Asylum

“Mr. Mayor,” Helena said.

He’d been watching the door. When he saw Helena, his face brightened. Rising, he started toward her, catching himself halfway, then slowing as if he’d forgotten himself. The eager face of a smitten teenager shifted to the composed mask of a distinguished mayor. Helena smiled at him, glancing at his two bodyguards. They hadn’t noticed his reaction; both were focused on her. She stepped aside so the mayor could move past her and then closed the door behind him.

When Helena turned, she bumped into the mayor’s chest.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

The mayor looked down and put his hands on Helena’s shoulders.

“You’re ok?”

Helena looked up and placed her hand over his.

“A couple of bruises,” Helena said.

“You’re certain?”

“I promise.” Helena smiled.

His gaze lingered, scanning her face while his jaw tensed.

“I’m flattered, Morris,” Helena said. “But, this is your time.”

“I had to resist sending SWAT, a dozen detectives, and the Fire Department. I sat in that office listening to radio chatter, and all I wanted to hear was that you were safe.”

“Again, I’m flattered.” Helena gestured to the couch. “Let’s talk about it; it fits with what we discussed.”

He started to release her, then pulled her towards him, embracing her. “So glad you’re safe.”

She patted his shoulder. “Thank you, Morris.”

He broke the hug, stepped away, and retreated to the couch, sitting on the edge. Helena kept eye contact and sat in the chair opposite him, retrieving a notepad and uncapping her pen.

“I know what you’re going to say,” the mayor said.

Helena raised an eyebrow. “You do?”

“Yes, even when it was happening, I heard your voice,” he said, gesturing to his head as though a voice from above him was speaking.

“What did you imagine me saying?”

He looked at the ground. “That I can’t control everything.”

She tilted her head, a gentle smile on her face.

His hands closed into fists. “I hated it.”

“What made it so hateful?”

“I’m the mayor. Someone I cared about was in trouble, and all I could do was wait. Everything that happened, the police response, the fire department, it all happened on its own.”

“And you should take action.”

“Yes.”

“But, you did. You make sure the police are trained. You advocate for equipment. You negotiate fair wages so that quality people remain on the job.”

His laugh was bitter. “That’s what the papers tell you. Even if it were true, none of it made any difference.”

Helena raised an eyebrow.

The mayor’s eyes hardened, and his hands closed into fists. “Sentinel.”

Helena wrote the name and underlined it.

Mayor Allister shook his head. “Cynthia’s father assured me that my term would end if I didn’t do something. I hear that he’s already looking for a candidate to finance. The police commissioner stammers and stares at the floor when I ask what’s happening. And, Sentinel keeps showing up at exactly the right place and exactly the right time.”

His eyes lifted to Helena. “And some maniac almost hurt you.”

“I’m fine, Morris.”

“You never should have been in that situation.”

“We can’t control everything.”

“There are some things.”

“Of course. How you react, what you do in response to- “ Helena began.

“No,” Morris interrupted, then caught himself. Stricken, he looked at Helena, then away. “I apologize.”

“Go ahead,” Helena said. “You’re upset.”

“Selene Asylum,” the mayor said. “Most secure location in the city, perhaps the world, and Marlowe walked out.”

“He’s a savant, Morris. He invented security systems.”

“And the director, Brunner, is supposed to be a genius too, but we all saw what that meant.”

“Brunner’s reputation is spotless.”

The mayor pointed a thumb at himself. “Not with me.”

Helena closed her notebook. At the sound, the mayor’s eyes snapped to it. The anger softened, and his eyes lost focus, then he adjusted and lay back on the couch. Helena rose and moved to the chair behind the therapy couch. Lying on his back, the mayor looked upwards to watch Helena’s hands move.

They lost focus before Helena opened the box. When she removed the jewel and lifted it before his eyes, his eyes lifted to it as his eyelids fluttered and lowered.

