“Influence.” Joey mouthed the word almost silently, hardly hearing his final remark. “He made you forget?”
“It’s nothing so simple as forgetting,” Collier said heavily. “I don’t know the limits of what he can do. I pray I never find out. But in my case, he simply didn’t want me to reveal your whereabouts to anyone; as it happens, I didn’t have any relatives to contact, but he knew I had doubts—about too many things. He arranged it so that any time I thought of you, my mind simply slid away from the thought, like oil on water. The image he put in my mind, when I thought of you, told me you where you should be, and if I managed to get beyond that image, I found myself believing that you’d been safely shipped off to the hospital and then back home. I never felt any need to speak to anyone about it.” He blinked slowly. “Maggie asked me about you, once or twice. Each time I gave her some glib excuse without even realizing it.”
Swallowing hard, Joey managed to keep her voice remarkably even. “Yes. I think I understand.” She drew in a deep breath and deliberately turned her back on Luke’s sleeping form. “He must have found it pretty easy to do the same thing to me. I didn’t even know it was possible. He walked right into my mind and took over.”
Collier gazed at her until she felt compelled to meet his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Joey. I wish I’d had the sense to warn you when I first realized—when it became clear how irrational Luke was—but I didn’t feel it was my right.
“You didn’t know, Allan. Neither one of us was a match for him, were we?” The bitterness of her own words almost penetrated the depths of her despair. “He made me not care about anything but the two of us in our own perfect little world. The past, the future—none of it seemed important.” Tears spilled over. “I thought I was happy. I thought it was real. I believed…”
She reached blindly for Collier’s hand, and he took hers between his palms. His kindly face was a mask of reflected pain. “It’s not that simple, Joey. I wish I knew how to explain.” Joey watched him search for words, his eyes dropping to Luke’s still form with unutterable sadness. “There are many things even I don’t know about Luke, and what he is. Even among his own people he’s different. But I know”—his voice took on greater urgency as he looked back at her—”I do know he wouldn’t hurt you, Joey, even in this.”
“Even,” she demanded hoarsely, “after what he did to you? Invaded your mind, took away your will?”
With a deep, shuddering breath, Collier nodded. “Even so. There is something you must understand, Joey. Whatever Luke did—whatever he felt driven to do—he couldn’t steal your spirit or your intelligence. He couldn’t give you what you didn’t have within you. He couldn’t force you to care, or to risk your sanity, perhaps even your life, to save his.”
“Then how do I know what was real and what he did to me?” she cried, giving way to despair. “How can I possibly find the line between what I am and what he made me become?” The agony spilled over, and she let herself be pulled into Collier’s embrace.
He was silent for a long moment. “There is only one answer to that question, Joey. Look within your heart.” He barked a quiet laugh against her ear. “I know it’s a terrible old cliché, but it’s the only solution I’ve found when the world comes down around your ears.” He pushed her away from him gently, tilting her chin up with his hand. “You have the strength, Joey, to discover your heart’s truth. Take the time to find it. Give yourself that chance.” Turning away before she could gather an answer, he busied himself with his bag, and his final words were little more than a whisper. “Give him that chance.”
Joey stared blankly at his back. A chance. She turned her head and reached out to rest her palm on Luke’s side, concentrating on the varied textures of his fur as it slid through her fingers; he stirred in his sleep and whimpered, a soft, sad sound dredged up from a troubling dream. Perhaps he had already guessed. She stroked him absently and wished, against all logic, that she might have gone on dreaming.