Storiesonline.net ------- Dream Master by Shadow of Moonlite Copyright© 2010 by Shadow of Moonlite ------- Description: Separated from his family and forced into hiding, Jimmy struggles to keep the people he loves safe while he builds a new life for himself, and searches for a way to stop the mysterious Lord Hightower and his followers. Third in a series, follows Sleepwalker and Dreamweaver. Contains violence and adult themes. {Serial Fantasy PG13-Vio AC} Codes: cons ------- ------- Prologue My name is James Edward Matthews — Jimmy to my friends — I am sixteen years old and in the last two weeks there have been two attempts made to kidnap me. Both failed. The first attempt ended with the kidnapper being murdered before the FBI could get any information out of him. The second time they kidnapped a girl I was dating to use as bait. We got her back and caught five people; two were local private investigators hired only to transport me from my house to where they were holding Britney, my girlfriend. The guy in charge turned out to be attached to a foreign embassy and in less than eight hours the State Department was pressuring the head of the local FBI Bureau to release him. The other two were hard core Russian Mafia and are going to be behind bars until the building crumbles from old age. Until very recently I had no idea who was behind it; the PIs were very helpful but didn't even know who I was, only that they were to pick me up at point A and take me to point B. The Mafia guys wouldn't talk if you were torturing their mothers, and the leader they couldn't touch. But I could, diplomatic immunity doesn't mean much to me, especially since as a result of all this my family has been forced to move to an FBI safe house and I'm now living in another state, under an assumed name. The reason they were after me is that someone found out a secret we've been trying to keep for just over a year. It's not one of those secrets you read about in spy novels, I don't know the Minute-Man Launch codes or anything like that. My secret is more like ... comic book material. Or something Stephen King might come up with. You see, a little over a year ago I learned that I had a gift. I call it sleepwalking but that's not really accurate. I don't walk around the neighborhood or rob convenience stores in my sleep. I walk around dreams; other people's dreams, and I don't just walk around in them; I can control them. It varies from person to person, but most people have some level of control over their dreams, whether they know it or not. Back in the 1970's there was even a research study done to try and teach people better control in order to help them deal with nightmares. It's a pretty simple concept; if the patient has a recurring nightmare of falling off a cliff or out of a skyscraper, so you teach them to put up a guardrail, lock the window, put one of those giant cartoon pillows at the bottom, give themselves a parachute ... that sort of thing. There were a lot of people very interested in studying the mind back in those days. But that kind of research doesn't pay nearly as well as developing a pill to handle the problem, and then another one to handle the side effects of the first one, etc. A lot of people don't think, or at least they don't believe, that the research was completely abandoned. They suspect, rather, that a lot of it was continued, quietly and off the record, mostly by various governments, including our own. I never gave that idea much credit growing up, but now I know better. It doesn't take much imagination to see how a gift like mine could be abused. Want to know your PIN number at the bank? I can create a dream environment where you go to the ATM for lunch money and watch you punch it in. Sound scary? Not even the tip of the iceberg. Those launch codes I mentioned... My sister Allison was the one who pointed out the dangers to me. The real shock was discovering that she had known about my ability for years and was very well prepared for the day I would discover it. She cornered me the very next day and explained the dangers: what could happen if word got out, or worse, if the government found out. It didn't take much to convince me that under no circumstances could we tell anyone about it. Obviously that hasn't worked out as well as he had hoped. As soon as I discovered my gift and started consciously using it things started changing. There were two types of changes; the first was a gradual growth like you get from practice and exercise — like learning yoga or martial arts, the more you do it the better your control and power get. The second kind was what we called an escalation, a sudden and dramatic change. Escalations seemed to follow a pattern; specifically they followed closely behind moments of ... oh, let's just call it intense emotional and physical activity. I was fifteen and had just discovered the joys of sex; you do the math. The first person besides Allison I talked to about it was my psychology teacher at school. His name was Robert Shelby, and after only a few minutes of trying to talk to him he could tell there was something I was holding back. He explained to me that besides being a teacher he was still a licensed therapist and therefore anything we talked about would be legally protected under doctor-patient confidentiality laws. He then offered to take me on as a patient for the bargain price of one dollar. A decision he regretted after I consulted with Allison, took him up on his offer, and told him the truth about what was going on. At first he was excited; visions of the Nobel Prize dancing in his head. Then I told him of Allison's fears and he started searching the surrounding shadows for men in black suits and dark glasses. Bob's a good guy though, and he honored his promise. To this day he is one of my most trusted advisers. For the most part I looked at my gift as just one of those unexplainable things in life. It happened, and you have to be careful with it, but it was just sort of there. Sure it was a lot of fun. I mean, the sex possibilities alone ... Fortunately my parents brought me up better than that, and I looked on the idea of having sex with a girl in a dream without her consent the same way I would look at it in real life: it would be rape, pure and simple. The fact that I never physically touched her, or even that she wouldn't remember it the next morning, didn't matter, it would still be wrong. Not to mention that Allison would have killed me. Besides, between her and Shannon I was getting all the sex I could handle already. In that area, I was living the kind of life you only read about in magazines. Shannon and Allison were "best friends" in pretty much every sense of the words, they shared pretty much everything, and their favorite thing to share, was me. Sweet! Halloween night I got my first chance to really make a difference with my gift. A young boy had come to our door, and somehow, just looking at him, I knew something was wrong. Later that night I found myself in his dream, something that happened often enough that it was no real surprise. I frequently found myself in the dreams of people that I had met. This was my first cartoon, though, so it was different in that sense. It was also more of a nightmare than a dream. The boy's name was Bobby and he had been having a recurring nightmare for some time. Apparently Bobby had a stuttering problem and some uneducated and thoughtless asshole had suggested that all he needed was a good scare to cure the problem. Not surprisingly, his young mind had latched onto the idea and run with it, so now poor Bobby kept finding himself being chased by what amounted to a cartoon werewolf. I stepped into the dream, took it over and turned things around. It was really a lot of fun actually. I gave the werewolf a name, told young Bobby that he had it all wrong and 'Walter', the werewolf, wasn't trying to actually hurt him. Then, as punishment for scaring Bobby, I assigned Walter the task of guarding him in his dreams for the next year. I would later discover that there were other repercussions to my actions, but for now the primary task was accomplished and Bobby's nightmares were over. Oh yeah, and Walter wasn't really a werewolf. He didn't have a human form, not yet anyway. It wasn't long before I discovered the reason someone wanted me to meet Rebecca and we spent the next year trying to catch a psycho who had managed to kidnap, torture, rape, and kill three teenage girls without anyone realizing the crimes were related. He accomplished this by making sure they were far enough apart geographically that no one put the pieces together and saw a pattern. Until I got involved that is. It took time and a lot of work, Rebecca doing her usual FBI stuff during the day, and me bridging all sorts of people at night, including, ironically, the killer himself, before we had a working profile of his victims. My access to the killer was unlike anything I had experienced with other people and we could only conclude that there was something about his mental makeup that prevented me from having the kind of access I seemed to have with pretty much everyone else. Despite our best efforts he eventually took another victim. In a bizarre twist of fate the girl he had picked out this year was a friend of mine. Her name was Angela and less than three weeks before he took her I had been her date for her senior prom. After I got over the initial shock I got to work trying to find her. It took almost a week for me to bridge her, which was weird considering that I knew her and had bridged her before. We eventually figured out that there were two causes for the problem, the first being that he had drugged her when he kidnapped her. The second turned out to be just bad timing. Looking back we should have thought of it sooner. For this guy to hide successfully he had to have a life, and that life would include a job he had to go to, and that meant that while I was asleep and searching dreamspace for her, she was awake being tortured and raped. She was in pretty rough shape when I finally found her, the mental picture she had of herself was naked, dirty, and alone, trapped in a tiny room with no way out. Finding her and letting her know that we, we being me and the FBI, were looking for her, plus some other little tricks, gave her the hope and strength she needed to hang on and buy us the time we needed. And we needed every second, because finding her in a dream did not get me any closer to finding her in the real world. That finally changed and I was eventually able to lead Rebecca to where she was being held. We got her back but unfortunately, very unfortunately, the killer escaped. Between Angela's observations and other information we got from the house before it blew up — he had it rigged and triggered the bomb before he left with the intention of not only covering his escape but hopefully killing Rebecca at the same time — we managed to put together enough information to identify him. Always good to know whom you're dealing with, especially when that someone turns out to be a professional assassin that the authorities thought they had killed five years before. They called him the Sandman and prior to his 'death' he had been the most wanted man in Europe and the number one assassin in the world. Not the kind of guy you wanted running around your hometown, especially if he found out that you hadn't actually died when he blew you up. The FBI had no illusions about their ability to protect Angela if he found out the truth, so officially, she was dead, killed in the blast moments before Rebecca could rescue her. She spent the next several months in rehab dealing with the aftermath of her ordeal. She lost two toes to gangrene but they were able to save the rest of her foot. They did the best they could for her knee but it took a couple months of therapy before she could walk well enough to hide the limp. The other information we recovered from the scene came mostly from the computer he had been forced to leave behind. The up side was that being responsible for identifying him made me eligible for a lot of reward money. Not just for identifying Angela's kidnapper/killer, but for providing the same information about the other three girls' deaths. I learned early that money is only valuable if you do something with it. In and of itself it's worthless; it's what you do with it that matters. The first thing I did with it was to buy myself a really sweet truck. Hey, I was sixteen! What did you expect? I also set aside a large chunk to cover college for Angela. Prior to being kidnapped she'd had a full ride scholarship waiting for her in the fall. Besides the problem of being dead, the scholarship was for track. Before her life went to hell she had been a two-time state champion distance runner and was scheduled to compete for a spot on the US Olympic Team before heading off to college. The surgery they did on her knee let her walk, and some day she may even be able to jog on it, but competitive running? No. The worst part for her wasn't physical though. It was what came after ... Can you imagine how it would feel to spend a month being held captive, tortured and raped? After it was over, could you imagine yourself actually missing it? Not the torture, she didn't miss that, but the rest. Amber — her new name since she was in hiding — was naturally very grateful for my rescuing her and wanted very much to express that thanks in the time honored way women have of thanking men they feel especially beholden to. The problem was every time she got close to me she started having strange thoughts about how that would work out. These thoughts were naturally very disturbing to her and she thought that there must be something very seriously wrong with her. At eighteen years old she didn't have the necessary experience to realize where these thoughts were coming from and that they were not the result of what had happened to her. Well, actually they were, but not in the way she thought at the time. If she hadn't been so embarrassed by her feelings she might have talked to one of the psyche people who were in charge of helping her and they might have been able to help her deal with it, but she was not just embarrassed, but disgusted by what she was feeling and therefore didn't. As is often the case, not understanding what she was feeling, and holding it all in, was driving her into a serious depression. With the help of another very special girl we were able to discover the reason for her depression. At first I wasn't ready to learn the truth, so after spending time observing Amber, she consulted with Bob and they came up with a way to educate me without freaking me out. The material they gave me was very helpful and it didn't take long for me to figure out on my own what was going on. Amber was a sexual submissive; somewhere deep inside was a part of her that not only enjoyed being dominated and controlled, but now, having had a taste of it, wanted it again. These were the thoughts that she was having every time we got close. The solution to the problem was simple. Amber needed a Master. Someone to take responsibility for her, teach her about herself and the feelings she was having. If you're not into the D/S lifestyle — and if you don't know what that means then you're not — the relationship between Master and Slave is based entirely on trust. And since the only person on the planet Amber trusted was me ... I really can't express how upset I was at discovering that at sixteen years old I was being handed my very own sex slave to care for, train, protect ... Again, if you understand the lifestyle you know what I mean, if you don't then you would have a really hard time understanding it. It's a lot of responsibility for anyone, but for a sixteen year old? I wasn't happy about it, but the alternative was letting my friend slowly slip further and further into what could easily be a fatal depression. As I said, we had help. Her name was Elizabeth Street and before he took Angela, the Sandman had kidnapped her to use as bait to flush Rebecca out. And it had worked. You know how on all the television shows the police won't take a missing persons report until someone has been gone for more than twenty-four hours? Well, that's actually true in most cases, but, less than eighteen hours after Easy — the nickname she gave herself, and proudly lives up to — less than eighteen hours after she disappeared Rebecca was on the scene trying to find her. That would have been impressive enough if she had lived in LA, but she lived several hundred miles further north, in Fresno. She was found in a vacant house across the street from her own home by a realtor showing the place to a prospective couple. Poor woman almost had a heart attack when she found the girl bound and unconscious in the master bedroom. Easy is a very special girl, and I don't mean that she's really nice. She is, but that's not the point. You see, Easy has a gift of her own. It's not anything like mine but it would be just as dangerous if anyone found out about it. The closest description I can think of would be to say that she is an empath. Not like Foster's character with the flying snake, but more like the girl in that old Star Trek episode where Kirk, Spock, and McCoy got kidnapped by those two ugly guys in tin-foil suits who took turns torturing them and then the girl would heal them. Lizzy's gift is kind of a combination of the two, only she doesn't do physical healing, she heals the hurts that don't show, and she doesn't just sense emotions; she sees them, and a lot of other things, when she looks at people. She can't tell you what color your eyes are but she can tell you're bitter and angry because your parents are getting a divorce. More importantly, she can fix it. She gave herself the nickname "Easy" as a cover for what she sees as her "Healing Ministry." Easy sees her special sight, and the healing gift, as coming directly from God and herself as one He has chosen to help ease the suffering in the world. The "Easy" part came about because her primary venue for healing is sex. In the hospital interview after Rebecca had 'found' her, she explained her gift and even demonstrated part of it — just the observation part — to Rebecca by telling her things about herself that she could see. Rebecca was impressed, very impressed. Corroborating testimony of sorts was obtained from Sheriff Dobbs, who had called Rebecca in the first place. Easy's gift lets her do other things too, like seeing me and Allison when we were spying on her in dreams for Rebecca. According to her, I'm another of God's chosen people; someone he has gifted to help deal with some of the more difficult problems here on Earth. We're engaged now by the way, and since the FBI and their psyche team decided Amber was ready to move on in her new life, she is also Amber's Mistress and cares for her while she is away at school. Since I was paying, I arranged for her to have classes at the same school as Lizzy, (only her friends get to call her that) the same school Elizabeth went to. Which, as you can imagine, works out really well for them both. Lizzy now has someone that she doesn't have to hide from and Amber has someone that understands her, and her needs. Someone that cares for her and makes her feel safe. Not physically safe, she still relies on me for that, but Lizzy provides both the guidance and the physical closeness Amber needs when I'm not there to do it myself. Wondering how that works? It's simple really; as Amber's Master I can do anything I want with her as long as I live up to my obligation to care for and protect her. That includes giving her to anyone I trust enough if I so choose. As her Master, Amber trusts me to never give her into the care of anyone that I cannot be assured would take the same care for her that I would. So, when the time came, I gave her to Elizabeth, to care for her in my absence. Simple enough really, don't you think? Not! After his escape, Interpol sent their top expert on the Sandman to assist Rebecca in tracking him down. Her name was Dahrinka Henslith, (that's dah-rink-ah, you have to pronounce the whole thing) and what no one knew was that the reason she was the top expert was that she knew him, had known him, for years. In fact, they had trained together. When I say they had trained together it's not what you may think. We're not talking Police Academy here ... I mentioned before that a lot of psychological testing had gone underground back in the seventies? Somewhere in Europe a group had begun playing with young people who showed signs of MPD: Multiple Personality Disorder. Not split personality, that's a convenient and completely incorrect term. Specifically they were looking for children who had a history of violent outbursts, extremely violent. Rene Kurtz, a.k.a. The Sandman, was one such boy. It turned out the woman we knew as Dahrinka Henslith, was another. But of course we didn't find that out until it was too late. They took them as children, in Rene's case after he was sentenced to prison for killing another boy who tried to rape him. They were both in a juvenile detention center and Rene was not the one the boy had assaulted, but he was the favored son of some high party official, so there was no trial, he was simply deemed too dangerous and sentenced to be transferred to a permanent facility as soon as he was old enough. Rene told me about his past, I don't know Dahrinka's story, or how she came to be selected for the program, but I'm sure it was something similar. Their parents were told they were going for special treatment to 'cure' them, and help them learn to control themselves. That was close to the truth but there was much more too it. You see, they weren't really interested in the children; they were after the alternate personas. The primary control they were taught was teaching the alternate how to hide better, and how to control itself when it took over. They became the ultimate spies. Hidden away but able to take control without the primary persona even realizing anything had happened. Dahrinka disappeared during the hunt for the Sandman. The manner of her disappearance suggested that he had taken her. We later figured out that it was staged to look that way on purpose. She wanted to disappear in such a way that no one would look for her, something her friend Rene had managed to do five years before. But before she left she spent several days on a stakeout with Rebecca. While they were alone she had drugged Rebecca and pumped her for information about the mysterious 'source' that had led her to Angela. Not long after Henslith disappeared the first attempt to kidnap me was made. After they kidnapped Britney the decision was made to put us all into hiding until we could figure out what was happening, who was behind it, and hopefully, how much they knew about me. The leader of the group that kidnapped Britney was a man named Yuri Khvlek. His day job was as a security consultant with the Romanian embassy, which meant the FBI couldn't even hold him, much less question him, but I could. It took a while and I was more than a little hard on him — basically he lived a nightmare for three days, but eventually he told me what I wanted to know, or at least as much as he knew. He had never met the person who had hired him, he just had a name. The name alone was enough to scare him into putting up with what I did to him for as long as he did. He said she would kill him if he talked. Since everything I was doing to him was in a dream state she wouldn't even know that he had told me. Of course he didn't know that, and in the end it didn't matter, because she killed him anyway, but not before I got her name, or the only name he knew. She was known as The Black Queen, and she had taken over the title of world's greatest assassin when the Sandman had dropped out of sight five years earlier. Enough pieces had fallen into place that I had a working suspicion regarding what was really going on and who was behind it. Before he died, Rene, the real Rene, whom I had helped to break free of his prison — buried deep in his own mind by the Sandman, confirmed that Dahrinka Henslith was one of the girls he had trained with many years before, and that The Black Queen was her alternate, and now she was after me. And then there is Jamie. The first thing Rebecca taught me when I got involved with all the weird stuff going on was the importance of being able to compartmentalize my life. To keep things separate and not let them get to me. To keep my 'working' life from interfering with my personal life, and to take the emotion out of a situation so you could deal with it. I never could have done half of what I have if not for that lesson. Seeing the kinds of things I was dealing with generated a lot of negative emotions and emotional energy. Left unchecked, the anger I felt could become rage, and blind me to steps I could be taking to solve the problem. So I learned to keep home, school, and my nightlife separate. One way I did this was by taking all the really bad stuff and stuffing it in a box. The box wasn't real; it was just a mental construct, a picture in my mind that I used to symbolize the action of putting those emotions away. Only it turned out there was something living in the box, something that was feeding on those dark emotions. The first indication that something might be amiss was the night I got jumped by three guys in the parking lot at the local mall. An old boyfriend of Angela's had taken a bit of a dislike to me. I don't blame him really, the feeling was mutual. I mean, the guy was an asshole and we both knew it, hell everyone knew it, but being the quarterback of our football team got him a lot of slack from everyone. Everyone else, that is; I had no problem at all pointing out what a jerk he was. One night he and two friends had caught up with me while I was putting some stuff in the trunk of my car. The first I knew anything was wrong was when Brad's fist slammed into the side of my face. The other two guys were kind enough to hold my arms while he punched me in the stomach. It didn't have the effect he wanted but when he swung at my face again things went strange and I suddenly found myself looking down at the scene as if I were viewing it from the top of nearby light pole. What I watched was me looking like Chuck Norris interrogating a group of bikers. Driscoll and Elliot got off easy, going home with a concussion and broken ribs; after the hospital released them that is. We'd all ended up in the hospital; me because I passed out when it was over and was unconscious for almost two days, the two of them due to their visible injuries, and Brad went because he needed very extensive surgery to put his arm back together. It hadn't been necessary, but whatever had shoved me out and taken over wasn't happy with just winning and it had shattered his elbow, driving the joint almost ninety degrees the wrong way. As horrible as that was it wasn't through yet and I was forced to watch as whatever was in control prepared to kill him. The image still haunts me; Brad was on his knees, helpless, screaming in pain and rapidly going into shock from the damage to his arm, I could see my focus narrowing and my body shifting in preparation for one last kick to the base of his skull. If Allison hadn't chosen that moment to show up and scream for me to stop I have no doubt that I would have killed him. Only it hadn't been me. That was when I passed out. Several months later a similar event took place only this time I killed five people without laying a hand on them. Whatever was inside, working to protect me apparently had access to my gift in a way I never knew existed. It happened one morning when five men invaded my bank. I had stopped by to put the title to my truck in my safe deposit box and was waiting for the lady to bring my box out of the vault when a guy in blue overalls showed up instead, told me to keep quiet and follow him. The silenced Glock in his hand was all the motivation I needed. When I reached the lobby the blinds were closed, two vans were parked across the front entrance, and all of the employees were gathered together sitting in the middle of the lobby floor with duct tape securing their hands behind them and over their mouths. Even more shocking was that Allison was sitting with them; she had been waiting in the truck for me to come back out. They bound me up the same as the others and told me to sit quietly. That was when the fun started. As before I felt myself being shoved out and then my awareness shifted so that I was staring out of the eyes of the man tasked with watching us. He seemed fixated on the newest teller and was having a little fantasy about the two of them having sex somewhere. Only it wasn't all fantasy. At least part of it was memory, and from the conversation, they knew each other very well. The next thing I knew the scene was changing and he was now in a small structure with what appeared to be a naked Vietnamese woman who had taken the place of the teller. It only took me a moment to realize what had happened. Something had taken over the little fantasy he had been having and changed it, pulling something else from his memory and overlaying it on his reality. A man's voice yells that they have to go and he pulls his .45 out and shoots the girl. Screams erupt and my attention becomes divided between the bank and the daydream. There on the floor in front of me, Linda, the new teller, lies in a pool of her own blood, a spray of crimson and grey spread out behind her and all the other employees struggling to get away from her. The scene changed again and he was working his way through the jungle in an attempt to get out of the area before enemy soldiers find him. As he was fleeing two popped out of the jungle and he quickly shot them. Back in the bank two of his partners who had run out of the vault to see what the screaming was about suddenly dropped dead of lead poisoning. The gunman then sneaked through the bank like he was back in the jungle. Moving to the doorway that leads to the vault and looking inside he raised his gun again. Just as he fired two slugs, apparently fired by whoever was in the vault tore into his chest and he dropped to the floor, the gun still clutched in his hand. I was still tied into the subconscious of the gunman when he was shot and I collapsed on the floor as he fell. Allison realized what had happened right away, leaning down she told me to stay there. The guard they had stationed outside popped in, took one look at the scene, and split with the van they had been loading stuff into. Instantly Allison was up and running to the nearest desk, where she quickly dialed 911, screams and shoves the phone off the desk. When they asked her why she had done that, she said that if she had answered they would have wasted time asking questions, but this way they would just haul ass to the bank. Smart girl, getting me out of there before the cops showed up and we were stuck there all day or until our parents could come and get us. Most likely with police officers and FBI agents asking questions every time they walked by. Things finally came to a head the night Shannon's family was killed by a runaway truck on the way home from out house. Somehow I witnessed the event from my kitchen. Shannon should have died in the accident along with the others but somehow she managed to cling to life. At the same time I started having physical problems. It didn't take long for Allison to connect the dots as over the next few days, every time Shannon tried to die in the hospital, I had a seizure. A quick consultation with Lizzy confirmed her suspicions. Something was taking energy from me to try and keep Shannon alive. The doctors couldn't understand why she was alive in the first place and they told us in no uncertain terms what it would mean if she somehow pulled through. It wasn't a life either of us would have wanted, and we knew in our hearts that she wouldn't either. To make matters worse according to Lizzy, my energy was draining at such a high rate that if we didn't find a way to sever the connection, I would die when she did. That was the longest, hardest, most painful night of my life. The only option was to somehow find whatever had been hiding in me and stop it before it killed us all. With a little help that I still can't explain, I managed to locate the problem and deal with it. What I had called, "The Beast in the Box," turned out to be a part of me, immature, barely sentient, and existing on the emotional energy I shoved its way. I almost lost everything by trying to destroy it, but at the last minute Lizzy stopped me. I found out later it wasn't really Lizzy, but at the time it didn't matter. Somehow this 'not-Lizzy' managed to merge with me and allow me to see the thing through her eyes. What I saw was a child shape, battered and broken from our fight, doing its best to comfort and protect the unconscious image of Shannon that lay sleeping in the field where I had finally caught up with it. Using Lizzy's vision I was able to see that this was not some mindless beast keeping Shannon prisoner but a child trying to save the woman it loved. As I moved forward again it tried desperately to prepare itself for my next attack, struggling to stand on the leg I had broken. Instead I sat on the grass and talked to it, apologizing for hurting it, healing the damage I had done, and explaining that it had to let Shannon go, that it could not save her, and that if it continued to try that it would kill us all. The image it was holding was the piece of her that came to us in dreams, and I woke her up just long enough for her to beg us to let her go. "Please," she had moaned through the pain. "Please let me go ... If you love me..." I put her back to sleep to free her from the pain once more and then I sat with the small child-shape in my lap and we cried together for what we had to do. Then I kissed it and found I couldn't pull away. Before my eyes it began to grow and change. When it finally stopped and I could pull my lips away I found myself staring at a ... clone isn't the right word. Can identical twins be different sexes? I looked it up and in the real world the answer is no. The closest you get is a genetic affliction called Turner's syndrome where in the separated zygotes of two identical twin boys, one somehow loses the 'Y' chromosome and develops as a female. Technically it's not a female either, at least not functionally, as without the missing gene the reproductive system does not develop, only the 'primary external characteristics', meaning that it has a vagina and no penis so we call it a girl even though it's essentially neuter. They generally have other developmental problems as well, but in my case I was inches away from myself had I been born a girl. To this day I wonder if I somehow influenced the outcome. I'm not homophobic but I wouldn't be comfortable kissing a guy either and I have often wondered if that somehow influenced the outcome. Jamie is a completely functional female person living inside of me. Not a separate personality, but a separate person, a separate consciousness. Or at least that's the best explanation we've been able to come up with. Now that she is no longer hiding, Lizzy sees her as a separate person when she is outside of me, which she can be for short periods of time. It's easiest in dreams — easier on the others as well, as they can actually see her then. Conversations in the real world can get a little tedious when I'm the only one that can hear her. With a little experimentation we discovered that we could exist and interact separately, not only in dreams, but for brief periods in real life as well. This came after she successfully merged with Allison one day after school. We also learned that there are some serious dangers to her being in other people, so we're real careful with it. Her most recent excursion almost cost her her life, but since she was trying to save mine, and hers, at the time so I understood why she had done it. It worked, we both survived, but when it was over she didn't have the strength to get back and I was too beat up to get to her in time. Thankfully Walter was able to help her back to me; another long story there. That little excursion had come at the end of the hunt for the Sandman, and if not for her effort, he likely would have killed me. As it was ... well, again, long story. We got lucky, he's dead, we're alive, and no one else knows we were even there. Jamie is just as strongly homosexual as I am heterosexual. Fortunately she shares my taste in women, a fact the women who know her find very convenient as well. So now, here I am, sixteen years old, forced to drop out of high school, hiding in plain sight from a woman half the world is after and whose name alone makes bad ass killers like Yuri Khvlek practically wet themselves. I'm doing this by masquerading as David Malcolm, a twenty-two-year-old bounty hunter who recently moved to Las Vegas. Meanwhile my family, and the family of a really nice girl name Britney — whose only crime was going on a date and coming to my house once for dinner — are all hidden away in FBI safe houses. Why Vegas? Back during the initial search for the Sandman, one of his victims didn't seem to fit the profile quite right. She was his second victim and on the surface everything seemed okay. But where his other two victims, Diane McKenzie was the first; Maria Pena the third, had lasted three or four weeks before he killed them, the second victim, Amanda Watkins had been killed and dumped in a Vegas hotel in just over a week. Interviews with the families of the victims had confirmed they were all naughty girls, except Amanda's family, who insisted she was pure as Christmas snow — you know; the magical kind like Frosty was made out of — only Rebecca knew better. We'd seen footage of Amanda getting her brains fucked out by two men in that very same room. In fact, one of them was the man sitting there lying to Rebecca. The problem was that the footage we had seen we had gotten from the visions I shared with her killer. It was a memory of a recording he had made using the camera hidden in their living room smoke detector. What was left of Amanda's family — mother, father, and two sisters — had all been present for the interview, but only Frank, her father, had spoken, fielding even those questions addressed to his wife. Based on the reactions of the older sister there was more to the story than we were being told. With nowhere else to turn Rebecca asked me to bridge Samantha, the older sister, and see if we could get more from her. Apparently, sisters always know. Samantha knew all right. In fact she knew more, far more, than I ever wanted to know. Amanda was being molested by her father before she died, so was Samantha, and not just by their father. To make a long story short, in investigating Amanda's murder we had stumbled onto something totally unexpected. Amanda's father, the other man in the video, and a fairly large group of others, were using their daughters as sex slaves. Not like Amber; Amber's situation was purely voluntary she could walk away any time she wanted. Not to mention that she was eighteen and at least legal. These girls had no choice, no control, no safe words. They just did what they were they told, when they were told to, with whomever they were told to do it, without question or hesitation. They were traded around the group like baseball cards. And it wasn't just the fathers either; the wives were in on it as well. The group was well hidden, well protected and ruthless in their enforcement of their rules. The girls were watched constantly; sometimes by other members of the group, sometimes just by the other girls, without even knowing who was watching them. In one dream I watched as Samantha was questioned about the activities of a girl she had been charged with watching. She was also questioned about a young man she had spoken to at school. It was obvious from her response that she did not know the conversation had been witnessed and was worried about what may have been reported back. No one knew everyone, so you could never be sure when you might be under surveillance, and they didn't dare let their guards down. The slightest offense was grounds for punishment. The logical question, the one I had asked, was, "punished how?" You don't want to know. Let's just say they were creative, and did I mentioned ruthless? According to Samantha, one girl had made plans to run away and confided her plan to another girl in the group that she was close to. She was caught and sold into slavery somewhere in the Middle East. Before they shipped her off they got her to confess that she had told her friend of her plans. Her friend was then punished for not turning her in. They gave her the chair. The chair wasn't actually a chair, it was something they strapped you to that held you suspended above the ground, immobile and open. Punishment was a group affair, everyone came, the parents to participate, the girls to see what could happen to them if they disobeyed. It took place in a large room. My guess was that it was actually a small warehouse owned by one of the members, but it could have just as easily been something they rented for the occasion. Three days, that's how long she was suspended in the air. Three days being raped in every available orifice. Men, single and in groups, used her over and over again. According to Samantha they only stopped to give her a little water and mop up the puddles of semen that accumulated on the floor below her. I later saw it from another perspective, and learned that she had omitted certain details. Like the fact that some of the women took their turns as well, using handheld devices, strap-ons, fingers ... It took her a week to recover well enough to walk. A week she spent locked up in the basement exam room operated by one of the members. His name was Stephen Hendricks, and he was a doctor. His wife had set him up with the group and now he was being blackmailed into providing whatever medical treatment the girls may need. By the time she got out there was no physical evidence of any kind to sustain an accusation of molestation. Everyone except the girl wore hoods during punishment so there was no way to identify who did what. Like I said, no one knew everyone. Not all punishment was that severe; you had to really piss them off to get one of the public ceremonies. Another girl actually went to the police and accused her father of molesting her. Pedophiles don't do well in jail and he was no exception. He didn't last the day before someone killed him. We discovered later that the murder was set up by members of the group with connections to the police department. It's amazing what you can buy with a carton of cigarettes and an alibi these days. The very same night the girl, her sister, and her mother were murdered in their home. It was carefully set up to look as if the mother, distraught over what had been happening right under her nose had killed the two girls and taken her own life. That's not what happened but the detective in charge of the case was a part of the group and made sure that the evidence he gathered and reported supported that theory. As I'm sure you can imagine, Rebecca was so pissed she could hardly see straight. Knowing something like this is going on, and that you can't touch it would be hard, but it was well outside her jurisdiction. Unless the locals invited the FBI to the party, they couldn't get involved without a really good reason. Plus she had no evidence of any kind to back whatever claims she might make, and no way of knowing if whomever she might choose to tell was actually involved in it. ------- Chapter 1 It was shaping up to be a pretty good day and I had high hopes that my recent run of good Karma was continuing. The desert air was cool and dry on my skin, lapping up the perspiration as I passed the halfway point of my morning run; only five more miles and I could hit the pool for laps to cool me down and stretch me out. The temperature was already up several degrees from the brisk sixty-five degrees it had been when I left my apartment at 5:30. The sky was showing signs that dawn was not far off. Once the sun cleared the mountains it would heat up fast. According to the weatherman it was only supposed to reach the low nineties. Sure, you bet. I ranked the odds he was right somewhere up around pulling an inside straight flush on the last hand of the Friday night open poker tournament at the Luxor. Weatherman has got to be one of the coolest gigs out there. Where else can you make that kind of money to be wrong so much of the time? I was born and raised in Southern California and hadn't been in Vegas that long but even I could tell it was going to hit triple digits. According to America's most trusted weather guide, the Farmer's Almanac, October was a month of dramatic change for the area and temperatures would indeed hit his target range. He was just a few weeks early, was all. I was enjoying the cooler morning air though. The low humidity was a big change from the LA Basin and made running a real joy, but I knew that in a few more weeks those brisk morning temperatures were going to drop below the comfort zone and I would either have to start later or, more likely, find a gym with an indoor track that opened early. But for now it appeared as if my good Karma was continuing. Or not ... my phone rang just as I got back. Normally that worries me early in the morning. "Hello?" I answered. "David? Hi, it's Christine. I was expecting to get your voice mail and I was just going to leave you a message, but this is better. I don't have much time; we're about to start boarding." "I understand. What's up?" "Well, I was wondering if you were free for dinner tomorrow night. We're flying back in to Vegas tomorrow and I've got the night off so..." I cut her off. "Christine, I would love to have dinner with you," I said. "But I don't know if we can do that yet. I need to check with Tony and see if he thinks it's okay. Go ahead and give me your flight information and if he says it's okay I'll pick you up. Either way, I'll text you so you'll know, okay?" "Okay, but if he says it's okay, you have to promise you won't spoil me like last time. No expensive hotels and I'm buying dinner this time, okay?" "I can live with that," I said. "So when do you get in?" Christine Payson was a twenty-six year old flight attendant I had met on my initial trip to Sin City. My plans had been rushed to say the least and the only seat I had been able to get on short notice had been in what they called Business Class. Christine was one of the attendants working the Business and First Class section. It actually was the same section; the only difference was my seat didn't fold out into a penthouse. Jamie, my sister-slash-alter ego, thought she was hot and wanted to meet her, and since we actually had a legitimate reason it had been pretty easy. Over the course of the flight, I convinced her to chaperone me around the city, in exchange for lunch, while I did some shopping. Providence stuck a finger in and we ended up spending the night in a palatial suite at the Bellagio before she flew out the following morning. None of it was planned but everyone was very happy with the way things worked out. Then her asshole of a pilot had to go and ruin it. The entire flight crew had seen us leaving the airport together. They may not have seen the limo the hotel sent to pick us up, but they had seen me waiting in the terminal for her to deplane, and we had walked out together. Naturally, that sparked speculation, and the following day — after she had failed to check in to the hotel room the airline provided for layovers, the others naturally wanted all the details. It was just girl talk but even a big plane is a small place and when he heard where she had spent the night, Captain Wonderful decided to make an ass of himself. Sometime after he hit on her and after she turned him down he actually went so far as to suggest that it was a money thing. Yeah, he called her a whore, in front of not only the rest of the flight crew but at least two passengers. The co-pilot had actually overheard him telling her that he couldn't afford the whole night but how much for just a blowjob? The guy is slime. According to my sister, Allison, I hover somewhere between Boy Scout and Knight in Shining Armor, so when I finally got the story out of Christine, my overgrown sense of justice went into overdrive and I called my lawyer. He ended up filing two separate lawsuits, one on Christine's behalf against Captain Dickhead and the airline for sexual harassment, the other against him personally for slander and defamation. The idea was that when he suggested Christine was willing to have sex for money, by extension he was labeling me as someone who consorts with prostitutes, and, since the rest of the flight crew had access to the passenger manifest and therefore my information ... well, you get the picture. The airline would conduct their own interviews but just to make sure they understood how badly they were screwed I had dropped in on the passengers who had witnessed the exchange and, using dreams that were carefully crafted to increase their sense of outrage, given them a little over-night encouragement to contact the airline. One sent an email, the other actually called in a complaint. Of course, I hadn't told Tony about that part. He's that rare exception that allows you to use the words 'ethical' and 'attorney' in the same sentence. As an attorney looking at a potentially huge settlement, Tony, was a little disappointed that I wasn't interested in going after the brass ring, but he liked my approach and respected my decision. About the settlement, I mean, he had no idea of the tactics I was using to pad the odds. I'm not really a lawsuit kind of guy and I was looking at this as a corrective action, not punitive. Of course if the airline didn't take the settlement offer I had prepared for them then the gloves were off and he was free to handle it however he saw fit. He assured me they would take the offer, and since part of that was a hefty fee for him — one way out of proportion with the amount of time he was actually spending on the case but nothing compared to what he would get if we went to court and got a settlement, he was willing to make the effort. Most people, including Tony and Christine, know me as David Malcolm, a young and apparently successful young businessman. In fact, I first met Tony — my attorney, Anthony Cicarelli — to discuss setting up a corporation for me. I realized the need when, over dinner, Christine asked me what I did for a living and I had to think fast to come up with something. She had almost choked on her fork when I said, "Bounty Hunter." I couldn't blame her for the reaction. My most recent growth spurt had left me at the towering height of five-foot-eight and I'm a little on the lean side. Compact is a good word. I'm a lot stronger than I look, but I don't bulge, and according to the people that matter, including Christine, I fill out my clothes nicely. She should know, she helped me pick out most of my current wardrobe. When we met I had two pairs of jeans, several t-shirts, and a couple changes of underwear to my name. I've been running for exercise since I was very young and while I've filled out well, my over-all build reflects it. A year ago I was a bit of a runt, but then, a year ago I was fifteen and a freshman in high school, living at home with Allison and my parents. It's amazing how much my life has changed since then. I live in the pool-house apartment of an elderly widow that I met while car shopping in Las Vegas. Her husband had developed a gambling problem late in life and left behind enough debt to wipe out his life insurance policy. She also discovered that he had mortgaged their home and now she couldn't afford the payment and was being forced to sell off the house and her husband's car — which was the reason for my visit in the first place — and move in with her daughter. I felt bad for her situation, but it wasn't until I heard about, and saw, the detached apartment and large swimming pool out back that wheels had started turning in my head. The pool had clearly been designed for exercise rather than recreation or aesthetics. Don't get me wrong, it looked great and there was plenty of room to play, but at thirty meters by three it wasn't what you would call stylish. The surrounding patio was all done in stone and if not for the fact that all but the immediate area around the pool was covered it would have been brutally hot in the summer. There were also decorative planters scattered around to give the area some color and life, and misters to cool the area in the heat of summer. He had even had the foresight to hook the misters into the home's water softener so that they wouldn't get plugged up by the minerals in the water. The pool-house itself was very nicely laid out, but at the moment all I could think was that it still looked empty. In fact, there was very little to suggest that an actual person lived here. I'm not much of a decorator. Go figure. Maybe I should talk to someone about giving the place a makeover. I was sure Doreen would help if I asked her but I didn't think that would be a good idea. Most people tend to stay with what is familiar and comfortable; the last thing I wanted was for the place to remind her of her late husband. I spent over an hour just putting together a grocery list, and I about died when I got to the grocery store, and realized what it was going to cost me to outfit my new place with just the basics. Thinking of money reminded me that I needed to check on the other account Rene had mentioned before he died. I added that to my list of things to do. By the time I got back from the grocery store it was almost ten, so I called Tony's office to discuss my conversation with Christine. He confirmed that it would be best if Christine and I didn't see each other just yet. That really bothered me since I had been looking forward to seeing her again, but I could live with it if it meant getting what I wanted for Christine. Tony said that he wanted to meet with her anyway so he would pick her up and explain everything. Well, almost everything; we weren't telling her about the settlement offer we had in mind for the airline. He also informed me that the preliminary filings for the new companies were done and I owned the names one way or the other. On the advice of my resident genius — my sister Allison — I had asked Tony to set up two new corporations for me. The primary company, Sha-Mar Enterprises, was essentially a holding company for the sub-corporation, Finder's Incorporated, which would be my day-to-day business, allowing me an added layer of privacy to hide behind; ironic, considering David Malcolm wasn't actually hiding but if nothing else, the last six months had taught me that you can't be too careful. Besides, no one knew that David Malcolm owned Sha-Mar; only that Sha-Mar owned Finder's and David ran it. The names were unique enough that Tony considered it was highly unlikely to hit any obstacles due to someone else already using either of them, or having just thought of a catchy name and licensed it with the idea of selling them if someone else thought of it later. He personally recommended waiting; but said that if I wanted to I could proceed with some of the other steps in getting the business up and running. There wasn't much I could do on the corporate side until I had the tax ID number, but since I was going to have to personally guarantee any corporate purchasing for at least the first year — or until it had established a sufficient credit profile of its own — there was no harm in me spending money. "Just about anything you want," he had explained. "Within reason that is, can be charged against the corporation for tax purposes and reimbursed if you're paying cash. Just make sure you keep your receipts for your accountant." He had even offered to recommend a couple. Any city where this much cash was constantly changing hands had to be both an auditing nightmare and a shark-pool for the IRS. A top notch accountant could probably name his price. I decided I'd wait and see what kinds of expenses I was going to be dealing with before I took that step. The down side of a new identity was that while they had given me some credit, I was still "only" twenty-two — six years older than my actual age — so I didn't have much depth. Not to mention a relatively low limit on my credit card. It's a good thing I'd put all that cash on account over at the Bellagio. My credit card limit wouldn't have covered more than the first two nights. A couple of quick phone calls took care of most of the problem. It's amazing how friendly people get when you throw money at them. Two hundred thousand in a small business account with American Express will get your new Corporate Cards sent overnight, after they talked to your attorney and confirmed all your information of course. I got five cards in the company name. One for me, Allison's under her new identity as Charlotte Montgomery, Lizzy, Amber, and, since things were going so well and I was feeling positive, one for my new secretary. They also gave me a phone number to call if I needed anything before the cards arrived. Now that that was handled, I made myself a quick sandwich for lunch and headed out to see about getting a couple of cell phones in the company name. I actually ended up with three: one for me, of course, one for my secretary, and a pre-paid just in case I needed something disposable and untraceable on short notice. That one I paid cash for at a kiosk in the mall rather than purchasing through my new cell provider. And of course I still had the phone the FBI had given me. It's hard to be an anonymous source when your cell phone can be traced, so they had provided me with one that couldn't be tracked. I thought about getting phones for Amber and Lizzy on the company as well, but decided to hold off for the time being. I wasn't sure if Lizzy was under contract or not, and it wouldn't save any money getting her a company phone if we had to pay early termination penalties on hers. I wasn't sure Amber even needed one since she would be spending most of her time with Lizzy, so I decided to wait and see what Lizzy thought we should do. I couldn't get one for Allison just yet without raising suspicion; the credit card would remain locked up in the office until I was able to give it to her in person so she could put it away with her other ID. Besides, getting them all phones on the company would be drawing lines connecting them to me; never a good idea when you're in hiding. The idea of locking up the credit card got me thinking about security and I realized I didn't actually have a way to lock it up. I called Tony and he recommended a cabinet style gun safe. "They're large enough to handle just about anything you might want or need secured in a home or small business environment, and they're not really that expensive. You can get a basic one for a couple hundred dollars but I wouldn't trust it for anything even moderately important. If you're only interested in security you can stay under a grand but for about twice that you can get something that would protect the contents even if the house was destroyed." His next question threw me. "You do much shooting, David?" "I know which end to hold," I said cautiously, not sure where he was going. "Ever shoot skeet?" "No, never really had the chance." "You ever want to, give me a call, I'll take you out to my club. It's a nice place; we've got indoor and outdoor ranges for pistols and rifles, and a competition trap range." "Please?" Jamie implored. I could feel her excitement at actually getting to shoot something. "Sounds like fun, I may have to take you up on that. Where's a good place to shop for a safe?" "Castle Gun and Safe, as in 'A man's home is his castle'. They carry just about anything you could want; if it's legal, they have it — including tactical gear, storage, ammunition ... They're even licensed to carry belted ammo for the local machine gun club. You ever want to have some serious fun, go to one of their little get-togethers. You can't believe the stuff those guys collect. I was at one a couple years ago; guy had a civil war Gatling-gun." A surge of adrenaline shot through me. "Down girl; behave yourself!" "Sounds like a blast, keep me in mind next time." I told Tony. "Well, you know what they say, 'happiness is a belt-fed weapon, ' but for a blast... that's the American Cannon Club. Those guys are fucking crazy! Never been to an actual shoot but I watched a piece about them on Discovery. They shoot fifty gallon drums from like a mile away. Depending on the piece it can cost you hundreds of dollars per shot. Not to mention the cost of getting it there. You can't imagine what it costs to get a permit." "Well, they've got lots of desert to practice in," I said. "Are you kidding?" he laughed. "And risk disturbing the habitat of some enviro-nut's pet critter? It's insane what these guys go through to get their rocks off. Tina and I go out to the club a couple times a month, let me know if you ever want to come along." "Your wife shoots?" "Are you kidding? Annie Oakley, that one. Shoot the asshole out of a jackrabbit running in high gear." "Like I said, it sounds like fun. Why don't you give me a call next time you're going out?" "You'll need a date," he said. "Tina doesn't like to be outnumbered, not when she's shooting anyway." I decided to leave that one alone. "As long as I have a few days notice." "Done," he said. "I have to meet with a client; I'll let you know if I hear anything from the airline. Just leave a message with Janelle if you need anything else." We hung up and I contemplated what shopping I still had left to do. I really needed more clothes but I didn't trust my judgment. I had hoped that maybe Christine and I could go out shopping again, but now it looked like that may be delayed and I couldn't really put it off for long. I'm not really part of the suit and tie crowd, but I needed to dress in such a way as to instill confidence in clients and in casual clothes I still looked too close to my real age. In order for the business to be an effective cover I was actually going to have to find some things, or some people. I wanted to work up as quickly as possible to the higher end of the scale, so I didn't actually have to do as much and could devote my time to other things while still making enough money to cover my lifestyle without attracting attention. I wasn't really sure what those other things might be just yet, but surely I could find something constructive to do with my talent. Maybe I should talk to Bob about some career counseling. There was a knock at the door and, of course, it was Doreen. "Hi Doreen," I said, opening the door. "Come on in, I've just been trying to get things organized. Did you need something?" "No, not really, I just wanted to make sure you were settling in okay. Do you need anything?" "I probably need a lot of things, but I won't know what they are until I miss them. This is my first time setting up a house on my own. I spent most of the day shopping and I've still got more to do. Man, I can't believe how much some of this stuff costs. Especially spices! I used to shop for meals when it was my week to cook at home, but we always had all the other stuff." She was chuckling pretty good before I finished. "Boys," she said, shaking her head. "Where did you go?" I thought she was going to hit me when I told her the name of the supermarket. "Well no wonder!" she exclaimed. "Now you listen to me, you get ready to go shopping again you bring your list to me and I'll go with you. Lord have mercy, I can't believe your momma let you go out by yourself. Now, while we're on the subject, I've been trying to put together a menu for this week, and I wanted to see if there was anything special you might like to have?" "Doreen, I'm renting your pool house, I don't expect you to cook for me." "You are new at this. David, there is no sadder thing in this world than trying to cook for one. Two ain't much better, but it's a start, and there is just no good reason for both of us to be sitting and eating alone night after night. Now I understand that you're a busy young man and I certainly don't expect you here every night but, David," her voice took on a bit more texture, "it would surely be nice if you could join me now and then." I could hear the loneliness in her voice and I suspected she was working hard to keep the tears back as well. "Weren't we just talking recently about how much it sucked to be alone?" Jamie asked. "You know Doreen," I said. "You're right, and I do hate eating alone, but I'll only do it on one condition; I buy the groceries." She started to object but I just held up my hand and kept going. "No, that's it, my one and final offer. I will have dinner with you on the nights I'm available and don't have plans, but only if you let me pay for the food. That's the deal, take it or leave it." "David, now that just wouldn't be right, you paying for everything. I'm eating too, and from the look of it, I eat a whole lot more than you do. How about if you just buy the meat, would that be all right?" The meat was usually the most expensive part anyway so I decided it was a good compromise. "Okay, I'll do the meat but you have to let me help with the dishes." "Oh don't be ridiculous," she began but then she caught the look in my eyes. "Okay, you can help with the dishes." "Good," I said. "Now that that's settled I wanted to talk to you about a few things. I probably should have brought this up sooner. There are some things I feel you should know about my business..." I knew Lizzy and Amber were expecting me so I turned in early, locking the door and pulling the shades before stepping across into my own private world. They were in the dorm room, cuddled together on Lizzy's bed. Once again Lizzy was anxious and Amber didn't know why. I closed my eyes and sent Elizabeth a daydream of what I had in mind before calling softly, "Amber." I watched as she relaxed into sleep and then held her there rather than bringing her into dreamspace. It would be more accurate to say that I sent her to an empty dream space that was dark and quiet with nothing for her mind to focus on and just sort of left her floating there. Once Amber was asleep Lizzy got up and walked to the closet, opened the door, stepped inside and then turned around so she could see the room. Bracing herself in the doorway so she wouldn't fall, she spoke a trigger and dropped into dreamspace with the vision fresh in her mind and then recreated it for me. I replaced her vision with one of my own and overlaid the two in my mind. I sent Lizzy back and she quickly stepped to the side where she wouldn't be in the way or interfere with the image I was using. This was a big step; moving from the warehouse to the park was astounding but still a short distance. Going from Vegas to LA to spend the night with Allison had been a lot farther but still less than four hundred miles. This was over five times that distance. I took a deep breath and crossed the threshold I had created in my mind. "That is amazing," Lizzy said, stepping forward again and cuddling up to my side as I exited the closet. "I think it's the coolest thing you've come up with yet; that and the healing thing. Now I can have you here with me anytime we want." "Yes, and if it weren't for the whole waiting thing, I'd take full advantage of it," I said. "If we weren't waiting I'd say you damned well better," she said, giving me a little extra squeeze to my ribs for emphasis. "For now, kiss me and I'll leave you two alone for a while. I need to go spend some time with Carol. I've been spending so much time with Amber she's starting to think I don't love her anymore." Carol was one of Lizzy's newest friends; I'd met her on my one and only visit to Indiana, which was also the very first time I ever met Lizzy — which was really weird considering we were already engaged by then. Carol was also her patient, or one of them anyway — I keep a safe distance from that part of her life. Carol had some issues from her past that Lizzy was trying to get her over. Carol had never actually mentioned them but that didn't prevent Lizzy from not only knowing they were there, but seeing the pain they were causing her. She had asked me to make her a key that allowed her access to Carol's dreams so she could try and figure out what was going on. It was the same approach we had used to figure out Angela's problem not so long before, but we hadn't talked about it since then. "I didn't think you'd gotten that far along yet," I said. "We haven't, and I've sort of been hoping she would miss me enough to move a little farther along. I'm meeting her in her dorm so we can study. Now that she's seen me with Amber there are no more illusions and she can't deny what she sees when I look at her. We've still got a ways to go, but I think maybe soon she'll be ready to let her guard down a little and talk to me. If I could just get her to kiss me..." "I could send Jamie along; if she does kiss you it'll be a repeat of us at Frankie's that first night. Just whatever you do, don't kiss her while Jamie is inside her!" "Spoil sport!" Jamie complained. "Don't joke about that sis. We can't take the chance that I may not be the only one that has that affect on you. It was a damn good thing it was Allison that first time. It scares me to think what would have happened if it had been Britney." "Afraid she might never forgive you? More likely she'd never let you out of her sight." "That's not an improvement in my mind," I replied. "It would be rape, Jamie, no different than if I'd slipped something in her drink to make her horny. Even if she liked it and wanted it again, that's not my idea of consensual." "I know," she said. "And I'm sorry. You're right and I shouldn't joke about it." "Must be serious if it actually required a conversation with Jamie," Lizzy said, having correctly guessed the reason for my sudden silence. "Are you telling her to behave herself? Because she doesn't have to with me you know." "I think she does for this," I replied. "Remind me and I'll explain later. Just be damned sure you know where Jamie is at all times." "Hmmm, sounds interesting. I'd say I'll keep an eye on her but if it's that serious I won't need to. She's may be a bitch but she's a good girl. I'll see you..." she gave me a little poke in the chest and then pulled me in close. " ... later. Tell Amber not to wait up. I love you." "I love you too." We kissed, Jamie taking advantage of the contact to merge with her, and they left. I locked the door behind her and then went to wake Angela up. Of course the idea was that she wouldn't be able to tell if it was real or a dream, so as far as she was concerned she was transitioning into a dream with me that just happened to be taking place in her dorm. Lizzy was looking forward to her reaction when she found out the truth in the morning. Whatever happened with Carol, Lizzy didn't come back until morning. Jamie showed up after a couple hours and informed me that things were going well. I hid out in the closet the next morning after Lizzy came in and watched through the slatted door as she woke Amber up. "Good morning Mistress," she said, stretching. "Did I oversleep?" "No," Lizzy said, bending down and kissing her. "How do you feel?" She asked. "Tired," Amber answered, stretching again. "It's strange; I don't normally feel this way after spending time with my Master. I usually feel rested and refreshed but this time I'm tired and ... ow!" she said, grimacing slightly. "Ugh, and my legs are sore." "So you're saying this morning you actually feel like you spent the night getting your brains fucked out?" Amber made a face and said, "Yeah, I do." She giggled and it was clearly Angela speaking now. It's a subtle difference but I could always tell who she was moment to moment. I often wondered if this was what it was like dealing with someone who truly had multiple personalities. Amber had started as a cover identity while Angela was in hiding, but after Angela's submissive nature became apparent it just made it easier for her to use 'Amber' as the host for that side of herself. Her control was so good that it was like flipping a switch as she moved in and out of character. Most of the time she was Amber, especially when she was with us in public, but alone she was free to be her old self if she chose. "Don't get me wrong, it's a wonderful ache and I wish it was real, but I don't usually react this way to ... you know. Do you think maybe it's because I was Angela all night and she's not used to it?" It was nice to see that even in the privacy of their room she would not say out loud that it was a dream. "Well here is another surprise," Lizzy said, pulling the covers back, exposing Amber's naked body. "Maybe this will help explain it." Even from where I was I could see the signs. Her lips were red and swollen and there was evidence that something sticky had dried on her skin. "Someone needs a shower," Lizzy said with a giggle. "Oh my god," she gasped, shock and fear bringing Amber once more to full control. "Mistress, how is this possible?" "Apparently, your Master's latest trials have revealed new depths to his talents." "He certainly is talented," Amber said with a grin. "And there is definitely no problem with his depth!" I found it interesting that in a moment of panic "Angela" had hidden and even though Amber was the 'submissive' side, she now felt safe in the presence of her Mistress where "Angela" had not. Safe enough to make jokes anyway. "That's not what I meant, you naughty girl," Lizzy said, smacking her with a pillow. Amber quickly grabbed another one to defend herself but Lizzy drew back. "Attend me." Instantly Amber dropped the pillow and slid to the floor, complacent and attentive, hands folded delicately in her lap, eyes averted. "What is your will, Mistress?" "I have a surprise for you, close your eyes." When she did, I stepped out of the closet, and moved to stand next to Lizzy. "Open your eyes." For a second it looked like maybe they weren't going to stop opening as they just kept getting bigger. "Master?" she breathed, not believing what she saw. "Good morning, Amber," I said, reaching down and lifting her with a finger under her chin. I wasn't actually lifting her of course, the movement was merely an indication that I wanted her to rise and she flowed to her feet like water running uphill. "I hope you like your surprise," I said, leaning in and kissing her thoroughly, our tongues dancing a good-morning duet. "I love it," she said with tears in her eyes when we finally broke apart. "I have wanted to be with you, really be with you, for so long. I thought it was all a dream, last night I mean." "If it had been a dream I wouldn't have been reminding you constantly to keep it down," I pointed out. She smiled. "You always did bring that out in me; I'm surprised they didn't throw us out of the hotel that night after prom." "Obviously this is something that is never to be discussed," Lizzy said. "Tell us Amber, do you feel safe, truly safe at all times?" She lowered her eyes, "No, Mistress. I only feel truly safe when I am with you. I try but..." "I understand," Lizzy said. "In dreams you know that you can cry out and your Master will come. Not so in the waking world though is it?" "No mistress, and so I am afraid ... sometimes ... when I am alone." "Do not feel ashamed Amber; that is only natural. You understand that this has not changed? It is true that if the need were in fact so dire, that your Master could come to you, but only if he revealed himself to others, and that is something that he cannot do lightly. Do you understand?" "Yes, Mistress, I understand," she said and there was a certain resolve in her voice. "Here's another surprise for you," I said, taking her hand. When I did, Jamie flowed into her. "Hello, Amber," she said. "You should sit down for this part." There was a shocked look on Amber's face, and it only got worse as Jamie sat them down. Once she was seated Jamie put her to sleep and I did the same with Lizzy as we lay down on the other bed. I put us in the cabana so there would be no doubt in Amber's mind that we were in fact dreaming this time and it was safe. "Master, what is..." she began, looking very confused and a little frightened. Jamie stepped out so Amber could see her. "Amber, this is Jamie," I explained. "It's a long story but Jamie is a part of me, more importantly for this discussion, she is the dark and dangerous part of me. You remember what happened when Brad jumped me at the mall?" "Oh yeah!" she answered emphatically. Brad Russell was her asshole ex-boyfriend from high school. We hit it off the first time we met and over the next six months I pissed him off to the point that one night he and two friends had jumped me outside the local mall. When the dust settled, everyone got a free trip to the emergency room. Driscoll and Elliott had broken ribs and a concussion respectively; I had a sprained wrist and knee, as well as bruises on my hands and forehead. Brad got six hours of surgery to get his arm to bend the right way again. He didn't know it, but he was lucky to be alive. "Well, that was actually Jamie, only we didn't know it at the time. We didn't understand what had happened or how it had happened. We'll tell you the whole story some other time. What is important is that if you were ever to need me, ever to call out to me, and I was not able to come, Jamie would come to you. Stand up." As she stood the scene changed and we were on the beach. Four men stood around her. "Jamie is an aspect of me, and as such you must trust her as you trust me, do you understand?" "Yes Master." "Good, we're about to see how much you really believe that." Two of the men suddenly moved forward and grabbed her, pinning her arms behind her back. The third stepped forward and grabbed the front of her shirt, obviously about to rip it off of her. The scene froze and I said, "Are you ready?" Jamie moved forward, merging into Amber, "Relax, you need to let me have control, okay?" "I'll try," Amber said out loud. "I did not tell you to try!" Jamie said sternly. "I told you to relax and let me have control. Who am I?" "You are..." I could see her take a breath and steel herself. "You are my Master, and you love me, and I trust you in all things." She let the breath out and as she did I could see her body relax. The scene moved forward and suddenly she kicked the guy trying to rip her shirt squarely in the balls. The fight was short after that and Amber found herself standing over four unconscious bodies. Jamie stepped out of her and she stood staring down at her attackers. "Wow!" was all Amber could say. "Wow is right," Jamie said, turning to me. "Boy, once she accepted me it was like it was my body. I had to put Allison in a bubble to get that kind of control." Suddenly Amber was kneeling before us again, "Thank you, Master," she said, kissing my hand. "For taking away my fear; it is a gift beyond price." "Only such a gift would be fitting," I said, stroking her cheek, "to one who is priceless to me. Here's a little bonus for you." I turned to Jamie, "Don't keep her too long, I don't want her to be late for work." Jamie just smiled and pulled Amber to her feet, kissing her passionately before they both vanished. I took Lizzy back to her room where we found Amber stretched out on her bed asleep with a pleasant smile on her face. "You are just too much. I wondered when you were going to tell her about Jamie." "I wasn't sure about telling her, but it wouldn't do any good to send Jamie if Amber got in the way. It would probably have scared the heck out of her. This way, if it ever happens, she won't be surprised and Jamie can do her job until I can get here." "To bad you couldn't see what I saw," she said. "It was pretty amazing to watch." "How so?" "Well, at first, it was like there were two of them..." "You mean you could see both patterns?" "Yes. You remember how I described what multiple personalities look like before? It was like that. I could see Amber, and at the same time I could see Jamie's pattern sort of like an overlay. But then, when Amber accepted her ... wow! It was like looking at the two of you, the patterns sort of merged into one and ... I can't describe it, but trust me, Amber wasn't kidding when she said she accepted Jamie. Her energy went to this pattern of like total calm. It was sort of like what I told you Father Chris looks like when he prays. She just gave herself over to Jamie. I wish you could have seen it." Dream time is subjective so while we had only been back for a few moments, apparently more time had passed for them, because suddenly Amber gasped and her body tensed on the bed in front of us. She took a deep breath, her body relaxing as she let it out and I felt Jamie flow back into me. Jamie had that contented, 'cat in a sunbeam' feel to her. Apparently it was mutual as Amber opened her eyes and smiled a Cheshire grin up at us. "Oh, that was nice. I love you, Master; and right now? I love you a lot." She closed her eyes and stretched, then grimaced as her muscles protested. "Only now I need a massage, and a nap. God, I wish I didn't have to work." Then she sat up quickly and asked, "Are you running today, Mistress?" Lizzy looked at the clock. "It's getting a little late; I think I'll skip it, why?" Amber stood and stretched her arms over her head. "I was wondering if you could help me stretch." Seeing her stretch like that caused a very male reaction. "I think I'd better leave you two to get ready," I said, turning to give Lizzy a kiss. "Have a good day; I'll be making weekend travel plans for you both today." Then I turned back and kissed Amber. A couple seconds into it Jamie came up to join us and I felt Amber react as well. "Oh, I am really going to like this!" she said when I pulled back. "I am just the luckiest slave on earth, that's all there is to it. I don't wish to overstep myself Master, but if you two don't leave soon I may be a very bad girl." "But then I would have to punish you," I said. "I know," she said, smiling and shrugging her shoulders. "But right now that thought isn't likely to help me be good." "I think you're a little too eager," I said, slapping her hard on one butt cheek. Unfortunately that caused her to twitch closer against me and that didn't help the problem either. Fortunately Lizzy realized that too. "That's not helping," she said. "Amber, attend me." Amber dutifully dropped to the floor and Lizzy turned, kissed me again, and said, "You should go or we'll never get out of here." She turned and sat on the bed, stroking Amber's hair as she knelt at her feet. I turned and opened the closet door, overlaying the image of my bedroom in Vegas on the other side and stepped through. A few moments later my phone rang. I don't usually get calls at four in the morning. "Hello?" I answered tentatively. I hoped I sounded convincingly like I just woke up. "It's me," Lizzy's voice said. "I wasn't paying that close attention when you arrived but I was expecting at least a little pop when you left. You know, sort of a miniature thunderclap from the air rushing in to fill the empty space?" "And?" I asked. "Nothing," she said. "Either you don't displace enough air or there is something else going on here. Just thought you'd like to know." "Thank you, that is good to know. I'm surprised Allison didn't say anything the other night." "Are you kidding? Little sister was so happy to have you there she wouldn't have noticed a brass band." I chucked and said, "Have a good day, sweetie, I love you." "Love you too." The rest of the week passed quickly and I found myself getting nervous about the weekend. I had booked the girls on a flight into Vegas, they arrived late Friday night — I spent the night cuddled between them — and we left early Saturday morning. It's only about a three and half-hour drive and since we're all early risers we were on the road by six. I don't think Doreen even knew they were there. Rebecca had arranged to meet with Angela's family, telling them she had some news she wanted to share in person. I was meeting her at Bob's place. She would take Angela from there, and then Lizzy and I were going to Palm Springs for the day. Angela had made it clear that she did not want to spend the night at her parents' house — the idea of spending a whole night 'alone' without Lizzy or myself to protect her was still too much for her to contemplate without panicking, so Rebecca and Bob were going to bring her out to the hotel, where we would all have dinner. If Angela felt it was a good idea, I would take her back on Sunday and she would spend another day with her parents before returning to school. I would have preferred to be able to spend the day with Lizzy someplace like Disneyland or Six Flags, but since I was still listed as missing —and there was at least a chance that someone who knew me might see me at a venue like that — we would have to save that for another time. Besides, Angela's stress level had been climbing steadily as the weekend approached and I needed to be available in case she needed to get away. I promised her that if she started feeling insecure or vulnerable that all she had to do was call and Jamie would come, but it was going to be a real challenge for her. Her parents didn't, and couldn't, know about Amber, and this was the first time she had been just Angela for so long at one time since she first went into hiding. Rebecca Usually this was the sort of trip I dreaded. It was always the same; more bad news for the family and the best you could hope to offer was closure. Today I was really looking forward to it. I had Wascoff and Evans scheduled to meet Bob at his place a half hour after Jimmy dropped Angela off. They would follow us over, and Bob would stay with Angela in my car until time for her to come in. I had a text message typed and ready to send telling him when to have her come in. Yeah, it was going to be a little more dramatic than it needed to be, but hey, you don't get to do this very often in this business and I wanted to savor every second. Angela's brother, Tim, answered the door when I arrived and took me inside. He introduced me to his girlfriend, Cindy, and offered me a cup of coffee. Mr. and Mrs. Osborne sat together on the couch holding hands in mutual support. After delivering my coffee, Tim took a seat on the love seat with Cindy. I took a sip of my coffee (ugh) set it down and started. "This hasn't hit the papers yet, and I wanted to tell you in person before it does. He's dead." It took a minute for it to register, and while I was waiting I hit the send button on my phone. Suddenly Tim looked away and the parents started hugging. My phone buzzed twice in my pocket, signaling that Angela was on her way up the sidewalk. "Thank you," Mrs. Osborne said, dabbing her eyes with a tissue. "I know it may not seem like much but it is good to know that..." She was interrupted by a knock at the door. "Now who could that be?" her husband asked. Even as he was asking the question the door opened and then closed a moment later. Due to the layout of the house the front door was not visible from the living room. "What the heck?" He asked, rising to go see who had just barged into his house. He was only about half way to his feet when Angela turned the corner. "Hello, Daddy," she said. David Osborne turned white and fell back onto the couch next to his wife, who if anything was even whiter than he was. Tim and Cindy were just staring dumbfounded. Tim recovered first, standing up and walking to her. I could hear him trying to say something but apparently it wasn't working. Tears were now leaking from Angela's eyes as well as she said, "Yes, Timmy, it's really me." And then she stepped forward to hug him. Back on the love seat Cindy was crying, and over on the couch, Mrs. Osborne burst into a wailing fit and buried her face in her husband's chest. Tim stood like a statue until Angela was close enough to touch and then rushed to meet her, swinging her off her feet and spinning her around the room, knocking over and shattering a tall floor lamp in the process. Cindy was still crying but there was a smile on her face and the sobs were starting to sound a little giddy as she rose and joined Tim in hugging Angela. She only stayed for a second, kissing Angela on the cheek before heading off to the kitchen. She returned a moment later with a dustpan and a little hand broom. She pulled on Tim's sleeve to get his attention, then jerked her head toward the parents and handed him the broom and dustpan. He glanced at his parents and released his sister to go to them, then reached to stand the lamp back up while Cindy began gathering up pieces of broken glass. Angela moved quickly to kneel between her parents on the floor, hugging them both and crying softly, her tears mingling with theirs. "Surprise," I said. Mr. Osborne just gave a barking laugh and glared at me, tears choking him and preventing him from saying what I knew he wanted to say. "Okay, before the happiness wears off and you all realize how pissed you are at being deceived, let me just say, 'Yes, I know I have some explaining to do.'" "Damn right you do!" her father said, suddenly finding his voice, strong emotions shift quickly and while it wasn't there yet, you could tell the anger was surfacing. He would have said more but Angela caught his hand and said, "No, daddy, you don't understand. Please, just listen to her before you say anything. Please?" He looked at her and apparently whatever he saw in her face was enough because when he looked back at me his expression had softened and he just nodded his head once for me to continue. "Thank you," I said. "The reason we couldn't tell you that Angela was alive is that her life was still in danger. The man — if you can call him that — who took her, was not just a killer, he was a professional killer. At one time he was the most wanted assassin in Europe. They thought he had killed himself when they had him cornered five years ago. They were wrong. We still don't know the whole story — probably never will — but before he was an assassin he actually worked for Interpol until something went wrong on an undercover assignment. Something snapped and he went rogue. Apparently, after faking his death, he came here to America, where he killed a man named Kenneth Riley, assumed his identity, built a life, and then began stalking and killing teenage girls just like Angela. I actually got Angela out only seconds before that house exploded, but he had fled already and didn't know that. Based on the information we discovered, some from Angela herself; we were able to determine whom we were dealing with. "This man, this killer, was obsessive to a degree that is hard to believe. If he had known that Angela was alive he would have done anything he could to find her and get her back so he could finish what he had begun. If he thought, even for a second, that you might know where she was, he wouldn't have blinked at torturing or killing any or all of you to find her. Mr. and Mrs. Osborne, Tim, believe me, if we had told you the truth, he would have known, just by watching you, seeing your reactions, that something was wrong. Your lives, and your daughter's life, would have been at risk. The only choice we had was to let everyone believe that she was dead. She spent the first couple of weeks in a special hospital where she underwent surgery to try and correct some of the injuries she had suffered. Most of the rest of the time she was in a rehabilitation center where she received physical therapy and counseling to try and deal with everything that had happened to her, as well as learning a completely new identity that she would have to live under until such time as the man who had hurt her was eventually either captured and brought to justice or killed. Just a week ago she moved to Indiana to attend school and start a new life. "There's more to the story, but those are the basics. We hid her to keep both her, and all of you, safe." "Why couldn't you have just assigned someone to watch her here?" Mrs. Osborne asked. "Don't you have people that do that sort of thing?" "No," I said, shaking my head. "Not from someone like this. He didn't take being found and forced out of his carefully crafted life very well. He really didn't like it when I said in an interview that I would find him and stop him once and for all. To say the least he was pissed off; he took it as a personal challenge in fact. So personally that he actually began stalking me, broke into my apartment to leave evidence that he was in fact watching me, and broke into my fiancé's house and bugged it so he could keep tabs on me. Once we had identified him, Interpol sent an agent over to assist us in capturing him and she was assigned as my partner. A couple of weeks ago, she was kidnapped and has not been seen or heard from since. There were two agents assigned to safeguard her, they were found dead the morning she disappeared. She was a trained agent with two other trained agents protecting her and he got to her anyway, so no, we couldn't protect Angela here, not from someone like this." There was a lot more to that particular story, but at the moment only a very few people knew the truth, and that truth had no bearing on this part. Which is good, because I would have hated to lie to them about it. "Now do you understand?" Angela asked. He wasn't happy by any means, but apparently her father did understand, nodding his head and saying, "I'm sorry." "No problem," I said. "Now, I'm going to leave you all to spend some time together and then I will be back to take Angela somewhere..." I held up my hand to stop the question Mrs. Osborne was about to ask. "Please, I know what you're going to ask. Yes, she could stay here, but you have to understand the ordeal your daughter has been through, and how vulnerable she feels as a result. Angela, now that you're here, do you think you could..." She was shaking her head violently 'no' before I finished asking the question. "She's still trying to adjust to not being surrounded by armed agents twenty four hours a day. She 'knows' he's dead and that she's safe, but it's going to be some time before she feels safe again." "But you said she was away at school already, how is that any different? At least here she would have her family around her." "I'll leave that for her to explain," I said, standing up again. "Angela, there will be two agents nearby at all times until I come back for you, but if you start feeling insecure, you know what to do, right?" "Yes," she answered, standing up and hugging me. "Thank you for everything you've done. I'll be okay." "Okay," I said. "And if you change your mind and decide you want to stay here for tonight..." Again I hadn't even finished the sentence before Angela was shaking her head no, a half-panicked expression on her face. I knew this was how the kids had planned it, but the fear looked genuine. "Okay then, call me when you're ready." I turned to her parents. "Don't worry; she can come back again tomorrow if she feels up to it. I know it's hard but trust me, this is going to take time and the best thing you can do is to give her that time." ------- Chapter 2: Too Good to Last Jimmy Amber was really anxious by the time Rebecca brought her to the hotel, where she spent the night snuggled between Lizzy and me, waking if for any reason at least one of us was not touching her. It was clear that she was going to need help getting through the next day. If Jamie hadn't been able to go with her I don't know if she would have even gotten in the car. I'm sure she would have if one of us had ordered her to, but neither of us would have. I wasn't comfortable with Jamie being so far away, but as the day wore on it became clear that she was not having any difficulty at all being away. Maybe the latest round of changes had included a little something for her as well. Having Jamie there got Amber through the visit and she was feeling much better on her return than she had after Saturday's visit. She was also very glad that the news story about her would not be breaking until the following day when she was once more far away. One thing we weren't releasing to the press was her current location. There was no way she would be able to handle the crowds of reporters that were bound to be swarming the house or the school if they found out she was there. It was clear this was an issue we were going to have to start working on with her. "I think you should teach her to protect herself," Jamie said. It was early evening, and we were on our way back to Vegas, where the girls would fly back to school. At the moment they were cuddled up together in the back, and with the tint on the windows, it probably looked like I was alone. "You mean fight?" I asked. "No, I mean like kick serious ass," she said. "Jimmy, you don't realize how scared she was. Basic self defense isn't going to give her the confidence she needs. She needs to know she can defend herself or she is never going to feel truly safe." "But she knows we would always be there for her." "No," she said in a correcting tone. "She knows we would always try to be there for her. There is a difference. She also knows that there is always a chance that we may be tied up saving someone else's ass and not be able to come right away, and before you say it, yes, I know, we could send Walter, but I don't think we should tell her that part. Besides, I'm not sure how well that will work either. We don't know if Walter could merge with her, and if he can't, then his being there isn't going to make a difference because she won't even know he's there. Even if he can, I think it's really unlikely he'll be able to do much. She gave me control because she accepts me as an ... extension of you, but I don't see her doing the same for Walter. Also, she is afraid that someone may be hurt or die because you left them to help her, and she wouldn't want that. Jimmy, she needs this, right now she feels helpless any time you or Lizzy are not there. Even at school, when Lizzy is in class, it lurks around the edges. And yes, I could be there, but it would be better, way better for her, if she could do it on her own. Besides, I don't like being away from you so much." "Did you feel weak?" "No, not at all, and we really need to play with that, too, because I kept waiting for the signs, and they never came, but I don't want to take it for granted that I can be out that long. It would suck to find out the hard way that I was wrong, but I wasn't talking about me. This is going to sound bad, but the whole time I was gone I was worried about something happening to you." "You were afraid I couldn't take care of myself?" I asked, surprised and a little indignant. "I know! I'm sorry, but yes, I was worried something would happen, and I wouldn't be there to protect you. Is that horrible? I couldn't help laughing out loud, and the girls wanted to know what was so funny. "Jamie, that's not horrible," Lizzy said when I told them. "I think it's really sweet, and you shouldn't feel bad about it, we all feel like that — about each other and the others in our lives. You don't know how good you have it being able to move around and keep track of us all. I worry about my little sister all the time, and my parents, even Rusty, and he carries a gun and has a whole building full of deputies watching his back. I know Jimmy worries about us, and Allison, Amy — well maybe not Amy — Walter's keeping an eye on her and would let us know if anything were wrong. The difference is he has to stop what he's doing and concentrate on someone to check on them where you are free to just go. Of course if he wanted to, he could probably... can you do that Jimmy?" "Do what?" I asked. I had been dividing my attention between the conversation and the road. Since she was talking to Jamie, I was mainly focusing on the road. "Leave Jamie in control and go to someone? You know, like she did with Amber today." I thought about it. Could I? The closest I think I had come was leaving her while I went into a dream with Lizzy or Allison. I had never actually tried to merge with someone before. "You mean like leave and merge with someone like she and Walter do? I don't know, I never thought to try." "Next rest stop, pull over and let me drive, then you can try it." She stroked Amber's hair. "You like having your Master inside you, don't you sweetie?" She slid her hand down over Amber's cheek. Amber smiled and sucked a finger into her mouth before answering, "Yes, Mistress, very much. In fact, I think it's my favorite thing in the whole world." Somehow I don't think they were talking about the same thing anymore. "Yes, I know. Do you think you would feel safer knowing he could be with you, even be a part of you any time he wanted to?" "Yes, Mistress," Amber replied. "I could face anything if he were with me." I could tell from her voice that the topic had, at least for the moment, shifted back and that this wasn't just playful talk. "Maybe driving in a car isn't the best place to experiment with this," I said. "I think we should wait and see if I can actually merge with her in a dream, maybe see how that goes before we try it here. I've got more options if anything goes wrong there." Lizzy thought about it for a second and said, "That's probably a better idea. I think you should let me drive anyway though, Amber is really getting into my finger, and I think maybe she'd rather trade it in on the real thing, wouldn't you baby?" Amber didn't answer but switched to Lizzy's thumb, sucking it as deep into her mouth as she could and moaning as she swirled her tongue around it. "I thought so," Lizzy said. "Take off your clothes." Lizzy spent the next twenty minutes teasing Amber as she continued to suck her thumb and fingers, taking her right to the edge of orgasm and backing off. When she finally pushed her over the top I thought Amber was having a seizure, bucking and thrashing all over the place. The unmistakable aroma of wet woman filled the car, and considering she was naked on the leather seat it was likely to be lingering for some time. As fun as it would have been to watch, I was working hard to keep the car moving in a straight line as she kicked my seat repeatedly. Apparently I wasn't that successful. "Uh-oh," Jamie said. I looked in the mirror and saw a red light with a very distinctive silhouette attached to it. I pulled into the right lane and slowed down in hopes that he was actually on his way somewhere else. No such luck; he pulled into the lane behind me so I pulled off onto the shoulder and stopped. Amber started reaching for her clothes, but Lizzy simply said, "What do you think you're doing?" "I'm sorry, Mistress," she replied, dropping her bra back on top of the pile and settling herself in the seat, arms and legs crossed demurely. The officer appeared to be around my dad's age and going a little soft in the middle. I imagine eight hours a day sitting down would do that to you eventually. I got my paperwork ready as he approached and rolled my window down as he came alongside. Searching quickly, I found his name-tag and asked, "Is there a problem officer ... Stubbs? I don't think I was speeding." "No sir, but I did notice some erratic movement back there. Have you been drinking?" "Oh," I said. "I was afraid of that. No officer, I haven't been drinking. The girls were having a little fun..." I raised my voice and glanced over my shoulder, " ... and someone was kicking my seat!" Due to the dark tint he couldn't see into the back seat, so the officer ducked his head to try and see, and when he did I think he caught a big whiff of Amber. Must be a primal reaction because he certainly responded, his eyes getting wide and his nostrils flaring as he took a deeper breath. Lizzy whispered something, and suddenly the back window rolled down and Amber said, "It was my fault officer, I'm very sorry. My Mistress was pleasuring me, and in my joy I lost control. Most of it's a blur, but I vaguely remember kicking the seat several times." Stubbs was speechless as he stared in the window at Amber's nude form. Twenty minutes of stimulation, plus the added excitement of Lizzy ordering her to display herself, publicly, left a very pretty flush on her face and chest. Her nipples were hard and prominently displayed on her large, full breasts. "Yes, we're very sorry officer," Lizzy said. "Obviously I will need to work with Amber to improve her control." "Yes, well ... it's always dangerous to be uh ... roughhousing in a moving vehicle; it's very um ... distracting to the driver and can cause accidents even if the driver is uh..." The sentence just kind of faded out. "Yes officer," Lizzy replied, "and we'd like to thank you for stopping us and pointing that out. It's good to know that we can count on our law enforcement personnel to watch out for our safety. In fact, Amber would like to thank you personally for looking out for our safety, wouldn't you Amber?" "Oh, Mistress, may I?" Amber asked excitedly. "I think that is a wonderful idea," I said, opening the door. "Officer Stubbs, I wonder if you could step around to the other side of the car and look at something for me? Amber, I think the front seat would be best so we can open the doors and no one will see the officer doing anything inappropriate." Stubbs was looking a little shell shocked as Amber popped her seat belt and climbed over the seat, so I rolled the windows up, took his arm, and began guiding him around the back of the car to the other side. "You're not serious," Stubbs said we passed the trunk. "She's doesn't really want to..." he gulped. "Oh, she's very serious," I assured him. As we passed the rear door, Lizzy opened it and stepped out, leaning over the door and using her body to further shield what was about to happen. At the same time, Amber opened the front door, swung her feet out, and squatted on her folded jeans — a position which also displayed her still very red, and very wet, sex for the nice officer. As soon as he was in reach she started working on his pants. She had a little trouble with the gun belt at first, but within seconds she had managed to fish his rapidly swelling erection out and began swirling her tongue around the head. Stubbs just closed his eyes and muttered, "Oh my god..." It was a good thing I was there because even holding on to the door with one hand and bracing himself on the roof with the other, Stubbs almost fell over when she swallowed the whole thing and began licking his balls. The muttering escalated to a sort of chant as she worked him in and out of her mouth at a more shallow depth, working her tongue over and around the head constantly while stroking his shaft and fondling his dangling sack with her free hand. "Oh god, oh my god, OH my god, oh, oh, oh god..." The litany continued until suddenly, "OH ... GOD!" as she suddenly went deep again and seemed to be doing May's trick of swallowing repeatedly while he was buried in her throat. It was over quickly after that and Amber carefully tucked him back in. "Thank you officer Stubbs," she said as she zipped him up and then waited for one of us to tell her what to do next. "You're ... uh ... welcome, Amber was it?" "Thank you Amber, you may get dressed now," Lizzy said. "Yes Mistress," she said. She picked up her jeans and slipped around the door and past Lizzy into the back seat. Stubbs's eyes were glued to her the whole way. Lizzy held out her hand and said, "Thank you officer Stubbs, it was very nice of you to allow Amber to practice with you." He blew out a laugh, "Didn't seem like she needed the practice." "Oh not that part," she said. "You were her first public performance, and I'm sure she will always remember it. She had a really good time, I could tell. I'm pretty sure you did too." He rolled his eyes and laughed again. "Are you kidding? That's the kind of thing that only ever happens to cops in Penthouse stories and porno movies. You daydream about it, but you never really expect it to happen to you." "She'll be happy to know that it was special for you too," I said. "Trust me," he replied, shaking his head. "Special doesn't begin to cover it." I handed Lizzy back into the rear of the car and walked Stubbs back toward his vehicle. "You know I wasn't going to give you a ticket," he said. "You didn't have to do that." I stopped and answered in a very serious tone, "If I thought you were actually going to give me a ticket, officer, I would never have even considered it. Amber is not a whore; I would never use her that way, and I would never offer a peace officer anything that even remotely resembled a bribe. As it is, it was an excellent opportunity for her. You're having trouble dealing with this aren't you?" "Truthfully? Yeah, I am. It was obvious she wasn't under any compulsion — you can't fake that kind of enthusiasm — yet a part of me keeps screaming that it's wrong." "Believe me, I understand. It was a real struggle for me when I found myself trapped in the role of her Master." "Trapped? You make it sound like you're a victim here; I doubt you'd find too many people feeling sorry for you." "It's difficult to explain, but I'll try. I read something once, a long time ago. I'm not even sure what book it was — something science fiction I think. Anyway there were these primitive people that believed that if you saved someone's life you were then responsible for that person because you had stolen their destiny away from the gods. It was very weird, but, because of this belief, if they found someone in deadly danger — stuck in quicksand or something — they would actually weigh the responsibility of this person's life before helping them, often letting them die instead of taking the burden of their care onto themselves. "Damn," he said. "That's hard." "Yes," I agreed, nodding my head. "Now picture this; you've found someone — not just a friend but someone you really care about — trapped in a maze where all of the paths eventually lead to single door, and behind that door is a loaded gun, and you know, know with absolute certainty, that by the time they reach that door they will be so depressed and distraught that they will use it to end their life. Now, there is one path they can take that will get them out safely, but it's hidden, and they don't know it's there. You know it's there, but not where it is, and the only way to save them is for you to find the hidden path to safety and then guide them out. "Now there is only the one safe path, and you are the only person they trust to guide them, but if you do guide them out, then they become your responsibility from that point on. Would you do it?" He looked at me for a second then glanced back at the car and shook his head. "Damn! I don't know. I mean I want to say yes — I'd like to think I'm the kind of guy that would do it no matter what — but from what you're saying, it's like getting married again, or raising a kid." "More than that even," I said. "A closer analogy would be raising a handicapped child who, because of their disability, would never be able to live on their own. No matter what happened, they would always be dependent on you to make the important decisions, including only leaving them with someone who would care for and protect them just as you would, because they would obey anyone you left them with as if it were you." As I was saying it I realized that it was true and that for the first time I was admitting that 'Amber' was more than a buried yearning that had surfaced during Angela's ordeal. Something in Angela had been broken during that torturous month, and while she could play the part of her former self when instructed to, it was no longer normal for her. Without a Master to care for her, she would never be able to function on her own in the real world. That was why she had needed Jamie to be with her today ... because even when she was in LA, hiding in a private hospital surrounded by the kind of security they normally reserved for heads of state, she had not felt safe until I had taken control of her life and promised to care for her. It was a painful realization. Fortunately I had Officer Stubbs to deal with at the moment, so I didn't have time to dwell on it. "Damn!" He exclaimed again. "How do you even begin to ... shee-it!" "That is, in a nutshell, my relationship with Amber, only I didn't have the luxury of knowing where the path was," I said. "I had to learn it as I was leading her. Thankfully I wasn't the only one trying to help her, I had people to help me cope and learn to deal with it. I was the only one she would trust, but I couldn't have done it without them." "I think I'm beginning to understand a little bit of your dilemma. You know I never even looked at your license, how old are you, son?" "Too young to be asked to do something like this," I said seriously. "At first I hated everything about it, for the same reasons that I'm sure you're feeling. But as I said, I was the only one she would trust, and I loved her too much to let her die." I held out my hand. "David Malcolm." "Mike Stubbs. Nice to meet you, David, you're not wanted for anything are you, no outstanding warrants?" "Not that I know of," I answered. "Although, I guess technically I'm guilty of conspiracy to assault a police officer." He laughed so hard I thought he was going to fall down. "David, if that's assault then you can beat me to death." "Be careful what you wish for Officer." I was smiling when I said it but he glanced at the car again and sobered quickly. "Get out of here, and for God's sake, drive carefully." It would be very interesting to see his reaction when he read about Angela in the paper tomorrow. The thought of the story coming out reminded me of something else, so I pulled out my phone and called Rebecca. "Hampton," she answered. "Hi, it's me. First of all, thank you for all your help this weekend; I know you would have rather been with Amy." "Wrong," she answered. "It's not often we get to be the bearers of good news in cases like this; I wouldn't have missed this unless I was in coma." "Okay, well it occurred to me that with the story about her being alive breaking tomorrow, someone may want to talk to the people over at the Indian casino that has that big-ass reward out for her killer. If she's not dead..." "Actually I already did, and they don't care if she's alive as long as the son of a bitch that took her is dead. So you're looking at another hefty payout headed your way." "Great, just what I need. Do you think you could convince them that the person primarily responsible would prefer the money be given to Angela to help her rebuild her life?" "Not without someone to pin the hero badge on publicly, and that kind of thing attracts media." Shit! Publicity like that I didn't need. "Okay, I feel kind of bad taking the money though," I said. "Don't, you earned it, and after you have the money you can do whatever you want with it — including buying Amber a brighter future." We made it back to Vegas in plenty of time to have dinner before I had to drop the girls off at the airport. As we were eating I remembered that I hadn't given Amber the gift Jasmine had sent, so I swung by the apartment and picked it up on the way to the airport. As soon as she opened it, Amber caught her breath and burst into tears. Inside the box were a red leather collar and a pair of black fan earrings; trademarks of the House of Seven Willows, a popular Dominance club in the Las Vegas area. The owner, Lady Jasmine, had been Amber's teacher as she learned about herself. She had also helped guide me in my role as Amber's Master. The collar and earrings were part of the 'uniform' for members of the house, though the girls often wore them in public as well. If a patron wanted an escort for a particular function, it allowed them to display the woman's status as a slave even in the most elegant of settings. Let's face it, there are a lot of places you just can't go in handcuffs and chains. The 'uniform' — or even just the accessories — would be seen by all but only understood by a small percentage. "I don't know what to say?" Amber said, fawning over the gifts. "I can't believe she would do this, I am not ready, I don't deserve..." "Stop," I said, holding up my hand. "If Lady Jasmine did not think you worthy, she would not have given them to you. She did, and you will not question her judgment again, is that clear?" "Yes Master," she said demurely. "Forgive me, I did not mean to. I was just so surprised. Please thank her for me." "Of course," I assured her. "Thank you, Master. Would you, please?" She extended the collar to me and reached to remove the one she was wearing, giving it to Lizzy to hold as she knelt before me. Her hair had grown out to the point that she had to hold it out of the way for me as I secured the new collar around her throat. As soon as it was secured and I lifted her back to her feet, she bolted to the nearest mirror to look at it. Lizzy followed her, held the little black fans up to her ears, and instructed her to put them on. She quickly removed the gold studs she was wearing, and Lizzy pushed the slender gold wires into the now-empty holes. There was no holding back the tears when she turned Amber around again to look at herself. There was also no mistaking the pride she felt at that moment. It was a special time, but they still had to leave. I spent the night with Allison again, much to her delight. Monday morning the good karma looked like it was going to continue. A ten mile run, a hot shower, and I was ... bored. What now? The apartment-slash-office was ready; I still needed clothes, but I still didn't trust my wardrobe skills, so that had to wait a while longer. "Jimmy, you're pathetic," Jamie announced finally. What could I say, she was right. "And your point is?" "We need to get busy, we've got stuff to do," she said. "Like what? It's daytime, we work nights." I answered. I think she actually slapped me but I can't prove it. "Wake up!" she demanded. "What does our new company do?" "I think the name kind of spells it out, we find things." "Well unless you're going to take up golf, we need to figure out what we're going to do in between jobs. We've also got to figure out how we're going to let people know what we do, and you need to learn how to find people in the real world. It's not going to be a very effective cover if you pull out a miracle every time a job comes up. We can still do the actual work that way, but we have to be able to convince people we know what we're doing, so we need to actually learn this stuff. Then there's equipment." "Equipment?" "Yes damn it, equipment! I don't know about you, but I don't ever want to find my ass handcuffed and helpless in the back of a van again. In case you've forgotten, the world's biggest bitch is out there looking for us. I want those lock picks we talked about. Not to mention we didn't get the one's Rod gave us back after Sandman took them. Surveillance gear for the business; you know Rebecca's friend Dillon? We need to see if he's got a cousin in Vegas somewhere, find him, and convince him it's safe to play with us. Plus, we still need to buy a safe, a computer and printer for the office, business software, guns, a desk chair, a gift for Christine..." "Whoa!" I said, stopping her. "Back up there." "What?" she asked, innocently. "You said guns; back in the middle of that list I distinctly heard you say guns." "Yeah, guns. We're going to be private investigators, everyone knows..." "No." I said flatly. "No guns, guns make people do stupid things. What was one of the first things Malloy taught us? Guns only make it worse. Unless you're planning on using it — and that means you're actually allowed to shoot first — you're better off not carrying one. It's the first thing the bad guys look for, and they just take it away from you anyway. If we find ourselves in a situation where we need a gun, we'll take one away from someone. No." "Aw come on, Jimmy, please?" She was actually pleading and I had to work hard not to laugh. "We'll go skeet-shooting with Tony and Tina; if we like it maybe we'll look at a good shotgun so we don't have to borrow, maybe as a Christmas present." "Christmas? Jimmy, that's months away!" "We could wait until your birthday?" I countered. I could feel her pouting. "Allison is right! You are so mean!" "How about if we look for a nice Dojo while we're out and sign up for classes? Do you think that would satisfy your need for mayhem?" "Really? That would be cool." "We'll look into it while we're out. You're right about the other stuff; let's go shopping, and what was that about a gift for Christine?" "Jimmy," she said warningly. "I'm kidding!" Tony called just after nine and invited me to an early lunch. He said he wanted to bring me up to speed on everything but that he had to be in court at one o'clock. The safe didn't take long. Doreen had let the cable people in the week before, so everything was up and working. A little on-line research gave me the basics and taught me the right questions to ask. Turned out I didn't even need them. Once I told the guy at Castle Gun & Safe what I was interested in, he showed me what they had, both in stock and available for special order. It was pretty much a no-brainer from there, and I just picked the best one they had in the size I was looking for. It was designed to hold fifteen to twenty guns, but the inside could be configured for other use as well. I arranged to have it delivered and installed the next day, and then went to meet Tony for lunch. I hadn't paid that much attention the first time, but the restaurant where we met was laid out well for people wanting to have private conversations. The booths along the walls were well spaced and separated by large planter boxes; the tables were spaced far enough apart that you wouldn't be able to listen to anyone else's conversation without being obvious; unless of course they were being loud — in which case they probably weren't worried about being overheard. Tony was waiting for me at a table near the center, on the one hand that was good; with no walls close enough to reflect sound it would make it harder for anyone to eavesdrop, even electronically, on anything we might be saying. On the other hand it was obvious that was the reason Tony had selected it, which meant he was expecting to discuss things we may not want overheard. "This can't be good," I said as I sat down. "I don't know if it's good or not," he said. "Have you seen this morning's paper?" "I don't read the paper, it's too depressing. Why?" "Because you're in it," he answered. "I guess this explains why you were so serious all of a sudden last week." He handed me the paper he had folded next to him on the table and I scanned through the story. Shit. This was not good. In fact, this was way beyond not good. Rod's original plan of giving me credit for Amy's recovery had gone out the window as soon as we figured out who the Black Queen was. The fact that my name had suddenly appeared in a follow up piece... I pulled out my phone — the secure one — and hit a button. Samuel Rodriguez, Director of Operations for the FBI's Los Angeles office answered, "Rodriquez." "Hi, Rod; sorry to bother you. Are you busy?" "Who me? No, of course not, why would I be busy? I'm just looking over summaries and reports for all of our currently ongoing investigations; personnel reviews; budget problems; information requests from local agencies; progress reports for Washington ... oh and let's not forget my top agent going on family leave with twenty minutes notice. Other than all that ... no, I'm not busy at all. So what's up? You wouldn't have called if it wasn't important." "Well, I'm having lunch with my attorney, and he just showed me this morning's paper. How hard would it be to find me with just the name and Vegas as a starting point? Pretend you don't have my statement; how long would it take?" "Shit," he said and I could swear I heard him throw something on his desk. "What happened?" "Well, as near as I can tell, not only am I listed as the person that saved both Amy and Rebecca, but now I'm a person of interest in the investigation." "God damn it!" He swore. That said a lot right there. Rod doesn't swear often. "Hold on a second ... Eleanor, would you find Freeman and tell him I need him right away? Thank you. Oh, and find me a copy of the LA Times." He returned his attention to me. "Okay, the article you're reading is probably a wire story they picked up from here. I'll see what I can find out on this end." "What's to find out?" I asked. "Somebody in your office gave my name to a reporter. Personally, my money's on Fox. I guess I should have kicked his ass when I had the chance, if nothing else it would have saved me airfare because now I'm going to have to fly back to do it. It's not too late to change my mind is it?" 'Fox' was one of the agents that had taken my statement after I rescued Rebecca's sister Amy from the Sandman. We had had a difference of opinion over the scope of questions I would be required to answer. I was in a bad mood at the time, and it almost came to blows when I got up to leave and he told me I couldn't. Rod showed up and defused the situation but looking back now... "You really think it was him?" Rod asked. Maybe it was my frame of mind, but I thought he sounded hopeful. "How many people in your office actually knew who I was? Can you think of anyone else who might have been pissed off enough at me to not only give my name to a reporter, but list me as a 'person of interest' in the investigation?" "No I can't, damn it," he said with a sigh. "But I can't prove it either. The press will hide him sure as hell." "Not from me they won't. Would it help if I beat a confession out of him?" "You're not serious?" He said. This time I was sure he sounded hopeful. "Only about half — I'd like to leave it on the table as an option though. I think we both know my primary concern here." "Yeah, I think we're clear on that. Anybody around that you're worried about? You haven't been there long, you could move again." "I'll get back to you. Show Fox the paper and tell him I'm going to want to have a chat with him, soon." "I'll do that," he said with a chuckle. "It'll be interesting to see the look on his face when I tell him." "If anybody else gets hurt because of this little stunt, you're going to have to wait for the swelling to go down." I hung up and closed the phone. Throughout most of the conversation Tony had been staring at me like I was insane. After I put the phone away he leaned in and whispered intently, "Tell me you did not really just call FBI director Samuel Rodriquez, on his direct line, and threaten to kick the shit out of one of his agents." "Tony, you're my attorney; you really want me to lie to you?" "Who the fuck are you?" he demanded in an urgent whisper. "First of all, stop whispering, you know it just attracts attention." He shook his head and took a sip of his water before saying, "David, I have to tell you, you're starting to make me nervous. I knew there was more to you when you called them to do a background check on me, on a Sunday no less, and they did it. Can I assume this has something to do with you suddenly making last minute 'in case I don't come back' arrangements last week?" The truth is a double-edged sword honed to a hair-splitting razor's edge. How much could I tell him ... and how much was too much? "There's so much I can't tell you," I said with a sigh. Oh well, in for a penny ... I took a deep breath, let it out and dove in. "You've seen the official version," I said, indicating the paper. "I didn't read the whole thing, did they mention the reward?" "The story said Rico Girard had hired some bounty hunter and paid him a hundred grand to get the girl back. They identify you later in the article." "Girard and the reward were a cover. The FBI called me while I was at your office and told me Rebecca was missing." He gave a low whistle. "Why you?" "Because they knew if I couldn't get her back she was dead. And let's be clear, when I say 'they' I mean Rod called me. He's the only person besides Rebecca that even knows I exist, at least until now." "And the Bureau couldn't get her back?" "The Bureau, specifically Rebecca, had been trying to find this guy since July with no success. It was actually longer, but that's when we found out who it was we were after. Eventually it was decided to try and get him to act, so steps were taken to try and provoke him. Apparently it worked, although looking back, I'm not sure it was anything she did, or if he even knew she had done something. Actually, it wasn't even really her, but a source that we share. Either way, he would have discovered it eventually; I'd rather they think that was the reason. Besides, it worked, and he kidnapped Rebecca's sister, Amy, which is how I found him." "You and she share a source? How does that work?" "However he tells us it works. The information is always good. The only rule is no one knows who he is. If he hadn't had me to do the legwork she would likely be dead now; or wish that she was. Like I said, I think the timing was coincidence. I think the killer was after her all along and just waited until he was ready and then made her come to him." "And you found her?" "Officially? No. Officially I found Amy, spotted the killer's van leaving, reported it to my source and he had the van followed to where Rebecca was being held." "Officially," He said, hanging the obligatory air-quotes. "Yeah," I said, shaking my head. "The irony is that while the reporter was embellishing the story, he actually got it right; I found them both. Amy was in no danger, she never had been — the killer had promised Rebecca that if she came to him, her sister would not be harmed. If nothing else, he was a man of his word. He had Amy safely tucked away where someone would find her first thing in the morning no matter what else may have happened, but I wanted her out of there as quickly as possible, so I called it in. It also established me as being somewhere far from the action." "So where's the problem? From where I sit all you've done is throw away a lot of free publicity, and probably Girard's reward." "I get the reward anyway, but for a different reason, and it doesn't matter either way, the money isn't important. The problem is the reason they had to, or were supposed to, leave me out of the story originally." He looked at me expectantly, obviously waiting for me to continue. I held his eye and weighed my options. After a few seconds Jamie chimed in, saying, "Tell him," in a voice that held a lot more certainty than I was feeling. I took a deep breath and dove into the deep end of the trust pool. "My name is not David Malcolm. I'm not going to tell you what it is but three weeks ago David Malcolm didn't exist. He was created by someone that specializes in this sort of thing, working somewhere very high up in a department that can get away with making up fake people. The reason I'm now David Malcolm is that there is someone very bad out there who is very interested, and very determined, to find me. She's tried for me twice already. The last time she grabbed a girl I was dating. I got the girl back, but now she and her whole family are in protective custody. That was before we knew who was after me. Since then we've found out who it is, and trust me, it's bad." I paused to see if he would ask the question. He did. "How bad?" "She's a professional assassin from Europe," I said. Again he whistled appreciatively. "Interpol has been after her for years. The FBI has been looking for her for a month without even knowing who they were really looking for. That's why I called Rod. The clock started ticking the minute that story hit the paper. She's an old friend of the killer they were after, the Sandman. Officially, Rebecca has a mysterious person feeding her information. Until recently, only two people knew the truth, that it was me feeding her and that I'm the one that found Angela and led Rebecca to where she was being held." "Holy ... shit!" Tony whispered. "So how did this... ?" "I had a disagreement with one of the agents taking my statement; it didn't get physical, but it came close. Rod and Rebecca both suggested to the agent that he had dodged a bullet. He didn't take it well, but I didn't expect him to pull anything like this." "How bad is it?" He asked. "As of now, Rod's got one of his top geeks looking for me, using all the resources of the FBI. That's my baseline. Her sources probably aren't as good but they will be good and she will find me." "You're going to wait for her to find you?" It was a rhetorical question but he clearly thought I was nuts. "I'm not running, and I don't want any more innocents put at risk because this psychotic bitch is after me. I can't find her, so the only choice is to let her come to me. Fortunately, she wants me alive, so I've got the advantage." "You got balls kid, I'll give you that. Here and I thought I was saving the good news for last. Now I'm not so sure." "What do you mean?" "The airline called just after ten, they took the deal. Your girlfriend gets in about 2:30. I thought maybe you'd like to meet her and give her the good news yourself. Assuming she's still speaking to you." "She'll forgive me," I said with a grin. He rolled his eyes, "Yeah, no doubt. I was thinking maybe the two of you could meet Tina and me for dinner. Now I don't know if that's a good idea or not." "Depends on how fast Paul finds me. I don't think anyone else has a shot at finding me faster, so until he calls I figure I'm in the clear. Dinner sounds like a great idea, with the understanding that Christine is not like Acacia." 'Acacia' was the name of the woman who first introduced me to Tony. Jasmine had sent her to me my first weekend in town to take me shopping for an appropriate 'graduation' present for Amber. Her real name was May, and she was Jasmine's personal slave as well as her personal assistant. She had been, under Jasmine's direction, the person primarily responsible for Amber's training. Sending her to me had been an unbelievable gesture of trust and respect on Jasmine's part. We had wound up meeting Tony and his wife for dinner later in the evening. "David," he said very seriously. "No one is like Acacia, but I take your meaning. I'll let Tina know and everything will be fine. Aren't you worried about her if the wicked witch shows up?" "Yes," I answered. "But I don't think she could possibly find me that fast. I'll put Christine in a hotel somewhere when things start getting interesting." "She could stay with me and Tina," he offered. That was a surprise. "You don't mind?" "No, we've got plenty of room, and it's not likely to be more than a couple days one way or the other. Besides, between Tina and me I'm sure we could keep her safe if anyone came around." "No," I said emphatically. "No deal. Tony, you don't understand who you're dealing with. I don't know if she'll come herself or not, but I think this time it's a strong possibility. She tried having someone else do the dirty work twice and came up empty. You can't miss her if she does. Think Morticia Addams; tall, thin, pale, longish dark hair. A woman like that shows up and starts asking questions about me, you tell her anything she wants to know, anything! If she tells you she wants Christine you make her promise not to harm her and then you tell Christine to go with her and everything will be okay." "You'd believe her if she said she wouldn't hurt her?" "She won't have time to hurt her." He looked at me funny. "You're that sure?" "Yes, I'm that sure. In fact, if she shows up looking for Christine, ask her to remember what happened to Boris and the Sandman and suggest she may want to reconsider getting an innocent involved. Hell, offer to call me, whatever, just don't argue with her." "Boris and the Sandman?" he asked dubiously. "I know," I said with a chuckle. "It sounds like something out of Rocky and Bullwinkle, but trust me, she'll know what you mean." I let my voice go serious again. "And one way or the other, Tony, you have to promise me you won't try to stop her if she shows up." "As long as she doesn't try to hurt anyone, I'll play along," He said. He still didn't get it, and I knew that if it came to it, I wouldn't be sending Christine to stay with them. We finished lunch. and he told me to call Janelle at the office for Christine's flight information. ------- Chapter 3: Here We Go "Hello, Christine," I said as she came down the tube-way with the rest of the flight crew. I held out the single rose I had been holding as a peace offering. "Mr. Malcolm," she said coolly, taking the stem from me and holding it to her nose. There was a shy smile on her face that said it was an act. "I'm really sorry about last week; I'm sure it was awkward for you but..." A new voice interrupted. "So you're the one responsible for this bullshit?" This was from one of the men. A quick check of shoulder bars said that this had to be Captain Hardwick. The guy behind him shaking his head in disbelief pretty much sealed it. "Captain Hardwick, I presume," I answered. "It all depends on your point of view, Captain, but in the end — when you get right down to it — you bear the ultimate responsibility, since you're the one who started the whole problem. And before this discussion goes any farther, and you say something you'll regret, I suggest you find a phone and call HR. Among other things they will tell you that Christine will not be accompanying you on your flight out. She has been re-assigned. Christine, I know that sounds a little strange, but please don't be upset. There have been some developments, and if you'll just give me a chance — I promise I'll explain everything." She rolled her eyes and sighed, "David, don't be silly, I'm not mad at you, and of course I'll give you a chance to explain. Same rules as last week though; just because it didn't work out doesn't mean anything has changed. Deal?" "Deal," I said, taking her bag and offering her my arm. "So what were you saying to Hardwick about me being re-assigned?" "Actually," I began. "I'd like to save that for later if you don't mind. And, if you will indulge me, I'd like a rain check on dinner. We're having dinner with some friends." "We have friends?" she asked. "Well, sort of. Our attorney, Anthony Cicarelli, and his wife, Tina." "The attorney I met with last week?" "The same," I answered. "We're meeting them for dinner." "Let me guess," she said. "That's when you're going to tell me what's going on? "Well, that was the plan," I said with a smile. "Or you could try to torture it out of me sooner; we do still have plenty of time to kill. Although I was hoping you could use some of that time helping me with my wardrobe? I need more clothes, and I'm just not cut out for shopping, not for things that matter." "Okay, where am I staying?" "Anywhere you want," I said. "Of course, I have an apartment now, sort of a one and half bedroom, so you can have your own room — or just tell me where and I'll book you a room." "Uh-uh!" she said, shaking her head. "You promised you wouldn't spoil me this time, but I'm not sure I trust you." Then she smiled and said, "Your place will be fine." I had left my car at the house and taken a cab so I could avoid the whole parking hassle; that whole "waving down a cab" thing is apparently just in the movies. Or maybe it's just in New York; here they are lined up in a neat little row, and you just take the first one. I handed Christine into the back seat, set her bag in the front, and then climbed in next to her for the ride home. She was a little confused when we pulled up in front of the house. "I thought you said you had an apartment." "I do," I said. "It's out back; come on, I'll show you." I paid the driver, and we headed up the walk toward the main house. Doreen was rocking in the shade, but she stood as we reached the porch, and I introduced them. "This is my landlady, Doreen Willets. Doreen, this is Christine." "Hello Christine, I'm very pleased to meet you ... My goodness, just look at you. David, you never told me how pretty she was." Christine blushed and replied, "It's very nice to meet you, Doreen." "David, Regina and Bobby are coming for dinner, will you be joining us?" she asked, and then added enticingly, "I'm stuffing up some pork chops." "No, sorry, Doreen, but we're meeting some friends for dinner." "Okay, suit yourself, but you're going to miss my peach cobbler." "Ooh, peach cobbler? Then I am most definitely not coming. I swear I've put on five pounds already, and I've only been here a week." "Ain't no harm in that," Doreen admonished me. "You're too skinny anyway. Besides, all that running you do every morning, a stray calorie don't have a chance no how. Go on now; run along, I got better things to do than stand here and watch you waste away. Be careful on your way through, I waxed the floors this morning." Christine was impressed with Doreen's house and almost speechless when she saw the apartment out back. "This is your apartment? How did you find it? My god, it's huge! And you have a private pool? I hate you!" "Come on," I said, chuckling and holding the door. "I'll show you your room." "It's ... nice," she said when she was inside. "Liar," I said with a laugh. "It looks like a tomb, it has no personality. I was hoping you could help me with that too. Either that or I have to hire a decorator. Anyway, this is the office, and my bed is behind that middle bookcase. And your room is right through here..." The rose petals all over the bed and floor may have been a little much, but she liked it. "You're too cute," she said, kissing me on the cheek, "and I would like nothing more than to trash that beautiful bed with you, but it's going to be a couple days yet before I'm up for that, sorry to disappoint you." "Biology is a part of life, Christine. Besides, if you recall, I'm not the rush into it kind, and you are very much worth waiting for. It's not a problem. Did you want to grab a shower before we go?" We spent the afternoon working on my wardrobe. We had a bit of trouble when I asked her if she had a dress for dinner. She didn't have anything with her besides her uniform and a pair of jeans, and she wasn't really happy when I insisted on buying her one. "David, you promised me you wouldn't do this again." "I'm not trying to spoil you Christine, but since you just lost your job you might want to save your money." Her reply was about halfway out when she realized what I had said. "Wait. What do you mean I just lost my job?" "Didn't you hear me when I told Hardwick you wouldn't be leaving with them?" "Yeah, you said I had been reassigned, you mean I got fired? I just knew this was going to happen! Damn it David..." I put a finger to her lips, smiled and said, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't tease you like that. No, you haven't been fired; you're going to flight school." "Shut ... up! I'm not going to..." Then she saw I was serious and her eyes got huge. "Oh my God! David that's ... No! You can't ... you're serious... ? I'm going to flight school?"" "With pay." "What?" I just nodded. She stared for a couple seconds; I wasn't even sure if she was breathing or not, but then suddenly she was hyperventilating. I sat her down to catch her breath and knelt in front of her. I was about to go in search of a paper bag when she suddenly burst into tears. That seemed to be enough to break the cycle, and the next thing I knew I was being showered with kisses. I let her appreciate me for a couple of seconds before hugging her. "You're welcome," I said, shifting to sit next to her. "Now, what about that dress? We're meeting Tony and his wife for dinner, and I want everyone to know the prettiest girl is with me." Finding a woman the right dress for dinner takes a lot longer than improving a guy's entire wardrobe. We talked while we roamed through a dozen different stores. "When do I start?" she asked as we were sitting on a bench, taking a break between stores. "I don't know. You'll have to take that up with HR; you're supposed to call them by the way." "David!" she said suddenly. "What about Widget?" "Who?" "Widget; my kitty." "Well, I just assumed you would bring her with you when you move." "Ugh," she said. "Moving — I hate moving, and everything is so expensive here. I know, I researched it when I decided I wanted to go to flight school. That's one of the reasons I stayed in Atlanta; the commute is a bitch, but at least I already had a place. How am I going to afford it?" "You could always take a second job," I suggested. "How are your secretarial skills?" "My secretarial skills? David, I can't work and do flight school." "Sure you can," I said. "Maybe not a typical nine to five job, but if you found something with flexible hours, part time, working for someone who only needs basic business things done, you know: paying the bills, checking messages, setting up the odd appointment, finding decent clothes to wear, maybe going to dinner or the odd social gathering when he needed an escort, that sort of thing." Somewhere in the middle of all that, a light went on. "Ah, I see," she said, nodding her head and slipping her arm through mine. "Let me guess, you know someone in need of just that sort of help. Say ... a young entrepreneur just getting his business off the ground. With a job that takes him odd places at all hours." "Why yes," I said innocently. "As a matter of fact, I know of just such a position that is about to come available." "How convenient," she said. "And what does this position pay?" "How about rent on the apartment of your choice?" "Really?" she asked. "Well, within reason." "I thought for sure you were going to say room and board. That was why you emphasized that that was my bedroom, wasn't it." "Christine, I would never presume something like that, but you can use the bedroom while you shop for an apartment that takes cats." "Do I get to fuck the boss?" she asked, like it was just another job perk. "That is not part of your job description," I answered. "Christine, I don't expect..." "Chill," she said. "I know you're not that kind of guy, or this whole situation never would have come up. You don't encourage someone to file a harassment suit so you can hire them and harass them yourself. What I meant was, does working for you mean I can't sleep with you, because if it does then I'm not taking the job." "Oh," I said, suddenly at a loss for words. "Just kiss her you idiot." I'd all but forgotten about Jamie. Sitting side by side is not a very good position, so I stood and pulled Christine to her feet so I could kiss her properly. "I'll let you decide that for yourself," I said. "Just so long as it's clear that there is no obligation involved." "There it is," Jamie said suddenly as we were kissing. "What?" "The dress," she said. "Eleven o'clock; just past her shoulder ... See it, the green one? That will so bring out the color in her eyes." "When did you start studying women's fashions?" "Hello, every time one walks by. Duh!" I looked where she indicated, and she was right. In the front of the store across from us, about two racks back, was a beautiful green dress. Not too dark, but not pastel either. In fact the color looked familiar. I was sure I'd seen it before, and I mentioned it to Jamie. "Jasmine's dress is the same shade," she said. "Yep, that's it," I agreed. "Come on," I said, tugging Christine's hand. "I think we just found your dress." It even fit. Of course then she needed shoes... We met Tony and Tina at the Hard Rock and ended up staying for drinks and dancing until about eleven. I spotted the tail about a block from the restaurant as we were headed home. "Can you find out who it is?" I asked Jamie. "Not on my own," she said. "I can't just wander around; I need a person to anchor to." I gave a mental shout for Walter, and suddenly he appeared in the back seat. "I need you to check out this car," I projected an image of the one I meant, so he could see it. "I need to know who they are." He didn't even answer, just jumped out of the car and waited for the other one to catch up. A few minutes later he was sprinting through traffic to catch up again; which seemed odd considering he had just appeared in the back seat a moment before. "I believe they are agents of your government, My Lord. They do not have the feel of those who meant you harm before." "What do you think, sis? Did Rod send them to watch us?" "I don't think Rod would be that stupid," she answered. "She's already killed two of his watchdogs, and if it were him, I'm sure he would have told them to be more careful after what happened to the others." "Damn," I swore. "I wish I could call and ask, but I can't do that with Christine in the car." "Walter," Jamie said. "Go back and let's see if I can use you as a focus to get close enough to merge with one of them. Or do you think you could merge with one of them?" "I do not know milady, but I will attempt it. If that does not work, then perhaps your other suggestion will." We were stopped at a light this time, so he didn't have to run to catch us. "No milady, it seems I am barred from them." "Okay, go back and wait for me. Jimmy, you may want to pull over somewhere in case this goes wrong, and I need you to come save me." I didn't need to; an ambulance came through — overriding the traffic controls, and making us wait through two cycles. Jamie was back before the light changed. "Shit!" she said. "You're not going to believe this; they're Atkins' people." "What?" She was right, I couldn't believe it. "Damn, she had a copy of the official report, and probably our debriefing as well. Any suggestions?" "Yeah, we need to tell Atkins to stay the fuck away before she gets someone killed. I'm going to put Christine to sleep, dig out your magic phone and ... oh wait; we can't let them see us calling her; someone may compare notes and realize the times match up. New plan, I'm putting Christine to sleep, lose these assholes." The light turned green and the race was on. As Christine slumped in the seat next to me I floored the gas and burned a thousand miles off my rear tires as I charged into the intersection, then spun the wheel — cutting off the two lanes of traffic on my left — and made the long u-turn back the other way. My would-be tail was now mired behind the Detroit Steel Pretzel I'd left in the intersection. I even waved as I passed them going the other way, so they would know it wasn't an accident. A quick right at the next intersection followed by a left turn half way down the block put me in a small alley between two rows of office buildings. I killed the lights until I was out the other end, and then headed for the nearest parking structure. Sandra Atkins didn't exist. Just ask anyone in Washington; chances are they'll tell you they've never heard of her. Poke around enough of the darker closets and you may encounter someone who does know her. You may also become part of an urban myth. Sandra Atkins was one of those people that kept conspiracy theorists up at night not sleeping in a bunker instead of the house. You've heard of 'Cloak and Dagger'? Somewhere in Washington there is a closet in which Sandra Atkins passes out daggers to the guys wearing the cloaks. We'd first encountered her when Rebecca was following up on a lead for me. I'd run across a girl — a thirteen-year-old runaway — who had provided the key piece I had been looking for in a very nasty puzzle. Almost immediately, Rebecca hit an officially locked door, and used her official FBI ID to get through it. Within hours she was ordered to Washington. Almost immediately after arriving, she was under house arrest at FBI headquarters being asked questions by a woman that didn't exist, a former US Attorney General, and a member of the Secret Service. Questions she couldn't answer. Unfortunately, part of being an active field agent is authorizing your superiors to do things they don't talk about in polite company in order to extract information from you. You know, in case you're captured, brainwashed, and sent back as a rouge assassin or something like that. With a little help from me she survived the second interview; the one involving needles and restraints. She has no memory of what happened, but apparently she said — or didn't say — all the right things, and instead of being sent home with a stern warning to drop her investigation, Atkins actually shared what she knew about the person Rebecca was investigating. She was then given an off the books promotion with pay differential accruing directly to her pension and passed to her listed beneficiary should she for any reason not leave to see it. In return she was to stay away from the person in question, but pass along any information that came her way regarding the subject as well as anything she thought they might find interesting. She became a spy within the FBI. On the one hand it was part of the checks and balances all high-powered agency need, on the other ... oooh, need more hands to cover that. Sandra Atkins was a scary individual; the personification of everything I feared about the government and what would happen if they ever found out about me. Two dirty Las Vegas cops showed up looking for my little runaway on trumped up charges of arson and murder. When I say they were dirty I mean one of them had actually committed the crime she was accused of. Whether or not she was innocent wasn't the point. We'd done everything we could to hide her. Rod — Rebecca's boss and the head of the Las Angeles FBI office — had even had an, 'acquaintance' of his at Witness Protection create a new identity for her, complete with verifiable background information. When they showed up at her school asking about late enrollments we knew we were out of time, and out of options. I called Atkins to stop them. She refused because there was no way to interfere with what was — on the surface — a lawful investigation, without exposing herself or her organization. She was willing to sacrifice an innocent girls life to protect her invisibility. I wasn't. Now they're dead and Phoebe is, so far, still safely hidden. When I say 'I' called Atkins, what I really mean is that I had Jamie call her, pretending to be the mysterious source that was helping Rebecca track down the Sandman. Jamie is not an alternate personality in the sense of most suffers of Multiple Personality Disorder — MPD for short — but she does manifest some of the same characteristics. Most of the more common ones — different eye color for instance —don't show up because she is as close as I could ever have to a female biological twin. She is me if I had been born a girl. One of the more convenient characteristics that does appear is that her vocal and speech patterns are different from mine. In fact, if you were to record both of us, you would even get different voiceprints. Of course we didn't know this at the time — that knowledge came later during an experiment that Allison was doing — but we knew that our voices and speech patterns were far enough apart that no one listening to us individually on the phone would ever think it was the same person disguising their voice. If 'David Malcolm' ever needs to speak to Atkins, I'll call, but when my 'source' wants to talk to her, Jamie will do the talking. The last thing I need is for someone like Atkins to figure out it's the same voice and realize it's been me all along. "Atkins," came the sleepy voice on the other end of the line. "Stay the fuck away from David Malcolm," Jamie demanded. "What the ... son of a bitch! You again? What's the matter, afraid he'll lead us to you?" "More afraid you're going to get your people killed, or did you think Hampton was making up the whole bit with the Black Queen?" "The Black Queen? What's she got to do with Malcolm?" "She's the reason he didn't want credit in the paper for rescuing Hampton's baby sister, and if someone over at the FBI hadn't shot his fucking mouth off, no one would know he was even involved, much less where he is." "That doesn't answer my question." "She wants the same thing you want, me. You want your people on the wall next to Barkley and Simmons?" "No, of course not," she said contritely. "Then stay out of the way and let us handle this." "Who is 'us'?" she asked. "You want to trade team rosters? Fine, send me yours first." "Not likely," she scoffed. "How did you know it was my people?" "The arrogant stench of federal invisibility," Jamie replied. "They just assumed that because they didn't exist, he wouldn't spot them following him. Rodriquez wouldn't have put people on him without telling him first, not to mention that he hasn't found him yet. What you don't know is that you're fucking up our countdown. LA is seeing how long it takes to find Malcolm without using the information they already have; that will give us a decent estimate on how long Henslith will take to do the same thing. Once Rodriguez finds him, then we know she won't be far behind, and it's going to be harder to spot her with your people getting in the way. Unless, of course, you piss her off. Then we can just follow the trail of bodies." "You want her to find him?" "She wants him alive; that gives us options. Now either you get your people out of harm's way, or I'll take them out myself, but I am not going to risk innocents getting hurt because one of your amateurs screwed up. Do I make myself clear?" "Who the hell do you think you are calling me in the middle of the night and threatening my people?" she demanded. Jamie exploded, "Threatening your people! What are you, deaf? I'm not threatening your people; I'm trying to keep them alive. They're out of their league, and if you don't get them out of there, they're going to get hurt." I hung up. "Think she'll do it?" I asked after she hung up. "Hell no, she's too damned sure of herself and too damn proud to admit she may have made a mistake. So what are we going to do?" "Well, for starters, we're going to go home, wake Christine up, and put her to bed. Then we're going to call Rod and ask him where to have his counterparts in Vegas pick up Atkins' agents." "Oh goody, play time!" she said. I could feel her wringing her hands in glee. "Where do you think they'll be? Wait, don't tell me. I'll bet I can spot them before you do." "What's the wager?" I asked. "Winner gets first turn with Christine when the Nile stops running red." "Jamie! First off, Christine's not a prize. Second, that's just gross." "Yeah, I got it from Lizzy," she giggled, "and you know that's not what I meant about Christine, but it's not like she doesn't want to — it's just a question of who gets to be there for her first. As for her being a prize, tell me you'd be disappointed finding her at the bottom of your next box of Cracker Jack?" "Not likely," I admitted. "But, Jamie, it's not a game, and there's a good chance they won't show up until later. I'm going to have Walter watch for them. When they show up, we'll deal with them." I pulled out my phone again and called Rod. "Shit," he swore when I told him the latest development. "Kid, do me a favor, stay away from me, you attract trouble. So what do you need?" "Someone to collect them after I take them out." "You sound pretty sure of ... never mind. I'll get you a number to call and let the local boys know it's not a prank call. I would love to see the look on her face when she finds out." "I'd rather we didn't have to bother. Thanks for your help. What's the word from Paul?" "I'll ask him and call you back." "He's still working on it? Kind of late don't you think?" "You think she'll knock off for the night?" "Good point. I'm going to have to buy him a new game for his X-box or something." "Are you kidding? This is like candy to him. I'll get back to you." "Don't bother, just have him call me when he finds me. I'm sorry for waking you." "Don't be, I appreciate the call." I shook Christine awake as we pulled into the garage. "Hey," I said softly, jostling her shoulder and kissing her hand. "Come on, let's get you to bed." "What?" she said blearily. "Oh, we're here? Wow, I must have dozed off. That's strange, I didn't feel that tired." "Dozed off? You were snoring so loudly I thought the rear end..." I stopped when she punched my arm. "David! I do not snore!" she started poking and pinching at my ribs. "You take that back, right now!" "Okay, okay! I take it back, I was just teasing. You sleep just like the fairy princess I remember from last time." I climbed out and stepped around to open her door. "That's better," she said. "Do we have to go through the house, or is there another way? I don't want to wake Doreen up." "There's a door directly out from the garage. Apparently, Theo didn't want to wake her up when he came home late either." I picked up her shoes from where she had taken them off and handed them to her. "Mmm, thank you," she said sleepily. I triggered the garage door to close; she slipped her arm around my waist and leaned into me as we made our way across the concrete to the apartment. "That bed is going to feel so nice. Oh, but my little Widget is at home ... David, would you snuggle with me?" "I thought you'd never ask. Will you still respect me in the morning?" I helped her out of her dress; she looked really hot standing there in her little push-up bra, hi-cut panties and four inch heels. I think she did it on purpose. "That's not nice, you know," I said as I hung up my coat. She smiled and said, "Come here and I'll make it up to you." I reached into her bag and pulled out the long t-shirt she slept in. "Why don't we put you to bed and save that for when you're awake, sober, and I can play too? Put your arms up." She put her arms up over her head, and I pulled the shirt down over her shoulders, popped the catch on her bra, and helped her slip out of it. I'd seen Allison and Shannon do it enough times that I knew the trick to doing it with a shirt on. "You're a strange one, David Malcolm. Did anyone ever tell you that?" I rolled my eyes and chuckled as I turned away to finish undressing. "You have no idea." She slipped her arms around me from behind; hugging me and kissing my shoulder before retrieving her toothbrush and a little pink pouch from her bag, and skipping off to the bathroom. I didn't need to ask what was in the pouch; every woman has one. Most women go with something plain, but Allison's had little red flags all over it. Shannon's had had a radiation warning symbol; I hadn't seen Amber's or Easy's yet, but I didn't need to see it to know they had one. It's one of those universal accessories. I finished hanging up my suit, pulled back the covers, and settled myself on the bed to wait for her. I left Jamie behind to keep Christine company and moved to the office. "Walter?" He stepped in through the far wall. "I am checking the area every few minutes for new vehicles, my Lord; I will inform you if, or rather when, they arrive." "So you agree with me that they will come." "Yes, my Lord." He hesitated for a second before adding, "Forgive me my Lord, but your earlier action will be seen as a challenge. I believe you would have been better served to explain the stakes and ask for them to simply remain close enough to assist should the need arise." "Don't ever apologize for speaking your mind, Walter. Just because your opinion may differ from mine is no reason to hold your tongue. I want you to feel free to speak frankly with me. You're saying I pushed too hard? Considering who I was dealing with, I thought the best defense may be a strong offense." "Had she been a man, I would agree with you, my Lord. But she is a woman — a woman in a man's world, carrying a man's load — and no doubt she has been challenged many times regarding her ability to handle the job." "Damn," I said, realizing the truth of his words. "You're right. I just told her to get back in the lifeboat with the rest of the women. What do you suggest?" "You could apologize for seeming heavy handed, but I doubt she would listen; perhaps if fair Rebecca were to speak to her on your behalf? They could speak as near equals, both women in a man's world, and even with the difference in their stations I believe Ms. Atkins would listen to her. Rebecca could explain that you were wroth at the possibility of her agents coming to harm, reiterate your concern for their safety, and your need to eliminate this threat once and for all." "Thank you, Walter. I'll talk to her about it. Let me know when they show up." "Yes, my Lord. Would you explain my absence to young Amy?" "She probably knows but I'll be sure and tell her. That reminds me, I wanted to talk to Bob and see if he has any idea why she knows who we all are when she's dreaming but not when she is awake." "You do not know, my Lord?" he asked in a surprised tone. "It is because she does not wish to." That was surprising. "She doesn't? Why not?" "She knows the danger that the knowledge of you represents, and she does not wish to do anything to endanger you; therefore she withholds conscious knowledge." "How do you know this?" "We discussed it," he said simply. "Well that makes sense. Did she tell you how or why she apparently sees and hears you when she's awake?" "I did not need to ask her," he said. "It is because I was there the whole time as she made the transition. She needed me there to help her be brave and move forward; I held her hand in the dark until she fell into true sleep once more." He paused and looked away before continuing. "It is as though she took a piece of me with her when she went." "Yeah, and I'll bet I know which piece," Jamie said so that only I would hear. "Ask him where she is?" I didn't bother. "You love her don't you, Walter? The piece she took with her came from your heart." "I fear it is so, my Lord." There was sadness in his voice this time. "Don't apologize, Walter. You should never apologize for loving someone." "It is not right, my Lord. She is human, where as I..." "Are no less real just because the world cannot see you," I said. "Not to me, and certainly not to her. Tell me, does it bother you walking through the world unseen?" "Oh, no, my Lord, definitely not! Your world is ... fascinating, but I would not wish to live there." "You are real to the people that matter," I pointed out. "There are those in my world that spend their whole lives never being real to the people they love." "But she deserves..." I knew where he was going and again I cut him off. "That is for her to decide. Will her decision alter your love for her?" I didn't wait for an answer. "Of course not. Just as the fact that one day Allison may take a husband will not change my love for her. The same is true for Amber." "You do her an injustice, my Lord, your sister may indeed marry someday, but Amber will never leave you. You would have to give her away, and we both know you will never do that." "Okay, you got me there, but you get my meaning. Now, we both have work to do. Let me know if anything comes up." He disappeared back through the wall, and I called Rebecca. "Didn't you get the memo?" she asked. "I'm on vacation." "Something's come up." "Shocking," she said in a dry voice. "Something going wrong in your life, whoever would have thought? What's up?" "Atkins has people following me." "What? I'll be right there." She was still putting the phone away as she came in the door. As usual she didn't wait for the pleasantries. "How the hell did she find you?" "Obviously you haven't seen the paper," I handed her a copy of the article. "Fox," she said in disgust. "Son of a bitch, Rod should have let you kick his ass!" "He's considering scheduling a rematch. I'm going to make sure it was him first, though." "Mission Impossible time? Cool, can I play this time?" "We'll see. First I think I may have over-reacted and made the present problem worse. Tell me what you think..." I ran the playback of my conversation with Atkins. I could see from her expression that Walter was right. "I take it from your expression that you agree with Walter; I told her to go back to her room and play with her Barbies while the men take care of this?" "In not so many words, yes." "Crap, that was so not my intention. Could you call her? Tell her I called you after I hung up with her and realized what I'd done. Blame it on testosterone or something, but get her to back off before someone gets hurt." "Jimmy, they're trained agents," she said. "So were Barkley and Simmons," I countered. Her expression made me immediately regret it. