cocooning her. When you're a youngster, you need security."

Phillip stiffened as he caught the implication. "You mean she doesn't need that security, now that she's an adult. You're wrong. Everyone needs to feel safe."

"But sometimes we don't get what we want or need. Where is she?"

"She's lying down. She's not feeling well." He stared at him accusingly. "Did you have something to do with that?"

"Yes." He glanced at his watch. "I can give her another thirty minutes to rest. I could go in and help, but she'd be better off if she came out of it herself. Why don't you give me a cup of coffee while I'm waiting?"

"I'm not feeling hospitable." He gestured to the kitchen. "Get it yourself."

"Whatever." He headed for the kitchen. "I'll even make one for you."

Phillip followed him and stood in the doorway watching him while he rummaged through the cabinets until he found the coffee. "What did you do to her?"

"I did a little experimenting." He scooped coffee into the coffeemaker. "I had to see how much she could take."

Phillip stiffened. "What do you mean?"

"I lifted control." He gave Phillip a level glance. "I let her voices attack her. I thought the zoo was a good place since it's generally a happy escape for most people and there was a good chance the impact wouldn't be too heavy. I didn't want to make her face her particular demons, but I made sure she'd know they were there."

"Damn you."

"I thought that would be your reaction." He shrugged. "I thought it necessary. I had to see if she was still as strong as she was when she was a girl."

"By hurting her?"

He nodded. "By hurting her."

"And what did you find out?"

"That she's a thousand times stronger. Molino would feel that he'd made a tremendous coup if he managed to kill her. She's not only her mother's daughter, but she's a powerhouse in her own right." He added impatiently, "I know you don't want to hear that. Too bad. Face it, Molino is either on her trail now or will find her eventually. It will be better if she's prepared. If we're prepared." He turned on the coffeemaker. "And she can help herself. She has a talent. I'm going to use it."

"Screw you. I won't let you near her."

"Phillip." Grady's voice was soft. "You have no option. You're not her uncle. She's mine. I only lent her to you. Now I'm taking her back."

"That's crap. She's a human being and she doesn't belong to anyone."

"She belongs to me until I find the Ledger. After that, she can walk away. The two of you can disappear into the sunset." He paused. "We have to find it, Phillip. You know we do. Risking one life is a small price to pay."

"It's not a risk I'm willing to take. Not if it's Megan's life."

"I told you that it might come to this when you agreed to take her on."

"I didn't think—it was all abstract. She's my family now."

"Then I'm sorry for you," Grady said wearily as he sat down at the table. "But there are other people out there who are going to die if we don't risk Megan."

"It's not fair. Molino's a crazy son of a bitch. She's probably only a Listener. Not a Pandora."

"I hope she's not. But if she's a Listener, then she's one of the strongest talents I've ever run across. She can still help us if I can channel it. All I need is a clue, a path to take. I'm running into blank walls and out of time."

"She has her own life."

"And she can go back to living it after she gives me what I want."

Phillip shook his head. "I can't believe you're that hard."

"Not hard enough. If I was, I'd have let your Megan kill herself or go crazy in that cave instead of carrying her on my back for twelve years." He looked down in his cup. "And I believe you're wrong. I think she's a Pandora."

"That doesn't mean she should be shot like a rabid dog."

"Tell that to Molino."

"She deserves a chance."

"She's had her chance. I gave it to her. It wasn't easy." He raised his cup to his lips. "Now it's time for her to pay the piper."

"Like her mother," Phillip said bitterly.

"Possibly. No promises." He finished his coffee and stood up. "I'm going in to see Megan now. If you're going to stop me, you'd better go get that gun you keep in the top left drawer of your desk. You've been thinking wistfully about it for the last ten minutes."

Shit.

"Sorry. I didn't eavesdrop purposely. I respect you and I can understand your concern," Grady said. "Actually, I'm no Mind Reader. Sometimes it just seeps around the edges."