“Just relax, Morris,” Helena said. “Your unconscious remembers, remembers my voice, remembers that the words cease to have meaning. They are sounds, the sound of my voice that your unconscious needs. My voice goes with you, guiding you, and the more open you become, the further my voice can reach, your mind finding new doors to open, new ways to let the sound of my words into your mind.”

Mayor Allister lay still, the rise and fall of his chest subtle and regular. Helena laid the pendant and jewel in their box and closed the lid. She leaned against the back of the therapy couch, her mouth close to the mayor’s ears.

“As your mind finds new ways to listen, new ways to synchronize with my voice, new depth to my words, your mind learns, learns to follow, learns new beliefs. Belief in your decisions, belief in what you know.”

“And what you know is my voice remains with you, relaxing and allowing you to trust. Trust that I need to be safe so I can speak, so you can hear, learn, and become more open. Open to my voice, needing my safety. Needing it so that your own voice can repeat that Helena needs to be safe. So important that Helena’s voice speaks and relaxes and stays safe.”

As Helena continued to speak, the mayor’s mouth moved, forming words, but there was no sound.

“That’s right, Morris. Your voice, my voice. As you relax further, forgetting the words, feeling the sounds, your mind learns, repeats, hearing my voice. Hearing my voice says that Helena needs to be safe. Helena’s voice needs to be safe.”

A faint whisper, broken. “Helena. Needs. Safe.”

“Learning, listening, safe. Helena needs to be safe.”

“Helena needs to be safe.”

“Over and over, Helena’s voice. Safe. Need. Repeats.”

“Helena needs to be safe.”

“Doing so well, Helena needs to be safe.”

The mayor’s words became a continuous drone. No break between the repetitions, only a continuous stream of words.

“Helena needs to be safe,” he repeated.

Helena glanced at her watch as the words flowed from the mayor.

“Doing so well, hearing my voice, repeating its sounds, finding new ways to be open, and as you find new ways, you may realize that your voice continues to repeat more and more deeply inside your mind, repeating my words inside, and while you repeat, you begin to rise and feel your own thoughts emerge with my voice beneath, repeating and relaxing. And the more your thoughts emerge, the less you notice my voice repeating beneath.”

He stirred, his hands flexing.

“That’s right, thoughts returning, words gaining meaning. Understanding, thinking, and coming back into your body, feeling the couch, understanding my words, and when your mind has learned to repeat under your own thoughts, you may realize your eyes are open, and you are awake.”

Helena rose and moved to the chair facing the therapy couch.

The droning mantra fell away, and over the next few minutes, the mayor’s body stirred, and he stretched, his arms extending far from his shoulders as he drew a deep breath. His eyes opened, staring at the ceiling, then blinked and focused, finding Helena.

“How are you feeling?” Helena asked.

“Better,” he said, voice slow. His eyes flickered, uncertain, scanning Helena as if seeking reassurance.

Sitting up, he rubbed his face.

“I’m glad you didn’t try to talk me out of firing Brunner.”

“It’s not my place. I can only help you understand your own process.”

He nodded. “Helena needs to be safe.”

He looked into space and hesitated. “I mean that you need to be safe.”

Helena smiled.

Rising, he moved towards the door. Helena rose and followed. Stopping, he put a hand on the knob and looked back.

“Do you know. Travis Lucerne?”

“Dr. Lucerne?”

The mayor nodded.

“Yes, he was my faculty advisor.”

“Talented?”

“Brilliant, insightful. He made me what I am today.”

The mayor nodded. “Good. He’s going to replace Brunner.”

Helena raised an eyebrow. The mayor nodded. “Don’t tell anyone.”

Helena put a finger to her lips.

He turned the knob. “Stay safe.”

Helena nodded.

The mayor went out, closing the door behind him. Helena turned the lock. She found her cellphone and dialed a number.

“Hello, Travis,” she said. “When can we have dinner?”

---

Travis had arrived early and chose a booth near the back. He sipped at a highball glass of brown liquor. Bourbon, Helena thought. Travis always drank bourbon. Nervous, a thumb tapped the table.

