Mind Fray Page 12

  “Cid’s a friend, family, not a bodyguard,” Mia corrected.

  “Murphy then, is he your bodyguard?” Gerald challenged.

  “I’m not answering that,” Mia said, crossing her arms. “I can take care of myself.”

  Cid looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

  “Okay, I can’t, but let’s not put labels on people or spirits, shall we?” Mia pleaded. “Instead, can I ask you if you know anything about this Gabor the Great?”

  “Anatolie Gabor was a very famous Romanian Magician in his day. Rumors of him dabbling in the dark arts circulated for a time. Nothing was ever proven, and his dissenters either disappeared or fell into madness.”

  “Sir, if I may ask…”

  “Call me Gerald or I’ll not answer you.”

  Cid nodded. “Gerald, how did you come across this information?”

  “Cid, I’ve been a little different all my life. When other children were running and playing, I had my head stuck in books. My sister, whom you met, took on my responsibilities so I could study. When she married Guillaume, my interest in magic was pushed to the forefront. I have always been a mind reader, but I wanted to be something greater. I thought I could use my talent as a mentalist to make money. Little did I know it wasn’t what I knew, but who I knew that would be the making of me. I did a man a favor, and he returned it and so on. But you already know that. Let me backtrack. I studied everything I could find on the great mentalists. Gabor was a mere footnote in the book, in my mind, until you found this handbill.”

  “So, since his name isn’t as well-known as let’s say Uri Geller and Kreskin, I’m guessing he had a short run,” Mia prompted.

  “I would say that the lack of media would be a better explanation, plus he was a recluse. His performances were rare, and I suspect he only did them to amuse himself. He liked playing with people’s minds.”

  “Do you think that’s who we are dealing with at the Madison house?”

  “I don’t know, maybe. I’ll have to have more evidence, perhaps an invitation to join your PEEPs. I understand you turned the good father down.”

  “I didn’t exactly turn him down. I just cautioned him that since his recent… ah…”

  “He told me of the Darkworld,” Gerald informed her. “You’re not breaking a confidence.”

  “Phew,” Mia said, fanning herself with her hand. “I felt you pop into my head, and I thought I’d spilled the beans myself.”

  “No. And I’m sorry. Sometimes I need to exercise my gift a bit,” he explained. “Please go on.”

  “I thought, since he had recently spent some time in that nightmarish place, that the entity could possibly use that against him.”

  “Cid, you’ve been there, is it as bad as Mia’s hinting at?”

  Cid opened his mind. “I officially invite you into my mind. It would be quicker than me trying to come up with the best adjectives.”

  Gerald smiled and closed his eyes briefly.

  Cid didn’t feel anything. He just sat back and accessed the memory.

  Gerald opened his eyes and put his hands together, his fingertips touching. Mia watched him as he seemed to be present, engaged in the here and now, but yet part of him was gone. A duality she’d love to be able to pull off. She looked over at Cid and watched as he looked around him. When their eyes met he gave her a shy smile.

  “I see that the absence of anything could be uncomfortable, but the feeling of nothing but having your own thoughts bearing down on you, I imagine can be quite horrifying,” Gerald said. “So you’re saying the entity is reading your mind, to use your traumas against you?”

  “In my case, it chose an ordeal I didn’t even remember at the time. It came out when I was explaining the attack to Mike,” Mia admitted.

  “Was it a childhood trauma like the lady of the house?” Gerald asked interested.

  “Yes.”

  “So it’s invading the part of your mind that deals with your childhood memories.”

  “But according to The House of Doom, a novel written about the house that previously was built on the property, not everyone’s trauma was from childhood,” Mia explained. “Just perhaps ones that were pushed down… Damn, I lost the word.”

  “Suppressed,” Cid offered.

  “Yes, suppressed,” Mia agreed.

  “There’s a theory that our nightmares are a way for our subconscious to deal with these traumas. Usually, we have these coded dreams where a cigar isn’t a cigar,” Gerald enlightened. “But sometimes, we bury things so deep that they become part of the composition of our brain matter.”

  “My question is, how did this all happen?” she asked.

