Pandora’s People 2: Keely Page 3

  He cut off the maddening circle of thoughts and tried to focus on his breathing exercises. He had an unsettling feeling he was going to need to use his powers, and to have considerable control over them, before this was over.

  West had gone a long time thinking he had only rudimentary powers -- the ability to shield himself from telepaths and to block attempts to manipulate him mentally. Even though his talent had been manageable, his parents had sent him to Skara Brae for training, seeing an opportunity not so much to get rid of him, but for him to live up to whatever the full potential of his power might be. It had been a rare attitude for the parents of an aberrant -- in fact no one at Skara Brae had seemed to have anything approaching the familial support that had buoyed West.

  And at Skara Brae, he discovered he did, indeed, have potential no one had suspected. With training, he had learned to block and counter powerful psychic attacks, perpetrated both on himself and on others. It was not an insignificant talent.

  He’d met John at Skara Brae, as well. John had been instrumental in helping West develop the techniques of focus and control that had brought his talents to their highest manifestation. He’d downplayed his relationship with John to Keely in fear of hurting her, but in truth they had been very close, if only for a short time.

  Settling into a light trance, he let the rhythm of his breathing take over, and drifted into the quiet of his own mind.

  Chapter Four

  Keely contacted West shortly after Skara Brae’s dinner hour. After a brief discussion with Maxwell, they contacted Pandora and arranged for the four of them to conduct the psychic equivalent of a conference call.

  “Why not use an actual conference call?” West asked her when she met him at the door to Maxwell’s rooms.

  “Pandora requested it,” she told him brusquely, then, registering her tone, gave him a smile. Or attempted to. It didn’t quite feel right on her mouth -- it felt stiff and rictus-like rather than pleasant and encouraging. “There’s less likelihood of someone spying on our communications.” She’d been a bit surprised, too, since Pandora had only begun to make use of her long-range telepathic powers. This arrangement seemed likely to strain her, but she’d insisted.

  “You’re tense,” West said, eyeing her. His look was shrewd.

  “I am,” she admitted. “Come on in -- let’s get this underway.”

  Maxwell sat at a small, rough table in his kitchen area. Comfortable looking chairs surrounded the table, and Maxwell already looked relaxed, almost groggy. He would have spent at least an hour preparing for this -- it was difficult work and required an intensely focused mental state. He looked up as West and Keely entered.

  “Good,” he said simply. “You’re here.”

  “Yes.” Keely took a seat at the table, gesturing for West to take the other. She felt unaccountably nervous, and it couldn’t all be attributed to the fact she’d never done anything like this before. There was more to it. Tension simmered in the air. She wasn’t certain of its source, but it made her skin prickle.

  “Is everything all right?” Maxwell asked her, frowning.

  Keely hesitated, not certain how to answer. “Yes. Yes, I think so.” To her surprise, West reached across the table and took her hand. She looked at him, but he only smiled and said nothing.

  Maxwell reached out and took her other hand. His palm was warm and dry. West’s hold on her tightened a bit as Maxwell also took his free hand. West had reached out to Keely in comfort, and obviously hadn’t expected them to form a circle.

  “It’s not a séance, is it?” West said, his voice unsteady with forced, nervy laughter.

  Keely smiled at him. “Not exactly. The physical contact helps, though, when we need to merge our powers.”

  “I’ve never done anything like this.”

  Keely found herself sympathizing with his discomfort. He was trying hard to block it, hiding his honest trepidation from the others. Probably hoping to get it under control before they initiated communication with Pandora, when he would be unable to hide anything from anyone.

  “It’ll be all right,” she reassured him.

  Maxwell gave them both an odd look. “Let’s get on with it, then,” he said, his voice a bit gruff.

  “Give him a minute to adjust,” Keely chastised, but West shook his head.

  “No. It’s quite all right. I’m certain we don’t want to leave Pandora waiting.”

  “Right, then. Drop those shields, boy -- we’re none of us out to bugger your brain.”

