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[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] Warmth and strength filled her, a tingling rush of power that was cu- riously numbing, though Winter felt achingly alert. The inoffensive neu- tral tones of carpet, walls, and bedspread that made up the Marriott bedroom seemed to take on vividness, as though they were painted with light, and the plain yellow illumination of the lamp on the dresser seemed to be filled with patterns of coruscating color. She felt a hot con- gested warmth beneath her heart; a predatory certainty .... The row of cosmetics lined up on the dresser began to dance upon its surface, trembling as if perturbed by a small earthquake. With horrified intuition, Winter saw the hate-serpent that lived inside her wake, its aura pressing out through the surface of her skin until she could look down and see a shimmering mist of sequin-bright scales overlaying her skin, as the monstrous intolerant guardian within her spread its pat- terned hood and sought for prey. No.' Winter sank slowly to her knees, the faint trembling of the objects on her dresser sounding as loud as the rumblings of an avalanche in her ears. She would not let this happen here--the creature that stalked her, the magickal child, that creature she could not control--but the poltergeist, born of her very marrow, should be hers to command. She could master this shameful shadow-twin; she'd found that out that night at the Insti- tute. But the tension in her body was nearly sexual in its intensity, un- ambiguously demanding release. Winter nearly panicked and surrendered to its craving--but to panic would be to lose all. To panic would be to fail. Winter drew the refusal to fail about her like an icy cloak, like the sea- son for which she was named. She tried to concentrate, but could not re- 4L I38 MARION ZI M M E R BRADLEY member what would stop the thing that drew its life from her, and it had seduced her on until she was far too keyed-up to release the energy and the tension within her. She took a deep breath, forcing her lungs to expand against the iron weight crushing her chest. And having nothing else left to fight with, she set her mind and her bare will against the power in which she still only half believed. No. I will not let you. They aren't yours to play with. They aren't mine to make over in my own image. They're people they belong to themselves, and what they choose to do is their own business, even if what they do makes me unhappy. Leave them alone. I do NOT give yOU permission to act in my name/ The power raged through her; she was flame, within and without, sur- rendering even her name. The only rhine she clung to was that she would have her own way--what she wanted was what would happen, and any- thing that lived in her, or worked through her, would learn to understand that. But it was a long hard fight. Winter awoke as dawn was coming in through the open curtains. She was lying on the floor of her hotel room. Her gray flannel skirt was rumpled and her pantyhose were run; every muscle was stiff and she felt sick and light-boned as if she'd been on the mother of all benders. When she sat up, a bolt of pain behind her eyes made her cry out in protest. What was I drinking--furnimre polish? She managed to make it all the way to the bathroom before she threw up what was left of last night's dinner, retching until her entire torso ached with the spasms and her throat felt raw and scoured. There were bruises on her forearms as if she'd been grappling with something--or, more likely, had banged into the hotel furniture while she was on the floor. The marks were black with angry red centers; severe and painful. Bruises that would take a long time to heal. Bruises like the ones on Janelle's arms. Winter repressed a reflexive pang of hatred for Denny, letting it sweep away in the dawning realization of what she'd done. She'd gotten her own way. She'd won, even if it'd almost killed her. The serpent had not struck--all her instincts said so. Before--in Glastonbury and at the Bidney Institute--she'd panicked it had It and iron vith, still ,e to vhat opy, ur- ~ld ly- ad WITCH L IG H T I39 and been too weak. Her unconscious mind had been able to seize control and throw its angry tantrum, acting out a rage that Winter could not fathom the source of. But now she was stronger. And she'd stay stronger-- and be ready for it the next time it decided to coil up out of its lair. A poltergeist, eh? Well, we'll see who's going to haunt whom/ She tried to stand then and found she couldn't, no matter how great a victory she'd won the night before. On hands and knees Winter crawled out of the bathroom--ruining her clothes further--and dragged her purse down off the bed where she'd carelessly slung it. She dug through its considerable contents with dogged desperation until she found Tabitha Whitefield's battered little pamphlet, tucked in between two fresh packets of Centering Tea. Slumped on the floor, holding her eyes open with an effort of will, Winter began at last to read. Half an hour later, the raging hunger that hammered her body was so great that Winter realized it would be impossible to concentrate until she'd done something about it. Cudgeling her brains to remember what Truth and Dylan had said about first aid for psychics, she scrambled awk- wardly over to the built-in bar. With a reckless disregard for the charges that would appear on her room bill later, she opened the small refrigera- tor and crammed her mouth full of chocolate, then slugged down a can of Coke Classic. The quick sugar fix cleared her brain; sipping a second Coke more slowly, she placed a call to Room Service-- 'Td like some waffles or pancakes or something--whatever's fastest. Hot water for tea. And lots and lots and lots of maple syrup." --and then retreated to the bathroom to finish cleaning up. Two more cans of Coke and a couple of candy bars later--the sugar seemed to vaporize as it hit her bloodstream--her breakfast arrived. Winter dumped Centering Tea into a carafe of hot water to steep, and tucked into scrambled eggs and French toast with a morning appetite she hadn't felt in longer than she could remember. As she ate, Winter read through the pamphlet a second time. The "centering" (centering what? Winter wondered) exercises started out very simply--timing and counting breaths--and then went on to what Tabitha called directed visualization. First Winter was to imagine a white square, and when she could do that, she was to go on to a blue circle. Finally, when she had also mastered holding the image of a red triangle in her 14o MARION Z I M M E R BRADLEY mind's eye without distraction, she was to attempt to see all three at once, superimposed one on the other, while she breathed slowly and reg- ularly and sensed her body's energy flowing in a regular circuit from the top of her head through the soles of her feet and back to the top of her head again. Sounds loony, Winter declared, but at this point what have I got to lose? ~laeo;: wiahed ;he :ould Ml /~amure Tmrh> v?/ma~ of the practice--she'd formed a stronger bond with the young researcher than she yet wanted to admit--but realized that to do that would simply be to entangle herself further with Truth Jourdemayne and Dylan Palmer. And this particular quest was something she had to accomplish alone. Only, if the point is to outrun the thing that tried to kill Truth and seems to be fixated on me, I'm not doing a very good job of it. It seems to be here ahead of me, atJanelle's house. Everything Janelle had mentioned--the vandalism, the dead animals-- pointed to the artificial Elemental rather than to Winter's poltergeist, but Winter somehow felt she was being offered a stalking horse. As if, even if the creature were here before her, its true motive in tormenting Janelle [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] |