Psi Another Day (Psi Fighter Academy)

by D. R. Rosensteel

  “Don’t talk to me, Art.” Mason stood holding the bat in both hands, trembling. “Just shut up.”

  I was officially fed up with Art Rubric. “Chuckie, if you don’t put me down right this second, I will embarrass you more than you can possibly imagine.”

  “I have an excellent imagination, babe,” Chuckie said. “And I can’t possibly imagine anything you could do to embarrass me.”

  “Don’t call me babe.”

  “Look, babe.” Chuckie tightened his grip. “Be good so you don’t get hurt. I am very strong. And you are small and oh so much weaker—”

  I slammed both elbows into Chuckie’s ribs, snapped my head backward into his face, and stomped on his shin. He gasped, then whimpered, then dropped me to the ground. I spun to the right and cracked my elbow into the side of his head, then spun to the left and blasted a spinning back kick into his jaw. Chuckie’s eyes rolled and he dropped like he’d been hit by a bus. “I told you not to call me babe.”

  “Do him!” Rubric yelled. “Now!”

  Mason suddenly looked so helpless, so defeated. He raised the bat over his head and took aim at Bobby. Bobby tried to lift his arms to cover his head, but Rubric held him tight. I was too far away to stop him without doing something drastic. So I did.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Mason's Memories

  Sorrow, I thought as I drew my Amplifier. Mental fire flashed from my fingertips. I flicked my wrist and the psychic whip closed the distance between Mason and me, snapping around his arm. I jerked hard. The bat flew from his hand, and he fell to the ground, screaming.

  I took my Amplifier in both hands and glared at him. He screamed and writhed in pain. I held tight as Mason struggled to pull free. This time, I would control the Lash. I would make Mason feel remorse. Suddenly, my mind filled with horrible memories that I knew weren’t my own.

  Mommy glared down at me while she tied the dog’s leash around my neck. This time, she attached it to the tree. I trembled with fear. I had done it again, and Mommy was mad. Her eyes scared me. They looked dead. Mommy wasn’t the same anymore. She grimaced, lit a match, and tossed it in my hair. I whimpered and slapped it out, but it burned. She lit another one and flicked it. It stuck to my forehead, singeing a massive blister before I pulled it off. I screamed, “I’m sorry, Mommy, I’m sorry!” I wanted badly to stop wetting the bed, but she made me drink so much before I went to sleep. Another match! The pain on my scalp was agonizing. “It hurts, it hurts, it hurts!” I shrieked and slapped at my head to stop the torture, but my hands blistered. The smell of burnt hair and skin filled my nostrils.

  “You were always the stupid one, Mason,” she said. She lumbered over to the tall pine tree I was tied to. A can of gasoline and a shovel sat next to it. She picked up the can. “You should have died. Not your brother.” She unscrewed the cap slowly, a demented smile cracking her face, and poured gasoline in a circle around me, drenching my shoes and splashing my legs. “He was such a good boy. Why don’t you ever listen to me? Why can’t you just do what you’re told?” Then she lit another match.

  I wailed. “Please, give me another chance!”

  “You don’t deserve a second chance.”

  Suddenly, I heard a metallic ring and Mommy was sitting on the ground, glaring up at me. Her poor head was covered in blood. A man stood behind her, holding the shovel. Rotting flesh hung in strips from his face, and white bone shone through. A bolt of fear shot through me.

  He swung the shovel hard. It made a dull clang against Mommy’s head. He hit her again and again, and every time he hit her, his jawbones clacked together. Then he handed me the shovel and said, “I’ll come back for you.”

  The front door burst open and Daddy ran out. “Mason, no!” He stared at me in horror, then his eyes shot to Mommy. “Why couldn’t she just leave you alone?” he whispered. “Don’t worry, buddy. I’ll take care of everything.”

  Then I felt older. I looked down from the balcony of the high school auditorium. Munificent pointed up at us. He talked about a man who wore a skull mask. The familiar terror filled my chest. The cop was wrong. It wasn’t a mask. It was him. He had come back for me. Just like he said he would.

  I was in the SSA with Angel. “Is it true what Bobby said?”

