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Jasmine’s power eased through the girl, along her mind, and found other things missing. She was an empath; no empath could be a sociopath and bring harm to people, because they would feel that pain as their own. Unless they couldn’t feel anyone’s pain but their own.
Lisbeth was blind to positive emotions; she could only absorb the negative. As far as she was concerned, she alone felt joy, happiness, love. Everyone else was full of hate, fear, shame, or nothing. It was an empath’s version of hell. And the child had never known anything else.
The curling auburn hair had little pink barrettes that picked up the small pink design in the dress. Perfectly matched. Perfect. If she hadn’t been a psychic, Lisbeth Pearson would have been the perfect daughter, the perfect student, the perfect worker, or wife, or mother, until the day that she broke. The day that The Monster came out.
But The Monster was too close to the surface in Lisbeth; there was almost nothing else left.
The child had gone back to her dollhouse, ignoring Jasmine. She no longer considered her a threat.
Dr. Jasmine Cooper turned abruptly on her heel and walked out; the sound of her high heels was loud and echoing. She leaned against the door trying to breathe. She was shivering uncontrollably, fear soaking like frost into her bones. Jasmine tried to gain control of herself and knew that Lisbeth felt her falling to pieces. Knew that a closed door was no barrier at all.
An echo of the child’s joy filtered through Jasmine’s nerves like distant, mocking laughter.
JASMINE entered Bromley’s office all cool professionalism. No seams showed; she had swallowed the fear whole. Years of practice.
Dr. Bromley was sitting behind his paper-strewn desk when Jasmine entered. His eyes looked tired, wary. “Well?”
“Just being in the room with her raises the hairs on my arms. You don’t have to be an empath to know that.”
“She’s evil,” he said.
“If you’ve already made up your mind, Dr. Bromley, why did you bring me here?”
He stared at her, without saying anything.
“You want me to save her.”
He nodded once up, once down.
“Do you know what she is?”
He rubbed his fingertips over his eyes. “She’s a sociopath. She’s an empath that can only feel negative emotions.”
Jasmine didn’t try to keep the surprise off her face. “If you know, why is she still alive?”
“Because, Dr. Cooper, I’m tired of killing children. So many of them come through with talents we can’t begin to understand. They can do things that make Lisbeth look safe. But most of the time we just don’t understand them enough to help them. We destroy them because we don’t know what else to do. But Lisbeth is like you were, in some ways; I hoped you could help her, understand her. Keep her alive.”
“And if I can’t help her? If I think she’s too dangerous?”
He shrugged. “I fill out a form, submit it to my superiors, and in a month she’ll be dead.”
“Just like that,” Jasmine said.
“Just like that,” he said.
She stared at the doctor, tried to feel what he felt. Sorrow, an almost unending sorrow. The school had eaten him alive, just as it had the children. There was nothing left of him but sadness, fear, and a dogged sense of duty. A fragile wish for hope, for meaning. He was looking for peace.
“I can’t give you absolution, Bromley.”
He flinched. “Is that what I want?”
Jasmine nodded. “You’re wondering if you played God, or were just a murderer.”
He gave a weak laugh. “You are merciless.”
“I had good teachers.”
He nodded. “All right, no absolution for me. Can you save this child?”
Jasmine knew she should say, “Kill her.” Lisbeth Pearson was too dangerous for words. But she looked into Bromley’s tired, sick eyes, and said, “Maybe.”
JASMINE was walking to her room, down the familiar empty corridors. No matter how many children were in the school, there were never people in the hallways. Always there was the feeling of abandonment, emptiness. She walked the halls alone, tracked by the blinking red lights of cameras.
A woman came from around the corner; long yellow hair swept nearly to her knees. She had the height for the hair, slender and graceful. The face was dominated by pale blue eyes. Jasmine stopped and waited for the woman to come to her. A feeling of horrible déjà vu swept over her. An almost claustrophobic sense of time spinning backward. “Vanessa?” It came out a question, though it wasn’t meant to be.
The woman smiled, and held out her hands. “Jasmine, it is you.” Vanessa hugged her tight, and Jasmine fought the urge to pull away. She relaxed into the arms of her best friend from childhood, and one of the most powerful telepaths the school had ever had.
When she could, Jasmine pulled back, and said, “Are you visiting?”
Vanessa turned away. She hid her eyes, and her mind was as tight and closed as a locked door. She stepped back from Jasmine. “No, I’m an instructor.” Her voice made it bright, cheerful.
“An instructor. For how long?”
“Since high school.”
“You went away to college, just like I did. We rode to the airport together.” Jasmine felt panic like a cold weight at the pit of her gut.
Vanessa paced back and forth, then whirled, smiling. “I didn’t finish college. They needed me here to help with all the little telepaths.”
Jasmine worked very hard at keeping her own mind locked tight. No empath’s control can match a telepath, but she tried. Her face was absolutely blank, pleasantly so, practice, years of practice. “Do you enjoy…teaching?”
“Oh, yes, I really feel like I make a difference—you?”
Jasmine nodded.
“You’ve done really well. My best friend, the famous doctor.” Vanessa laughed and hugged her again.
Best friend—they hadn’t seen or talked to each other in ten years. Jasmine found herself crying, hugging the tall stranger who used to be her friend, and crying.
“Hey,” Vanessa said, “Hey, what’s the matter?”
She pulled away and shook her head. What could she say that wouldn’t hurt Vanessa? You betrayed our dreams. You gave up and came back here to hide. We swore an oath that we would never come here to hide, better death than this tomb. Jasmine wanted to scream it all out. To find out why Vanessa had failed, the ultimate failure, she had come back here. Once you came back, you never left. No one ever left a second time. The words echoed in her head, and the walls seemed to be closing around her, narrow. Jasmine hadn’t noticed how narrow the halls were. The roof was close enough to touch. The school was crowding her, crowding.
“Jasmine, what’s wrong?”
She drew a deep, shaking breath. “Panic attack.”
“Do you still get those?”
“First one in…” Breathe deep and even, breathe. “Twelve years.”
“Open your mind to me. Jasmine, I can help. Remember.” Jasmine backed away until she hit the wall. She pressed against it. Vanessa took a step forward, reaching.
“No!”
“Let me help you.”
Her breathing was beginning to slow, pulse going down. The corridor was still hot and too close, but it was going to be all right. It was going to be all right. “I’ll be all right, Vanessa.”
“I can help you with whatever is wrong. Telepaths are great counselors.”
Jasmine stared into her eyes. “You wouldn’t like what I was thinking.”
Vanessa froze, hands still outstretched, smile sliding away from her face. It was one of those moments when you don’t need empathy. When truth stretches between two people. Truth could be violent, could strip you of dignity and hope just as quickly as a gun.
It was one of those moments when you can look in someone else’s eyes and see your own reflection so sharp and true that it slices like glass.
Vanessa turned away first and began to walk down the hall, then to run. Her footsteps thundered against the narrow walls.
Jasmine stared up into the watching monitor, red light blinking. She spoke to it. “The monitor in my room better be disabled before I get there, Bromley. If it’s not, I’m going to tear it out of the wall.” She took a deep shaking breath. “You should have told me Vanessa was here. What else haven’t you told me?”