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. I've been away from Allison too long, and my IQ is dropping." "No," she said, shaking her head. "No, you're right. If Henslith spots them, she'll take them out before she comes after you. I'll call Atkins. It kind of sounds like she's started thinking of you as competition." "I was thinking the same thing. On the one hand that's a good thing, but it may put you in an awkward situation. Do you think she'll worry about your loyalty?" "I can't see that I've given her any reason to. This is just me calling to confirm that my source's primary concern is the safety of all our people." There was a knock at the door, and then Walter walked in. "My Lord, they are here." "Thank you Walter, I'll be along shortly." He bowed slightly and closed the door. "It's so weird the way he treats you," Rebecca said. "Who are 'they'?" "Atkins' watchdogs, I need to go get rid of them. Where should I leave them? I need someplace safe. I wish I had a couple of those knockout shots that Boris's people were going to use on me; that would make it a lot easier. As it is, they're just going to wake up somewhere with no idea how they got there." "Sterilize a push pin and poke them hard enough to leave a bruise; it will look like they were shot with a tranquilizer." "But won't they look for traces of whatever I shot them with?" "There are a lot of compounds that break down fast enough to dissipate before they could detect them. As for where to leave them; airport parking, out in the desert, truck stop, anyplace like that. Heck, leave them in a park so someone will find them in the morning." She laughed. "Yeah, leave them in a park, handcuffed to the wheel, and then put the keys on the hood of the car so they have to get someone else to help them. That should send a message to Atkins." We both got a chuckle out of that, and then she got serious on me. "Jimmy, about Amber..." "What about Amber?" I asked innocently. "Seeing her this weekend; I know what she is, what she's become." "I'm not sure I follow you," I said, doing my best to stay centered and neutral. "Come on, Jimmy, I specialize in sex crimes; I've seen a lot of really bizarre shit during my career. She's made herself your slave, hasn't she? That's why the depression; something in her craved the sensation of being dominated and controlled. It's why she couldn't get close to you for so long after; it triggered feelings she didn't understand. She loved you, wanted you, but she found herself wanting you in ways that disgusted her. How did you figure it out?" "Easy," I said. "Easy?" she asked. "Jimmy, a team of trained therapists didn't..." Understanding dawned. "Ah, not easy, Easy! Now it starts to make sense; she started showing dramatic improvement right after Easy came on the scene." She shook her head. "And Easy would see the problem... , but she couldn't fix it because it wasn't broken, not to mention that Angela likes..." she caught my eye, "Never mind. So Easy could see the problem, but she couldn't fix it. But why put you in the middle of it?" "I was the only one Amber trusted." She nodded her head, "Yep, that would do it. Must have really freaked you out when she told you." "You have no idea," I said. "She had me bring Bob in and started describing what she was seeing; he figured it out right away. They didn't tell me at first; they had me do some research first. Then they hit me with the news that I was the only one that could help her — the only one she would accept the help from." "And you loved her too much to say no. Jesus, Jimmy, I don't know how you do it. With all the shit already going on in your life, not to mention the women ... I mean, you already had Shannon and Allison madly in love with you, and I know you loved them as well, but suddenly Amber — whom you really don't know that well — needs you, and you just grow a bigger heart to make room. And the girls just accepted it. I will never, if I live to be a thousand years old, understand how you do it. People are possessive by nature, women even more so. In all my years I've never seen a threesome survive; sooner or later jealousy creeps in, and the sex isn't enough to compensate. But with you ... it's like they just make room. Allison would kill for you, I don't doubt that for a second, but when Lizzy showed up she dropped to second place without so much as batting an eye." "There's no mystical secret here, Rebecca. She loves me. Apparently everyone but us saw Lizzy and me falling in love. But as much as I love Lizzy, Allison knows, they both know, that there is a piece of me that belongs to her alone, and that no one — not even Lizzy — can ever take that away. Before she died, there was another piece that belonged to Shannon. As for Amber, yes, she belongs to me; I accepted that when I took the job. She is my responsibility, and she will remain so until she decides otherwise, at which point the same love that keeps me responsible for her will release her." "Sounds kind of like having a kid." Hadn't I just had this conversation? "A closer analogy would be a disabled child — one who you know may never be ready to leave and be on their own. You either accept the responsibility, or you don't; there is no middle ground. I have chosen to accept it. Did you realize that she and Lizzy are going to the same school?" The look on her face said she hadn't thought of that. "They're roommates." "That's it!" She said. "That's the piece that was missing. I couldn't figure out how she could possibly be going to school half a continent away when she couldn't bear to be away from you for one night, even in the safety of her parents' home. And you set all that up? Damn. Will you explain to her that I know the truth, and she doesn't need to hide from me?" "Of course," I said. "Shannon figured it out on her own as well." "Big surprise," she scoffed. "I'd kill to have her insight. I lost count of the times she got us moving again when we thought we were stuck, or pointed out mistakes before we even had a chance to make them. She was the one that pointed out that Amy may not recognize us or even realize that any time had passed." "Yes," I said softly. "She was very special, and we miss her; we always will." "Alright, go! Leave! Before I start crying and lose my membership in the Badass Agent's Club. Go deal with Atkins' stooges. Let me know if you need anything else." She walked to the door and turned back as she opened it. "Jimmy, be careful with Henslith. I don't know why she's been playing these cat and mouse games, but it's obvious she wants something from you. You're good, but she's got a couple of decades of experience on you. Don't take any chances with her." "I won't," I assured her. The door closed, and I went to find Walter. He was actually sitting in the back seat of the car I had lost earlier, or one identical to it. It was obviously not their first time on stakeout; the driver was already slumped in his seat, propped up between the seat and the b-pillar, catching some sleep while his partner kept watch. The windows were dark, so the only way you could tell there was anyone inside was if you looked in the front windshield or someone turned on a light inside the car. My little sleeper was just about to enter dream sleep, so I put his partner out and took us all to a scene of them preparing to go out looking for me. They both checked the car over, examining the tires, checking the wiring and belts under the hood, and best of all, opening the trunk. Jackpot! The trunk was packed with surveillance gear, both electronic and the basic things like binoculars and such. There was also an assortment of firearms, prepackaged food, body armor, and ... yes... ! Half a dozen familiar looking steel tubes with screw-on caps. I'd seen enough, and as soon as they got in the car I put them under and gave them their instructions. Back in the bedroom, Jamie worked a little magic to make sure Christine wouldn't wake up — moving her so deep into dream sleep that nothing short of a major upheaval would wake her — then I slipped on my sweatpants and tennis shoes and went to open the garage door. A few moments later, a dark sedan backed up to the rear of the Impala, and the two agents began transferring all the surveillance gear into the trunk of my car. I was going to have to see about a storage unit. I was thinking about that when I realized that with the two of them tied up anyone could pick up their keys and take the weapons out of the trunk. I didn't want them, but I couldn't risk them getting into the wrong hands either, so I had them just put everything in my car, including both of their personal weapons. The larger weapons were secured in a padded rack to prevent damage or accidents from rolling around. The rack itself secured via tie-straps to the cargo rings in the trunk's floor, so I just had them move the whole rack to my car, along with their personal side arms. Then I had them drop their ID's into their trunk, take one of the steel tubes, and get back in the car. Jamie was already in the back seat, waiting, so we made the short drive to Freedom Park and found a quiet spot to park. As soon as we stopped, Jamie headed for the nearest restroom to find us a place to transition. "The doors are all locked," she said, "but the back side is pretty dark; we can use one of the breaks in the sidewalk as a transition line." From there it went pretty quickly, and before you knew it they were handcuffed together through the steering wheel and at their near ankles. I emptied a syringe into each of them, stabbing them both hard in the upper part of the arm closest to the window. The weather was warm enough that I hoped everyone would assume that they had been sitting with the windows down and been shot. A few seconds to wipe down everything I may have even touched, and we were back home thinking about how much fun it would be to see them wake up in the morning. If someone didn't find them sooner they would wake up wondering where they were and how in the hell they had gotten handcuffed together. Then one of them would spot their keys on the hood and they would have to use the horn to attract attention so someone could free them. "Rats," Jamie said. "We should have had them drop their cell phones in the trunk as well." There was a pause and then, "Ohhh! Jimmy, the other guy still has his keys! We should go back and..." "No," I said softly as I cuddled up to Christine once more. "All that matters is the result, and it's not like we were going to get to watch anyway. Come on, I want to go see..." My new phone rang. "We should probably keep that closer to the bed," Jamie said as we got back up again. "Yeah, you can remind me... Hello?" "David Malcolm? Paul Freeman. Fifteen hours, forty-two minutes." He went on to tell me my address. "Thank you Paul, I appreciate the extra effort." "Nah, this was cool, and it's not like I had a date or anything. If I could make a suggestion, turn off the GPS on your phone; that should buy you some extra time. Good night, sir." The line went dead, and as I crawled back into bed I started calculating the deadline from this point. The absolute worst case was that Henslith had found me just as fast as Paul had and was already in Vegas. She had the city, after all. All she needed was the address; she could have hit the road right away and already been waiting somewhere nearby for her people to give her the address. I couldn't see her trying anything in broad daylight the first day. She would want to watch me for a while first — pick the best time and place. There was a good chance she would try to take me here at the house, but then she risked Doreen waking up. When it came right down to it though, this was the logical place to do it, but it meant she needed intel she didn't have and would have to get the old fashioned way. They would still want to wait until Doreen and most of the neighbors had gone to bed in order to minimize the risk. That meant I was safe until nine or ten o'clock tomorrow night, probably even a little later. I needed to find a way to make sure they knew I was in the pool house and not the main house. "Leave the GPS on," Jamie said. "It's not like we're trying to hide." There was a decidedly blood-thirsty edge to her voice. My dark side was looking forward to this. ------- Chapter 4: Meet the Feds My phone rang the next morning while Christine was in the shower. I answered, "David Malcolm." "Want to guess who I just got off the phone with?" Rebecca asked. "How mad is she?" "Not as bad as you'd think," she said, "but she wants their stuff back." "Tell her that as long as she promises not to go after him, I'll give the guns to David, and he can drop them off at the local Bureau office, but I'm keeping the rest as a penalty for making me save her people." "Tell her yourself; she asked me to have you call. I think you earned her respect last night, and maybe she wants to make nice and start over." "I had her respect when Andrews and Charles died," I said. "The difference is now she's starting to think maybe we're on the same team." There was silence on the line for a few seconds, and I realized I'd never actually admitted to her that it was me who killed the two Las Vegas cops that were hunting Phoebe. Yeah, they were dirty and deserved it — especially Andrews — but it was still murder in the eyes of the law. "Rebecca?" "I'm sorry," she said. "We're going to need to talk about that one of these days, okay? Right now you should think about calling Atkins and making nice. It wouldn't hurt to apologize again for being a man last night either." "You think she'll be pissed about me keeping all that gear?" "No, as long as she gets the guns back she won't care about the rest. She's going to make them pay for it all anyway." "She is?" "You embarrassed them last night, David, and that reflects on her; she'll want to make sure they don't let it happen again. Money is a really good motivator." "Yeah, I'll bet. Okay, I'll talk to you later." "Who was that?" Christine asked as she came out of the bedroom. She had borrowed one of my t-shirts and was toweling her hair wearing just the shirt and a pair of lacy white boy shorts. "The FBI, I've got to drop some stuff by their office sometime today. Are you going to be blow-drying your hair?" "I usually don't on my day off," she said, coming closer. "Why?" "I've got a call to make that you can't hear, and I was hoping the blow dryer would drown me out, so I don't have to go outside." She nodded and said, "I think I'll go blow dry my hair." She kissed me on the cheek and bounced off toward the bathroom. The view reminded me how much I missed Allison. "Yeah, I miss her too," Jamie said. "Stop that," I said. "What? You're the one who was staring. You remember when you said Lynn was Allison's future? Well, in case you hadn't noticed, Christine's ass is right in the middle of the journey. Still enough like Allison's to be recognizable, and starting to show the hints of what's to come. Mmm-mm, mm-mm-mm!" I could feel her getting hot just thinking about being with her, or them. Lynn Hewitt had been Allison and Shannon's basketball coach in Junior High. She was also a physical education teacher, so she was in great shape — trim, fit, hard and strong, but still soft where it mattered ... seriously cute. It had occurred to me when I saw her one day, as I was picking Allison up after practice, that she looked like an older, more mature version of Allison. She was also seriously gay and partnered with another friend, Melinda Jenkins, one of the coaches at my old school. Right now Jamie was running a series of snapshot memories of Lynn through my mind. I stopped her when she started flashing more intimate scenes of the two of them together. These weren't memories; I'd never been in either of their dreams and never seen Lynn naked before — Melinda either for that matter — but I had found myself in the dream of a girl at school who had a serious crush on Mel and had filled in the reality of her image for me. The rest was Jamie doing a little fantasy work of her own. Sister Jamie has a pretty vivid, and spicy, imagination. "Hello, trying to work here, and that's not helping," I said as I dialed. "Sorry," she lied. "Atkins." "Good morning, Miss Atkins," Jamie said. "Well at least you waited until it actually was morning for a change. What now?" "I thought I'd start by apologizing for my tone last night. When David told me he was being followed, I thought Henslith had actually beat our time. Then when I found out it was your people ... well, I was out of line." "Well, forgive me for saying it, but that's damn big of you. Apology accepted. Now it's my turn. You were right; those two idiots would be getting cold by now if it had been Henslith that spotted them instead of your people. How did you know they were mine anyway?" "Sorry, that's classified, I could tell you... ," "Oh, please, don't say it," she admonished. "I could die a very happy woman if no one ever repeated that line to me again; I cringe every time I watch the movie. Now when do I get my gear back?" "Promise to leave him alone, and I can have David drop the guns off at the Vegas Bureau office. I'm keeping the rest for expenses." "About what I figured," she said. "You've got a deal. So what now?" "Now, the hard part: we wait. Rod's boy, Freeman, called David last night; if she's not already there, then I expect she'll be in town by the end of the day; but I doubt she'll try anything before late evening at the earliest — probably not even then. She's going to want to do surveillance first, so she knows where she stands." "We came to the same conclusion once we started looking for him with just the name and city. So what's your plan?" "You thought I had a plan?" Jamie asked jokingly. "Same as always: Catch the bad guy; try not to get anyone killed." "My kind of plan," she said. "You'll keep me informed?" "Of course not, you don't exist, but I will keep Hampton up to date, and I'm sure she'll pass along anything you need to know. Of course, she's on vacation, so I can't say how current the reports may be by the time you get them." We hung up and went online to look for a moving company. I'd been thinking about how to get Christine out of harm's way without telling her anything she shouldn't know, and it occurred to me while talking to Atkins that sending her home to pack was the perfect solution. I heard the blow dryer stop, and a few seconds later she was standing in the doorway asking, "All done with the cloak and dagger stuff? Can I come out now?" "Yeah, all done," I said. "I'm just doing a little web surfing, trying to find a company to handle your move. I thought maybe you could fly back to supervise, and then drive Widget out yourself, or we could transport the car if you'd rather fly." "Oh no," she said. "Trust me, cats and airplanes don't mix. It will be hard enough on her driving and being stuck in a car for days." I figured if you sedated the cat the relatively short flight would be easier, but since I wasn't sure how long I would need her to be out of the area I let it go. "David?" she asked. The tone told me that we were about to have the conversation I had been anticipating ever since she arrived. I spun the chair around and found her standing in the doorway, still looking very fetching in just a t-shirt and white panties. Her eyes were downcast, and her body language was anything but the confident, sexy woman I knew. "You're wondering what's going on with all this," I said. "Why I'm doing it? You're worried that maybe things are moving too fast and what my expectations might be?" She sighed and glanced sidelong at me before nodding her head. "I'm sorry, David, it's just..." "Don't," I said, standing up and walking toward her. She met me a little short of halfway, flinging her arms around me in a tight embrace, and starting to cry as she buried her face in my shoulder. That struck me as odd, too. Had I grown? I gave her a reassuring squeeze and guided her to the couch, sitting her down and squatting in front of her. I grabbed the box of tissues off the coffee table and held it out to her. "Are you always this emotional when you're cycling?" She gave that barking laugh of hers, took a tissue, blew her nose, and said, "Yes, damn it!" She tossed the tissue aside and grabbed a fresh one, folding it and dabbing at her eyes. "I've always been like this," she said. "The slightest thing sets me off this time of the month; I used to drive my dad and my brother crazy." She gave a big sigh, settled back on the couch, pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapped her arms around them, and rested her head on her knees. "Why are you doing all this, David? We just met. You don't even know me, not really anyway. We had one magical night together, and suddenly everything seems like a fairy tale romance on steroids." "Fairy tale or scary tale?" I asked. "Exactly," she said. "It feels like a fairy tale, but I don't believe in fairy tales. The truth is most of them ended in tragedy, they just leave that part out of the movies. It all just seems too good to be true, and I find myself waiting for the other shoe to drop. Don't get me wrong, you're a great guy, and I like you ... but, what's not to like? You're handsome, strong, and assertive without being intimidating; you just have this air of control around you that makes me feel like nothing could possibly go wrong that you couldn't handle, and then there's the sex ... I don't know, I just feel like..." she rolled her eyes. "Like it would be easy to lose yourself in all of it, only to one day wake up and find it all gone?" I asked. She nodded, and I went on. "Christine, this has all been dropped on you kind of suddenly, so I totally understand if you're feeling a little overwhelmed, but I promise you — this is all of it. I saw a chance to do something nice for you while teaching an asshole a lesson he desperately needed, and I took it. I didn't want to punish the company for having an employee who's a dick, so I kept the demands pretty low. They're paying for flight school, and keeping up your regular salary. I'm basically supplementing your income, so you can afford to live here while you go to school. I don't actually need a secretary; the business is too new to be that busy. The one that's really making out here is Tony. "What I think you need right now is a little time to kind of wrap your head around it. As it happens, I have something that's going to keep me busy for a few days, so you'll have a little time to think. Why don't we start with you making that call to HR and seeing how things are set up, and then I'll let you take over finding a good mover. I would suggest maybe bringing some extra clothes here, and then just put the rest in storage until you find an apartment. I'd offer to help you move, but I've got this other little problem I need to deal with, so I'll be busy. Hey, here's an idea: Maybe if she's not busy, Lizzy could come down and drive back with you. What kind of car do you have? Would there be room for both of you and the cat?" "It's a four door Blazer; there's plenty of room, but do you really think she'd want to do that? I mean, she doesn't even know me, and she'd be cooped up in a car with me for days." "She'd do it if I asked her to; besides, she really wants to meet you. Why don't you think about it, make your calls, and set everything up? I've got to run over and see the FBI. Maybe afterward we can grab some lunch and see where the day goes from there." I walked to the desk and pulled out her new company cell phone and credit card. I set the card down on the end table saying, "Just charge whatever you need for the move to the company." I showed her the phone. "If you're not familiar with the phone, there's a manual and quick start guide in the desk. I'm in your speed dial under 'D'. You can get to the directory from anywhere by pressing this button here, then just hold down the 'D' for a second and it will call me. I shouldn't be long, but in case something comes up..." I kissed her cheek and headed for the bedroom to change, but she caught my hand and held it, pulling me to a stop. "David?" she said, standing and turning me back so she could hug me. It was a little awkward since she still held my hand, but it was still nice. "Thank you, David, for everything. I think with all that's been happening I forgot to thank you for all you've done, all you're doing. It is a little overwhelming, and it's going to take some time to sort it all out, but I do appreciate it, and I realize now I hadn't told you that." "You didn't need to tell me, Christine, but you're welcome." I gave a little sway and started humming. "You know, all we need is a little music, and we could be dancing." It had the effect I was looking for and lightened the mood enough to get a smile out of her. "That would be nice," she said. "But right now the only dance I want to do with you is the Horizontal Mambo, and that's going to have to wait a little longer. I'm warning you now, you'd better get some rest while I'm gone — you're going to need it." She kissed me, slipping her hand down the back of my sweats and squeezing my butt. "Mmm, I just love your ass." She gave a firmer squeeze and her hand started drifting toward the bulge that was rapidly forming on the other side. That was my cue, and I quickly grabbed her wrist, pulled her hand out of harm's way, and stepped back out of reach. "No you don't," I said. "Not until I can too, and you've already said you're not ready for that. I'll just wait and take my chances when you get back. Right now, I have to go make nice with the Feds, and you have some calls to make." I gave her a quick peck on the lips, picked up the phone from where she had dropped it on the couch, handed it back to her, and ran for my life. I was just pulling on my jeans when she called from the other room, "David, why does this card have my name on it? I thought you said you hadn't planned all this!" "I didn't," I called back. "I planned for it, but I didn't plan on it." "Right, you just thought it would be a good idea in case I said yes." "That was the idea," I said as I pulled on a clean shirt. I picked up my tennis shoes and headed back out. "What's my limit?" she called just as I reached the doorway. "Common sense and a guilty conscience," I said. "That or a half million dollars, whatever comes first." Technically there was no limit, but — being a new client — I had no doubt they would shut it down if things looked like they were getting out of hand. "Yeah right!" she snorted derisively, but then she caught the look on my face. "You're not serious," she said, staring at me. I flicked an eyebrow at her, and her eyes got big. "David!" I finished tying my shoes, bounced up, kissed her on the cheek and said, "Be back in a little while; call if you need me." I grabbed my keys and danced out the door. I stopped at a storage place not far away and used the new ID Rebecca had sent me to rent a space to stash all the new toys. Next I wiped down the entire car to remove my fingerprints, so the most they might be able to get was a partial from my key, and then headed downtown to the local Bureau office. I was taking a risk showing up with a trunk full of stolen artillery; if Atkins wanted to mess with me, this would be her chance. I was trusting that she was more interested in what I might be able to do for her in the future than in revenge. I was also trusting that Rod and Rebecca would be able to corroborate my story that I was just returning it. The fact that none of the stuff had my prints on them would be a plus. I gave the driver's area another quick wipe, tucked the cloth into the pocket on the door, and headed into the lion's den. The Special Agent in Charge was a very severe looking woman with graying hair and an eagle sharp gaze. I was escorted into her office after checking in at the front desk. "Mr. Malcolm," she said, rising from her desk and extending her hand. "Dominique Spencer, Special Agent in Charge." "An unexpected pleasure; is it Miss or Missus?" I asked as I took her hand. She had a good handshake. Some women in traditionally macho male positions tended to overcompensate. Either she had figured out that it labeled them as insecure or she had never fallen into the trap. I was leaning toward the latter. "Missus, thank you for asking. Please, sit down, make yourself comfortable." "Mrs. Spencer, I would love to sit and chat, but I'd be a lot more comfortable if my car was in a more secure location first. It's in public parking, and right now would be a really bad time for someone to decide to steal it." "You make it sound like there is a good time to have your car stolen." "Well no, probably not, but you'd have to agree that now would be a particularly bad time." She raised an eyebrow but that was all. "They didn't tell you why I was coming," I said, shaking my head. "I was told that you had something for me; something connected to the two federal agents we found asleep in the park this morning. I assumed it was information." I smiled, "Cute. Mrs. Spencer, could you perhaps have an agent escort us across the street to my car? I have something for you, and I'd rather there was someone big and intimidating there when I show you, just in case." She stared at me for a moment and then reached for her phone. "Barbara, have Davidson and Weeks meet me in the lobby, please." She hung up the phone and stood. "After you, Mr. Malcolm." "Please, call me David," I said as I opened the door and held it for her. "After you." Two very large men in suits; one black, and the other white — the men, not the suits — were waiting for us when the elevator opened at the ground floor. She nodded an acknowledgement, and they fell in behind us. It was a relatively short trip to the parking structure, but I noticed the two men constantly scanning the area as we walked. "Right over here," I said as we approached the car. I stopped about ten feet away, and handed the keys to her. "I'd rather you opened it; they might react badly if I do it." She took the keys and said, "Weeks." The black mountain moved forward, and she handed the keys to him. I saw Davidson unbutton his coat and reach inside. "If it was going to blow up, I doubt Mr. Malcolm would have had me bring you along, Davidson. Neither do I think he would be standing next to me when it happened." "Yes, ma'am." He responded, lowering his hand to his side but leaving the coat open. "Mr. Weeks," she said, turning her attention back to the car. "We're waiting." Despite her assurances, I'm pretty sure Weeks held his breath as he turned the key, and as soon as the latch released he stepped back a couple feet, his hand going to the gun under his left arm, not drawing it, but ready. The trunk opened smoothly, bouncing slightly as it reached the top; the light came on about half way up. "Jeezzus," Weeks said softly, dropping his hand away from his gun and staring into the trunk. Davidson moved forward for a better look and gave a low whistle at the sight of the carefully racked weapons. The other agents' personal weapons were in the cargo net that stretched across the front of the opening, clips removed and slides open — safety first after all. "It's a little early for Christmas, but I guess they're supposed to be a gift," I said. "What do you get the girl who has everything?" Spencer replied. "If my husband were still alive, he'd be jealous. I assume everything we're interested in is in the trunk?" "Yes, ma'am." I replied. "Don't call me ma'am, you don't work for me. Davidson, Weeks; take Mr. Malcolm's car downstairs and have the lab handle the removal. The usual drill, print and process the trunk..." she turned and caught my eye, "only the trunk. Mr. Malcolm, I think we need to talk." She turned and started back toward the exit. "Only if you call me David," I said, falling in beside her. "I don't work for you." "You took a hell of a chance bringing that stuff here. If you'd been in an accident, or been stopped, and someone searched your trunk ... Where did you get it?" "Searching the trunk without a warrant would have been pointless on a routine traffic stop, and my prints aren't on any of it. Plus, I have two agents from Los Angeles that would have — will — back up my story." "And what story is that?" she asked. "That I don't know where they came from," I said, holding the door back into the building for her." "Thank you," she said as she passed me. "Then how, may I ask, did they come to be in your trunk?" "I don't know that either. I got a call this morning telling me they were there and asking me to bring them here to you." "A call from whom?" she asked. "A source of mine, and before you ask, I have no idea who he is, and most of the time it would be closer to say I'm his errand boy than that he is my source. He calls me with information and occasionally to do odd jobs, all legal, that he needs done." "Your last 'odd-job' involved recovering a woman who had been kidnapped from a medical facility in Southern California. Officially there is no proof that it's true, but — according to the paper — you were also responsible for recovering a missing FBI agent being held by the same deranged killer. Your own statement denies any involvement in Agent Hampton's rescue, but — with no evidence pointing to who else may have rescued her — I am inclined to wonder." "If you check the timeline, you'll see that I was a long ways away when that happened." "Not necessarily," she said. "I did check the timeline. You were on a cell phone, claiming to be a long ways away, when you called Agent Rodriguez — on his cell phone no less — and requested his assistance and an ambulance. While he was responding to that request, Agent Hampton called and informed him that she had miraculously escaped from one of the most wanted killers on the planet, unharmed, after listening to someone beat the living shit out of him. You had plenty of time to get back to the girl before the ambulance and the two agents accompanying it arrived at the park. However, since you were showing no signs of having contributed to the various pools and splatters of blood decorating that warehouse, they accepted your story. The facts as presented do not prove that you were not involved, only that you didn't duke it out with Kurtz. You carefully gave your mysterious source credit for that as well. Some people would question your having a senior agent's private cell phone number, but considering he had called me personally to arrange your flight to LA in the first place, that's the least of my concerns. When he called, my first inclination was to wonder who the hell you were; the night's events did nothing to assuage my curiosity." This little speech had gotten us all the way across the lobby and into the elevator. She finished as the doors opened and led the way back to her office without another word or a backward glance. She held the door for me this time. "I don't like mysteries Mr. Malcolm, but I had decided that if I had needed to know, someone would have told me. Then, earlier this morning, I was notified that two federal agents had been found handcuffed together in their car, by a jogger at Freedom Park. The poor woman was hysterical when she called the police. She thought they were dead. When they regained consciousness they were all but frantic to know what had happened to the contents of their trunk. According to them it was packed with a variety of surveillance equipment and weapons. "Later I received a call from the Department of Justice in Washington informing me that the agents had been assigned to watch a young man named David Malcolm, and— at last contact — were parked near the apartment you rent before they mysteriously vanished from their posts. "A short while ago I received yet another call, informing me that the same Mr. Malcolm would be coming to see me about something relating to their disappearance. Now you show up with a trunk full of assault weapons and ammunition which exactly matches the descriptions given us by agents Sleeping Beauty and Snow White as the items missing from their car, claiming that you don't know where any of it came from." She didn't sound happy, and I thought a little clarification might be in order. "I didn't say I didn't know where it came from; I said I didn't know how it got there. Obviously someone put it there, and while I do know who was responsible for them being there, I do not know who that someone was. I don't have a name, description, or anything else to go by; he's a voice on the phone. He doesn't ask me to do illegal things; he watches my back when I'm on a job for him; and he pays damn well." "Receiving stolen property isn't illegal?" "When was it stolen?" "Sometime last night." "Really? Now that's a police report I would love to see — especially their explanation of the theft. Mrs. Spencer, are you a betting woman? I mean, this is Las Vegas after all; it's a gambling town, right? Because I've got a hundred bucks that says that as far as those weapons are concerned, you're not going to be able to prove them stolen at all, because you won't find a single print on any of that stuff that you can't identify. As far as anyone will be able to prove, your two Disney Princesses planted them in my car." "What about the other equipment?" she asked. "What other equipment?" "The surveillance gear they reported stolen along with the guns." "I only know about the guns, the rest you're welcome to take up with my source, if and when he ever decides he needs to talk to you. I don't suppose they have a list of the items — you know, descriptions, serial numbers, that sort of thing." She cocked her head and smiled. "Yeah, right. Can't you just call him?" I scoffed and said, "No, he calls me. And it doesn't matter where I am or what phone I use, the number always comes up blank, not blocked, blank. I've stuck to mostly pre-paid stuff because up until now I was more concerned with staying anonymous than anything else, so I've never gotten a bill to see if anything shows up. Usually he supplies the phone for each job. Now that I'm starting a legitimate business — and have a permanent number — we'll have to wait and see, but my money says nothing shows up. Care to take that bet? I notice you passed on the first one." "Yes, your new business endeavor; what's it called again?" "'Again' implies that I told you already, or that you've heard of it before. Not likely, since I haven't received the official documentation from the state regarding my incorporation. But the name has been released without challenge; 'Finder's Incorporated.' I think the name says it all." "An interesting choice." "It's what I do Mrs. Spencer, I find things." "Yes, and apparently people, and you're obviously very good at it." "So far," I said. "Yes," she said. "Which makes me wonder why no one has ever heard of you and where you got your funding for this new endeavor." "Sorry, that's confidential. When the paperwork clears, you'll find that we're a subsidiary of a larger concern: Sha-Mar Enterprises, they put up the cash." "I see," she said. "And what about the one hundred thousand you have on account with the Bellagio? Had on account, actually — you've spent quite a chunk already. The original transfer was from a bank in Zurich. The bank, of course, refuses all requests for information. Where did that money come from?" "It came from a bank in Zurich," I said with a smile. "You just said so yourself. Off the record?" "Very well," she said nodding her agreement. I had no way of holding her to it, but she had no way of proving anything either. "I mentioned he pays well." She held my eye for a moment, apparently searching for something, and then said, "Obviously. It's safe to assume that there are no traceable records to suggest that you earned the money illegally — or even legally — while working in the United States, and would therefore have had to pay taxes on any of it." She paused. "As I said, David, I don't like mysteries, and every time I look at you a new question comes to mind. But every question you answer leads to two more. I'm going to be watching you very closely Mr. Malcolm." I got very serious. "Right now that would be very big mistake. I can understand if you feel like you need to check me out: this is your playground, and I'm the new kid on the block. I'm okay with that, but please, wait. For the next week at least, just stay away. The reason those two agents disappeared from their post last night was that just being there was endangering their lives. When I spotted them tailing me last night, I didn't know who they were, so I lost them. My source contacted me on another matter shortly after I got home, and I told him what had happened. He said he'd get back to me. Eventually he did. He said they were with the DOJ, but that I would never be able to find the person pulling their strings through any official channels. Apparently he did, because he said he had called Washington, told their boss they were in danger if they stayed, and asked for them to be pulled back. Apparently they didn't take his request well, so when it didn't happen, he had them removed. The reason the guns were taken was so that if the wrong people found them first, they couldn't be stolen. Now I don't know the details, but you tell me: would that have been a possibility if they had been left in the trunk?" She rolled her eyes. "Your mysterious benefactor has a sense of humor, I'll give him that much. They were knocked out, handcuffed together through the steering wheel and at one ankle, and the keys to both the handcuffs and the car were left on the hood. The woman jogger discovered them before they woke up or they probably would have gotten out of it on their own. Seems the other agent still had his keys, so he would have been able to free them on his own. Keep that in mind when you put your trust in this man, David. He's not perfect; he makes mistakes. Now, why were they in danger?" "Because — thanks to someone at the LA Bureau blabbing to the press — someone that has been looking for me now knows I'm in Vegas and is probably on the way to find me. She thinks I have information she wants. I don't, but she thinks I do, and she's not willing to discuss the possibility that she's wrong. Actually, she probably is willing to discuss it, but she's not someone I'm interested in have a conversation with." "What sort of information?" "The same thing you and the folks in Washington would like to know." "I'd like to know many things, but I'm going to go out on a limb and say she's after your source. Why?" "I can't say for sure, probably a lot of reasons I don't know, but the latest is most likely because he was just instrumental in getting an old friend of hers killed." She leaned forward on her desk, hands folded neatly before her. "And who, pray tell, might that have been?" "We were just discussing him; Rene Kurtz, The Sandman." It was subtle, but I noticed her hands tense. "This woman that is looking for you is, or was, a friend of the Sandman? People like that don't have friends, David." "Maybe friend isn't the right word. They were competitors, but they did know each other. You know her as the Black Queen." Her knuckles turned white, and her eyes snapped to mine. "The Black Queen is on her way to Las Vegas, looking for you?" "That's the current assumption we're working under, yes." It took a visible effort for her to unclench her hands and bring them up in front of her face, her steepled fingers just touching her lips. I could see her mulling a decision. "Why? What makes you think it's her that wants you? Obviously you've never met her." "A very reliable source — not the same, one but reliable, and according to him, meeting her, is the last thing you want to do; in fact it usually is the last thing you do." "And how did he come by the information?" "He didn't volunteer that information, so I didn't ask." "I don't suppose you want to tell me who this source is?" I held her eye and shook my head negatively. "It was worth a try. Is there anyone I can contact that can confirm your story about the Black Queen possibly being headed our way?" "Your counterpart in LA, Special Agent in Charge Samuel Rodriquez; as soon as I saw the paper yesterday I called him, and he had one of his top people try to find me using just the information in the paper, to give us an idea how long we might have; fifteen hours, forty-two minutes, in case you're curious. Assuming her information is no better than what the Bureau had access to that was the fastest she would have found me. Allowing for travel time she could have been in town by this morning; sooner if she came here first, then started looking. For all I know, she's already here and may even have seen me come to your office. I have to assume that if she's here she's watching me, and planning when to have someone make another attempt at getting her an appointment. This is the first chance she's had in a while, and the best chance she's likely to have for some time to come. If your people are in the way..." "I see. Very well, I'll stay back, on one condition. You are to call me, twice a day, once in the morning, once at night, let's say eight o'clock, to check in. If you miss a call, I will assume something is wrong and send someone looking for you. If she comes for you, I don't want to give her a chance to get away." "If she gets me, I'll probably be glad that you came looking. She doesn't have a reputation for being a people person." I stood and extended my hand toward her. "I think we've made a good beginning here Mrs. Spencer. I'm glad I had the opportunity to meet you. Who do I see about getting my car back? I have some things I need to take care of and a friend to take to the airport." She glanced at the clock, "I'll take you down myself; they should be done by now." "They're done, all right," Jamie said. "I thought you were being awfully quiet. Did they bug the car?" "They put a tracker in the left rear tire." "That figures," I said. "The tracker doesn't worry me so much; it may even be useful down the road. What did they use?" "Nothing obvious, just a short range sender replacing the valve stem." "That should be easy enough to deal with. Do you think they would notice if I replaced it?" "No, it's not that sensitive. I think it's just designed so you can't lose them the way you did the guys last night." "Oh, you missed that part. Those two are now the Disney Princesses; the FBI is referring to them as agents Sleeping Beauty and Snow White." "Ow! You just know that is going to get out. They'll never hear the end of it." "It's a tough world out there," I said. "How did you manage to stay in the garage all this time? How did you even get down there?" "Hitched a ride with Davidson. Fortunately, they finished up before I had to come back. It seems to be different with different people. I only had about forty minutes; I lasted a lot longer with Allison, longer still with Lizzy, and longest of all with Amber; it just felt so comfortable in her..." "Oh yeah!" I said. "Not like that! God you are such a guy sometimes." "You were thinking it." "I was thinking that you would think it," she said defensively. "Right, because you don't like being inside her like that." I knew I had her and she confirmed it when she finally answered. "Jerk." She hates it when I'm right. ------- Chapter 5: The Waiting Game I hate waiting. Christine was gone, headed back to a place called Conley to oversee the movers as they packed up her belongings for the trip west. Lizzy was flying down with Amber to keep her company on the drive back. When she told me they were both going, I couldn't help but think that it was going to be an interesting trip. I expected Lizzy would take advantage of the time to tell Christine the truth about our relationship. I was a little unsure of what her plans were for Amber, but I guess leaving her alone at school was not an option, not yet anyway, not when the idea of spending a whole day alone with her own family practically drove her to tears. Besides forcing her to see the truth about herself, Angela's ordeal had left some deep scars. Now that her abductor was dead, I expected to see some improvement, but it would be a long, long time before we could ever leave her alone for any length of time. Tuesday night had seemed to go on forever as my nervousness over getting Christine safely away kept me from relaxing. Allison did her best to help, but I just couldn't relax enough in the dream, and there was no way I was leaving Christine there alone just to get laid. As for Christine — after so long chasing her dream, she was beyond excited to be starting flight school, but disappointed that she had to leave before she got a chance to, as she put it, "Properly express her appreciation" for all I had done. Apparently, mother was right: in the grown-up world, sex is indeed a perfectly acceptable way to say thank you. At ten-twenty-seven AM Wednesday morning, as Christine's plane pulled away from the gate, I finally let out the breath I had been holding. Shortly after lunch — my time — Allison locked herself in her room for a long nap. We both felt a lot better when she got up. Wednesday night I spent in Indiana with Lizzy. A side benefit of this visit was that it was also Amber's first night with Dean Worthy. I'm sure she would have had no problem going under Lizzy's direction, but I felt it made more of an impact if I sent her personally. She bowed and thanked me before leaving, her red collar proudly displayed as she went to her first real night serving a stranger. It was a bold step on several levels. It was the first time we had given her to anyone without being there in person, and therefore it was also a brave step for her, going out alone and unprotected for the first time. Of course she knew that if she even breathed fear, Jamie would be there in a heartbeat. I think Jamie was more nervous about this whole adventure than the rest of us were. It was also hard for me to use her like this, giving her to a stranger, especially when it was a stranger that I knew had issues. If not for the many hours I had spent with Jasmine and May at The House of Seven Willows, learning my role as Amber's Master, I don't know that I could have done it. Even with all that, I was torn about doing it, the tipping point was that it was Elizabeth's idea, and I trusted her instinct. Without that... "No way in hell," Jamie said when I mentioned it. I didn't bother arguing the point; we both knew she was right. Lizzy and I spent some time talking to Bob, some more time with Rod and Rebecca discussing my meeting with Rod's Vegas counterpart, and time helping Amy as she worked to catch up with the world again. For her part, Amy was being very understanding of our need to take her new best friend away for extended periods. I know Rebecca was worried about what was, to her, the unnatural fixation that her sister was showing for a 'person' that Rebecca knew was not real. All things considered I wasn't surprised that Amy was so attached to him. Being in a coma for twelve years and waking up to a strange world the way she had, any spot of familiarity would be comforting. Considering that Walter was the only one who had been with her through the transition, it made sense that she would be more attached to him. From the beginning, Amy, had been an anomaly we couldn't explain. She knew things she shouldn't know and was apparently outside of all the accepted 'rules' for how my little dream world worked. Where I could pull anyone else into a dream environment at will, with Amy it had been more like I invited her, and she came on her own. We knew early on that she could move around in a manner similar to the way I did, but she had made it clear immediately that there were serious limitations on what she could do. It 'hurt' her to go into other dreams, except for mine, they were easy. But where I could do almost anything with anyone else in a dream; with Amy, I could barely manage to change her clothes. In my first attempt to change her from her white and pink dress to a simple red two-piece swimsuit, the best I could do was a white one-piece trimmed in pink, the same colors as her dress. Towards the end, I had theorized that Amy was not actually moving around on her own, but somehow 'borrowing' my ability when she needed it. However, now that she was awake, there was no indication that she still retained that ability — if she had ever had it in the first place. Since, according to Walter, she was hiding the rest of the knowledge she had gained during her long sleep, he was now the only person she 'knew' that was able to stay with her as she worked on her rehabilitation. Even Rebecca was a stranger to her, and they were spending time getting to know each other again. Walter was proving himself to be an invaluable part of her rehab team, even though none of the rest of team could see him and really didn't believe he was real. I felt bad taking him away from her, so we tried to limit our daytime use of Walter to those times when she was napping — something she did frequently as she was still very easily tired out from her exercises. She was making remarkable progress physically, though, and the doctors were well pleased with her strength, stamina, and commitment to her recovery. In fact, her lead therapist had started enforcing mandatory rest when she started showing signs of being a little too aggressive in her efforts. Bob and I had assured her that he was correct in his concern, and that if she hurt herself she could set herself back months having to wait for the injury to heal. Even worse, she might do the kind of damage that the body never fully recovered from. Amber had been the one to suggest incorporating yoga into her routine. The emphasis on stretching and meditation rather than building muscle was a big plus. She also found a book called Callanetics written by a woman whose own back problems prohibited her from doing many more strenuous exercises. Personally, I didn't see how they would help; I had tried a couple, and they damn near killed me. Rod was a little surprised that Spencer had had my car tagged, but given the people that she usually dealt with in Vegas he wasn't all that surprised, especially given the circumstances surrounding our meeting. I had replaced the new and improved valve stem the next day. As for my little gift from the FBI, I rolled it up inside a ball of Silly Putty and kept it in a small plastic bag in the center console where I could get to it if I needed to get rid of it in a hurry. The silly putty was in case I wanted to attach it to another vehicle, say a truck headed cross-country or a car I might actually want the FBI to find someday. Until then, it could come in handy for establishing my whereabouts should anything else questionable take place. The FBI was a pretty credible alibi in a pinch. Thursday morning I finally spotted someone following me. "About time," Jamie said. "Yeah, let's see if he's got any friends." "Can I drive?" she asked. "Yeah, right," I scoffed. "I'll drive, you spot." One thing about the Impala, it was easy to spot, so once we left the first guy bogged down at a stop light the second car had no trouble picking us up again. And of course, seemingly everyone's favorite backup these days, the guy on the motorcycle, covered the interim. After a little more time, we confirmed there were actually two motorcycles; a guy in blue and white leathers on a crotch-rocket and a big, hard-core-biker-looking guy on a Harley. Good cover actually; no one would expect a bike that loud to be used for following someone. He actually pulled up next to us at one light and commented on my car, telling me his ex-wife got his in the divorce, before roaring off as the light changed. That took balls, considering it gave me a close look at one of them. It was a brilliant move for allaying suspicion, though. By then the second car had managed to pick us up. We spotted the biker watching us go by from a parking lot a few blocks later. Whoever these guys were, they were serious about following us. Four units for the first round showed a lot of commitment on their part, especially considering I hadn't even tried to lose them yet. Not really, anyway; the first one had just been good timing with the lights. I couldn't help but wonder what they would do if I went to the effort. It took almost an hour of running make-believe errands to get all four license numbers. I called and gave them to Rod in hopes of finding out who my new friends were. Oddly, I found that I felt much more relaxed now that it appeared that something was finally happening and it was just a matter of time before this would be over. It almost felt like a game; wondering when and how they would make their first attempt at grabbing me, if they would try to sneak up on me or go the bolder route of a public confrontation; the old pistol wrapped in a newspaper "Just get in the car" routine. Thinking about that one was a mistake; it reminded me of what the last group had done to Britney, and that pissed me off. All four vehicles came back as rentals. That wasn't too surprising, but it made it a lot harder to get any real information, as even the FBI had to have a reason to snoop into business records. It was just another indicator that she was sticking with professionals this time, and that they were serious; motorcycles aren't cheap to rent. After lunch I let them follow me to a local mall, where I spent some time shopping for camera equipment. They kept their distance, so the one thing they didn't see was that I had actually bought myself a memory card to use in the various cameras I was trying out. Most stores take the cards out so they don't get stolen. I told the salesperson that I wanted to take the sample shots home and blow them up on my computer for comparison. He was impressed with my approach. Somewhere in there I just happened to get several shots of both my new biker friends, who had conveniently followed me into the mall, and took them to Spencer. It was a coin toss whether they realized where I was going. The FBI doesn't have it's own building so there was at least a chance — albeit a slim one — that they wouldn't realize the truth. "This is an interesting twist," she said as she handed the card off to one of her lab people to process. "First you ask me to stay away, and now you want my help." "I just don't want your people hurt, Mrs. Spencer. As long as no one gets hurt, I'll take all the help I can get. If nothing else, I'd like you to have as much information as possible in case I've bitten off more than I can chew. They've been following me all afternoon, so I think we're getting close. Besides, I wanted to look you in the eye when you assured me that it's not your people." She laughed, "I'm starting to like you, David. They're not. As for the rest, you're probably right — they're serious, and this level of surveillance is expensive to maintain — so whatever they are going to do, they will likely do it soon. Are you sure you don't want me to have someone keep an eye on you?" "No, with four of them watching me, it would be pretty easy for them to spot someone else following me." "I was thinking of something more personal. You're an attractive young man of means in a city of players. I was thinking of having you hit it off with one of my agents, maybe have dinner, a night out, and then she could spend the night without arousing suspicion. Strictly professionally, of course. Don't get any ideas. I don't pimp my people out." "You don't think I could charm her on my own? I'm hurt." She laughed again. Her laugh surprised me. It was a very happy, innocent, sound. More like you would expect from someone in their teens, when the world was still a happy, innocent, place. It was my experience that the realities of life tended to grind that away over time, especially in people in her line of work. It made me wonder how my own laugh sounded compared to a year ago, or two. "You're welcome to try," she said, "but of the two I had in mind, one is married and the other is very gay. She can play the part convincingly — she would even get all hot and steamy with you in a public setting — but you'd be very disappointed when you got behind closed doors." "Oooh! Get that one!" Jamie said excitedly. "Slut!" I laughed. "The last thing I want is someone I have to watch myself in front of. If they come for us overnight we'd be seriously limited in how we dealt with it. Besides, what could she do without blowing her cover and maybe escalating the situation? No, we're better off handling this on our own. Maybe if we get a chance someday, you and Amber can meet her." "Thank you Mrs. Spencer, but I won't risk your agent. The more I've thought about it, the more I've come to realize that she probably still won't come for me in person; she's more likely to send someone to bring me to her — less exposure that way; she may be nearby this time to keep an eye on things, but I don't think she'll actually confront me until I'm secured somewhere, and there is no telling what instruction they would have regarding anyone with me. Most likely they would hold off until I was alone, but they may decide to take them as leverage against me, especially since I've already proven myself susceptible to something like that. If they were to take us both, then we would have to keep up the illusion. My guess is that if somewhere along the way they should discover who she really is — and the Queen will be able to spot an agent — they may kill her. I think I'll have more options if I don't have to worry about others. Besides, if it's only me he has to worry about, my source will be freer to move as well. I have no illusions about how I rank compared to maintaining his invisibility, so the fewer witnesses, the better the chances he will act." There was a knock at the door, and she waved someone in. It was the tech she had given the memory card to. "What do you have, Michaels?" she asked. "I thought you'd want to see this right away." He handed her a large manila envelope, and she pulled out two large photos. Instantly her eyebrows shot up and she turned to me. "These are the men that are following you?" She turned the pictures towards me. "Two of them; you know them?" "Avery Clarke," she said, laying the biker's photo on the desk in front of me. "He's a local bounty hunter, and Franklin Reynolds..." the guy on the crotch rocket, " ... his sidekick. Excuse me." She did something with her computer and then picked up her phone and dialed. "Avery? Spencer. I know you're close to my office, get your ugly ass up here, we need to talk, bring Renny with you." She called Davidson in and sent him to the lobby to escort them up, and then she pulled a small device out of her desk and turned back to the tech. "Escort my guest to the men's room." She handed him the device. "Don't come back until I buzz you. Oh, and give him back his memory card." "This way please," he said, holding the door for me. I actually did have to go. "She hired locals again?" Jamie said as I was washing my hands. She tends to run and hide while I'm doing bathroom stuff. "That makes no sense." "I know, let's not jump to any conclusions, okay. Looks like maybe we caught a break; let's see if it's something we can use." I didn't have long to wait before my escort tapped on the door, and then opened it, and said, "They're ready for you." He walked me back in and handed the little buzzer to Spencer before leaving. My two tails were sitting facing Spencer's desk looking very surprised to see me. "Okay," Spencer began. "Avery, what do you know about this man, and why are you following him?" Clark looked at Reynolds; Reynolds held his eye for a second and shrugged. Avery turned back and pulled a small pad out of his leather vest, opened it, and started rattling off information, "David Malcolm, residence..." he went on to give my address, a description of my car, a few other minor details and where I'd been the last twenty four hours. "As for the rest, it's a simple surveillance job, no big deal." "Who hired you?" "Come on Spencer, you know..." "It's important Avery," she said, cutting him off. "I need to know." "The Davidsons," Avery answered, shaking his head. "Were they in the two cars?" she asked. "Yeah, it was a simple surveillance gig, just follow and report, what's the big deal here?" "Call them," Spencer said. "I assume they're close. Tell Greg I want to see him right away." "Shit!" Clark said, digging a cell phone out of his jeans pocket and hitting a button. "Greg? Avery; me and Renny are in Spencer's office, and she's got a bug up her butt about something; she wants you to come and help her dig it out ... Fuck if I know, she said to bring Sam with you." He closed the phone. "Cute, Avery," Spencer said. "I'm going to remember this conversation when I'm reviewing your next renewal application." "I think I know where this is going," I said, stepping forward and extending my hand. "David Malcolm." "Avery Clark," the big man said, shaking my hand and laying his out flat. Reflexes got me through the rest of the motions; hand slap, finger grip, and fist bump. I turned and repeated the ritual greeting with his partner. "Frank Reynolds, call me Renny. Are we fucked here or what?" "Wait for it, Renny," Spencer instructed. "Yes ma'am." He settled back in his chair to wait. We didn't wait long as Spencer's phone rang. "Spencer," she answered. She listened for a few seconds and said, "Take them to conference room two; it's already too crowded in here." She hung up and rose. "Gentlemen, if you'll come with me, we'll see if we can get to the bottom of this." "Do you think they're related?" Jamie asked. I had actually been wondering the same thing myself. The answer came shortly after we settled ourselves around the conference room table. "No, I don't think so." I said. I think I mentioned Agent Davidson was built large. The Davidson brothers were built on a more normal scale. "Welcome, gentlemen," Spencer began, "and thank you for joining us on such short notice. Though I'm sure you already know who he is, allow me to introduce Mr. David Malcolm. David, Greg Davidson and his brother Sam; you can do the guy rituals later. Gentlemen, if you would please have a seat." The brothers sat down and Spencer immediately asked, "Who hired you to follow this man?" "No idea," Sam said, shaking his head. "Got an overnight delivered two days ago, name, address, and picture enclosed, along with five grand cash for a surveillance job, plus another five when it's done. Everywhere he goes for the next forty-eight hours, emailed to a hotmail account. The note said he was slick, so be careful not to get spotted. We figured if they were paying that much for the job, then they knew what they were talking about, so we called Avery in to assist. Obviously we should have hired professionals instead." "Fuck you," Renny said with a laugh. "He spotted all four of us." Davidson ignored him. "What's going on here, Spencer?" "I don't know," she said. "You're being played is what's going on," I said. "Mrs. Spencer, I need to know that what I'm about to tell you won't leave this room." She glanced around the room, making eye contact with each of the men. "Agreed?" she said. "Fuck," Avery swore, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. "I am not going to like this. Renny and me are cool." "Greg?" "Come on Spencer, you know us better than that?" She nodded. "Go ahead David." "Yes, they did know what they were talking about, they've tried before. They've also tried kidnapping me, twice. The second time I got a call in the middle of the night from a young woman I had been seeing. They had taken her to use as bait. I was instructed that there were two men waiting outside for me. I went out, got in the car, yada yada. Long story short, I got my girlfriend back and the two of them, along with three more, got to spend some quality time with the FBI in Los Angeles. The two who had picked me up were local private investigators who had been hired to transport me — nothing else, just drive me to a location not too far away. You can imagine how pissed off they were when they found out what was really going on." "Damn straight!" Renny said, nodding his head. "What makes you think that's what's happening now?" Greg asked. I glanced at Spencer. "We can't tell you that," she said, "but based on what I know, I'd say he's right; you've been played. Do you still have the envelope and letter, Sam?" "It's all at the office, but we've handled all of it a lot over the last couple days. I don't think it will do you any good," Sam said. "Leave that to us," she answered. "What about the cash, did you deposit it?" "Hell no I didn't deposit it," Greg said. "You think I'm reporting five grand in cash to the IRS? Get real." "I'll pretend I didn't hear that," Spencer said with a smile. "I'll send Rogers to collect it all." She held up her hand to stop his protest. "Don't worry, you'll get it back; I just want to check it and see what we can find." "You won't find anything," I said. She gave me that obligatory "we'll see" look and continued, "I also need the email address they gave you and any information you've passed on so far." "Something's not right here," Jamie said. "What do you mean?" I asked. "Where are the bad guys? You don't pull something like this with intel provided completely by strangers and sent by email. What good would it do her to know where we've been over the last forty-eight hours? What she'd need to know is where we'll be at a particular time in the future. How does any of this accomplish that? You know as well as I do that this kind of job looks for patterns, and we don't have any. The only thing this gives her is our home address; Paul found that without even leaving his office, and apparently so did she since she sent it to them in the instructions." "Where did you guys first pick me up?" I asked. "Your apartment," Renny said. "Which, I gotta tell you, is really sweet; how did you find it?" "Luck," I answered with a smile, and then turned to Sam. "And my address was in the letter you got?" "Yes," Greg said. I just shook my head then started shaking hands. "Sorry to drag you all in here like this. Do me a favor, finish the contract. Keep sending the reports like none of this happened." Inside I was having a completely different reaction. "Shit!" I swore. "This whole thing is a scam. They didn't need these guys at all; like you said, I don't have any kind of established routine, with the information these guys will have the only place it makes sense to try and get me is at home, and they already had that. This makes no sense at all." "Gentlemen, thank you for your time," Spencer said following my lead. "Greg, I'm still going to want to see that envelope. I'd like to speak to David alone please." "You got it," Greg said. "Nice to meet you kid, sorry about all this." "It's not your fault." "This kind of shit really pisses me off," Avery said, rising and reaching for my hand. "Be cool, bro. You ever need backup, give me a call." He handed me a card. "Renny! Let's roll." "Something is seriously wrong here," Spencer said once we were alone. "If she already had your address, then she already had the best place to make a play for you." "I know," I said. "It makes no sense; why have me followed if she already knows where I am?" "I can only think of one reason," she said. "You're not going to like it." "I already don't like it," I said. "I don't like it at all. I was hoping we were finally getting close to being able to put an end to it. Please, I'm all ears." "Because you expected it," she said. I had to sit and think about that for a minute. Jamie said it first. "Shit." I nodded my agreement and then shook my head. "It makes sense. It also leaves us with the same question again. Why?" "Two reasons come to mind," Spencer said. "A -- She's busy; involved in something she can't leave but she wants you to know that she's still interested. Or B -— and this one I'd be a little more worried about." She held my eye. "She's playing with you." I nodded. Either was possible, and I wasn't really sure which I preferred. Jamie had no such indecision, and — once she explained the rationale — I had to agree with her. "I hope she's playing with me," I said. "You're kidding, right?" Spencer asked. "David, I have to say that having a world class professional assassin pulling your chain is normally considered a very bad thing. Why would you possible prefer that?" "Because if she's playing cat and mouse she's going to find out the hard way that I make a really bad mouse. And because I don't have a clue what she could be doing that would keep her from acting now that she knows where I am. Not knowing what she's up to... that scares me." "You're a strange one, Malcolm. Any rational person would be ecstatic that a cold blooded killer didn't have time to drop in for a visit." "I never claimed to be rational," I said. "Thank you for your time, Mrs. Spencer. I'm sorry for interrupting your afternoon." "Get serious, David, this wasn't wasted time. We know more than when we started, even if we did just end up with more questions. As long as you keep getting answers, you eventually run out of questions. Then you know the truth." "That's a very nice theory, Ma'am," I said, rising to leave, "but it assumes that you have enough time to ask all the questions. So far I haven't ever seen it work out that way." I spent the rest of the day wondering what Henslith could be up to. Was it just to buy time? And if that was it, time for what? Was she playing with me? Was it a feint? Sending a team to follow me for a couple days, only to then have them suddenly disappear with no other action? Would another team follow Avery's after their contract expired? Christine and the girls would arrive by the end of the weekend. I had hoped this would all be over before they got here. I wanted those I cared for out of harm's way until the threat had been dealt with. It was the whole reason for running in the first place and for sending Christine away now. My imagination ran wild with possibilities all evening. Christine called while I was eating dinner with Doreen to let me know she was totally stressed out trying to get ready for the movers, who were coming first thing the next morning. I told her we were eating, and she asked me to call her back when we were done. "Widget knows something is up," she said when I called back. "She's been hanging all over me all day, pawing at me to pick her up; I've stepped on the poor thing twice because she keeps lying behind me. Oh, and I talked to your sister, and she sounded really excited about the trip. This is going to be so much more fun than driving by myself. She's even bringing her roommate, Amber, do you know her?" I had to smile. "Yes, I know Amber. What I don't know about," I said, "is the three of you loose on the highway with no supervision. I better talk to Tony about a good bail bondsman." "David!" she said in a scandalized voice. "You make it sound like we're going to be bar hopping across the country. Don't worry; your baby sister is perfectly safe with me." "It's not her I'm worried about." "Don't worry," she said. "I can handle two eighteen year old girls. If they get out of line I'll spank them." "Oh, she's really asking for it, now!" Jamie said with a laugh. "If she only knew..." "She'd probably cancel the trip," I replied. "Just remember there are two of them and only one of you," I warned Christine. "Ooh," she said. "Do you think they'll tie me up and have their way with me?" "This is getting interesting, maybe I'll go with them," Jamie said. "Maybe if you ask them real nice," I suggested. "Okay," she said. It wasn't an agreeing 'okay' but the other kind. "We have to stop this, it's making me really horny, and I left Bob in your bedroom." "Bob?" I asked. "My Battery-Operated-Boyfriend," she said. "I can't believe you've never heard that one. Mmm, God, I want you so bad right now. I don't suppose if I were to crawl into a tub of hot, soapy water with a glass of wine, I could call you back for a little phone sex, could I?" "Say yes! Pleaseohpleaseohplease, say yes!" Jamie begged. "My tongue is at your beck and call," I said "Yes!" "And what a talented tongue it is too," Christine said in a sultry voice. "Let me get ready, and I'll call you back." She hung up without saying goodbye, but then, it really wasn't. "Please, Jimmy?" "Damn, sis, you okay?" I laughed. "I want her so bad; it's all I've been able to do to keep it in this long. Please?" "Jamie, you don't have to beg, of course you can go, but we're not really sure if she likes girls, so you have to go as me. It's all going to be very ethereal and dreamy for her, she'll see you as a ghostly image of me as I talk her through the story. And next time don't wait so long, say something okay?" "It was late afternoon," I began when Christine called back and said she was ready. "The late summer sun still managed to raise a light sheen of sweat as you lay dozing in the shade of the porch after a long week..." I could feel the picture I was painting taking shape in her head, building moment by moment until finally I was ready to bring her into a dream. I didn't want to bring her in too far — she was half submerged in water after all — I didn't want her to drown because no one was paying attention, so instead I painted it more as a daydream. With her eyes open she would see only the faintest ghostly images overlaid on reality, but when she closed her eyes, the tub and bathroom would fade just as far and be replaced by the images I was feeding her. The tall young man walking up the beach and turning toward her would become more substantial, and the water's casual embrace would be replaced by his fiery touch. "Oh God, I needed that," she sighed when it was finally over. It had helped that she had been touching herself in reality as Jamie was working her magic in the playground of her daydream. For her part, Jamie was curled up inside me like a cat in a sunbeam, practically purring her contentment. "I could tell," I said. "Get some rest, I have a feeling you're going to need it. I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?" "Good night, David." She blew me a kiss and hung up. "Have fun?" I asked Jamie. "Oh yeah!" "Do you think you got that from me?" "Got what from you?" she asked, obviously confused. "The whole 'getting pleasure from giving pleasure' thing? I mean, there was nothing in that for you, physically anyway, and yet from your response, you didn't just enjoy it, you really enjoyed it!" "Jimmy, I feed on strong emotions. Originally from you, and now that I'm, you know, 'out', from other people as well." "Interesting," I said. "So, where I would have enjoyed giving her pleasure, for you there's more to it?" "Exactly," she said. "It's kind of like ... you know that thing Allison did to you when you first discovered that she was pulling off your emotional overload?" "Yeah?" One of the many revelations of the past year was the discovery that Allison somehow siphoned off my emotional overflow when I got stressed out, calming me so that I could think clearly. It began as an unconscious defense mechanism. What she was defending from we didn't figure out until much later. When my lovers kept passing out on me, Allison figured out that I was projecting my emotions — in this case sexual pleasure — onto my partner, sort of piling it on top of their own to the point that they overloaded and 'shut down'. One night as I was mulling Amber's problem and wishing I could talk to Allison about it, I realized that she always seemed to have a calming effect on me when I got freaked out about the problems in my life. No matter how stressed I was, I could sit and talk to Allison, and by the time I was through I felt better. Even more interesting than that: once she figured out that she was doing it, she started playing and found out she could also use it as a weapon of sorts, trapping me in a sort of emotional echo chamber where instead of dissipating, the waves of emotion seemed to pile on top of each other, and I very quickly found myself getting smashed against the rocks at high tide. It was an interesting night. "Well, think of what she does as opening all the windows and doors because you burned something in the kitchen. In my case, it's more like you captured it all in a big plastic bubble and then stuck a vacuum hose in and sucked it out. Or, you know that drum analogy of hers? I'm inside the drum absorbing all the noise." The tide was my analogy; Allison had used a drum, with me stuck inside as the emotions reverberated around like a synchronous avalanche of sound. "What happens when you get full?" "I don't know, so far that hasn't happened." "I wonder..." I began and then stopped. "What?" she asked. "How's your energy?" "Great!" she said. "Want to go start a bar fight somewhere?" "That's what I thought, and I already knew you got energy from that, but I'm wondering if the source of the energy is important. I wish she was closer." "Me too!" she agreed heartily. "Yeah, I'm sure. But I wasn't thinking of sex." I hastily corrected myself. "I wasn't only thinking of sex. I'm wondering if absorbing that much energy from Christine would allow you to stay out longer if you were with her?" She was quiet for a moment. "I don't know, the only one I've been able to really stay with so far is Lizzy, and we didn't really, you know, do anything." "I know," I said, "but I can't really use Lizzy as a baseline comparison; she's too special in her own way. I need someone normal to compare to, but the only other person you've stayed with is Allison." "Actually, we're forgetting my time with Amber at her parents' house — I was out a lot longer with her, but I know what you mean. Still, there's more to it than that even," she said. "How do you mean?" "I mean, so far, the only people I've been out with were people, girls specifically, that have that piece of you that Walter said you gave them. Except the Sandman, of course, but he's hardly a fair comparison. I'd say ask Bob, but he's just going to shake his head and tell you he doesn't know either. I think this is something we're going to have to play with. Mmm, and considering everything that's involved in the experiment, suddenly I am really excited about getting started!" I could tell. "We need to talk to Bob and the girls about how to test this out," I said. "Well, I'm thinking Christine is our number one guinea pig right at the moment," she said. "We don't really have anyone else that you're not attached to. Unless you want me to start randomly making some girls' nights and then hang out with them." I started to answer but she jumped right back in. "And don't give me that rape bullshit either. I'm not talking about forcing myself on innocent girls. I mean find girls who are already dreaming happy things and let me take over and make it better, or maybe work with people who are in the professional pleasure industry." "Ooh," I laughed. "There's a polite way to put it. Am I really that obvious?" "Hey," she admonished. "Don't say it like that! It's not a bad thing, it's noble, and it's right, and it's one of the greatest things about who you are. It's things like that that make it safe for you to have this ability in the first place. You always, always, try to do the right thing. I don't have to tell you to imagine the damage I could do if it weren't for your being this way. You are fully aware of the damage I am — or rather we are — capable of doing. I trust you to keep me in line. Fear of how you may react if I go too far is a strong motivator to behave myself." "Afraid I'll spank you?" I asked. "I'm being serious here," she said. "I know; it's just a side of you I don't see that often. I'm not used to it is all." "That makes two of us, but since it's my life on the line here, I'm all for researching the best ways to keep me alive." "Well, we have nothing else going on, and I'd like to talk to Rod and Rebecca about what's going on here, see if maybe they have any ideas." Apparently my lack of actual participation in the night's activities showed. Lizzy took one look at me and said, "Amber, your master is in need of your services; you will not hear any commands that do not involve his immediate sexual gratification until he climaxes twice, or I tell you otherwise, is that clear?" "Yes, Mistress," she said and then knelt before me. "Master?" I glared at Lizzy, who smiled sweetly and said, "I'll know if you cheat, so don't; off you go. Jamie and I have things to do." "What kind of things?" I asked. I couldn't remember if I'd ever mentioned to her that Jamie was waiting as well. "Not that kind," she said, then cupped Jamie's face and kissed her cheek. Yeah, she knew. "She's going to start teaching me how to kick major ass. Now quit stalling and go." We went. We finished up our third go around re-living Angela's favorite prom night experience — I even grew her hair back out for the occasion — before going in search of my sister and fiancé. We found them showering under a waterfall and joined them. "Wow," Lizzy said. "I've never seen you with your hair long." "They cut it as part of hiding me," Amber responded. "Do you miss it?" "Yes!" she replied emphatically. "It's a pain to maintain, but I really prefer it longer." "Then we'll grow it back out," Lizzy said. "Jimmy love?" she said as she ran her fingers through Amber's long black mane. "I think we've got room for one more under here; why don't you see what's keeping Allison." I checked the time on my now waterproof cell phone — dream technology is great — and discovered it was almost one o'clock already. You know what they say about time flying when you're having fun. "I didn't realize how late it was." I felt for Allison ... and my heart stopped. She wasn't there. Jamie felt my reaction first; Lizzy saw her react to it and spun to face me. "Jimmy, what's wrong?" I could feel my heart suddenly hammering in my chest and my lungs laboring, but it felt like there was no oxygen reaching my brain. Suddenly Jamie screamed in rage and pain, "NO!" Her howl of anguish echoed up and down the beautiful canyon, and the mountains on either side shattered like glass. The immediate threat of being buried under rock-slides brought me back, and in an eye-blink we were in the glade. "Rebecca!" She appeared in front of me, dressed in a long ball gown and heels. "Christ, Matthews, take it easy!" she said, hands clutching her ears. "What's..." She stopped and her face went white as her eyes met mine. I couldn't speak, could barely breathe, and then I realized that in my haste I had forgotten about Jamie. Fortunately Rebecca had appeared between us, and I froze her before she could turn to follow my gaze as I looked at my sister. Jamie looked as if she would burst into flame at any second. Fire and ice warred in her eyes, and I learned what a killing fury looked like. Lizzy whispered something to her and as I watched Jamie closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and seemingly swallowed it all; I say seemingly because something in her eyes said that it was still there, just hidden away. A moment later, so was she. Instantly I could feel my own emotional overload being sucked away, and my heart slowed enough that I could speak. I released Rebecca and did my best to maintain what calm I could. "There's something wrong at the safe house; you need to get someone over there right away." "What do you mean there's something wrong at the safe house? What's wrong?" So much for calm; I tried not to scream or cry, but tears were starting to form, and I ended up somewhere in the middle. "I don't know!" I wiped at the tears, felt a wave of despair being sucked away, and tried for a calmer voice. "Rebecca, I can't find Allison." "You can't..." her voice fell to a whisper, " ... oh my god," and she stumbled on her heels as she fell slightly away. Then something clicked, I swear it was almost audible, and suddenly she was standing in black jeans, a white dress shirt, black-leather work shoes and black windbreaker. My friend Rebecca, the future Mrs. Robert Shelby, was gone. Before me stood Special Agent Rebecca Hampton in the exact outfit she had been wearing the first night her little sister took me to meet her. Her phone was already in her hand, and I could just see the grip of her gun under her arm "Rod, it's Bex, I'm with Jimmy, and something's wrong at the safe house; we need a team on scene ASAP. I'm on inactive, or I would have called it in myself and let someone else wake you up. I don't know how we'll justify knowing about..." she stopped as Lizzy spoke up. "Jimmy, call him from your phone, you're Rebecca's source, and she's not available." Rebecca nodded, "Rod, my source is about to call and wake you up. Right. Rod, I know I'm on..." you could hear his answer before she finished the question. "Yeah, okay, got it." She closed the phone and was back in her dress. "Jimmy, I can't be involved officially on this; is there anything I can do for you?" I was too close to the edge again to answer. I shifted my focus to the bedroom and pulled my secure phone out of the nightstand. I heard the rest of the conversation as the call connected. "You've done all you can, Rebecca, thank you," Lizzy said. "We'll try to keep you informed. Please tell Mr. Shelby what's happened? And let Amy know that we may be needing Walter." "I will," she said. "If there is anything else I can do..." "We'll let you know," Lizzy said. Back in the bedroom Rod answered, "Rodriquez." "It's me, Rod. I'm sorry to bother you but..." "What? Who is this? What do you... ? How did you know she was on leave? And how the hell did you get this number?" He was doing a great job of making it sound real considering my total lack of contribution. It was a good thing Rebecca had already given him the information because I was pretty much useless. "Which safe house? Okay ... Who the hell are you? ... No, damn it! Alright, alright, I'll get someone over there. I don't suppose you're going to give me a number so I can call you if we need more information. Yeah, I didn't think so." He hung up, and I put the phone back in the end table. I could feel the tension in my muscles, so I did my best to relax back into the bed before going back. "He's sending someone," I said. "God, I can't believe this is happening." "What, Jimmy?" Lizzy asked. "What's happening?" "Henslith!" I said tightly. "It has to be. She went after my family this time. She probably had the address from her time at the Bureau. That's why she hired the Davidsons and Avery to follow me; she knew I would spot them, but she didn't care. She just wanted to make sure I stayed here until she was ready. She wanted to pick the place and time, and I let her." "Jimmy," Lizzy said. "You could get there sooner, you've been there." Jamie stepped out of me, "I don't know if that's a good idea, Lizzy. He's..." "I can see that!" Lizzy snapped. She immediately regretted it, saying, "I'm sorry Jamie. I know, I can see it, and yes, if it's bad it may be hard for you too, but I'm counting on you to get him through this, do you understand?" She looked at me, "Jimmy. Jamie is in charge, is that clear?" "Lizzy, I..." "No!" she cut me off. "Jimmy, I love you and I trust you, but right now you need to let Jamie take over. I don't know that you can get both of you back safely, but I know she can. Promise me?" "I'll try," I said. "No," she said, shaking her head. "Not good enough; promise me. I want your word that you will let Jamie lead. I know you won't lie to me, so tell me you will, and I'll let you go." That was ridiculous; she couldn't possibly stop me, but even the thought that she might try was enough to push me back from the edge again. The sheer absurdity of it... "I promise." ------- Chapter 6: Black Friday The room wasn't really dark, only dim. People who have lived their whole lives in the LA Metro, or any major metro area, don't know what darkness really looks like. Driving into the area across the desert you can see the glow from fifty miles away. Light pollution they call it, the dense reflection of a million street lights, stop lights, signs, headlights — even the relatively small amount bleeding through the drawn shades of all the homes — all contributing to a haze of light that suffused the entire area. Thanks to modern power technology, a complete power blackout is almost impossible in most cities. In the instant an overload occurs, automatic switches flip themselves, isolating the problem and routing around it. Of course, at the same time, major problems had a tendency to black out entire regions. I think they call it a cascade failure, and the last time one happened it was dark over most of the Eastern Seaboard. Sorry, I tend to ramble when I'm nervous. The light coming in the window, combined with the small glow of active technology, was more than enough to see by. It's amazing how much difference the light from a single LED on a computer, monitor, or printer in standby can make in a dark room. Add in the light from Allison's alarm clock, and visibility wouldn't have been a problem unless you were walking in from the well-lit hallway, and even then your eyes would adjust quickly. I had left from the darkness of my bathroom; the only light in the room came from an electric toothbrush charging in its stand. To me this was daylight. As soon as we arrived Jamie had dropped to a crouch, eyes prowling the room even as I felt myself pushed out. Once more I found myself looking down as my sister took over complete control of my/our body. Behind us the door was open, and that alone said something was wrong; Allison always kept her door closed, whether she was in the room or not. There was no sign of a struggle, but the bed was unmade, showing signs of having been slept in recently. "The blanket is gone," I pointed out. As silently as possible, Jamie prowled closer and inspected the bed, carefully moving to keep the door and window in view at all times and crouching behind the bed to prevent our shadow from crossing either opening. "There is a spot of blood on the sheet," she said. "Small, but it really stands out. Let's check the rest of the house." We moved to the hallway, and I was reminded of finding your way through a video game, with that gray-black fog that covers the unexplored territory, receding as you move. We didn't have far to go to get to the master bedroom, and again the door was open. My parents' bedroom door being closed had been enough of a barrier to keep me from invading their dreams all my life. Bob had explained that it was more of a psychological barrier than anything else; I wasn't allowed in my parents' room when the door was closed — not without knocking anyway — so I stayed away. Like Allison's, and mine now that I thought about it, they always kept it closed when they went to bed. If that wasn't enough of an indicator, the French doors leading out to the patio were open as well. From outside you could hear the faint tinkle of the wind chimes in the light breeze. On the nightstand that would be my mother's, a tissue fluttered. The light was stronger here due to the larger windows and open doors leading to the patio area. "This is probably where they came in," I said. As with Allison's room the blanket was missing, so was the top sheet. "They carried them out in the bedclothes," Jamie said. "At least they're all alive." She moved out through the French doors and onto the patio. There was a body face down in the pool. The cloud of red around the body told us how he got there. The size of the cloud, along with the fact that it was dissipating and no more was being pumped out of the body, pretty much eliminated any hope. A dark patch next to the pool caught her attention. It was more blood. "Bitch picked a fine time to give up tranquilizers," Jamie said. "Do you know how many there are supposed to be?" "No," I said. "Jamie, we need to call Rod, but we need to find the other guards first. Let's do the house first, just to be sure." "Yes, we need to find the other guards, but no, we can't call Rod. We can't explain any of this without him knowing we were here. Burbank was bad enough. He suspects it was us, even though it's impossible; Rebecca knows but is choosing to ignore it. If we start doing the impossible too often, they are no longer going to be able to ignore it. What they already know we can do is dangerous enough. Let's face it; there aren't too many people we can't get information out of. Having the ability to move a thousand miles unnoticed would scare the piss out of people who deal very harshly with anything they perceive as a threat, especially things they can't control. We're about two categories above that on the list. We're going to need to talk about this, but now isn't the time." There was a dead body watching cartoons in the living room and another one on the front porch, neatly tucked out of sight behind the hedge. It was hidden from view, but the blood trail showed he had been moved there. "Shit," Jamie swore. "Cameras; now we need to find the control room. There will be at least one more body there, maybe two." "We need to hurry," I said. "They'll be here soon. The only place left is the garage; it has to be in there. They pushed that guy into the pool after he was dead — after they made sure the splash wouldn't alert anyone. Someone went out of their way to do it." "Yeah," Jamie said. Just the one word, but it was all she needed to convey that she was just as pissed as I was. Someone was going to pay for this. The control room was behind a false wall in the garage. Looking in from the driveway it would have looked perfectly normal, but if you looked closely you would realize the inside and outside dimensions didn't match up. It wasn't a large discrepancy, only about four feet, but it ran across the whole back of the garage; you could do a lot in eighty square feet if you didn't mind working in close spaces. The refrigerator was a fake; instead of opening into cold storage, the door opened into the control room. I probably wouldn't have found it if it hadn't already been open. We needn't have worried about the video feeds; the control room was trashed; the machines they fed into had been reduced to so much piled scrap. The last body was sprawled in a pool of blood on the floor of the garage. His hands were secured with a wire tie, and he had been shot at close range in the back of the head. I could tell it was from close range because the hair around the entry wound was singed. I learned that on CSI, too. "We need to go, Jamie; they'll be here soon." She was careful not to touch anything as we made our way back to Allison's room. We didn't need to go back, but I was glad we had — otherwise I wouldn't have noticed the broken chain with the two gold hearts lying on the floor next to her bed. The hearts originally came from a pair of lockets I had gotten her and Shannon for Valentines Day earlier in the year. When Shannon died, we each took half of her locket to go with our own. Mine was in a small box in the safe back at my apartment. Jamie picked Allison's up, and as she stood I spotted her photo book on the dresser. Inside were pictures of her and Shannon. An idea was forming in my mind, so I had her pick it up as well, and then we left the way we had come in. "What now?" Jamie asked once we arrived safely back in the glade. "The first thing we need to do is to let Lizzy know we're back safe. She and Amber will be worried. Then everybody dies." "You mean I get to kill whoever is responsible for this?" Normally the idea of carnage and mayhem got an excited response. I realized then that while violence excited her, and she liked — loved actually — a good fight, killing was something else. There was no excitement here; her mood matched my own. It was just something that needed to be done. It was good to know. I wasn't looking forward to killing anyone either; I was just looking forward to them being dead. I promised myself I wouldn't enjoy it. "Yes," I answered, "but Allison and my parents have to die too; it might be best if I did as well." "Oh, god!" she exclaimed, sounding relieved. "Don't do that! For a second there I had this wild thought you were talking about us actually killing them. I know I should have known better, but just for a heartbeat ... You mean we need to fake their deaths, so no one ever tries this shit again?" "Sorry. Yeah, that's what I meant. I'll talk to Rod and Rebecca about it as soon as they call and tell us what we already know." "What are you thinking?" she asked. "It depends on how Rod and his crew go in. I'd rather not think too much about that right now though. One thing at a time is about all I can handle, so let's go reassure the women, and then we'll see where we go from there." I could tell Amber was distraught; it showed in her face, the set of her head, and the way her hands lay in her lap as she knelt next to Lizzy, who was stroking her hair unconsciously while they waited. I was so used to seeing perfection that the little differences I was seeing now stood out like stop signs. Lizzy, able to see enough just by looking, waited as I knelt before Amber and took her chin in my hand, delicately turning her head to meet my eyes. "She is alive, Amber, and I will not rest until she is back, and those responsible are punished — this I swear to you." A tear crept over the rim of her left eye to trickle down her cheek. I brushed it away with my thumb, and she leaned into my palm, closing her eyes and trembling slightly. She stayed there for a moment then pulled her head back and said, "Thank you, Master." As soon as I stood up, Lizzy flowed into my arms and hugged me tightly. "I'm glad you're okay," she whispered softly. "How bad is it?" "She took them all," I said, my head resting on her shoulder. "Allison and my parents; murdered the guards for no fucking reason!" I felt Jamie take the anger away before I even realized how mad I was. "She could have just as easily used tranquilizers on them, she obviously had them — they had to have used them on Allison and my parents while they were sleeping. I'm sure I would have noticed if anything had happened to them when they were awake. Allison at least would have tried to call me. Mom and Dad I can't be as sure of, but I think if they had woken in a panic ... I don't know ... and it doesn't really matter. What matters is that she's got them and that I'm going to get them back, and anyone that gets in my way is going to wish they had never been born." I pulled back and continued, "This can't happen again, Elizabeth. I have to stop it here. I'm not going to let them keep hurting innocents just to get to me." I shook my head. "Four more people dead ... it ends here." She closed her eyes and nodded slightly. "I know," she said. "It will be all right. I'm not worried about you on this one. Do what you have to do." By 'this one', she meant as opposed to the first time I had been forced to kill to protect an innocent. She had wept for what it cost me to kill the two dirty Las Vegas cops that were hunting for Phoebe, the thirteen-year-old runaway who was the key that finally unlocked the pedophile slave ring I was in Vegas to stop. I had tried everything I could think of to find a way out of killing them; Jamie calling Sandra Atkins had been my last resort, but no one was willing to step in. Rod and Rebecca had no proof of what was happening and therefore no legal grounds. Atkins knew the truth — enough of it anyway — but wouldn't risk exposing her people by interfering in what was, on the surface, a legitimate police investigation. In the end I was the only one who could stop them. I knew why Lizzy had cried, knew what it would cost me, and what it had cost her to see me go through it, but the thought of what I knew they would do to Phoebe ... I would have paid more. "I'm going to talk to Rod about faking my parents' deaths — Allison's too — so that no matter what happens, no one will ever be able to use them as bait or leverage again." "That's probably for the best," she agreed. "You realize it will mean you can't see them again, right? Not right away at least; maybe not for a long time." "I can see them anytime I want here, that's good enough. I just want them safe, or at least as safe as I can make them, but I have to get them back first." "You will," she said. "I know you will. What are you going to tell Rod and Rebecca?" "Just that I want them to disappear," I answered. "If it's possible, if they didn't attract too much attention responding to the safe house, I'm going to ask Rod to torch it; make it look like just another tragic house fire. They don't have to burn it down, just do enough damage to make it look real. I'll pay for the repairs. I just want them safe, and safe means dead. I can't take the chance that anyone else knows." "Do you think they'll still be able to come to the wedding?" I had to smile at that, and I could feel her respond to the change she had caused. She giggled and hugged me again then pulled back a little and got serious. "Jimmy, we don't have to wait. I..." "Yes we do," I said. "We made the commitment, and we're sticking to it. Now, if you want to move the wedding up, that's fine with me, and we can get married right here in Vegas as soon as you're here. We don't even have to tell anyone if you don't want to; I'm sure your parents would be disappointed if they found out. We can just keep it small and private, then let our parents plan a big wedding later if they want, but we're waiting either way." "Okay. I want you, Jimmy, right now more than ever. It's probably a reaction to the situation, so I'm trying really hard to ignore it; but it's not easy, and I'm thinking really hard about taking you up on the Vegas offer, but you're right about my folks. They would be crushed if I don't do the whole big-wedding thing. And I would like my daddy to be able to give me away, but I don't know how much longer I can wait. I know I can't wait until after school, no way! Maybe until summer, but no way am I waiting four years! And if I try to talk to my mom about it that's what she'll tell me. And they'll never understand how I could be marrying someone I've known such a short time. I don't even know what to tell them about how we met." "Well, I guess technically we met through your roommate," I said. She smiled and gave me a little squeeze. "Yeah, that would certainly be true. Speaking of my roommate; Amber, get your cute ass up here and hug us; we need a little extra love." "Thank you Mistress, I thought you'd never ask," she said, bouncing to her feet and snuggling into my arms facing Lizzy. "Forgive me for asking, but — am I in the wedding?" Lizzy leaned across my chest, and Amber leaned to meet her. The kiss was intimate, soft, hot! Thankfully, they broke it off after a few seconds. "Of course you are, silly," Lizzy said. "I couldn't possibly marry your master without you there. Maybe I should make you my maid of honor." "I fear my honor may be somewhat sullied, Mistress." "Why? Just become some asshole beat the hell out of you and raped you for a month? Girl, don't even go there! What happened to you was purely involuntary and doesn't count. Besides, even with that you've slept with what, four or five guys?" "Seven," Amber replied. "Seven?" Lizzy scoffed. "Girl, I've been with more than that in one week. Did Jimmy tell you about the time I blew the starting five on the boys' basketball team because I lost a bet?" "Oh my God!" Amber said, shocked but giggling. "You're kidding! You didn't really, did you?" "Yep, I did!" Lizzy said proudly. "Not only that, but I lost the bet on purpose. So don't talk to me about your honor being tarnished princess; I've done way more than you, and mine were all intentional — except the first one of course, and my rape was nothing like yours." "You were raped?" Amber said, pulling away and staring at her in shock. "I didn't know." "Of course you didn't know, silly. I never told you, and certainly no one else who knew would say anything. It's how I knew what you were going through, how cut off you felt, because I'd felt it myself." My phone chose that moment to ring, and since I had been expecting the call, I reached for the nightstand and answered it without thinking, dividing my attention between the two realities. "Hello?" "It's me, call me back." I switched phones and hit the speed dial for Rod's phone. As usual he didn't bother saying hello, but jumped straight in. "Your parents and your sister are gone." Expecting a panicked response, he rushed right into the explanation before I had a chance. "Now that's not as bad as it sounds because it means they're alive, and as long as they're alive there's hope. It could have been worse..." Yeah, I knew that already. "What about your agents that were watching them?" There was silence while he debated telling me. I didn't wait. "They're dead aren't they? She killed them." He let out a sigh, "Yeah, they're all dead." "Rod, how much attention did you attract going in?" "None, it was a tactical situation not an assault; we came in hoping that if things had gone bad, they wouldn't be expecting us, why?" "Because I think you're wrong. I think..." the pause was just for effect. "I think we all died tonight." He caught on right away. "You're worried that even if we get them back this could happen again." "This can't ever happen again Rod, and if we're all dead, it won't." "I hear what you're saying. How did you die? Do I just use what we found and say the people who you were hiding from found you?" "No, I was thinking of something that wouldn't make the Bureau look incompetent, like a routine house fire in the middle of the night. You could probably do it with minimal damage if you were careful, and I'd pay for any repairs. Rod, I don't want any more innocent people to die because someone is after me. She killed your agents for spite. They had tranquilizers; they would have had to because if Allison had awakened scared I would have known it." "You would?" He asked. I realized I was treading on dangerous ground here, giving away information that I really didn't want getting out. "I think I would have, for Allison. That's how I knew something was wrong — when she didn't show up in the dream I looked for her, and she wasn't there." "Okay, we're getting into areas I don't understand, and frankly don't want to understand, so let's get back to the subject at hand. You want to fake your parent's, and Allison's, deaths." "And mine," I corrected him. "That's not going to get them back." "I'm not worried about that; I'm only concerned with the future. I won't allow this to happen again." There was a long silence, and I knew he was thinking of five dead bank robbers, a bloody warehouse, and maybe even two dead Las Vegas cops; he wasn't a hundred percent sure I'd done that particular job, but he had to suspect. Eight is a pretty impressive body count for a sixteen year old. Decades of historical research put Billy the Kid at no more than nine, and he took six more years to do it. So far, every one of mine was to protect the lives of innocent people, but I could understand why Rod was worried. Finally he continued, "The fire is one possibility. Another is to publicize that they were kidnapped, and blame their deaths on the kidnappers." "I thought of that," I said, "but again, I'm trying for a solution that doesn't make the Bureau look bad. A family that disappeared into protective custody being kidnapped from an FBI safe house is not going to instill confidence in future witnesses as to your ability to protect them." "In this case it just happens to be true," he quipped. "Rod, this only happened because it was Henslith. She's probably been raiding your database ever since she got there looking for information she might need someday. She's a professional killer, and knowing the locations of FBI safe houses would be money in the bank down the road." "That's certainly true," he said thoughtfully. "I think I'll have Freeman take a hard look at the computers and see if she left anything behind that might still be allowing her access." "Probably a good idea," I agreed. "Rod, I know what's worrying you. It worries me too, but can you honestly say there was any other choice for any of them? You couldn't even find Kurtz, and if you had and you had arrested him instead of killing him ... Even he was afraid of what might have happened. That's why he killed himself." "Don't say any more, Jimmy. I know they were necessary; those men at the bank were planning on killing all of you, and the evidence all says they killed each other. Andrews and Charles were hunting an innocent thirteen year old girl to kill her." "They were going to do more than just kill her, Rod. Andrews..." "I know, Bex told me everything you've found out; she said even Atkins' people weren't willing to take action against them because it might expose them. And again, there is nothing to point to you. That's the part that really worries me Jimmy. If you went bad they could all be like that, just mysterious deaths with no clue to what really happened. Jimmy, I've been around this game for a long time. Killing takes a toll." This time I was silent before finally saying, "Yes ... it does, but Rod, you've been around the game long enough to know that sometimes it's the only choice you have. I think the key is to not be the one making that decision. Not letting yourself be the one who decides. I'm asking you now Rod, is there another way? One on one, right now, you have a gun in your hand and one shot at Henslith. Do you take the chance? Knowing what it means down the road, do you give her a chance to escape? If you found her tomorrow, is there any evidence that you can use against her for anything? Or could she really just walk back into her life like we think?" "It wouldn't be the same, people suspect now; she'd be watched." "Not the same thing, Rod; and if she ever decided she was tired of being watched? How many people would she kill when she left? How many more after that before someone managed to catch her again? Tell me the truth, Rod — you're there, now, the gun in your hand; do you take the shot?" Again there was a pause, but eventually he gave the answer I knew he would: "Yes. Okay, you've made your point. At this level we all know that sometimes there are things that have to be done. We just hope and pray that we're not the ones who have to do them." "What's worse?" I asked. "Knowing it has to be done and doing it? Or being the one who has to decide that it has to be done? I don't think I'm the only thing waking Atkins up in the middle of the night. That can't be an easy thing to do." "No, I'm sure it's not," he said. There was something in his voice. Had he been in that position? The only thing I could think of that was harder was the decision military commanders had to make; ordering one of your own on a mission you knew they would not come back from. I didn't push. "Any idea how they did it?" I asked. "They had to take the control room first, and it was pretty well hidden. "The lab team thinks gas, they knocked him out and then took the control room. After that it would have been pretty easy to take them one at a time using the internal cameras. You know, Hampton's mysterious source is really starting to make us look bad; first Angela, then the Sandman, I don't suppose you could just find them and let us get them back, this time?" "Be serious Rod. How fast would Henslith kill them if she thought the FBI was closing in?" He sighed, and I could almost see him shaking his head as he said, "Yeah." "Besides, I already told you, I don't want any more of your people to die because of me." "It's their job, Jimmy," he said defensively. "Not anymore," I said. "How long does a tranquilizer generally last?" "It varies depending on the drug and dosage. Anywhere from five minutes on up. It also depends on the person. Some people react more severely. Some never wake up, but I doubt if she's using those kinds of drugs. If I had to guess I'd say she was looking at buying just enough time to get them out and then switching to something she had more control over." "Okay," I said. "I know you can't keep it out of official reports, but I think for now it would be best if this didn't show up in the papers." "You think?" He asked sarcastically. "I'll keep a lid on it as long as I can, but four agents just died. There's a limit to what I can do. Good luck." He broke the connection. I slipped back into dreamspace, settled myself cross-legged on the soft grass of the glade, and envisioned my father in his pajama bottoms — he almost never wears a shirt to bed. He was unconscious, a wire tie binding his ankles, another binding his wrists behind his back. I tried every variation of the scene that I could think of with both of them, together and separately, but nothing changed. I could not find my parents. "My Lord?" a familiar voice inquired. "What is it Walter?" I said, opening my eyes. "The very question I would ask," he answered. "Even from afar I could sense your unease. Is everything alright, my Lord?" It occurred to me then that I had never told him the truth about Henslith. "No, Walter, everything is not alright. I have been a fool, and now I reap a fool's reward. The woman I had you searching for; Rebecca's partner?" "Aye, my Lord?" "She's taken my family hostage." "My Lord?" he said, perplexed. "How is this possible?" "She was not who she seemed," I said. "I have known for some time that someone was after me; not long ago that someone kidnapped a friend of mine as bait. I got her back, but ever since then both of our families have been in hiding. You were there when Boris finally broke; you heard what he said about the person who sent him after me? He called her The Black Queen. Before I set Rene free, I showed him an image of Henslith, and he about flipped out. He confirmed that Henslith is the Black Queen. She's been behind all of this from the start. Ever since I learned she was the one behind it, I've been waiting for her to try again, or for a chance to go after her. While she was working with the FBI she apparently got the addresses for their LA safe houses, and sometime last night she kidnapped my family and murdered their guards." "Traitorous Bitch!" he swore. "My Lord, this cannot be borne! You will, of course, be going after them?" "Yes, Walter, just as soon as I find them. Unfortunately, I have to wait for the drugs to wear off. I can't find them while they are unconscious." "I understand." He dropped to one knee again. "My Lord, when the time comes, I would join with you." Something in the way he said it suggested there was more to it. "What do you mean 'join with me'?" "He means he wants to merge with us when we go after them," Jamie said, stepping out of me. "Don't you Walter?" "Yes, milady. It is clear this will be no social call and such as these ... I would welcome the feeling of their blood on my hands." "The more the merrier, big guy," Jamie said. There was a cheery sound to her voice but blood in her eyes. "We'll call you when it's time. Jimmy, you need to rest, take your mind off of this for awhile. Let's go home." "So let me get this straight," I said when we got back to the apartment. "Walter wants to merge with us, like that day at school, before we go deal with these guys?" "Seems like it," Jamie replied. "It should be interesting to say the least. I think we should have a snack before we go." "Yeah, and use the bathroom." "So how do you think we should do this?" I asked while we were sharing a sandwich and an apple. "We know they have regular guns as well as tranquilizers," I said, "so we'll need to be careful, try to isolate them if possible and take them one at a time." "Sounds good," she said cheerfully. "The problem is that if we anchor off of your mom or dad going in, we'll be tied to them. Now that we know Walter is available, why don't we let him scout for us, find out what we're up against before we go in. While he's at it he can find us a transition point. For a moment my mind flashed back to the night we rescued Angela. I had had Walter looking for her for some time, with no success. The two times he showed up were both after I had found her in dreams and gone to her. That night I had tried to use him to scout the house, but he seemed to be tied to me once he got there. We hadn't noticed, but somewhere along the line, something had changed so that now he was free to roam with seemingly no restraint. At the moment I didn't really care about how or when. To me this was something that had to be done. I had felt a similar resolve in her, but at the same time, the darkness in her was looking forward to it. There was a sense of anticipation. The closest analogy I could think of was the thrill of the hunt. The next thing I knew Jamie was calling me. "Show time big brother, your dad's waking up." I woke up to find myself in my copy of Allison's glade. "You put me in a bubble," I accused. "How do you feel?" she asked in a very matter of fact voice. Actually I felt a lot better. "That's not the point." "You're welcome," she said, kissing my cheek. "Let's go." Suddenly we were looking down at the bound form of my father. He was on the floor at the foot of a large four-poster bed just as I had pictured him, his wrists and ankles bound with wire ties, a gag in his mouth. He looked like he'd been there for quite a while. There were two others in the room, both on the bed. My mother was one of them, only in her case she was spread-eagled, and tied to the bedposts. At least her clothes were still on. "I hope he dies first," Jamie said coldly. I had expected rage at the scene; I think the calm scared me more. 'He' was dressed all in black; a tight fitting knit pullover that looked like it had been designed to be worn under something, along with black pants and boots. The pants were clearly military in design, with extra pockets on the hip and calf. A long knife stuck out of one boot. He wore black half-gloves as well and was currently sitting on the bed fondling one of my mother's breasts through her nighty. "Hey!" A voice behind us barked. "Hands off. She's mine first; I drew high card." "Don't get your panties in twist, Mac. I'm not hurting anything, just checking it out. She got some nice titties on her, real ones! Too bad we couldn't keep the girl, too; I would have liked to have me some of that. She looked tight." "Yeah, this one looks pretty good too, but if you want tight, you're going to have to pop her old man in the ass because I'm going to tear this shit up. Don't let it bother you though; sloppy seconds beats hell out of what Petey's getting. We still got a few hours though; you know the rules — can't touch either of them until morning. Give me a hand with this chair." The man on the bed got up and helped him set the heavy chair at the end of the bed, and then the two of them started tying my dad into it. "Walter!" Jamie called. Walter came bounding through the wall, took one look around, and growled, the fur on his back bristling. "Yeah, my sentiments exactly," Jamie said. "Scout around, find us an entry point, see if you can get an idea of how each of them is armed, then come and get us." She didn't wait for an answer, just took us back to the apartment. From there we crossed phsically to the glade. We didn't have long to wait as Walter arrived shortly after we did. Jamie stepped out so it would be easier to communicate. "There are four of them," Walter said. "They are all similarly armed; each carries an odd looking gun under one arm. One has a second gun under his shirt in the small of his back. Knives, of course; the one you saw before in his right boot, two others on their belts. The one with the second gun also has a small throwing knife in a sheath sown into the back of his shirt." "The guns fire tranquilizers, Walter," I explained. "They are designed to incapacitate without killing you. They basically put you to sleep. The one we'll have to worry about is the second gun the one guy has; chances are it fires real bullets." "Then we should take him first if we can," Jamie said. "The rest should be easy. Let's party." She turned and stepped back into me. "Walter?" Walter stepping into us came with a rush of sensation. Jamie figured it out first. "Wow, the view changed." A mirror appeared and we saw our reflection. "Cool!" Jamie exclaimed. In the glass, looking back at us was ... well it wasn't me, and it wasn't Walter. Even weirder, as I thought that, just as 'me' and 'Walter' crossed my mind the image changed. Suddenly it was me, then it was Walter. "Cool! Can I try?" The image changed, and Jamie's image appeared. "Hot!" She changed the armor to a bathing suit. "We can play dress-up later Jamie; right now we've got work to do." The image switched back to her in a female version of Walter's form fitting armor, the hilt of his sword still poking up over her shoulder. "Are you ready, Walter?" There was no reply. "Walter?" Thinking of him changed us back to his image, but there was still no reply. That was odd, because I still had a sense that he was there, and there was still something that felt subtly different. Maybe he just couldn't answer. "Let's hope he found us a safe place to go in," I said. Images flashed through my mind. Kitchen, bedrooms, bath, living room; suddenly I knew the layout of the entire place. "What do you think, Jamie," I asked. "The kitchen or one of the other bedrooms?" "Kitchen," she said confidently. "Big, open, and unless someone went for a snack, empty." It was an older home, and the image of the kitchen was from the doorway to a pantry that also led to an outside door. I overlaid the kitchen and stepped through. The scene was just as I had envisioned it with one exception. The refrigerator door was open. "You want a beer, Petey?" the mystery man asked. Instantly the world spun as I was shoved out and into the crow's nest. The real shock was finding myself looking down at Walter's form instead of my own. I didn't have time to think about it as Jamie was already in motion. Silently plucking a knife out of the block on the counter, she stepped up behind the refrigerator door just as her victim reached to close it. The look on his face as he realized there was now someone standing behind the door, someone big, was priceless. Before he could even try to call a warning, eight inches of steel drove up through the soft hollow of his lower jaw, continuing upward into his brain, with so much force that his mouth snapped shut and his feet almost left the floor. With her free hand, Jamie was already reaching to grab the two beer bottles before they could fall. Trusting the knife to stay where it was she grabbed his arm and stepped back, controlling his fall so that he collapsed quietly to the floor. Whoever did the cooking knew their stuff; the knife was razor sharp and Jamie's strike so precise that the wound had barely even begun to bleed by the time she layed him down. I recognized him from the previous visit; Jamie had gotten her wish. She pulled the dishtowel off the refrigerator door and carefully wiped down the handle of the knife before picking up one of the beers and slipping out into the living room where apparently 'Petey' was playing video games to pass the time. "Apparently since Walter was the last one you were concentrating on, his shape is the one we were in when we crossed over," Jamie said. "This has definite possibilities!" She walked up behind Petey and uncapped the beer; the distinctive soft pop and hiss almost lost in the sounds from the game. But it's a sound beer drinkers recognize, and apparently Petey's brain recognized it even amidst distraction. "Just set it on the table," he said, as on the screen he flew his x-wing fighter down into the bowels of the Death Star. Jamie set the bottle carefully on the table, then stepped up and reached around with one hand to grab his chin just as the other hand pressed hard into the back of his head. By the time he realized something was wrong, it was too late, as with a swift, hard twist, she snapped his neck. He never even saw her as he keeled over onto the couch, the controller falling from his hand to bounce on the carpet. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I had an image of Petey arriving in hell, confronting his friend, and demanding to know why he had killed him. Even as the body was falling I caught motion as someone cleared the hallway and a voice said, "What the fuck? Petey!" Jamie spun and Mac was behind me, already pulling his tranquilizer gun. Almost faster than the eye could follow, Jamie reached over her shoulder, pulled Walter's sword, stepped forward and swung. Before he could even aim, the blade passed through his arm with almost no resistance. Continuing the motion, Jamie carved a neat figure eight in the air and at the end tucked the sword neatly back into the scabbard. Where in the hell had she learned that? There was no spray of blood, his arm didn't fall off; in fact, there was no outward sign of injury at all, but still the gun fell from Mac's hand as he screamed and fell back, clutching briefly at his arm before letting it fall to his side. With his other hand he pulled a switchblade from a pouch on the side of his belt. Despite the lack of any visible injury, pain twisted his face as the blade clicked open and he started forward. Jamie stood her ground until he was too close to dodge, and then feinted a grab at the knife. The point flicked up to block and cut the descending hand. Too late he realized his error as her left foot swept across in a fast arc, catching his wrist and sending the knife spinning across the room. Behind him the last member of the group — no doubt drawn by his earlier cries — burst from a doorway, gun already drawn, and moving for a shot. Jamie never even slowed down; following the momentum of her left leg, she spun and kicked hard with her right, catching Mac just below the sternum with enough force to lift him off of his feet and propel him backward and into his partner's line of fire, just as he pulled the trigger. She didn't wait to see where the bullet hit but allowed her momentum to carry her to the side and out of the entryway. There were two quick reports; the muffled sound told us that the bullets had indeed penetrated flesh. That and the fact that the sheet-rock didn't explode on the wall that was now between us and the gunman. Contrary to what you see on television, your average household wall will not stop a bullet; unless the slug hits a stud. The only exception I knew of was a Glaser Safety Round. Those had been specially designed to do maximum damage without exiting the target. Nasty stuff, but it did keep the collateral damage down. You also don't get that sharp, ringing, report if you hit something before the slug can break the sound barrier. If you were down range you would hear a loud bang, but — given the cramped hallway — I doubt if anyone nearby would hear the shot over their television. What happened next happened so fast that even I had a hard time tracking it, and I was looking down at it the whole time. On the floor of the living room, the wall cast a shadow from the kitchen. Using that as a demarcation, Jamie stepped forward into dreamspace, took a second step, and re-emerged in the hallway behind the shooter. Again the sword sang free of its scabbard, but it seemed to me that she intentionally drew it more slowly and with as much sound as possible so that he would know someone was behind him. It worked. He spun toward us, trying to bring the gun to bear, and his eyes fastened on the dark blade as it suddenly flashed forward and down in an arc to impact on his left shoulder. As before, there was almost no resistance to the sword's passage. It was like an oar turned the wrong way, sliding sideways through water; there was resistance, but not anything like what you were expecting. The sword passed through his left shoulder, diagonally down his torso, and out again at his right hip. Pain and shock caused him to stiffen; his eyes went wide, staring not at me so much as through me. I don't know what he saw, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't me, and whatever it was, it frightened him; I could see the terror in his eyes. And then suddenly the light was gone, and what was left behind was collapsing in a heap on the floor at our feet, the gun falling from his lifeless fingers to bounce harmlessly on the carpet. Jamie had returned the sword to its scabbard without even wiping it down. I realized even as I thought of it that there hadn't been any blood on the blade. I didn't have time to really think about it as she was turning to the bedroom door before he even hit the ground. From my position I could see the pool of blood forming around Mac, and it was clear that one of the bullets had hit something vital. He had ended up lying on his side against one wall, an unbelieving stare locked in his already blind eyes. The door opened, and as Jamie stepped through, she relinquished control so that I was once more looking out at the world through my own eyes. A quick visual check determined that my parents were all right. I went back to the hall and pulled a knife from a pouch on the dead gunman's belt. It was a butterfly knife. I'd never actually held one, but thanks to Carter Malloy — one the FBI trainers I had spent time with when it first began to look like I may have to run — I opened it with a casual and, if I may say so, artistic series of wrist-flicks. I was about to cut the new ties they had used to secure my father to the back of the tall chair so he could watch what they were doing to his wife, but Jamie stopped me. "No, we want it to be clear what was about to happen. Sick bastards," Jamie said, voicing my own sentiments exactly. "Just throw a blanket over your mother. We need to go back and wipe down that beer bottle and cap as well." I moved to the bed and carefully pulled the blanket up over her, tucked it around her as carefully as I could, and kissed her cheek "I love you, mom." I whispered and then picked up the phone on the nightstand and used the blade of the knife to dial 911. When the operator answered I said, "Listen carefully, this call is for Special Agent Samuel Rodriguez, FBI, Los Angeles; tell him that most of what he is looking for can be found at this address." I hadn't even thought to try and disguise my voice but what came out wasn't my voice. It wasn't really Walter either, but somewhere in between. "What? I don't understand," the man said. "You don't need to understand, just pass along the message, tell him the threat has been eliminated and it's safe to enter." I used a corner of the sheet to wipe the phone down and set it carefully on the nightstand, leaving the connection open. I could still hear the operator speaking. I cut a piece of the sheet away, flipped the knife closed, and started carefully wiping it down as we moved toward the living room. "What are you doing?" Jamie asked. "I want to see if we can take it with us. We may need it to free Allison, but just in case we lose it when we transition I don't want to leave prints." The operator was still calling to us as I headed for the doorway. "Hello? Hello? Are you there? HELLO!?" The sound faded before we reached the living room and seconds later we were back into the glade. ------- Chapter 7 As I stepped through the doorway back into the glade, I felt both Jamie and Walter fall away from me. The rush of strength that had accompanied our merging ended when it did, and while I suddenly felt weak and tired, I knew it was returning to being just myself instead of the ... something more, that I had been moments before. It was only a shock because I wasn't expecting it. "That was awesome!" Jamie cried, then she staggered dizzily away for a few steps, almost falling before catching herself. "Whoa, wasn't ready for that. Guess I should have been though, considering the rush when we merged. Are you okay, Walter?" I looked, and Walter had reverted to his beast form. He still looked a little shaky to me, but as I watched he stood up into human form again, shaking his head. "I am well, Milady," he said. "I assumed that four feet would serve better than two. It did not help a great deal, but fortunately it was only a momentary disorientation, and it has passed." He turned to face me. "My Lord, what just happened?" "What just happened?" Jamie repeated. "We kicked major ass is what just happened! You didn't miss it did you?" "No, Milady, I experienced all that transpired, and I share your joy at the deed. It is how it was accomplished that I wish to understand. When we joined, it seemed that ... I do not have the words, but it was not the same as before ... and then there is the sword to consider." "Yes," I said. "There certainly is, only I don't have a clue where to start with that. That was not the sword I gave you before." "It is the same sword," Walter said. "The form has changed, as the original did not suit me, but the rest," he shook his head. "I can take no credit for that." My phone rang, and I was surprised to see it was Lizzy calling "What just happened?" she asked when I answered. I checked the time, and it was still early, not quite five o'clock. "I figured you would be up by now." It wasn't an answer really, but then, I wasn't exactly sure how to answer the question, and I was surprised to be hearing from her due to the time. "I am up," she replied. "That's how I knew something was happening, because I could feel it even though I was awake. I put myself back out just so I could find out, but you weren't here, now you are." "We were ... busy. As for what happened, we're not really sure. Jamie and I were going after mom and dad, and Walter decided to come along. He merged with us and it was ... different this time." "Just your mom and dad?" she asked, her voice almost cracking under the strain of holding back the emotion. "Allison wasn't with them?" "No, she left my parents at a house with four guys, mercenaries I think. Apparently she's got Allison somewhere else." "Yeah, and I'll bet I know exactly what they had in mind, the bastards. So you got them out?" she asked. "No, I couldn't get them out without raising a whole lot of questions, but they're not in danger anymore, and Rod should be on the way by now." "Same difference," she said. "Are you okay?" I knew she wasn't asking if we were hurt. "You're not going to believe me until you see it for yourself, but yes, I'm fine. We're just trying to figure it all out while we wait." "Wait for what?" she asked. "Wait for Allison to wake up so we can finish this. I can't find her until the drugs wear off. We only got this far because my dad was starting to come out of it early. Mom is still out." "Are they okay?" she asked. "They'll be confused, wondering how they got there; mom will panic when she finds out Allison is still missing. I'm not sure how they're going to take the news that they're dead. I'm looking for someplace nice to send them. I was thinking Hawaii." "That would be cool. Maybe we could have the wedding on the beach, you know, when we get around to it. Meanwhile, it might be nice just to visit. I have to go to my parents for Christmas, but maybe we could go for spring break. After a whole winter in Indiana I'm going to need some sun." "Sounds good to me," I said. "I'm not sure how I'm going to handle you, and Amber, and Allison all in bikinis though." "That's okay," she said in sultry voice. "I know exactly how we're going to handle you, but I don't want to go there right now. You need to focus on Allison. "Jimmy, I can't tell you how proud of you I am, and I know you'll get Allison back; just be careful. Henslith is one seriously hard-core bitch, and there's no telling what will happen when she figures out how badly she's screwed up, so don't take anything for granted, okay?" "I won't," I promised. "I'll let you know when something happens." "More likely you'll tell me when it's over," she said, "and that's fine. I'd rather you concentrated more on what you're doing than worry about keeping me up to date. All I care about is you and Allison being safe. Beyond that, nothing else matters. I love you." "Love you, too." I said and then hung up. I turned back to where I had left Jamie and Walter, but now it was only Jamie. "I sent him back to Amy," she said. "It didn't look like we were getting anywhere trying to figure it all out anyway. I also took us back to the apartment; I figure Rod should be calling soon, and it would probably be a really good idea if we were here to take the call. Besides, I don't know about you, but I'm hungry. Whatever else was going on it seems like we burned a lot of energy. Too bad Lizzy couldn't come; I would have been interested in seeing if she could see the difference. I, for one, don't want to take chances with our energy levels." We had a light breakfast, and then I fired up my laptop to distract myself and started looking for someplace to send them all: someplace warm, sunny, and peaceful. Hawaii really was starting to look good. Which island to choose just depended on what level of modern convenience and activity they were looking for. There were other questions I probably should have been working on, but I really didn't want to deal with them right now. I was still at it when Rod called. I noticed the clock on my phone as I answered and was shocked to discover it was almost nine o'clock. I had missed my morning run hours before, and it had thrown off my whole schedule. The ringing of my phone was followed closely by the growling of my stomach. Apparently, Jamie was right and we had used a lot of energy rescuing my parents. Usually a piece of toast and a glass of juice got me through until lunch time. "David Malcolm." "It's me, call me back." I hung up and called him back on my secure phone. As usual, he didn't even say hello but started right in, "We got your parents out safe. They're at the hospital now. I would have called earlier, but this is the first chance I've had. You have no idea how much trouble it causes when someone gets there ahead of us and kills all the bad guys; especially when one of them dies for no apparent reason. We've had people all over the place since about twenty minutes after the call came in. Forensics is having a fun time trying to piece together what happened." "You make it sound like they're having a problem," I said. "You think?" he asked. "Four men break into an FBI safe house, kidnap a family and then turn on each other only hours later? Makes no sense except that the way they died points to someone on the inside. Did you know about the others?" "What others?" I asked. Had I missed someone? No, that didn't make sense either. "You didn't notice the décor was a little off for a group of mercenaries? They found two men stuffed into a freezer in the garage. Neighbors said they moved in about a month ago. They weren't too thrilled about an openly gay couple moving into the neighborhood, but they are still pretty upset about what happened to them." "Careful here," Jamie warned. "Damn," I said. "I didn't even think about any of that, but — now that you mentioned it — I guess a group of mercenaries kidnapping someone they planned to kill wouldn't be likely to take them to their own home to do it. As for the décor, I'm limited to the perceptions in the dream, and I was a little busy at the time." "I can certainly understand that," He said. Then his voice got more serious. "How are you doing, son? You okay?" "Yeah," I said with a sigh. "I'm doing okay. This was like Andrews and Charles, just a little — a lot really — more personal." "I understand. I figured it had to be you that took those two out, but, like you said, this was more personal, and personal is different. It can be better or worse depending on the situation, but it's different from the 'this needs to be done' category. You know what I mean?" "Yeah," I said. "I do. This is going to sound bad, but please don't take it wrong. That was protecting an innocent young girl. This was protecting my family. There's a difference." "I know. Actually I don't, because nothing like this has ever happened to my family. Jimmy, if you need to talk to someone about all this..." "I'm okay, really." "Are you sure?" he asked. "I can set you up with someone if you want to talk, totally anonymous, they won't know anything about you..." "I appreciate the offer, but I'm good, really," I said. "I've got Bob if I need help, and Allison." "Yeah, about her; I noticed she wasn't with them. Any idea where they took her?" "No, not yet, I can't find her while she's drugged; I have to wait until she wakes up. That's how I found these guys; my dad was starting to come out of it. What about you? Any clues at either scene?" "I don't think Henslith went anywhere near either location. Everything we've found points to these four. One of the neighbors at the safe house is retired Army intelligence and knows what the house really is. He remembered seeing a white van — possibly a Ford — parked down the street, but that was all they had, no license plate or anything." "I'm thinking of moving my folks to Hawaii," I said, changing the subject. "That's a tough one," he said. "Jimmy, I don't have the budget for this. The safe house they were in wasn't in use, so it wasn't a big deal. WitSec won't budget anything because we don't have any kind of case to justify it. With no official involvement..." "I'm not worried about the money, Rod; I was just wondering what you thought of the idea." "What I think? Are you kidding? I think you should put them at my house and send me to Hawaii. Aren't you worried about running out of money?" "No," I said. "I've barely scratched the surface on what I have, and before Rene died he told me there's another account. I haven't even checked it yet. Can you arrange to get them there if I take care of the rest? Logistics and ID, I mean. Actually, ID is probably enough; then they can buy their own tickets." "Yeah, I can do that much," he assured me. "I can actually do it all; I just can't fund it, but if that's not an obstacle..." My next call was to Spencer. Now that I realized how late it was, I wanted to get to her before she sent someone looking for me. Not that it mattered any more... "Mr. Malcolm," she said when the call finally went through. I should have done a little poking around and gotten her direct line just for fun; maybe next time. "So good of you to call; I was beginning to wonder. If you weren't so worried about people getting hurt, I would have sent someone over." We both knew she was stretching it there. "Well, you can call back whoever you sent; I'm fine and she's not coming," I answered. "I'd still rather you hadn't, but at least now I don't have to worry about your people dying for no reason." That sobered her up. "Why don't I like the sound of this? What happened, David?" Suddenly I was David again. I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. "I just got off the phone with Rod; she went after more innocent people — people I thought were safe." There was a pause. "David, I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do?" "Everything that can be done is being done. I just hope it's not already too late." "She hasn't got you yet, so she still needs them. That means they have to be alive, and that means there's still hope." "Yeah, I keep telling myself that. I may have to run into LA again. Any chance that jet is still available?" "You're cute." "It was worth a shot. Right now I'm waiting, but I expect I'll be hearing from her soon about what she has in mind to resolve this." "I understand," Spencer said. "Are you sure there is nothing we can do for you?" "Not unless you've figured out a way to find her. Aside from that I can't think of anything. It's her game and her move. All we can do is wait." "If the next move brings the action here, I'd like to know about it. I'm sure you would tell Rod if it was happening in his back yard; all I'm asking is to have the same courtesy extended." "I'll do what I can, but the last time she wanted me, she gave me two minutes to get outside, and I had to stay on the phone right up the point of contact — at which point her guy verified it was me and tossed the phone back in my front yard before handcuffing me and putting me in the car, so I can't make any promises." "So what now?" Jamie asked after I turned the phone off. "I have no idea," I responded. "We really need to find some hobbies for our down time," she said. "How about if we go down to the Mac Store for some private lessons? We're not exactly what you would call power users." "That, or try to figure out exactly what happened last night. Merging with Walter was..." I didn't have the words. "No kidding," she agreed, "but I don't have a clue what it was or why it happened. And then there's the sword ... that was just freaky. That second guy dropped dead like we'd actually cut him in half, and there wasn't a mark on him, on either of them. It went through both of them like ... not really a hot knife through butter, but it hardly slowed down going through three feet of muscle and bone. As for why or how, does it matter?" "What do you mean?" "I mean it works; it gets the job done, and it gets it done in a way that reduces the risk to us. Sure I'm curious, but I don't need to know the how or why." "Shame on you, Jamie!" I said. "What would Carter say? Just because the gun fired the first time you pulled the trigger..." "I know, I know," she replied and finished the quote... "'doesn't guarantee it will fire a second time. That's why it's important to know as much as possible about any weapon you may need to use someday. The more you understand, the better your chances of staying alive. If nothing else, you want to be able to make sure an enemy can't use the weapon against you.'" We were interrupted by Rod calling back. "I just realized I've been being stupid about your parents' relocation," he said. "How do you mean?" I asked. "I mean money isn't really an issue in their case. They have all the money Shannon's family left them, plus what they'll get for selling both the houses, cars, and everything else. They can go anywhere they want. Do you want me to do something with your truck?" "I'll have to think about that one," I said. "I wasn't worried about the money part of it, but thanks for calling me back." "No problem," he said. "Like I said, I should have thought of it sooner. I'll talk to you later. Keep me posted if you find anything." "Actually," I said before he could hang up, "while we're on the subject, how are Britney and her family doing?" "It's been hard on them," he said. "They're up in Washington. I got Ben a job in Olympia; that man is one hell of an administrator. I've got an agent house-sitting their old place until we see how this plays out. I had hoped they would be able to come home soon, but after last night..." "I understand. It still may be possible, but ... Are they in a house or apartment?" "Apartment, why?" "Just an idea. I'm feeling a sudden urge to own rental property in Washington State. We could have all their stuff shipped up and then rent out their old place until it's safe to come home." I could almost see him nodding as he said, "Damn you're good. WitSec and the Bureau frequently rent property for safe houses and re-locations..." "Just as long as whoever is in their place takes good care of it," I said. "It's their home, and I want them to get it back in the same shape they left it — assuming they get to come back. You know, I think I'd like Britney to have my truck; after last night, and with everything else that's happened, I don't think I'm going to be driving it again anytime soon. You can send the paperwork here, and I'll overnight it back to you." I was going to miss that truck. I called and got us an appointment for a couple hours of one-on-one training learning the ins and outs of the Mac OS and business software. That got me through lunch, but it wasn't long before boredom and apprehension started to settle in again. "Maybe we could work on that other little problem," Jamie suggested. "Which one?" I asked. "Bastion and the second circle of hell." "Something on your mind?" I asked. "Just some stuff I've been thinking about but have been afraid to bring it up. I wasn't sure how you would take it." "Then what's changed to let you think now is a good time?" "I'm stuck. I've been looking for alternatives, and I can't find any. I was going to talk to Allison about it and see if she could help, but obviously I can't do that now, and I don't think it's anything that Lizzy could help with. I don't even think she'd want to hear it, much less think about it." "That bad? I guess it must be if you're so worried that you'd go to Allison before bringing it up to me. You're that afraid of what I'm going to think about it?" There was a pause, "Yes. Jimmy, I'm afraid you'll think it's just me wanting to be ... you know ... me, the old me, again. But I really have been looking for another way, and I just can't think of one." "So, you have a solution, but it's not pretty; and you think I'm going to get mad at you for thinking of it?" "Something like that." I had been weighing the conversation against recent events to see what may have changed to make her think that something that scared her to even bring up may suddenly be okay to talk about. I could only think of one thing that was big enough to have that kind of impact, and she was right; I hadn't even heard it yet, and I already didn't like it. Which was all it took to suggest what was on her mind; if it was what I suspected, then I'd found myself thinking about the same thing lately. "So you think that one way or the other, no matter what else we do, some of them are going to have to die?" "What?" she sounded truly astonished. "How did you know?" Go figure. "I've been thinking the same thing; that some of these people are going to walk no matter what happens; there is just no way to really prove anything. It's what my dad used to call a Catch-22: We would need testimony and physical evidence to even charge and arrest them, but we can't possible get either until they are in custody, or the whole thing could blow up." "Yeah, that's what I've been trying to figure out. Take Hendricks' wife for instance. That is one truly evil bitch; she set up her own husband, for goodness sake, but we can't prove dick. Not unless the girls were to come forward en masse and accuse her, and even then it would be iffy. Meanwhile, poor Stephen is screwed one way or the other. No matter what we do we can't save him. It just sucks. He could do so much good if he didn't have to worry about her ratting him out, and that got me thinking; maybe the one she has really screwed here is herself. They have evidence on him; they can control him without her. Jimmy, what if she had an accident? What if something just 'happened' to her? She's a voluntary player, but she has no intrinsic value to the group beyond her husband." "So what are you suggesting? That we arrange an accident for her?" Again there was a pause and finally a very worried sounding, "Yes." Then she just rushed into her apology, "Jimmy, I'm sorry, but I just can't think of any other way. She's gonna walk, and she's not the only one, and we know what happens if they walk! Jimmy, Sam and the other girls will never be safe if they get off like that, and..." "Jamie, it's okay," I interrupted. "Calm down. I've been thinking about the same thing. Part of me wanted to call Atkins and ask her about it, but ... First I was trying to keep a really low profile with her, and now, well, now she's just getting to the point where she may actually be starting to trust us — or at least not think of us as the enemy — and the more I thought about it, the more I realized that there is nothing she can do either. I thought about talking to Rebecca, but you know she'll never stand for ... this kind of solution. She's too buried in the legalities — not that that's bad — but if the law could handle this, we wouldn't be involved in the first place. That's why you thought now might be a good time, isn't it? Because it's another of those things that just 'needs to be done.' Like killing those men last night to save mom and dad? Well, maybe not exactly like that, because I wanted to kill them, but like Andrews and Charles, there is just no other way, and it needs to ... has to really, be done if we're going to save the others. That's it isn't it?" "Yeah," she said. "I just thought that maybe you wouldn't be so mad if I suggested it, you know, now, considering everything else that's been going on." "You were right," I said. "It is easier to look at it now than it would have been, say, last week, and I think you're probably right that for some of them there may be no choice. I came to that conclusion a long time ago. There are a lot of them that we may not be able to get anything on at all besides the girls' testimony, and considering the size of this, the defense is going to be screaming conspiracy, entrapment, and false accusation from day one. They'll insist that something this big was impossible, that all these fine upstanding citizens couldn't possibly be involved in something like this without someone noticing. The scope is going to be all but inconceivable to an average jurist. I was prepared to deal with the ones that fell through the judicial cracks later — but the more I thought about it — the more I came to realize that we may want to start sooner. Not just to make sure we got them, but to make things easier for ourselves as well." "And that's the part that really bothered you wasn't it?" she asked. "That it might be something we were doing for expediency, just to make it easier?" "Yes," I said. "Which is why we're going to wait and see if another solution presents itself. Now, I had an idea; you know how Lizzy and Walter have left copies of themselves behind in dreams when I needed them and they were busy?" "Yeah, Lizzy left one with her friend Carol, and Walter does it with Amy." "Actually I don't think Walter does it with Amy anymore," I said. "I think he's either there in person or not at all." I could feel her smiling. "Yeah, the big lug, I'm sure he feels it's disrespectful. He's got it bad doesn't he?" "Is this how everyone talked about me and Lizzy before..." "Before you pulled your heads out of..." she interrupted. "Jamie," I said in a warning tone. "Okay," she said in one of those voices kids reserve for when mom catches them picking on their younger siblings. "We didn't so much talk about it as shake our heads and roll our eyes when neither of you was looking. You guys were just so obvious, and at the same time so obviously clueless ... With Walter and Amy it's different. It's like one of those romance stories where the young squire comes to court and falls in love with the Princess the first time he sees her. But he's so blinded by his station that he can't see that she loves him too, until she tries to rape him in the confessional and then his nobility rises and he won't let her because she's the Princess, and he's just a lowly squire, and someday she must marry a prince and be Queen and..." "Whoa!" I said, cutting in before it got any worse. "When did you start reading romance novels?" "Me!?" she exclaimed. "Yuck! No way! But everyone knows how that stuff goes. Personally I like the pirate stories better." "Shocking," I said dryly. "Only I'm sure in your case the poor damsel ends up cutting the captain's heart out and taking over the ship." "Damn right!" "I thought you said you didn't read them?" "So what was your idea anyway?" she asked, changing the subject. I couldn't help but wonder who she had been spending time with to pick this stuff up, but I decided not to push it. "I was wondering if that would work with Hightower? You know, using a double?" Lord Hightower was the reason we were in Vegas in the first place. He was the key figure — the Alpha Predator, as it were — behind the whole thing. It had taken us a long time to figure out who he was because no one could remember what he looked like; even in dreams his face was hidden. The only reason we knew about him, now, was that a girl named Phoebe — who lived in another state — had lost her parents and been taken in by relatives in Las Vegas. Unfortunately for her, her new family just happened to be part of our problem group, and within days of her arrival, her two cousins were trying to recruit her. It began the day she came in from school and found the two daughters having sex in the living room. Not only were they not bothered by being caught, but they actually invited her to join in. Phoebe was a very devout young woman and made it clear that she wanted no part of their activities. They didn't care, and seemed to take it as a personal challenge to get in her pants. Eventually, she discovered that her aunt and uncle were behind the whole thing, and — putting her faith in God — she ran away while everyone else was at school or work — she had stayed home due to complications from her first menstruation — eventually finding her way to southern California, where I found her. I met her the day we went to church with Shannon's family to personally thank God for curing Tom Davis's cancer. It was quickly apparent that she was in trouble, so I made a call and got one of my teacher friends to take her in for a night while we figured out what to do with her. Susan called me later in the afternoon to tell me Phoebe wanted to talk, to me, specifically. Over the next couple hours I learned the girl's history and how she had come to be there. I'm not deeply religious. I mean, I believe but, well, look at me; I don't exactly live a biblical lifestyle. From the beginning, Easy had pegged me as one of God's chosen ones, and while I didn't really buy it, I didn't argue the point either. I had a feeling that her belief that God was behind her 'gift' helped her deal with it, and based on her track record and the people she had helped over the years ... Sheriff Dobbs had told Rebecca that Easy had saved his life; she shared with Rebecca later that she had prevented two suicides that same year. It's hard to see results like that and argue that she's wrong, despite her methods. Compared to Phoebe, Lizzy would be a pagan priestess living in a hut somewhere. The girl had prayed that God would deliver her from her situation, then hocked everything of value that she had — including a diamond pendant that was a keepsake from her mother — and run away to an unknown future, trusting that God would guide and protect her. She had been living on the street ever since. The morning I met her she had put her last dollar in the offering plate as it went by. I had spoken to Pastor Keen afterward and discovered that she had been attending for a couple weeks, but that she always disappeared before the service ended and he had a chance to speak with her. This time Shannon and Allison had followed her and discovered that she was hiding out in the girl's restroom waiting for everyone to leave. Listening to her story later and connecting the dots was chilling. I may not understand what God is doing, but I no longer have any doubt that he's out there. You can only argue coincidence so long, and listening to Phoebe's story, and understanding that she had found her way to the one person on Earth that her story would have made sense to, the one person who knew how much danger she was in? No one else would have realized that her cousins and their parents were already dead, or that someone was likely looking for her, and have the connections to hide her from them. Which was no easy task considering the people looking for her were with Las Vegas PD, and had the full weight of law behind them. Her story had provided the key to the puzzle I had been working on for months. I already knew most of the players in the group, both the adults and the girls. What I didn't have was a link between them. It turned out they all attended the same church, The Church of the Inner Circle. I passed the information to Rebecca, and she started researching the church. Her research quickly got her an invitation to Washington — where she met the kind of people you only hear about in conspiracy movies — and was questioned about her recent inquiries. When she refused to answer their questions, they locked her up. Fortunately, that didn't keep her from talking to me and warning me about what was going on. I passed her situation along to Rod, and he immediately started work on creating a new identity for Phoebe and, just in case, putting together a route out of the country for Allison and me. In the end that part turned out to be unnecessary; once Rebecca managed to get past their interrogation, they confided in her what was really going on. It was her investigation into the Priest at the church that had gotten her in trouble. The church knew him as Elliott Bastion, but his real name was Christian Wallace. He had been forced to change it after his second murder trial — a fact he wisely did not try to hide from his congregation. What he was hiding from them was that he was using the church as a base for his private little pedophile paradise. Unbeknownst to the church, or even the others in the group, Elliott Bastion — High Priest and devout man of God — was Lord Hightower, the architect of the whole thing. The first weekend we were in Vegas we discovered how he managed to pull it all off, including how he managed to keep anyone from knowing it was really him behind the whole thing. Svengali was a fictional character who manipulated people into doing his evil bidding through hypnosis. His screen career goes all the way back to silent movies, progressing into talking pictures and even modern cinema. He was seemingly able to hypnotize without any of the usual props people have come to expect, in some cases only requiring eye contact. I now have serious doubts about the fictional origins of the character because Elliott Bastion can do it for real. Jamie and I attended a service at his church our first weekend in town. During that service he tried to implant a suggestion from forty feet away, and if it hadn't been for Jamie, it might have worked. If fact, without her I never even would have realized he'd done it. The suggestion was simple ... I wanted to stay and meet him after service. Considering how much stronger my own gifts were with physical contact, we decided to take a different approach; we ran like hell. Since then we'd been trying to figure out a safe way to go back and pursue the case. "You mean go back to church and leave a clone in charge while we hide in the background?" Jamie asked "Something like that, yeah. What do you think?" "I don't know, I hadn't thought about it. My idea was similar; I was thinking you could hide in the back while I'm up front. I figure you could bail me out no matter what he did because you're, you know, you. But your way would be better, if it works, because we could just dissolve the clone when we were done, and whatever he did would go with it." "Kind of what I was thinking. The question is: Can we create a clone that doesn't know he's a clone and doesn't know about us?" "A real David Malcolm; plain old boring sort of guy?" she asked. "It could work. Of course if it doesn't, we could be in deep shit. I think maybe you should be in a bubble, so no matter what happens he can't touch you." "Yeah?" I said. "And if he gets past David to you, then who gets me out of the bubble?" "Oh, yeah," she said. "That could be a problem. But then how..." "I was thinking we put David in the bubble, and we watch from outside where it's safe." Bubbles are self-contained dream environments we make for special purposes. "Ooh! Yeah, that would sooo work!" she said excitedly. "Then when we leave, we could just sort of put the bubble in the freezer until next time we need him. Then we wouldn't need to keep making a new one every time. You are so smart!" "I grew up with Allison; I didn't have a choice." "Yeah, no kidding. So, assuming we handle this current problem in time, were you thinking of going back this weekend?" "I don't know," I said. "It depends on when the girls get in." "Jimmy, it's like three thousand miles. They fly down tonight, probably leave first thing Saturday; they can't possibly get here before Monday, which means that Lizzy is going to miss school, and Amber will miss work. We'll probably have to take them straight to the airport when they get here." "When did you get time to look all that up?" I asked. "I didn't," she said, and I could feel the smug smile on her face. "Christine was dreaming about it the other night, not the girls and school, but the trip. The whole time I was with her all she could think about was getting back here and jumping your bones. Apparently it's a three-day drive minimum. She wasn't kidding about you needing your rest; she plans to saddle you up and ride you off into the sunset, or maybe the sunrise." "Damn," I said. "Jamie, she's not falling in love with me is she?" "Falling in love with you?" she said. "Oh, no, it's much too late for that?" "But I didn't want..." "I'm kidding ... mostly. Jimmy, you kind of swept her off her feet. She's actually trying hard not to. That asshole, Brian, really broke her heart, and she's afraid to commit herself, but every girl has this place in her heart that really dreams of that fantasy, whirlwind, fairytale romance. Which reminds me; I need to talk to Allison and Lizzy about you. Anyway, she's holding on to her heart with both hands, but her body is all yours." "Shit! I so did not want this to happen. What am I going to do?" "Well," she said thoughtfully. "You're going to walk funny for a couple days, and underwear is probably going to be out of the question; other than that? Jimmy, don't worry about it. You're forgetting, you've got an ace in the hole; you've got Lizzy. Trust me; she's going to see all of this and deal with it on the way. Why do you think she was so excited about making the trip?" "But what if Christine doesn't..." "Jimmy! Let it go! Maybe you haven't noticed, but these things have a way of working themselves out around you." That made me think. "Jamie? You haven't had anything to do with that have you?" "What? No! God no! I would never ... Jimmy, I swear ... no! No way!" "Okay. So what was it you wanted to talk to the girls about?" "Well, I've noticed you seem to have this intuitive sort of grasp about what a woman's fantasy romance is. It's like you somehow know what they want in a man, and you somehow become that person, or enough of that person that they just sort of melt into your arms." "I do?" "Sort of," she answered. "It's hard to pin down, because whatever it is it's so subtle that I can't even see it, but I can see the results. Look at Britney..." "Jamie, we weren't like that, and you know it." "No, not yet, but you were getting there damn fast whether you knew it or not. Jimmy, from the moment you picked her up you were exactly what she wanted in a guy. You were respectful to her, and to her parents, which to her was even more important. You were a gentleman and treated her like a lady. It was like a dream come true of how a date should be. Not a date-date, but a guy on a date, you know? You made her feel special." "I like to think I make all the women I go out with feel special — at least that's what I try to do." "I know, but this is something you're doing without trying. When you try ... well, just look at Christine. She's so used to guys trying to get in her pants ... and then along comes David Malcolm, who announces from the very beginning that he has no such designs; he's just looking for company. And you meant it; that's the part she couldn't believe, that you treated her that well and you weren't after anything. And the rest is history ... would have been with Britney, too, if the people after you hadn't kept getting in the way. Tony called around 3:00 to let me know the final paperwork had come through, and I was officially in business. "I think it's our turn to buy dinner," Jamie said. "Probably a good idea," I said, "but I don't know if I'm up for it tonight." "Yeah, me either," she said. "I'd much rather sit around the apartment and worry about things I have no control over." Ouch. I extended the invitation for dinner and Tony inquired if Christine would be joining us. "No, actually she's been back in Georgia since Wednesday, packing for the move out. She probably won't be back until Monday." "Would you have a problem joining Tina and me at a very special dinner party? She's been wanting to be on display for a couple weeks, and I keep refusing. I need to get her out before she's fucks the gardener on the front lawn just so I'll punish her." "Sooner or later we're going to need to do the same for Amber; might as well start finding out where the locals go to play," Jamie suggested. "I'm sure Jasmine could find us a date." "What, Allison isn't here to be right all the time, so you're filling in?" I accepted the invitation and called Jasmine. "Do you wish to be tested?" Jasmine asked. "What do you mean?" I asked. "Do you wish to test your ability to truly dominate and control your slave? Or do you wish merely to have an escort that could fit in with the environment? If the former, I could arrange for Tanya to join you; she is very fond of playing the fractious colt being broken. If the latter, perhaps Cherise or Ming; did Anthony tell you the name of the restaurant?" I told her the name of the place Tony had mentioned. "Definitely Cherise then," she said. "Ming told her about their dessert special, and she's been dying to try it." "Thank you Lady Jasmine, as you know this is all still very new to me, so please forgive me if I am indelicate, but what compensation would be appropriate for such an evening? And please, do not make allowances for the other business we have together." "You put me in an awkward position. On the one hand I appreciate you wishing not to see her shorted. However, you forget that Cherise is mine to do with as I please, and it is not your concern how she is compensated." "Ouch! Please forgive my ignorance Lady Jasmine." "Do not be too hard on yourself," she said. "The fault is as much my own. I had not anticipated this need, and I should have. In allowing May to be with you, I have made others aware of you while your slave is far away and unable to fulfill her rightful role. And while we are on that subject, I wish to congratulate you on taking the proper steps in providing for her while she is away." "I have you to thank for that," I said. "Without your training I would not even have recognized the need to provide a surrogate for her. As it happens, I had the perfect choice already at hand. My fiancée — who will be Amber's mistress — is now her roommate at school. Believe me when I say she could not be in better hands. It was she who first helped me realize Amber's need." "A most gifted and insightful woman," Jasmine said. "Amber is truly blessed to have you as her master." "I owe most of that to you," I said. "One more thing, please send someone along as security for Cherise. There is a chance I may be called away suddenly, very suddenly, and I will want to insure that she gets home safely. I'm sure Tony would see to it, but I'd rather he not have to deal with it." "Do not concern yourself. You will find that, at a venue of this sort, people frequently leave with someone other than those they arrive with. If you find you must leave, simply tell the maitre d' that you would like 'Henry' to see her home, and it will be taken care of. The cost will simply be added to your dinner bill. Anthony will explain if you have any questions." "I am again in your debt, milady." "I have no doubt that one day you will clear that debt as we have already discussed. On that day I will be in your debt and happy beyond words to find myself there. Enjoy your evening, my young friend." It was a very interesting evening: also very private. The 'dinner party', wasn't at a restaurant but at a private club, and everyone's identification was checked at the door. Even as Tony's guest I had to produce identification and sign several forms regarding privacy. There were also no cell phones, cameras, or any other type of portable electronic devices allowed in the building. The building itself was set well back on the property, and the windows were all covered with heavy drapes for the evening. Tony explained that it was a monthly affair to allow the local D/S community to 'let their hair down'. The event was partly sponsored by some of the local businesses; there would even be a fashion show during dinner. Apparently it was a costume optional venue, and tonight's theme was 'Arabian Nights.' Tina and Tony arrived in costume as a sheik and his captive slave girl. They were not the only couple attired this way, but there were many different costumes as well; from Egyptian to straight bondage, and Mistresses with men or women at their feet were not by any means uncommon. One woman, dressed in head-to-toe red leather and four-inch heels, had three men literally groveling at her feet. Jasmine had called Tony ahead of time to let him know whom I was bringing, so he had costumes for Cherise and me in a garment bag. Cherise looked unbelievably hot in a harem suit, her dark skin like a shadow behind the gauzy material, and you would never believe that Tina had given birth to two children, the youngest of whom was in college. The food was incredible; almost like a buffet except you stayed seated the whole time, and scantily clad slaves roamed from table to table with trays for you to select from. The fashion show also included demonstrations, and I got to watch as two young women were bound, one standing with her hands tethered to a rope suspended from the ceiling, the other actually hog-tied on the floor in an ingenious manner which left her ankles together but kept her knees spread wide. It took a while before I caught on, but some of the serving people appeared to be brokering deals between different masters. I asked Tony about it, and he confirmed that it was common practice in a venue such as this. Most would be temporary liaisons, but it was not unheard of for a slave to make the change permanent. Apparently business was good as I watched several slaves change tables over the course of the evening. I could feel Jamie getting angry watching the interplay. "What's wrong?" I asked. "I'm sorry," she said. "It just pisses me off to think about what Bastion and his cronies are doing to girls like Samantha when all this is freely available to them." "That's what I thought. Just keep reminding yourself that we're going to fix that and try to enjoy the evening for what it is, okay? Like you said, some day we may get to bring Lizzy and Amber here; try thinking about that instead." We were seated on large cushions around low tables; Tina and Cherise knelt between us on smaller cushions with gold shackles on their wrists, ankles, and around their necks while Tony and I fed them odd morsels with our fingers. When Tony told Tina to lick some stray bits off of Cherise's chest, I wasn't sure she was going to stop. I couldn't believe how hot Cherise was getting until I noticed where Tina's hands were. Finally Tony grabbed Tina by the chain dangling off the back of her collar and dragged her back. He had timed it just right as Cherise was obviously right on the edge of release and very frustrated at the sudden interruption. "Ungrateful slut!" Tony growled at Tina in a loud voice. "How dare you take such liberties with another's property! Abase yourself!" Immediately, Tina, fell to the floor. Her flexibility was amazing; even kneeling, actually sitting on her ankles, she still bent forward low enough that with her arms stretched out over her head, her chest and forehead touched the floor. If I had been standing, I don't think any part of her would have reached my knee. Tony and Jasmine had made the necessary arrangements and coached me on what was expected of me; that was my cue that it was time for our part in the night's entertainment. I stood and glared down at Cherise. "You would let another touch you in this way without my consent?" I waived to the maitre d', and he came over quickly. "Your eminence desires something?" he asked, bowing low. "My slave has disgraced me with her behavior and doubtless embarrassed your other guests as well. I am at present occupied. Please see that a suitable punishment is arranged." "Was there something in particular you had in mind, Eminence?" He asked, eyeing her coldly. "I understand you have a dessert special..." Apparently Jasmine had not told Cherise what was in store for the evening as I heard her gasp at the mention of dessert. I knew she wanted it, but she played the role admirably, "Master no! Please! I beg you, do not..." "Silence!" I roared, grabbing her cuffed wrist and dragging her to her feet, and then pulling her arms down. She was forced to bend at the waist facing Tony, who took her chain and held her head down as I pulled her harem pants down. Her outfit was blue in contrast to Tina's pink one, and I pulled the powder blue bikinis down to her knees and slapped her hard on the ass. "You will speak when spoken to!" With Tony holding her by her chains I gave her about half a dozen solid slaps, alternating cheeks until the mocha began to change to a more rosy color, then stood her up again. There were tears in her eyes but a fiery glow behind the moisture. I then knelt and removed the shackles from her ankles. "Strip!" I demanded. She made a show of her disgrace as she stepped out of her pants and panties. I released her cuffs, so she could take off the rest, and then shoved her, naked except for her neck chain, toward the maitre d'. "Remove this from my sight!" "Your will, Great One!" he said, bowing low again. "Guards!" Two huge attendants in gold pants, pointed shoes, and turbans appeared and grabbed her arms. The men were like walking statues, naked from the waist up except for the turbans and some elaborate wristbands. Their naked torsos glistened with oil, and they each looked like they could bench press a small car. I saw a couple of the women, including Tina, practically drooling at the men as they dragged Cherise away. The maitre d' paused to scoop up her discarded clothing and shackles before following them. Fifteen minutes later, after everyone had finished eating, they brought her back, only now she was on what appeared to be a stainless steel table with wheels. It was about ten feet long and three feet wide, and Cherise was covering most of it. Her arms were stretched out over her head; hands secured at the wrist; her feet secured to either edge, leaving her open and exposed for all to see. There was a large bowl of mixed berries between her feet, and next to that was a large bowl of whipped cream. She was also blindfolded with an apple shoved in her mouth. I noticed the little black triangle that had been between her legs when she left was now gone, and her dark skin had an oily sheen to it. The table was rolled to the center of the room and the wheels locked. Then the two guards, wearing clear plastic gloves, began spreading the whipped cream all over the front of her. When that was done they started dropping handfuls of the berries into the cream. As a final touch one of them stuffed a very long banana about halfway up into her pink nether lips. Even under the layers of fruit and whipped cream I could see her stiffen and arch slightly as the fruit was inserted, but I'm pretty sure she was more interested in getting it in farther rather than pulling away. A bowl of utensils was placed between her knees, a small gong was struck, and both men bowed to a round of applause before taking the empty bowls and departing. I started to rise, but Tony caught my shirt and whispered, "You are now the host; just sit back and enjoy the show." The utensils were what Allison called sporks; like a spoon, but with blunt tines on the front so you could either scoop the fruit or stab it. Either way, the important thing seemed to be to drag the tines along her skin as much as possible. Cherise was moaning and squirming constantly. Apparently the utensils were optional, as several people chose to lick the fruit and whipped cream directly off of her flesh. The woman in red leather didn't even bother with pretense, just sucking a large mouthful of Cherise's left breast into her mouth and visibly chewing at it. At this point, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Tony pulling Tina back over to him by her chain and pushing her head down into his lap. For her part, Cherise was practically hyperventilating by now; writhing on the table and gasping for air around the apple in her mouth. The lady in red released the breast she had been sucking, reached up and pulled back the blindfold so Cherise could see her, and then bent to take a bite out of the apple in her mouth. Cherise did her best to keep the apple still, but it looked more like they were trying to kiss through the apple than Cherise holding it still for her. When she finally had her bite, the woman chewed it slowly then took the apple carefully out of Cherise's mouth and held a strawberry just out of reach, lowering it just enough for Cherise to lick and suck at it but not quite bite it. Finally she took pity on her, lowering it so she could get a bite, then waiting while she chewed it up. After she had swallowed, the woman leaned down and kissed her very delicately on the lips before putting the apple back and replacing the blindfold. Finally, when the crowd had dwindled, Tina got up and made her way to the table. I hadn't actually been paying attention, being focused on Cherise along with pretty much everyone else in the place, but judging from the contented grin on Tony's face, this was going to be seconds for Tina. The crowd at the table had thinned by now, the last few hurriedly returning to their seats as Tina approached. It was obvious, very obvious, that Cherise had been enjoying all of this, and a moan escaped her when Tina got to the table and began sliding the banana in and out of her now dripping sex. She did this for about a minute, going slowly deeper and deeper as Cherise arched up to meet her thrusts; varying the depth and angle from moment to moment until Cherise was writhing like a snake in her attempt to get the release she so desperately wanted. It was the second time Tina had taken her to the edge, and I wondered if she would stop again. She did, removing the fruit completely and moving to one side, so I could see the way Cherise's gaped lips spasmed as they searched for it. Tina did something to the table, and the end folded away from beneath Cherise's legs. Apparently the side rails that she was secured to were actually separate, so while she was still fully supported, her legs were actually suspended over empty space. I was surprised again when Tina did something and actually moved them further apart, so Cherise was fully exposed. Moving forward, Tina peeled the banana, stuffed the whole thing deep into the wet opening, then bent and began eating it slowly out of her. Within a minute Cherise was screaming around the fruit in her mouth and bucking like she was on fire. Tina's mouth never left her, continuing her assault even after Cherise collapsed onto the table. Tina obviously knew what she was doing as within a few seconds Cherise began building to another, even larger, orgasm. This time she arched so far up off the table that I could have stuck my head under her back. Suddenly she screamed, the apple falling from her mouth to bounce once on the table before falling to the floor. When the scream ended, Cherise collapsed onto the table, passed out. The room erupted in cheering and applause. Tina bowed slightly to the room, then turned, knelt, and bowed to me until her head and hands once more touched the floor. The two attendants came back to the table and looked at me. I waved them on their way, and they pushed the table away. Tina rose and returned to sit beside her husband, and I could tell he was in for a really long night. A heavy gold and silver goblet of champagne was brought to me with a single raspberry floating at the bottom. I glanced around the room and realized that as the show had progressed, everyone had been given a glass of champagne; only theirs were actually glass. "Rise and salute them," Tony whispered. I stood and raised my glass to the room; they all toasted me and drank, then broke into cheers and applause once more. After that the room returned to normal, as people talked amongst themselves casually. Several groups left shortly after that, including the woman in red, who strode out regally, the leashes of her three playmates clasped casually in one hand. "That was so fucking hot!" Jamie said. "Thanks for taking me out. Someday we need to do that for Amber, maybe for her birthday or something." "Remind me." I said. "And thank you for not letting me brood the evening away at home." Cherise returned about fifteen minutes later, once more escorted by the two massive guards. She appeared freshly showered and was back in her harem costume. After the guards re-attached her shackles, she knelt next to me on her pillow and rested her head on my leg. "Thank you, Master," she whispered, looking up into my eyes. Lifting her chin, I bent and kissed her lips softly. