her.
When we got to her Magazine Street spa, Bunny was waiting for us at the back door. Lionel must’ve woken her from a dead sleep, but she still looked like she’d spent hours in front of the mirror. Her steel-gray hair was perfectly straight in its chin-length bob, and she was wearing dress slacks with creases that could’ve cut butter. She held the door open for Shane, who carried Mina in his arms, and I followed them inside. Bunny’s heels echoed in the dark hall as she led us back.
“I have a room set up,” she said, her voice crisp and even. “Through here.” She pushed open a door, flooding the hall with soft light. I peeked inside. The room was packed with candles.
Shane walked past Bunny and laid Mina down on what looked like a massage table. He straightened her arms and legs, streaking the white sheet beneath her with mud, and Bunny stood at her head and put her hands on her shoulders. I watched from the doorway, unnerved by the scent of the candles. They smelled sharp and not quite pleasant, like vinegar.
“How long has she been like this?” Bunny took a damp washcloth from a stack and used it to clear the dirt from her face.
“We found her shoved in a crawlspace,” Shane said, and Bunny’s eyes flashed with pity for a split second. “It’s been almost two days since we mindspoke.”
“And you’ve tried to reach her, I assume?”
Shane nodded. “Still trying.”
“Well, stop while I see what I can see.” Bunny closed her eyes. She was a slender, petite woman, and probably in her seventies at least, but she was terrifying when she focused. I wasn’t brave enough to dip into her head, but I could tell she was forging some sort of connection to Mina, exploring what was broken.
“Nothing serious, physically,” she said finally, eyes still closed. “Shock and exposure, but that’s simple enough to fix.” Even as she said it, Mina’s gray skin warmed and the red bites and wounds along her arms faded to scar-brown and disappeared. “That’s not what’s keeping her under.” Mina’s fingers twitched, but she didn’t wake.
“Why isn’t she waking up?” Shane asked. “What is it?”
“Patience, darling.”
Mina’s whole body stiffened and jerked inches off the table.
“Mina!” Shane bent his face close to hers. He was broadcasting mental messages, asking if she could hear him, sending her the stable assurance of his presence. I couldn’t have blocked it out if I’d tried.
Bunny laid a manicured hand on his shoulder. “Not yet, darling. She needs calm.”
He ignored her, eyes closed, hands gripping Mina’s arms. Bunny pulled at his shoulder, but Shane didn’t budge.
“Let me try,” he said. “I can get through to her, just let me—”
He fell to the floor in a heap.
“I’m sorry,” Bunny said, before I could draw in a breath to gasp. “I can’t have him interfering with the process. Take him home.” She turned back to Mina as though she hadn’t just knocked out a full-grown man without lifting a finger.
I stared at Shane, unconscious on the floor, and then at Bunny, whose eggshell silk blouse wasn’t even rumpled. “Whatever you say.”
* * *
Shane slept through the morning. I opened the door to his room only once, just to make sure he was still breathing. He’d moved from how I’d left him, kicking the covers down to his waist and tangling the hem of his T-shirt up to his chest. One hand lay on his flat stomach, rising and falling with his breath. I thought about going to him, seeing if I could wake him, but I couldn’t make myself move. He was dreaming. I could tell from the restless movement of his eyes and the flashes of images I couldn’t block out. The riverbank, the stolen boat. Me. He shifted in his sleep, his fist clenching and relaxing around a handful of sheets, and I pulled out of his head, fast. It seemed like a great time to clean the guest bathrooms.
By dinnertime, I had to stop. The guests were trickling back to their rooms,
When we got to her Magazine Street spa, Bunny was waiting for us at the back door. Lionel must’ve woken her from a dead sleep, but she still looked like she’d spent hours in front of the mirror. Her steel-gray hair was perfectly straight in its chin-length bob, and she was wearing dress slacks with creases that could’ve cut butter. She held the door open for Shane, who carried Mina in his arms, and I followed them inside. Bunny’s heels echoed in the dark hall as she led us back.
“I have a room set up,” she said, her voice crisp and even. “Through here.” She pushed open a door, flooding the hall with soft light. I peeked inside. The room was packed with candles.
Shane walked past Bunny and laid Mina down on what looked like a massage table. He straightened her arms and legs, streaking the white sheet beneath her with mud, and Bunny stood at her head and put her hands on her shoulders. I watched from the doorway, unnerved by the scent of the candles. They smelled sharp and not quite pleasant, like vinegar.
“How long has she been like this?” Bunny took a damp washcloth from a stack and used it to clear the dirt from her face.
“We found her shoved in a crawlspace,” Shane said, and Bunny’s eyes flashed with pity for a split second. “It’s been almost two days since we mindspoke.”
“And you’ve tried to reach her, I assume?”
Shane nodded. “Still trying.”
“Well, stop while I see what I can see.” Bunny closed her eyes. She was a slender, petite woman, and probably in her seventies at least, but she was terrifying when she focused. I wasn’t brave enough to dip into her head, but I could tell she was forging some sort of connection to Mina, exploring what was broken.
“Nothing serious, physically,” she said finally, eyes still closed. “Shock and exposure, but that’s simple enough to fix.” Even as she said it, Mina’s gray skin warmed and the red bites and wounds along her arms faded to scar-brown and disappeared. “That’s not what’s keeping her under.” Mina’s fingers twitched, but she didn’t wake.
“Why isn’t she waking up?” Shane asked. “What is it?”
“Patience, darling.”
Mina’s whole body stiffened and jerked inches off the table.
“Mina!” Shane bent his face close to hers. He was broadcasting mental messages, asking if she could hear him, sending her the stable assurance of his presence. I couldn’t have blocked it out if I’d tried.
Bunny laid a manicured hand on his shoulder. “Not yet, darling. She needs calm.”
He ignored her, eyes closed, hands gripping Mina’s arms. Bunny pulled at his shoulder, but Shane didn’t budge.
“Let me try,” he said. “I can get through to her, just let me—”
He fell to the floor in a heap.
“I’m sorry,” Bunny said, before I could draw in a breath to gasp. “I can’t have him interfering with the process. Take him home.” She turned back to Mina as though she hadn’t just knocked out a full-grown man without lifting a finger.
I stared at Shane, unconscious on the floor, and then at Bunny, whose eggshell silk blouse wasn’t even rumpled. “Whatever you say.”
* * *
Shane slept through the morning. I opened the door to his room only once, just to make sure he was still breathing. He’d moved from how I’d left him, kicking the covers down to his waist and tangling the hem of his T-shirt up to his chest. One hand lay on his flat stomach, rising and falling with his breath. I thought about going to him, seeing if I could wake him, but I couldn’t make myself move. He was dreaming. I could tell from the restless movement of his eyes and the flashes of images I couldn’t block out. The riverbank, the stolen boat. Me. He shifted in his sleep, his fist clenching and relaxing around a handful of sheets, and I pulled out of his head, fast. It seemed like a great time to clean the guest bathrooms.
By dinnertime, I had to stop. The guests were trickling back to their rooms,
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