An Affair Of Sorcerers

'Robert. .?'

She started toward me, and I cringed. She stopped and stared at me intently. 'Don't. . don't want … to talk.'

'Okay,' April said softly, after a pause. 'Let's just sit down and be together.'

I shook my head. The movement brought tears to my eyes; they rolled freely down my cheeks, dripped from my chin to the floor. 'Please … go away.'

'Nope,' she said easily. There was the slightest trace of laughter in her voice. 'If you want me to go, I'm afraid you're just going to have to throw me out. Judging from the way you look, I think I can handle you.'

'Garth. . tell you I. . was here?'

'No. It was Dr. Greene. I persisted. He says there's something wrong with you, and that you won't let anyone help you.'

'Wants me … to see a psychiatrist. I've. . been there. I'll be. . all right. Just. . need to be alone.'

'That is not what you need at all,' April said firmly. She paused, then added quietly, 'The coven got hold of you, didn't they?'

'Greene. . has a. . big mouth. Didn't he. . tell you about it?'

'No. He just said that you needed help desperately.'

'Bullshit,' I said, and was immediately sorry. I said so.

'You can curse if you want to, Robert. You can say anything you want to that will make you feel better. Just talk to me.'

'Want … to be alone.' It wasn't true. I wanted to be with April, wanted to fall into her arms. I wanted to sob aloud, and couldn't. It was as though my bag of skin were encased in a rubber sheet that was shrinking, making it hard for me to breathe.

There was a long silence. Finally April's voice drifted over to me, very softly. 'Garth said something about you doing battle with your own demons, but I didn't understand. Now I think I do. You're a lot like Daniel. It has to do with pride, Robert, doesn't it? Your will-your deep mind-against the combined will of the coven.'

'Nothing. . really the matter with me.'

In a sense it was true. I knew enough about sensory deprivation to appreciate its psychological effects-the reason why research into it had been banned in the first place. Smathers' dunking-on the surface-had been nothing compared with what a Russian by the name of Kaznakov had done to me. Kaznakov had physically tortured me to the point where I'd ended up nearly psychotic. Victor Rafferty had helped bring me back from that. But then there had been terror-endless, omnipresent fear of everything from ringing telephones to being alone; most of all, there had been the fear that the hulking torturer would return, find me and finish the job he'd started.

There was no terror now. The problem was that there was nothing, not even anger. There was only terrible lassitude and apathy. In one corner of my mind, I badly wanted to get back out and finish the job on the coven; I wanted to find Frank Marlowe's book of shadows, if it hadn't been destroyed. Yet I couldn't move. It was as though submersion in the silent world of water, the terrifying sensation of floating over the black hole at the bottom of my psyche, had mortally wounded me in a way that physical torture couldn't. Something that had been in me had drained out through that hole; my body was still around, but I was gone. I'd kept telling myself that a three-and-a-half-day soak couldn't be all that serious. Every minute I sat in the darkness staring out the window confirmed the fact that I was wrong. Smathers and Kee had pulled my plug good.

Lost in my thoughts, I hadn't even been aware that April had left the room. Now I heard the sound of running water. Part of me was curious about the water-but not very. The next thing I was aware of was April's hand on my arm, firmly guiding me into the bathroom. The tub was filled with steaming water.

April matter-of-factly began to undress me.

'What are you doing?' I mumbled.

'I'm a witch, remember?' April said somewhat smugly. 'I'm working a spell.' She clucked her tongue. 'No talking while the witch is at work.'

She finished undressing me, made a face and threw my filthy clothes into a corner. I stood before her naked and unmoving. I thought I should feel embarrassed, but I didn't; I simply felt terribly vulnerable and helpless. If April had told me to go up on top of the hotel and jump off, I probably would have. For some reason, her warmth and mothering only made me feel emptier, more in need. Again I wanted to cry.

'Get in,' April commanded evenly, pointing to the steaming water. When I just stood there, she added, 'Get in or I'll push you in.'

I stuck a toe in the water, winced and pulled it back. 'Too hot,' I said.

'Aha! Signs of life! You said that quite clearly.'

April put her hand on my back and pushed me inexorably forward. There was no way I could resist the pressure of her hand; I finally stepped into the tub and sank down into the hot water. The heat jolted my nerve endings, yet the shock was oddly comforting; it made me feel secure, perhaps because it gave me something besides myself to think about. For a moment, the rubber sheet encasing me seemed to expand.

April firmly shoved my head under the water, then pulled it up. She shampooed my hair, then found shaving cream and a razor in the medicine cabinet. Sitting on a towel on the edge of the tub, she went to work on my beard. It was awkward and uncomfortable for her to shave me from that position, and I knew I should do it myself- yet I couldn't move. I could barely even turn my head. I leaned back and closed my eyes, afraid that if I stared at her hard enough she would disappear-or I would cry. I lay passively in the water and steam until she'd finished.

'That concludes Part One of the spell,' April said cheerfully, rinsing off the razor and replacing it in the medicine cabinet. 'You're going to have to wash the rest of you yourself.'

April winked at me, then walked out of the bathroom and closed the door behind her. I surprised myself by reaching out for a bar of soap and washing the rest of my body. But then I started to slow down again as my mind shifted gears, went out of focus and began replaying blurred images from the nightmare I'd lived inside my head while I was in the tank. I wanted desperately to finish bathing, dress in clean clothes and greet April with the announcement that I was taking her and Kathy to dinner. But I couldn't move, and my mind blurred even further out of focus as the heat left the water.

April returned to find me sitting listlessly in a tubful of water that had gone cold. I managed to smile wanly as she shook her head disapprovingly. She drained the tub, pulled me up by the arm and wrapped me in a large bath towel.

'Sorry,' I croaked.

'Shhh.' She cocked her head to one side, put her hands on her hips. 'This is going to be tougher than I thought,' she said after a few moments. 'I can see how difficult it is for you to talk, Robert, so don't try. Just be silent and let me take care of you.'

She guided me into the bedroom, where she took the spread off the bed and turned back the sheets, which I could see had been changed from an extra supply in one of the closets. She stripped the towel from me. Suddenly very tired, I flopped on the bed, and April covered me. Then, with the same lack of self-consciousness she'd displayed when undressing me, April began to take off her own clothes. When she'd finished, she carefully folded her clothes and draped them over the back of a chair. Again, April struck me as the most beautiful and desirable woman I'd ever seen. Her skin was smooth and creamy, in striking contrast to the large, earth-brown nipples on her full breasts. Bathed in the early-afternoon light, she glowed golden, like a Rembrandt painting.

She came around to the other side of the bed, slid under the covers and unhesitatingly wrapped me in her arms. I knew that her actions had nothing to do with lust, and that absolutely no demands were being made of me. In my exhausted state, sex was the farthest thing from my mind. April was offering me her wholeness, her self. Lying in her arms, my face pressed against the soft flesh of her breasts, I could hear her heart beating; I felt safe.

Then, suddenly, I was hard. Under the circumstances, my erection embarrassed me; but April smiled, reached down and gently began to stroke me. After a few moments she threw back the covers, lay on her back and spread her legs. With a surge of energy that amazed me, I mounted her and hungrily thrust myself into her body. It occurred to me that I was being serviced; in my present state of mind, I couldn't imagine anyone-much less April- wanting me. Offering me her body was an act of love, not making love. Yet, surprising to me, she was ready, the inside of her body warm and wet.

The insistent pressure of my lust built up inside my groin very quickly. I came in her with a groan, then