  Angel smiled and caressed my cheek. “Bobby’s a dweeb. Why would you listen to him? Mason, I can get the stuff he’s talking about. Trust me. It’s harmless.”

  I pushed her hand away from my cheek. Tammy Angel was beginning to annoy me. She had changed. “Give me some. I want to prove that Bobby is wrong.”

  Angel smiled and reached into her purse.

  Mason moaned loudly. I screamed and released him from the Memory Lash. My knees gave way and I fell, shaking violently, tears streaming down my face. My scalp burned from the memory of the matches, and the smell of gasoline was everywhere. Mason’s memories still surged in my mind. They boiled, forcing themselves to the surface, but I pushed them back.

  I shook my head, my mind cleared, and I stayed in control. I had finally mastered the Lash. Then my eyes focused, and my moment of triumph dissolved. Mason was on the ground curled up in a ball, whimpering like a savagely beaten animal, sobbing and hiccuping, and I realized that the Lash still sucked.

  “What’d you do, you freak!” Rubric had dropped Bobby. He pointed at me, terror in his eyes. “You killed him! You killed him!” He turned, slammed into a tree, and fell on his butt. Then he picked himself up to stagger off through the park, disappearing into the woods.

  Bobby limped toward me and helped me to my feet. I leaned on him. He felt surprisingly strong for someone so small. “Are you okay, Rinnie?”

  “Yeah,” I said with no confidence.

  “Was that the Memory Lash?”

  I lurched, and must have given poor Bobby a pretty nasty look, because his eyes got huge and his jaw dropped.

  “K-Kitty told me,” he stammered.

  What? The one person I trusted! Kathryn’s hopes of ever being a Whisperer had totally crashed and burned. I would deal with her later. I pulled away from Bobby. “Come on, we have to get out of here.”

  “I don’t think it’ll work on him.”

  I looked down at Mason. He was babbling, sobbing softly, and every so often he mumbled, “Mommy, Mommy, I’m so sorry,” then started whimpering again.

  Bobby was wrong. I had never seen the Lash have that effect on anyone. Not even Mason Draudimon deserved the agony of that nasty weapon. I knew too well what it felt like. And I finally understood Mason. He looked up at me with huge, soft eyes, and for a moment, seemed to know what I was thinking.

  “He’ll be all right,” Bobby said. “Kathryn told me it wears off quickly. Especially when you aren’t capable of remorse. And I can’t imagine anyone less capable. Let’s go.”

  “We can’t just leave him here like this,” I objected. A low moan made me spin around.

  Chuckie was regaining consciousness. He pushed upright slowly, his face distorted with confusion, an enormous bruise already showing on his cheek. He shook his head, then his eyes grew wide like he had just realized why he was facedown in the dirt. “Whoa, babe, you are a major butt-kicker!” He struggled to his feet and tottered toward me. “I’m impressed.”

  Before he knew what had happened, I grabbed his thumb, twisting his hand into a wrist lock. Chuckie yelped. “Babe, like, I meant what I said. I’m on your side, now, ’cause I don’t want nobody to know a girl kicked my butt. You won’t tell, will ya?”

  “I told you not to call me babe,” I said softly.

  “Hey, that’s cool…Rinnie.”

  I released Chuckie from the wrist lock. “Take Mason home.”

  “The Shadow Passage isn’t open yet.”

  “Were you born this stupid, or did you take supplements?” I looked down at Mason and shuddered. “Take him to his dad’s house.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Hunter Becomes Hunted

  “Oh, boy.” Andy rubbed his forehead with both hands. “
Here we go.”

  “What? Was I wrong?”

  “You did what you had to do. Under the influence of Psychedone 10, Mason might have killed your friend. I’m just afraid. The past has a nasty way of repeating itself.”

  “Why would he be so stupid, Andy? Mason wasn’t into drugs of any kind. Why would he take something so nasty?”

  Andy shrugged. “Like you saw in his memory, he wanted to prove that Bobby was wrong. Mason so badly wanted the Class Project to be what he needed it to be that he took a stupid chance.”

  “What did he need it to be?”

  “A miracle. A cure for his past. His second chance.”

  I felt so bad for Mason. “He didn’t even realize he was under its influence. He tried so hard to disobey Rubric.”

