Conspiracies (Mercedes Lackey) - By Mercedes Lackey Page 0,53
kids smirked or frowned or looked embarrassed, as if that was something they’d thought but hadn’t said out loud.
Muirin was one of the ones who smirked. “Let’s see,” she said in a quiet, mocking tone. “What drug would I like to get? Something fun, not a downer like Prozac.”
“Don’t joke about that,” Addie said crossly, cutting her meat with a lot more energy than the ham warranted. “It’s not funny.”
“Why not? What put a burr up your butt?” Muirin asked.
Addie put her silverware down on the table with a clatter. “It’s not funny because the Trust decided I needed to see a shrink before I came here—and he put me on so much Prozac I was a zombie, that’s why!” she hissed angrily. “I didn’t have two clear thoughts in a row until I got here and they took me off it.”
Spirit started to say something sympathetic, but Muirin just shrugged. “So you should have done what I did, and either flush the pills or throw them up if it was something I didn’t want to take. Seriously, Addie, lighten up. If you don’t want to game the system, fine. But don’t get all self-righteous about it.”
Addie’s jaw clenched, but she didn’t retort. The rest of the meal was passed in unusual silence, and as soon as Austin got up from his table, Muirin gulped down the last of her dessert and went to join him.
Burke patted Addie’s hand. “Don’t worry,” he said soothingly. “Doc Mac doesn’t like to prescribe drugs. He’s a magician, too, and he won’t give out anything that interferes with magic—which is most stuff.”
Addie relaxed a little. “I just worry about her, you know?” she said, looking into Burke’s eyes in a way that made Spirit feel a little uncomfortable twinge of jealousy. “She doesn’t think things through. What if we’re all drugged up and whatever it was that hit us does it again? A lot of stuff doesn’t just interfere with magic, it opens you wide up for anything—” She broke off. “I just don’t want to see Murr-cat hurt.”
“Well I saw Doc Mac for a while when I first got here, and he’s okay,” Burke said with confidence. “Muirin might think she can game him, but he’s pretty sharp. Serve her right if he decided what she needed was more time in the exercise room as therapy.”
Addie almost choked, and even Spirit and Loch found themselves grinning a little. Still, Spirit was not looking forward to her session. No matter what Burke said … Burke was far too inclined to think that everyone was okay until it was proven otherwise. When it came to shrinks, Spirit was going to assume that this “Doc Mac” was going to be just like all the rest. And the sooner she could get out of his office, the better she’d like it.
* * *
The morning of Spirit’s session with Doctor MacKenzie, she walked into the Refectory to the sound of conversational buzzing with the sort of edge to it that meant something had happened. She got cereal, yogurt, and fruit and hurried over to the usual table. Addie had been watching her, and gave her a little nod when she got close. As soon as she was sitting down, Addie leaned over and said in a low voice, “Mariana Thornton is gone.”
“Gone?” Spirit paused and put her spoon back down in her bowl. “What do you mean by gone?”
Addie looked over at Loch. “She wasn’t in her room this morning, her bed didn’t look like it had been slept in, which meant she went some time between dinner and lights out.” Loch shrugged. “So sayeth the word of Chat.”
Muirin plopped down in her usual chair with a stack of buttered toast that she proceeded to load up with preserves—even though they were the “no sugar added” kind. “And so sayeth the e-mail I got before I came down, Mariana was in such bad shape after supper that she was deemed in need of getting out of here and was sent away for a nice ‘rest.’ Presumably in a loony bin, and presumably so decided by good old Doc MacKenzie, since she saw him yesterday.” Muirin looked pensively at her toast. “Maybe I should have hysterics in front of him. Mother Dearest would have me put up in a really plush loony bin. You know, the kind with private rooms and ‘beauty therapy’ and massages. And satellite TV and chefs. No more conditioning classes, and real jelly on my