  Cid and Gerald looked at Mia.

  “I don’t expect an answer, but I feel that if we knew what happened all those years ago, we may stand a chance of either resting this violent spirit or having the tools ready to stop it permanently.”

  “I’ll have the paper tested,” Angelo’s deep voice resonated through the room.

  “You either left the squeaky door open or Angelo can now walk through walls,” Mia said, twisting around in her chair to see the tall Italian striding towards them. He was dressed in an expensive dark suit, but Mia detected the haste of his dressing. His tie was crooked.

  Cid got up and shook Angelo’s hand as he approached.

  Angelo was touched by the attention.

  Mia wondered how Angelo had penetrated the nerd club and knew the secret handshake.

  “Now, Mia, be nice,” Gerald whispered in her head.

  “Get out of my head, Shem,” Mia warned and soundly closed the door to her mind.

  Angelo leaned down and took Mia’s hand. He looked her over and smiled. “It’s good to see you. You’re looking lovely today.”

  “Thank you,” she said a bit warily.

  His eyes met hers, and she could see a tinge of sadness there. She winked at him, which surprised and pleased the birdman. She didn’t have to open her mind to know this pleased Gerald. He just wanted all his friends to get along. Mia doubted his business colleagues were even civil to each other, but in his space, this marble hall of Shem’s, he needed them to be at least cordial to each other.

  Angelo sat down next to Mia. She was uncomfortable by the nearness of her old adversary. She also knew as his thigh touched hers that the birdman was taking her vitals. She got up and walked away.

  “What?” he said.

  “You know what. I have not only a physician, but Judy taking care of me. I don’t need you playing doctor too,” Mia growled.

  Gerald sniffed. “I don’t know what to do about you two.”

  “First of all, Gerald, Angelo and I are just fine. We don’t have to be all kissy kissy with each other. He has to know that there are boundaries he can’t cross. If I don’t protest, how is he going to learn?”

  “You talk of me like I’m a child,” Angelo protested.

  “Or a dog,” Cid added, getting up.

  “You’re not helping,” Mia said, pointing a finger at Cid. “Sit!”

  Mia realized the absurdness of it all and started laughing. “Sorry, Cid.”

  “I did sit. Do I get a piece of bacon?” he asked.

  “Smart ass,” she said to Cid and then turned to Angelo. “Dear, wonderful Angelo, from whom all things fly, please understand that I do appreciate what you have done and have offered to do for me. In my own crazy way, I love you. I love all of you,” she said, encompassing Cid and Gerald with a swish of her hand in the air. “Yes, it’s the hormones talking, but back to you, Angelo. You smother me at times.”

  “I don’t want anything to hurt you. Not even…”

  “Don’t go there,” Mia warned, her voice turning icy. “This child is doing more to heal me than a hundred gray ladies could. My husband’s love gives me the courage and confidence that I lacked my whole life. The little boy growing inside me is loved and will be a vital part of this world even if he is absolutely one hundred percent normal.”

  “She makes
a valid point, my friend,” Gerald said. “I have never seen Mia more beautiful. It’s not just her looks, but her aura has changed. Her eyes are…”

  “Yellow,” Cid said, standing back up. “Mia, calm down.”

  Mia only faintly heard Cid’s words, but they did register. She took a deep breath and released the tapestry rod she had taken from the wall. It clanged to the floor behind Angelo. He turned and took in the situation. “You were going to hit me with that?”

  “Not hard. Just hard enough,” Mia said.

  Instead of looking hurt, when Angelo turned back, he had a brilliant smile on his face. “I told you, Gerald. I suspected she was still practicing. She’s good, yes?”

  “I didn’t even hear it leave the wall,” Cid said.

  “Then how did you know she was doing something?” Gerald asked.

  “Her eyes get these yellow specs in them,” Cid said.

  “Really, Mia, come here and let me see,” Gerald asked. He met her halfway. “Hit Angelo with something bigger, that vase for instance,” he suggested.

