‘Let me think, let me think. Yeah, yeah, that’s part of it—that thing of going into someone’s mind. She opened up to me because I reminded her of Lone. I went in. I wasn’t ready; I’d never done it before, except maybe a little, against resistance. I went all the way in and it was too much; it frightened me away from trying it for years. And there it lay, wrapped up, locked away. But as I grew older, the power to do that with my mind got stronger and stronger, and still I was afraid to use it. And the more I grew, the more I felt, down deep, that Miss Kew had to be killed before she killed the… what I am. My God!’ I shouted. ‘Do you know what I am?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘Like to tell me about it?’
‘I’d like to,’ I said. ‘Oh, yes, I’d like that.’
He had that professional open-minded expression on his face, not believing or disbelieving, just taking it all in. I had to tell him, and I suddenly realized that I didn’t have enough words. I knew the things, but not the names for them.
Lone took the meanings and threw the words away.
Further back: ‘ You read books. Read books for me. ’
The look of his eyes. That—‘opening up’ thing.
I went over to Stern. He looked up at me, I bent close. First he was startled, then he controlled it, then he came even closer to me.
‘My God,’ he murmured. ‘I didn’t look at those eyes before. I could have sworn those irises spun like wheels…’
Stern read books. He’d read more books than I ever imagined had been written. I slipped in there, looking for what I wanted.