Then, he looked up. He saw Helena, and a smile spread across his face. He rose. Always the gentleman, he held her eye contact, then let his gaze trace over her body before returning to her eyes. Helena slowed her walk, letting him take her in.

After work, Helena had changed. Her ankle-length skirt parted at the thigh, revealing her bare leg as she walked. His eyes went to it each time the dress parted.

In his early fifties, his hair had gone full gray, and he remained trim and fit. His suit was dark gray, with an emerald tie and a matching handkerchief peeking from the breast pocket.

He made a half-bow as Helena approached. Helena extended a hand like royalty. He bent to it, taking her hand and placing a gentle kiss on the knuckles.

“A dangerous beauty,” he said. “Confident and knowing.”

“Wonderful to see you, Dr. Lucerne.”

He held her hand an instant longer, savoring the contact, before gesturing to the seat opposite his. He waited until Helena had settled.

“May I join you, Helena?” he asked.

Helena gestured to the empty seat. “You may.”

He slid into the booth, nervous and delighted.

She’d met him when still an undergrad. Travis had teased her by calling her Helena the Queen and had said that if she’d been in Ancient Greece, she would have launched ten thousand ships.

She’d confronted Travis over the flirtation, and it stopped until Helena completed Travis’ class. After grades were finalized, he’d asked her on a date.

Travis was the first who was smitten without being crude, flirtatious without being creepy. It was irresistible, and their affair had lasted two years. She’d learned more from that time than at any other point in her life.

A glass of wine sat before her. She looked from Travis to the glass and back again.

“Forgive me if it was presumptuous,” he said. “Riesling is still your favorite?”

“Thank you,” she said and drank. The amber liquid was delicious with hints of peach and apricot. Helena let the wine linger on her tongue before swallowing. It tasted expensive; he must’ve been saving it.

“They wouldn’t have something this good,” Helena said. “You brought it?”

“You don’t call so often anymore,” he said with mock sadness. “I need to make a good impression.”

Helena arched an eyebrow and took another sip. “Passable so far.”

Her pleasure lit up his face, and he sipped his own drink then set it down.

“Please tell me that you called me because you missed me?”

“I do miss you, Travis,” Helena said. “You taught me everything I know.”

He shook his head. “No, I just showed you that you could be what you wanted. You did everything else.”

“Is that what you call what you did?”

“Yes,” he said. “The best teacher is experience.”

“I got plenty with you.”

“So, no regrets? I didn’t take advantage of an innocent?”

She took another sip. “You assume it existed in the first place.”

“You’d do it again?”

Her smile became mischievous, and she leaned across the table. “I wouldn’t change a thing.”

He relaxed, the helpless adoration in his eyes deepening. “I’m so glad.”

His affection was so obvious and intense that it appeared to sting. That he wrestled with attraction and nerves made him alluring, made Helena want to tease and watch him struggle. She leaned back, and the small gesture of distance stung him. He put a hand on the table towards her. She didn’t take it, delighting at the flash of disappointment.

“I have news if you’d like to hear it?” Helena asked.

“About you?” he asked. “Please.”

“No, about you.”

He waved a dismissive hand. “No, you’re far more interesting.”

She chuckled. “Fine. What about me would you like to talk about?”

“I was thinking about you before you called,” he said, a blush on his cheeks.

“Something pleasant?”

“Of course,” he said. “I remember watching you learn. Rapport-building techniques, seduction, hypnosis, suggestion, behavior modification.”

She nodded.

“It scared me, then I realized that you’d already done it all to me.”

“A little, yes.”

He pursed his lips. “You wrapped me around your finger, and even as it was happening, I saw it and couldn’t stop it.”

“Or didn’t want to stop it.”

“Mostly didn’t want to stop it,” he smiled. “Knowing didn’t help. I’m helpless when someone with your skill applies them. It’s as though you’ve been drugged.”

“Does that make it more or less alluring?”

