Mind Over Psyche (25 page)

He leered at her, and she felt her heart break again. She had adored him before the madness had scrambled his mind. She forced back the tears. She could not cure him. The greatest mercy was to
be quick.

S
he sprang.

“No!” He cried, as Alugiac flung his hand in her direction,
laughing.

Tasmae slammed into a wall of hideous half-formed beings. Their viscous, grayish skin, darker than the fog, oozed over and around her as they bound her to their gluey bodies. Her dagger was more sucked out of her hand than taken. She screamed and struggled, but all her blows were absorbed, like hitting liquid rubber. Their toothless mouths latched leech-like onto her. She flung her head violently to keep them from covering her mouth
and nose.

“No! Stop it, Master, please!” Der
yl begged.

I CAN DO NOTHING OF THE SORT, DERYL. YOU KNOW WHAT YO
U MUST DO.

“I wo
n't kill!”

THEN SH
E IS MINE.

Two of the creatures' lobes caught her head, held it. A mouth opened before her, a gaping void moving toward her face. She looked straight into
oblivion.

No! Tasmae, get out o
f my mind!

She felt something grab her, not just her body but her mind, her soul, her very self. Grab, and pull. She jerked backward, though quicksand, through space, through consciousness. She heard Alugiac howl
with fury.

She sat up screaming, back in her
own room.

Deryl!
Suddenly, little clues she'd picked up from his mind and from his behavior came together in blinding clarity. The Master, the one he feared so—he wa
s Alugiac!

And Deryl was caught in the Netherworld
with him.

She would not leave him alone with a madman! She reached with her mind, found herself cut off from her beloved. She needed help, and she knew just where t
o find it.

By the time Leinad and the healer had reached her room in response to her screams, Tasmae
was gone.

*

Deryl sagged onto hands and knees, weak from the effort of forcing Tasmae out of the Netherworld. The torn, half-finished feeling threatened to overtake him again, but he fought it down. There was only one way out of this and back to Tasmae, and that was through. He forced himself to rise and glare defiantly at the Master, though he didn't take up the sword. “Now what?” He demanded. “More monsters? Is that the best yo
u can do?”

FUNNY YOU SHOULD
ASK THAT.

The attack he threw at Deryl was not of monsters or weapons, but of madne
ss itself.

Joshua sat in front
of Deryl's tent with one of the musicians, trying to play a simple scale on a wooden flute. Although roughly the size and shape of a recorder, it was subtly different, not in the least because it required some psychic ability to alter the shape of the flute itself to reach some notes. Joshua tried to replace the psychic pressure with physical pressure. Ocapo laughed when an indignant squawk came from the instrument.

“It sounds like Spot when someone steps on his tail!” He said gleefully. He'd made similar comments all
afternoon.

“Give me a break! I'd just started learning to play reed instruments at home. The sax uses totally different lip action.” But Joshua chuckled, too. Deryl was sleeping; Terry had checked him and said he was fine; Ocapo had spoken to some of the pride leaders about finding a way to get Joshua home; and the challenge of learning a new instrument had helped
him relax.

Then, with a soft BAMPH! of displaced air, Tasmae appeared in the compound and stagger
ed to him.

“Oh, no!” Joshua moaned as he set the instrument aside and ran to her. He caught her by the shoulders. “What are you doing here?” He demanded angrily, causing some of the nearby Bondfriends to gape at his e
ffrontery.

She grabbed his arms. Her eyes were wild with relief. “Joshua! Where
's Deryl?”

“Asleep. We checked on him a few min
utes ago.”

She shook her head. “Not asleep.” She tried to push past him, but he held
her fast.

“Does Leinad know you
're here?”

“Let me go, Joshua! Deryl's in
trouble!”

Joshua almost started to say that they would be in even worse trouble if Leinad found her here, but her urgency stopped him. She pushed past him, and he followed her into
the tent.

“See?” He said as she sat down beside him. “He's asleep, just lik
e I said.”

“Not asleep,” Tasmae whispered. “Alugiac
has him.”

“What?”

“Alugiac—the one he calls Master—has him trapped in the Netherworld.” Tremblingly, she brushed back a strand of Deryl's hair, then squared her shoulders and faced Joshua. “You will help me get
him back.”

Joshua sat down on the other side of his sleeping friend and took his wrist, counting his pulse. It was shallow and steady, but wrong for sleep. The number of beats tickled
a memory.