  “Right.” West’s face went a bit red, and he closed his eyes. Keely closed hers, too, and they began to build the connection.

  She and Maxwell meshed immediately, mental patterns falling together like perfectly carved puzzle pieces. He was used to this sort of thing, of course; as a telepath it had been part of his basic training. West took a bit longer, as he gradually let his shields down, allowing Keely and Maxwell to draw him into the bond. Keely noticed he still held his deepest thoughts away from them, hidden behind a carefully constructed wall. Someone had trained him well.

  And suddenly she realized who that someone had been, and snapped up a wall of her own. She sensed Maxwell’s attention shifting toward her, curiosity rising, but before he could form any sort of question, Pandora joined them.

  “Greetings.” Her voice was powerful, but in its way restrained, like a brass instrument with a mute in its throat. “Are we all ready?”

  “I believe we are.” Maxwell’s mental voice seemed deeper, darker than his speaking voice.

  “Then tell me,” Pandora went on. “What have we learned? Is there anything new to report?”

  “Whatever the danger is,” Keely began, “it has followed us --”

  The thought just… dissolved. Flew apart, as if reduced somehow to its component parts. Keely gasped as needles of pain filled her head, as suddenly and violently as the thought had lost its substance.

  Pandora screamed.

  The sound penetrated Keely’s head like a knife tearing through her skull. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She could only stare blankly into the emptiness of Maxwell’s face, across the table from her.

  What the fuck? This voice came inside her head, and she was fairly certain it was West’s. His hand tightened on hers almost brutally; she felt her bones slide against each other and another sort of pain slid up her arm, distracting her from the strange stilettos in her head.

  Then West was just there, a solid, tangible presence inside her mind, an implacable and unbreachable wall. The lashing pain in her head lessened, leaving behind it the raw, broken feeling of violation. She gasped, dragging in as much air as she could, trying to steady herself.

  West’s response to the attack had been only partially effective, but it had bought time after the initial shock, allowing Maxwell and Pandora to move in with a counter attack. There was a flurry of activity on the psychic plane, so furious and intense Keely couldn’t follow it. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the unexpected attack was over.

  Keely gasped, still reeling, a high-pitched note keening in her head. She felt like she could never drag enough air back into her body. Her hands shook, and, strangely, her lips had gone numb.

  Report! The word was a staccato burst in her head, like a hammer stroke behind her ear. It was Pandora.

  “Here,” Keely shot back automatically, both aloud and through the psychic link. Maxwell’s voice echoed her.

  Then silence.

  West? Still disoriented, Keely wasn’t sure if she or Pandora had called the name. In either case, there was no answer.

  “West…” Keely forced the word out, then made herself open her eyes. At first everything around her was a muddled blur, then her vision slowly refocused. She realized the warm grip of West’s hand on hers was gone. “West.”

  She could see him now, slumped back in his chair, head hanging back, glassy eyes staring at the ceiling. Only his hands moved on the table, flopping disconcertingly, like fish out of water.

&n
bsp; “West…” Pure fear seized her, and she flung herself toward him, but she was drained and disoriented and the too-rapid movement sent her to the floor on her knees. Reaching for him again, this time psychically, she found herself rebuffed. Something powerful had lodged inside West’s mind. She couldn’t make out who or what it was. Everything was still muddled, unclear.

  “Someone’s got him, someone’s got him…” She babbled the words, trying to regain her feet, to move toward him. Whoever had attacked them still held him in thrall, was still inside his head, prepared to kill him…

  “It’s all right.” Maxwell’s deep voice found its way to her, calming her before she had quite registered what he’d said. “It’s all right. It’s Pandora.”

  Drawing a slow breath, she steadied herself, managing to slide up to her knees. West calmed even as she watched, the crazed movement of his hands quieting, then going still. His head rose, his body straightened, and he opened his eyes. His expression remained blank, his eyes staring and empty.