“Not sure. Your suggestions linger. I know they are there, but my brain will respond whether I choose or not.”

“Poor thing.”

He chuckled. “I do feel overmatched.”

“You’re very kind, Travis, and you always amuse me.”

“Thank you, Helena,” he said. “I worry.”

“You should. Boring me would be the worst thing you could do.”

He shook his head. “Never.”

She took another sip. Despite her teasing, it was amazing. Each taste hinted at a new flavor.

“Something I should serve again?” he asked, his eyes going to the wine.

Helena paused. She looked at the glass, then back to Travis. He met her eyes. Smitten, helplessly so. Vulnerable, a bit too vulnerable. She smiled and held it. She tried to flex her hand. It moved, but slowly, fingers indistinct.

He’d lulled her, and it was also too late to do anything about it.

“Absolutely,” Helena said, feeling the edge of the alcohol’s effect.

“I’m glad.”

Helena blinked. She’d had a thought, a memory from their time together, but she lost the thread of it. Travis continued to look at her, adoration and nervousness written across his features. Her mind tried to categorize the symptoms. She’d not tasted anything.

She reached for the glass, and it swam before her eyes. Blinking hard, she reached again. Her hand collided with the stem. Travis caught the glass before it spilled.

“Even knowing it’s happening doesn’t help,” he said.

Helena tried to see the glass, but it split and moved in her vision. She returned to Travis, and he swam, splitting into two images. “Trav-, Trav-, sss-“

“Sleep, Helena. Everything will be wonderful.”

Helena tried to respond, but her lips felt heavy and indistinct, and the desire to close her eyes and sleep overwhelmed everything else.

---

Cold straps covered Helena’s wrists and ankles. She tried to focus, but her mind refused. Her shoulders were pressed against something cold. Her hips, her legs, had the same chill where they touched. What were they touching? She tried to find its shape, but it flitted away, leaving a shapeless cold against her body like a ghost laid over her. Clenching her eyes, she commanded her brain to focus, but it flitted. Was she naked?

“Helena.”

Travis. She forgot the cold.

A finger snapped. “Here.”

Her eyes opened partway. The dim light felt blinding, and she squinted. In the gloom, Travis’ face swam above her. He reached and touched her neck.

“That’s a girl,” Travis said. “So thrilled to have you back.”

Helena tried to move, and the chill at her wrists and ankles resolved into bindings that held her down. Trying to shift her torso, she moved a fraction. Then, Travis moved and made an adjustment near her waist. Pressure tightened across her hips, and she couldn’t move.

“I worry so much,” Travis said. “Encountering Sentinel twice. Wealthy clients. The mayor.”

“Travis-“

“Shhhhh,” he said, touching her cheek with his warm hand. “Too much control, Helena. You know this, but it’s ok.”

Shapes in the room began to emerge: bondage equipment against one wall, the table where she lay. Travis’s basement. She tried to lift her head, but a strap across her forehead immobilized her.

He stepped away, and a faint shuffle came from out of view, then he returned, the edge of something in his hand.

“You’d never agree,” he said. “Would always say you were ok, but I know better.”

“I am fine, Travis,” Helena croaked.

He shook his head. “Don’t talk. You know I can’t resist your voice. I’ll gag you.”

“Travis, I am fine.”

He nodded and laid a conglomeration of wires and plastic next to her, another chill against her flank. Going to a wall, he retrieved an object and returned to her side.

Hard and rubber, he pressed it against her lips.

“Please,” Helena tried to say, but the gag pressed, muffling her to incoherence.

The touch of the rubber against her lips blurred her thoughts. Arousal and embarrassment flared. She gritted her teeth, then relaxed her jaw.

“I know. Hate it and need it,” he pressed gently. “Open.”

She parted her lips, and the gag slid in, pressing her tongue down and filling her mouth. Her pulse spiked, a blush erupting on her cheeks. He slid the strap behind her throat and cinched the buckle.