“Oh, don't do this to me,” Joshua murmured as he sat his unconscious
friend up.

Just like one of Sabrina's baby dolls, Deryl's eyes snapped open, unseeing and unreacting, as soon as he sat upright. He wasn't rocking this time, though Joshua didn't know if that was a good sign or
a bad one.

“Would it help me to know how he got this way, or would it just make me madder?” He ask
ed Tasmae.

“Alugiac has him,” Tasmae said, then looked at Joshua questioningly. “Deryl called hi
m Master.”

Joshua swiped a hand over his face, and raised his eyes heavenward, seeking strength. “The Master was this entity—kind of like you, really—that used to call him from consciousness. Only the Master was trying to train him to be a killer. Deryl has been resisting him for years.” He pulled up his catatonic friend's sleeves and checked under his shirt. “Usually, whatever wounds the Master inflicted on him in the Netherworld show up on his body, but I don't see any new bruises or
anything.”

“He's doing something else this time,” Tasmae whispered. “I felt Deryl's terror, then…madness. And now I can't sense anything. He's trapped, Joshua, and you have to help me bring him back. I know you can reach him. You've done i
t before.”

Joshua sighed. “What
do I do?”

“Go to him as you have before. I will follow. Together, we can find a way to
help him.”

“If I ever get back home, I'm changing my major,” Joshua muttered as he prepared to enter “uptime” And get inside the head of his once-again cataton
ic friend.

*

Deryl tumbled in a sea of chaos; the thoughts, emotions, and memories of thousands forcing themselves upon him, searing themselves into his mind, re-opening the psychic wounds Tasmae had just healed. Once again he was flayed, his shields destroyed, his psyche laid bare and raw to the conscious and unconscious whims of others. A vortex opened before him and he swirled dow
n into it—

His eyes snapped open. Everything was quiet and still, padded and tinted pink. His arms were bound in a str
aitjacket.

He was in the high-intensity care ward of South Kingston Mental Wellne
ss Center.

This isn't real!
something inside him screamed, but confusion left him off-balance and unable to process the thought. With difficulty, he sat up and turned toward where he knew the surveillance camera was hidden
. “Hello!”

He heard a click of the intercom activating, and a woman's voice said, “Good afternoon, Deryl. Good to see you awake. How are you
feeling?”

Idly, he wondered how many patients had freaked out at a disembodied voice talking to them from thin air. Again a part of him nagged that this wasn't right, but he pushed the thought aside. He needed more information. “I want to talk to Joshu
a Lawson.”

There was a long silence. He forced himself not to fidget, repeat his request, or give into the thoughts that none of this was real. He had to stay calm,
act sane.

Finally, the voice answered. “That would be up to Dr. Malachai. I've contacted him, and he'll be up mom
entarily.”

“I don't want to talk to Malachai! I want to talk to Joshua—or Sachiko. I'll talk to Sachiko Luchese. Could you at least ask
her
?” But the nurse or orderly had turned off the intercom, and he forced himself to settle back against one padded wall and wait patiently. He wouldn't help himself by getting
angry now.

If this is even real,
that part of him persisted, and he bit his tongue to keep from snarling that, yes, he realized that. Even if it weren't real, he had no idea how to break the illusion.
There's no way out bu
t through.

He heard the subtle click of the lock, and the door opened. Dr. Malachai stepped in, calm, well dressed as always, the bruise and split lip Deryl had given him still healing, though looking better than he'd remembered. Two orderlies entered behind him. One turned away only long enough to ensure the door closed
securely.

“So what day is it supposed to be, then?” Deryl asked in as level a voice as
he could.

“Friday. I'm pleased to see you taking things so calmly, Deryl, considering what happened Monday. I also find it interesting that you want to talk to Joshua—or believe that Joshua would speak with you. Do you remember what
happened?”

Deryl didn't answer. He wasn't going to let Malachai lead him in
to a trap.

The chief psychiatrist sighed. “As it happens, this is his last day
with us—”

“You f
ired him?”

“In fact, it was decided by his family and yours, as well as the Board, that it was in everyone's best interest if he returned home and we put this whole unpleasantness behind us. He's receiving his full salary for the summer—he deserves that much—as well as a sizable settlement from your family. Small compensation for what he's been through, of course, but at least he can pay for college, which was his immediate financ
ial goal.”

