“That’s enough, my friend.” A tall, lean shape passed between Johanna and the madman Quentin had become.
“The enemy is gone,” Harper said. “The War is over.”
Quentin swung about, teeth bared. He looked just as he had that night in the hall, more bestial than human, his features shifting into something almost unrecognizable. His eyes narrowed to slits, spewing hatred at the world.
This was the wolf he claimed to be, the dangerous lycanthrope Johanna had assumed was a product of Quentin’s wounded mind. This was the transformation he spoke of, and she didn’t for an instant believe that he controlled it.
She got to her feet and stood shoulder to shoulder with Harper.
“It’s safe to return, Quentin,” she said. “You’re safe. Come back to us.”
Whether it was because of her words, Harper’s tranquil presence, or something within Quentin himself, he began at last to respond. The savage light left his eyes. His body went boneless, sliding along the wall to the ground.
Harper knelt beside him. “Are you all right, brother?”
Quentin squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again. “What?” He braced his hands on the floor. “Did I fall?”
“You could say that,” Harper said. He glanced at Johanna with a faint frown.
She shook her head in warning. “How are you feeling, Quentin?”
“Dizzy.” He pushed at the wall to regain his feet. His face was expressionless. “Something happened… like before, didn’t it?”
Her memory made the leap to their first session, when he’d kissed her and promptly forgotten.
“I’m not sure,” she said. “When I was working with Harper, you entered a spontaneous trance.”
“Again?” He smiled raggedly at Harper. “Sorry about the interruption, old chap. I hope I didn’t spoil it.” He pressed his forehead with the heels of his hands. “I appear to be just a little too susceptible to the good doctor’s expert technique.”
“You are extraordinarily sensitive to hypnotic induction,” Johanna said. “I had thought, given our last few sessions—”
“That I was safe?” He laughed. “My old friends in England would be amused to hear that I’m sensitive to much of anything.” He looked from her to Harper and back again. “The way you’re both staring at me, I suppose I must have stood on my head and recited Shakespeare. Or did I sing ‘God Save the Queen’ horribly off-key?”
His jokes failed to conceal the real fear in his eyes. He suspected something of what had happened. His gaze found the torn wallpaper, and his expression froze.
“I must have been very badly off-key.” He yawned behind his hand. “It’s all quite exhausting, really. I’m ready for a nap—if you’ll both excuse me.”
Johanna’s stomach twisted with the realization that she was afraid. Not of Quentin, but for him. She’d seen him transform from hurting, vulnerable child to an angry, violent man. Neither was a part of the Quentin she knew. Both were somehow connected to terrible childhood pain—and either might be the means of destroying him.
The Quentin she knew would more likely harm himself than any other creature.
“I would like you to go straight to your room and rest,” she told him. “Will you remain there until I come for you?”
“You’ll be lucky if you can get me to wake up,” he said. “Don’t hold luncheon for me.”
He gave her and Harper a choppy salute and left the room.
Harper let out a long breath and sat down on the edge of the chaise. “Was I like that when I was hypnotized?”
“No.” She moved behind her desk, trying to regain a sense of calm. “Thank you for your assistance.”
“What did happen, with him?”
“I cannot tell you, Harper. Not for the time being.” She shuffled a pile of papers. “How do you feel?”
He cocked his head. “Better. Except that I don’t really remember much of what we talked about.”
“That’s quite normal. You will begin to remember things as you are ready to do so. We’ll continue to work toward that end.”
He was silent long enough that she was forced to look up from her papers and meet his gaze.
“It’s funny, isn’t it,” he said, “how we’re all hiding, one way or another.”