The Night Parade(29)

“I don’t really know,” she said. “It’s never happened like that before.”

“What’s never happened like that before? What are we talking about?”

“The touching thing,” she said.

“Like what you did to me last night,” he said. “In the car.”

She nodded.

He had all but convinced himself that he had imagined the whole thing—how he had been driving like an erratic mess when they first lit out in the Oldsmobile, his body a jumble of live wires, Kathy’s death like a lead weight in the center of his chest. That small hand had touched the nape of his neck, her palm as cold as ice, and in that instant he had been flooded by an overwhelming serenity that quickly staunched his grief and panic and let him regain focus and composure. It was like being injected with some kind of narcotic, something ten times more potent than morphine—yet it had been a morphine that calmed only his nerves while leaving him at a level of alertness that made the world around him clear and comprehensible again. She had kept her hand on his neck for a while, until she had fallen asleep and the hand had dropped away. As her hand left him, the fear and anxiety and grief returned to him, but in a more manageable dosage. By the time they had reached the motel last night, he had all but convinced himself it had been his imagination.

This had been different, though—not the lulling serenity of Ellie’s cool touch, but the fiery zap of a Taser. It had resonated through his molars and burst like fireworks behind his eyes. Thank God it had only lasted for a second or two.

“How do you do that?” he asked.

“I don’t know. It just sort of started.”

“When?”

“A while ago,” she said. “I don’t really remember. I used to do it just to sort of calm you and Mom down when you were upset.”

“Me and your mom,” he said. “You’ve done that to us before?”

She nodded again. “You didn’t used to notice. But last night you did.” She seemed to consider this. “I think it’s getting stronger.”

“But how do you do it?”

“I don’t know. I just think about it. I think about taking your sadness away. Your worries and the things that make you scared.”

He was staring at her, unsure if he was hearing this conversation correctly. Or perhaps he just wasn’t comprehending what she was telling him. His mind seemed cluttered and confused at the moment, making it difficult to concentrate.

“I never did it the other way before,” Ellie went on. “The bad way, I mean. I guess I was just scared and angry earlier. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You didn’t hurt me.” He considered this. “Did it hurt you?”

“No.”

“Not at all?”

“No.”

“And you can do it whenever you want?”

“I’m not sure.”

He held out his right arm. “Do it again,” he said.

She just stared at him, not moving.

“Go on,” he said. “Just a little shock, okay? I’ll be ready for it this time.”

Hesitantly, she reached out and closed her small, cold fingers around his wrist. Her gaze hung on him, unblinking. She remained that way for several seconds.

“Nothing’s happening,” he said.

“I don’t know how to shock you,” she said. “It’s never happened before, like I said. That was the first time.”

“Then do the other thing,” he said. “The thing you did last night.”

She opened her fingers and slid the palm of her hand halfway up his arm. Other than his daughter’s soft touch, there was nothing unusual about—

He felt it filter through his system like warm medicine, coursing through his veins and arteries, networking through his body until the hairs along his arms stood at attention and his skin tightened into gooseflesh. In that moment, all the clutter and confusion in his head cleared. It was like a fog lifting and exposing a grand, lighted city against a dark horizon. He felt anesthetized.

“Holy shit,” he said, and uttered a laugh. “Holy shit, Ellie.”

Ellie smiled, though somewhat timidly. She removed her hand from his arm, and David felt the serenity quickly drain from him. That thick fog blew back into his brain and obscured the lighted city.

Grinning to himself like an idiot and shaking his head in disbelief, he said, “Jesus Christ, El. I don’t understand.”

“I don’t understand it, either,” she said. Then she turned in her seat and faced forward.

“And you’re sure it’s not . . . it’s not doing anything to you? It doesn’t hurt you to do it?”

“No.”

“How did you learn . . . I mean, how’d you figure out . . .” He couldn’t even formulate the proper questions.

“I don’t know,” she said.

His smile fell away from his face. He could tell she was troubled by either this conversation or of her ability in general. He rubbed the back of her head. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Are you scared of it?” he asked. “What you can do?”

“I haven’t been,” she said. “Until I hurt you.”

He put both hands back on the steering wheel. “You didn’t hurt me, El. I’m fine. You didn’t hurt me.”