“What are you talking about?” Despite himself, Deryl let himself be lured in. He leane
d forward.

By way of answer, Dr. Malachai signaled to an orderly, who knocked on the door. It opened, and he slid through. Deryl heard Malachai say to someone that he had only a few minutes, then Joshua s
tepped in.

Deryl gaped at wh
at he saw.

His friend wore dress slacks, but a polo shirt took the place of his usual shirt and tie. The collar loosely surrounded a bandage that covered his throat. He gave Deryl a wan grin and a wave, then pulled out a pencil and paper and wrote a note. The orderly passed it
to Deryl.

Got out of the hospital yesterday. Docs say if I take it easy, my vocal cords should heal well enough to talk by the end of t
he summer.

Deryl stared at the note, looked again at Joshua, the
n laughed.

“Okay, Alugiac!” He called. “Now I know this isn't real. You think you're going to play on my guilt, but I'm not buying it!” Through his peripheral vision, he saw Joshua lean against the wall, shaking his head sadly. It made him angry. He stood up, and shouted. “This isn't real! Come out here and fight me. I'm tired of playing yo
ur games.”

One orderly hustled Joshua out of the room and a nurse came in bearing a syringe. “Deryl, you have to calm down, or I'll need to sedate you. Dr. Malachai'
s orders.”

“Malachai-Schmalachai! This isn't real, and I know it! Now, come on!” He turned in a circle, seeking a break in the illusion. The orderly took the opportunity to grab him. He felt a prick on his neck. “This isn't real!” He screamed, struggling nonetheless. “I don't believe
this! No!”

Deryl sat up in bed, a shout catching in his throat, stealing his breath. He leaned forward, wiped his sweaty brow in a sheet that smelled like fabric
softener.

“Honey, what is it?” Came a sleepy voice beside him. Someone switched on a bed
side lamp.

He turned and gaped. “
Clarissa?”

I must be getting
good at this
, Joshua thought as his awareness returned and he found himself in a spooky, dim, and foggy world. He spun in a slow circle, scanning the abyss, but Deryl was nowhere to be seen.

That hadn't happen
ed before.

“C'mon, Tasmae,” he muttered through clenched teeth. He didn't know what he'd do if she didn't show.
Find Deryl and hope Taz can fend for herself, I guess—though I have no idea where I am, how to find him, or what I'm supposed to be doing here. Com
e on, Taz!

A shimmer caught his eye. The fog swirled, and Tasmae
appeared.

“Am I glad to see you!” Joshua said fervently. “So where
's Deryl?”

She, too, made a slow circle. “They're not here.” She sounded surprised by
the fact.

Joshua felt his heart sink. “That's bad, isn't it?” It was more statement than
question.

Tasmae nodded. “I don't know how to find them. The Netherworld is not a place. There're no real space or time. It's ment
al, it's…”

“Great. It's the
Twilight Zone
.” Joshua started to whistle the show's familiar t
heme song.

Suddenly a voice, controlled and moderate yet a little creepy, echoed across the foggy vastness:
There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as i
nfinity...

“No way,” Joshua whispered
with awe.

Tasmae moved closer to him. She held her dagger before her. “What is that? What di
d you do?”

“Shhh!” Joshua hushed her, then muttered. “Come on, signpost,
signpost.”

…the dimension of imagination. It is an area which we call the Twil
ight Zone.

Joshua swore. “Season one. Why couldn't we get se
ason two?”

“What are you talking about? What di
d you do?”

Joshua shushed her as the voice took
up again.

Suspended in time and space for a moment, your introduction to Mister Joshua Lawson, a nineteen-year-old psychiatric intern whose primary ambition was to hit it big in the music industry until he befriended a patient whose psychic delusions turned out to be real. Joined by an alien woman with the power to change worlds, Mr. Lawson will be challenged to use all his talents as he attempts to rescue his friends—and himself—from the depths of madness as his internship makes an unexpected turn—into the Twil
ight Zone.

“If we get out of here alive, that will have been so cool,” Jo
shua said.

Tasmae grabbed Joshua by the shoulder and spun him around. “What is going on? What
was that?”

“Rod Serling.
The Twilight Zone
. It's a television show—used to watch it all the time with my mom. The real question is, what was he do
ing here?”