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. You look like you need a nap." "I'm okay," she said. I stroked her hair and handed her my champagne. She sipped it and handed it back, then laid her head in my lap again and sighed contentedly. I woke her up about fifteen minutes later, so we could change and leave. I surprised her in the changing room, letting Jamie express our appreciation before I slipped on a condom, buried myself in her soft folds, and fucked her to two more orgasms; one bent over with her chains still on, the second time lying on the padded bench with her on top, straddling me with her feet on the floor, giving her maximum control of the rate and depth of penetration. Then I pulled off the condom and let her finish me off with her mouth. Jamie had been helping me hold back, and when I finally came it was massive. Cherise made a show of swallowing everything I had to offer. If you've never had a beautiful woman staring up at you as she kneels at your feet begging you to cum in her mouth ... It's an intensely erotic sight. To my surprise, she even invited me in when I took her home. Apparently she lived and worked at the House of Seven Willows, sharing a small apartment on the property somewhere with Ming. Her primary job was hostess, but she did take special assignments like this one if Jasmine offered her services. I declined, thanked her for a most memorable evening, and kissed her good night before heading for home. ------- Chapter 8: Updates Number one our to-do list for the night was finding out who it was that put my name in the paper and confirming Fox as the source. I had no doubt it was Fox, and I didn't need the reporter's identity to deal with him, but I was really tired of the press screwing up peoples' lives in the name of ratings. This 'speaking on condition of anonymity' bullshit needed to stop. I figured it was time they felt some of the suffering they caused, and this looked like a good place to start. After our little adventure in the interrogation room with Fox, finding him was going to be no problem, so I sent Jamie off to start poking around. Her first stop was going to be Rod; he would give her a solid fix on the families of the agents that had been slaughtered when Henslith's goons took my family. A little poking around in the wives and children's dreams should give her plenty of material. Once she was sure it was Fox, she would get the reporter from him, and then it was, for her, playtime. "What are my limits?" Jamie had asked. "I don't want them committing suicide, but they're yours until Fox admits what he did." "What about the reporter?" "I want him to cringe if he ever hears the term 'anonymous source' again." "I love you." "I know, but right now I want you to concentrate on how much you love Allison, and that these two assholes were the cause of everything that's happened." My second stop was to drop in on Britney's mom — Jolene Cotton — and plant a seed. The idea was to get her thinking about how much she disliked apartment life and start her thinking about finding a house. It wasn't going to be an obsession or anything, more of a passing fancy; just enough to start her checking into what the better areas around the city were; someplace with decent schools where she didn't have to worry about Benji and Tyra playing outside. Once she was settled on that, then she could focus on individual homes around the area. Since it was all just daydreaming, money would not be a consideration. I was pleased to discover that she and Ben were actually happy with the move, if not the circumstances that provoked it. The slower pace, the fact that everything was so green, the generally cooler temperatures ... They weren't quite sure how they were going to handle the cold weather that would be settling in soon, but they were looking forward to it nonetheless. Britney was having the hardest time of it; her vision of finally having a shot at a State Championship — now that Angela had moved on — had been shattered by the need to keep a low profile and not attract attention. She still ran, but only for personal enjoyment and fitness, not in competition. She couldn't bring herself to give less than one hundred percent, and a black girl appearing out of nowhere to dominate the local field could not help but attract attention. She was more than a little depressed that her dream of college seemed to be slipping away. I was going to have to do something about that. Lizzy was waiting for me when I finally went looking for her. I found her in her garden, with flowers in her hair and wearing my favorite dress. I knew she would be there and what she would be wearing, and yet she still took my breath away. It's a feeling I never wanted to lose. If we lived to be a hundred, I wanted to feel that way every time I saw her. "And just what have you been up to?" she said with a smile. "Here I figured you were late because you'd found Allison, and you were busy kicking someone's ass. Apparently you had a better offer." "Not exactly," I said. "Tony called to congratulate me on my new business venture being finalized, so I offered to take him and Tina to dinner. The place they chose was ... different. We're going to need to take Amber there sometime. Jamie suggested her birthday. Their dessert spread is out of this world." I flashed an image of Cherise tied to the table and covered in whipped cream and berries. "Ooh, she would love that. Heck I might even like it." Then her voice got serious. "Still no sign?" "No," I said. "Trust me, as much fun as tonight was, I would rather have been kicking someone's ass. I also stopped off to do some work on Britney's family. So when do you think you'll be here? I assume you're leaving early in the morning, and Jamie said it's about a three day drive, so we're figuring Monday sometime." "Monday?" she said. "Hello! Earth to Jimmy, we left this morning!" "What? How could you leave this morning? I thought you were flying down after school." "Yeah," she said. "After school yesterday; we were there when I called you this morning. You totally don't know what today is, do you?" I thought about it for a second and I couldn't help but smile when I realized it was Friday the thirteenth; one fact in particular I found really funny, but I still didn't see any significance to the date. I shook my head. "Okay, you'll have to tell me later what was so funny. For now; it's a holiday, three day weekend, no school today ... any of this sound familiar?" "Oh! Duh! That's right, yesterday was Columbus Day — the rest of the world still works, but the education system, and the government, shut down if a famous person farted this day in history, and they moved the observance to today so they can have a three-day weekend. I thought traffic seemed a little heavy today; everyone is up for the long weekend. So where are you?" "Dallas, we drove for like thirteen hours today. We could have made better time, but Vegas wasn't the only place that got more holiday traffic. I have no idea where all these people were going, but ... and I thought my driving was bad." Then her eyes lit up, and she started laughing. "Oh my god, I just realized. The girl on the table was Jasmine's girl, Cherise, wasn't it? Tony asked you to this place, and you called Jasmine for a date, and got her. Oh, this is just too funny! You had your first black pussy..." "On Friday the thirteenth," I said, rolling my eyes and giving a confirming nod. "Yeah, that's what was so funny; I realized it when you asked me what day it was. It's a good thing I'm not superstitious; and I wasn't planning on ... you know, but Jasmine saw it as an educational opportunity — being in public with a slave, my first time in the kind of safe environment where Amber will be free to be herself without having to worry about anything." "Yes," she said very seriously. "That was an important step. I'm guessing that Jasmine was in contact with your attorney and had a hand in setting this up?" I nodded, and she continued. "She takes your training as seriously as she took Amber's. We're going to need to find a nice gift for her when this is over. So what's up with Britney?" "I was talking to Rod about them. You know, just checking to see how they are doing. He moved them up to Washington State, got Ben a job, and they seem to be doing okay. They actually like the area and are happy to be away from the hustle of Southern California. Apparently they like the color green." "But?" she asked. You can't hide anything from that girl. "Britney's not doing so well. I mean she's okay, but she's a little depressed; she misses her friends, she can't compete, she's worried about college — she was counting on a good season to get her foot in the door on some scholarship money." "Hmm, let me guess," she said. "You're thinking of doing for her what you did for Angela?" "Tossing the idea around in my head, yeah. I stole her future, I kind of feel obligated to give it back to her. I'm starting by giving her my truck. Rod's overnighting me the paperwork and arranging to have it shipped up. With what's been going on lately, I don't see myself being able to drive it again any time soon." "I don't think it would matter," she pointed out. "Henslith already knows where you are, and by now she's probably got a description and license number on your car from the people she had following you." "I hadn't thought of that," I admitted. "Still..." Time to change the subject. "How's Christine?" "Jimmy, I just met her," she said. "What kind of a girl do you think I am?" "I know exactly what kind of girl you are," I said with a smile. "That's why I'm marrying you — to make the world a safer place. That and the fact that I'm hopelessly in love with you." "You're sweet," she said with a smile, "and I love you too. She's okay. A little freaked out at discovering I'm not really your sister but actually your fiancé, but that's better than being pissed off because we lied to her. It totally blew her away that you called me while you were in a hot tub with her, and I lied so she would feel free to enjoy herself. She's not sure what to make of Amber yet. I'm saving that for tomorrow, but she didn't seem too freaked out when we crawled into bed together and she spooned up against me." Scenes had been kind of playing around us with Lizzy narrating up to this point; now it focused in on one scene and slowed to real time. "Most of the day was just girlfriends on the road. I saved the important stuff for after we stopped, so we wouldn't be distracted. Amber played with Widget while we were talking." I watched as the scene around us came to life. They were sitting together, facing each other on one of the beds. "I don't get it, Lizzy," Christine said. "How can you be so casual about me sleeping with David?" "Well for starters — from what I heard — you didn't actually do much sleeping." Christine threw a pillow at her. "You know what I mean!" Lizzy caught it and held it in her lap, hugging it to her as she answered, "Yeah, I know what you mean. Christine, David is ... different. He's ... special, and I don't mean that like he's special to me. I mean, he's special in ways that are hard to explain, or even define. He matters. Okay, Look at your situation for instance. Would you say meeting David was a good or bad thing at this point?" "Are you kidding? Of course it was a good thing, and up until now I had this little flicker of hope that it might be a wonderful thing, but now I find out he's in love with someone else, and..." "And what? Now you feel like he's just using you for sex? Christine, it's not like that, trust me; David doesn't do casual." "I know!" Christine said, exasperation in her voice. "In fact, I'd have to say he takes it pretty damned seriously; I practically had to hit him over the head and drag him into that hot tub. He called you to bail him out didn't he, once he realized he was in over his head? But instead of helping him find a way out of it, you actually did just the opposite." Even I could see that her emotions were all over the place as she went off on a completely different tangent. "God, I feel so stupid! Here I find this wonderful guy; nice, sweet, good looking, absolutely heaven in bed, apparently rich, and for a fleeting second I think just maybe..." "Christine, please ... don't do this to yourself," Lizzy pleaded. "You're missing my point." "Which point was that?" Christine asked in a tone tinged with sarcasm. "David makes a difference. In the lives of everyone he touches, David makes a difference. The more I get to know him, the more I get the feeling that there are no coincidences in David's life. Christine, David met you for a reason. Okay, try and look at this a different way for a second. Let's say that I really was David's sister, and you could have him all to yourself. Would you want him? All to yourself, right now, at this moment in your life? Would you want to do the whole settle down and get married thing?" Christine gave a frustrated sigh, pulled the other pillow into her lap, buried her face in it and screamed, "Aaarggh!" Then she flopped back on the bed and said, "No! God, I can't believe I'm saying this. Three years ago, when Brian and I first moved in together, all I could think about was getting my license and flying around the world with him. After he left..." she rolled her eyes and sat back up, " ... after he dumped me, I saw that whole dream go up in flames, and ever since then I've just been scraping by and putting everything I have in savings, and I'm still not even close to what I would have needed for flight school. Now, thanks to David, I have a chance to have my dream. But at the same time, there is this other part of me that is just screaming that I should forget all that and ... but I can't! Ugh!" Lizzy put her hand on Christine's and said, "That's what I thought. If you'd met him before, or if you'd met him ten years from now, or if he hadn't been able to wave his magic wand and make your dreams come true, among other things..." Christine rolled her eyes and smiled. "Yeah, among other things; God, he's good with that wand!" "I wouldn't know," Lizzy said. Christine's head snapped up, and she stared at Lizzy. "What?" When Lizzy just cocked her head and stared back at her, Christine's eyes got huge before she went on. "Tell me you did not just say what I think you said." Lizzy just smiled and gave a nod. "I did, but we'll get back to that. Right now we're talking about you, and no matter how you might feel about David, your desire to follow your dream is calling louder than any desire your heart may be crying about. Christine, with anyone else that may seem strange, but not David; like I said, there are no coincidences in his life; there is always a reason. It's the same reason I fell in love with him so fast, and if you knew my past you'd know just how remarkable that was. Tell me about flight school; sounds like a tough course, lots of work, lots of homework, no real life?" "Yeah," Christine said tentatively, obviously wondering where Lizzy was going with this. "So you probably won't have a lot of time to look for someone to get serious with. And even if you did have time, is Vegas the kind of place you would look for that?" She paused long enough for Christine to think about it, but not long enough to really answer. "But say you did, and you found that one great guy who isn't in town for a quick fling but is actually looking for someone to build a life with; are you going to have the time to devote to it?" "I see your point," Christine admitted. "Do you?" Lizzy asked. "Because my point is: you have an opportunity here Christine. Okay, tell me you like sleeping alone? Tell me you prefer plastic and batteries to warm arms wrapped around you in the morning; tell me you think a stranger you just met is going to do it for you? Heck no, because you're going to be too scared that you're making a mistake to let go and enjoy yourself. It's going to be how many dates before you're ready to let him grab for the brass ring? Yeah, I know what happened with David, but that was different. Then it's going to be three or four nights of frustration before you relax enough to let go and actually enjoy it. And how long before you feel free to really be yourself? Christine, you know how most guys react to toys; they see them as competition, not enhancements. So how long before you really feel free to be yourself?" "Stop!" Christine cried, throwing herself back on the bed again. "You're depressing me. I hated dating. After Brian I actually tried it twice but..." she shook her head. "That's when I went out and bought Bob." "I hear you," Lizzy said. "High school was just a warning and didn't really prepare us for just how bad it could be." "Tell me about it," Christine said. "Hey wait. You just started college, how could you know... ?" Lizzy cut her off, "I'm a special case. Anyway, what I'm trying to say is that you have an opportunity here. One day David and I will be married; nothing short of death is going to stop that. Meanwhile, circumstances have dropped him in Vegas while I am in Indiana going to school for the next four years. Christine, that's the reason I helped you and David hook up; now I don't have to worry about him." "Hey wait," Christine said suddenly. "You just said you've never done it, but David said you and he did it with his ex-girlfriend." Apparently Christine was still having a problem tracking the conversation. "We did," Lizzy explained, "but we were working at opposite ends if you know what I mean. Okay, obviously we're going to have to cover this. Did he tell you why she's his ex-girlfriend, or did you just assume he dumped her for me?" "Well, not dumped; he doesn't strike me as the dumping kind." "He's not. Shannon was killed in a traffic accident." "Oh my god, that's terrible." "Yes, it was," she said, and even in a memory you could feel the pain and loss in her voice. "He loved her very much. He will always love her, and no matter how much he loves me, there will always be that piece of his heart that belongs to her. Part of what makes David so special is that even though he loved her so much, it does not take away from his love for me. And vice-versa, loving me does not diminish his love for her. It gets even more complicated, but I guess what I'm trying to say is that ... actually I'm not sure any more; I've lost myself. "Okay, here's the deal: Even if David and I run off and get married the second we get into town on Sunday, I will still have to go back to Indiana, and he will still need to stay and finish what he's started in Vegas. You've met David, been with him, seen what a nice guy he is. Christine, could he be in more danger without painting a target on himself?" She didn't wait for an answer. "Christine, you couldn't ask for a better set up. David needs someone to be seen with, go to dinner, meetings, parties, that kind of thing with, so that he can concentrate on what he's doing without having to worry about ... social problems. You need someone to do the same thing, so that you can concentrate on school and chasing your dream without having to worry about the slobbering masses chasing you. It's a perfect set up; you get to chase your dream without distractions, and I don't have to worry about my man swimming in shark-infested waters. Whether you choose to live there, or just sleep over now and then, is up to you. And if you do find someone somewhere along the way, you don't have to worry about it." "So what," Christine asked. "We'd just be fuck-buddies? Roommates who sleep together?" Lizzy gave her a look, "Christine, look at me and tell me that's all there is." She reached out and put her hand on Christine's chest. "Tell me there is not more in here. You'll be two people who care about each other, sharing a time where your paths have overlapped, knowing that one day your paths are going to separate again, but that you will never truly lose each other no matter what happens." She slid her hand up and cupped Christine's face once more. "I'm not talking about sex without commitment, I'm talking about love without obligation. One day David and I will marry. Actually we'll probably do it twice: once because we can't stand waiting any longer, but then eventually we'll have to do the big wedding thing for the family; and on that day, I promise you, you will dance at my wedding and you will be happy." She leaned in and kissed Christine's cheek tenderly. "And the tears you cry will be tears of joy." I could see Christine leaning into her hand and into the kiss as the emotion Lizzy was seeing inside her flickering to the surface here and there. Then Lizzy pulled back, and Christine said, "You're insane. How can you calmly sit there and tell me it's okay to sleep with the man you love and not be afraid of losing him to me. Lizzy, men and women have been stealing lovers since the world began. Sex changes people; it's the weapon of choice in the war of hearts." "I'm not going to answer that," Lizzy said with a smile. "Wait until we get to Vegas, then tell me if you still think I'm crazy. As for sex, you will find that sex has no hold on David — or me either for that matter. Not like what you're talking about. You see, sex doesn't make people fall in love. And great sex, really great sex, only happens when you are in love." "Oh, I don't know about that, Lizzy. We were only together one night, and it was pretty awesome. You don't know what you're..." "Yes I do," Lizzy interrupted, 'and I'm not missing it as much as I'm looking forward to it. As for whether or not I'm right, one of these days you're going to discover that, and I want you to promise me you'll call and tell me when it happens. Meanwhile, don't worry about stealing David's love, he has more than you could ever carry, and no matter how much you take there will always be more left than when you started." "You're weird," Christine said. "You have no idea," Lizzy said with a smile, and then she yawned. "We should get to bed, so we can get an early start. Come on, Amber, stop playing with Christine's pussy and come snuggle me." "Oh, do I have to?" Amber asked in a mischievous tone. "She has such a nice pussy." Then she picked up the ball of gray fluff out of her lap and carried it over to the bed. "Come on, baby, time for bed. Mommy will have to play with her own pussy." Christine had a pretty good blush going as she took Widget, and the scene faded. "So I guess it went pretty well then?" I asked. "As well as can be expected considering the stuff I was dropping on her. I'll give her time to think about it, and then we'll talk again tomorrow night. Jimmy, there's something else you need to know." "What's that?" "You know how I told Christine there are no coincidences in your life?" Something about the way she was biting her lip worried me. "Yeah?" I answered hesitantly, almost dreading what was coming next. "Christine isn't a coincidence," she said. "Jimmy, people meet you for one of two reasons. Either they need you, or you need them. Then there are the special ones, me, Amber, Allison, Jasmine, even Rebecca, where the purpose is mutual. Jimmy, Christine is one of the special ones." I just looked at her while the internal argument was sorting itself out. My first thought was, "you're kidding," followed closely by, "how could she know that?" What settled it for me was that it was Lizzy saying it, and if anyone would know, it would be her. I guess she could see when I reached the point of accepting it because she went on. "The answer to your next question is — I don't know. Jimmy, she's different — not you and me different — but there is something very different about her. I see her, but I don't think I'm seeing all of her. It's like there are parts of her that are hidden." "You mean like when Jamie was hiding in my glow?" "Yes and no. Something like that: only in Jamie's case I only had hints and guesses, and there was no way to sort it out, but Christine isn't hiding on purpose. With her I know there is something there, and there is no glow to hide it in. Everything about her is normal, just like Amber, Bob, Rebecca, Amy now that I can see her. She's like everyone else but ... not." "But you could read the rest?" "Yes, everything! Do me a favor, if you ever meet that asshole Brian who hurt her, put Jamie in a bubble as fast as you can." "That bad?" I asked. "Yeah, he hurt her really bad; bad enough that it's still affecting her. She wants to love you; I could see it in her. But it's like you took a beach ball and compressed it down to a walnut, only in this case the shell is like diamond. She's so afraid to let go..." "Then are you sure this is all such a good idea?" I asked. "Yes," she said confidently. "She wants to love you because it's you, and you're the one making her want to believe again. It's going to take time, but eventually, with a little help and encouragement, that seed is going to bloom into a beautiful flower. I don't know what is going to happen when it does, but I can tell you that it's going to be awesome when it happens. After that I think she will most likely decide that, as wonderful as you are, you're not the bee her flower wants. Or she may decide that her flower needs more attention than she can get anywhere else, and she may stick around." She gave me a sexy smile. "In the meantime, her other little flower thinks you'll do just fine! She wasn't kidding about you needing to save your strength. She wants you really bad! She went back and forth, feeling bad about it the whole time we talked, but it always came back." "I noticed that Amber was wearing her collar." "Amber pretty much always wears a collar," she said. "Ever since you gave her Jasmine's gifts. She even asked me to take her out shopping for a few more so she has a choice to go with different outfits. The red collar and fans she keeps for special occasions, but ever since she got them, the only places she doesn't wear one is if there's water: showers, swimming, that sort of thing. I think if she had something that could take water, she would never be without it — unless one of us told her to of course." "How did Christine take the collar?" "I told Amber she could wear her collar, but not to do anything else to attract attention until I told her it was okay. It's only been one day, so Christine hasn't realized there is more to it. As far as she's concerned it's just an accessory, even though there is nothing else Goth about Amber's style. I wish I could put the two of them in the back seat while I drive, so they could talk." "Why can't you?" I asked. "Are you kidding, the way I see the world? No chance. Jimmy, I am the world's worst driver, too many distractions." "But you drove around Fresno. Sheriff Dobbs told Rebecca how he met you." "Jimmy, I grew up there; it was familiar, but even then I had to be really careful. No way do I want to be on a crowded freeway. I'm sticking to the long empty stretches, and even then I want one of them up front just in case." "Maybe you could put them up front while you take a nap?" I suggested. "Well, aren't you the smart one?" she said. "Why didn't I think of that?" "I grew up with Allison; I picked up little bits and pieces here and there." "Yes," she said, flicking her eyebrows at me. "And what lovely little bits and pieces she has to pick up." I started to ask if she was overdue for a visit, but then I remembered the current situation. She caught it right away. "Jimmy, I'm sorry. I just..." "No," I said, interrupting her. "Don't apologize. I was about to ask you if you were overdue for a visit when it hit me. I'm going to get her back Lizzy, or..." She flowed into my arms. "Don't say it, Jimmy. You're going to get her back, period. I just wish I could be there when they come to drag that bitch's soul to hell." This was a side of Elizabeth I rarely saw. Of course, it was probably one of Jamie's favorite parts. We invited Amber in to join us and spent the rest of the night just enjoying each others' company. Amber had her head in my lap most of the time; not like that, I mean lying in my lap and just happy to be near me. I asked her about her time with Dean Worthy, and — without going into details — she told me what a wonderful time she had had and thanked me for sending her to him. Lizzy had me freeze her long enough to tell me what a difference it had made in the Dean. The fact that he didn't have to feel guilty about what he was doing had had a profound impact. I told Amber how proud we both were of her and had Lizzy repeat what she had told me. The pride in her eyes was a beautiful thing to behold. The girls were getting up early even by my standards — four-thirty — to hit the road. I kissed them both goodbye and was surprised when the scene didn't fade after I sent them back to bed. "Jimmy?" Jamie had gotten back from her little trip while Lizzy and I were talking. There was something in her voice that worried me. "What's up?" "I've been thinking, and I have an idea." "About what?" I asked "Finding Allison." "Jamie! Why didn't you speak up?" "I ... I wasn't sure it would work, and I'm not exactly the brains of the outfit." "Damn it Jamie! That's bullshit, and I don't ever want to hear anything like that out of you again. Ever, do you hear me? Shannon used to do the same thing, and it always pissed me off when she said it. And God help you if you ever say it in front of Allison; you do and I'm going to put you both in a bubble, so I can play referee and make sure you don't cheat, and then I'm going to watch while she beats the crap out of you. Now what's your idea?" "Well, I was thinking about what Lizzy said, you know about the people we meet that are special. And it occurred to me that some are more special than others. She only hit on the really special ones, you know, her and Allison and Amber. But I got to thinking about what we do with people that don't really mean that much, you know, in comparison, and I can't help but think if we can do some of that stuff with ... friends, then we ought to be able to do more with people we have more of a bond with." "That makes sense," I said. "I'm not sure how it would work, but yeah, I would think that the more intimately we're attached to someone the more we should be able to do." "Right," she said. "So that got me thinking, what makes the others special? I mean, the ones we love compared to say, Bob and Rebecca, and I kept coming back to that mysterious 'piece of ourselves' that Walter and Lizzy say they all have. The piece that lets Amber call us, and we just drop whatever we're doing and go. I think we're going about this the wrong way." "Jamie, just spit it out." "Well, if they can call us using that little piece we gave them, why can't we call them the same way?" I thought about it for a few seconds, and my blood started racing. "So, you're thinking that the communication ... link, whatever, should work both ways? Like if you break a chip off of a piece of crystal and then strike one of them, the other will resonate with the vibration if they are close enough together, even if they don't touch?" "Exactly," she said. "Jamie, I love you. And we've got the big piece, so if we hit it hard enough, it should cause hers to vibrate. Walter!" A dark shape came bounding across the garden towards us. "Jimmy what are you doing?" "We don't know how far away she is or what kind of limitations we may have due to distance. I want to hit it with every bit of force we have, and so far that's been when we're merged." "Okay, so what are we going to do if this works?" "Same as before, we send Walter in for reconnaissance, and once he has the layout and can tell us what we're up against, we go get her, end of story." "You called, my Lord?" Walter said. "Yes, Walter. My sweet sister has an idea for finding Allison, and I wanted you here with us, so we could give it our best shot. Would you merge with us, please?" "You do not need to ask, my Lord," he said. There was that same rush of power again, and suddenly I felt larger, only this time it had nothing to do with a change in height. I had been concentrating on maintaining control this time, so it was still my body in the leather armor. I reached and pulled the sword from over my shoulder and held it out before me, looking closely at it. The sword I had given Walter initially had resembled one of those cavalry looking things the Marines carry in those recruiting commercials when they are all decked out in their dress uniforms. Now it was somewhere between a katana and a two-handed broadsword. Crystal was the analogy we were using, so I changed the blade to the same unbreakable diamond material I had used to make the shirt Amber had used to improve her posture during her training sessions with Jasmine. Then I popped up an anvil in front of us and slammed the flat of the blade down on it. The blade rang in a clear singing tone, and over the tone I yelled, "Allison Ann Matthews!" Almost instantly she lay on the path before us. The vibrations of the sword were washing over my whole body in high-frequency waves, and it felt like I had stepped in a puddle of water that had an electrical charge running through it. Taking the sword in my left hand, I held it away and reached toward Allison with my right. Jamie had been right. I could feel an answering vibration coming from Allison's unconscious form. "Get ready," I told Jamie and Walter. "Walter, I'm going to count to three, and then I want you to step out and take the sword with you." I took Allison's hand and started counting. "One, two, three." Walter stepped out, and the disorientation we had felt before washed over me. I felt Jamie start to slip away as well, but this time I was ready for it, and I held on to her. "Quench the sword Walter." I felt rather than saw him grip the blade with his left hand, felt the pain as my own when the blade cut into his flesh. Then, without even wiping it off, he flipped it up and over his shoulder into the long sheath once more. The last vibrations died, the world spun, and suddenly I was in a small room, standing next to a metal cot attached to the wall. On the cot, still wearing her sleep shirt, and with a light blanket covering her from the waist down, was Allison. "Walter!" I called. I don't know how far away we actually were, but within moments he stepped in through the wall. He turned and surveyed the room, then stepped out again. He was only gone for a moment before returning. "My Lord, I believe we are aboard ship." "He's right!" Jamie said. "Probably a small freighter. This is just like the little cabins they show in those documentary films your dad is so fond of." "Check it out Walter, stem to stern, I want to know how many people are here, where they are, everything. I want to know what we're up against before we come over." "One problem is certain, my Lord," he said. "What's that?" He inclined his head toward the opposite wall. There in the corner, tucked in against the ceiling, was a camera. "Not taking any chances, are they?" Jamie said. "That's probably what they're telling themselves," I replied before returning my attention to Walter. "While you're out, find the control room; I need to know whether it's taping or broadcasting, and I want to know where we need to cut the power. Go." "Yes, my Lord," he said before stepping through the wall again. Instantly he was back. "By the way, there is a guard outside the door." "Very good. We'll wait for you here." Not that we had a choice; since Allison was the focus we had used to get here, we were tied to her physical location. If we moved too far away, we would lose our connection to her. I didn't know how big the ship was, but it took Walter a while to go over the whole thing. While he was gone, Jamie and I went over attack scenarios. The first step was to secure this room. That meant taking out the guard and getting whatever key locked the door. While we were talking, Jamie noticed something on Allison's arm just under the edge of her sleeve. I couldn't actually raise the sleeve, but it looked like a band-aid. "Maybe that's where they injected her, or where the dart hit," I suggested. "No," Jamie said. "The blood on her sheet was on the other side, and a modern syringe barely bleeds at all unless you hit a blood vessel. I'm thinking that's a patch, and it's releasing a drug into her to keep her out. First thing after we take out the guard, that patch comes off." "Works for me." Moments later, Walter returned and immediately started briefing us. "My lord, there are eleven men on board, they are..." a floating model of the ship appeared in the air before us; it was completely transparent and showed the location of every man. Some were moving — either patrolling the ship or performing some other task. He pointed out the control room and the monitors for the various cameras, but he could not tell whether the feeds were only being watched, recorded, or broadcast somewhere else. The depressing part was that there were no women on board, which meant that the uber-bitch wasn't here. "Damn it!" Jamie swore. "One thing at a time, let's go get ready." I bent and placed a ghostly kiss on Allison's cheek. "We're coming, sis." "It's too close for the sword," Jamie said, stepping out as we reached the apartment. "And those are real guns they're carrying, not just tranquilizers." "The sword is not a problem," Walter said. He reached over his shoulder and tugged at the hilt, but when it came free it was no longer a sword, but a Sai — you know, one of those knife-looking things the ninja's carry in all those movies. He unstrapped the sheath from across his chest and pulled it around to the front. A second Sai protruded from the bottom end. He removed it, and then stretched the sheath in his hands. As he pulled, it changed shape, and in moments he had a different style of weapon belt. He quickly belted it on and placed the two weapons at either hip. One of these days we were going to have to figure out how these things worked. All of it; the sword, the armor, even the new gloves that Jamie had added — so we didn't have to worry about leaving fingerprints again in the future — were artifacts created in a dream, yet somehow they existed and functioned in the real world. It didn't make sense, but at the moment I found myself agreeing with Jamie; they worked, and until things calmed down enough so that we time to pursue it, I'd settle for them getting the job done. "Okay then," Jamie said, "I guess we're ready. Kill the camera, wait to see if they send the guard in; if they do, we take him out; if not, then we go out after him. There are cameras at either end of the hall, but I don't see that we have a choice. I can't see them not sending him in to check the camera, but once we take him they're going to know something is wrong, so we're in the shit either way, so once the guard is down, we secure the room and head for the control room. Kill whoever is there, take out the rest of the video, and then we go after the rest. Any questions?" "No questions, but we need to see if we can find out if anyone knows what's going on. I doubt she told these guys much, but someone may be waiting for them on the other end. Don't take any extra chances, but if we get a chance to take someone important without killing them, we take it." "Agreed," Jamie said. "Let's do this." Without another word she stepped into me, Walter right behind. I pictured the view from the corner directly under the camera, used the bedroom door as my threshold, and stepped back into the cabin. Reaching up with both hands, I grabbed the camera and twisted it off of its mount, then ripped forward. There was a momentary resistance, and then it was free. Instead of dropping it, I placed it quietly on the floor and stepped behind where the hatch would open. We didn't have long to wait before the locking wheel spun to open. "The lights," I said, and in a flash Jamie's hand shot to the switch and turned it. The lights went out, and she slipped back before the door opened. Interestingly, I could still see. It was like television darkness, where the audience could see but the actors couldn't. The door swung open, and the guard's voice said, "Light's out, give me a second." He turned the switch, and the lights came back up. Jamie was tensed and ready, but so far he was making no effort to check the room. "Got it, must be a short in the switch. No surprise on this bucket ... Hold on, I'll check her." He stepped forward and poked Allison's hip with his boot. "She's still out; I'll check the camera." Before he could turn around, Jamie stepped quickly forward, and — just as she had with Petey — snapped his neck before he even realized she was there. Laying him quietly on the deck she took his gun, checked it, and stuffed it into the back of the belt. The extra clip went into a pocket, and then she took the keys over to check the door. The door wasn't designed with a lock in mind, but someone had added a simple hasp for a padlock to the outside. "Damn," Jamie swore. "Can't lock it without being seen." "Let's get to the control room and kill the rest of the cameras," I suggested. "Then we can come back and lock the door. We won't be gone that long. Don't forget to take that patch off of her arm." I used the fallen body of the guard as my line and stepped into the control room. Instantly someone yelled, "Look out!" and I found myself pushed out and up as the control room tech scrambled to turn around. We had come in behind him as planned, but what we hadn't counted on was the guard standing in front of him. He was already reaching for his gun, but Jamie was so much faster he had barely moved before she put two rounds in his forehead. Thunder echoed through the room as blood and brains decorated the wall behind him. Before he had even fallen, Jamie was moving, grabbing the scrambling tech by the hair and shoving the gun under his chin. "Where do the camera feeds go, tape or broadcast?" "Tape," he said, swallowing hard. "Good," she said and then slammed the butt of the gun into his right temple. She dropped his limp form and turned the gun on the banks of equipment before us, ignoring the monitors but blasting everything else. She emptied the gun and the second clip before dropping it to the deck and stepping around the console to retrieve the fallen guard's gun and another clip. As she stood back up, the technician stood as well, a gun he hadn't had before in his hand. Without hesitation Jamie shot twice more; two spots appeared in the front of his shirt, and blood decorated the bulkhead behind him. She pulled the spare clip out of her pocket and checked it. "Lead rounds," she said. "Smart; these will flatten against the bulkheads with minimal ricochet." Two steps put us back in Allison's cabin, where we moved quickly out into the hall, closed the hatch, and clicked the padlock shut once more. Then she headed off down the hallway in search of the next guard. As we reached the end a claxon started sounding. "Shit!" Jamie swore. "Fucking guns, haven't they ever heard of silencers?" She turned the corner, stepping into the glade and then into the engine room, where she quickly began shutting off breakers. One by one the sounds and lights died leaving us alone in the dim glow of emergency lights and markers. Then she was off again. Not wanting to announce our movements again, she left the gun in the small of her back and pulled the two long knives from their sheaths. But the first time we snuck up on someone and Jamie stabbed him in the side of the neck, the blade passed through with even less resistance than the sword had, and her hand brushed his neck. Instantly he was in motion; spinning away as one hand came up to slap at whatever had touched him. His eyes widened as he realized what he was seeing, but — before he could do anything — she stabbed with her other hand, the blade passing just below his sternum and up into his heart. Again there was no blood, but his eyes got huge as his hands clutched at hers where it held the blade. Then the light faded in his eyes and he fell away, the knife coming away cleanly, without so much as a trace of blood on the blade. "Too weird," Jamie said. "It's like they have to see it before it will hurt them." "Right, but we'll discuss it later," I said. "Let's go." Over the course of the last few months I thought I had gotten a pretty good idea of what Jamie was like. Taking out Brad and his goons, the crew at the bank, that epic battle between her and Carter Malloy. I was wrong. Maybe it had to do with being merged with Walter, but whatever it was; she was death on two legs. At one point we needed to take out three people in a long hallway, one at either end, the third almost dead center. Apparently they had moved to predetermined positions when the alarms started going off. The simple solution was to start at one end, then jump to the other end, saving the guy in the middle for last as he had no where to escape to. Nope, too easy; she popped in next to the guy in the middle, shot him, and then used his body to shield us from one gunman as she threw one of the Sai at the other guard. It passed through him as expected, and he dropped as if he really had ten inches of steel buried in his heart. The dead guard's body armor protected us long enough for her to draw her own weapon again, and she neatly put two shots through the last man's left eye. She recovered the knife she had thrown and moved on to the next point on the map like nothing had happened. "Why did you do that?" I asked. "It would have been easier to just take out the guys on the end first. If we'd timed it right, they wouldn't even have known we were there until the first guy hit the deck." "I wanted to see if the knife would kill at a distance, and this way he had time to see it coming. Apparently they have to recognize the knife, or the sword, before it will hurt them. Like Carter said, it's important to know the limitations of your weapons." We were on our way to the bridge for the last two when all hell broke loose. We felt the third explosion before we heard the first one. They were marching our way in rapid sequence, and as the passageway shook, we stepped back into the glade. "Walter, find out what's going on." I felt him leave and took a breath as once more it was just Jamie and me, standing alone. He was back again in seconds. "The ship is in flames and already taking on water. There appear to have been charges below the waterline as well as in other places. The explosions have stopped but..." I lost the rest as Jamie cried, "Allison!" and rushed us forward into the cabin once more. The cabin was pitch dark. I hadn't noticed on the first visit, but apparently there were no emergency lights in the room itself, just in the outer hallway. Without Walter we couldn't see a thing. The cabin was also tilted at about a twenty-degree angle and already about two feet deep in water. I wasn't sure where it was coming from, but I could feel a current as more water rushed in around our knees, and I could feel the air pressure increasing as the water forced its way into the sealed space. Eventually it would reach a balance and no more water would be able to come in, but that wouldn't do us any good as the ship continued to sink. Suddenly Walter was there, and we could see again. The water was almost waist deep by now, and the guard's body floated not far away. Allison was... I dove for the floor and Allison's cot. She had fallen from the cot, and the force of the water flowing in had kept her pressed under it rather than let her float free. I grabbed her sleep shirt and pulled. She came free but then stopped before we reached the surface. That was when I noticed that she had been cuffed to the cot by one ankle. I stood and took a fresh breath, alarmed that the water was already up to my chest, then ducked back down as I fished the guard's keys out of my pocket. It only took a second to find the right key and get her free, but she was limp in my arms, and I realized that no bubbles had escaped her mouth since we came in. Screaming, "No!" I stood with her in my arms, pulling her to the surface and trying to think what to do. I had no idea, and panic was setting in quickly. The pressure was now enough to make my eyes and ears hurt, and the water was still coming in. I could feel myself starting to lose consciousness as the pressure continued to increase. I shook my head to try and clear it, but it didn't help. The last thing I saw was an image of the beach with the cabana in the distance. Then everything went dark. ------- Chapter 9: Changes I heard the voices first. Then, slowly the light crept in, the world changing gradually from black to gray, and then, finally, my eyes fluttered open. "Docteur, il se reveille." "Merci. De l'eau, s'il vous plaît. Ah, mon jeune ami ... Non, non. N'essayez pas de vous asseoir. Comment vous sentez-vous?" Fear gripped me as my surroundings came into focus, and I tried to ask where I was, but all that came out was a croaking sort of cough. "Ne bougez pas, s'il vous plait." He put a hand on my chest lightly to restrain me. "L'infirmière est en train d'apporter de l'eau." Once I realized that there were no restraints holding me to the bed, and that there didn't seem to be anyone around but the doctor attending me — and he didn't really strike me as dangerous — I tried to relax and catch my breath. "About time you woke up," Jamie said. "Relax, these aren't the bad guys." "I figured that out," I said, "but how did you know?" "I've been awake watching everything. Not that it did much good; I couldn't so much as lift a finger. Whatever happened, it knocked the shit out of us, and all I could do was watch. On top of that, I can't understand a word they're saying, and I have no idea where we are. So far that's all the bad news. The good news is about ten feet to your left." Ow! Turning my head hurt like hell! Moving slower, I managed to look, and there was Allison, two beds away with an oxygen tube in her nose and an IV in her arm. Instantly I forgot about my pain and tried to go to her. Just as quickly, my body reminded me that I really shouldn't push it quite so hard. The doctor was also much more forceful in his resistance this time. "Non! Je sais que vous vous inquiétez mais elle va bien. Le danger est passé et elle dort, ce que vous ferez aussi si vous ne vous contrôlez pas." "Damn it Jimmy, relax! Do you think I would have said it was good news if she wasn't okay? Now lay the fuck down and behave yourself, or so help me, I'll bubble your ass and handle this myself." I collapsed back against the bed and said, "Your bedside manner sucks." The nurse was coming back in with a glass of water and some ice chips. "Oh yeah, and you're just a dream of a patient." The doctor took the water and the ice, set the ice on the small table next to the bed, and spoke to the nurse. "Merci. Les rideaux, s'il vous plaît, peut-être qu'un peu de soleil lui fera du bien." He held the water up for me to sip, pulling it back after I took just a little then returning it once I had swallowed. That first swallow always feels like someone is dragging a ball of barbed wire down your throat, but it gets better quickly. After the third sip, I felt like I could risk speaking again. As I was learning to swallow again, the nurse moved to the window and opened the blinds. Sunlight flooded the room. What time was it? It had been early morning when I went after Allison. Now we were apparently in a hospital, and from my limited perspective it was close to mid-day. "Thank you doctor," I said. It wasn't much more than a whisper, but it wasn't a croak, and it didn't hurt, so I was happy with it "Ah, you speak English," the doctor said with a smile; his own English carried more than a slight accent. "That is something at least. How do you feel?" I thought about it. "Tired mostly," I finally said. "How is ... she?" I had started to say 'my sister, ' but Jamie jumped in and changed the word at the last second. "She is going to be fine. Her lungs are clear, and there are no signs of permanent damage. The bump on her head was not serious. As for your being tired, that does not surprise me. Swimming in the ocean is tiring enough by yourself; swimming for two is much more difficult. Do you remember how you came to be in the water?" "Careful hero, I think this is one of those times where the less we know, the fewer questions they will ask." "Right. Thanks." I cocked my head like I was trying to remember, drawing only a twinge this time. "There was an explosion, and then we were in the water." The doctor looked surprised, "An explosion, you say, then you were on a boat?" "Yes." He turned to the nurse and spoke urgently. "Téléphonez aux garde-côtes, et prévenez-les qu'il peut y avoir un navire en détresse quelque part près d'ici, dites-leur de rechercher d'autres survivants." I heard a faint call, "Jimmy?" "Go!" I told Jamie. "Tell her I'll be there in a minute." "Has she woken up at all?" "No, not yet, but we expect her to come around soon. It is a bit surprising that she has slept so long, but not wholly unexpected." "Where are we? How did we get here?" "You are in the Mamao Hospital on the Avenue Georges Clemenceau. You were brought in by ambulance after you collapsed on Temea Beach. Apparently, you walked up out of the water with the girl in your arms and passed out. Thankfully, there was the usual compliment of late night couples enjoying the beach. Two of them saw you and summoned assistance, and you were brought here." "I'm sorry, I'm where?" "French Polynesia. You know where that is, yes? No? Tahiti, perhaps?" Tahiti! What the... "How long have I been here? What day is it?" "Not long," he said. "You were brought in early this morning. It is Saturday, the fourteenth of October." I needed to get out of there. I finished the water and set the glass down. "Is there a bathroom nearby?" "Pardon me? Bathroom? Ah, yes, Les toilettes! Certainly, let me help you." He helped me out of the bed and began leading me across the room. I was stiff at first, but the pain receded with every step, and as we reached the door to the bathroom I stopped and said, "I got it, thank you." When he turned and went to check on Allison, I paused to look into the little room, created a copy in dreamspace, and stepped across, letting the door close behind me on its own. I stayed just long enough to heal myself, stepped back across, and assumed the customary position on the porcelain throne. Once I was sure my body wasn't going to fall off when I left, I shifted my awareness back into dreamspace, this time going to the cabana, where Jamie was waiting with Allison. "Jimmy!" Allison cried, flying into my arms and hugging me. "Jimmy, what's going on? Jamie wouldn't tell me anything." "It's a long story, and I don't have time to tell you everything. You're in a hospital in Tahiti. Don't ask me how you got there because I'm not really sure myself. Right now I'm there with you, but I won't be for long. As soon as you wake up, ask for a telephone and call Rod; he'll take care of everything from there. Don't tell anyone your real name; use the new ID Rod gave you. "As to why you're there," I said. "It was Henslith; she grabbed all of you a couple nights ago." I could see the panic in her eyes. "No, it's okay. Mom and dad are safe, and this time Rod's putting you all into hiding for real. Actually, he's handling IDs, and then you're hiding yourselves. I was thinking Hawaii, but here looks good too. Of course, you'd have to learn French ... What's important is that you're safe, but Allison Matthews is dead, got it? Okay, I have to get back before the doctor thinks I fell in and comes looking for me. Jamie can start filling you in on the details. I'll be back soon, I promise. Kiss me." "Okay, I love you." She kissed me and turned back to start grilling Jamie, and I went back to the bathroom. The next big shock came as I stepped in front of the sink to wash my hands. The face staring back at me wasn't mine. Instead, I found myself staring into the face of my best friend. The last time I had seen that face I was kissing his mother and sister good night before he drove them home. How was this possible, and if I looked like Mark, why hadn't Allison said something? I thought about it while I was washing my face and decided that she hadn't noticed because my 'dream' self is just a reflection of how I see myself at the time, and since I hadn't known that my physical appearance had changed ... Of course, that didn't explain how I got Mark's face in the first place, but ... one thing at a time. The doctor was amazed at how much stronger I was. "Better," he asked. "Yes, doctor, thank you. Where are my clothes?" "Your clothing?" he asked with a chuckle. "You were wearing only a swimsuit when they brought you in. Not knowing the extent of your injuries, I am afraid they cut it off you during the examination. Now, there are many questions that the administrator would like answered. For a beginning, perhaps you could give us your name and the location where you are staying. Surely there are others who wish to know where you have disappeared to." I reached for his hand, as if preparing to introduce myself. "Sleep," I said as soon as he took my hand. His head dropped to his chest, and I reached out to steady him so he wouldn't fall. "I'm really sorry about this doctor, but I'm afraid I am going to need your clothes..." I didn't actually need his clothes. I could just as easily have transitioned directly to the apartment, but I didn't want it to look like I had just disappeared. Otherwise I could have left directly from the bathroom. This way, he'd remember me coming out and shaking his hand, but nothing else. Even though it's a lot farther away, the time difference between Vegas and Tahiti is the same as it is for Hawaii. That was partially due to the fact that the time-zone lines wander around, but mostly it's geography; believe it or not, Tahiti is actually farther east than Hawaii, so with daylight savings time it's only a three hour difference, and I was amazed to discover that it was only ten o'clock when I stepped back into the apartment, making it seven in Tahiti. I hadn't even been close on the time: Maybe the sun reflecting off all that water just made it seem brighter. I had only been gone about six hours. The first order of business was food. I was starving! Allison was the omelet maker in my family. The best I could ever do was scrambling stuff together with the eggs and dropping a little cheese on top. Right now I didn't care. A big glass of orange juice took the edge off while I chopped, whipped, and cooked. I was just about to head out to the pool with my breakfast when I remembered seeing Mark's face in the mirror. Leaving my food on the counter I went back into the bathroom and sure enough, my best friend was still staring back at me. Using the doorway as a threshold I dreamed up a duplicate bathroom and stepped across into dreamspace. Have you ever tried to picture yourself? I converted the sink into a full length mirror to see if any of the rest of me was different. Nothing jumped out at me so I decided to try the KISS approach — you know, 'Keep It Simple Stupid' — closed my eyes and just thought, "me". Apparently it was the right approach because when I opened them again I looked like me again. Breathing a sigh of relief I stepped back across into the apartment. Pain flashed through me, leaving nausea and weakness in its wake, and I fell to my knees, barely catching myself on the edge of the bed. I was still there, trying to catch my breath when Jamie came back. "What the hell are you doing?"she demanded. The good news was that I felt a lot stronger with her back. Of course 'a lot' is a relative amount and I still wasn't sure I could stand. "It's complicated," I said, struggling to my feet. "I'll tell you about it over breakfast." "Oh good, you're eating." "Are you kidding? It's almost eleven o'clock; we had dinner at like eight last night — I was starving." "Yeah, well, that may not have all been due to the time. I think we used a shitload of energy last night. I wish Lizzy was here to take a peek." "You and me both," I assured her. "How is Allison?" "She's Allison," she said as we slowly made our way back to the breakfast bar. "Once she got over the shock of everything that had happened, she jumped in and started making plans. You've never seen someone so happy to be dead. Is that supposed to be an omelet?" "Everybody's a critic." I said. I made my way out to the patio table — the warm sunshine felt wonderful — and had just taken my first bite when the back door of the house opened, and Doreen stepped out. "Mind if I join you?" she asked. I did my best to swallow the large bite I had in my mouth, took a sip of juice to make sure it got all the way down, and answered, "Please," as I stood and held a chair for her. "Well, aren't you sweet? Have you ever considered giving classes? I know women all over this valley would pay for you to show their men how it's supposed to be done." "Yeah, but I don't know how many of them would put up with my teaching methods. I'm lucky Regina didn't have me arrested for slapping Bobby around like that." Bobby was Doreen's sixteen-year-old grandson, and we had met the day I came to purchase her deceased husband's car. I had been appalled at his disrespect of his grandmother, and it only got worse after his mother arrived. Eventually I had reached the breaking point and bitch-slapped him all around the front yard before making him apologize for his bad behavior. I'd had a pretty good idea of what his problem was — problems actually; it's never just one thing, and we'd talked about it while he held the ice pack to his cheek and waited for the swelling to go down. His father had abandoned the family a few years earlier and ... fill in the blanks, no solid male role-model, social pressure, peer pressure, yada-yada ... I'd made some suggestions and given him a job cleaning the pool to take up some of his free time, give him a little money, and — most importantly in my mind — the satisfaction of having earned it. "Are you kidding?" she said in a sassy voice. "Most of them would pay extra to see that!" Her voice softened after that. "David, is everything okay? You have hardly said a word to me all week, and it's not like you to sleep this late. I bet you didn't even hear Bobby out here cleaning the pool this morning, did you?" I had to smile at that. "No, I can honestly say I didn't. I don't sleep a lot, Doreen, but when I do you could drop a bomb on the place, and I probably wouldn't notice. My sister was the same way." "Well now, you never told me you had a sister. What's her name?" It took me a moment to compose the right expression, "Her name was Allison." She gasped and put her hand on mine. "Oh David, I'm so sorry. Me and my big mouth..." "It's okay, Doreen. Like you said, I never told you, so how would you know?" "You miss her a lot, don't you? I can see it in your eyes." "Yeah, I do." That much was true even if she was still alive. I'd been missing her ever since the night Britney was kidnapped ... Jesus, was that really only... seventeen days ago? How could that be? I felt like I'd been gone for months. "I understand," Doreen said, compassion warming her voice. "So you still haven't answered my question. Is everything okay? I haven't seen your friend Christine since that first day." Her voice took on a catty tone as she asked, "Is that what's been keeping you tied up so much?" "Doreen!" I barked, almost choking on the bite in my mouth and doing my best to cover my mouth with a napkin. She was laughing so hard her whole body shook as she clutched at her bosom and tried to catch her breath. Finally, I handed her a fresh napkin to wipe the tears trickling down her face. "Oh, my word! I don't remember the last time I laughed so hard. David, the look on your face!" "Well, I'm glad you enjoyed it!" I said. "I almost choked to death! I could have died right here, and you would have laughed right through the whole thing. Seriously though, I'm sorry I haven't been to see you; it's actually been a busy week for me. As for Christine, she went back to Georgia to meet with the movers who are bringing her stuff out. She's bringing her cat, so she's driving back instead of flying. She'll probably be here tomorrow or Monday. Most of her stuff is going into storage while she looks for an apartment." "An apartment? And here I thought she was going to be staying here with you. I must be losing my touch, why one look and I could swear she was ... Well, never mind, it's none of my business. You two can sort that out for yourselves. Did you say she was bringing a cat? She better keep it inside if she don't want to lose it. 'Round here, what the hawks don't get the coyotes do." "She's an inside cat," I said. "Lived her whole life in Christine's apartment; of course, with Christine's schedule, she was alone most of the time. I imagine the hardest part for her will be getting used to people being around. Of course, between flight school and working for me, Christine's still going to be gone a lot of the time." "Uh-huh," she said, a knowing smile on her face. "She ain't going to be too happy about sharing her mommy with no strange man neither. Sure don't sound like you expect her to be getting no apartment." "It's still kind of up in the air," I said, "but it's her decision either way. Oh, and just so you know, there's a chance the FBI might be coming around asking questions about me. I met the local director earlier in the week, and she's checking me out. I've done some work for the Los Angeles Bureau in the past, and I think she's trying to figure out if I'm safe to play with." "Some work with the Los Angeles Bureau," she said derisively. "David Malcolm, I am not stupid, and I do read the paper — what else is there to do around here all day? And according to the paper, it was you found that missing girl last week, and saved her and her sister before the man that took them got to messing with them." "The paper exaggerated, Doreen; I found Amy, but someone else rescued her sister." "Uh-huh. Well, you tell Dominique Spencer if she has any questions, she better drag her lazy white butt down out of her ivory tower and come herself, because I ain't answering no questions from no junior flunkies." "You know Mrs. Spencer?" "Of course I know her; didn't I tell you I was in insurance for thirty years?" "Really? No, you said Theo was in insurance; you never mentioned anything about yourself, so I just assumed you were a stay at home mom. What kind of work did you do?" "Lord, what didn't I do? I started as a mail clerk, and when I left my official title was administrative assistant." Wheels were already turning in my head. "Doreen. I don't suppose you'd like to supplement your income consulting for me would you?" "Don't look to me like you need any help finding things all by yourself." "Ah, but I'm new in town and just getting started, whereas you know who all the real players are. You could save me a lot of time and money. Tell me, Doreen, what do insurance companies do when property is recovered that they have already paid claims for?" "Well, once the claim is paid. the property legally belongs to them, so it can be tricky getting them to pay for anything. But, depending on the item being insured, there is generally a long waiting period before they pay out the claim. The higher the value, the longer they generally want to try and recover it. And then there are those pieces that have continued to appreciate while they are missing; art work and such. Most often there are rewards posted for recovery. Sometimes they just want the satisfaction of putting someone behind bars for costing them so much money. Every situation is different, but there is money to be made if you are careful negotiating your contracts." "There you go then," I said. "Doreen, I'd like to retain you to negotiate my contracts for me. What's the going rate?" "Ten percent." "Done. When can you start?" "You're serious?" "Absolutely. Doreen, I'm not interested in looking for the neighbor's cat. I'm strictly big ticket. I want the jobs no one else will touch, and — as much as possible — I want to stay out of the press, so keep that in mind when you're talking to them." "Oh they're going to love that," Doreen said. "A recovery service that don't want the credit and is willing to let the whole world think they got their goods back on their own. I could probably get you an extra five percent on that alone, but why wouldn't you want the publicity?" "Because I want to have a life," I said. "I don't want to work seven days a week or have to hire and supervise a bunch of other people to do my job, and I don't want reporters crawling all over me twenty-four hours a day either. In fact, one of the things I want made clear is that if anyone speaks to the press 'on condition of anonymity' they pay me ten percent of the original contract, and I walk away." "Now that's going to be a tough sell. You may have to wait until you have a little more of a reputation before you can get that kind of guarantee." "Okay, then just don't make it a sticking point, and toss it out if you trust them. I figure if nothing else, a clause like that would insure that we're only dealing with the people at the top, cut out the flunkies." "It's a nice idea, and trust me, they'll be all for you not taking the credit. They just won't want to cough up if someone spills the beans." "So, what's for dinner?" I asked. My phone chose that moment to ring. "David Malcolm," I answered. "It's me," Rod's voice said. "Call me back." The line went dead, but I faked it as I headed for the door. "Right, give me just a second while I get something to write with." I covered the phone. "Doreen, I'll be right back." "I'll be right here," she said, nodding her head. Once I was safely inside I switched phones and called him back. "Rod, it's me," I said when he answered. "We found your sister — or someone did. She just called me, want to guess where from?" "Rod, please don't play games on this one; where is she?" "You mean you really don't know?" He sounded genuinely surprised. "Rod?" "You're not going to believe this, Tahiti." "What? Tahiti, isn't that like ... down by Australia somewhere? How the hell did she get there?" There was a pause, and I knew he was trying to decide if I was serious or not. "Some guy walked up out of the ocean carrying her a little after midnight, local time, last night. No idea how long they'd been in the water, but she wasn't breathing..." "What?" I think I was convincingly panicked. "Relax, she's fine. Jesus, I just told you she called me. Anyway, they scared the shit out some couple on the beach, and then the guy collapsed. The girl started CPR on Allison while her boyfriend ran for help. She was breathing on her own but still unconscious when the ambulance arrived." "What about the guy? You said a man was carrying her." "Just exhaustion according to the doctor; he came to about an hour and a half ago, went to the bathroom, did something to the doctor, stole his clothes, and disappeared. Before he disappeared, he said they had been on a boat of some kind — said the last thing he remembered was an explosion, and then he was in the water with the girl. You really don't know anything about this?" "Rod, I don't even know where Tahiti is except that it's somewhere in the South Pacific, and it's a long ways from here. How the hell could she have gotten to Tahiti this fast on a boat?" "I've been wondering the same thing. It's an eight-hour flight by commercial airline. By boat? I don't know, but I'm guessing days or weeks, and she's only been gone about a day and a half. The only way she is on a ship off Tahiti is if someone flew her down there and then put her on the boat. Air-Sea Rescue has no reported Mayday calls over the last forty-eight hours, but they're searching the area anyway. There is also no sign of our mystery man. The local authorities are looking for him, but so far they haven't had any luck based on the description the doctor gave. Mostly, I wanted to let you know that she's okay and that I've made arrangements for her to be moved to the embassy in Australia." "Mostly is right," Jamie said, "that and fishing for information." I ignored her and asked Rod, "You're sending her to Australia? Where to, Sydney?" He chuckled. "You should have paid more attention in geography. Canberra is the capital of Australia. Sydney is where the opera house is, and while there is a Consulate there, there is a difference between an Embassy and a Consulate. I think for our purposes the Embassy is a better choice. If everything goes well, she'll be in Hawaii by Monday. I can get her back based on her being kidnapped from our safe house. She'll be questioned about that night in case she remembers anything..." I interrupted, saying, "Rod, if she..." "I know," he said, cutting me off, "but it's protocol, and we don't have a legitimate reason to skip it. Your parents have already given statements saying they don't remember anything between going to bed and waking up — your mom in the hospital and your dad when we raided the house. There is no reason to think Allison's statement will be any different, but we still have to do it. They're also being asked who might have wanted to kidnap them. That part of the questioning isn't going so well. I know they're only trying to protect you, but it's still obvious to the people asking the questions that they're holding something back. Hopefully, Allison will do better." "Tell me what you need, and I'll make sure they all do better." "That would make it easier," he said. "I just wish we'd have thought of it sooner. Maybe we can blame it on the stress of not knowing where their daughter was." "I don't suppose there is any way to know if Henslith was on the boat; it sounds like exactly the kind of thing she would do to disappear. Maybe things got out of hand." "You mean like Allison escaped and Henslith died? It's a nice thought. A nice high profile death is exactly the kind of stunt I would expect someone in her position to pull if she were trying to disappear, but, if she were doing something like that, the boat would have been somewhere people could see it, and we'd have witnesses verifying that she was on board. Right now, we've got an invisible ship and no witnesses. So, for now, I'm not willing to do more than hope, and we won't know for sure unless she actually shows up somewhere." "If she does, I want to know about it," I said. There was a difference in his voice when he answered. Suddenly he was more professional, and his voice carried a warning tone. "Don't make this personal, Jimmy. That's the kind of thing that drives you to the dark side. Let it go, son. It's not worth it." "I didn't make it personal, Rod; she did. I want her gone, but I want to know she's gone, for good. I want to know the people in my life are safe, and I won't know that until I see her dead body. Until then I'll always worry about whom she is going to take next. You've got a family, Rod. Tell me you would feel any different if you were in my position." "I understand what you're saying Jimmy. What I'm saying is that you can't let this kind of thing eat at you because it will never stop until there is nothing left. I'll call you again when your sister is back on US soil." "Nice job," Jamie said when I hung up. "They should put you up for an academy award." "A Tony," I said, correcting her. "The Oscars are for screen work; live performances get a Tony, and I wasn't acting for the last part. I won't feel safe until I know Henslith can't hurt anyone again, ever." "That makes two of us," she said, "and don't worry about what Rod was saying; the kind of stuff that eats at people is the stuff I eat up, so let me do the worrying." "Thanks, Jamie," I said. "You don't know how much that means to me." "Actually, I do. Now we better get back out to Doreen before she thinks we forgot about her." I opened the window and called out to Doreen, "Hey there pretty lady, can I bring you anything? Maybe a glass of ice water?" "No, thank you," she called back. I took a glass for myself, and we discussed our dinner plans for the weekend. The events of the night before had taken a pretty serious toll on my body, and I found myself actually needing a nap for a change. The problem is that I was mentally exhausted as well, and — while my body could sleep — my mind didn't rest as easily. Again, Jamie came to my rescue, taking me to the glade and turning up the audio on the brook and all the other little nature sounds around me. I'm not sure what she did after that, but hours later I seemed to wake up feeling much more relaxed and refreshed. It was almost dark outside when I finally awoke. I had vague memories of a peaceful time spent floating down the little stream but nothing specific that I could cling to or identify. "Thanks," I said. "I didn't know you could do that." "Of course I can," she said. "It's a dream, the only difference between that and what I did to Mikkelson was content, and the fact that with you it has to be voluntary. I'm good, and I can fool you for a little bit, but as soon as you figure out what's going on you'll start to resist, and I'm no match for you." "You're not?" "Not even close!" she said strongly. "You damn near killed me the night you came looking for Shannon. I was doing fine at first, clouding your mind so you wouldn't remember it was a dream — I almost had you — but then you remembered and started kicking my ass; it went downhill fast after that." "Master!" It was Amber, and it was a good thing I hadn't gotten out of bed yet, because in a flash I was there — wherever there was — with her. I don't know what would have happened if I'd been walking across the living room or — God forbid — driving a car. Apparently Jamie realized the problem as well. "We're going to need to work on that," she said. The problem was obvious. The women were having dinner at a restaurant somewhere, and some asshole was bothering them. It must have been bad if Amber had found it necessary to call. Time to find out if I could merge with her the way Jamie had. I could have let Jamie do it, but she doesn't like men on the best of days. Amber was seated alone opposite Christine and Lizzy, so I slid into the booth beside her and then sideways into her. It was a very weird sensation. As I slid into Amber, I could feel her retreating and giving me total control. Even weirder was watching Jamie sliding into Lizzy at the same time. "Good move sis, this way we can talk. What's been going on?" A fast moving series of images showed the man coming in. It occurred to me the images had to be from Amber because they looked so normal, and that made me wonder what it would have looked like from Lizzy's perspective. The guy was loud, boisterous, and apparently more than a little drunk. He had spotted the girls sitting alone and announced his appreciation to the room with a loud whistle before heading for their booth. Several of the other patrons looked nervous; the rest were just confused and not sure what to do. The look on the waitress's face said he was a regular — probably a good customer — but at the moment, she wasn't happy to see him. "Oh good, there's three of you; maybe you can keep up. How about it girls, think you can handle a real man?" The look on Lizzy's face as she watched him coming toward them wasn't encouraging. "Ignore him," Christine said. That was a mistake. Apparently he heard her. "Now is that any way to talk to a fellow who's just trying to be friendly?" he asked, his voice losing the happy-go-lucky tone and taking on a bit of an edge. "I think you need a little lesson in how to properly appreciate a man. Maybe I'll just take you out to my truck and improve your attitude." One of the men sitting at the bar started to rise, saying, "Hey Walt, maybe you oughta..." "Oughta what?" The big man barked. "Sit your ass back down and mind your own fucking business. Can't you see I'm busy?" I could see the waitress blanch and head for the back room; hopefully to call the police, but unless they were parked outside already, I didn't see that doing much good. That was where we had come in; in the interim the big guy had started to pet Christine's hair. "Mmmm, soft. Bet it's real too. Why don't you show me?" She brushed his hand away and said politely, "Sir, I'll have to ask you to please keep your hands to yourself and stop bothering us. We're not interested, please go away." "Not interested?" he said. "Girl you don't even know what you're missing yet." He grabbed her wrist and started pulling it toward the bulge in his pants. Showing off the bulge was probably why the cave-dwelling slimeball wore the loose pants in the first place. That was enough for me. I'd been mulling the best way to handle the situation without violence, but it didn't look like that was going to be an option. The first thing I needed to do was get out of this booth and get some room to move. "Chrissy, where's your sense of adventure?" I asked. "God, I swear, sometimes you are like such a bitch. He's just trying to be friendly." I turned my attention to her would-be suitor. "Just ignore her; she's never any fun when she's on her period." As soon as I said 'period' he dropped Christine's arm like it was on fire. "Now me..." I started to stand and he stepped back to make room. " ... I know just what a big hard man like you needs at the end of long day." I took his hand and gently raised it toward Amber's mouth, stepping in close. I could see by the light in his eyes that he liked where this seemed to be going. I smiled sweetly and shifted my hand so I had a firm grip on his thumb and started to stick out my tongue, then suddenly I jerked his arm up and back, twisting his thumb and using it to drag the wrist and arm up over his shoulder, then back and down in a painful hold that Jamie and I had learned from Carter Malloy. He started to rotate his body to take the pressure off, but I shot my left hand forward, grabbed him by the balls — the loose pants and his already aroused state made them really easy to find — and squeezed, hard! His breath caught and his eyes crossed as I marched him backward until his back slammed into the long counter. Once his motion stopped, he started to resist; but I tightened my grip on his nuts, and he stopped with a sharp intake of breath. "My friend asked you nicely," I said, "and now I'm telling you: leave us the fuck alone. Just take your Neanderthal ass back to whatever pit you slithered out of, and don't come back until you've learned better manners. Got it?" I gave another little squeeze. "Yeah, yeah, I got it, no problem, just don't..." I squeezed harder, and he stopped with a whining exhalation. "The correct answer is 'Yes, ma'am," I said. "I am a lady after all. Now what were you saying?" I let up so he could breathe again. "Yes, ma'am!" he coughed. "Good," I said, backing up and pulling him with me as I moved away from the bar and toward the door. All around the room people were starting to chuckle, and as my back hit the double doors I squeezed, jerked him forward, and spun him out the door, releasing him as he went past; and then I watched as he stumbled a few steps before falling to his knees with both hands going to his crotch to make sure everything was still intact. I turned and went back inside to a standing ovation, dropping a slight curtsy as the doors closed behind me. I was halfway back to the booth when the door suddenly flew open again. The applause died, and there were several gasps. I could see fear in their faces. "You fucking bitch!" I could hear the heavy tread of his boots as he rushed up behind me. I was just passing the counter, so I grabbed a tray of condiments, spun, and flung them at his head, holding onto the tray. He ducked most of it and stepped forward, his right hand swinging hard toward my head. I ducked under the swing, and drove the corner of the tray hard into his midsection, aiming for his solar plexus. He gave a whoosh of expelled air and doubled forward. I pulled the tray back and slammed it edgewise into the bridge of his nose. I could feel the cartilage give as his head snapped back, pulling him upright again. I stepped in and kicked his left knee sideways just hard enough to collapse it without breaking it, grabbed a handful of hair with one hand, and a fork off of a nearby table with the other. Using the grip on his head, I drove him to both knees, then jerked his head back and drove the fork forward, stopping a half-inch from his left eye. "Breathe wrong," I hissed, then I raised my voice and said, "Christine, pay the nice lady, we're leaving." "On the house," the waitress's voice said. "My ass," said the guy at the bar. "This one's on me, Sal. I'm gonna frame that receipt and hang it over the bar down at Eddie's. You ladies better haul ass out of here before his brother-in-law, the Sheriff, shows up." My playmate's eyes were watering from the trauma of his nose breaking, the swelling forcing him to breathe through his mouth. His eyes were wide with fear as he fought to keep his balance. Staring hard into his eyes I growled, "You so much as stick your finger out the door before we're gone, and I'm going to stop being nice about this, understand?" I moved the fork forward and down, so the tines touched his lower lid — right at the bottom of the eye socket. As soon as the cold steel touched his eyelid, he sucked in a huge mouthful of air and screamed, "Yes ma'am! Yes ma'am! I'll stay right here, I swear..." I pushed forward slightly and he screamed, "NO!" and began sobbing as he choked out an apology, "I'm sorry! Please God, I'm sorry, please don't..." I watched out of the corner of my eye as Lizzy took a very shaken Christine past, steering her by one elbow to keep her moving as her eyes were fixed on the scene. Once they were safely out the door, I pulled the fork back while pulling his head forward. "Face down on the floor, arms out, do it now." He dropped like he had an elephant sitting on him. As he lay down, I caught a whiff and realized that somewhere along the line he had pissed himself. I stood, set the fork on the table, and walked out the door. There was no applause this time, just dead silence. "Are you alright?" I asked Amber. "Yes, Master, thank you," she replied. "Master, what should I tell Christine?" "We'll talk about that later. You did well to summon me; I am very proud of you. Think about what you would like for a reward." "Yes, master." I blew her a mental kiss and went home. ------- Chapter 10: Explanations "Wow!" Jamie said when we were back at the house. "Remind me never to piss you off. For a nice guy, you really kicked ass back there." "I figured it would be safer if I did it. You probably would have gotten them arrested at the very least." "The very least," she agreed. "Isn't it amazing how easy it is to work with Amber?" "I wouldn't know," I said. "I've never tried with anyone else." "One of these days you'll find out, and then you can tell me. So what now? It's still too early to do much here. Do you want to see how Allison is doing?" "Yeah, if nothing else we need to talk to her about where she wants to live." "What if she says Vegas?" "She won't," I said. "It ups the odds of someone recognizing us if we're spotted. Separately they may just think we look familiar, and if they ask, we can deny it. Together ... no, it's going to be a long time before we can be seen together again." "Yeah, but we can still visit as long as we're careful, and we always have dreams." "That doesn't make up for falling asleep with her head on my shoulder, or waking up with my arms around her." "Or her mouth around you?" "Slut," I laughed. "Yeah, but one of us had to break the mood; we can't go see her like this. I guess we'll find out how much difference distance really makes. Australia is about as far away as you can get." "Jamie, I think we're over the distance question. I don't know where that ship was, but we moved thousands of miles yesterday in the blink of an eye." We were still on the bed, so all I had to do was close my eyes, move us into dreamspace, and think of Allison. Wherever she was, she had already gone to bed but wasn't asleep yet. I crawled into the big bed in the cabana and called softly, "Allison?" I could see a smile creep onto her face as she snuggled herself into her pillow and closed her eyes. Then she was there, snuggled into my side with her head nestled into the little hollow she seemed to have worn in my chest over the last year. God that felt good. "Oh, I miss this," she said with a sigh. "Don't move, don't talk, just lie there and hold me for a few minutes." I leaned my head down and kissed her hair, pulled her a little tighter against me, and did my best to keep the tears from getting her hair wet. An undetermined time later she gave a big sigh and said, "Thanks, I really needed that ... and thanks for rescuing me. Jamie only gave me the highlights; you want to fill in the rest?" "Not really," I said honestly. "Allison, I..." "I don't want the gruesome details. I'm pretty sure I know what it took. This new talent of yours — Jimmy, you have to be even more careful with it. No one can know about it. No one. Where are you, still in Vegas?" "Yeah." "How long were you gone?" "A half-hour the first time, a lot longer last night." "Last night I know about; what was the first time?" "Actually there were two times before that, both about the same amount of time." That didn't seem right, I thought for a moment and changed it, "You know, now that I think about it, a lot less the second time; that one may have only been about five minutes. Everything happened so fast in that one it's hard to keep track." "The first time?" she prompted again. "Oh yeah, sorry. The first time was going to the safe house to try and find you. We had to go slow at first, to make sure there was no one still lurking around. Then, when we spotted the cameras, we had to find the control room and make sure we weren't being recorded. Then we went back to your room. I saved your pictures of Shannon by the way; I've got them here for you. Oh, and your lockets." "Thanks," she said, kissing my chest. "I would have really hated to lose those. Then what?" "Rescuing mom and dad," I said. "Henslith had given them to these four mercenaries. I'm assuming they were the ones that killed the guards and took you guys." "They killed the guards!" she said, alarmed. "I know," I said. "There was no reason, they had tranquilizers with them — they had to have, they used them on you. Killing the guards was pointless and stupid." "Jimmy, don't sugar-coat it. Killing them was just plain evil. Now what didn't Jamie tell me about mom and dad." When I didn't answer she sat up. "Jimmy, I need to know. Now either you tell me, or I call Lizzy and she can tell me, but I'm going to find out. What?" "They had mom tied to a bed. They tied dad to a chair so he could watch." "And?" she said. "I got there first." "You killed them?" she asked. "Yeah," I said. "Good," she said simply. "What about last night?" "All but two, but I took out all the cameras and recording equipment first." "Do you think the last two got away?" "I don't know," I said. "I'm not sure they knew the ship was rigged to blow up. It felt like all the charges went off on one side; the ship went over pretty fast. If they were below decks; if they were anywhere besides already in a lifeboat, I don't think they would have made it out. I almost didn't" "Really?" she asked. I hung my head — well, you know, as best you can when you're lying down — and said, "Yeah, I panicked; when the charges went off, I got back to your room right away, but it was already filling up fast. You were trapped under the bunk, not moving. I didn't find out you were cuffed to the bunk until I tried to get you free, then I had to find the key and unlock you. By then the water was almost chest deep and still coming in fast. By the time I got you free, there was barely room to breathe, and the pressure was incredible. I was on the verge of passing out when I caught an image of the cabana. I don't even remember crossing over; everything just went black, and I woke up in the hospital. After I found out you were okay, I got out of there as fast as I could." "Yeah, they were some kind of pissed when you disappeared. I guess the nurse came in, and both you and the doctor were gone. She didn't think anything about it until she noticed the bathroom door was blocked shut with a chair. She got the door open and found the doctor in there in just his underwear, and that's when all hell broke loose. I was still asleep, so I missed most of it. As soon as they noticed me waking up, they cleared the room, so I don't know what else went on after that, but I know they had the cops looking for you. They asked me if I knew you, and I told them the truth — well, the part they needed to hear anyway — that the last thing I remembered was going to bed in LA, and I had no idea how I had gotten there. That was quick thinking, taking the doctor's clothes like that. It makes it a lot easier to explain you just walking out and disappearing. Still, it's a good thing I'm in Australia; we're going to need to keep you out of Tahiti for a while." "Actually, no we don't. There's been a new ... development; a couple of them actually." She looked at me for a second and then said, "One thing at a time. How are you dealing with all the killing? Are you okay?" I nodded my head, "Yeah, they had to die; there was just no other way to save you guys. Not without risking someone telling Henslith what happened. The last thing I want is that bitch knowing more about what I can do." "I'm glad you realized that. But there was more wasn't there? A part of you enjoyed killing them, and I don't mean the part that's Jamie, I mean you enjoyed it." "No," I said, honestly, shaking my head. "No, I didn't. It was just something that had to be done if I was going to keep this from happening to more innocent people. The fact that they deserved to die for what they'd done made it easier, but I didn't enjoy it." "Well I'm glad to hear that," she said, "and I'm glad you realized that leaving any of them alive to tell Henslith what happened wasn't an option. But you need to understand, that anytime you do this, no one can live to talk about it; no one. So if there is a chance that you may pop up where innocent people may see you, then don't go, period, not for me, or anyone else. Who else knows?" "Rebecca suspects; knows really, but she's in a sort of self-induced state of denial. She doesn't want to know what I can do, so she doesn't." "I understand," she said, "and Rod?" "I think I'm okay with Rod. I called 911 from the house where mom and dad were, so he could come and clean up the mess. I didn't identify myself, and I'm hoping he'll think it was something like the bank job." "Any reason he wouldn't?" she asked. "Not that I know of," I said. "Why did you call 911?" I'd been asking myself the same question. Why not just call Rod directly?" "I don't know," I admitted. "I probably should have just cut dad loose and let him call it in when he woke up." "It probably would have been a better idea," she said, "but then again ... Dad would have been pretty freaked out, and I don't know if he would have thought to try and call Rod. If the regular PD had showed up, it would be a circus. It also would have been impossible to just make us all disappear like we are. So, you think Rod will recognize your voice on the 911 call?" "I don't think there's any chance of that," I said. "I did my best to make it look like the bank." "So hopefully he'll think you somehow got one of them to do the dirty work and make the call?" "That's the idea," I said. "Well, we'll have to wait and see. I'm sure mom will appreciate what you did for her dignity, anyway. At least, she would if she knew it was you who rescued them. Do they know what happened yet?" "I don't know; I haven't talked to them. In fact, I don't know if Rod has told them about you yet. Maybe we should stop in. They haven't been doing well under questioning. Rod said the investigators could tell they were holding back. We're hoping that we can pass it off as stress and worry over you still being missing. Give me a second." I closed my eyes and went looking for my parents. They weren't asleep yet. In fact, they seemed to be trying hard to stay awake. I wondered if they even realized they were doing it. The good news was they were both someplace where I didn't have to worry about them. I put them both gently under, then let them wake up on the beach as Allison and I made our way down the walkway. It was a scene to rival anything you have ever seen in the movies. Eventually I sat them down and explained that — as far as the rest of the world was concerned, — they were now dead. I thought they took it pretty well, all things considered. "So where do you want to live?" I asked. "I didn't know we had a choice," Mom said. "Well, you do, the single consideration is the least possible chance that anyone will recognize you. I was leaning toward Hawaii." "You were?" Mom asked. "Does that mean you're..." she stopped as I was shaking my head gave a sigh, and then added, "It never hurts to hope. But what would we do there? I mean, it's beautiful, but it's going to be expensive, we'll need jobs and..." "Give him a chance Cyndi," Dad said. "It sounds like he's given this some thought." "Not a lot, actually," I admitted. "It all came up kind of suddenly, you know? Maybe we could buy you a boat, change your names to Gilligan and Maryanne; you could do island tours or something, I don't know. Fortunately you don't have to rush. With the Davises' inheritance plus the sale of both houses, you've got money enough to last you a while if you're careful. Take some time, look around, see if there is something you want to do. It's not like you're going to have to buy a house right off the bat. You may even decide you'd rather be somewhere else. I just thought it might be a good place to start. Besides, then someday — when it's safe — I get to come visit you there instead of like, Fargo or someplace." "Hawaii sounds good to me," Allison said. "Not my first choice of course, but if I can't stay with Jimmy, Hawaii's not a bad second choice. I'm a little short for beach volleyball, though." "I'm sure they have regular teams too, dear," Mom said. "So you want to give it a shot?" I asked. "Oh, gee, let me think," Dad said sarcastically. "Sure, I guess we can always move somewhere else if we don't like it." He looked at me, "That is an option isn't it? There's no chance we're going to get stuck there?" "No dad, trust me, you're not going to get stuck there." Then it was my turn to get serious. "I don't know when I'm going to get to see you again, you know, out there. We still don't have a lead on the person behind all this. We know who she is, but that's all. So far, all of our efforts to find her have come up empty. Until she's dealt with, I can't take the chance that she'll follow me to you and try again. I can't let that happen." "But we can still see you here, right?" Mom asked. "Yeah, we can still meet here, assuming I'm not busy with anything else." "Jimmy," Allison said. "If you were busy with something else, we wouldn't see you out there either." "I miss you too," I said with a smile. I turned back to my parents, "Rod says you guys are having a problem with your statements." They looked a little panicky, so I held up my hand and continued. "It's nothing serious, but they can tell you're holding back. Specifically when they ask you if you know any reason why someone might want to kidnap you. Rod suggested that maybe we could pass it off as being anxious about Allison still being missing. Do you think you guys can handle it from that angle?" Allison's voice came to me, "Jimmy, stop beating around the bush, and just do it." I sighed and froze the scene — well, my parents anyway — and then implanted suggestions in both of them that should handle the situation to the satisfaction of anyone questioning them. As an added layer of insurance, I had Rod come and question them before sending them back to wherever it was he currently had them stashed. "Mmmm," Allison hummed her contentment as she hugged my side after they were gone. "So, what now?" "Now you give me a hug and kiss before I pop!" Lizzy said. Allison pulled back and looked over her shoulder to find her future sister-in-law standing behind us. Before she even had a chance to disengage herself from me, Lizzy had her firmly by the waist, hugging her from behind, resting her head on her shoulder, and kissing her neck. "Oh, baby girl, I'm so glad you're safe," Lizzy whispered through the gentle sobs she couldn't hold back. She let up the pressure enough for Allison to turn in her arms and hug her back properly, and then they were hugging each other so hard I could see the muscle strain in their arms. Finally, Lizzy pulled back, took Allison's face gently in her hands, and placed a loving kiss on her lips. "I knew he would get you back," She said softly, "but I was still worried." She combed her fingers gently through the smaller girl's hair. "I don't know what I would have done without him, but I know that if I had Jimmy's gift, I would have done exactly what he did. I'm not a violent person; my gift isn't about violence." She grew a little grin and added, "most of the time ... but I could kill for you, however many it took to get you back." There was something in her voice that left no doubt that she meant it. Finally, she asked, "Are you worried about what this may have done to him?" Allison kissed her back and drew her in for another hug. "No," she said. "This wasn't like Andrews and Charles, this was killing to protect people you love in immediate danger." "What about Rene?" I asked. "You didn't kill Rene," she said, releasing Lizzy and stepping back. "Rene killed himself; all you did was fight his evil twin and make it possible for Rene to stop him. If you have any doubts about this stuff, Jimmy, talk to Bob. Or ask Rod to set up you up with one of the shrinks the Bureau uses when their people have problems. Go talk to pastor Keen, or Lizzy's friend Chris. This may not have been a fair fight but it wasn't cold-blooded, senseless murder, like they were doing. Think about those four agents at the safe house who died for no reason. What you did was nothing like that. What you did was like sending the SWAT team into a drug lord's hideout to rescue someone." "I know," I said. "And trust me; I'm okay with those men dying. I'm just concerned with the long-term effects. I'm sixteen years old, and I'm responsible for the deaths of twenty-three men, assuming those other two didn't get off the boat before it sank." "No, Jimmy," Allison said sternly. "Those, what was it, eleven men on the ship? Henslith is responsible for their deaths, same with the ones that had mom and dad. Are you worried that killing is becoming too easy? That you didn't agonize over it the way you did with Andrews and Charles?" "Well, yeah, sort of," I answered. "I knew it had to be done, but still, if there had been another way..." "And that's the key Jimmy," Lizzy said, interrupting. "If there had been another way, but there wasn't. You were the only hope Allison and your parents had. You told me what they were planning to do to your mom. Tell me you would have been okay with letting that happen because you waited for the FBI to go arrest them? If there had been another way, you would have taken it. Now, stop this nonsense, and let's talk about important stuff — like what the heck we're going to tell Christine." "What's the matter with Christine?" Allison asked. "We had a little problem at a restaurant in New Mexico. Amber called Jimmy..." "Amber called Jimmy?" Allison interrupted. "Amber would never call Jimmy for a little problem, what happened?" "You're right," Lizzy said, "and as it turned out she was totally justified in calling him. Unfortunately, Christine watched her throw a guy twice her size out of the restaurant, then totally humiliate him when he came back after her again." I did a fast-forward of the scene, and Allison nodded her appreciation for the situation. "Looks like he handled it pretty well, all things considered. Bastard's lucky all he got was a broken nose and wet pants." She looked at me, "And that was you, not Jamie?" I nodded. "Yeah, how did you know?" "Because, he got off with only a broken nose and wet pants," she said with a laugh. "Big sister wouldn't have let him off that easy. You'll have to try that with me sometime; it looked a lot smoother than when Jamie tried it with me; maybe it's different with you." "I don't think that's it," I said. "According to Jamie, the difference is Amber; she submits totally to us, you don't. No matter how hard you try, some small part of you still wants to be in control. Jamie had to put you in a bubble before she had that kind of control with you." "Oh," she said, nodding her head. "That makes sense. You're her master, so her body is yours to do with as you please. It always amazes me to think about how totally she has given herself to you. Wow." "Yeah, very wow!" Lizzy said. "I watched it happen. I saw Jimmy show up, watched him slide into Amber; I could see their patterns overlap. In fact, Jimmy's wasn't nearly as bright as usual." She gave me a look that said we were going to need to discuss that and went on, "But then, when it was time to get serious, suddenly it was like Amber was gone, and it was just Jimmy in her body. I kept trying to see if I could find her in there somewhere, and it was like she had just vanished; but when it was over and she came out to the car, it was just her again. It's a weird sensation having them flowing in and out of your body like that." "You felt it?" Allison asked. "When Jamie first did it with me, I didn't feel a thing. I wonder if she did something to make sure you felt it, or if it's just another aspect of your gift?" Jamie stepped out and said, "Wasn't me." Then she stepped in and hugged and kissed Allison. "I've been waiting all day to do that." "I'm sorry Jamie," I said. "You should have said something earlier." "It's okay," she replied. "I got most of it out when I saw her this morning. I just wanted to do it again." "Me too," Allison said. Suddenly we were sitting in the sunken pool in the cabana, and Allison was sandwiched between the other girls with an arm around each of them. "I love you both." She gave them a squeeze. "So what was Christine's reaction to all of this?" "From what I saw as they went past me headed for the door, she was in serious shock." "You could say that," Lizzy said. "It was all I could do to get her out of the booth and moving, and I had to force her past where Amber had the guy on the floor. I don't think she's ever seen real violence before, not like that anyway. About your energy, Jimmy, whatever you've been up to, it took a lot out of you; you're really low. Maybe you better take it easy for a while." "Yeah, Jamie and I were wondering about that. I was starving when I got home. Part of it was because I hadn't eaten in, like, fourteen hours, but I think there may have been more to it than that. "So, do you think Christine is afraid of Amber now?" Allison asked, getting us back on track. "I don't know," Lizzy replied. "When we got in the car and got moving, she suddenly seemed to snap out of it, but then it was like she was having a panic attack — practically hyperventilating and hugging her arms around her. Amber had been being a little more openly submissive today, but then suddenly she looks like Buffy on steroids. I think it's safe to say the whole thing took Christine by surprise. "We only drove for about a half an hour before we stopped and got a hotel room. I let Amber drive while I stayed with Christine in the back seat. When she finally spoke it was just to ask the one question, you know the one, 'What just happened?' Jimmy, what do I tell her? I told her to wait until we got settled, and I'd try to explain it, but Jimmy, I can't possibly explain any of this. She's in the shower right now, so we don't have a lot of time, and we've probably used up most of it already." "I have an idea," Jamie said. "What's that?" I asked. "You know how Walter said that the reason Amy doesn't remember us when she's awake is because she doesn't want to?" "Yeah," "Well, I was thinking; what if we did that with Christine? Bring her here, tell her everything, but then set it up so she doesn't remember the dangerous stuff when she's awake." "What do you mean Amy doesn't remember you when she's awake?" Allison asked. "I didn't tell you that? Sorry. Yeah, I was there with Rebecca when she woke up in the hospital, but she clearly didn't know who I was, or even Rebecca for that matter. I thought it was just what Bob and Shannon brought up that day we first met Rebecca. You know, that when she woke up she may not realize that any time had passed? And it was like that, but she recognized Rebecca's voice, probably because she's spent so much time reading to her and talking to her all these years, so she accepted her pretty quickly, but she had no idea who I was. The really weird part was that she saw Walter, and recognized him." "Whoa!" Lizzy exclaimed. "She sees Walter? While she's awake? How is that even possible?" "I don't know, but yeah, she sees him, talks to him, and hears him talking to her. It's really freaking Rebecca out because she doesn't know how to tell Amy he's not real, and I don't know how to tell her that he is a lot more real than she thinks. Anyway, I mentioned to Walter that I wanted to ask Bob why she doesn't remember us when she's awake but does when she's here, and he said that they had talked about it, and she didn't remember because she chose not to. He said she knows how dangerous the knowledge is, and she doesn't ever want to be in a position to endanger me, so she just doesn't let herself remember when she's awake." I turned to Jamie, "And you think we can do this with Christine? What if she doesn't want to?" "Then it would all be just a dream that she doesn't remember, and we'll have to..." "Master?" Amber's voice floated in. It wasn't a summoning voice, but a request for attention. I focused on her and found her sitting on one bed next to Lizzy's sleeping body, with Christine facing her from the other bed. "Damn, we're out of time," I said. I closed my eyes and went to her, but instead of merging with her, I put my hand on Christine's shoulder and whispered, "Sleep." In the room, Christine took a slow, deep breath, and when she let it out she was asleep. Amber moved quickly as she started to slump forward, catching her and laying her gently on the bed before crawling up and spooning behind her. Something about it struck me, and I put her to sleep as well, and sent them both to dreamspace. I made a second cabana and put them in the big bed before going back to join the others. "Something is up," I said. "Elizabeth, I want you to see this before we go any further. Jamie, would you stay with Allison please?" Using her name told everyone something serious was up so no one questioned my taking her away with no explanation. I popped us into the new cabana; Lizzy took one look and said, "Oh my." "Yeah, that's what I thought," I said. "I wasn't thinking and when I put Christine out, she started to fall off the bed. Amber was sitting across from her on the other bed; she caught her and laid her down, which is fine, but then she lay down spooned around her. Something about it struck me as being a little ... I don't know. What do you think?" "I don't know," she said, looking at the two women on the bed. "There is an affinity, not a bond exactly, but more than ... I can tell you it's not lust; Amber isn't after sex, it's more of a protective, worried sort of bond. I think she's sensing that Christine is afraid of her, and it bothers her." "Okay, I think we're going to need to talk to her first before we go any further. Wake up, Amber." On the bed, Amber stirred. Recognizing her surroundings, she climbed quickly off the bed and came to kneel before us. "Amber? Can you explain this?" Lizzy said gently. "No, Mistress," Amber said, her voice laced with uncertainty. "I am afraid I can't. I don't understand it, but I'm afraid. Not afraid for myself, but afraid of losing her, and I don't know why." "Amber," I asked. "Back in the restaurant, when you summoned me, you weren't concerned for yourself, were you?" "No, master, I knew you would protect me if anything happened, but I was afraid to let it get to that point. I was afraid..." her voice trailed off without finishing the thought. "You feared for your mistress?" "Yes, Master." "But not just for me?" Lizzy asked. It was a rhetorical question. Amber bowed her head, "No, Mistress." "No Amber," Lizzy said, stroking her hair. "There is no shame here. Do you know why you feared for Christine?" "No, Mistress." "I didn't think so. Any more than you know why you are lying protectively around her now?" "No, Mistress." "Amber, is Christine important to you, even though you just met her?" "Yes, Mistress." "Do you love her?" Amber thought for a moment, and I could see the confusion in her eyes. "No, Mistress. Mistress, I don't know why I feel the way I do towards her." The uncertainty in her voice was getting worse. This really bothered her. "We're not upset, Amber," I said. "We're just concerned for you. This is more than a little out of character for you, and we're just trying to understand it; so far I don't think we're any closer. Come on, put on your bathing suit and come sit with us." I didn't wait for her; I just put us all in suits and sat us in the sunken area. When we got there, her collar was gone. She knew the significance of that without needing to ask. "Jimmy?" Angela began. I smiled as I interrupted her. "You know, before you say whatever it is you're about to say, I want to tell you how much it means to me that you are comfortable setting aside the fact that I am your master and just being my friend." "Jimmy, I can't tell you how much it means to me that you are so much more interested in being my friend than in being my master. Or how much it means to me that you set that desire aside because it's more important to me that you actually be my master than my friend. Jimmy, Christine is afraid. At the moment I think the thing she's most afraid of is me, and that bothers me, but there is more to it than that. Beyond her name and her history with you, I don't know who this woman is, or why she has come into our lives, but I do know that she is here for a reason, and that her being here is important, and that if we don't find a way to keep her here... "Jimmy, I want to tell her the truth. About me, I mean. Not you or your gifts, but about who I was, and who I am, and about what happened in between. I don't want her to be afraid of me, but after what happened tonight ... I can't explain what happened without ... I can't do what I did tonight ... but I can't tell her the truth about that, either." I held up my hand and she stopped. "You're serious? You want to tell her your whole story; the kidnapping, rape, torture, the whole thing?" "Yes," she said decisively. "I want to tell her who I am, and why I am who I am. I want to tell her about the boy that saved my life, and how after he risked his life to save me, he then gave his life to save me again. I want to tell her that he is the only thing that gives me the strength and courage to get out of bed every day. That he is the only thing in the world that makes me feel safe, sorry Lizzy." "No need to apologize, Angels," Lizzy assured her. "I understand all that already." Angela gave a nod of gratitude and continued, "I wish I could tell her the whole truth because she's going to think I'm being childish and silly, but I can't without giving away secrets that she can't know." I nodded my head. "It's okay, I said. Tell her everything; just don't mention that Jimmy is the man she knows as David Malcolm. When you're all done, call me, and I'll take care of the rest. It's going to take me a second to set this up." I took Christine and moved into a new dream. This one was a duplicate of the hotel room they were staying in. I set it up to look exactly as it had before I put her to sleep. She was sitting on the bed, staring at Amber and wondering what to say. "Jamie, I need you." "Ah man! It was just getting ... whoa!" She stopped as she realized that I wasn't in the cabana anymore. "Sorry, I thought you were still in the cabana" "Understandable," I said. "I wanted you here so we can figure out how to separate things so she won't remember any of this while she's awake but will if we bring her back." "You're kidding, right; that's what you called for? Allison's right, you think too much." She turned to the bed, "Christine! Time to wake up, Princess!" Suddenly, Christine's eyes opened, and she turned to us. "David? What are you doing here? And who is she?" "I'm Jamie," Jamie said, extending her hand. Christine, of course, took it and as soon as she did, her expression changed. "Okay, listen up girlfriend, this is a dream, and when it's over you're not going to remember anything that happened here unless one of us tells you to; you will have no conscious memory of these events when you are awake, and will only remember them in dreams if one of us is there, got it?" "Sure, okay," Christine said with a shrug. "Cool," Jamie said. "Now, I know David would never ask but, have you ever been with another girl?" "Jamie!" I said, freezing Christine. "Chill," Jamie said. "She's not going to remember it!" And she released her again. "No," Christine answered, blushing slightly. "Ever thought about it? Had a secret crush on someone maybe?" "Well yeah, sure I've thought about it. I mean, everyone's thought about it, right? I don't know if you'd call it a crush, but there was this one girl back in high school, and everyone said she was a lesbian, but like, no one actually knew for sure because they never caught her with another girl or anything. I don't know if it was true, but I always wondered what it would be like to, you know, make out with her, but I never got up the nerve to ask her." "Ever regret it?" Jamie asked. "Not asking her I mean." "Sometimes," she said. "Not so much for not asking, but more why I didn't ask. I was afraid of what my friends would say, and even if we hadn't done anything, she seemed like a nice person, and I think it would have been nice to get to know her. Oh well, high school." "Just checking, now forget you ever saw me," Jamie said, and then froze her back in her original position and turned to me. "All yours big brother, let me know how it turns out. Right now I have to get back to Allison before she gets her ass kicked." She vanished, but then her voice came back to me, "Too late! Damn, good thing this is a dream because that looks really painful." "Amber," I called, and suddenly she was there on the other bed, dressed as she had been, with her collar back on and Lizzy asleep behind her. I kissed her gently on the cheek and went away. Amber What was happening to me? I hadn't felt this confused since before Jimmy taught me who I was. Then I met Christine, a woman none of us really knew, and, suddenly, my first instinct was to protect her. The old me — the girl I used to be — would have been jealous, because my Mistress had told me of the time that this woman had spent with my Master not so long ago. But how my Master finds pleasure is only my concern if he makes it so. I am happy that he found pleasure in her, and happy for her that she has had the opportunity to experience the wonder that is my Master. The previous two days, meeting her, traveling together, had been the most fun I'd had since before I was kidnapped, just three girlfriends on a road trip, laughing and giggling. It reminded me of riding in the bus with the other girls on the way to track meets. I had to be careful, though, not to be overly submissive in front of her; the first day I was more Angela than I'd been in a very long time — it was a little unsettling — and I had to keep reminding myself that this was what my Mistress wanted. It's hard to believe that just a few short months ago I was so hurt and confused by all this that I was actually contemplating suicide. This morning, while Christine was in the shower, she, my Mistress that is, told me I could be a little more ... me, a little more Amber, but not to let it go too far. I was amazed at how easy it was. And then it all went wrong. We had stopped for dinner; nothing fancy, just a random stop at a small-town restaurant. There hadn't even been that many people there. Everything was fine until that trucker walked in. He'd obviously been drinking; no one could be that big an asshole sober. I thought Christine did really well, but the professional, polite approach, was wasted on him. It hadn't even really gotten scary yet, but suddenly I knew we needed help, so I called my Master, and ... Wow! When he first introduced me to Jamie, and told me that one of them would come if I called, what it would mean ... Even having Jamie show me in the dream had not prepared me for the reality. And it was him this time; he said it was her that beat up Brad and his two cronies, and of course I believed him, but there had been nothing to suggest that he could do something like this. But then it was over, and Christine was afraid of me. It wasn't supposed to turn out that way, and all I could think was, "Please God, help me make this right." It always surprised me when my Master treated me as a friend, but at the same time it just made my heart soar when he did ... to know that he loved me so much, that he cared what I thought, what I wanted, actually valued my opinion; what more could a girl ask for? It just made me love him more. Love them more, really, because my Mistress was the same way. Their lives were so complicated, with so many secrets, dangerous secrets, the kind that people would kill, had killed for, yet there I was, about to tell a stranger all about them, and they were okay with it. Just because I felt she was important, they were willing to let me tell her everything. I took a deep breath and centered myself as May had taught me. Then it was time to begin. "Christine, I'm sorry if I frightened you. I just wanted to keep you safe." On the bed across from me, Christine came to life. "I know that Amber, it's just ... you were like something out of a James Bond movie. One minute you're just this sweet young college girl, the next minute you beat a three hundred pound trucker to his knees and threatened to rip his eye out with a fork." "Yeah, about that ... Christine, this is going to sound strange but ... that wasn't me. This is kind of complicated, so I'm going to have to ask you to bear with me, okay?" I couldn't blame her for looking a little skeptical as I slipped down off my bed and knelt before her. "I am not Amber Olsen. That's just a name that was given to me to hide me from the man who tried to kill me. My real name is Angela Osborne, I am eighteen years old, and I owe my life to a boy named Jimmy." I moved back to my seat and continued. "I first met him about a year ago, and from the very first day we met, he changed my life. I think you know what that's like." I couldn't help but smile as she nodded in agreement. "Just wait." I thought to myself. "He was trying out for the boy's cross-country team at my high school, and the coach asked my brother and me to evaluate him. He was a good runner and made the team; he and my brother became fast friends, and before long he was my friend also. He was a rare and special young man, mature beyond his years, but still wrapped in a cloak of child-like innocence. We went out on a date just before Christmas, and I took him up to the local lover's lane and tried to thank him for the changes he had made in my life, but he turned me down. At first I was furious; here I was one of the most popular girls in school, guys lined up for a chance to go out with me, lying awake at night dreaming about getting in my pants, and he had the balls to turn me down? As you can imagine, I didn't take it well." Christine rolled her eyes, "Yeah, no shit." I smiled and continued, "I tried to leave and drive us back, but he took the keys and wouldn't give them back until I listened to him. Christine, it was the most amazing thing; by the time he was done talking, not only was I okay with it, but I wanted him even more than before, only now I wanted him for — as he put it — the right reason, and I was content to wait. It was very strange, but at the same time ... Anyway, it was about six months later before I finally got him in bed, and let me tell you, it was worth the wait. Then graduation came, and I was preparing to head off to college — I had a full ride at Arizona State — when in the blink of an eye, my life became a living hell." "What happened?" Christine asked. I could see her fear was gone, for now at least, and she was caught up in the story. "I was kidnapped." I could see it in her eyes as the connection was made and she knew. "Oh, my god!" She exclaimed, her hand moving to her mouth. "You're the girl that the FBI was looking for? But ... they said you died." "Yes, I'm that Angela Osborne. I don't know how much you know about the story, but the man, thing, creature, whatever you want to call him, that took me, had killed three other girls before me — one in each of the previous three years. No one even realized the killings were related until one day a young man contacted the FBI and told them they were. That's a bizarre story in itself. Anyway, I spent almost a month being tortured, beaten, and raped. I would have died but for one thing — my friend Jimmy. He was the one who had put the FBI onto the case, and he had been working with them most of the year helping them profile the killer and put together a list of likely targets. Can you imagine being fifteen years old and working to track a serial killer? The really ironic part is that of all the girls on their list, the killer would choose me, the one person Jimmy knew and cared about, to take as this year's victim. They managed to piece together the story of my abduction, but there were no leads to tell them where I was. Still, Jimmy never gave up, and eventually he did what the FBI couldn't, he found me. "The papers said I died in an explosion, but the truth is that Jimmy rescued me — me and the FBI agent that had gone in after me. Based on evidence they recovered at the scene, they finally knew who it was who took me, and they knew the only way they could keep me alive was to let him think that I was dead. So I was sent away, into protective custody, my name changed, a story crafted to explain the injuries I was being treated for. I couldn't even tell my parents the truth. You see, my kidnapper happened to be a professional killer that had apparently gone psycho, and they were afraid that he would watch my family to see if there were any signs that he'd been tricked. Not quite two weeks ago, he finally made a mistake, and they got him. He's dead now; he killed himself before they got to him, and last weekend I finally got to see my family and tell them the truth, but things have changed, and I can't go back." I could feel the tears crowding my eyes. "I didn't do well in hiding. I was alone, cut off from everyone and everything I had ever known, and my once promising future had evaporated like steam off a boiling pot. On top of all that I was having these feelings ... feelings that confused and disgusted me. You see, as horrible as my experience had been, and it was horrible..." I pulled my foot out of my shoe and showed her the space where my toes used to be, and then the scars around my knee. "Those were from the torture. He used pliers on my toes, and eventually gangrene set in, and they had to amputate. It took me two months of therapy before I could walk without a limp, but the whole time I was going through all that, I kept having these feelings. You see, as horrible as it was, as brutal, and demeaning, and painful as it was; despite all that, there was a part of me that enjoyed it. How sick is that? To go through something like that and then miss it? "My friend Jimmy was the only person that I still had contact with. Through it all he was there, trying to help me cope. Well, you can imagine how that made me feel; he had saved my life — grateful doesn't begin to cover it — and I wanted to ... At first I just couldn't ... not after what I'd been through." "I understand," Christine said sympathetically. "A lot of women can't even think about sex for a long time after. It must have been horrible and..." "No," I said, shaking my head and cutting her off. "There was more to it than that. I got over that part really fast, and it wasn't long before I couldn't be near him without wanting him, but then the feelings would start. Images in my head of what I wanted him to do to me ... it disgusted me, how could I feel that way, after all I had been through, how could I want someone to do those things to me?" I let some of the despair that I had felt creep into my voice. "It was killing me; every time I was near him the feelings grew stronger until I was afraid to touch him, afraid I would do or say something, and he would find out the truth. He was the last friend I had, and I just knew I would lose him. I was so depressed I actually started thinking about..." "Suicide?" she asked. "Yes," I said sadly. "I didn't actually try anything, but I think I would have before too much longer. But then, just like before, Jimmy was there for me, and he saved my life, again. He could see something was wrong, and that the therapists weren't helping. Therapy probably would have worked, but there was no way I was telling anyone what I was feeling. Anyway, he could see I was going downhill, so he found someone that could help. She has a gift for seeing things in people, and after studying me for a while she saw what was happening. She knew how hard it would be for him to accept the truth; he was too young and innocent to understand it. Well, maybe not innocent, but naïve and inexperienced. So, with the help of another good friend of his, a counselor that he trusted, they arranged for him to learn it on his own." "You're a submissive," Christine said. "Yes, only I didn't know it at the time, didn't understand it, so naturally all these feelings just made me feel..." "Like you were sick," she said, nodding her head. "Like there must be something wrong with you. Amber, or Angela, a lot of people feel the need to be dominated during sex, it..." I held up my hand, "Yes, but most of them learn it slowly, over time. I was barely eighteen years old; I'd been with a handful of guys in my life, most of them typical teenage jocks who could barely contain themselves long enough to put the condom on. Certainly none of them had ever made me feel this way, so I wasn't prepared for the truth either. They gave him some material to read and had him watch some DVDs, so that he could learn what he needed to know in order to see the truth. It didn't take long before he recognized what I was, and more importantly, what I needed..." I waited to see if she would fill in this blank as well. "What was that?" "I needed a Master; someone to guide me and teach me about who and what I was, and more than anything, I needed someone I could trust to keep me safe. Christine, he was still only sixteen years old, can you imagine how he felt when they told him he was the only person that could do it?" "Sixteen!" she said. Then she started shaking her head. "No way, not possible, there is no way a sixteen year old could have the necessary experience or discipline to do it." "You're right," I said. "He didn't have the experience, or even any desire to do the job in the first place. The very idea of treating another human being as property repulsed him ... but he loved me, and he knew they were right; knew that he was the only one I would trust. So he set aside his revulsion, opened up his heart, and started learning not only what I needed to know, but what he needed in order to become the master I needed, not for himself, but for me, and he did it before I even knew that was what I needed. "He saved my life, Christine; if not for him I might be dead right now, or worse — locked in a rubber room so I couldn't hurt myself. Is it any wonder I love him so much?" "Amber ... Angela, that's all fascinating, but what does it have to do with tonight." "It's background mostly. You see, Jimmy is my Master; he is the only one in the world that makes me feel safe and protected. Just thinking about life without him makes me want to crawl into a hole somewhere and pull it in behind me. Christine, he is everything to me. When my time in therapy was done, and they judged me ready to move into my new life, he had to arrange for someone to take over in his absence — someone who he could give me to that would care for, watch over, and guide me as he would — because, let's face it, they couldn't risk keeping me anywhere in the area; they still didn't know where señor psycho was, only that he was still in the area. So they had to send me away, and that meant Jimmy had to find someone to care for me. Christine, do you understand the magnitude of that job?" Christine shook her head and said, "No, I don't. Amber, I've heard about the dominant-submissive lifestyle, but I don't pretend to understand it. I admit that I'm a little tiny bit submissive; I like the illusion of force and maybe a little slap on the ass here and there to enhance things, but what you're talking about, seem to be talking about ... You're an actual slave to this guy; you gave yourself to him, totally and completely, put your life in his hands to do with as he pleases. I don't understand how anyone could do that." "It's simple really; I love him, but more importantly, I know that he loves me. I know that I can trust him because I know how committed he is to me. I owe him my life, Christine; he saved me from death not once, but twice. He has shown me, not once, but over and over again, how much he cares about me. He's done all of this for me, not because he liked the idea of having a sex slave that would do anything he wanted, I mean good god, look at me ... name five guys, straight guys, that wouldn't kill to have this body at their beck and call for every fantasy they can think up? But not him, that's not why he does it. "I could go on and on about the why and how of it, but I don't think you would understand anyway. The most important thing isn't that I have a master, but who my master is. You see Jimmy is an extraordinary individual." "He would have to be to do all this at sixteen. Especially having a girl as beautiful as you that will do whatever he says and not take advantage. You're right, grown men twice his age couldn't resist temptation like that." "And that is why they will never be masters." "What do you mean?" "If they cannot master themselves, then how could anyone else ever place the necessary trust in them?" I could see the light start to come on as that sank in. "But in Jimmy's case, there is far more to it than that. I told you how safe I feel having him as my master?" "Yes." "That is because there is a lot more to his being special than what I've told you. He has a ... gift. He can do things that other people can't. My safety is one of the most important things in the world to him. So important, that no matter where I am, or what time of day, if I am threatened I can call out to him, and he will come for me. That is what happened last night, Christine. What happened last night in the restaurant — it wasn't me doing those things; I can't do those things. I couldn't protect you, so I called him, and he came, and he used my body to protect us." "What!?" She asked. "Okay wait, you're telling me that your master, this Jimmy person, possessed your body and beat the shit out of that guy last night?" "Well, for starters, I think that's a little strong. If you think about it, what he did was subdue him with a minimal amount of force and with a bare minimum of physical damage. Do you realize how hard that is to do against someone twice your size? And second — Christine, he didn't 'possess' my body the way you are thinking. Last night, when I called to him, he came, and I gave him my body to do what needed to be done, and then he left." Her look was way beyond skeptical now. "God, this sounds like something straight out of Hollywood. It's like you're telling me you sold your soul to some demon, and in exchange he runs your life and protects you." I laughed, "It's nothing like that, I promise you, but I can see where you might think that." I got serious for a moment. "You don't really believe in demonic possession and all that exorcist crap do you?" "I never have," Christine said. "But you're making me start to wonder." "It's not like that," I assured her. "No blood oaths or dark pacts or anything like that, and the only place he's a demon is between the sheets — well, that or protecting the people he cares about. Would you like to meet him?" "I'm not sure," she said skeptically. "I mean, no offense, but the whole thing sounds a little freaky to me. A sixteen-year-old boy stumbles across a serial whack job that the FBI doesn't even know about. Then his girlfriend gets kidnapped, and they can't find her, so he finds her himself, and then rescues her and the FBI agent who's already trying to save her. And now he's her personal bodyguard and protector, and he does it by taking over her body to kick ass whenever she's in trouble. Does he wear red and blue spandex and a long red cape by any chance?" I couldn't help but giggle. "No, nothing like that, he's just your normal, average, wonderful guy that wants to make a difference. I think you'd like him. Oh, and I wasn't his girlfriend. I just wanted his body, and eventually he gave it to me." I rolled my eyes. "God, did he give it to me!" "Sorry, I thought ... and he's not going to take over my body and start a bar fight or anything just to say hi?" "Come on, Christine, that's not fair and..." "Okay, okay," she said, holding both hands up to stop me. "I was just kidding, but you have to admit, this all sounds really weird. You're sure that wasn't you last night? Because it sure looked and sounded like you." I giggled again. "What? You were expecting him to sound like Darth Vader?" I cupped my hands over my mouth, lowered my voice, and said, "Fear not, Christine, I will save you?" That got her giggling and kicking her feet right along with me. I waited until she was done and then got serious again. "Christine, I really want you to meet him. Would that be okay?" "Sure, I guess," she said. "Where does he live? Do you want to like, call him and meet for lunch of something? Could he fly here by morning, maybe we could have breakfast?" "Maybe," I said, "but I thought maybe now would be better." I could see her starting to ask another question, and I didn't give her the chance, but just slid to the floor once more and whispered, "Master." "Yes, Amber," a voice answered. Christine jumped slightly at the sound, and then she almost fell over when she turned towards the voice. "Hello Christine," Jimmy said. ------- Chapter 11: Out on a limb Jimmy Once again, Amber had to catch Christine as she almost fell off the bed. The difference was that this time she was awake, or at least conscious, sort of — it was still a dream after all. She was also white as a sheet. "David?" She looked from me to Amber and back again. "But you said ... Oh my god! You're her master? You're Jimmy?" "Yes." "And you're sixteen?" "I'm afraid so." "Oh ... my ... God! This isn't happening. I'm dreaming! That's it; I must be dreaming." "Actually, yes," I said, "but that doesn't really change anything. We are in a dream, but it's not your dream; it's mine." "What?" she said. "That makes no sense." "I know," I said, trying to sound as understanding as possible. "It's complicated; sometimes it's very complicated, but that doesn't make it any less real. Here, I'll prove it to you; think of a place you'd like to be right now — anywhere in the world — just close your eyes and picture it." Suddenly we were on top of the Empire State Building, staring out over the New York Skyline. Her eyes flew open as the warmth of the hotel room was replaced by a cold wind. "So this is what it looks like," I said. "A little cold and drafty, don't you think?" She turned around slowly, taking in the scene around us. Her eyes were wide by the time she finally realized that we were in the exact same positions — Amber kneeling before her, holding her arm to keep her from falling over, me standing behind her and to one side. The only difference was that the bed was gone, so there was nothing for her to sit on, and she looked like she really needed to sit down. With a thought I moved us to the beach, under the awning next to the little changing tent, and suddenly Christine found herself in a bathing suit, seated in one of the canvas chairs — only now, I was seated next to her and Amber now kneeling in front of me instead of her. "I'm more of a sun and sand kind of guy. What do you think? Stay here, or go back to the tower?" She was starting to breathe fast, so I placed my hand on her arm to reassure her. "I know it's a lot to take in all at once, Christine. I wasn't planning on telling you about all this, but Amber is afraid that if we don't explain things, you'll leave, and that bothers her." That kind of snapped her out of it as she said, "Huh? Why would me leaving bother her? We just met two days ago." "That's just it," I said. "We don't know why, but one thing we've learned is that there is usually a reason people get mixed up with me, so we'd rather not take the chance that we might regret it if you leave. I would be sad to see you go anyway, but it would be for different reasons. "So, to answer some of the questions that I'm sure are running laps in your head; yes, the man you know as David Malcolm is in fact the boy Amber knows as Jimmy. My real name is James Edward Matthews, and — just like Amber — I had to change names because someone was after me. In my case, however, it was to protect the people around me, my family in particular, but others as well. Unlike Amber, it didn't work as well for me, but that is because the person that was after me already knew where my family was." "And you actually rescued Amber, or Angela rather, when she was kidnapped?" "Yes. You see, Christine, I have this gift. I can move in and out of dreams like most people move in and out of rooms. I can create them, control them, and even move other people in and out of them — like I'm doing with you right now. Most people have at least some control in their own dreams, some more than others, and practice does make a big difference. But that's only in your own dreams; if you were to suddenly find yourself in Amber's dream, for instance, you would have no control and be totally at her mercy. Fortunately, that can't happen, not by accident anyway. "Right now, we're all in my dream, and in my dreams, or any dream I'm involved in, the rules are different. That's why you were able to change the scene to the Empire State Building; we didn't actually go there, after all; the dream simply changed to reflect the vision you wanted, and when I wanted it to change to this place, it did. The difference is that where I could change your image to this one, you couldn't change it back unless I let you. The really critical difference is that even if we were in your dream, you still couldn't over-rule me. Are you following me so far, or do I need to slow down a little?" "No, I've got it. I'm not sure I believe it, and I certainly don't understand it, but you haven't lost me yet." "Good," I said. "I've apparently been able to do this all my life, but I didn't realize it until just over a year ago. Once I discovered the truth and started experimenting, my ability seemed to grow at an unbelievable rate, until now it's simply staggering to think about what I can do. A little under a year ago, I discovered that my gift came with a price tag. You've heard it said that with great power comes great responsibility? Take my word for it; you don't ever want to discover just how true that is. Through a series of dreams, I discovered the link between several unsolved kidnappings, all of them teenage girls, and all of them dead. I won't go into all the details of how difficult it is to work like this, but eventually I got the FBI involved in solving the case. We spent months working on a profile for the killer, putting together a target list, and narrowing it down to the top five or ten targets — only to have him take someone farther down the list." "Angela," she said glancing at Amber. "Yes," I said shaking my head. "You can imagine how upset I was. So, while the FBI was searching southern California for her, I was searching for her here — hoping that if I could link up with her in a dream, that I might somehow be able to track her back to where she was being held. It took a long time, but eventually I did find her, and in the proverbial nick of time at that. The night I found her just happened to be the night that her kidnapper planned to kill her. You see, he knew the FBI was finally onto him, and he was worried that they might be getting close, which they were. We got there in time to interrupt him, but he had a backup plan — destroying the house and everyone in it, thus eliminating the pursuit and also destroying all the evidence he had to leave behind when he fled. Fortunately, while he knew the FBI was after him, there was no way he could know about me or my abilities, and I learned about the bomb in time to get Angela and Rebecca out." "Rebecca?" "Special Agent Rebecca Hampton, FBI. She's the agent I was working with. Then Angela became Amber and went into hiding, cut off from everyone and everything in her past." "So this is how you were able to keep in touch with her while she was in hiding," she said. "That explains her saying that she was able to keep in touch with Jimmy. It didn't make sense that they would cut her off from everyone she knew except a sixteen year old boy, no matter how much he may have helped them." "Yes, this is how I managed to stay in touch with her. For her own safety, they cut her off from everyone else, but they couldn't cut her off from me, not here. With the exception of Rebecca and her boss, the FBI doesn't even know I exist. No one else was supposed to know. That's why I had to quit being Jimmy Matthews and become David Malcolm, because someone found out and tried to get their hands on me. My family went into hiding the night they kidnapped an old friend of Angela's that I was dating. They were using her as bait to get me to come to them. She's in hiding with her family as well." "So the FBI got her back," She said. "No, I got her back." That got me the wide-eyed stare I had expected. "Rebecca's boss is the director of the Los Angeles Bureau, and now he's hiding both of our families. The problem is that I don't exist, so it's hard for him to justify doing it. Officially, a drug dealer was after me because I got some of his people busted at my old school. I don't know that they would go after Britney again, but I can't take the chance, so — until we're sure it's safe — she'll stay in hiding. The man you know as David Malcolm has existed for about three weeks. When we first met, I was on my way to Vegas to work on another little problem I ran across. I started the business as cover to allow me to work in the area without attracting undue attention. My sister says I have a "White Knight" complex, and I just can't pass up a chance to rescue damsels in distress." "Like poor little me?" "Well, I wouldn't call you a damsel in distress, but it really pissed me off what happened to you just because..." She cut me off. "So why did you start hitting on me in the first place?" she asked. "I mean, apparently you're already engaged, not to mention Amber ... I guess that explains why you said you weren't interested in me for sex that first day, but why even start if you weren't interested? Not to mention being in hiding." "Christine," I said with a smile. "We've been over this; I never said I wasn't interested. I would have to be dead to not be interested in a woman as beautiful as you. And if you recall, I wasn't hitting on you, I just wanted to know how to use the phone. Christine, given what you know so far, would you say my life was complicated?" "David, or Jimmy, what do I call you anyway? Either way, it sounds like complicated doesn't begin to describe your life." "David will be fine since that's who I am going to be from now on anyway, and as for complicated, all this is just the tip of the iceberg. You were one of the more pleasant complications, and I'm really glad I got to meet you. Apparently, though, there is more to it than we knew. That seems to be the case with just about everyone I get involved with. You know about Amber and why she needed me?" She huffed and rolled her eyes. "Yeah, that's about the most bizarre story I ever heard. So, all those mixed signals I was getting that first day..." "Were me trying to learn to be twenty-two," I said, nodding my head. "You were doing fine," she assured me. "Amber's story proves that you're mature way beyond your age..." "I've had to be," I interjected. "The kinds of things I've had to deal with this last year? Trust me; growing up was not optional. Diane was the first girl the killer took; I can't describe how horrible it was watching what happened to her — I was only fifteen years old; it almost destroyed me — but I swore I would catch that son of a bitch or die trying. I almost did both." "What do you mean?" "I caught him, and he almost killed me. Fortunately for me, almost wasn't quite good enough. Unfortunately, while we were working on catching him, another very bad person — an old acquaintance of his in fact — found out the truth about me, and now ... well, we already covered that." "Every time you talk about that, there's a change in your voice, and in your eyes; there's more to it isn't there?" "A couple of nights ago she sent four mercenaries to kidnap my parents and my little sister from the safe house the FBI had them hidden in. They murdered four agents for no reason. She left my parents with the mercenaries and sent my sister somewhere else. I got them back." Her face went pale. "You got them back, not the FBI, just you." She shook her head. "You, by yourself, took out four mercenaries, plus however many were guarding your sister. Jiminy Christmas! So Amber wasn't making that up; it really was you who did that last night?" "Yes. We recently discovered that the bond between Amber and me is much more intimate than we ever suspected. In dreams, anyone I am intimately attached to — Lizzy, Amber, my sister, a few others — can summon me. From here, I can find anyone I know or have met. All I have to do is focus on them, and I can see them in my mind — where they are, what they are doing — and I can pull them into whatever dreamspace I am currently occupying or send them into a totally different dream." "That's amazing; you're like a modern incarnation of Morpheus." "Who?" I asked. "Morpheus, the Greek god of dreams; he was the son of Hypnos, who was the god of Sleep. Except none of the legends ever talked about Morpheus doing some of the stuff you do, he just sent dreams to people; sometimes the gods would order him to send visions to mortals." "Well, I'm no god," I said. "I'm just an average guy, with a not so average gift, trying to make a difference in the world, but I can send dreams to people — or visit them in dreams — so I guess it's a fair comparison." "David, from what I've seen so far, there is nothing average about you, and I'm not even talking about this gift of yours — or gifts considering the list of things you can apparently do — but why tell me all this? You seem to be really worried that people will learn about what you can do, and I totally understand that. People would freak if they knew someone could do half the shit you can. I'm freaking out already, and you've made it pretty clear that there is a lot more going on, so why tell me?" "Well, like I said, so far there seems to be a reason for meeting pretty much everyone I get involved with. After watching Amber take out that trucker last night, we were afraid of scaring you off, and we're hoping that by telling you what is going on, you'll decide to stay." "But what if I don't? Aren't you worried that I might... ? Oh my god, you wouldn't... ?" She stopped herself and rolled her eyes. "What am I saying, of course you wouldn't." I let out the breath I was suddenly holding. "I am so glad you said that," I said. "No, of course I would never hurt you just for knowing the truth. Fortunately, I don't have to. This is a dream after all, and if you decide you don't want to stay, then it will just be a dream that you don't remember having, and you will be free to go. But at the same time, even if you decide to stay, a lot of this will be hidden from you. There would be too much danger in letting you walk around with the knowledge; and by that I mean danger to you if someone found out you knew the truth. So, if you decide to stay, you will only remember everything when you are here, in a dream. When you are awake — out in the real world — you won't know any of this. I'll just be David Malcolm; you already know I'm engaged to Lizzy, and you will eventually learn the truth of my relationship with Amber. But beyond that, I'm just the really nice guy who scored you a free trip to flight school and is giving you a job to help you pay for it." "So, what about Lizzy; she must know the truth, where does she fit into all of this?" "Funny you should put it that way," I said. "You could say that truth is Lizzy's specialty. She has her own gift, very different from mine. It was Lizzy who discovered the truth about Amber and helped me to be there for her when she needed me most. From the moment we met ... Well, it's hard to describe." "No, it's not," Amber said. "Christine, they fell in love so fast it was incredible. The weirdest thing was that everyone knew it but them. Ask Allison about it sometime." "Who's Allison?" "My sister," I said. "Oh," she said. "You really have a sister? After the first one you introduced me to, I wasn't sure." She punched me in the arm lightly for effect. "Hey now, that's not fair," I said, rubbing my arm in mock pain. "I never told you Lizzy was my sister, she made that up on her own so you wouldn't feel bad for taking advantage of me." "Oh god, don't remind me. I can't believe I had sex with a sixteen year old." "And how was it?" Amber asked with an evil grin. Christine blushed and appeared to be searching for an answer. "Yeah, thought so," Amber said, flicking an eyebrow at her. "And now are you going to pass up a rematch just because you know the truth?" "Christine," I said. "Age is a date on a piece of paper. Jimmy Matthews is dead, or as good as. David Malcolm is twenty-two years old and legal in any state. If it makes you feel any better, I checked, and the legal age of consent in Nevada is sixteen." "Well, thank god for that anyway." "All kidding aside, Christine, I need to know if this is an issue for you because you're going to forget most of this when we leave. If it is a problem for you, then I'll make sure it doesn't happen again. I know Lizzy told you about our engagement, so you'll have plenty of reason not to, and I'll make sure you stick to your resolve." "David, I don't ... I mean, it's just hard to wrap my head around, and a name doesn't change who you are. The truth is you're sixteen, and I've slept with men almost twice your age that didn't make feel half as ... special as you did. Can you really pick and choose what parts of this I remember?" "Yes," I assured her. "Then I'd really rather not have to deal with the age thing. You're David Malcolm, twenty-two, and a really great guy. I don't have a problem with you as Amber's master; compared to everything else I've learned, that's like, nothing. I'm going to struggle with the whole engagement thing, but ... it's not like you're cheating or anything; and since Lizzy apparently has Amber to take care of her, I guess it's only fair you have someone too." She started shaking her head like she couldn't believe what she had just said. "Even though that sounds absolutely awful. But Lizzy is so right about my not wanting to be bothered with dating. So, if she's okay with it, then I'm certainly not going to complain. Just do me one favor and promise me that you won't let being with me jeopardize your future with her." I had to smile at that. "I'll make it a point to keep an eye on that, and I promise; if it ever becomes a problem, I will tell you, and we can drop back to just being co-workers and friends, okay?" "Okay, so how does the rest of this work?" "Which part?" I asked. "Well, the memory thing for one, and then I was wondering what else you guys do here. There has to be more to it than..." She cut off in mid sentence and a scream came from the middle of the lagoon as she found herself rocketing down a waterslide. Amber and I were waiting at the bottom when she came splashing down. "Asshole!" she said, glaring and splashing water at me. I sent us back to the top and rode down with my arms around her waist. I felt Jamie show up about half way down. "Hi," Jamie said. "Lizzy said you guys were done, and it was safe to come back. How did it go?" "Okay, I guess. She took most of it pretty well. We won't know for sure until they wake up in the morning." "Or we could test it now," she suggested. "She shouldn't even notice a difference." "Except that she'd be in a dream with all three of us, wondering how she got here. Somehow I don't think water slides are something she normally dreams about. If we're going to test it, I think maybe a more plausible, reality-based scene would be better; like maybe waking up in the hotel with them." "Okay, I guess that makes sense," she said. "We can always come back afterward." "Why didn't Allison come with you?" "Same reason, she didn't want Christine to wonder who she was in the dream; she figured it was a variable that her mind couldn't account for, and it might cause problems with her accepting the explanation that she is going to wake up with. You know, the one that explains the way she feels. Personally, I don't think it would be a problem, but no way am I questioning little sister. There's a reason she's the brains of the outfit." Lizzy was waiting at the bottom chatting with Amber. They both turned away to avoid the spray as we splashed down between them, and then she came in close to say hello. "Hi, I see you still think it's fun to scare the girls. Hello, Christine, how are you handling all this? Are you doing okay? You still look a little anxious." "I'm doing okay," she said. "I'm a little worried about not remembering, but otherwise ... You weren't kidding when you said your lives were complicated." "I wish," Lizzy said, "and it's actually a lot worse than this. He didn't have time to do much more than hit the high spots; wait until he gets to the rest. For now, though, it's good to see you looking confused instead of afraid." "What do you mean?" Christine asked. "Was I that obvious before?" "Ah, I see he didn't really tell you about me. Were you obvious before? You didn't have to be for me — for me you might as well have been holding up a sign — but even Amber recognized that you were anxious, so I would have to say yes." "I didn't mean to be, it's just ... well, obviously you understand all that, or we probably wouldn't be here. David told me that you have your own gift, but he didn't go into any details." "Yeah, that's what I thought," Lizzy said. "He left it up to me to decide what to tell you." She reached out and took Christine's hand and said, "Come sit with me so we can talk." Christine let herself be led towards the beach, and the last thing I heard was Lizzy asking, "Have you ever heard someone described as being good at reading people? Well..." "That should be an interesting conversation," Jamie said. "It's got to be hard enough accepting that you can waltz in and out of her fantasies; now she's going to have to deal with Lizzy being able to read her like the Sunday comics." "Yeah, and I can't wait to try and explain to her that the real reason I was flirting with her on the plane was because the girl that lives inside of me thought she was hot. You know, it would have been more honest to ask her if she had ever been with another girl that she knew of, since it was you she was with in the hot tub the first night and again on the phone the other day." "Picky, picky, picky. Listen, while we're on the subject, do you mind if I slip away with Amber while they're busy? Maybe you and Allison can go check on Samantha and make sure everything is all right with her. Just be sure to watch your ass in case his Royal Bastardship has hidden another landmine in there somewhere." "Hmm, feeling a little neglected, are we?" I could almost feel her blushing. "Violence makes me horny." "I see," I said. "And it's been kind of a busy week. You know, I keep telling you that you need to speak up, but are you sure you wouldn't rather be with Allison? I got the distinct impression earlier that you two wanted to spend a little time mutually expressing how glad you were that she was okay, and I don't think whatever lessons you were giving her earlier counted." "I thought about it," she admitted, "but then what would you do?" "I can take Amber with me to see Samantha. Remember Shannon used to look like her before her hair got cut off? I doubt if Sam will even notice the difference." "Like hell she won't!" Jamie said. "You know how badly Shannon wanted to be with her. Samantha doesn't get much honest to goodness affection in her life. Trust me, she'll notice if it's suddenly gone. I think if you're going to take Amber, then you either need to change her appearance or tell Sam the truth; that Shannon died and this is a different ... You know, forget that, it would just confuse her — and probably hurt her that she'd lost one of the few true friends she felt she had. Just change her appearance; I think that would be the best option all around. You can introduce her as someone else if you want. Actually, you could introduce her as Amber, and it wouldn't make a difference to Samantha." "So I was right, and you would rather spend some time with Allison?" "You won't tell Amber?" "Why would I tell Amber anything?" I asked. "It's none of her business, and it would just confuse her if I tried to explain it. Not really confuse her, but conflict her, especially since we already punished her for being upset once before." "Ouch," Jamie said. "My bad; I should have remembered that, especially considering I was the one who punished her. Can I go now?" "Sure, take off, but one of us needs to be back to handle the changes for Christine when Lizzy is done." "Oh yeah, I forgot about that part," she said. "Do you mind? I can't guarantee I'll notice unless someone actually calls me." "Don't worry sis, I'll take care of it; kiss Allison for me." "You bet! A big sloppy wet one, extra tongue! Later!" Just like that she was gone. I checked the time and found that it was actually a lot later than I had realized — too late to start anything with Samantha — so Amber and I went mermaid and took a tour of the lagoon. Sometime later Lizzy let me know they were done talking, and I headed back in to have a last talk with Christine. "How are you doing?" I asked as we walked down the beach. "Okay," she said, nodding her head slightly. "You're an amazing young man David, and you appear to attract very interesting playmates. I thought what you did was bizarre, but Elizabeth ... God what a gift, but I can see where there would be a serious downside to it as well. It certainly explains why she's such a bad driver... , and you both have to be so careful about who knows; if word got out, especially to the government, I don't even want to think about it. So how much am I going to remember?" "First, tell me what you want to remember; if there is anything you would rather forget; your general perception of how the future should look — that sort of thing — and I'll do my best to make sure it comes out that way." "Well, the only thing I really want to forget is your age, but not because it bothers me that you're really sixteen; I think I'm over that, but if I know the truth, I may slip up — make a comment about you ordering wine with dinner or something — and that could be bad, so as far as I'm concerned, you're twenty-two. Other than that, I don't really know, what do you think?" "Amber is worried that you'll still be afraid of her, so I thought maybe I would do something about that. Don't ask us to explain it, but from the very beginning she's been overly protective of you. Right now you're asleep on the bed, and she is spooned around you." I projected the image above the sand in front of us. "That's awfully sweet of her," she said. "So when you're here you can see people in the real world." "People that I know, that I'm close to. Amber, Lizzy, Allison, a few others. I try not to make a habit of spying on people, though; usually I just call or send them an image of me waiting to talk to them, you know, in case they're ... occupied. I can even go to them myself. That's how you got here. In this case I didn't have to do anything; that particular image is from Amber's when she first called me. If you think about it, you were sitting on the edge of the bed when this started. The reason you look like this now is that when I pulled you into this dreamspace, Amber kept your body from doing a nosedive into the carpet and laid you on the bed. When she curled up around you like that I realized that something unusual was going on and brought Lizzy in to help me figure it out. We talked to Amber, but even she couldn't explain why she was suddenly feeling so protective of you. She was really worried about scaring you away; so scared that she wanted to tell you the truth about who she was — not about us, but just about her past. I decided it would be better to take it to the next level and just tell you everything, and now here we are." I took a deep breath and let it out. "So here's what I had in mind; you're going to be like this human computer, only with part of your memory hidden behind a secure firewall. I can leave enough to make you comfortable with everything, but without the explanations being consciously available. For instance, I'm going to make you more comfortable with what happened last night, but the explanation will be that after her ordeal, Amber learned self-defense, and that's how she handled the trucker. As for our relationship, you'll remember that David — instead of Jimmy, who you will have no knowledge of at all — working with the FBI, rescued her. You'll just think of Lizzy as being a very intuitive person when it comes to reading people's moods and problems, but you won't know why. How comfortable do you want to be with me?" She hugged my side and slid a hand down to squeeze my butt. "You're pretty comfortable already. In fact, I was thinking it would be nice to be a little uncomfortable with you first chance I get." "That's not what I meant," I said, pulling her hand back up, "and you know it. Seriously, I want you to tell me how comfortable you want to be with Lizzy and me, and where you fit in." I could see her starting to say something, so I plowed ahead. "And don't go there! Work first, play later; how relaxed do you want to be with the whole situation?" "I don't want it to be a problem," she said, "but I don't want to forget about it or ignore the situation either. Can I change it later?" "Sure," I said. "If you want, why don't I just put it together, and then maybe tomorrow you can look back at how the day went, and then we can make adjustments." She thought about it for a few seconds. "David, what you're doing here? If you wanted to, could you do it whether I wanted you to or not? I mean, could you just tell me to accept all this and I would?" "Yes," I said. "So why don't you?" "Christine! I can't believe you would ask me that. I'm not doing it because it would be wrong!" "I know," she said. "I just wanted to hear you say it; I mean, when you think about it, this could be really, really, scary." "I know," I said. "That's why I had to go into hiding and change my name, because someone found out, and not even about all I can do. They don't know about this. Christine, I don't want this gift. I don't want to be able to do the things I can do. But I can, and I keep finding myself in situations where I'm the only one who can help, and I can't just let ... I can't just stand back and watch things happen to people. And I especially can't let things happen to people because of me. When Britney was kidnapped ... I think I was angrier about that than I was about Angela. Well no, not really; it was a different sort of anger, but it really pissed me off that she was in danger just because she went out with me a couple times. Christine, there are people I have to deal with, situations that I don't trust myself in because they are just so bad that I want to do things, sometimes bad things. So when I go to those places I take someone with me. Usually Allison, and before she died, Shannon; they go with me to sort of chaperone me and keep me from reacting to what I see." "What kind of things?" "I'd rather not get into that just yet. You've got enough to deal with as it is. After you've had a little time to adjust, if you still want to know, then ask me again and we'll see. Meanwhile, I want you to understand that I'm not changing anything about you. When you come back here — when you're here with me that is — you will remember everything we've talked about, and you will remember everything you did during the day when you couldn't remember. If you see yourself maybe doing things that seem out of character because of the perceptions, feelings, and emotions that we're playing with, just tell me, and we'll do some fine tuning." "What if I change my mind later and decide that I just don't want to deal with it?" "Then the part of you that exists here — the part that knows everything — will just fade out to become a dream that you forgot, and the real you will just stop being comfortable with the situations you're in, and you'll move on with your life. It's probably a bad analogy, but 'just like you did when that asshole ex-boyfriend of yours crapped all over your life.' The difference — I hope — is that if you decide to walk away and leave all of us behind, it will be a happier memory. You know, I've got an idea." I turned and whispered, "Elizabeth?" Christine gave a little start as she popped in next to me and asked, "What's up?" "Just an idea I had," I said. "Do you think it would be a problem if Christine went through tomorrow knowing everything? You know, to give her a chance to think about it before we change anything?" "Wouldn't that make it harder to hide it all away later?" "Yes, it would be a lot more complicated, but I've done something similar before, so I don't think it would really be a problem." "You're worried that she doesn't trust all of this?" she asked. "I'm kind of getting that vibe, yeah." She looked at Christine for a second. "She's nervous, but she trusts you, or at least she wants to trust you. Christine, it's okay to be nervous, and if you don't want to do this, just say so, but my advice to you is to trust your instincts. I swear to you, Jimmy would never take advantage of you the way you're thinking. For one thing, if he even tried it, his mother would kill him." "No kidding," I said, rolling my eyes, "and I don't even want to think about what Allison would do to me." Christine started giggling. "Okay, that is just too funny! You mean to tell me you can do all this, and you're afraid of your little sister?" "Yeah, pretty much," I answered. "Okay, we're running out of time, so — with your permission — I want to finish this, so you can all get up and hit the road. You should think about where you want to go for dinner when you get here. Now, Christine, close your eyes, this may feel a little strange at first." She closed her eyes, and I froze her just to be sure. "Jamie?" I called. "Are you decent?" Her voice came from nowhere, "No complaints so far, but you can ask Allison if you want a second opinion." "Good, you're finished, because it's show time, and I'd like you here for this. Allison can come too if she wants." They popped in across from us in bathing suits, smiling and holding hands. "Someone had a good time," Lizzy said. "I think I'm jealous, it's been days since Amber and I got to play. First she was on her period, now we're on this trip and trying not to freak Christine out, and I'm due to start next week. Let's finish this, so maybe Amber and I can share a shower before Christine wakes up." Jamie kissed Allison and stepped into me. Allison kissed Lizzy and Amber, then hugged me and whispered, "Come see me if you have time," in my ear before kissing my cheek and leaving again. "Okay, so what's the plan?" Jamie asked after she was gone. I answered her out loud, so everyone else would know what was going on. "I was thinking something like this..." In front of us a bubble formed around Christine and started shrinking, centering on her head, the edges passing through her as it got smaller until — when it was about the size of a basketball — it moved out to hover in front of her. Inside the bubble was a copy of Christine, asleep on the bed with Amber still snuggled protectively around her. I unfroze the original and watched as she opened her eyes and spotted the ball in front of her. "Is that really me?" she asked. "Yes and no," I said. "Yes, it's you, but it's you without all the details. She knows the truth about who Amber is, and that David saved her from her captor. She understands that Amber looks to David as her master now, and that David's fiancée is filling the role of her Mistress, and caring for her while she is away at school. She also knows that after her ordeal, Amber swore that she would never again be so vulnerable, so she has been working intensively on self defense during her rehabilitation — to the point that it's almost an obsession — and that she was royally pissed when that trucker actually tried to get physical with you last night, and that's why she went off." Inside the bubble you could see the dream versions of those conversations taking place like they were from a DVD movie being played in fast-forward. She has a new respect for David but isn't sure how, or even if, she's going to be able to handle living and sleeping with a man who is engaged to another woman, and that the two of them have what amounts to a slave that they care for. Basically I've left her just enough information to be comfortable with everything she knows. How much more comfortable she is going to be with the whole situation is going to be up to you." "This is so bizarre I can't even begin to describe how I feel," Christine said. "So, what happens now?" "Now, you wake up. Then you go through your day and finish the drive back to Vegas, and we all go to dinner. Then tonight we'll come back here, where you'll remember everything that's happened, and decide where you want to go from there. When you have decided whether or not you want to continue being involved in the three-ring circus that passes for our lives, you'll make adjustments to your waking persona accordingly. It's still you, Christine, but everything that's happened here is just a dream, and if you decide you don't like playing in our pool, then it will just be a dream that you forgot, and everything else will go on as before. It's really not nearly as complicated as it looks, and all the explanation in the world won't help, so go back to sleep, and we'll talk about all this again tomorrow night." "Jimmy, she's afraid," Lizzy said, stepping forward to put her arms around the older woman and give her a reassuring hug. "It's okay, Christine," she said. "It's just that there is no way to explain what's happening; it's just one of those things you have to experience to understand." Her voice took on a playful tone and she said, "Kind of like the first time someone goes down on you. All the explanation in the world isn't going to prepare you, especially if they know what they're doing. No matter what your girlfriends told you, you don't understand it until it's over. I promise you, Christine, everything is going to be okay. David, maybe a kiss goodnight, it's been a few days since she had one." "If that's what she wants," I said. "Christine, I wish there was some way to make this easier for you, but it's one of those things you just have to take on faith. In the end, it comes down to trust, and all I'm asking is that you trust me." For just a moment she looked like a frightened little girl. Then she gave a quick nod and said, "I do trust you, David. Or at least I want to. Can I have that goodnight kiss?" "Absolutely," I said. I started to move forward, but she stopped me. "I want one from all of you," she said. "You go last because I get the idea that a goodnight kiss from you will really put me to sleep. Lizzy," she stepped up and kissed her delicately on the lips. It was a girlfriend sort of a kiss. "Thank you for trusting me with your secrets." She stepped back. There was a little more to the next one than simple gratitude as Christine brushed Amber's hair back and slid her hands down over her shoulders and arms to rest on her hips before kissing her. "Amber, thank you for protecting me, I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't been there. I'm sure I would have kicked and scratched and fought, but I don't know how much good it would have done." I wouldn't say promises were made; there wasn't any tongue or anything, but when they broke apart I think a door or window may have been left open. I think she may have actually licked Amber's lips lightly as she pulled away at the end, and I hoped it wasn't a reaction to anything I had done. The last thing I wanted was to influence Christine's sexuality. "Chill," Jamie said. "She said before that she regretted not getting to know that girl in high school. Maybe she's decided it's time to see if she's been missing something. After that dickhead Brian she was with used her and threw her away, could you blame her for switching teams? You're lucky she'll still have anything to do with any of you." "Don't make me spank you, Jamie. Christine is very heterosexual. I think maybe she was more scared last night than she wanted to admit. She may be curious and thinking of using rewarding, or thanking, Amber as a way to satisfy her curiosity. My only concern is that this isn't a result of anything we've done here tonight. I'll talk to Lizzy about it later. Right now it's been a busy night, and I didn't get to spend much of it with the one person I really wanted to." "Yeah, she missed you too. I think I'll go wake up with the girls and spend some time hiding out in Amber to see how things go. I'll keep an eye on the time and come straight back if I feel weak. See you back home, kiss Allison for me; a big wet sloppy one, extra tongue." ------- Chapter 12: Changes Christine What is happening to me? I feel like someone dropped my life in a blender and hit frappé. Three weeks ago my life was ... well, not perfect, but it was at least on track. Having buried Brian safely in the past and decided that the only one I could count on to get me through flight school was myself, I was once more focused on saving toward that goal. The one advantage of flying all over the country is that the company pays for everything. Besides rent, my biggest expenses were car insurance and my cat. My home diet consisted mostly of yogurt, canned soup, and salad. I only bought what groceries I was going to need when I was home, so kitty litter ran neck and neck with food for top household expenses. I didn't keep anything more perishable than a box of cold cereal in the cupboard. I was also careful to always empty out the milk and take out the trash on my way out. Mrs. Albertson's ten-year-old daughter, Kelly, came by every other day to play with Widget, clean her litter box, and make sure she had fresh water. I pay her twenty dollars a week, probably too much for what she actually does, but when you consider the greatest service she does for me, it's money well spent. I like Kelly; she's a good kid, and she does a great job with Widget, but the greatest thing she's done for me is to show me what I don't want in life: To be a single mother. I'd seen the way Kelly and her mom struggled from paycheck to paycheck month in and month out. I felt sorry for the little girl, coming home to an empty house almost every day. Her mom did her best for her, but she just didn't have the time to really raise her daughter. Kelly and I talked about it sometimes when she came by to play with Widget while I was home. As with most only-children of single parents, she was grown-up for her age, and one of the things she seemed to like best about me was that I didn't treat her like a little kid. It took me by surprise when she asked me about sex the first time. She had only been nine at the time, and I had tried to refer her to her mother, but she made it clear that her mother didn't want to talk about the subject. I think her mom felt guilty for sticking Kelly in this life because of her youthful mistakes. I was really surprised to discover that the subject had come up as a result of school. I guess they are starting earlier these days, teaching sex-ed I mean. Of course the kids start earlier as well. It's always amazed me that they never seemed to be able to see any correlation between the two. Heck, we didn't get it until sixth grade when I was in school, but I knew two girls who had been active within a week of the classes. Simple curiosity seems to be beyond the comprehension of the school system. As terrible as it was to have two of your friends having sex at twelve years of age — eleven in Carrie's case, her first time coming a week before her birthday — if nothing else, watching what they went through as a result of their hasty decisions had provided me excellent motivation. Sixth graders aren't known for their discretion, and within a week everyone knew what they'd done. Carrie was lucky; her dad was in the military, and they moved away the next year. Alicia wasn't so lucky. Being branded as the school slut in sixth grade was a burden I wouldn't wish on anyone. I managed to resist temptation all the way through until my senior year. I shared all this with Kelly; including the fact that even though I was on birth control pills from my sophomore year, I still waited, and when I finally decided to go for it, I still insisted the boys always wear condoms. Mrs. Anderson came to see me after about the third talk we'd had and thanked me for talking so candidly to her daughter. She had felt bad about not talking to her, but she was afraid that Kelly would get the wrong idea and think that her mother regretted, or even resented, having her. I asked her to think about her life growing up and how she had felt when the adults excluded her from their conversations. I asked her point blank if her life would be different if someone had actually talked to her when she was Kelly's age. The next time I saw Kelly, she thanked me for talking to her mom. Apparently they were talking about all kinds of things now, and it had really helped to draw them closer. After high school had come my brief attempt at college. It quickly became apparent that there was no way I was going to be able to afford higher education without going into serious debt. I then opted for flight attendant school and took a relatively small — ten thousand dollar — student loan to pay for it. I hadn't gotten far before I realized that what I really wanted was that seat up in the front of the plane. So I worked hard, doubled up my payments to pay off my loan, and still managed to stick a little away toward my goal. I met Brian in FA school and fell for his quick wit and disarming manner. We got an apartment together only three months after we started dating and kept it after graduation. It went downhill from there. After he broke my heart, I swore I would never put myself in that position again, reset my sights on my goal, and started re-building my savings. My life had been nicely ordered from then on. Work, save money, and don't get attached to any distractions. I stayed clear of anyone and everyone that might pull me away from my goal. My sex life had revolved around Bob — my Battery Operated Boyfriend — and the occasional business traveler. And that's all it was, sex; no commitment, no attachment, just an occasional roll with something that bought me a nice dinner and didn't take batteries, two of Bob's greater failings. Whenever possible, I stuck to married men in order to minimize the chances of someone getting too attached. Yeah, I know I was hurting someone somewhere, but it's not like I was pursuing them. Deep inside, where no one can see, I'm keeping my fingers crossed that Karma is a myth, but just in case, I promised myself that if what goes around ever comes around, I'll try to be understanding about it. Easy to say, huh? And then I met David. My first thought upon seeing him was that he was too young, but then he took a seat in Business, and I was forced to reclassify him. Calling me over to help him with the phone had forced me to change it yet again. It takes a certain level of maturity to recognize that you don't know everything, and that it's a lot faster and easier to just ask for help. It was one of the tests I had come to rely on. If their ego would allow them to ask for help, they were worth a second look. David was confusing from the first, hitting my personal radar all over the place: old, young, sweet, serious, flirtatious but still polite, and all seemingly at the same time. I just couldn't get a clear signal from him, so naturally he piqued my curiosity. Then he asked me to take him shopping of all things, and that set off my gay-dar. I couldn't believe I could have so totally misread him, but then he assured me that wasn't the case. At the same time, he made it clear that he wasn't stalking my panties either. I couldn't decide if I should be flattered, disappointed, or angry, eventually settling on being flattered that he didn't think I was that kind of girl. Then the limo showed up, and I braced myself for a wild night. But instead of rushing me into the hotel room, he hands over our luggage to the hotel staff and takes me out to help him shop for clothes, just like he said. What the hell was going on? Still, he had promised me dinner, so life could be worse. Booking me my own room at the Bellagio wasn't bad either. Then we got back to the hotel, and I almost wet myself when they took us up to that palatial room. It was right out of one of those lifestyles shows. Then he makes me promise to behave myself, or he won't get in the tub? And then, then he calls his sister to have her assure me that his intentions are nothing but honorable? Are you kidding me? I was so horny I could barely breathe; the last thing I wanted his intentions to be was honorable. Thank god his sister was on my side. The rest of the night was absolute magic. He took me to Cirque du Soleil, and 'O' was everything I had heard it was, and then when we got back to the room ... Oh my God! No more mixed signals, no more doubts. David was unbelievable in bed; of course he'd been pretty good in the hot tub too, but I had never been with a man like David. Totally uninhibited, you would never believe he was only twenty-two, and did he know his way around a woman's body! He seemed to know exactly what I wanted at every turn. I'd never come so hard and so often in my life. And then he found Bob, my vibrator. I thought I was going to die when he tripped over my carry-on and it fell out, but he just picked it up and took it with him to the bathroom. By the time he got back, he knew what all the controls were for. Yeah, I sprang for the whole package when I got him, and my little Bob is what you would call 'full featured' — except for the whole buying dinner thing... "This is an interesting piece of equipment," he had said. "I've never actually seen one up close before; why don't you show me how it works?" Did I mention he's a fast learner? So now here I am, packing up my life and moving to Las Vegas, where I'm going to be going to flight school, for free! All because David was offended by the way my asshole of a pilot was treating me after spending the night with him. I thought the flight crew was going to throw me out without a parachute when they found out I had named them all as witnesses in a harassment suit. I couldn't say anything because I promised not to, but I felt a lot better after the other two guys in the cockpit both called me and thanked me for filing on Hardwick. I told them that it wasn't me, but they said it didn't matter if it was me that filed; I had to go along, or the suit wouldn't have a chance, and it was about time someone put that prick in his place. Lizzy was everything I had expected after talking on the phone. Her roommate Amber was a bit of a surprise; especially as it very quickly became clear that there was more to their relationship. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't surprised they were, you know, 'together'; David had made it clear that Lizzy played both sides of the fence. I just wasn't sure what to expect when she said she was bringing Amber along. Then I got the real shock when Lizzy came clean and told me the truth about her and David. At first I was angry, but ... I don't know what it was, but the more we talked the more I found myself agreeing with her. A second day traveling with the two of them had made it clear that there was more to her relationship with Amber. I'm pretty sure I wasn't supposed to, but I heard her call Lizzy 'Mistress' twice. I had already figured it out by then, but that pretty much made it official. Amber was a Submissive, and Lizzy was her Dominant; no wonder she didn't have a problem with me and David. Then that asshole had walked into the restaurant. My first thought was to try to protect the girls, and I'd done everything I'd been trained to do in a situation like that; but this wasn't an airplane, and I didn't have the TSA backing me up. When Amber threw him out the front doors into the parking lot, I couldn't believe it. When he came back in, and she kicked his ass, I was in total shock. She looked like someone out of a spy movie. You know; the mild mannered librarian who's actually an undercover agent and single-handedly takes out a gang of bad guys who came in to steal the secret manuscript hidden behind the index cards. Lizzy had to guide me to the car, and we were probably a mile away before my mind finally unclenched, and I could think again. Then it was like I was having a panic attack. If that is what post-traumatic stress is like, then I have a whole new respect for our military. I couldn't believe how quickly Lizzy fell asleep when we got to the hotel; I couldn't have slept if you'd hit me with a bat. I had gone to take a quick shower — more to give me time to compose myself than anything else. I had only been gone a few minutes, but when I came back out in my Pjs, there was Lizzy, sacked out on one of the beds. Amber was sitting on the edge of the bed, and I wasn't sure if she was waiting for me or protecting Lizzy. The thought that it might be the latter made me nervous walking up. Damn it, I didn't want to be afraid of her; she had been protecting me for goodness sake. I sat on the edge of the other bed and wondered what to do. Suddenly we were both speaking at once. "Amber, I..." "Christine, I..." We both blushed and giggled. "You go ahead," I said. "Christine, I don't want you to be afraid of me. Are you?" I took a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh. "A little," I said tentatively, and then rushed on, "I'm sorry, Amber, I don't want to be, but ... geez, you totally owned a guy over twice your size. It was the most amazing thing I've ever seen — and the scariest — and even though I know you were doing it to protect me, it still scares me that you can do it. I never would have guessed you for the martial arts type." "I didn't used to be," she said. "I started studying a while ago. Christine, I'm not who you think I am." She paused for a moment, probably to let me try and digest that statement, and then suddenly she slid off the bed, knelt on the floor in front of me, and said, "My name is not Amber Olsen, that is just the name they gave me to hide me from the man who tried to kill me. My real name is Angela Osborne, and I owe my life to David Malcolm." She went on to tell me the story of how she became Amber Olsen, how she had been kidnapped by a sadistic madman. It didn't take much for the pieces to start falling into place, and suddenly I knew who she was. You see stories about people like her — mostly in movies — living in hiding, but you never expect to actually meet one. She went on to tell me about how she was tortured, raped, and beaten for almost a month. She showed me the scars on her knee from the surgery to repair the damage he had done, and then she showed me where they'd had to amputate the two toes on her left foot to keep the infection from spreading. What can I say? It was horrible. And she told me of the man who refused to give up when the FBI couldn't find her, and how he had actually located her captor and given the information to the FBI. Only they arrived too late, and the killer was gone. She said killer because they had already figured out that he had done this three times before, killing the girls after he was done with them. Anyway, the killer had already fled — he knew the FBI was after him — only he had left the house wired to blow up minutes after they arrived to rescue her. Somehow, David had gotten both her and Rebecca — the FBI agent who had gone in after her — and the killer's computer out before the bomb went off. From the information they were able to retrieve, they were able to positively identify him as the man who had tortured and killed the first three girls. David got the rewards for identifying the killer, but it turned out that her kidnapper was also a professional assassin that the European authorities had been after for years. They thought he had died in the explosion when the place he was trapped blew up, but apparently that's his favorite way of escaping. So, Angela was sent into hiding, so that he couldn't come back and try to finish the job. David kept in touch with her through her time in rehab, and when he noticed that she seemed to be getting more and more depressed rather than improving, he sought outside help to try and find the cause. It took a while, but eventually they figured it out. Without a degree in psychology it would be difficult to understand it, and I'm not qualified to try and explain it, but it boils down to Angela —, Amber now — was ... never mind. I can't explain it, but the only solution was for David to become Amber's master. Okay, that's just going to confuse everyone. It turned out that Amber was a closet Submissive, only she didn't know it, and the thoughts she was having every time she got near David were driving her crazy. The real problem was that she wasn't capable of understanding the problem, let alone the solution. The solution being that Amber needed someone to teach her what she was. Now, if you do a little research, you'll quickly discover that the single most important component to this type of relationship is trust. Amber would only accept instruction from someone she trusted, and the only person on Earth she trusted was — you guessed it — David. Now, most people who stumble across this type of relationship run screaming over the nearest horizon. David didn't. Even more important was that he wasn't overjoyed with the idea of having a beautiful girl — and Amber is beautiful, with a body to die for — so deeply dependent on him that she would do literally anything to please him. Yeah, we're talking sex slave here. Most guys would have been stoked at the idea, not David; he wanted nothing to do with it, but when it was made clear by the very people he had brought in that if he didn't do it, she would continue to slowly slip away and probably either kill herself or end up in a rubber room... David stepped up. He learned what she needed to know, showed her the truth, and got her started on the only path she had that led anywhere near a normal, sane life. When she was ready to leave the rehab center, he arranged for her to be sent to the same school his fiancée was attending, and Lizzy took over as her Mistress, caring for her and seeing to her continued growth and education. One of the things that David had insisted on from the very beginning was that Amber be able to defend herself. Otherwise she would never feel safe without him nearby. She had started as soon after surgery as she could stand, and since she had nothing better to do, it was almost all she did twelve to fourteen hours a day. Stretching, meditation, and working out became her life. I've never seen anyone sit so still in my life, she could be a manikin. Her physical therapy team was amazed by how fast she got her balance and movement back after all the surgery. Being in hiding with the FBI afforded her a good selection of both instructors and sparring partners — all of whom were very sympathetic to why she wanted to do it — and she got really good, really fast. Real martial arts isn't the stuff you see in the movies. Bruce Lee and Jackie Chan are good, but they make their money by choreographing the scenes so that no one gets hurt, and so that — when properly edited — they look real. Amber trained with real agents in real-world scenarios. That's how she learned to use the condiment tray and the fork. I guess it's true what they say: In the right hands, anything is a weapon. She said that when the trucker started getting physical, her one thought was to protect me, but that now she wondered if she had done the right thing because now I was afraid of her. "I'm not afraid of you, Amber," I said. "I'm afraid of what you can do, and I don't understand why you felt it so important to protect me; you hardly know me." "I know," she said, "but you are important to my Master. Christine, David doesn't have casual friends. It seems like everyone that comes into his life is there for a reason. I know what he's already done for you; I know he considers you a friend; and I know that if he had been there, he would have acted as I did to protect you. But he wasn't here, so I ... kind of did it for him." "Well, thank you, Amber, and I do appreciate you stepping in to protect me. I was really getting scared there towards the end. They train us to handle unruly passengers at FA School, but it's not the same when you don't have the threat of federal prosecution to hold over them. When my training didn't work ... I'm glad you were there. One thing though?" "What's that?" Amber asked. "Did you see the look on his face when you said I was on my period?" That broke the mood, and we spent a few minutes laughing about men in general and tough guys in particular. I'm not sure when it all ended, but when I woke up the next morning, I found myself wrapped in her embrace. I knew she and Lizzy were intimate, but this didn't feel like that. I think she was still protecting me. Not that it would have bothered me, but I'd never been with another girl that way before. I had been close... One of my life long regrets revolved around a girl in my high school that everyone said was a lesbian. She was cute, and very sweet — though she did tend to dress in a more masculine style; I don't know if I ever saw her in a dress the whole time we were in school. I always wondered what it would be like to make out with her, but I never got up the nerve to pursue it. The only other time I got close was at a party with Brian when I'd had way too much to drink, and he wanted me to kiss this other girl that was there. I almost did it, but she was kind of skanky and cheap, and that's just not me no matter how drunk I am. I was surprised to see Lizzy awake and watching us as we lay there together. Eventually she got up and came to retrieve Amber, kissing her cheek and telling her it was time to get up and hit the road. Apparently the decision had been made somewhere along the line to drop any remaining pretense because the two of them went off to the shower together. I resisted the urge to follow them, but it was tempting. I spent the time making coffee and getting our stuff together and ready to go. The room coffee turned out to be truly awful, but fortunately there was a Starbucks right next to the on-ramp. That got us a hundred miles further down the road before we stopped and had breakfast. We only have about five hundred miles to go, so if all goes well, we should make Vegas by late afternoon. Jimmy Rod called early to tell me that he had talked to his contact in Witness Protection, and identities were being established for my parents and Allison. I knew it was all off the books, and I offered to pay for them, but he turned me down, saying that if they had done their job right, it wouldn't be necessary. Part of me was sad to think of them leaving, but the thought that they would finally be safe far outweighed any feelings of sadness I may have had about them being so far away. Since it was Sunday, there was not a lot that could be done, but he thought everything would be in place by mid-week. Meanwhile, Jamie and I were preparing for our second trip to hell's doorstep; known locally as the Church of the Inner Circle. After our time working with Christine, we had jumped right in and started crafting a public persona for David Malcolm. We had taken a lot more time with this one since it was going to have to stand up to some serious scrutiny in the future, especially if, or rather when Hightower tried to mess with it. I called Lizzy, and she told me they were on the road, headed my way, but that they had stopped for breakfast. With luck they would be in sometime in the early afternoon. Then she went to the ladies room, locked herself in a stall, and slipped into dreamspace, so we could have a private chat. "Should I book airfare or a chapel?" I asked. "I love you so much," she said, hugging me tightly. Finally she gave a big sigh and said, "Airfare, but I want you to book mine for tonight and Amber's for sometime Monday, okay?" "Do you think that's wise?" "Christine knows the truth, or at least enough of it. I want her to understand Amber's position; that it's up to her if she wants to involve her, or make her watch, ignore her, whatever, and it won't matter to Amber. Oh, and don't forget, you're going to need to pick up condoms. If you make Christine wait while you run to the store at the last minute, it could get ugly." "Lizzy! You make it sound like she's going to jump me in the driveway. Give her a little more credit, okay?" "I know, I know. I'm just reminding you that you need to make sure everything goes smoothly there; she's still a little ... I don't know ... undecided, about some stuff, and I'm guessing this is the source of the conflict I'm seeing. Give her a reason to stay, okay? Obviously there is more to her being here, and besides, then I won't have to worry about you while I'm away." "You worry about me?" "Jimmy, you've gone from Allison and Shannon at your beck and call twenty-four-seven to only getting it in dreams on a very irregular basis. You're a dream come true to any woman, and I wasn't kidding when I told Christine you were a hot target. Trust me, Jimmy; you're a sheep lost in the wrong part of the wild animal park. I think you'll be a lot safer if you have someone to watch out for you — not to mention having someone for you to watch out for. That white knight inside you needs someone to protect, and you can't afford any more problems drifting into your life. I think you've got enough there to keep you busy already." "True, and speaking of that, Jamie and I are going back into the lion's den this morning. We've constructed a persona that is one hundred percent David Malcolm. We're going to hang back in the background and see what Hightower tries to do with it. Then we'll just close up its bubble and save it until the next time we have to deal with him." "Be careful, Jimmy," she said. "You don't know how dangerous he may really be." "Are you kidding?" I asked. "After all the shit he's done, trust me, we're very aware of how dangerous he is. Why else do you think we went to the trouble to create a disposable personality just for him?" "Okay, I'm just saying..." "I know sweetie, and we'll be careful, I promise. Listen, I have to finish getting ready, so I'll see you when you get here, okay? And don't forget you need to decide where we're eating." "Well, I did have one place in mind... ," she teased. "Behave yourself, you naughty girl. I'll see you in a few hours." The waiting thing was starting to get really difficult. The good news was that this time I was taking my own car to church. The bad news was that it meant that this time I couldn't just run if something went wrong — not and have any chance of getting this close again. This time I had to stay and see it all the way through — nervous didn't begin to cover how I felt. Fortunately my new persona didn't know anything about why we were really there. As far as he was concerned I was just going back because I had been forced to leave early last time and wanted to give the place a fair shake before writing it off as my primary church. The new David was just as sure and cocky as you would expect a wealthy young entrepreneur to be — especially one who found things others — even the FBI — couldn't. Personally I thought he was more than a little too cocky, but I was willing to wait and see how he handled himself in public before passing final judgment. As before, their greeter-slash-security person met me as I entered the lobby. "Welcome to the Church of the Inner Circle, is this your first time visiting?" "No," I answered, shaking his hand. "I was here a few weeks ago, but I had to leave early. There was a young girl; April, that showed me around. I was wondering if she was working today? I promised her I would be back, and I wanted to say hello." "Certainly, sir," he said. He turned to a group of girls waiting not far away and called, "Carrie Ann!" Instantly a young girl started moving towards him. She couldn't have been much more than ten or eleven, and looking out through David's eyes I tried to see if I recognized her. "This gentleman is looking for April; would you find her and let her know she has a guest please?" "Yes, sir, right away," she said. Then she spun and vanished into the crowd. "It will be just a moment, sir," he said and returned to greeting people as they came in. The girl returned a few minutes later, and my host looked disappointed that she was alone. "Carrie Ann, I thought you were fetching April?" She dropped another curtsy and, eyes averted, said, "Yes sir. I was told that April is servicing the Deacons at morning prayer. I was instructed to wait with the gentleman until she is available." David was oblivious, but Jamie and I could both see the fear in her eyes. "Ah, I see. Very well — Carrie Ann, please escort Mr... ?" he left the blank for me to fill in. "Malcolm," I said. "Please escort Mr. Malcolm inside and sit where April will be able to find you without disrupting the service." "That's all right," I said. "It's no big deal; I just wanted to say hello, so she would know that I had come back. I'll just sit where I was before, so she can find me. I understand she has other duties to the church, and if she can't make it, then maybe I'll see her after." "Oh, it's no trouble at all, Mr. Malcolm," Carrie Ann said. "I would be happy to wait with you. That way if you need anything, I'll be able to show you where to go. Please, sir, it would be my pleasure." "Okay," I said. "As long as it's no trouble." And with that the young girl escorted me inside. I showed her where April and I had been seated before, and she sat with me while we waited for the service to begin. April arrived as the second song was beginning, and Carrie Ann moved down one seat to make room for her to sit next to me. "Welcome back," she whispered. "I'm so happy you came. I hope you can stay this time." "Unless something comes up," I said. "I made sure I didn't have another meeting to worry about. You look very nice today." "Thank you," she whispered, blushing. "He'll be so happy to see you've returned. He was very disappointed last time when you couldn't stay." The service progressed normally. Bastion's message was all about service, and how when we serve one another, we serve God, and as such it should viewed as a sacrificial act, an offering to God. Whether we served in the military or police department protecting the lives of our brothers and sisters; in a soup kitchen downtown providing a hot meal to those less fortunate; or opening our home to a stranger or a loved one who could no longer care for themselves — all were to be viewed as acts of sacrifice to a loving God. After the service was over, April held me back for a few seconds as everyone began to file out of the sanctuary. "I want to make sure he has time to speak with you," she explained. "If you're towards the front, then there are all those people waiting to shake his hand before they go." Carrie Ann waited with us, looking and acting like April's shadow. I got the impression she was observing April for training purposes; she seemed to be paying very close attention to everything April said and did. Then it was time. I had expected Bastion to be a little taller; I don' t know why, but the reality of his not quite six feet was disappointing, as was the fact that he looked to be a good thirty pounds overweight. His hair was thinning, and I was pretty sure the reason it was so carefully combed was to disguise that fact. At the same time, while not physically imposing in any way, he definitely had a 'presence' about him. I guess it's what they call a 'charismatic air'. Watching from the cheap seats where it was safe, I could see where he would have made his flock see him as the shepherd he pretended to be, but I knew the predator that lurked just under the surface. Fighting the Sandman had almost killed me, and while the numbers were a lot worse rescuing my parents, I'd had a clear advantage. According to Rebecca's files, Elliott Bastion had killed twice and gotten away with it. Two trials, mountains of evidence in one of them, and still he had walked. And those were just the ones that we knew about. How many more had died either directly at his hands or on his orders? I had no doubt about what he would do if he suspected I was the one pissing in his pool. The only reason he might let me live was that he wanted to know how I was doing it. In my mind that didn't make him much different from Henslith. In fact, I wouldn't put it past him to mess with those close to me either. 'David' wouldn't have noticed either way, but Jamie and I were surprised that through the entire service and even meeting him afterward, he didn't appear to be trying anything. Either he really wasn't, or our plan was a bust because we were too well hidden and couldn't perceive whatever he was doing. April had managed to keep us back to the end of the line so there was no one behind us waiting to see Bastion. "Good morning April, Carrie Ann," Bastion said. He took each of their hands and kissed it as they curtsied to him. "April? Am I mistaken, or is this the gentleman who was here..." He cocked his head questioningly, " ... was it just two weeks ago?" "Yes, Eminence. May I present Mr. David Malcolm?" "The David Malcolm?" he asked. I'm sure the surprise was feigned. "The same David Malcolm whom the papers say recently rescued two young women from the very jaws of death at the hands of a notorious serial killer? I am honored, sir, that you would visit our humble church." "I'm sorry ... is it Father or Pastor? The papers exaggerate as always. I found the girl and spotted the van leaving. Someone else followed it and rescued the woman from the FBI." "Still, no small feat considering how long the authorities had been seeking this madman. I only pray he found redemption in our Lord before his demise, but the world is a better place without him. Forgive me if I seem harsh, but this is an area of grace I must admit I have always struggled with. As for titles; they get a little overzealous here, especially the youth," he stroked April's chin as he spoke, and she blushed prettily. "Either honorific will suffice." "You're in good company, Father, I'm sure a lot of people struggle with forgiving anyone capable of such evil. And my being here before was strictly by chance. I'm new to the area and was looking around for a church. If I had paid better attention to my schedule, I wouldn't have been here at all that day. I came back today primarily because I promised April I would. She seemed so upset that I had to leave early last time." "Yes, she was," he said sincerely. "Young April is very serious about her service to the church. Part of her duties when she is greeting new guests is to make sure they meet me so that I may answer any questions they may have. She is very diligent and takes great pride in the performance of all her duties. Don't you April?" "Oh, yes! The service of the Lord demands nothing less than our best in all things, and I am blessed to serve." "You are a shining beacon of the Lord's favor, April — an inspiration to all those around you. Don't you think so Carrie Ann?" "Yes, Eminence," Carrie Ann replied, sounding a little nervous. "I learn more every time I get to serve with her." "I am sure you do, child, and if you persevere, I am sure it will not be long before you are serving more yourself. Always remember, the Lord Himself said that he who is faithful with a little will be trusted with more. In time, I am sure you will be ready to work side by side with April in all things. Would you like that?" "Yes, Eminence, very much." she said, blushing and dropping another curtsy. "I thought so. Now, David, how do you like our little church? Do we meet with your expectations in a house of worship?" "I guess," David said. "Truthfully, I haven't been in that many. My parents were believers, but we didn't really attend regularly. I'm not really sure what I'm looking for." "Don't let it bother you; when you find the right place, the Lord will tell you. The paper said you were new to our fair city? Setting up a new business venture I believe." "Yes, that's right. In fact, my incorporation was just completed this week, so now I can start paying taxes." That actually got a laugh out of him. "The gift of laughter is one of my favorites," he said. "Well, good luck in your venture. I hope we'll be seeing you again soon. Do you have family in the area?" "No," David said, sadness in his voice. "Actually they've had some bad luck lately, my parents both lost their jobs, and they're considering relocating and starting over. I'm not sure where they're going to end up or when I'll get to see them again." "I'm sorry to hear that," he said politely, "but as they say, 'When God closes a door, he opens a window.' Perhaps this time of difficulty will help draw them closer to our Lord. Well, it has been nice meeting you, David. If you have questions, please feel free to call any time. I hope we'll be seeing you again soon. If you will excuse me, I have other duties waiting." He shook my hand again and left me in April's charge. "Well, thank you again, April. Carrie Ann, it was nice to meet you as well; thanks for keeping me company. Maybe I'll see you both again." "So you will be returning?" April asked hopefully. "I don't know," David said. "I wanted to check out a few more places in town, you know, just to see what they have to offer. Like the Father said, when I find the right place, I'll know. So far you're in first place." "I understand," April said. "It is important to find your proper place, the place where God wants you to be. And it's important that you recognize that place when you find it as well. I am sure you will find the place you fit in if you just follow His lead. Who knows, he may even lead you back here. Thank you for coming back." "I try to be a man of my word, April. You were so upset when I left last time, and I did say I would try to come back. Who knows? Maybe I'll be back again. Maybe I could meet your parents next time. They must be special people to have a daughter like you." "Flatterer!" she giggled. "I will look forward to the chance to introduce you. Now, Carrie Ann and I have other duties as well. Thank you again for coming." We put 'David' to sleep in his bubble as soon as we got home, so we could talk about everything that had happened. "What do you think?" I asked. "Did we miss it, or did Hightower not try anything?" "I'm not sure," Jamie answered. "I'm leaning towards he didn't do anything because I just can't imagine not noticing if he had. Besides, I think if he had tried something and 'David' had so totally ignored it, then we would have seen some hint of concern in his body language or facial expression. I didn't see any of that, so my guess is he didn't try. The question is: Why didn't he?" "I think he realized the truth," I said. "That he scared us away the first time?" she asked. "I was thinking the same thing. It would explain why he didn't try anything again this week. At least not the long distance stuff, I'm still surprised he didn't try anything when we were closer, or when we were shaking hands." "Physical contact may not make a difference for him. I think he may be strictly sight and sound. I felt April react once when he looked at her during the service, but she was, or seemed to be, much more attentive and focused when we were together afterward." "True," she said. "And Carrie Ann was clearly afraid before the service when she couldn't bring April back, but not at the end when we were with Hightower. Speaking of April, did you catch the whole 'Servicing the Deacons' thing?" "You mean 'servicing' as opposed to 'serving'? Yeah, I got that, and yes, I think that's exactly what she was doing. I can't think of anything else she could have been doing that would have prevented her from coming out when they sent for her. For one thing, whomever she was with would have to have enough clout to keep her from getting into trouble for not coming when summoned." "Don't bother speculating; I peeked. She had a little daydream flashback of the morning going at one point during the service, and that's exactly what she was doing. And we now know who Charles's replacement on the board is." "We do?" I asked. "Yeah, she and another girl did them all, or at least they all did both girls, three of them took turns doing April while her face was buried in Victoria Essex's lap." "Essex? You're kidding! This group let a woman on the board?" Victoria Essex was one of the more twisted players in this little party. She and another member, Stephen Hendricks, were local doctors who had been 'recruited' to the group. Unlike Stephen, who was being blackmailed, Victoria was a more than happy participant. I'd seen some of her darker fantasies; the woman was a ticking time-bomb. She was also somehow related to one of Jasmine's girls, Tanya, and so far at least, had been content to take most of her more extreme fantasies out on her. She paid very well for Tanya's services, but some of her activities had even caused Jasmine concern; so much so that she had considered stepping in, but Tanya insisted that everything was okay. The truth was that Victoria had custody of Tanya's niece and had threatened to hurt her if Tanya didn't do exactly what she was told, including spying on Jasmine and The House of Seven Willows for Lord Hightower. She also made Tanya pay her back every penny that she paid the house, without regard to the fact that what Tanya was paid was only a percentage and had already had taxes taken out. As a result, Tanya barely scraped by in spite of the fact that she was one of the highest paid slaves in Vegas. Jasmine knew about Hightower's group, though not who the man himself was — only his most loyal followers, the board members, knew that Bastion was Hightower. Years before, when Jasmine first arrived in the area, she had been blackmailed into sharing some of her training techniques with the group, but drew the line at any kind of active participation. There had been an uneasy truce between them for many years. "I think maybe they are more concerned with mental attitude than anything else," Jamie said. "Besides, it would be a bold move on Bastion's part; letting the rest of the board know that he is open to diversity and that they could be replaced by almost anyone. Besides, Essex doesn't think any more of the girls than any of the rest of them; they're meat, nothing more. She did April in the butt with a strap-on while she was blowing one of the other board members. These guys are all sick, but Essex is downright sadistic; she likes to hurt the girls." "Yeah, I noticed," I said. "I want to talk to Tanya more about her. I'm curious about the connection between them, and I've got an idea about Essex's past." "Oh, gee, let me guess. The ugly girl perpetually ostracized and picked on by the A-crowd? Most of whom are probably working fast-food, cutting hair, or overweight housewives now, while she went on to become a doctor." "Exactly, only in Essex's case, success wasn't enough revenge for her. Missy is Tanya's niece, so the link is through someone else. I want to know who Missy's mom and dad are, or were, and what they did to Essex. Not that I'm planning to cut her any slack because she was picked on as a kid, but just to see if I'm right." "Thank you!" Jamie said. "For a second there I thought you were going soft on me and feeling sorry for the bitch. Jimmy, I think it's time we started to take a hard look at who we can save, who we can convict, and who is going to walk if this blows up." "No one is going to walk, Jamie," I assured her. "Not the bad guys anyway. I'll save the ones I can and make sure they know that they need to work really hard to show me that saving them wasn't a mistake. Well, not me really, but you know what I mean." "Yeah, I know what you mean. So what are you thinking? Talk to Atkins about some of the ones that will skate for lack of evidence?" "No, Jamie, that's not what I'm thinking, and you know it," I said. "I just wish Lizzy was here to talk to about this. I'm a little worried that this may be getting too easy to do." "Hey, at least you're still worried about it," she said. "My only concern was how to save the good guys, people like Hendricks, who are damned if they do or damned if they don't." "I know," I said. "I'm worried about them too. My biggest concern is being absolutely sure that they would stop this if they could. That if we stop it, they won't just start it right back up again." "Yeah, and then there are all these girls to consider. Jimmy, you do realize that when it all hits the fan a lot of these girls are going to wind up in foster care, don't you? Some will wind up with relatives, but even then, if the people they wind up with know their background... , or if they have problems with their new families, they're likely to fall back on what kept them safe before, and that could get ugly all over again. They could end up trading one set of abusers for another." "That is one possibility," I said. "But at the same time, putting out for Aunt May and Uncle Buck, as awful as that may be, is better than being a party favor for half of Las Vegas. I've already given this some thought, and I think we're going to be doing a lot of follow up work with these girls. I'm sure that between the two of us we could make it clear to whoever they end up with that messing with the girls would be a really, really, bad idea." "Oh, good! Let me tell you, that takes a serious load off my mind. Do you think we could do a little match making, maybe pre-screen the relatives to make sure which ones are safe and then ... encourage them to take the girls in?" "I'll go you one further. I think maybe some of the safe ones would be willing to take some of the other girls in." "What?! Jimmy, are you nuts? No way in hell does a judge allow any of those girls to go to someone who was abusing them before, and with good reason. I can't believe you'd even consider it." "No? I'll tell you what made me think of it, and you tell me if it's a bad idea. I was thinking about what would happen to Sam and Rachel after Frank and Irene are dealt with. I don't know if they even have any other family. None of Rachel's memories that mom was working on capturing for her included other family. Just like you, I didn't like the idea that they may end up in Foster Care, but what other option was there? Then it hit me, Rachel could go to her real father, who just happens to already be very close to her sister." "Hendricks? Jimmy, are you insane? No way is his wife going to let that happen! And we've got nothing on her. If we get whatever Hightower has on Stephen then maybe we can save him, but even if there is something that implicates her, no way does that woman go down alone!" "Yeah, I know, that occurred to me as well; it was the one sticking point in my plan. I figured we could 'influence' Frank and Irene to set up contingencies for Sam and Rachel in case something should happen to the two of them — sort of like my folks had with the Davises — but no matter what I came up with, I kept coming back to dear sweet Kathy. I was running out of ideas, so I thought I'd see if you could come up with a solution to that particular problem." There was silence for a moment and then she said, "Jimmy, don't play games. Are you saying what I think you're saying?" I'd struggled with this a lot in the quieter moments lately, especially since Rene had died and I suddenly had time to really get serious about this problem — thinking about it anyway — and just like I had told Jamie, I had run out of ideas. Eventually I'd had to admit that there was no easy, neat, solution to the problem. Just like Tom Davis's cancer, the only approach to curing the problem was radical action and prayer. Funny, we had just talked about this a couple days before, and even that recently I had still been holding out hope that a way could be found to fix it all without... "What I'm saying is that I think we need to divide our efforts. Each concentrate on what we do best. I am going to work on ways to save the people that we need to save, and I want you to focus on some of the others; specifically, the ones that the law can't touch. Don't do anything just yet, but start looking for ways and setting things up, so that when we are ready we can act." "Oh my God!" she said softly. "You mean it! You really mean it. Jimmy I... ," she paused for a moment, and I could feel her anxiety. "Jimmy, I'm really sorry it's come to this, and before I do anything, I'm going to talk to Lizzy, and then you are going to talk to her, and make sure that this is what you want to do. And just so we're clear, you don't want to know what I'm doing?" "No, I don't, and anything that you do needs to either look like an accident or be a complete and total mystery like Andrews and Charles, okay? That's my one condition. It's going to look suspicious enough that all of them are members of the same church, but there is no way to avoid that. Go ahead and talk to Lizzy, then I'll talk to her. You know I'm big on accountability, and I worry about either of us slipping over to the dark side, so everything you're doing I also want you to run past Allison first. If she has any questions, she can bring them to me, and we'll talk about it, but she has final say on everything, no questions asked." "Okay, I can live with that," she said. "And they're not all board members either. There are others like Steve and Kathy out there, plus the ones that are voluntary. Just do us both a favor; once this starts, stay away from the paper, and if something does catch your attention, don't ask me about it." There was another pause. "Jimmy, you're really okay with this?" "Jamie, I promise, as long as you clear what you're doing with Allison, I will not be upset with you." "Even if some of them die screaming in terror in the middle of the night?" An image of Victoria Essex's hand being mauled by a garbage disposal flashed through my mind, followed by the screams of the people Jamie had flayed to strip away the 'kill command' Hightower had hidden in them for the next time I visited their dreams. It was like a little psychic land mine just waiting for me to trip it, a buried hypnotic compulsion to kill me. Samantha's was the first we found, and hers had been relatively easy to defuse — most of them were like that — a loose sort of shroud controlling them while they were trapped inside and forced to watch. But with the more dedicated followers — the board members and a few others — it was more like a second skin, so — given who it was we were dealing with — I let Jamie flay it off in long strips, taking a few layers of skin along with it. Six months earlier the screams would have bothered me, but I'd had time to get to know these particular pillars of the community. Not only did the screams not bother me, just knowing that these were the people who had caused me to have to take this kind of action in the first place really made me mad. My only real regret had been that it was only a dream. A part of me would have preferred that she was doing it for real. "You can wake me up for Essex if you want; if nothing else I'd like to know that she's dead. Talk to Allison and Lizzy about any of the others that she thinks I may want or need to know about. Now, we need to get ready; the girls should be here in a couple of hours." ------- Chapter 13: Welcome Home I couldn't believe how nervous I was about the girls showing up. Twice I started to call and see where they were but stopped myself. "Relax," Jamie said as I was pacing the kitchen. "We'd know if anything was wrong. You're just nervous to see how it's going with Christine." "You really think that's it?" "Well, that and seeing Lizzy in person for the first time in over a week. Just stay away from anything combustible until after the first kiss, and everything will be fine." "That's not funny," I said. "Good, because I wasn't joking; frankly I'm a little worried about what's going to happen. You got a standing ovation at Frankie's the first time. Of course, that's a lot better than a repeat of what happened when you proposed. Bringing everyone in the restaurant off just because they were too close to ground zero could have been embarrassing." I could feel the smile sneaking on to my face. "Yeah, it could have been, but in the right setting it could be fun, too. Maybe when we take Amber to the club for her birthday. Wouldn't that get the crowd going?" "Oh yeah, great idea," she said sarcastically. "Great way to keep a low profile; I'm sure no one would suspect a thing." She paused. "Now if we could do it without anyone knowing it was actually us ... Hmmm. I wonder, fantasies were running pretty wild that night; if I were to sneak around the room a little, time it just right ... This has possibilities." "Okay, now you're scaring me," I said. "It was your idea!" "I was joking!" I exclaimed. "Were you?" she asked. I hate it that the women in my life are always right. "Mostly," I admitted. Before she could answer an image of Lizzy wanting to talk to me intruded. "Go ahead," Jamie said. "I'll keep pacing while you're gone, so the tile doesn't roll up." "Funny," I said. But I did go. Lizzy was waiting in her garden as usual, and as always the sight of her took my breath away. "Are those new flowers in your hair?" "As a matter of fact they are," she said, blushing prettily and smiling. "Thanks for noticing." I just stood there grinning and biting my lip, not trusting myself to even touch her. "Oh, Jimmy, you are just too special. Hug me! I'm not going to break." I hugged her and spun her around so hard one of her silk slippers flew off. I wanted her. Suddenly nothing in the world mattered so much to me as having her. "Whoa!" she said, pushing away slightly so I would set her down. "I can see we're going to need to do something about this soon. Do you want to skip dinner?" "You're serious?" I asked. "Yes, I'm serious," she said. "I know we've talked about it, but tell me what you want, and I'll do it." That made me stop, and suddenly I knew it wasn't time. She saw the change as soon as it happened. "Rats," she said. "I was half hoping you would go through with it." "No," I said. "Not like this. No last-minute, mad dash to the altar. For one thing, I think Allison would kill me if I didn't let her attend." "Jimmy, you know that's not possible. You two can't be together, not yet. Not for some time. Trust me; she understands, so if that's all that's holding you back..." "No, it's not, not really. I just ... When you said that, I got this feeling that it just wasn't the right time, not yet." "Okay, then let's get back to the reason for this little meeting. Christine says we're going to be hitting town in about thirty minutes. Here's the plan..." Jamie was sitting on a bar stool drinking a glass of orange juice when I got back. "Everything okay?" she asked. "Yeah, just some last minute stuff she wanted to confirm. Like how to greet everyone without making Christine feel like she was intruding." "Is that all? It felt for a second like things were getting..." She caught herself and let it go. "I'm guessing you got that all ironed out then. How long before they get here?" "About half an hour, give or take," I said. "Good, then you've got time to take care of the basics before everyone gets here. Maybe you should take a book..." Thirty-five minutes later Christine knocked on the door. I was entertaining myself playing puzzle games on the internet at the time, and I felt myself take a gasping breath as my head spun toward the sound. "You're pathetic," Jamie said. "You didn't have to knock," I told Christine when I opened the door. "It's not like I wasn't expecting you, and you do have your own key." I had given her a key to the apartment before she left, just in case I wasn't here when they got back. I took the little cat carrier that was the only piece of luggage she had brought in with her. I'm sure there was supposed to be some kind of joke there, but I let it go. "I know, it's just ... this is all a little strange, and it's going to take me a while to get a grip on it." I set the cat carrier on the floor next to the couch and opened the door, so Widget could come out when she was ready. "Would you like to talk about it?" I asked. "My guess is that's why Lizzy dropped you off first. Might have been nice if they'd sent the litter box with you, though." "Yeah, she said to call when we were ready for them. They're going over to Fountain Park; Lizzy said she wanted to walk around and stretch her legs before she has to fly home, and you don't have to worry about Widget; we let her out about forty minutes ago." "So, did you want to talk?" I asked again. "Yes, but I really don't know what to say," she said. "I mean, the whole thing is just so ... strange. I still don't understand how she can be so comfortable about us having sex when you're engaged." "That's easy; she's not threatened by you, and she knows that sex is not love, and that sex doesn't have the kind of hold on me that it does on most guys. Not that I don't love it, I do; it's one of my favorite things, but ... Okay, I'm starting to ramble; I'm going to shut up now." She rolled her eyes and said, "No, it's okay; I understand what you're trying to say, but I still just can't seem to wrap my brain around it. Don't get me wrong; it's not that I have a problem with sex without commitment or anything like that; I mean, look at our first time. It's not like I was looking for more, but this is different." "It doesn't have to be, Christine," I said. "But it should be," she replied. Something told me we were about to actually reach the root of her uncertainty. "When you're just going to be with someone once, you know, just a fling, there are no expectations, but when you're together regularly there should be more to it; it should go somewhere; it should be more than just..." "Physical?" I asked. "Christine, I understand what you're saying. You want more; you want to be with someone who loves you." "No," she said. "I mean yes, I want that, but that's not what I'm trying to say. Lizzy pointed out that I don't want — or at least don't have time for — love in my life right now. It's just that..." "It's that this solution is way outside of anything you've ever heard of. You're still worried about coming between me and Lizzy?" "Yes!" she said, clearly getting exasperated by the topic. "I don't want ... actually I do want the whole happy home thing, but I'm not ready for it yet. If I was, trust me, you'd be right there at the top of my list except that..." I held up my hand. "Stop," I said. "We're not going to get anywhere this way." I took her hand and kissed it. "There is nothing I can say that is going to help you with this. To say that my life is complicated would be the understatement of the year, but my love life simply defies description. Let's just leave it alone for now, and we'll talk about it again after dinner if you want, okay?" I thought it might be best if maybe the first time she saw me with Lizzy was somewhere public. That way she wouldn't have time to think about it. I called Lizzy and gave her directions to the Bellagio. I then called the hotel for reservations at Le Cirque, one of their premier restaurants, where I was quickly informed that they were booked up. I hung up and called back, this time asking for Special Services instead of the restaurant. Somehow they managed to get us a table overlooking the lake. "Do you want to shower or anything before dinner?" I asked Christine after I hung up. "Where are we going?" "Le Cirque, I wanted to spoil the girls a little. They'll be able to see the fountain show from the table." "Le Cirque? David, I don't even have a dress! Much less shoes, and only the basics for makeup, and..." "Okay, then we'll just go like this," I said, interrupting. "It's not like Lizzy and Amber are going to be dressing up. I'm going to grab a quick shower. I'd invite you to join me, but it's a really small shower." I gave her a wink. "Maybe next time. Do you want to go first?" She did, and I took advantage of the time to call Lizzy back and let her know we were staying casual. "Are you sure that's okay?" she asked. "I mean, these ritzy places..." "Like money," I said, interrupting. "Don't worry, special services made the reservation; I doubt if they'd kick us out unless we showed up in bathing suits." As I was speaking I had a thought. "We could pad the odds a little if you want." "How?" "Tell Amber to wear the red collar and fans." "Ah," she said. "Yeah, I'll bet a place like this knows what those mean. It should be fun to see the kind of looks we get. We'll see you there. Are you sure our stuff will be ... Never mind; love you." "Love you too, see you in a bit." Christine was just finishing up her makeup when I came out of the shower, leaning over the sink in just her bra and panties putting on her mascara. I thought it was a good sign, kissed her carefully on the shoulder and headed for the closet to get clothes. We beat the girls to the restaurant, and the staff took us right in past the line of people waiting to be seated. You could almost feel the daggers; they were really going to be happy when the girls came through. I ordered us a bottle of wine and asked them to take the extra two glasses away, thereby signaling that the rest of our party were non-drinkers. "I'd forgotten how much fun it is to go out with you," Christine said as she sipped her wine. "It won't be like this everywhere we go, I assure you. I just happen to be on their VIP list, so they try a little harder. You don't mind spending a little time on the floor later do you?" "Can we put a blanket down?" She asked with a grin. "I always end up with rug burns on my ass." Now it was my turn to smile. "I meant we should gamble a little bit, so they know we're not just taking advantage of their hospitality." "Oh," she said, doing her best to look disappointed. It didn't work; the smile in her eyes gave her away. "They're here," she said, nodding her head toward the door. I turned and saw the maitre d' escorting the girls toward our table. They were both just in jeans and tops, but my breath still caught when I saw Lizzy. Across the room I saw a waiter and waitress suddenly put their heads together, the woman touching her earrings and then pointing toward the girls. The guy's eyes got wide, and I could read his lips as he said, "Really?" Lizzy flowed up against me, placing a gentle kiss on my cheek. I kissed her hand and then held her chair as she sat. I then moved around and did the same for Amber, who also gave me a kiss on the cheek. I didn't notice the look on Christine's face until I sat down again. "Wow!" she said and then turned to Lizzy. "Okay, I feel better now. The only time I ever saw a man look at a woman like that was at my Grandparent's fiftieth anniversary when my dad was telling the story of how they had met. I swear, when granddad looked at Nana, he looked twenty instead of seventy." "You should have been there when they kissed the first time," Amber said. "I heard they practically got a standing ovation." "Really?" Christine asked. "Oh yeah!" Amber assured her. "A line actually formed." "Amber!" Lizzy exclaimed, blushing. "It was just Carol." She turned to Christine again. "My friend Carol decided to be catty and see if she could wheedle a kiss out of him." "Be fair, Lizzy," Amber said. "Lizzy let her kiss him, and they practically had to carry her back to the table." She leaned in and whispered in Christine's ear. It didn't take any imagination at all to figure out what she said as Christine's eyes went wide, and she jerked her head around toward Amber, "No way!" "Way," Amber assured her, nodding her head very seriously. "Fuck me!" Christine whispered intently. "I'd love to," Amber said with a smile, "but you'll have to ask them first." Christine's blush almost matched the wine, which she suddenly seemed to need a sip of as her mouth went dry. Amber winked at me as she took a drink of her water. I glanced at Lizzy and she leaned over to whisper in my ear. "I told her to flirt a little. If you call her Angel she'll stop." "I think it's perfect," I whispered back. Dinner was everything you would expect from a five-star French restaurant. Their soup of the day was a cream of cauliflower, and — while I'm not a fan of the vegetable — I have to admit it was the best soup I had ever eaten. I could have sent back the rack of lamb and just had more soup. Mr. Sanders, the hotel manager, showed up just as they were clearing away dinner; a man in a white uniform and a stained white apron was with him. "Mr. Malcolm, Miss Payson, it is a pleasure to have you with us again. May I introduce... ?" He turned out to be the head Chef, and Sanders stepped aside to let him approach our table. I stood to greet him and thank him for dinner. "Everything is to your satisfaction I hope?" he said politely. There was a trace of an accent. "The lamb was out of this world," I assured him. "That soup, though," I said, shaking my head. "I don't think I'll ever enjoy another bowl of soup." "Pardon?" he asked, concerned. "Are you kidding?" I asked. "You should be ashamed of yourself. The least you could do is put a warning up, 'Warning, this soup is to die for, eat only as part of last meal.' I hate you." "Merci," he said, laughing at my jest and then adding conspiratorially, "Do not tell anyone, but that is actually my grandmother's recipe. May I suggest the chocolate soufflé for desert? I have some ready to come out in a few minutes, and perhaps a Chambord liqueur to go with it?" "Sounds delicious; we would be delighted, thank you." "The pleasure is mine, M'sieur. Enjoy your evening." He moved off and checked on a couple other tables before heading back to the kitchen. It was about fifteen minutes later that the waiter came out with four individual baking dishes and two small glasses filled with dark red liquid. I don't know what it was about the drink, but it really did go well with the desert. Not that it needed any accompaniment; it stood quite well on its own — the girls were practically orgasmic over every bite — but the liqueur did add a certain indefinable something. When we were about half done Christine leaned close over the table and asked, "Do you think we could get this to go? Maybe with a little extra chocolate sauce?" Amber didn't get it, but Lizzy couldn't help giggling around the bite in her mouth. "Flashback!" she said, after swallowing. "Just remember to use the cheap sheets, or maybe spread a drop-cloth out first." "Sounds like fun," Amber said. "We'll talk later," I said. "Right now, Elizabeth has a plane to catch, and Christine and I need to spend some time out in the Casino, so we can stay in the hotel's good graces." "We already talked about it," Lizzy said. "Amber is going to take me to the airport, then she can take the Jeep back to your place, unload it, and take care of Widget until you get home. I'll have Dean Worthy clear it for her to miss work, and she can come home tomorrow. It's a late enough flight that I'll sleep on the plane and in the cab to school. Amber is looking forward to spending the night here with you for a change, aren't you Amber?" "Yes, Mistress," she said. "Very much." I signed to have dinner, and a generous tip, charged against my house account, and Christine and I accompanied them out to the Valet area. Jamie was going along with Amber to make sure she didn't have any trouble finding her way to the apartment. The usual hugs and kisses were exchanged — Lizzy and I kept it very short and controlled just in case; Jamie waited until after I had kissed Amber to move over, and then Christine and I went down to the casino for a little fun. "So what would you like to do?" I asked. "I don't know," she replied. "I've never really done much gambling. I couldn't afford it." "Smart girl," I said. "Let's have some fun." I went to the cashier's booth and signed for five hundred dollars worth of chips, then took Christine in search of a craps table. "Now, the whole point of this is just to have fun, so what you want to do is determine how much fun you can afford and then try to pace yourself, so you don't run out of money before you're ready to stop. The nice thing about a craps table is that you have a lot of choices. Plus, there is the added fun of the crowd." We settled at a table about midway down the row, and I started teaching her the basics. We'd been at it for about an hour, and the table was now full of screaming players. "Don't let her roll the next pass," Jamie said. She'd rejoined us about thirty minutes before. "What?" I asked, surprised. "Either have her pass the dice, or you roll for her." "Why?" I asked. "What am I missing?" "You're up three thousand dollars, and from what I've seen most of it is from when she is rolling. Something is happening, and if you don't stop, others are going to notice, like the nice people watching on the cameras. In fact, it may be a really good idea if you took a break and got a quiet drink somewhere." "Let's take a break," I whispered to Christine. "Maybe grab a drink and sit down for a while." She turned her head so she could whisper in my ear, "I have a better idea." The next thing I knew she put her back to the table, her arms around my neck, and her tongue down my throat. If that wasn't enough to give me the message, she followed up the kiss by whispering, "Take me home, now!" That worked too. I raised my voice to the pitman handling our chips; "Cash us out on the next pass, please." "Yes, sir," He said with a smile. The shooter made his point two throws later. Good, I didn't want to leave the table on a losing point; it might make others decide to leave as well. If the table was still hot, they would likely stick around. I handed a hundred dollar chip to our dealer and thanked him for the game. "Thank you, sir. Enjoy your evening." He showed the chip to the croupier who nodded before he pocketed it. Hopefully the other winners would follow suit. Apparently winning makes Christine horny — really, really horny. She was standing in front of me wiggling her butt against me as we waited for the car, and it was all I could do to keep her out of my pants on the drive home. Twice I had to stop her from unzipping me. Finally she contented herself with just fondling me and telling me how badly she wanted me. I hurried to get out of the car as soon as we stopped for fear that she would attack me right there in the garage. I would have died if Doreen had walked in on us. When we reached the apartment, we found the whole place awash in candlelight and Amber curled up on the couch waiting for us. She started to rise as we came in, but I put a hand out, motioning her to be still. "Well, this is a pleasant surprise," I said. "I know how much Christine has been looking forward to being with you again; I wanted to make it special for her." "Thank you, Amber," Christine said, genuinely touched at the surprising gesture. "What about you?" Rather than answer on her own, she looked to me for guidance. "I did something wrong didn't I?" Christine asked. "It's not your fault, Christine," I assured her. "Amber, I am giving you to Christine for the rest of the evening." "Yes, Master," she responded, sliding off the couch and dropping to her knees before her Mistress for the evening. "Christine, Amber will do anything you instruct her to do, anything at all, but if at any time she says the word "dragonfly" everything stops, and you may command her no more; do you understand?" "No, not really," she answered, "but I'm trusting you to keep me from doing anything stupid." She turned her attention back to Amber. "What I meant was: What are you going to do while your master and I try to fuck each other to death?" "Whatever you desire, Mistress" Amber said. "If it is your wish, I will go to sleep on the couch and leave you to yourselves, or I can watch, or assist. Whatever you instruct me to do, I will do, happily." "That is so... ," she caught herself. "Never mind." She took a deep breath. "Okay, why don't we start with you helping me get his clothes off? You start at the bottom, and I'll meet you somewhere in the middle." "Yes, Mistress," Amber answered. She crawled over and began untying my shoes and removing them. She skipped my socks and moved directly to unbuckling my belt. When my pants were loosened, she gently took them off, folded them, and placed them on the coffee table. Then she slid around behind me and began kissing her way in a line down the back of my legs from just below my boxers to each sock, which she then removed. While she was doing this, Christine had started by kissing me all around my face and neck. I reached for her, and as expected she pushed my hands away and down to my sides. It reminded me of playing with Shannon and Allison. Shannon in particular had liked to tease, and we'd had to be careful to take turns so no one exploded from anticipation, although I came close a couple of times. After she was through working my neck over, Christine bent down and began kissing her way up my stomach and chest as she lifted my shirt slowly up. She actually chewed her way up my side, hitting each rib with her teeth as she went. It was a very erotic sensation, half tickle and yet ... so much more at the same time. By the time she reached my left nipple you could have fit a small circus under the tent in my shorts. By this time Amber had both my socks off, and Christine decided it was time to move on to other things. She peeled my shirt over my head and tossed it aside, then knelt and began kissing around the waistband of my boxers. Amber followed her lead and began doing the same across the back, careful to stay completely opposite of Christine at all times. Finally Christine caught the back of her head and pulled her around toward where she was currently working on my right hip. I think somewhere along the line Christine had decided she wanted to see what she was missing, and I waited in eager anticipation as the moment approached. Finally they were cheek to cheek, and Christine turned her head so that their tongues touched. Amber followed her lead without hesitation and kissed her back. It was brief — just a touch and away — but still ... Hot! As soon as the kiss broke, Christine turned me so that I was facing away from them and began running her hands up under my boxers and over my ass and thighs, front and back but being careful not to touch anything important in front. "God, I love your ass!" she said. Sliding the leg of my boxers up, she took a big chunk between her teeth and didn't so much bite as just rake her teeth across my flesh. Then she reached up and started slowly working the waistband down, kissing and biting gently as she went. When things started to get hung up in the front, she turned me back around, peeled them the rest of the way off, and tossed them aside as she had my shirt. She turned me so that I was directly between them, leaned in, and started licking around the base of my cock on her side. Amber again mirrored her actions, following her lead as she kissed and licked every centimeter of flesh on her side. Several times they opened their mouths so wide that their lips met around my flesh, their tongues playing on opposite sides as they sought to reach each other. Just as I thought they might actually make it to the crown, Christine stopped and dropped down to lick and suck my, by now very heavy, balls. One by one they took turns taking them gently into their mouths, and then they again did their best to kiss each other through me as they licked a solid wet line up the shaft and met at the end, tongues playing over and around my most sensitive area. At this point my knees actually gave out, and I had to step back and catch myself before I fell. "Steady there, big guy," Christine said. "Don't faint on me yet." "I hope you're enjoying yourself," I said. "You have no idea," she answered. Actually I did, but I didn't see any point in correcting her. This was definitely not the time to bring up past encounters with girlfriends she didn't even know. I was smiling inside, though. That ended when she suddenly took the head in her mouth and shoved herself down over me all the way to her gag point. I actually felt her throat constrict as she wasn't really prepared, but she held on, closing her mouth tightly around me and then sucking hard as she pulled slowly off, her tongue massaging the bottom of my shaft as she went. She spent an extra second or two on the head, took a deep breath through her nose, and then pressed down again. As she passed the halfway point, her mouth opened slightly, and she stuck her tongue out — a trick Allison and Shannon had explained to me helped get the throat to relax. This time she kept going until her lips reached the very bottom, then she took a couple of small strokes, just about an inch back and forth, allowing me to enjoy the constriction of her throat muscles before sliding off again. Having something that far in your mouth sends your salivary glands into overdrive as they try to generate the lubrication necessary to handle the obstruction. As a result, my shaft was very slick when she finally pulled off; a long string of thick spit trailed between her lower lip and my engorged head. She drove forward again, sucking up the spit-streamer and latching onto the head of my cock, sucking hard to clear the excess moisture and pulling back so quickly there was actually a pop as I came free. Without a word, she pulled Amber into place so she could have a turn. Christine is good; I have to give her credit. I'd say she was at least as good as Allison. Amber was better, and without so much as slowing down, she sucked me all the way down her throat and then swallowed several times. The sensation was indescribable. I could see by the look on her face that this was a new concept to Christine. Amber proceeded to impress her further as she rapidly went tip to base about a dozen times in a smooth easy rhythm, breathing in and out through her nose as necessary, and then pulled off to allow Christine another turn. As she took me back in her mouth, Christine tugged on Amber's blouse. Amber got the message and immediately began taking it off. Her bra followed quickly, and she then moved behind Christine and starting pulling her shirt up over her head as well, carefully freeing one arm at a time so as not to interrupt Christine as she was ministering to me. Once the shirt was up over both shoulders, she unfastened the catch on Christine's bra — this one happened to hook in the front so once it was unsnapped, she could actually take it all the way off without really interfering. Christine then surrendered me to Amber's attention as she took her shirt the rest of the way off. She then stood and removed her pants and shoes, leaving her in just a lacy pair of hi-cut purple panties. She surprised me as she moved close up behind Amber, reached around and began fondling Amber's ample breasts, pressing herself up against her back and kissing her shoulders and neck every time Amber pulled back far enough off of me to put her in range. "Thanks for the help there sis; this would have been over a long time ago otherwise." "Yeah, but then Christine might have stopped as well. Once she stops, it may be hard to get her moving again. I don't want her to stop and regret it again. She may not have the courage to ask for another chance." "As long as you're not being encouraging," I said. "Jimmy! I would never ... Okay I might, but only if it was me she was going down on, and then I wouldn't need to." By now Christine was undoing Amber's pants and working them down her thighs. Amber started to pull back, but Christine placed a hand on the back of her head and pushed her down on me again. Amber looked up at me and gave me wink as she took me deep again. I just smiled and flicked my eyebrows at her. This was definitely going further than I had anticipated, and I wondered if this wasn't what Lizzy had had in mind when she suggested Amber spend the night. Amber rocked back and forth on her knees, so Christine could get her jeans and panties free. Christine seemed to be lost in exploring Amber's body; her eyes were closed as she ran her hands over every inch of exposed flesh, allowing her to concentrate wholly on the sensations of her fingertips sliding over the younger woman's soft skin. Finally, she ran her hand down the crease of Amber's cheeks and into the wet softness below. Amber's breath caught, and she stopped moving as Christine's questing fingers parted her nether lips, releasing the moisture that had been gathering; one finger penetrated her, and the rest continued on until she was cupped in Christine's palm with a finger deep inside her. "Do you like that, Amber?" Christine whispered huskily in her ear. Pulling back, she took me in her hand and began stroking me as she answered, "Yes, Mistress." "Keep sucking," Christine instructed. Without hesitation Amber took me back in her mouth and started bobbing up and down again. I couldn't see much, but I could tell by the flexing in Christine's shoulder muscles that she had started working herself in and out of Amber's wet opening. Suddenly Amber gave a shudder, her breath catching and her eyes pinching shut. "How about that?" Christine asked. "Don't stop, just answer." "Um-hmm," Amber moaned, nodding her head as best she could with me in her mouth. Christine's left hand moved up to fondle and caress Amber's left breast as she started working her fingers in and out faster. The squishy sounds were making it really hard to concentrate, and I was in serious danger of losing it. I could tell Amber was getting close as well. "Do you want to cum?" Christine asked. All that came out was as pleading sound, and Amber began to suck harder and faster, her breath now coming in gasps. I could see her hips starting to rock slightly in response to what Christine was doing as well. "Are you close?" Christine asked. "Um-hmm!" Amber groaned. The next thing I heard was Christine's hand coming down hard on Amber's butt cheek. "Don't you dare," Christine commanded. "Not until I tell you, do you understand." "Um-hmm." "But you want to, don't you?" Christine asked, caressing the spot she had just slapped, then sliding her hand down into the soggy wetness between the girl's legs again. Once more Amber's breath caught, and she gave a whine that spoke volumes in answer. I could tell Christine was working her even harder this time, pushing her closer and closer to the edge all the time. "You want it so badly," Christine whispered. "That joyous rush of sensation exploding in your brain would feel so good. Beg me." "Please, Mistress," Amber begged, once more using her hand to keep me interested. "Please let me cum, I want it so badly." Again Christine withdrew and slapped her hard on the ass, this time pinching her nipple at the same time. Amber gave a gasping cry, her back arched and her head thrown back. Another loud slap and Christine whispered, "You can come when he does, not a moment sooner." And then she jammed her hand back between Amber's legs and began masturbating her furiously. Amber immediately took me into her mouth once more, and this time she was serious. "Don't you dare come before he does, Amber, or I'll be very unhappy." One of Amber's hands crept between my legs to play with my balls, the other stroking my shaft as she moved up and down with increasing intensity. The hand moved and suddenly I was balls deep in her mouth, her tongue playing across the front of my scrotum as she swallowed around me, fucking the last inch of my shaft in and out of her lips. When she pulled back, her breathing was getting ragged and desperate before she took a deep breath and plunged forward once more. "Try not to faint," Jamie said, and suddenly the flag dropped for the last lap. Christine could read the signs, and she quickly said, "Don't swallow it." Amber kept working every inch of me until the last possible second, then it was a race to see if she could get her mouth back far enough before I shot off down her throat. I must have poured a gallon into her mouth, one gigantic — almost painful — spurt after another. Eventually it started seeping around the edges of her mouth and down her chin to drip on her chest. "Now kiss me," Christine said, pulling her back and shifting her hand around to assault Amber's sex from a new angle. As their lips met and they started exchanging my fluids Christine pushed backward, cradling Amber's shoulders as she laid her on the floor and really started working her sex. It didn't take long before Amber started bucking against her hand and screaming her orgasm into Christine's mouth. "That was so hot," Christine said, when Amber finally subsided, "but you should have told me she was a screamer; we might have disturbed Doreen." "Sorry," I said. "I was a little distracted ... and a little surprised — at you, I mean." "You didn't think I liked girls?" She asked. "I never have; this was a first for me. I've wanted to try it ever since high school. I've had a few chances, but I never really got up the nerve to go through with it, or it was just my boyfriend trying to push me into fulfilling one of his fantasies. The one time I came close, I chickened out because I had a feeling the other woman just wanted me to be her toy." "So you felt safe this time because you were with Amber?" I asked. "Mostly, but also because I was with you. I don't know why, but I feel safe around you — either of you actually — but really safe with both of you here. Like nothing could possibly go wrong." "You should," I said. "Now what about you? Amber and I both had our fun, and while I'm sure you enjoyed playing with Amber, I'm also sure you'd like more. The look in your eyes says you're worried about what's next. Don't be. Just tell me what you want." "Actually," she said, hugging her knees to her chest, "I'm okay. Even though my original goal was to get you between my legs at all costs, and I know I didn't have as much fun as either of you, I'm good ... for now. If anything, I'm a little tired. What say we just call it a night? We can always pick up again in the morning." "Dragonfly," Amber said. Then her tone changed, and she added, "What a load of crap! David, take the poor woman to bed for god's sake." She knelt next to Christine, "Go ahead, lie to me and tell me that's not what you want." "But what about you?" Christine asked. "I knew it. Master, would you please take her in there and fuck her brains out before she hurts my feelings?" The she turned back to Christine and said, "Go! We'll talk in the morning, and I'll explain. Before you go though, can someone show me how the bed folds out?" "No!" Christine said urgently. "Please ... Amber I'm sorry if I'm doing this all wrong but, would you sleep with us, you know ... after." "Promise not to put me on the wet spot?" "Amber!" I said in a warning tone. She dropped like a stone to the floor, hands neatly folded, and her eyes averted. "I'm sorry, Master. Christine, I would be honored to share a bed with you. Thank you." "No, Amber," Christine said. "It's me that should be thanking you, but I guess that would be wrong, too. Damn, this stuff is complicated." "You're doing fine," I assured her, taking her hand and kissing it. "Christine, it's your first time in the deep end of the pool; it just takes time. You haven't changed your mind have you?" "As if," she scoffed. "Amber, I want to apologize in advance for what I'm about to do to your Master. He may not be much good to you for a while." "Don't apologize, Christine," Amber said with a smile. "My Master is always good for me. Just being here with him is enough. Mind if I play with your pussy?" We all knew she was really talking about the cat that was now rubbing up against her arm, but I could see Christine struggling not to smile. With some effort she managed to keep her lips pressed together, but the blush was beyond her control. Apparently so was speech. It had been a long time since I fell asleep between two women, and even though these two were bigger than I was used to, it still felt great. ------- Chapter 14: Theories Originally posted on: Sun May 23, 2010 6:02 pm "So what was all that back at the casino?" I asked Jamie as the girls snuggled in and settled themselves for sleep. "I don't know," she answered. There was a ... seriousness to her tone that I wasn't used to. "Do you mind if I talk to Lizzy about it?" "No, of course not, go ahead, but she's probably not going to be around for a while." "I thought I would go to her." "Wow, this really must be serious. Do you know where she is?" "They just landed. Jimmy, I don't know what it was, but something was happening back there; something important, possibly even dangerous. Don't ask me to explain because I can't, but we need to figure it out as fast as possible. I'll see you later." "Okay, give her a kiss for me." Jamie "What's up, my little bride to be?" Lizzy asked when I arrived. "I don't know," I answered. Again my tone gave me away. "Whoa," Lizzy responded. "I thought maybe you were getting away while Jimmy and Christine got frisky." "No, they did that already; they're all snuggled up going to sleep now." "All of them? So Christine did take advantage of having Amber there. I thought she might." "Yes and no," I answered. "She shared Jimmy with Amber, but mostly she just played with dominating Amber. They kissed; Amber undressed her and such, but that was all, then she played with Amber, pushing her but telling her she couldn't get off until she was told to. It was all I could do to keep Jimmy from popping before she was ready. She finally told Amber she could come when Jimmy did — I held him back so she had to work at it a little, then let him go. I'm surprised he didn't shrivel up from fluid loss. Christine told her not to swallow, but she couldn't hold it all, and it was dripping all down the front of her. Then Christine kissed her and pushed her over the edge while they were sharing it." Around us people were getting up to retrieve their stowed carry-on luggage, and bodies filled the aisle the length of the plane. Why do people do this? You're not going to get off any faster, relax. "Sounds hot, Amber must have been in heaven. Did Christine lick the overflow off of her?" "Eww! No, why? And why would she?" "Just curious; wondering how far she went. As for why she would do it... " She flashed the scene of Cherise chained to a table, covered in whipped cream, and berries. "Did she let Amber do anything to her?" "No, she kind of withdrew a little after that, said she just wanted to go to bed. What did you tell Amber about tonight?" "I instructed Amber to be very careful with her, not to initiate, but that it was okay if Christine came to her." "Well, it was all Christine's idea. Amber had lit the place up with candles for them because she knew Christine really wanted Jimmy, and she wanted to make it special for them. But then when Jimmy gave Amber to Christine for the night she had her join in, and the two of them started stripping him. It was sooo hot! If I hadn't been playing fireman he would have lost it a lot sooner, but I was afraid Christine would stop once he did." "Probably so. It would have given her time to stop and think about what was happening. Some girls never start again." "Kind of what I thought. I was really proud of Amber; as soon as Christine mentioned calling it a night, Amber safe-worded out of the deal and told her she was full of shit and they both knew it. She sent her and Jimmy off to get busy." "Christine was worried about interfering with Jimmy and Amber?" "Yep! Amber assured her it was okay and told her she'd explain it in the morning." Lizzy nodded her understanding, "This is all new to her, and she doesn't know the rules. She just needs a little time. So what's so serious? It sounds like everything went well." "Something happened at the casino, or at least I think something was happening; I don't know for sure, but it was really freaking me out, and I was worried someone else might notice, so I had Jimmy break it off." "What was happening?" "I think Christine was controlling the dice." We had just reached the top of the ramp, and Lizzy froze momentarily before stepping into the jetway. "She was what?" She started forward again. "Wait, don't tell me. Are Allison and Jimmy available?" "I can check on Allison; she could always take an afternoon nap if necessary; Jimmy will probably be talking with Christine about today to see how she feels about it when she wakes up on the other side where she remembers everything." "She'll be fine. Could you see if Allison is available? I can sleep in the cab on the way back to the school, so we can all talk." "Maybe you should get a car," I suggested. "No," she said, shaking her head. "Driving is too much of a strain. Besides, the only time I ever need it is when we come here. Everything else is close enough to walk to. The bus runs from the school to downtown late enough to get me to work and back. If we had a car, then we'd have to pay for parking, insurance, maintenance; it's cheaper to just pay a cab when we need to go farther. Besides, Amber and I are making lots of friends, and a lot of them have cars, so getting around isn't that big a deal. If we were really in a bind, we could rent something, and Amber could drive. Go see about Allison; just let me know when you're ready." I didn't even notice it at the time, but it didn't feel like I really left. I just shifted my attention to Allison, and within moments I found her on a plane, then I was just there with her instead of with Lizzy. "Hi," I said. "Hi yourself," she said, I could feel her smile. "That's kind of a new trick, isn't it? Last time we did this we were in Jimmy's truck, and he was touching me." That made me stop. She was right. The first time Jimmy had touched her, after that I had moved between them without physical contact; the last time I had been with Lizzy was the night before in New Mexico, and I had gone with Jimmy, then we had merged when we got there. This time, Allison was on a plane going six hundred plus miles per hour, and it had been like walking from one room to another. "You're right," I told her. "I think maybe things have changed again. We'll have to talk to Jimmy about it later; right now you need to take a nap; Lizzy and I need your help." "You and Lizzy need my help? Where's Jimmy?" "Probably debriefing Christine." I felt her react to the word. Ever since the time Rebecca had made that Freudian slip after a couple days away from Bob, none of them ever heard the word without smiling and thinking naughty thoughts. It was actually before my time, but they had explained it to me the first time it happened while I was there. Now even I reacted to it. "No, not like that," I chuckled. "They did that already. When she wakes up on the other side, he's going to want to talk to her about what happened today. You know, how she feels about it all now that she remembers everything again. You know big brother; he'll want to make sure she's okay with everything. I think he's wasting his time but..." "Why do you think that?" she asked, cutting me off. "I think it's too late," I said. "I don't know how to explain..." "You think he already changed her?" "Damn it, Allison!" I swore. "Do you have to be so damn smart all the time? Here I thought I was on to something and..." "I love you, too," she said with a laugh. "You think his energy has already affected her, don't you?" "Something like that?" I said dubiously. Energy? "What do you mean his energy?" "It's just a theory I've been working on, but I think that's what Lizzy sees — a kind of bio-energy signature. Years ago a scientist named Kirlian hypothesized that every living creature produces its own distinct energy field, the more complex the creature, the more complex the pattern. It's even been speculated that some blind species — cave dwellers and deep-ocean fish — may be able to detect these fields, using them to identify prey. I think Lizzy is sensitive to these fields — or something like them; and obviously they are all different, or she wouldn't be able to tell people apart. I think the reason Jimmy overwhelmed her in the beginning is because his field is too strong and complex. I've been thinking about it a lot since you guys moved away — it's not like I had anything else to do. I used to think Jimmy was just projecting emotions — actually I know he does — but now I think there's more to it, and maybe part of it is his energy field affecting those around him. For some reason, certain other fields have triggered changes in his field, forcing it to change and grow. I think the most significant change came when his field met Lizzy's. If you think about it, things started escalating like crazy right after that. Look at what happened with Amber, how fast she absorbed her training. I know you helped some, but I think most of the change was because Jimmy made up his mind that she needed it. We all did the research; it takes years to get where she is. "So now Christine shows up, and, for some reason, Amber is convinced she's important. I have my own theory about why that happened, but I don't want to talk about it yet. Anyway, Amber feels, feels strongly, that Christine is important, and that we have to keep her safe and keep her with Jimmy. Jimmy doesn't understand it, but he believes it, and starts looking for a way to make that happen. I think as soon as he made that decision his energy field started affecting hers." "Interesting theory," I said. " Do us both a favor and don't tell him about it." "No kidding," Allison agreed, rolling her eyes. The guy next to her on the plane shifted his hand — which had been touching her — away again, thinking she was irritated with him. Yeah, it's all about you fella, keep dreaming. "He'll immediately start feeling guilty for influencing her, and making her do things she wouldn't normally do or something like that. He still hasn't come to terms with the fact that he's special for a reason. Call it the hand of God, call it Karma, fate, whatever; there is a reason people come into his life." "I think he's already accepted that part," I said. "That's why he went along with it when Amber wanted to tell her the whole story." "True," Allison agreed, "but he's still more worried about it being her idea than with finding out why she's here. I'm far more concerned with why she's here, what she brings to the table. Figuring that out may give us a little more insight into what is really going on. There's a bigger picture here, but we don't have enough pieces to see it yet." In my mind I could feel Lizzy was ready for us, and I passed the information on to Allison. She settled herself as comfortably as she could in the seat, and I took us both to Lizzy's dream rather than making a new one. She was waiting in the garden as usual, and, as usual, she took my breath away. I'm with Jimmy on this one; I hope it's a feeling I never get over. I'm about over the waiting part, though, he can keep torturing himself if he wants, but if he doesn't make a move soon... "So it's not just Jimmy she does that to?" Allison asked. "Not even," I admitted. "Sorry if you got caught in the backwash there." "Don't apologize," she said. "I think it's sweet, and I'm very happy for all of you." "Hello, Allison," Lizzy said, rising from the bench to greet us. I stepped out of Allison just to be safe. "I didn't really have a chance to greet you properly last night. I'm so happy you're safe." She hugged her future sister-in-law tight, and there were tears in her eyes as she pulled away and kissed her forehead. It's a good thing I got out when I did because Allison was having none of that. "You still haven't," she said, then grabbed the older girl by the head and kissed her soundly, "but if you did it now we wouldn't get anything else done, so that will have to hold us over. So what's so important you had to drag me here from the middle of the Pacific?" "Jamie?" Lizzy said, indicating I should explain. "Jimmy took the girls to dinner, and then Amber took Lizzy to the airport; long story short, Amber is staying the night. Anyway, after they left, Jimmy took Christine down to the casino to have a little fun and show the hotel that VIP status wasn't being wasted on him. They landed at a craps table, and he started showing her the basics, and everyone started having a good time." "Wait," Allison said. "How good a time? More or less than the tables around you?" "More, but let me finish. I started noticing something right after I got back — I'd gone with Amber so she wouldn't get lost. Anyway, Christine's luck kept getting better, and I don't mean a little better, I mean seriously better. I started watching, and every pass her luck stayed good a little longer. I made Jimmy leave before anyone else — like the nice men watching the cameras — noticed it." "You think she was somehow controlling the dice?" Allison asked. "Like telekinesis or something?" "I don't know," I answered. "It may have just been my imagination, and I could be totally off base here. All I know is that every time she got the dice it took her longer to make her point. Her last pass took over fifteen throws to make a five — which is not that hard a point — and along the way she hit both the doubles she had bets on; one of them, the eight, she hit twice. The time before that was around a dozen. Oh, and she never crapped out, at least not that I saw. Maybe I was just being paranoid, but we were already up three grand, and they hadn't been there that long. The casino probably loved it, because happy people tend not to notice when they're losing money — especially in a game like that where you're constantly winning here and losing there. Trust me, the casino made more than we did, but I noticed a couple of people were starting to shadow Christine's bets on the last pass, so some had already noticed, and I figured it wasn't going to be long before more did." "So why come to me?" Lizzy asked. "I don't know, but you 'see' better than anyone else. You said before that Christine's pattern was different somehow, in ways that you couldn't even describe. You spent three days with her on the road. Then you spent time with her last night after she finished talking with Jimmy. Now she's been with him a lot longer and a lot more intimately." I turned to Allison. "Totally hot; Jimmy gave her Amber for the night, and the two of them started playing with Jimmy, but before long it was more about her working Amber than anything else. It was all I could do to keep him from popping before Christine was ready for him to." "Oh, the poor boy," Allison said dryly. "Back up a second; Lizzy, was there anything you saw in Christine to suggest that she wanted to play the dominant? I got the impression from their first night that she was more on the submissive side." "Most people have a tendency to play both roles," Lizzy said. "It's almost like there is a pecking order or hierarchy to the whole thing. You belong to him, but she belongs to you ... Even in quote, "normal" relationships people experiment; your last boyfriend was a pussy, so next time you look for someone more forceful; that sort of thing. Suddenly having a chance to play with a true submissive like Amber was probably a chance she'd never had before. At the same time, she didn't seem that interested in girls; I could see a curiosity, a hint of past regret, that sort of thing, but from what Jamie said, she wasn't holding much back at all with Amber, at least as far as they went. We'll have to wait and see on that." "Jamie?" Allison asked seriously, turning to face me. Those one word questions always hold so much possibility... "What?" I asked innocently. "I never touched her, I swear." "Not tonight," Allison qualified, "but it was you who was interested in her from the beginning. Did you ever pursue the question of whether or not she liked girls?" Oh, shit! "I asked her the other night when Jimmy first started getting her ready to talk to Amber. She told us there had been a girl in high school that the kids had made fun of. You know, there is always speculation flying around about who's doing whom, and if you don't get caught blowing some guy in the science lab during lunch then you're a lesbian — even if they never caught you with a girl either." They were both nodding their understanding of my statement. "Anyway, she said she always regretted not getting to know the girl and had wondered what it would have been like to make out with her." "And, of course, you want her to like girls," Allison said. "Allison, I swear I never..." She was already shaking her head. "If I'm right, you didn't need to," she said. "What do you mean?" Lizzy asked. "Allison has a theory," I said, answering before Allison had a chance, "that Jimmy's energy field interacts with people around us, working through their fields to make changes." "What energy field?" Lizzy asked. "The one that used to blind you every time he walked in the room," Allison explained. "The one that had bled so much into Shannon's and mine that you saw our patterns as reflecting his, the one that Jamie used to hide in. You remember how after Jamie showed up you could suddenly look at him? Even though you said his pattern was stronger and more intense, you said it was like you weren't seeing it all, or you were seeing it through a filter of some kind. I think that would have happened sooner if Jamie hadn't been trying so hard to hide. If not for that, I think Jimmy's energy would have changed yours so you could see." "Why?" "Because he didn't like that it hurt you." "That's a little out there don't you think?" Lizzy asked. "I mean, you're saying that Jimmy is molding the people around him to fit his expectations." "I know it sounds far fetched," Allison said, "but when you start looking closer at the people in his life — not us, but people like Bob and Rebecca, even Rod — it explains a lot. And the strongest argument lives with you." "Amber?" Lizzy asked. "Amber," Allison confirmed. "Look how easy it was to convince her once you convinced him." "I wouldn't call that easy." "I said to convince her, not change her, and then once you did convince her, look at how fast she changed. Lizzy, you know better than any of us how much she's changed; you watched it happen. Tell me you weren't just floored every time you saw her and could see how much she had changed? Jasmine does this for a living, and she can't believe it." "That's true, but Jamie already admitted that she helped her," Lizzy argued. "All Jamie did was help her to accept it and deal with being two people, which only lasted what, a month before she was ready to decide on her own when she was Amber and when she was Angela? She's flawless as Amber; the change is like flipping a switch. How many years do people in the real world work to get that level of control?" "Okay, I can't really argue that, but what did you mean about Bob and the others?" "To be honest, I'm not really sure what I mean," Allison said with a shrug. "People around Jimmy — the people he trusts — like Bob and Rebecca, seem to be ... I don't know, worthy of that trust — even though they may not normally be trusting people." "I'm not sure what you mean," Lizzy said. "Okay, take Rebecca for example," Allison said. "Or even better, Rod; they both work for the government — more than that they are hard core, career law enforcement — but just look at the lengths that either of them would go to, have gone to, to protect him. They both know it was him that killed Andrews and Charles. They can't prove it, but they know. Even if they agree that there was no choice and no other option, their natural inclination would be to condemn the action. Kurtz killed himself — and they know it was for the better — but at the same time, they're agents of the system, and the system says he should have been arrested and tried rather than being allowed to take his own life. Rebecca knows the truth, but there is nothing to link Jimmy to Kurtz's death. The guys that had mom and dad? Granted they can't be sure, but there is more evidence there than there was for Andrews and Charles; he called 911 from the house, so they know — or at the very least, they may suspect — that someone was there, and Jimmy was the only other person who even knew we were missing. I think he did a good job of covering himself for rescuing me, but they have to suspect. Again, who else could it have been? All that, but they still go out of their way to protect him. Heck, just look at what Rod has done to protect us ... He had no cause to hide us, no case to attach it to, but he did it. He's using his personal contacts and God only knows what other resources to get us our new identities. Whether he agrees with what Jimmy is doing or not, it goes against everything he was trained to believe in." It's so hard to argue with Allison... "Okay," Lizzy said. "Let's say you're right — I'm not saying you are, but let's say you are — so what?" "I don't know," Allison said. "It's just something I've been working on since we moved away. I needed something to do with all my free time, so I've been playing with all the different pieces to try and come up with some real explanations for all of it. Lizzy, is there anyone that Jimmy interacts with on a regular basis that has what you would call a 'normal' pattern?" "Oh, come on, Allison, that's not fair. Everyone is different, even twins have different patterns." "Okay, I'll give you that; maybe normal isn't the right word. Pick a different word; whose pattern isn't special in some way?" "Lots of people," Lizzy said. "Mr. Shelby, Rebecca, his parents..." "I'm not talking about them. I'm talking about you, me, Amber, his inner circle if you will. The one's he has, as Walter said, 'given a piece of himself to'? Speaking of Amber, you've seen the changes in her, has her pattern changed?" "Of course her pattern has changed; your pattern changes all your life, and all your experiences influence it." "Do they get stronger?" Allison asked, but the she stopped her before she could answer, "never mind, we'll talk more about that later. The people closest to him; any of us have a normal pattern?" Lizzy frowned. I think she'd been dodging the subject, but now that Allison had pinned her down, she didn't like having to admit that she was right. "No, you're right. The people he's intimate with are all different. I can't tell you how yours is different because..." Her shoulders slumped, and she shook her head. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but you're right; I can't tell about yours because so much of it is ... I don't know, influenced by his. Shannon's was the same way, but not as ... contaminated sounds so bad, but it works; you've spent so much more time with him, interacting with him all your life, even before either of you knew what was going on. I'll bet you guys never argue." "You'd lose, we argue all the time." I couldn't let that go. "No, they don't. Allison tells him something; he goes into denial and eventually has to admit she's right. Allison, the kind of arguing she's talking about is what you do with your mom." "Fine," Allison said tightly. "What about it?" "Don't take that tone with me little girl," I warned. "I'd hate to have to spank you in front of Lizzy." She stuck her tongue out at me. "Now who's lying?" she asked in a sassy tone. "You'd love to spank me no matter where we were." "So would I," Lizzy said, "but we're getting way off subject. As for your 'what about it?' I don't know; it's your theory; I'm just admitting that I can't poke any huge holes in it. You'll have to come up with your own explanations. I'm curious to see where you go with it, though, so let me know what you come up with, and if I can help. I still don't see that any of this applies to Christine." "Actually it does," I said, "and this may help Allison with her theory as well. I want you to look at Christine again — as soon as possible. I want to know if you see anything different since you left and she's spent time with Jimmy." "When you say 'spent time', do you mean like..." I knew where she was going. "Yes and no," I answered. "All this happened before they got physical. There was close physical contact; they were together and touching the whole time at the casino, but nothing more than that until after they got home. I think the more intimate the contact, the greater the impact may be. Allison?" "I was just thinking the same thing," Allison said, "and just like everything else around him, emotion probably makes a difference. Elizabeth, I thought Jimmy loved me and Shannon. What am I saying? I know he did — he still does. But when you came along? No contest. If we're a Hollywood romance, you two are the stuff of Shakespearean legend! So yeah, all things considered, I'm a little scared of what may happen when you two finally tie the knot and get busy. After what happened with the engagement, I think you better make sure everyone close to you is somewhere safe and accounted for before you two get physical." A shy smile is not something you see on Easy's face very often, but Allison's comment put the prettiest blush on her cheeks. I didn't get to enjoy it long before Allison continued. "Jamie, you're not going to like this part, but I think maybe you should stay with me on their wedding night; I'd send you to Amber, but unless I'm very much mistaken, she'll be with them." Lizzy started to object, but Allison held up a hand and stopped her. "No, Lizzy, I know what you're thinking, and yes, she does belong there, but you don't realize what will happen if you lose track of her — which will be easy to do — because if she's there she's going to want to move around and make it as special as possible for all of you. Back when we were first experimenting with her moving around in other people, did we tell you what happened when I kissed Jimmy while she was still inside me?" "No, what happened?" "You know the difference between kissing Jimmy and kissing both of them?" "Yeah," Lizzy answered dubiously. "That's like a peck on the cheek compared to kissing Jimmy with Jamie inside you." "You're kidding!" Lizzy said, but she actually looked a little pale when she looked at me. I don't embarrass easily, but I could feel myself blushing. I couldn't even answer and just nodded as I was checking my toenail polish. "Inside Amber doesn't scare me so much," Allison said. "Inside you? I'd be worried the sun might rise in the west the next morning. So, my first choice is for you to send her to stay with me, but whatever you decide, promise me you'll be careful, very careful, and not just on your wedding night, but every time you and Jimmy get physical — at least until we can figure out what's happening and how to keep it from getting out of hand. Don't get me wrong; Amber would love it, so would you — hell, I'd love to do it again — but sparks fly when your two fields interact already. Lizzy, I can't stress enough how serious I am when I say I'm worried about what would happen. If it was anything like the engagement kiss, I'm worried people would be doing it on the street for blocks around you." "Allison!" Lizzy exclaimed, scandalized. "No!" Allison insisted, laughing. "I'm serious! Lizzy, everyone we know felt it; Amber and I had orgasms; Bob and Rebecca woke up horny ... who knows about Mel and Lynn; we're not that close, but they've been affected by other things before. And that was just a kiss. If it's a flat scale you might just set off the people in the hotel. If it's an exponential increase you could start your own baby boom. Promise me you'll be careful!" "Maybe we should do a little experimenting before then?" Lizzy suggested. "Ugh!" Allison groaned. "Easy for you to say, you're not the one who couldn't wear underwear for two days!" Lizzy's eyes got wide. "Really?" "Yes, really!" Allison assured her. "It's actually not a bad idea, though. Like I said, Amber would be in heaven, and if they come to the islands, we can maybe see what kind of difference distance makes, if any." "What about Christine?" Lizzy asked. "I think you better look and see what kind of effect he's already having before we go there," Allison said. "Hmmm, probably not a bad idea," Lizzy said. "Allison?" I asked. "Do you really think I had something to do with how far Christine went with Amber tonight?" Her expression was understanding, but not encouraging. "Yeah, Sis, I think you probably did. Not on purpose but ... yeah, I'm afraid so." "Are you going to tell Jimmy?" "Tell him what?" Lizzy asked. She gave us each a questioning look as she locked eyes with us. I guess we all agreed, because then she went on, "We'd better go so I can get this done before we reach the school; otherwise it will have to wait until I get into the dorm and settled. Kiss me." We both exchanged hugs and kisses with Allison, and then I sent her back to the plane and took Lizzy off to see if she could see anything different in Christine. Allison Jamie's visit — and the news of what was happening, or seemed to be happening with Christine — worried me. I hated being so far away and unable to really see what was going on. Not that being there would have been a radical improvement in that area. Lizzy was the only one who could see, and as far as Christine was concerned, I was much more likely to be in the way. Jimmy could pass for twenty-two without too much trouble, but for me to get away with the age on the driver's license that came with my secret identity took carefully applied makeup and dressing like a Vegas hooker. The fact that I had my own credit card with a significant limit would help if I found myself in a situation where age verification was a requirement, but in casual clothes eighteen was a stretch even if I had gotten hips for my birthday and seemed to be on my way to inheriting my mother's chest If things didn't slow down soon sports were going to be a problem. The biggest problem was my height, and there was nothing I could do about that. I wondered if maybe I should look into a more radical image. Go punk maybe? A lot of older women went punk to look younger. Bold, in-your-face makeup, I was sure Roxy would be happy to help me tailor the look. A couple of tattoos would certainly do the trick, but I hate needles, and despite the problems, I liked my body the way it was. If Jimmy was right, I'd like it a lot better in about ten years. He thought I was going to grow up to resemble Miss Hewitt, my old basketball coach, and that would work just fine for me! Lynn Hewitt was one fine stretch of feminine real estate, let me tell you! Oh well, it wasn't going to be a big issue unless I had to run again anyway, Rod was generating "family" identities for us in the new location, and unless it was an emergency, I was still only fourteen. I had been considering testing up to a higher grade before the world fell apart and we ended up in protective custody. Lynn had made the suggestion more than once, and I'd held back primarily for social reasons. When I lost Shannon, I lost a lot of my reason for wanting to stay with kids my own age. Now that I'd been forced to give that all up anyway, it was time to get serious, and as soon as we were settled, I planned to talk to my parents about going on an accelerated program. My goal was to get through High School and into college as quickly as possible. Looking back, I realized I would have been happier if I'd taken Lynn's advice and done it sooner. Like I said; mostly I hadn't wanted to give up my time with Shannon. Now, looking back, I'm torn. On the one hand, if I'd known I would lose her anyway, it would have been easier if I had moved forward. On the other hand, I cherish every moment I had with her and wouldn't change it if I could. Meanwhile, I still had the problem of being out of the loop on a lot of what was going on. I now knew firsthand how Shannon had felt, always being the last to know everything. I was telling the truth when I said I'd had a lot of time to think about what was going on, though. Jamie's idea of Jimmy affecting Christine played right into the energy theories I had been toying with. Unfortunately, we were still at the stage where everything just generated more questions when what we needed were answers, and I wasn't equipped to get them. I was very interested in what Lizzy might see in Christine. I didn't know if Lizzy's sight was a quirk of biology or the result of her own unique energy field; most likely it was both. Her description of how she had learned to interpret what she was seeing was one of those things that had been running from room to room in my mind over the last few weeks. The more I thought about all that had been going on, the more I kept coming back to the same conclusion. We definitely needed answers, and maybe, just maybe, I knew where to go to get them — some of them anyway. I checked the in-flight monitor to see how much time we had left before we got into Kona, to make sure I wouldn't be interrupted, then I put myself out, and did something I hadn't done in a long time, and frankly didn't know if I still could do. I put up a 'do not disturb' sign for Jimmy. When I was younger and had just figured out what was going on with Jimmy, one of the first things I learned was how to keep him out. I don't think I was actually keeping him out — I'm not sure if that's even possible — but I learned to put up a sort of mental sign that I didn't want him intruding. The amazing part was that it worked. I even got to the point where I could let him in at will. You know, keep him out the first half of the night and then let him in. Which was handy because it kept him away from all the hot fantasies I had going about both him and Shannon. Once he was in I was stuck with him, but up to that point it worked pretty well. Of course this was all before he was aware of his ability, and I wondered if he would recognize it; or if now that he knew what he was doing, he would just blow right by it without noticing. Oh well, only one way to find out. I put myself to sleep and concentrated on moving to my glade. I had noticed that as time had gone by we had switched to using Jimmy's dreamscapes almost exclusively, but I needed privacy for this, and if I was in my own dream I didn't have to worry about anyone else showing up. Especially considering who it was I planned to confront, if she would talk to me. As soon as I was sure I was in the right place I called out, "Brandiy! We need to talk!" Lizzy One thing is for certain; my life is never going to be dull. Not that it ever had been, but now that I'm hooked into Jimmy's world ... no contest. Just keeping up with the changes was practically a full time job. Watching Jimmy take over Amber to deal with that cave-dweller in New Mexico had been incredible. Seeing Amber's concern for this woman she had just met; an outright shock. I still had no idea where that came from, but it was immediately apparent that she was serious about keeping Christine around and protecting her at all costs. Then there was Allison's sudden worry about me finally getting Jimmy where I wanted him most. Sure, she laughed about it, but at the same time, she was seriously worried about — almost afraid of — what might happen. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. If it was coming from anyone else I wouldn't have given it a second thought, but it was Allison, and the girl is wicked-smart! The solution Jimmy and Jamie had come up with to try and deal with Lord Hightower was interesting to say the least. Watching it in action as they tried it out on Christine had been interesting as well. It's too bad they can't see the way I do; I think things like this would be easier. At the same time, I'm not sure it would work on just anybody. It happened really fast, which — considering what they were actually doing — was pretty amazing all by itself, but as I was watching the bubble pass through her — just before it separated — it seemed to me that something had happened. I couldn't pin it down, couldn't even be sure I was really seeing it, but it seemed like there was a change — almost a flicker — in Christine's pattern, just before the bubble separated from her. The problem was that it happened so fast that I couldn't even be sure if I'd actually seen something, or if maybe I'd just blinked and imagined it. To make matters worse, whatever it was, it was happening in the part of her pattern that I didn't understand. Next to Jimmy's, Christine's pattern was the strangest I had ever seen. Jimmy's, once Jamie came along and I was finally able to look at it, was like staring at a fractal pattern carved out of diamond, sitting inside an ice castle in bright sunlight. It was sharp, precise, incredibly beautiful to look at, but so complex you couldn't follow it. Christine's wasn't as intense or complex, but it was complex in its own way, and it seemed almost blurry somehow; where Jimmy's was crystal clear, hers I couldn't seem to focus on. Where Jimmy's just seemed to have too much detail, Christine's appeared as if I were looking at it through my dad's reading glasses. All that being said, Jamie was right — Christine's pattern had changed. I could tell it was different the instant I saw her; the problem was that while I was sure it was different, I couldn't tell you what was different about it. It seemed like it was clearer, but at the same time ... not. It was like one of those 'Find Five Things' puzzles they put in the comic section of the paper. Two pictures that at first glance looked identical but weren't. Unfortunately, I couldn't just turn Christine sideways and read the answers. I knew Jimmy and Christine were sitting in our primary conference room, the sunken area of the cabana. Rather than trying to hide, I decided it would be best to just go in and talk to them. They'd had plenty of time by now to cover anything personal that Christine might want to keep just between them. Jimmy answered the door when I knocked. Jamie had come 'with' me, and I was just about to kiss him when Jamie stopped me. "Whoa," she said. "Hold up for a second; remember what Allison said. I don't know if it would be any safer here than it was there." Jimmy got a curious look on his face when I pulled back, but once he felt Jamie flow back into him through our connected hands he nodded, and I heard him tell Jamie, "That was close. We'll have to explain it to her later." "She already knows," I whispered in his ear as I hugged him, "but we can talk about it later anyway if you want. Blush when you turn around so Christine won't wonder what just happened." I raised my voice, "Hi, Christine. I imagine it was quite a shock to wake up knowing more than you did when you went to sleep. How are you doing? Are you okay?" Jimmy walked me over to the pool and held my hand as I stepped down into the cool water, changing my dress to a bathing suit as my foot hit the water. I kissed Christine's cheek and took a seat across from her. "I'm ... okay," she said. "It was a bit of a shock, and I'm still trying to sort it out. It's kind of like finding a diary you wrote when you were little. You remember the stuff you wrote about, but you still have to try and fit it into your grown up mind and make sense of it. I'm getting there." "Or a note you wrote when you were drunk?" I asked. "Yeah, exactly like that," she laughed. "Well, just remember that we're all here for you if you find you want to talk." I let my voice take on one of those annoying, whiny tones, complete with the characteristic New Jersey accent, "Just be sure and specify if there is ever anything you want kept just between us, because we're horrible gossips otherwise." I rolled my eyes and lowered my voice, "we talk about everything." "I'll keep that in mind," she said with a laugh. "But seriously, I think I'm okay, so far anyway. It seemed like a pretty normal day to me." "That's what we shoot for," Jimmy said. "Just normal people, doing normal stuff; life's a lot easier if you don't have people asking a lot of questions." "I can imagine," she said. "So where do we go from here?" "What do you mean?" I asked. "What happens next?" "Nothing," Jimmy said. "Lizzy's headed back to school; sometime tomorrow we'll send Amber back as well. You need to get settled and ready for flight school, and I have to get back to the other projects I have going." "So it's going to be like this every night?" "If you mean are you going to spend every night hanging around with us, the answer is no," Jimmy said. "For the most part, you'll just go to sleep and dream normally. If there is something you want to talk about, or just feel like hanging out, you're welcome to join us; otherwise, you can do whatever you want. There will be times when we can't be together here, like when I'm working with the FBI on sensitive issues, but otherwise, just pick up the phone and call, which around here is as easy as picking up the phone and thinking about someone. It's like having a speed dial in your head. Anyway, if for some reason you can't be with us at a particular time, we'll let you know. Most likely Lizzy or Amber would come to stay with you until I was free. Or Walter." Hook! "Who's Walter?" "Jimmy, no!" I said, splashing water at him. "Don't you dare!" "Oh, come on," he said. "Like I would do that." Suddenly I was falling into the lagoon. It was a short fall, and the dolphins were there to greet me when I came up. A few seconds later I heard a shriek, and the two of them splashed down next to me. Then we were all racing down the water slide one after another; Jimmy first, then Christine, with me bringing up the rear. I slowed Christine down, so I could catch up, and as soon as she was within reach, I wrapped my legs around her waist and started tickling her. She almost drowned us both trying to get away. Jimmy sent us back to the top, with me in front this time. I thought she was going to do the same thing I had done, but instead she untied my top, and it was my turn to shriek as the water took it away before I could grab it. "Watch this one, Jimmy," I said when we came up for air at the bottom. "She plays dirty." "You started it," Christine said. "So, who's Walter, and why did she freak out when you mentioned him?" "Walter is a nightmare," Jimmy said, "literally. Last Halloween a young boy came to my door trick or treating, and later that night I found myself in one of his dreams. He was having these recurring nightmares about a sort of werewolf that was after him. His name was Bobby — the boy that is — and he had a stuttering problem. Some exceedingly bright and compassionate individual apparently told him that a good scare would cure the problem, and Walter was the result. Anyway, I took over the dream, changed the whole thing into a giant game of tag, gave the werewolf the name Walter, and then, as punishment for scaring Bobby, I appointed him as Bobby's dream guardian for the next year. It was really kind of fun. Then, back when Angela was kidnapped, I sort of borrowed him to try and help find her. It didn't work out the way I'd intended, but he has proven valuable for other things." Jimmy gave a whistle and yelled, "Walter!" There was a huge splash, and moments later Walter's shaggy head broke the surface and glared at Jimmy. "Ohhh thank you, my Lord," he said sarcastically. "Do you have any idea how long it takes to get salt water out of fur? I'm going to be matted for weeks." "I'm sure Amy would be happy to brush you, Walter," I said from behind Christine. "Walter, this is Christine, she's a new friend of ours; be a dear and change so you can meet her properly," "Thank you my Lady," he said. He ducked beneath the water. and when he came back up he sort of ... kept going. The water wasn't that deep, and Walter is ... well, huge, so where we were all shoulder deep in the water, it barely came up to his sternum. Without hesitation he reached for Christine's hand. "Walter of Gyldenholt, Miss Christine, I am honored to make your acquaintance." Christine, who had just been sort of staring in shock since Walter hit the water, suddenly snapped out of it. "Hello ... er ... Walter. Christine Payson. It's nice to ... er ... meet you, too." Suddenly Walter looked past Christine and noticed I was topless. Blushing furiously, he spun away. "My Lady!" He exclaimed. "Forgive me, I did not realize..." "Oh, for goodness sake, Walter," I said. I quickly tied a new top into place. "Okay, you can look now, you big baby. How is Amy doing with Rehab?" He seemed to be thinking about his reply for a few seconds before finally answering, "Her vocabulary is expanding quite rapidly." Jimmy and I almost drowned laughing. Back in the real world, my cab was just getting in to the school, so I left it to him to explain. ------- Chapter 15: A Day in the Life Jimmy Waking up between Amber and Christine brought back fond memories of happier times — was it really only a year ago? — waking between Shannon and Allison, and I found myself wanting to skip my morning run, but I knew I'd regret it if I did. So, I carefully extricated myself from the tangle of arms and legs and started into my day. By the time I came back out of the bathroom, the girls had already moved to fill the gap I'd left, and Amber was once more spooned up behind Christine with one arm draped over her protectively. I don't know if she woke up or if it was unconscious, but Christine had captured the hand and was holding it as she slept. I had a lot to think about, so I took my time and just let my legs go on their own while I thought about the events of the weekend and made plans for the future. We had less than three months to get the Church under control before they came for Rachel. I knew Samantha was counting on me, and somewhere in the past I had made a commitment to myself to save Amanda's little girl from that life. As I ran, the idea I had been working on for Samantha and Rachel began expanding itself as I sorted out the details of what it would take. The hard part would be doing all the groundwork while remaining under the radar. The final pieces of the puzzle seemed to be someone specializing in family law and a judge to handle finalizing the arrangements. I needed to make sure the paperwork would hold up if anyone challenged it. Sam and Rachel were going to have to be my test case. Even if it worked out with them, I would still have to work slowly on the rest to avoid anyone noticing, but — over the next few months — several families were going to feel the need to plan for the worst, and several others were going to find a desire to open their hearts and homes in the event that tragedy struck. Then there was the question of what to do with Bastion. Killing him seemed like the easiest solution, but that could trigger a response I wasn't ready for. Besides, if it were that easy, I'm sure Atkins would have done it a long time ago. Actually, why hadn't she? Granted it wouldn't have solved the whole problem — based on what we knew or suspected now, it would have been a disaster, as it likely would have triggered a bloodbath — but she didn't know that. Why not just kill him? "Maybe you should ask her?" Jamie suggested. "Probably a good idea," I said. "How do you think she'd take it if I told her what we had in mind? Do you think she would be upset that we planned to let some of these people walk?" "Hard to say," she replied. "I'm sure that on some level she's going to see it as them escaping justice, but if we explained the situation — that many of them were actually being blackmailed to participate — she may be willing to let it go as long as the abuse stopped and the major players were dealt with." "I guess it's possible," I said. "I don't think we want to tell her about our plans for solving the problem though." "Duh! Jimmy, I was being sarcastic, no way would she be cool with it. Allison was right; none of the adults will be forgiven for their involvement. Any prosecutor that gets his or her hands on one of them will totally ignore everything except the physical acts. No justification of any kind will be permitted to come out in court..." A scene that looked like it had been pulled from an episode of "Law and Order" began to play out in my mind... 'So you would have died in prison, Doctor Hendricks; is that worse than what you did to those poor helpless girls?' 'It would have happened anyway. I thought I could help. I tried where I could.' 'Help, Doctor Hendricks? Don't you mean help yourself?' 'Tell me Samantha, did you enjoy having sex with Doctor Hendricks?' 'He was always kind and gentle to me, and to my sister, before she died. We were special to him.' 'Yes, I'm sure you were. And because you were special to him, you tried to make it special for him, didn't you? Did Doctor Hendricks enjoy having sex with you, Samantha?' 'Objection, your honor! Calls for conjecture on the part of the witness.' "Okay, I get it," I said, cutting her off. Where was she getting this stuff? First romance novels and now television shows. I wondered if I should be keeping a better eye on her; that stuff will rot your brain. "Sorry, but you see my point. Although she may be able to help with part of it, maybe help smooth over the legal stuff; if she knew what we wanted it for, she'd probably say no. She'll want to see them all burn just for being involved with Bastion, but at the same time — as long as nothing points back to her and her people — I think she might be willing to do almost anything to get him." "No kidding. Sweet little Sandra is more than a little obsessive when it comes to him, but can we give her Bastion? The last thing she'd want to do is get involved in another PR disaster trying to prosecute the man, even for something as horrible as all this. Besides, he'd just tell the jury to let him off again." "One thing at a time," She said. We were just reaching the house again, and I went around through the side gate to the patio and started stretching. Usually, I follow up my run with laps in the pool, but I had run a lot farther today, so I skipped it. After a few minutes stretching, I headed in for a shower. On a whim, I stopped off in the kitchen and started coffee; one of those morning rituals I had grown up performing for my parents. The girls were awake when I went through the bedroom on my way to the shower, facing each other across the pillow and talking softly. Widget was curled at the foot of the bed ignoring them. The whispering stopped when I came in, and they both turned to watch me. "Don't let me interrupt," I said, walking over to the bed and kissing them both. Christine reached for me, but I pulled back quickly. "I'm all sweaty, and I smell like old socks. If we're going to have to wash those sheets, I want it to be for a better reason. Coffee will be done in a couple minutes. I'll be out a couple minutes after that. Amber, if you go out by the pool, leave your collar inside." "Yes, Master," she replied. "And considering what we did to the bed last night," Christine added, "that's a pretty lame excuse." All I could think about while I was in the shower was that I wished it were big enough for all three of us. I really missed the shower at the Bellagio, or better yet, the tub! God, why was I so horny this morning? "Maybe because you have two amazingly sexy women that you had incredible sex with last night waiting for you when you get done in here?" "You're not helping." It took a couple minutes of running the temperature up and down while thinking of kittens playing before it was safe to come out again. Slipping on a clean bathing suit and t-shirt, I went in search of the women. I found Widget first; she was sitting up on the small table in front of the window, looking out. I glanced to see what she was so fascinated by and spotted the girls out on the patio having coffee with Doreen. There was a big glass of orange juice sitting in front of the empty chair, so I gave Widget a quick stroke, grabbed my phone, and went out to join them. "Good morning, Doreen, how are you this morning?" "I am having a blessed morning, Mr. Malcolm, thank you very much. Miss Christine was just introducing me to your friend, Amber." Something in the way she said the name made me stop and look at both of them. "It's okay, Doreen, just not in front of anyone else," Amber said, then looked at me. "She recognized me." Uh-oh. "I'm impressed," I said, looking at Doreen. "You're the only one to see it so far. What gave it away?" "Oh, you're going to love this part," Amber said. "She has a nephew in California, her sister's son, and his name is..." I gave her the obligatory look and said, "You're kidding?" Amber didn't answer, just smiled and shook her head. "Ben Cotton is your nephew?" I asked, looking at Doreen. "It's a small world, David, and I have watched this girl run my poor little Britney to tears too many times not to recognize her. I wasn't sure at first because of the hair, but those scars on her knee account for the difference in the walk, and she's still built like a runner." "Not to mention walking out in boy-shorts and a tank top," Amber said. Doreen chuckled. "No, that didn't hurt any either." Then she looked at me and said, "You saved her. Somehow you found her and got her back." "But he got away," I said. "Yes," she conceded, "but according to the papers you made up for that before he could hurt anyone else. David, you are a genuine hero, and I can't tell you how proud I am to know you." We were interrupted by my phone ringing. I started to reach for it, but Christine slapped my hand and picked it up, sticking her tongue out at me "Good morning; Finder's Incorporated," she answered, "this is Christine, how may I help you? Mr. Malcolm? Let me see if he is available, whom shall I say is calling? One moment please..." She pressed the microphone against her thigh and said, "A 'Mrs. Spencer' calling for you?" "Ooops!" Jamie said, echoing my own thoughts. "We forgot to check in." I nodded and she pulled the phone back up. "One moment, Mrs. Spencer; Mr. Malcolm will be right with you." She winked and handed me the phone. Doreen was giggling into her hand, and Amber was smiling over her coffee cup at me. "Good morning, Mrs. Spencer, to what do I owe the pleasure?" "You didn't check in last night, and it's after eight o'clock. I would have called last night, but I knew you had company." "I'm sorry," I said. "I completely forgot about it. Rod told me they got everybody back, so..." She cut me off, "He what? When did this happen?" "Late Friday, I think. He called me Saturday afternoon." "I see, and did they find the Black Queen?" "No," I answered. "Then there is still a chance she'll show up here, so unless you want me to put people on you, I'll expect you to keep in touch as we agreed; is that clear?" "Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry for not telling you sooner. By the way, my landlady said if you want information you need to, let's see, how did she put it? 'Drag your lazy white ass down out of your ivory tower and come yourself because she doesn't answer questions from junior flunkies.'" "Oh my God!" she said in one of those voices that was somewhere between pissed off and laughing. I could understand why she might feel that way; it was one of those comments. "Doreen Willets is your landlady? I knew that address looked familiar." "She's right here; would you like to speak to her?" I didn't wait for a reply, but just handed the phone to Doreen. "Dominique Spencer, why are you bothering this nice young man? Don't you make me come all the way downtown now, because you know if I do, you're going to owe me lunch." Then the giggling started. I got the girls' attention, motioned towards the apartment with my head, and we left Doreen to renew old acquaintances. Widget met us at the door, practically tripping us as we came in. Christine bent to pick her up and nuzzled her neck while spouting baby talk at her. "Good morning my little Widgie-poo, did you miss me? Yes, her's a good kitty..." You could hear the purring from ten feet away as Widget bumped up against her chin repeatedly. I took my glass into the kitchen and brought the coffee pot back to re-fill the girls' cups and was rewarded with a kiss from each. As I was headed back to the kitchen, there was a knock at the door, and Amber got up to answer it. It was Doreen returning my phone. "Thank you, David," she said, handing Amber the phone. "I have not talked to Dominique Spencer in ages." "You're welcome," I said. "So is she going to take you up on lunch?" "Even better, she's coming for dinner. Christine, would you put a note in David's calendar that we're having pot roast on Thursday? I'll be expecting you both promptly at six." "Well, thank you, Doreen!" Christine said. "But are you sure you want us there? It sounds like you two have a lot of catching up to do." "Well of course we do," Doreen said. "That's why I want you there. It wouldn't be any fun at all bringing up all those stories of things going wrong over the years without someone for her to be embarrassed in front of." "Doreen, that's just mean," I said. "Isn't that what friends are for? Now, you kids go on about your business, and I'll see you all later." "So what's the plan?" I asked after she was gone. "I need to head over to the school and get started on the registration process. What time does Amber need to be at the airport?" "Her flight leaves at two, so probably noon." "I don't know if I'll make it back by then, so I better say goodbye now." She reached for Amber's hand and pulled her up off of the couch, into a hug. "Amber, it was nice meeting you, thank you for everything." She gave her a kiss on the cheek. "I'm looking forward to getting to know you, and I promise to do better next time. Have a safe trip, and give Lizzy a hug for me." "I will," Amber replied. "It was nice meeting you too, Christine. Good luck with flight school." They hugged again, and Christine headed for the shower to get ready. I fixed pancakes while she was getting dressed, and after breakfast we walked her to the car. "Try to save a little something for me for tonight, okay?" she asked as I handed her into the car. She gave me a wink and drove away. "I get the distinct impression she thinks we're going to have sex while she's gone," I said. "Funny," Amber said, taking my hand as we headed back towards the apartment, "I got the same impression. I certainly hope she's right." "You're a very naughty girl, Amber." "I know," she said, shaking her head. "I should probably be punished." She hugged up against my arm. "Pretty please?" Jasmine would have been very proud. On the way to the airport, I took Amber by the shop where May and I had purchased her gifts before and let her pick out two new collars and some accessories. We had to be a little careful in our selections, though, since she was about to get on an airplane with only her carry-on bag. At Amber's request, I picked up a few things for the apartment as well. Then I stopped by Tony's office on the way home to see about a referral to someone dealing in family law. Tony was in court, but Janelle gave me information on a couple of people they had had dealings with in the past. Tony called me back after lunch. "David, it's Tony; Janelle said you were by the office?" "Yeah, I was sorry I missed you, I just needed some information." "Yes, she told me. David is there a problem?" he asked. "A problem?" I asked. "What do you mean?" "David, you're my client. Not just my firm's client, but my client. When one of my clients asks to be referred to another attorney, I have to ask myself if we've done something wrong. I couldn't think of anything, so I'm asking you, is there a problem? Did we do something wrong?" "What? No! No, absolutely not. Your people have been great right down the line. This has nothing to do with you or your firm, but it's not something I can discuss on the phone." There was a pause. "We could go shooting," Jamie suggested. "Maybe it's time for me to visit your gun club," I suggested. I could almost see him nodding. "I'll have Janelle get us a reservation and call you back." Janelle called back to confirm we had 6:00 reservations at Tony's club. I spent a little time at Borders browsing through some firearms magazines and the latest edition of Psychology today — I should probably subscribe — before returning home. Christine got back about four and the second she came in I knew something was wrong. Widget and I were on the couch reading Kushiel's Chosen at the time. If you're not familiar with it, it's the second book in the series Bob had suggested when I was learning about Angela's ... dilemma. "What's the matter?" I asked. "God, you are not going to believe this," she said angrily. "You'll never guess who I ran into at flight school?" I had a suspicion, but she looked like she really needed to vent, so I just shrugged and gave her a questioning look. "Brian!" How did I know? "That no good, sleazy, two-timing little ... Ugh! It just makes me so mad. And then, oh, the nerve of that guy ... the sleazy little prick has the nerve, the nerve! ... to walk up and ask me how I'm doing. Of course there are people all over the place, and I'm supposed to be a professional, so I can't just rip his balls off and stuff them down his throat. God, I just wanted to cut his heart out and grind it under my heel and say, 'That's how I am Brian; how does it feel to you?'" "Is that how you feel," I asked. She started to respond, but I kept going. "Or is that how you felt? Do you really still feel that hurt, or are you still just angry and looking for closure? Stomping on his heart and asking him how it feels is wanting him to feel how much he hurt you. Ripping his balls off says, 'I'm over you, but I promised myself if I ever got the chance I was going to hurt you.' Which is it?" Again she started to answer, but I held up my hand, "Be honest, Christine. If you can't be honest with me, it's because you're not being honest with yourself. Which is it really?" She let out the breath she was holding and said, "I'm not sure. Both? Maybe." "Good answer," I said. "You still want to hurt him, but you don't want him to think that you're still hurting over what he did?" I cocked my head and smiled. "Or do you want him to know that you want to hurt him, but you don't consider him worth the effort?" "That one!" she exclaimed. "Then this is perfect," I said, standing up and hugging her. "Because you are going to blow him out of the sky in this class. You're going to beat him in every category, I promise. Christine, they are not going to believe how fast you pick everything up. I guarantee you, by the time you leave this school, you will be the standard that everyone else is afraid to be measured against." I couldn't blame her for looking dubious. "Trust me." She laid her head on my shoulder and hugged me back. "I do." "Good!" I said. "Listen, I'm meeting Tony at his gun club for a couple hours, so..." She pulled back, and her face brightened. "You're going shooting?" she asked in a voice that hovered somewhere between 'chocolate' and 'meeting your favorite teenage heart-throb'. Excited really didn't cover it. "Oh, I love this girl!" Jamie said in a tone that matched Christine's enthusiasm. Only with Jamie it was more about the violence and mayhem. "Do you think it would be a problem if I came along?" Christine continued. "It's been a while since I shot, so I could use the practice, plus it will give me an excuse to clean my pistol. I don't mind shooting alone if you guys have business to discuss." "I don't know. Let me call him and ask. We do have some things we need to discuss, but that won't take long. Would you like me to see if he can bring his wife, Tina?" "Sure, that would be great. Maybe when you two are done, we can do a little 'boys against the girls' for score. Are you any good?" "I've never actually fired a gun," I said. "I've done some studying, so I'm passably familiar with most of the hardware, but that's about all." "Liar!" Jamie accused. "What about on the boat when we were rescuing Allison?" "Technically that was you," I answered. "I was just playing lookout." I called Tony, and he said Tina would love to come, but that if we brought her it was sure to turn into dinner. "That will be fine," I said. "We'll see you there." I put the phone up and said, "Bummer, looks like dinner out again." "Okay," she said, "but we've got to stop going out, or I'm going to need a bigger plane. I'm not used to this much good food." "We'll see if we can find some place with a good salad bar," I said. "That's fine, but if we do, promise me that's all you'll let me eat." "Be a good girl, and I'll save a special dessert for you," I said in a teasing voice. "Mmm, yeah, a little exercise is good for the digestion, and a lot — is even better!" She went into the bedroom and pulled a small lock box out of her suitcase. Reaching into a zippered compartment, she pulled out a small set of keys and opened the case. The box was pretty nondescript on the outside, but very nice inside. A Glock 26, 9mm automatic, was nestled in the blue velvet padded interior. Tucked in below the gun were a spare magazine and a box of ammunition. The 26 is a really nice gun for its size. It's classified as a subcompact, but it still sports a ten round double-stack magazine. According to Carter Malloy — the FBI trainer that I had studied with — the biggest complaint people have is the "two-finger" grip. If you have large hands, you can only get two fingers on the grip below the trigger. Some feel that depending on the situation it can lead to control issues. Malloy's rebuttal was that most people that used it professionally used it for concealed carry as an alternative to the model 17 or 19 used by many law enforcement agencies, and that if they were too stupid to spend adequate time getting used to the gun, then they deserved to have problems. Despite the fact that it was in a locked case, there was a trigger lock on it as well. Gun people are funny; if they're showing you their piece, they assume you want to handle it. A second key took care of the trigger lock, and she quickly ejected the magazine and checked the slide before handing it to me. I went through the motions of inspecting it; put on my best John Wayne and said, "That's a nice piece you got there little lady," as I was handing it back to her. "Why, thank you, sir," she said coyly. "I do hope you'll let me inspect your weapon later." I let the (bad) accent go and said, "How long has it been since you took it out?" "Too long," she said. "I haven't been out since before FA school. I'm going to have to clean and oil it before I do anything else." "If it's been sitting that long, maybe we should just leave it in their pro-shop and have them go through the whole thing. Springs and things get tricky when they sit unused for too long. I'm sure we can rent something comparable for tonight. Do you usually sleep with it under your pillow?" She smiled and bit her lip, "Worried?" "No," I said. "I just want to know, so I can remember to watch out for it. And I think we're going to have to look for a better place to keep it. We can pick up a holster and mount it on the side of the bed-frame if you want. That way you'll know exactly where it is. They tend to move around under pillows, and you don't want to have to search for it if you need it in the middle of the night. If it's mounted on the side, you can draw it as you're getting out of bed. In a tight situation, the element of surprise may be the only chance you get. But when we're out of the apartment, I want it in the safe, okay? Someone may steal that box without even realizing what's in it. That's a really nice box, by the way; where did you get it?" "My cousin, Chico, made it for me; the gun was a gift from my mom and dad on my twenty-first birthday. They bought it from the store he worked at." "Did he ever make any more?" "A couple, mostly for special events and such, why?" "No reason. I just like the idea. If I ever need a nice gift for one of my FBI friends, I'll know whom to call. Come on; let's show you how the safe works." "Are you sure you want to do that?" "Of course, you're my secretary; any information we need to keep secure is going to be in the safe, and it won't do any good if you can't get to it when I need it. Besides, don't you know that the root of the word 'secretary' is 'secret'? Whether it's a piece of furniture called a 'secretary' or a person, the 'secretary' is the 'keeper of the secrets'." I showed her the combination sequence, all five numbers, unlocked it but didn't open it, then locked it again and had her do it twice. The second time I let her open it. I don't think she'd ever seen that much cash in one place before. Rod had cashed out my last two reward checks for me and had it brought over by courier in a plain shipping box. I had also had Sanders cash the check from Rico Girard for me. I left enough to put my house account back up to six figures, deposited some, and brought a hundred grand home; twenty thousand in twenties, thirty in fifties, and the rest — including what Rod had sent up — in hundreds. I figured that could cover me long enough in an emergency to get somewhere I could access one of my offshore accounts. Which reminded me, I still needed to check on the other account Rene had mentioned before he died. "David! Oh my God, is that ... is that real?" "Of course it's real." I pointed to a shelf and said, "You can put your gun here when you need to lock it up." "Where's yours?" she asked. She gave me a little bump with her hip. "I showed you mine." I checked the time on my phone and said, "Hmm, if we hurry ... Nope, rather take my time later. Close it back up, and let's go." We were in the car before she asked, "David, how can you just hand me the combination to a safe full of money like that?" "Easy," I said as I backed down the driveway. "I trust you." I hit the button for the garage door opener and drove away. "But you hardly know me," she protested. "Later I'm going to prove to you that that's not true, and then I'll give you a chance to recant your testimony. Christine, you would no more steal that money than you would blow Brian on your first flight simulation — even if there weren't video cameras watching everything you were doing." "Oh, really nice analogy, David!" she said in a huff. "Yes, it was," I said sarcastically. "I'm sorry; maybe I misjudged you? Tell me which one I was wrong about, and I'll take it back." "That's not what I meant," she protested. "I'm making an extreme point, Christine, so I used the most extreme comparison I could think of. Apparently it was the right one because you didn't challenge my point, only my choice of analogies. Under what circumstances would you ever take money out of that safe without my prior knowledge and consent?" "Well, I don't know," she said defensively. "But that's just it, you never know, things happen; if it was an emergency and I couldn't reach you..." "What kind of emergency?" "David!" she said, exasperated. "I don't know what kind; maybe Amber got arrested for beating up a mugger and she needed bail money. No that's a bad example, because you'd be okay with that." "My point exactly!" I said, interrupting her. "I trust that you would only do it for reasons of dire emergency or if you thought I would approve of you doing so. Christine, if you ever, ever, reach a point where you feel it's necessary, do not hesitate to take what you need. Don't worry about what I may think about it, just go with your gut instinct, and do what your heart tells you. Even if it turns out to be a mistake, I'll understand. It's only money." "Only money!" she exclaimed. "David there had to be ... I don't know, but..." "A hundred and sixty thousand dollars," I said. "See! A lot of money there." We had just reached a stoplight, so I put the car in park and turned towards her. "Christine, I would rather you make a mistake and throw away a hundred thousand dollars doing something you believe is right, than have to try and deal with the guilt you would feel if you didn't do it and something terrible happened that you might have prevented. It's only money, and it can be replaced. That piece of you that would die could never be replaced. Call it virginity insurance, and I would pay ten times that to keep you from losing your innocence that way." "No worry there," she muttered. "I lost that a long time ago." The light changed, and I put the car in drive and pulled forward. "We both know that's not what I was talking about." She stared out the window for a second before finally saying, "I know. I don't understand it, or how you can feel that way about it, but yeah, I know. Thanks." "You're welcome, and for the record, I don't ever want you to understand. If it ever happens and I'm not around; catch the first plane to wherever Lizzy is and talk to her; she can help you through it." "How would that help? I mean, I know she's really good with reading people and stuff, but..." "She's seen a lot for someone her age," I said. "She's helped a lot of people; it's her special gift. She helped me." Her head spun towards me and her breath caught, "Oh my god, David ... I'm sorry, I didn't realize." "It's okay; it's over and done with, and nothing will ever change it. It's in the past. Don't worry about it." I drove in silence for a while as she stared out the window, until eventually she simply said, "Thank you," without even turning back towards me. We rode the rest of the way in silence, and I was a little worried that she may be going into the evening's activities in the wrong mood, so when we pulled into the parking lot I pinned her up against the side of the car and let Jamie help me give her an attitude adjustment. Her knees were a little weak by the time the kiss ended. "How the hell do you expect me to shoot straight if I can hardly walk?" she demanded, slapping my arm before grabbing on to it for support as we headed inside. "You'll be fine, just think of that as a down payment for later." I slid my hand down and stroked it over one very nice butt cheek. "Besides, you and Tina are experienced shooters. Maybe that will even the odds for Tony and me." Tony and Tina hadn't arrived yet, so we took Christine's Glock up to the counter to see about getting it serviced. The attendant was a couple inches taller than me, lean with close-cut blonde hair, wearing khaki slacks, dark green polo shirt and yellow shooting glasses. He looked to be in his early to mid thirties and had an unmistakable air of confidence about him. It was a look that said 'experience'. Except for the height he bore an eerie sort of resemblance to Rene Kurtz, the Sandman. "Probably a GI working a second job," Jamie said. "Mind if I check him out?" "Knock yourself out." I said while extending my hand. "Good evening; David Malcolm, this is Christine Payson; we're shooting with Mr. and Mrs. Cicarelli tonight. Christine brought her 26 in with her, but she hasn't fired it or even had it out of the case in several years. I was wondering what it would cost to get it cleaned and serviced?" "Patrick Goodwin," he replied then released my hand. There was no indication that he had noticed Jamie sliding into him. "Not a problem at all Mr. Malcolm. Routine maintenance and cleaning are free any time you shoot with us; you only pay if it needs parts replaced or for actual repairs. So this will be your first time shooting with us?" "Yes it is. Actually, it's my first time shooting at all, unless video games count." "You'd be surprised," he said. "Some of the more advanced ones are very good training. I've seen kids with no actual experience score pretty well with a lightweight piece. Anything with a strong recoil and they're lost, but small stuff is very similar to some of the mall games. Will you be renting tonight then?" "I thought that would be a good start," I said. "Christine, did you have something in mind?" "I'd like to compare the Browning Mark Three with the Glock 19." "The lady knows her ordinance," Patrick said with an approving nod. "No problem at all, let's get your gun checked in, and I'll get Alex started servicing it, then we'll get you set up with something to get you started. Yours should be ready in about thirty minutes. Have you tried the Five-Seven against your 26?" "You fire Fire-Seven's indoors?" Christine sounded shocked. "Sure, the last three lanes — down on the far end — are set up for heavy rifles; the SWAT guys like to bring their toys out to play, although, of course, we don't use the tactical rounds." Since I was playing the novice, I didn't say anything, but I understood Christine's concern. The Browning Five-Seven was originally issued to Belgian Tactical Officers as a sidearm to go with their P90 sub machine-gun. They take the same ammo, and they're basically designed to shoot people hiding behind things. Since they weren't in actual warfare, they used a scaled down round, but even then, the SS190 was a thirty-one grain pointed steel bullet with an aluminum core. Muzzle velocity was around six-hundred-fifty meters per second. Do the math, that's almost half a mile per second, and it was rated to penetrate a Kevlar and steel tactical vest at 100 meters — a standard vest at over 300. At impact the steel head will be forced backward, causing the softer aluminum core to expand and mushroom. Your only hope was that the round went through a soft-tissue area because then it would be a fairly clean entry-exit. If it hit any kind of solid obstruction it wouldn't leave an exit wound, but a crater. "And for you, sir?" "I'm not picky, I'll just shoot whatever she's not at the time. Do you know what Mr. Cicarelli shoots?" "Well, he tries for the targets," he joked. "He's got several Glocks: a seventeen, nineteen, and a seventeen-L competition piece. He's a better skeet shooter. Mrs. Cicarelli only has the one, but it's a sweet piece, and you'd have to have a death wish to go anywhere near her if she's carrying it." "She's pretty good then?" I asked. "Insane good. She shoots a Sig 226, the X5 competition model. Sweet gun; it'll shoot two inch groups at fifty meters, and I've seen her do it standing freehand. She's not fast, but if she gets a bead on you, you're a dead man." "Are you talking about my wife again, Patrick? How am I ever going to make any money if you tell them my ace in the hole?" "Good evening, Mr. Cicarelli. Just getting your friends here set up. We've got five and six ready for you. If you'll just sign in your guests please. Mr. Malcolm, Miss Payson; if I could see both your ID's, please?" Patrick and Tony were both impressed with Christine's gun box, and we lost a couple minutes while she told them where she got it. I shook Patrick's hand again and thanked him for his assistance before following Tony toward the range. Jamie gave me the basic run down as we went. "Staff Sergeant Patrick Goodwin works for the local recruiting office. Divorced, no children, works here to supplement his income, meet people, and because it lets him shoot a broader array of firearms for free. He's a better shot than most of the customers but he doesn't compete. Seems like a decent sort of guy. Does intervention counseling for a couple of the local churches; want to guess his number one suggestion for kids with problems?" Christine and Tina got right into it while Tony went over the basics with me. I started out with his Glock 19; it was almost identical to the one Christine had rented, but the rental had the newer composite grips. Jamie and I took turns with the different guns. She decided, and I agreed, that we preferred the model-19 to the 17, but they were both a little bigger than she liked. Christine didn't like the balance of the Mark three, but still wanted to try the Five-Seven when it came out. Tina was just as good as Patrick had said. She took about two seconds between shots, but she could put three rounds through a hole the size of a quarter at ten meters. Jamie and I had agreed ahead of time to keep our real skill level to ourselves. "So what was it you needed a referral for that you couldn't tell me on the phone?" Tony finally asked. "I can't tell you much now either, but I don't want your firm anywhere near it. It has nothing to do with your ability to handle the work, but if anything goes wrong it could get ugly, and I don't want you — or your people — involved." "I see," he said. He turned and emptied a full ten-round clip downrange, then hit the return to bring the target back up for inspection. "So you need an attorney versed in family law that's expendable?" He put fresh patches on the target, ran it back out, and stepped aside for me. "Expendable is a little harsh," I said, stepping forward to take my turn. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, opened them again, and put five rounds through the target's heart within six inches of each other. I had to work to keep from getting the spacing too close. "There is a possibility of danger if the wrong people figure out what is going on," I said. "I'd rather not have to worry about you and your people if it blows up and they trace it back to your firm." "Sounds like you're walking a fine line," he said. "You could say that," I put the remaining five shots into the head, spreading them around enough to not be obvious, but if you looked closely, you'd see I put three through his left eye, pierced his ear, and gave his dentist one hell of a cavity to play with. "The problem you have, then, is that the people you need — the professional and very discreet people you need — are the ones you're trying to avoid, but if you go too far down the list, you run the risk of people running their mouths or selling you out altogether if something goes wrong." I did my best to reassure him while we each took a few more turns. Then he ran the target out to the twenty-five meter line. It appeared he was trying to shoot three separate groups, but when he ran it back in you could see the shots were all over the place. He shook his head in disgust and opened the case to his 17L — that's the competition gun with the longer barrel. It looked a little awkward, and holding it you definitely felt the change in weight distribution, but it only took a couple shots to get a feel for the gun. After I'd emptied the second clip, Tina showed up and offered to let me try her X5. "Ooh, now, this is nice," Jamie cooed as I examined the weapon. "Yeah, it's got a nice feel," I agreed. Then I handed it back to Tina without firing it. "Hey!" Jamie complained. "What are you doing?" Tina asked essentially the same question. "No, thanks," I told her. "I can tell just from handling it — that gun is addictive. I'm afraid if I get started with it, we'll be here all night." Patrick showed up just as she took it back. "Miss Payson, I'm sorry, but one of your springs was fatigued and Alex is going to have to replace it. Unfortunately, we don't have one in stock. It shouldn't be a big problem. I'm pretty sure one of the other local shops will have one, but you'll have to leave it overnight. If that's a problem, I can have Alex go ahead and put it back together, and you can just bring it back next time you're in." "No, that will be fine," Christine said. "Did you still want to try out the Five-Seven?" he asked. "No, that's okay. I'll wait and try it out when we pick mine up." "Rats!" Jamie complained. "Sneaky though, she just guaranteed herself a return trip." "Well then," Tina said. "Maybe we should call it a night and get something to eat; I'm starved." The motion carried by a wide margin, and we headed over to a nearby pizza place where we split a large pizza and a pitcher of dark beer. Everyone but Christine that is, she stuck with salad and fruit. Tony and Tina left their guns at the club, so they could clean them while we were eating. It had been an instructional evening. After seeing Tina shoot, I now had a better understanding of why Tony had thought the two of them may be able to protect Christine if Henslith came looking for her. Tina really was that good, and if Tony could distract someone long enough for her to get a bead on them, then they stood a good chance of getting out alive, but it would never happen. In order for that scenario to work out in their favor, they would have to be waiting for it to happen. If Tina had her pistol — loaded and ready — and Tony answered the door, recognized the threat, and somehow managed to convey the threat to Tina immediately ... maybe. If Tina answered the door — which I considered much more likely — they were dead. For one thing, Tony wouldn't trust himself. Tina was good enough to shoot someone over Tony's shoulder without hesitation — if she had time to aim and center herself for the shot. Tony wouldn't risk shooting unless Tina was completely clear of the target. Plus, there is a big difference between shooting stationary targets on a range, and trying to hit someone who is shooting back. With Kurtz dead, Henslith — in her guise as the Black Queen — now had a lock on the number one position as the deadliest assassin in the world, and I had no doubt that she was just as good a shot as Tina, only a hell of a lot faster. Also, if it came down to a firefight, she would have no problem just killing everyone in sight. "Something to keep in mind if we ever find ourselves face to face with her," Jamie said. "It's nice to know that if it ever happened we wouldn't have to worry about Christine picking up a gun and trying to help." True, anytime you find yourself in a situation where someone needs to pick up a gun, it was always better to know that the person knew how to use it. However it was equally important that the person recognize that the situation warranted picking up the gun in the first place, and that they would in fact pick one up if the situation called for it. Neither of which I was sure of with Christine. So far all we knew was that she knew the basic mechanics and that she could take down a room full of paper silhouettes in pinch. As for Henslith... "Did you mean 'if', or 'when'?" I asked. It was still pretty early when we got back to the house. Christine and I both stripped right into the washer, so we could get the gunpowder residue off before we touched anything else in the house. I took a quick shower, but Christine took a little longer because she had to wash and dry her hair. While Christine was blowing her hair out, I called to check on Amber to make sure she'd gotten home all right. The girls were just getting ready for bed themselves and I informed them that I expected it to be a while before we showed up on the other side. A supposition Christine confirmed when she stepped into the doorway wearing just her tallest heels and a very sexy smile to invite me to bed. I was right; it was really late before we got to sleep, and we both really needed the rest. ------- Chapter 16: What the... Allison My meeting with Brandiy had been ... enlightening. The dreamscape shimmered around me, appearing as if one of those heat-distortion waves you see on desert highways had washed across the whole landscape. When the wave had passed, I found myself standing in what could only be called a palatial room. I'd only been here twice before, but still there was a reassuring sense of rightness to it. The walls were black marble laced through with veins of bright pink — the blocks of stone so smooth and finely fitted that you couldn't even see mortar lines where they met. My guess was there wasn't any mortar, but rather the stones were cut to fit together a special way, and you would have to dismantle — rather than breach — the walls. The massive, gilt-edged, oak doors were closed, but from somewhere enough of a breeze was getting in to ripple the tapestries fixed high on the walls around the room. In front of me a table was set with fine porcelain china for two, along with several small plates of snack-sized sandwiches, puff pastries, and scones. I knew from experience that the pastries were to die for, and I was very happy that dream calories didn't stick to your real hips. I turned towards where I knew the throne would be, and there she was, a tall slender figure appearing only a few years older than myself, though I now suspected she was in fact much older. Even so, she was still the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, for hers was a natural beauty, needing no makeup or artifice of any kind. Smooth skin with just enough color that you knew she wouldn't burn in the sun, but still pale compared to my tan. Her silver hair was braided — the braid held with a ribbon that matched the trim on her dress and draped forward over one shoulder. Even so it still reached almost to her waist. The dress was silver to match her hair, but done in delicate plates to mimic the scales of her other form. The pink trim suddenly reminded me of the trim on the little white dress that Amy had worn for so long. Full lips, elegant cheekbones, a pert little nose, and those eyes; God I could get lost in those eyes, but now wasn't the time. "Who are you?" I asked. "Hello, Allison," she answered, ignoring my question and gliding down the steps to hug me. "It's good to see you safe. Would you join me for tea? We have much to discuss, you and I — and do not worry; your brother will not intrude. If he searches for you he will know that you are safe and don't wish to be disturbed, just as he did before, only now he will know what that odd feeling he used to get means. Please," she held a chair for me, "sit with me." It's not everyday you get to have tea with a dragon, and — while this was more likely her true appearance — that is what she would always be to me, because that's what she was when we first met. To me, this woman-shape — as beautiful as it was — was only a convenience. "Thank you," I said, taking my seat and unfolding my napkin into my lap. She sat herself across from me and did the same, then offered to pour for me. I would have done it, but it is the host's duty to pour, unless servants are present. "Scone?" she offered after filling her own cup and setting the pot down on the warming plate. "Yes, please," I said. "Apricot?" "Of course," she said with a smile. She took up the silver tongs and moved one of the round, crusty scones onto my dessert plate, then helped herself to one before lifting her cup in a silent thank you for my company, and taking a sip. The formalities concluded when I lifted my cup to her, thanking her for having me, and took a sip of my own. I'm not really much of a tea or coffee person, but I always loved this one with her, probably just because it was a dream. "No," she said. "The tea is real, and I have not done anything to it to make it more appealing." "Are you reading minds now?" I asked, setting my cup back down. "No, but each time we have shared it you have commented how much you like it. Given recent events I suspected you might think it an affectation. I assure you it is not — it is a very old and special blend, the ingredients and proportions handed down through my family for generations." "I see. Thank you for clearing that up." I took another sip and braced myself for what I had to do next. "You lied to me, Brandiy." "I know," she said softly, "and I am very sorry that it was necessary, but you do understand that it was necessary, don't you?" Yeah, I did. I nodded, took another sip of my tea and moved on. "Were you always real?" "I'm disappointed, Allison, that was a very sloppy question, but I understand what you mean. Yes, from the very first time you dreamed of me. You needed something unusual enough to trigger the right memory when the time came. Obviously it worked since, when your darling brother decided to take you and Shannon out for some fun, he called on me again, and in doing so fulfilled the promise he had made so long before." She reached a hand across the table and placed it on mine. "I am so very sorry for your loss, Allison. Truly I am." The compassion in her eyes was real. If it hadn't been, there wouldn't have been tears forming in mine. I moved on before they got out of hand. "But that was necessary too, wasn't it?" "Yes," she said, the sorrow in her voice was genuine, too. She raised her napkin and dabbed at one eye. We talked for what seemed like hours, though much of it was me talking about my energy theories and her listening. She wouldn't tell me much but she did confirm a few things. It was nice to finally have someone I could talk to about all this. Just being able to vocalize it seemed to help the process along, and I found myself rushing down pathways I had shied away from before. One thing she confirmed was my theory about Jimmy's disappearing DNA. Although, that led me somewhere I hadn't been expecting to go... "His DNA breaks down when removed from his field, doesn't it? Once the blood, or hair, or dead skin, are removed, they begin to degrade." "Very good," she said. "That's going to make it awfully hard to have kids, isn't it?" "Why would you say that?" she asked. "Because if what you say is true, then all his sperm would die before they had a chance to fertilize an ovum." "Unless?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. Unless what? Once it's ejaculated and he withdraws, even if his field extended beyond his body, unless he kept in contact the whole time the field would... Jamie. Suddenly an image of my favorite sister popped into my head. Why? Was she somehow related to the question? The question answered itself; Jamie needed Jimmy's energy to survive, too long away and she got tired — fast — and disoriented; according to Lizzy, too long away and she would die. Physical contact was the only thing that helped her. If she was out too long, physical contact wasn't enough, she had to go back to the source. Like her batteries needed recharging. But once she was charged? "Unless somehow his energy remained longer," I said, nodding my head as another piece appeared in the picture I was building. I had no idea where in the picture it went but at least I had it. A couple thousand more and I might have a clue what was really going on. "Would I have gotten pregnant if Jamie had remained in me that day?" "Come now, Allison, you know the mechanics. Were you ovulating?" It wasn't an answer and we both knew it. "You're close," she continued, "but that is not the answer. Let me ask you something. How did Jimmy find you?" "Jimmy always knows where I am. He can always ... ah, I see, another piece of the puzzle." In my mind I was writing notes on a white board: Energy; Jamie, Jimmy always knowing where I was — and not just me, but Easy and Amber, too. Were there others? And he had found me while I was drugged — something he had never been able to do before. Even with Rebecca he had had to work through Amy to find her. If my theory was right, then it all came back to energy. But what was different about the special ones? I kept coming back to Jamie for some reason. Then I saw it; Jamie, laying with her head in Lizzy's lap, long past time when she should have gone back, gone home as she put it. Why had being with Lizzy let her stay out longer? I had known — or suspected at least — that she would be able to, my original thought being that somehow Lizzy's own special energy field could sustain Jamie for a while, but what if that wasn't it? That only left Jamie somehow getting Jimmy's energy from Lizzy, but how? Ah, but what if it wasn't from Lizzy but through her? What if... ? "Somehow Jimmy's energy connects us," I said finally. "That's why Jamie can stay out longer if she is with one of us; somehow we act as a conduit for Jimmy's energy. Walter told Jimmy that he had given a piece of himself to Amber, and that it was that piece that allowed her to call him. Jimmy's energy has altered something in our patterns to match his. That's the piece Walter was talking about." I was talking more to myself than to her, and I could feel myself nodding as pieces fitted themselves together, and a tiny portion of the picture became clear in my mind. "It's like breaking a crystal fragment off of a larger piece. The crystalline structure is identical, so if you tap either crystal, the other piece will echo the vibration. Jimmy must have used his piece to make my piece echo, then followed the sound, or rather the vibration, back to me. That's how he found me, even though I was drugged. I know that's not really it, but it's the best analogy I could come up with." I got up and started pacing next to the table. Not far away, my white board showed up with all my notes scribbled on it. I walked over to it and picked up a marker, continuing to talk to myself while Brandiy looked on. "The piece he gave us is a modification or addition to our patterns, that allow ours to receive energy from his. Jamie's pattern is ... incomplete, lacking that piece. No, that's not it," I said, erasing my last note. "Her pattern is different. It stores energy, like a battery, where ours just pass it through, like a conduit." I was nodding my head now as things started making sense. "And the reason that she can stay out longer now is that she is learning, probably unconsciously, how to manage her energy better; that and probably being able to take a bigger charge as she matures. "When she returned from taking care of Charles and Andrews she was tired. Even though she had been gone a relatively short period of time, that job had taken a lot more energy, so she had to go home. Handling Kurtz — jamming him physically — was almost too much, she didn't have enough left to go back on her own, and Jimmy had to go to her. I need to talk to Lizzy about how he looked after rescuing mom and dad ... and me, I'll bet he was a wreck. God, I don't have the science for this; I'm not even sure it exists yet! I am going to be in school fucking forever!" My brain was starting to run in circles, so I set the marker down, sent the whiteboard to a closet somewhere to deal with later, and returned to the table, pouring fresh tea for both of us and helping myself to a small sandwich. "The DNA thing has got to be a pretty recent change," I said, "they took blood at the hospital barely six months ago; I'm pretty sure they would have said something if it had started breaking down before their eyes. So he's been ... what? Evolving, along with his gift? The energy has been changing him just as it's changed the rest of us. I don't suppose you'll tell me where it comes from?" "What do you mean, 'where it comes from'?" she asked. "Oh, don't even," I said, giving her a look. "This isn't something he's creating on his own; he just ... interacts with it. It's got to be coming from somewhere." "Very good," she said with a smile. "Your brother is a ... nexus... , of sorts." "A nexus?" I asked. "In what sense of the word?" "Several, actually, you've already noticed that things seem to happen around him; that he seems to have a knack for being around important events. And then there are the people who come into his life..." "Yeah, we got that part," I said in wry voice. "People seem to come into his life for a reason. That covers one definition, two actually; connection and center, but there are others; anything else you want to share?" She just stared at me. "Hmmm. It was you that told Amber that Christine was important, then?" "Yes, and I'm very sorry if it distressed her to not understand the feeling, but..." "But you knew I'd figure it out." I had a sudden thought and asked, "Was it you that got Shannon out of the car?" "Yes," she said, suddenly sad again, "her last hours were going to be painful enough without the fire. I could not bear to see her suffer." "The fire wouldn't have killed her?" "Not without killing them all. The part of your brother that was to become Jamie would not have let her die while there was strength left to try and save her." "So what's the deal with Christine? Lizzy is pretty obvious, but what's up with her? All that Lizzy can tell is that there is something weird with her pattern. And of course I can't see it at all, which is going to make researching all of this a real challenge to say the least. Can you tell me that much at least?" "I'm sorry, Allison, but the truth is that I'm not going to be telling you much at all. Occasionally I'll confirm your findings or theories, and even that not very often — just until you figure out how to do it on your own. Mostly I will be here for you, to give you someone to talk to about your theories. However, one of those theories that I will confirm is your fear of what happens when Jimmy and Lizzy finally stop torturing themselves." "Dramatic?" I asked. "You have no idea," she said. "Great," I said sarcastically. "Is it safer for the rest of us to go with them or find a place to hide?" "For that part of it you are quite correct: There is no place you can hide from that part of the effect. If you have a piece of him, find someone you want to be with and enjoy the ride, because distance isn't going to matter." "What about the others; Mom and dad, Bob and Rebecca, Mel and Lynn?" Her smile made me grimace. "Susan?" I asked. "It will affect everyone they know depending on the depth of their connection." "Great." I seemed to be saying that a lot. "Anything else?" "When the time comes, the analogy you will be looking for is a dandelion." A dandelion? In my mind I saw an image of a leafy green weed with a single yellow flower sticking up in the middle of my brother's otherwise perfectly manicured lawn. What the... ? Jimmy Lizzy and Amber were already at the beach — out in the water playing with the dolphins — when Christine and I arrived. As always, Lizzy seemed to immediately know when we arrived, and they both started swimming toward shore. "By the way," Christine said. "I had a really nice time tonight. Lizzy was right; you're worth the wait, and I'm glad you made me wait until we could both play." "Thank you," I said. "I do my best." "Do you?" she asked. "Don't take this wrong, but I kind of get the idea you're holding back." She chuckled and added, "Not that I'm complaining; lord knows I'm not complaining. I'm just a little worried that I'm right and wondering if I can handle it if you ever go all out." "What makes you think I'm holding back?" I asked. "Well, answering my question with a question, for one thing. Hmm, why do I think you're holding back? I don't know; just a feeling I get." She rolled her eyes and bumped her shoulder against mine. "When I can think at all. Anyway, you've said your life is complicated, and it is. I think part of how you deal with the complexity is you compartmentalize. Right now I'm with Jimmy, Master of Dreamland, but out there... ? Out there I think I'm with David, because David is whom I expect to be with. He's like a suit you put on for me and the rest of the world, but I don't think the suit is big enough for Jimmy. Does that make any sense?" "I think it makes perfect sense," Lizzy said. She was only a few feet away now, and she covered the last few steps quickly, bouncing into my arms and flinging hers around my neck. She greeted me with a scorching kiss hello. Christine had released my arm and stepped over to greet Amber, hugging her and kissing her nose playfully. Amber blushed and bit her lip at the unexpected attention. I lost track of what came after as Lizzy's tongue came hunting for mine, and Jamie came forward to show her where it was. It wasn't a wrestling match, just two lovers meeting together in my mouth, but things got hot fast, and with a deep inhalation I pulled back. I could almost feel the passion burning in my eyes as I looked down and found an answering flame in hers. "And he wonders why I think he's holding back," Christine said, rolling her eyes. "Are they like this every time?" "Yeah," Amber sighed. "Sweet isn't it?" "I can't help feeling like I should be jealous, but I can't seem to muster up the ... Have they ever actually set anything on fire doing that?" "Not physically," Amber answered, "but the night he proposed, everyone knew when she said yes." "Really?" Christine asked, surprised. "Oh yeah!" Amber assured her, eyes wide and nodding her confirmation. She turned and whispered in Christine's ear. Christine's mouth dropped open, and her eyes got wide before she pulled back and looked at Amber. "You're not serious." When Amber nodded at her, Christine covered her mouth and laughed as she said, "Oh my God!" Suddenly, there was a roar from the jungle that started just off the beach; it sounded a lot like an angry mountain lion. Everyone was looking at me as the echo died. "Tell me that was you trying to be funny," Lizzy said. The sound came again, closer this time, and you could actually see brush moving a little ways back. Suddenly something furry burst from the tree line and onto the beach. It was closer to the size of a bobcat than a mountain lion, and the coloring was totally wrong — more of a mottled gray than the tawny coat you expect on a cougar — but it was definitely feline, with a long thick tail and large paws. It was like no breed I had ever seen before, but at the same time, there was something vaguely familiar about it. As soon as it saw us it stopped and spun sideways, ears laid back and fur standing tall down its spine. The tail looked like a bottle brush. "Oh my God," Christine exclaimed with a laugh. "That is too funny!" "No," Lizzy said, her voice leaving no doubt that she was very serious. "That's not funny at all. Jimmy, you're sure you didn't have anything to do with this?" "No, I told you, this isn't anything I did." "Don't be too sure. Christine, what does that look like to you? Why did you laugh?" "Because it looks kind of like Widget, only bigger. Haven't you ever seen a kitten play? It's like they think they're so much bigger and badder than they really are. I don't know; I just think this is how Widget sees herself sometimes." Lizzy's next words were for me alone, "Jimmy, freeze this; we need help." I froze the scene and she called out, "Allison!" Down the beach, Allison stepped out of the changing tent and looked our way. Then she vanished and reappeared next to Lizzy. "What's wrong?" she asked. "Something's happened," Lizzy said, "and I don't have a clue how or why. See that?" she pointed toward the cat on the edge of the beach. "Wow," Allison said. "Kind of weird looking, who dreamed that up?" "No one," Lizzy said. "That's Christine's cat, Widget." 