  She spoke his name again, quietly. Another contact brushed across her mind. She focused on it. Pandora?

  Yes. Pandora’s mental voice sounded drained, tired. Come in. He needs you.

  Keely reached out for West again, following the thread Pandora had thrown out for her. It seemed weak at first, difficult for her to tune into, but she found it, grabbed it, clung to it, and let Pandora draw her in.

  The quiet settling over West’s body was belied by the turmoil still raging in his mind. He was in pain, ravaged, aching and torn open from his confrontation with whatever -- whoever -- had attacked them. Pandora had threaded her own presence through him, trying to hold the pieces together, but her talent alone wasn’t enough. Holding him forcefully together wouldn’t help him heal. In fact, it was likely to cause him more pain.

  He needs you, Pandora repeated, and with a nod Keely collected herself and focused on West.

  Peace, she broadcast to him. Peace. You’re all right. We’re all right. You saved us. Rest.

  She could feel him beginning to quiet at her efforts. Pieces of coherent thought flittered through his consciousness, touched hers, and as he became quieter and more coherent Pandora began to withdraw. She seemed tired, Keely thought -- more than tired, as if the encounter had taxed even her considerable powers. She’d been using the long-range telepathic connection too long, pushing the limits of this newly discovered skill.

  Take care of him, Pandora said, her voice weakening.

  “I will,” Keely answered, and then Pandora was gone.

  West opened his eyes and looked at her. “I’m fine,” he muttered, his voice barely audible.

  Keely patted his shoulder, then took his arm and helped him to his feet. “I’m sure you are. Let’s get you back to your room.”

  He rose unsteadily. She guided him out of the building, then let him lead her to his quarters. She would help him. Heal him. She focused on that, because then she wouldn’t think about how invasive the psychic attack had been, how deeply it had flayed her open. And how much the anonymous invader had taken from her.

  * * *

  West insisted he could walk on his own to his rooms, but when he got there, his face was ashen, his lips white. She hovered near him until he settled heavily onto the couch. Then she sat next to him and took his hand.

  “Let me in,” she said gently.

  “I’m fine.” He pulled his hand away from hers. “I’ll be fine.”

  “You’re not fine. You took a hell of a hit.” Reaching for him, she took his hand again. “Pandora told me to take care of you.”

  He started to draw away again, then stopped. She looked down at his hand in hers. His fingers were long and elegant, and there was a graceful curve to the bones in his wrist Keely hadn’t noticed before. His hand tightened on hers, the long, strong fingers gripping her. “How much did they get?”

  “I don’t know.” Her voice was bleak, and she shook her head. “Everything, I’m afraid.”

  “But you don’t know for sure?”

  “There’s no way I can know for sure. But I felt them inside my head, crawling around…” She shuddered involuntarily as her mind revisited sensations she had no desire to experience again.

  “I’m sorry.” His voice was quiet. “I didn’t protect you well enough. Didn’t block it fast enough.”

  Keely pressed her lips together, fighting a stab of genuine anger. “Stop it. You did everything you could. Now let me help you.”

  He shook his head, and she could feel him building a load of stubborn resistance. Just as she was about to press him again on the point, though, tears welled in his eyes and he nodded. “All right.”

  She shifted a little closer on the couch, tightening her hand on his. Lifting her free hand, she touched her fingertips to his temple, closed her eyes, and began to gently evaluate.

  He was unsteady, still shaken by the attack and its aftermath, and by the drain on his own power when he’d fought back. Many aberrants suffered negative effects from deliberate, concentrated use of their power, but in West the reaction seemed minimal. It still could do with tending, though. Carefully, she threaded into his mind, settling the fear, projecting calm. She considered alleviating his guilt, his apparent conviction that the incident had been his fault, but she couldn’t, no matter how much it might seem like the right thing to do. Instead she merely calmed him, released the fear.