“Nothing happens in the Netherworld without a purpose,” Tasmae snarled at him as if he were purposely being stupid. “This Serling person was right. This is the dimension of imagination. We control what happens here by o
ur wills.”

“So why can't you ‘will' Deryl to us?” Joshu
a snapped.

“We tried to will ourselves to him!” Tasmae fl
ared back.

“Okay! Listen, let's just both calm down. We won't get anywhere if we're fighting.” Tasmae nodded. Joshua took a deep cleansing breath. “Good. All right. For whatever reason, we're not where Deryl is. Why would that happen? Could Alugiac have taken him somewh
ere else?”

“There is no ‘somewhere else.'” Tasmae rolled her eyes impatiently, but kept her temper contained. She was holding onto her anger, however, and from the way she shook, Joshua guessed it was the only thing that was keeping her from collapsing c
ompletely.

He tried to take on a soothing tone. One of them had to stay cool. “Metaphorically speaking, Taz. Could Alugiac have hidden him in another illusion, or maybe Deryl
has fled?”

“Maybe we weren't meant to confront him directly. If we find Deryl, we will find Alugiac, and I could not defeat him the last time. I'm not used to
doing
things in the Netherworld. It's supposed to be for communicating with t
he Ydrel.”

“I think if this is the same place—dimension, whatever—that Deryl got dragged into by the Master, it can be more. But tell me what you know about this pla—about the Netherworld. What's happened to
you here?”

“Before Alugiac, not much. I would Call Deryl to me through it, to receive his information. Then he refused me. He said he wanted to talk and to see me. He complained the place was dark and boring, so I imagined for us the grove where I had gone to pray and Call. Then today, I Called him, and Alugiac was there. Deryl knew him, called him Master—” She closed her eyes, her face screwed tight wit
h anguish.

He grasped her shoulders. “We'll find him. Just tell me the rest. Who's
Alugiac?”

“My—he was once a great healer until contact with the Barins infected his mind. He joined them. He led them to kill my mentor. To kill me. And he was here! Then Deryl had a sword and was telling me to run. I attacked Alugiac, but these…creatures…blocked me. They would have killed me had Deryl not stop
ped them.”

“How?”

“I don't know. One minute they were about to overwhelm me; the next, I was back in my
own body.”

“Deryl talked about being forced to battle creatures for the Master; obviously, both of them have more experience in this place than we do. I don't think Deryl knew they were the same place,” he quickly reassured Tasmae. “And trust me—he may call him ‘Master,' but Deryl was no willing apprentice. He was absolutely terrified by him, yet trying to break away. I'm sure he's fighting him as best he can now. We just have to figure out how to get to him and how to
help him.”

Tasmae nodded and took a long deep breath. When she spoke again, she sounded more like her controlled, warrior-trained self. “Perhaps that's why we did not get to him immediately. If they know how to manipulate this…dimension…then perhaps we're meant to learn how before we can confront
Alugiac.”

“Or how to avoid Alugiac altogether. Frankly, after what you and Deryl have told me, this is one dude I do not want to meet, especially in this creeped-out version of a dark alley.” He shuddered then, and Tasmae grabbed him b
y the arm.

“Don't think about it,” Tasmae warned. “You might alert him to our presence. So how do we learn to manipulate th
is world?”

“You sure you can't just Ca
ll Deryl?”

“I think it would bring Alugiac
as well.”

“Last resort then. So how did you manipulate the Net
herworld?”

“I've only changed the
setting.”

Joshua snapped his fingers. “'Change worlds.' That's what Rod Serling said. You have the power to change worlds. He was helping us. And he said I had to use my talent to get us all out of her
e safely.”

“Which one, Joshua? You have
so many.”

Joshua laughed. “Not by the Earth sense of the word. Besides, he called me a psychiatric intern with ambitions in music. And he showed up when I whistled his show's theme song. It's got to be music. The question is, how do I use it?” He paused, thinking, then smiled and started to whistle a lead in, then bega
n to sing.

“What are y
ou doing?”

He ignored her as he sang the first verse and chorus of Geno Vanelli's “Black Cars Look Better in the Shade.” Then he paused, waiting to see what wou
ld happen.

“You forgot ‘sitting pretty in her dim lit covers,' and it's my favorite verse,” a husky mezzo voice pouted from the distance. A tall, lithe woman in tight jeans and a halter top sauntered to
ward them.