'Shocked' would be a good word to describe my reaction. "What?" I asked "Christine hit it right on the head, that is Widget — as she sees herself when she's feeling aggressive, or scared — and right now she is really, really, scared!" "Elizabeth. Sweetheart," I said, my tone somewhere between calming and conciliatory. "How can that possibly be Widget?" "Jimmy, I don't know!" she said anxiously. "All I know is that it is; I recognize her pattern. She's larger, and there are some differences in the pattern, but trust me; that is Widget." I think she could tell that I thought she had lost her mind. "Don't look at me like that!" she said, pushing my arm. "Jimmy, if she wasn't here, really here, I couldn't see her. Remember how when Amy used to visit I couldn't see her, but now that she's awake, I can? Now I know Amy is different, and she seems to have her own set of rules, but remember when you've tried to take me into other people's dreams, like visiting Samantha that first time? I know you all saw other people on that soccer field, but to me, Samantha was the only one there — besides you guys of course — but my point is, all the others that she dreamed up to play in that game, even the parents on the sidelines, none of it existed to me, but I see Widget!" "Wait," Allison said, speaking up suddenly. "Back up. You said you recognize Widget's pattern, but that it's bigger and there are differences. Forget bigger, what's different about her pattern." "What do you mean?" Lizzy asked. "I mean look at her pattern," Allison said intently. I don't think she meant it to come out so commanding, but it seemed to really get Lizzy's attention. "Look closely; study it. What's different from what you saw before, and does anything that's different look familiar?" She took Lizzy's hand and pulled her toward the cat. "Look past the fear, that's a distraction; look for the underlying pattern. Compare it to what you saw before — when you were driving out. Can you find the differences; tell what they are? Is it more complex? Are there things there now that weren't there before?" "Yes," Lizzy said. "Very good, Elizabeth," Allison said, sounding a lot like my third grade teacher. "Why don't you share it with the rest of the class? Which part?" Lizzy couldn't help but smile as she answered. "All of the above. You're right, the fear is a distraction, and it's the underlying pattern that's the key. Her pattern has changed — not too radically, or I wouldn't have recognized it as being her — but it's more complex; there seem to be new pieces, almost like another pattern has attached itself to hers." "Okay," Allison said, nodding her head. "Now we're getting somewhere. Now, focus on the new part, anything look familiar about it?" Lizzy got a strange look on her face, like she was seeing something but couldn't really tell what it was. "I don't know," she said. "I mean, it kind of looks like it could be familiar — but at the same time, not." Allison turned to me, "Jimmy, could you give us a few moments, please? Just leave everything the way it is and go to the cabana or something?" I certainly wasn't expecting that. Why would Allison want me to leave when we were right in the middle of something like this? "Allison, what the heck is going on?" She took my hands in hers. "Jimmy?" she said, looking me in the eyes. "Jimmy, I need you to trust me here, okay? I need to talk to Lizzy about some things — things that I really think it would be best if you didn't know a lot about just yet. I'm working on some theories; ever since you left, my brain has been working overtime to try and figure out a lot of the new stuff that's going on. You may have noticed that your gift is no longer limited to subconscious fantasies; you're starting to impact the physical universe, and I'm trying to figure out what's going on. If I start telling you things — or talking about some of them before I understand what's really going on — you're going to get freaked out, and that's not going to help. Please, I'm asking you to trust me. Right now I need to ask Lizzy some questions, and I don't want you to hear them or ask her about them later. If you do, she's going to tell you that she agrees with me and that you should just leave it alone and let me work. I'm also probably going to need her help for some of the research I'm going to be doing, and I'll want you to leave her alone about that as well. In return, I promise you that when I know what's going on — when I'm sure — I'll tell you, and we can talk about it, okay?" "Great," I said, shaking my head in disgust. "I've been promoted to lab rat again. Okay, fine; just remember you promised to tell me when you know what's happening, because I plan to hold you to it." "I know. I love you. Thanks for understanding," she gave me a quick kiss. "Now, go away." Allison I knew that there had to be a perfectly reasonable explanation for how and why a cat had somehow wandered into Jimmy's dreamspace, but I had no freaking clue what it might be. I did, however, have a pretty good idea where to start. Only one thing had changed recently; only one new factor had been added to our collective equation: Christine. Coming, as it did, practically on the heels of my conversation with Brandiy the night before, I wasn't the least bit surprised. I waited until Jimmy was safely tucked away in the cabana before turning to Lizzy. "He's not going to like this, is he?" she asked. "If I'm right, it's going to really — I mean really — freak him out. That's why I don't want him to know until I'm sure. Lizzy, I want you to think of the last time you saw a newborn baby ... Got it? I need a good strong memory. People you knew really well." "Okay," she said tentatively. "Now tell me if I'm right. I know your experiences through life change your pattern; alter it subtly, color it, that sort of thing? If that's true, then a newborn baby is as close to a blank slate as there is. Now, given that our experiences change us, do they change our fundamental, basic pattern, or do they just add to it, color it, maybe warp it here or there?" "Okay," she said, thinking about the question. "Yes, you're right, most of our experiences, everything short of the really traumatic stuff, is just, oh ... window dressing; it doesn't change the pattern so much as decorate it. Traumatic stuff changes the pattern; sometimes good, sometimes bad, depending on the circumstances, and yes, a baby is about as pure a pattern as you can get." "Good," I said. "Now, think of that last baby you saw. Picture its pattern in your mind. Is the baby's pattern similar to the parents?" I watched as she thought about my question for a few seconds, and then suddenly her eyes grew about three sizes, and she spun to look at Christine. I could see the concentration on her face as she studied her. Then she spun again, this time to look at Widget. After a few seconds she sort of huffed out a startled, "Oh, wow!" "Jimmy and Christine had sex tonight, didn't they?" I asked. "And I don't mean they got friendly and physical; I mean they really got busy." "Yeah, they did," Lizzy answered. "They were talking about it when they got here. Christine thanked him for a wonderful time, he said something about doing his best, and she challenged him on it, saying that she was pretty sure that — as wonderful as it was — he was holding something back. She was right, of course, but I was surprised she could tell." "What did you see when you looked at Christine?" "No," she said, shaking her head. "You tell me; what do you think I saw?" "I think it's what you didn't see," I answered. "I think maybe something is missing?" "You've really been thinking about this," Lizzy said. "You're close. Yes, something is missing, but not the way you're thinking." "Hold that thought," I said. "Jamie, I know you're here, you might as well show yourself." She appeared in front of us with guilt written across her face. "You think this my fault." "No Jamie, " I assured her. "In fact, I know it's not your fault. You wouldn't take the chance, and if you did, Jimmy would have recognized it immediately and stopped." "You really think he could have stopped?" she asked. "He sure couldn't the first time it happened." "I know," I said, "and that's exactly why he would have this time, even if it meant leaving. He would be so worried about her being out of control and doing things she normally wouldn't ... Jamie, it would have felt like rape to him because she didn't understand it, and that is something you need to always keep in mind. I was out of control that day; I loved it, I can't wait to do it again someday, but not by accident. The same is true for Jimmy, trust me; he will never, ever, do that again with someone who doesn't know what they are getting into." I took her by the shoulders and looked into her eyes. "Jamie, listen to me. You know how you are worried that someday you may do something Jimmy couldn't forgive you for? This could be one of those things." I could tell by the way she paled that she knew I was right. I stepped in and hugged her, laying a gentle kiss on her cheek. "I love you, Jamie. You're more than a sister to me, and I don't want to lose you, ever. Okay?" She hugged me tightly to her, "I love you, too. Thank you." "You're welcome," I said, pulling away again and giving her a playful slap on the butt. She jumped and her hand went automatically to the spot I had hit. "That's for spying," I said. "Now go away, I need to talk to Lizzy." I didn't wait to see if she went, but just turned back to Lizzy. "For all intents and purposes, Christine just had a baby, didn't she? Part of her pattern replicated and broke free." "You're amazing, do you know that?" Lizzy said. "Yes, there was a section of her pattern that looked ... stressed, I guess. Like it had been stretched and torn somehow." "And now it's attached itself to Widget's pattern?" "Exactly," Lizzy said. "Damn," I swore. "Okay, you watched the other night when Jimmy ... not really twinned, more like cloned, Christine. Did you see anything unusual happen during the process?" "I don't know," she said hesitantly. "Or at least I'm not sure. I'd never seen it done before, so I don't know what it's supposed to look like, but right at the end — just in the split instant before the bubble separated itself from her — it seemed like something happened." Suddenly, Lizzy froze as well. Jimmy and Jamie were both gone so let's see ... Who else did I know that could pull this off... ? "I was just about to call you," I said. "I know," Brandiy replied, "but I don't think it's a good idea to reveal me to Lizzy just yet." "She tends to notice when she's frozen; she even stays awake through it most of the time." "I know," she said. "Trust me, she won't notice this time." "Okay," I said. "You helped Jimmy with Christine the other night, didn't you?" "Yes, the process is a lot more complex than he realizes, and if he thinks about how long it took him to create his new 'David', he'll understand that. When the time comes to explain that I helped, you might want to point that out to him. I did most of the work before he ever started. If you need me to later, I'll explain the dynamics, so you can educate him. Your next question is: 'Will the same method separate Widget from the new pattern?' The answer is: 'Not without killing her.' Animal patterns are too basic to stand alone once this happens." "Ah, animal patterns are too basic," I said. "That's what you did with Christine the other night. Somewhere during that process, her pattern was duplicated, or at least partially duplicated to create the 'awake' persona. Then you hid it from Lizzy, so she wouldn't see what was happening when they separated. Would she be able to see the difference in the awake Christine if she were here?" "Not yet, and the process is different from what happened tonight, but you'll figure that out soon enough; and yes, Lizzy will learn to distinguish it in time," Brandiy said with a smile. "Now, why didn't something like this happen when Jimmy and Christine got together the first time?" I didn't have to think about it very long; it played right in with something I had suspected before. "Because she hadn't met Lizzy and spent enough time with her," I said. "Lizzy's field is a catalyst, isn't it? It triggered changes in Christine's field the same as it did Jimmy's, and while I'll probably never tell him this, in Amber's." I cocked my head questioningly at her and waited. I didn't have long to wait; she stared at me for a moment and then nodded. "Thought so," I said. "Like I said, I'm not planning on telling him that, or even most of the rest of this. Lizzy's field triggered a change in Christine's, so this time when she and Jimmy got busy, their fields did too." "Yes," she said. "Remember what I told you before?" I had to think for a second, and then it dawned on me. "Dandelions," I said, nodding my head. It made perfect sense. "Yes, the reason Christine's pattern looks fuzzy to Lizzy is that it has all these tiny little bumps, like polyps, or cilia all over it. They're like seeds waiting for the sun to come out so they can grow, and Jimmy is the sun, or at least his field is. Don't worry; they're not conscious or alive or anything. They're just energy patterns spinning off from her — from them, really; it takes both of them to mature one, but they can't exist on their own, and they dissipate rapidly, unless..." "Unless they come into contact with another pattern they can adhere to," I said, finishing for her. "In this case, it just happened to be Widget's." "Very good," she said. "Proximity is the key — one of them anyway." The smile on her face gave me a good idea what at least one of the other keys might be. "Like I said, they dissipate quickly, and it doesn't take much to stop them. Had Widget been in the other room with the door closed, this wouldn't have happened. You're going to find that they have many uses; for one thing, you know those pieces that Jimmy gave you and Lizzy and Amber? These little proto-patterns can act as sort of a simplified version of that. However, there are other factors that can come into play. Think of it as the difference between touching your tongue to the little nine volt battery in a radio, or licking a set of jumper cables hooked up to your brother's truck." "Ah," I said. "So my warning to Jamie was well timed, but the same may be true to a lesser degree depending on his, let's say, level of commitment to the act?" "That's a good way to put it," she said with a smile. "As I said, proximity is one key, you will discover there are others. For now, just be thankful that Jimmy was holding back. I have to go now; there is a limit to how long even I can keep Lizzy out of a scene. We'll talk again soon." "Wait!" Too late; she was gone and Lizzy was aware again. I wanted to ask Brandiy if this was related to Christine's little adventure at the craps table. I had another question, but thinking about the answer I had just gotten, I was pretty sure I already knew the answer. Meanwhile, I needed to pick up the thread of the conversation Lizzy and I had been having before Brandiy showed up. "Hmm, I think maybe he's been had," I said to Lizzy, picking up where we had left off, "but I'll get into that later. Right now, we have work to do if we're going to save Widget." I turned my head and called, "Jimmy! You can come back now." He appeared a second later. Jimmy "Going to tell me what's going on now?" "I think I've figured out what's special about Christine." "Really? I thought you were working on ... Wait, you're saying that has something to do with why her cat is suddenly wandering into my dream." "Yes and no. Yes, it has something to do with it, but — and I've been meaning to point this out to you — this isn't your dream anymore." "It isn't?" I asked. "Look at your hand." My hand? Why would... ? It took a second, but then I realized what she meant. Back when I first discovered my gift by wandering into Shannon's dream without realizing it, we decided I needed a way to tell whether I was in my own dream or someone else's. Allison had come up with a simple idea and given me a ring that appears in my dreams, but disappears when I'm in someone else's. Allison had one as well, but hers worked differently. A quick glance at my finger confirmed that my ring was missing. She took my hand and still nothing happened; normally, the two of us touching in one of my dreams would have made the rings we had exchanged both appear. "Allison, what's going on? If this isn't mine, then why can everyone still interact with it?" "I don't know when it happened, or why, or how, or much of anything else yet — I'm still working on it, but I do have an idea as to what happened, and it also explains why everyone seems to be able to come here whenever they want. Well, not everyone, but the main group anyway. Lizzy said you and Christine were talking when you arrived, so that means she was here first. It's not the first time that's happened, but I think our first explanation — that you were okay with us coming and sort of unconsciously allowed it — wasn't a very good one. Either that, or ... It doesn't matter. Or at least I don't think it does, but I need to study it more before I'll know. Jimmy, this environment has become self-sustaining. It may have to do with, as Walter puts it, you walking in both worlds, but it no longer requires any kind of conscious attention from you. As to how Widget got here, we'll get to that. Right now I'm more concerned with saving the nice kitty. Wake everybody up — everyone but the cat, that is — and follow my lead." Allison has always been smart, but lately she seemed to have jumped to a whole new level of insight and outright brilliance. Sometimes it's almost scary, like now. "Allison!" Amber squeaked cheerfully as I unfroze the scene. "Hello, Amber," Allison said. "I missed you too. You can kiss me in a minute; right now I've got work to do. If someone would be kind enough to introduce me..." She turned to Christine. "Christine Payson," I said. "I'd like you to meet our resident genius, my sister Allison. Allison, this is Christine." "Oh, I was wondering when I was finally going to get to meet you," Christine said, extending her hand. "Oh, please," Allison said, brushing the hand aside and hugging the older woman. "I don't shake hands with family. It's nice to finally meet you, too. Welcome to the nut house." She kissed Christine on the cheek and pulled back. "Okay, explanation time. The reason I seemed to come out of nowhere is that you've been kind of frozen for the last few minutes. Not really frozen, but sort of stopped between moments, like your cat still is. It's one of the little tricks Jimmy uses when we need to talk about something and other people are around. We could have discussed this in front of you, but frankly you would have needed to know a lot more of what is going on around here to understand it. In this case we don't even understand it because this is a totally new situation, and we don't have much of a grip yet. Unfortunately, we don't have time to figure it out right at the moment either. Right now our first priority is saving a life. Christine, the reason that cat reminded you of Widget is because it is Widget — as she sees herself in a fight or flight situation. Right now, she's confused and scared; according to Lizzy, really, really scared. I'll explain how she got here later, but first we need to calm her down and reassure her that everything is okay, and since you're the only person she knows and trusts here, you're the only one that can do it. Everybody else, when Jimmy releases Widget, we're all going to back away, slowly back away — not too far, just about twenty feet or so — and let them get reacquainted, okay? Jimmy, whenever you're..." "Wait!" Christine cried. "What do you mean that's Widget? Look at the size of that thing, what if she goes off on me?" "It's a dream, Christine," Allison reminded her. "There is nothing that can happen to you here, that Jimmy can't fix. How she looks is just a primitive projection based on her fear. Remember where we are..." Suddenly, Allison was eight feet tall with fangs and four inch claws. Just as quickly she was herself again. "Just calm her down, and she'll fade back to the sweet little bundle of fur you know. Just pretend you came home and found she'd gotten out of the apartment somehow. She's outside for the first time, in unfamiliar surroundings, scared and confused, and you've got to coax her to you, so you can take her home where it's safe. Calm her down, reassure her; once you do that she'll be able to recognize everyone again, except me of course, but she'll be okay because she feels safe with all of you. Once she settles down, you can even change the environment to look like the apartment, so she'll be in familiar surroundings, but if we do it now it will just freak her out more." "So she's just scared, and that's why she looks like this?" "Scared?" Allison said. "Try terrified. Think about it Christine, she's a cat; she doesn't know or understand that this is a dream. All she knows is that she's suddenly in a strange place." "Poor thing," Christine said. "And you're sure she can't hurt me?" "Only if you let her, and even then it won't be real." "Okay, I guess I can try." "You'll be fine," Allison said. "Jimmy, let her go. Everybody else, don't move yet, but once she's free, just turn and walk slowly away, don't look at her or act fearful, just move back and give them room." Suddenly an angry cry split the air as the cat reacted to the sudden change in the scene. As far as she was concerned we were all in different positions, and there was a whole new person in the form of Allison. The suddenness of the change made it worse. "Alright, let's go," Allison said, taking Amber's hand and pulling her away. Lizzy took my hand and we followed them. When Allison judged us far enough away, she stopped and sat down on the sand, pulling Amber down with her and leaning in for a kiss. "Hi," she breathed softly after the first soft brush of lips. "I've missed you." "You're so sweet," Amber said. "I've missed you, too. Master, can Allison and I sneak away later? We need to catch up." "Of course," I said, as I pulled Lizzy down in front of me and wrapped my arms around her waist. She leaned back into me slightly, and suddenly I was in a low beach chair. I relaxed back, and she snuggled herself back against me. "Ooh! I like it," Allison said. Suddenly there was similar chair under Amber, and Allison moved to snuggle back against her, as well, turning her head for another kiss. "Yeah, that's much better." Amber kissed her solidly, and then she turned back to watch the little drama taking place not far away. Christine had watched us walk away, and now she was turned back towards her wayward fur-ball, squatting in the sand with her hand stretched out toward the cat. "Widget!" she exclaimed. "There you are, you naughty thing. Where have you been? I was so worried about you." As soon as Christine called her name in the familiar tone, you could see the cat start to relax; the fur on her back slowly settling and her ears coming up. She cocked her head at Christine and seemed to be listening more intently as she continued talking. Suddenly there was a small can in Christine's hand, and she began shaking it. At the first shake there was a dramatic difference, as the cat seemed to perk up and relax. "Come on, Widget," Christine cooed. "Come on, come and get your treat." Christine sat down on the sand and shook the can again. That was all it took, and, in the blink of an eye, a much smaller shape was prancing across the sand. Christine popped the lid on the can and dumped several of the little treats into her hand, holding it down so the cat could reach. "That's my girl," Christine said, reaching to scratch her head. "Who's a good kitty?" The treats were soon gone, and the little ball of fluff was purring and bumping her head against Christine's hand. "Can I pick her up?" Christine called. "Sure," Allison said. "Just pick her up and bring her back into the apartment, so she's in a familiar environment again. We'll meet you there." I put up a door not far from her, and — as soon as we were out of Widget's view — moved us all, so we were already seated in the living room, Amber and me sitting on the couch with Lizzy and Allison on the floor in front of us. A few seconds later Christine came in with Widget, purring contentedly, in her arms. "Just have a seat between Jimmy and Amber, and let her get comfortable again," Allison suggested. Christine sat down as instructed, and Amber immediately reached over and added a new set of fingers scratching the little cat's head and ears. You could hear Widget's response as the purring got louder. "So what happened?" I asked. "Several things actually," Allison said. "But the most significant one was that you and Christine got frisky tonight, and I'm guessing you left the door open. I'm also going to hazard the wild assumption that you..." she nudged Christine with her elbow, "had a really good time?" She made it a question but it was clearly rhetorical. "Don't be embarrassed, Christine, I'm well aware of just how talented he is. Shannon was my girlfriend before she was his, and she told me everything. Have you actually passed out yet?" "Passed out?" Christine asked, looking at Amber. When Amber rolled her eyes and nodded Christine frowned and turned to Jimmy, "I knew you were holding back." "I've learned to be more careful," I said. "At first we didn't understand why it kept happening, but then Allison figured it out, and since then, I've learned to control it better, so it doesn't happen as often." "Control what?" Christine asked dubiously. "Emotional overflow," Allison answered. "Jimmy projects emotion. It's not really strong in the real world, about like radiating body heat. Most people would never know it, and it's a lot stronger when you're touching. Think about kissing him. Do you think he's better at it than most of the guys you've kissed?" "Definitely," Christine answered, "but I thought it was just that he paid more attention when he's doing it. You know, he doesn't get distracted thinking about football or..." "Or where his hands want to go next?" Allison suggested. "You're right about that part, but think about what you feel when you kiss him. Beyond the purely physical sensation, doesn't it just feel 'right' kissing him? Do you get the sense that he means it when he kisses you?" "Yeah, I guess so, I never really gave it much thought, but I never doubted that it meant something, that it wasn't just a kiss on the way to something more." "Okay, now think about how comfortable you were the first time you did it? I'll bet you didn't have any reservations at all about whether you were making a mistake, or if he really cared, or any of the stuff you normally feel when you're with a guy for the first time." Christine looked at her for a second. "How old are you? He said you were his little sister, and please don't take this wrong, but you seem to know an awful lot about this stuff." I didn't give her a chance to answer. "She's fourteen, and if you thought I was mature for my age ... There's a reason we all consider her the brains of the operation." Allison just beamed a smile at me and said, "He's being modest; you were saying... ?" "Well, no," Christine said, picking up the dangling end of the previous conversation again, "but I don't usually worry about most of that stuff. I'm not looking for lifelong commitments from every guy I sleep with. Most of them are just for fun." "I understand," Allison said, "but wasn't it still different with Jimmy? Didn't you get a sense that he cared?" "Well, yeah, but that's because he did care, does care." "I know, but my point is you knew that he cared; and that it was real, and he wasn't faking it." "Okay, I get your point. Yes, for a first time, it was a lot more special than I expected; especially since I wasn't expecting it to be more than a one-time fling." She reached over and patted my leg. "Sorry, I didn't expect you to actually call me." "I know," I said, putting my hand on hers. "What you were feeling was his emotional overflow. What was happening during sex, the thing that was making his partners pass out, was that he was projecting his pleasure onto them, kind of piling it on top of their own until eventually — during orgasm — they simply overloaded and sort of shut down for a few moments. The first time it happened was with Shannon, and she didn't even realize she had passed out. It wasn't until much later that we figured out the cause, and since then, he's been more careful. Lately, I've begun to suspect that there is more to it, much more. I've been working on some theories to try and explain some of the things that have been happening. For instance, did anyone tell you what happened when he finally kissed Lizzy for the first time? I mean really kissed her; they'd been doing the friend stuff we all do before, but this one was different." "Was that when he proposed?" she asked. Everyone nodded, and she rolled her eyes and nodded, too. "Amber told me." She turned her attention to Lizzy. "You mean you guys never even really kissed until you were engaged? That's like sixteen-hundred's stuff you read about in history books." "Don't ask me to explain it," Lizzy said, turning her head and kissing my leg. "You know how Lizzy sees things," Allison continued, "she explained that to you, right?" Christine nodded. "When she first met Jimmy, and for a really long time after, she could hardly stand to look at him. Not the, 'I can't stand the sight of you' thing you're thinking of — I mean it was actually painful. She described it as trying to look at the sun. I think what Lizzy sees are energy fields in people, and Jimmy's energy was too much for her. Fortunately, there have been some changes, plus she's learned to deal with it better, so it doesn't hurt any more. I've come to the conclusion that Jimmy's energy field affects people around him. Think of it as a conduit for that emotional flow we were talking about. Are you familiar with the term 'line-loss'?" "Yeah, we talked about it in high school science; it's the energy that dissipates from electric wires over distance." "Right," Allison said. "It's a very weak energy discharge, but if you get close enough, you can actually measure it and — in some cases — use it. Think of Jimmy as a live wire with energy constantly bleeding off; kissing him is like plugging in your electric razor to shave your legs — the energy is channeled to do a specific job. Sex is more like leaving something in the microwave too long — eventually it's going to explode. Lizzy's field is different. It interacts directly with other people's fields. I think that's how she heals. Did she explain about that part?" "She tried," Christine said. "I still don't understand it, though." "That's okay, none of us really do either, " Allison said. "Lizzy's field isn't nearly as strong as Jimmy's, which would explain why healing requires direct contact — strong and intimate contact. Other things don't require contact; proximity is enough. From the very first time they interacted, I believe their fields reacted to each other. When they finally actually met, things really started happening. Jimmy's abilities have been growing ever since he first became consciously aware of them, but since he met Lizzy the growth rate has gone off the chart. I think Lizzy's field has a catalytic effect on the fields of the people she interacts with. Whether it's causing something through a reaction, or just unlocking something that was already there I'm not sure; right now I'm leaning towards a little of both, and it's probably different for everyone. "From the moment she met you, Amber has had the strong impression that you were special in some way, and important. At first no one understood why, now I think maybe I do. One problem was that Lizzy has been having trouble seeing your pattern. She says it's like nothing she's seen before. That was one major clue; I don't know what she's seeing or if it's related to what happened, but earlier — when this little bundle of fluff showed up — Lizzy immediately recognized her pattern. That's why she had Jimmy freeze everything and call me. You see, this has never happened before; she's the first one to ever come here without Jimmy specifically bringing them first. Even though Lizzy recognized her pattern and knew it was her, she also saw that her pattern had changed — that it was more complex, and there was more to it. I had her look closer, and she said it looked like another pattern had attached itself to hers. Since this was the first and only time this has ever happened, I immediately looked for what had changed that might account for it. The only new variable in our lives, the only new development, was you." "You're saying that my ... energy, has somehow affected Widget?" "Sort of, but not the way you think. Amber would you like to hold Christine's pussy?" "Oh, hell yeah!" "Allison!" Lizzy cried, shocked, as Christine blushed to her pretty roots. "Sorry, couldn't resist." She stood up, took Widget and moved her to Amber's lap. "You'll have to settle for the cat." She kissed her on the cheek and scratched Widget's head before reaching for Christine's hand. "Come with me; Jimmy, you too." I got up and stepped over Lizzy, who ran her hand up into the leg opening on my shorts, and I almost tripped over the coffee table trying to get away. "Hey, watch it!" "I was trying," Lizzy said, "but it got away too fast." "Behave yourself," Allison said, wagging a finger at her. Then she pulled me over next to Christine. "We're trying to work here. Now, I want you to look at Christine, concentrate on one spot, and try to focus as close as you can." I could see the concentration on Lizzy's face. "Now, without losing your focus, close your eyes and picture a dandelion, not the one with the little yellow flower in your dad's lawn, but a mature one, ripe and ready, just waiting for a breeze strong enough to blow it apart. Christine, you're about to get your wish. Jimmy? Kiss her, no holding back, give her the real thing." And then I heard her add, "You too, Jamie, kiss her like you kiss me." She moved behind Christine and said, "Don't worry, we won't let you fall. Jimmy? We're waiting. Lizzy, keep your eyes closed." I shrugged and reached for Christine, working slowly into the kiss. A light brush of lips, a little more the second time, then just the tip of my tongue teasing at her lip. On the next pass her lips parted and our tongues met, then her arms slipped around my neck, and we got serious. About five seconds in Jamie showed up, and things got really serious. Somewhere in the distance I heard Allison tell Lizzy to open her eyes. A couple seconds later Christine gasped, shuddered, and went limp in my arms. She hadn't passed out, but her knees had failed. Allison and I caught her and helped her to stand up. When I turned to look at Lizzy she had the most amazed, and amazing, look on her face. She was like a little girl watching her first humming bird flit around her mother's flower bed. I followed her eyes as she tracked something I couldn't see, and I decided it wasn't a hummingbird but more like a soap bubble, not flitting but drifting slowly. Her gaze drifted lower, and suddenly Widget leapt off of Ambers lap, rushed out to where Lizzy was staring, and jumped at something. "Oh my God," Lizzy giggled. "That was ... indescribable." Widget seemed to be batting something we couldn't see around the room and chasing it, but suddenly she stopped and looked around, then started poking around the furniture like she'd lost something. "Let me guess," Allison said. "It's gone." "Yeah, it just sort of popped all of a sudden." "How was my dandelion analogy?" "Perfect," Lizzy said, nodding her head. "That's what I'm seeing when I look at Christine; it's like her whole pattern is one giant dandelion." She smiled at Christine. "How was the kiss?" "Oh, God!" Christine laughed. "He really has been holding back." She turned and poked me in the chest as she said, "If you ever do that to me in public, I'll kill you." "Pretty good chance there's a wet spot on the bed?" Allison asked. "Oh, my god!" Christine exclaimed. "You mean that wasn't just..." "Hard to say," Allison said with a smile, "but there's a chance you may want to change whatever you wore to bed. What I believe just happened is that when you peaked, a seed of sorts broke free from your pattern and drifted away. I knew Lizzy would be able to see it, but I was surprised Widget could. Did you notice it drifted away from all of us? What do you think, Lizzy? Sort of like a soap bubble carried on the breeze? I think it was avoiding our energy. You notice it didn't last long?" Lizzy nodded and she went on. "Just like a soap bubble, it can't survive long. If it were a soap bubble, the sun would melt it or it would pop from expansion as it heated up, and almost anything it hit would destroy it. Widget destroyed this one, but I think it would have faded on its own pretty quickly. Lizzy?" "Yeah, it was already fading. So what happened before? Are you saying that when they were getting busy earlier one of these broke loose?" "Knowing Jimmy, probably several," Allison said with a smile, "but it could have been just one really big one. Either way, one of them landed on Widget before it faded or popped, and like a soap bubble hitting a wet leaf, it stuck instead of popping. That seed found fertile soil, attaching itself to Widget's energy pattern and changing it, permanently. When Jimmy brought you here, her new energy pattern allowed her to follow you; I think because it is so much your pattern that it ... resonates with the original, and it sort of homed in on it; and because it was kindled by and still carries Jimmy's energy signature, she was able to actually cross over after you, and she found herself lost in a strange place. Congratulations, as far as I know you now have the first cat in history that dreams." "Actually," I interjected, "that's not true. They've done studies on cats, and not only do they dream, but, just like with people, they suffer if you deprive them of dream sleep." I frequently find myself wondering why I feel compelled to speak. This was one of those times as no one paid the slightest attention to my comment. "So how long before this will fade and she'll go back to normal?" Christine asked. Allison took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "We'll have to wait and see. It's possible it may not wear off." She gave us all a second to absorb that. "But besides getting a good scare, she doesn't appear to be suffering any ill effects, so I wouldn't worry about her." "This is too weird," Christine said. "We get that a lot of that around here," I said. "Like Allison said: 'Welcome to the nut house.'" "So I guess it's a good thing I'm not an exhibitionist," Christine said. "Sounds like doing it in public just went out the window. So why didn't this happen at the hotel, when we were surrounded by people?" "Two theories," Allison said. "First of all, you were alone in a hotel room. You saw how far that piece got? Or didn't get? Proximity appears to be critical. The intensity of the experience will probably make a difference as well, but I don't know if one could penetrate a wall or door. Second, I don't think you were ... oh god, fertile is the wrong word; let's say you weren't ripe yet." She sucked in a breath through her teeth and said with a leer, "And you certainly are that." Christine just blushed. "I don't know how close you got, but one way or the other, three days on the road with Lizzy triggered a change in your energy. To put it simply, you blossomed. Do you feel different now than you did when you left? Anything changed?" The blush got darker and I noticed Christine was sneaking furtive glances at Allison while her head was down. I didn't ask, just moved them both to the cabana. Widget cried plaintively and Amber reached to pick her up saying, "Don't worry, baby, mommy will be right back." Before she could reach her, Widget had jumped off the couch and disappeared. My guess was she had followed Christine again. I may have to do something about this. Allison I was a little surprised to find myself suddenly alone with Christine. I guess Jimmy had seen something I hadn't. "Does this mean you wanted to talk?" I asked. "Because I don't know if we know each other well enough for anything else just yet." "Would that stop you if it was the reason?" Christine asked. "Not if it's what you really wanted. Christine, you're going to discover that love is a different concept with us. If you're special to one of us, you're special to all of us, but sleeping with Jimmy doesn't mean we expect you to sleep with the rest of us. At the same time, no one would care or feel hurt if you did. You'll find jealousy is a pretty foreign concept as well, but that's not why we're here. We're here because you're worried about something. Jimmy caught you looking at me and figured out that you had questions you didn't want to ask in front of everyone; he's sharp that way. How am I doing?" "Geez, you are good!" Christine said. "Someday, maybe, you'll find out," I said, "but like I said, that's not why we're here. Come sit with me." I switched to my bathing suit and moved to the sunken pool, sitting down in the warm water and watching the colorful fish flit around the coral below. "Well, you kids certainly aren't shy about your sexuality. Are all of you bi?" As she stepped down into the water, I noticed Widget watching us from the bed. I figured Jimmy and the girls were too busy to pay attention to her, and she had come looking for Christine. I wondered if Jimmy could block her from crossing over or even just moving around once she was here? Have to ask him about it next time I got the chance. "Jimmy's not, but so far all the girls are. We're still waiting for you to make up your mind, and let me assure you that we'll be okay with whatever you decide. Please don't feel pressured to do anything you're not totally comfortable with. If you want to experiment you'll find a long line of willing volunteers, but even if you change your mind afterward... , okay?" "Thank you." She took a deep breath. "Allison, is this going to happen every time I ... you know, from now on?" "No," I assured her. "It's Jimmy's energy that triggers it. There may be someone else on the planet somewhere that you would react to, but I doubt it." "So if I ever decide to do it in the elevator, I just need to find someone else to live out that particular fantasy with?" "Oh no, you could still use Jimmy for that, I don't see one of those little seeds making it through a steel wall. Of course, if the doors happened to open at the wrong moment, all bets are off, so make sure you're actually stuck between floors somewhere before you go for it. Also, you need to be aware that all of us, Lizzy, Amber, and me, carry Jimmy's energy. I don't know if it would be strong enough to trigger a ... quickening? Yeah, I think that's a good word for it; I don't know if the energy we carry would be enough to quicken one of those little buds, but it is possible. So if you decide to play the other side of the fence you might want to make sure you close the door. Especially if it's Amber, if Jimmy gave her to you and you told her to, she'd do you on a busy sidewalk." "She would?" Christine asked, shocked. "Without a second thought," I assured her. "Was there anything else you wanted to ask me?" She looked at me, and just for a second I thought she was actually going to ask, could almost see the question forming, but apparently she changed her mind and said, "No, I may have more questions later, but I'm good for now. Anything else you think I need to know?" "Two things," I said. "First, I want you to feel free to ask me anything, and I mean anything; if you hit on a topic I can't talk about, I'll tell you, but don't let that stop you from asking. Second, when those two get married, make sure you're with someone you really like and are comfortable with; either that or alone with your little friend and lots of extra batteries." ------- Chapter 17: Get Over It Jimmy The next time one of these girls tells me someone is 'special', I'm leaving town. Don't get me wrong, I like Christine; I think she's wonderful. She's fun, smart, self-assured, easy to talk to, and she's certainly a lot of fun to roll around naked with. Heck, she doesn't even hog the covers, but this... How do I keep getting mixed up with stuff like this? It seemed like every woman I meet has some kind of crisis. They're either in trouble and need my help, like Samantha and ... Well, actually, I'd never actually met her, or her sister. I'd started out with helping Amy keep her sister — Rebecca — safe from a mysterious killer; that led me to Diane McKenzie, and pursuing her killer led me to Amanda Watkins which gave me Samantha and the whole mess in Las Vegas, which is why I ended up on a plane with Christine in the first place. Actually, it was one of the reasons I was on a plane with Christine. Along the way, while trying to head off the killer before he struck again, I met Lizzy; not really met, that came later, and I guess she didn't need my help as much as I needed hers. Which brings me to the other category I was looking at: either they needed my help, or I needed theirs. Well, no, that's not really true either. Look at Britney; she didn't need help until I put her in harm's way. Dating me had basically ruined her life, her whole family's life... "Are you through yet?" Jamie asked. "What?" I asked. "What are you talking about?" "Your little pity party," she said. "This whole 'woe-is-me, why does this always happen to me, why does everything I touch go wrong... ?' You know; the same bullshit you put yourself through every time something new pops up. Usually Allison is here to talk you through it, but she's off helping Christine deal with this because — unlike you — it's all new to her, and she's a leeetle tiny bit freaked out. So Allison isn't here to listen to you moan about the unfairness of it all, and I just don't have the patience; so call me when you finish, and we can get on with our so-called life, and don't even try to tell me that's not what you're doing; I recognize the static pattern in your half of our brain running in a tight spiral headed right for the drain." You can imagine how I felt through that whole tirade. The problem was — she was right. "Don't feel like you need to hold back or anything Jamie; go ahead and tell me what you really think." "Holy shit! You mean it worked?" "You mean it worked?" I repeated back to her in a mocking tone. "No, it didn't work! When Allison helps me through this stuff I feel like I know what's going on or what I should do. I don't have the slightest idea how to fix this. In case it slipped your attention, we now have a cat that can walk into dreams." "No, we have a cat that followed her owner into a dream. Excuse me for pointing it out, but that's not the same thing. Nothing Allison said suggested that Widget could go on her own, or go anywhere else on her own. She followed Christine when you brought her here. If I heard correctly, Allison was suggesting that there is a link between them based on Christine's energy, and — because your energy was involved — you may or may not have a similar link." "Right," I said, "because it was my energy that triggered it!" "So ... Fucking ... What?" She demanded. "Jimmy, like it or not, there is something special about you. If life is a card game, then you're the joker in the deck — or at least one of them. Why are you so surprised that other special people seem to be drawn to you? Or are you just mad because you're not the only special person on the planet? You know, you claim to believe in God — and no I'm not going Phoebe on you — but if you believe, then you have to at least admit the possibility that Lizzy's right and that is a reason you have this gift. Have you thought about how many other people Lizzy and Christine have run into in their lives? You're just the only one, so far anyway, that it has really mattered to. Not so much for Lizzy, because she's made a difference to a lot of people, but if you asked her, she would tell you that you are the most important thing in her life, ever. She would tell you that everything else in her life happened to prepare her for you. Why?" "Well of course she'd say that, she loves me." "Jimmy! You cannot be this dense! She does not think this way because she loves you; she loves you because of all this — or at least partly because of it. Look at the numbers: you in LA, Lizzy a few hundred miles away, Christine in Atlanta; now I know that's a small sample, but doesn't it suggest a pattern to you? Lizzy knew there was something different about Christine from first glance — just like she did with you — and I'm willing to bet that if she did a little traveling, she'd start seeing more special people here and there, scattered all over the place. That flower analogy of Allison's works really well for this; Christine was a seed, dormant in the soil, then you came along, and nothing happened! Until she met Lizzy. So let's change the analogy a little. Instead of a seed, let's make Christine a bulb, locked in a cold storage box waiting for spring, and Lizzy is the key to the box; now Christine's out in this flower bed we call life, drowning in fertilizer like the rest of us, and just waiting for the perfect moment, and this time when the sun — that's you — comes by, she's ready and she blossoms." Okay, the fertilizer thing was funny. "What's your point?" "Ugh! I give up! I don't know how she does it; I don't. Talk to Allison, talk to Lizzy — hell, talk to Christine. There you go! Instead of being all freaked out about how this is all your fault and you've done something horrible to her, talk to her; maybe she doesn't mind. So far she seems to like all the things you've done to her. Some of them she liked a lot. Jimmy, this is how life is; I've only been around a couple months, and even I know that." She paused as if taking a breath, and her voice softened, "Jimmy, things happen. Sometimes you can help, sometimes you can't. Sometimes what you do makes a difference, like with Roxy. All you did was try to be nice to her when no one else would, and you saved her life. And let's not forget about the rest of the people in that church. You made a difference, but it's not always going to work out that way. You went on a date with Britney: bad timing. You did what you could to fix it. You'll do more if it's necessary; you know you will. This is your life, our life, and it's not going to change. All we can do is try to make the best of it. I know sometimes the weight of responsibility seems like it's more than you can bear, but if you look back, you'll see that every time the load has gotten heavier, we've gotten help. New people have come in; our own abilities have changed, grown. Grown to a level that's almost scary, and that's a different load altogether, but that part you've always had help with. Your parents, and the way they raised you; Allison and Shannon, who loved you and exposed themselves voluntarily to the hell you were having to deal with, just so you wouldn't have to face it alone. Me — because keeping me in line, being an example to me, helps you cope and keeps you making the right decisions, and Lizzy, because you can't hide from her. "So now Christine's come into the picture, and she's brought a whole new level of weirdness with her. Fortunately, our sister has decided that even though she's no longer involved on a day-to-day basis, she still wants to help. We always knew she was smart, but I don't think we realized just how brilliant she really is. I'm beginning to wonder if she hasn't been holding back, and now that she doesn't have to worry about attracting attention to you, she's really getting serious about this shit. She sure pegged Christine in short order." "I think she had help," I said. "Oh, you think?" she asked sarcastically. "I don't know about you, but right about now I'll take all the help we can get thank you very much. Now let's back up for a second; you said you were worried about how to fix this. According to Allison, it can't be fixed — not without killing the messenger, and I kind of like the little fur ball, so let's try to avoid that and do something constructive — a little empirical research maybe. Allison seems to be on to something, so let's see if maybe we can give her a little feedback and see what she can do with it. Maybe this is something we can use." Well, at least they're only right one at a time. Maybe the reason there are so many of them is so one is always around to slap some sense into me when I start to lose it. "Thanks, sis." "You're welcome," she said, and I thought I felt a ghost of a kiss on my cheek. "Now let's talk about how we're going to get all these people through the legal system without attracting attention." The only other person I wanted involved in this part of the plan was Allison — and she was busy — so Jamie and I spent the rest of the night arguing and working out the basic game plan. Whichever one of us had the opportunity first would present it to Allison, so she could poke holes in it; then we'd make the necessary adjustments and move forward. We both would have preferred to get started right away securing Samantha and Rachel's futures with Doctor Hendricks, but neither of us considered it worth the risk to move forward until Allison had a chance to look at the plan and spot any mistakes we might be making. I would have liked to have Tony look at it as well — from a legal standpoint — but in my mind I couldn't even justify that level of local exposure. If someone got wind of what we were doing and started poking around — especially if Hightower got involved personally — it could get ugly for everyone involved. When we had finally beaten it as close to death as we could, I sent Jamie off to spend some time with Amber — whom she had been missing — and I went to see Allison, whom I missed even more. She assured me she was securely locked into the bedroom of a hotel suite with no cameras or listening devices — in the bedroom that is, there was a Camera over the main door — and if she left the room without an escort, the building had better be on fire. The good news was that Mom and Dad weren't due to arrive until the next day. "I'm testing for high school as soon as we figure out where we're living," Allison said as we lay together in the darkness. "I think you should consider going back to school as well." "I've actually considered it," I said. "So far there just hasn't been time. Is there something in particular you want me to study?" "Several things," she answered. "More psychology, of course, the more you know about human behavior, the more effective I think you'll be. Other than that I'm not really sure; Law and Criminal Justice both come to mind. I thought about business administration or accounting, but it's not like anyone is going to be able to cheat you. Between you and Lizzy, there is not much chance of anyone with a criminal bent slipping through the cracks — not if you pay attention and are thorough with your screening process. Electronics, but you'd do better going to a technical school for that, and the same for computers. In fact, now that I think of it, most of what you need you'd get faster just taking crash courses from tech schools — except for the psychology and stuff. A management course would be a good idea, but you're so good with personalities already, it may be a waste of time. Besides, I don't want you caught up in the day to day operations so much as just being the figurehead and working behind the scenes." "I'm sure this would all make total sense if I had the slightest idea what you're talking about. The day to day operations of what?" "Your company, it's going to be growing fast and branching into all kinds of different areas." "Doing what?" "I'm not sure yet. It depends on what we come up with using all that money you're going to dump into your R&D department." "Ah yes," I said, nodding sagely. "My R&D department ... Let me guess, headed by this brilliant young woman who's about to come out of nowhere and take the scientific community by storm?" "Yep, that's the one. Well, sort of. Most of what she's doing no one's going to know about. I'm hoping that along the way she'll manage to come up with a couple of ideas that can be safely marketed to justify your investment. You're also going to spend a lot of money on scholarship programs — mostly promoting young women in a variety of fields; Law and Criminal Justice being two of them, as well as public relations, international diplomacy, that kind of thing. And you better move your ass because some of your first students are going to be ready soon." "They are?" "Absolutely," she said. "Jimmy, once you figure out how to deal with Vegas, there are going to be a lot of young girls from recently broken homes in serious need of futures, and you're going to make sure they have a chance at one." "I never realized what a philanthropist I was going to grow up to be. Mom will be so proud. Speaking of Vegas..." She stopped me. "No," she said. "No details, not here. We'll talk about that on the other side. Tomorrow maybe, it's getting late, or early — and while you may be able to go without sleep — I still tend to get a little bitchy, and I don't want to get into it with mom on our first day. It's going to be a tough week as it is." "Why do you say that?" "Think full moons and lunar cycles," she said. "Oh goody, cramps, I can hardly wait." One of the more hysterical aspects of having Jamie living inside me was that I got to experience the secondary menstrual symptoms every month. "Suck it up," she giggled. She waited for a second and then said, "What, no comment from Jamie?" "She's with Amber. I guess she's getting better about staying out." "I think that has a lot to do with it being Amber." "What makes you say that?" "Part of my whole energy theory. I'll tell you about it one of these days." She stretched and yawned. "You should go before I change my mind and start over again." "Okay," I said, kissing her hair and sliding toward the edge of the bed. I dressed while I was in the bathroom and came back for a real goodbye kiss before crossing back over to Vegas. Jamie got there right after I did. "Nice timing." "I've been waiting for you to come back. My energy was good, and I didn't want to interfere with you and Allison, so I hung out with the girls while they got ready. They're a lot of fun in the shower. They'd be even more fun if it was a little bigger, but ... I got to give Lizzy a kiss and send her off to class. Don't worry, it was just a quick peck; I didn't want to take any chances. It was really sweet, though, and then Amber and I went to open the bookstore, and..." "Well, aren't you the little mommy today? Feeling a little more maternal? Because I think I know why." "Oh no!" she moaned. "Already? God, I'm sorry, Jimmy..." "No need to apologize," I assured her. "Like you said earlier, it's just one of those parts of life that you can't control. I'll survive. Although I'll be taking it a little easier running for the next couple days, maybe spend a little more time in the pool and a lot of extra stretching." We'd kept Christine asleep while we were gone. I let her wake up just as I started sliding out of bed. She noticed the motion and touched my arm. "Where you going?" I gave her quick peck and said, "Off for, as Allison likes to call it, 'my morning ritual masochism'." "That's funny," she said, and then she stretched and asked, "Mmmm. What time is it?" "A couple of minutes after five." "Then I'd better get up too," she said. "Why?" "School starts at eight, and they expect me dressed and ready to go. That means uniform ironed, hair, makeup, the works. I hate rushing, so I want to get in the habit now. Be prepared, because it's an airline training program, I can guarantee that one of these days they're going to call at an odd hour and expect me to rush in to cover for someone who 'couldn't fly' at the last minute. Not to mention that I'm a morning person and I plan to make you change your exercise routine a few mornings a week. Hope you don't mind?" "Oh, gee, let me think ... Did you want to start today?" "After last night," she said, "uh ... no. I'm not sure I could take it, maybe tomorrow. Who's Allison?" "My little sister. I'll start coffee before I leave." "You know, I could get used to this kind of pampering. You don't even drink coffee." "No big deal. I used to do it for my parents every morning growing up. It did wonders for keeping me on my mom's good side." "I'll bet." She gave a yawn and was right in the middle of another stretch when Widget walked up her stomach, stretched out on her chest, and began licking her nose. She gets gushy over the cat, so I headed for the bathroom. She was still scratching her head when I came out. "She seems awfully affectionate today," I pointed out. "Yeah, she gets that way sometimes — usually when her dish is a little low. Do I get a kiss before you go?" "Of course, don't be silly," I said. I crawled across the bed and kissed her, then scratched Widget's head before heading off. She reached with both paws and grabbed my hand as I started to pull away, drawing it back down and giving it a couple licks before releasing me. "Wow," Christine said. "She's never done that before. She must really like you." I had my own ideas about that. It's amazing how brisk it is in the desert first thing in the morning, even when the temperatures are consistently hitting the low one-teens during the day. It was actually kind of nice. Growing up in Southern California, it rarely got below seventy during the summer and frequently, during the hotter months — August and September — not below eighty or eighty-five, and the humidity made it even worse. Christine was out on the patio in her robe, nursing her second cup of coffee when I got back. "Hot and sweaty," she teased, "just the way I like my men. Why don't you take that shirt off, so I can watch your muscles while you stretch?" "Because then you'll be late for school," I said. "Besides, I'm a bit of runt; there's really not that much to see." "Don't sell yourself short. You're just fine in all the areas that count, but you're right about me being late for school. I better hit the shower; I'll try and save you some hot water." "Thanks," I said. "Do me a favor and toss an extra towel over by the front door; I don't want to drip all over the floor on the way in." "You got it, stud-muffin. Thanks for the coffee. Don't buy any more of this stuff, okay? I'm going to pick up some fresh beans and a grinder while I'm out today. We'll save this for when we have company we don't like." "That bad?" I asked with a laugh. "No, not really. I'm just picky. Coffee is the one area I always spoiled myself and splurged on. See you in a little bit." I stripped to my shorts and hit the pool for morning laps. Christine left two towels by the door; one already spread out on the floor. I got the message, stripped and dried at the door, then wrapped my wet clothes in the towel and carried everything back to the bathroom. She was already out, a towel wrapped around her as she brushed her teeth. I hung my wet swimsuit over the side of the shower and gave her a quick pat before stepping in. "Careful, don't start anything we don't have time to finish." "You mean you don't have time to finish," I teased. "I've got all morning." It turned out I didn't. I made my morning check-in call to Spencer a couple minutes early. She thanked me for saving her the trouble. We kept it short since she had to get to her morning briefing. I had just hung up with her when my phone rang; I didn't recognize the number. "Good morning, Finders." "Oh, good, you're there; I wasn't sure what time you started. I'm looking for David Malcolm?" "This is David." "Mr. Malcolm, my name is Veronica Blake, and I'm with Intersure. I was hoping we could retain you for a job." "Nice to meet you Miss Blake. Please, call me David. What kind of job?" "There was a painting stolen from a client of ours a few months ago. So far we haven't had any luck recovering it, and we're getting close to the policy deadline for payment. You came highly recommended, so I thought we'd give you a try." "Well, thank you for the opportunity. May I ask who referred you to me?" "Your attorney, Mr. Cicarelli. He's done business with our office before. We were a little skeptical at first, but he referred us to the article regarding your recent work with the FBI. We're hoping you do as well with women on canvas as you do with the real thing." "Ooh, I like her," Jamie said. "I'll do my best," I said. "When and where can we meet to discuss it?" "Whenever and wherever you'd like, we're pretty flexible. Our offices are downtown, but if you'd rather, I can come to you." Considering my office was a wrought iron table and chairs out by the pool, I thought I'd go to them. "Well, since you're being nice enough to give me a shot, I can come to you. Let's see, it's eight-twenty now, I could be there by ten, or if you're busy, we could wait and meet after lunch." "No, ten o'clock will be fine, we'll see you then," she said. She gave me the address and instructions on where to park. I wrote it all down, and then went up to the main house to see if Doreen was available on short notice. "Well, good morning, Mr. Malcolm," she said as she opened the door, "and how are you this fine morning?" "It's looking like it's shaping up to be a good day," I said. "I just got a call from a company wanting help tracking down a misplaced painting; I was wondering if you were free to tag along and hold my hand for my first big meeting." "Why, certainly," she assured me. "Who are we seeing?" "I'm not sure who we're seeing, but I spoke to a Veronica Blake with..." She finished for me, "Intersure. She'll be at the meeting, but a stuffed shirt by the name of Howard Mountjoy will be doing most of the talking. Wear a suit, charcoal or navy, no tie. When do we need to be there?" "I set it up for ten o'clock." "No problem, I can be ready in plenty of time. We'll leave at nine-thirty, and if we're early we wait in the car until five minutes 'til. Any special arrangements I need to know about?" "No, I'd like to see where it was stolen from and interview anyone who had access." "That's a given. The client won't be happy; chances are they've been through this two or three times by now with the police, Intersure, and whoever they had investigating for them before — probably Davidson." "Greg or Sam?" I asked. "You know the Davidsons?" she asked, surprised. "Boy, you do get around. Probably Sam — Greg doesn't have much tolerance for the games insurance companies like to play." "Okay, it's a date then," I said. "I'll pick you up at nine-thirty." At nine fifty-seven I was presenting myself to the receptionist at Intersure. "David Malcolm to see Veronica Blake." "One moment, please." She hit a button on her console. "Ms. Blake? Mr. Malcolm is here." She hung up, hit another button, and took off her headset. "Right this way, Mr. Malcolm; Ms. Blake is expecting you." She escorted us to a small conference room, holding the door for us to enter. "Ms. Blake will be right with you." "Thank you, Celia," Doreen said. Celia smiled and gave her a wink before shutting the door. It was a small room; a long table with eight chairs and a small movie screen on one wall. There was a pitcher of water with three slices of lemon floating in the ice and four glasses in the middle of the table. I reached for the pitcher to pour a glass. "Uh-uh," Doreen clucked. "Let them make the offer. Pour it yourself, and it looks like you're nervous and in a hurry. Remember what I said in the car; listen carefully and pause before answering. Ask concise, specific questions. When the discussion gets down to money, tell them they can work that out with me. You and Veronica can leave at that point if you want. I expect they're going to want her to take you around for your initial look-see anyway. If things aren't going well on my end, I'll call you, and you can just turn right around and come on back. And if do I call you, I expect you to do exactly what I say; are we clear on that?" "Doreen, I didn't hire you to ignore your advice. When it gets to that point, you're calling the shots." The door opened, and a woman entered saying, "I'm sorry to keep you waiting, Mister ... Doreen?" She looked to be somewhere in her late thirties, dressed in a dark blue skirt suit over a soft blue blouse. The shoes matched the suit, and she had on large white and blue button earrings; the broach looked antique, and I was guessing the stone was Lapis. "Hi, Vee, how you been? 'Old faithful' keeping you busy?" "Doreen Willets, as I live and breathe! Well, don't just sit there, girl; get up here and give me a hug before he comes in." Doreen stood and the two embraced. When they pulled apart Doreen introduced me. "Vee, this fine young man is Mr. David Malcolm, my new boss." "Veronica Blake, Mr. Malcolm, very nice to meet you." She returned her attention to Doreen. "Your new boss? I thought you were retired." "Oh, I am," Doreen assured her. "Mr. Malcolm has retained my services to negotiate his contracts and help him meet all the important people in town." "Mind if I ask?" She looked at me. "Ten percent," I said. "Ten percent?" Veronica exclaimed. "Woman, when you decide to retire again, you call me. I'll take over for you." There was a knock at the door, and suddenly Ms. Blake was all business again. She stepped quickly to the door and admitted an older gentleman wearing dark slacks and what appeared to be an actual tweed jacket — complete with suede elbow patches — and a bow tie. "Good afternoon, Mr. Malcolm I'm... ," he paused as he recognized Doreen. "My name is Howard Mountjoy; thank you for coming in on such short notice. Mrs. Willets, it's nice to see you again. May I inquire as to the reason for your presence?" "Hi, Howie," Doreen said with a grin. "Mr. Malcolm is new in town. Since he's just getting started, he has asked me to handle contracts for him." Mountjoy frowned and moved toward the table. "I see. Well, it's nice to see you again regardless. Let's get to it, shall we? The piece in question is a Renoir titled "Femme en Bleu", which was purchased by our client two years ago. The last time it came up at auction it sold for 530,000 pounds — roughly 725,000 dollars American. We had it insured for one point five million dollars. It disappeared approximately nine weeks ago, and so far our efforts to locate it have met with little success." "Nine weeks," I said. "Kind of a late start. Do you really think it's still in the area?" "It's hard to say, that's why we need you, Mr. Malcolm. Normally we try to keep things in house as much as possible. Several weeks ago we engaged another reputable investigator, but so far he has come up empty as well." "How long do I have?" I asked. "Three weeks," he said. "Three weeks!" Doreen exclaimed. "Howard Mountjoy, you cannot seriously be suggesting that Mr. Malcolm find a painting you've been looking for for nine weeks in that kind of time. It will take a week just to interview everyone. David, let's go. We're wasting our time here." "We can provide you with copies of all of the interviews, as well as photographs and video of the crime scene," Mountjoy said defensively. I put my hand on Doreen's arm as she was rising and she sat back down. "I prefer to conduct my own interviews," I said, "and of course I'll need to see the crime scene. How many known copies are there of the piece, and what kind of verification is available if I need something checked out?" "I can't believe you would ask such a question," Mountjoy said derisively. "There are no copies of the work — one does not copy a masterpiece — only Lithographs. As for verification, we have photographs of the edges in our vault." I'd seen the Thomas Crown Affair several times, so I knew what he was talking about. The 'edges' are the parts of the canvas that are normally covered by the frame and not viewable by the public. The only way to copy the painting and get the edges to match was if you had the original. Otherwise a thousand artists could do it from a good photograph. "The key word there is 'known'," I said. "Any rumors? Any forgeries popping up in the street bazaars in India in the last couple weeks?" "No, Mr. Malcolm," he said dryly. "Twenty percent if I find it before you have to pay out, fifty thousand if I don't." "Twenty percent!" he exclaimed. "That's preposterous! The standard rate is ten percent, and that is all we are offering." "I understand," I said, "and normally, ten percent would be a perfectly reasonable fee, but you don't usually wait until the last second and call in a pinch hitter for a job like this either, Mr. Mountjoy. Doreen is right; three weeks is ridiculous. If you'd given me a shot to begin with, ten percent would be fine, but you're giving me a third of the time you've already devoted. I'm going to have to drop everything to even have a shot at this, and — while I am new to the area — I don't plan to start doing pro-bono work for desperate people. The truth is you don't expect me to be able to come up with anything; you just figured it wouldn't hurt to have someone else on the case. I'm assuming you're not planning to pull the contracts you already have in place, and I certainly can't expect them to share their information for free. Twenty percent less whatever guarantees you've already committed to your other contracts, and I will want Doreen to see their contracts. If it turns out I'm wasting my time chasing a cold trail; fifty grand for wasting my time. That's the deal; contact Mrs. Willets if you change your mind. You've got twenty-four hours to decide, or the price goes up another five percent, and my guarantee goes to seventy-five. Regardless, the offer expires in forty eight hours." I stood up. "Ms. Blake, it was very nice to meet you. Doreen, it's still a little early for lunch. How would you feel about splitting a piece of pie and some ice cream?" "I think that sounds lovely. Vee, it was just wonderful seeing you again. We really should have lunch and catch up." Her voice got more serious, "Howie? I'll be waiting for your call." "David," Doreen said as I held her door for her and handed her into the front seat of the Impala. "Would you like to explain to me again exactly what I was doing here today? You hired me to negotiate for you, but then you just steamrolled poor Howard without even consulting me." "I'm sorry Doreen, but you'd already said it was a waste of time, so I figured I had nothing to lose by pushing his buttons a little. He was playing me for young and naïve — which I am — but naïve doesn't mean stupid, and the least he could have done was given me a little credit for being smart enough to retain you. The offer was ridiculous for a last minute job; even I could figure that out. My guess is he didn't want to bring anyone else into this and was just going through the motions. I think I showed him that while he may have been playing, I was serious — not to mention confident." "Confident? More like fool-hardy. David, the FBI couldn't find that painting in three weeks if they went door to door with warrants for the entire city." "Well, no, but they don't actually have time — even if they could find a judge stupid enough to issue the warrants. I don't think he'll call, but if he does, I'll take the case. In fact, if he calls today, drop the contingency to forty, but if he waits until tomorrow leave it at seventy-five. Knock five percent off the finder's fee if they keep me out of the press, but I want it on the check what I was paid for, and I want Veronica authorized to recommend me if anyone calls for a reference." "You're the boss," she said. "So where's a good place for ice cream this early in the morning?" She directed me to a Baskin Robbins about half way back to the house. "Doreen," I said as we sat at a bench enjoying our ice cream in the warm air. "I'm sorry about taking over the negotiations. I think mostly I was reacting to him being such a ... Anyway, I promise I won't do it again. You expected him to make an offer when you suggested leaving, didn't you?" "Of course," she said before taking a spoonful of the rich chocolate ice cream and rolling it around her mouth like she was tasting fine wine. "Mm, mm, mm. This is just heavenly, and you are a terrible, evil man for bringing me here." "You're welcome," I said. My phone picked that particular moment to ring. "Finders, this is David." "We need to talk." It was Rod, this couldn't be good. "I'm in a meeting at the moment; can I call you back? Half-hour, maybe forty-five minutes?" "I'll meet you at the lake," he said, "bring your pole." "That's not good." Jamie said. She was right, the message clearly said not to call back but to meet him in dreamspace. "This is a meeting?" Doreen asked. "I didn't think it would sound very professional to tell him I was splitting an ice cream with my landlady." Doreen has the cutest laugh, especially when she's trying not to wear her ice cream Rod I was really starting to worry about Jimmy. Not about him personally, although the weight of the killings had to be taking a toll. I don't know how he does what he does, but I had eleven bodies attributed to him, and if my suspicions were right, there were more. How many more depended on the compliment of a missing freighter that had left Long Beach Harbor the morning after his family disappeared. I had no proof that the two were connected, but then I had no proof that he was in any way connected to any of it. The fact that he was present in the bank when that robbery went to hell would never be looked at as more than a coincidence by any rational person. I like Jimmy; he's a good kid, and I know, in what's left of my heart, that there was no other way to deal with any of these assholes. In his position I would have done exactly what he had done and taken my chances with the review board. What worried me was that in his case there would be no review board. Review boards are funny things; most agents see them only as a bunch of bureaucrats second guessing their decisions. But I've been on both sides of that long desk, and while I know it can be hard on the agent under review, I also know that when it's over they no longer have any doubt about what happened. The incidence of bad kills in field operations at our level is negligible at best — barring major cluster-fucks like the Waco disaster of course. Any time you've got multiple agencies involved in a jurisdictional pissing contest — in full view of the media no less — the question is never if something is going to go wrong, but when, and how bad. The only upside was that once the shit hit the fan, everyone had plenty of other people to point the blame finger at. In a one-on-one shooting there is no one else to blame, and no matter what the public may think, agents don't live for the chance to kill someone. More often than not, if you find yourself in a position like that, it means you screwed up somewhere, and by then it's too late to fix it. Taking a life is heavy a responsibility, and if you don't deal with it, the agent can spend the rest of their lives second-guessing whether or not there was any other way. Part of the review board's job is to help the agent get past it. If there was another way, then they won't make the mistake again; if there wasn't, they won't get themselves killed next time the situation comes up looking for whatever it was they missed the last time. There was no review board for Jimmy. All he had was me, Hampton, and the few friends — people like Bob Shelby and his sister Allison — who knew the truth, to talk to. So far he seemed to be doing okay. I thanked God that he had called Atkins to try and get help with those two crooked Vegas cops. When someone at her level turns their back, you know there is no other way. The background on the group at the bank proved the same thing, and even though it came after the fact, it was clear that Jimmy was the only thing that kept them all alive — not to mention making sure that particular group would never be able to do something like that again. Rescue operations are always the roughest; so many things can go wrong, and any one of them can get your hostage killed. One hard and fast rule was you never, ever, sent someone in after one of their own. Whenever possible we didn't even send our own people in for a job like that. Going in after a teammate was one thing; they understood the risks; they trusted you to do your best to get them back alive; and they knew the odds were against them. Jimmy had dodged a bullet going in after his parents the way he did, but I wasn't going to be the one to tell him about it — not yet anyway. Hell, I didn't even know how he'd done it — no one did — which was part of my problem. At first glance it looked like the bank job — like one of them had turned on the others — but the physical evidence didn't match that theory. The first two deaths were fine — both killed with no struggle — one with a knife but no signs of defensive wounds; the second's neck snapped with no sign of resistance, not even any secondary bruising to the surrounding tissue. Neither had seen it coming, so it had to be someone they knew and trusted to be that close to them. But then it fell apart. We had found a switchblade and tranq gun at the end of the hall, both suggesting that someone had come out of the hall towards a threat. The most likely scenario suggested he had the tranq gun out first; you always go with the weapon that keeps you the furthest from danger. These were highly trained, professional bad-asses; if he'd had a regular gun — with one man down that he could see and another unaccounted for — while facing a hostile adversary, he would have gone for it instead of the tranquilizers. Examination of the tranq gun showed it was full and hadn't misfired. Guys like this didn't drop guns, yet somehow his best weapon wound up on the floor and he went for a knife, with his other hand. That really didn't make sense, but we knew it was the other hand because of the bruising on the inside of his arm, and the fact that the knife was to his left; both clearly indicated it was the hand holding the knife. The partial prints on the knife confirmed it. And then there was the cause of death; two gunshots — in the back. If whoever he was facing had a gun they would have shot him — from the front — before he had a chance to pull the knife, and they probably wouldn't have bothered telling him to drop the gun — especially if they were trying to get hostages out. If the dead guy was facing a gun and going to make a run for it, he wouldn't have gone for the knife in the first place. The only scenario that made any kind of sense was that 'X' killed one and two; three walked in on it and called for help; four then came out shooting and somehow got three by mistake. That puts X in the living room with three between him and four. How the hell did he kill four before four could get back and threaten the hostages for leverage? But then it got even worse; they still didn't know how four died. The autopsy showed a complete collapse of cardio-pulmonary function but no cause. For all intents and purposes, four had the mother of all heart attacks and stopped breathing for no reason. Only it wasn't a heart attack. The adrenaline in his system clearly indicated he was in 'combat' mode, and if he was anyone else — anyone without his level of training and conditioning — it would have been enough, but the medical examiner said no. His heart just stopped, period, for no reason the ME could find. If that wasn't enough of a mystery, there was the 911 call to consider. Who made the call? The first two deaths pointed to someone turning on the others, but there were no gunshots on the tape, so at least three of them were dead before the call. The operator said whoever it was asked for me — by name — in a very calm, professional voice. A voice of authority, someone who expected to be obeyed regardless of how far off of normal the call was. The operator was afraid to even tell his boss about the call, and never even considered sending local PD out. When my team arrived the place was perfect, no signs of anything having happened. The doors were all bolted, the windows closed, and the blinds drawn. The lights were on, and you could hear the background noise from the video game playing on the living room television. Everything pointed, very clearly and carefully, to Hampton's source having found them, taken them down, and left it for us to do the clean up. The only problem was that the whole thing still made no sense. There wasn't so much as a stray hair to suggest that anyone else had been in that house. The stray hairs they did find ended up belonging to the two dead guys in the freezer. Interviews with the neighbors confirmed that the two men had purchased the house a few months before. The neighbors weren't too happy about an openly gay couple moving into their neighborhood, but the they had proven to be good neighbors, and everyone was upset to hear what had happened to them. My biggest problem now was that people were starting to take an interest in all of this. People that made Atkins look like a rookie beat cop on his first assignment were starting to take an interest, and they were asking questions. Questions neither of us had answers to. The biggest mysteries of all even I didn't have a clue about. How the hell had Allison ended up in Tahiti; who was the guy that brought her up out of the water; and where the hell had he disappeared to? Jimmy of course swore he knew nothing about it, and I wanted to believe him, but... Jimmy After escorting Doreen into the house and thanking her again for her help, I went back to my apartment, relaxed onto the couch — after locking the door of course — and went to find Rod. He wasn't actually at the lake yet, so I called on my secure cell to make sure he wasn't involved in anything. "Hi, Rod, am I interrupting anything? "No," he said. "Just give me a second to make sure I don't fall on anything dangerous." I watched as he called his secretary, Eleanor, and told her he didn't want to be disturbed, then settled himself on the couch against the far wall. Once he took that big breath that told me he was trying to relax, I pulled him in. "Hi," I said, casting my line out into the water. I set the pole into the holder and settled myself into the lawn chair. "Is something wrong?" "That depends on your definition of wrong," he said, setting his tackle box down. "Let's start with the good news: your parents should be landing in Hawaii within the hour." "That is good news," I said, watching my bobber as he assembled his pole and baited a hook. "Thank you for your help. Was that to offset the bad?" "Maybe," he said, casting his line out past mine and settling his pole, giving his statement time to sink in. "People are starting to take notice." "Who?" I asked, staring out at the water, "and of what?" "Important people," he said, opening his tackle box and handing me a cold beer. He was definitely getting better at this dream stuff. "People who make Atkins look like a rookie on her first day." "That can't be good," Jamie said. I was pretty sure I knew the answer but — opening my beer and raising to him in a toast — I asked anyway, "And what is it they're suddenly interested in?" "Hampton's mysterious source." Nope, it wasn't good. ------- Chapter 18: It's Been a While Veronica Blake called Doreen back at 4:45 to tell her they'd take the deal. Doreen told her we'd meet them at 8:00 AM sharp to sign the contract and get started. She had been correct that Veronica would be taking me around to view the site and conduct interviews. She asked Veronica to email me copies of the initial interviews, and while it wasn't exactly policy to release the information before the contracts were signed, she would see if they could make an exception in this case. Doreen told her that considering the time constraints, they had better be prepared to be very flexible in this case. She also made the offer of the reduced fee if they met my terms for avoiding publicity — but only offered a three percent reduction instead of the five I had told her — and added the contingency that nothing appear for at least five years, or they had to pay the extra three percent. Three percent doesn't sound like much, but the possibility of having to pop for seventy-five hundred dollars just because someone ran their mouth to the press saying it was me, or my company, that had recovered the piece, should make anyone think twice about shooting his mouth off. Veronica said she would have an answer by the time we got there in the morning. Christine returned from her first full day of flight school loaded down with books to use as reference materials for her various homework assignments. Two of them were huge volumes dedicated solely to FAA regulations. One of the others was on aircraft architecture and contained structural and engineering specifications on a variety of aircraft and engines. "That looks like fun," I said as she set the stack on the coffee table. "Yeah, that's what Brian said. The instructor promptly informed him that flying commercial aircraft was not intended to be fun, and that if he expected thousands of people every year to entrust their lives to him, he had damned well better take it seriously and make sure no one ever got the idea he was doing this for fun." "And I'll bet you just jumped right to your feet and pointed out to the instructor that he was being sarcastic." "Damn," she swore. "I knew there was something I forgot to do. I'll make it a point to tell her first thing in the morning." "Yeah," I laughed. "I'll just bet you will. So, does any of this worry you?" "It's a little daunting, but thousands of people have done it before me; and if they can, I can. I'll get through it." "Maybe I can help," I suggested. "One of the things I mastered in school was studying. My technique is unusual — to say the least — and you're going to have a hard time believing that it's going to work, but I'd like you to at least give it a try, okay?" "Hey, anything that will help me get through this is worth a shot. Does this mysterious technique have anything to do with why you seemed so certain that I was going to smoke this class?" "As a matter of fact, yes. Dinner is going to be ready in a few minutes, so why don't you slip into something more comfortable, and we'll get started after we eat." "Actually I have a better idea," she said as she began unbuttoning her blouse. "Why don't you arrange for dinner to keep itself warm and slip into me, then we can both be more comfortable?" "Have I mentioned lately how much I love this girl?" Jamie said in husky voice. I turned off the oven and the fire under the pot I had been preparing to steam the broccoli in — the rice cooker was fine as it was — and waved for her to precede me. Whenever possible I prefer to follow women. The view is better. We had dinner on the patio, so we could enjoy the sunset. "I'm going to be busy the next few weeks," I told her. "After you left this morning, I got a call from a local insurance company that needs help tracking down a missing painting. First thing tomorrow morning I have to get started." "How busy?" "Very — I'm kind of their last ditch attempt. They've had their own investigators plus another local firm working on it for about two months; so far, without any success. They've only got three weeks left before they have to pay out on a million-five policy, so they decided to let someone else have a shot at it." She let her voice go deep and said, "Top of the ninth and the Yankees are down by seven here in the last game of the series. They're going to need a miracle to save this one." The tone changed, "That's true, Marv. Davies has struggled all night with little success against the Big Red Machine. Martin's got to go the bullpen for Malcolm if he hopes to pull this one out. The question is: has he already waited too long, or can Malcolm bring them back from the edge?" She was pretty good, and I was doing my best not to crack up. "That was pretty good," I said. "I didn't know you were a fan." "Daddy lived for baseball," she said, shaking her head at a memory, "which is kind of ironic considering we lived in a state that didn't even have a Major League team most of my life. He made up for it as best he could by going to spring training camps to watch the pro's working out in the off season — and announcing for the Arizona League games. When they announced the Diamondbacks were coming, he called everybody he knew and bought the first two season tickets they sold. He camped out for two days before they opened the ticket window. My mom and I took turns taking him food and standing in for him, so he could go to the bathroom. They wrote him up in the paper and took a picture of him when they handed him those first two tickets." I could see moisture forming at the edges of her eyes; she was lost in that place people go when they're reliving special memories. "I'll never forget opening day... ," a tear trickled down her cheek. "We got there early, pulled into the reserve parking lot, and headed for the gate. The look on Daddy's face when they scanned our tickets and handed them back ... He had a special envelope he had brought, and he tucked them inside. There was a woman there, waiting inside the gate, and she stepped right up to daddy and said the owner had invited us all to come up and watch the game from his private box. For daddy it was a dream come true. The team autographed the ball they got the first strike out with, "To our Number One Fan", and gave it to him. They took his picture when they presented it to him and put it up on the big screen. The owner had a copy framed and put up in his box." It seemed like a lot to me, and she must have seen the look on my face. "I know what you're thinking," she said, "and you're right; it does seem a little excessive, but you see, daddy was in a wheelchair. He lost his legs in an accident when I was a little girl, but it never slowed him down. They were impressed that someone in his condition would do all that just to get those first tickets." "You really miss him, don't you?" "Yeah, I do. I'm okay most of the time, but then something like this happens, and I get all..." She let the sentence fade. "What happened?" "Leukemia," she said, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly as she struggled with the surge of emotion. "We thought he was going to make it, but ... The team autographed a uniform for him. Everyone, from the owner down to the ball boys, groundskeepers, concession people; the whole thing is covered in ink. We buried him in it. My brother kept the seats; he takes poor kids from around the area — kids with no dads, or local orphans." There was too much pain here, and I knew there had to be more. I could only think of one reason that might be. "You didn't get to say goodbye, did you?" It was a statement, not a question. The dam broke, and she began to shake. I moved behind her and leaned down to hug her, just holding her until she was ready to go on. "He wouldn't let anyone see him towards the end," she said, her voice a mosaic of hurt and bitterness. "He said he didn't want us to remember him like that. He made my mother promise the casket would be sealed, and she kept her word. I hated her for doing that. I remember when she told me he had finally ... passed. She said that the angels had taken him, and he was in a better place. I like to think she was right, but I don't know if I really buy the whole angel thing." "I didn't either until Shannon died. Now I do." She turned to look at me. "Seriously?" "Absolutely," I assured her. "I was there when she died; Mark and her parents died in the accident, so my parents became her legal guardians. We were all there: Me, Allison, my parents, some others that loved her. Right at the end ... it seemed like she sat up and said something. It's weird because I know her body never moved, but just for a second ... And then there was this flash — not a light, but like a blur of motion — and she was gone. Her monitors had been going off, and when the crash team came in, we all backed into the corner to give them room, and they saw it, too. There was this big black nurse, gosh, what was his name? Something with an 'S'... , Stuart! Big guy, wore these bright red scrubs with little smiley faces all over them. He told the others they were wasting their time, but they had to try anyway. He was right. We all knew that nothing they could do would make a difference." "And you think it was an angel?" "Yeah, I do. Was your mother there when he died?" "Yeah, he didn't want her there, and she said she was just doing it so she could finally get the last word. She held his hand right to the end." "Then I'd take her word for it. Come on, let's get these dishes done, and then you've got homework to do." She laughed and blew her nose on a napkin. "Going to spank me if I don't get it done?" "Worse," I said. "I won't spank you if you don't get it done." Once we were done with the dishes, I had her sit down on the couch with me and started flipping through the first chapter of all of her text books. "David, this is silly," she complained as we finished the second one. I was going through them with her so I would be able to go over them with her later. "Trust me," I said. "But..." "Hey," I interrupted, "Do you want that spanking or not?" "That's not fair!" "It is if you don't finish your homework, and this is part of the assignment." "Says who?" "The guy that signs your paycheck, and is in charge of your bonus program, — part of which is the occasional set of hand-prints on your ass — next page." "When is payday by the way?" she asked as she flipped over the next page. "Every two weeks, but bonuses are on an informal 'pay as earned' program. I'm a firm believer in instant gratification when deserved; next page." "Aren't we going a little fast?" she asked. "No, not as long as you get a good, clear look at each page; the image is actually imprinted on your memory; you'd be amazed at what you can remember this way." "How come I've never heard of this technique before?" "It's new and still in the testing phase. My sister dreamed it up. She and Shannon both got straight A's using it." "What about you?" "All but one: I got a 'B' in my social studies class, but I had the world's most boring teacher. It was all any of us could do to stay awake for fifty minutes a day. Next page." "Kiss me first," I tickled her instead. "Next page!" "Shouldn't you be researching that painting you need to find?" "I don't officially start until tomorrow." "So?" She said. "You already said you're on a last-minute time table. If it was stolen, there are probably articles about it in the paper and on the web. Couldn't hurt to look." "You're just trying to get rid of me," I accused. "No I'm not," she said, closing the book, setting it back on the table and reaching for another one. "You owe me a spanking, or you will if I can stay awake to get through three more chapters." "It's actually a good idea," I said. "I knew there was reason I hired you." "You mean besides the bonus program?" she asked as I got up to retrieve my laptop. "Can I get you anything while I'm up?" "Do we have any wine?" I stopped. "Actually, no we don't. Make a note in your calendar to pick some up tomorrow." "Hey! That's not fair." "No," I agreed. "The Fair isn't until February, and it's all the way up in Reno. We can go if you want, but that's not exactly what we were talking about." "They have their State Fair in the middle of winter?" "Next page." With everyone in three different time zones, it was getting really interesting trying to manage my nights. My first order of business was to finish up with Christine, so she could get on with her studies. More important than her homework was reassuring her on another front, so I showed her the scene of Shannon's last moments. Then I let her see the follow up images of the effect the scene had had on everyone. She was most impressed with Roxy's excitement at seeing an angel. I finished off with our follow-up discussion at school the next day. "Thank you, Jimmy," Christine said softly when it was over. "So who's Roxy?" "A girl we've got in hiding on another case I'm working. I met her just before Shannon died. I'll tell you about it sometime. Right now I am going to dazzle you with the reason behind flipping through your textbooks, and why you're going to impress the hell out of everyone at class." I materialized a coffee table with her books on it and just picked up the one on top. I opened it up and showed it to her as I explained. "Your mind has seen this book, and it's seen the entire first chapter, so if you open it..." I opened it up and showed her as I went, " ... the whole first chapter is here." I flipped back further and showed her that the pages were blank. "If you had flipped through the rest of the book, these pages would be filled in, too. So next time you're bored, flip through the rest, because then you can read them here while you're asleep — rather than wasting valuable time during the day. Once you've been in the simulator and learn how everything works, you'll be able to practice that here, too. You'll probably have an edge going in as well; chances are there are details on the different cockpits in these tech manuals." Just for kicks I generated a mock up of the flight simulator they had shown in one of her textbooks. "We can even hook you up with a little private instruction from any of the pilots you've ever flown with or met, but we'll get to that later." "This is so cool!" she exclaimed. "No wonder you said I was going to do so well. I've got training options the others don't!" "Exactly," I said. "Now, I've got things I need to be doing, so why don't you find a nice quiet place over there in the shade and read those chapters you scanned, and we'll review them when I get back. Well, the two I actually read with you anyway." I didn't have a lot of actual work I needed to do until after I had a chance to talk to Allison, and she wasn't going to be available for a few hours yet, so I took the opportunity to go see some people I hadn't seen in a while. I called ahead first to make sure Bob and Rebecca weren't involved in anything I'd be embarrassed to walk in on. They weren't, so I met them in Bob's office. "James, my boy!" Bob exclaimed, getting up to shake my hand as I entered. "Good to see you. Gosh, it seems like it's been forever." "Yeah, I know. It's hard to believe it hasn't even been a month since I left." I turned to Rebecca. "How's Amy doing? I asked Walter, but all he said was that her vocabulary was expanding." After the laughter stopped and Rebecca had dried her eyes, she managed to tell me that Amy was doing 'just incredibly.' "I swear she's getting stronger by the hour," she said. "If nothing else her invisible friend is a real encouragement. One of these days..." I froze her just long enough to glance at Bob quickly, and he gave a small shake of his head, indicating that it wasn't a good time to pursue the issue of Walter. I let the scene move forward and asked if Rod had been in touch with her regarding recent events. "Not since your parents and Allison were kidnapped. He's been really distant lately. I'm starting to wonder if he thinks I'm not coming back. Jimmy, no one told me what happened; are they okay?" Rod hadn't told her? Not a good sign. "We got them back. He's relocating them to Hawaii, giving them new identities, the whole shot." "Hawaii? How did he swing that? WitSec wouldn't spring for that even if we had a case, which we don't." "Independent funding." "Ah, I see." "Rebecca, I know what's bothering Rod." "Yeah, your new abilities," she said. "Jimmy, I've been trying — trying hard — not to think about it. I've decided this falls into the same category as whatever you did to stop Kurtz: I don't want to know. If you're here to talk to me about any of this, please don't. I don't want to know any more about what you can do. If you need to talk to someone, talk to Bob." "I understand. Rebecca, I value your friendship. That's why I called Atkins instead of you about Andrews and Charles. They had to be stopped, and I wasn't sure if she would — if she could — do anything to stop them. Rebecca, I couldn't let them get their hands on Phoebe. Andrews was the one who killed the man in jail — or at least he's the one who set it up — and he personally slaughtered the rest of the family, and it was Charles who torched Phoebe's Uncle's house. Andrews dreamed of killing young girls. He'd done it twice before. Rebecca, I couldn't..." She put her fingers over my mouth. "I know, Jimmy. You did the right thing, and I don't think less of you for doing it. You were the only one that could save her, and I am so sorry for that. Do I have problem with you killing to law enforcement officers? Of course I do. I'm an agent of the system, and in the eyes of the law — the law I'm sworn to uphold — what you did is wrong. They should have been arrested and tried. By all rights I should arrest you and you should be tried." She hesitated for a moment before continuing. "Jimmy, no one likes to admit it, but the system has flaws; this was one of them. The problem is that if you do the right thing, it points out the flaws — which embarrasses the people in charge of the system — and they tend to go after you for breaking the rules rather than admit there's a problem. There's nothing like a good witch-hunt to distract the media and the public from looking too closely and finding the hole. I'm very proud of you, Jimmy, for having the courage to do what needed to be done, and I'm also very sorry, sorrier than I can say, that the system let you down by putting you in that position. Fortunately, there is no way in hell you could ever be convicted, because there is no way to prove you had anything to do with it. We all know that; you, me, Rod, even Atkins, and she only knows that my source threatened to stop them by any means necessary from getting their hands on Phoebe ... We all know that it was necessary. At the same time, the fact that you could pull it off the way you did — with no evidence of any kind — is going to weigh heavily on Rod, because he's worried about what all the killing may be doing to you. Hell, I'm worried about it. Jimmy, if you ever went over to the dark side... "He trusts you because he knows the truth; he worries because you don't have the system to support you. That's why he stresses the importance of talking to someone. If you asked, he'd set you up with some of our psyche people to talk to, totally anonymously, with all the legal protection of doctor-client privilege. So if you ever reach the point where Bob, Easy, Allison, and I — whoever else you confide in — aren't enough, ask him." "Thank you." I wasn't sure if I should go on. I'd decided that she deserved to know, but I didn't know if she wanted to. I froze her instead. "Bob, should I tell her they killed the guards when they took Allison and my folks?" "No," he said. "She really doesn't want to know." "Does she want to forget?" I asked. Bob just stared at me for a few seconds. "You can do that?" "I don't know. I think so. I've been experimenting with some things, both on myself and on Christine. I've created a ... sort of a 'personality clone' of myself, to use with Hightower. He doesn't know anything about me or what I can do; he really is just David Malcolm. I used him this Sunday. I think maybe Hightower didn't try anything this time. Either that or Jamie and I were so deep we couldn't detect it, because we didn't. Christine's is different. That's a story in itself. We decided to tell her the truth — most of it anyway — not what we're doing, but she knows about Amber, knows about me and my basic gift; Lizzy even told her about her gift. Then we sort of trapped all of those memories in the dream. During the day, she's just Christine, and we're just normal people; but here, she remembers everything. She also knows everything that happens during the day, and she is influenced by what she knows..." "Well, of course she is," he said. "The subconscious influences everything we do." "Anyway, I've been talking to her at night about what happened during the day, so that I'm sure she's comfortable with all of her decisions." "Jimmy, I'm very proud of you. I'm also just floored that you were able to do this. Are you thinking of doing something like this with Rod and Rebecca?" "I don't know, but I think I may have to. I think he may be a little more worried about me than he lets on. Bob, I think you should know: I killed the men that kidnapped my family." "Jimmy, I don't think anyone would..." "There's more," I said. "My parents were in a house in LA, but they were sending Allison somewhere else. They had her on a ship. There were eleven of them. There were two left when the explosions started." "Explosions? You blew up... ?" "No, it was rigged, and I don't think they knew it. Suddenly there was a series of explosions, and the ship started going over on its side. I went back for Allison; the cabin was already filling up, and she was trapped under the water — I didn't realize they had her cuffed to the bunk. I got her out, but she had already stopped breathing. The cabin was almost full by then, and the pressure was incredible. I didn't know what to do, and I panicked, and then I passed out." "You passed out? Jimmy, if you passed out, then how... ?" He stopped as I held up my hand. "Just before I passed out I had a ... vision, I guess, of the cabana. When I woke up, we were in a hospital in Tahiti." His eyes got positively huge, and he was suddenly pacing the room. "Jimmy I... , I don't... , Tahiti?" he stopped. "Wait a minute. How did you get on the ship?" "When Jamie and I rescued Rebecca and Amy, the fight with Kurtz... , we're good, but we aren't that good. I got busted up pretty bad. A couple ribs were broken, and one had punctured a lung. Anyway, I found out who's been helping me. She had come earlier and told me how to heal myself and save Jamie when Kurtz shot us with the tranquilizer." "Save Jamie?" he asked, confused. "It's hard to explain. Anyway, that was before the fight. That was when she showed me that I can ... Bob, you know how Walter said I walk in both worlds?" "Yeah, I remember you talking about that." "Well, it turns out it's not just metaphorical. Bob, I can step into this world — physically." "You can do what? Jimmy, this is a dream; it's not real; there's no reality for you to step into. How could you possibly... ?" He shook his head like he was trying to clear it. "Never mind, go on." "She showed me, told me rather, how to do it, and once I was here I was able to heal myself; then I just stepped back across, freed Rebecca, and let Rene free himself." "I imagine that was hard for you." "No, not really," I said. "He was so happy that it was over, I couldn't help but be happy for him, even if it meant... "But I was stuck there, and I needed to get away before Rebecca finished getting free and called Rod. It occurred to me that if I could walk into a dream and back out again, that maybe I could walk out somewhere else. So I tried it. And it worked." "Ho-lee shit!" Bob said, "And that's how you got to the ship?" "Yes." "I still don't understand how you can walk in and out of a dream? It's not real." "Allison has some theories about that. Bob, she thinks, and I'm starting to agree, that there's a lot more to all this than we ever imagined." "More how?" he asked. Then he stopped me before I could answer. "You know, maybe before we go on, we should... ," he pointed at Rebecca still standing frozen not far away. I didn't answer, just sent her off to be with Amy. She'd figure out what had happened. After all, she was the one who told me to talk to Bob. "You know the beach?" "Hello? Yeah, of course I know the beach, and while we're on the subject, no more cracks about changing the sheets; you guys don't even make the bed half the time." "There you go," I said, "my point exactly. Bob, according to Allison, the beach is now a self-sustaining environment. Any of you seem to be able to go there at will — with or without me being there — and everyone still has all the same control that you have in any of my dream environments." "Wow!" Bob said. "I mean, I knew we could go, but I thought it was just something to do with the keys you made for us. We can all go different places." "A couple of times the girls have gotten there ahead of me — before I was even asleep." He frowned and shook his head. "That shouldn't be possible." "It gets weirder. Lizzy's key lets her go to Amber whenever she wants. Bob, she ordered Amber to go to Allison, and then used her key to follow her there. When I found them they were in Allison's dream." "They were in... ," he started pacing again. "Jimmy, how... ? She would have to..." "I don't know, they speculated that since it was something I would have allowed them to do had I been there, that somehow I unconsciously let it happen." He thought for a moment before answering, "I guess that's at least a plausible explanation — maybe — but none of that explains how you can move physically into a subconscious construct." "Who said it's just a subconscious construct?" Allison asked, fading in across the room. "Oh, hello, Allison!" Bob said. "Gosh, it's so good to see you! It seems like forever since I saw you last." Deja vu? I hadn't realized how excited he was. He'd said almost exactly the same thing to me. "Allison, this is amazing stuff. I don't have the slightest idea how any of it's possible, but it's certainly amazing." She moved forward and hugged him. "It's good to see you, too. As for all this being amazing — yes, it certainly is that. I'm still working on the underlying theories, and I have no idea how long it's going to take to develop something solid; there is just so much to consider. The math alone is going to take me years to even prepare for. Do you have any idea of the math involved in explaining how he moved from one geographic point on a spinning ball to another without killing himself? There are so many directional energy vectors it's insane!" She started ticking off points. "There is the relative speed of the surface to consider; things closer to the poles move at different rates than things at the equator. Then you've got the problem of hitting a moving target — in this case a ship — that's moving on a different vector, and under independent power, not just sitting still. I don't even want to think about things like deck movement caused by wave activity. Yet somehow he moves from one dynamic environment to a completely different one, smoothly and with no apparent strain. You know those cool slide-ways they have at LAX to move between terminals?" "Yeah, I've been trying to get the school to install them for years." "Cute," she said, rolling her eyes. "Well, picture yourself on one. Now picture stepping onto another one moving twenty-five miles an hour at a forty-five degree angle to the one you're on; now picture doing it at a run. Can you see yourself doing it without falling on your butt?" "No," he said. "Me neither," she said, "and that's only two moving beltways on the same plane; nothing compared to what he's doing, but somehow he's doing it like he's walking through a garden somewhere. Somehow he is able to justify all those inertial vectors without even thinking about it. Where is the energy going? Why isn't there any pressure change when he moves into a space that was empty a moment before? Why isn't there one when he leaves? Why don't his ears pop when he moves from Vegas to sea level?" "Whoa!" Bob finally said, holding up his hands. "Slow down! I'm a psychology teacher; I don't do physics. You're right though, about all of it. The energy considerations aside, the physiological considerations still have to be dealt with. I can understand him healing something that happened to him in a dream, but if it's not a dream — and I don't see how it could be if he can somehow have a physical presence there — but if it is possible, then how in God's name can he possibly be healing himself in a space with physical limitations?" "That's a good question, and the only answer I can come up with is that the space he's entered doesn't conform to the same physical limitations as the one he left. A change in physical laws suggests a different spatial continuum. Assuming we take that as a given, we then have a whole new set of questions: Is it a dimensional shift? Some kind of pocket universe? Does it still exist after he leaves? Originally I would have said no, that it was a finite reality that he created as he needed it, like a dream, but then the beach environment seems to have stabilized somehow. Either that or he is unconsciously maintaining it because we all seem to be able to move in and out of it with no effort or even knowledge on his part. We speculated before that we were getting there ahead of him because he allowed us to and gave us keys that permitted us to move around within certain parameters, but now I'm not so sure about that. Shannon and I had the first keys. They allowed us to move back and forth to wherever the other was, into each other's dreams, or go to whatever dream Jimmy was in, but the other person still had to be asleep and in a dream space for them to work. We're suddenly able to go the beach — and it's Jimmy's beach because we can all work there — while he's still awake. Walter once said that Jimmy walked in both worlds, and that's how he is able to perceive — and even interact — with him when he's awake. We all took it as a metaphorical explanation, but now... ," she stopped, took a deep breath, and let it out again. "And then there are the questions of where the energy is coming from, and how he can actually use it to heal himself? It's going to take a long, long time before I'm ready to get serious about researching and proving any of it, and I have no idea how I'm going to do that since — for the foreseeable future — I'm limited to observation and deduction, and I can't even see what's happening! Lizzy might be able to see some of it, but we'd need to be in the same place first, and that's not going to be happening anytime soon." "Congratulations Allison," Bob said. "It's a rare individual that finds their life's work so early, and I can see already that you are committed to this. Good for you." "Oh, yeah, good for me," she huffed. "My life's work is research I can't tell anyone about." She turned to me. "That's why I need your company to do well; you're going to be my only source of funding, which isn't all bad considering you're also the focus of all my research. At some point I'm hoping something we find will have marketable applications, but who knows. Until then, you're it." "I'll do my best," I assured her. She moved in and hugged me. "I know you will, you always do." "Okay, we need to change the subject," Bob said. "The room is starting to spin. Let's get back to something I think I actually may be qualified to discuss. You say you somehow managed to make a virtual psychic clone of yourself to deal with Hightower?" "Yeah, we're still not sure if it's going to work, but so far it's functioned exactly the way we expected." "And then you did something similar with Christine?" "Yes." "No, you didn't," Allison said. "Uh-oh!" Jamie said as I looked quizzically at Allison. Bob glanced back and forth between the two of us a couple times and said, "Okay, I know that look. You two have things to talk about. Call me if you need anything. Uhm, just out of curiosity, you're not thinking you may need to do something like this with me are you?" "No," I said. "I'm only worried about people with 'official access', if you know what I mean?" "Ah, yes. Got it. Don't get me wrong, I don't have a problem with it. I may even ask you to do it later. It's hard to say, but I can see where it may be advantageous, so I'm going to go somewhere and think about all this while you kids talk. Allison? Always a pleasure; more so this time, just knowing that you are safe once more." "Thank you, Bob, it's good to see you again too." "So what did you mean?" I asked after he was gone. "What you did with Christine?" She began. "You had help. You could have done it on your own, but it wouldn't have turned out the way you wanted. Jimmy, didn't that just seem a little too easy to you?" "Well yeah, but that's the way pretty much everything has always worked here." "Yes, but if you think about it, you've never really done anything like this before. The closest you got was prepping Rebecca for her interrogation in Washington, and that was just a simple hypnotic prohibition. I know it wasn't simple, don't get me wrong, but relatively speaking ... Now, I'm going to go about explaining this in a sort of roundabout way, so you'll understand it better. So bear with me okay?" "No problem, I'm all for knowing what the hell is going on." "Well, I'm not going to be a lot of help because I don't know all the dynamics and details." "Brandiy's helping you with that part, isn't she?" I asked. "Yes and no," she said, the look on her face said she wasn't surprised that I'd figured that out on my own. "Mostly she's just confirming some of my ideas and asking questions to make me think about stuff. This was actually something I suspected when you first did it. My problem is I can't see what's going on, so I get everything secondhand, but I asked Lizzy — because she was there watching — and she confirmed that right at the end, just before the new Christine split off, something happened. She couldn't tell what it was because it happened way too fast, but she said she was pretty sure she saw something. Now, think about what you did. You didn't create a duplicate of Christine; you created a duplicate without certain memories. Now, if you'd done that before you told her anything, no problem, you just don't tell the new one what you don't want it, her, to know — you should keep that in mind next time you need to do something like that — but anyway, you did it after; how could you possibly remove those memories? You couldn't even change Susan's dream because it was a memory." "But..." I started. "No," she interrupted. "I know what you're thinking; you did it with yourself, and it worked — or seems to have worked — just fine. But think about it; you know what you didn't want the David clone to remember. Your brain knows where all those memory chains are stored; sophisticated as that would be to try and track; it's at least your brain, so it makes sense that you could withhold that information. Jimmy, you have no clue where any of that stuff would be in Christine's mind. Trying to find it all would take ... how long?" "I wouldn't even want to guess," I said, finally understanding what she was getting at. "But there is no way I could possibly do it as fast as I did. This isn't randomly throwing out dream energy and re-creating a beach — it's strategically and intentionally leaving specific grains of sand off that beach, without even knowing which ones they are. You're right; no way did I do this on my own." "Right," she said. "When I asked Brandiy about it, she told me that it was a far more complicated process than I imagined, and that she had done a lot of the prep work for you, so that all you had to do with Christine was essentially to take the final step. She's going to explain it to me when the time comes." "I hope she does it soon then," I said. "Rod's getting worried." "What do you mean?" "He said people are starting to take notice of what's been happening, specifically, things involving Rebecca's source." "I see," she said. "It's been assumed that's who intervened on mom and dad's behalf?" "Yeah, apparently I should have been more careful — a lot more careful — about how things looked. At first glance it was assumed one of them turned on the others, but the physical evidence doesn't support that theory ... and then there was the 911 call." "What physical evidence?" she asked urgently. "You didn't get hurt did you?" "No, nothing like that," I assured her. "Just the way they were killed — where the bodies were, and the fact that there were no gunshots on the 911 tape, so at least three of them had to be dead before the call. And unless the fourth guy made the call and then just dropped dead, then there had to be someone else there. But all the doors were bolted, and there was no sign of forced entry." "What did Rod say?" "He's going on the assumption that I did it the same way as the bank job — just took over one of their daydreams and used them to do the dirty work. I can't say for sure, but I kind of think he may be a little suspicious that we're keeping stuff from him." "Hard to say," she said. "My guess is he's a more than a little afraid of what would happen if you slipped over to the dark side." "What's wrong with the dark side?" Jamie asked, stepping out. "Everybody keeps bringing it up like it's a bad thing." Allison flowed forward into her sister's arms and gave her soft kiss hello; stroking her hair and whispering, "Hi! I thought maybe you were off somewhere with Lizzy or Amber." "I missed you, too," Jamie said, kissing her in return. Then she raised her voice, "Rebecca pretty much said the same thing — that Rod is probably worried about it. She even admitted that the thought scared her, and while I may joke about it, I totally understand their concern. If we went bad, it would be really bad. The fact that the physical evidence points to someone else being there is not good; we really have to be more careful in the future. I, for one, hope that ship is somewhere very deep and dark because if they find it and start trying to figure out what happened there..." "Well, you know damn well he didn't buy your explanation of what happened at the warehouse with Kurtz," Allison said. "If it weren't for you looking fresh as a daisy when they got to the park, he'd never believe it wasn't you." "I'd bet he thinks it was us anyway," Jamie said. "He knows who Jimmy trained with; knows he took out Boris's goons without so much as breaking a nail, so where he may have his doubts about just how good Jimmy is, he's not going to write off the possibility that it was him. We can argue all we want, but there is no one to account for our whereabouts when the Sandman died. The blood's got to be driving him nuts, but if there's a way to kill DNA in blood without destroying it, then we're still in the suspect pool. He'd still wonder how we did it, but he wouldn't rule out that we had somehow scammed everyone." "I'll see if I can find out," Allison said, "and speaking of your blood; Brandiy explained it to me. It ties in with my energy theory. Your DNA breaks down very quickly once it's separated from your field. Hair, dead skin, blood, everything. It has to be a recent change, though, since they actually took blood from you when you were in the hospital after the incident at the mall. I'm sure they would have noticed it at the time. I'd be interested in seeing if it's still viable if they still have any of it stored at the hospital. I'm betting not. I think it's always been happening, but since you're more powerful now, it's more volatile." "Wow, you're really into this aren't you?" "Jimmy, I'm so excited about studying this stuff I can't even express it. Why else do you think I'm testing to move straight to high school classes? I talked to mom and dad about it today, and I want to get into an independent study program — something that will let me advance at my own rate through high school." "You want to skip even further ahead?" "Jimmy, I can't wait four more years before I can even start to learn what I need for this. I'm talking serious math and physics here — not to mention things like biochemistry, molecular biology, computer classes. I'm pretty much going to have to write my own programs to study this stuff. No way can I go to outsiders, and I'm going to need help. I'm going to need to do some recruiting at some point, and I'm going to need you and Lizzy both to help me make sure I don't bring in the wrong people." "Pretty sure you already told me this stuff." "Yeah, probably so. Anyway, back to what happened with Christine. I have two possible theories; the first has to do with those little proto-patterns she produces. I'm not sure how yet, but they're a possibility. God, I wish Easy lived closer; it's like trying to work in a cave with no flashlight. I feel like I'm just stumbling my way through, not even knowing what I'm missing all around me. The other possibility is it's something you do on your own. The problem is that either theory works. For now, I want you to think about all this and then come to me with whatever questions you have." I raised my hand. "I have a question; how could this be something I do on my own?" "Good question," she said. "I don't know. The closest I could come up with was something like creating the clone ahead of time and then sending it in to learn everything but the stuff you don't want it to know. But that just doesn't sound possible. The clone would have to be intelligent to do that. I'll have to get back to you on that one." "Okay, I had actually wanted to talk to you about Rod tonight anyway. But I also wanted to talk to you about what Jamie and I have in mind for Vegas." "Wait," Jamie said. "I think I know how she did it," "Really?" I asked. "We're all ears, girlfriend," Allison said. "I think what Lizzy saw at the end was our bubble being replaced by one that Brandiy made ahead of time, before we started telling Christine anything." Allison was nodding her head. "Yep, that would do it," she said. "Brandiy twinned her before you told her anything, stuck the twin in a bubble so she wouldn't hear any of it, then at the end when you created your copy, she switched them. That's what Lizzy saw, or thought she saw." "So I wasn't leaving memories out of my copy, but putting the explanations we wanted into the copy Brandiy had already prepared?" "Probably just the opposite," Allison said. "She made the copy and tucked it away, and then — when the time came — she swapped it for the one you thought you were making. That would certainly have been a lot easier to control." She moved in and kissed Jamie's cheek. "You are so smart! Now, about your plan for Vegas — I hope it involves getting out the way and letting Jamie do some of the problem solving, because if it doesn't, then you're wasting your time." I couldn't help but smile as I began going over the plan we had come up with to solve the problem and try to save as many of the innocents as we could. She did her usual thing, waiting and listening carefully until I was finished. When I had finished she jumped right in with her analysis and questions. "And you want to use Samantha and Rachel as your test case?" "I have to use someone," I said. "And if it's discovered later, and someone starts taking steps to block me, I want them to already be set up." "I understand, and I don't have a problem with it. One good thing is that losing her parents will be a good excuse to put off Rachel's start date. Once she loses her new mommy it can be pushed back indefinitely." "Not really," I said. "If we push too far, Hightower may decide to step in and solve her emotional problems for her." "There is that. I don't think we have anyone qualified to address the legal issues here. We need someone with experience. My first choice would be a judge. I don't remember seeing any of them on the chart, thank God, so at least we wouldn't have to worry about them having someone available to nullify what you're doing with a wave of their magic gavel; but at the same time this is the kind of thing you can't really talk to a judge about." She caught my eye. "Not in a public forum anyway. I think you need to find out which judge, or judges, are most likely to see these cases if they come up, and see what they think. No specifics, just the paperwork itself. I'm assuming you're going to arrange it so there is no possible way the new parents could be linked to the dead ones?" "Actually, I'm going to have a solid link between all of them in glowing, neon red," I said with a smile. "Really, how's that?" "They all go to the same church. I'm going to suggest to all of them that it was something Hightower — or Bastion rather — said that got them thinking about seeing to the children's futures. That's going to be a common thread for any of the parents interviewed. They felt obligated to plan for their children's future and to help their brothers and sisters in the church do the same. The finger won't point directly to Bastion, but the people that know the truth about him will notice. I think Atkins will like the implication." "And when the numbers start attracting attention?" "I hope to have all the legal paperwork filed and processed before anything happens to draw attention to the arrangements." "No way is anyone going to buy coincidence that all these people from the same church are suddenly having accidents and dying." "I don't care so much about that, as long as they can't prove anything... , and eventually, when the bomb drops, it will suddenly come clear." "You're sure?" she asked. "No, but sure enough." "You're not going to tell me how it ends?" "Allison, you already know how it ends. It ends with a lot of really bad people dying. One particular group all at once, or as many as I can arrange." "The board members?" "That's the plan. I haven't figured out exactly how yet. I've still got a lot of work to do. I have to find all of the blackmail material, filter out what I need, and leave the rest. Leave enough to implicate Bastion and his A-players, destroy the rest in such a way that no one will think something might have been destroyed ... a lot of work to do." "I understand," she assured me. "If there is anything I can do to help, let me know." "Actually, I want you in charge of Jamie. You know she worries that she might do something horrible, and I won't love her anymore, so I told her to work with you on this. I don't want to know when or how it happens. When it gets to be that time, I'm not even going to read the papers." "You don't want to know about any of them?" Allison asked skeptically. "I told her she could wake me up for Essex and some of the others if she wants." "That sounds more like it. You had me worried there for a second. You don't usually turn your back on stuff like this." "Not to worry, I look at this as just more of what we did for Phoebe. We're not taking away parents; we're freeing children." "True," she said. "You know, this thing you did with Christine may even be able to help them cope with all the guilt and stuff without exposing themselves." "Do you really think so?" "It worked for Christine," she said. "It'll be tricky, but if we can do something similar with the girls, we should at least be able to buffer it. We don't want them to forget what happened, but we don't want them to have nightmares about it either. I think you, or maybe Bob, are in for a lot of nighttime counseling down the road. Protect them so they can operate day to day; talk to them about it at night, and let the barrier down as they begin to heal." "Then I'd like to make that the first priority for my new R&D department." "It's going to mean..." "Whatever it takes, Allison. Just tell me what you need, and I'll make sure you get it." "It's probably not a question of what, but who." ------- Chapter 19 Christine was right; there was quite a bit of information about the theft on the web. Publicity was a double-edged sword for the insurance company. Making sure everyone knew the painting had been stolen made it hard to sell, but — when you're talking about million dollar works of art — it also had the negative impact of letting the more elite collectors know that the piece might be available. There were always those buyers that didn't care how they got the piece, as long as they got it, and then there were also the one's that liked the added thrill of owning a stolen work. As long as they were not going to display it publicly, it wasn't a problem. For some it would actually add prestige. One interesting thing I noticed was that the house it had been stolen from was for sale. A quaint little two story, five bedroom shack located on a two acre lot on the west side. The house was impressive to say the least. The entire structure appeared to be faced in natural stone. That may not sound like much, but when you consider the structure was listed at just over twelve thousand square feet... I guessed the ceilings at twelve feet; the entryway appeared to go all the way up to an arched ceiling on the second floor. I know it sounds big, but I imagine it could still get a little tricky sneaking past the grand piano. Indoor pool — big indoor pool — ten-car garage, tennis courts, walkways, gazing pools. Then there was ... I guess you'd call it an entertainment room, complete with pool table, sitting area, and full bar. Not a place to mix drinks, a bar; a twelve foot long island complete with brass foot rail. I couldn't tell from the pictures if it was marble or hardwood on top but behind it was a bartenders station complete with two sinks, two small refrigerators, several temperature controlled compartments for wine or other temperamental liqueurs, and racks for a variety of glasses; all in a floor-to-ceiling cabinet that appeared very well stocked and sported what appeared to be a gigantic projection television as a centerpiece. The kitchen was bigger than my entire apartment — so were the bedrooms for that matter — and I don't even want to talk about the bathrooms. Yeah, I was jealous. The estate took up the better part of a city block, and the realtor's site had included a night shot from the upstairs balcony showing a truly dazzling view of the strip in all its neon glory. I was very interested in seeing where the painting had been hung and what kind of security they had had for it. Veronica Blake met us at the receptionist desk and offered to escort us into Mountjoy's office to go over the contracts. "That's okay, Vee," Doreen said with a smile. "I know where it's at. David would like to get started right away, so why don't you two go ahead and get started, and I'll find my own way. You are going to be taking him around and introducing him aren't you? He'll also need copies of all the latest in-house reports; if you could ask Celia to get copies together, I'll pick them up on my way out." "Doreen," I said. "You're here for contracts. I can take it all with me when I go, or — if it's not ready — I can have Christine swing by and get it." "David, don't be silly; I'm already here, and I know what we need, so I'll know if they leave something out. Oh, what am I saying? I meant if they forget something." Veronica turned her head and covered a smile before saying, "Very well, then, Mr. Malcolm, I assume you'd like to start with the house?" "Seems like the best place to begin; I'd also like to meet as many of the family, staff, and grounds-people as possible." "We've already interviewed everyone that had access," she said. "Apparently not everyone or you would have found it already," I joked. "I'm sure the reports will be interesting, but I'd rather meet the people myself, talk to them, get a feel for them ... rather than rely on information gathered by someone else." "I understand, I just thought in the interest of saving time..." "I'm not trying to save time, Ms. Blake; I'm trying to get into Intersure's pocket for three hundred grand. I'm not going to do that saving time. While I'm sure the statements will be helpful, if the information we need was in there, you wouldn't have called me in the first place. I don't care whose car we take, but — since I'm still new in town — I think it would be best if you drove. Shall we?" Even with traffic it was only a twenty-minute drive to the estate. Wow! Impressive doesn't begin to do it justice. It was like an island oasis in a desert of concrete, asphalt, and steel. The trees and lush landscaping almost seemed out of place in the heart of the city, making it seem more like a large park than a residence. I couldn't even imagine what the maintenance and upkeep for the place must have been. We were greeted by a woman dressed in a very conservative three-piece, skirt-suit. It was a pale gray with pinstripes, and had obviously been tailored for her; the shoes and belt went so well with the outfit, they had to be made specifically for that purpose. I put her age somewhere in her early thirties. "Ms. Blake," she said politely, "what a pleasant surprise. I do hope you are coming with good news." "Not yet," Veronica said coolly. "Well, I don't see a briefcase, so I doubt you've given up and brought a check." "No, not quite yet." "Good," the woman said, "because Mr. Ceres would much rather have the painting back. He waited a long time for it to come up for sale, and it means a lot to him. And you are?" I stuck out my hand, "David Malcolm, Finders Incorporated." The name got her attention. "Susan Barth. I'm Mr. Ceres's personal assistant. An interesting choice of names," she said, one eyebrow raised. "I thought it would eliminate the, 'So, what is it you do?' questions," I said. "You're not likely to forget it tomorrow, are you?" "Very true," she said with a nod. "So, that makes you their last ditch effort?" "If by that you mean I'm the last one they'll need, then yes, I certainly hope so." "Brash," she admonished. "Confident," I corrected her. "And — as much as I enjoy a good bout of verbal jousting — as you pointed out, we are getting down to the wire here, so if we're going to continue the word games, perhaps we could do it while you show me around. I'd like to meet as many of the people — family and staff — as possible, anyone who had access." "Of course," she said. "Right this way." She turned and escorted us past the piano and stopped facing the north wall. It was instantly clear why she had stopped; there was a distinct sense of absence to the space. The hardware that had secured the painting was still in place. There was even a title plaque identifying the work. "I'm surprised," I said. "How so?" she asked. "Your comments suggested that the piece had significant personal value to Mr. Ceres. That being the case, I'm surprised to find it hung in such a public area. I would have expected it to be someplace more intimate. The bedroom or den perhaps, where he could spend more time with it." "Very good, Mr. Malcolm," she said. "I'm impressed. You're the first one to question the location of the piece. To answer your question, Mr. Ceres favorite form of relaxation is the piano. The Lady was hung here so that he could play for her." "In that case it makes perfect sense," I said. "I'm sure it's all in the reports I'm going to be reading later, but perhaps you could show me the various security measures that were in place at the time of the theft?" "An interesting choice of words," she said. "I would assume that after a loss of this scale, you would have added additional security precautions." "You surprise me Mr. Malcolm," she said. "Forgive me, but at first glance I simply couldn't take you seriously. You don't look old enough to have the experience necessary for a job like this. You force me to reconsider my initial opinion." "Don't let it bother you. I'm used to it." "I can imagine," she said. "Ms. Blake can give you far better information on the security system than I could — after all, Intersure set it up. Ms. Blake, I have some business for Mr. Ceres to attend to. I'll be in the office when you're ready to continue." Doreen called to let me know the contracts were all in order and signed, and that she was in the process of gathering all the pertinent files. Veronica went over the security systems for the house in general as well as those specifically dedicated to the missing painting. They were impressive. Either we were dealing with a real pro, or it was in inside job. I was inclined to believe the former — since the latter would have been everyone's first assumption and the focus of most of the investigation to date. Fortunately, I had the advantage in that area. Several times while we were talking, servants passed through. I made a point of introducing myself whenever possible. With everything that was going on, I figured they were under a lot of stress, so I did my best to set them at ease, and yes, that included doing my best to radiate calm reassurance when I shook their hands. I didn't ask a lot of questions of the staff, mostly just asking if they had perhaps remembered anything that they may have left out of their original statements to the police and other investigators that had been through. "Thank you, Maria," I said to one of the maids. "I'm really sorry you have to go through all of this, and I hope you understand that the primary focus is to rule you out as a suspect, not to accuse you of anything." It was the same line I had used on all of them, and so far most had accepted it as graciously as it had been intended. The chef was so pissed off at even being considered a possible suspect that he didn't even bother to try and disguise his hostility. I suspected that Mr. Ceres would be in need of a new chef soon regardless of how it turned out. Most of the staff seemed genuinely fond of Mr. Ceres, and I was leaning more and more towards a professional job, which was a bad thing since it made it a lot harder for me to track down the person responsible. It was too soon yet, but by tomorrow morning I would know if any of the staff I had come in contact with was involved, or if they knew more than they were saying. The same would be true for Ms. Barth. We came across Mr. Ceres on the back patio while Ms. Barth was escorting us around the grounds. He was having breakfast with a young man who looked to be in his mid-to-late twenties. Mr. Ceres was a very distinguished older gentleman. I guessed him somewhere in his mid to late fifties and, apparently, in excellent health. I didn't try to shake his hand since Ms. Barth had warned me he preferred not to. "So, David," he said conversationally, "I take it you represent their last ditch attempt to recover my painting?" "I hope to be the last one they need, at least," I said. "You have a beautiful home here, Mr. Ceres. I'm sorry that all this has disturbed what must be a peaceful existence in gentler times." "Well put, young man," he said. "Can I offer you anything? Coffee? Juice? Have you had breakfast?" "Perhaps a glass of orange juice, if it's not too much trouble." "Ms. Blake?" he asked, extending the offer. "Nothing for me, thank you Mr. Ceres," she replied. "Very well. Paul, could you ask Maria to bring Mr. Malcolm some juice, please?" A lot of people would have taken offense, but Paul took the request in stride, excusing himself and returning a few moments later. "She'll be right out, Mr. Malcolm," he said when he returned. "Thank you, Paul," I said, extending my hand. "And please, call me David. Mr. Ceres, Ms. Barth has indicated that it took you some time to acquire The Lady in the first place." "Indeed," he replied, swallowing a large bite of pancake and dabbing his mouth with his napkin. "I was amazed when it finally came up for sale. If not for the unfortunate failing of the previous owner's business, I might have never had the pleasure of her company." Maria showed up with my juice, and I thanked her for it. His staff was nothing if not efficient. "Were there many interested parties at the auction?" "Auction? I did not purchase the painting at auction; it was a private sale." "I'm sorry, when I spoke to Mr. Mountjoy initially, he based its value on the last auction." "That's because I refused to tell him what I actually paid for it and simply told him what I wanted it insured for. The value he gave you was based on the previous sale, which was indeed an auction. If you ask me, it is a disgusting way to treat such rare beauty. Would you sell the Mona Lisa like a common street whore?" "I see," I said, "and when it didn't come up at auction, as I'm sure many expected it to, did anyone attempt to buy it from you?" "Of course," he said. "I made a few enemies that day, I assure you. There were several interested parties, and the offers ranged from the insulting to the sublime." He rolled his eyes as he said the last part. "But I had waited too long to give her up. You're thinking perhaps one of them paid to have it stolen?" "I'm sure I'm not the only one to wonder," I said. "No, not by a long shot. I brought it up to the authorities myself, but no one in a position to do so would be foolish enough to be personally involved. If this is the case, then I suspect I will never see my Lady again." There was a note of genuine sorrow in his voice. "You sound like you have already given up hope," I said. "David, I suspect that if they were going to find her, they would have by now. No, I am afraid that you are correct, and I do not expect to see her again. Whom then shall I play for in the long evenings?" "Please, don't give up just yet," I said. "I'm just getting started, and sometimes a new perspective can make all the difference. I promise, I'll do my very best to get her back to you. I would like to ask one small favor, though?" "What's that?" he asked. "If ... I'm sorry, when I get her back, I'd like to hear you play for her." "Bring back my lady to me, David, and I will play for you any time you desire." "Then I'd better get to work," I said, standing and extending my hand. "Paul, it was nice to meet you. Please thank Maria for the juice for me. Mr. Ceres, I look forward to hearing you play." "That was very smooth, David," Veronica said as we were pulling away. "I think he likes you. Of course, if that's the case, Paul may not be too thrilled with you." "He's going to be even unhappier when we figure out how he did it and where the painting is," Jamie said. She had been slipping from person to person as I shook hands around the estate, staying long enough to generate a few little day dreams and see what kind of reaction she got. Apparently Paul was feeling guilty about something related to the painting. "I would hope that someone in Paul's position would be a better judge of who's competition than that," I said at the same time I was answering Jamie, "Don't jump to conclusions; you can't base everything on one little flash of guilt. I'm sure everyone else has already thought of him, too. We'll read the reports first, then bridge him and see what we find." "Okay. I'm sorry," she apologized. I dropped Veronica back at Intersure and spent the rest of the day going over reports with Doreen. It was a brutal afternoon; the volume of misspelled words and grammatical errors was downright distracting. "Don't they ever proofread this stuff before they file it?" I asked. "Maybe they should dictate the reports and have someone who actually speaks English transcribe them." I suggested. Doreen just chuckled, "I understand your frustration, but try to remember they don't hire them for their literary achievements. The smart ones have someone like Celia type them up. I used to do Howie's reports myself. He didn't need help in grammar or spelling, but he can't type worth a damn. After they made him pay for the second machine he broke, he started paying me to do them for him." "So why don't the others do that?" I asked, turning a page. "Mostly because the girls won't do it for them. You're going to discover, David, that many insurance investigators have serious ego problems. They tend to treat other people as if they are low-grade morons at best. A mere hourly employee is all but beneath their notice, good for nothing but fetching coffee and taking messages. If you were to suggest one of them actually needed help from someone like that, they'd think you were on drugs." "With that kind of mentality, I'm surprised they ever find anything." I said. "That's why we occasionally hired outsiders," she said. "Besides humbling the staffers, it keeps them on their toes. Here, you'll enjoy this one... ," she handed me a file. "One thing you can't fault Howard Mountjoy for is his reports. He may be a pain, but he is very good at his job. He must be having Celia doing his typing for him. I should have had you read his first; it's a summary of the others, concise and to the point. Then if you had questions you could refer to the individual reports for clarification." "Thank you," I said, taking the folder from her. "I'll keep that in mind." Reading through the reports kept me occupied the rest of the afternoon. It's a good thing I don't really sleep anymore, or I never would have made it. Talk about boring! I finally had something to thank my freshman year Social Studies teacher for. Surviving his class had more than prepared me for this. I took a break to make dinner for Christine; nothing special, just a big salad. Then we both settled in to opposite ends of the couch — me reading reports and her flipping pages in her textbooks. I went through the chapters as she finished them. She had been all kinds of impressed with the results of last night's 'studying'. "I can't believe how well I did today," she said. "I mean, I barely glanced at the pages last night, but I knew the answers to every question he asked. I stopped raising my hand after the first couple because people were starting to get a little testy, but I knew the answers. It's just amazing." Time to stretch her world a little bit. "You mean you don't remember?" I asked. "Remember what?" she asked, confused. "Reading all those chapters last night," I said with a smile. "David, that's the point: I didn't read them. I just flipped through the books." "Don't worry about it; we didn't remember at first either." "Remember what?" she demanded. "David, I didn't read them; we flipped through them, then we went to bed, and we certainly weren't reading there!" "Actually you were, but you were asleep, so — like I said — I'm not surprised you don't remember." "David!" She was getting more than a little exasperated now. "Okay, okay. Look, the whole point of the exercise was to frustrate your brain a little. You really wanted to read them, but I wasn't giving you time. So your mind did it on its own. You remember how I said your mind would remember what was on the page, sort of a subconscious imprint?" "Yeah," she said skeptically. "Well, my guess is, once you went to sleep you started reading them." She started to interrupt, but I held up my hand to stop her. "Your mind created an environment where you could read them, and since it had already seen all the material..." "You're telling me I read those books in a dream!" "Exactly," I said, smiling. "You are so full of shit!" She said, chucking a throw pillow at me. I caught it and set it down beside me. "Fine, come up with your own explanation, but Allison and Shannon got straight A's doing it, and I would have if my social studies class hadn't put me to sleep." She had to stop and think about that for a second. "How come I've never heard of this before?" she finally asked. "It's a trick, Christine. You're the first person we've ever tried to teach it to — besides Allison teaching Shannon and me, that is. I wasn't sure it would work, but we're not planning to try marketing it either way. We're too afraid the established education system would have us bumped off. At the very least they would have it banned because it was unfair to the people who couldn't do it." "That's certainly true," she said, rolling her eyes. She paused for a moment, "Do you think it's shallow of me to want to rub Brian's nose in all this?" I just looked at her. "Just asking," she said with a smile. "Are we taking something to dinner with Doreen and your FBI friend tomorrow?" "Ooh, thank you for reminding me," I said, checking the time on my phone. "It's still early, let's go wine shopping!" I hit a speed dial and waited. "Hi, Tina, David Malcolm, I hope I'm not interrupting anything ... No? Good. Listen, Christine and I need to go wine shopping; where's a good place? Cool, could you text me the address? Thanks Tina." I disconnected and started gathering up the files I was working on. "Come on, put that away, we've got to hurry or we'll be late." "Late for what?" she asked. "Wine tasting." "David, I have school tomorrow!" "Christine, we're tasting, not drinking. Come on. You'll be fine, I promise. Go put on something sexy, so I can show you off. Those black jeans maybe — you look totally hot in those." "What about you?" "Right behind you," I said. "I just want to call a cab." "I thought you said we weren't drinking?" she said. "We're not, but that's no excuse for being stupid either. Go! Pick out something for me that I won't look out of place next to you in. You know I still can't dress myself." She had clothes picked out by the time I had the files locked in the safe and was standing in just her underwear when I walked in. "Hmm," I said, sliding my hands around her waist from behind. "Maybe I should rethink this..." "No you don't," she said, slapping my hand and spinning away. "Get changed, you're taking me out, remember." God, she looked good in those jeans. I should get Allison a pair. "Ow!" I said as Jamie gave me a mental slap upside the head. She didn't need to explain. You don't daydream about one woman while you're with another. It was just rude. "Sorry," I said. "Thanks." "You're welcome," she said, "and I made a note to remind you to take Allison shopping first chance we get because, yeah, she would look really hot in those jeans." "Hey, how come you can... ? Never mind." I probably shouldn't have been, but I was surprised to find Tina and Tony there when we arrived. "David, Christine," Tony greeted us. "I hope you weren't planning on a quiet evening. Tina practically begged me to bring her when you called. In truth, though, it has been a while since I restocked, and they always have some fascinating selections here. Were you looking for anything in particular?" "No, nothing specific," I said. "We've been invited to dinner tomorrow, and I wanted to take something. What goes good with Pot Roast?" "Hmmm ... something in a red varietal I would think," he said speculatively. "Something fruity rather than dry. Let's see if we can't find something." We found several, actually. It was a very social event, and we met all kinds of interesting people; Tony picked up leads on two new clients. Several people asked Christine about flight school. They seemed fascinated by a woman — particularly a young and attractive one — flying the plane rather than serving drinks. About an hour in, while Tony was talking to a prospective new client, Tina looked at Christine and just shook her head. "Christine, I think you could wear burlap and make it look good. I would kill to have your body." I swear it just slipped out before I could stop it, "Maybe if you ask her really nice." "Jimmy!" Jamie exclaimed. "David!" Christine exclaimed, trying not to choke on the wine she was sipping, and blushing furiously. "Really, David," Tina chastised me, smiling around her glass. "You should be ashamed of yourself." The light in her eyes said she had filed the comment away for future consideration. "I'm sorry, Christine" I apologized. "I swear; it just jumped out before I could stop it." "I'm surprised it got past your foot," Tina said with a laugh. By now, Christine had managed to regain control of both her wineglass and her composure. "I'll deal with you later," she said with a glare that wasn't as serious as her words had been, and then turned her attention to Tina. "Tina, what are you talking about? David tells me you've had two children — the youngest of which is still in college — and you could pass for my sister if you wanted to. I can only hope to look as good as you do when I've got kids that age. Hell, I'll be happy if I have your body when they're two." "Well, maybe if you ask me really nicely," Tina said with a smile as she took another sip of her wine. Christine found herself once more bright red and at a loss for words. "Tina?" Tony asked sternly as he walked up. "Are you being rude to Miss Payson?" Tina got a little pale at his tone; standing up very straight, she answered. "I was only commenting on how nice she looked." "Really," he asked, clearly not believing her. "No teasing little innuendos?" "Actually that was me," I admitted. I explained what had happened. "Time to leave, Tina," Tony said. "Get your things." "Tony, really... ," Christine started, but I caught her eye and gave a little shake of my head. She stopped, and then said, "It was nice to see you both. We'll have to do this again soon." Tony gave her a wink as he walked away. "I'm still not used to the way you guys play. I thought he was serious there for a minute." "He was," I assured her. "The part you're struggling with is that Tina would be really disappointed if he wasn't." "Yeah, that's the part all right," she said. "I'm getting there, though." She hesitated before going on. "David, do you think she was serious about wanting me?" "Christine, I think the statue we passed in the courtyard was serious about wanting you. To put it in teeny-bopper terms, 'you're all that, and a bag of chips.'" "You are the strangest man," she said. "It's a gift," I said. "It came with sticking my foot in my mouth. Christine, I'm sorry about what I said..." She put a finger to my lips and shook her head. "Take me home; you can apologize there." "You know, if I have to be stuck sharing a body with someone my whole life, I'm really glad it's you." "Promise you'll behave, and I'll let you come out and play." "Behave myself? Jimmy, it's me. You know I'm always on my best behavior ... when you're watching." "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Come on, someone's feeling the need for a little extra attention." "Yeah, baby!" she said enthusiastically. "David?" Christine said as we lay together in the sweaty aftermath. I was pretty sure I knew what was coming, and I was tempted to just say yes, but sometimes the asking is more important than the answer. "Would you be okay with it if I asked Lizzy to... ?" she left the rest of the question unspoken but not unasked. "You're curious, and you want to know if you've really been missing something all these years." "Yeah, I think so. Lately... ," she rolled, threw her leg over mine, and kissed my shoulder. "Since I met all of you, ... and then the other night playing with you and Amber." "Why not Amber?" I asked. "You're apparently already comfortable with her." "I don't know; maybe I'm too comfortable with her and I want it to be ... It's just ... I mean — you'd have to tell Amber to do it, or like, give her permission first, wouldn't you?" "Yes, either Lizzy or I would have to give her to you, but trust me, she would be doing it because she wanted to, not because we told her to." "But if you did tell her to, she would, right?" "Yes," I said. "Just like if Tony told her to, Tina would. You won't find too many submissives that aren't bi-sexual — unless their master is seriously homophobic, but that's not really what we're talking about here. You don't want Amber because you want to know that it's mutual, voluntary, real, you want it to be special — like that first time you thought about and always wished you'd had the courage to go through with — and you can't have that if the other girl is doing it because someone else told her too." "Something like that, yeah," she said. "Am I being silly?" I rolled toward her, cupped her face, and kissed her lightly. "No," I said. "Every time should be special. First times should be magical, and as perfect as you always dreamed they would be. That doesn't happen very often because we don't usually plan them, but you have the chance to plan this one. I know Lizzy would be honored to be your first time, and I know she will do whatever she can to make it just as special for you as you want it to be." "A little help here?" "My pleasure," Jamie said, moving forward and kissing her with me. That led to other things, and Christine learned what it was like to pass out from pleasure. I was there to catch her on the other side, transitioning us both smoothly into dream space, hesitating only long enough to dispose of the condom. It's no fun waking up to discover you've slipped out and it's leaked all over your bed. "Hi," I said, when she woke up on the other side. "Wow!" she said, stretching like a cat. "That was incredible." She gave me a skeptical look. "But you're still holding back, aren't you." I kissed her and climbed off the bed. "Only one way to find out," I said, "but we both have other things we need to be doing. You have homework — and I have work work — so pick a place you'd like to study, and I'll leave you to get to it." "What kind of place?" she asked. "Anything you'd like," I said. "It's your dream; you can be anywhere." I recreated the scene she had popped up that first night of all of us on top of the Empire State Building, left it just long enough for her to recognize it, and switched to a small cabin in the mountains — with a crackling fire to keep out the snowy chill. "How about this? I think you could get some studying in here, and I have the perfect companion to keep you company." Widget came bounding in from the other room and jumped right up in her lap, purring loudly and rubbing her head under Christine's chin. "Did you call her?" she asked. "I didn't need to call her, she's been trying to follow us since we left, but I've been blocking her. We're going to have to teach her that she can't always follow us around. Some of the places we go might not be safe for her." I was going to need to talk to Allison about this. Widget had been trying to follow us, but — more importantly — she hadn't been asleep when Christine and I 'left'. I know because I noticed her watching me as I went to the bathroom to dispose of the condom. "Like where?" she asked, stroking Widget's head. "Oh, I don't know," I said. "Skydiving? I don't think she'd care for that too much, or if she followed really close, and we went straight to playing mermaid tag with the dolphins? I don't think it would be pretty when she hit the lagoon, and from what I've heard, cats hold grudges." "Tell me about it," she said. "This one time ... Hey!" I looked down do find Widget not actually biting her thumb, but holding it between her teeth. Christine gave me a startled look and said, "But not my little Widget, she's just the world's most perfect little kitty, aren't you?" As she said it, Widget released her thumb and gave it a couple licks, purring loudly once more. "David? Is it just me or,..." "No," I said. "It's not just you. I think this is going to bear further study. Some other time, though, I'm serious about having work to do. Enjoy your studying, and if it gets boring, just think about what it's going to be like sitting in the front seat for a change." "Thanks, David." I spent the night revisiting everyone that I had come into contact with at the estate. By the end of the night, it was clear that Paul was the only one with any kind of access that had actually been involved. Paul didn't seem to have any first-hand knowledge of the theft, but he was feeling very guilty about it. I tried running a couple different scenarios where he could tell us why he was feeling so guilty, but nothing I came up with drew him out. Clearly there was a lot more going on than we knew or understood. ------- Chapter 20: Breaking the Case Special Agent in Charge Dominique Spencer is a different person when she lets her hair down, and dinner with her and Doreen was an interesting affair to say the least. Apparently the two had met on Spencer's first case in Vegas some twenty-five years before. Spencer had been transferred away a couple years later, but the two had kept in touch. Doreen became one of Spencer's experts of choice in matters involving insurance companies. They had had a bit of a falling out five years earlier after Spencer had returned to head up the local Bureau office, and Doreen's husband — Theo — had been caught up in one of her investigations. In the end Theo had been cleared of any involvement, and — while Doreen knew Spencer was just doing her job — it put a strain on the relationship. When Theo died — and Doreen had discovered she was buried in debt — Spencer had done some side investigations into Theo's gambling debts to make sure there was nothing funny going on, but the debts were legit and legal, and there was nothing that could be done about it. When Doreen berated herself for not paying better attention to their finances, Spencer had been there to remind her that in all the time she had been married to Theo, she had never had to worry about it. Her faith and trust had been founded in love, and there was nothing she could do to change it, so why worry about it? After dinner I was introduced to a game called Parcheesi. I quickly discovered that 'a friendly game of Parcheesi' is as much of a contradiction as 'a friendly game of Sorry'. Neither is a game you should play with people you don't like. "Ouch," Spencer said when Christine picked off two of her pieces in one roll. "So, Christine, you're David's secretary. How is he to work for?" "I'll let you know if he ever makes me start doing actual work. So far I think I've answered two phone calls, the first one was you, and the only reason I got that one was he left his phone on the table, and I beat him to it. I think he hired me out of guilt." She went on to explain how we had met and the resulting problems with her Flight Captain. "Shopping? He asked you to take him shopping? Well, I have to say that's one of the more original pickup lines I've ever heard." "That's what was so weird," Christine said. "He really wasn't trying to pick me up. Looking back, I have to admit he was really trying to be a gentleman about the whole thing, and he really did need help shopping. His existing wardrobe was straight out of high school, jeans, t-shirts ... I think he had like, one, collared shirt." "I'm a low maintenance guy," I protested. It was apparent that Spencer was using the evening to get more details about me, but there wasn't much I could do to stop it that wouldn't make her want to dig harder, and it wasn't like Christine was going to be able to tell her much. I picked off one of Christine's pieces that was poised to move into her 'home.' "Hey!" she whined, and then picked up the thread of the conversation again. "Right, low maintenance ... I'd told him that since it was his first trip to Vegas, he should make it special and stay somewhere nice. He ended up at the Bellagio..." "Well, that certainly qualifies as nice," Doreen interjected. "Wait, it gets better," Christine said. "Somewhere along the line he decided he didn't want to be inconvenienced waiting for me to catch a ride over from the Airport Ramada, so he booked me a room there as well, which totally threw me." She shook her head. "Oh, and of course he didn't tell me where we were staying, just that he had booked me a room at the same hotel, so we wouldn't lose the travel time back and forth, and then — just as he finishes telling me this — we step out of the terminal, and there is this limo driver holding a sign with my name on it. And that was an adventure in itself! Can you believe it was his first time in a limousine?" She went on to tell them about the rest of the evening, leaving out any details about us being naked in the tub together or the adventures after the show, all the way to me dropping her off at the airport when I could have just as easily said goodbye at the hotel. "And then he actually called me. Can you believe it, a guy that actually calls when he says he's going to? Anyway, I guess he heard something in my voice because he made me tell him about what had happened with Captain Hardwick. Next thing I know, I've been called into HR so they can get my side of the story. That started the ball rolling, and now, well, here I am, being paid to chase my dream, and meeting the most interesting people. I mean, who would have ever thought I'd be having pot roast — which was fabulous by the way, Doreen — and playing Parcheesi with the head of the Vegas FBI?" "Well, if there is one thing I have learned, Christine, it's that life is full of interesting surprises," Spencer said. "David's apparently more than most. I assume he told you about our first meeting?" "No, not really. He just told me he had to go by the local Bureau office." "This sounds interesting," Doreen said. "What happened?" "Apparently one of David's more mysterious contacts — or clients, I'm not really sure which — has ties very high up in one of the darker closets of Washington. In the classic case of the left hand not knowing what the right is doing, he discovers a couple of people from another closet organization — one somehow tied up with the Department of Justice — following someone he's interested in. The two gentlemen in question end up handcuffed together in their own car over at Freedom Park, and — before I even have a chance to figure out what is going on — I get a phone call telling me to expect David here, and that he has something for me relating to the case. A little later in the morning your boss waltzes into my office with a trunk full of assault weapons. They had been removed from the car that the aforementioned agents from the Department of Justice were found in. They were being cute, you see; they handcuffed the agents inside the car and left the keys on the hood. Funny, unless the wrong person gets the keys and steals a bunch of weapons out of the trunk." "You have got to be kidding me," Doreen said. "You mean to tell me someone kidnapped two spooks while they were on surveillance, knocked them out, tied them up in their own car and left them for lord knows who to find; but they were worried the weapons may fall into the wrong hands, so they took them out and gave them to David to bring to you?" "They didn't actually give them to me," I said. "They stuck them in the trunk of the car and then called and told me to take them to her. According to Dominique, there was a bunch of other stuff in the agent's trunk as well, but whoever it was kept the rest as a fee for keeping the agents alive — something about whoever they were watching being bait. They seemed to think the agent's lives were in danger if they got caught." "Once I found out who the bait was for, I had to agree with them," Dominique said. "I wanted to talk to you about that as well, David; sometime before I leave tonight." She looked at her watch. "Which better be soon because I have to go to work in the morning. In case I forget to tell you later, Doreen, thank you for having me over. We have to do this again soon." "Yes, we do," Doreen said. "It's been far too long." When we finished the game, Dominique stood up and stuck out her hand to Christine. "Christine, it was nice to meet you. Good luck with flight school, and be careful around this guy; he attracts trouble like a clean car attracts pigeons. David, why don't you walk me out?" "My pleasure," I said. I had a pretty good idea what was about to happen, and I wasn't disappointed. "Malcolm, what the hell are you doing?" she demanded when we got to her car. "You know who you're dealing with here, what she's capable of ... How can you risk Christine like this?" "I knew that's what you were going to say," I said. "There's been no sight of her since her last little stunt, and — considering how it turned out — I don't know that she'll try anything like that again. Christine is a complication I hadn't planned on. Is she at risk? Yes, and I considered getting her an apartment somewhere else, but I can keep a much better eye on her here, and I would know a lot sooner if anyone tried anything funny. Considering everything that's happened lately, I decided I'd rather protect her myself than rescue her; I don't know how many more times I can get lucky." "What do you mean?" I gave her a look and she said, "Never mind." "Way to go, moron," Jamie said. She was right, but it was too late to take it back. I shook Spencer's hand and she left. Paul was involved. He hadn't taken the painting, but he had provided the details on the security system. Curiously, they didn't need the bypass code. Jamie and I were both interested in that, but — first things first. It took a little work, but we finally got the story out of him. All it took was a well crafted dream of being hauled into FBI headquarters and threatened with spending a very long time in Federal lockup. An especially scary punishment for someone like Paul — pretty boys are very popular in places like that. Paul was being blackmailed, and the painting was the payoff. Sometime back in July, Paul had received a set of photographs showing a younger Mr. Ceres with a much younger boy; one who looked like he could have been underage. There was the expected note claiming possession of the original negatives... , (Negatives? How old were these shots?) ... and, of course, the obligatory threat to expose Mr. Ceres if they didn't get what they wanted. "Why now?" Jamie asked. "Those shots are years old, why wait until now?" "Good question" I said. "Maybe they were waiting for him to get the painting and get comfortable with it? Or maybe they were waiting for someone vulnerable enough to threaten. He's doing it to protect Ceres." "Yeah, I got that, thanks," she said. "Something still doesn't feel right. How could you get shots like that without him noticing? I mean you can see the flash. Those were taken up close, and he knew they were being taken. And he had to be, what, at least ten — maybe fifteen — years younger when they were taken?" "Want to see if he remembers who took them?" I asked. "I thought you'd never ask." That's when things really got messy; Ceres had sent the photos. Apparently he was finding himself more and more in love with Paul, and he needed to make sure that the young man's affection wasn't really affectation. He needed to be sure before he gave his heart away. I guess I couldn't blame him; he was a pretty high-profile target. As for the photos, the 'boy' in the pictures had been a twenty-three year old escort who lived in Prague, and Ceres could prove it. He had hired a thief to steal the painting. The reason he was selling his beautiful estate was that he wanted to retire, and he had a huge plantation in Costa Rica already set up to receive him. He had taken his company public seven years prior, and now the other stockholders were buying him out. The only question that had been nagging at him lately was whether Paul was coming with him. He needed to be sure, thus the test. That put me in a really serious bind. Ceres had never met the thief — all contact had been handled via secure email — but that didn't matter. Ceres knew where the painting was; it had been shipped to Costa Rica the very next day and was already hanging in the entryway to Casa de Retirement, right above the antique Steinway Concert Grand. Ceres had paid the thief two hundred thousand to get it there. The only question now was how to get it back. "Steal it," Allison suggested as we were talking the situation over with Bob later that night. "Shouldn't be that complicated. Bridge Ceres, get the layout and details on whatever security he has, and steal it back." "Allison, it's not that simple," I said. "I can't just pop in out of nowhere and steal a million dollar painting." "Yeah, you can," she pointed out. "And you don't think that's going to raise a giant red flag somewhere? What if Rod heard about it? It's bad enough he's worried about me going dark on him." "Jimmy," she admonished me. "Compared to foolproof assassin, I think he could live with cat burglar." "No," Bob said, shaking his head, "he couldn't. Jimmy's right, he'd still see it as criminal behavior — a start on the slippery slope — and he'd be worried about it escalating into other areas. Pick a category; they couldn't catch you, couldn't prove it was you, but he would know, and — eventually — he would feel bound by his principles to stop you any way he could, even if it meant exposing you." He turned to me, "But that's not what's bothering you, is it?" "What do you mean?" Allison asked. "What's bothering your brother are his own principles. Ceres is defrauding his insurance company for a million dollars. Regardless of his motives, it's still a major crime, and Jimmy is struggling with what to do about it." "Oh," she said softly. "I hadn't thought about that." "Maybe you should talk to Rebecca on this one," Bob said. As usual, talking to these two helped clear my mind. "No," I said. "I already know what I need to do. I have to turn him in. I was just worried I was doing it for the wrong reason." "Building your business?" Allison asked. I just nodded, studying the pattern in the rug. "There's nothing wrong with that Jimmy," Bob said. "It's the right thing to do, the fact that that is the image you want for you company is just a bonus. Why don't you want to talk to Rebecca?" "It's not that I don't want to talk to her," I said. I shook my head and looked up from staring at empty space. "So how do I get the painting back without it looking like it vanished into thin air?" "Talk to an expert," Bob suggested. "Find a thief who specialized in high end art. I'm sure Rebecca could get you a name of someone in prison." "Better yet," Allison said. "If you're going to go to the FBI, maybe you should ask Rod instead; just be upfront and tell him why you need it. It might help him deal with what you can do if there's no body at the end of the trail." "She's got a point there," Bob agreed. "If you present it to him as recovering stolen property, he may see it in a better light. I personally think he'll still consider the negative ramifications, but it's a start. If nothing else, it should buy you a little time until you figure out how to deal with him permanently." He made a face. "Is it just me, or did that come out sounding really bad?" He got a chuckle from both of us for that one. "It's okay, Bob," Allison assured him. "We know what you meant." Following Bob's suggestion, I called Rod and told him I needed to consult with a high end Art thief for information on recovering a stolen painting. Allison was right; he was more than happy to be doing something with me that didn't involve anyone dying. He gave me the name, picture, and background information, of a guy doing time for a string of high-end burglaries. Apparently he had been set up by a client who had been caught with a painting he had stolen. Just like with Ceres, they had never met. The entire transaction had been handled through secure email and cash transfers to a numbered account, but — when they had caught him with the piece — the man had cut a deal with the Feds to catch the thief, and well, here he was. They offered him a deal if he would help them catch someone else, but in this case the 'someone else' was an art-loving drug lord. Prison sucked, but it beat a permanent residence six feet underground. I set the dream up as if the Feds had a different deal for him, meeting him in a small room at the prison to go over the file. You can learn a lot working with professionals. It turned out that the painting vanishing into thin air was exactly what was needed. It was what professionals strove for. In this case, results were all that mattered, no one needed to know how it was done. He set up the whole thing for me. We went over the layout of the house, the security involved, which — according to what I got from Ceres — wasn't much actually since the local police weren't likely to help you anyway. He pointed me to a series of websites... Wow, talk about a subculture! Wading through the posts and trying to decipher the cryptic message strings was tough. Many of the strings dealt with specialized equipment that was available for a wide variety of activities. I learned a lot about 'climbing' and 'preserving the natural environment'. Gee, I wonder what they could mean by that? It was all carefully couched in terms that could be interpreted as innocent activities; there were many that were clearly job offers, but it was all couched in language that could just as easily have been legitimate employment. I made note of a few different websites for future reference, and — at Jamie's suggestion — ordered two sets of highly custom lock-picks. She was right; being handcuffed and helpless in the back of a van was not an experience I was interested in repeating. I also talked to Rod about my personal struggle with the situation. "Thank you for coming to me, Jimmy," He said. "I understand your dilemma. This is an issue that we all struggle with, but for our society to survive we have to have boundaries, lines that we don't cross. Sometimes those lines get blurry and people stray. It's our job to steer them back on course. If you're really concerned, talk to Ceres; let him know you found the painting, take him a picture of it or something. Get him to turn himself in — not to the police but to the insurance company — explain what he did and why. Trust me, they've heard stranger stories. They may insist on prosecuting, but I don't see a jury giving Ceres any serious time over it. He may do some jail time, but I think if he shows remorse, admits that he made a mistake, and offers restitution, they'll probably go easy on him. But I have to warn you, getting personally involved like this would seriously damage your reputation in the recovery business." "Thanks Rod," I said. "Should I get Spencer involved?" "It couldn't hurt," he said. "If nothing else, she'll want to make sure he can't change his mind and run, and it will go a long way toward building her trust in you." "I'm not sure how close I want to get to her," I said. "She's already suspicious about what happened with Kurtz. Plus I had to warn her that the Black Queen may be coming to town looking for me. She had mentioned keeping an eye on me, and I'd told her she may be putting her agents in danger if she did. And then when she confronted me about putting Christine in harm's way by letting her stay with me, I made a stupid comment about preferring to protect her rather than rescue her. I'm not sure what kind of reaction that's going to get, but I'd already told her about rescuing Brandy, and that — rather than show up in Vegas — Henslith had gone after more innocents." "Dominique Spencer has a reputation for tenacity," he said, "and she has access to the official records, so she'll know the truth about what happened with your parents. Speaking of that, we've confirmed what we all pretty much assumed from the beginning. Those guys that had your parents were mercenaries. Considering neither of them was blindfolded, I'd have to say they had no intention of leaving them alive. If someone hadn't gotten there..." He let the thought hang there before moving on. "Now, there is no way to connect you to that, but — considering all the unanswered questions surrounding the whole event — at the very least she's going to be suspicious about the kind of people you deal with. Namely: your involvement with Hampton's mysterious source." There wasn't really anything to say, so I thanked him, shook his hand, and left. I was planning on heading home, but at the last moment I felt a tug, and I found myself in Allison's glade instead. I couldn't help but think that it had been a long time since we'd been here — especially when I found her sitting on the same blanket we had used the first time she had brought me here, over a year before. It looked so familiar — her sitting there reading a textbook — there was only one thing missing... The empty place in my heart — the place where Shannon still lived — ached a little at the sight. I realized suddenly that Allison was looking at me and tried to put on a happier face. "It's okay," she said. "I know what you're thinking. I half expect her to walk out