Dagger Magic

She drew a deep breath and passed a hand across her eyes, as if to shut out the image conjured up by her own thoughts. "There is more power in the human spirit than is ever likely to be fathomed by science," Adam told her quietly. "Emotion without an outlet is like water building up behind a dam. If that accumulating energy can't be channelled off to some constructive purpose, it becomes potentially destructive. Sooner or later, either the reservoir will overflow or the dam will burst.

"In your case," he went on, "you've built your bulwarks too strongly, and the dam itself has refused to break. But there is a limit to what it can contain, and the excess, un-governed, has found its own release, creating in the process an illusion powerful enough to deceive the unwary observer. There's no denying that you're probably indirectly responsible for a number of unfortunate accidents. On the other hand, it certainly wasn't intentional. And now that you know, you can stop it."

"But you just said yourself that I didn't realize what I was doing," Claire protested. "If that's true, how can I stop it, when I don't seem to have any conscious control over the situation? It's worse than possession! How can I even go to sleep, knowing that I might kill some one else?"

Adam had already been giving some thought to precisely this problem. "To begin with," he said, "I should like to admit you to hospital."

"I spent six months at Stoke-Mandville," she retorted, turning her face away slightly. "It didn't help those people who died."

"Perhaps not - but these auxiliary tragedies didn't start occurring until after you came back from Stoke-Mandville. This would seem to suggest that the dreams have more potency - or you yourself are more susceptible to them - the closer you are to the site of the original trauma.

"So I'd advise putting some physical distance between you and this stretch of the Lanark Road - which may enable you to gain some psychological distance as well. And I'd also like to prescribe some appropriate medication at night, to take you quickly past the normal transition between wake- fulness and sleep, in which you're most apt to dream. If there is some strange connection between your dreams and the accidents, this should stop it."

Though he did not say so aloud, it also was in the back of his mind that he and McLeod could probably arrange to ward Claire's hospital room in order to prevent her spirit-self from venturing too far afield.

"Beyond that," he continued, "I should very much like to continue working with you, using hypnosis. One of the functions of hypnotherapy is to assist a subject to retrieve detailed information from memory. This being the case, it offers an effective means of redirecting your desire to 'see' what there is to remember from your accident. There's no guarantee that you will be able to 'see' the driver of the car that ran you down," he allowed. "However, 1 would be prepared to conduct a session with a forensic artist present. From your description, it's possible he might be able to produce a recognizable drawing of the perpetrator. This could even aid the police in locating him."

At his glance, McLeod said on cue, "I'll be glad to arrange it. Just tell me where and when."

"You want to hospitalize me, then," Claire murmured, wringing her hands. Then, after a long pause, she added abruptly, "What about my cats?"

Adam breathed a mental sigh of relief. "I expect your sister-in-law would be willing to look after them and your house. She seems to be quite devoted to you."

She looked away, tight-lipped, then returned her glance to Adam.

"How long would I have to stay?"

"1 can't begin to predict that yet," Adam said honestly. "The sooner we begin, however, the sooner we'll find out just how much work we have to do. Are you willing to make the effort?"

Claire drew herself up, once more taut and angry.

"I don't have much choice, do I?" she said with brutal bluntness. "I don't want to be a murderer."

Adam let this piece of self-condemnation pass without comment.

"My medical practice is out of Jordanburn," he said quietly. "That's part of the Royal Edinburgh Hospital. If you'll allow me to use your telephone, I'll make the necessary arrangements to have you transported cross-town. Assuming that you have no objections, I would advise that we start work first thing tomorrow morning."

Claire gave a perfunctory nod. She was staring off into space, her gaze fixed upon some distant point.

"That bastard has a lot to answer for," she muttered. "Because of him, it seems I'm not only a widow, but also guilty of manslaughter. I find myself asking, Is forgiveness possible?''

The tone of her question, however, left Adam wondering if she was thinking of herself or of the unknown driver of a red Mercedes.

Chapter Twelve

McLEOD met the ambulance at the curb when it arrived half an hour later. Ishbel Reid accompanied Claire and Adam to the door, carrying Claire's overnight bag.