"I hate all this psychic crap," he said through his teeth.

"Yet you took it when you needed it." He waved his hand as Phillip started to speak. "I didn't mean to try to give you a guilt trip. I never wanted your gratitude. And you're not alone. Most of the world is uneasy with the thought of psychics. So is Molino. It's not only hatred and revenge that goads him on. He's afraid of us and he's jealous. He sees talent as a weapon of power and he doesn't want anyone to possess it if he can't." His lips twisted. "Molino is definitely into power."

"We're not certain that man in the truck was really one of Molino's men. I checked with the police and they haven't located him yet."

"If they haven't caught him, there's a good chance he wasn't just a stupid drunk playing demolition derby. I've had Jed Harley in town keeping an eye on Megan and trying to scout around and see if he can come up with any information. But so far he's come up with zilch." He added, "Therefore, I'd suggest you keep that gun more readily at hand for the foreseeable future." He headed for Megan's bedroom. "I'm going to need at least an hour alone with her. It will be better for her if you don't interfere. She's going to have enough to deal with."

Phillip was afraid that was true and the knowledge filled him with frustration. Dealing with Grady was going to be a nightmare for Megan. He wouldn't pull his punches and she was terribly vulnerable right now. "Dammit, don't hurt her."

Grady didn't look back and his reply was absent, his mind already on Megan. "Not if I can help it."

GAVE.

Quarry.

Voices. Voices. Voices.

Hands holding her down. Dark eyes looking into her own, shutting out the voices. Mama!

"Easy, Megan. That's all gone. It's in the past."

No, the voices were there. They were always there.

"Open your eyes. Look at me and they'll go away."

Yes, make them go away.

"No, you have to help. Open your eyes."

She slowly opened her eyes to see Neal Grady sitting beside the bed. He reminds me of a Renaissance prince...

Prince? Grady? She must still be half-asleep. She didn't know any Grady. No, this was a stranger lounging in her chair, in her room. She scrambled upright in bed. "Who the hell are you?"

"No threat to you."

"Don't tell me that. Get out of my room."

"Presently." He got to his feet. "Why don't I get you a glass of water?"

"I don't want a glass of water. I want you out of here. Where's Phillip?"

"He's waiting outside until I tell him that it's all right for him to come in."

"He knows you're here?" She had a sudden memory of Phillip's concerned expression before she'd gone to her room. "Are you a doctor? For God's sake, I'm fine. I don't need a doctor."

"You're not fine." He leaned back in the chair. "And unfortunately you'll be a lot worse before you're better. And, no, I'm not a doctor. My name is Neal Grady." He nodded as he caught her change of expression. "Oh, yes, we've met before. You're beginning to remember on your own. That's very promising …and a little scary. You shouldn't be able to break through like this."

"What on earth are you talking about?" She threw the cover aside. "I'm going to go and see Phillip."

"I'm sorry. You can't do that. You have to listen first."

"I can do anything that I—"

Voices. Screaming. Voices. Pain.

"No!" She buried her head in the pillow, but she couldn't shut them out. Voices. Agony. Screams. Mama, help. Mama, help.

"She can't help you. You know that. But I'm taking them away," Grady said roughly. "Do you think I like doing this to you? But you have to let me talk to you. Will you stay and listen?"

"Take... them... away."

"They'll be gone in a few seconds. Relax. You're too tense." Relax? He had to be crazy. How could she relax when the pain– The voices were gone.

Relief so intense it made her limp poured through her. She drew a deep breath. She had to stop shaking. "Get out of here," she said unsteadily. "I don't know what you did to me, but I want you—"

"You know what I did to you," Grady said. "You just don't want to admit it to yourself." He grimaced. "Or maybe it's my fault. It's hard to only partially lift control when you've been with me for so long. It's usually all or nothing."

"I don't know what you're talking about." She glared at him. "And I don't want to know. I just want you to leave."

