by Ash Krafton
Beth acted like she was being abandoned. Tam felt like she was abandoning her, and herself, and everything she’d ever known in this terrible process.
“I’m sorry, Bethany. I’m not doing this because of you. I need to take some time off from my practice. I need to resolve an important issue and until I do, I want you to spend time with Dolly.”
“Not Dolly. You. You’re the only one who knows me.”
“Dolly is a good person, Bethany.”
“I don’t care!” Beth’s cheeks were mottled, streaked with tears. “You’re just like everyone else. You stick around until it gets tough—”
“I told you—”
“Bullshit! You wanna leave? Good! I don’t need a phony like you. I hate you! I hope you know what a big mistake you made because you’ll be sorry.”
“Bethany.” Tam gripped the file, clenching her fingers. She’d seen Beth set off before, but this is the first time it was over what Tam had done. Guilt streaked through her. “This is only temporary.”
Even as she said it, she knew it was a lie.
“Nothing is temporary. You’ll see. Welcome to your new forever.” Bethany jumped up from the chair and stormed out of the room, slamming the door hard enough to make the frames on the wall rattle.
Tam didn’t pursue her, didn’t even try to bring her back in to manage the outburst or reinforce coping skills. Tam didn’t do anything that she, the counsellor, would have done.
Instead, she drew her feet up onto the chair and hugged her knees, hiding her face and the tears that brewed. A forever of this?
She couldn’t imagine.
Chapter 30
Bethany ran out, not even stopping at the receptionist for an appointment, tears streaming down her face, huge sobs shaking her shoulders. She wailed the entire way down in the elevator, much to the discomfort of the people in the car with her. She didn’t care. Tam was just like the rest—
Once in the lobby, the car emptied. The other passengers hurried out, sliding around a dusky-skinned man with black eyes.
Those black eyes were staring at her. What, did he have X-ray vision, or something? Bethany hesitated, not wanting to go near him. But he was blocking the way, and it wasn’t like she could stay in the elevator forever. Eyes down, hand tugging up her collar, she thought about going back upstairs just to avoid him. But upstairs—she was up there.
“You poor dear.” His voice sounded oily. It got into her head somehow. “What is the matter?”
All she wanted to do was run. He had a creepy vibe to him. Out, just want to get out—
He spread his hands, not quite blocking her, but it didn’t matter.
A heaviness spread through her arms and legs. “I—I just want to leave. I hate this place.”
He stepped aside and she shuffled out, making a wide berth around him. He was strange looking, and had shifty suspicious eyes. And his shadow—it rolled around his feet, sliding across the glossy tiled floor. Who had a shadow inside? And why wasn’t she running away from him?
An odd calm stole over her, a peacefulness unlike something she’d ever known. Her anger and her disappointment had dwindled, but she never let anything go, not something like losing Tam—
The dark-eyed man smiled. “There. That feels better, doesn’t it?”
She nodded, forgetting all about the weird shadow. “I was pretty mad but I feel better. That’s weird.”
“Tam won’t be gone forever.” His voice was silky and dark, like expensive chocolate and cigarette smoke. “You cannot possible stay mad at her.”
“How did you know about—”
“You just told me, dear.” He peered intently into her eyes.
The peacefulness thickened, like a heavy fog, and settled in her chest, her head. God, she was so forgetful. Tam’s fault. “I…told you. Right. I forgot.”
“You regret what you said, don’t you?”
The fog thinned, allowing her anger to resurface. “Why should I? I’m not the one who made me trust her just so she could abandon me. She should regret it.”
He opened his mouth to reply but snapped it shut, seeming to reconsider.
Good. Nosy bastard shouldn’t be stopping strangers on the street like it’s his business. Probably one of Tam’s weirdos. That’s how he knew her. Good. She could keep him.
“Do you want revenge?” The question was so sudden, so odd that her mouth hung open. Did she want it?
After years of going to see Tam, she hadn’t gotten any better. She still had the same awful mood swings, still over-reacting and pushing people away and just sucking at everything. She was scared. Lonely. Over-whelmed. And years of counselling did nothing to help it. Seven different medications. Nothing worked. She was still useless and inferior and bored and Tam didn’t fix any of it.
Tam knew she was a hopeless case and just didn’t have the balls to tell her so. That’s why she was leaving. Years of pouring out her heart and doing everything Tam asked her to do and countless hospital stays.
Did she want revenge?
“Hell, yes, I do.” Bethany curled her hands into tight fists. “I’ll show her.”
He took her by the elbow, wearing a pleased smile, and steered her out the door, around the corner. “We can help you.”
“How?”
“All you have to do is cooperate with her.” He nodded, peering into her eyes again. “Cooperate with her and do exactly what I say.”
He tucked his hand into his pocket and pulled out a vial. Unscrewing the cap, he topped the mouth of the vial with a finger and shook the bottle.
“What’s that?”
The man rubbed his wet finger across her forehead, a quick swipe. “An insurance policy. You will do all that I ask.”
The peacefulness seeped into her again, thicker, oilier, drenching her from her head down. All she saw were his eyes, glittering like black diamonds.