  “On the plus side, we know Mason didn’t kill his mother like we all believed. And you kicked some major butt in that park. Three at a time!”

  “Two,” I said, feeling my face turn red. “Art ran into a tree.”

  “The forest is our friend. Okay, hand over the papers you stole from the police station. Let’s see what Amos didn’t tell us.”

  “I didn’t steal them.”

  Andy raised one eyebrow and cocked his head sideways. “My apologies. I meant to say purloined.”

  “Isn’t that the same thing?”

  “Yes.” He held his hand out. “Give.”

  I opened my backpack and dug around for the envelope. “Andy, does the Memory Lash ever get easier? I can’t stop thinking about what happened to Mason.”

  “You controlled it this time.” He pursed his lips. “An obvious result of my brilliant instruction.”

  “Have you been hanging out with Dr. Captious?”

  “No, he’s too self-absorbed. He’d rather talk about himself than about me. Can you imagine?” Andy suddenly became serious and cupped my face in both hands. “The Lash…was never intended to be easy. Just powerful. Rinnie, it’s the only weapon known that can change a person’s heart. Do you understand how difficult that is?”

  “Do you think it changed Mason?”

  Andy shook his head. “Maybe. Only God knows that. You can’t always tell if a person is changed. But you can be certain when he isn’t.”

  I nodded, remembering LaReau. He had no remorse at all. “LaReau was dead inside. The only emotions I felt were dark, empty. Mason was dark, too, but it was more like a little boy trying to dig free from layers of pain.”

  “I believe Mason suffered through too many repressed memories not to be affected. From what you described, his remorse is deep. He’ll never stop remembering. The change is going to be slow and painful.”

  “I don’t get it. Mason didn’t do anything. In the memory I saw, he was the victim.”

  “Of course.”

  “What does that mean? That’s not how the Memory Lash works.”

  “Think about it. What did Mason say after you released him?”

  “He curled up in a ball and told his mother he was sorry.”

  “Yep.”

  “What, yep?”

  “From what you described, Mason believes he caused his mother’s death. That was the most painful thing he ever witnessed, and he blames himself. That’s why the Memory Lash showed you that memory.”

  “And the man with a decaying skull for a head? He didn’t feel like Scallion.” I knew the answer before I asked, but I was really hoping to be wrong.

  “Nicolaitan. He’s very powerful. He made Mason see him as death. Hence, the skull.”

  “Did he also make Mason believe it was, hence, his fault?”

  “No. Mason really believes it. Just like you really believe your parents died because of you. No matter how often we tell you it wasn’t your fault. Because it wasn’t, in case I haven’t told you. You were six. Six-year-olds are innocent, even bratty ones like you.”

  “Hey!”

  “Now, where were we? Oh, yes.” Andy smiled and snapped his fingers. “Papers, please.”

  I pulled the envelope from my backpack and took out the drawing. “See, it’s just some sort of doodle. No words, no real picture. I can’t make anything out of it.”

  Andy looked at the paper, turning it in all directions, then rubbed his finger across the scribbles.

  “Wow!” he hollered, nearly dropping the paper. His face got totally serious and he gaped at me like I was a burn victim. “I prayed this would never happen.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  Andy shook his head. “Be right back.” He turned and disappeared into a closet at the far end of his tech lab. He returned wheeling a flatbed scanner with the words Andy-Scan 1000 molded into its shining cover.

  “Why are you scanning the doodle?” I asked. “You gonna Photoshop your face onto it?”

  “Lemme ’splain.” Andy shook his head. “You know how, when you’re trying to think of something to draw, you start out by doodling, then ideas crystallize in your head, and you eventually end up with some very intricate artwork?”

  “Uh…no. I doodle when I’m bored. Like in language arts when they talk about subjunctives and conjugation and big words that real people never use.”

  “You should try doodling when you need to think,” Andy said. “Because the thought is in the doodle.”

  “Sounds like drivel.”

  “Doodles only drivel when the ink is wet. That’s why Munificent used pencil.”

  “Okay, I’m lost. What are you trying to tell me with your twaddle?”

  “Munificent was writing to the Psi Fighters. This is how he communicated with us.”

