Dagger Magic

"I want you to imagine now that I'm holding the string of a helium balloon, just between us. The balloon is about twice the size of my head, and it's made of shiny silver mylar that flashes in the sun. Can you see it in your mind's eye, floating just above our heads?"

"Yes," she replied, after a slight hesitation.

"Very good. Now I want you to imagine that I'm pulling the balloon over closer to you, and I'm going to tie the string around your left wrist. You'll feel just a light touch as I attach it." He lightly stroked across the back of her wrist with a fingertip.

"And now you can feel the tug of the balloon against your wrist, pulling at it, making it lighter and lighter, so that any second now, your hand will begin to float free of your lap. You can feel the tug of the balloon, and your hand is becoming lighter and lighter…."

Under such guidance, her left hand soon began to float free of her lap, slowly rising toward her face. As it touched, at his suggestion, she seemed to relax even more deeply into her chair, indicative that she finally had slipped into trance. Satisfied that the depth probably was sufficient to be of use, Adam gently clasped her wrist and eased her hand back to her lap.

"That's fine," he said softly. "I've removed the balloon now, and your hand can lie easy in your lap again. Can you hear me clearly?"

"Yes." Her voice was scarcely louder than a whisper.

"Excellent," Adam murmured. "Now, you're very deeply relaxed, but you're also perfectly well aware of who and where you are, sure of yourself and your surroundings. Even with your eyes closed, you will always retain some sense of being solidly anchored to your familiar environment, relaxed and safe and secure. That underlying security will abide with you, whatever else may happen here today, and wherever our inquiries may take us.

"Now, we've agreed that we'll try to discover what reason you might have for wanting to revisit the scene of your accident. To explore this question, I should like to take you back to the accident itself. Will you allow me to do this?"

A flicker of uncertainty passed over Claire's hitherto quiet face, suggestive of conflicting impulses at work. Adam half held his breath and waited. After a moment, however, she gave a dreamy nod of acquiescence.

Adam allowed himself to breathe again, though something in her manner made him wonder whether the simple regression he had in mind would be sufficient. Even relaxed in trance, the strength of Claire's anger and fear remained as an almost palpable tension. As much to safeguard himself as to focus his own powers, he dipped into his trouser pocket to slip his sapphire ring onto his finger, mentally pausing to pay homage to the Light as he touched the stone to his lips.

"Thank you, Claire. Now, I'd like you to picture yourself poised at the threshold of a doorway," he said, himself building a mental image of what he described. "This doorway represents a portal to the past, and in a moment I'm going to ask you to open the door and step inside. The place and time we're about to revisit is the occasion of your accident. The difference in this instance, however, is that I will be present as well, ready to lend you all the support I can. And you will have the authority to alter the scene at any point you desire. I'm going to take hold of your wrist now, so that you'll know I am truly with you."

When Claire made no demur, he reached out with his left hand and gently encircled her near wrist, setting his fingertips on the pulse-point. Claire trembled slightly at his touch, but made no attempt to pull away. His own breath coming calm and slow, Adam let himself sink into trance as well, waiting until his pulse synchronized with hers. Then he closed his eyes and let himself enter the scene he had built in his mind's eye, hopefully well-matched with Claire's.

Sensory impressions from his own body receded into hazy obscurity. The transition was like overstepping a stream. A momentary sensation of imbalance gave way to a sense of firm footing as he settled into the scene, standing before a tall portal half-shrouded in shimmering silver fog.

And standing beside him, her spirit-form unconfined to any wheelchair, Claire was gazing up at the door, head flung back.

"Tell me what you see, Claire," he murmured aloud.

Ignoring his request, Claire put her hand to the door and lifted the latch, which yielded without a sound. The door opened when she gave it a push, and to his surprise, she stepped boldly across the threshold.