  His control surprised her. The level of structure inside his mind, the meticulousness of it, made her job easier, and at the same time provided a framework for him, a protective safety net of sorts to help him control the extensive power of his talent. She remembered the sudden flash of insight that had hit her just before they’d begun their conference with Pandora.

  His hand tightened on hers. She opened her eyes and met his. The look on his face answered her question, but she asked it anyway.

  “Who trained you?”

  He rubbed his thumb across the back of her hand. By way of answer, he closed his eyes and let her come inside…

  West had known John for two years, when John had come to Skara Brae to help with the community’s initial growing pains. He’d helped train many of the newer arrivals to the community, and West had been one of them.

  West remembered John fondly, remembered his patience, his kindness. John had been the first to sense the potential in West’s elusive talent, and he had taught West the highly structured methods that had allowed him to control it when it finally manifested fully. Keely recognized the patterns now, as West had begun to recognize the structure in Keely’s mind that helped rein in and focus her own formidable powers. John had left his mark on them both.

  “What was it like between you?” Keely couldn’t stop herself from asking the question, though she knew she might not want to know the answer.

  “He was my mentor,” he said gently. “You know how it can be.”

  She did know how it could be. He’d been her mentor, too, and they’d ended up in bed together. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. The relationships rarely lasted longer than the mentorship -- she and John had been a rare case.

  “Were you…?” She trailed off. Part of her was certain she would have known if John and West had been physically involved. The dream would have reflected it, she thought. But she couldn’t be certain.

  John gave her a gentle smile and moved her hair back from her face. “No. We came close, though.”

  She nodded. She hadn’t expected this kind of wrinkle. “How close?”

  He chuckled. “Do you really want to know?”

  “I --” Her mouth snapped shut and she considered, starting to feel frantic. “I don’t know.”

  Moving even closer to her, he let his lips brush over her forehead. “Let me show you.”

  For the space of a breath, she hesitated, then nodded. West set his forehead softly against hers and closed his eyes.

  John had always been careful when he trained. Careful not to get too close, too deep inside their minds. It was
always risky, always a narrow line to walk. But sometimes there was no other way. When the talent to be controlled was very strong, or complicated, it took deep bonding to reach what needed to be accessed. Keely had experienced this, as well.

  West’s talent had been not only strong and complicated, but partially latent. When John had begun working with him, they’d had only an inkling of what power lay within West’s mind, and what exactly he could do with it. It had taken a long time to work through all the layers to get to the power waiting within him.

  After their first session, John had explained this to him, carefully and plainly. He’d sat in John’s office, thoroughly intimidated by the older man. He’d never had anyone move so deeply within his mind before, and it had been strange. Too intimate for comfort.

  “It can be hard,” John said gently. “It might be the hardest thing you’ve ever done. But down the road, you’ll meet harder things, and this will make them easier.”

  West nodded. He felt like a dumb kid, regardless of his actual age. John had a good ten years on him, and what felt like an eternity of experience. “I’ve heard… things can happen. That sometimes it’s like… like sex.”

  John had nodded soberly. He had never been less than honest with West. Reliving the memory along with him, Keely acknowledged the truth of that. He’d been the same way with her, even as they’d fallen down the slippery slope into undeniable attraction, then love.

  “It can be,” West remembered him saying. “And to help you get where you need to go, I’ll have to go deep. It’ll be intense.”

  “What other choice do I have?”

  “You’re mostly latent. You’re lucky. You can just walk away.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  “The power you hold… I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  In the end, of course, he’d opted for the training. And it had been intense. It had, in fact, been the most intimate relationship he’d ever had. More than once, he’d ridden a wave of arousal out of the deep meditative states John had put him into. More than once, he’d climaxed on the couch while John held his hand. But they’d never had sex. West understood how it could happen with other people, knew it could easily have happened with them. It just hadn’t. John hadn’t withheld anything from West that West needed, but the intimacy between them had also made him aware that a physical relationship wouldn’t have helped his protégé. It would have done more harm than good for both of them in the long run.