Rebelling, she tried to speak, but it came out in a warped mumble. Embarrassment and arousal rippled. Her hips moved on their own in response to the heat. She wanted to hate him. Not having a voice, not being able to speak, and not seeing the effect of her voice. Powerless, vulnerable, she felt her hips squirm and hated that her body betrayed her helplessness.

Travis wiped a thin sheen of sweat from her brow. “That’s a good girl.”

She wanted to scream, but her arousal doubled. The heat turned into an ache. No one talked down to her, ever.

Travis’ gentle smile, looking down on her, made it worse. He knew everything. The one who held her secrets. Hopelessly smitten and adoring, he didn’t flinch when she raged against what her body wanted.

He went to the device on the table, lifting it towards her eyes. She clenched her jaw and tried to jerk away, growling against the gag. The muffled helplessness sounded so weak, so helpless. It was so hot. Her eyes closed against it. He paused while she struggled, lowering the device by fractions until the edges of the mask touched her face. She tried to jerk, failed, and the mask slipped to one side.

Travis slid the strap around her head, buckling it. He then adjusted the fit so she saw nothing but black. Then the buckle behind her head was pulled tight. Earpieces covered her ears. The mask adjusted a final time, and she heard an electronic blip. All external sound zapped to pure silence, and her eyes saw pure black. She heard nothing, saw nothing.

A hand patted her shoulder.

Sound began first. Isochronic tones just at the edge of her hearing, a buzz her mind embraced. Her mind softened, and she tried to concentrate as the sounds tried to scatter her thoughts like sand. She knew the technique, but it still created its effect. Thoughts would rise and dissolve as they resonated with the gentle pulse of sound.

Before her eyes, a three-dimensional flow of colors and swirls began. She caught herself trying to trace individual movements, chasing the center of a spiral or the fade of a tendril of a shifting cloud.

Concentrate, she told herself. She reminded herself that she was angry. Yes, angry, and Travis would suffer. She imagined his eyes going glassy, his voice becoming incoherent. Then she felt the gag, remembered her own mumbles. Pleasure, a swirl of blue and silver, fascinated and drew her eyes.

She closed her eyes. Don’t watch the colors or the swirls as they spun and combined, diving for an invisible central point. If she peeked, she might see where they went. She opened her eyes.

All thought vanished, and she only received, her mind blanking and becoming passive before the swirls and gentle tones.

A final sensation appeared between her legs. Her back arched. The first orgasm wiped the last of her mind.

“No,” she whispered as all conscious thought vanished.

---

Scented laundry soap entered her nose. Lavender? Her body ached, the good ache. A heavy robe swaddled her. She was warm. Opening her eyes, the thick leather of a couch cushion filled her vision. Turning her head, she looked up to the ceiling where a fan turned overhead. Cooking bacon. A whisk rattled against a bowl.

Not moving, she wiggled her toes, flexed her fingers. They responded after some hesitation. A shift awakened sore muscles, the ache of overexertion. She remembered the straps holding her down. He’d drugged her, wiped her thoughts, made her enjoy it. She hated it. The ache reminded her that she wanted it. Travis had done it to her.

She sat up and turned from the couch. Travis’ home. His back was to her as he worked in the kitchen. He still wore the suit, except for the jacket. He glanced over his shoulder towards her, then back to the cooking. He stopped and turned.

She rubbed her eyes, pulling her knees to her chest. The robe was heavy terrycloth, and she pulled it around her.

“Ready in a minute,” he said.

He turned back to the stove.

Full dark outside, Helena scanned the room, eyes centering on a clock above his television. 2am. Her brain did the math. They’d met in the tavern six hours before. She tried to speak, but it came out as a croak, and her jaw complained with a dull ache. An aftershock of arousal confirmed the memory.

“How long?”

He looked over his shoulder, smiled, but didn’t respond. He tilted a pan and scraped food onto two plates. He brought one, along with a glass of water. Bacon strips lay beside the eggs, and black pepper speckled the eggs. He’d remembered. She took the plate, broke off a piece of bacon, and chewed while he returned with his own. He sat on the couch, giving her space.