  “That’s a Ming,” Mia said, not sure she approved of where this was going. But the permission to hit Angelo with something was too much. She reached out and pulled a saber from the wall were it was mounted with its twin. She reversed the direction of the blade and tapped Angelo on the head with the hilt of the sword.

  “Ouch,” Angelo complained, reaching up and grabbing the weapon with his hand.

  Mia held on to it a moment, letting go just as Angelo had reached up and hung on to the weapon with two hands. He fell to the floor. “It started to get hot just as you let it go with your mind.”

  “Amazing,” Gerald said. “I’m probing your mind and getting nothing, not unusual as you are blocking me, but that you can block me and do that, amazing.”

  Angelo got up and waved the saber around until it cooled before returning it to the wall mount. He looked back at Mia and shook his head. “I’ll remember this when I’m being a brute.”

  “Gentlemen, I hate to interrupt your fun, but Mia’s not a toy. She’s an expectant mom, and I have to insist that you treat her with more care,” Cid said, striding over and putting both of his hands on Mia’s shoulders. “We came here because a young couple needs our help. We are in way over our heads. Gerald, you and Angelo need to put your experience, and yes, talents, together and find us an answer. There has been another attack just today. We are heading over there and would appreciate arriving with more than conjecture and theories.

  Mia smiled up at Cid. “You’re wonderful.”

  “It’s just the hormones talking. Now, you sit down and behave yourself or you can’t play with Angelo again.”

  This brought a loud guffaw from the birdman. Gerald scratched his head. “I guess I got sidetracked. We were going to…”

  “I was going to take the paper back to the library and have it tested,” Angelo reminded him. “I suspect it may be made from a hangman’s tree. Or perhaps it’s made from the wood of an executioner’s block. The platform of a guillotine or…”

  “The stump where the unfortunates laid their heads,” Gerald offered. He walked over and opened the lid off a glass case and reached in. He lifted a book and flipped it open and set it back down and chose another one. “Here,” he said, nodding. He closed the lid and walked over and set the large leatherbound book on the table, cautioning, “Don’t touch the pages without closing your mind.”

  Mia sat back down, no longer worried that when Angelo joined her that he was invading her space. She appreciated him standing by and indicated so by squeezing his hand.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” Cid asked. “You don’t have to. Angelo said he could test the pages.”

  “I know, but that will take time.”

  “Ted will kill me if anything happens,” Cid said.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll be extra careful. Not Mia-careful but Cid-careful,” she promised.

  Seeing that Cid was satisfied, she closed her mind and opened the book.

  “It’s not the story, it’s the paper,” Gerald said, reminding her.

  Mia flipped the cover page over and gazed at the illustration. She pushed away the tendrils that invisibly moved from the delicate gold-leaf script to her mind. “It’s a story about a disappointed lover. She killed herself and cursed all who would read her tale. May they be identified by hair growing on the back of their hands.” Mia put the book down.

  Gerald raised his hands. “I had to have laser treatments for four weeks after I found this book. I now know better to close my mind before opening a book.”

  “Which is exactly the opposite of what you normally would do,” Cid, the avid reader, said.

  “The paper doesn’t seem different, with the exception of its thickness, and, yes, it’s old,” Mia said. She closed the book’s cover and took off a glove. “I touched the handbill with my fingertips. I couldn’t get it out of the plastic with my gloved hands,” she explained. “I’m going to just touch the paper. I’ll know if it’s the same. I hope,” she added.

  Angelo put his arm around Mia as she leaned in and slid her hand under the cover of the book. She drew it out as if she had been stung by a bee. “It’s very close. This, I think is stronger. Look at my fingertips.” She held her hand to Angelo who frowned at the scorch marks.

  Angelo took her hand in his and covered it with the other hand.

  Cid saw scorch marks briefly on Angelo’s finger tips. They glowed bright red before Angelo’s chemistry extinguished them.

  “Thank you,” Mia said. “Angelo, you can let my hand go…” Mia tugged, but still the birdman held on.

  He seemed to come out of whatever spell he was under and apologized, “I couldn’t let go. I’m sorry. It was just that I felt, well, nevermind.” He looked at Gerald and changed the subject. “So the handbill is printed on cursed paper.”