“Yes.” Her voice was faint and she slipped a bit farther from herself. “I will.”
The man smiled and took her hand, leading her down the street. “Tell me about yourself dear, so that we can plot your perfect revenge.”
For the first time in her life, Beth felt blank inside. It was all too easy to tell him everything he wanted to know.
Everything.
And all of what she told him made him smile.
Chapter 31
“Tam?” Cindy’s tone was urgent, unmistakable even over the intercom. “Dolly is on line two.”
Tam jabbed the button. “Dolly. What’s up?”
“Bethany Peters just called into Crisis,” Dolly said. “She threatened a suicide.”
Time slowed around her, sowed to a grinding halt as the words soaked in. “Where is she?”
“Home. Lisa from Crisis said she’ll meet you—”
She reached into her bottom drawer, lifting out her purse. Yanking it open, she took out her work cell phone. One text message. Beth.
She scanned the message before pocketing her phone and pulling out her car keys. “She’s not home. She’ll do it and she doesn’t want to be stopped.”
“Then why would she call?”
“It’s her way of hurting me. I’m on my way out.”
She hung up without giving Dolly any more information. She needed to do this on her own.
She grabbed her purse, all thoughts of the talisman and magic nonsense gone from her mind. For the first time since she met Burns, genies didn’t exist. Her practice wasn’t closing. The only things that she acknowledged was a young girl in a lot of trouble and a social worker who’d do anything to get her through a crisis.
She was herself again. Focused. Determined. And desperately hoping she wouldn’t be too late.
Bethany’s cell dialed straight through to voice mail for the tenth time by the time she got to Second Street. The only contact she had from Beth was that single text message.
Only someone who really knew me or cared about me would know where i am.
And she did.
She knew
right where Beth would be. Penn’s Landing. The place where Bobby, her lost boyfriend, had kissed her and told her he loved her for the very first time. It was the place Bethany loved most—that one place where she’d go to in her mind when she needed to soothe herself. Tam had invoked that memory over and over in therapy, giving Bethany a focal point.
Bobby died three years ago in a car accident. Bethany lost her best source of support and still struggled to cope with the loss. Every time her trigger was tripped, it brought back every ounce of grief and agony and she lashed out, determined to punish everyone who ever knew her.
Tam had made runs like this before, always with her trademark objectiveness that let her do everything right, by-the-book, schooled perfection.
Today was different.
For the first time, she had to face down someone on the edge, after having briefly known herself how intense emotions could be. She remembered the glancing contacts she’d made with her own emotional core.
She remembered the sparks that flew when she was submerged in her own feelings, during those moments with Burns. The mere memory took her breath away. What was it like, trying to live with that, day in and day out?
Her face burned with shame. She’d spent years observing and counseling Bethany and other patients like her, peering at their emotional frenzies as if they’d been fireflies in a jar, giving off ferocious sparks of light in their struggles for release from their prisons. She had watched and noted and postulated and pried, all the while seeking the answers to the cause of their maladies.
And the worst was, she wasn’t doing it out of compassion or some sense of duty to humanity. She did it to help herself.
She’d only been after the key to their emotions, the crack in their cores that made their furnaces burn so much brighter than ordinary people. If she could find the root of their outbursts, she might be able to devise a way to help all people who suffered from borderline personality disorder. It would be a breakthrough in the scientific community. She’d be lauded and keynoted. The profession would name the cure after her. The Kerish Approach. It would mean professional and financial security for the rest of her life.
But, more than money, more than fame, more than textbooks devoted to her work, she simply wanted to know: what made them so hyperemotional? And what could she do to experience it herself?
Of course, she never thought that a genie would be involved, something other than a defect in her psyche. She’d based a career of research on the cingulate region of the brain, forming the basis of the Kerish Approach. Who better to investigate the center of emotion-related movements than the therapist who probably didn’t possess a functioning cingulate gyrus?
Now, all of it was baseless. Useless. She wasn’t handicapped.
She was cursed. Imagine that. Years of research and postulation and theorizing and she’d been wandering in circles the whole time. She didn’t know if she should laugh or scream.
What was the point? Either outburst would be shallow and contrived because, without Burns, she was on emotional lock-down. Again.
She knew one thing: she couldn’t rely on the supernatural to fix an organic problem. Sahir said there was a real solution to the problem. She’d find it. And then she could set everything right again.
Later.
She slid her car into a spot on the lower level of the parking garage near the overpass. It was near to the area that Bethany had described her dates with Bobby. A park with brick walkways that sloped down to the waterfront. Trees and benches. Neat lamp posts.
She stowed her phone in her purse and leaned over the cement rail, scanning the area. She could see the park, but it was deserted, except for a couple walking a dog.
“Bethany!” She turned and cupped her hands to her mouth. “Bethany!”
Hearing no answer, she ran down the staircase and headed toward the waterfront. Once on the sidewalk she had a better view. Setting off at a brisk walk, she called Beth’s name. She had to be here. Anyone who knew her or cared about her would know—
She hiccupped, fearing the worst. She did care about her. She did.