  “By doodling? Andy, that is weird, even for you. Why don’t you just build them a Bat Signal?”

  “I’m working on it,” Andy said, smiling down at me. “Now, follow me, if your tired brain can stay awake. How do you put thoughts on paper?”

  I folded my hands, placed them daintily under my chin, and batted my eyes. “You…write them?”

  “Good, good…and what do you do in language arts while you’re doodling?”

  “Daydream, because paying attention would cause me to fall asleep, then I’d get detention.”

  “And daydreaming would be the same as…”

  “Thinking?”

  “She shoots! She scores!” Andy shouted, and moonwalked around the room.

  “So you’re saying my thoughts are in my doodle?”

  “Keep your doodle out of this. We’re talking about Munificent’s communication to us, which we would have already known about if he had not been so inconveniently murdered. You need to hear it.”

  I smacked myself in the forehead and sighed. “Where is this going?”

  “Right there,” Andy said, slapping the paper into the scanner’s auto-feeder.

  “So,” I said slowly, “you’re going to scan it…”

  “I thought we already established that.” He pressed a key and the scanner started to hum.

  “All we established is that you are a Looney Tune,” I said, ready to bang my head off the wall. “What does—”

  “This is the Andy-Scan 1000, a clever device invented by—need I even say it?—my own pretty little self. It does for the written word what the MPU 3000 does for memories.”

  “You can scan the thoughts out of a scribble?”

  “Or a doodle, even if it’s drivel.” Andy punched another button on the scanner.

  “Psi Fighters,” a voice boomed over the sound system hidden somewhere in Andy’s tech room walls. “I have—”

  Andy hit the button again, and the voice stopped.

  “Why did you stop it?” I looked around for speakers I knew I’d never find.

  “Honey.” Andy put his arm around me, growing unusually serious again. “There’s something you have to know. If we had gotten this message from Amos Munificent in time, we may have been able to save him. But he wasn’t trying to warn us about a danger to himself. He was telling us that Scallion’s mission isn’t what we believed.”

  “How do you know what’s in the scribbl
e?” I was beginning to feel very uneasy.

  “I scanned it when I touched it. You’ll learn how. It’s a lot like scanning minds, and you know how to do that.”

  “I hate scanning minds. It hurts.”

  “This won’t be a field of daisies, either.” Andy punched the button.

  “—new information,” Munificent’s voice boomed out. “Nicolaitan has infiltrated the high school more deeply than we believed. I’ve confirmed that the apprentice who goes by the name of Scallion is a student there. I have also learned that he’s searching for the Morgan girl. Nicolaitan knows she is back. He believes she attends the high school.”

  “You okay?” Andy asked.

  “What?” I had a bad feeling that I was missing something very obvious. “Wait, the Morgan girl…he means me?”

  Andy nodded. “After we rescued you, we put you in hiding. All traces of your existence evaporated. It was like six-year-old Lynn Morgan never existed. With your parents dead, it was the best way to protect you. Nicolaitan had assumed that we sent you far away. But he must have seen something in Munificent’s mind.”

  “What sort of something?” I asked.

  “If you hadn’t brought me this memory, I couldn’t have pieced it together, but it makes sense now. Remember the memory of Munificent’s murder, when Nicolaitan asked him about the Morgan girl? He kidnapped you ten years ago. He should have given up and moved on by now. I underestimated how much he hates us. He wants you because you are the only Psi Fighter ever taken alive.”

  “I was six. How hard could it have been?”

  “That’s not the point. He believes he can unlock your mind and learn the location of the Academy. Then he’ll send his Knights to destroy us. That’s always been his goal. Something caused him to resurface. He must have pulled a fragment from Munificent’s mind somehow. A fragment with you in it.”

  “Mr. Munificent acted like he knew me at the assembly,” I said, suddenly in terrible fear. “If Nicolaitan read Mr. Munificent’s mind, he knows who I am. I have to get home. Andy, we have to protect my family!”

  Andy took me by the shoulders. “We don’t know whether he knows your identity. Munificent only knows Rinnie Noelle because your dad consults with the police force. He doesn’t know you’re the Morgan girl. He thinks she disappeared.”