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finally mature into your crone power. Sometimes people don't  break through their talent until a
particularly strong incident I just read about a clairvoyant who could see spirits. She could never see
them until she visited the site of a battlefield. After that, she could always see spirits who died violently. I
mean, your motherdid just die, goddess rest her soul. Maybe the pain of it finally awakened your ability.
Maybe you picked up something in the hospital, the overload of pain and trauma there?
 Maybe, I said, thinking about Lizette.  But this still doesn't explain the spider webs.
 Oh, well, it sort of does. The residue, the fallout, can manifest in the physical as well as psychic realm.
Could be that's what happens when you reach out to touch them. But they don't last. You may actually
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be destroying the psychic fallout. There's an island in Indonesia where they believe a shaman has to go
through the place where someone died...
I cut him off before he could give me a lot of information I didn't need.  You said you had some other
theories.
 Well, none that fit so well. Another one is that you're seeing the psychic residue of your own
experiences and subconscious, that instead of leaving your residue behind in the places it happened, it has
accrued onto you, and now you're  shedding it. But that wouldn't explain the guy at the mill, or the fact
that you saw a fight your parents had when you weren't even present. So I don't think that's it. He
cleared his throat.  It's not like they do studies on this at the Mayo Clinic or something, he said, his
voice soft with apology.
 Thanks, Stu. Thanks very much.
He was quiet a second.  It was nothing, Mary. I, I worry about you sometimes.
 One more question then. Is this doleurvoyance dangerous? Should I be worried about it? Bella, not
content with sitting still, batted at Raven's twitching tail.
 That I can't tell you. I guess, I'd give you the advice I give anyone dabbling in the psychic realm.
 Which is?
 Don't screw around. Do what is important to you. If you want party tricks or cheap thrills, get David
Copperfield.
 Thanks again, Stuart. I hung up the phone and put one hand on each cat, stroking them softly.
What he said had made a certain kind of sense. The study seemed quieter now, more peaceful, than it
had before. Had I cleansed it of bad juju? If I went through the house, could I find residue of my first
splinter or skinned knee? Or the trauma of the moment my father received his draft notice? I was
half-tempted to try. But, as Stu had said, I didn't want to screw around. And somehow I was sure that
the onset of my  talent had to do with Lizette.
It's because you're in love, I chided myself, but that didn't sound right. Love wasn't the same at
forty-four as it was at twenty-four, but we didn't make new words for it. Just like I didn't have the right
words for whatever it was my father and Fred Maguire had shared.
I didn't know when Lizette would be back, didn't recall her saying, and I wanted to be with her right
then. Tell her everything. Ask her everything. Now that I had some kind of explanation for my own
phenomenon, my brain was in overdrive trying to explain everything else. This morning, at breakfast,
what had she said? She thought she'd told me something, and then, when it turned out she hadn't, she
changed the subject.
I was hungry and my eyes were bleary from reading letters all day. In the kitchen cold coffee sat in my
mug. I took a crusty roll with me in the truck and drove toward the mill. The setting sun was hidden
behind the gloom of a high gray blanket of clouds moving in from the west. In the east the sky glowed
deep purple and faint pricks of stars had begun to appear.
I stopped the truck at the front door of Perser's and went in. A young woman (girl? maybe nineteen or
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twenty years old) with short black hair and a crisp white shirt asked me if she could help me.  Yes, I
said.  I was looking for the house of Lizette Pierce.
 I don't think I know her, she replied.  Does she work here?
 No, she's a friend of mine. She told me she moved into a place near the old mill.
 Oh. The woman pursed her lips and looked to the side.  Well, if you keep going up the road you'll [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]