An Affair Of Sorcerers

'Not at all,' Yvonne said, shaking her head emphatically. 'Esteban is a psychic healer. His psyche-his life force-emanates some kind of powerful energy that works independently of the attitude of the person he's working on, the same as an electric light will work regardless of whether the person operating the switch 'believes' in electricity. Esteban's power is mysterious only because we haven't yet been able to codify and label it.'

'A faith healer is a perfect example of the 'membership' I'm talking about: your tribal shaman, Oral Roberts, President Carter's sister. All can heal, Mongo; make no mistake about it. But faith healers have a selective clientele; they can heal only those who believe they can heal, through their respective deities.'

'They can only affect members,' I said quietly. I could see where Yvonne was heading, and I felt a prickling sensation at the base of my neck.

Yvonne slowly nodded. 'A faith healer probably couldn't do anything for you or me, because we're not members of charismatic religious groups. I study them, yes; but that doesn't make me a member, by any means. You and I believe in Science, and that gives us our own special set of vulnerabilities. For one thing, we're liable to end up on a psychiatrist's couch when Science can't otherwise come up with a cure for what ails our souls.'

'I know,' I said quietly. I'd been there. And I couldn't help thinking of Kathy lying unconscious in a coma that seemed to be intractable to the best treatment modern medicine had to offer. It had never occurred to me that her illness could be one of something other than the body.

Despite the heat of the August sun, I felt chilled.

'Mongo, people do die of spells. I've seen it; I've seen Cubans withering away in Miami hospitals because they've had 'spells' cast on them. The condition of the body is inextricably linked to the condition of the mind. If you believe you're going to die, it's often very hard for the body to resist the suggestion.'

'How strong could a seven-year-old's sense of membership be, Yvonne? Enough to kill her?'

The beautiful young Puerto Rican thought about it, then said, 'Well, I've seen young children in your Southern fundamentalist groups exhibit stigmata.'

'Bleeding of the palms isn't dying.'

'But the same mechanism may be involved. I think it would depend on how young the child was when she was first introduced to the tenets of witchcraft. Did she grow up in an occult society?'

'Her mother's a witch,' I said, feeling ridiculous. Sitting in the sun on a college campus, I found the words totally alien. 'But she's into living, not dying.'

'Still, the child almost certainly would have been introduced to the concept of spells-forces directed against her by others.'

I recalled with stunning impact the story Garth had told me of the two children a pair of witches had turned against their enslaved mother. 'What would they do to her?' I asked quietly.

'Oh God, Mongo, I don't know; I'm not an expert on witchcraft. All I'm saying is that people who are truly into witchcraft-those who have 'membership'-are vulnerable to the forces they believe in, precisely because they believe in them. That's the price we all pay for our particular belief systems. With the child it could be sheer terror, a form of deep hypnosis or just plain trauma from whatever it was she was subjected to. Neither of us can know for certain-but when you told me your story I just had to give you this perspective. I believe the child's coma could have a psychological basis.' She paused and squeezed my hand hard. 'Mongo, I do care!'

'I can see that,' I said, squeezing her hand back. 'And I thank you.' If Yvonne was right, I was left back at the beginning; in order to help Kathy, I was going to have to find out specifically what had been done to her-meaning I'd have to find out who had done it. And the nightgown was my only clue.

'Is there anything you'd like to ask me about Esteban?' Yvonne asked softly.

'Yeah. What do you think he could do for my little girl?' The words had come out by themselves, and I wasn't certain myself whether I was serious or indulging in a little black humor.

Yvonne answered very seriously. 'What Esteban does is a mystery to me, Mongo. But I am sure he can heal; that's why I was so anxious to have Janet study him. However, as I pointed out, Esteban's power is effective against disease. If the girl's condition is … a spell, I'm not sure he can help; he's not a member of that belief system. But I really don't know. In any case, I don't see how it could hurt to have him see her. If you can free Esteban, I'd ask him to see her.'

It occurred to me that Yvonne's notion would be greeted with something less than wild enthusiasm by Dr. Greene and the specialists he was bringing in, but I kept the thought to myself. Yvonne and I got up together. I kissed her hand, then walked to my office, where I called Garth.

'Hey, brother,' I said when I got him on the line. 'What's happening with John Krowl? Did you get me an appointment?'

'Eight o'clock tonight. Do you have his address?'

'No. Give it to me.'

He did, then asked, 'How's the girl?'

'The same. I suppose that's something to be thankful for. As long as there's no brain damage, I assume she can be maintained on life-support systems for as long as it takes to find a way to get her out of it.'

'You sound better.'

'I feel better. I had a good night's sleep, and I don't feel quite so much pressure. As long as Kathy's condition remains stable, I have a little more room to move around in. Does Krowl know why I want to see him?'

'Uh-uh. I talked to his secretary. He knows me, so I was able to get you an appointment on short notice. But I wasn't sure you'd want me to go into any kind of detail over the phone. The secretary just assumes you want a reading, and I left it at that. Do you want me to get back to Krowl and fill him in?'

'No,' I said after giving it some thought. 'I think I'll play Krowl by ear. Let's talk about Esteban. I know this isn't your province, but what do you think the chances are of getting Esteban out on bail? I've got character witnesses up the ass.'

'Like you say, that isn't my province. But I know his lawyer's already tried that, and he didn't get too far. He is charged with premeditated murder, and Esteban doesn't exactly have roots in the community.'

'Can I get in to talk to him?'

'At your convenience, brother. Esteban and his lawyer don't have any objections, and we couldn't care less. While you're here, there's someone else you're going to want to talk to.'

'Who?'

'Weirdo by the name of Richard Crandall. His name's all we've been able to get from him. He knows something about your little friend in the hospital; a security guard caught him in her room at three o'clock this morning. He was doing a witchcraft number; candles, ceremonial robe-the works. Whatever the hell he was up to, he meant business.'

Suddenly my heart was beating inside my chest with triphammer speed and force. Crandall's actions during the night were eloquent testimony to the fact that he, at least, believed Kathy was under some kind of spell, and that he could undo it.

It also meant Crandall believed time was running out.

'Did he give her anything?' I asked tightly.

'No,' Garth replied evenly. 'As far as anyone can tell, he didn't even try to touch her.'

'What was he doing?'

'Ask him yourself. He won't say a word to us. He was dressed in a scarlet robe. The guard found him kneeling at the girl's bedside in the center of a pentagram he'd drawn on the floor with red chalk. He'd surrounded the bed with white candles, and he was passing another candle back and forth in front of the girl's face while he chanted in her ear.'

'I'll be right over, Garth,' I said quickly. When I hung up, I found I had what felt like a lead weight in the pit of my stomach, and a lump in my throat. Crandall's chant had been a ceremonial magician's prayer.