"But you're not risking running to Phillip. Because you know that the voices will come back." He sat back down. "Suppose I just get it over quickly and let you absorb it. Let's start with bringing back your memories of me. You were fifteen. You lived with your mother in a cottage on the North Carolina coast. The two of you were very close. I rented a cottage down the beach from you that summer and you and your mother were very kind to me. We became good friends. We went horseback riding on the beach. We played cards in the evening."

Neal laughing at Megan as she tried to bluff at poker.

Her mother shaking her head with amusement as she went past them on the way to the kitchen.

Memories were flowing back to her, surrounding her, flooding her.

Neal helping Megan with her homework in that Latin correspondence course.

"You never really needed help," Neal Grady said quietly. "You just liked the company. You were always a very affectionate girl and you sometimes got lonely living by yourselves on the beach."

"I was not lonely," she said fiercely. "Mama and I had each other. We liked it that way."

"You were lonely. But she did what she thought best for you. She was torn between wanting you to have a normal life and trying to protect you." He paused. "Because neither one of you was quite normal. You both were a little …different."

Megan could feel her every muscle, stiffening, locking. "No, that's a lie."

"That's what Sarah told you to say. You were to deny it to anyone who asked. It was the only way she could guard you. She even lied to you and told you that the voices you heard were caused by a mental problem, didn't she?"

"I'm not listening to you."

"Yes, you are. Sarah had a powerful psychic gift and she passed it on to you. But she never regarded it as a gift but a curse. She didn't want it tainting your life so she ignored it existed."

Panic was soaring through her. "It's a lie."

"You don't have to protect yourself from me." He shook his head. "Or maybe you do. But not from this particular truth. No one is more aware of that gift than I am."

She shook her head. "I don't know anything about any psychic bullshit."

"Then it's good that I know a good deal about it, isn't it? There are all kinds of psychic talents out there. Mind reading, healing, precognition."

"Charlatans."

"Some of them. Others are quite genuine."

She moistened her lips. "Not me. I'm none of those things."

"No. So far you've only exhibited one talent. You're a Listener."

"What?"

"You hear echoes. Put you in a place or situation where something highly stressful or tragic occurred and you can hear the scene play out." He added quietly, "Only there are too many tragedies, too many human beings in pain or distress. The echoes bombard you, push against each other until they're one long scream."

He was wrong, she thought. Each scream was individual and defined and the pain was incredibly personal.

"And your mother never taught you how to suppress them. Maybe she didn't know how to teach it. She had to learn how to manage her own gift, but she wasn't around any other psychics. She was pure, raw talent when I first met her. A huge talent that was like none I'd ever run across. It was all trial and error and terribly traumatic for her. I tried to help her but I was too damn young and still struggling with my own problems."

"This is crazy," Megan said unsteadily. "There was nothing wrong with my mother. I was the only one with—"

"She heard the voices too. She just pretended she didn't."

"She wouldn't lie to me."

"She wasn't a strong Listener and there may have been times when she didn't hear what you heard. But she knew what they were. When she found out that you had the same gift, she was able to control your mind enough to keep the echoes at bay. She never tried to go that extra step and help you to take charge. She desperately wanted you to have an ordinary life. She was probably going to do it later."

We'll just forget about it, baby. Come to me if you have that trouble again.

"She loved you, Megan," he said quietly. "She was confused and made huge mistakes, but she always loved you."

"You don't have to tell me that," she said jerkily. "You were with us for one summer. You don't know anything about us."

"I know that when she gave up and let you go, I had to step in and clamp a control on you. Otherwise you would have gone with her." He paused. "But the only way I could keep you on an even keel was to change a few of your memories."

"What memories?" She ran her hand through her hair. "Lord, I can't believe I asked that. It gives credence to all this nonsense."

"Because deep within you know the truth. I could only put on a Band-Aid but self-preservation did the rest. Are you sure you want to know what those Band-Aids covered? I can wait."