of the bushes any second myself." She let out a big sigh and continued. "I was thinking about the painting, and it may not be as simple as we realized. I don't know if you'll be able to take it with you when you transition." I had actually thought about this myself and figured it would be okay, but I wanted to hear her ideas on the subject. "What makes you say that?" "Cute," she said, giving me a look. "Like you hadn't already been thinking about it. Let me guess, you're thinking you moved that gun around the ship?" "Exactly what I was thinking," I admitted, nodding my head. "Yeah," she said, nodding. "I thought of that too, but then I started looking for problems. Jimmy, what if size makes a difference?" "I thought you always told me size didn't matter?" I teased. "True," she said with a smile, "but my experience is limited; therefore my conclusion may be erroneous. However, since we're talking about moving a rather large and exceedingly expensive piece of artwork — as opposed to an item that fits in your hand or pocket — I thought maybe we should be a little more careful. You'd hate to find out the hard way by arriving at your destination with half a painting, wouldn't you?" Ouch! "Yeah, that would kind of suck. So when you say size, you're thinking physical dimension may be more important than mass?" "I'm not saying anything one way or the other. I'm just saying we need to consider it before we take the chance." She reached in the picnic basket and pulled out her trusty tablet computer. You know, the kind where you could actually write and draw on the screen if you wanted to. "Look here," she said, turning it so I could see. She drew a stick figure. "Let's say this is you..." She drew what looked like a cartoon force field around me. Now let's say that's your energy field. Holding a gun in your hand, the whole thing is encompassed by the field. If what you are doing is moving your energy field — or even just items that you are connected to or concentrating on within the field — the gun moves with you because it's entirely within the field. Do you have something lying around the apartment you can experiment with? A broom or stick? One of those foam noodle-thingies from the pool maybe?" "I'm sure I can come up with something," I said. "Okay, just don't use anything you can't afford to lose. Start out holding whatever you're using as close to your body as possible, then hold it so one end sticks out away from you. I expect you'll find out that it really does matter, and mass may play more of a role than we understand as well, so we'll have to try different types of things. For most of what you did you moved in short, fast hops — all relatively close to one another — but you were still very weak when it was over. It could be that both sets of characteristics may come into play, so let's try to be as thorough and methodical as we can in testing it out, okay? I don't want to skip steps and have something come back and bite me later." "Don't say it," I warned Jamie. "Wouldn't dream of it," she said, but I could feel the smile. "So when are we going to play with all this?" "I don't know," I said. "You know, Jamie," Allison said. "It would be a lot easier — not to mention more polite — if you just came out." Jamie stepped out sheepishly and said, "I'm sorry, I just don't think about it. I know it sounds weird, but..." "But you don't like being out," Allison said. "Unless you've actually got something to do — be it work or play. It's okay, Jamie, I understand. It just makes it difficult to talk sometimes, and — believe it or not — we do value your opinion." She gave her a wink and added, "Not to mention you're serious eye-candy. So whenever possible — if there's no one around that doesn't know about you — I'd appreciate it if I could see you." "Oh, you are so sweet!" Jamie said, kneeling down and hugging her sister. "It's the company I keep," Allison said. "Meanwhile, we need to figure out when to do this. I've got classes until 3:30 local time, and I think it would be best if we kept anyone from seeing what's happening. I also don't want mom and dad to know about this new trick of yours, so we're really limited on both time and space. There's a beach not far from here; I'll go down after it gets dark, and — if no one is around — we can do it there." "Okay, but bring a blanket," Jamie said. Allison and I both rolled our eyes. I went out and bought a half dozen long skinny pieces of foam. My first thought was to cut one into various shorter lengths and work our way up, but Allison vetoed that idea. "No, I have other things I want to try, and — if I'm right — we won't need to cut them up. Now, the first thing I want to try..." "Uh, excuse me," Jamie said. "I hate to be the voice of paranoia here, but — even though it's dark and all — isn't a beach a little public for this kind of thing? I mean, Allison made it pretty clear that this is 'eyes-only Top Secret' stuff we're playing with. I don't want to have to kill anyone just because they happened to decide to take a walk on the beach and saw you magically appear out of nowhere." "I can't believe I didn't think of that," Allison said, shaking her head. "I'm so used to 'the beach' being your beach — where no one can get to us no matter what..." She stepped close, grabbed Jamie by the face with both hands and planted a big wet kiss right on her lips. "Nice catch, sis! Keep up the good work! So where do we go then? My room isn't big enough, and I don't want to risk mom and dad seeing you, either." "How about if I just have Walter patrol the beach and warn us if anyone is getting close?" I suggested. "Oooh! Great idea!" Allison said. "There's something I've been meaning to ask him anyway. Walter!" A few moments later there was a polite knock before the door opened and Walter walked in. "You called, Milady? Is something amiss?" "No, Walter, everything is fine; thank you for coming so promptly. We're not taking you away from anything important are we? You weren't reading to Amy?" "Why yes, actually we were reading, but she had just decided to end the lesson early." That was an interesting coincidence, and I was half surprised when Allison didn't pursue it. "Good," Allison said. "I wanted to ask you about something. The night you three rescued me; Jimmy said the boat was rigged to blow up and he panicked when we were trapped in the cabin and it was filling up. Just before he passed out, he said he caught an image of the cabana but he blacked out before he could get us there. We all woke up in a hospital in Tahiti but no one knows how we got there, I was wondering — since you were there too — if you remembered anything." The look on Walter's face was not encouraging. "I'm sorry," he said, looking at me quizzically. "I have no knowledge of events beyond our exiting the vessel. I remember the image of the beach, but then you were gone and I was once more in the glade we originally departed from. I assumed that you had decided that you had no further need for me, and released me while you tended your sister. A hospital you say? That is most confusing — and disturbing." "Actually — according to witnesses — we appeared somewhere in the water and the first they saw of us was me walking up out of the ocean carrying Allison. They called an ambulance when I collapsed and they took us to the hospital. But I don't remember how we got out of the ship, let alone to an island three or four thousand miles away. We were hoping you could shed some light on the subject. "I am sorry, My Lord," he said. "I fear I cannot help you." "Don't worry about it," Allison said. "I'm just glad it turned out the way it did, regardless of how you managed to do it. Now then, Walter; I need you to play sentry for a while..." Everything went fine for the first two tests; just a couple quick steps, into and out of dreamspace. Holding the foam vertically in front of me, or even out horizontally across my chest and along my outstretched arms was fine, but I got a real shock when I held it out in front of me by one end. I arrived on the beach with about three feet of foam in my hands. It then occurred to me that I had moved through too quickly to see where the problem had occurred. I suspected it was on the way in, not on the way out of dreamspace, but I wouldn't know for sure until I found the other end. Moving back to the patio, I found the other end lying on the deck, and I was really glad she had suggested testing the limits of this particular gift. I would have been devastated to arrive back at the apartment and discover I had destroyed a masterpiece of art. I picked it up and took it to the beach to show Allison. "So now what do we do?" I asked. "Now the serious experiments start. Let's see if you can actually affect the shape of your energy field. Go back and get another one, hold it out the way you did this one, then take a couple minutes and concentrate on moving it here. When you're ready, try it again, and we'll compare the pieces when you get here." I watched closer this time and everything seemed fine as I went through. I didn't even realize anything had happened until I arrived and we compared the two pieces. At first I didn't see a difference, but when I went back to recover the missing piece and held the two up, the second one was about an inch longer than the first one had been. "Okay, that's something anyway," she said. "Now try this: go back, get another one, hold it up against your body — as much contact as you can get, same drill — concentrate on bringing it, then just flip one end out and make the transition." It worked! "I thought that might do it," she said. "Objects in contact with you apparently absorb — or become infused with — some of your energy. This time... " she handed me both halves of one of the test pieces from before, "hold these against you for two minutes, then extend one as far out to one side as far as you can, wait one more minute, hold the other one out, and then transition." The one with less exposure came in shorter. "Damn," she said, smacking her forehead with her palm. "I don't know which part caused it. I should have run them separately. It could be two minutes wasn't long enough, or it could be the energy faded. It could even be you had expectations. Okay, I want you to practice with this and see if that makes a difference." "What exactly am I practicing?" I asked. "It's hard to say without Lizzy here to watch, but I think what you're doing is controlling the shape of your field. At the moment I'm more concerned with the result, namely being able to move an object, or a person, quickly. I'm pretty sure you had help getting me to Tahiti, but we can't count on that, so ... Stick with the foam and other expendable items until you can just pick one up and take it without thinking about it. Then move up to something bigger and heavier; something the same basic shape as the painting would be a good idea, since you don't know how much time you'll have when you go for it." Made sense to me, but then — it was Allison. "Okay. Now the fun part — you can practice that more on your own later. For now, give me a few minutes to get back to the house, and then meet me in the cabana with Lizzy and Christine." Why was she so excited about this? It didn't take long to find out... "Okay," Allison said when I arrived with the others. "What we need to do is see if there is a way to ... catch, one of those little proto-patterns, energy balls, whatever you call it, or at least direct where it's going to land — hopefully without destroying it in the process. Several questions immediately come to mind: Can we do that here? If we can do it here, does that mean it will work out there as well? Does the proto-pattern require a living pattern to cling to, or can it attach to anything? Is there a way to extend its 'life', meaning if it can attach to an inanimate object — something without a pattern of its own — is there a way to keep the energy viable long enough to use it?" "Use it for what?" Christine asked. "I can think of several uses actually," Allison said. "I just don't know if any of them will work. I do happen to have a specific one in mind right at the moment, but I can't tell you what it is. Sorry." "That's okay," Christine said. "Don't have to be a rocket scientist to figure out I don't know everything that's going on. I am the new kid on the block after all." "Don't let that bother you," I said. "I've been here since the beginning, and I still don't know what's going on. What exactly are you trying to do, Allison?" "I want to see if the energy can be ... preserved, or controlled — even just moved around; I want to see how long it will survive if we don't let it just fade away. This is as close to a controlled environment as I think we can get for now." I caught movement out of the corner of my eye and turned to find Widget walking across the bed towards us. "Ah, right on time," Allison said. "Two questions: First, did you know she was coming? Let me rephrase that. Did you feel her coming?" "No, but I wasn't really paying attention either." "Not paying attention or didn't think to try?" I rolled my eyes. "Okay, both. What's your point?" "I'm wondering if her having that little extra bit lets you know where she is the way you seem to with the rest of us. I'm also wondering — and this will be harder to verify — if she can actually move here on her own, or if she is only following Christine? I'd also like to find out if she can follow Christine into a dream that you didn't pull her into." "You mean, if I fall asleep and slip into a dream without any help, can she still come to me?" Christine asked. "Exactly. We need to know the extent and limitations of the changes. The good news is that it's something you can experiment with on your own. Meanwhile ... Jimmy, you need to do something about her. Her chasing my experiment around would be a problem. Can you send her home or put her in a cat carrier or something?" "Actually, I'd like to try something else," I said. Moving to the bed, I sat down and stroked Widget's back. She arched slightly against my hand. "We have work to do," I said. "Are you going to behave yourself, or do I have to send you home?" She turned and stared at me for a moment, then got up, moved to the head of the bed, and curled up on one of the pillows where she lay staring at us. "Okay, that's just weird," Christine said. "But not that surprising," Lizzy said. "She carries a piece of your energy; how much of it is yours or Jimmy's even I can't tell, but I don't think it's unreasonable to suggest that it's having an effect on her either way. After all, the first thing she did was follow you guys here. She also seems to have adapted pretty well." "Well, I don't have a lot of first-hand experience," Allison said, "but it's my understanding that cats are the center of the universe, or at least they seem to think so. Maybe she doesn't see any reason why the same rules shouldn't apply here. Meanwhile, Jimmy, Christine, we need to get on with this." "Allison? Please don't take this wrong," Christine said, "but you're really spoiling the moment. I've never been much for clinical kissing." "You seemed okay with it the other day," Allison said. "Yeah, I know, but that was different, more spontaneous; we were all curious about what was happening ... This just seems more like ... pure research, and I don't know if I can ... Do you understand what I'm saying?" "Oh, totally," Allison said. "In fact, let's just get that out of the way right now. Try giving him a nice, hot, clinical kiss. I want to see if emotional content has anything to do with the reaction. I'm betting it will, but I'd rather know and not have to guess, so go for it." "You are a very strange girl," Christine said. "Have you been peeking?" Allison asked. "Come on, quit stalling; suck face already." "You can't win, Christine," I said. "It's best to just humor her whenever possible, and I don't care if it's clinical or not, I'm still going to enjoy kissing you." We moved together, and I laid one on her for scientific advancement. Judging from Lizzy's reaction, I had to assume that Allison was right — emotional content was required. She was also right in that we'd needed to know that. "Okay, that answers that question," Allison said. "Now let's get serious." I looked at Christine and she looked at me. Romantic this was not, but I stepped in anyway. She met me half way and while it was a very nice kiss ... ehhh, no. "Hey!" I asked. "How about a little help here?" "And that would help how? Jimmy, she's just not into it." "Okay," Allison said. "What the hell was that? We need a little fire here." "She sounds like she's directing a porno," Christine laughed. "I'm sorry, Allison; it's just not the same. The other night I wasn't expecting anything, but this is more..." "This time you know what's going to happen, and a part of you is worried about it," I said. "And you're not used to being treated as a lab rat. Don't worry, it gets easier over time, and when you think about it, this isn't such a bad experiment to get stuck in." "Maybe it's performance anxiety," Lizzy suggested. "Making out in front of a crowd at a party is different from doing it on camera for a movie or something." "Okay, let's take a break then," Allison said. "Christine, I know this is all new to you, so don't worry that you're disappointing us or anything like that. We don't want you doing anything you're not totally comfortable with, and we can always make the scene a little more appealing, too — maybe put the two of you in a glass elevator stuck forty stories over Time Square or something. Lizzy, can I see you for a moment?" She pulled her a little ways away, combed a strand of hair out of Lizzy's face, and started talking softly. "I've been wanting to tell you something for a while now. It's kind of been on my mind, and I wanted to share with you." "What's that?" Lizzy asked in a concerned voice. "This," Allison said softly, and then she stepped in close and brushed her lips against Lizzy's. She then reached up and put her hands on Lizzy's face and repeated the motion — just quick, soft brushes around her mouth before finally sending her tongue out to tease at the older girl's lips. It wasn't long before Lizzy's tongue came out to play, and within a few seconds things were getting a little smoky around the edges — if you know what I mean. Then the hands started moving on both sides, and I was starting to worry about damage to the structure when Allison pulled back and said, "Could you excuse us for a little bit? We'll try again later." Then they both just vanished. "You know she did that on purpose, right?" I asked. "She just wanted to try and break the mood and see if she could loosen you up a little." "Yeah, I kind of figured that," Christine said. "Did it work?" Her kiss answered the question very thoroughly. "Okay!" Jamie said. "Now that's what I'm talking about!" I felt her moving forward, and once more we were sharing Christine's lips. It had the usual result. Within a few seconds Christine's breathing became labored, and I knew she was getting close. Suddenly her hands were in my shorts, cupping my butt cheeks and pulling me hard against her. She broke the kiss and laid her head on my shoulder, gasping and groaning as she ground herself against me. "They're going to come back," I warned her. "I know," she panted, rocking against me, "I know ... but not right away. Ugh, god ... so close, I just need..." The words cut off as she returned to kissing me, her tongue again invading my mouth, only now there was a definite sense of desperation to the kiss. Reaching down I grabbed her ass and lifted. Instantly, her legs were around my waist for support, but that wasn't all she was after, not by a long shot. The kiss never wavered as I walked forward and pressed her hard against the wall. As soon as she hit, I put a small shelf with a pillow on top, under her butt, and small padded tables to either side so she could release her legs again. She did, spreading them wide and pulling me tighter against her. Her hips began to move more forcefully, and within seconds she was on the edge. I also noticed that I was suddenly in jeans instead of the swimsuit I normally wore here, and she was in a loose tank and bikini panties. "Good idea with the jeans," I told Jamie. "Wasn't me, bro," she replied. "I think she did it." "Please?" Christine begged. Jasmine would have been proud of the way I simply said, "No," and pressed the bulge in my pants harder against her. Her hands had once more found their way to my ass, pulling me hard against her, adding to the pressure; I could feel her fingernails trying to dig into my cheeks, and if it hadn't been for them suddenly being encased in heavy denim, I might have been in trouble. "Jimmy, maybe you should consider giving her what she wants," Jamie suggested. "I know what I'm doing," I said. Instead of just letting her hold me to her, I now began thrusting myself against Christine's groin, grinding myself into her with each movement. The tank top vanished suddenly and the panties started to go with it, but I but them back and made sure she couldn't get rid of them. I thought she was going to protest but apparently she was so lost in her efforts to reach her climax that she either hadn't noticed or didn't care. Soon she was gasping for air; eyes closed and teeth clenching every time she closed her mouth — which was happening less and less often as she had to open it to get the air she needed. Then it happened; her breathing stopped, she leaned into me hard, hands clenching to hold me close, no longer pressing but just holding me still as she moved against me. I could feel several of her nails penetrating the skin on my butt — so much for the jeans protecting me — but this was a dream, and I knew she couldn't really hurt me. The sound started low, just a rumbling sort of groan as the air was slowly squeezed from her lungs. Then she took a fast breath, and the sound continued — climbing in pitch and intensity as the sensation built. With a last gasping breath, she peaked, peaked hard, and all physical motion ceased; her face was a rictus mask as a ragged scream of ecstasy was torn from a throat that sounded like someone had recently taken barbed wire to it. Then her spine arched, and her head snapped back so hard it left a dent in the wall. If this hadn't been a dream, she would have likely knocked herself out. She passed out anyway, but it wasn't from hitting her head. It was always bizarre to think of someone 'passing out' in a dream. If it was an unconscious environment already, then... , but then again — we weren't sure that's what it was anymore. It was just a fleeting thought that ran through my head — this was hardly the time for speculation, after all — as I caught her, laid her on the bed to recover, and turned to face the girls. Lizzy and Allison had never actually left. The kisses were just to distract Christine and, hopefully, turn her on a little. Obviously, it had worked. Fading to invisibility was just so she wouldn't feel like she was performing in front of an audience. The girls were now visible again and watching a ball of silver-white light that was floating in the air between us — a rather large ball of light. "Well, I guess that answers the question of content making a difference," Lizzy said with a giggle. "Bigger than last time?" Allison asked. "Oh, please!" Lizzy scoffed. "That was like ... softball sized at best." This one was closer to three feet and hung suspended in the air about five feet off the floor. "How are we seeing it?" I asked. "My idea," Allison said. "While we were invisible, I had a stroke of genius and suggested that Lizzy project an image of what she was seeing into the dream. I don't know why we didn't think of it a long time ago, and I'm dying to see how she sees all of us, but that will have to wait until later. Right now it's perfect for this. First things first, I think it would be best if Christine didn't wake up again until we're through. Second, I want to see if it's possible to touch it without it attaching to one of us. I figure you're our best bet since you're the strongest one here and all, so see if you can touch it without letting it connect itself to you." I moved forward, and the ball started to drift away from me a little. With a thought, I stopped it, and it seemed like that was all it took to attract it to me. I held up my hand, and it actually came to me. As soon as it touched my hand, the color changed, the silver-white intensity taking on more of a blue-white color with a hint of gold at the extreme edges. "Cool!" Lizzy said. "When you touched it, it changed to match your energy signature. But now what do we do with it?" "I have a variety of ideas," Allison said, "but my first thought is of a practical nature — see if you can take it out to the apartment with you." "How am I supposed to do that?" I asked. "Once I leave I won't be able to see it any more." "Oh yeah, sorry, got carried away for a second." "Bring it to the dorm," Lizzy said with a laugh. "I'll be able to see if it's still with you or not. Maybe you can give me one of those kisses while you're there." "He does and we're not going to get any work done," Allison pointed out. "Spoil sport," Lizzy said, scrunching up her face and sticking her tongue out at Allison. Then she was gone, and I could feel her waking up in her dorm room with Amber. "Okay, I haven't got the slightest idea how this is going to work," Allison said. "I guess just concentrate on taking it with you when you cross back over, then pop over to Lizzy's and see if it follows you or not. Then come back and let me know how it went." I kissed her, took my new toy and headed for the apartment. I wouldn't know for certain if it had come with me until I tried to take it to Lizzy's apartment. I made sure Christine didn't wake up as I got out of bed and moved towards the door, but as I passed the end of the bed I noticed that Widget was awake and watching me. The door wasn't really necessary, but I found they made really good transition points — especially when moving between actual rooms. I figured Lizzy had had enough time to prepare by now, so I stepped out of her closet. She was there waiting for me, sitting on the near bed, so she wouldn't disturb Amber. I don't know how the two of them do it, but they usually share one of the twin size beds — usually the other one, unless they had trashed it and didn't feel like fixing it before they went to sleep. I stepped close, so I could whisper to her. I wasn't worried about Amber, but voices carry, and I didn't want anyone in an adjoining room to hear me. "Did it come with me?" "Yep, still there. Now what about my kiss?" I started to kneel down by the bed, but she stopped me — holding up her hand and rising. "No, I don't trust myself if you're that close to the bed — or even the floor; I'll come to you." She moved into my arms, and once again it was like a piece of me that was missing had suddenly returned. I had to stop for a moment just to catch my breath. "Whew!" Lizzy said, and I felt her tremble slightly. "Maybe Allison was right, and this wasn't such a good..." I cut her off by pressing my lips lightly against hers. Time passed, but I don't know how much or exactly what happened while I wasn't paying attention, but I was suddenly snapped back to reality by the distinctive sound of Amber's orgasm. Just as had happened the first time, we had ended up on our knees, only this time on the carpeted floor next to the bed instead of in the sand. Pulling away made me dizzy, and I had to catch my breath, but my concern for Amber helped me focus. Lizzy seemed to still be struggling to clear her head as I turned to check on Amber. When my eyes finally focused she was lying on her back, one arm stretched across her forehead, the other stretched down the front of her, clutching the bottom of the t-shirt she had worn to bed. I could hear her labored breathing from eight feet away, and as I watched she first curled in and then stretched out again. "Oh, God!" she whispered intently. "Where did that ... Lizzy?" Amber sat up suddenly, and I could almost feel her panic at finding herself alone. That was enough to snap Lizzy back to reality. "I'm here, Amber!" she whispered intently, struggling to rise to her feet. She didn't get far and had to settle for stumbling onto the bed. Instantly Amber's fear turned to concern, and she started to rise. "Lizzy, are you ... Oh!" The change was almost palpable when she saw me kneeling next to the bed. "Hello, Master," she giggled. "Well that pretty much explains everything. God, if that happens every time you two kiss ... Are you okay, Mistress?" Lizzy flopped over on the bed and stretched herself full length, causing her shirt to ride up, exposing her panties and bare tummy, and making my breath catch at the sight. Inside me I could feel Jamie responding. The wave of unthinking animal passion was quite a rush. In my mind I had a vision of her as a sleek white lioness set to pounce. Fortunately there was a heavy gold collar around her neck. I quickly grabbed the dangling chain and pulled hard. "Easy there, Sis" That was all it took, and suddenly it was Jamie crouching naked on the other end of the chain. As I watched, she shook her head and let out a long breath. "Wow!" she said. "Fuck ... me!" She rolled her eyes and stood up; the collar vanished, and a long summer dress appeared to cover her. "Thanks Jimmy. That was close. I guess Allison was right." "You guys okay?" Lizzy asked, her voice laced with concern. I glanced at the bed, and she was still sprawled out but more relaxed now. "Oh, I gotta go," Jamie said, and a fresh wave of lust washed over me. It was nothing like before, but still... "I'll see you back at the cabana." "Jimmy?" Lizzy said. "I'm okay," I said. "Jamie, I'm not so sure about." "Yeah, I could see that," she said. "Where did she go?" "Back to the cabana." "Ooh! Allison's there, hope she didn't have any serious plans." "Yeah, no kidding." I sat on the bed and ran my hand up her thigh and across the smooth expanse of her stomach. "How about you, you okay?" "Wow!" She said with a smile, reaching down and pulling my hand up where she could kiss it. "That was nice, but I can see we're going to have to be really careful in public." "Yeah, I guess so. Jamie said something about Allison being right; does that mean she saw this coming?" She rolled her eyes. "Yeah. The other night she said she was worried about what was going to happen when you and I stopped torturing each other and got physical. God, even Frankie's wasn't that bad." "You'd just met," Amber pointed out, "and it was a public place. I'd say you're a little more comfortable now. Way more comfortable! Did you say Allison saw this coming?" "Apparently," I said. "We better get back; she's going to want to talk." "You think that's a good idea?" Lizzy asked. "Maybe we should give them a little time." "No," I said, shaking my head. "It'll be fine, trust me. Amber, if this bed were bigger I'd invite you to stay, but it's not, so ... back to bed." "Yes, Master," she rose and immediately curled up on the other bed again, snuggling into her pillow and closing her eyes. I stretched out next to Lizzy, and she moved to snuggle under my arm — kissing my cheek before settling down with her head on my shoulder. I sent Amber into a quiet darkness where we wouldn't disturb her again — well, unless we did that again — and took Lizzy back to the cabana with me. Allison and Jamie were relaxing together in the sunken pool. "Just couldn't resist, could you?" Allison said. She was trying for anger, but the light in her eyes and the smile ruined the effect so it just came out as sarcastic. She cocked her head and looked at Lizzy. "Believe me now?" "Oh, yeah," Lizzy said. Changing into a bathing suit and stepping down into the water, she cupped Jamie's cheek in her hand and asked, "You okay?" Jamie smiled up at her "I'm fine," she said, biting her lip. "You almost weren't, but I'm okay now." "Love you too," Lizzy said, leaning in to hug her. I don't think I was supposed to hear it when she whispered, "You don't have to wait just because we are, okay?" She pulled back and looked her in the face, and Jamie nodded. That was when the phone rang. I let out a sigh and answered, "Hi, Bob." "I'm guessing we have you to thank for that?" "Yeah, sorry about that." "Oh, don't apologize on my behalf," he said. "Did we miss the wedding, or did you change your mind about waiting?" "Neither," I said. "That was just a kiss?" he asked, his voice suddenly laced with concern. "Well, not just a kiss." "I see," he said. "A kiss as opposed to a kiss?" "Yeah, one of those." "That's a little scary." "Apparently Allison thinks so too. Lizzy said she tried to warn her about the two of us getting physical. I don't have the details. She's here; do you want to talk to her?" "Well ... er ... yes, but perhaps not right this moment... , but I think soon would be a good idea. Let me know if you notice anything else. I'll try and find out if Susan and Roxy reacted if I can." "Okay," I said. "You might want to check on Mel and Lynn as well." "Really?" "We're not sure, more curiosity than anything else; they were there for Shannon..." "Ah, good point. I'll see what I can find out. Yeah, well, gotta go, talk to you later." I put the phone away and turned to Allison, "You want to wipe the 'I told you so' off your face?" She just smiled. "Jimmy, even I didn't expect this, and if it got Bob and Rebecca, I'm a little surprised that Christine didn't react." "She may have," Jamie said, "but we were holding her asleep, so it may have just been a normal dream for her. Have to check the sheets when we get home, though. After that little party earlier, and now this — she's going to think she wet the bed." "You can check the sheets when you get there," Allison said, standing up. She stepped out of the water and was instantly dry. "We've still got work to do. Where's your ball?" Lizzy and I looked at each other. "You left it at the apartment? You know, Jimmy, you really must keep better track of your toys. That's okay though; this part is going to be real world anyway. Lizzy, when he touched it earlier, you said it changed to match his pattern. How close was the match?" "What do you mean?" "I mean if you were on the other end of the beach and it was in front of him would you know it was there or would it blend in?" "Oh. It's not the same as his pattern, it just took on the overall characteristics; color, that sort of thing. Allison, you don't think Amber is in any danger, do you? You don't think it would attach to her like what happened with Widget?" "I doubt it. I think once Jimmy touched it, it keyed to him and can't bond to anyone else, but it wouldn't hurt to go back and check. Of course, without him there, it may have faded away by now." "You mean we'd have to start over and make a new one? Aw, poor Christine! I'll go check." "While you're at it, look for something around the apartment you wouldn't mind losing. I want him to try something, but if it goes wrong you may not get it back." "What exactly am I going to do?" I asked. "Same thing we did earlier, only I want you to push that ball of energy into whatever she picks and then see if you can move it, without touching it, either to the apartment, or the beach ... no, probably not the beach, there may be people there now. Either move it to your apartment, or bring it to my bedroom." She turned to Lizzy. "That's why I said something you wouldn't mind losing." "How about my underwear?" she said. "I've wanted to lose that to him for ages." "I was thinking of something a little bigger," Allison said with a smile. "How about a pillow?" "Got anything bigger?" I asked. "We've already done stuff close to that size." "How about my old bean bag chair? It's been in the closet since we moved. There's no room for it with Amber and me both there. I should have never brought it in the first place." "Perfect!" Allison said. "Bring it to my room, I always wanted..." She stopped, and her shoulders slumped. "No, I'd have to explain it to mom and dad. Take it to the apartment." Lizzy stepped up and kissed my cheek. "See you there." "Any last minute instructions?" I asked Allison after she was gone. "Try to ignore the fact that your sweetie is half naked and stay focused on the task at hand. Jamie, do you trust yourself, or do you want to stay here?" "I'm okay," she said, stepping up out of the water. "I'll go along and keep him out of trouble." "Yeah, right" Allison said. "Like that'll work." Jamie stepped into me, and we went back to join Lizzy. I was a little sad when I woke up and she wasn't still cuddled in next to me, but ... We were there to work after all. I was surprised to find her dressed, though. Apparently she caught the look I gave her. "I thought it might be safer if I wasn't flashing so much skin while you're trying to work." I grimaced and said, "Yeah, you're probably right. I liked the other outfit better, though." "The beanbag is still in the closet, do you want me to drag it out?" "Might be a good idea," I said. "If this doesn't work, I'd hate for you to lose a shoe because it got caught." "Good point, and you just know it would be an expensive one too. Let me get it out for you. Oh, and Amber is fine, your little toy was right where you left it. Which is right..." she moved over and held her hands out like she was holding something, " ... here," she dropped her arms, "and apparently you're thinking about it because now it's right over the bed." A few moments later, there was a bright orange blob in the middle of the floor. It seemed a little bigger than I remembered the ball I was working with to be, but I didn't know if that would actually matter. In my mind I pictured the ball of light sinking down into the chair. "Is it moving at all?" "Yeah, in fact it moved really fast. One second it was floating next to you, the next it's around the chair. Seems to have gotten all of it: try to concentrate and make sure you only get the chair, okay? I'd hate to have to explain a big round hole in my carpet, or worse, the floor." "Right, good idea." Okay, crunch time. I pictured the cabana, specifically visualized the chair going with me, and stepped through the doorway into the closet. I was surprised to find myself well into the room instead of just inside the door, but then I realized what that might mean and turned around. Sure enough, there on the floor behind me was the chair — or something that looked like the chair. "So far, so good," Allison said. "Can you check with Lizzy to see if it really left?" "It did," Lizzy said, appearing on the bed. "I knew you'd want to know, so I put myself out again right away. Allison, you should probably go on ahead just to make sure." "Make sure of what?" "I don't know," Lizzy said. "Just seemed to make sense. Or you can wait here but I thought you'd want to see it. Of course it may be a good idea to make sure no one opened the door or anything too." "That part does make sense. See you in a minute." Then she vanished. "Okay lover, off you go." "Back in a second either way," I said, kissing her — carefully — and stepping forward through the door that was suddenly in the middle of the room. Once again I found myself well into the room — so far in that I almost fell onto Allison's bed. "That was sloppy, Jimmy," Allison scolded me. "You saw what happened in the cabana; you should have adjusted so you'd come in next to the bed. What if you'd popped in a foot farther forward? Would you have materialized inside the mattress?" "I don't know," I said. "My point exactly, you don't know, so until you do know, be more careful! The good news is it seemed to have worked. Man, that is one ugly chair. Take it back to the cabana; I need Lizzy to see what comes next. I'll be right behind you." I moved back and waited with Lizzy until Allison arrived. "Okay," she said, getting right down to business. "Lizzy, I need you to look at the chair and tell me if anything is different about that ball of energy." "Different how?" she asked. "I have no idea," Allison said, shaking her head. "I can sort of see a hint of it surrounding the chair, but that's about all." "I can't see much more," Lizzy admitted. "Jimmy, do you think you can pull the energy away from it again?" "Got me," I said. "I'm just as new to this as you are." But I focused on the ball and pictured it floating free again. Since we were back in the dream, I got to watch it sort of ooze out of the bag and float free again. Lizzy was right; it moved fast. Can you call it oozing if it's happening fast? "Cool," Lizzy said. "To answer your question: no, I don't really see any difference at all." "Really?" Allison asked excitedly. "No change at all? No diminishing, no apparent fading? Nothing like that?" Lizzy shook her head. "Nope, looks just like it did before." "Way cool!" Allison said. "That could be very handy, especially if the next part works. Jimmy, focus on shrinking the ball — more like compressing it really. You remember how Lizzy used to describe rolling up aluminum foil? Think of that and see if you can roll the ball smaller." I didn't actually have to roll it; I just reached out and put my hands on either side of it and pressed them together; the ball seemed to shrink as I moved my hands. "Wow!" Lizzy said. "That is so cool." "Congratulations, Jimmy, you now have a compact ball of energy that you can use to move physical objects through space with you." I didn't know what to say, so I just went with what I was thinking. "Awesome! I'm going to save a fortune on airfare. I can just take my luggage with me wherever I'm going." "It gets even better," Allison said. "Although I want to do some serious testing before we actually try it, there is a damn good chance you could move one of us with you. Maybe even more than one." "We already know he can do that," Lizzy said. "That's how he got you off the ship. Lucky he didn't kill you in the process; if part of you had been outside the field..." I felt a little sick at the idea. I wished Walter had remembered something. "So what gave you this idea?" Lizzy asked. "Did your friend Brandiy tell you about it? I'm assuming that's where you been getting some of your recent insights." "You assume correctly, but we didn't talk about this. Most of what she does is just confirming my own speculations; like all she told me about Christine was that the analogy I was looking for was a dandelion. What got me thinking about this was the fact that Jimmy always shows up with clothes on." "Ah, I see," Lizzy said, nodding her head. "You're right, and I should have thought of that myself. Moving himself is one thing; for his clothes to come with him would require something more." "Right," Allison confirmed. "My first thought was that the objects were absorbing his energy, but now, this experiment seems to indicate they are being infused with it, since there is no apparent loss and — as far as I can see with my limited vision — no residual energy left behind. There are still a lot of other experiments we'll need to do before we really have a handle on it, but recognizing the potential is a good place to start. It would be a heck of a lot easier if I could actually see this stuff myself. Until I find a way to do that, I'm afraid I'm only going to be able to do serious work and testing when you're around. And since our only source of experimental material is Jimmy and Christine..." "Oh, I think it's safe to say that Christine will be a voluntary participant," Lizzy said. "Especially if it means she gets to do that every time." "It would certainly work for me," Allison said. "God that was hot! Jimmy, it was obvious she wanted you inside her, why didn't you... ?" "Give her what she wanted?" I asked, finishing for her. "Christine likes to play the submissive once in a while. She likes the illusion of being controlled or used. If she didn't, that wouldn't have worked at all; she would have just gotten frustrated and mad; two things I don't ever want a lover to be — not on my account anyway." "Does that answer your question as well?" I asked Jamie. "Yeah, I'm sorry, I should have realized what you were doing; I just wanted inside her so bad." "No harm done. I hope you had fun." "Oh yeah, definitely. I little more on the finish would have been nicer... " "So what are we going to do with this bean bag?" I asked. "Well, as you could see, I don't have room for it, and it takes up a lot of room in our closet, but at the same time, I don't want to get rid of it. Can we leave it here?" "Ooh, good question!" Allison said. "Very good question, and I'm very interested in the answer. If it works, then we'll have proof not only of a stable environment but also that this space is a physical reality somewhere." She stopped and thought for a moment. "I wonder if that's when it happened?" "What?" I asked. "After the fight with Rene, when you needed to heal, this is where you crossed over to. I was just wondering if that was when the environment became stable and self-sustaining." "You mean it became a stable, physical reality the first time he came physically into it? Wow, does your mind work this fast all the time?" Lizzy asked. "How do you sleep?" "Well my favorite method is endorphin overload, but lately I've had to resort to counting sheep." She was looking at me when she said it. "Hey, you're three or four hours behind me, so as long as you don't go to bed too early, just let me know when you want company, and I'll be happy to snuggle you to sleep. I just need to make sure Christine is out so she doesn't wonder where I went." "So what happened back there?" I asked Jamie when we were alone again. "You mean when I ran away?" She asked sheepishly. "I don't know, but you saw her ... just laying there stretched out in just those skimpy little panties and her shirt crawling up her chest and ... mmm!" I detected a shadow of the lust that had momentarily consumed me before. "Yeah, I saw it," I said, "and it was a sight, no doubt, but we've seen her in a lot less — usually naked or damn close — lots of times before. Why now?" "I think a lot of it had to do with what had just happened," she said, "and the same question applies to that as well. We've kissed her lots of other times, some of them pretty damn hot, and that's only ever happened the one time before. Well, twice if you count Frankie's but even that was nothing compared to the engagement kiss." "I know what you mean," I said. "I was thinking that just like with Christine earlier, intent and commitment to the act have a lot to do with it. You may not have caught it, but I wanted to rock her world with that kiss. I just got more than I bargained for, not to mention how fast it happened. I wanted her to feel it, but..." "Yeah," was all she could say. The ensuing silence hung between us for a few moments before she asked, "Jimmy, would you be okay if I ... I mean if we ... Lizzy and me that is... ?" "Absolutely," I said. "Lizzy's right, and — if you remember — I said the same thing when all this started: just because she and I are waiting, doesn't mean you have to." She blew out a big sigh, "Cool, because..." "Yeah, I got it, thanks," I said dryly. ------- Chapter 21: Passing the Time I made a point of looking busy for the next week; running here and there, asking questions and such. Jamie was right about me needing to learn how to do this job in the real world, or I was never going to look credible. So, with that in mind, I cheated. I bridged everyone I'd met in the field, starting with Rebecca — the best investigator I knew — all the way down to the Davidson brothers, Avery Clark, and his partner Franklin Reynolds. That gave me the basis for some of my daytime activities, and I'm sure the Davidson's in particular were laughing at my attempt to pick up information from ground they had already covered. It was very instructional, even if I didn't need it to find the painting. Meanwhile, I sent Walter to look over Ceres' place in Costa Rica, so I would know what to expect when it came time to get the painting. There were five people living on the estate: a middle-aged couple and their three sons. The men kept the grounds, doubling as a security force, while the woman took care of the house. They had a separate house of their own on the property, just far enough away to be out of sight of the main house. Power was from a generator on site, and it only ran long enough to keep the refrigerators cold and allow the woman to vacuum. It looked like the best time to do the job would be while she was cleaning in another part of the house. The best part was that there was no phone; they would have to travel into the nearest town to report the theft. With luck, this would all be over before anyone had a chance to contact Ceres. While the days were spent looking into Ceres, his company, and any hint of where a million dollar work of art may have disappeared to, the nights were spent working on the legal arrangements with Jamie. After my conversation at the club with Tony, I decided to go a different route with the paperwork. A late-night visit to a professor teaching family law got the project assigned to his class as an exercise. A few discreet inquiries got me the names of the judges most likely to hear cases concerning the group of soon-to-be-orphaned girls. After the professor had pared down the best examples, I had three of the likeliest judges review the documentation that the class had drawn up for Amanda and Diane — two fictitious children whose parents were worried about their futures and in need of a family to take them in. The problem was that the family was very wealthy, and if anything happened to the parents, the girls would inherit an obscene amount of money. Having hypothetically found a trustworthy, loving couple, who cared very deeply for the girls, the parents now needed iron clad paperwork to assure none of the less savory relatives had a chance in hell of challenging the paperwork and hijacking the girl's futures. As the judges came up with possible arguments, I passed them to the professor, who then challenged the students to correct the problems. There was one girl in particular; Maxine, who was very sharp, and I predicted a very bright future for her. All of this was done at night, of course, in carefully crafted bubbles; far from anywhere any of them might actually remember the details. Once I had exhausted all of the arguments, I had the professor send the paperwork to a judge he happened to know in the Vegas court system — an alumni of the school — to go over it as part of Maxine's final grade. Then there was helping Allison with her research. This included practicing working with a ball of energy I couldn't see, using it to move a variety of different objects around until I was comfortable enough working with it that I wasn't worried about destroying a priceless work of art. I rented a medium sized storage unit to practice in. My plan was to use it to store the painting in until time to turn it over to Intersure. As Allison had instructed, I also practiced moving things with just my personal field. I very quickly discovered that using my own energy tired me out a lot faster — a fact Lizzy confirmed on one of my visits. She also confirmed that our little adventure the other night had had widespread effects. In addition to all the usual players — including Mel, Lynn, and Susan — waking up horny, Roxy had reported having the most amazing dreams. She couldn't remember exactly what they were, but she attributed her overall feeling of well being to them. Lizzy also reported — and Amber confirmed — that several of their neighbors in the dorm had apparently caught some of the backlash as well, waking up horny and frustrated. Apparently, in one case, the two roommates discovered something new about themselves. We also found out that since the energy ball had 'keyed' itself to my energy signature, no one else could do anything with it. As usual, the same was not true for balls that the others touched. Allison had been right about Christine enjoying her role in all of this. She very quickly got over her performance anxiety, trading it instead for the wonder of discovering new things. Don't get me wrong; it's not like she was an overnight exhibitionist and we did it in front of everyone, but she had no problem with the idea of sex for scientific advancement — especially after Lizzy showed her what they looked like. She looked like a little girl seeing her first sparkler on the fourth of July. Interestingly enough, the balls would not attach to Christine or even key to her pattern. Of course, since they already were her pattern... Allison took the next ball that we created; it was small, like the first one Widget had destroyed. The most significant discovery we made initially was that — unless I prevented it — the proto-patterns attached themselves to the first person that touched them. Unlike what had happened with Widget, they did not merge with the person's pattern; they just keyed to and adhered to it. There didn't seem to be any ill effects from the contact, but they couldn't get it off either. I started to see if I could remove it, but Allison stopped me and said she wanted to leave it for a while and see what happened. We were surprised to see that it had faded and disappeared by the next night. Mine was still going strong, but — as Allison was quick to point out — mine had started out a lot stronger, so it might take longer to fade. Besides, it was keyed to my pattern, and there was a good chance that that made a difference as well. How much difference, we would have to wait and see. Allison had expressed a desire to see what difference a bigger bubble might make if it was allowed to attach to someone besides me. Apparently, she had several theories she wanted to test out, but she wasn't ready to discuss them yet, so for now all we could do was observe. As a precaution, any bubbles we made in the real world I immediately banished to dreamspace to disperse. I didn't want to take the chance that something we couldn't see might get away, or even that someone visiting might walk into it since they couldn't see it. Some of the bigger ones took several days to fade out. The changes in Christine worried me. Don't get me wrong — it's not that I was unhappy about them, but ... I don't know ... it's hard to explain. I guess you could say I had mixed emotions. I had really expected her to take the apartment I had offered her. Again, I wasn't unhappy that she was staying with me, but — after what that asshole, Brian, had done to her — I was really surprised that she would consider moving in with someone again — especially someone she had just met and really didn't know. I'd never admit it to her, but my first thought was that Jamie had been playing games and stacked the deck when I wasn't looking. But she knows how pissed I would be if I found out, so I'm giving her the benefit of the doubt. I've been tempted to bring it up one night with Christine and just ask her about it, but this little voice in the back of my brain keeps telling me to leave it alone, and if there is one thing I've learned, it's to pay attention to the little guy. So I decided to just let it ride for a while and see how it went. God, did I just say 'let it ride'? Vegas must be getting to me. There were other advantages to her being there as well, and I'm not talking about the sex. Lizzy had been right on the money — go figure — in pointing out the mutual benefits of our being together, regardless of whether or not we shared an apartment. With school and planning for her future, the last thing Christine had time for was relationship hassles, and as for me ... ugh! Don't even go there. The difference was that where I was a sort of 'perk' for Christine, I — as Jamie so succinctly put it — sucked at being alone, and having Christine there would go a long way towards keeping me out of trouble. Or at least that was the hope. And then there were the security concerns. With Henslith running around out there planning god only knew what, I was a lot more comfortable having Christine where I could keep an eye on her without it looking like I was stalking her. Not knowing what that bitch might be up to was a constant, nagging worry at the back of my mind, and if it wasn't for the fact that I really don't sleep anyway, there's a good chance that it would have been keeping me up at night wondering when and how she would strike next. The most enlightening and magical time occurred when I took everyone to Elizabeth's dreamspace, and she let us see ourselves — and each other — as she saw us. Of course we had no idea what we were looking at, and at first couldn't even tell each other apart. I also spent some time finding out the truth about Tanya, her niece Missy, and everybody's favorite doctor — and Tanya's personal nightmare — Victoria Essex. Sweet Victoria was the first truly sadistic person I think I had ever met. At least the Sandman had been insane. Essex had no such defense; she just liked to hurt people, which was odd considering her choice of vocation. Once upon a time, Victoria Essex had had a brother, and apparently her brother got the looks for both of them because he was as handsome as she was plain. This, of course, attracted the bouncy, bubbly, ultra-cute girls. As you can imagine, it wasn't pretty growing up 'Icky Vicky'. Eventually, Grant — her brother — had gone and actually married one of the pathetic little airheads; a girl he had known for many years, and one of the worst of Victoria's tormentors. Her name was Jessica, and she was Tanya's older sister. Before long they had a little girl who appeared to have inherited every 'cute' gene either of her parents had possessed. Tanya was halfway through college when Jessie and Grant died in a traffic accident. At some point legal documents had been drawn up leaving everything to Missy and naming Victoria as her guardian — Missy had been three at the time. Tanya knew full well how Victoria and her sister had felt about each other and could not imagine why Jessie would leave Missy in her care, but there was nothing she could do, and Victoria had made it very clear that if Tanya wanted to be a part of her niece's life, there was a price to pay. Victoria Essex was a smart woman, and she had paid attention when spending time with her brother and his young bride. One morning while she was visiting, and everyone thought her still in bed, she had overheard a conversation between Grant and Jessie. They were discussing the rumors of Tanya's college life. They had both attended the same college she was and still had contacts there, so it hadn't taken long for them to confirm the rumors about Tanya. After the accident, Victoria made it very clear to Tanya exactly what would be expected of her if she wanted to see her niece. It had also been made clear that if she did not do exactly what she was told, Missy would bear the punishment. Considering she was a doctor, she knew a lot of ways to inflict pain without leaving signs, and how to make someone sick — or even kill them — without leaving a trace. Tanya didn't believe that one. She watched CSI, after all, and they always found evidence. "Oh, please," Victoria had laughed. "I'm not talking about poisoning her. Where would be the fun in that? I don't care if she lives or dies, but watching you watch her die, knowing that there is nothing you can do and that you could have prevented it? Now that's entertainment. What do you think? Hepatitis? HIV? Those could take years..." Their time 'together' had gotten steadily darker ever since. Stealing the painting was the simplest part of the whole project. Thanks to Walter's reconnaissance, I would have been able to walk right into the entryway while the maid was vacuuming upstairs, but I wanted to leave a trail showing me coming into the house. That way, they could waste some time trying to find me before they reported the theft. I picked a spot not too far out and stepped out of the shadow of a tree on the edge of the first grove of coffee trees facing the house. There was about fifty feet of open space before you reached the driveway and then another fifty or so to the front door. I took my first picture from there. The grass was fairly well tended but still damp from overnight, which was perfect for what I wanted and would make it clear where I had entered. Once I reached the driveway, the grass was shorter, and the trail would be harder to follow; but if you knew what you were doing, it shouldn't be hard to tell where I had crossed. I know this is going to sound weird, but just as I was about to step up on the wide porch I got the strangest feeling I was being watched. I stopped and turned around, but there was no one nearby. "That was weird," Jamie said. "So you felt it too? Nice to know it wasn't just me. Let's do this and get out of here." The feeling came again as I was opening the door, and I was just about to turn when I caught a reflection in one of the glass panels. There, standing in the open area behind me, was a guy straight out of National Geographic. His skin was that classic dark, South American bronze color, and his only clothing seemed to be a loincloth — although he had several pouches and gourds strung here and there from around his neck and shoulders. He also wore several necklaces, but I couldn't tell what they were made of in an eight-inch reflection. His feet appeared bare, and he carried a long, crooked staff — which appeared to be covered in intricately carved patterns and had several feathers dangling from the top. There were other things dangling from it as well, but I didn't think I wanted to know what they were. As I said, you couldn't really tell in the small reflection, and when I turned for a closer look, he was gone. Turning back, I noticed the reflection had disappeared as well. The latex gloves I had brought made it safe to open the door, step into the entryway, and start taking pictures of the inside of the house. I wanted to make sure there was no doubt someone had been here and hopefully to show that it was in fact Ceres' house. Then it was time to retrieve the Lady. There was a little problem getting the painting down as it was mounted a little higher than I expected — Walter was taller than me and I was using his reconnaissance after all — but fortunately the piano bench was right there, so it wasn't that bad. I set the painting carefully on the floor and moved the bench back where it belonged. As I did, I got that feeling again. "Don't turn around," Jamie said. "In the mirror." There was a small mirror tucked into a bookcase on the side opposite where the painting had been hung. At the time I couldn't think of why it might be there. It seemed such an odd place to put a book-sized mirror. Later, when I mentioned it to Allison, she just shook her head and said, "Boys. It's so you can see how you look before you answer the door." It made total sense, but at the time I had no idea. All that mattered at that point was that from where I was standing, the mirror reflected part of the next room, and framed in the mirror stood my mystery man from the yard. I could make out more detail this time, though not much. His face and body seemed to be decorated in elaborate patterns using what could have been paint or even tattoos. Some of the patterns, though, were scar tissue. I stood looking at him for a moment, and he seemed oblivious of my scrutiny — watching me rather than the mirror. After a few seconds I turned to face him, and he was gone. A couple of quick steps into the next room confirmed that he had in fact vanished. "Okay, that's just freaky," I said. "Yeah, no kidding, like you said, let's get this done and get out of here." I could still hear the vacuum running upstairs, so I took the painting over to the door, and then checked outside to make sure none of the help were visible. When I opened the door, my attention was immediately drawn across the open expanse, to the edge of the field where I had stepped out. There, in the shadow of the trees, was my mystery man again. He remained still for a moment, staring at me, before turning and walking back into the trees. When I say they were coffee trees and that it was a field, the natural tendency is to think of the nice, neat rows of a fruit orchard somewhere. This was nothing like that. The whole area was pretty heavily overgrown with brush, and the trees were not carefully manicured and planted in neat little rows. They were in rows, but the rows themselves were not even, nor was there that uniform spacing you see in a domestic grove. And then there were the spider webs to consider. They ranged in size from about twelve inches up to several feet in diameter, and many were actually strung between the rows. If I ever needed to torture someone with arachnophobia, I would just drop them in the middle of a coffee plantation in the dark. I'm not phobic about spiders myself by any means, but just thinking about it gave me the willies. As a result of all this, I completely lost sight of my mystery guest within seconds. Since I needed to establish a definite in and out trail, I quickly moved down the stairs and across what passed for a lawn to the point where he had disappeared, and looked around. There was no trail to follow, but a couple of feet in, I spotted one of the feathers from his staff. As if things weren't weird enough, it was in between the second and third rows of trees, and there was a gigantic spider web between me and the feather. And no, I didn't see him duck under the web when he went through. I on the other hand had to get down on my hands and knees in order to get past the web without disturbing it; which I really didn't want to do. I wasn't bothered by it, but the thing was a work of art in its own right. "Well, at least we weren't imagining the whole thing," I told Jamie as I tucked the feather into my back pocket for later study and made my way back to the painting. Right now I had work to do. For what seemed the thousandth time in twenty-four hours, I wished I could see what I was doing. Hovering somewhere about my person was a ball of energy. I released it, and — as I had practiced — pushed it toward the painting, while picturing in my mind the image of it stretching into the shape I needed. The ball was my backup. I couldn't risk using it alone since we didn't know how long it would last, and it was already ancient compared to all the others we had made. For the most part, I would be relying on my own energy field. I had been practicing with four by eight sheets of plywood, so the painting shouldn't pose that much of a challenge. Still, when you're dealing with million dollar art works, I don't think you can be too cautious or careful. After waiting a couple seconds for the energy to sort of 'soak in', and complaining one final time about working blind, I picked the painting up and stepped across the line of shadow cast by one of the bigger trees and into the cabana. A couple more steps took me into the darkness of the new storage unit, and I set the Lady on the special easel I had set up. I wanted her out of here and into someone else's hands as fast as possible, but there is only so much you can do on a Sunday, so I covered her up and left her alone in the dark. Monday morning, right after I sent Christine off to school, I called Intersure and was greeted by the cheery voice of their receptionist. "Good morning, Celia," I said. "It's David Malcolm. Is Miss Blake available?" "Good morning, Mr. Malcolm, let me check for you." The hold music was a piano concerto, and it reminded me that I wasn't going to get a chance to hear Ceres play for his Blue Lady. Celia came back on after about a minute. "I can put you through to Miss Blake; have a nice day, Mr. Malcolm." "Thank y..." I got cut off as she transferred the call. "Veronica Blake." "Good morning, Miss Blake, how was your weekend?" "Depressing," she said. "I spent most of it counting the hours until I have to pay out on a million dollar policy. Please tell me my week is about to improve." "That depends," I said. "Can you get your hands on a van on short notice?" Dead silence, and then finally, in a voice that sounded like it needed water, "Tell me you're not joking." "I hope not, but I haven't checked yet," I lied. "If it's where it's supposed to be, can you authenticate it yourself, or do you need someone else for that?" "No, we have professionals for that. David, please tell me you're not joking. You have 'Femme en Bleu'?" "As long as your information was correct, and there are no copies floating around, then yes, I'm serious, and a little anxious to get rid of her; how soon can you meet me?" "Meet you?" she asked. "Meet you where?" "A self-storage unit not far from here." "A self ... You left a million dollar painting in self-storage?" Her voice was a mixture of shock, outrage, and I think the last was fear. "Are you insane!?" "It depends on whom you ask," I answered. "According to my therapist, I'm just horribly misunderstood. So can you get the van, or do I need to rent something? Is there any kind of special padding I should get? I wonder if it would fit in my trunk?" I had the odd feeling in my head that Jamie's sides were hurting and tears were running down her face. "What? No! I'll bring everything. Where should I meet you?" She did bring everything: a van, a specially designed museum delivery box, two armed guards, and a photographer to document the event. I was half afraid she was going to wet herself as she waited for me to open the door. The painting was far enough back that it was hidden in shadow until the door was fully opened. You could just make out the legs of the easel below the black cloth I had draped over it to keep dust off. If I'd thought of it, I would have gone out and bought something the same size to put in front of it: "Dogs Playing Poker" or "Elvis on Black Velvet" maybe. The look on her face when I pulled the sheet off would have been priceless. Not that there was anything wrong with the look on her face now. I'm not sure how long she had been holding the breath, but I knew when she let it out. Then she was hugging me. "Hey, I like this job!" Jamie said. "Behave yourself," I said. "Where did you find it?" "Ceres' retirement estate in Costa Rica," I said as I pulled out a small envelope that contained the imaging card from my camera and showed it to her. I had been careful to wear gloves whenever I'd had to handle it and wipe it down a final time —, just in case — before dropping it into the envelope. I'd purchased a new card for the camera before I went south to Ceres' place. The camera had come with a 2 gigabyte card in it, but I wasn't going to need nearly that amount of space for my purposes, and smaller ones were cheap enough that it wouldn't matter if they gave it back to me or not. Besides, I couldn't be sure if Atkins' people had used it before — wouldn't want any embarrassing images to show up later. It was a really nice camera, too. Eight-megapixel resolution and a case full of accessories — I was going to have to take a photography class just to learn what they were all for. Based on the ones I'd seen in the shop at the mall where I had snapped the shots of Avery and his partner way back when, this bad boy was cutting edge and had to cost a fortune. One really nice thing about stealing hardware from agencies that don't exist is that most of the stuff comes without serial numbers. Sweet! Veronica's face was blank as she took the little envelope from me and handed it to the man with the camera that had been taking pictures of everything. "I'm not going to ask," she said. She turned to the team waiting by the van. "Alright, let's get this back to the office for inspection and authentication." "Do I need a receipt?" I asked. Tuesday's paper had two items that caught my attention. I had been avoiding the paper on purpose as planned, but I made an exception just to see the story. The first was a picture of Ceres being arrested at his local estate. Most places that wouldn't make the front page, but it had apparently been a slow news weekend, and he was one of the wealthiest men in Vegas who didn't own a casino, and he had been caught trying to defraud an insurance company for a million and a half dollars. When I got to page 8 to finish reading the article, I discovered that I was going to be getting my full fee. They had printed one of the photos of me uncovering the painting. They had also spelled my name wrong; shocking, I know. The second item caught my attention as I was leafing through to finish the article about Ceres' arrest. Apparently a local doctor had committed suicide. Nurses had discovered the body early Monday morning as they were opening her office. Due to the grisly nature of the find, the police had treated it as a homicide. However, based on the nature of her injuries, the angle of cuts and so forth, the medical examiner concluded that she had apparently been in the process of performing a hysterectomy on herself. Evidence found at her residence suggested that she had been taking several anti-depressants which she had prescribed for herself as well. Her niece, whose name was being withheld since she was a minor, had been taken in by child services pending the location of her next of kin. "Surprise!" Jamie said. "A little more gruesome than I planned on, but either way, that bitch deserved it." "You won't get any argument out of me. What did you do?" "Oh, I've been a busy little bad-girl. While you and the others were learning to juggle proto-patterns, I was busy pushing buttons here and there around town. Seems Essex in particular has been living on the edge for some time. It was pretty clear she hated women, so I just kind of helped her to extend that revulsion to include her own female parts." I needed to have a talk with Jasmine, as this would impact her as well. "Yes," Jasmine said when I called. "I have just read the story. Though few will miss her, I am sure Tanya will be upset to have lost one of her best customers." "She doesn't know?" Jamie said, obviously as surprised as I was. "Apparently not," I said, then turned my attention back to Jasmine. "Yes, I'm sure she will be. I'm sorry for interrupting your morning. I know how much you and May like your morning naps after a long night at work." There was a moment's hesitation. "That is true," she said. "May and I do indeed value our quiet time, but as this concerns one of my girls, I do not mind the interruption. Perhaps we can speak again later." I took a few minutes to rearrange the furniture into something more suitable while they settled themselves to rest, and then I pulled them both into the cabana. I even opened up the side so they could see out into the lagoon. "Lady Jasmine, you honor me," I kissed her hand and then handed her into one of the bamboo papa-san chairs I had set up. I then kissed May's hand and held it as she knelt on the cushion I had placed next to Jasmine's chair. "Tea?" I offered. I had a service set up near the door with water heating over a small can of fuel. "Yes, thank you," Jasmine replied. "It would be my honor to serve you," May offered. I glanced at Jasmine for permission and when she nodded said, "Thank you, May." I settled myself in the chair across from Jasmine, and we waited as May made tea for us both, serving Jasmine first, as both her Mistress and my guest. As I was the host, Jasmine waited until I had taken a sip before she did. May waited until we each sipped ours before starting a cup for herself. "This is a lovely setting," Jasmine said conversationally. "Thank you for inviting us. I gathered this was a matter of some urgency." "Yes," I said gravely. "There is news I must share with you regarding Tanya's relationship with Dr. Essex. You truly did not know their relationship extended beyond the House of Seven Willows?" Anger flashed in her eyes. "No, I did not. It is forbidden for the girls to see patrons without going through the house. I cannot protect them otherwise if..." I held up my hand and said, "Not in that way. Victoria Essex was Tanya's sister-in-law. Tanya's older sister was married to Victoria's younger brother. Understanding dawned. "Ah, I see." I shook my head. "There is more. Tanya is the spy you have suspected was among you. You see, the couple had a daughter, Melissa, whom Victoria got custody of when they died. Doctor Essex made it clear to Tanya that if she wanted to be a part of Melissa's life there would be a price, and that if she did not go along, then Melissa would pay the price for her. That is why Tanya played the dangerous games with her, not because she wanted to, but because she had no choice. If she had refused, Essex had threatened to take it out on Melissa." Jasmine's eyes were closed, and she shook her head ruefully. I could sense her distress, but it was May who offered the comforting touch on her hand. "It is not your fault, Mistress," May said, standing suddenly. "If there is fault, it is mine. I spend far more time with the girls; it is I with whom they share their confidences and troubles." She folded her hands in front of her and bowed her head. "Forgive me, my Mistress, I have failed you." "No, May," I said. "I'm sure Tanya was very, very, careful not to ever say or do anything that might have given it away. Did you know she wanted to be a teacher?" "Yes," Jasmine said. "She expressed the idea many times, but I thought it only a passing fancy since she never made any attempt to pursue the calling." "She couldn't afford it," I said. "You are mistaken," Jasmine assured me. "Tanya was very well compensated by all of her clients." "Essex took it all," I said. "She barely left her enough to live on." Before answering, she reached up and stroked May's arm. "You are not at fault, sit." "Thank you, Mistress," May said, returning to her accustomed spot as if it had never happened. "If Tanya is her last surviving relative, then perhaps she will get it back now and be able to pursue her dream." "Sadly no," I said. "Victoria recently bought her way onto the board of our favorite church. That took pretty much all of her liquid assets, and she was in debt up to her fillings for her practice. There wasn't anyone she cared about providing for, so she didn't bother with life insurance. If there is anything left, it will go to Melissa, and Tanya will have to justify anything she uses the money for to a judge somewhere. The only good news is that she and Melissa are free. Melissa had no knowledge of Essex's involvement with the church other than attending every Sunday. As a single parent, they felt it would be too hard for Essex to monitor her by herself. If you look at the people involved, they are almost all single income families where the wife stays home. There are exceptions, but not..." A stray thought intruded, and my pulse jumped. Shit! This was bad. "What is it?" Jasmine asked when I suddenly stopped. "Lady Jasmine," I said very seriously. "It suddenly occurs to me that it might be a good idea if we got them both out of town and away from here as quickly as possible. The church may not trust that they really didn't know anything, and I'd hate to see a follow up in tomorrow's paper about the tragic ending where Tanya — distraught at the loss of her last living relative — took her own life, and that of her niece, rather than face the challenge of raising the girl alone." "Oh shit!" Jamie said. "Why didn't I think of that?" I stood. "Thank you for coming. I'm sorry I have to leave, but I think I better go make a call. Please feel free to stay as long as you like. You will find that everything works here as if you were in your own dreams." I went straight for my secure phone and called Rebecca. "Hampton." "Hi, it's me. If Atkins calls, you told me to call her. I'll explain later." "Shit. This can't be good. Aren't you worried that one of these days she's going to figure out that you're really the mystery man in all this?" "No, not really, I'll see you later and explain." I didn't even say goodbye; I just hung up, switched phones, and dialed Atkins. "David Malcolm," she said when she answered. "I certainly wasn't expecting to hear from you." "I've got a situation that I need your help with. I called Hampton, and she said to contact you." "Hampton asked you to contact me? Why would she do that?" "Something happened on a case I've been working for my source. I can't reach him, so I called her for advice. When I told her the problem, she said to call you. Does the name Elliott Bastion ring any bells?" "You're working on Bastion?" She said, obviously shocked and not very happy at the same time. "Two words ... make that three. 'Stop' and 'leave town'. You have no idea what you're up against here." "I could argue that, but I don't have time. I need two women moved immediately. Check the local news for yesterday — you're looking for Doctor Victoria Essex. I need her niece and her ex sister-in-law as far from here as I can get them as fast as possible." "Why?" "Because not only was Essex one seriously sadistic bitch, but she was a board member of Bastion's Church. She's been using her guardianship of Melissa to abuse Tanya — Missy's other aunt — ever since she got custody of her niece. Raising Melissa alone would have made it too hard to monitor her, so — with Bastion's consent — Essex made sure neither she nor Tanya knew anything about what really went on with the church. My concern is that with Essex gone, Bastion may not trust that they really didn't know. I need them moved somewhere he can't get to them. Someplace they can make a fresh start would be nice." "I don't see how any of this involves me," she said. "Come on, Atkins," I said. "Their lives are in danger, and you know it. You can move them without anyone knowing you're involved. I'd have my contact do it, but I can't reach him, and I'm afraid they may not have time to wait." Somewhere there was a field of crickets that had missed their chance to get in on the soundtrack to this moment. "Tell me you're not thinking of using them as bait," I said. "I'm not," she said. "I won't say it didn't cross my mind, but I'm not. But this is going to cost you." "No deal, I'll go to the local FBI and tell the truth. I'd rather not involve Spencer, because that would mean telling her about Bastion, but she can get them out of town, and I can use my own contacts to get them IDs. I have done this before, you know." I could almost hear the click as a piece fell into place in her head. "You know where the girl is!" "Goodbye Miss At..." "Wait!" she screamed. "Okay, I'll get them out. Do you have a preference where they go?" "Not right away. I'll talk to Tanya and see where she wants to go later. Right now I just want them gone. What can I do on this end?" "Can you handle transport? As you say, I'd rather not involve the locals if I don't have to." "Done, but can you maybe talk Spencer into letting us use the company jet to get them out? I'd rather not leave a trail if I can avoid it. These people are persistent when they're hunting for a leak. You know what happened last time. If someone hadn't taken steps they might have found the girl, so I don't want these two waiting around the airport either. They're going to be freaked out enough as it is just wondering what is going on and why they have to leave." "I'll take care of it. How are you going to get them to go with you? Do they know you?" "No, and I plan to keep it that way. I can't be seen with them without risking Bastion finding out about me. I have a friend who has a friend who knows someone who knows Tanya. You handle the jet; I'll take care of the rest. Tell Spencer to call me; I'm going to need someone to get them through to the hangar. You've got my number if anything comes up." I hung up, switched phones again, and hit another button. "Good Morning..." "Janelle," I said, interrupting. "It's David Malcolm, I need Tony right away, is he in?" "One moment please." I made a mental note to send her some flowers for being rude. "David, it's Tony, what's up? Janelle said it was urgent." "Very urgent, maybe even life or death; I need someone to go to Children's Services with Tanya and make sure she doesn't have any problems picking up her niece." "Tanya? Which... that Tanya? I didn't even know she had a niece. Why would there be a problem?" "I'll have to explain that later. I'm going to call Jasmine and see if either she or May can go with Tanya. I want her to have someone there she knows she can trust." "Won't you be there?" "No, I can't be seen with her or anywhere near her. It's part of that explanation that's going to have to wait. Once you have them, head for the airport and call me." "The airport? Christ! Okay, just have someone call me, and I'll meet them over at CSS." "Thanks, call me when you've got them." I hung up and called Jasmine. "I do not think it would be wise for either May or me to be seen with Tanya at this time," Jasmine said in measured tones. She sounded neutral, but I knew there was a lot of emotion just below the surface, and it was taking all of her control to keep it there. Jasmine knew the history of Hightower's little group and was justifiably worried about Tanya's fate if we didn't get her out of harm's way, but she also knew that the risk extended to her and the others if anyone thought she was involved in Tanya's disappearance. "You're right," I said. "I should have thought of that, but I can't be seen with her either, and — even if I could — she doesn't know me. I need someone she will be comfortable with and trust." "I could send Cherise," she suggested. Perfect! Cherise worked with Tanya at the House of Seven Willows. If Jasmine sent her, Tanya would go along with whatever she said. "Great, how soon can she be there? I'm having Tony meet Tanya at Children's Services, so she doesn't have any problems. Tell Tanya she needs to take whatever documentation she has that she's really Missy's aunt." My other phone beeped. I looked, and it was Spencer's office. "Jasmine, I'll have to call you back. I need to take this." "I will do what I can and await your call." The line went dead, and I answered the other phone. "David Malcolm." "It's Spencer; what the fuck are you involved in this time?" "I can't..." "Never mind, it was a rhetorical question; Atkins briefed me — not actually a briefing — but I'm at your disposal, which is not a position I am accustomed to being in, so you better have a damn good explanation because we're going to need to have a long talk when this is over! Meanwhile, the jet's being prepped as we speak. Get me the woman's information, and I can get you a court order to release the girl within thirty minutes." "I'll have her call you. Can you get the paperwork over to Anthony Cicarelli's office? I was going to have him go with her so no one tries to give her the runaround." "Done. I'll be expecting that call. Have her call this number and ask for Mrs. Baskerville." She read me the number and hung up. I called Jasmine back and updated her on what needed to be done. She had already spoken to Cherise, and she was on her way to pick up Tanya. Cherise had tried calling Tanya but had gotten her answering machine. Jasmine assured me this was not unusual; Tanya did work nights, after all. I got both of the girls' cell phone numbers from her before I hung up. "Do you think we should go check on her?" Jamie asked. "Definitely," I said out loud. I lay down on the couch and crossed over. I didn't bother going anywhere; I just dropped out and focused on Tanya. It only took a second to find her. She was asleep in her apartment, snuggled up to a pillow. Then I was in her dream, and boy, was it a doozy. After so long being at Essex's mercy, Tanya had some very definite ideas about what she would like to do to her, and she was enjoying the fantasy — several fantasies, actually. They came in a jumbled rush, like she couldn't decide which to do first. One of them had Tanya dressed as a nurse handing Essex the surgical implements she was using to eviscerate herself. I didn't wait, just pulled her out of the scene and into another one. In this one she woke up to the phone ringing. "Hello?" I wasn't going for subtlety here. As far as she knew, she was awake and on the phone, but in truth, it was a dream, and in that dream I was sitting — unseen of course — next to her on her bed, touching her free arm to strengthen the connection. "Listen closely, Tanya. Your life is in danger, yours and Missy's both; you need to get up, get dressed, and pack — just a change of clothes and the basics, nothing else. Cherise is coming to get you, and you need to be ready when she arrives. She's going to take you to get Missy. You will need to take whatever documentation you have that she is your niece. As soon as you're dressed, call this number and ask for Mrs. Baskerville. What do you need to do?" "I need to get up and get dressed, pack a change of clothes for Missy and me, and then wait for Cherise to get here. While I'm waiting, I'm going to call Mrs. Baskerville at... ," she repeated the number. "Very good. Mrs. Baskerville is going to ask you some questions. You are to answer all of them. When you get to Child Social Services, you will be met by a man named Anthony Cicarelli. He will help you with any legal issues. As soon as you have Missy, Mr. Cicarelli will take you to the airport where you will meet someone who will take you to a special hanger to board a private jet. Give Cherise your cell phone before you leave. Am I scaring you?" "Yes," she said. "Good," I said, "because you and Missy are in grave danger unless you do exactly as you're told. But being scared isn't going to help anything, so while you will still be aware of your fear, you will not let it bother you; you will be strong and brave so that Missy will not be worried. Do you understand everything I have told you?" "Yes. Who are you? Where are we going? Why do we have to leave?" "I am a friend of your Mistress; that's all I can tell you for now. She is sending Cherise so that you will know that you can trust what I have told you. As to where you are going, that will be decided later, but you are leaving because Victoria had some very bad friends. The information that you gave her about Lady Jasmine was for them, and I am worried that — now that Victoria is gone — they may try to hurt you or Missy to protect their secrets, so I'm sending you away somewhere they can't find you. Trust me, Tanya, and do not be afraid. Now go, I don't know how much time you have." She never even realized it was a dream. I watched as she woke to find herself sitting on her bed with the phone in her hand and immediately stood and started stripping off her pajamas. I was about to let the scene fade when Jamie said, "Wait," "What, you want to watch her change clothes?" "No! Jeez, Jimmy, give me a little credit. I want to go with her, you know, just in case." "And what are you going to do if 'just in case' happens?" "Call you, of course, and then do whatever I can to keep them all safe until you get there. Hopefully, I'll be bored the whole time. Come on, it's not like I've got anything better to do." At eleven-twenty-three they were airborne. Between Tony, the court order, and the US Marshal that Tony had brought along to serve the release order, the red tape parted like the Red Sea. According to Tony, it was a touching scene as Missy was led out into the reception area and saw Tanya. There were tears, of course, but it wasn't just the two of them. "Tanya, where's Aunt Vicky?" Missy asked, wiping at her tears. "Some people came and got me from school and brought me here, but nobody will tell me why." Tanya kissed her forehead and held her so they were eye to eye and said, "Melissa, sweetie, something happened, and Aunt Vicky died, so you're going to live with me from now on, okay?" That got more tears, and Tanya held her tightly as she cried and then picked her up and carried her out to Tony's car. "Are we going to your house now, Tanya?" Missy asked. "Maybe later," Tanya had said, looking at Tony, "but first we're going to go away for a little while." "You mean like on vacation?" "Just like vacation," Tanya said. "Why?" Missy had asked. "Well, because this is a big thing, and I think it would be best if you and I went away for a little while, so we can talk and sort things out, okay?" Tony called me as soon as the plane was airborne to let me know they were gone. He didn't need to. Just as an added precaution I had shadowed them the whole way and I'd watched the plane take off. With Jamie along for the ride, it was no problem keeping track of their progress. I called Atkins first. "Thank you." "You're welcome, now what the hell am I supposed to do with them? We told the FAA the plane was going to Washington, but we can change destinations anytime." "I don't know. I'll have to talk to Tanya first and see where she wants to go. This is going to be a major turning point in her life, and I don't want her to feel like she needs to rush. Now that she's free, I think she'll want to go back to school." "Malcolm, while I do feel for her circumstances, I can't justify..." "Don't worry about it. You've already done the important part; you bought me the time I needed. Here's a thought, take them to Florida — Disneyworld should take their minds off of all this for a while. I can contact her there and talk to her about her future. I'll book her a room and have her picked up." "No, just forward me the information, and I'll have someone meet them. Why are you so concerned about these two?" she asked. "Because I think someone should be, and I just happened to be available." "That was close," Jamie said after I hung up. "Too close," I agreed. "We should have thought of this before we did anything. We need to talk to Allison, see if she can think of anyone else we're going to have to worry about." "The only other people I'm worried about are May and Jasmine. Jasmine knows the truth, and they'll never believe she hasn't told May." "Jasmine takes care of her own security, but maybe we should talk to her and make sure she understands that things are about to heat up." "Does this mean you want me to hold off before anything else happens?" "I don't think so. As far as I can see, Tanya was a special case. It's possible that none of this was even necessary. Talk to Allison, let her know what's happened, and see what she thinks. If she's okay with it, then go ahead." I called special services at the Bellagio and asked if they had any contacts at Disneyworld in Florida. They put me in touch with a woman at Disney Resorts. I explained that Melissa had lost her family, and that I had sent her away with the aunt who would now be taking over raising her to distract her from what had happened and give them time to bond. I told her I thought a week in the Magic Kingdom should do it. She did a quick comparison of prices and decided the cheapest way to go was to just buy them both annual passes. I went a step further and bought the premium passes that gave them access to all of Disney's Florida attractions, and she threw in a week in one of their time-share condos. She also made arrangements to have them picked up by the resort shuttle. I had them hold the tickets under my name, so I could surprise them after they had settled in. I called Atkins back and told her what I was doing, and that Disney Resorts would handle transportation. Once she knew where Tanya was staying, she relented on having her people drive them. I think more than anything she was just trying to keep track of where all the players were. It was late by the time they arrived at the resort. Missy had used up quite a bit of energy bouncing around the private jet before settling down with Tanya and watching the movie Spencer had thoughtfully provided. After checking in, Tanya took them to a nearby McDonald's for dinner before retiring to the condo to try and get a grip on what was happening. Fortunately, distance isn't an issue, and I had no problem establishing another link. Jamie encouraged a little daydream about arriving at the resort and checking in, which gave me what I needed, a clear view of the elevator. I called Jasmine from the elevator and asked her to call Tanya and tell her that a man was coming to see her; that it was safe to let him in, and most importantly, that she could trust him. Then I went down to the concierge desk to retrieve my tickets — figuring that would give her enough time to talk to Tanya. I was in for a few surprises of my own when I finally knocked on the door. "David Malcolm?" Tanya asked in a shocked voice when she opened the door and saw me. "Yes, how did you know?" "I recognized your picture from the paper." She got a sly grin on her face before adding, "Also, Cherise described you in explicit detail after your date. It was you who called this morning?" "Yes," I said. "May I come in?" "Oh, I'm sorry," she said, suddenly realizing we were still standing in the doorway and stepping back. "Please, come in. Missy is sleeping, so we'll have to be quiet. Why are you here?" "Because I thought you might like to know what the hell is going on. I'm sure you've been wondering." "Are you kidding? I have been going out of my mind all day." "Well, you can relax now. You're safe." "Safe from what?" "More like who," I said. "Why don't we go out on the balcony where we can talk without worrying about waking Melissa? It certainly is humid here after Vegas; could I talk you out of a glass of ice water?" I followed her to the kitchen and put ice in two glasses while she filled a pitcher. Then we went outside, and I explained about the people that Victoria had been involved with, the ones that she had been passing the information about Jasmine's activities to. She was appalled to discover what was going on and wept to think that Melissa might have ended up in their hands. She was not the least bit surprised to discover Victoria was involved with them, and she was beyond grateful that I had gotten them away — hugging me and crying on my shoulder. "Why are you doing this?" she asked when she finally pulled away and wiped her eyes. "Many reasons," I said, "not the least of which is that I owe a great personal debt to your Mistress, but that is not important. What is important is that you are safe, and you now have a chance to start over. So you need to think about what kind of life you want to have with Missy. I assume the first thing you'd like to do is go back to school and get your teaching certificate?" "Yes," she answered, surprised. "How did you know?" "I have my sources," I said with a smile. "I'm also a little worried about Melissa having to deal with the loss of her family for the second time. Part of the reason I had them bring you here was to distract her from all that's happened, but eventually it's going to catch up with her. She may need counseling, but we'll deal with that when it comes up. I'm hoping to have you settled before that happens. It's going to take some work, but I think I can pull it off if you'll trust me to make the arrangements?" "What kind of arrangements?" "Just the basics," I said. "A place to live, arrangements for school, that sort of thing." "Mr. Malcolm, as much as I'd love to go back to school, I can't afford it. Victoria only left me enough to scrape by on. If I can't go back, then I don't even have a job, and I have Melissa to take care of now, so even if I could go back..." I could see the tidal wave rising as she thought about all of it. "Oh my god, how am I going to... ?" The tears were coming again. I put my hand on hers and said, "Tanya? Didn't Lady Jasmine tell you to trust me?" "Yes," she said, then shoved both palms against her eyes and said softly, "How am I going to explain to Jasmine that I betrayed her?" "Okay, let's back up," I said. "First of all, please, call me David. As for Lady Jasmine: she already knows, and she understands; otherwise why would she have helped me get you away safely?" "She did?" she asked. "Yes," I answered. "She is the one who sent Cherise to be with you, after all. Tanya, it's going to be all right. Now, you're both going to need clothes. Do you have a credit card?" "No." "That's okay; we may need to change your name anyway, at least temporarily. This will hold you over for now... ," I handed her an envelope. Inside was five hundred dollars in cash, the receipt for the two Disney passes — they would get permanent passes with their pictures on them the next morning at the concierge desk — a four hundred minute prepaid phone card, and my business card. Her eyes popped when she opened it, "David, I can't..." "Tanya," I said sternly. She subsided, and I went on, "On the back of my card is Mr. Cicarelli's number. Call his office tomorrow morning, and he'll overnight a limited power of attorney to you. It will need to be notarized; just check with the concierge's office, and if they don't have one on staff, then I'm sure they can point you to one. That will authorize him to arrange for movers to get into your apartment and also into Victoria's home to gather Melissa's things. We'll just send it all to storage until we get you settled. Tanya, everything is going to be okay. I want you to relax, spend time with Missy, and let me worry about everything else, okay?" She didn't know how to thank me, so she offered me the only thing she felt she had. "No, Tanya'" I said, lifting her off her knees and hugging her. "I'm flattered that you would offer, and I will admit to being very tempted, but I would feel like I was taking advantage at a time like this. If you still feel this way in six months, all bets are off, but now ... no, I can't accept." I kissed her cheek and stepped back. "I have to go; I have to get back to Vegas before anyone realizes I'm missing and wonders about the timing. Call me if you need anything, okay? Even if it's just to talk. Don't worry about the time or anything else; just call, or if you can't reach me, call Mr. Cicarelli's office." She walked me to the door and kissed my cheek before I left. I checked the time on my phone, adjusted for the different time zone, and decided it wasn't too late to make another call. Colleen Forrester was the only person at the school besides the Dean — and Lizzy of course — who knew the details surrounding Amber. She had been very impressed with my stepping up and providing for Amber's future, and had been very helpful in getting her set up. She had even been the one who had placed her with Lizzy — who by an odd coincidence, had just lost her roommate. Imagine that... "Mrs. Forrester? Hi, it's David Malcolm. I'm sorry for calling you at home, but you said to call if I ever needed anything, and I was wondering if you could do me a favor?" ------- Chapter 22: Steps Tuesday night Christine and I dressed up to hand out Halloween candy with Doreen. We had been invited to join Tony and Tina at a costume party they were attending, but I didn't think Christine was quite ready for that show yet. Now if Amber had been there... Later, after the candy and kids were all gone and we called it a night, I went to see a young boy named Bobby. He had indeed come a long way in the last year and didn't need Walter to look after him any longer. The first thing I noticed was that the dream was not a cartoon this time. He had apparently moved on to real-life drama instead. He still stuttered in real life; a year of talking normally in dreams — twenty years of it — wasn't going to change that; it was a biological problem, and dream therapy couldn't help that. What it had done was give him the confidence he needed to look beyond it, and beyond the people who — out of their own ignorance, fear, or, in some cases, outright cruelty — made fun of it. Apparently, the aunt that had suggested all he needed was a good scare had made the comment again. He boldly stood up in the middle of dinner, and, in broken sentences, pointed out that it was a biological condition, best described as a short circuit in the brain, and that — if she would put down the remote control and haul her fat ass to the library instead of the refrigerator — maybe she could offer a better suggestion next time. You could have heard a pin drop, but his parents didn't stop him. Naturally, Aunt Stupid was pissed and told him he should watch his mouth. He then took a deep breath, closed his eyes for a moment, and said very clearly, "I have been watching my mouth. It's one of the different types of therapy they've had me experimenting with, and — while I still need practice — if I concentrate on singing instead of talking, I can keep the stutter out. Maybe if you concentrate really hard, you can stop being such a bitch, and then maybe people would invite you over sometime besides big family gatherings where they feel obligated to, but secretly hope you'll get sick or have other plans and not be able to make it." That little speech broke the ice on several long conversations that other family members had wanted to have with her for years. There were a lot of tears, but the general tone was positive, "We love you sis; we just can't stand to be around you." Apparently she was working on it. Then I met with Lizzy to see what kind of progress she was making on finding a place for the girls to live the next year. The realtor that Mrs. Forrester had recommended had shown her several properties not too far from the campus, but then she had suggested that Lizzy consider a different approach. There were some new condominiums just coming on the market about half a mile from the school. The advantage of this was that they wouldn't have to worry about maintenance. Plus, as they were new and still in the first phase, they would more than likely appreciate considerably by the time the girls graduated, making them a great investment as well. "This is turning out to be quite an interesting little harem you're putting together," Lizzy joked when I told her about what I had in mind for Tanya. "Oh please," I begged, rolling my eyes. "Do not go there." "She offered, didn't she?" It wasn't really a question. "Yeah," I said solemnly. "She did. She figured it was all she had to offer." "And you told her no," she said, shaking her head. I could hear the pride in her voice. "Do you have any idea how special that makes you?" "Do you have any idea how much I'd rather it didn't?" "Yes," she said decisively. "I do. Live long enough and maybe you can have a positive influence on the species. I'm so lucky you're mine. You do realize that you did it again, don't you?" "Did what again?" "Oh Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy... ," she said, shaking her head. "A hot, beautiful, young woman, offered you sex and you told her..." Suddenly it hit me. "Ohhh, nooo!" I moaned. "Not again." "Yep, and you gave her a six month time limit. Given Tanya's idea of a good time, I think you might want to consider talking to Jasmine about some more advanced classes." "God, this is so not what I wanted," I said, shaking my head. "I know," she said, kissing my cheek. "Don't worry about it; you can always just turn it over to Jamie and go play with the dolphins. I'm sure she would be happy to fill in for you." "No doubt," I said. "I could never do that, though; it would be a lie. Like making a date with a girl and having your twin brother go out with her instead. Jamie can come with me and play if she wants, but I have to be there." "God! You are such a great guy! I'm so lucky to have you." She gave me a squeeze and then said, "I've been thinking more about what Allison said." "Allison says a lot of things; were you thinking of anything in particular?" "About our first time, and I think she's got a point." "You think she's got a point?" "Actually, I'm afraid she may have a point. So I think we either have to find a very secluded mountain somewhere, or maybe a boat." "Considering that last kiss, I can't blame you," I said, kissing the top of her head. "I've kind of been thinking about it myself. How about if we just go to the cabana?" "Do you really think we can?" she asked. "I mean like, really go to the cabana?" "We already know I can move physical objects, and apparently I took Allison through at least once." "I've been thinking about that," she said. "With everything else that's been going on, I wouldn't be surprised if you had help there. Maybe you should have Allison check with her friend before we try it. That would be really cool, though, if you could; although it didn't really help that first time," she pointed out. "Yeah, that was the one drawback to the plan. So then that got me thinking. Do you know that you can rent whole islands for your honeymoon?" "Jimmy! You can't be serious. That would be sooo expensive!" "No, actually it's not. Island getaways like Tahiti, Fiji, Bora Bora, Polynesia — they're mostly archipelagos; those are chains of islands, in case you've forgotten your basic... ," I caught the look she was giving me, " ... and as I'm sure you know, islands come in many sizes. But did you know that if you want, you can rent a small island, fully equipped, of course, with your own private cabana, private beach ... the works? Some of them actually strand you there, so you're stuck with each other. They bring food over on a boat to restock and take away the dirty dishes, but otherwise you're on your own." "Mmmm," she purred, thinking about it. "That sounds nice, but what about Amber?" "I could sneak her in after they left," I suggested. "And how would you feed her?" "Or we could just be up front and tell them food for three." "Oh, yeah, I could see myself explaining that to my parents." "Well, it is a resort, and they always overfeed you anyway, I'm sure we'll be fine. Heck, I could always just pop back and pick something up if I had to. Anyway, it's just one idea." "It's a good one; I like it. Should we set a date?" "Don't I have to ask your dad first?" "Oh, that should be fun," she said with a smile. The smile didn't bother me as much as the look in her eyes. Why was that idea so funny to her? "And just when were you planning to do that?" She asked. "I don't know. It's really hard to schedule things too far in advance these days. Were you planning to go home for Thanksgiving?" She stared at me for a couple seconds. I don't think she'd realized I was serious until that moment. "I hadn't really given it much thought," she said. "Now that you bring it up, though, I guess it's something we should talk about. I have no idea what Amber wants to do. I don't know if she can make it at her parents for the whole weekend, and I'm sure they'll want to see her. Maybe if you went with her..." "No, that wouldn't work. For one thing, they'd want to know why I wasn't with my family. Plus it's too close to home; the protective custody story wouldn't hold up. Personally I think she'll be okay. She's come a long way; I think that first trip was the turning point for her, but if she starts having a problem, I can always have Jamie go stay with her during the day, and once she goes to bed, I can sneak in and stay with her if necessary." "Oh yeah, great idea!" she said, rolling her eyes. "You, sneaking into her bedroom — at her parents' house — in the middle of the night, and what happens if you get caught? What if her mom is just overwhelmed at having her there and barges in for a hug or just to look at her? Or, God forbid, Tim decides to try and sneak in to talk to her." "She could always lock the door," I suggested. "Jimmy, most kids don't have locks on their bedroom doors. Out of all the girls I knew, only a few had them. Coincidentally, they were the ones that never knocked before they barged in on you either. Once — when I was having a sleepover — Sally Peters opened the door when four of us were buck-naked in my room, changing. My dad was right behind her in the hall heading for the bathroom. He was so embarrassed he went to a hotel for the rest of the weekend. Turned out Sally was a bit of an exhibitionist, and she did it on purpose, but that's a different story. My point is that it may not be that easy. I think we need to talk to Amber about this. She'll go if we tell her to, but then you have to accept the possibility that we may actually have to punish her if she can't make it through the weekend. I personally don't want to be in that position." "Me neither," I admitted. "I prefer to only have to punish her for recreational purposes. Why don't you broach the subject and see how she feels? Then we can get together and talk about it." Frank and Irene Watkins died Halloween night when Frank apparently tried to beat a train on the way home from a party. Samantha had stayed home to take Rachel trick-or-treating. The next few weeks would make or break the plan, testing the legal arrangements as well as the response of the enemy to the shake up. Of course, it would be harder as time went by. You'd have to be blind to not see a pattern to so many members of the same church suddenly having fatal accidents — especially so soon after making arrangements for just such an eventuality. The police would naturally be suspicious, so would Bastion, and it should be interesting to see him struggle to maintain control when his people started getting scared. This was going to bring on exactly the kind of scrutiny Bastion's group was most interested in trying to avoid. The police would undoubtedly question why so many people suddenly felt pressured to make legal arrangements for the care of their children if anything should happen. The couples whose care the newly orphaned children suddenly fell to would undoubtedly be questioned, and when they were, Bastion would find his own teachings quoted as the reason. Following his sermons stressing the importance of service and sacrifice for the benefit of others, many of his followers had felt an almost divine urge to find another couple who shared their beliefs and would care for their children should the worst occur. Apparently, Frank and Irene had a great deal of respect for Doctor and Mrs. Hendricks, while at the same time feeling sorry for them because they didn't have children of their own. It had taken a little work to get Kathy Hendricks to accept the arrangements. In the end, it was the idea of having that kind of control over Samantha that tipped the scales. Now that things were clearly moving forward, Allison decided to tell me about that other experiment she had in mind. There were two, actually. The first was to let another proto-pattern attach itself to her and see if I could remove it. Then she wanted to see if I could force an attachment between a ball and a particular person even it if was already keyed to me. I had an idea where she was going with the idea, and it turned out I was right. We needed Lizzy's help since even adding the colored shell, we still lost them once they passed the surface of Allison's skin — whether they merged or not. Removing the smaller pattern from her was all but effortless, although she suspected that might be because it was so new — the connection that is. The only problem was that removing it also meant destroying it. I wasn't destroying it to remove it — I was actually trying to be very careful — but no matter how careful I was, as soon as the pattern was completely free, it dissolved. As for the other way, once keyed to me I could send it into her and take it out with no problem — shocking I know — and since it was already keyed to me it didn't take on the attributes of her field. I asked what the point of the experiment was but, apparently, Allison wasn't quite ready to reveal why she had wanted to know these two particular things. "So what now?" I asked. "What do you mean?" "I mean that can't be it. There has to be a reason you wanted to know this." "There is, but I'm not ready to go there yet. Well, I am, but I think it's too soon." She held up her had. "Don't ask, okay? I should be ready in about a week, and then we'll take the next step." Tony called me late Wednesday morning, sounding more than a little hung over, to let me know he had received the power of attorney from Tanya and was arranging for the movers to pack up her apartment. He also told me that Janelle said thank you for the beautiful flowers and that she was going over before the movers to handle packing up Tanya's clothes and other "personal items." "Are you sure that's a good idea Tony? This is Tanya we're talking about; I wouldn't want Janelle to be embarrassed by what she might find." "Come now, David, why do you think I asked her to do it?" "Janelle?" Jamie exclaimed. "Get out of town!" "Oh," I said. "Then Janelle knew Tanya?" "David," Tony said in his best 'mentoring' voice. "You know better than to ask me a question like that. You would have to ask Janelle. Perhaps you would like to thank her personally for helping out in all of this?" "Walked into that one," Jamie said. Yeah. "I humbly withdraw the question, Obi Wan. Thank you for reminding me. Nice set up, too. Remind me never to play chess with you ... Actually I would like to thank her, but I'm not going to ask. I'll leave it up to her if she wants to share the information." "We all learn best from our mistakes," he said with a chuckle. "At least you learn quickly. You still owe me an explanation for all this." "I know. Maybe we should go shooting again, just the two of us." "Really? I didn't know it was that serious. How about tonight? It's the first of the month, and a Wednesday. There may be a few people practicing for the Thursday night leagues, but otherwise it shouldn't be too busy." "Sounds good; Christine will have homework to do, so she'll be busy anyway. Are you sure... ?" I stopped myself just as I was about to ask if Tina would mind. "What time?" "How about eight o'clock?" he asked. "Eight works for me." "Fine, then, let me give you to Janelle. Just tell her I asked for her to make arrangements with the club." Janelle's happy voice came on the line a few moments later, "Hello Mr. Malcolm, thank you so much for the lovely flowers. They're beautiful!" "You're welcome Janelle. I wanted to apologize for being so abrupt with you on the phone the other day. Now I'll have to come up with some way to thank you for helping out with getting Tanya's stuff packed." "Oh, you don't need to thank me for that, Mr. Malcolm; it's my pleasure. As you know, Tanya is a very special girl, and I would hate to have a bunch of total strangers — especially men — pawing through her things." "I wasn't aware that you knew Tanya." "Not as well as I would have liked to," she said wistfully. "I can't afford her on my own. Mr. Cicarelli gave her to me for a Christmas bonus last year and then again for my birthday. She is incredible! Can I ask how you know her?" "I don't, actually, and I'm going to have to ask you not to mention that I had anything to do with this to anyone. We have a mutual acquaintance, and recent events potentially put Tanya in danger; I just didn't want her to get hurt." "You did all that for a girl you don't even know!" she said, surprise in her voice. "Gosh, can I be your friend too?" "As much as I would like that Janelle — and I would — I think you're much better off being my attorney's receptionist. Speaking of which, I'm supposed to ask you to make arrangements for Tony and me to go shooting tonight; eight o'clock." "Can't fault a girl for trying," she said. "Thank you again for the flowers; they're really beautiful, and I'll call the club before I leave for Tanya's." I called to check on Tanya and then stopped by Intersure to pick up my check. We had a little bit of a problem when I pointed out they were short nine thousand dollars. Mountjoy pointed out that Doreen had quoted the price on the follow-up call, and I pointed out the contingency attached to the reduced rate and directed his attention to the newspaper article with my name in it. "You can hardly blame us for that, Mr. Malcolm, and you cannot seriously mean to hold us responsible for the press." "I can when it was your photographer who provided the picture. If I hadn't been in the photo, the press wouldn't have needed to identify me. There were plenty of other shots you could have given the press. Using the shot from the storage unit was like throwing blood in the shark pool. All you had to do was use one of the photos you took of the painting after you got it back here. That's assuming it wasn't one of your people that identified me to the press in the first place." I pulled out my phone and added, "Shall we call the reporter and ask?" They paid. So far, it was turning out to be a good day. I was happy; the bank was happy; Janelle was happy; Mountjoy was happy, too; he just didn't want to admit it. When I gave Doreen a check for twenty thousand dollars, she was in tears she was so happy. Yep, it was shaping up to be a really nice... And of course, that's when my phone rang. "You never learn," Jamie said. "Don't be so negative," I said. "You shouldn't just assume it's bad news." It was Spencer's receptionist politely requesting I make time to stop in. "Oh, yeah, that's good news," Jamie said when I hung up. It turned out it wasn't bad news either, not exactly anyway. "You owe me an explanation," Spencer said when I was seated across from her. "I don't see why," I said. "I didn't ask you to do anything. The request for your involvement came from the Department of Justice. If I remember correctly, you called me to offer your assistance." "Okay, you didn't ask me directly to use Bureau resources, you asked Sandra Atkins — who then made the request of the local agency on your behalf — but the end result is the same." "Uh, oh! Watch yourself here, Jimmy," Jamie said. "Sandra Atkins?" I said. "I don't think I've ever met anyone by that name." "Oh, very nicely put," she said, clapping her hands together softly. "No, I'm sure you haven't, but you do know who I'm referring to. She's the woman your mysterious friend called and told to get those agents off your tail when he left you as bait for The Black Queen — the one you called yesterday to help you get Tanya Rayburn and Melissa Essex out of here before Elliott Bastion tried to arrange an accident for them. Now why would anyone think the prominent and upstanding head of a local church might want to do something like that?" "Shit!" Jamie swore. "She works for Atkins." "Maybe, maybe not," I said. "We'll find out for sure later; right now let's see what she's got to say." "That's a very enlightening statement," I said. "Let me guess; at some point in the past you started checking up on a man named Christian Wallace — also known as Elliott Bastion — and suddenly found yourself in a conference room in Washington with several high ranking people that don't exist, being not so politely asked why you were interested in him, and then being told even less politely to stay the fuck away from him." The surprised look on her face said I was right, "Something like that, yes. How did you know?" "Because the same thing happened to another acquaintance of mine when I asked her to check into some things for me." "And she told you what happened?" "Yes, she did, because she knew she could trust me with the information, and she needed to warn me to be really, really, careful about what I was doing." "And what were you, or rather what are you doing, since I find it incredibly unlikely that you would be working on two separate issues that would garner the attention of people at that level?" "I'm doing what I do best: finding things, in this case information" She shook her head, "David, don't play games; I don't think you realize just how serious this is. Now what are you up to?" "Actually, I do," I said. "Probably better than you do. As to what I'm doing, very little, and even that very little I'm doing very slowly, and very carefully. You know about the missing girl?" "I know of several, which one?" "The one the two Vegas cops were looking for when they died." If she was surprised before, she was downright shocked this time. "You know about that?" "Mrs. Spencer, I know a lot of things," I said. "For instance, I know Andrews killed Charles. By the way, did they ever figure out why? Or what killed Andrews? Last I heard they hadn't figured it out." "They still haven't. Stress was all they could come up with for killing Charles; they still don't know what killed Andrews. The closest thing the ME could come up with was that it resembled drowning, but there was no apparent cause. And then there were the ... What about the girl?" Hmm, did she not want to bring up the bite marks — or had she been told not to? "She's the reason my friend was looking into Bastion — his church, actually; until then we didn't know anything about him personally. I ran across the girl totally by accident. At first I thought she was just a runaway in trouble, so I sent her to a woman I knew to get her off the street. The woman called later and said the girl wanted to talk to me. As soon as she started telling me her story, I knew she was in danger, so I made some calls and got her into hiding. But her story provided the one piece I'd been missing, the common thread that tied my loose ends together: Elliott Bastion's church." "A lot of good that will do you," she scoffed. "You never know which piece of useless information may be the one to break a case, Spencer. You of all people should know that. What got you interested in Bastion?" "I wasn't interested in Bastion at all. A young girl disappeared, then another committed suicide for no apparent reason. Then a girl came forward and accused her father of molesting her, and he was arrested, but..." I'd heard this one already, so I took over the narrative, " ... but he died that night in lockup, killed by another inmate. Then the girl's mother, apparently shamed by what had been happening right under her nose, killed both of her daughters and committed suicide. Only it wasn't suicide, and she didn't kill the girls. Why didn't they pursue it when they figured out the knife wasn't consistent with the others in the kitchen? Not to mention the way the daughters died; hard to believe a woman killing her own children could keep her hand from trembling long enough to cut with that kind of precision." From the nodding of her head, I guessed she was impressed — and confused — by how much confidential information I had on cases she wasn't even allowed to look closely at. "Two very good questions," she said. "Looking for the answers was what got me my ticket to Washington. The only answer I could come up with was they were told not to. For some reason, no one seemed to think a single razor-sharp knife in a house where nothing else would cut soft butter was enough to pursue when every other piece of evidence supported the murder/suicide theory. They were encouraged to take the easy explanation and close the case. I wasn't involved. I was looking at the case after the fact as a personal favor. Coincidentally, Detective Charles was in charge of the case." "A personal favor for whom?" Jamie asked, echoing my own unspoken concern. "And he just happened to be the detective assigned to the arson case where the missing girl's aunt, uncle, and two young cousins died. Who authorized him to pursue the case all the way to California?" "That we don't know," she said. "The story we got was that he was given a lot of leeway in his investigations based on past performance, and he didn't tell anyone the trail led out of state." "And you bought that?" "Hell no, we didn't buy it!" she swore defensively. "But we can't get involved unless the locals ask us, or we can prove the case falls within our purview." "A teenage girl suspected of an arson fire that killed four people fleeing across state lines didn't qualify?" "Like I said, they swore they didn't know he had crossed into California looking for her." "Do you believe that, or do you think there is someone else involved who was covering for him?" "Give me a break, Malcolm; of course someone was covering for him, but we don't have the slightest idea who." I knew, but I certainly wasn't telling her. "So what part of all that got you looking at Bastion?" I asked. "I had a bunch of unsolved cases involving young teenage girls in the area, and I was bored. Something about it didn't sit right, so I started looking for common threads. The only one I could find was that all the families attended the Church of the Inner Circle. I started poking around and hit a wall when I started looking into Bastion. I used my official access to look deeper, and — just like your friend — I ended up in Washington with instructions to stay the hell away from Bastion and his church, but to please report anything unusual that involves the church or anyone known to be affiliated with it." "So you don't actually know what's going on?" "What do you mean?" she asked. "I guess that answers that question." "Don't play with me, Malcolm; what are you talking about?" "You don't know why Washington wants you to stay away from Bastion." "Why do I get the feeling you do?" "How loyal are you to Atkins?" I asked. "I pass information," she said angrily, holding my eye. "Occasionally, she returns the favor about things in the area that might interest us, usually that's all. Yesterday's little party was a first. The fact that someone like her is interested or involved with you makes me nervous." "Good," I said. "One word of advice: don't turn your back on her. She was asked to intervene when Charles and Andrews started getting too close to the girl. She was willing to let them have the girl rather than risk exposure." "She would have let them kill her?" she sounded genuinely appalled. "When they got around to it. Charles was going back empty handed no matter what happened. The girl was going to be a present to Andrews for past services and for being a good boy. There was a very long list of things he wanted to do with her before he killed her, but he would have gotten around to it eventually." "Jimmy, are you sure this is a good idea?" Jamie asked. I ignored her. "Nicki, why did Atkins say you needed to stay away from Bastion?" "She said he won a harassment suit after being acquitted in two murder trials, and unless we find him standing over a body with a gun in his hand and someone videotaping the whole event, we can't touch him. And don't call me Nicki!" "Did she give you any indication that there might be another reason they are interested in him?" "Nothing specific, but considering how interested she was that I pass along anything that had to do with him, it wasn't that much of a stretch to figure out they still want to nail him." "Okay, here are some things you don't know. The girl whose disappearance you were looking into was sold into slavery. She's somewhere in the Middle East; Atkins says she knows exactly where she is, and — when it's safe — she says she'll get her out and bring her back." "Safe from what?" she asked. "Not what, who," I corrected her. "The same people who framed an innocent thirteen year old girl for arson and murder, and then chased her across state lines without telling anyone where they were going — all because they didn't know how much she might know. The same people whom I was worried might go after Tanya and Melissa for similar reasons. The same people who killed a woman and her two daughters because the oldest one turned her father in for molesting her, only in that case they knew exactly how much everyone knew, and let's not forget they managed to have the father murdered, in lockup, the same day. Now ask me what they're so afraid of and why no one seems to be able to stop them." She asked. When I had told her everything I wanted her to know, which wasn't a lot, but enough to make her realize the situation, I asked, "Now do you understand?" She just nodded and said, "I had no idea. It's hard to believe something like this could be going on right under our noses without us even noticing. And you say Victoria Essex was one of Bastion's people? Don't get me wrong; I believe you, but I'm having a hard time getting my head around it." "Why's that?" "Because I've known her for years. She was my doctor!" "That's interesting," I said. "Ever talk shop when you went in?" "Well, yeah, she was fascinated by what I do and how I got to be in this position. You mean you think that all those times we talked she was passing the information on to Bastion?" "Beats me," I said. "Do you think she was?" She shook her head and said, "It's possible. So what are you doing with Rayburn and her niece?" "Not sure yet," I said. "I'm sure your pilot told you where he took them." "Florida," she said with a nod. "I sent them to Disneyworld to bond and take their minds off of everything that was happening." "That's nice, but you have to know we can't justify doing anything else with them. We have no case to justify their needing protection." "I know, and I'm working on that." "You're working on it?" she asked, surprised. "Well, someone has to, and you've just confirmed you're not going to. It's not their fault they're caught up in this shit." "Isn't that kind of expensive?" "Yes, but what else is money good for? By the way, do you know if donations to Witness Protection are tax deductible? It would be nice if I could at least write it off." "Oh, yeah," she laughed derisively. "Good luck with that. Okay, I think we've made a good start here. If there is anything I can do to help you — without exposing the agency that is — let me know. Obviously we don't want Bastion to know we're interested in him, but if you could keep me informed on anything you come up with, that would help too." "Oh yeah, I see that happening," Jamie said sarcastically. "I trust you'll reciprocate with the information sharing?" I said. "If anything I hear will get us one step closer to nailing these bastards and stopping this shit, you'll know about it." "How about you just tell me everything you find out, and we'll figure out if it was helpful after we stop him?" "Done," she said rising and extending her hand. "Thanks for coming in, David." "My pleasure. Sorry about using your nickname back there; I didn't realize it was a sensitive area." "It's not my nickname; I've only ever let two people in my life use it — my grandmother and my husband. Spencer is fine, that's what everyone else uses." Christine was disappointed when I told her she couldn't go with me this time to meet with Tony. I promised to take her again soon. Maybe I could write off a membership... Tony was right; the club was practically empty. There were two guys — cops I think — down on the far end working on drawing and firing. "I'm starting to get the idea there's a hell of a lot more to you than meets the eye," Tony said as he was loading the clip for his 17-L. "What makes you say that?" I asked. "Well, for one thing, this is supposed to be only the second time you've been shooting, but you filled that magazine in half the time it took me. Then there is the fact that the FBI seems to be willing to jump through the nearest hoop every time you snap your fingers. All that aside... ," he turned down lane and inserted the magazine, " ... Tanya's a very sweet and special girl, and I would hate to see anything happen to her." He emptied his weapon into the silhouette and turned back to me, weapon still pointed safely down range. "And then there is the girl, Melissa wasn't it?" He ejected the magazine and hit the switch to bring the target up for inspection. "That whole operation had the look of something that was thrown together at the last minute; it was serious overkill, but at the same time, they were obviously holding back. If the FBI was already involved, then you didn't need me or that Marshal to serve those release papers." Tony shoots better when he's agitated; in two trips this was the best grouping I'd seen him fire. Considering it was his first set of the night, and he hadn't warmed up yet... The two guys down the row ripped off another fast round of shots. Whoever it was emptied a full ten-round clip in about three seconds. Tony started putting black patches over the holes as he continued, "I had to ask myself why I had to take a Deputy Marshal if the FBI was involved. They called, by the way; they're picking up the tab for my time, including the Marshal. As you can imagine, that just made me wonder all the more what the hell was going on. "David, you seem like a nice guy; you're turning out to be one of the more interesting people I've met in my lifetime, I'm grateful for the business, and I like you. But I told you when we started that I wouldn't do anything that put my family at risk. David, my people are my family. Looking at what happened Monday, plus what you told me last time we were here about not wanting my people involved ... I'm starting to worry." "Well thank you, Tony," I said, stepping into the firing area. Off to the side I could see the silhouette our neighbors down the row were killing moving forward. As it passed in front of a side-light, I could see a hand-sized spread of holes in the chest area. "I appreciate you being honest with me, Tony. For the record, I like you too." I took my time firing off pairs of shots until the gun clicked empty. The far target was drifting back down the aisle as ours was coming up. They seemed to be sticking with the ten-meter range. "Naturally, you're wondering if the two events are related, and the answer is yes, they are. It has to do with why I came to Vegas in the first place. There is a very nasty group of people doing some seriously nasty shit in your little town. They're connected, isolated, and protected to the point that even the FBI hasn't been able to touch them. And this one's all or nothing; one false move and a lot of innocent people are going to die. "I'm under the radar. Until today only a few people in the world knew what I was doing. As of today, there are three more, two of them here in town; one, really, since Tanya is gone now." "You told her?" he asked. His surprise was both genuine and understandable. "I had to give a reason for everything that happened and make her understand just how severe the danger was, so she would go along with it all. I try not to lie any more than I have to, and I think that when someone's life is in danger, they deserve to know the truth. It also allows me a clear conscience if things go wrong. The ball is in her court; as long as she does her part — stays hidden and doesn't talk to anyone about it — she'll be safe. Unfortunately, I don't yet have the resources to handle something like this on my own, and the whole thing forced me to expose myself to others as well. I talked to Director Spencer earlier today; she was more than a little curious about the whole thing — especially considering the source of the call that got her involved. Just as with Tanya, I told her enough to assure that she understood the situation. As a result of that conversation, she has assured me that she will give me what help she can, but her hands are seriously tied, so that may not be much." The target was up, and I was putting small patches over the paired holes in select spots around the target silhouette. "Should have been more careful," Jamie admonished. "Those groupings are too precise." Tony caught it too. "Amateur, huh?" he said, raising an eyebrow. "It's not a complicated sport, Tony. You point, you squeeze..." "You point, you squeeze... ," his voice was agitated, the words coming out sharp and clipped as he continued, " ... you control your recoil and time your next shot to allow for the way your muscles pull the barrel back into line. It takes practice to build muscle memory. You're using a rented gun, and you're out-shooting me when I'm using a competition weapon I'm familiar with. Is that the real reason you wouldn't use Tina's gun last week? Afraid you wouldn't be able to help yourself and let it show?" He handed me his gun and a full magazine. "How good are you really?" Another fast round of shots echoed through from down range as I set the gun and magazine on the counter and started reloading my own. "Tony, the reason I can do some of the things I do is that no one knows me or what I'm capable of. I'm young, so people have a natural tendency to underestimate me. That gives me an advantage. "We all have secrets Tony — you, me, Janelle — some we can share, some we can't. The important thing is knowing who you can trust, how much to trust them, and which secrets it's safe to share with them." I put the rented Glock and magazine down next to Tony's 17, hit the switch and started running the target back down the tunnel. "I've tried to make it clear that I'm trying to protect you," I said, finger still on the button. "That's why I haven't told you what's going on. These people have killed more than once to protect their secrets. If they even suspected you knew the truth, your life would be in danger. And not just you, but Tina, Janelle, anyone that they thought you might have confided in. If something goes wrong, if I screw up and they find out what I'm doing, anyone who I am close to would be a target. As my attorney, you would be high on the list of people they would be worried about. But they won't act rashly; there's too much chance it would attract attention, so they'll verify it first. I can't tell you how they'll do that, but trust me when I say your only protection is not knowing." I paused to let that sink in. "Tony, you've just seen the lengths to which I'll go to protect an innocent girl I've never met and her niece, just because they might have been in danger. I promise you, if you or your people should find yourselves in trouble as a result of anything I'm doing, I will do everything I can to get you out of it." I released the button and — in one smooth series of movements — picked up Tony's Seventeen, slammed the magazine home, chambered a round, and started firing. In seconds the gun was empty. Without even thinking, I ejected the magazine, set both down, picked up the rented gun, and repeated the sequence; twenty shots in less than ten seconds from two separate weapons into a target that I didn't even look at before I fired the first round. I hit the 'full-return' button and stepped back as I waited for it to come up. A deafening silence seemed to fall over the building as the target came closer. There was a two-and-a-half inch hole in the chest and two similar holes where each eye would have been. The holes for the eyes were too close together, and one of the shots had torn the paper between them. The ear protectors shooters use are marvels of technology; they protect you from the damaging volume of exploding gunpowder without interfering with sound at lower levels, like our conversation, or the low whistle from our friends down the way. It was the one guys use when they open the hood of their buddy's hot-rod and see the new motor he just put in; not intentional but it just sort of slips out. A glance down the row showed the two of them leaning out and watching our target all the way up to the booth. The good news was that I didn't recognize either of them. Tony gave a whistle of his own before tearing the target into small pieces. Apparently we were done shooting for the night. "That was subtle," Jamie said sarcastically. Christine was sad at being left home alone, but said she would let me make it up to her. I think she was faking being sad, but there was certainly no harm in humoring her a little — or a lot. Thursday morning started normally enough: I started coffee for Christine on my way for my run; she headed for the shower and to get ready for school; we shared a quiet breakfast together after my shower; I told her about my new plans for Thanksgiving; she confirmed that she was going to her mother's for the weekend; and then I walked her to the driveway and her car. "Normal" ended as I turned to head back to the apartment. "David," Doreen said, opening the screen and stepping out. "I found this on the porch when I came out to get the paper. The driver must have been running late last night; usually they ring the bell when they leave something." It was a standard brown and white UPS overnight letter, addressed to me. "Thank you, Doreen," I said, taking the envelope and following her into the house. "By the way, if you're making plans for Thanksgiving, Christine and I are both going out of town. I'm going to be in California, and Christine will be at her mother's house. Are you going to be here?" "Well now, where else would I be?" "I don't know," I said. "I thought you might have dinner with Regina and Bobby." "Regina? Cook a turkey? Oh no, no. Don't get me wrong, I love my daughter, but I do not know how that boy got to be so big eating that girl's cooking! Only person I ever met could mess up macaroni and cheese from a box. They're coming here, and I don't know if she's coming, but I invited Dominique Spencer for dinner, too." She volunteered to look in on Widget while we were gone, just to make sure she had food and water and didn't get too lonely. It wasn't until I got back in the apartment and pulled the tear-strip that my day fell apart. Maybe I'm weird, but I always look inside the envelope rather than just sticking my hand in and pulling things out. What I saw inside the cardboard envelope was three plastic zip-lock bags. The two larger ones both contained paper; newspaper in the largest and what appeared to be a folded piece of paper in a smaller one. The smallest contained a USB thumb drive. "That's not good," Jamie said, echoing my own thoughts. Why would someone bag something before sending it in an overnight letter? And why bag the contents separately? "Gloves?" I suggested. "See if you can dump them out," she countered. Flipping the envelope upside down, I shook it, and the two smaller packages came out, but the one containing the newspaper got hung up in the opening. The only thing I could tell was that it was printed in Spanish. "Well that's weird," Jamie said. "Why would someone be sending you a clipping from a Spanish newspaper?" "Time for gloves?" It was a rhetorical question, but she answered anyway. "Definitely." The clipping turned out to be a front page from The Santiago Times. I'd only had the one year of Spanish, so I couldn't really read much of the article, but the subject matter was pretty obvious: Someone was dead. What the hell was going on? I knew I wasn't going to get very far with the article, so I opened the next baggie — the one containing the folded paper. Whoever had done this had intentionally folded the paper so that it had to be removed from the plastic bag before you could see what was inside. Unfolding the paper revealed a standard-sized, blue Bicycle playing card with a large post-it note stuck to the face. Written on the front of the note — in large letters — were three words: "It Wasn't Me!" with 'Me' underlined twice. "Oh my God!" Jamie whispered. "It's from her!" "What?" I asked, reaching for the note. "From who? What are you talking about?" "Don't touch it!" she said. "Get a couple knives out of the drawer. Use one to hold the card down and ... Fuck! This is bad!" "What?" I demanded as I was opening the silverware drawer. "Jimmy, it's a playing card; how much would you like to bet it's a face card? Specifically..." "Oh shit!" I said, suddenly getting it. Seconds later her fears were confirmed as I lifted the post-it and found myself staring at the Queen of Spades. ------- Chapter 23: A Dark turn This was not good. Standing in my kitchen staring down at the Queen of Spades was so not how I pictured this day unfolding. There was no doubt in my mind who had sent it; the question was, "Why?" Staring at the three items, I found myself being drawn back to the newspaper and realized that the date had been circled: Viernes Octubre 13. One of the earliest lessons you get in any foreign language class was the days of the week and months in the year. Friday, October 13. "Holy shit!" Jamie exclaimed. "Oh my God, Jimmy, we have to get this translated." "No we don't," I said. "I'm sure it will help, but it's pretty obvious what she's trying to say." "You need to call Rod, or Rebecca ... you need..." "What I need," I interrupted, "is for you to calm down for a second and help me look at this – all of it – and try and make some sense out of it." I checked the clock; eight-thirty – four thirty in Hawaii – Allison would still be in bed. I locked the door and laid down on the couch. Moments later I found Allison sitting in Lizzy's bean-bag chair in the cabana, reading a textbook. "Hey handsome," she said, setting the book aside and standing up. "What's up?" "I'm not sure," I said, "hang on a second." I turned away and called, "Mom?" She popped in a few feet away, wearing an apron and holding a large spoon. "Already planning Thanksgiving dinner?" I asked, smiling. "Jimmy! Hi! What brings you... ? Oh, what am I saying? Yes, I've been thinking about how different it's going to be with just the three of us for dinner this year. It's just going to be so strange without the Davises, and you ... I was talking to your father the other day about maybe just going out somewhere. So what's up? Is everything alright?" "Something's come up that I need to talk to Allison about. I don't know how long it will take, but in case she's not back in time for school, I didn't want you to worry. If she's not up in time, could you call her out sick?" "Of course, dear. Should I be worried?" It was an honest question and spoke clearly that we had moved to a new level – beyond simply being mother and son – and part of the new relationship was that we trusted each other to not only tell the truth, but to accept the truth. "Not yet," I said. "That's why I need to borrow Allison, to try and figure it out. Depending on what we discover, she may or may not be able to tell you about it later. If she doesn't, then it's not something you need to be worried about, okay?" "I understand," she said. "If she doesn't tell me, then I won't ask." I stepped in to hug her and kiss her cheek. "Thanks mom; I hate to kiss and run, but..." "I understand," she said with a smile. "I'll see you when you have time, and I'll tell your father you said hello and not to bang on Allison's door if she's not up in time for school." Banging on the door wouldn't do any good anyway. I wasn't the least bit worried that they might wake her up before we were through. Much more important was that they not open the door, which I knew they wouldn't do as long as they knew she was alright. Opening the door and finding her missing would have caused all kinds of problems. All of this had alerted Allison that this was no social call as well. "Jimmy, what's going on?" she asked. "I need you. You may want to get dressed." Her eyes got wide. "You're taking me to Vegas?" "Yes." "Shit! Jimmy, what's wrong?" Before I could answer, Jamie stepped out and said, "We can show her here and then decide." "Show me what?" Allison asked. "This for starters," Jamie said, handing her the card with the post-it note covering the face. Allison took a second to read the message and then lifted the note to see what was underneath. As soon as she saw the face of the card she dropped it like it was on fire, and her eyes flashed to mine. "Omigod! Is that real?" she demanded. "Where did it come from?" "It was in an overnight letter – Doreen found it on the front porch this morning when she went out after the paper – along with this..." Jamie handed her the newspaper. "What about it?" Allison asked, after looking at it for a few seconds. "I can't read Spanish." "Look at the date," I said. "Jimmy, I just said I can't read ... Oh ... my ... God! Does that say October 13th?" "Yeah," I said, "Viernes, is Spanish for Friday; Octubre is pretty obvious." "So what she's trying to say is that..." "Is that it wasn't her that kidnapped you guys and killed those agents," I said, finishing for her. "Shit!" she said, dropping the paper and starting to pace. The paper disappeared before it hit the floor, the card was gone as well. "Double shit! Jimmy, if it wasn't her ... shit! This is bad." She stopped and took a couple of quick, deep breaths, then started pacing again. "Okay. Let's look at what we have so far. This doesn't mean that it wasn't her; only that she's trying to say it wasn't – and I'm sorry, but at this point I'm not giving her the benefit of the doubt. And even it if wasn't her this time, we already know it was her that was after you before, so no, not cutting her any slack." "And if it really wasn't her?" I asked. She stopped and looked me in the eye. "Then we are in deep, deep, shit. Is there any way to confirm any of this?" "That's what I wanted to talk to you about," I said. "There was also... ," I held up the bag with the thumb drive in it, " ... this." "What's on it?" "I don't know; I haven't looked yet; I wanted to catch you before you woke up." "Why the bag?" she asked. "They were all bagged separately," Jamie said. "Don't worry, we haven't touched anything. He put gloves on as soon as we realized what was in the envelope. We didn't even touch the card with the gloves; it was folded inside a piece of copy paper, and we lifted the post-it with a kitchen knife." "Shit! That means she left fingerprints for verification," Allison said, shaking her head. "Damn it! Jimmy, someone knows. Who they are and how much they know we can't be sure, but someone knows way more than they should. They know who you really are and that you're connected to us, and that alone is ... shit!" She stopped pacing again and said, "Okay, I'm going back to bed. Give me a couple minutes to get dressed and come get me. While you're waiting, call mom back and tell her I'm not going to school." Ten minutes later Allison was coming back out of my bathroom. Since she had been 'asleep' at home, she hadn't had a chance to go when she got up. I started to hand her a pair of gloves, but she waved me off. "No, I don't want to touch anything, even with gloves. If something needs to be handled, you can do it. Jamie, I think this will be easier if you come to me, Jimmy can still talk to you and hear you that way, but I can't if you're in him. We'll be fine just as long as everybody remembers where you are and doesn't do anything stupid. Okay, I think the first thing we need to do is verify what that paper says. Do you have any idea where it's from?" "Well, it's the Santiago Times," I said, "So, my first guess would be Chile." "Okay, let's start there," she said. "It's a South American capital, so if something was big enough to make the front page, chances are other papers ran the same story – hopefully with the same picture. Let's see if we can find an English version somewhere. How are you feeling?" "What do you mean?" "Jimmy, you just moved me three thousand miles; the last time you did that you woke up in a hospital; how do you feel?" "I'm okay. I mean, it's hard to tell without Lizzy here to look, but I feel okay. I think what happened before had a lot to do with everything we had been doing before that, and ... other things." "What other things?" she asked. "Like the fact that when we woke up in the hospital, he looked like Mark," Jamie said. "You what?" Allison demanded. "I'm sorry," I said. "I was going to tell you, but, you know, there was a lot going on, and I guess it just slipped my mind." "It slipped your mind that you changed your physical appearance?" she demanded. "That's not the half of it," Jamie said. "Changing back almost put him back in the hospital." "Damn it, Jimmy! Did it ever occur to you that maybe..." "Allison Ann!" I said in a warning tone. The only person to ever call her that was our mom – usually when she was mad or they were arguing about something – and it had the effect I was hoping for: Her mouth fell open, and her head jerked back like I'd just slapped her. "I know you're upset over all of this, but taking it out on me isn't going to help. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, but like I said, it was a busy time." "And there was nothing stopping you from telling her," I growled at Jamie, "so knock it off!" Even though she was inside Allison, I could feel Jamie's reaction. She was just as shocked by my reaction as Allison had been. By now my laptop was up and running, so rather than waiting for a reply, I said a quick prayer of thanks for Rebecca's friend Dillon who had put the thing together for me, and opened up a browser window. It seems the Santiago Times puts out both Spanish and English versions of their paper, so it took no time at all to find the story: A high-ranking government official, suspected to have ties to organized crime, had been assassinated on Friday, the 13th of October, and all of the evidence pointed to it being a very professional hit. "Jimmy, I'm sorry," Jamie said, "for both of us. I don't know if she was picking up on my bad mood, or I was picking up hers, but either way, I was out of line, and I'm sorry. It's pretty clear that Henslith is trying to say it wasn't her that went after them, but this doesn't prove that it was her that did this hit. Only that someone did, and that it took place on the same day." "Right," Allison said, "and we can't just assume this is real either. You can have just about anything printed up in a 'newspaper' if you go to the right novelty shop. Something this elaborate would be pricey, but I don't think she worries about money too much. You know, you really should check that other account Rene mentioned. I can't argue with the website though; I think it's a little extreme to suggest that she may have gone that far to back the story. So whether it was her or not, this... ," she pointed at the bag with the paper in it, " ... is real. Which now begs the question of how – if it wasn't her behind what happened at the safe house – she found out about it. And I'm sorry, too. Jamie's right; we were both way out of line." "I forgive you both; I'll kiss you later when it's safe. I keep telling myself I need to check that account, but ... So what now? Do we check the flash drive?" "Do you have a pair of long-nosed pliers or something that we can use to handle it without having to worry about messing up any prints that might be on it?" "How about if we just take the prints off of it first?" Jamie suggested. "How?" Allison asked. Then she turned to me, "Was there a fingerprint kit in with the stuff you got from the Princesses?" "No, I don't think so," I answered. Just thinking of Agents Snow White and Sleeping Beauty did a lot to lighten the mood. It didn't last, but it was nice while it did. "Okay, then we do the CSI thing: put the card and the thumb drive in big bag with an open tube of superglue and wait for it stick to the prints." "Does that really work?" Allison asked. "Beats me," I said, "we could call Rebecca and ask." "No, she'll want to know what we need it for, and she will freak if you mention Henslith." "We're going to have to call someone sooner or later," Jamie said. "It's not like we can access a fingerprint database on our own." "She's got a point," I said. There was silence for a moment and then Allison said, "The prints are hers, otherwise she wouldn't have bothered to bag everything and protect them. By now she's figured out that you're a lot smarter than she originally gave you credit for. She may even be assuming that you'll have figured that out ... So why go to all the trouble?" "She wants us to be sure," I said, making the next logical conclusion in her train of thought. "She's obviously trying to gain our trust, but she has to know that we won't believe her. The question still comes back to 'why'?" "We need to see what's on that flash drive," Allison said. "My guess is it's more information to try and convince us." "Or it could be a trick," Jamie pointed out. "Remember Mission Impossible? The bad guys booted up the stolen disk, and it led the cops right to them? She could be setting us up." "Hmm," Allison said. "Jimmy, go to the UPS website and check the shipping status on that envelope." "Ohh-kay," I said. "Why? Are you trying to see where it was shipped from?" "Something like that," she said. I tried twice just to make sure I had the number in right, but the site had no record of any such package. "Damn," Allison said. "I was afraid of that. She either dropped it off in person, or she had someone else do it. I'll bet you anything she did it herself." "Then it couldn't be a setup," Jamie said. "She knows where we are; there would be no point to putting tracking software on the drive." "Ooh!" I said. "Okay, time out. We've overlooked a serious possibility here." "What?" Allison asked. "We're assuming that that actually is a thumb drive and not something else made to look like one." "What? You mean like a bomb? Jimmy, you couldn't pack enough C-4 into that little thing to blow out a birthday candle." "Well, I don't know about that," Allison said, "but, hello? 