A new sense of urgency flooded her and she broke into a run. Every bit of motion in her periphery made her look. Where was she? Why was it so quiet? She had to find her. Had to. There was no way to coldly observe the loss of this girl who’d manage to find her way into her core.
A cough not far off seized her attention. Up the path ahead she spied a huddled dark shape on a bench overlooking the water. The person rocked, steadily, to and fro. A spot of sunlight glinted off the familiar shock of burgundy hair.
“Beth!” Her voice broke in a rasp. “I’m here.”
The young girl stopped swaying and looked up, her expression a mix of fear and relief.
She ran to Beth, scooped her up, squeezing her in a hug. “Don’t do that to me!”
Beth, caught in the sudden unexpected embrace, groaned against her shoulder.
“You’re okay.” She drew back and held Beth at arm’s length, before cupping her face in her hands. “Thank God, you’re okay.”
“I’m sorry,” Bethany whispered. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Don’t worry about that. The important thing is I found you. You’re safe.”
“No, we’re not.” Beth sobbed and pitched her shoulders. Her coat slid off, revealing her hands. They were bound.
She fanned apart her palms, whimpering.
Her wrists, slit. The blood, everywhere. Beth’s pants soaked, dark crimson. Her skin, ghastly pale—
“No. No.” Tam pulled off her coat, stripping off her cardigan and rolling it. Those cords were too thick to cut without a blade. She stuffed the makeshift bandage between Beth’s mutilated wrists, trying to close the wounds, before winding the remainder tightly around her bound hands. The whole time, she whispered softly and comfortingly, years of practice muttering nonsense to calm a frantic patient. “It’ll be okay. We’re okay.”
“No, we’re not.” She shook her leg, rattling the bench with a metallic clank. Her foot was handcuffed to the bench.
Tam faltered, stumbling on the realization. Beth didn’t do this do herself.
“Let me call for help and we’ll be okay.” She reached behind her for her purse but it no longer lay on the ground next to her coat.
Beside the coat was a pair of moccasins, a pair of legs that continued up to the face of Sahir. He dangled the purse in one hand, her phone in the other. How did he find them—how did he know—
“Mr. S—.” Tam cried out in relief, stuttering over his name. She knew his name, had it formed in her mind, but couldn’t get it out of her mouth. Magic. She’d been bound by her own words, her promise to never say his name in front of another person. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure,” he said. He crushed the phone between his hands, releasing a pop of smoke and sparks. Before she could react, he kicked her in the side of her head, sending her flying to the ground at Bethany’s feet.
Beth’s ankle had a smear of bright red under the cuff, rubbed raw from her struggles.
She must have…struggled, must have…
Pink tinged her gaze, the pain deafening, her disjointed thoughts too far apart to string together. She raised her head, her last sight the bottom of Sahir’s shoe.
Blackness swallowed her, wrapped her in blinding pain, and she knew no more.
Chapter 32
She woke with a sluggish start, her head pounding, blood in her ears muffling her hearing. Her mouth tasted sour, the smell of vomit nearby. A concussion, she thought detachedly, preoccupied with the pain. Definitely a concussion.
Her hair was loose, tickling her nose. She tried to reach up but her hands were bound, the same plastic cord that she’d seen on Bethany.
Bethany. The thought was an electric shock, jolting her into focus.
Beth was still in trouble. Play it cool. Don’t move, don’t let anyone know you’re awake—
“Too late, dear, I knew the exact moment you woke up.” His
voice congenial and warm, Sahir sauntered over to her. Giving up the pretense, she rolled her eyes to look around, careful not to move her head. A single light bulb, dim and flickering, provided the only light in a dirty, empty cinder block-walled room. The odor was thick and cloying—subway and worse.
They must be somewhere inside the parking garage. A storage room, perhaps.
Sahir, dressed in dark brown linen pants and black head wrap, stood over her, arms crossed. A glinting sphere, just like the one that Burns had discovered in her office, hovered over his shoulder, streaming out a bright aura of luminescence.
So. Sahir. Kidnapped by a man who she surmised was the same who hurt Bethany. He was willing to hurt her, too. Had hurt her. Hurt them both. He attempted to murder a teenaged girl. Coerced Beth and used her as bait.
Bethany would have fallen for it, no hesitation. She was a client with BPD who believed her therapist betrayed her. All she’d want to do is punish her, just as she punished everyone around her whenever she had trouble coping with a negative stimulus. Beth had difficulty inhibiting inappropriate behaviors, always had. But they’d made such progress—
But him? Sahir was a mystery to her. They’d only met those few times. What had he said? Had he been the one to leave the device in her room? Had to be. Tam didn’t think any of her other patients were secretly magicians who had intimate knowledge about genies.
And Tam was sure this man was no djinn.
Suddenly, she knew exactly what kind of danger she was in—and what kind of danger she put Burns in.
Might as well work this out the old fashioned way: like a social worker. Get him talking. Keep him talking. Get through the crisis, one breath at a time.
She’d never engaged in hostage negotiations before, much less her own.
She coughed, trying to clear the sour pinch from the back of her throat. “What do you want?”
“What do I want?” Sahir strutted around her, the glass globe trailing dutifully behind him. “You ask me that as if you are able to actually give it to me.”