Chapter Five #2
“It wasn’t like Webber wouldn’t have figured out eventually that keeping quiet was the only way to ensure that the money continued to flow,” she said.
“I was just worried that by the time he came to his senses, it would be too late. There was a risk that, initially, when he discovered I was gone, he would panic and notify Kelbrook immediately. I thought it best to be proactive.”
“Smart move.”
His approval seemed to warm her. He realized it had probably been a long time since she had been able to let down her guard and confide in anyone.
“Webber was the only person who called me a psychic vampire to my face,” she said. “He even put it into my file.”
“I know. I read the file. How do you describe your psychic abilities?” he asked, curious.
“I think of my core talent as a sort of tuning ability. Instead of tuning crystals or amber or musical instruments, I can tune a person’s dreams.” She paused. “At least to some extent. You could say I offer a different storyline.”
“Which the person thinks came from their own dreams.”
“Yes,” she admitted.
“Do you rewrite the story using your voice?”
“In a sense. I can talk a client through a new story, but I usually let them tell me the story they want or need.”
“So they write their own scripts under your guidance.”
“Something like that.”
She stopped—probably because she knew she should. But he had spent two weeks looking for her and for answers. Now that he had found her, his curiosity was only growing more intense.
“According to my research, people with your talent can do more than just rewrite a dream script,” he said. “They can trigger nightmares. How does that work?”
“You sound like an academic,” she said.
“I am an academic. I teach seminars to college students and law enforcement, and I write lots of long, boring papers for obscure journals.”
“I see. Well, to be clear, I don’t invent nightmare scripts.”
“But theoretically, you could, right?”
She sighed. “Why bother? It’s so much faster and simpler to open the door to a person’s own private hell.”
He whistled softly. “Of course. That makes sense. Our own inner demons are the source of our worst nightmares.”
“Exactly,” she admitted. “And for the record, I hate doing that kind of thing.”
“I believe you.”
She gave him a quick sidelong glance. “You’re okay with that side of my talent?”
He moved one hand slightly on the wheel. “Sounds like a natural form of self-defense.”
She cheered at that. “Yes. Exactly. Self-defense.”
“How did Cadence Ballantine assess your abilities?”
“She had her own system. I’m a Level Ten with an asterisk on the Ballantine Scale. She preferred labels that did not sound judgmental.”
“What is the asterisk for?”
“ ‘Unknown.’ ”
He suppressed another smile in case Alice thought he was laughing at her again.
“Cadence Ballantine sounds like a very wise woman,” he said, going for respectful.
“She was. I miss her terribly.”
He glanced at her. She was sitting very tensely in the seat, gazing out the windshield. He knew she was looking through the dark mirror of night and into the past. He could sense the aloneness in her aura. He understood. There was probably some of that in his own aura.
Most people her age would be getting serious about marriage by now, would probably be registered at a matchmaking agency.
Not that he was one to lecture on the subject.
He should have been registered or already married himself—he’d had it all planned.
But six months ago, the Gatley case had abruptly and dramatically altered the carefully calculated trajectory of his life.
“I’ve read Ballantine’s papers and her book,” he said. “Some of her theories are groundbreaking. I don’t agree with her approach to handling powerful talents—that’s what kept her methods out of the mainstream of para-psychology—but that doesn’t mean I don’t admire her insights.”
“I suppose you think her techniques are too esoteric?” Alice said. “Mystical? Woo-woo stuff?”
Great. Now she was on the defensive. He should have known better than to criticize her mentor.
“I find her methods somewhat unrealistic,” he said, choosing his words cautiously.
“I don’t doubt but that they worked well within the highly structured environment of the Ballantine Academy.
Let’s face it, you came of age and spent most of your life in the equivalent of a cloistered convent.
But out here in the real world, Ballantine’s Core Principles are just fuzzy feel-good mantras. They aren’t pragmatic.”
“The Core Principles can absolutely be applied in the real world,” she said. Very firm. “But it is necessary to properly assess each situation before deciding which principle is applicable, and that requires training and practice.”
“I’ll take your word for it. Let’s get back to our own real-world situation. You said you didn’t know until afterward that you were marrying into the Kelbrook clan. How did you and Poole meet? I know the two of you did not go through a matchmaking agency.”
“No. I…we…didn’t want to wait,” she said.
She sounded as if she was reciting a script.
Concentrating to get it right. “At least Travis didn’t.
He said we couldn’t risk registering at an agency because my talent would be a red flag.
It would be next to impossible to find anyone who would marry us if people knew the truth about me. ”
“Yet you were able to get a formal Covenant Marriage license and scrounge up a couple of witnesses and someone who was willing to officiate at the wedding even though you and Poole had known each other for only a few days. Didn’t that make you ask a few questions?”
“I guess so. It must have. After all, a hasty marriage violates Core Principle Number One: Do not mistake impulse for true intuition. But I can’t remember asking any questions.
” She hesitated. “To be honest, there’s a lot I can’t recall about my time with Travis.
I think the meds that Dr. Webber forced on me must have caused some amnesia. ”
He reflected on that briefly. “Interesting. When did things start to clear up?”
“The day after my wedding when I woke up in the cell at Serenity Gardens. And before you ask, I don’t have any clear memories of my wedding night.
Most of what I know I’ve had to piece together from what Webber told me and the little I’ve been able to learn since I escaped.
After Travis jumped off the roof of that horrible hotel, Dunstan Kelbrook stepped in and had me committed.
He told the authorities that it was his responsibility as the head of the family to protect me and the Kelbrook name.
If I went to trial for murder, there would be an even bigger scandal.
Much better for everyone involved if I vanished quietly into an asylum where I could—and I quote—‘get the help I needed.’ ”
“People are conveniently forgotten after they are committed.”
“Dr. Webber said I should be grateful because I wouldn’t have to stand trial and go to prison. I was so much better off in the para-psych hospital, he said. They dosed me with drugs to keep my talent flatlined. Webber claimed he had proof the meds worked.”
“What was the proof?”