Witch and Wizard_ The Fire - James Patterson [57]
There’s more to this place than I thought. He leads me to the far side of the room, to a spot in the wall that is slightly inconsistent, and I raise an eyebrow quizzically, but The One doesn’t say a word. He lifts a hand, and a door flies open.
And I’m totally weirded-out by what lies behind it.
It’s a seemingly endless hall of mirrors, and The One urges me forward, placing me in the middle to confront my own reflection. I half expect the mirrors to shatter at once, glass raining down on me in a dramatic finish, but all is still.
I peer into the mirrors, my image echoing into infinity, an army of Wistys looking small and scared and lost, just like I did in his bathroom. Looking weak. Then I remember the things I found there, the exposed vulnerability, and I set my jaw, determined not to let him get to me.
And when I change my expression, something happens.
A thousand Wistys mime this change back at me and stand there looking strong, confident, and so, so powerful. I feel the magic coursing through me, feel the truth of the Prophecies, and I know. I could rule this whole universe if I wanted to. It could all be mine.
I shudder, feeling light-headed.
“You see,” The One whispers from behind me like a patient teacher coddling a wayward student, “it’s not about you, Wisteria, and it’s certainly not about us, or we. It’s about me. It’s about I…. The most powerful creative force, and the most dangerous, is the human ego. Now do you understand?”
Yes. I do understand.
Everything Mrs. Highsmith was trying to tell us about power and playing God comes into acute focus. The important thing isn’t about using The Gift; it’s about not using it. About keeping others from getting ahold of it. Each one of us possesses that unique human narcissism, that self-importance that can spin wildly out of control, and the key to survival — to all of human survival — is keeping it under wraps.
“Power corrupts,” I whisper. “Always remember.”
I understand the enemy now. It’s not just him, The One. It’s I me, ego, and I can’t let that take over like this evil man has.
Chapter 62
Wisty
“SINCE WE’RE TALKING about ego …,” I mutter to myself.
I turn to The One, keeping my eyes trained on his face and away from these warped mirrors.
“I understand now,” I say. “But before I … join you … I want to know more about who you are, how you got here.” I think back to the science award, the harsh teacher’s note that I found earlier. Tools to get at him, to make him vulnerable. “Tell me how you got to be so …” I swallow. Say it like you mean it, Wist: “Great.”
The One stands up a little straighter. Flattery suits him.
“Why, Wisteria, I told you I’d tell you anything — you just had to ask! It’s only natural you should want to know how one could possibly achieve all that I have, that you should covet that power.” His eyes flash at me, testing, but I nod at him as sincerely as I can manage, and he continues.
“Once upon a time, a small boy was … different. No, not just different. Brilliant.” He’s speaking loudly now, as if performing for an audience, and his voice echoes through the tunnel of mirrors. “Those in a position of authority discouraged his immense talents, labeling him hoodlum, ruffian, young terrorist.” The One’s eyes glaze over as he recalls the memory. “Indeed, their assessment was astute on that account, for they would definitely endure terror,” he mutters, then raises his voice. “Instead of helping him, encouraging him, they accused him of lies!”
“‘Disturbing demonstrations’?” I say before I can stop myself, recalling the paper I found in the desk, but The One doesn’t seem to make the connection. Instead he nods, looking at me intently.
“Sound familiar? You and I are the same, Wisteria.”
Is there any truth to that? I think back to my days of skipping school, of the disappointed looks around the dinner table, of everyone expecting me to fail because of the way I dressed or because I was smart in a