“I won’t bite you,” she said. “I should, but I won’t.”

“Don’t be a sore loser,” he said. “You don’t win every time.”

He scooched so their bodies touched. The contact soothed her. She began to eat.

“First time I’ve been roofied,” she said between bites.

“Tough to keep up with you. I have to improvise.”

She petted his shoulder. “Poor thing.”

He shrugged.

“Shame to ruin a good bottle of Riesling that way.”

He shook his head and swallowed. “Just the one glass. Would you like some?”

“I might not throw it in your face.”

He chuckled and rose. In the kitchen, he poured a glass and then returned. He offered her the glass.

“You first,” she said.

He put the glass to his lips, took a sip, then offered the glass. Helena took it and drank.

Travis returned to his seat and pressed against her. “You told me that you had news about me?”

“It’s supposed to be secret.”

“Imagine that.”

“You heard about what happened at Selene. Marlowe and the breakout?”

Travis nodded. “Leo was a mess.”

Leonard was Dr. Brunner’s first name. They were both on the faculty when Helena had studied at the university.

“I warned him,” Helena said.

Travis stopped chewing and met Helena’s eyes. “He also said that Marlowe’s in love with you and that you might’ve encouraged it.”

Helena tilted her head. “Who would do such a thing?”

“Helena, you didn’t,” he scolded.

“The mayor’s not happy. He wants Brunner replaced.”

“And?”

She raised her eyebrows and nodded towards him.

“No way,” Travis said.

He looked to the ground, his eyes narrowing, then he looked back to Helena. “Did you?”

“Of course not. Came up with it on his own.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, I’m positive. He asked what I thought of you.”

“What’d you say?”

“I said you were a sick perv who manipulated vulnerable women for his twisted enjoyment.”

He smiled. “So, he’s offering me the job in the next day or two?”

“I’d expect it.”

“What about Leo?”

“He’s out whether you take the job or not. For some reason, the whole thing made the mayor feel protective towards me.”

“Crazy.”

He returned to his food, his movements deliberate as he stared into space.

“Are you and Brunner still working on that research?” Helena asked.

He nodded. “Getting results. It works, but it’s not the kind of thing we can really talk about.”

Helena set her plate aside. “Why not?”

“Trauma is tough. Rebuilding trust and attachment is hard when intrusive memories get in the way. So, we’ve found a way to temporarily suppress them. We rebuild the connections around trust and attachment, then reconnect the memories. It works, but we can’t talk about it.”

Helena thought, tapping the glass with her fingernails. “I can see the headlines: Psychiatrists wipe memories for patients’ own good.”

“Exactly,” Travis said. “Forget the job. I’d struggle to keep my professorship.”

“I doubt that,” Helena said. “It would be uncomfortable, though, wouldn’t it?”

“More than uncomfortable.”

“Then make sure they understand,” Helena said. “Don’t say you’re wiping memories. Don’t say it’s for their own good.”

“The research needs to continue, though. It’d have to be part of the deal.”

“You’re his first choice,” Helena said, rubbing Travis’s back. “He’ll let you have that.”

“I hope so,” Travis said and rose. He took his plate and Helena’s to the kitchen before returning. He returned to the couch and sat.

“Your clothes are in the guest bedroom,” he said.

Helena pouted. “You’re throwing me out?”

He blinked. “No, of course not. I-“

Helena rose and clasped his hand. “Come on. It’s late.”

“You’re sure? We’ve not slept together since-“

“Since before I graduated. Yes, I remember.”

She slid her body against his, looking up from beneath her lashes. “What’s the worst that I could do?”

His breath caught, and the pain of desire coupled with fear played over his face.

“You didn’t?” She asked, raising an eyebrow. “You know? While I was under?”

He shook his head.

“Must be pretty backed up then, watching me struggle and orgasm over and over like that,” Helena said.

