The Soul Thief: The Gypsy Dreamwalker. Book One by David Menefee

Author:David Menefee [Menefee, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sophic Arts
Published: 2014-07-12T22:00:00+00:00

“Cassandra, we have to do it that way.”

Cassandra glowered at Angela from where she sat, cross-legged, on her hospital bed. They had been arguing about the observation room for fifteen minutes, ever since Angela had come in to warn her. Now Cassandra refused to talk, and Angela wondered how to break the impasse. With an exasperated sigh, Angela dropped into the visitor’s chair. “Look, I’ve already told you. If you want my help as your chovihani, we have to change how we do things. I know; you think that their attention will weaken your resistance. But trust me when I say that we can still do this.”

Cassandra muttered, looking down at her hands.

“Speak up. I can’t hear you,” said Angela.

“I said, this is what the shadow wants. It wants more people to see me.”

“Why? Why would your shadow want people to see you?”

“It’s not my shadow!” Cassandra glared at Angela again. Then her glare subsided into a haunted expression. “It’s using you, Angela. Can’t you see that?” She hugged herself and rocked slowly.

“Look, Cassandra. Cassie. If you don’t agree to this, they’re going to force you to move into an observation room anyway, and we won’t be able to do any more dream-walks. My hands are tied. My boss…”

“The shadow is your boss now,” Cassandra said in a dull voice. She looked up at Angela, and her eyes glistened with new tears. “The voices are coming back. Please. Help me.”

Angela leaped out of the chair and over to Cassandra’s bedside. “Quickly, lie down.”

Cassandra awkwardly fell to her side, unwilling to unclasp her arms. She began shivering, on the verge of convulsing. Angela reached over and touched her forehead. Moments later, they were both on the grass in the Otherworld meadow. Angela could hear the whispering voices now, being attuned to Cassandra’s mind, and she stood to survey the scene. The sky was overcast, and a wind was whipping the trees and making the grass hiss. Cassandra lay where she was, still hugging herself, though the trembling had subsided.

“Cassie, we’re here. Look, I’m going to show you something you can do to stop the convulsions.” She reached down and held out her hand for Cassandra to grasp. The teenager looked up at her and then unfolded an arm to take Angela’s hand. She stood shakily but did not release her grip. The wind subsided, though the voices emanating from the woods around them were louder in contrast.

“Good. How’re you doing?”

“Okay,” Cassandra mumbled. Her fingers moved in Angela’s grasp, and she squeezed the doctor’s hand more firmly.

“Now, this is something I learned to do that was really helpful. Years ago, someone else I treated heard voices and had convulsions. He was a man about my age, and he was diagnosed with schizophrenia. What I want you to do is to concentrate on a spot on the ground in front of you.”

Cassandra shook her head.

“Cassie, it’s okay. Trust me.”

The girl frowned, but then she lifted her head and stared at a spot about five feet away.

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