  “Mia, I think we have to look at the handbill now,” Gerald said getting up.

  “Wait,” she said, pulling her phone from the pocket of her shift dress. “Cid took a picture. A few actually,” she said as she thumbed through until she had the series of photos.

  Angelo looked at the handbill and shook his head. “It looks harmless to me; the man’s tie is a bit disturbing.”

  “That reminds me,” Mia said, reaching up and adjusting the birdman’s tie. “It seems the vain are saved from the beady eyes of the mentalist.”

  Gerald walked over and took the iPhone from Angelo and looked at the photos. He moved them back and forth with a grim look on his face.

  “What’s the matter?” Mia asked.

  The lettering says Gabor the Great, Romanian Mystic, but, Mia, that is not Anatolie Gabor.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “Where the hell is your wife and Cid?” Burt asked Ted.

  Ted, who still got a delightful feeling in his stomach whenever anyone mentioned his wife, wasn’t put off by Burt’s tone. “Last I heard, was that they were going to drop off the haunted handbill at Gerald Shem’s office. Evidently, it’s still dangerous,” Ted informed the red-faced Burt. He thought about asking whether Burt had had his blood pressure checked lately but canceled the thought when Burt slammed his hand down on the table.

  “Mia’s always going her own way. She doesn’t listen. She’s holding up the investigation. If she cries traffic, I’ve got proof there wasn’t a problem. Mike made it here in under a half hour.”

  Ted, who was concentrating on the monitor in order to stop himself from getting up and leaving until Burt shut up, saw the Curly program flash on in the corner of the screen. He tried to stop it, but upon hearing the rumble coming from the file box containing the robot viewer, he raised his hands in futility. He turned around and suggested, “Burt, I think you need to calm down.”

  “Just because you’re panty-whipped by your wife…”

  He was unable to finish. Jake launched Curly who rolled under Burt’s feet and quickly crawled upwards.

  “What the hell?”

 
; “Burt, I suggest you calm down,” Ted said again. “Jake doesn’t like when you pick on Mia, and neither do I.”

  “You’re telling me that Mia’s got that virus under her thumb too?”

  Curly shot out an electric charge aimed at Burt’s zipper area.

  “Fuck! That hurts!” he said, pulling at the machine unsuccessfully.

  “What’s going on in here?” Audrey asked. “There are people out there. People who didn’t expect to hear cursing.”

  “Jake’s taking exception to something Burt just said,” Ted explained, pointing at the coiled centipede attached to Burt’s thigh.

  “Jake, I’m sure he didn’t mean it. Burt just spouts off when he’s nervous,” Audrey explained sweetly. She didn’t know whether to address her comments to Curly or the computer screen, so she looked back and forth to each as she spoke.

  Curly unwound and traveled quickly down Burt’s leg. It maneuvered up the table and formed an innocent looking ball shape with its camera lenses pointed in four directions.

  “Mia and Cid are late. We need those vests or we can’t enter the house safely,” Burt explained.

  “Why not just send Jake, I mean, Curly? Ah… Send the bot in first. I think it’s called recon?” Audrey suggested.

  “I think it’s a good idea. I’m sure Jake will relinquish control so I can run the beast through the house, taking pictures and readings,” Ted said evenly.

  “Go ahead. What other choice do we have?” Burt asked, not waiting for an answer. He walked to the end of the truck and hopped down.

  Audrey waited until the count of ten before talking. “He’s very impatient these days.”

  “He doesn’t have to take out his impatience on Mia all the time,” Ted said. “She’s bent over backward to accommodate him. He only sees her as…”

  “The one who got away,” Audrey finished.

  “I was going to say the enemy, but I see where you’re going with this,” Ted acknowledged. “You’re a smart lady.”

  “I know,” Audrey said and giggled. “I was coming in to ask about Mia, but I’m glad I kept my mouth shut. I’d just be adding fuel to the fire.”

  “She and Cid stopped at Shem’s. That was an hour ago. I’ve sent a few messages, but they haven’t been delivered which bothers me a bit.”