His face was taut. She pulled on his arm like a leash. He drifted after her.

The bedroom was dark. The neighborhood lights created a dim gloom, and when Helena reached the edge of the bed, she untied the robe and let it slip to the ground.

Travis froze, his eyes locked on her body. She pulled the covers back and slid beneath them.

“Hurry up. It’s cold.”

Travis stripped, leaving a pile of his own clothes behind. Helena pulled back the covers. Travis slid next to her. She worked her way next to him, her body against his. He drew a breath.

“Relax, Travis. You act like this is the first time,” Helena said.

“It’s just been a while. I didn’t think.”

Their faces were inches apart. She stroked his cheek. “Kiss me. It’ll be fine.”

His eyes softened, and his mouth moved towards hers. Her lips parted. Travis swallowed and stopped.

“I know-“, he said, his voice choked.

“Know what?” Helena asked, her hand sliding over his chest.

“Your kiss,” he said, his features slackening, and his eyes widened, bright and shiny in the dark. “Irresistible. Don’t.”

“Don’t you want to kiss me?”

“Yes. Irresistible. Don’t”

His body began to tremble.

“Kiss me, Travis.”

Eyes glassy, he drifted towards her. When their lips touched, his body went limp, and he rolled onto his back. Helena lay atop him, laying gentle kisses on his cheeks and mouth.

“Irresistible,” she whispered.

Travis’ voice began to repeat. “Irresistible. Irresistible. Irresistible.”

As his voice droned, Helena slid to his side, her body pressed against his, her voice against his ear.

“Irresistible. You want the Selene job, but you must be honest.”

“Irresistible. Honest.”

“That’s right. You wipe memories for their own good. Irresistible. Honest.”

“Honest. Wipe. Irresistible.”

“Must tell the truth. You wipe their memories for their own good.”

“Irresistible.”

“Good boy. Repeat until you sleep.”

His flattened voice repeated, the sound becoming softer and softer. Helena settled herself against his flank, an arm draped across his chest. She fell asleep, hearing the words repeat: Irresistible, Honest, Wipe.

---

Helena adjusted her coat and opened the door to her waiting room. The mayor rose from the couch and passed into the office. Helena smiled at his bodyguards as she closed and locked the door.

The mayor went to the therapy couch and sat.

“Spoke with Lucerne yesterday,” Mayor Allister said, “Now, I’m stuck.”

Helena went to the chair opposite and sat, opening a notepad on her lap.

“How are you stuck?”

“After we spoke, I kept thinking about it, and I couldn’t stand to have Brunner in that job. You need to be safe.”

Helena made a note. “What happened?”

“I fired him. He’s gone.”

“You’d already decided that.”

“Yes, I know, but I’d planned to talk to Lucerne first.”

“Lucerne is a brilliant psychiatrist.”

Mayor Allister shook his head. “Maybe.”

“Morris, I can’t read your mind.”

“So, I call him in. It’s a done deal. I even bring in a few city councilmembers. All great. He’s witty, smart. They love him, but he has a condition. He and Brunner are doing some kind of trauma research?”

Helena wrote, feeling the mayor’s eyes on her.

“Did you know about it?”

“Their research?”

He nodded.

“No, not specifically, but it’s a hot field.”

“So, I’m ready to lay the offer, and he opens his mouth and says they are wiping people’s memories for their own good.”

Helena bit her tongue. “He said what?”

“He said they were wiping people’s memories for their own good.”

Helena stared. The mayor implored, palms up.

“What the hell? Seriously. Is that how you all talk?”

“No, Morris. It’s not how we talk.”

“I made him repeat it, and he did. Several times.”

“So, you didn’t make the offer.”

“Of course not. Now, I have the council all over me. The asylum doesn’t have a director, and who knows how long before it’s leaked to the press.”

“What are you thinking?”

He clasped his hands together, his eyes imploring.

“Helena, I need you. Can you take over the asylum?” he implored. “Please.”