'World's Greatest Assassin', if she wanted you dead, you'd be dead already. There has to be something else going on here. So, with that in mind, the only decision we really need to make is: do we have someone verify the prints before or after we look at what's on the chip? I vote we do the chip first because there might be something on there that will affect our decision on getting anyone else involved. All in favor?" "We can do this without messing up any prints that might be on the drive," I said. This particular drive had been designed with a sort of flattened loop on the end so you could hang it around your neck on a lanyard. Moving to the desk I cut a thin strip of paper – about three-eighths of an inch wide. I carefully threaded the strip of paper through the loop and then – pinching the strip of paper tightly around the loop – used it as a sort of handle to pick up the chip and insert it into one of the USB slots on my computer. The computer popped up the usual warning about executing unknown programs. I clicked to authorize the program access to the necessary resources, and a new window opened revealing a single icon titled "Hello James". I didn't recognize the icon, so I had no idea what program it was for. "Great," Jamie said. "Guess that pretty much settles that question." There was really no need to comment, so I just to opened the file. It took a few seconds to load, and then it opened a program I'd never used before, something called 'Keynote'. Apparently it was the Mac version of Microsoft's Powerpoint software. The first page was a simple document. James and Allison, Forgive me, I do not mean to presume, but even if she is not there, I am sure you will share the information with her at your earliest opportunity. Also, some of what I have to say is for her as well. Let me begin by saying that I know you do not trust me and therefore will not trust what I have to say. Please look at all of the presentation anyway. Now that you have begun, it is very important that you not close this presentation or remove the chip from your computer. To do either will activate the self-destruct built into the device. Once the presentation is over, or if the power to the computer is interrupted, remove the chip immediately. The best course would be to throw it into your pool as that will insure that no other damage is done, but if that is not possible, just make sure there is nothing overly fragile within about five feet. There are several things I wish to tell you: First, I would like to thank you, James, for what you did for Rene. Though the price was steep, I know that he considered it worth it in order to stop what his 'other' had become. Also, your action saved me from having to do something I could not bear or bring myself to do. I have known all along that Rene was alive – not Rene, actually, but Kienen. Twice after he disappeared – but before he came to America – I had the opportunity to take his life, and both times I could not bring myself to do it. I deeply regret that my failing brought so much pain and suffering to so many innocents, including your friend, Angela. Second, regardless of what that sack of excrement, Yuri Khvlek, may have told you, I did not authorize him to kidnap your girlfriend. He took that action upon himself, and I am happy that you made him pay for it. My instructions were to take you in a way that did not attract attention. I did not realize the extent to which your gift could be used for such things, but I applaud you for whatever it is you did to him. I clicked for the next slide, and an image of the newspaper clip came up. A few seconds later a new slide appeared over it. The enclosed newspaper article along with... I clicked for the next slide and was greeted by several close-up photographs of the man in the newspaper article popping up in rapid succession. The first set was of him in various public settings, surrounded by people and what appeared to be bodyguards. The next two were of him apparently relaxing by the pool in his back yard. The next three were of his face, just before and after the bullet hit. The allegations of his involvement with various criminal organizations were true. These pictures... A series of pictures popped up showing him in different locations, surrounded by the same bodyguards. Only they were no longer in suits, and were openly carrying assault weapons. In one scene he was seated in a comfortable chair while a man was being tortured in front of him. This was followed by a series of shots showing the 'guards' bringing a woman into the room. The battered and bleeding man could only watch as two of the guards raped his wife. The final scene showed the man cutting the woman's throat. The body was dragged away, the rug rolled up, and another laid down before a young girl was led in. At the sight of the bleeding man she tried to rush to him, but two of the men restrained her. My teeth ground as a modified sawhorse was brought in and the girl secured face down over it, her feet and wrists secured to the legs. It was a popular devise in the D/S world, and while I had never used one, learning it's various features had been part of my training with Jasmine. The guards withdrew as the leader stood from his chair and, using a large machete, carefully began cutting the girl's clothes away. ... were sent to the head of what passes for the DEA in Chile. The man being tortured was the leader of a task force assigned to deal with a ruthless new drug gang moving into the port city of Puerto Varas. A copy of the video – carefully edited to blur the faces of the leader and his henchmen – was sent to his superiors as a warning. These are stills taken from the original, which I acquired before killing the man responsible for this and many other similar atrocities. The woman was the agent's wife, the girl his ten-year-old daughter. I will spare you the details of what was done to her. The edited videotape was delivered in a box with the man's head and genitals. My only regret is that I did not receive the authorization to end this pig's miserable existence in time to prevent this. I do not expect you to take my word for any of this. You will want to verify it on your own. I strongly recommend that you NOT use anyone at the Los Angeles FBI for this. There is a mole in their organization, and whoever he or she may be, they are very well placed. As Agent Hampton is on indefinite leave and therefore neither able to use the agencies resources, nor under any obligation to report to them, she should be safe to consult with. Also, based on what I learned during our time together, she is steadfastly loyal to protecting you. I can vouch for no one else in that office, including SAIC Rodriguez. I know you trust him, and I am not accusing him, but ask yourself: If it is not me behind everything that has happened, who else would have access to the necessary information? James, Allison; I swear to you, I had nothing to do with the recent attack on your family – or the death of the agents tasked with protecting them. From what I have been able to discover, whoever is behind this does not know what is special about you, but they do know that David Malcolm is really James Matthews, and that it was your family being hidden in that house. So far, there is no indication that they know the new identities of Allison or your parents, but they know that they fled to Hawaii. Whether they will pursue them is hard to say. They know who and where you are, and now – thanks to your recent actions – how dangerous it is to threaten those you love. I suspect that any future action will be taken directly against you, and no action will likely be taken until they are certain of their ability to not only capture, but also contain you. Allison, you must be constantly aware of your surroundings, constantly watching to see if you are being watched. Were it my operation I would take you and certain others simultaneous to capturing your brother. You would then be kept in separate, remote locations and used as controls to keep him in check. SAIC Dominique Spencer has a strong reputation for being a Maverick – very determined and immune to outside corruption. It is these qualities more than any others that have earned her the position she now occupies. They are also what keep her from rising higher. Beyond a certain point, a willingness to look the other way becomes necessary when dealing with any government. I know that simply because the information is coming from me you will not trust it, but if you must trust someone, she is a good choice. Again, I do not expect you to take my word for it; use your gift and test her yourself. Unfortunately, it is too late to use such methods to test SAIC Rodriguez as he already knows of your abilities. The screen changed again and what looked like profile sheets appeared. The sheets included pictures, and I immediately recognized them. I didn't know who they were, but two were nicknamed Mac and Petey. These are profile sheets on the mercenaries that took your family. The screen changed again, and about twenty more flipped up one at a time. I didn't know the names, but again, several of the faces were familiar. These others are known or suspected to be in the same group, and these... What appeared to be incident reports, each several pages long, came up, each page appearing in a full screen shot before sorting itself onto a stack. Clearly she knew our little trick; the pages were pausing just long enough for our minds to take the snapshot necessary to 'read' it later. ... are some of the past actions that they were known or suspected to have been involved in. In Rodriquez's private files, there is mention of a light freighter that disappeared shortly after you, Allison, were abducted. It has not been seen or heard from since. The regular crew was released from their contracts two days prior with no explanation other than the ship had been sold. Normally in such a transaction, the existing crew would be offered contracts and bonuses to stay on. Particularly on an older vessel, their intimate knowledge of the vessel makes them all but invaluable. This was not done. Also, there is no record of who made up the new crew, and the company it was supposedly sold to has no knowledge or record of its purchase. This group was made up of twenty-two men; they recently started recruiting new members. Apparently they have a LOT of openings. I have several theories about what really happened, but now is not the time... There is much more I wish to discuss with you, but I think that must wait until you have verified what I have told you. I mentioned regretting that I did not receive authorization to kill the man in the paper sooner ... While it was too late to stop what happened on the tape, I did eventually receive it. My 'Company' handler sanctioned the killing. If you do not grasp the significance of that, ask Ms. Spencer when you speak to her, she will explain it to you. James, my interest in you is my own, and I have passed no information regarding you or your gift to any other agency or government. I know that you will never trust me; that would be asking too much. You know what I am, what Rene was, but you do not know the full story; please do not judge me too harshly until you do. It is my hope to one-day share it with you, but that also will have to wait. It is a shame that your gift will not work with me – it would save us much time and trouble. I will contact you again when you have had time to digest all of this. Until then, be very, very careful, both of you. This is the end of the presentation; when the screen fades, you will have approximately sixty seconds to remove the chip to a safe location before it destructs. Also, I am very sorry for the loss of your friends. Agent Hampton seemed to think there was more to your relationship with Shannon, and if that is true, then again, I am sorry; I know how much it can hurt to lose a lover. The screen faded, and – without hesitation – I pulled the chip out, walked outside, and tossed it into the center of the pool. I watched as it sank slowly toward the bottom. It was still about three feet off the floor when there was a bright flash. I watched as a small cloud of bubbles rose to the surface, and I could just make out a few shards of plastic on the bottom of the pool. I knew of several chemicals that would react to water that way – phosphorous, magnesium, metallic sodium ... I couldn't help but wonder if the chip would have destructed even if I hadn't put it in the water, or if she was counting on the threat to make sure I put it in the pool so that whatever chemical she used would react and destroy it. It didn't matter. What was important was that she knew that I wouldn't take the chance either way; she had manipulated the situation to insure the result she wanted. It was something to keep in mind. Allison and I just stared at each other as I walked back in and sat next to her at the breakfast bar. I'm not sure either of us knew what to say. Finally, Jamie broke the silence. "Shit." "Yeah, that about sums it up," Allison said, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. "We could learn a lot from that woman," I said. "Just by warning us that the chip had a destruct device, she all but insured that I would put it exactly where it needed to go to trigger the destruct." "So you don't think it really would have blown up?" "That's just it," Jamie said. "He couldn't be sure, and he didn't have time to find out without risking it blowing up in our faces. Jimmy's right; she set it up so we would make sure it was destroyed." "Right, just like she set it up so we have to verify her story," Allison said. "It doesn't matter whether we believe her or not; she knows we'll verify it." "Just like bagging everything separately was enough to convince us that her prints really are on everything," I added. "One thing is for certain..." "What's that?" Jamie asked. "We know she's never going to take us for granted or underestimate us based on our ages." "True," Allison agreed. "She did us a big favor today; she let us know that there is a third player that we don't know about." "Either that or she wants us to believe there is a third player to take the heat off of herself." "What heat?" Allison asked, shaking her head negatively. "We have no idea where she is, where she's been – unless we can verify the story in the paper – and we have no way of finding her. She didn't need to do this. What do you think, Jimmy, professional courtesy?" "No, there is more to this. She said it there at the end; she has her own agenda. She wants something from me." "What about that other little bit at the end?" Allison asked. "Is she really saying what I think she is?" "That the hit was sanctioned by someone in our government?" I asked. "The 'Company' reference is a well-known euphemism for the CIA; the job was outside the US, so it was clearly within their arena ... I won't rule it out, but I'm not going to take her word for it either. Damn, she's forcing me to bring Nicki into this." "Who's Nicki?" Allison asked. "Dominique Spencer," Jamie said. "Jimmy used the name once, and she about ripped his head off. Said the only people she that ever let use that name were her husband and her grandmother. I think Jimmy is going to be number three. And he's right; Henslith – if this is all really from her – is pushing us towards Spencer to help us verify her story. I think the first step has to be doing some serious work with her to decide if she is really everything Henslith says she is. We've already started down the path of trusting her; maybe it's time to do a little night time testing to see just how far it's safe to go." "Obviously I've been a little too far out of the loop," Allison said. "Trusting her how?" "Actually, that's a recent development I was planning to talk to you about. After Essex committed suicide..." "And when did that happen?" Allison asked, interrupting. "They found her Monday morning." "Damn, I hate being so far away ... Okay, you can tell me about it later – Jamie, remind me I owe you a kiss – go on." I nodded and continued, "While I was talking to Jasmine about Victoria's death – can you believe she didn't even know about Essex and Tanya being related? Anyway, while I explaining that Tanya was the spy and why, it occurred to me that with Essex dead, Bastion may not believe that Tanya and Missy really didn't know about Victoria's other activities." "Oooh," Allison said. "Yeah, we should have thought of that sooner. So what did you do?" "He called Atkins and told her that he needed them moved right away." "Let me guess," Allison said. "Now Atkins knows that David is after Bastion? You think that was a wise move?" "She was the only person that I knew could pull the strings to make it happen on such short notice and without anyone asking questions. She called Spencer and had her put the FBI jet at my disposal. Tanya and Missy are spending the week at Disneyworld, then they're moving to Indiana so Tanya can go back to pursuing her dream of becoming a teacher. Lizzy is looking for a place for them." "You are just amazing," Allison said, leaning over and kissing my cheek. "I love you. So then what? I'm guessing Spencer wanted an explanation?" "Of course," I said. "I've been pushing her buttons and lighting up her radar ever since I hit town. Turns out Nicki's already had the pleasure of meeting Atkins and her merry little band." "She was investigating Bastion and got caught, just like Rebecca?" "No, she was investigating a missing girl, another girl who committed suicide, and a woman that killed her daughters and then committed suicide after her husband got arrested for molesting her oldest daughter. She figured out they all had one thing in common, the church. Following that lead led her to Bastion and got her busted. She's not really happy with Atkins and company, but she plays nice when asked to. Seems Atkins made it clear she was to stay away from Bastion but not why. Now she knows why. And get this, Victoria Essex ... was Spencer's doctor." "You're kidding," Allison said. "Nope, you can imagine how shocked she was when I told her what the good doctor was up to. We now have a mutual aid pact with regards to sharing information about Bastion and the church." "Uh-huh," she scoffed. "Jimmy, do you really trust her?" "Not yet," I said, shaking my head. "But I think Jamie's right, and it's time to find out whether or not we can." I checked my watch and confirmed that Allison was already late for school. "Don't bother," Allison said. "I'm already late, and before you do anything else, I want you to go see Lizzy and find out what your energy looks like. If you're okay, then you can take me home, and we can go to the beach; if not, then I can hang out here until you're recovered enough. Either way, it's been too long since I got to spend a day with you, and I'm taking advantage of it." She put her arms around my neck, and told Jamie, "You need to go home." I felt Jamie flow back into me as Allison leaned in close, and whispered, "Now, about my kiss..." I knew Lizzy was still in class and I was just about to put myself in a bubble so I wouldn't disturb them while I was taking a second look at all the material Henslith had sent, when Jamie stopped me. "Hey? Where do you think you're going? She just said that it's been too long since she spent time with you. That stuff isn't going anywhere, and..." I lost the rest as our lips met and Jamie dragged me into the kiss with her. ------- Chapter 24: Face to Face Things were progressing as we moved into the most dangerous part of the game. Another couple died in an accident the second week of November. Two wasn't enough to establish even the semblance of a pattern, so for now we were still okay, but that wouldn't last. Eventually the numbers catch up, and they start to question the coincidence factor. For this reason, Jamie was targeting the most sadistic members of the group first – the ones like Essex who seemed to really get their kicks brutalizing and humiliating the girls. Frank and Irene hadn't been that close to the top of the list, but getting Samantha and Rachel with someone who cared about them had been my chief priority. Kathy Hendricks could be dealt with later. It would also delay them starting on Rachel for a little while – at least until she got over the trauma of losing her parents. The second couple had owned a secluded cabin on Lake Mead. It was only accessible by boat, and their idea of a good time was to take one or more of the girls there and chain them naked to the pillars on the front porch, like dogs. They fed them out of regular pet dishes with their hands cuffed behind them, so the only way to eat or drink was to kneel and push their faces down in the bowl. If there were two, they made them lick each other's faces clean. This was also their only option for personal hygiene. If there was only one, then they would just hose her off. Sometimes they would even leave them on the porch overnight, exposed to the elements and wild animals in the area. Their only concession to safety was spraying them liberally with mosquito repellant. Doctor Hendricks had needed to treat one girl for dehydration and exposure after they left her there while going for supplies. Their boat had developed engine trouble while they were gone, and she had been left without food or water for two days before they could get back to her. By the time they returned, she was cut and bleeding from her futile attempts to escape her bonds. Hightower had been royally pissed at their carelessness and forbade them to leave the girls alone. From then on, at least one of the parents had to stay with whichever girls were there at all times. The scariest part was that the girl had never even considering crying out for help. Getting herself free might get her in trouble – perhaps even punishment before the group – but the price of attracting attention was death, and she knew it. Her name was Autumn, and she had been twelve years old at the time. She was also their daughter. Five years later she tried to run away. She's currently living somewhere in the Middle East. The nice lady in Washington assures me that she can get her back when it's safe. Not surprisingly, the worst of the bunch were the board members, but with the exception of Essex, we were leaving them alone ... for now. The keys to the program were patience and keeping the causes and timing as random as possible. Starting with the more ... twisted ... players might also cause some of the others to reconsider their choices when the pattern finally became clear. Jamie was also careful to randomize her selections, targeting people from different groups within the church. Since most of them only knew a few others in the group, it lessened the chances anyone would realize what was happening. Eventually, though, it was going to be impossible to keep it quiet. As agreed, I was staying as far away as possible from the killing. Usually I didn't even read the comics section of the paper. Our own experiments had been eye opening as well. In addition to finding out what made Dominique Spencer tick, we still had Bastion to deal with. Bastion already knew someone was working against him; his little trick with the buried kill command had confirmed that. The fact that I was able to safely disarm it and seriously mess with his some of his key people at the same time had to have worried him somewhat. So many people waking up in pain from Jamie skinning them alive in their dreams couldn't have gone unnoticed, but so far there had been nothing in the way of a new attack. So far, he had been fighting a defensive battle, against an unknown adversary using what amounted to guerrilla tactics. Of course, that may be a little strong since I hadn't really been doing any harm up to this point. Meanwhile, I was still looking for a way to go after Hightower directly, a risky proposition to say the least. My 'dummy' persona had proven a great way to avoid exposure but useless beyond that. Neither Jamie nor I could sense any kind of attack when 'David' was in charge. Either Bastion was worried that we had sensed him the first day and was intentionally not doing anything, or he was trying and failing. It was a critical difference, and not knowing made the next move not only dangerous but – given who our enemy was – potentially fatal. Until I could be sure, all I could do was continue to carefully pick away at the edges of Hightower's stronghold and hope I got lucky. A dangerous strategy, to say the least, as I quickly found out the night I took the plunge and went to spy on one of Bastion's dreams... I found Bastion in his penthouse apartment on the eighteenth floor of the downtown high-rise I had first seen in Samantha's dream. He was staring out the window at the swirling patterns made by the ant-like throngs of humanity on the street far below. He seemed to be brooding – as if something were bothering him. Worked for me. From what I had been able to piece together, Bastion's life was founded on the time-honored principle that 'Knowledge is Power', and since he had discovered that he had the power to gain knowledge, the life he had founded for himself was very good indeed. It was brilliant, really; the church was the perfect business, affording legal protections that most could only dream of, and a lifestyle that – if the details were ever truly known – would be the envy of many of the world's so-called rulers of old. In an age of restraint, political correctness, fairness, and equality, Bastion lived like a temple priest of the pagan past. Nothing, and – more importantly – no one he desired was truly out of his reach. Given time and the appropriate contacts, there was little he could not do and few, very few, that he could not control. I had a suspicion that had been taking shape in the darker corners of my mind that went a long way to explaining why he had to resort to something as mundane as blackmail in some cases. According to the files Rebecca had shown me, the old idea of 'getting away with murder' had proven no challenge at all; Bastion had accomplished that feat twice already, but that was in the past, buried with his former name. Not forgotten, oh no, he never wanted people to claim he was hiding his past; that would be lying, and priests don't lie. The church members knew his past and grieved with him at the unfortunate reality of his having to change his name in order to make a new start. Life is a journey of exploration and learning, and Christian Wallace had learned that – while the legal system posed no threat to him personally – it was better to avoid the spotlight that came with it whenever possible. It had been years since he had been forced to endure the scrutiny of the masses, years in which he had used his unique gifts to build his own private world of hedonistic delight, all tax-free. The apartment itself was not even the property of the church, but rather donated by one of the faithful. Not for his personal use specifically, but for the head of the church, and it was tax deductible for the member after all. Yes, religion in America did have its perks. So why was he here, brooding in his luxury apartment? Gosh, could it be someone was messing with his flock? Gosh, that really sucked. It must really be getting to him if he was even brooding about it here in his dreams. Broke my heart. Can you tell? His silent reverie was interrupted as a single chime echoed through the apartment. The chime signaled that someone was on the way up in the elevator. With a last look down at the busy street, he went to greet his guest. The elevator doors were tastefully hidden in the ornate mosaic which covered the inside wall. The elevator opened to reveal a young woman kneeling in the center of the floor, eyes downcast despite the blindfold covering her upper face. She was otherwise naked save for a single yellow ribbon holding her long dark hair in a loose ponytail. The clothes she had worn making her way to the downtown building were now neatly folded and stacked to one side. She knelt, without motion or sound, awaiting his command. I couldn't help but marvel at the graceful way she knelt upon the polished floor; as if she were a statue carved of flesh, her feet carefully tucked under her, knees and ankles carefully aligned, hands neatly folded in her lap. If not for the rise and fall of her breast, a casual observer might mistake her for a piece of artwork waiting to be moved for display. I recognized Jasmine's touch. She hadn't trained her, but the person who had knew her techniques. "Rise." She stood in one fluid motion, seemingly without effort, her hands never leaving her lap, eyes never rising. Even blindfolded, she had perfect balance. I recognized her and knew that the graceful movement was not the result of Jasmine's teaching, but from years of ballet training which had honed her every movement to a flowing grace that could truly be called poetry in motion. "Your hand." Another graceful play of muscles brought her arm to shoulder height, the delicately boned fingers extended for him to grasp. "You are truly lovely," he said as he took her hand and led her forward into the room. "My Lord is too kind." She followed without hesitation as he led her forward, trusting him to guide her around any perils that might be hidden from her. I knew from my time with Samantha and several other girls that she counted the steps as she went and was ready for the feel of the thick carpeting when she reached it. Bastion was watching her every movement like a cat watching a mouse; the troubling thoughts that had occupied him earlier apparently forgotten, for the moment anyway. "Kneel and begin." "My Lord's will," she replied. With practiced ease she melted to the floor before him, her hands sliding down his chest to untie the silk robe he wore and find his manhood. Finding him already partially aroused, she rose slightly, took him gently into her mouth, sucked him in until there was no more, and then retreated to begin again. With each pass he grew harder and longer; within moments he had filled her mouth and was beginning to press at the entrance to her throat. Without hesitation she altered her position to allow him easier entrance and continued to press forward, taking his full length seemingly without effort. Elliott Bastion, founder and high priest of the Church of the Inner Circle, smiled as his afternoon guest brought him quickly to a fully erect state. He stared down at her, seemingly amazed as she repeatedly swallowed his full length without effort or strain. All other thoughts were put aside as he gave himself over to her skillful ministrations. She wasn't in Amber's league, and certainly not May's, but it was indeed an impressive performance. Women of such skill could be found in most major metropolitan areas; a city such as Las Vegas – which prided itself on its hospitality and the variety of entertainments available – could probably boast more than most cities. It was, however, not every day that you found such skill in a girl only fourteen years old. "Sick bastard," Allison said as we stood invisibly watching the performance. "How long do we need to watch this shit?" "I don't know," I answered, "but after Susan I don't want to take the chance we'll miss something important by leaving early." "Great," she said dryly. "Have to admit, though, the girl's got talent. I bet she's a lot of fun when she's enjoying it." "I don't know if they're allowed to enjoy it," I said. "Not for long, anyway. I'm sure they are at first, early in their training when they're being conned into believing how special it makes them. It's not until later that they learn the truth – that the only pleasure that's important is his." "Be fair, Jimmy, they're not all men, and the women don't care if the girls enjoy it either. Most of them anyway; the one woman seems to go out of her way to make sure everyone has a good time. They don't seem to mind being with her." "Then she is either doing something very right, or very wrong, my dear," Hightower said suddenly. "You'll have to tell me which one you mean, so I can find out which it is." "Oh, shit!" Allison said softly. "Such language," he said. "Were you one of mine, I would have to punish you for such an outburst." I squeezed Allison's hand to keep her from responding, then kissed it and sent her to the cabana. The last thing I wanted or needed right now was to be distracted worrying about her. At the same time, I couldn't help but notice that the girl never wavered in her efforts despite what was going on around her. "So," Hightower said. "At last you reveal yourself to me." The way he was scanning the room peripherally, I didn't think he could actually see me. Apparently, his perception had been limited to hearing Allison and me speaking. "I don't know if you would call it revealing myself ... It's taken a long time to track down the person responsible for this disgrace; I didn't want to rush in and scare you away." "Scare me away? I fear you greatly overestimate yourself, young James." If he was looking to shock me by the revelation of knowing my name, he was going to be disappointed. His gift would have allowed him to get any information Sam or any of the others had on me. Apparently, he didn't think I knew that... "Oh yes, I do know who you are. Your name anyway, but that will do for a start. You've been careless in your visits among my faithful, and what they know, I know. So what is it you want? "To put an end to sights like this," I said. "Oh, come now, you can't seriously wish to deny me my simple fantasies. Surely there is no harm in a simple dream?" "If it were limited to dreams, you'd be right, and I wouldn't care. But you've taken it way beyond that stage. These girls deserve better." "Ah, the innocence of youth," he said. His tone was somewhere between wistful and sad. "I suspected you would be young. Few men continue using 'Jimmy' beyond the first few years in the professional world. It's almost refreshing. I was like you once you know." "I doubt it," I said. "Of course you do – as I said, you are young – but it's true. When I first discovered my gift, I told myself – as I am sure you have – that I would use it wisely, judiciously, to make the world a better, safer place. I actually thought the world would appreciate my efforts to 'do the right thing'." "Really?" I tried to sound sincere, but I didn't buy it for a second. "Oh, yes. Of course, it was difficult, as I'm sure you know, struggling to master and use a gift you don't truly understand without exposing yourself to those around you. Especially those you are trying to help. "They fear us, you know," he went on. "They don't understand what we offer, only what we might do. They assume that since they would abuse the gift, that we will too, and so they react – not like sheep, but like cornered rats – lashing out at what they fear." He had stopped thrusting himself into the girl's mouth, all but ignoring her as he focused on me. "Now see what you've done?" he asked. "Thank you, my dear, you may leave now. Go with God and know that he loves you." The girl vanished, and he re-tied his robe. "And so I was forced to abandon my crusade to help the pathetic rabble that is the common man. We have arrived before our time, my young friend; the world is not ready for what we offer." "I'd say the world is long past what you seem to offer. Slavery, abuse, exploitation, blackmail... , did I miss anything? Oh, yes, let's not forget murder." "Those are grave charges, my young friend. If I were truly guilty of such things, don't you think the authorities would have stepped in by now?" "And what good would that do when all you have to do is tell them to let you go? What are the chances of getting twelve people who could stand up to you on the same jury? And you only need one to get off." "Ah, so you do know my little secret," he said. "But of course I know yours as well. How do you think the Joe Six-packs of this great nation would react if they knew that there was someone in their midst with access to all their darkest secrets? That is what they would think, you know, whether it's true or not. The ability to move through the dreams of others ... pluck whatever you find out at will. Tell me, can you affect the dreams or do you simply watch?" "And I would share that kind of information why?" I asked. "Because I asked," he said, "but you needn't bother; your works to date speak quite plainly that your gift is more than mere observation. Flaying my faithful alive in their own dreams? Hardly what I would call civilized behavior. That was you, wasn't it?" I really didn't see the point of giving him any more information; he was doing pretty well with his deductions already. Suddenly his eyes snapped to mine, "Answer me!" "Yes," I said without thinking. "Oh shit," Jamie said. "Yes, now you understand, don't you, you arrogant little insect? Did you really think I couldn't see you? I knew you were here from the moment of your arrival. I could have taken you any time I wanted to. I have been expecting you, after all. You can't possibly have been naïve enough to think that I wouldn't be. I knew that you would eventually have to come to me. Who was that with you? Your friend Alice, perhaps, or was it Sharon? Oh yes, I know all about your playful little band. Sweet Samantha told me all about you. You really should have done a better job of covering your tracks. If you had stayed invisible, as you tried to here, you might have avoided notice for some time. Now, since we are no longer bound by the illusions, who are you?" I felt the reply forming on my tongue and held it back. The weight of his gaze grew heavier and he growled, "I asked you a question. Who are you? What is your name?" This time I actually felt my mouth open, but I manage to close it again. "Tell me!" he yelled, and it seemed this time as if his eyes burst into black flame. Suddenly I was lying on the beach, staring up at Allison's face, framed in clouds. Actually it was Alice's face; we had agreed that she would remain in disguise until she was sure it was safe. "Jimmy?" she asked tentatively. "Are you okay?" "He's fine, Allison," Lizzy's voice said from somewhere behind me. "It's just him, nothing came back with him." Jamie sat up out of me and said, "Yeah, we're good; I pulled us back before things got out of hand. Damn that guy is strong." "It was a good first effort though," I said. "We learned a lot. Not the least of which is that he can see us whether we want him to or not." "So it wasn't just sound?" Allison asked, switching back to her regular self. "Did he pick anything else up?" "No, and I don't know how much he could actually see either," I said. "He knew who I was, but he didn't know if you were Alice or Sharon. He admitted he got the information from Samantha, so he should have been able to tell you apart." "Hmm," she said. "That's interesting. I wonder what he's actually seeing? If he couldn't tell if I was blonde or brunette, then there certainly isn't much detail." "Well, he could see well enough to know where my eyes were," I said. "When he decided to stop playing nice, he looked straight at me. Up to that point, I thought maybe he was limited to sound. He kept looking around like he was searching for where the voice was coming from." "Yeah, well, we already knew he was a good actor," Allison said. "He does such a great job at pretending to be a man of God after all." "I wouldn't be so sure he could see your eyes," Lizzy said. "Even if he's just seeing a glow, like what I used to see, then he probably just aimed for where the eyes should be. We're creatures of habit, and unless we really make an effort, we tend to default to standard human norm: the head goes on the top, the mouth, ears, etcetera, all go in the same general area. So, now that you've been there, can you see him?" "I hadn't tried yet," I said. "Before I risk it, I want to go somewhere else, just me and Jamie, in case he can see me watching." "That's kind of a stretch, don't you think?" she asked. "I mean, how could he see you watching?" "How do you see him watching?" Allison asked. "We don't know the limits of his ability. It's not unreasonable to think he may be able to feel Jimmy watching the same as you do. As for him being able to see back along the link ... I don't know, but considering what's at stake, I'm for being just as careful as we can at every turn." "Me too," I said. "I don't know if I'll be able to 'see' him the way I can most of you, but when I try, I think I'm just going to dress in ninja black and stand in a dark room – maybe with sunglasses on." "Good idea," Allison said, "but don't trust that it's working; I wouldn't put it past him to try and fake you out again in hopes that you'll take a chance and give him another shot at you." "Oh, he's going to get another shot," I said. "There's no other way we're going to get a shot at him except to keep trying and hope we find a weakness." "Just be careful," Allison said. "Are you going to try making another fake persona like you did with David?" "I was thinking about it." "Thought so," she said. "Do me a favor and make it look like someone else, though, okay? Just in case his ability to see you increases with exposure. It would be really bad if he found out David Malcolm was his secret adversary. If he caught you off guard without 'David' in place..." "If he didn't just blow the place up one night," Lizzy said. "Let's not forget who we're dealing with. He may dream about using your gift to his own ends, but I don't think he wants it so bad he would risk losing everything he's worked so hard to get. I think he'd be fine with the idea of just eliminating you and continuing on by himself the way he has been. It's worked for him so far, after all." It was a moot point. Try as I wanted, I couldn't see him. In dreams or reality, I was going to have to deal with Hightower in person. Two days later I tried sending a fake persona after him. Everything seemed to be going fine until I brought it back and it tried to kill me. Apparently, without Jamie or me there to keep an eye on it, he had managed to take it over. I was glad we hadn't sent it with any real information. I hadn't really expected it to work, and for fun I'd made it look like him. I figured anyone else he might think was someone I knew and try to track them down. Since I would have to base the image on someone I'd actually seen, it would have to be either someone I knew or just a random stranger. Since most of the random strangers I might come up with lived locally, it was not really a risk I wanted to take, and in the end, it didn't matter anyway. How do you stop a guy you can't even look at in a dream? Still, setbacks were to be expected; Bastion was just one part of the problem. Another part was finding out how far we could trust Dominique Spencer. Testing her had been Jamie's nighttime project. "So how is it coming with Nicki?" I asked. "Jimmy, I've thrown everything at her I can think of; the woman is a rock. This isn't a setup; she doesn't know anything about Henslith – or the Black Queen – that isn't in the files. She thought about making some phone calls and stuff back when you first told her Henslith may show up for a visit, but she didn't want to have to explain why she wanted the information. So, have you talked to Allison about how to do this?" "No, not really," I said. "I don't think there's much to discuss. I'm not planning to tell her the truth about me or what's really going on; I just want to talk to her about Henslith." "Are you sure that's enough?" she asked. "What if she trips over another alarm somewhere and lands in Atkins' office again? You want her telling Atkins that it's all tied to you? Someone knows way too much about David Malcolm already; we don't need the attention. I think we should do to her what we should have done – probably would have done – with Rod if we had known it was possible at the time." "Like Christine?" "Yes, only we wouldn't let her know the truth about you, just use the dream version to consult on important stuff. This time we do it right." I knew what she meant about doing it right. Because of our conversation regarding what we did – or thought we had done – with Christine, and then making 'David', we had realized that what we had done with Christine shouldn't have – couldn't have – been that easy. We'd had help. "You think it would be the same if Rod didn't know the truth?" "Publicly? Hell yes!" she said emphatically. "Whether the dream version knows or not would be irrelevant because you could dissolve it any time. We wouldn't be in hiding now if we'd been able to keep it all in dreams before. I think he and Rebecca would both be better off not knowing. The difference is that Rebecca actually wishes she didn't know – especially after Henslith mind-fucked her the way she did." "I don't know if I'd really call it that," I said. "Call it whatever you want," she said. "Henslith got the information from her; that's all that matters. If it had been buried in a dream version, she wouldn't have been able to get to it. There's nothing we can do about that, but we can keep it from happening again. You managed to protect Rebecca from Atkins, but that was a one-poke test. Do you really think you could have protected her if they knew the information was there and really wanted it?" She had a point. "I'll talk to Allison about it." "I know how much you hate the women always being right..." Allison began. "But she is," I said, finishing for her. "Allison, I'm really not comfortable doing something like this with Nicki – or anyone else for that matter – without them knowing and having a choice." "I know," she said. "It's exactly the kind of abuse you've been afraid of; it's the reason you worry about people like the government finding out about you, but what's the alternative?" "I don't really have one," I admitted, "but I don't want to just use her to cover my ass, either." "What?" she asked. "Jimmy, where on earth did you get that from? That is nothing like what you're doing. I can't believe you even ... That is so not what is going on here. Jimmy, lives – a lot of lives – are depending on you." I started to argue, but she held up a hand to stop me as she went on. "I had a feeling this might come up," she said. Suddenly I got it. "And you have an alternative?" "Maybe," she said. "It's not much of an improvement really, but I think it solves both problems..." Special Agent in Charge Dominique Spencer was reviewing a case file when her intercom beeped. "What is it Barbara?" "Your two o'clock is here, Mrs. Spencer; they're on their way up." "My what?" Spencer asked. "Barbara, I don't have a two o'clock; who is it?" Before Barbara could answer, Spencer's door opened, and man she'd never met entered. He was about six foot one, medium build but obviously in good shape, with blondish brown hair and eyes somewhere between blue and gray, dressed in a gray suit with a matching tie. The cut of the suit didn't rule out the possibility that he was armed, but if he was, it certainly wasn't in a shoulder holster. Before she could even demand who the hell he was, he began speaking. "Forgive the intrusion, Mrs. Spencer, but I needed to speak to you on a matter of some urgency. I believe you know Special Agent in Charge Samuel Rodriguez, from Los Angeles? And this ... is Special Agent Rebecca Hampton." Rod and Rebecca entered as he spoke their names, taking up position next to him and waiting as he closed the door. Spencer stood and extended her hand, "Rod, good to see you again ... A pleasure to meet you, Agent Hampton; I've heard good things. How is your sister?" "Getting better every day," Rebecca answered. Then Spencer turned to me. "And you are?" "Trust me," Rebecca said. "You're better off not knowing." "We can't be sure of that Bex," Rod said before stepping forward and shaking Spencer's hand. "That's one of the things we're here to discuss, Dominique, whether or not you want to know the truth. A lot of this is going to sound very strange, but if you'll bear with us, most – if not all – of your questions will be answered. Then you can decide if you really want to know who he is." "I see," Dominique said. "Won't you please sit down?" I held a chair for Rebecca and then moved another one up to sit next to her, opposite Rod. The action brought a slight frown to Spencer's face. "You're wondering where the extra chair came from?" Rod said. "Trust me, it's about to get a whole lot weirder. We spent the next couple of subjective hours giving Spencer the pros and cons of knowing me – not everything, of course, but enough so that she understood the risks. Rebecca explained that her knowing the truth had directly led to the killing of four agents when people close to David Malcolm were taken from a safe house. In the end – just as Allison predicted – Spencer decided that she was better off not knowing the truth. I thanked her for her time and held the door for Rod and Rebecca before following them out, dissolving the bubble, and sending them back to the dreams I had pulled them out of. None of them would remember being there. "Thanks," I told Allison as she faded in next to me again. "You're welcome," she said. "Now, I think it's time to start getting serious about the cleanup. We're probably behind already, but there's nothing we can do about that. You remember what you did with Christine – or rather, what you thought you did?" Apparently it was time to find out why Allison had me playing with little balls of energy. I had a pretty good idea what she meant, but I asked anyway. "Are you referring to that clone that Brandiy made, then hid in a bubble inside of her before we started telling her the truth, and then swapped for ours at the end?" "Ah," she said. "You figured that out on your own; I'm impressed. Yes, that's what I mean. Jimmy, do you think you could do that with a normal bubble? I mean completely clone a personality like that?" "No," I answered. "The bubbles we've used so far were for containment. Mine wouldn't have worked the way I wanted it to. Did Brandiy tell you how to do it?" "No," she said. "I haven't asked. Jimmy, I think it's important that we not turn to her for answers, but rather try to discover as much as we can by ourselves. Then maybe we can ask her if we're not sure about something – or before we try anything that might be dangerous – but I don't want to rely on her." "I agree," I said. "So what do we do?" "Well, first off, we'll need to trouble Christine for another ball to play with; think she'll mind?" I rolled my eyes. Christine was very happy with her limited part in all this. "Then what?" I asked. "This part may not be quite so fun for you. We need a test case, someone who's not part of..." "You want me to test it on Samantha, don't you?" "Have you been peeking at my notes?" she teased. "Yes, we need someone to test it on that does not already carry your energy. I figured we should use one of the girls, since that's who we'll be working with anyway, and Sam already knows you." "What exactly are we doing?" "I'll be straight with you, Jimmy; there is some risk involved. You're going to key a ball, then attach it to her pattern and see if you can replicate it. Once that's done, you pull it out again, put it in a bubble, and go talk to it. If I'm right, we will have what you thought you had with Christine: a ... personality clone if you will. I want to see if you can use it to protect her from Hightower the way you guys seem to be protected when you leave 'David' out front." I thought about it for a second. "You're hoping that she'll be able to see what he's been doing; see that it's really him behind it all – not know it consciously, but know it here?" "That's the idea, yeah." "You're right; I don't like it. Allison, that's a pretty serious risk. If Bastion finds out that she knows the truth – that it's really him behind it all ... We both know how he handles problems. No. We need more information before I'll be willing to risk Samantha, or anyone else, like that." "But Jimmy," she argued. "We need to know if you can do this." "Then we need to find another way. Now, assuming we find a way to do that, what's the next step? You said there was more." "No I didn't," she said. "Allison, you said that was 'the first thing' we needed to do... ," I reminded her. "Yeah, we needed a new bubble from Christine," she said. "Allison?" I knew there had to be more. "Okay, fine!" She finally said. "If it works, we go into the bubble – well, you do – and tell Sam the truth about what is happening and why. Then she becomes like Christine; during the day, in the real world, nothing is different, but at night when she dreams, her 'other' self knows the truth and can help her deal with the more traumatic elements." "Like losing her parents, even if she hated her life and what they were doing to her?" "Exactly," she said. "Jimmy, these kids are going to need serious therapy, but they don't have the luxury of being able to step into the nearest shrink's office and talk about it. So, for now, I'm hoping to be able to create a place for them to put that stuff where they don't have to deal with it in day-to-day life. Eventually they're going to have to deal with it, but until then..." "Have you talked to Bob about all this?" I asked. "I get the impression you've got him cast as their primary therapist." "Primary point of contact, yes," she answered, "but I expect he'll want to bring others in to help out; people with more experience dealing with this sort of abuse – cult specialists, loss counselors, that sort of thing. My other concern is that they can't accidentally let something slip. One word gets out about what really happened and this whole thing could still blow up." I nodded my understanding. "And you're sure this is going to work?" "Well, not right away," she said. "The only thing I'm sure of is that it will take a lot of work – and practice – but that's why you're using Samantha: she already knows you, knows you're trying to help, and she's someone the other girls – not all, but enough – know and will trust when the time comes. You're going to need to do something similar with Stephen, so that the other parents will have an adult that they know was in the same boat they were in that they can relate to. Jimmy, most of these people – the older girls and the adults – are going to be easy. Not right away, but once we've convinced them that the nightmare is really over and it's safe. Some of the younger girls though ... they're going to take a lot of special handling and attention. From Jamie's description of your little friend April, they've been seriously brainwashed from such an early age, that it is going to take a long time for them to understand that what was being done to them was even wrong. You're going to need to impose some serious inhibitions on them to prevent them from causing problems for the rest of the group. And the adults that April and the other, younger, girls end up with are going to need to know that she's not going to do or say anything to get them in trouble down the road. Here's what I have in mind for that..." After several discussions, we had decided that Angela should go home for the Thanksgiving Holiday. She had her reservations about staying there the entire weekend without support from Lizzy or me, but in the end – when we told her she must – she accepted it. We assured her that we would check on her every night, and that Jamie would be available to come to her at any time. Bob and Rebecca also assured her that if she needed a familiar face to help her feel safe, she could go over to Bob's house for a little while and hang out with them; the pretense, of course, being that she felt safer because of Rebecca. Of course, Bob and Rebecca had a busy schedule as well. They were having Thanksgiving dinner twice, once with Susan and Roxy at Lynn and Mel's place, and then again on Sunday at the rehab center with Amy. For her part, Susan was a little apprehensive at first about taking Roxy into the home of an openly gay couple. "Why would that bother me?" Roxy asked, staring at Susan like she'd just grown a third eye or something. "Well... ," Susan began, unsure suddenly of where to go with the argument. She had been prepared to defend the idea of going, not to defend the reasons why they shouldn't go. Finally, she decided to just take the plunge and admit that she was stereotyping the situation based on her own limited knowledge and understanding of Christianity. "Susan," Roxy said very seriously. "Do you think that just because Miss Hewitt and Miss Jenkins are lesbians that I'm somehow going to be bothered by spending time with them? Does it bother you that they are lesbians?" "No," Susan said, defensively. "They're my friends, and..." "And you love them and accept them for who they are," Roxy said. "Yes, exactly." "Do you think that because they are lesbians, God doesn't love them?" "Well no, but, they're ... you know..." "Living a sinful lifestyle?" Roxy asked. She didn't wait for Susan to answer. "Susan, we're all sinners, you, me, them, Bob and Rebecca, even Jimmy. I know that to you and me one sin is different from another, but in God's eyes they're all the same: evil and – unless we repent and accept His grace and forgiveness – will result in our damnation. It doesn't matter if you shoplift Twinkies at a Seven-Eleven or kill a bus load of babies at an abortion clinic; in God's eyes, sin is sin. Is God offended by their lifestyle? Does it go against the natural order He ordained? Yes it does, and yes He's offended, but He's not any more offended by them than He is by Rebecca and Mr. Shelby having sex before they're married. In fact, if it were possible, He would probably be bothered more by them, because they at least have the option of getting married; they just don't want to wait. Miss Hewitt and Miss Jenkins don't have the option. Would you be surprised if I told you Miss Hewitt and I had talked about it?" "You have? And how do you know Bob and Rebecca are having sex?" "Oh, please," Roxy said rolling her eyes. "For one thing, if they weren't you would have asked something like, 'What makes you think... ?' Not, 'How do you know... ?' Anyway, Miss Hewitt and I talk about a lot of things. I noticed she was sort of avoiding me in PE, so I asked her about it. She had this wild idea that all the Christian kids hated her because she's gay. I told her that if anyone claiming to be a Christian said something hateful about her lifestyle, she should hand them a rock and ask them what Jesus would do?" "Ouch!" Susan had laughed. "Oh my God!" She caught herself. "Sorry, I mean gosh, where did you come up with that?" "My dad," Roxy smiled. "So what do you do if you hand one to the wrong person?" "You duck, of course!" Roxy laughed. "And then you file charges for aggravated assault." Dinner went just fine. Meanwhile, Christine had headed down to Phoenix to be with her family; Tanya and Missy were having Thanksgiving dinner with Mrs. Forester and her family – Tony was in the process of buying us side-by-side three-bedroom condos for the women to live in while everyone was at school, but it was going to be a while before they were ready. The developer was putting Tanya and Missy up in a nearby rental until they could move in. The second unit would remain empty for the first few months because the school had a strict on-campus requirement for freshman students. I knew about the restriction, but I had hoped that they would make an exception due to Tanya's situation with Missy. I was wrong; Tanya would take her first year classes at an extension campus located at the local community college. After that she could transfer to the main campus. Lizzy and Amber would have to remain in the dorms until the end of the first-year term. That wasn't a big problem since the condos weren't expected to be ready until around April anyway. The real question was whether or not Amber would have to return to the dorms in the fall since she was starting mid-term. We were working on that one. Tanya had been completely blown away when she met Amber. I had specifically instructed Amber to wear her graduation outfit: the off-white dress, collar, and earrings that Jasmine had given her. She introduced herself as my slave and introduced Lizzy as her Mistress. She instructed Tanya that she was to call Jasmine as soon as she arrived, which of course she did. There were tears in Tanya's eyes when she finally hung up. Jasmine had informed her that she was giving her to me for the duration of school, and that in my absence she fell to the care of Amber's Mistress. Lizzy said she could see the relief in Tanya now that she knew without doubt that she was not going to have to face the future alone. I had had Tanya's car shipped along with everything else, but it was going to be at least another week before it all arrived, so Lizzy rented her a car to use. The first thing she had done was get Missy registered into school. Tony sent a Deputy Marshal to the local district office in Vegas with a court order to pick up Missy's records, rather than letting them be transferred through normal channels. I already knew Bastion had people in the school system, so I wasn't taking the chance he might be able to find them that easily. I spent my Thanksgiving weekend meeting and being scrutinized by Lizzy's family. For some reason, being away at college for only four months and announcing that you were bringing someone home to meet them – not bringing a guest for the holiday, but to meet them – made her parents uneasy; go figure. As a former Army Ranger, Warren Street was big on first impressions and gut reactions. He did his best not to look like he was sizing me up as he shook my hand, but he wasn't fooling anyone, least of all his daughter. "Warren Street, David, nice to meet you." "It's an honor to meet you, sir," I said, shaking his hand firmly. Something in my eyes seemed to interest him as he held my gaze for a moment before adding, "Call me Duke. This is my wife, Betty..." "It's nice to meet you, Betty," I said, taking her hand in both of mine and just holding it for a moment. "I'm looking forward to getting to know you both." "Where's Molly?" Lizzy asked. "She's over at Maria's," Betty said. "She should be home in a little while; Lizzy, I think we should talk before she gets here." She escorted us to the living room and indicated we should have a seat on the couch. "Now there's no easy way to say this, so I'm just going to put it out there, and you can decide what you want to do. David, I don't know you, so please understand..." "Betty?" I said, interrupting. "I think I can make this a lot easier for everyone. I understand you have a young daughter still living at home, and you don't want to give the wrong impression. Elizabeth and I are not involved sexually, but I'm perfectly willing to sleep on the couch, the floor, in the car, at a hotel – wherever will make you most comfortable." "You're not sleeping together?" Duke asked, obviously surprised. "Oh, we sleep together," Lizzy said. "Every chance we get – he's a great cuddler – but we're not having sex." Her parents looked at each other, and then at me; I could almost hear the gaydar going off. I just shook my head and smiled. "No, I'm not gay. In fact, Mr. Street, I think it only fair to warn you that the primary purpose for my visit is to ask you for your daughter's hand in marriage." I could see the reaction coming and held up my hand. "I'm not doing that just yet; I'm just warning you, so you can be ready for it when it happens. I want you both to feel free to ask any questions you may have, and I will do my best to answer them. As for the sex thing, waiting until we are married is about the only way I can think of to make it special for her, and a first time should be special. It hasn't been easy, but we're doing okay so far." I think I saw a tear in her father's eye, but I ignored it. There was no ignoring her mother's; there were too many. "David, that's so sweet," she said, hugging me before wiping her eyes with the tissue her husband handed her. I ended up in a sleeping bag on the couch in the den. It was an interesting weekend, to say the least. As I expected, her sister, Molly, didn't believe we weren't 'doing it' and spent a lot of time spying on us when we were alone, trying to catch us being naughty. She drew the line at getting up early enough to come along and chaperone us on our morning run, though. The fact that Lizzy and I could run together was one of the nicer surprises. She didn't run as far as I did, but while we were together her stride was almost a perfect match for mine. Trust me, that's rare. We answered her parents' questions as best we could. If we got into an area we couldn't talk about, we told them so. They had been with Lizzy through the discovery, growth, and development of her gift, so they were willing to make allowances for our admittedly weird relationship. I couldn't imagine how hard it must have been for them, especially Duke, as she grew into her gift and began 'ministering' to those around her. For the most part, they had fallen back on the tried and true method of ignoring it as much as possible. She didn't talk about it, and they didn't ask. Naturally we didn't talk about my gift – or the projects I was involved with – but as much as possible, we were honest with them. They were amazed when they saw the article Lizzy had brought about me finding the stolen painting. "Well, it's nice to know money won't be a problem," Duke had said. We just glanced at each other and tried not to smile. They had already seen the article talking about my role in taking down the Sandman. Being responsible for catching the bastard that had kidnapped their daughter had gotten me quite a few bonus points as well. While Lizzy spent Saturday with Sheriff Dobbs' bride-to-be – catching up on the wedding plans and being fitted for her dress – I spent the day bonding with her dad. "You killed him, didn't you?" Duke asked me out of the blue as we were raking up leaves in the back yard. I wasn't ready for the question and found myself completely at a loss for words. "You don't need to answer," he said. "I understand. It can be a hard thing taking a man's life. You hide it well, but I could see it in your eyes when you talked about it." I stopped raking, took a deep breath, and looked him in the eye as I said, "No, I didn't kill him. I left him a gun with a single bullet in it and walked away. I gave him a chance to do the honorable thing, and he did. He knew there was no escape and what it meant if they captured him. The part of him that was still a man wanted it to end. I'd appreciate it if you didn't repeat that; officially I wasn't there, and even the FBI doesn't know the truth." "I'm sorry," he said. "Must be getting old; I've never been wrong about that look before. Seen it too many times in the men I served with." After a few more minutes raking and weighing the arguments in my head I finally said, "You weren't wrong. But, it was a different case, and it was the only way to save an innocent girl's life. I'm sure you understand that I can't talk about it?" He nodded and went back to his raking for a few moments before asking, "Why Lizzy?" "Beats the heck out of me," I said, smiling and shaking my head as I raked. "She's just ... I don't know. I thought I knew what love was before. Her name was Shannon, and she was as close to me as my own sister. She died in a traffic accident, and Lizzy helped me deal with it, but I was in love with Lizzy even before that." I tried to suppress the chuckle. "Of course, I didn't know it at the time; everyone else seemed to – including Shannon – but it took me a while to figure it out. Don't ask me to explain it, because I can't. All I know is that I love her." He nodded his head. "I know," he said. "I can see it in your eyes when you talk about her. You understand about her gift and what it means to her. The fact that she told you about it says a lot all by itself. I have to admit, knowing who she is, seeing her work her little miracles over the years, I was afraid that was all she would ever have, that she would never find true love and happiness. No one ever loved her when it was over; they just moved on with their lives. It pains a man to see that happen to his little girl." "I think you're wrong there," I said. "Duke, your daughter is probably one of the most loved people you will ever meet. Sir, unless I'm very mistaken, they all love her, each and every one of them, but they're not in love with her. I think it's tied to her gift; somewhere in the healing process that gets fixed too, and when it's over, they know in their hearts that they aren't the one for her, but that doesn't mean they don't love her." We talked off and on throughout the day, and when I felt the time was right, I asked, and he gave me his blessing to marry his daughter. I explained about the issues of living in different cities for now, but he wasn't worried about that. In fact, he kind of liked it since it meant that she wouldn't be distracted from school. He admitted to being more than a little anxious that she might not finish. Of course, as soon as she got home, Lizzy knew immediately that something had happened, but Molly was all questions about the upcoming wedding, wanting to know all about her sister's dress, hair, makeup – all the typical girl things – so we didn't get a chance to talk about it until much later. Meanwhile, I tried hard to ignore the glances she was throwing in my direction. All in all, it was a good weekend, and Lizzy spent some of the time autographing calendars for Dave, the owner of the parts store she used to work for. He had ordered a lot of them, but only wanted her to autograph about a hundred for his core customers – the ones she used to deliver to – and a few others. The rest would be given away to customers coming in and delivered to the various shops around town as promotional gifts. There were three others that she was appearing in, which was really something since this was the very first thing she had ever modeled for. The money-maker was the annual calendar for one of the big tool companies. At the prompting of the photographer, she'd done several shots for them, and two had actually been selected for next year's calendar. She got twenty-five thousand for each shot they used. The other two were the usual theme calendars. One was the perennial favorite hot-babes-in-bathing-suits type and would give her a lot of exposure, but it only paid a few cents for each one sold – which still isn't bad when you're dealing with several million copies. Dave's calendar was a smaller production, but she made more; a dollar for each copy. But it was the last one that took my breath away. It had taken a little work on her part, and only one of the photographers had been willing to take the time to set it up. The calendar was titled "Victorian Moments", and it was a 'soft' shot, done in cameo, and a little blurred around the edges so that she was the only thing in the entire picture that was truly in focus. In it, she was standing under a tree, holding on to one of the ropes of a simple board swing. She wore a long peasant-dress with small flowers climbing around it, like something out of a Jane Austen novel. It was gathered just below her breast and seemed to flow down her body from there. There was a garland of flowers in her hair, and the look on her face was far away, as if she were lost in a memory. Her expression spoke of longing, and you knew that she was thinking of someone with whom she had spent time in that very spot. It was the most innocent picture, but just looking at it, I felt I would fight a thousand duels to be the man who got to push her on that swing. In addition to being my personal favorite, it ended up making the most money – as it appeared on the front of a romance novel two years later. The book sold an insane number of copies, and when asked about it, the author said that she had not selected the photo for the book, but that rather it was the picture that had inspired the story. While visiting her family, Amber finally got a chance to tell Tim about me; not about us, but that I had been the one who had found her, and that I had been helping her cope since her abduction, and that I had used her reward money to pay for her school. He was just as pissed as she had expected him to be, and he got over it about as fast as we expected as well. He told her to have me call when I got a chance. She explained as well as she could about my family going into hiding and me having to change my name. He had heard the official story after the bust went down at school, and we stuck with that as the reason. Speaking of the official story: Apparently after having one of his own caught red-handed dealing drugs to them, Steve Dennis – head of the school's security team, affectionately known as the Goonies – had stood up at an all-school assembly, apologized to the students for letting them down, and then publicly tendered his resignation to the principal. There was almost a riot until the principal, in gross violation of every fire ordinance on the books, pulled out a lighter and torched it in front of the whole student body. Apparently the cheering was off the chart, and a lot of the kids lined up to either shake Steve's hand, high five, or hug him as they filed out. It was such a good weekend that I was nervous all the way home wondering what was going to go wrong to screw it up. Surprisingly, nothing happened – well, not for a couple days anyway. I spent Sunday night cuddled up with Amber while Christine took the plunge with Lizzy. Apparently, she'd had an eventful weekend with her family. I didn't ask what had happened to tip her over the edge, but she was solidly committed to the experience when she got back. I got them a room at the Bellagio, and Amber was thrilled that we got to spend a whole night together, just the two of us. Lizzy didn't have any classes on Monday, so they had already planned on staying the extra night. Monday afternoon, Christine and I took them to the airport and sent them home. It was nothing blatant or obvious, but there was definitely more to the goodbye kisses they got from Christine this time. Again, I didn't press. If she wanted to talk to me about it, she would have to start the conversation herself. ------- Chapter 25: The Ticking Clock Tuesday morning the pressure went up when I got a call from someone wanting to see me about locating a missing person. I agreed to meet them for lunch to discuss the details, and we met at the Pink Taco, which is one of the restaurants inside the Hard Rock. As soon as I saw where the hostess was taking me, I knew I was in trouble. The person I was meeting with was a board member of my favorite church. In fact, it was the lawyer who had shown up to ruin Steven Hendricks' life the morning after his wife set him up. "Oh, come on," Jamie said. "This could be fun!" "Mr. Malcolm, Ed Rivers, thank you for meeting me." "No problem," I lied, and then turned to the hostess, "Could I get a get a glass of water please, with lemon?" "Certainly, sir, I'll have your server bring it out; she'll be right with you. Her name is Carla." "Thank you," I said, and then turned back to Mr. Ed. "So how can I help you, Mr. Rivers?" "Well, Mr. Malcolm, I'm here representing the Church of the Inner Circle – I believe you've been to see us recently?" "Yeah, a few times. Nice place, very friendly staff. I'd never been to a church where they gave you your own personal guide before." "We find that many of our new guests are self-conscious on their first visit; having someone show them around helps put them at ease. It also allows our youth a valuable ministry opportunity. I believe it was April that attended you, was it not?" "Yes, that's right. Nice girl, really pretty too; almost makes me wish I were back in High School, but you didn't bring me here to talk about the girls at the church, so..." "Actually, I did," he said, interrupting. "One girl in particular. Let me explain: a few months ago we lost a family; it was a tragic event, a fire in the middle of the night." "Oh, that's awful!" I said, "But I thought you wanted me to find a missing person." "Yes, I'm getting to that," he said. I could sense a hint of impatience in his voice. Good! I knew how much this guy liked being interrupted. Call me petty, but if I couldn't get to Bastion, the idea of fucking with one of his people really appealed to me. Jamie was right; this could be fun. "The fire was intentionally set," he continued. He opened the folder that was sitting next to him and handed me a picture of the family. "Fortunately the smoke got to them before the flames." He then pulled out a picture of Phoebe. "The missing girl..." "Wow!" I said, interrupting him again. "That's her? Hard to believe they're related..." "Why do you say that?" he asked. "Well, she's a little out there compared to the rest of them, and I got a decidedly conservative vibe from the church – just doesn't seem like a good fit. In fact, it's hard to imagine a family with someone like her in the closet attending there. Wait, you said the whole family died?" He held my eyes for a moment; his look clearly questioning if contacting me was a mistake, or maybe he was wondering if I was the right David Malcolm. "She was a cousin, recently moved to the area to live with them after her parents were killed, and God takes all kinds, Mr. Malcolm. No doubt her parents indulged her, but I'm sure, given time, she would have come to realize that this was not the proper path for a young woman in God's Kingdom." "Sorry," I said. "Shouldn't jump to conclusions. Poor kid, first her parents and then the family that took her in? Still, that doesn't explain why she's missing. Wasn't she home when the fire hit? You said it was in the middle of the night. Of course, if she's half as wild as her look..." "Perhaps if you would let me finish, Mr. Malcolm?" he said tightly. "Oh, sorry, go ahead." I couldn't help smiling inside. Jamie was enjoying the whole situation even more than I was; only she was free to laugh her head off. "Hey, take it easy, I'm trying to keep a straight face here." "Sorry." No she wasn't, but then – except for the whole keeping a straight face part – I was really starting to enjoy myself as well. I got another chance when I spotted the waitress heading our way with my water. Just as Rivers started to speak again, I picked up the menu and said, "Maybe we should order first? One less interruption, you know." "Fine." He turned a cold eye on the girl and said, "I'll have the grilled Salmon." "Very good, sir," she answered just as coldly. "And for you, sir?" she asked in a warm voice. "Ooh, I don't know. I'm thinking of a salad, but I'm kind of having a hard time deciding between the Chicken Tostada and the Mexican Turkey." She rolled her eyes, "Oh, I love the Chicken Tostada, with the guacamole and sour cream ... it's really good! But I have to limit myself to one a week because it's so rich. Gotta watch my figure, you know?" "Well, I could watch it for you," I offered. She blushed prettily. "I think I'll try it." "Excellent!" she said. "You won't be disappointed. Will there be anything else?" "Not right at the moment," I said, eyeing Mr. Happy across from me, "but you should check back every few minutes, just in case I think of something." I flicked an eyebrow at her. She gave me a wink and a smile as she headed off to place the order. Jamie chose that moment to give me a glimpse at what was going on in Rivers' mind. He was indulging himself in a little daydream revolving around our waitress, handcuffed to a table in the kitchen with a ball-gag in her mouth so no one would hear her scream. In his mind, though, she was considerably younger. Apparently he thought her training had been seriously neglected in her youth and was thinking about how he might have handled it. Big surprise. "Sorry, Ed, you were saying?" The little daydream bubble didn't fade or pop; it exploded, as his eyes snapped to mine at the use of his first name. "Ooh, good one!" Jamie said. "It was first believed that the girl – her name is Phoebe, by the way – had started the fire." "Whoa!" I said. "You're kidding? Wow, she doesn't look the type, even if they were a little straight for her." "Like I said, that was the initial suggestion – based on the fact that she was missing from the house at the time of the fire. The police were looking for her as a suspect but were unsuccessful in locating her." "Wait," I said, interrupting – Jamie was right, this was fun! "The police couldn't locate a ... what is she, twelve ... year-old girl with flame red highlights and... ? Oh, sorry, you were saying?" I thought I saw smoke, but it may have just been the lighting. "Thirteen," he said coldly, "and they had people searching, but at that point they were treating her as a runaway. They traced her all the way to Southern California, but something happened, and..." "Wait a minute," I said, snapping my fingers. "I think I remember reading about this. It was just before I moved here. Were those the two cops they found dead in that motel? I think the paper said it looked like a murder-suicide. I never saw anything more about it, but you know how that stuff goes – front page today, buried in the classifieds tomorrow. I was kind of surprised they didn't just hand it over to the FBI once they confirmed she fled out of state." "Yes, well, after two of their officers died pursuing her, the local police seem to have given up. Especially since, as you said, they were someplace they had no business being. I do not know if the FBI took over after that or not. We never believed she set the fire in the first place. Despite her look, she was a very gentle girl. We have come to suspect she may in fact have been kidnapped, and the fire set to cover it up." "Well, that's certainly a new twist," Jamie said. "Wow," I said. "That's a bizarre twist, but why would anyone go to those lengths to grab a girl like her? I mean, her parents were dead, and obviously they killed everyone she knew here, so it can't be blackmail. Did her parents leave her a lot of money? Has anyone been contacted regarding ransom or anything?" "Not to our knowledge," he said. "The case stalled when the two officers died. At the time, they were still pursuing the arson angle. It was assumed that they had lost her, but we're wondering if maybe they were actually getting close, and someone killed them." "You think someone murdered two cops who were looking for her?" I asked sarcastically. "Why? What's the motive here?" I waited just long enough for him open his mouth and added, "Wait, that makes no sense; the story in the paper clearly indicated that one cop shot the other – emptied his gun into him in fact. Didn't they send someone else to follow up? I mean, Vegas PD must have been pissed." I could see a vein starting to bulge on the side of his head. "If they weren't so embarrassed by the whole thing, I'm sure they would have. The only information we've been able to get is that they have alerted California authorities to watch for her. We don't think they want to devote the manpower to it for a case that's already cost them two officers." "What a load of crap!" Jamie said. "That's all the more reason they would want to pursue it. Cops don't like it when cops die – especially when they're actually chasing a suspect. They'd be all over this!" "What did they say when you told them your kidnapping theory?" This should be interesting. "Frankly, they blew it off – which is why we decided to contact you. Mr. Bastion was very impressed with your record." "Well, I appreciate the opportunity, but again, this all seems like something the FBI should be handling. A quadruple homicide; the only suspect fleeing across state lines; and now it may have all been to cover up a kidnapping? Two cops possibly murdered pursuing her? It would explain why they couldn't find her; if the cops were after me for something like that, I'd want to disappear, too. But I just can't picture a girl that young hiding from the authorities on her own. If she was as sweet and innocent as you say, then it's hard to imagine her surviving on the street at all." "Yeah! Riddle me that one, Batman!" Jamie said. "Where are you getting this stuff?" I asked, bewildered. "Unfortunately, our priest has had dealings with the FBI before, as a result of which, they are not really an option for us." "Really?" I said. "That's odd. I would think that with six people dead with no explanation, and the possibility that a young girl's life might be in danger, they might be willing to overlook personal differences. If half of what you've suggested is true, then clearly someone is very interested in her and has gone to great lengths to make her disappear. I can't imagine what he might have done to tick them off that badly." "It's not what he did, Mr. Malcolm; it's what they accused him of doing. Mr. Bastion has twice been accused of, and tried for, murder. The last time, the FBI was in charge of the case. He was acquitted after several of their so-called 'witnesses' changed their stories. They didn't take it very well. The FBI hates to lose, I guess. Either way, they are not an option." "You're kidding! Someone accused a priest of murder, twice, and it never made the paper? Of course I can understand why they might want to bury the story; I'm sure it was embarrassing to them, but still, it seems a little petty to let something like that stand in the way of justice, especially if you're right and an innocent girl has been kidnapped and set up like this. I can't imagine why someone would go to such lengths. You don't have a problem if I consult with the FBI, do you?" I asked. "I mean, I've worked with them before, and they may be able to help." "We would prefer they not be involved," He said. "However, the primary goal is the girl's safe return, so by all means – if you think they can help locate her – do whatever you think best." "Ohhh," Jamie sneered. "Fucker, if you only knew what we think is best." Lunch arrived, and we got down to discussing what a job like this would entail. He hinted strongly that I should be ashamed of myself for considering money as an object when the subject was the life of a young girl. Apparently my reputation had me pegged differently. The temptation to pitch a scene and walk out was strong, but the last thing I wanted was them blabbing to the press about why I had stormed out of our meeting. They would have no problem twisting it to look like I was putting the money ahead of Phoebe's life, and that was just plain bad business. I told him I would think about it, and he left me with copies of the file to look over. I promised to contact him in the next couple days with my answer. He left with my suggestion that he consider how expensive it could be to pursue a case like this – especially since the trail was already several hundred miles long and several months' cold. I picked at my salad and flirted with Carla as I looked over the file. Shocked didn't begin to describe Allison's reaction when I told her about the meeting. "They want you to do what?" "They appear to think highly of my record. Well, not Rivers; I don't think I left a very favorable impression on Mr. Ed, but Bastion was the one who told him to contact me. Fortunately, I know exactly where not to look for her. The problem is I can't really refuse the case without looking bad, especially after the high-profile finds I've made recently. This really puts the pressure on to finish this. Obviously I can't 'find' Phoebe for them, but I don't know how long I'll be able to stall, either." "Jimmy," she said, "be careful. Remember who it is we're dealing with here. This is going to give him access to you for updates and such. One slip talking to him, and he's going to know something is up." "Allison, 'David' doesn't know anything about Roxy. He's going to have to start from scratch, and that means a lot of work just doing background on her family and stuff to try and figure out why anyone would be interested in her in the first place. Yes, it's going to be a challenge, but it's not like I can just walk away because it's a tough job. The last thing I want is the press suggesting I'm insensitive to a missing thirteen year old girl." "Jimmy, you're not thinking it through. The last thing Bastion and his group are going to want is the press getting involved. That's the reason they didn't go to the FBI in the first place. Well, that and his past, that part is at least true, but still, they couldn't ask for a better way to make the feds look bad than to try to get them involved and have them refuse because of Bastion's past. I just can't believe they could still want her this badly after all this time." "All I can think is they don't like loose ends," I said. "Any hint they may be feeling the same way about Tanya and Missy?" She asked. "Anybody feeling around for information on their sudden disappearance?" "Not that I know of, but I'll ask. Tony handled the legal aspects, so I have to assume anyone interested would inquire through his office – especially if they found out he had power of attorney. Not that it would matter, since the only address he has for her is a post office box in Florida. From there the mail is forwarded to Lizzy's box at the college, and she passes Tanya's along. I don't even know if she's gotten any mail since she moved. Tony is handling everything himself, so none of his people are vulnerable. I'll check with Jasmine and see if anyone has been asking about her – besides her regular clients, that is." "That should protect them from everyone but Hightower himself. And speaking of Hightower and the whole pressure problem, have you come up with any new ideas on how to handle him?" Something in the way she asked that... "Why do I get the idea that you have?" She smiled as she answered, "Oh, I don't know, something in the way I asked it maybe?" "What's on your mind?" "Well, I've been thinking about how he operates, you know, how he maintains his little empire without anyone catching on that he's the one pulling all the strings." "And?" "Well, everyone we've found is a member of the church, right?" "Yeah." "Which means that not counting extra-curricular activities, he's guaranteed to see them all at least once a week?" "I guess so, yeah." "Jamie, I need you," she said unexpectedly. Jamie had been spending time visiting with Lizzy and Amber while Allison and I caught up on some overdue snuggling in the cabana. I was surprised when there was a discreet knock, and the door opened slowly. "Jamie?" I asked. "What the hell are you doing?" "Practicing not barging in on the people I love when they're spending time together." "Why?" It came out in stereo as Allison and I both asked at once. She looked a little sheepish as she answered. "Well, I mean ... isn't it rude to walk in on people when they're ... you know?" "Fucking like drunk monkeys?" Allison suggested, sitting up. "Come here, Jamie." Uh-oh! I knew that tone; it sounded sweet, but ... this was not going to be pretty. Poor Jamie, you'd think she would have known better, but she never even saw it coming; she just ambled over and sat on the bed. At which point Allison grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her head down onto the mattress. "If you ever pull that shit with me again, Sister, I'm going to have Jimmy lock you in Tanya and take her to a frat house as a party favor. Do you understand me?" "Yes!" Jamie said quickly. "Good, then we don't need to have this conversation again or mention it to any of the other girls, right?" "No," Jamie said, moving her head slightly side to side. "Good, now sit up and give me a hug." Jamie slid upright, and Allison immediately hugged her and started combing her hair out with her fingers. "Silly girl," Allison admonished. "You live here, Jamie. It's your home; you don't need permission, and there is nothing we could be doing that we would be embarrassed to do with you here. What would happen if you let something like this become a habit, and then one day something went wrong, you had to burn a lot of energy unexpectedly, and you really needed to get back? That's the kind of habit that can kill you. You think I want to live with that? You think any of us do? Cause of death: Misguided Manners; sooo not what I want to put on your headstone. "Besides," she went on, "even the Energizer boy-toy here runs down once in a while. What if I'm just almost there and he just ... can't ... quite... ," her voice was taking on a desperate, whiny, oh-god-please-just-a-little-more tone, " ... ugh ... get there." She took Jamie by the shoulders and gave her a little shake. "I count on you at times like that," she said. "To rush to my rescue, to step in, prop him up, and give it to me 'til I just ... can't ... take it ... any ... more." She shook her more with each subsequent word. "God, this is making me horny all over again." She let Jamie go and said, "We can finish this discussion later. Stick around after class. Is there anybody in that church you feel comfortable spending time with?" Jamie had been giggling at Allison's antics, but suddenly her face screwed up, and she said, "Eww! Like not!" "Not like that!" Allison said. "I mean is there anyone you think you could sit through a service with and watch for Bastion to drop by." "Oh," Jamie said. "Like that. Sure, I guess? You mean like Samantha?" A wicked grin split her face, "I could spend some time with her no problem" "No, not her," Allison said. "He already knows how much Jimmy likes her. It needs to be someone he wouldn't suspect. How about Kathy Hendricks?" "Ugh!" Jamie replied, the distaste evident on her face. "Not my first choice. Can I, like, give her cramps or diarrhea or something when I leave?" "You can do that?" Allison asked. Jamie just shrugged and made one of those faces that said she didn't really know if she could, but it sounded like a good idea and might be worth a try. "Fine by me," Allison went on. "Here's what I'm thinking..." I really didn't like the idea of sending Jamie in alone to spy on Bastion. It wasn't as bad as waiting for Allison and my parents to wake up so I could try to get them back, but – in its own way – it was excruciating nonetheless. There is something different about knowing someone is in danger and actually sending them there. "Jamie, don't take chances, okay?" I advised. "Just stay as far back as you can and see if you can pick anything up." "If I stay that far back, I may not get anything at all; you know what happened with 'David'." "We don't know that that is what happened," I said. "Jimmy, relax, I got this. I'll be a good girl and hang back on the edges. If anything feels even the least little bit off, I'll run like hell. You know you could always sneak into Steven and tag along." "I know, but I'd rather stay out here where I know I can come and get you if anything goes wrong. If we're both in there and he spots us ... I don't know, but it just seems too risky to have us both there. I wish Walter could do this." "I love you too," she said, leaning over to kiss my cheek, "but we don't know if Walter could resist him if he was discovered. That could get ugly. If Bastion found him out, I wouldn't put it past him to send Walter back after us. At the very least, I think he would try to get information out of him. I'll be fine, really." It was a long two hours. It was worth it. What Allison had realized was that there was a reason Bastion made eye contact with all the faithful every week: He needed that brief contact to maintain his control. Too long away and the conditioning he imposed on them would begin to break down. It wouldn't do to have the girls, in particular, realize that it was the pastor they were going to visit on some of those weekend trips. "For most of them, it seems to be just a light touch," Jamie said when it was over, "for others, a little more. Our little friend April is one of the easy ones. In fact, all the younger ones seem to be. Turns out April is a nasty little girl. Her favorite time is her weekend to service the deacons. She wasn't really fond of going down on Essex, but as long as someone was fucking her at the same time, she was okay with it. Three seems to be her magic number, one for each major opening. Kathy Hendricks takes more, but not much ... contact that is, not ... you know. Everything is very personal, and the 'message' if you will, is tailored to each of them specifically. For her, it's about power and control, where April's was just the joy of serving." "Damn it, Jamie! That was a totally unnecessary risk!" Yeah, I was pissed. "No, it wasn't," she argued. "Once it was clear that he couldn't tell I was there, it just made sense to find out everything I could. The guy has really good control; you have to give him that. He tailored and delivered a personal message to all those different people without ever missing a beat in his sermon. Jimmy, I'm seeing a pattern here. I'm surprised we haven't noticed it before, and it makes me wonder what else we may be overlooking." "You lost me, what are you talking about?" "Exactly! What I just told you didn't even register. You don't see it." "See what?" I asked. "The differences in the girls based on their age group. Look at Samantha; the first time we – you actually – found out the truth about her, she was in tears after her evening ritual with dear old dad; but when Phoebe came to you, the story she told of Carly and Regina? Now granted, I wasn't there, but did it sound at all like they were being forced? From what I've been able to piece together from stray memories and things you guys have all said, I don't think they were being coerced. Just the opposite in fact; they were actively trying to recruit Phoebe, working with their parents and keeping them informed of their progress." I had to think about it for a second; had anything Phoebe told me mentioned punishment or coercion of any kind? "You're right," I finally said. "The only mention of anything negative was when they told Phoebe she had to stay in the bedroom until her aunt and uncle told them they could come out." "Exactly," she said. "And they were both about Phoebe's age, but Sam and Mandy – in fact, all the older girls – totally different scenario. It got me to wondering if he's either gotten a lot better at what he does with these girls, or if this was the result of getting to them a lot younger. I'm very curious to see how old Sam and Mandy were when the nightmare started for them. I think it would be very instructive to see when all the girls started – especially when you factor in that they were planning to start on Rachel at such a young age. I mean, she's what, seven? And she's been witnessing her older sisters performing with Frank for years. She had memories of Amanda going down on her dad." It made sense; the younger and more impressionable they were... "You could be on to something here, Jamie, and I'm glad you caught it. However, since our primary goal is to put an end to all this, I don't see that it's going to make a whole lot of difference until we have to figure out what to do about them afterward. So for now, let's concentrate on the job at hand, okay? And just so you know; it was still a risk I would have preferred you not take until you talked to me. "So what do you think?" I asked Allison after Jamie and I repeated the story to her. "Do you think this could really work?" "I think so," she said, "but before I go there, Jamie has a valid point – one we need to follow up on. If, in fact, some of these girls are doing all this voluntarily, then we could be looking at problems down the road. We may be setting some of these surrogate families up for failure." "How do you mean?" I asked. I had an idea where she was going, but I needed to be sure we were thinking the same thing. "I mean, some of these girls may not let them stop. If they've been brainwashed to the degree it sounds like – if this is all normal to them – then we could be looking at some serious resentment down the road. Remember what Bob said: Despite being happy that the nightmare is ending, we're still talking about teenage girls losing their parents. There is a deep psychological connection, even in such an abusive situation. He likened it to Stockholm Syndrome – which I, for one, never understood in the first place – but I'll leave the psychology to the two of you. It's going to take a lot of work to help them deal with all this and to show them – convince them, rather – that what they were taught was wrong. Some of them may actually rebel if they are not allowed to 'serve' as they have been taught. Jimmy, you're going to need to monitor some of these girls – the younger ones especially, and make sure." "That's what I thought you meant. I know we're going to have a lot to do dealing with the aftermath, but it's too soon to tell yet. Anyway, first things first, we have to deal with Hightower, or the whole thing has been a colossal waste of time, and I don't want to have to live with the thought that I did all this for nothing." She knew exactly what I meant. Whether I was consciously paying attention or not, my dark side was quietly working behind the scenes arranging for people to die. I wasn't pulling a trigger or pushing anyone off of a cliff, but it was still murder, and I had sanctioned it. Jamie would never have done this on her own for fear of how I might react. So far five people were dead, and it was still early in the game. My conscience could live with my decision for now; if people like Atkins couldn't stop it, then I was the only chance these people had, and this was the only way we had come up with to save any of them. But all that was pointless rationalization if it didn't work, and I wasn't sure if I could live with the guilt if it proved to all be a waste of time. All of that aside, the revelation that Bastion had to 'refresh' his control didn't really help us all that much. It did raise some interesting questions, the biggest being whether we could somehow disrupt the suggestion – and his control. "Bad idea," Allison said. "The last thing you want now is for people to suddenly start behaving differently. He's not controlling most of these people, not the ones we're not interested in anyway. I'd be interested in seeing what kind of message the rest of the congregation is getting – the ones that aren't caught up in all this." "Based on the revenues in Rebecca's reports, I'd be willing to bet it has something to do with tithing," I said. "You're probably right," Allison said, "not that it matters. I don't think we need to be concerned with the rank and file. So, based on what Jamie learned, are you ready to move forward with my idea?" I still had my reservations, but we were on a deadline of sorts with the girls whose parents had been killed. Especially considering Jamie's revelation regarding the younger girls, we needed something in place to keep them from letting on that things might not be quite right with the whole situation. My choice now was to move forward with Allison's plan using Samantha, with whom – of all the girls – I was the most familiar, or Spring, Autumn's little sister, who fell squarely into our problem group along with April. "I still have some reservations," I admitted, "but I think we have to take the chance and try to move forward. My one condition..." I was cut off as Allison and Jamie both said, "That we tell her what we're doing and let her decide." At least Jamie didn't roll her eyes as she said it. "Yeah, we got that part," Allison went on to say. "It's getting late, though, so maybe we should hold off until tomorrow. How's Widget doing, by the way, any more unusual behavior?" I had to stop and think for a moment before answering. For the most part I tended to ignore her, unless she went out of her way to get my attention. "No, nothing really obvious," I said. "I'm not really much of a judge when it comes to feline behavior, though. Maybe you should ask Christine." "Maybe tomorrow," she said. "Don't forget to tell her we're going to need another ball to play with." "Yeah, a big one!" Jamie added. "I don't know that it really needs to be all that big," Allison said. "Hey!" Jamie said, giving her a remanding stare. "You mind?" "Oh, sorry," Allison laughed. "Yes, definitely a good sized one." "Thank you." "You're welcome," Allison replied. "Maybe next time we can experiment and see if size makes a difference." "Hey, it's a dream," Jamie said. "He can make it as big as..." "That's not what I meant and you know it! Don't make me spank you." "Yeah," Jamie scoffed. "You and what... ?" She cut off when she saw the look in Allison's eyes and the way she was holding her head as she stared at her. "Jimmy," Allison said, never taking her eyes off of Jamie's, "I think it's been too long since I spent quality time with my big sister. You don't mind if she hangs out with me while you run, do you? I've got a few extra hours until I have to get up for school." I spent most of my run weighing the pros and cons of beginning work with Samantha. By the time I hit the pool, I had run out of arguments. Hitting the pool was a real wake up, too. I made a mental note to look into a gym with an indoor track and heated pool. Christine surprised me as I was headed for the shower, standing in the doorway blocking my way. As usual I had stripped at the door and dried myself just enough so that I wouldn't leave puddles on the way to the bathroom. "Water a little cold?" She asked, glancing down significantly. Pretty sure it was a rhetorical question. "Maybe I can help you with that," she said, dropping to her knees and reaching for me. With no fanfare, she took my shriveled parts completely into her mouth, balls and all. The rapid change in temperature, along with the sensation of being so completely encased in something so warm and wonderful, was enough to stagger me. "Mmmm," she said, pulling back. "Maybe we better sit you down." With her hands on my hips, she gently walked me back toward the bed. Once I was seated, she repeated the action. She had to work a little harder at it this time, as the prior encounter had been sufficient to get a reaction. She was determined, though, and on her second attempt I found myself lodged deep in her throat with her tongue gently bathing my orbs. There wasn't really room for them to move around much, but it was still a wonderful feeling. The only other person to do it had been Shannon, and it was a sensation I had missed. I made it a point to express my appreciation for her effort. "Ughmmm," I moaned, cradling her head in my hands. I wasn't holding her there, just sort of petting and stroking her as she worked at me. "God, that feels good." I held on as she pulled away, one hand coming up to gently stroke me. Leaning down, I placed a gentle kiss on her lips. "Don't you have to go to school?" I asked. "Want me to stop?" she asked with a smile. "Hmph! That'll be the day," I answered. "I just don't want you to be late on my account. I'd hate myself if you stopped now, but I'll still be here when you get home, and you're worth the wait." "You're sweet," she said and then proceeded to bob her head up and down my shaft a few times before retreating once more, "and you're even better once the chlorine taste goes away. They called while you were out; I got bumped. I go in at eight o'clock tonight to fill in for a pilot who got the flu." "Night flight?" I asked. "Mm-hmm," she responded, not bothering to take her mouth off this time. "Cool. Brian's going to be ... UGH! Oh! Fuck!" I lost my ability to speak coherently as she swallowed me whole and began chewing not-so-lightly around the base, and yes, I mean with her teeth. She hates it when I mention Brian during sex. Usually I did it just to get her to fight a little harder. That hadn't been my intention this time, but still – not the brightest move I could have made at this particular juncture. She let up after a few seconds and gave me a warning look as she stroked me with her hand once more. "I'm sorry," I apologized, "but I was trying to say that Brian is going to be royally pissed that you got there first." "Oh," she said, biting her lip and looking repentant. "Sorry. I'll try to make it up to you." She flicked her eyebrows at me, peeled her sleep shirt off, and began apologizing profusely. It was all I could do to hold back at all, and within just a few minutes, it was over. We traded places, and I returned the favor while recovering enough to thank her properly. Sometime later, much later, we took turns staggering to the shower and emptied the hot water heater trying to get our muscles to relax again. I left a fresh cup of coffee next to the sink for her and made pancakes while she took her turn. Doreen came out to the patio to have breakfast with us. "Well now, isn't this a pleasant surprise?" She said as she came towards us. "Aren't you supposed to be at school, young lady?" "She's been moved up," I answered. "Her first night simulator is tonight." "Well, congratulations," Doreen said with a smile. "For a second, I thought maybe you were playing hookey. I guess that means we won't be seeing you for dinner?" "Not tonight," Christine confirmed. "Probably won't see me much this afternoon either; I'm going to try and catch a nap before I have to report in." "Uh-huh," Doreen chuckled. "David, I got a call from Veronica Blake this morning. She wanted me to not tell you that if you happened to call she wouldn't have news for you. In case you forgot her phone number, I wrote it down for you." "O-kay," I said, taking the slip of paper from her. "Maybe I won't call her later. Meanwhile, I've got some running around to do today. Missing person case I'm working on." Yeah, I took the case to find Phoebe. I figured if I didn't take it, they might try and find someone else. It was highly unlikely that anyone else would be able to track her down, but I wasn't going to take the chance. "So, Christine," I said, "got any plans for your day off?" "Are you kidding? I'm re-reading everything I have on night flying and instruments. I just know they're going to mess with me." "Yeah, probably," I agreed. "I think you'll do just fine, though. My first stop was at Child Services to see what information I could get regarding Phoebe's brief stay in Las Vegas. That got me just as far as I had expected it to. It only took a few moments to be passed on to a supervisor, and when I asked if there was somewhere we could speak privately, I was escorted into her office. "I understand," I said, when she repeated their stand on the children's personal information, "and I applaud your discretion and the care you take with your charges; but this girl is missing, and the family she was staying with murdered. A lot of people are worried about her, and the police are apparently not pursuing the case any longer. I just don't want her to end up as a footnote to a tragic statistic." "I understand, Mr. Malcolm, and I assure you that we don't either, but the law is very clear. Without a court order, I cannot give you access to her file." I nodded. "I understand, thank you for your..." "I can, however," she interrupted, "tell you the name of the person from her home state that contacted us regarding her transfer. Perhaps she can help you." Ever have one of those days? The woman who had originally been in charge of Phoebe's case had since retired, and – since Phoebe was no longer in the state – the case had been filed. I wanted to ask about the adoption paperwork Phoebe had mentioned, but I couldn't justify knowing about it. Just as with the Las Vegas office, when I asked about having the file pulled, I was informed that all information was confidential. I wondered what the chances were of getting an actual court order granting me access. On the one hand, it would be interesting to see if Rivers could pull it off; on the other, it scared me to consider that they may have that much pull with a local judge. I decided I'd better ask, because if they did have that kind of legal clout, I needed to know about it – especially if it was with anyone in a juvenile court. I left a message at his office and called Veronica Blake at Intersure. "Good afternoon," she said after I had identified myself. "Listen, I'm in a meeting right at the moment. Can I call you back?" I assumed that meant she couldn't talk in front of whomever she was with at the time. "Sure, no problem." I didn't have long to wait, and I was completely blown away at what she had to say. Apparently all charges against Ceres had been dropped after he explained his motivation for the theft and reimbursed them for their expenses in trying to find the piece. The extra quarter-million he had thrown in as restitution had been enough to buy him a few sympathetic ears on the board, and they had decided to drop the case. It was rumored that there may have been some 'private' settlements as well, but she couldn't confirm whether or not there was anything to those stories. The most interesting thing was that he wanted to see me. When I asked why he hadn't called me directly, she said he didn't think I would trust his motivations. "So what does he have in mind?" "Dinner at the estate," she said. "He said he owes you a concerto." It was unlikely that he had anything nefarious in mind if he was extending the invitation through a third party, so I accepted the invitation. ------- Chapter 26: Complications Allison had mixed feelings about Christine's new schedule. On the one hand she was unhappy that we wouldn't get a ball to work with and that the experiments she had in mind for the evening had to be put off. On the other hand, it meant she got me to herself for the evening, and she planned to take full advantage, going to bed so early my mom even said something about it. "It was a long day," Allison said. "I'm a little burned out, so I'm going to meet Jimmy in the cabana for some snuggles." "Okay, give him my love and tell him that if he has time, it would be nice to see him." "I will," Allison assured her. Of course, Allison had been going to bed at ten o'clock for years, so going to bed earlier sounded reasonable at eight or nine, not five, so I still had time to work on other things before going to see her. I had invited Spencer to picnic with me in Freedom Park for dinner. Neither the strangeness of the invitation nor the significance of the location was lost on her. "What's wrong, David?" She asked as we sat at a table, sharing a Pastrami sandwich and watching a group of children dropping breadcrumbs off of a footbridge to the ducks swimming below. "I can't tell you yet," I said. "I need a fingerprint run, but if it's what I think it is, it's going to trip every alarm between here and Washington." "So you think you know who it is, but you're not sure?" "Yeah," I said with a sigh. "And if it is who you think it is, then we have a problem? How bad?" "Scale of one to ten?" I offered. "Okay," she agreed. "Nine, maybe nine and a half." "David, I put 'lives on the line' at around eight. Are you sure it's that bad?" "It adds credibility to other information I've received," I said. "What kind of information?" she asked. The one line back and forth was getting tedious and going nowhere. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the plastic bag with the Queen of Spades inside, holding it face down where she couldn't see which card it was. I wasn't ready to share the note yet, so I'd taken the post-it off and bagged it separately; it was in the safe at the apartment. "I received this along with some other things early last month. It's taken me this long to reach the point that I'm ready to move forward on it. I need to know if it was really sent by the person who claims to have sent it. They sent this card, packaged – I assume – to protect the fingerprints, along with a note. I have the note at home. I just need to know if the prints belong to who I think they do." "And who would that be?" she asked taking a sip of her soda. I flipped the card over and dodged the spray of Dr Pepper coming from her mouth and nose. "Jesus!" she swore, covering her mouth with a napkin. "Are you telling me the Black Queen contacted you?" "Sorry," I said, handing her another napkin, "I should have waited until you swallowed." I paused to take a drink before going on. "Nicki, I've got a big problem here. I need to know if this is real. If it is, then we have an even bigger problem. I can't use my source, or Rod, for this... ," she started to say something, but I rolled on before she had a chance, " ... and I can't tell you why until I'm sure what I'm dealing with. You came highly recommended as someone I could trust to help verify it." "Someone recommended you come to me to verify that the prints on this card belong to the Black Queen?" The fact that she ignored the use of her nickname said a lot. Allison would probably say I was having my usual effect, and she had moved our relationship far enough up her personal scale to allow it. Considering the number – and status – of the only people she allowed to use it in the past ... On the one hand I was irritated that Allison was right again, but at the same time, I couldn't help but feel humbled that I had somehow reached this point. I promised myself that I wouldn't make her – Spencer, that is – regret it later. "Yeah, she felt you could be trusted." "Who?" "The Black Queen." "What?" She hissed. "You're telling me that The Black Queen sent you information – sensitive, potentially dangerous information – and told you to use me to verify that it was really from her? Are you out of your mind? Why would you trust me on a recommendation like that?" "Logic," I answered. "She knows that I would doubt any recommendation she made, therefore she wouldn't make a bad one because it would undermine what she's trying to do – which I assume is to gain my trust. She said that you have a reputation for integrity and independence. That that's both the reason you've risen to where you are, and the reason that you aren't likely to be going any higher – because you won't play along with the kind of shit that goes on at the higher levels." "She said that about me? That's almost scary." "Not nearly as scary as if she's telling the truth about the rest. She sent two other things. One was a newspaper clipping from Santiago Chile. On October 13th a high-ranking government official there was assassinated. She wants me to believe it was her that did the hit." "What?" she asked, incredulously. "Why would she admit something like that?" "Because that's the same day four agents were murdered and several people were kidnapped from an FBI safe house in Los Angeles. She knows that I would suspect her, and she's telling me it wasn't her. Of course, she's also telling me who the mercenaries were that actually did it, so I have to take her word for the fact that she's not the one that hired them. That's more credit than I'm willing to give her, but I need to confirm whatever I can." "Right," she said. "I'm not willing to give her credit for either one." "There may be a way to verify it – some of it anyway – if you have the right contacts, contacts you can trust." "And what would I be verifying?" She asked. "She said her Company handler sanctioned the kill." I emphasized "Company" to make sure she got my meaning. There was a sharp intake of breath, and I could almost hear the muscles in her jaw tightening as she said, "Son of a..." "There's more, but I need to know if this is real before I'll risk telling you. It's potentially too harmful if we can't verify it. I'm in deep here, Nicki, and I need your help. Can you verify this without tripping alarms from here to Atkins' basement?" "It might take a while: I'm going to have to process everything myself and work a little magic to get it to the right people. How fast do you need to know?" "It's not time sensitive as far as I know. I just can't do anything until then. Whenever you can get it to me will be fine." Even with a month to think about it, I still hesitated before telling her the rest. "Nicki, this all came from a UPS envelope that Doreen found on her front porch. I ran the tracking number; it wasn't in the system. I think there's a good chance Henslith delivered it in person. I doubt if she stuck around, but there is a chance that she could still be in the area." "Oh, this just keeps getting better," she said, shaking her head. "Son of a ... I need an ice cream. You buying?" "Oh gee," I said, rolling my eyes, "let me think..." We chatted some more as we made our way around the park, then it was time to go see Allison. There are worse ways to end a stressful day than in the arms of someone you love. "It's a good thing there is an empty room between you and the folks," I said as we lay snuggled together in her bed. "Why do you think I picked this room?" she pointed out, "and why do you think I bought the little wave radio?" She had picked up one of those digital clocks that had like twenty different ambient soundtracks that it played. They were originally designed for travelers, so they could have background noises similar to home to help them sleep better. Personally, I don't know how anyone could sleep with some of them. One had a train going by, and another was supposed to be a jungle, but it sounded like the bird section at PetCo, and there's a reason they have that part of the store enclosed in thick glass. How could anyone sleep through that? The waves were nice, though, and it did do a good job of masking the little noises – although Allison still tended to finish with a pillow over her head. She's gotten better at keeping the vocals down, but she can get a little loud when the moment strikes. "So, between that and the pillow you think we're okay?" I asked. She sat up a little and gave me a look. "After everything that's happened, you don't think mom and dad would be kicking the door down if they thought someone was in my room? Yeah, I think we're good. Mom wants to see you, by the way. You really should make it a point to stop in more often." "I know," I said as she snuggled back into my side. "Maybe I should have Christine put it on your calendar." "Sad to admit it," I said, "but that's not really a bad idea. I wonder how she's doing at school?" "Probably embarrassing the rest of the class. How're things with Amber and Easy?" "Good. A little hectic with finals next week, but they're okay." "Finals," she said. "That means winter break is right around the corner. Wow, can you believe it's almost Christmas? This whole year has just flown by. What are the girls going to do? What are you getting them?" "I have no idea," I admitted. "I was afraid of that," she said. "You know I wish I'd never brought it up. I mean, I don't even have anyone to shop for, and if I did, I don't know how I'd get gifts to them, and ... What is so funny?" What was so funny was a thought I'd had while she was talking. "It just occurred to me that I could play Santa Claus and deliver them." Her hand flew to her mouth as she started to giggle. "Oh, my God! That is too funny! Can you imagine when people woke up Christmas morning and started opening presents? 'Oh, honey, you shouldn't have.' 'Uh, dear? I didn't.' People would freak out. This could be fun." "Yeah, I can see them lined up filing for divorce, thinking their spouses were having affairs, and their lovers had actually sent gifts. That could be ugly." "Well, yeah, of course you'd have to be careful," she said. "No lingerie or jewelry or stuff, but if you don't go overboard..." "I'm sorry I brought it up," I said. "But at the same time ... Do you have any ideas on what I can get anybody? I haven't even thought about it." "Well, you have been a little busy, and I'm sure they would understand, but still ... The only thing Lizzy really wants from you is your body, but an engagement ring wouldn't be out of line, and it's something her family will expect since they know you popped the question already. Or do they? All you did was get her dad's permission, right?" I nodded, and she went on. "As for Amber ... Hmm, you know, everybody wants the same thing; Amber, me, mom, we all just want time with you. Mom would kill to have you here for Christmas – as would I – but it would be too risky. It's such an obvious thing, that anyone who wanted a way to get to you could just follow you straight to us – and don't say it; no, you can't just pop in, out of the question." "No, it's not," I said. "I don't have to pop in here; I could pop in somewhere else, rent a car, and then just show up. I could use the other ID Rod set up." She thought about it for a second, finally saying, "It sounds good, but I don't know; I'll get back to you on that. And all things considered, I don't think you should count on that ID until we find out what's really going on in LA." "Good point. I think I'll work on another one. It will be good practice, I can run it by Bart Reston before I use it, just to be sure." Bart Reston was the Tech wizard that Rod had set me up with to learn how to disappear, and how to recreate myself – or someone else – convincingly. "So where's Jamie?" Allison continued. "Off doing things you don't want to know about?" "I don't know; I didn't ask." "Yeah, that's what I thought. Jimmy, are you okay? I mean really okay?" I rolled so that I could face her and look in her eyes. "You're worried?" "A little, yeah," she admitted. "Good!" I said emphatically. "You don't know how important it is to me that I have people who care enough to worry. But – no matter what I say – Allison, don't take my word for it, okay? Because if I were slipping, if it were getting to me, I think that person would say whatever he had to to convince you that everything was okay. Ask Lizzy, always. Okay?" She got a half guilty look on her face. The kind you get when you're caught doing something that's not really bad, but maybe a little sneaky. "Already figured that out, huh? You're such a little smarty-pants! I think someone needs to teach you a lesson." "Yeah?" She said. "Too bad there's no one here that can handle the job." I had noticed a couple of scarves on the headboard when I first arrived, so I'd suspected something like this might be coming. Allison would never be like Amber, but – like Christine – she did like to play once in a while. However, while both liked the illusion of being forced, Allison went further. Maybe it was how much Brian had hurt her that made Christine unwilling to trust that far, but even the idea of being tied up took any hint of pleasure out of it for her. Allison, on the other hand ... Even with her panties stuffed into her mouth and a gag tied so she couldn't spit them out, I still had to cover her face with the pillow when the end came. She was still unconscious when I finished untying her, so I just tucked her in, kissed her gently, and went home so I would be there when Christine got home from school. Once I was settled comfortably on the couch, though, I went to the cabana – which is where Allison had ended up when she overloaded – and snuggled her until she came out of it. "God, I miss this," she sighed languorously as she woke in the big bed next to me and stretched. Then she realized where she was and said, "Wow! It's been a while since that happened. In fact, I don't think it's happened since before Shannon died. Not counting hell night when we got in trouble with Jamie, of course, but you really can't count that." "Why not?" I asked. "Give me a break, you can't put that in the same category as anything else. I still get shivers just thinking about it. The good kind," she rushed to say. "I'm not afraid of it anymore because I know it won't ever happen by accident again." "But it still makes you afraid when you think of what will happen when Elizabeth and I do it?" "Of you and Lizzy? Yeah, I'm a little afraid of what that might do. You and Lizzy and Jamie; now that scares me." "It does seem to be getting stronger," I admitted. "That last kiss; the one in the dorm room..." "Exactly," she said, "and that was just a kiss. Did you ever figure out how much time actually passed?" "No, we were all completely out of touch with reality. It was ... indescribable. I just don't have the words." "And how did you feel afterward?" she pressed. I could tell by her voice that she had shifted to analytical mode. "Were you tired at all? What about Jamie?" "Dazed and confused, but not tired. As for Jamie, you saw what happened..." "Yeah," she said, "Big sister was in a bad way. Not that that's a bad thing, and I would have been happy to help her take the edge off, but ... So whatever your energy was doing when it was playing with Lizzy's, it wasn't going to waste?" "Not even," I said. "Kind of makes me wonder what kind of ball we'd make if it worked the same with her as with Christine." "I'd be more concerned about what a ball like that could do – would do – to whomever it hit." That got my attention. "You think it might actually hurt someone?" "I don't know if it would hurt them – not that it couldn't – but we've already seen that emotional interplay makes a difference. I'm guessing that the manner of its creation makes a difference as well. Now, if one were to manifest in the middle of a fight or something ... that could maybe get ugly, but I don't even know if it's possible." "I don't want to know if it's possible," I said. "So what's the plan for tonight?" "I need to pick Roxy's brain a little." "Really? What for?" She asked. "Well, I'm supposed to be finding her, and part of that includes discovering why anyone would want to kidnap her as the church has suggested. So I'm starting out by back-tracing her to her original state. I want to know the names of the people who were trying to adopt her." "No," she said. "Jimmy, you're not thinking this through. You can't pull information out of the air on this, too many people – bad people – are watching. How far have you gotten?" "Not far," I admitted. "Child Services won't talk to me without a court order – I've got Rivers working on trying to get me one. The woman did give me the name of the person who originally referred her out here to live with her cousins, though – so that's something. Only problem is that she retired, and the file has been closed and buried in the archives somewhere." "Okay, so fly back and see them; it will cost more than a phone call, but a personal appearance could make the difference in whether or not they talk to you. When you get there, find out which judge oversees their version of Child Services and go see them. Explain what it is you're trying to do. Go at night if you have to and give them the off-the-record version and get a court order allowing you access to any and all materials relating to her. If Rivers gets you an order from the Vegas court, take it with you and show it to them. It won't help much – because it's out of state – but it will show them that you have the support of the locals, and that may be enough to sway the judge all by itself. What you're looking for should be there, and the fact that you were able to acquire any information at all will impress Bastion's people. So will getting a court order on your own. Either way, it's on their dime, and their time, and they will know you're putting your best effort into it. Besides, it will establish your presence somewhere else if anything unusual happens here." I didn't have to ask what she meant by that. "You really are a smarty-pants," I said. "Does that mean you're going to teach me another lesson?" "You're too eager," I said. "What was it Shannon used to say about rewarding bad behavior?" "Shannon believed in a system of positive reinforcement. And if you need to see Roxy I think you should do that thing you were talking about before; pop in, rent a car under another ID, and go see her in person." "Why in person?" I asked. "Because I don't trust that things will work the same in dreams with her as with everyone else." "What do you mean?" "Come on, Jimmy, she's special. Special like Lizzy was before you met her. Not the same way, of course, but you've heard Bob: she knows when you're in trouble. She's linked to you somehow, and while I'm sure it has something to do with your energy, I'm not sure that's all of it. I don't want to take the chance of her spotting you in a dream and remembering it in the morning. Besides, Susan would probably appreciate knowing you were okay too." "Okay. So what do you want for Christmas?" I asked. "Besides more time with you?" She asked. "I don't know. It's too soon for a car; besides, mom and dad would freak, and there are not that many places I really need a car to get to anyway. Maybe when I finish all the testing and move up to college classes – just so mom and dad don't have to take me and pick me up all the time. I know, how about some surfing lessons? Or maybe Scuba, that would be cool." "After playing mermaid on the other side, I don't think you would appreciate it as much in real life," I pointed out. "True enough, but it would still be fun. Meanwhile, if you don't have anything pressing to do, you should go see mom and dad. He wouldn't say anything, but I know he misses you and worries about you too. I've got placement tests coming up in a few days, so I've got some studying to keep me busy." She rolled up and kissed me very thoroughly. "Thanks for coming to spend time with me. I miss you too." My parents were indeed happy to see me. Fortunately, mom didn't gush too much, and the tears dried quickly. They were both adapting very well to island life. Dad had gotten a job with a local investment firm. His resume was impressive, and even accurate – if you didn't mind the fact that all the contact information routed you to the FBI offices in Honolulu. After reading Henslith's letter, I was glad Rod had turned the cover over to them to maintain rather than using the LA office. In theory, the locals didn't know, or care, who he really was – only that there was a cover to be maintained. Although, I thought, if Rod's office had a mole, there was no guarantee that the Honolulu office wouldn't have one as well. Damn, I was starting to get paranoid. But then, I certainly had a good reason, and in this case it was a good thing. The question was: was I getting paranoid enough? Maybe I needed to make them disappear again – this time with no help from anyone I couldn't personally verify as being trustworthy. No, not yet. For one thing it would really freak them – especially my mom – out. Not to mention tipping whoever may be watching that I was on to them ... but it couldn't hurt to start laying some ground work... Mom had gotten a job doing inventory management for one of the large warehouse firms on the island and was already saving them money. The first thing she had done was bust one of their people robbing them blind. She wasn't planning on staying there, though. It had become very quickly apparent that the local industry was seriously behind in the area of inventory tracking and management, so – rather than tie herself down – she was planning to set herself up as a consultant – which would also allow her to work from home much of the time. We had a good visit, and I was more than a little homesick when I left. Maybe Christmas in the islands wasn't such a bad idea after all. I made a mental note to discuss it with Lizzy. In the background I heard Christine coming into the apartment, so I knew it was time to leave. I kissed my mother, hugged my dad, and promised not to be so long between visits next time. I was surprised to find Widget stretched out on me when I opened my eyes. Rather than dislodge her, I stayed there petting her softly as Christine came in. "Hi, honey, how was your day?" I said as she closed the door. "You're up?" she said, surprised, "I thought you'd just left the light on for me." Widget stood and stretched and then sat regally and waited for Christine to come to her – which of course she did – stooping to scratch her head and then picking her up to cuddle her and gush baby-talk at her. I waited patiently for her to finish, then swung my feet off the couch to make room for her. "So how did it go?" I asked. "Oh god, what a night!" she said, her voice somewhere between exhaustion and exultation. Yeah, she was going to need to decompress and bleed off a little energy before she was ready to sleep. "Sounds like it. So tell me the important part..." She got an evil grin and shook her head slowly from side to side as she stared into my eyes. "He wasn't there." "I told you you were going to leave him in the dust. So tell me all about it..." It was probably an hour and a half later that we finally crawled into bed. She was in 'thank you for everything' mode by then, and it was a while after that before we got to sleep. Jamie was back by then, and Allison got her ball. I knew it would be floating around the room somewhere, so all I had to do was concentrate on it and take it with us to the other side. Even I was a little surprised when I got there. It wasn't the size that got my attention, but the fact that there were two of them. After Lizzy had shown it to us the first time, it had been easy for me to make them visible – except that where Lizzy had shown us the actual bubble, the closest I could get was putting a colored shell around it. "Someone had a really good time tonight," Allison said with a smile. Christine could only blush and bite her lip in response. "Do we have time to do this, Jimmy?" "Should I be here for this?" Christine asked. "That depends," Allison answered. "Do you want to know what's really going on? I'll warn you, it's ugly; really, really ugly." "Can you let me forget about it if I don't like it and change my mind?" The scene froze, and Jamie came out. "Don't do it," she said. "I know what you're thinking, and yes, you could do it, but think about what you would be doing. It would mean tampering with this personality, the one that knows the truth. It would essentially turn it into a slightly more knowledgeable version of the everyday one. If you tell her you can, she may someday question whether you actually have and she just doesn't know it." "She's got a point," Allison said. "What do you suggest, then, Jamie?" "Lie to her," she said without hesitation. "Tell her you can't do it. Tell her it's too dangerous and you don't want to risk damaging this – her core personality if you will. Promise her you'll tell her when it's safe, but that knowing the truth could actually put her in danger. That much at least is true." "Okay," I said. "Thanks." She gave us both a quick kiss and stepped back into me. "No," I told Christine. "This is your ... core personality, if you will. We can do what we want with the other one; make her forget things; make up credible memories for things you want her to know, that sort of thing. We can do just about anything with her, because she's not real. We can't do that with you. Once you know something, the best you can do is withhold it from her. So unless you're sure, really sure, that you want to know, then we just won't go there. Later, when it's over – when it's safe – I promise I'll tell you what's been going on, okay? Assuming you still want to know, of course." "You make it sound like even if you could do it, it would be dangerous for me to have the knowledge." We both nodded. "Yes," Allison said, "it would be. It's one of those thing where if the wrong person even suspects that you know the truth, you could be in serious trouble." Christine looked back and forth between us for a moment. "I'm dying to ask that next question; you know I am. I don't want to ask how serious, do I?" I just shook my head. "Okay, then; Allison, nice to see you again; Jimmy, thanks for watching out for me. I'm going to go study. Say hi to Lizzy and Amber for me, okay?" "Would you like to go study with them? Lizzy is cramming for finals, and Amber is trying to get ready for the start of the new term." "Sure, that would be great." I sent her off to the library to join the other girls, and then Allison and I went to find Samantha. That didn't really go as planned either. "Jimmy!" Samantha exclaimed, opening the bedroom door and leaping into my arms to hug me. That was a shock. Usually she was on her knees by the time the door opened. And she also had a shirt on? I always had to add that myself, too; after assuring her that it was really me, of course. "Oh, it's so good to see you!" She pulled back and planted her mouth firmly on mine, lips slightly parted but opening more by the moment, her tongue snaking out to find mine. Hey, I can take a hint. A few moments into the match, Jamie decided she wanted a piece of the action. "Hey!" she complained as I quickly broke the kiss. "Hello, Sam," Allison said from behind me. "Being a little careless, aren't you?" "Alice!" she exclaimed, just realizing she was there. "Gosh, it's so good to see you." I stepped aside so she could say hello. She kept it simple this time, just a firm hug and a quick peck on the lips. "That's it?" Allison complained when she pulled away. "What?" Samantha asked. "God, no! Oh, Alice, you can have all you want, whenever you want, either of you. Both of you! Anytime! I just didn't think ... Well, I mean you've always been sweet and all, but it was always Sharon who seemed ... Where is she, anyway? I don't think I've seen her in ages. Besides, I figured if you were here, it had to be something important, and I didn't want to..." I froze her. "She seems a little happy to see us," I said. "Is it just me, or is this not what you expected?" "No, I'm just as surprised as you are. Maybe you need to shock her a little; bring her down to earth, or at least into a lower orbit. Otherwise, I get the idea she's just going to keep gushing." "Waterslide?" "It's a start," she said, shrugging her shoulders. I unfroze Samantha and dropped her through a hole in the floor. I didn't want to freak her out too much though, so I dropped both of us through two other holes at the same time. The tubes were transparent, so she got to watch us all splish-splash our way down. I had them set up so Allison and I got to the bottom first, so we could be waiting for her. It didn't help a lot as she came up laughing and immediately threw her arms around my neck and started kissing me again. At least this time it was just a shower of lip prints instead of a tonsillectomy. "I love you!" she exclaimed, somewhere between the fourth and fifth peck. I pulled her in tight to my body so she couldn't reach my face, grabbing the back of her head and forcing it far enough back that she couldn't just switch to my neck and shoulder. Unfortunately she seemed to take this as a different sort of invitation and wrapped her legs around my waist. Which, of course, caused the usual reaction guys have when mostly naked girls start squirming all over them. Thank God Jamie had realized that this was not a good time, and as quickly as it started, the reaction faded again. "Thanks." "No problem," she replied. "Sooo not the time for that." "Sam?" I said. "Are you okay? Don't get me wrong, but this isn't the kind of reception I usually get from you. I thought I warned you never to take it for granted that it was me?" She hugged me tighter for a second and then pulled back. "He can't hurt me here," she said. "Out there, yeah, but not here, and anything he does out there you can fix. I know that now, because he's tried, and you've saved me every time. And now – " she gave me a smile that was suddenly holding back tears. It didn't do a very good job as she gave a small sob and said, "And now you've saved Rachel too." She hugged me tight again, sobbing softly for a second before reaching out to Alice. "I just love you both so much. For all you've done, for all you're doing. Mandy must be so happy." "Okay," I said, "but it's not over yet, Sam. There is still a lot to do." "But you're doing it; I've been watching the paper, and you're doing it. You're saving us all." She got silent and just clung to me for a few seconds before saying softly, "Thank you." "You're welcome. But Sam, don't you miss your parents?" She pulled away and looked at me in disbelief. "Frank and Irene? Fuck them!" She said vehemently. "They weren't parents, they were Lords. Not even Masters, because no Master would treat a slave like they treated us. And parents, real parents, would never let their children go through what they did to us." "Well, so much for dealing with the loss," Allison said. "Aren't you worried that if you let your guard down like this, you might slip in front of Stephen and Kathy?" She waved it off. "God, no! Stephen loves me. And Kathy? That bitch is easy, all she wants is someone to suck up and make her feel superior. Sure, she hates me, but she doesn't know what to do about it. Besides, she likes the way I make her feel, and she really likes that I don't have a choice about doing it. She's always been easy. She likes to make me grovel when Stephen is there, show off how much control she has, but when he's not there?" She shook her head. "She doesn't know what to do. She tried to hurt me once, but he stopped her. He pointed out that what she wanted to do would leave physical signs, and that if the wrong people saw them, it would attract attention. I wasn't sure even that was going to stop her, but then he pointed out what Hightower would do if she attracted that kind of attention. "So why are you guys here? And how come Sharon doesn't come any more? Did you guys have a fight or something?" "Sharon's dead, Sam," Allison said. "She died in a car accident just after school started." "Oh my God, that's awful!" she said. "I'm so sorry for you." "It's okay," Allison said. "Life happens. I'm just sorry she never got a chance to be with you. She wanted it pretty bad." "Ohhh, she did?" Samantha said. Her voice sounded like she just found the cutest puppy in the pet store and someone said she could have it. "That is so sweet of her." Suddenly she froze again and Jamie came out. "Okay, something is seriously not right here," she said. The scene changed so we were back in Sam's bedroom and she called, "Lizzy!" "Whoa!" Lizzy said as she popped in. "No need to yell girlfriend, what's up?" I'm not sure if she did it on purpose or not, but Jamie had managed to bring her in between Sam and us. Lizzy must have recognized the wallpaper, though, because suddenly she stiffened. "This is Samantha's room, isn't it?" "Yes," Jamie said. Even I was getting worried now; Jamie didn't get this serious very often. "Elizabeth," she began. I lost the next part as suddenly Lizzy's voice came to me, "Oh shit! Jimmy, what is going on here? Jamie just called me Elizabeth!" "Yes, I did," Jamie said. "God, like I'm not going to hear that ... Jeez, if you'll just listen and not panic for a second, I'll explain. Yes, we're in Sam's room, and yes, I think it's serious and that's why I used your full name, but it's not serious the way you're used to, so bear with me. I need you to look at Sam for me." Suddenly it dawned on me where she was going with this. Allison too, only she got it out first. "You think she split, don't you?" "Yes," Jamie said, nodding her head. Lizzy's eyes got wide, and with no further prompting or preparation, she turned around to where Samantha stood frozen, still wet and in her bathing suit from the lagoon. It didn't take long. "You're right, Jamie," she said. "She's generated a second personality." She looked at me. "You're too late, she beat you to it. She has a public face she is hiding behind, just like your 'David' and the daytime Christine, but this, this one here, is the real her, the one that knows the truth. I'll bet you anything that she hears him talking to her 'public' self in church now." "Is this a good or bad thing?" I asked. "Because I can see it going either way." "So can I," Allison said. "I think if it were anyone else but Sam, it would be a problem. Check me on this Easy; tell me if I've missed anything. Sam knows the truth about Jimmy and needs to protect him; she feels safe here because she knows and believes that anything Hightower does Jimmy can undo, but she knows the risk if Hightower discovers the truth. He's gotten to her before, so she knows the only way to be safe is to 'not' know, but she can't do that, can't just forget. She's desperate about what will happen – not just to her, but to Rachel as well – and eventually the pressure builds to the point that she can't take it anymore, and her mind, unable to find a safe place, created one." Lizzy was already nodding her head before Allison finished. "Yes," Lizzy said. "I think that's the most likely scenario, but I'm not an expert on any of this, so you may want to ask Mr. Shelby." "It doesn't matter," I said. "How or why isn't the issue; whether or not it's enough is the issue. I think we need to go ahead with what we had planned. It may no longer be necessary, and we're not going to get some of the answers we want, but we can – or should be able to – make it safer for her. Has Allison talked to you about what she had in mind?" "No," Lizzy answered, "but judging from those two bubbles following you around – and judging from the size and the fact that there are two of them – I'd say someone had a really good time tonight. Judging from those, I'd guess you were going to do with her what you tried to do with Christine: Create a second personality so that you could share the truth with her, and – hopefully – keep it safe." She hesitated just long enough to get confirmation, before going on. "That should still work; you just won't be certain if it was your bubble that did it or if it was her own split. The big difference is that you are not going to be able to just dissolve the second personality when this is all over." "What do you think the chances are that some of the other girls have done this as well?" Allison asked. "Pretty fucking high if you ask me," Jamie said. Lizzy was nodding her head ruefully. "Unfortunately, I think she's probably right. Not for the same reason – because obviously they don't know about you – but because it was the only way to cope with what they've been going through. Looking back, we should have expected it. I'm kind of surprised Mr. Shelby never brought it up. The kind of roles these girls were being forced to play, and the fear of what would happen if they made a mistake..." She shook her head again. "I think a lot of these girls may have split already." I couldn't help but notice that her voice was slipping into a lecturing tone. For someone who claimed not to know much about all this... "Most likely they will have created a protector, someone to take the punishment and abuse for them. You remember that image of Amanda you talked about from your early visions of the Sandman stalking her?" "The one from the hidden camera in her living room?" I asked. "Yeah, the one you said was her dad and someone else doing her on the ottoman. You said that there was something in her face that made you feel like she had 'gone away' or something to that effect. God, I wish Bob were here for this, but we don't have time; it's already getting late. Anyway, I think that was her protector." "Some protector," Allison scoffed. "No, she's right," I said. "You have to understand what the role of a protector is. When you hear the term, you automatically think of Jamie protecting me from Brad and his goons, or the crew at the bank, but Jamie isn't a protector – not just a protector – anymore, she's a person. The protector does whatever it takes to survive. In Amanda's case, she took the abuse; not just took it, but submitted to it the way Amanda couldn't. The protector became what they needed to see in her to keep her alive and Rachel safe. That's what the protector personality does – the stuff that has to be done that the primary can't do. In Amanda's case, she took the abuse and didn't fight back, or even rebel, something Amanda couldn't bring herself to do." "Right," Lizzy said. "In Samantha's case, she didn't need a protector; she has Jimmy for that." Allison started to say something but Lizzy held up her hand. "In her mind she knows she has Jimmy protecting her because he's already saved her multiple times – and we need to look at that closely later because she shouldn't remember it. "Anyway, she didn't need a protector in that sense; what she needed was hope, another role that Jimmy represents for her. Through her interaction here, and the times that Jimmy has saved her, here, and the times that Hightower has tried to use her to get to him, she knows that she is a danger to him because of what she knows. So, in order to keep Jimmy safe, and in so doing allow her to cling to the hope that he gives her; she created a place where she could know the truth without the risk that Hightower could use it. Hightower has to be thinking that you've somehow hidden it in her mind because he knows it was there before, but now – since she's done this – it's suddenly not there anymore, and it's got to be driving him nuts that he can't get to it. I guarantee you, the public Samantha – the one that goes to school every day and makes house calls on weekends – doesn't know anything about you, even subconsciously." Allison thought about it for a second before speaking. "So now the question becomes: Is Hightower strong enough to break through to where she has hidden this away? "It appears Samantha, and if we're right, probably several of the other girls, have done part of the work for us; so we don't have to create personalities to hide the truth in, but just help protect the ones they have made themselves?" "Something like that," Lizzy said, "but it's not going to be easy. Samantha knew the truth, and the others don't; so theirs will most likely be actual protectors. If that is the case, then what you may have to do is either create a third personality or work with the protector that's already in place – telling it all the things you would have told the one you were going to create. Actually, that's backward. You weren't going to be telling the created one anything. Just as with Christine, the created one would have been the window dressing, the day-to-day personality. What you were going to do was pull the primary back where it was safe, then – when the smoke cleared and it was safe for them to know the whole truth publicly – you would have dissolved the day-to-day copy. The biggest problem you will be facing now is that the protector will be working just as hard against you, as she is against Hightower. Or he – if the girl perceives that only men have real power, then the protector could manifest as a male figure. God, I am so out of my league here, you really need to talk to Mr. Shelby about this. Either way, you're going to have to gain their trust before you can do anything. Either that, or create a third personality – and even then the protector may perceive it as a threat and go after it. And of course, when it's over, you can't just dissolve it. God, this is complicated." "Yeah, no shit," I said, "we're not going to solve it tonight, though, we really need to wrap this up for now. Everyone except for Allison needs to get up soon." I stepped forward and gave Lizzy a quick kiss. "I love you. Thank you for coming." Then I moved over and did the same for Jamie, only in her case I was thanking her for already being there and catching the problem. By the time I turned back to Allison, they were both gone. Moments later we were floating in the lagoon with Samantha like nothing had happened, and I was preparing to release Samantha. "She's getting better at this," Allison said. "Who, Lizzy?" I asked. "No, Jamie. She took us back to Sam's dream to make sure Lizzy would be able to see her. She might have been able to here in yours – things have changed since the last time we tried it – but Jamie made sure it wouldn't be an issue. She's come a long way. Let's do this." Finishing up with Samantha didn't take long, but we moved under the little canopy so we would be more comfortable. Essentially all we did was attach one of the bubbles to the part of her that knew the truth. We would have to wait and see what kind of results we would get – as well as finding another person to test the whole process on – but for now, Samantha was as safe as we could make her. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew the question would come up some day, but I still wasn't ready when she asked, "Will I ever meet you?" The look on her face said that wasn't what she was really asking. I wouldn't have pushed it, but then, that's why I have Allison – so I don't have to. "That's not what you really want to know," Allison said. "You want to know if you'll ever get the chance to thank him, really thank him, in person, for all that he's done. That's what you really mean, isn't it?" Samantha blushed and starting gushing apologies immediately, "I'm sorry, Alice! I didn't mean to..." Allison put her fingers to Sam's mouth and shushed her. "Shhh, don't apologize. I'm not mad. Jimmy, go away so Sam and I can talk." She followed up with, "Jamie can stay if she wants." "Are you sure?" I asked. "I thought you said we had to wait until it was over for this." "Things change," she said. I kissed her cheek, and when I did, Jamie took advantage of the connection and moved over. I pushed the leftover ball out over the ocean to fade away on its own, went back to the apartment to wake Christine up, and then skipped my run so we could "sleep late". I didn't think the new bubbles were as big as the first two, but I pushed them over into dreamspace anyway. ------- Chapter 27: Bomb Squad "We blew it," Jamie said as Christine and I were having breakfast the next morning. "How so?" I asked. "The bubble thing with Samantha." "What about it?" "We forgot something," she said. "What? Jamie, just spit it out, what are you talking about?" "Hightower's buried kill commands." Ooops. "You're right," I said. "We'll have to go back and fix those. Maybe tonight. So what did Allison tell her?" I wasn't concerned about exactly how Allison had gotten the message across; I had a pretty good idea how the general conversation had gone. "That you wouldn't touch her until after this was all over and she knew that she was completely free to say no. Then, if she still wanted it, you would be happy to be the first lover she'd ever had by choice rather than compulsion. Sam argued that there were a lot of people she chose to do it with – Stephen for instance." "And how did Allison answer that?" "She asked her a simple question: 'The first time?' Sam thought about it for a second and realized that even the people she enjoyed it with had not been voluntary the first time, and Allison went on to explain that until she was free to choose, you would feel like just one more person that was taking advantage." "I'm sure Sam was all over that," I said. "Oh yeah, big time! She said she knew that you would never do something like that, that you weren't like the others. That was when Allison pointed out that the whole reason Sam wanted you was because of what you were doing. That she felt she owed you and wanted to thank you, but that if you let her do it out of a sense of obligation that it wasn't the same, and that it would leave the door open for the implication that if she stopped doing it, you might actually stop helping her. She was quick to point out that they both knew that wasn't true – which Sam had been about to say anyway – but that if you both waited, no one would ever be able to suggest to her that it had been for any other reason, and therefore she would never doubt herself, or you. Sam had to think about it for a while before it really settled in and she understood that Allison was right. We distracted her and let it work itself out ... She still wants you, but – just like that first time with Angela – she's now willing to wait. There is always the chance she'll change her mind once that is actually an option, but I don't see that happening, so you better be ready when the time comes." "Yeah," I scoffed. "Like you wouldn't be perfectly happy and willing to take over and cover for me." I was really surprised when she answered, "No. I'll go along; help out, take turns – whatever – happily, but this is about you and her. It's you she wants; you're the one helping her and Rachel. Yeah, I know I'm part of it, but she'll never know that, and you were doing this long before I came along. So the first time at least, it needs to be you; only you." It's hard to argue with the truth. I spent the day digging into every nook and cranny I could legitimately find for information about Phoebe. Since neither of us were relatives, Rivers was having problems convincing the judge to give us access to the CPS files. Since the police weren't pursuing the case any further, he saw no need for private citizens to, either. I offered to see if an appeal from the local FBI would make a difference, and Rivers reluctantly agreed. I made a call to Spencer and got the ball rolling. Meanwhile, there were two scenarios that concerned us with regards to Hightower's buried compulsions: Someone being arrested or something happening to Hightower personally. Those were the two that we had actual events to point to indicating a subliminal response. We were actually only speculating about something happening to Hightower, but he seemed like the type who would want to take everyone down with him. In either case, whatever it was he had buried would have to be carefully crafted; you wouldn't want it to go off because they got pulled over for speeding or a variety of other charges – only if they were accused of a sex crime. It also had to be both separate and different from the weekly conditioning because this one didn't fade with time. Again, Samantha was the obvious first choice for where to start, so we started with her, pulling the whole newly made little family into my dreamspace, and then into a bubble. The scene was from the Hendricks' living room. Stephen was reading one of the medical journals he subscribed to, and Samantha was working on her homework at the dining room table not far away; Kathy and Rachel were watching television. I took Lizzy along so she could watch for changes – it was still hard for her; the first time she saw Sam it was so bad she could hardly look at her. We had assured her that Sam was likely one of the better ones because she at least knew that someone, somewhere, was trying to do something about her situation. She had hope. The recent changes to her and Rachel's living situation, showed that her hopes may finally be realized. Where it may have seemed like a minor change to the rest of us, for Lizzy at least the results were far more dramatic, and it was now possible for her to interact with Samantha without ... I don't know if pain is the right word, but ... well, here we were. Of course, for something this important, Jamie was with me as well. It was a bubble, of course, we didn't want anyone to remember anything we did, or any trauma that might unfold along the way. We went in dressed as Vegas PD detectives. Stephen answered the door. "Can I help you?" "Stephen Hendricks," I said, taking his arm and pulling him toward me. "Detective Barth, Las Vegas PD, I have a warrant for your arrest; please step outside and face the wall..." "What?" he exclaimed, shocked. "What do you mean? What's this all about?" About that time Sam showed up and saw me grab Stephen and shove him against the wall. "What are you doing?" she demanded, starting to come out onto the porch. Lizzy stepped in front of her, arm extended, "Miss, I'm going to have to ask you to step back and stay in the house. "Mrs. Hendricks!" Samantha yelled. "It's the police, and they're arresting Stephen!" I thought it was very interesting that Dr. Hendricks was Stephen, but Mrs. Hendricks wasn't Kathy. I wondered if it was Samantha's choice or if Mrs. Hendricks insisted on it. Either way, she was there in just a few seconds, demanding answers. Rachel was a few feet behind her. "What's going here? Why are you arresting my husband?" "Mrs. Hendricks," Lizzy said. "I'm sorry, but your husband has been accused of molesting several young girls." That apparently did it, as Lizzy spoke to me silently, "Jimmy, freeze them." The scene froze, and I turned to her. "What did you see?" "As soon as I said it, something happened to everyone but Rachel. I think you can send her back to bed while we figure out how to handle this." The bubble was set up so they wouldn't remember anything once they left, so I sent Rachel off to the beach to play with the memory of her real mother. "Can you show me what you saw?" She didn't answer, but my vision changed, and now I saw them as Lizzy saw them. I wasn't sharing her gift – we still had no idea how to do that – but she was projecting what she saw onto the dreamspace. "This is what they looked like before," she said. "You can see Stephen's confusion and Samantha's fear right away. Kathy's general anger overshadows most everything else, but as soon as I mentioned the charge..." The images were suddenly wrapped in a thin black shadow – not as dark and pervasive as the one that had taken over Samantha the night she had tried to kill me, but it was still obvious. "Jamie?" I asked out loud. She stepped out to answer. "Piece of cake," she said. "Did you still want to talk to him about it or just deal with it and move on?" "No, I want to see if he's aware of it, now that it's triggered." I released him and turned him around so we could talk. "Stephen," I said. "Something happened just now when my partner told your wife what you were being charged with. Do you feel any different?" "No," he answered. "What do you mean something happened? Why are they just standing like that?" I changed back to my normal dream persona. "You!" he exclaimed. "I know you! At least... , I think ... Have we met before?" "Yes, we have." I changed the scene around us, and suddenly we were surrounded by life-sized broken dolls. "We met here." "That's right! I remember now. You asked me to identify the people who were hurting the girls." "Right," I said. "I told you I was going to put a stop to all this, and I am. But I'm trying to do it in such a way that the people who were being coerced – like you – don't get screwed. But it's more complicated than just keeping you out of jail. Do you know who Lord Hightower is?" "No," he answered. "I know the name; I know he's the one behind it all, but I don't know who he is." "That's okay; most of you don't know who he is. Even the girls, like Samantha, that he's been screwing on a regular basis don't know who he is." "What?" He asked, confusion clear on his face. "How is that possible?" "Hypnotic compulsion," I said. "He has a ... gift I guess you'd call it, one he's been abusing to create and control this whole situation. I could explain it, but you're going to forget all of this again anyway. All that matters is that the reason you don't remember him is that he told you not to. He told you other things as well. For instance, just now, when I told you that you were being arrested, nothing happened, but as soon as Lizzy told your wife why you were being arrested, a buried compulsive command surfaced. Lizzy?" She recreated the scene and let him watch as the shroud of compulsion surfaced. "This is amazing!" Stephen said, fascinated at the vision Lizzy provided. "How do you do this? How can you see something like this happen?" "It's a long story," Lizzy said, "and like he said, you're going to forget it anyway. Stephen, I need you to concentrate, think about how you feel about the future. Look at your wife, look at Samantha, and tell me how you feel." Hendricks looked at Samantha, and you could see the love in his face. If this is what he looked like day to day, it was no wonder Kathy hated the younger woman. I doubt he ever looked at her that way anymore. "You love her, don't you?" Lizzy asked. "Just like you loved her sister?" "Yes," Stephen answered sadly. "I do." "Then why are you sad?" "Because... ," he hesitated, his brow furrowed in thought. "Because she's going to die?" I asked. "Yes," he answered, eyes darting to meet mine. "How did you know that's what I was thinking?" "Because that is the nature of the compulsion," I said. "In the event that you or your wife are discovered, your thoughts are directed down the path where the only option that makes any sense to you is to kill yourself and the girls to eliminate the chance you may be connected to the group. That's not what you'll actually be thinking, of course; you'll be thinking of what will happen to them, the damage to their lives and reputations when everyone discovers what's been going on. It's a very subtle compulsion; in your case it has to be – because you seem to have a natural defense against the kind of manipulation he normally uses. That's the reason they had to drug you the night they shot the video of you with those three young girls. Hightower can't control you the way he can others, or he wouldn't have needed to blackmail you in the first place. "We know the compulsion works because it's already happened a couple times before. One family went to the police and was placed in protective custody. The father killed the rest of the family and then hanged himself. There was also a girl that went to the police and told them her father was molesting her. He was arrested, of course, but that same night he was murdered in jail by another inmate. While that was happening – not at the same time but close enough that they hadn't even gone to give her the news that he was dead yet – the wife let a man into her home so that he could kill her and her two daughters. She actually went to bed while he crept into the girls' rooms and slit their throats and waited there until he came for her. The whole thing was done so that it would look like she was overcome with guilt at what had happened, killed the daughters, and then committed suicide." "I already knew about both of those, but I didn't know it was the father that actually did the killing. They used them as examples to show that there was no place you could go, and no one you could go to, that could protect you; not even the police. How do you know that's what really happened?" I just looked at him. "Right," he said. "And you say that's what I'm feeling now?" "Yes. I suspect there is another compulsion as well, but we'll deal with it later. Right now I want to see if I can deal with this one. Close your eyes and try to relax." "Why do I need my eyes closed?" he asked. He closed them anyway, but he still asked. "Why do you have a child look at something else when you give him a shot?" "Ah," he said. "So it's just a distraction?" "More to keep you from being distracted," I said. "Jamie, he's all yours." "All over it," she said. It was amazing how fast she removed the compulsion; less than five seconds later, "Done." "Wow!" I said. "That was quick." "I have done this before," she pointed out. "You're done already?" Stephen asked. The question sounded rhetorical. "Yeah, actually I am. Did you notice a difference?" "Did I! You know, I was really having a hard time believing you when you told me what Hightower had done. I thought I would have noticed something like that, but then when you described exactly what I was feeling... , I still had doubts, but I was willing to go along." "And now," I asked. "Now? Now, I'm scared to death of what might have happened if you hadn't done this. I actually felt the compulsion leave. I don't know how to describe it; it was like the sun coming out in my head – like I suddenly had hope again." "Alright," I said. "That's a good thing; now we can work on the really scary one." "Jamie, go ahead and handle Sam and Kathy while I explain what's next to him." "You're kidding, right? I already finished with them." "Oh, well then, get ready for round two; I think this one may be a little more complicated." "Can I make a suggestion?" she asked. "Sure, what did you have in mind?" "I'd like to see how strong the compulsion is; tell him what we expect the compulsion to be, give him a gun, and then let him try to resist it." That actually segued well with the other conversation. "What do you mean?" Stephen asked. "What's so scary about this one?" "I'm going to try and let you see for yourself. The only difference between what's about to happen here and what would happen in real life is that you know something is about to happen, that you're about to feel an overwhelming urge to do something you normally wouldn't. I want to see how strong the compulsion is, so what I need you to do is just fight it. Do your best to not do what you feel you have to; do you understand what I'm saying?" "Sure," he said. "Seems pretty cut and dried. Something is going to happen which triggers an unnatural reaction, and you want me to fight it. No problem." He didn't even notice that while we were speaking the scene around us had changed, and the women were back doing what they had been doing before I knocked on the door – only this time, instead of reading a medical journal, he was talking to me. "Stephen? Come here, you need to see this. There's something on the news about the church." "Hold on honey; I'll be right there." "Please, Stephen, I think something happened; they're going live any second. Just tell your friend to wait; it'll only take a minute." "Sorry," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "I'll be right back, just give me a second." "No problem," I answered, following him to the living room. Just as we got there, the news crew switched to a live feed of a burning building. "Tragedy struck here on the south side tonight where, according to witnesses, a masked man hurled what appeared to be three Molotov cocktails at this structure, a small church on the East side, known as the Church of the Inner Circle. According to Fire Captain Alfred Fennis – the man in charge here – the structure is listed as being equipped with a state of the art fire suppression system, but apparently someone disabled the water supply to the building, leaving it completely unprotected. Fire crews responded to the alarm within minutes, but without the protection of the automated system, there was nothing to halt, or even slow, the fire's progress as it raced through the structure." The reporter stopped and put his hand to his earpiece, "One moment, please, we're getting an update, and ... oh my lord! We've just received word that the church's Priest and founder, Elliott Bastion, was inside the structure when the fire erupted. One of the incendiary devices was apparently hurled directly at the exit door leading down from the emergency stairwell. Fire crews working inside the building reported seeing a body in the stairwell, but were unable to render assistance due to the intensity of the blaze. It has now been confirmed that the body they saw is indeed that of Elliott Bastion." Samantha had stopped doing her homework as the story progressed and now sat staring numbly at the screen. Kathy appeared to be in shock as well. Suddenly Stephen moved, not toward either of the women, but toward the kitchen counter. He never even questioned why the gun was laying there; he only knew that it was there. As he approached the counter, I saw him hesitate for a second, as if he suddenly realized what he was doing. I could see lines of concentration forming on his face and his breathing increased, becoming faster and more labored. "No," he whispered. I could see him struggling with the compulsion that had suddenly gripped him. Suddenly Samantha screamed, "No! Stop! What are you doing?" Papers flew as she jumped up from her homework and headed for the other room. Following her gaze, I found Kathy standing behind and above Rachel where she sat on the couch watching the television. The always charming Mrs. Hendricks had picked up the electric cord from the lamp that stood behind the couch and was strangling the little girl with it. In an explosion of sound, the woman's head suddenly jerked as blood and brains exploded in a crimson cloud from the crater that used to be her face. Her body slumped over the back of the couch, falling forward next to little Rachel, who was still struggling to get the cord off of her neck. Samantha reached her quickly, and I could see the pain in her eyes as she reached forward, grabbed the ends of the dangling wire, and instead of removing it, began finishing the job Kathy had started. "Help me!" she cried in horror as the wire drew tight once more. "Stephen, please! You have to stop me." I glanced at Stephen and found him shaking as he stared at the scene before him. Clearly he wanted to do something, but he couldn't seem to move. Finally his arm started to move, raising the gun with it. "No!" he cried. "Oh please God, don't let me do this!" His free hand came up to try and push the gun away, but he couldn't quite seem to get it to do what he so desperately wanted it to." Tears were streaming down both of their faces as Rachel's body stopped moving and slumped in her sister's grip. "Rachel!" Samantha wailed, reaching down to cradle the now-lifeless body in her arms. Tears fell on the dead girls face as Samantha wept in remorse. "Oh God, Rachel, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Rachel; I couldn't help it." "Run Samantha!" Stephen shouted suddenly. I looked and his teeth were clenched and the hand holding the gun shook violently as he fought to not pull the trigger. "Please, Sam, you have to run, now! I don't know how much longer I can..." "That's enough," I said and the scene froze. "Elizabeth?" My vision changed, and this time it was like looking at Samantha the night she had tried to kill me again. Stephen and Samantha both were all but invisible behind shrouds of darkness. I turned to my fiancé and found her looking at a blank section of wall. That alone said how bad it was. "Is it just like before?" "Almost," she said. "But it's even more blatant. There's no attempt at masking or hiding the truth; it's a straight forward imperative to kill." "It's okay, sweetie; you can go if you need to; Jamie and I can handle it from here." "You're sure?" she asked. "Jamie?" I asked. "Cakewalk, it's not really any different from the one he had in place before, except this one isn't waiting for you. Once it's triggered, they just kill, even if they know it's wrong. You saw Sam; she started out trying to save Rachel from Kathy, but instead she finished the job. A few more seconds and she would have turned on Stephen and either killed him or forced him to kill her. Either way, the last one standing would have committed suicide as well. I better start with Stephen. You want to put Kathy's head back together? It's a good thing the bubble insulates them, or she may have died in her sleep just from the psychic shock. Not that that would necessarily be a bad thing..." "No problem." I reset the scene to just after the news announcement. Kathy and Rachel were on the couch, and Samantha was in the other room doing homework. The only difference was Stephen standing there with a gun in his hand. Suddenly there was a muffled explosion as Jamie destroyed the shroud, and Stephen collapsed to his knees and began weeping, staring down at the gun cradled in his lap. "Stephen," I said, kneeling beside him. "It's okay. Everyone is fine. Remember this is just a dream. I take it the compulsion is strong?" Again, it was a rhetorical question. "I couldn't stop myself," he said, looking up at me with piteous eyes. "I tried everything I could think of. I tried to throw the gun away, but I couldn't get my hand to open. I couldn't even just not aim it at her. I tried," he said again. "I really did, but..." "Stephen, it's okay," I said, reaching and taking the gun from him. "Everyone is okay; as far as they are concerned nothing happened. You're the only one that remembers it, and soon even you will forget. I'm sorry I had to put you through all that, but it was the only way to get the information I needed. Thank you, you've been a great help." "How can he do this? How can anyone have this much power?" I certainly didn't want to go there. "Do you feel better now?" I asked. "Yes, it's gone now." His eyes darted to mine. "It is gone, isn't it?" "Yes, it's gone, and it won't be coming back." "Is there anything else?" he asked. "I don't think so," I said. "The first was there to protect the group in the event anyone should get caught. The second one ... well, from what little we know, he just didn't seem like the type to let you all go if something happened to him. Hmm, there's a thought. I wonder what would happen if any of you ever decided to try and kill him." "I don't think it would be possible," Jamie said. "Unless you're a trained sniper, you'd have to confront him, and then he'd have your ass either way." "Yeah, but what if you tried to hire someone to do it?" I asked. "Once he's gone it isn't going to matter anyway. If there is an inhibition against that sort of thing, I think we should leave it; maybe it will keep them from doing it to anyone else either." "So you don't think we need to know?" "It might be nice to know, but I don't think knowing is necessary or serves any real purpose, and we've got a lot of other people to deal with here. Let's just finish up with Sam and Kathy and get on with it. Actually, do you think we even need to bother with Kathy?" she asked. I knew what she meant. As far as we were concerned, Kathy Hendricks was the walking dead; it was just a matter of when and where she would die, not if. It would have been easy enough to let it happen tonight, but a perfectly healthy woman dying in her sleep was bound to attract attention, and attention was something we were trying to avoid. "What if something unexpected happens to Hightower?" I asked. "What if she were alone with Sam or Rachel when it happened? She's a time bomb as long as it's still there." "Jimmy, they're all time-bombs; all of the girls are at risk, along with the ones like Stephen that we're trying to save." "I know," I said, "but I made a promise, to myself, that I would do everything I could to keep them safe, and it would really suck if something went wrong and one of them died because we took a chance." "You're thinking of Amanda, aren't you?" "She gave up everything to keep her daughter safe," I said. "She became the perfect little play-toy because they promised they would leave Rachel alone, and it cost her her life. Misinterpreting what was happening is what drew the Kurtz to her. When he killed her, they buried their promise with her, and if we don't stop them, they're going to use Rachel for their sick sex games anyway. She told Sam that I was coming to help them, and..." "She what?" Jamie interrupted. "How could she... ?" "We never told you that part?" I asked. "The first time I showed myself to Samantha she practically threw herself at me, thanking me for finally coming; she said she was sorry, but that she had almost given up hope." "She knew you were coming? That's just freaky." "It gets better," I said. "Amanda was already dead when she told Sam." "No way!" "I know," I said, "but according to Sam, the day they found Amanda's body, Amanda came to her and told her that a boy – a special boy – was coming to save them. That she would know him when he came because he would have two girls helping him." "Allison and Shannon?" "Mm-hmm," I said, nodding my head. "I never really believed in ghosts, but then I don't think I really believed in angels until Shannon died and you and Phoebe saw..." She didn't so much answer, just nodded her head and said. "I'll just do them all, no point in playing favorites; Sam could just as easily be visiting the wrong family when something went wrong." "Yeah, I think that would be best." ------- Chapter 28: A Break in the Action "Damn!" That was all Bob could come up with when I told him the situation I had suddenly found myself in, which was – in a nutshell – over my head and sinking fast. I'd spent part of the last week taking Lizzy around to meet some of the other girls. It was just as hard on her as we expected it to be, but she managed to tough it out long enough to confirm what we suspected: all but two of the girls in Samantha's age group had split. Okay, split is the wrong word – all but two had manifested secondary personas. On a hunch I had her check one of the younger girls as well. I wasn't too worried about most of that group, but this one worried me more than the others. At least, with the older girls, I had a good idea what to expect. Spring was going to be a whole different kind of problem. "Jimmy, I'm sorry, but I have to be honest with you; I don't know how much help I can be with this. My specialty is general and family psychology. I help kids deal with peer pressure and problems at home. I try to prepare them for the reality that adult life is not the fairy tale they think it is. This? This is way beyond my level. I maybe touched on it for a semester back in college. The reality of MPD was just starting to really come out. Most still had the notion of "split personalities" back then. "That said, I have to agree with your assessment so far: the older girls probably all have protectors, possibly even the young girl ... what was her name?" "Spring," I answered. "Right, Spring. Hers may be a protector as well, but even if it is, she's likely to be very different from those generated for the older girls; and while none of them will be identical, most will be similar, but none will be like Samantha. You're right there, too; hers is different because she exists for a different purpose. Sam created her protector to protect you, not herself. Allison was absolutely right there; Samantha looks to you as her protector. That will not be the case with the others." He had been pacing most of the time, stopping now and then to stress certain things, but now he stopped and leaned on the desk – a clear sign of his agitation. Normally he would be sitting casually on the corner: this time he was leaning on the front, both hands braced against it. "Jimmy, you're on very dangerous ground here. I could maybe suggest some people to talk to, but..." "But anyone trained and experienced is much more likely to recognize the significance of the dreams," Allison said. "Yes," Bob answered, nodding his agreement. "With someone at that level, it is going to be much harder to suppress the memory of you in their dreams because they have trained themselves to remember their dreams – not just in general, but in detail. If you go to someone like that for help, you risk real exposure. I don't know how you could possibly keep the secret for long. Doctors at this level consult each other; they talk, about patients, experiences, therapies, anything and everything that might shed light on a patient's particular psychosis. Someone versed in MPD is likely to monitor and take note of any strange events in their own dreams because there is a good chance that it's a result of something they have experienced with a patient. I can't tell you the number of times I've heard of psychologists seemingly pulling a solution out of thin air, and then later, when they talk about it, saying it came to them in a dream. The kind of free association that is possible in dreams has been responsible for more inventions than you can imagine. Generals, fighting imaginary wars in their sleep, have come up with strategies no one ever considered before." "So what you're saying then, is that while there are people I could talk to, I can't talk to them." "I'm afraid so," he admitted. "God, I wish I had better news for you, but yeah, that's it in a nutshell. You would be risking exactly the kind of exposure you've been trying to avoid all this time because sooner or later some of these people are going to get together at a conference – someone will have a breakthrough and be asked to speak on it – and they'll start comparing notes. They're going to see a pattern where one shouldn't exist, and eventually they're going to come to the conclusion that the only explanation is that there was conscious thought behind the dreams, and after that..." "After that we're screwed because they're not the kind of people that are going to chalk it up to a religious experience," Allison said. "Exactly." "Then we'll have to think of something else," Allison said, "or we'll just have to play it by ear and hope we don't make it worse for any of them than it already is – which is hard to imagine from a practical standpoint – but I understand is very possible when you're dealing with psychology." "Right," I agreed. "We're dealing with unbalanced personalities, and regardless of how we approach the problem, we can't control the reaction, so we can't be sure how they'll respond." "You know, I'm really starting to wonder why you kids bother to call me at all," Bob said. "Half the time I feel like all I do is state the obvious." "Sometimes that's exactly what we need," Allison said. "This isn't one of those times, by the way. This time you've probably kept us from making a really big mistake. I can't speak for Jimmy, but my first thought was to do just enough research to figure out who the top people in the field were, and then have Jimmy bridge them for guidance." "Since when can't you speak for me?" I asked sarcastically. "You usually do a better job of it than I do." I rose from the loveseat Allison and I had been sharing while Bob paced around the room, and extended my hand to him. "Thanks for your help, Bob. As always, I appreciate it. I'm glad I have you in my corner." "You're welcome," he said as he shook my hand, "but I don't see how I've really helped the situation." "Like Allison said, clarification if nothing else, but I also appreciate that a lesser man might have been unwilling to admit his shortcomings the way you just did. In order to protect his ego, someone else might have tried to fake his way through rather than risk compromising his standing in my eyes. But not you, and I can't tell you how important it is to me that I have someone like you – someone I can trust to tell me the truth and not just what I want to hear – to turn to." "Well, thank you, Jimmy, that means a lot to me." "It means more to us," Allison said, moving forward to hug him and kissing his cheek as she pulled away. "Come on, Jimmy, we've got work to do." Elizabeth had to be back in Fresno for Rusty's wedding the weekend after finals, so Amber came to stay with Christine and me while she was gone. Lizzy's last final was Wednesday, and Amber had everything packed by the time she got back from class. Tanya drove them to the airport where they all had a last hug before Lizzy and Amber boarded separate planes west. There is nothing close to Fresno, and Lizzy's flight would not get into San Jose until after 8:00 pm. Rather than make the drive alone in the dark, one of the other bridesmaids, a girl named Paula that she knew from school, was picking her up at the airport. "Is this the same Paula you and Stacy tied up and gave a 'cat bath' to the night the Sandman snatched you?" I asked. "Yes!" she replied, a look of amazement on her face. "How did you know about that?" "Your interview with Rebecca at the hospital. I think you were teasing her." "Oh, you think so?" she asked with a wicked grin. "Anyway, yeah, Paula is picking me up. Stacy wanted to come, too, but she has to work." "Bummer," I said. "So let me guess, by the time you get there, you're both going to be too tired to make the drive." She gave a sad sigh and said, "Yeah, poor Paula isn't going to sleep well the night before." "Poor thing," I repeated sympathetically. "I'm betting she's not going sleep much at all after she picks you up; she'll be a wreck by the time you hit the road. Just be careful." "I have the strangest feeling we'll oversleep and get a late start," she said with a laugh. Even though they left at almost the same time, Lizzy had a stop on the way, so Amber's plane landed a full two hours before hers. Christine drove me to the airport and stayed in the car while I went to meet Amber as she came out of the gate area. She was only there for the weekend, so she hadn't needed to check anything. It was immediately apparent that Lizzy had dressed her for the trip, and I couldn't help but wonder if we shouldn't be charging the local chiropractors a fee for bringing her in this way. The number of heads, male and female alike, that were snapping around doing double takes, or just outright following her progress through the terminal... She was dressed in classic 'bad schoolgirl': short plaid skirt, white shirt tied off a couple inches above the top of the skirt so you could see her toned abs; white stockings that stopped just below her knees, and black patent leather pumps. It was too bad her hair hadn't grown out long enough for pigtails; that was all she needed to complete the look. The spiked leather collar and candy apple red lipstick made up for it pretty well, though. The three guys following her down the escalator looked like they were going to cream their jeans when she walked up to me and dropped to her knees. I petted her hair and then pulled her to her feet, kissing her cheek before taking her bag and walking her toward the waiting car. I held the back door for her and told her to flash her panties at them as she got in. I left the door open while I put her luggage in the trunk, so they could watch as she leaned over the front seat to hug and kiss Christine. She did her best to show off her ass as they tongue-wrestled hello. She was so horny I could smell her arousal all the way back to the apartment. As soon as we closed the door, she dropped to her knees and begged me to fuck her. Christine had other ideas, though; apparently she was expecting something like this and had been giving it some thought. "Amber," she admonished. "Shame on you; begging is so unladylike. David, I think Amber needs a lesson. Do you mind?" "Not at all," I said. It was pretty clear that was what Amber really wanted anyway; she knows how I feel about begging. "Amber, you will obey Christine." "Yes, Master," she said, eyes downcast. Oh yeah, she was looking forward to this. Christine may like to play at being submissive with me, but she had become quite serious about any opportunity to play dominant to Amber. I wondered if it was just with Amber or if it would extend to other women as well. I was seriously considering talking to Tony about possibly letting her and Tina get together. "Don't move," Christine instructed before stepping into the bedroom. She came back with an assortment of interesting items. She dropped them all carefully onto one of the placemats on the small dining table. It was a thirty-six inch diameter glass top resting on a wrought iron pedestal. It was designed to seat three – a little small, but we didn't have a lot of company, so it worked well for us and fit nicely in the apartment. "Stand up! Hands behind your back," she instructed. "Lock your fingers together; I want your elbows to touch. Amber dutifully put her hands behind her and clasped them together. Have you ever tried to touch your elbows together? Thanks to her time with May, and many hours of practice on her own, Amber was very flexible, but the shoulder joints just aren't designed for it. It can be done – I've seen Cirque du Soleil – but the closest most of us normal humans will ever get is if we completely relax and then have someone else pull them together for us, and even that is likely to hurt. Still, Amber's effort put an interesting strain on the buttons holding her shirt closed. That didn't last long as Christine stepped in front of her, stuck her hands in one of the gaps, and tore the shirt open violently. Amber gasped as buttons flew everywhere. "Silence!" Christine demanded, grabbing her face. I could see the flush of excitement creeping up Amber's chest as she began taking rapid shallow breaths. Christine then moved behind her, pulled the torn shirt down her arms, and used it to tie her arms tightly at the elbow. They still weren't touching, but that wasn't really the point anyway. Once her arms were secure, Christine unhooked Amber's bra and dragged it up over her head so that it hung on her bound arms, leaving her front bare and exposed. Obviously, I hadn't been paying proper attention, or I would have noticed that Amber was wearing the little clips May and I had picked out for her. Christine tugged at them gently, pulling the tender flesh outward. The clips were not designed for rough play, so it didn't take much for them to pop free, causing Amber's breasts to bounce slightly as they resumed their normal shape. I thought Amber was going to explode when Christine began pinching and tugging at her nipples. She did her best to endure it, standing silently, eyes closed, concentrating on her breathing. She was doing fine until Christine sucked her left nipple, and a large amount of the surrounding flesh, into her mouth and bit down on it. "Ughhohgnn!" It wasn't actually a word, more like a sound she had tried not to make and then tried even harder to stop once it started. I could see tremors racing up and down her body, and I was pretty sure she'd just had a small orgasm. "What was that?" Christine demanded, releasing her breast and then slapping it hard, eliciting a small cry from Amber. "Didn't I tell you to be silent?" "Yes, Mis..." "Silence!" Christine barked. "You pathetic bitch! Can't you follow the simplest instructions?" She grabbed Amber's hair and marched her forward to the glass table. Sweeping the toys she had brought from the bedroom onto the floor, she moved Amber forward until her thighs were pressed up against it and then pulled her head down, forcing her to bend at the waist. I saw Amber gasp as her breasts hit the cold glass surface, but she gritted her teeth and remained silent. "Don't move." Christine snapped and then stepped back where Amber couldn't see her and left her there for a few seconds. Once she was out of sight, she looked at me and made a shocked face that said she couldn't believe Amber was going along with all this, but also showed clearly that she was enjoying herself immensely. I motioned with my hand for her to spank Amber. Her eyes got big, and she gave me a questioning look as she mimed the gesture back at me, but her motion suggested a light slap. I shook my head negatively and made the gesture again, this time emphasizing more force. She nodded to me and said, "You disappoint me, Amber. Your master has told me so much about you, about how well trained and obedient you are, and yet you cannot seem to follow the simplest instructions. I think we need to work on your control." Stepping behind Amber, she flipped her skirt up, grabbed the waistband of her white cotton briefs, and pulled them forcefully down to her knees. I was impressed at the action; many novices make the mistake of taking them off at this point, but that's a mistake in this type of game. Think about it; when your parents were going to spank you, did they tell you to take your clothes off, or just drop your pants? Taking them off makes it about sex; pulling them down is about punishment. The silence was suddenly shattered by the sound of Christine's hand landing hard on Amber's ass. I saw Amber's body jerk on the table and her butt muscles clench involuntarily, but she didn't cry out. "Count," Christine demanded before slapping the other cheek. "One," Amber said loudly. "One?" Christine demanded, slapping her hand down again. "Can't you even do that right?" She emphasized the next part with another hard slap for each syllable, alternating cheeks as she went. "You-will-pay-at-ten-tion! Do-you-un-der-stand?" "Yes, Mistress!" Amber cried. "You had better," Christine said. "How many so far?" Amber hesitated, obviously trying to remember. The hand landed hard again. This time Amber visibly winced. I wasn't surprised. Her ass was bright red by now, and the pauses just made the next one hurt that much more. "How many?" Christine demanded. "I don't know, Mistress!" Amber replied tearfully. "I lost count." "Then we will begin again, count," "Please, Mistress, no," she begged. "It hurts, and ... OW!" "Count!" "One," Amber said quickly. "What was that?" Smack. "Two!" Amber cried, louder this time. It went on from there. "Three ... four ... five ... please, Mistress, I'm so ... six ... sorry Mistress; I ... seven ... I will do ... eight ... better! I ... nine ... promise! Owww! Ten." Christine paused, and I could see the involuntary contraction of the muscles in Amber's butt and thighs as her body anticipated the next painful blow. I could also see a telltale wetness running down the inside of her left thigh. She was enjoying this more than Christine was, and that was saying something. "Very good, Amber," Christine said. "Does it hurt?" "Yes, Mistress," she said. There was pain in her voice, but I noticed her eyes were dry. "Would you like me to kiss it and make it better?" "Yes, Mistress, please, Mistress." Christine knelt behind her and began showering light kisses randomly around the inflamed flesh, running her hands lightly over the surface, and up and down her legs and thighs, slowly moving closer to the wet center as she went. When her hand finally contacted the swollen outer lips, Amber's head snapped up and back, her lip trapped between her teeth to keep her from crying out. The kisses continued as Christine began to play with Amber's sex, running her fingers through the folds, spreading the wetness and teasing at the opening they revealed. Christine had never spoken to me of her night with Elizabeth, but when she used her thumbs to part the tender flesh and then leaned in and placed a delicate kiss on Amber's most sensitive area, there was no doubt in my mind that she had taken the plunge. Christine prides herself on her oral skills, and apparently it didn't matter whether her partner was male or female. She took Amber right to the edge twice, stopping just before it was too late and returning to kissing and caressing the round globes on either side. If Amber was horny before, she was desperate now, but she knew better than to beg. That's what had gotten her into this predicament in the first place. "Do you want to cum?" Christine asked softly. "Yes, Mistress," Amber replied equally softly. "Yes, I'm sure you do," Christine said before sinking her teeth forcefully into Amber's left butt-cheek. Amber gasped, her head once more coming up, the muscles and tendons in her neck standing out in sharp relief at the strain, but still she didn't cry out. When Christine let go, you could see that while she hadn't broken the surface, if she died tonight I doubted we would need to send away for dental records to identify her. She showered kisses around the mark as she reached with one hand and retrieved 'Bob' from the pile of toys on the floor. Stepping away, she was careful not to touch Amber anywhere else as she turned him on and began teasing just the tip around her sex. It wasn't long before Amber was breathing hard and straining to resist the urge to push back for more. I wasn't sure if Christine was going to stop again or not, but then she moved forward far enough to grab Amber's hair and use it to turn her head away. Then she turned to me and mouthed silently, "Bring a pillow." From this position, Amber didn't see me leave and come back with one of the big bed pillows. When I got back, Christine had Amber's head pulled back so far every tendon stood out, and 'Bob' was working hard on her most sensitive area. Amber's eyes were pinched shut, and her breath was coming in short, sharp, gasps as Christine teased her sex. She was close, really close, and I knew it was taking everything she had not to cry out and beg for release. Christine kept her right at the edge for another minute or so, then, changing the tension on her hair, pulled her head up slightly. Amber took the hint immediately, lifting her body off the table. I slipped the pillow between her face and the tabletop. "You may cum now," Christine said, lowering Amber's face into the pillow and slowly forcing the vibrator deep into the bound girl's wetness. I think I've mentioned that Amber is a screamer. As soon as the thick plastic shaft spread her open, it was like a bomb went off. She screamed; she banged her head on the pillow with the material trapped between her teeth, so the sound would still be muffled; she shook; and her hips bucked so hard Christine had to step in and grab them with both hands to keep her from knocking the table over. When she did, the vibrator started to slide out from Amber's contractions, but Christine braced her hip against the end and drove it forward again so hard it all but disappeared, and you could hear the sound of Christine's thigh slapping against Amber's. This set Amber off all over again, but by now her muscles were fatigued, so the shaking and bucking wasn't as bad. Finally she subsided, turning her head to one side, collapsing onto the pillow, and taking a couple of deep, calming breaths. "Thank you, Mistress," she said in a breathy sigh. She seemed relaxed, but she still caught her breath as Christine moved back, and the vibrator began to slide free once more. "Are you okay?" Christine asked as she pulled it free and shut it off. She tossed it on the couch and then began untying the knotted shirt holding Amber's arms. "Yes, Mistress, thank you." She stayed on the table after Christine had released her arms. "Mistress, may I rise?" "Yes, Amber, you may rise and stretch if you like." "Thank you, Mistress," Amber said, standing up and catching her bra as it slid the rest of the way off of her arms. She went through a quick series of stretches, and then used the shirt to wipe the wetness from where it had leaked down her legs. When she had dried herself, she dropped to her knees and looked up at each of us as she asked, "Master? Mistress? May I please you?" "You'd better!" Christine said emphatically, reaching to unsnap her jeans. Amber ate her to two orgasms, timing the second one to coincide with me filling Christine's mouth. We were just sitting down to a very late dinner when Lizzy called to let us know she and Paula were safely checked into the hotel. "I would have called sooner, but you were obviously busy, and I didn't want to intrude." "It's so interesting that you can actually sense that." I said. "Sense it?" She asked. "Try feel it! Thank god Paula was here with me; I might have exploded. Actually, I did anyway, but it's more fun with her helping. She thought it was thinking about her that had me so wet, and I didn't want to burst her bubble. Don't expect me anytime soon; we've still got a lot of catching up to do. I told her I needed to check in, so she's running us a bubble bath, and it sounds like she's about ready. I'll see you guys later. Give everyone my love." "I hope you girls aren't too sore," I said as I put the phone down. "Lizzy said I'm supposed to give you both her love, so I guess we'll have to start over." The look they exchanged had "Oh please" written all over it. The one they then turned on me clearly said, "Bring it on!" Thank goodness I had Jamie to help. The wedding went off without