flat. It's no good.'
'I knew it,' Gee said. 'Parlor tricks. We should get David Copperfield down here, it'd be more entertaining.'
'That isn't what Miss Chambers has come here to see. I believe she has something very interesting to share with us.'
They waited, watching her. Jess took a deep breath. 'What has Charlie told you?'
'Only that you may have had a genuine psi experience. It really isn't that unusual,' Patrick said. 'You don't have to feel that you can't discuss it. We treat that sort of thing very seriously here. It's what we do.'
'I really don't know what I have to tell you,' she said. 'If I was sure, I wouldn't have come. Let's just say I wanted to explore my options.'
'Have you read the book
'I . . . skimmed it.'
'Rhine is a legend. The man who started it all. He coined the terms parapsychology, psychokinesis. What we call the Reach.'
'Which is what, exactly?'
'The interaction of the mind with physical space. Mental energy. Mind over matter, you might say.' Seeing her skepticism, Patrick explained, 'It isn't as far-fetched as it might seem. Cases are continuing to surface, documented cases involving hundreds of scientists across the world. There are plenty of frauds out there trying to make a buck, but there are others. True sensitives.'
'Like Bilecki here?'
Patrick smiled. 'When the conditions are right, she's quite remarkable. It's rare to find a subject able to perform on command. So, what is it you've seen?'
'I don't really know. But levitating tables can't begin to describe it.'
A sudden silence descended upon the group. Looking at the faces surrounding her, Jess said, 'Maybe I shouldn't have come. I'm sorry.'
Patrick studied her, the way she held her briefcase in both hands. 'It would be better to talk in private,' he said.
--20--
'Charlie tells me you're a flier,' Patrick said, lighting a candle near the upstairs door.
They had retreated into the deserted' church. Gentle moonlight glowed through stained glass. The candlelight flickered across the backs of empty pews, sparked against something hidden within the shadows of the altar.
'I have a license, yes.'
'What's that like?' he asked almost dreamily, his voice echoing back as he walked away from her along the wall, lighting more candles. As it grew the light gave life to the carvings, made the walls and stained glass figures dance like merry ghosts.
Jess felt a little off balance. She wasn't sure exactly what she thought of Patrick Elwes, but something about him made her want to hurry to catch up.
'Like freedom,' she said. 'At its best, weightlessness. Like a dream.'
'And at its worst?'
'A way of avoiding things, I suppose. An escape, when running away isn't always the best choice. And sometimes it's a little hairy, especially in bad weather.'
'I've always wanted to learn to fly.'
'You've been up before?'
'No, never. I'm scared to death of it too. Isn't that crazy?'
'There are worse things to be afraid of.'
Patrick nodded, turning back to face her. 'How right you are.'
They sat down next to each other in the front pew, Patrick with his long legs stretched out in front, Jess with her briefcase clutched on her lap.
Jess had the faintly unsettling feeling, half dream and half memory, of kneeling in front of an altar much like this one when she was a little girl. Her mother had dragged her to the Congregational church one Sunday morning to offer some kind of penance, the details of which had gone over her head. But she remembered a feeling of quiet dread mixed with embarrassment, as if they were interlopers at a private party.
Today she felt like speaking in whispers, as if they might be disturbing someone here in this empty house of God.
'I hope you don't mind the candles. I find it peaceful. And when it's not so bright, the neighbors don't notice the lights on and call the police.' He smiled. 'There's a rumor going around that the place is haunted. We like it, actually. It keeps the attention away from what we're doing.'
Jess was trying not to stare at his eyes, which she had noticed were two slightly different colors, hazel and a light misty gray. They held the candlelight in their centers like tiny flickering suns.
The effect was distracting. She wondered if something had happened to him when he was young that had affected the pigment. He had a very slight accent that she couldn't quite place, or perhaps a speech impediment that he had spent many hours trying to erase.
'Heterochromia iridium,' he said.
'Excuse me?'
'It's the scientific name for two different color eyes. Relatively rare in people, but it happens pretty frequently in other species. Science used to believe eye color was controlled by one gene, but it's been established as polygenic. It's an inherited trait. Most common cause is a mutation of the PAX3 gene on chromosome 2q35.'.
'I'm sorry. I was staring, wasn't I?'
'No problem.' Patrick smiled. 'Hypnotic, aren't they? Helped me get away with a lot more mischief when I was a kid.'
'They're beautiful. So, how do you know Charlie?'
'We grew up together. She was always trying to get me to go out with her, but I refused.' Candlelight flickered in across his features. She could not tell if he was being serious at first. 'Actually, I suppose you could say I had a crush on her. She lived just down the block and was a year older. A real exotic beauty.'
'She's told you all about me?'
'Only a very faint idea of why you might come. And about your flying airplanes.'
Jess considered how to begin. 'This doesn't leave the room. It involves a patient I'm helping to treat and so any information I tell you is confidential. Can I trust you with that?'
'Of course.'
'This person--a young girl--has been treated for a schizophreniform disorder for several years. While in this girl's company I have been witness to several strange events. Light-bulbs exploding. Drops in temperature. Jammed door locks. These things seem to happen when the girl is upset or under stress. I have spoken with several members of the girl's family, and they insisted that similar events occurred almost from the moment of her birth. And then, this morning . . .'
'Go on.'
'We were outside the hospital. She became upset, didn't want to go back inside. There were men there who tried to restrain her, the hospital director as well. It got very dark, very cold--this happened extremely quickly--I don't know how to say this. Large black rocks--chunks of ice and stones, actually--began to fall from the sky like rain. And it was clear to me that somehow, this girl was causing it to happen.'
There was something almost sacrilegious about saying it in a church. Patrick didn't seem to notice. He had a way about him that was very serious, very intense. 'What did the hospital director have to say after this occurred?'
'Storms had been forecast all day, severe weather warnings. The stones matched the ones used to landscape the hospital grounds. A tornado of some kind, a minicyclone--'
'The ice,' Patrick interrupted. 'Did it melt quickly? Were the stones themselves warm?'
'Yes.'
'And the temperature had dropped, you said?' She nodded. Patrick said, 'I see.' He pulled out a notepad from his jacket pocket. 'Do you mind? It's easier if I write this down. We'll go over it later.' He held the notebook in