“Lattie!” Joshua exclaimed. “What are
you
do
ing here?”

She gave a half laugh, half huff. “What are you asking me for? I was in the middle of a perfectly good dream when I heard you singing and here I am. So what'd you wan
t
me
for?”

Now Joshua huffed, though without amusement. “I just ne
ed a car.”

She smirked, tilted her head. “That song's not about a car and you
know it.”

Joshua was spared a reply when Tasmae stepped between them. “Where's Deryl?” She
demanded.

“Who's Deryl? For that matter, who are you?” She eyed Tasmae up and down, appraisingly, the tip of her tongue playing over one side of her lip. She looked over Tasmae's shoulder to Joshua. “Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend? She looks like she likes the rough stuff. Maybe we find her fr
iend and—”

“Dammit, Lattie, just lend me
your car!”

With a victorious grin on her face, she sidled around Tasmae, who circled her warily, and held out her keys to Joshua. Just as he reached for them, however, she snapped them back. “Why
my
car? Why n
ot yours?”

“I didn't want
your
car. I just ne
ed
a
car.”

“Yet you didn't sing ‘409?' ‘Pink Cadillac?' ‘Big Bl
ack Car?'”

“It was the first song I thought of,” Joshua growled. She just grinned wider. He kicked himself. She was goading him, he knew it, and he'd let her make
him react.

“And you didn't even change the words. Sure there isn't some Freudian ulterior motive
going on?”

“Not
a chance.”

“Uh huh,” She said disbelievingly. She gave him one of her long slow looks, lingering around his belt line. “Maybe a change of
costume?”

“Joshua, we're wasting time,” Tasm
ae warned.

But suddenly, LaTisha was in the outfit, the one from Joshua's daydreams, the one that had never failed to get his blood boiling and him into her bed no matter what his previous resolutions. She twisted a little, posing. “Do I cut a perfect silhouette?” S
he purred.

This time, however, he found nothing alluring about her. She just looked cheap and annoying. “LaTisha, are you going to help u
s or not?”

“Maybe I should drive?” She stuck her key in
her mouth.

What did I see in you?
Joshua pursed his lips, thought a moment, then pitched his voice up. “
Americ
an Woman—
”

She chuckle
d. “Cute.”

“
Get away fr
om me-ee—
”

She again wore her street clothes, and her expression grew serious. “You're never coming back to me,
are you?”

“After what you did?” He shook his head, biting back everything he really wanted to say to her. Tasmae was right; they were wasting time. “Right now, I really, really need to find our friend, and if you can't help, then just go on back to your dream, okay?” He tried to sound stern, but found his voic
e shaking.

She looked down, played with the keys in her hand. “Yeah, sure. Would it help if I said I w
as sorry?”

Joshua studied his feet, wondering what he should say. What he wanted to say. He'd so seldom seen her vulnerable like that. He wondered how sorry she was and exactly what she was
sorry for.

“Joshua!” Tasm
ae hissed.

He sighed. “Maybe in the real world, the waking world, it might mean something. But I can't talk about it r
ight now.”

“Sure. I understand. I'm going to make it up to you, somehow.
Someday.”

“But
not now?”

She shrugged. “Would a dream be enough? Good luck finding your friend.” She turned and walked into the mist. Soon she
was gone.

Joshua released the breath he hadn't even realized he was holding. He could feel himself shaking inside. He so badly wanted to sit down, but the fog was over his knees. He shut his eyes and forced himself to take a couple of long slow breaths. Why her
? Why now?

She hadn't left them her car key
s, either.

Tasmae struck him on the shoulder, making him open his eyes and look at her. “What was that all about?” She
demanded.

“I do
n't know.”

“Deryl is being held prisoner by the most dangerous madman in our world and you're wasting time talking to—” She flung her arm toward the mist, evidently unsure what to call LaTisha. “What were y
ou doing?”

“I said, I don't know!” Joshua shouted. “I screwed up, all right? I just wanted to get us a car, a way to travel around t
his muck!”

“This isn't a place! There's no ‘traveling!' Why can't your human mind compreh
end that?”

“Fine!
You're
the brilliant military mind.
You
dragged
me
in here!
You
tell me wh
at to do!”

Tasmae stopped, breathing heavy in her anger, but looking a little lost herself. “You're a mind healer,” She said softly. “I thought yo
u'd know.”