She was silent a moment, fighting to resist the temptation. Why not? She wouldn't permit herself to believe it, but she might as well see how far he'd go with this story. "What memories?"

"It was best that you didn't remember me or that last night with your mother. If you were going to have a normal life, it was better that you didn't remember your voices or your mother's interpretation of them. It would have only made you doubt your sanity."

"Like I'm doubting your sanity right now."

He smiled. "Self-preservation again. You're beginning to remember... and believe."

"Bull. I'm a doctor. I believe that I should go to a reputable psychiatrist and discuss buried and suppressed memories. There are logical and scientific reasons that don't have anything to do with psychics and... echoes." It had been hard to say that last word. Echoes and screams and voices. Just the thought was causing the panic to start. She tried to make her tone mocking. "And I gather from what you've said that you're supposed to be one of these voodoo psychics too?"

"I wouldn't have been able to help you if I hadn't possessed a talent of my own. But you probably have the potential for being much stronger and multifaceted. That's why I'm going to need your help."

"Then you're knocking on the wrong door." She hesitated before she had to ask the question, "Why didn't you want me to remember what happened that night?"

His gaze narrowed on her face. "Suppose we leave that for another time."

Fear sleeted through her. "No, why, dammit?"

He didn't answer for a moment. "Because you would have had to deal with your mother's murder."

"Murder?" She tried to laugh but her throat was tight and closed. "Now I know you're nuts. My mother tumbled down an incline and broke her neck. It was an accident."

"Her neck was broken by the man you saw at the bottom of the hill that night. And when she died you knew she'd been murdered. I could sense it in you as if it were written in neon."

"No, it didn't happen. No one would have wanted to kill my mother." The tears were trickling down her cheeks. "Dear God, how ugly can you get?"

"Pretty damn ugly." He stood up. "I think I'd better go away and give you a chance to absorb all of this. You're in denial and it will take a while for you to adjust your thinking. One thing you should know is that you don't have to be afraid of me relaxing control again. No more voices. I had to make you listen to me and that was the quickest way to illustrate the point."

"Quickest and most brutal," she said unsteadily.

"Yes, I'll send in Phillip and let him comfort you and hold your hand. He's very good at that."

"Don't you make fun of Phillip," she said fiercely. "He's a finer man than you'll ever be."

"I wouldn't think of it. You're probably right. I wouldn't have chosen him if I hadn't the utmost respect for him."

She frowned. "Chosen?"

"You had to have someone to give you stability and Lord knows I can't give anyone that. I sent Phillip to do the job."

Her eyes widened in shock. "That can't be true. He's my mother's half brother. He's my uncle."

"No, Phillip Blair never met your mother. He wasn't her half brother. That was a necessary falsehood I was forced to fabricate." He turned to the door. "I paid him for the job, but he would have done it for nothing. Phillip's an idealist and he has a very warm heart. I told him of the need and he volunteered to fill it."

"That can't be true," she whispered again. "He wouldn't lie to me."

"Ask him."

The door closed behind him.

Mama. Phillip. Of all the shocking and painful words he'd uttered those last sentences had been the hardest to bear.

She closed her eyes. She felt as if she'd been beaten. Crazy. It was all crazy.

People won't understand, Megan. They'd say you're crazy. We both know that's not true, baby. We'll just keep it between ourselves.

Her mother had never said anything about psychics or talents or any of that crap. She had let Megan think those voices were caused by an illness that shouldn't be talked about. From the time she was seven she had heard the voices, but then they had been faint and far away. It was only after she had reached puberty that they had attacked like sharks. But Mama had been there to comfort and soon the voices were silent.

She managed to control the echo effect.

I had to step in and take over or you would have died with her. What was truth? What were lies?

If she believed Grady, her entire life had been based on lies.

Oh, God, and she had the terrible feeling that she was beginning to believe him.