a hitch – well, only the one hitch, that is. It would have been really nice if Lizzy could have come up to Vegas for a few days, but she had promised her boss that she and Amber would be back. The owner's wife was due to deliver any day, and they were short-handed. The holiday break was a mixed blessing for Frankie's – the restaurant Lizzy worked at. With school out, many of the kids went home, so business dropped off. The ones that stayed, however, tended to spend more time hanging out and a lot more time drinking to forget why they weren't going home for Christmas. This was the other reason Lizzy wanted to get back. Depression is a real problem for a lot of people over the holidays – especially for kids who have lost family members or even just feel cut off and alone. Since the bookstore was closed, Amber was filling in helping Lizzy around the restaurant. I would be going to Indiana to spend Christmas with them, Tanya, and Missy. They were also planning on giving Dean Worthy an early Christmas present, but there was more to it than giving the old man an extra thrill however. With Tanya's arrival, Amber now had someone far more knowledgeable and experienced to talk to, and the difference was noticeable. There was a new confidence in her that Lizzy and I were very happy to see. After some discussion and a visit with Jasmine, we decided to explore some more advanced training for Amber. Aside from the love they shared, the thing that made May so effective and valuable to Jasmine was her ability to assume – on command of course – the role of a Dominant. Working together, they were now exploring whether Amber could learn to do it as well. As a result of that training, Amber had voiced a suspicion about Dean Worthy and asked Lizzy to come along and confirm what she thought she was seeing.If her suspicions were correct then it was very likely they would be 'giving' him a lot more for Christmas than he expected. Amber had asked to stay with us in Indiana for Christmas. Her parents were upset, but there was really no arguing with the fact that she couldn't afford the trip. It had been a tough year on the family; her father was in sales and had lost a lot of business after she had 'died'. It took a while for him to 'get his head back in the game', as he put it. She promised to try and save enough money to see them over spring break. Christine was driving down to Phoenix to spend the holiday with her family again. I could tell it was a tough decision for her because she was very tempted to come with me. Personally, I think she wanted to spend more time with Amber, but in the long run, it turned out to be the right decision. Christmas came early for Stephen, Samantha, and Rachel – six days early to be exact; that was the day Kathy Hendricks lost control of her car on the way to visit a friend in Henderson. The crew of highway workers that had to repair the damage to the bridge abutment didn't know Kathy, so I hope they didn't feel too guilty about enjoying the extra overtime right before Christmas. I was seven states away, interviewing a social worker about a missing thirteen-year-old girl at the time of the accident. I would drive to Indiana for the holiday from there. I've decided I really don't like driving in snow and ice. Thanks to a sympathetic judge, I got the order I needed to access everything Children's Services had without having to take any chances. I also interviewed the family that had filed for custody of Phoebe. Their hopes of having Phoebe come to live with them had died when her aunt and uncle made it clear they would not sign the necessary paperwork. They were very angry that no one had even bothered to inform them that the family had died in a fire, and devastated to discover that Phoebe was missing and alone somewhere out in the world. It was hard not to give them some kind of reassurance, but fortunately I had my experience with Amber to fall back on. Without that, the tears would have been harder to take. The best I could do was to leave them with the promise that I would do everything I could to find her. My knowledge of the true situation made it easy to convince them of my sincerity. Our time ended with a prayer that God would keep her safe and guide me to her. Saturday morning, as she was preparing to head for her parent's house, the school called Christine and told her she needed to come in for a special session. Since she had warned me at the beginning that this kind of thing would come up, I knew she was prepared for it and wished her luck when she called to tell me about it. The special session turned out to be riding along as an observer with a working flight crew. The route started and ended in Vegas, so her trip was only delayed about twelve hours total, and she got valuable experience that many of her classmates, including Brian, missed out on. Some missed out because they couldn't be reached, others because they had already made travel plans that they weren't willing to change. That was a pretty weak excuse since their flights had all been booked through the school at ridiculously low rates – especially for holiday travel – in the first place. What they didn't know was that the school had already arranged alternate flights for each of them in the event they took the bait and showed up for the special session. Oh well, their loss. Christine was still excited when she called me from the terminal as she was waiting for the flight they had arranged to make up some of the time she had lost. That was a nice touch since Vegas to Phoenix is about a six-hour drive in the best of conditions. In Christmas traffic, at night, in the middle of winter, it would probably have been closer to eight or ten. That would have made for a really long day. An hour flight and free rental car for the holiday was a very welcome reward for changing her plans. Christmas went well. Tanya gave us her room and doubled up with Missy, sleeping on the trundle portion of her daybed. Lizzy and Amber took Tanya's room, and I slept on the couch. It would have been nice if one of the condos had been ready; that was why we went with the three bedroom floor-plan after all. Growing up in a home with no spare room hadn't really been a problem for us; we didn't have family that came to visit, but I'd seen how much it bothered Mark every time someone came to visit, and he had to give up his room. The couch wasn't that bad, a little softer than the one in Duke Street's den, but workable. Angela showed up about three AM in an outfit that looked like someone had trimmed three red satin eye-patches in white fur and joined them together with dental floss, to give me an early Christmas present. It took me totally off guard since I was in the cabana with all four of them – Allison, Amber, Lizzy, and Christine – at the time. Looking back, I should have realized that Amber was being awfully quiet. Christine was telling us all about her experience riding in the forward cabin for the first time, when suddenly I started getting a serious woody. At first I was confused and just tried to ignore it, but then I saw the amused look on Lizzy's face and the glance she threw at Allison. I shifted my focus back to the living room just as a set of warm lips met my pelvic bone and a tongue began laving my balls. Allison's voice pulled me back to the cabana. "Merry Christmas," she said with a chuckle. I glared at her, but I couldn't really concentrate as the unmistakable sensation of throat muscles massaging me blurred my focus and, I'm pretty sure, caused my eyes to cross. "What's going on?" Christine asked. Allison leaned in and whispered something in her ear that caused her to blush and giggle. "Allison!" I tried to growl the word, but at the moment I was struggling to breathe evenly. "What are you doing? What if Missy wakes up and comes out for a drink or something?" "Oh, please," Allison said rolling her eyes. "Like I didn't think of that. She'd have to get past Tanya and she knows what's going on, so she'll make sure it doesn't happen." Privately I got a different explanation. "Where do you think Jamie is? And I'm not doing anything, Angela is. All I did was help set it up for her. Don't worry; we've got your back. Neither Tanya nor Missy would wake up unless you went in and woke them personally. Now go enjoy yourself; this is as much her present as yours, and she deserves your undivided attention, and you'll both enjoy it more if she has it." She was right, as usual, and I probably would have slept in the next morning if not for Missy bounding into the living room to see if Santa had dropped off any new presents. And what do you know, he had. I had spent part of the night playing Santa myself; delivering special gifts to the girls from Christine and vice versa. Some of them were the kind of gifts that needed to be opened in private and you really didn't want to explain to anyone at the airport. Especially the one Amber had sent Christine, which was a strap-on harness with an assortment of interchangeable ... accessories. Apparently Christine had really enjoyed the sensation of pushing her friend Bob back into Amber with her hip at the end of the last encounter and wanted to try it for real. I'm not sure whether she had told Lizzy or Allison about it – or if Amber figured it out on her own – but somehow she found out and wanted to make sure Christine knew she was looking forward to it as well. Not the kind of gift you wanted to wrap up and send with her to open at her mother's house. Christine would find the gift-wrapped package on the table when she got home and would probably wonder how it had gotten there – since she had been the last to leave and would be first to return. I also delivered a new iPod and a bible with her new name printed on it to Roxy. At first she thought Susan had bought them for her, since the tag said 'from Santa', but it quickly became apparent that Susan was just as surprised as she was. Bob gave me a bad time about messing with Susan like that. Besides not seeing my family, my one major regret was that Britney and her family were still in hiding. I would have given a lot for them to be able to come up to Vegas and spend Christmas with Doreen. I was going to ask Rebecca if she thought it would be okay for Doreen to go to wherever they were, but Allison stopped me. "Jimmy, how are you going to explain knowing the truth about their situation? Besides, she knows who Amber really is. How long do you think it would take Britney to connect the dots if she mentioned her? And it wouldn't take much of a description for her to figure out who 'David' is." I love Allison to death, and I can't imagine what I would do without her, but sometimes I still hate it when she's right. The rest of my nights, as they had been for most of the last two weeks, were spent quietly getting to know the personality conflicts and issues of my wayward group of girls. Bob had been right; each had manifested a protector, and while there were similarities, each was unique to the individual. And, just as had been expected, Spring's was nothing like the others, and she was by far the most complex. Where the older girls' protectors seemed to be variations on a submissive theme, Spring's was actually aggressive in her efforts to protect her deeper self, practically throwing herself at me in her wild desire to distract me from my goal, which was, of course, her core personality. "Please fuck me!" She pleaded, quite literally groveling at my feet. "I'll do anything you want, just fuck me. I need it so bad ... I'm very good; you won't be disappointed, I promise. Do you want to fuck me in the ass? Go ahead, I really like it up there! And when you're done and you've filled me with your cum, I'll suck you clean and then we can try something else." And she was serious. She would do anything, anything at all to please me if only I would stay with her. That all changed when I made it clear that I would not be dissuaded from my goal. Like flipping a switch, she went from desperately seeking my attention to desperately seeking my death. Out of nowhere she pulled all manner of weapons – guns, knives, clubs, even claws ... One moment she was the picture of submissive seduction, the next she was Rambo's dream date trying to rip my heart out with her bare hands. The worst part was that I couldn't beat her. I could have, don't get me wrong, but I couldn't – not without destroying what she was. Her very existence was predicated on keeping her deeper self safe at all costs. Everything about her was centered and focused on being the perfect submissive lover to meet any situation because it was the only way she knew to keep her true self safe, but when that didn't work ... Walking away from the one thing that had kept her safe – her role as the perfect submissive – was dangerous enough; there was a serious risk that she would rather die than let me get to the part she had buried, and if she wanted it bad enough... So, if I 'defeated' her, she could lose the protection she needed to survive. Eventually, when it was safe, the protector would let her come out again – at least that was the theory – but in reality, the longer a protector was needed the more obsessive they tended to become, eventually becoming so disconnected from reality that no situation could ever be seen as 'safe enough', and the core personality became trapped. Protectors had even been known to spawn other, lesser, personalities through which the primary could experience bits and pieces of reality in the hopes that this would be enough to keep her satisfied with her station and allow the protector to carry on. Through the use of these lesser surrogates, the experiences themselves would be carefully skewed to stress to the primary her continued need for the protector. Faced with the choice of destroying what might be the only thing keeping Spring relatively sane, and allowing myself to be distracted from my ultimate purpose, I was finally forced to take drastic steps, and I grafted a large ball onto her pattern – the protector's, that is – and used it to create a clone of her. I could then pull both of them into a bubble – two actually, one inside the other – so that I could leave the protector outside where she could feel like she was in control while I talked to her new 'other' self about why I was there and what I intended to do. Creating the clone proved to be a longer process than I had imagined, though. Partly because it was the first time I'd taken the process all the way through, but also because the protector seemed intent on fighting the process the whole way, so it would be a while before I could put the plan into action. How long I didn't know, so for now I dissolved the bubble I had put around the protector, leaving her free to do her job, but unable to stop the process I had started. ------- Chapter 29 Christmas dinner was quite an adventure, especially since none of us had ever attempted a turkey before. I lost track of the number of calls we made to Betty Street for advice and instruction. And of course everyone knows what the day after Christmas is. I'm not a shopper on the best of days, and that is no place for a young girl, so Missy and I spent the day together. We started with pancakes at IHOP, then took in an early movie, and ended at the local family fun center. They actually had a complete miniature golf course indoors. I think I'll buy Missy clubs for her birthday. If she can hit the ball at all, she's got a bright future; that girl is deadly with a putter. The girls were beat when they returned, and that meant I got to give them all foot massages. After I helped unload Tanya's Jeep – which was packed with stuff – and after the traditional dinner of leftovers, they had to show me what they'd bought. Not all of it, of course; some items had to wait until after Missy went to bed. It snowed two feet overnight, so after shoveling the sidewalk and driveway the next morning, we spent the day indoors, watching movies, playing games and just recovering; two feet is a lot of snow and we were all pretty exhausted. Well, you know, after we built the snow man, and made a few angels on the front yard. Missy loved the snow. Growing up in Vegas, and especially living with Victoria, she hadn't gotten to do a lot. Tanya was working really hard to live on a budget, but she still made it a point to do something fun with Missy at least once a week. A couple times during the day I caught Tanya looking at me funny. I had a pretty good idea what she was thinking, and when I had a moment alone with Lizzy, she confirmed it. "Oh, yeah," she said. "She's wondering if you'd turn her down if she offered again. You have to remember, Jimmy, she's used to getting sex on more than just a regular basis, and now she's been forced to go almost completely without. Amber and I have been taking turns watching Missy while the other one takes her out for a while, but there is only so much you can do in a couple hours, and you can't really play the kind of games she likes in your average hotel room. I've done what I could to try and ease her out of the hole she's been in, but it's slow going." "Ah, that explains all those charges for The Courtyard." "I didn't tell you about those?" she asked. "I'm sorry, I thought I told you." "No big deal, it was money well spent. So what do you suggest? I kind of think it's still a little too soon, and even if it wasn't, I'm not ready for her." Even as I said it, a thought occurred to me. "God, I am so dense. I'll take her to May. Or even Jasmine. She'll trust them, and they can definitely handle her." "So could you, Jimmy. Trust me; it wouldn't be as hard as you think. The ultimate threat for Tanya is that you might quit, but she's got enough experience to be able to see your limits and not push too hard. Remember, she was a paid submissive; she had to cater to the needs and experience of the client, not her own." "So you think I should do it myself?" "Not if you really don't think it's time, and I think you're right there; it isn't. But the other idea sounds good. Why don't you talk to Jasmine about it tonight and set something up?" What Jasmine set up was an evening of instruction for me, with Tanya as my slave. Even though it was just a dream and I didn't let her remember the details – like that it was really me playing the role of her master – the difference in Tanya in the morning was marked. "Feeling better this morning?" I asked when she finally staggered into the kitchen. She even looked like she'd had a long night. She was still a little bleary, but she smiled and nodded and said, "Yeah, I am. God, I slept sooo good last night." "Nice dreams?" I asked with a smile. "Very," she said, smiling back. She looked very fetching in her robe and slippers. She gave a big stretch and then almost fell over as the change in blood pressure unbalanced her. I caught her and pulled her in close, turning her so I could hold her against me and hug her from behind. "You okay?" I asked after a couple seconds. "Yeah, but this is nice. If I'd known that was all it took to get into your arms, I'd have done it sooner." "Tanya, you know it's not because I don't want to," I said, kissing her neck. She turned in my arms and put her arms around my neck. "Yeah," she said. "I do. I remember what you said in Florida, about the reason I offered, and you were right. I did it because that's all I had to offer, but David, even though that hasn't really changed, that's not the only reason I want you. Lizzy's explained a little about your relationship, and I have to tell you, it's about the weirdest thing I've ever heard, but that's none of my business. "I do want to thank you, David – that part hasn't changed, but I also just want to make love to you. I know you know what I was before, and I want you to know that I'm not just whoring myself to you to pay a debt." I've never been violent towards a woman in my life, but I'm not sure it was entirely Jamie, either, that suddenly pushed Tanya away and slapped her hard across the face. The force of the blow staggered her, and if it had been the back of my hand, I'm pretty sure it would have drawn blood. "Do not ever say anything like that in my presence again," I growled. "Do you understand me? You are not a whore; not now, not then, not ever. Is that clear?" It wasn't the slap that put the tears in her eyes. To this day I don't know what prompted me to do it, but it was apparently exactly the right thing to do. She melted; that's the only way I can put it. Something inside her just gave way, and she began sobbing, softly at first, but then more forcefully. There was nothing else to do but take her in my arms and hold her until she got it all out. Moments later Lizzy walked in and hugged her around the back. "Amber's keeping Missy busy," she said. No other explanation was necessary, and Tanya's sobs seemed to gain new strength. There was a lot of pain here, and it had needed to get out for a long time. After a couple minutes it finally started to subside, and Lizzy quietly pulled her away from me. "Come on," she said. "I think you need to lie down again." I kissed Tanya lightly and sent her off to snuggle with Lizzy, and then I got started putting together something for breakfast On Thursday Tanya drove us all over to see the condos. They were billed as "Modern Brownstones". The outside was a combination of brick and wood siding, with classic red brick facing the street and painted wood siding in the rear over the garage. The units were side-by-side and shared a common stairway to the front entryway. They also shared an interior wall, but it was specially reinforced and lined with sound deadening material – as were the outer walls – so you didn't have to worry about the neighbors hearing everything that was going on. They were listed as two-story, but it was three if you counted the garage. The main floor consisted of the living room, kitchen, one bedroom, a half bath, and a pantry-slash-laundry area under the stairs. The main part of the Living Room was open to the second floor, so it felt positively huge, even though the whole place was only a little over twenty-three hundred square feet. The upstairs consisted of the two main bedrooms; both with their own full bathrooms, but the master also had a dressing area. The original floor plan called for the kitchen and main entry areas to be hardwood, but that made no sense to me. Why would you want hardwood in the kitchen where spills were most likely to occur and where a heavy pot could do permanent damage if dropped? After consulting my favorite bachelor friend, I had them move the hardwood to the living room and use a commercial grade tile in the kitchen; you could bounce a billiard ball on the stuff without so much as marking the surface. A ten pound bowling ball dropped from three feet wouldn't crack it unless there was an air pocket directly under the impact, and even then it was questionable. I also went with the cultured marble tubs and showers, granite counter-tops, stainless steel appliances – gas of course, I don't know how anyone cooks on an electric – and Jacuzzi tubs in both of the upstairs bathrooms, crown moldings and, of course, gas fireplaces for those cold, romantic, winter nights. It was listed as being only a few blocks from the college, but in truth it was closer to a half mile before you got to any buildings that really counted. Still, easily within walking distance even in bad weather, and Missy's school was only about a mile the other way. Unless something went seriously wrong, they were going to be really nice when they were finished, and by the time the girls graduated, it would not be unreasonable to expect a market increase. Lizzy had to leave early because the women's basketball team had a game that night. The rest of us had a light snack and then went to watch her play. Wow, my sweetie's got game! She's not that much taller than Allison, so I had to wonder if my sister had been selling her future short. Granted, women don't run as large as a rule, but the tallest girl on the court was six-four, the average running closer to six feet even, which still put Lizzy on the short side, but talent and energy make up for a lot. I had to wonder if her special sight had anything to do with her play. After the game, we went to Frankie's for a late dinner, and it was about ten-thirty before we got home and crawled into bed. I spent the night checking in on people I hadn't gotten to see in a while; my parents, Bob and Rebecca – I even dropped in on Susan to make sure that her dreams had not turned dark again. Things appeared to be going well; Bob had said there was a noticeable change in her at school, too. I knew there was still something else lurking there, and I hoped that my life would even out sometime soon and allow me to spend some time working on it with her. Amy's rehabilitation was going very well, and enough tone had returned to her muscles that she was able to start taking short walks – very short walks at first – but as long as she didn't push too hard or hurt herself they expected her improvement to continue. She was doing so well that Bob and Rebecca had set a date. June sixteenth. It was a Saturday and late enough in the month to guarantee that Bob would be done with school before their anniversary every year. There was another celebration scheduled for mid February. Rico Girard was making good on his promise and throwing a huge party for Amy's birthday. How big? He was hiring temporary staff to fill in at all five of the rehab centers so that as many of the regular staff as possible could attend. The centers aren't really that big; the largest only employed around a hundred people covering all three shifts. Rico is a pretty sharp guy, and knowing, or at least hoping, that he would get to do this one day, he had been hosting a national convention for the last several years. It had started small and grown quickly to become a four-day event where speakers and vendors gathered to share the latest in treatment ideas, success stories, and technology related to the industry. The event was to be held at one of his casinos in Atlantic City, and Amy's presentation at her birthday party was to be the finale. For her part, Amy was a little embarrassed at the attention, but once it was clear that there was no way out of it, she determined that she would make the best of it. Her announcement that she wanted to dance at her birthday party was met with more than a little skepticism. Yes, she was making progress, and her strength was returning, but there was a vast difference between walking, which she was just getting started at, and dancing. Everyone tried to be positive about it, but in the privacy of his office, her doctor made it clear to Rebecca that he didn't see it happening, and that if there were the slightest chance she would hurt herself doing it, he would go to Girard personally and forbid it. Rebecca made it clear that he could count on her full support in whatever decision he made, and that if it came to it, she would be the one to break the bad news to Amy. I talked to Walter about it, and he assured me that he would be monitoring her progress as well and would support their decision to Amy. He was the only one brave enough to tell her that she must be prepared to accept that it might not work out. "The wedding is only a few months after your birthday, little one. Would you risk not being able to dance at your sister's wedding for an act of pride?" Amy had glowered at him, but she had to admit he was right. Dancing at Rebecca's wedding meant more to her than showing everyone how tough she was. But that didn't mean she wasn't going to try. "Of course you are," he had chuckled. "We are all going to try, but we are also all going to make sure that you do not hurt yourself trying too hard." "I wish you could dance with me Walter." "What do you mean you wish you could dance with me?" he asked, affronted. "Of course you will dance with me. Who else will teach you?" His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "We will practice in the quiet hours of the night when all the others are asleep. My Lord will build us a grand studio and help hide our secret, and on that night you will be as Cinderella at the ball." "And you will be my Prince Charming," she said with a smile. "We have spoken of this Amy," he said sadly. "I am a thing of dreams and shadows, and I cannot walk in your world. You must accept this." "I know that," she said with a stubborn smile. "But you will dance with me, Walter." He just smiled down at her indulgently, shaking his head. "We shall see." I was tempted to stay and spend New Year's Eve with the girls, but, all things considered, I was a little afraid of what they might have been planning in the way of a New Years "Celebration" – if you know what I mean. I also felt a little guilty leaving Christine alone all that time. Despite the fact that the holidays were the busiest travel time of the year, the flight school was closed for two weeks, starting with Christine's little surprise the Saturday before Christmas, and not starting up again until the second week of January; which meant we had a week to kill. What to do, what to do? Apparently, Christine likes to ski. Due to her father's disability, she hadn't gotten to do it much as a kid, but she had gone on a couple of trips to what they called the 'Snowbowl' up near Flagstaff, with the youth group at church while she was in High School. She was nervous at first, which of course got her a good teasing from her boyfriend, but she overcame her fear quickly, and by the second day she was exploring the intermediate runs. Her boyfriend spent the second day in the lodge suffering from a mild case of "Last Run". This is apparently a syndrome that overtakes many skiers, mostly males, at the onset of dusk. As soon as someone realized it was 'getting late' and mentioned it, all the other males would have a sudden adrenaline rush, heralded by many voices crying, "Dude, c'mon, like we've got time for one more run." Somewhere in the middle, Craig had taken a right turn he shouldn't have and ended up on a 'Double-Diamond' run that branched off midway down the slope they had started on. The twilight conditions coupled with poor visibility on the narrow, tree-lined run, proved more than he could handle. Fortunately, someone with a lot more experience, and sense, spotted the trail of debris: gloves, poles, hat, skis etc., that led to the dark lump that was Craig as he lay face down in the snow doing his best to breathe without moving. Being the last one down is generally enough cause for ridicule; coming down last on a sled, a sled being pulled by a really HOT member of the ski patrol at that, is something you just don't ever hear the end of. Moving from the sled to the waiting ambulance and then on to the Emergency room will just plain ruin your night. There is not much you can do for a broken collarbone except to brace it and try not to move. That part gets easier fast as you quickly discover just how much it hurts when you forget. They broke up after the trip because he couldn't seem to get over the fact that she would rather be skiing with her other friends than sitting in the lodge having a pity party with him. For some reason, Vegas isn't known for its skiing. Go figure. There are a few places close by, but nothing really ... uhm ... no. Flagstaff would have probably been the easiest to drive to; Mammoth Mountain in California was a nicer area, but it was a really long drive due to the required route. A quick trip around the web, and we had it narrowed down to Northstar in Lake Tahoe or Brighton in Utah. A coin-toss later we were on to the next decision: fly or drive? Hmm. Snow and ice or ... no, thanks, I'd just left that party, and I wasn't in a hurry to go back just yet. I was quickly falling in love with the American Express Business Travel Center. Sure, I could probably find something cheaper if I really wanted to spend the time, but there is just something about making one phone call and having everything handled. It was also nice to know that if anything went wrong with the trip, they would bend over backward to fix it. All we had to do was get to the airport, and they would take care of everything else. One thing even I knew was that we didn't want to actually purchase our ski clothes there. Resort prices could put a dent in even my finances. A quick trip to a high-end sports shop in town had us set up with everything we might need for a comfortable time in any winter wonderland. Our plane landed at 2:00 PM, and by 4:00 we had already checked in and were being fitted for equipment at the pro-shop. I have to be honest here, I cheated. The night before we left I spent time with a couple of ... oh, call them 'accomplished' skiers, and knew what to expect, what to look for in equipment, and ... most of the basics. Jamie was very excited about the morning and her first shot at a real slope. Christine had asked me if I had ever been skiing before, and I had lied and told her I'd been a couple times in the local mountains. Totally not true. The closest I'd ever been to skiing was watching the Olympics on television. My mother hates the cold; she is a firm believer that snow only belongs two places, post cards and somewhere on a distant mountain peak. The operative word there being 'distant'. Once we were outfitted and had our equipment safely stored away in lockers for the night, we headed back to see about dinner. The downside to not having a car is that it eliminates a lot of options. Fortunately there was quite a selection within walking distance of the lodge, so we decided to just go for a walk and see what looked good. Everything was going fine until I heard, "Jimmy!" and suddenly a pair of arms was wrapped around my neck trying to squeeze my head off. And they were strong enough to do it if she put her mind to it. The voice was familiar, and while we usually stuck with handshakes, we had hugged before, if not quite this hard... "Shit!" Jamie said, and suddenly she was gone. I couldn't think of anything to add, so I didn't bother, opting instead to return the hug and try to figure out what to do. My first instinct was denial, but I didn't think it would fly. I recognized the voice, and she knew me too well to be fooled. When in doubt... "Hi, Mel," I whispered into her ear. Melinda Jenkins was a girl's PE coach at my old high school. I had met her the same day I met Bob, during Freshman registration. The three of us, along with Susan Swann, had shared a table at break and lunch all that year and the beginning of this one. That ended the night Britney had been kidnapped and I had been forced to go into hiding. The official story was that a local gang was after me for getting their drug operation at the school busted. As suddenly as she had attacked, she let go and pulled back. "My god, I can't believe it's really you! We were so worried, and ... How are you? How have you been? Where have you been? Bob told us..." I was saved as her partner stepped forward and hissed in a low voice, "Yes, love, think for a second about what Bob told us, and then tell me why you think it's a good idea to be causing a scene on a public sidewalk." Her tone softened, and she whispered, "Hi, Jimmy, it's good to see you." Lynn Hewitt was Melinda's partner and had been Allison and Shannon's coach for PE and Basketball in Junior High. We weren't really close, but we were friends. We also shared a very special bond from the night we had all been gathered together to say goodbye to Shannon. "Hi, Lynn, it's good to see you too." I pulled free of Mel's grip and gave Lynn a quick hug. The expression on Melinda's face when I pulled away said that she had realized that Lynn was right: attracting attention was a bad idea. "Jimmy?" Christine's voice said. "Aren't you going to introduce me?" Something in the way she said it caught me by surprise. There was no surprise or shock at the name, no sense of wondering why these two strange women were calling me by a different name. The explanation followed closely enough that I didn't say anything to complicate the situation. "I switched them," Jamie said, suddenly flowing back in to me. "This is the real Christine; Little Miss Window Dressing is in cold storage for now. Just go with it until we can figure out what to do." "I'm sorry," I said as I started to introduce Christine. I didn't get far. Are you familiar with Murphy's Laws? Everyone knows the main one; 'Anything that can go wrong, will', but do you know all the supporting corollaries? The first corollary is really just an extension and clarification of the main principle. It adds on the phrase, 'At the worst possible time.' Like now, when Bob and Rebecca walked out of the same door that apparently Mel and Lynn had just exited. "David!" Rebecca said, her surprise evident. This, of course, resulted in a confused look on both Mel and Lynn's faces, although Christine seemed to take it in stride. Have I mentioned how much I've come to appreciate Bob? "David! Christine! Imagine running into you two way out here." He reached for my hand and shook it, adding softly, "Everyone just pretend we're all old friends and let's find someplace more private to bring everyone up to speed." "Right," I answered softly, and then added in a more conversational tone. "Bob, Rebecca, good to see you again. I was just about to introduce Christine; Christine, this is Melinda Jenkins – she coaches at my old High School – and her partner, Lynn Hewitt – she was Allison and Shannon's coach for PE and basketball. And this is Bob Shelby, my old psychology teacher, emphasis there on 'old'..." "Hey!" Bob said indignantly, but I kept going before he had a chance to really complain. " ... and his fiancé, Rebecca Hampton." Christine gave a start at the name. "Rebecca Hampton, the..." Rebecca cut her off, "Yes, that one. What do you say we take Bob's suggestion and find someplace to talk? We were all just looking for some place to eat. Why don't you join us, and we can catch up over dinner?" "You didn't like this place?" I asked. "Not really our style," Rebecca said. "Peanut shells on the floor are not something I look for in a restaurant. It always makes me wonder what else may be down there crunching when I walk. It's a fad that I hope dies quickly." We found a place about a block farther down that didn't look too bad and settled in for what looked to be a long night. As a precaution, I steered us away from the booths and to a table as near the center of the room as possible. Six adults in a booth gets a little crowded in most restaurants, so no one complained. As soon as we were shown to the table, Rebecca handed Bob her coat and headed for the ladies room. Without hesitation, Mel and Lynn followed her. "So, Christine," Bob began once we were seated. "It's nice to finally meet you. David has told us quite a bit about you. How is flight school going?" "It's going really well," she said softly, "but I'm a little confused about what is happening right now." "It's okay, Christine," I assured her. "We'll explain it all to you, but first, don't whisper; it attracts attention. Just keep everything in a normal, conversational tone, and no one will pay the least attention to us. Just kind of glance around – just with your eyes, don't move your head. See, no one is paying the least attention to us, and unless we do something that attracts their attention, like whispering, we just become background noise. You're confused why you, the real you, is suddenly out here in the everyday world? Don't worry about Bob, when he said I've told him a lot about you he means a lot – including this." "Yeah," she said, nodding her head. "I thought this wasn't supposed to happen?" "It's to protect the other personality," Bob said. "She would wonder why people are calling 'David' Jimmy, and that could lead to other questions. Plus, she wouldn't know how to act because she doesn't understand the need for secrecy, so ... I'm guessing that later tonight, you and Jimmy will shift some things around and make up a memory of this evening that she can accept." I could see the concern in Christine's face that Bob appeared to know the truth about me. "Bob is probably my closest confidant and advisor," I said. "And I've been working with Rebecca practically since the beginning, so while she doesn't know everything, she knows the important stuff. Lynn and Mel on the other hand don't, so we're not going to talk about any of this after they get back. From then on we're just old friends who happened to bump into each other and are catching up, okay?" "Okay," she said. "So Rebecca knows all about... ," she waved her finger back and forth between her and me. "Rebecca knows that you met David on his flight to Vegas and that you're working as his secretary while you go to flight school," Bob said. "She also knows that you are both consenting adults and that anything else that may or may not be going on is none of anyone else's business." "Even if he's only..." "Twenty-two," Bob said firmly. "We can talk about that later," I told her. "It's not a problem for anyone else, but considering Lynn and Mel know my real age... , Bob? What do you think? She can pass for eighteen in that outfit, don't you think?" "Sure, no problem, but it won't be necessary. Rebecca will explain the cover, and they'll go along. It may have slipped your notice, but they're not that uptight about the whole sex thing..." Christine stifled a chuckle and reached for her water glass. About that time the women returned and were seated. Everyone took a couple minutes looking over the menu and making the usual inquiries about who thought what looked good. The waitress took our order, and Lynn started the conversation by saying, "So, Rebecca tells us you switched to using your first name." "Jimmy doesn't work well in the business world," I said. "You can get away with it when you're older, but for now it just draws attention to how young I am, and sometimes it can be a pain getting anyone to take you seriously. David just works better." "You never told me your middle name was James," Christine said. "Christine," I said in a shocked tone. "You're my secretary; I shouldn't have to tell you everything. You mean to tell me you haven't snooped around the files yet? What am I paying you for anyway?" Mel nodded sympathetically and said, "Good help is so hard to find these days." She turned to Lynn, "Don't you teach these kids anything?" "Hey, don't look at me!" Lynn shot back. "We just potty-train them and make sure they don't kill each other. What you do with them after that is not our problem." Everyone got a good chuckle out of that as well. "Well, one thing hasn't changed," Lynn said, looking at me with a smile. "You always did have great taste in women. How is Angela doing? Rebecca said you were keeping an eye on her." "Oh," Christine said. "You know her?" "Are you kidding?" Mel asked. "I coached her for four years and three State Championships. I cried for days when the news said she was dead." She looked me and shook her head. "You knew all along and never said anything, not even to her brother. That is amazing; I don't know how you did it. I know I couldn't have." "I just had to weigh the consequences," I said with a shrug. "If I'd told him, and the wrong person found out, they could have all ended up dead, including Angela. The family had to be 100% devastated at her loss, and normal people just aren't that good actors. Besides, you know what they say about a secret known by two..." She and Lynn both rolled their eyes, and Mel said, "Oh, no kidding! Remember, we both work with young girls. Who of course tell their girlfriends everything, and by the end of the week the whole school knows." "Come on now," I said. "They're not all like that, no one knew about Allison and Shannon." A cloud seemed to pass over the table for just a second, but when it left everyone had a hint of a smile on their faces, even Christine. Shannon's last moments had a lasting effect. You couldn't think of her and not relive her passing, and it was impossible to be sad after witnessing something like that. "So how long have you been working with the... ," Lynn caught herself and paused before saying, "Rebecca?" "A while," I said guardedly, "but I think it's best not to go into that. It's a long story, and now that you know, I'll let her decide how best to fill you in on the details. So what brought you all up here?" "Just wanted to get away and do a little skiing," Lynn said. "You know how crowded the local mountains are. You can hardly make a turn without running over some idiot who doesn't understand the concepts of space or right of way." We chatted all through dinner and desert and agreed to meet up in the morning to head up the mountain. It was hard to say what would happen after that, but we'd decided on a place and time for lunch so we could all get together again. There were more surprises in store for me back at the room. I really wasn't sure what to expect with Christine fully in charge again. I was more than a little surprised, though pleasantly so, when she started undressing me. I'd been worried that my age might suddenly be a problem again; apparently not. Afterward she confided in me that sitting across from Lynn and Mel and watching the little 'couple' things they did had reminded her of her time with Lizzy and Amber, and thinking of that had made her horny as hell. Even in the privacy of our room, I wasn't going to bring up the age question until we were safely on the other side. We had plenty to discuss when we got there, so I moved us over as soon as we had settled into comfortable positions again, you know, after the shower; it was one of 'those' nights. I guess I'd lost track of time, and it was later than I thought, because I was surprised to find Lizzy and Allison already there waiting for us. "Nice of you to drop in," Lizzy said with a smile as she moved forward to kiss us both hello. "No need to ask what kept you." She moved over and hugged Christine and gave her a polite peck on the cheek. "That's it?" Christine asked as she pulled back. Lizzy smiled and kissed her again, this one wasn't nearly as polite. "Sorry," Lizzy said when they parted the second time. "I wasn't sure if what I was seeing was for me, or just residual from your time with... ," she nodded her head towards me. "Both, ' Christine said. "It's a long story, but we'll get to that in a minute. Right now I need to say hello, and a few other things, to someone else. Allison, can I talk to you for a minute?" I was going to want to talk to Allison about the look on her face before they disappeared, among other things. Something had changed, and I had a bad feeling about where the change may have come from. Suddenly, Lizzy was hugging me. "It's not your fault," she said. I couldn't stop the flare of anger. Of course I couldn't hide it from her either, so I didn't bother trying. "You knew this was happening," I accused her. "You saw her changing, and you didn't say anything." "No," she said, pulling away and looking up at me. "I didn't see her changing because it's not that kind of change. If you had 'changed' her the way you're thinking, then yes, I would have seen it because it would have been something you actually 'did'. Jimmy, you don't change people the way you're thinking. You didn't make Christine like girls – she already did; it was just buried a little deeper before." "Then what is it that I'm doing? Because it seems like everyone I meet changes in some way." "They do, but it's more of a reshaping than anything else. You help them fit. Not everyone, but the ones that are important to you. You help us to all get along. I mean, think about it; haven't you ever noticed that girls don't usually play nice together, especially in matters of the heart? Take Shannon and Allison; crushes are brutal things, trust me, I know; I've seen what they can do. I've seen lifelong friends turn on each other over a boy. Having a crush on your best friend's brother is especially painful because so often you have to choose between them, and no matter how you choose, you almost always end up losing them both. Shannon had a crush on you, but she would never have acted on it if it meant losing Allison because she loved her just as much..." "More," I interjected. "Possibly, but the real question is which came first? Did she love Allison before her crush on you, or the other way around? Either way, she had a problem. Now I can't say for certain that her love for Allison had anything to do with you. Your gift may not have been powerful enough to have the kind of effect it does now, but I find it very convenient that she and Allison became lovers and that both were then also willing to share not only each other with you, but also to share you between the two of them." She got one of her signature wicked grins and added, "Of course knowing Shannon, she would have preferred to be the one between the two of you. I know that's where I'd want to be." "Probably never happen," I said. "Allison would be too afraid the sun would go nova or something silly like that." "Jimmy, it's..." "I know," I said, cutting her off. "I've seen first-hand what happens when we get together that way, and it's no laughing matter, but I doubt it's going to be the biblical event she envisions either." "Probably not," she agreed. "Unless Jamie gets involved of course, but even then I don't see how it could possibly be as bad as she thinks." "Really?" Allison's voice asked. "You willing to make a little wager on that?" We turned toward the voice and found both Allison and Christine had returned. ------- Chapter 30: New Years Pt 2 Allison Damn, sometimes I hate being right. And I know it drives Jimmy nuts. It was not even three months since Christine came into Jimmy's life – roughly ten weeks with him full time – and the change was complete, or seemed to be. Ten weeks ago, when she first found herself in the deep end of our little pool, she had been aghast at discovering that twenty-two year old 'David' was really sixteen year old Jimmy. She was so upset about it that she asked him to hide the knowledge from the day-to-day persona they created to protect her. That was surprising enough in itself, and I had to wonder if it had anything to do with being in the dream environment, where Jimmy's influence was so much stronger. Not to mention the fact that she had been hurt – hurt badly – by a lover who had cheated on and taken advantage of her. Yet she accepted Lizzy's assurance that this wasn't anything like that, and that – even though she was engaged to Jimmy – she didn't consider it cheating. Either of these by itself would have gotten my attention, the two together ... Something was happening. Sex with Jimmy was damned near addictive. The level of pleasure he and Jamie could create in a person bordered on dangerous. The only thing missing was an actual craving for more; it was beyond desire but stopped short of being a physical longing. Except the one time when we screwed up with Jamie, of course, and even with that you retained enough sense to know you would never do it in anything less than carefully controlled circumstances again. At least I did; I can't speak for anyone else because so far we haven't let it happen again. I knew that would change when he and Lizzy finally got married, and I couldn't help but be worried about it, but for now... I suspected it was over when Lizzy kissed Christine hello, and Christine wanted more. A part of me ached because it was exactly the response you would have gotten from Shannon in the same situation. When she said she wanted to talk to me – she didn't actually say "in private", but there was really no need to – we all knew what she meant. Sexually, we've always been way off the 'socially acceptable' reservation. Teenagers having sex was nothing new, but it's not something society accepts or encourages either; not mainstream American society anyway. Teenage homosexuality had been little more than a blip on the social radar for decades, and nowhere had the double standard been more evident. Two guys caught in the act were most likely going to get the shit kicked out of them by whomever caught them, be it parents, best friends, or teammates. If it was one of their girlfriends that caught them, they'd be lucky to survive. Big brother is going to be pissed if he catches you with his baby sister, but deep inside he's going to understand that it was going to happen sooner or later, and as long as you treated her right, you'd probably be okay. Big brother finds out you cheated on her, you're in for an ass-whipping on general principles. Big brother finds out you ditched her for another guy, and they're never going to find either of your bodies. Contrast that with two girls getting caught: If it's their friends walking in on them, they may be embarrassed, but there is also a very good chance they're going to ask questions, not the least of which is, "Why her and not me?" Girls are weird that way. Even if the friend in question doesn't have a bi-curious bone in her body, the fact that you picked someone else to experiment with hurts her feelings. If it's one of their boyfriends walking in on them, it's a coin toss whether he'll be pissed off or want to join in. And if he does go with pissed off, chances are he's going to be even more pissed later when he realizes the chance he just let get away. It's a no win for the girls either way. Whether they throw caution to the wind and let him join in or not, chances are that by lunchtime the next day everyone is going to know about it. Many parents are confused and conflicted beyond reason by the thought of their kid being gay, or even bi, if it's a male child. I think deep inside a good percentage of dads would rather their daughter found the girl next door than her brother, because at least no one ends up pregnant that way – which was also a big selling point for me and Shannon. We were well on the way to discovering each other before either of us confessed our mutual lust and affection for Jimmy. Just don't be stupid: keep the noise down, toss a couple sleeping bags and pillows on the floor, and no one thinks twice about your girlfriend sleeping over. Oh yeah, scented candles are a good thing to keep on hand, and never kiss your parents, or your brother for that matter, before brushing your teeth. Besides, most guys – dads included – think it's just a phase or a fad, and we'll get over it. Some guys dream Penthouse visions and hope that instead of getting over it, we'll just be more in love with them, get married, and occasionally bring a friend home to share with them. Yeah, dream on, boys; most girls don't like to share. And then, of course, there is incest, the ultimate sexual taboo. It's far more common than just about anyone will admit, but if you get caught, you're done, finished; just pack up, move to another state, and change your name, which – oddly enough – is also how most couples avoid getting caught in the first place. Jimmy and I were very much the exception in that regard. Looking back, it was stupid of us to take the chance of getting caught in the first place. That Mom and Dad didn't completely freak out was just dumb luck. Although looking back, I do have to question if maybe Jimmy wasn't already affecting those around him; though even if that were the case, his influence then was nothing compared to what it is now. Then again, years of exposure to work on them ... who knows? Maybe someday we'll be able to figure it out; probably by watching his and Lizzy's kids. "What's up, Kris?" I asked after moving us both to the cabana for a little privacy. "Or were you just worried about saying 'hello' in front of everyone else?" "A little, maybe," she admitted, "because I haven't ever kissed you, and it would have been embarrassing for both of us if I'd tried and you didn't want to." "Well then," I said, moving forward. "Let's get that out of the way first." I turned out the lights except for one candle burning on a small table by the door. I knew she was probably still harboring some reservations about my age, so when I was close enough, I whispered, "Close your eyes." Even though I knew they were closed, I put a blindfold on her. "No peeking." I moved behind her, wrapped my arms around her waist, and kissed her bare shoulder. I felt her tense slightly as she realized her shirt had disappeared, but I'd replaced it with a bikini top and made sure she felt it. Pulling her against me, I kissed a line across her back, between her shoulder blades, whispering softly as I went. "I've been with three other women before you, each very special and very different. I know you already figured out that Jimmy and I are lovers. He's the only man I've ever been with... , and I know why he holds back with you. If you talk to Bob about mental age, he'll tell you that emotionally and intellectually I am at least as old as you are. I can show you legal documents that will stand up in court stating that I am eighteen years old, and therefore legal in any state in the country. If it helps, think of me as one of those unfortunate women that everyone hates, the ones that will still be stuck buying clothes in the Juniors' department when they're thirty with three kids." As I was speaking, I moved around her, touching and caressing her arms, back, face, and shoulders as I went. When I finished, I was standing in front of her with my hands on her hips. "Touch me," I said, in a tone somewhere between asking, pleading, and commanding. Her hands came up to mirror mine, resting on my narrow waist just above my hipbones. I brushed a strand of hair away from her face and stood on tiptoes to kiss her gently on the corner of her mouth. When I came back down, her head dropped as her lips tried to keep the contact. I tucked the wayward strand behind her ear, running my fingers through her hair as it passed around to the back of her head. I brushed her lips again, still very gently, but this time full on the mouth with no pretense that I may have been trying for something else. On the next one I let my tongue come out and brush her lips, which parted just enough that I could feel her breath on my lips. I dropped back just a little and ran my other hand up her side, bringing the first hand back around so that they both cupped her face at the same time. The next kiss went up from serious to sensuous as her hands moved up also, fingers weaving themselves into and through my long hair. When I reached back and pulled the neck-tie on her top, she mirrored the movement, and then our breasts were touching. I think if it had been darker and we'd been paying attention, we'd have seen sparks fly between our nipples. Breaking the kiss, I pulled the blindfold off and dropped back down so my feet were flat on the floor. Drawing my left hand down her arm to catch her hand, I pulled her gently towards the bed and said, "Let me make love to you, Christine, please?" She followed me like a puppy, and – from the look on her face – you would have thought this was her first time alone and naked with anyone. It's a look I'll always cherish and remember. It was everything a first time should be. I made love to her slowly and gently the first time, and then she returned the favor, taking me places that you can't find or get to unless your heart is in it. After that, the gloves came off, and we went at each other like starved animals. Any reservations she may have had about my age were long gone by the time we got back to Jimmy and Lizzy. Dream-time is a wonderful thing. I'd swear we had been gone for hours, but from their conversation, it couldn't have been more than minutes to them. I listened first to make sure we weren't going to walk into anything. I knew they weren't up to anything – no way I could not know in this environment – but they might have brought Amber in as a surrogate, so it was always a good idea to check first. They were discussing my theories on the quantum effects of their first coupling. Based on the change in magnitude between the engagement kiss and that last one in Lizzy's dorm room, I was barely clinging to the hope that the Earth might maintain a stable orbit. There was going to be a big-ass "I told you so" in someone's future. Jimmy "So what did I miss?" Allison asked. "Nothing," Lizzy replied. "We were just discussing the issue with Christine and our collective thoughts and fears of our wedding night." "Yeah, I got that last part," Allison said. "What issue with Christine?" "We ran into some people who know Jimmy in the village up in Brighton," Christine answered. "Next thing I knew, the other me was gone, and I was in charge. Kind of freaked me out at first; it was almost like waking up in church and wondering what I'd missed, only I hadn't really missed anything. I think I did okay though." "Where's Brighton?" Allison said. "Utah," Lizzy said, and then she turned to me. "You guys are skiing? I am so jealous! So who did you meet?" "Bob and Rebecca," I said, "but Allison's old coach and her girlfriend were with them." "You ran into Mel and Lynn?" Allison asked excitedly. "How are they? Did you say hi for me?" Christine was looking a little confused. "So this wasn't as serious as I thought?" "Oh, no," Allison said quickly. "It's very serious, but you have to realize, in Jimmy's life the serious scale is like the Richter scale for earthquakes. We measure it in orders of magnitude. This was serious, but given the circumstances, it's probably not more than a four at best. It shook things up a little, but it didn't do any damage that can't be fixed pretty easily." "Oh," Christine said. "Like manufacturing a different set of memories for the day shift so she won't know the truth? Bob said we'd probably be doing that tonight." "Yeah, that's about it," I said. "Now if we'd been someplace else where someone might have overheard something like that, it could be a lot worse. You were great, by the way. It took me a second to even realize what had happened, that you'd taken over control, but I'm glad you did. My first thought was that it was going to be hard to cover for Mel and Lynn and cover for you at the same time ... sooo much easier this way. It didn't bother you to suddenly be in charge like that?" "No, not really. Since I knew what was happening, it was easy to explain, and I knew the important thing was to not act surprised. I'm a little nervous about what happens next, but after all that you've told me about how dangerous it is to know about you, I'm okay with it. But what about them?" "This is the first time I've seen them in months, and we were never close enough that anyone might go after them for information on me. And I know I can trust Rebecca to make sure they understand just how important it is that no one even suspects that they ran into "Jimmy" somewhere. Meeting David Malcolm – the man who had saved Angela Osborne – and his secretary, Christine, is just a vacation story." In truth, I was going to be dropping in on them later to make sure they didn't say anything to anyone about me. A simple inhibition should be enough to assure that if anyone brought me up, they would remember me, but nothing short of torture would get them to say it out loud. Fixing the memories for the 'public' Christine was very simple. Jamie had caught her after just the name, so all we had to do change the 'name' she heard, and then edit out the later conversation with Bob while the women were in the restroom. Everything after that was just old friends talking, and the name 'Jimmy' never came up again. The final thing we did was to set it up so that if anything like this happened again, Christine could take over on her own to protect her surrogate self. Skiing is awesome! It would have been even better if I hadn't needed to keep it credible that I was a beginner. By lunch I didn't have to work so hard and could relax down the slope. Twice before lunch I managed to sneak away and really cut loose, though – once when Christine was in the ladies room, and the second time when she decided she wanted to try a couple of the more advanced runs and asked if we could meet at the bottom in a half hour or so. Jamie was in heaven for that part. We all went out to dinner and then gathered in the recreation area to relax in the hot tub, laugh, and giggle over our days. When we'd arrived, Lynn was teasing Mel about this hot snow-bunny she'd caught her following down one of the slopes. Not knowing Christine, they were both careful not to be too obvious about their appreciation of their first sight of her in a bathing suit. It didn't work, though; Rebecca caught them and made a scene. "Hey, what am I, chopped liver?" she demanded. "What?" Christine asked confused. "You missed that?" Rebecca asked. "They were totally checking you out! Not that there's anything wrong with that, you're very beautiful, but they didn't even glance at me when I got in. I'm not sure, but I think I should be terribly insulted. Stand up for a second..." Lynn was embarrassed, but Mel knew Rebecca was just trying to pull their chains, and she was having none of it. "Give it a rest, Hampton. We all know what a babe you are, but you're old news. You're marrying Bob, for goodness sake; you're off the market. Not to mention being on the wrong team in the first place. Christine is an unknown, young – not that you're old, you're not – and even though Lynn and I train for a living you're probably in the best shape of all of us. Hell, I could break a wine bottle on your abs, but Christine's all soft and curvy, and even if she doesn't swing our way, we don't know that, so we can pretend there's still hope. Although, if the stories of our young friend here are true, probably not much." "What stories?" Christine asked. "Oh, and thanks. Competition around here looks pretty serious, so it's good to know someone is still looking." "So what was everybody's favorite run?" I asked, hoping to redirect the conversation. "Oh, no, you don't," Rebecca said. "What stories?" "Booooob?" Mel said, dragging the name out in a scandalous tone. "You mean you never told Rebecca about our young stud's freshman year?" "Melinda Jenkins!" Bob said, sounding seriously affronted. "You know I would never discuss a student's personal life like that." Then he turned to Rebecca and said, "First year, couple months in – probably before you got involved – the boy wonder comes to me with a problem. Seems he made a major mistake with one of our young ladies. He never said what it was he did, wouldn't even tell me who it was, but he gave me a hypothetical. As soon as I heard it I had to agree with his assessment of the situation – he was in deep! About that time, while he's still wallowing in misery at the situation he's gotten himself into, Mel and Susan show up, and of course, being concerned at this unusual display, ask what is going on. Now, in the interest of fairness, judge for yourselves; it seems our young gentleman did something ... significant, for one of the young ladies. Something that in her mind put her seriously in his debt, and so overwhelmed was she that she offered to thank him in the time honored tradition." "Oooohhh!" Christine cooed. "Score one for the hero!" "Oh no!" Bob said, shaking his head. "He was much too much of a gentleman to do that, and he very quickly told her that while he was deeply honored that she would even consider it, he could never..." "Oh my god," Rebecca laughed, stomping her feet in the water. "He turned her down!" "Let me finish," Bob said. "He told her he could never take advantage of her that way." By now I was blushing so seriously that even being slowly boiled in the hot spa-water couldn't really cover it. "No!" laughed Christine. "You told her that!" "I was fifteen!" I said. "I didn't know any better." "You were fifteen and you turned down sex?" Christine said. "What? Was she fat and ugly or something?" "It was Angela," Mel said. "He turned down the crown jewel of the senior class." "You're kidding?" Rebecca said. "You turned Angela down? I thought you two went to prom together." "And that is where the legend really took off," Melinda said. "Yes, they went to prom, but that was months later, and you have never seen a rumor spread like the news that Angela had asked a freshman to be her date to her senior prom. Of course, after he beat up those three assholes at the mall, everyone had already figured out there was more to him than meets the eye, but this put him squarely on the social map, let me tell you. Suddenly, everyone was wondering what she saw that they didn't. You can't believe some of the stuff I heard in the locker room. According to reliable sources, the two of them, along with her brother and his date, had a two-bedroom suite rented for the night. One of my girls had a cousin that worked as a maid at the hotel, and she cleaned the room the next day. Condom wrappers everywhere! She said eight, but you know how fast these things grow; by the beginning of the new school year it was an even dozen, but either way, the girls were lined up waiting for him to get over Angela's death and start dating again. Anyway, that's where the legend started. The problem with legends, though, is living up to them." "Not always," Christine said with a grin. "What did we do it... ?" she looked at me, " ... three times the first night? No, four! And then again the next morning before you took me to the airport?" Remind me never to try and embarrass Christine in public. "A living legend then," Rebecca said with a smile. "Oh, yeah!" Christine said. "And I had to be on my feet all the next day. Oh my god, it was brutal!" "I can imagine," Lynn said with a not-so-sympathetic grin, "and I'll bet you couldn't wait to do it again." "Are you kidding?" Christine said. She looked at me and decided I'd had enough embarrassment for one night. "Someday I'll have to tell you about how we met. So what was your favorite run?" It was New Years Eve, and they closed down everything but the big reception hall early. Bob and I took turns dancing with the women, but then we all went back to our rooms before it got too late. It had been a long day, and I wanted to be rested before we went back out the next morning. Besides, Utah was not the best state for two women to be making out when the ball dropped. New Years Day is a great day for skiing, assuming you weren't up all night drinking and partying. The slopes were pristine and perfect as we headed up the lift, and we had virgin snow on the first four runs we hit. We were running in a pack today, the six of us alternately cruising and racing down the different tracks. After the third run, Bob reminded me that I was supposed to be new at this, and I needed to stop making it look so easy. I made it a point to fall twice in the next half hour, apparently from going too fast and losing my balance. Fortunately, we had learned the right way to fall: into the mountain so you just go into a controlled slide, instead of down the slope where you go cart-wheeling out of control and breaking things. "Ouch!" Christine said as she skied up and stopped next to where I lay in the snow after the second fall. "You okay? That looked painful." "Your powers of observation do you credit," I said. "If it looked half as bad as it felt, then you got the full effect. However, as far as I can tell, only my ego suffered any real damage." "Really?" she said. "You sure about that? Nothing you'd like me to kiss and make better?" I glanced up and caught her eye. She grinned down at me, the look in her eyes reminding me of Allison, and said, "I was thinking of taking a run from the top. Want to share a lift up? The chart says it's eight minutes to the top, so we'll have time to catch our breath." The lift to the top was a fully enclosed gondola, and they stowed your skis on a rack in the back when you boarded. As luck would have it, we were the only ones in the gondola. That may have had something to do with the lighter crowd, but it was least partly due to Christine holding us back until the line cleared before stepping forward. The ride up was anything but restful, and by the time we got to the top, I could barely walk out of the lift and had to catch my breath all over again before heading down. The girl operating the lift just shook her head and smiled as I made my exit. I saw her wave a 'naughty' finger at Christine while we were waiting for our gear, and she thought I wasn't looking. We took our time going back down and then took a break for a much-needed snack and energy drink. The others caught up with us, and we waited until everyone was rested and refreshed before heading back up. I noticed Mel and Lynn seemed to be staying close to us after that, and while I thought it was my imagination, it seemed like a couple times I caught them staring at me. That night I discovered that it wasn't my imagination as I found myself drawn into Lynn's dream for the first time since I had met her. I didn't stay long but went straight from there into Melinda's, where I generated a scene to see if what Lynn was doing was a fluke. As I feared, it wasn't just fantasy, but rather based on an actual conversation they had had before going to bed – well, before going to sleep anyway. From there I went to the glade and started pacing, trying to figure out what to do about what I had just seen. I'm not sure how long I paced, but eventually I ended up doing what I knew I should have done in the first place. "Bob! Allison! Easy!" I called. Even as the words left my mouth, I was surprised to hear them, and it just reinforced how lost I felt. I couldn't even remember the last time I'd thought of Elizabeth as 'Easy'. "Wow," Allison said as she popped in. "This must be serious; you never call her 'Easy'." Elizabeth, of course, knew something was wrong as soon as she showed up. "Jimmy, what's wrong? Why are you so upset? Bob, did something happen today?" "Not that I know of," he answered with a shrug. "What's up Jimmy? I don't need Lizzy's gift to see that you're upset. The fact that you called all three of us at once tells me you're feeling like you need serious advice about something. What's on your mind, son?" "Did you know Mel and Lynn want a baby?" He shrugged. "Mel mentioned that they had talked about it, and that would be 'babies' actually; plural. She said they were thinking of getting pregnant together, and I told her she was insane, and if she ever mentioned it again, I'd have her committed. Then I told her to get a second opinion, and that there was nothing wrong with wanting to have a baby, but that the idea of both of them being pregnant at the same time was a clear indication that they were mentally unstable, and therefore should not have kids. Why? How did you find out?" "I just came from Mel's dream. You'll never guess what the topic of discussion was." Bob stared at me for a second, apparently digesting the implication of what I'd just said. He'd been around long enough to know the circumstances under which I most often got pulled into someone else's dreams. "You're kidding, right? Don't get me wrong, I don't have a problem with it, but..." "She wants to have your baby?" Lizzy asked. Her voice had that "awwww" lilt girls get. "Jimmy, that is so sweet. You should be honored." "Honored?" I said. "Try terrified! I'm not ready to be a father!" "Jimmy, they're not asking you to be a father," Bob said. "They're asking you to donate sperm." "I don't think I'm the sperm donor type," I said. "For one thing, I don't know if I could deal with having kids out there in the world and not being a part of their lives; my ego isn't big enough to handle it. And even if I could, I don't think it would be a good idea. What if my gift is genetic? What if one of the kids should manifest abilities like mine? Or something even weirder? Don't get me wrong, I love those ladies, and I think they'll make great parents, but I don't know that they could handle this." "Oh, I don't know," Bob said. "You came out pretty well, and your parents didn't have a clue. Besides, you'd still be able to monitor them and be there if one of them suddenly started hitting the dream world." "Yeah, if I'm still alive," I replied sarcastically. "Bob I don't know that I want to risk innocent children having to deal with the kind of shit I've been handed lately." "A specious argument at best," Bob said, dismissing my argument with a flick of his wrist. "Jimmy, no one wants their kids to have problems in life, but if we all just stopped having kids because the world is a dangerous place, the species would die out. Fortunately, the brave ones keep having kids, so I don't think we're in any danger at this point. But let's say you're right, and your gift is genetic. Then your offspring would have an edge, and you would be diminishing the survival chances for the entire human race by removing what could be a rung on the evolutionary ladder." "Give me a break, Bob, I..." Allison cut me off. "Okay, stop," she said. "This is pointless. You're arguing for the sake of arguing. Jimmy, I understand you being surprised at this, but it's stupid to get so stressed over it. For one thing, it's a dream, and you don't know that it's anything more than a fantasy." "Yeah I do," I said shaking my head. "It was Lynn's dream I was drawn into. I went to Mel's after, to see if it was just fantasy or not. They talked about it before they went to sleep." "You are so smart," she said, smiling approvingly. "But talking about your acceptability as a potential father is a long way from actually asking you, which would be very difficult to do since they no longer have contact with you on a regular basis. Even if they did, and they actually decided to approach you, it wouldn't matter because as far as the two of them are concerned, you're sterile." "Jimmy's sterile?" Lizzy said, disappointment heavy in her voice. "Oh no," Allison said, shaking her head. "He's just fine, and I predict the two of you are going to make both your mothers very happy some day, but he can't get them pregnant. Well, he could, but ... it's complicated, and trust me, he would have to really want to." Everyone was looking pretty lost by this point, but she wasn't done. "Don't you remember: The Sandman, blood all over the warehouse, lots of blood, but no DNA? Jimmy, I don't think you can get them or anyone else pregnant because your DNA breaks down when it's removed from your energy field. By my calculation, there are currently four women on earth you could get pregnant without really trying to: Lizzy, Amber, Christine, and me. There is an outside shot that Roxy may be on the list, but I don't think so – I don't know how you two are connected, but I don't think it's the same as the rest of us. For anyone else, it would have to be intentional; it may have to be even for one of us, but for anyone else? No way. So if – and at this point it's still a pretty big if – they approach you about it..." She stopped suddenly as if something had occurred to her. "Well shoot! I just realized that it still comes back to deciding if you want to, or not, first, because that's going to be the deciding factor in how you deal with..." I started to interrupt and say that I didn't want to, but she held up her hand and said, "Don't say it. I know what you're thinking but that doesn't mean you'll still feel the same way later. Things change, and, well..." It's amazing how every time one of us points out that 'things change' we all instantly think of Shannon's sudden passing. Fortunately, Bob headed off the usual reaction by saying, "I've obviously missed too many meetings lately. How did you figure all this out?" "Mostly deduction, so I will admit there is an outside chance that I'm wrong, but the evidence from the warehouse alone supports my supposition even if I'm a little off in the overall theory, but I don't think I am." "What theory is that?" He asked. "Allison has this theory that I have some kind of energy field; that we all do. She thinks that's what Lizzy sees when she looks at us, but that mine is different and interacts with other peoples' more directly." He nodded his head thoughtfully and then asked Allison, "The Kirlian effect?" "Probably not exactly, but something along the same lines," she confirmed. "So you think there may be more to all this than your original idea of him being emotionally projective?" "Oh, a lot more," Allison said. "Haven't you noticed that people tend to like him and trust him? Look at Rebecca, she ... Don't say it! And wipe that look off your face; that's not what I meant, and you know it!" Lizzy couldn't help giggling because Bob did have one of those typical 'guy' looks, and you just knew that when Allison had said 'look' at Rebecca, in his mind, he was – in typical guy fashion. You, know ... just Rebecca. "Robert Shelby, you are a dirty old man," Allison continued. "Now put her clothes back on and try to focus for a minute. Rebecca's not a trusting person by nature. She spends too much of her life dealing with the dark side of humanity. Rod even more so, and yet both of them trust Jimmy, and I don't think there is another person on earth that Phoebe would have told her story to. Okay, that's a bad example, because there was obviously more going on there, but think about it. Who doesn't like him?" "Brad Russell comes to mind," I pointed out. "Not your best choice," Bob said. "That actually supports her theory. You didn't like Brad from day one; you thought he was an asshole the second you met him. You were right, of course, but still ... If she's right, this explains a lot of things. Not the least of which was what happened with you and Angela that first night when you told her you wouldn't have sex with her for the wrong reason. I've been around a while, and let me tell you, you don't turn a girl like Angela down without consequences one way or the other. Trust me, yours were the good kind, but if you hadn't been able to keep her in that car long enough to talk to her ... You're familiar with the expression, 'Hell hath no fury... '? You have no idea. "Jimmy, if Allison is right, then you need to be especially careful of your first impressions," he went on. "You have really good instincts, and that may actually be your 'field' – as Allison put it – actually picking things up from the people you meet; sort of unconsciously sensing the kind of things that Lizzy actually sees. Not as detailed, of course, but you seem to know whom you can trust right away, and once you make that decision, they start trusting you as well. If you like someone and want them around, they in turn seem to like, and want to be around, you." He glanced at me, and I knew he was thinking it, but didn't want to take that next step. I took it for him. "Go ahead, Bob, say it; 'And I change them to help them fit in.' That's what has been happening all along. That's why Amber developed so fast – because I was convinced that it was what she needed. It's why Christine is suddenly okay with knowing that she's really sleeping with sixteen-year-old Jimmy and not twenty-two-year-old David. It's why she suddenly decided to explore and embrace the part of her that years ago fantasized about being with another girl; even one as young as Allison." Normally, I don't pry, but I looked at Allison and asked, "That is what happened the other night, isn't it?" She nodded, and I went on, "I thought so, all because I wanted her to fit in and be comfortable with us?" She nodded again. "How long have you known this was happening?" "Known? Not until that night," she said. "I suspected before, but when Lizzy kissed her, and she wanted more ... and then when she wanted to 'talk' to me..." "I know," I said. "I saw the look on your face. That was when you knew you were right, and you weren't any happier about it than I was. Lizzy and I talked a little about it while you two were off 'talking'." I hung quotes around the word. "She told me..." "She told you it wasn't like that!" Lizzy said, interrupting me. "Jimmy, you are not changing people; people around you are changing. It's a subtle distinction, I know, but it's an important one. You didn't 'change' Christine. Christine wanted to be around you, to be part of your life, but she changed herself; broke down her own barriers and inhibitions. She liked girls already, or at least she thought she might. Being around you helped her to be brave enough to face something she had always wondered about. At first she needed 'David' to be older because she thought having sex with a sixteen year old was taking advantage, but it didn't take long before she realized that 'age' is a number on a piece of paper. Bob? You're a professional; where would you put Jimmy's mental age?" He didn't even hesitate, "Any other time I'd say twelve just because he's my friend, but ... low to mid thirties when he's serious, mid to high twenties when he's playing around." "And Allison?" Lizzy prompted. "A little higher." "That's what I thought," Lizzy said, and then she turned to Allison. "That was the last hurdle, wasn't it?" Allison nodded and she went on, "But she's over that now?" This time Allison blushed and rolled her eyes. Lizzy blushed and smiled back at her. "Her personal world view altered, Jimmy. She made adjustments in herself that allowed her to be comfortable in the place she wanted to be. Need more proof? Allison, how bad did Britney want to be with Jimmy?" She never got a chance to answer as Jamie suddenly stepped out and joined the conversation. "Bad, real bad; if things hadn't gone wrong on the first date..." Again Lizzy nodded. "But Jimmy didn't think she was that kind of girl, and I'm not saying she is, but you wouldn't have been her first trip around the track. She's a competitor, and she goes after what she wants, but just being around you made her want to live up to the image you had of her, because seeing how special you thought she was made her feel special, and she didn't want to disappoint you. So she was willing to wait, for a while at least, but she wasn't happy about it. I know, because I'm waiting, and I fucking hate it. I'll bet you anything you've still got a starring role in her fantasies; you're sure as hell in mine." I was a little shocked at her words, and it took me off subject. "Does it really bother you that much?" I asked. "Because we don't have to..." "No," she said, putting her fingers to my lips. I knew she was being sincere because her smile went all the way up through her eyes as she said, "No, it doesn't. Most of the time I still think it's the sweetest thing in the world, and I just love you to death. But every once in a while, I feel like I'm going to explode, and it makes me want to just tie you to the nearest piece of furniture and fuck us both to death. Sorry about the language, Bob." "Don't apologize on my behalf," Bob said. "I think it's wonderful that you feel that way. I think if everyone felt that way about the people they love, the world would be a much better place. And it would do wonders for the furniture business as well. Jimmy, I have to agree with them, and while I admit that if we were all dead wrong and this were all your doing, then we might not even realize it, but I don't think that's the case, because if I look around, subjectively, I can't see a single change that I would consider bad, or evil, or anything like that. "If the world were a galaxy and everyone in it a star, planet, asteroid or some other piece of cosmic debris, then you are like a rogue sun, and others just naturally gravitate to you; even people like Jasmine that you've never actually met. Jimmy she trusted you, someone she had never even met, with May, her personal slave and lover. I don't need to point out the significance of that. Then she handed Tanya into your care without a second thought. That's big time trust." "All right, all right," I said. "I get it." "Do you?" Jamie asked, looking at me questioningly. "Do you really?" "You too?" I asked, shaking my head in disbelief. "You saw it too, didn't you?" She just shrugged. "Am I really that blind?" I asked no one in particular. "No," Lizzy said softly. "You're that innocent." She moved in close and cupped my face. "You're that focused on seeing the good and doing the right thing, and I pray you always will be because it is one of the things I love the most about you." She leaned in close and kissed me gently on the edge of my lip. And time stopped. I didn't know for how long, but the next thing I knew Allison was asking, "Are you back now?" I only had time to move my eyes and glance questioningly at her before she continued. "Damn, I think it's getting worse, but at least you didn't drive everyone over the cliff this time." "What do you mean?" I asked. "What happened?" "You two were frozen in mid-kiss for ... oh, a good two minutes there. What do you remember?" I had to stop and think about it for a second. I couldn't remember anything besides an overwhelming feeling of love. I was about to say as much when Lizzy beat me to it. "Love," she said. "It was like a perfect moment, and all I felt was how much I loved him and wanted him to know it." "And do you know it, Jimmy?" Bob asked seriously. "Yeah," I said, nodding my head. "Yeah, I got the message loud and clear. Two minutes?" "Easily two minutes," Allison answered. "Jamie wanted to come in after you, but we decided to wait it out. Besides, her being there may have been the difference between standing by and watching and getting up to change the sheets. And if you were as tied as I think you were, and she got into Lizzy by accident..." She shook her head ruefully. "You really think that could happen?" I asked. "Are you willing to risk it?" She asked me back. "Uhm, excuse me," Bob said, "but I think I'm missing something here, and I'm not sure it's something you wanted me to know. I gather that Jamie can actually merge with other people, and sometimes that's a problem?" "Yes, and yes," I said. "But before we go there, let me just say that there isn't much that I don't want you to know, but there are things now that having conscious knowledge of could be dangerous, so I haven't told you because I didn't want to have to do a 'Christine' on you. Yes, Jamie can merge with any of the girls, and she can stay out longer depending on which one she's with. As for the rest..." I glanced at Allison, and she took over. "I think the time difference varies by how intimate their relationship is with Jimmy, although that is not the right word for it. She's been with me for several hours at a time, Lizzy longer, and Amber seems to be the easiest for her." "Submission," Bob said. "Intimacy is part of it, but from what you're saying, it's the level of control the other is giving over to Jamie. You're the most independent of the three of you, Allison. Although Lizzy knows that Jamie is an independent person, in this sense she accepts her as a part of and an extension of Jimmy, and she's already committed herself to him. Amber gives herself totally to either of them because while she does see a difference, it's only a matter of degree, and then only if they are both there. If it's just one of them, she submits totally to whichever is there. In Jimmy's absence, the only person she may accept as having authority over Jamie would be Lizzy. Either way, there is no competition for control with Amber, or very little anyway. "If your energy theory holds – and I have to tell you it's pretty impressive so far – then look at it like your body is a shower that you're sharing with her, and the flow of Jimmy's energy is the hot water. You want the hot water for yourself, not out of selfishness, but because it's your sibling in the shower with you and you're used to fighting for your share. With Lizzy it's more of a partnership so you both get equal time, but with Amber ... with Amber it's her Master, and she is perfectly content to sit in the corner and watch the water running over his, or in Jamie's case her, body." He turned an embarrassed smile on Jamie and added, "I'm sorry Jamie, but I just gave myself a visual I really didn't need." Jamie smiled and dropped a curtsy. "Why thank you sir, it's nice to be admired by such a fine gentleman as yourself. And for the record, I think you'd look pretty good in soap trails yourself, old man." Bob just blushed and laughed as he said, "Matthews, you've had a very bad influence on this sweet girl." "Hey!" Jamie demanded, glaring at him. "Watch who you're calling sweet! That's Allison's department." "Right," Bob laughed. "Forgive me. So if Jamie can merge with any of them – any of you – then why did you imply that it might be a problem if she got into Lizzy while they were frozen?" "Being in Lizzy isn't the problem," Allison said. "Being in any of us when we're being intimate with Jimmy is a huge problem. It's only happened once so far, but that's because we've been very careful to make sure it didn't happen again. It was an accident, well, more of a side effect actually, totally unexpected, that happened during an experiment. It was the first day we experimented with her merging with anyone other than Jimmy. It started as just a kiss, but the result was... wonderful," she said, rolling her eyes, "but it's not something I'd ever want to have happen by accident again. I'd want plenty of time to prepare first." "Powerful?" Bob asked. "Could not stop," Allison said, shaking her head. "Couldn't get enough until we were both too worn out to move. I passed out so hard Jimmy had to put me in a warm tub so my muscles wouldn't cramp up. I was out for a good half hour and in a daze for at least an hour after that; so sore I couldn't wear underwear for two full days. Most erotic and incredible thing I've ever experienced in my life, and I'd do it again tomorrow if I had the time to prepare and a place where I could guarantee we wouldn't be interrupted. But being that out of control by accident is not something I ever want to have happen again. That's why I want to make sure I'm prepared when these two get married. We all need to be, because I don't think we're going to have a choice, and distance isn't going to make a difference." "Really?" Bob asked skeptically. "Really," Allison answered in a voice that left no doubt of how serious she was. "Bob, if you're close enough to him that you felt the engagement kiss or what happened a couple weeks ago, then you and Rebecca need to be someplace very safe and very alone when they finally do it. Is Rebecca on the pill? I don't mean to pry, but I don't think condoms will be much good that night. One wouldn't be enough, and I'm not sure you'd take the time to change it once they get going." His mouth was half open as he stared at her. Finally he said, "You really are serious about this. Jesus God, I don't know if I'm up for this. I'm an old man; it's hard enough keeping up with her as it is." "Oh, bullshit," Lizzy said. "I've seen you two after, and aside from Jimmy's little harem, I've never seen anyone look so well fucked in my life as she does when you're through with her. Old man my ass! My only suggestion for any of you is to pick up some lube before the honeymoon because as far as I'm concerned, you're on your own and can thank us later, but I'm not going to be thinking about, or worrying about, any of you." She stabbed a finger in my chest. "And when I'm through with him, he'll be lucky if he can think at all." "Oh, I love it when you talk like that!" Jamie said, lust in her voice and fire in her eyes. "Okay, okay," Bob said. "We need to change the subject. How did we get here anyway? I thought we were talking about our lesbian friends wanting a family." "We were," Allison said, "but it was important to get all this out in the open because it's been bothering him." "Yes," Bob said, "and I can understand why. These are serious issues to be dealing with. And I'm glad you brought up the fact that some of this knowledge is dangerous to be carrying around. After what Henslith apparently did to Rebecca, and what happened when she went to Washington, I've been more than a little concerned about what would happen if the wrong person or persons got hold of one of us, and you couldn't get to us in time. Jimmy, how hard would it be to, as you put it, 'Do a Christine' on me?" "Very," I answered. "That's another of those things that we've been holding back. Bob, what we did with Christine, we can't do with you. With her we essentially made a personality clone and then isolated her while we talked to the real Christine. Then we made up a credible memory track to feed to the clone in order for her to be comfortable with the explanations she had and operate normally in day to day life." "I see," he said, nodding his understanding, "but you can't do that with me because I already know the truth." "Right," Allison answered. "You're serious about wanting to live day to day without knowing any of this?" "Well, not all of it," he answered. "Obviously I can't forget everything. Rod would flip; my guess is he's having a tough enough time with everything you can do already. If he thought you could erase memories, he might turn you over in a hot second just to make sure you didn't do it to him. No, I was hoping for something more along the lines of being able to pick and choose what I remember." "So, something more like the 'David' that Jimmy created to check out Bastion's church?" "Exactly. Only in this case he'd be more of a stand in if anything went wrong." "Someone to hide behind?" I asked. "Someone who knows everything else, but nothing about all this?" "Yes, something like that." "I don't think that's possible, Bob," Allison said. "To maintain a stream of memories, he needs to be involved in day to day life. Otherwise you would have to constantly screen the information he is getting. What we've done with Christine is to put the person with full knowledge in the background where she can observe everything that happens in day-to-day life while still retaining the knowledge. You saw what happened the other night with Christine; she had to personally step forward to take over the situation in order to protect her other self from the truth. If it were the other way around..." "Hmmm," Bob said. "Kind of like trying to edit live television: Without a significant time lag, you just can't do it. And what I'm envisioning wouldn't allow for a time lag. So what can we do? I don't want to be a liability to you down the road." "I don't think you would be," I said. "If you're worried about people like Atkins, you're a semi-public figure; they can't snatch you off the street or call you up and say, 'Get your ass to Washington, ' and then torture you for information when you get there." "Not openly, no," he admitted. "But we both know – or suspect at least – that Atkins could in fact do something like that if she really wanted to. And then there are people like Henslith to consider." We weren't ready to share the latest news about her; not even with him. "Bob, what is the first thing you would do if someone tried to take you into custody? Call for a lawyer, right?" "Assuming they give me the chance, yes. But I only get an attorney if they are charging me with a crime, otherwise..." "Otherwise, you'd call me first chance you got." "Not necessarily, Jimmy," he said, shaking his head. "What if they grabbed me just so I would call you?" "Bob, anyone trying to get me to walk into a trap like that would grab someone that I am more attached to. My association with you is vague at best. Henslith is about the only one outside the immediate group who knows how deep our association is. And I wouldn't walk blindly into a trap, trust me. "Now, getting back on track, the only way something like this could work is if you are in the background, guiding and controlling, but hidden; pulling the strings as it were. Anything goes wrong, you run and hide where they can't find you and the 'public you' can't answer any questions because he doesn't know anything. Getting to that point will take some serious work, mostly on your part. It's more a matter of time than anything else. It would be sort of like programming an avatar for an online video game. Except in this case, he would start out complete, and then you would take away the knowledge you don't want him to have; substitute a memory here and there, that sort of thing. And then when you're ready, we park you in a hot tub somewhere and you live your life by remote control. And so you know, it was Jamie who switched Christine the other night, but I think it would be much better if you could do it yourself if the situation warranted it. That's what we did with her, just in case it ever came up again, and she needed to make the switch on her own. Of course in her case, she thinks it was her that did it this time." "So she doesn't know about Jamie?" He asked. "The only person besides the four of us that knows about Jamie is Amber. Christine has met her once, briefly, in a dream, but then forgot about it right after meeting her." "Good," he said. The rest of the trip passed without incident. Neither Lynn nor Mel approached me about helping them start a family, and I breathed a huge sigh of relief as we climbed into the airport shuttle for the trip back to Vegas Friday morning. ------- Chapter 31: Back to Work The first good news was that, over the holiday, Spring's clone had finished. Somewhere along the line her protector had recognized it for what it was, a copy of herself, and decided that two protectors were better than one, so she stopped fighting the process. The first step for me when I went to see her was to separate the two. Actually that was the second step. The first was to stick us all in a bubble, then pull the clone out and put it in a second bubble where the first one could observe what was happening. As soon as I showed up, the protector, of course, wanted to fight. Only this time I wasn't hampered by the need to play nice. Before she even got near me, I had her immobilized. I didn't even bother with restraints but just froze her. "I am not here to fight you," I said to the one watching from outside. "I know what you are, and I understand what you are trying to do. Watch closely." I stepped into the bubble with the clone, and, just as she had, the clone immediately went on the attack. I showed no mercy this time but very quickly beat the crap out of her. When she finally went down, I froze the scene and stepped back out into the bigger bubble. "I could have done that the first time we met," I said, "but as I said, I understand what you're trying to do. You just want Spring to be safe. I know that you don't trust me because I'm a stranger, and you see strangers – especially grown up strangers – as a threat to her. But I am not here to hurt Spring; I am here to help. If I let you go, will you talk to me instead of attacking me again?" "Yes." "Nice try, Spring, but that was a lie. I know you don't trust me, and I don't blame you, but think about where you are. If I wanted to hurt Spring, is there anything you could do to stop me, right now?" Not far away another bubble appeared; in it was a little girl, curled up in fetal position, asleep. As soon as she appeared, the older one started struggling to free herself. When it became evident that she couldn't stop me, her demeanor changed, and she began to cry. "Please don't hurt her," she pleaded. "He's not going to hurt her, Spring," Samantha said, appearing suddenly beside her. "Sam?" Spring said, surprised to see her. "Sam, what are you doing here? You shouldn't be here." "I know," Samantha said, "but I am. I'm here because you need to trust him, and I know how hard that is for you. That's why he brought me along – because I understand. He does, too, Spring; he really does, and he's really here to help. How are you getting along with Kristie's family?" "We're doing fine. They let us sleep with Kristie." "And do you miss Spring's parents?" Hatred twisted the girl's face. "No," she said coldly. "We're glad they're dead; we hated them; they were evil." I found it interesting how as soon as the topic of Spring's dead parents came up, she began speaking of herself in plural, expressing herself as a representation of the original as well as the protector. I had already decided the best way to convince her that I was here to help was to show her that I was on her – their – side. "I know," I said. "That's why I killed them." Around us an image formed of the cabin on the lake. Spring was chained on the front porch, huddled naked against the nighttime chill. "I killed them for what they did to you..." The image changed, and now it was Autumn kneeling chained on the porch. Her hands were bound behind her back, and her mother was pulling her head back, forcing her neck straight as her father held her head and forced himself deep into her mouth and throat just as her mother was forcing a huge dildo in and out of her painfully stretched sex. " ... and for what they did to her." Spring wailed at the sight of her sister being abused by their parents. I let her go, and she fell to her knees weeping. When she did, Sam knelt down beside her and held her while she cried. "It's okay, Spring," Sam said. "Watch." The scene changed, and now her parents were in a lawyer's office signing paperwork to arrange for her to live with Kristie's family if anything should happen to them. Both couples signed the documents, and the notary certified their signatures. Then the scene changed again, and her parents were on the boat, far out in the middle of the lake at night. The newspaper reports only said that they had apparently fallen overboard while traversing the lake in the dark. The boat had eventually run aground far across the water, but there was no way of knowing where they had fallen overboard. Evidence found on the boat – a condom wrapper and a large vibrator still running on what was left of the batteries – suggested that they may have been fooling around on the moving vessel and either lost their balance or been tossed out when the vessel caught an unexpected wake. The vision she was seeing now told a different story. In the image, the boat was still as her father tore the condom wrapper open, tossed the latex overboard, and dropped the wrapper on the floor of the boat. While he was doing that, her mother removed the vibrator from her purse, turned it on, and set it down on the seat. Their movements were sure and deliberate – as if what they were doing were the most natural things in the world. After removing their swimsuits, her father shoved the throttle all the way forward and they both stepped casually off the back of the boat into the icy water. They had been in the water for over an hour – treading water as their bodies lost heat and their muscles grew stiff – when suddenly they seemed to become aware of their surroundings. Panic set in as they realized where they were, but by then it was too late – they were too cold and weak to even scream above a whisper. Her mother went first; fading in and out of consciousness and beginning to sink, her dead weight more than her struggling husband could support and hope to stay afloat himself. She woke again briefly as she breathed in her first mouthful of water, and you could see the fear on her face as she realized that her husband had moved away and left her to drown. Her last words would never make the pages of a romance novel as she simply whispered, "You bastard." Cry and thrash as she could, she didn't have the strength to stay above water, and within a few minutes she was gone. Spring's father, meanwhile, had continued to try to swim weakly away from the sound of her mother's thrashing, but he too was far too cold, tired, and stiff to endure. Soon the lake was calm and quiet again. The look on Spring's face echoed a deep satisfaction at watching them suffer and die. "It was too easy," she said fiercely. "They should have suffered more." "I know," I said, "but it had to look like an accident." Suddenly realization dawned, and wonder lit her face. "It was you! You killed them all!" "Yes," I answered plainly. "It was the only way to save you and the others. You know about the compulsions that Lord Hightower had placed in you in the event that you should be found out, or something should happen to him personally?" "Yes," she said, surprise again evident on her face, "but those went away a while ago. That was you?" "Yes," Sam answered for me. "He took them off of everyone." "Why everyone?" she asked skeptically. "I didn't want to take them off them all," I answered, "but I couldn't take the chance that something might happen to Hightower before it was time. I didn't want any of you to die because I took a chance. "You're different, Spring," I said, "in that you knew about the compulsions. Even though there was nothing you could do about them, you knew they were there. The other Spring... ," I indicated the sleeping girl in the other bubble, " ... didn't know about them, did she?" "No," she answered. "Dawn didn't know; I kept them hidden from her like all the rest." "Dawn?" I asked. "Our name is Spring Dawn," she said. I wasn't surprised. What research I had done had shown me that most multiples took different names to help keep them separate and distinct. "You kept the name 'Spring' so you wouldn't slip and give yourself away?" "Yes," she said. "How do you know all this?" "I had to do some research in order to figure out the best way to handle you and gain your trust, so we could save you both." "You want to save us both?" She said skeptically. "Of course," I said. "She can't survive without you. If she could, you wouldn't be here. What happened?" "You said it," she said with a shrug. "She couldn't cope. When Autumn died... , she just couldn't face..." the memory was obviously still painful and she paused again before going on, " ... I had to save her." "When Autumn died?" Jamie said. "That's where it happened, Jimmy. She couldn't bear the truth of what had happened to Autumn or the reality that it could happen to her. She knew the truth; that her parents had sold her sister into slavery – or let Hightower do it – and she hated them for it. Her hatred of them kept her from being able to be the submissive little slut they wanted her to be. She couldn't keep it up. The only way was to deny the truth and convince herself that Autumn had died. So she created someone who didn't know the truth. Someone who could do what was necessary and keep her safe." "Right," I said, "but now it looks like she did too good a job. Spring has protected her all right, but she hid her away so nothing could reach her, and she's kept her there ever since. From the self image, I'd say for years. What do you think will happen when Autumn comes home?" "I don't know," she answered, "but I certainly don't think it's a good idea to tell Spring she's alive. Worst case is she's not as in control as she may think, and if she discovers the one piece of information that Dawn withheld from her..." "She may no longer be able to do what Dawn created her to do, in which case there is always the chance that Dawn may in fact be able to replace her with another protector that can." "Right," she said. "I think we need to go along for now and just stick with the original plan." 'The plan' was to give Spring the one thing she didn't have: Hope, the knowledge that there was in fact – or at least there may be – an end to all this at some point down the road. Of course, now, that hope had to come in two parts. Spring now knew what she needed to – that someone was actually working to put an end to this hell she had been born into – but now there was another component. We had to let 'Dawn' know, and also give her news that her sister was still alive, and that if everything worked out, she would one day get to see her again. I could have forced my way in, but I thought it would be better if Spring gave her consent. "Spring," I said. "I've shown you the truth about what is going on. I'd like to share that with Dawn as well. Would that be okay with you?" Immediately her expression changed, becoming more guarded and unsure. "It's okay, Spring," Sam said. "He's not going to hurt her, I promise. You can trust him. Remember, he didn't have to ask you; he could have just frozen you again and done whatever he wanted to, but he didn't. He asked you instead. Please?" "Will you stay with me while he goes to her?" "Of course I will," Samantha said, hugging her. "Be brave, Spring; it's what you do best." "No it's not," Spring answered in a teasing voice, "and you know it." She turned to me. "Go ahead." The first thing I did when I reached the little girl was to put a new bubble around us to make sure that 'Spring' couldn't tell what was going on. "Dawn?" I said softly, kneeling next to the girl curled up before me. "Who are you?" She asked, uncurling a little to look up at me. "How did you get here?" "My name is Jimmy," I answered. "And it wasn't easy. Your protector takes her job very seriously." "My what?" She didn't even realize what had happened. Not a good sign. Apparently Jamie didn't think so either as suddenly the girl was curled up asleep again. "Jimmy, we can't tell her, not yet," Jamie said, stepping out suddenly. "Why not? I thought you just said..." "I know what I said; I was wrong. Jimmy, unless I'm mistaken, she doesn't know anything has happened. I think she's been frozen here, like this, ever since 'Spring' manifested. We don't know what will happen if we wake her up. It was despair that drove her to this place. If she suddenly had the kind of hope we were going to give her, she may decide to try and come out again. The conflict that could create..." She was right. The conflict could tear her, them, apart. It would open a breach in Spring's carefully crafted defenses; it could allow Dawn to interfere at the wrong time and do or say something that got them noticed, maybe even punished. I turned and went back out to where we had left Sam and Spring, dissolving the protective bubble as I passed through. I wasn't surprised to see Sam bound and kneeling at Spring's feet, with the protector holding a knife to her throat. With a thought I froze Spring, dissolved Sam's bonds, and pulled her to her feet. "Did she hurt you?" I asked. "No, not really," She said. "Just a little bump on the head; I went along like you said. Can she hear us?" "Yes," I answered. "Good," she said with a smile, then turned and hugged the other girl. "It's okay, Spring, I'm not angry with you. I know why you did it, and it's okay. You're doing a great job of protecting Dawn, and I love you." She kissed her solidly on the mouth. She couldn't really do much considering she was essentially kissing a statue, but she did it anyway, whispering, "I'll see you later," as she pulled away. I sent her back to her own dreamspace and released Spring from her thrall. "You okay?" I asked. "Yes," she said. She flicked her wrist, and the knife disappeared. "You knew I would do that?" "I suspected you might. You knew you couldn't hurt me directly, so you tried to use Sam as leverage just in case." "And you're not mad?" "No, like Samantha said, you're doing your job; I can't be mad at you for that – especially since there was no real danger. You couldn't hurt Sam or me either way. I'm going to go now, but before I do, I want to do something for you." I released the bubble holding the clone and merged the two back together, then reduced the clone back into just the original energy pattern. "What did you do?" Spring asked. "I feel different, but I don't know why." "The energy that I used to create the clone is now part of you. I'm not really sure what that will mean in the long run, but it should help strengthen you. I don't think Hightower has figured out that we stripped away the hidden compulsions from before, but if he does and tries to do it again, it won't work – not the way he expects it to. The compulsion will form just as he expects, but it will not be able to control you. No matter what he tries, it won't work unless you go along with it – which you should at first, so he doesn't suspect that you can really resist him. Otherwise, it won't be real, and no matter how it may appear, you will be the one in control. "How can you do all this?" She asked. "There is more," I said, ignoring the question. "If you should ever feel threatened – ever face something you can't handle – call me, and no matter where you are or where I am, I will send someone to help you." "What do you... ?" She gasped suddenly as Jamie merged into her. "Holy shit! What the... ?" As quickly as she had come, Jamie was gone again. All we had wanted was to let her know that I was telling the truth, and 'someone' had come to her. It took her a second to catch her breath after the sudden rush. "That was intense," she said. "You're welcome," I said. "You're doing a good job, Spring. Keep up the good work, and hopefully, if everything goes well, this should all be over soon. You won't try and kill me if I hug you, will you?" "You're serious? After all this shit you want to hug me?" "Of course," I said. "I told you, I understand why you are this way; why you do the things you do. Something Sam and I have in common is that we accept you and love you for who you are. So do I get the hug, or should I just go?" "Can I get a kiss too?" Now that she knew I wasn't the enemy, and I wasn't here to use her, there was a different sort of passion about her. The kiss made it clear that she felt the same way Tanya had before. Jamie felt it too and stayed back. I broke the kiss before Spring had a chance to try and push it any further and stepped back. "I'm already spoken for, and you don't need to thank me that way," I said. "How did you... ? You read minds, too?" "No, but I've been around other people who only thought they had one thing to offer in the way of thanks. I don't take that kind of thank you out of obligation, and you're not free yet, so you don't owe me as much as you may feel you do; maybe someday, but not now. Call if you need help, but no crying wolf, okay." "I've managed so far," she said proudly. "I think I've proven I can take care of us fine all by myself." "Yes, you have." Dealing with Spring had taken a lot longer than I had anticipated, and it was morning before I had a chance to move on to the next girl. That actually turned out to be a good thing, though, since it gave me a chance to think about what I should do about the new problem I suddenly found dumped in my lap. I barely had time to discuss Spring's situation with Bob and Allison. "Well, I have to tell you, Jimmy," Bob said. "For as little real knowledge as you have, you're doing very well handling these problems. You too, Jamie; I don't have a lot more training in MPD than you do, but I have to agree with you on the circumstances that led to her generating a protector. The fact that she managed to do so without sharing the fundamental lie that the new personality was based on... ," he shook his head, " ... way over my head." Allison didn't say a lot, other than to agree that I seemed to be doing a good job dealing with it. Allison I was having a really hard time concentrating on Jimmy's conversation with Bob. It wasn't that the subject matter was boring me to tears – well, not just that – but I was stuck on the conversation Lizzy and I had been having while Jimmy was off dealing with Spring. She had called me as soon as she knew for sure he was occupied with Spring, and it wasn't likely that he or Jamie might notice. "What's up baby-cakes?" I had asked. "Can we talk?" Red flags went up all over the place at her tone. Easy was seldom this serious. I didn't even bother hanging up, just dropped the phone and transitioned to where she was. I was expecting her to be in the garden where she always met Jimmy, but instead found her sitting in Jimmy's office – either that or a really good re-creation. If it had been me doing it, the best that I might have managed was a good copy, but this was Lizzy, and I wouldn't put it past her to somehow have access to his personal office. At least she was on the leather couch and not behind the desk; that would have really worried me. "Lizzy, what's wrong?" "Nothing, I just wanted to talk, and I wasn't paying attention to where we would end up. Is this okay?" "Anywhere with you is okay with me," I said, moving to sit next to her. I brushed a wayward strand behind her ear and kissed her hello. "So what did you want to talk about?" "Children," she said. "Ah," I said. "You're worried about what I said the other night about Jimmy being sterile. But I told you, he's fine with all of us, it's just others that he can't get pregnant. Actually, even with us I think it would have to be intentional." "Why?" she asked. "I told you, his DNA breaks down when it leaves his field." "But you think that we – the one's close to him – carry enough energy to keep it viable until the deed is done? Then why would it still have to be intentional?" I'd been playing with this idea for a while, and while I wasn't really ready to expound upon it, I took a deep breath and dived in. "I was talking with Brandiy at the time, and when I realized what was causing his DNA to break down was being separated from his field, it occurred to me that that was going to cause a real problem if you guys ever wanted kids. She asked me why I would think that, and I was trying to figure out what she meant; I mean, why would she ask me that? If Jimmy's energy wasn't present, then the DNA would break down and the sperm would be useless, so he would either have to stay really really close or, and my brain kind of ran around in circles for a while, and then suddenly I had an image of Jamie laying with her head in your lap long past the time she usually needed to get back to Jimmy. Before that I assumed – we all did – that it was something to do with your energy, but then I realized that she could stay out longer as long as she was with any of us. Even more surprising was that she seemed to be able to stay out the longest with Amber, not you, and that was when I realized that she wasn't using your energy at all, but somehow getting Jimmy's energy through you. The next obvious question was 'how?' I kept thinking about that mysterious 'piece of himself' that Walter said that Jimmy had given each of us, and I realized that that 'piece' was a modification to our basic patterns that somehow connected them to his. That's how he always knows where we are just by thinking about it. I realized then that the other thing – or at least one other thing – that that modification must do, is allow energy to pass through us. Jamie's pattern is different, it stores energy – like a battery – and she needs Jimmy to recharge, but if she is with one of us, she can somehow tap the flow that connects us to him and get more. Not enough to recharge her, but enough to keep her going. Do you follow me so far?" "Yes," she said, smiling and nodding her head. "You are so smart; I don't know how it didn't drive you crazy trying to hide it all those years." I had to smile at that. "It wasn't that bad really. I had Shannon, and that was enough reason to hold back. I knew that if I let myself go, I'd risk losing her, and I just couldn't take that chance. It was a good trade off, and while I may regret it a little, it was worth it, and I wouldn't change it, especially not now. Anyway, it all kept coming back to Jamie, and that's when it hit me. Jamie holds more of his energy than anyone else, and if she stayed with you, even after Jimmy finished ... and that made me wonder if I would have gotten pregnant if Jamie had actually stayed with me, you know, that day. But when I mentioned it to Brandiy she just pointed out that I wasn't ovulating at the time. Her not denying it was what led me down the DNA path to Jamie in the first place." "Wouldn't work," Lizzy said. "What do you mean?" "I mean Jamie staying with you wouldn't let him get you pregnant," she explained. "Jamie pulls energy – she has to in order to survive – and the longer she is in you, the more she would need. She would be more likely to absorb the necessary energy than provide it." I thought about what she had said for a few seconds, trying my damnedest to fill in the holes she had just poked in my theory, only... "Well hell," I swore. "Thanks a lot! Do you have any idea how long I've been running that idea through my brain?" She grimaced. "Actually yes," she said, "sorry." "That's okay," I told her. "So what the hell could she have meant?" "What do you mean?" "I mean, if there was going to be a problem with you guys making babies, she wouldn't have made me challenge my conclusion in the first place. Unless she was doing it for spite, and I don't think that is the case. Damnit, I need more information! God I hate this; how the hell am I supposed to do real research on a problem that is thousands of miles away, and I couldn't see even if I was there?" "I understand," she sympathized, "so let's go over what we do know – which in my case isn't much. What really happened that day? All you've ever told me was that it was the closest to heaven you've ever been, and that it scared the piss out of you. What actually happened?" I took a deep breath and thought about it, then closed my eyes and began. When I opened my eyes again the scene had taken shape around us. "It was after the first attempt to kidnap Jimmy; he picked me up after school and said he had a surprise for me. The next thing I knew, Jamie had merged with me – totally cool – and we were experimenting with a couple things: could they still communicate, could I keep her from getting out again once she was in, that sort of thing. Then Jimmy decided to be cute and see if Jamie could get in and hide without me knowing it. Everything was fine until we got home." "What happened?" "It started out normally enough. You know how much I love learning new things? Maybe I'm weird but it actually..." "Makes you horny," Lizzy cut in, finishing my thought. "Yeah, you're weird, but I love you anyway. So you were pretty hot and bothered by the time you got home?" I made one of those goofy faces you get when someone asks you something obvious and embarrassing. "A bit, yeah." "Do you think that was it, or do you think maybe Jamie hiding in you like that may have been affecting you too?" "I don't think so," I answered. "Of course I can't be a hundred percent sure, but she's been with all of us since then, and it's never bothered me that way. What about you?" "No," she confirmed, "but I'm different. Maybe we should ask Amber? So what happened next?" "Well, Jimmy held the door for me, as usual – he is such a sweetie – and as soon as he closed it, I tried to nail him to it with my tongue, only I wasn't ready for what happened next." "Which was?" This whole thing reminded me so much of sharing dreams and fantasies with Shannon after we first realized we were in love... , suddenly I just started gushing the details like it was a sleepover. "Oh ... my ... God!" I said, rolling my eyes. "That kiss redefined 'oral sex'. It was everything, foreplay, where things just started getting hot; plateau where it just sort of flattens out but keeps building, then wham! Just a massive, full-body orgasm. It was like I wanted to just crawl inside his mouth and die. The only reason – I think – that it ended was that my legs turned to pudding, and I just melted in his arms. I would have been just this big puddle of goo on the floor if he hadn't caught me." "Wild!" "Oh yeah!" I confirmed. "Right at the end I felt Jamie leaving – going back to him – only she was staggering like a drunken hooker on heels. Jimmy helped me to the couch – I still couldn't stand on my own – and we talked about what had happened. He said it seemed like I'd had a huge orgasm and passed out, which was pretty damn close. I may have actually passed out, and the sensations of falling and Jimmy catching me shocked me back awake, I'm not sure. So we talked, and he confirmed that he and Jamie had been naughty. I was kind of in that place where you just had a really good time with someone going down on you and you want the real thing, so I invited him to help me change my panties – which were absolutely soaked – and as soon as he was inside me it was like it all started again, only this time I just couldn't get enough. I couldn't begin to count the number of orgasms I had, and each one just left me hungrier for the next one. Somewhere in there, he and Jamie traded places because I'd wiped him out so bad, then it was like it started all over again. Which, I have to tell you, is one of the coolest things about making love to them. You know how a guys system seems to get more and more frazzled after each time, and it takes longer and longer to get them going again? Well, I don't know what it is, but when those two trade places, it's like a complete reset, and suddenly everything works like new again. Eventually my body just gave out, and the next thing I knew I was waking up in the bathtub. He'd only filled it to my waist, so he didn't have to stay and make sure I didn't drown or something. Anyway I woke up still in kind of a daze, and as soon as I moved, everything hurt!" "Good hurt or bad hurt?" she asked. "Yeah," I said with a smile, "that kind. The kind where you knew it was just going to get worse, and a part of you dreads the next day, but the rest of you has no regrets and wouldn't trade it for the world. Anyway, I eventually staggered to my room and got a robe, then went out to try and help him with dinner, but ... spoons were okay, but anything sharper than that could have been a problem. Jimmy made me sit down and rest until things were ready, then we talked – the three of us – about what had happened, and decided we needed to be really careful with Jamie in the future." Lizzy looked thoughtful for a few seconds after I stopped. "Any ideas?" I asked. "Well," she began. "You said Jamie felt like she was drunk after the kiss, and from the way you describe it, that sounds about right. The question is, what was she drunk on? I'm thinking she was – god, how to describe this without it sounding stupid – it sounds like she was drunk on Jimmy. That probably sounds..." I held up my hand to cut her off. "Wait, you mean drunk on Jimmy's energy, like she'd suddenly got a massive jolt instead of a slow charge. Is that what you mean?" "Yeah, I know you don't drink much, but it's like the first time you do shots. You've sipped at drinks before, and it was never a problem, but then you do a couple shots, and now it's concentrated and all slamming into your system at once. Before you know it, you're trying to push away from the wall, only to discover that it's actually the floor." She got a rueful expression on her face, and I had an idea what she was thinking. "You want to see it, don't you?" She let out a sigh and in a very apologetic voice said, "Yeah, I think I need to. I mean, I think I know what happened, but unless I can see it, I can't be sure, and this seems like something we need to be sure of. Is that awful?" The look on her face made it clear that she understood what she was asking. It was like she was asking someone to stick their hand down a sewer line to try and find the ring she dropped. She'd do it herself, but her hand wouldn't fit. I could feel myself growing one of those monster grins, gave her a quick kiss, and said, "No ... sooo not awful." I couldn't stifle the giggle at what I was thinking and just rolled my eyes and said, "The next day is pretty bad, but the experience itself? God! Definitely not awful! The problem is that we're all like six thousand miles apart, and I think what you mean – what you need – is to see it in person, not like in a dream or something." "Yeah, that's what I mean, and you're right, the logistics are a problem. Maybe if Jimmy could move us all someplace..." "That could skew things," I said, interrupting. "He was out for hours after moving me – us – to Tahiti. Moving three people? His energy would be totally zapped, and who knows how long it would take to recover. If the energy is wrong then you're not going to see the same thing." I had a sudden thought. "Oooh! You could use Amber; think she would mind?" Her mouth fell open at the thought, and then she rolled her eyes and said, "She would love it!" She got more serious and added, "I'd kind of like you there too, though. I don't know that you would actually see much, but your perspective would be different than mine, and that could be important." "Yeah, and watching the two – three – of them go at it is probably going to make you horny as hell, too." I put my arms around her shoulders and kissed her nose. "It only seems fair that you have someone to play with, too. Not that Amber would mind you joining in, but ... a true scientist must remain outside the experiment to maintain an impartial perspective." "Right," she laughed. "Like that is going to happen! Still, I'd like you there. We'll keep our eyes open for an opportunity. Spring break in Hawaii wouldn't be so bad." "No," I agreed, "but you promised Angela's parents she would be home for break if she had the money. Hawaii is a lot more expensive, so you can't say she couldn't afford it." Her face crinkled. "Shoot! Forgot about that. Okay, well, it's something to think about. Right now, I'd like to think about something else." Her expression softened as she leaned in closer. Then her lips were on mine, the scene changed to a much less businesslike environment, and well, after that I wasn't really thinking much anymore. ------- Chapter 32: It never rains... The other good news was that – according to the paper – five more couples had died since I'd left for Indiana, bringing the total to sixteen – people, not couples. Both April, and little Carrie Ann, were starting the new year off by getting to know their new families. Of course they both actually knew the families, but ... well, you know what I mean. I'd been making it a point to stay away from the paper since this all started, but being away for two weeks made me feel like I needed to catch up. I could have – probably should have – just asked Jamie, but for some reason it didn't occur to me. "Damn, sis." I wasn't angry, just surprised at the timing. "A little heavy handed, don't you think? Especially around Christmas." "No, not really," she answered. "In fact, it seemed perfect to me; the holidays have the highest accident and suicide rates of the year. Or did you miss that part?" "Suicide?" I asked. "Oh man, did you ask Allison about that first? That's really going to be hard on the girls." "It was the best Christmas gift I could think of for those particular girls. You know it would have been easier if you'd just asked me where we stood. And before you ask, we're at that point; you need to get serious about whatever you plan to do to help these girls transition, and we need to stop fooling around and nail Hightower. If you read the rest of those articles, you'll see that a lot of people are talking about the connection all these people have. We need to finish this before someone like Spencer gets involved in an official capacity. Even though there is nothing to point at these being anything but accidents – suicide in the one case – she knows too much about Bastion to not suspect that there may be more to it. Not to mention that she knows you've been investigating him at the direction of someone that both she, and higher powers, suspect to be the leader of a closet group that wouldn't hesitate to take these kinds of steps to reach their goal. The one rule in that world is that you don't attract attention, and this is starting to do exactly that, so if a government agency – like the FBI – gets involved, they're going to bring their A-game, because they need to show that the government does not condone this type of activity. And if they in fact were to find someone hiding under the coat-tails of someone in Washington, they would make damn sure that it doesn't end up all over the front page somewhere. And anyone they did catch wouldn't be bound over for trial where he has the constitution guaranteeing his right to free speech. I don't think we want to put Nicki in a position like that." "But there is nobody hiding under a desk in Washington. There's not even a desk in Washington to hide under." "Jimmy, don't be dense. I know there is no desk in Washington, but we've done everything we could to make them think that there is. I will bet you anything that Atkins is even now going through every scrap of print regarding anyone and everyone that has died here in the past year, to see if anyone else was connected to Bastion's church. Right now she's not looking for anyone; she's just making sure of her facts and that nothing that they have found even hints of foul play. But I'm also willing to bet that whoever she answers to has already asked her if she had anything to do with any of this. We all know she hasn't, but the very fact that they would ask is going to worry her. We need to end this, decisively; wrap it up in one nice neat bundle with no loose ends that point to anyone else being involved. And we need to do it before it attracts any more attention. I don't like Atkins any better than you do. The fact that she was willing to sacrifice Phoebe makes her just a little too practical for me, but that is what anyone at her level is going to be: practical. We've talked about it before; they have two priorities: number two is 'get the job done'; number one is don't get caught. It's all or nothing for someone like her; if she gets caught, she dies. I'll bet you anything that her newest assignment is to very quietly and carefully start checking under desks in Washington to make sure that if this does blow up, they can contain it. Jimmy, we're out of time; we've circled the wagons as best we could to protect the innocents that we can. Now it's time to take the fight to Bastion." "I guess vacation is officially over then. I'll talk to Allison tonight. We're going to need to decide what to do about the girls first. We need something in place to help them through all this and keep them from talking about it – before school starts back up and all their friends start asking questions about what happened. I should have done this before we left." "That would only have been possible if you'd known what was going to happen." "I know," I said. "I pussied out on this whole thing, and now it's put us on the spot." "Jimmy, don't go there; it's a waste of time and energy. For starters, you didn't pussy out; you made the big decision; that was your job. Second, you had other things to do, like being somewhere else and looking busy while everything was happening. Not to mention coming up with a way to deal with the fallout, which we've barely managed to do as it is. Yes, it would have been better if something had been in place in the girls sooner, but we didn't know that; and even if we had, we didn't have anything ready. The question now is can Christine keep up?" "What do you mean?" I asked. "Jimmy? Haven't you been listening? We need to move. That means we need you and Christine to get busy, really busy, and start knocking out little proto-patterns so we have enough to go around. Considering how many we need we're talking about a lot of sex, either that, or..." "Or what?" I asked. No response. "Jamie?" "Nothing," she said. "Noooo you don't," I said, actually shaking my head. I laid back on the couch, crossed over and said, "Come on, get your cute ass out here; you made me promise not to walk away from you, and this is part of the deal. Now get out here and talk to me!" "Promise you're not going to be mad at me?" "Was that a question?" "No," she said. "It was a condition." "Jamie, that's not fair; I can't promise that without knowing what you're talking about, and..." She cut me off with one word, "Dandelion," and then she was gone. "Shit!" I swore. What the hell could she be so worried about that she would run away like that? And what did she mean by... ? I checked the time and swore again; everyone was in school. Damn it, there's a reason I'm not the brains of this outfit, and now she wanted me figure this out on my own, and ... Holy Shit! She couldn't be serious. "Jamie, I'm not mad, but you can't be serious!" She came back and stepped out so we could talk. "Where were you?" I asked. "You don't know?" "I didn't look!" "Oh ... I was with Amber," she said. "You're really not mad? I didn't mean it, really; it just sort of popped into my head when I was talking about needing a bunch of balls all at once. Suddenly I had this image of a dandelion exploding when you kicked it, or a really strong breeze blew through. Jimmy, I swear I..." I held up my hand. "It's okay; I understand. Jamie, there's nothing wrong with thinking of that. It's not like you're talking about springing it on her unprepared and out of the blue. You had an idea, that's all, and I'm not going to be mad at you about something like that. Now if you tried to act on it without telling anyone, your ass would be toast, but don't ever be afraid to speak up about an idea. I think – given what we're already involved in – that we should be past that. We both knew what the solution to this mess was going to involve long before you brought it up. The longer you waited, the longer it would have taken for me to come around. If you'd brought it up sooner, we could probably be finished by now. Instead, you waited for me to get there on my own, and that took a lot longer than if you had just confronted me with it. I still would have waited, but I would have been thinking about it more and realized the truth a lot sooner. Kind of like Allison's suggestion of using a ball on Samantha to see if we could protect her: It had to be done, but I had to be sure there was no other way to do it. Now, do you think this would actually work?" "Well," she said, rolling her eyes and trying to look open minded instead of anxious. "I'd be willing to try it if she would." Now it was my turn to roll my eyes. "Oh yeah, right, way to take one for the team there, sis. No, seriously, do you think it could work?" "You mean you'd really be willing to ... you know?" "I don't know," I answered honestly. "If there is another way, probably not, because I don't know if any of us would be in any condition to do anything with them if you're right and she ... blew up at the end. But also, there would be the issue of when; Christine has school five days a week, so we'd have to wait until Friday night – assuming they don't want her for another night flight – and then she'd need the whole weekend to recover. As fun as all that sounds, I think we can probably get what we need by the weekend without putting ourselves through all that. We've gotten doubles before, I'm sure we could ... Hmm, there's a thought. I wonder if it would work if you went with Lizzy or Allison?" "Seriously?" She asked. She seemed to be thinking about it for a few seconds, and then she shook her head. "No, if Allison's energy theory holds, then it's more likely I'd be holding on to the energy rather than releasing it to work on Christine. And even if it did, I don't know what it would take out of me. Being with one of them would help because I'd still get fed from you at the same time, but I don't know if what I get through them would be enough to compensate for what I'd be using on her. You know what I mean?" "Yeah," I said, nodding my understanding. "You're probably right. I think I only brought it up because I felt guilty that we're the ones having all the fun. I wonder if any of them contain enough energy to do the job?" "I don't think there's any way to know without actually trying it," she said. "Have you noticed that we all seem to be going along with Allison's theory?" "Yes, I have, but so far she seems to be right on with everything she's come up with. Besides, she talked to Brandiy about it, and apparently Brandiy didn't see anything wrong with her theory." "That's true," Jamie said, "but not saying she's wrong isn't saying she's right, either. It could be that she just wants to let Allison pursue it on her own and draw her own conclusions." "True," I said. "Okay, so the game plan for the week is sex?" "Works for me!" She said with a smile. "Fortunately, it works for her too. Then as quickly as possible, we get the girls patterned and protected as best we can. You know, we really should be doing the adults, too, just as an added level of insurance. Make sure no one ever changes their mind, has a revelation, or wants to clear their conscience on their deathbed at everyone else's expense." "Slut!" I accused. "No, I'm serious. I don't mean like by the weekend, but we need to keep it on the list for what to do with our leftovers. Wish we'd thought of it sooner instead of just throwing all those extra ones away like we did." "Hindsight," I said, and then checked the time. "Come on; let's go pull Rivers' chain with an update." "Sweet! Any chance to fuck with that asshole is fine by me," she said, then snapped her fingers and added, "Ooh!" "What?" I asked. "You were wondering if any of the other girls could get Christine to pop a seed? I don't think so, or it probably would have happened the other night when she and Allison made friends." "How do we know it didn't?" I asked. "The only one who can see those things is Lizzy and she was with me." "Oh yeah," she said, "forgot about that." She was thoughtful for a moment. "I don't think it will work with one of the others. If it were going to, the most likely candidate would be Lizzy, and if it had happened the night Christine took the plunge with her, she would have said something. I'm not completely ruling it out, but I'm thinking no." "Oh darn," I laughed. "Looks like we'll just have to do it ourselves." "Tragic," she agreed, "but either way, we need to get on it, we're out of time." Not only did Rivers have the court order granting me access to any and all information Child Services in Vegas had on Phoebe, but he even apologized for the delay. The look on his face when I told him I had managed to secure an order in her home state by myself, and had already reviewed her file there, was priceless. There really hadn't been much to see in the file; Phoebe hadn't been in the system long enough to really have much of a past. However, after I explained the nature of my concern for Phoebe, including the suspicion that someone may have kidnapped her for unknown reasons, the judge was more than willing to co-operate – so generous that I had court-ordered access to anything that had to do with her or her parents, including school records. The first thing I discovered was that in her absence, her parents estate had cleared probate and was just waiting for someone to decide what to do with her property. Since her parents had died without a will, everything went to her. An attempt had been made to contact her Uncle as her listed guardian, but they quickly discovered that the phone was disconnected. I was surprised to learn that the house was paid for, having been inherited from her paternal grandparents. There was a petition before the court asking for permission to sell the property. Not surprisingly, there were several buyers lined up to bid on it – for considerably less than it was worth, of course. This was nothing new, and it didn't take much to get the judge to deny the motion and place the property with a reputable rental agency for a year, to give us time to find her. One of the court clerks would act as conservator over the financial aspects until a decision could be made. Of course, I didn't tell Rivers about any of that. "I didn't find anything to suggest why someone may have wanted to kidnap her, though," I said. "Her parents were already dead, and I don't see how anybody besides the Aunt and Uncle would even know about the estate. Obviously I didn't know them, but do you think they would have wanted to move there?" "They were quite happy here, Mr. Malcolm. The lifestyle appealed to them." "Yeah, I'll bet!" Jamie chimed in. "I can understand that," I said honestly. "There is a certain odd charm to the town – if you don't mind the tourists, that is. And once you learn your way around, there seem to be many hidden rewards – as long as you stay away from the strip." "Yes there are," Rivers said, eyeing me oddly. "Oh, that's disgusting!" Jamie said. "The bastard is actually daydreaming about recruiting us. Mr. Ed's been naughty." "How so?" I asked. "He's been poking around, checking up on us; they like your bank account. You're going to need to watch yourself; when I say recruit, I mean the way they did Stephen." "Yeah, I figured that was what you meant." "So what is your next step?" Rivers was asking. "Kick your boss's ass and send you all to hell where you belong," Jamie quipped. "Well, now that I have the court order, I want to see what Child Services has to offer," I said. "Will this allow me access to all the material the police have gathered regarding the investigation as well?" "I can't guarantee anything; it just depends on how cooperative the police want to be, but since your investigation could also lead them to whoever killed their officers, I would think they should be forthcoming with whatever information they had." Now that was an interesting statement! "Oooooh," Jamie sort of cooed. "They've figured out that 'Jimmy' killed Andrews and Charles, and is probably the one hiding Phoebe." "What do you mean 'killed their officers'?" I asked. "I thought that they had ruled it a murder-suicide?" "That is the theory," Rivers said, "but we have our doubts. They still don't know what killed Carl, nor do they have any kind of reasonable motive for him to kill his partner." "Carl? You mean Andrews? You knew him?" This was getting more interesting by the second. "I knew them both," Rivers admitted. His voice held a trace of anger, and I wasn't sure if it was because the men were dead or because he had given away information he hadn't intended to. "Both officers were members of the church." I tried for a dramatic pause as I stared at him. "Mr. Rivers... ," I began, setting my fork down. Without taking my eyes off of his, I leaned slightly forward, placing my elbows on either side of my plate and steepling my fingers just below chin level, and let my voice slip to something a little less friendly and conversational. " ... I'm starting to get the idea that there is more going on here than you've told me. What is it exactly I'm doing here: Finding a missing girl, or investigating the death of those two officers?" He pulled back like I'd slapped him. "What? Finding ... No! Your job is to find the girl, of course." He shook his head as he was speaking. "Her safety is our primary concern. If in the course of your investigation you should find information that can shed some light on Nick and Carl's deaths, then we would be grateful, but they are in God's hands now, and we can do nothing for them except perhaps provide a better sense of closure for their families. The girl, however, is still missing, and in who knows what kind of earthly danger, and we would like her back." Ed was really off his game today; this had possibilities. "But you don't buy the murder-suicide?" I pressed. "You think someone murdered those two officers? Why, because they were looking for Phoebe? All the evidence points to..." "That's the whole point!" Rivers said hotly. "There is no evidence! It was too perfect, and there was no reason, or justification, for Carl to do it." Wow, this was really personal to him! "So let me get this strait," I said. "You think someone – or more likely some group – kidnapped a young orphan; murdered the family that had taken her in; and then murdered the two cops who were looking for her in such a way as to make it look like one of them did it. And now you want me to find them? You expect me, by myself, to track down and confront someone that could do all that and get away with it? Rivers, are you out of your fucking mind?" "What? No! No, we don't expect ... Christ, look, all we want is for you to find the girl. We didn't hire you to play Rambo; we just want you to find her. The authorities can take it from there." "The authorities don't seem to give a shit." "That's certainly true," he said, "but doesn't that seem odd to you as well?" Curiouser and curiouser. "So ... what... ? You think someone is covering this all up and told the cops to drop it? This is conspiracy theory stuff, Ed. You think the government is behind it? I don't see anyone else having enough clout to kill two cops and then tell the rest to drop it and walk away. This is nuts." He took a deep breath and tried to regroup. "Look, I'm sorry. I've obviously let my personal feelings get in the way here. Much of what you are saying has occurred to me, and I agree that it's ludicrous to believe that it's all even possible. I've let my imagination run away with me when I never intended to bring any of this up. Here is your authorization from the court; just do what you can, okay?" With that he got up and left. "Nice job bro," Jamie said, her voice ringing with pride. "You really shook him up." "Thanks. I was tempted to just get up and walk away there for a minute." "I could tell," she said. "Oh, Hightower would have his balls if he screwed this up!" "Big time," I said, "but they still might have tried to hire someone else, and we don't want that. Let's go talk to Christine." As usual, our timing was perfect: Spencer called on the way back from the restaurant and asked me to meet her in the park for an ice cream. The first thing she did – besides making me buy, again – was to hand me back the playing card. "They're her prints," she said. "Damn," I said, sticking the little baggie in my pocket. "I knew they would be, but I still don't know what to do about the rest of this. What about the guy in the paper?" "What do you know about him?" She asked. "I was on vacation," I said, "so I haven't looked into him personally, but according the information she sent along with the paper, he was the leader of really nasty drug cartel that was moving into one of the port cities." "So there was more," she said. Her tone made it sound almost like an accusation. "I told you that before," I countered. "I just couldn't share it until I was sure it was really her. What about the rest?" "It was her... ," she said. There was a pause, and I could tell she wasn't comfortable with what was coming. "And... ?" I prompted. She took a deep breath and blew it out in a disgusted sigh, "It was a Company sanctioned hit. It took a while to confirm – I've known about the print for several weeks. You have no idea what I went through to get this information." "I can imagine," I said. "You couldn't let anyone know it was you looking for it." "Right." "But you're sure it was her?" It was a rhetorical question, but I asked anyway. She didn't take it badly, simply nodded her head and said, "Yeah, it was her, and it wasn't the first time; they've used her before." "That's got to be hard on you," I said. "Knowing that people in our government are using people like her. After all, we're the good guys; we're supposed to be fighting against people like her." "Yeah, it sucks," she said, "but sometimes the bad guys are just too good – too clean – and we can't touch them. Hell, look at Al Capone; the best they could do with him was tax evasion. And when we do find a way, the other bad guys learn from the mistakes of the ones we get. This isn't the first time something like this has happened, and it won't be the last. What worries me is that it seems to be happening more often." "Because they're just that good, or because more people on our side are starting to take the easy way out?" "Probably both," she said, and then changed the subject, "You said if it was really her, then we were in more trouble; how much?" "A lot, but I can't talk about all of it. There were a lot of documents she sent over on a thumb drive – profiles on the mercenaries that killed those four agents in LA, plus others that were known to be in the same group." "Let me guess," she said. "A Powerpoint presentation that self destructed right after it finished?" "Good guess," I said. "I'm guessing that's a popular trick these days?" "Practically foolproof," she said. "Newer software allows password protection to prevent you from copying it, and it's easy to rig the chips to self-destruct if anyone tries to tamper with the hardware. It's become very popular with the 'eyes-only' crowd. Most of them carry a secondary incendiary device as well. In case of emergency, all you have to do is submerge it in water, and it fries itself. In a pinch, something as small as shot glass full of water can do the job, but you'll want to stay clear when it goes." "She told me to throw it in the pool." "Good choice," she said. "David, I have to tell you, I'm worried that she had you go through me instead of your usual contacts in LA, or your oh-so-mysterious source. I don't like the implications, but I'm not going to speculate, because then you would have to either confirm my guess or, more likely, lie about it, and I don't want to put you in that position. We're just getting to know each other, and I don't want to derail the relationship by forcing either of us to lie. So I'm going to trust you to tell me anything I need to know. I think this whole little project was a good start. You'll call me if you need my help?" "I appreciate your candor, Nicki, and I agree with you that as much as possible, we need to be honest with each other. If you ask me a question I can't answer – or I'm not ready to answer – then I'll tell you. I'm going to trust you to do the same. Can I trust you to not repeat any of this to Atkins?" She was quiet for a few seconds as we walked. "Atkins is a dangerous person to play with. Henslith is right; people like her are the reason that I'm not likely to rise any higher. How about this: If anything comes up that I think I might need to pass along, I'll talk to you first and give you a chance to argue me out of it." "That sounds fair," I said, reaching for her hand. "Thank you for your help, Mrs. Spencer. I'll be in touch as soon as I have something to share." "Thank you for trusting me," she said, shaking my hand. "I hope we don't both live to regret it." "Yeah, no kidding," I said, turning to head back toward the parking lot. I could tell something was wrong as soon as I arrived at the apartment; Christine was curled up on the couch with Widget ... watching a hockey game ... in her sweats. Now, I realize that none of that sounds particularly threatening, but ever since day one, Christine had been so focused on flight school that she probably hadn't turned the television on more than a handful of times; and she hates hockey. Well, she doesn't really hate it, but she doesn't understand it, so it frustrates her to try and watch. If all that wasn't enough, Widget actually got up and met me at the end of the couch, but as soon as I reached for her, she walked back up into Christine's lap, and I saw Christine wince as the cat flopped against her tummy. "What's wrong?" I asked, moving to the foot of the couch and lifting her feet so I could slide underneath them. She didn't say anything, but the answer was instantly obvious as she winced again when her legs moved. As soon as I was seated, Widget came back and started bumping my hand. "Cramps?" I asked, as I scratched the oh-so-patient kitty's head. She nodded and frowned as she said, "Yeah, pretty bad. God, I'd forgotten what this was like; they haven't been this bad since High School." "Something's wrong," Jamie said, alarmed. "What do you mean?" I asked. "She's a week early," she said, "and her cramps are harder than normal. Jimmy, by her age, this stuff should be a well established routine." Her comment triggered a memory from years before. "Isn't it a little early for you to be starting?" I asked, repeating Jamie's concern. "A little, but..." "Did you take anything?" I asked. "Just some Midol," she replied. "Did it help?" "Not really, no." I leaned over and ran my hand up under her sweatshirt; her skin felt a little clammy. It could have been because she was wearing sweats, but in my mind I heard Han Solo telling Chewbaka, "I've got a really bad feeling about this." "How do you feel?" I asked. "I told you," she said. "I have cramps, so I feel like shit, and I'm a little cranky. I'm sorry, but..." "Have you eaten anything?" "No," she admitted. "Nothing sounded good, and when I opened the refrigerator..." "Nausea?" "Major," she said, obviously surprised by the accuracy of my guesses so far. "Okay then," I said in a chipper voice that sounded – correctly – like I'd just come to a major conclusion. "Where are your slippers and your purse?" She looked at me skeptically and said, "My slippers are by my nightstand, where they always are, and my purse is in the cabinet under the microwave, where it always is. David, what is going on?" I ignored the question. "Great, you get your ID and your medical card; I'll get your slippers, then we're taking you to urgent care." "What? Nooo, don't be silly. We don't need to go to urgent care; I told you, it's just cramps." "Christine, a day or two is early; a week is an aberration. Now I'm no doctor, but I hope you're not too fond of your appendix, because you're probably not bringing it home with you. Don't worry about clothes; they'll give you one of those neat robes that flops open so you flash everyone while you walk. And don't worry about taking anything else either; these days they won't even let you bring your own toothbrush; they just give you whatever you need. You may want to take a book, though; something recreational, because you're going to be bored, but you probably won't be able to concentrate well enough to study." She was looking at me like I was insane, so I put my hand back under her sweatshirt and pressed on the left side just below her beltline. Nothing happened until I did the same thing on the other side, then she about jumped off the couch. "See?" I said. "Trust me, my mom got appendicitis when I was fourteen. Now, you get your ID and insurance card, and I'll get your slippers." Urgent care was closed, so I ended up taking her straight to emergency, where they admitted her immediately; shocking, I know. Fortunately she had brought her phone with her, and both her mom's number and the number for the school were programmed into it. As it was an emergency, I could have called the school for her, but it looked better if she did it herself. Then she took a deep breath and called her mom. "Hi, mom!" She was trying to sound normal, but that never works with mothers. The expression on her face told me it wasn't working this time either. "I'm fine, but I'm in the hospital, and ... mom ... no real- ... mother! I'm fine, really, but ... oh, God, if you would just list- ... ugh!" She turned the phone off in disgust and growled. "Oh! I just knew she was going to do that. Why can't she just... ?" Of course the phone rang. She just glared at it, and I wasn't sure if she was going to answer or not, so I took away the option, picking it up and heading for the door. "Hello, Mrs. Payson? No, I'm not the doctor; this is David, Christine's boss. Christine's a little cranky today, so I thought it might be better if I talked to you and told you what was going on. Is she always like this when she's sick? You know, grouchy and irritable?" "I am not grouchy!" Christine yelled just as I reached the door. Her mother heard it, and that broke the ice. "Is she okay?" Mrs. Payson asked, her voice now coming out as concerned rather than irritated. "Yes, she's going to be just fine. Now, promise me you won't freak out? She's going to have surgery..." "Surgery!" She exclaimed. "What... ?" "Hey, now," I cut her off. "You promised, remember? She's got appendicitis, and they've put her on an IV to get some antibiotics into her to control the infection. We're at West Valley Medical Center in Las Vegas, and they're taking really good care of her. The nurse says if everything goes well, they'll probably operate on Monday. She said they'd do it tomorrow, except that all the good doctors are playing golf or skiing, and the ones that aren't would probably be too hung over to hold a scalpel, so I'd rather they waited anyway." I'd made that part up, of course. Even if it were true, no nurse would be stupid enough to say it – at least, not to a patient anyway – but it got me the chuckle I was after. "Would you like to come up?" I asked. "well of course I want to come up," she said, "but I don't think I can. I can't drive that far by myself, and my son is..." "I'll take care of it; can you get to the airport okay?" "Oh, David, you can't..." "It's not a problem, Mrs. Payson, really. Why don't you go pack and put food out for the cats, and I'll call you back with your flight information, okay?" I called the airline, gave them Christine's employee ID number, and explained the situation. Within ten minutes, her mother was booked on a flight. My next call was to a shuttle company in Phoenix to arrange for her to be picked up and taken to the airport, as well as home again when she got back. "You didn't need to do all that," Mrs. Payson complained when I called back with the flight and shuttle information. "It's my pleasure, Mrs. Payson; I know what airport parking is like. I'll meet you outside the terminal when your flight gets in; just look for the incredibly handsome young man driving the black Chevy Impala SS. She was still giggling when I hung up and went back in to tell Christine what I'd done. "I don't know what I'm going to do with her," Christine said, shaking her head. "I don't know how many times I've told her that she flies free, but she always forgets. Thank you, David." "No problem," I assured her. "Now, her plane is going to land in about two hours, so I'm going to go make up the other bed and spruce the place up a little." "Oh God, she's going to be staying with us," she moaned, flopping her head back on the pillow, and wincing as the shock traveled down her body to her abdomen. "I'm going to need stronger drugs." I rolled my eyes. "It'll be fine." I kissed her forehead. "Can I bring you anything?" Three hours later I was back in Christine's room watching her mother fuss over her. You could see that the woman had a lot of experience in hospitals from the way she managed to fawn all over Christine without disturbing any of the tubes or wires. We stayed for about an hour and then headed back to the apartment. I had lucked out on my earlier trip and run into Doreen, who of course asked if Christine and I would be joining her for dinner. When I told her about Christine's problem, and that I had come back to make up the other bed for her mother, Doreen started shaking her head at me. "Oh–no-no," she chided me. "David, did you and Christine have a fight or something?" "What?" I asked. "No, I told you; she just has appendicitis." "I know that's what you said, I'm just trying to figure out what she did to make you so mad that you're going to make her stay in a one bedroom apartment with her mother, while she's recovering from surgery." Understanding began to dawn. "Ah," I said. "Bad idea?" "Would you want to do it?" "I don't know, my mom's pretty cool, and..." The look on her face stopped me. "So what did you have in mind?" "Why don't we put her in my guest room instead? Back there, no matter what you do, you'll have to share a bathroom, and that's just not going to be pretty. If she's up here with me, she'll be distracted telling me about Christine growing up and all the family history, but we'll still be close enough to check on her baby girl from time to time to make sure she's okay." It did sound like a better idea, so I took Mrs. Payson into the main house instead of out back. She, of course, complained about inconveniencing Doreen. "Inconvenience me?" Doreen said. "Don't be silly. Why, I'll be happy just to have the company for a change. Besides, that doghouse my husband built is too small for three people – barely big enough for the two of them. Why, my pantry is bigger than that bathroom they got to share. Besides, Christine told me David snores something fierce." "That is sooo not true!" I said indignantly. Both women were chuckling too much to even care. A very anxious looking Widget met me at the door when I finally reached the apartment. I scooped her up and scratched her head for a second before setting her on the couch. She just sat and stared at me, so I figured she wanted attention, but when I reached to scratch her again, she pulled away, jumped to the coffee table, and sat on one of Christine's schoolbooks. Hmmm. I sat on the couch and looked at her for a second before saying, "She's going to be fine." Immediately she jumped into my lap and started purring. I was going to need to talk to Allison about this. I added it to my list of things to do and moved across to the Murphy bed – I'd made it up anyway so Christine could have the bedroom to herself while she was recovering – and settled myself so I could get to work. I don't know what I was expecting really; I guess something like a sofa bed – which I'd heard horror stories about all my life – but it was actually very comfortable. Widget came over and snuggled against my side, and I moved across into dream space. As expected, no one else was there yet, and from my chair in the shade, the beach felt especially empty for some reason. I'm really not very good at being alone, but it was way too soon for Allison to be in bed, and Lizzy and Amber were probably working late tonight. The last Saturday night before everyone had to go back to school was probably a busy one at Frankie's, and they were still a little short-handed since the wife was still home taking care of the baby boy she had given him for Christmas. I wasn't the least bit surprised when I looked over and saw Widget sitting up in one of the other chairs. Normally she follows Christine, but she was at the hospital and probably not going to be sleeping well enough to join us. I guess Widget didn't feel like being alone tonight, either. This also answered the question of whether Christine was the only one she could follow. I decided the best place to start was checking up on Amy's progress. Her birthday party was now only five weeks away, and I needed to make sure she was behaving herself and not trying too hard. "Walter?" I called. I was definitely not prepared for what happened next. As soon as Walter stepped out of the little changing tent, Widget went haywire, spitting and leaping down onto the sand. When she landed, she was once more the mottled-gray miniature mountain lion she had appeared as the first time she wandered into dreamspace. Her ears were laid back, and her tail was bushed out like a large furry club as it lashed back and forth in time to her agitation. Her eyes were solidly fixed on Walter as she gave a loud howling scream. To my surprise Walter started laughing, and then, before I could say anything, he launched himself at Widget, changing in mid air – not to his usual beast form, but to another cat shape. I couldn't tell what kind; he was just sort of a blur passing by. The next thing I knew, the two of them were rolling across the beach biting and clawing at each other. Again I started to say something, but suddenly Walter was up and running across the beach. He leapt for a palm tree, and by the time he landed in it, it wasn't a palm anymore, but something lower to the ground with a lot more branches. Widget was right behind him, and the two chased around the thick trunk for a few seconds, then apparently it was Widget's turn as she leaped down and sprinted across the sand with Walter in hot pursuit. He caught her quickly, and the two once more went tumbling. Of course the entire scene was accompanied by a sound track straight out of Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom. As suddenly as it had started, it was over, with Walter – in human form once more – sprawled out on the sand, and Widget straddling his chest. "Ho, little warrior!" Walter cried. "I yield! You are truly the Queen of the Beasts, and I am no match for you." The next second Widget was normal sized and laying on Walter's broad chest. He picked her up and climbed to his feet, scratching her head and neck as he walked back to the little cabana to join me. "My Lord, you did not tell me there was a new member to our little band." I shook my head slightly to clear it and said, "Walter, this is Widget, Christine's cat." He turned her so they were nose-to-nose. "Very nice to meet you, Your Highness." Widget licked his nose, and he returned her to his lap and resumed stroking her. "You summoned me, My Lord?" "Yes, I was wondering how Amy is doing in her therapy. Her birthday is only a few weeks away, and I know how anxious she is to show everyone how well she is doing." "Yes, she is quite committed to dancing at the gala," he said. "She has worked hard, but the physicians have not yet given their approval. Though they admit her progress borders on the astounding, it takes time to rebuild the necessary muscle, and I fear she is to be disappointed." "You're practicing here, though?" It was a rhetorical question as I knew they danced here several nights a week. Amy loved to dance, and since I had created the little studio for her, it had grown into a full-sized ballroom, complete with orchestra. "Would you like to dance with Amy at her party?" "Very much, My Lord," he said. "Well, I'd like to see her dream come true, and I have an idea on how might be able to we can stack the deck a little." "You are going to get in so much trouble," Jamie warned me. "Remind me to kiss you later." I spent some time laying out my idea to Walter. Part of it – a big part – would require a little careful planning in the real world as well. "My Lord, I am grateful that you would even consider the idea," Walter said, kneeling in the sand before me. "I am already in your debt, so I have nothing more to offer you but my thanks." "Well, you could start by getting up; you know I hate it when you do that. I can't make any promises – it may not be possible, but I'll do what I can." I sent him on his way so I could get on with the night's work. I really wasn't looking forward to this – hadn't been for some time, but Jamie was right: it was time. Christine's surgery had come at a bad time, and with her out of commission there was nothing more we could to keep the innocents out of it, and we didn't have time to wait. Time was our enemy. I tried hard not to regret the time I'd 'wasted' on a holiday break, but now it was time to finish this mess. Taking time with Walter to make plans for Amy's party was a show of self-confidence in my ability to solve this without getting myself – or anyone else – killed. The bastard was going down ... I hoped. ------- Chapter 33: Crunch Time Being confident was important, but Elliott Bastion was hands down the biggest threat I had faced – even counting the Sandman – and that said a lot. But the most the Sandman could do was kill me; Bastion could, maybe, turn me into something so dark it made Jamie on a bad day look like Phoebe in church. Nothing we had tried had been even remotely successful, and I still didn't know how I was going to handle someone I couldn't even look at in a dream. Trust me, over-confidence, wasn't a problem. Maybe if we had a clue... "I don't suppose you've come up with any new ideas on what to do about Bastion himself? I was kind of hoping that if I left it alone, something would come to me, but so far that hasn't worked." "Sorry, Bro," Jamie said, and I could almost feel her shaking her head. "I don't have any more of a clue there than you do. I guess as a last resort, we could just kill the son of a bitch and be done with it." "That might be a little difficult, don't you think? Close enough to do the job puts us in his reach, not to mention that I'd really rather not be up on murder charges myself if I can avoid it. Don't get me wrong, I'm not opposed to the idea, but I don't know any way to do it cleanly enough to get away with it. Sniping him from long distance is about the only option I could come up with, and even that has a whole list of drawbacks. "Too true," she agreed, "but it would be nice to have the option. If we could get away with it, the rest would take care of themselves." "I'm afraid of what they might do along the way," I said. "There is always the chance that some of them may decide to take a few people with them. And what if one of the girls was there when they went off? That would bring up exactly the kind of questions and attention we're trying to avoid." "Yeah, it would really suck if, after everything we went through, we got one of them killed because we were careless. So what are we going to do?" "What else? Talk to Allison." As usual, Allison was the one with the plan. We'd pretty much determined that going one on one with Hightower, even in a dream, was a recipe for disaster. He was just too powerful in his own right. If I'd been able to hide from him, I would have at least been able to study him and try to come with something, but even that was a luxury we didn't have. The two times I'd tried pulling him into my dreamspace, he had simple woken himself up. So, one way or the other, anything we did would have to be in his dream – meaning we had to give up not only power and control, but also the home court advantage. After all that, I was a little surprised at what she had in mind. "It's not going to be easy," Allison said after she had laid out the basics of her plan. "We don't know if or how fast he can take them back, but if nothing else, it should provide one hell of a distraction." She paused for a few seconds before going on. "I think if we're going to do this, we need to pull out all the stops and just bring it. Everything we've got." "What do you mean?" I asked. "I mean we may only get one shot at this, so we should hit him with everything, don't hold anything back for a second try, because if we don't get him the first time, we may not get a second chance. Surprise is going to play a big part in this." "So what are you suggesting?" Allison's plan had been simple, gather together all the girls that Hightower had been fucking-over all these years, release every inhibition he had put in place, and turn them loose on him all at once. With all of his groundwork destroyed, he shouldn't have time to regain control before I got to him. In a truly ironic twist there was a chance I was going to have to save his sorry ass from them. After years of torment and abuse – to suddenly be able to get their hands on the man behind it – some of them may not want to stop, and that would be a disaster. I wished we'd had time to put more of the protections in place for the girls, but we were past the point of no return. Too many people were asking too many questions about so many people from the same church dying. The ME was under a lot of pressure to find something – anything – that said these weren't really accidents. Hypnosis creates chemical responses in the brain. Most hypnotic drugs were synthetic versions of these compounds. If any of those drugs had been used, they would have found them before; the naturally produced ones break down faster and are harder to detect, but if they started looking deep enough... Elliot The chime sounded right on schedule, and I turned from staring down at the masses walking the street two hundred feet below. As always seemed to be the case, I was fascinated by how – more than anything else – they reminded me of ants. Viewed from a height, the resemblance became even greater as the milling crowd surged, gathered, and disbursed with the changing of the lights and the passage of traffic. Not so much at night, as darkness seems to swallow the street, reducing the scene to scattered pools of light cast by the streetlights. On the strip, where the incessant glow of a couple of million kilowatts bathed the scene in a perpetual twilight glow, the resemblance was even greater. But here in the business district, the glow only seemed to deepen the shadows as the light pollution fooled the eye into thinking it could see. It reminded me of standing in my bedroom as a teenager, staring out the window trying to catch a glimpse of Beth Carmichael as she prepared for bed. There was an empty lot between us, so, if I was careful, she couldn't see that I was watching. If I left the light on in my room, or even just left the door open to the hallway, the glare was enough to prevent me making out any details in her room. But if the light were out, ... then the dark expanse seemed to vanish, and ... Well, now was hardly the time. I set the glass of bourbon on an end table as I moved toward the elevator. It was a luxury I could only afford in my dreams now, and the remembered taste had been fading for some time. I could no longer even be certain that it was bourbon and not brandy that I tasted, and as much as I longed for it, it was a luxury I could never afford in waking – not even here in my private sanctuary. Appearances were important after all. In the earlier days, I could have taken a 'mission trip' down to Mexico – or even just to another part of the country – and indulged myself. Unfortunately, in the days of cell phone cameras and internet video, such pursuits were far too risky. I made the short walk to the wall containing the elevator and pressed the tile concealing the hidden button; today's guest had arrived, and I mustn't keep her waiting. More importantly, I didn't feel like waiting, and I loosened the tie on my silk robe as the doors began to part. I always enjoyed that first glimpse of the blindfolded girl kneeling naked before me, waiting patiently to obey my slightest whim and ... What the... ?" Hands, lots of hands, pressed through the opening as the doors parted; they seemed to be pressing them apart in an effort to get out more quickly. "You bastard!" a girl's voice screamed. "How could you? We trusted you!" Suddenly there were hands grabbing and slapping at me. I tried to back up, but someone had already grabbed my robe. Fortunately, self-preservation outweighed modesty, and I spun desperately away, pulling my arms free and retreating, naked, into the center of the room. There had to be thirty girls in that elevator! And apparently they all wanted my blood. It wasn't even possible; the elevator couldn't possibly hold that many ... Him! It had to be... him. That little bastard! Apparently, he had decided it was time to make another attempt. When I got my hands on him, I was going to ... I forced the thought away with an effort, best to deal with the hands that were after me first. "Samantha child, April, Monique, what has gotten into you?" I said in a calming voice. "You!" April screamed. "You let this happen; you were behind it all along!" A clawed hand slashed forward, grabbing at my chest. Painted nails raked parallel lines of fire across my flesh as I barely managed to dodge back. "Enough of this!" I snarled, grabbing the girl's hand and screaming, "Kneel!" Instantly she dropped to her knees, hands folded neatly in her lap. I didn't have time to enjoy the heady rush of satisfaction, as there were many more still apparently desperate for my blood. I had five more on their knees before I realized April was after me again. Stepping behind a couch, I looked quickly around, and ... there! I could just make out the ghostly image of my true adversary touching Linda's shoulder as she knelt where I had left her following her last attempt. It only took a couple seconds contact before she leaped to her feet and started for me again. Damn! He was better than I gave him credit for, and he was breaking them free almost as fast as I was stopping them, and that left too many free for me to deal with safely, especially since it was necessary to actually touch them first. I did not relish the idea of being within range of so many at once. Perhaps something a little stronger... Jimmy Shit! I couldn't believe what was happening. Despite seemingly stripping away all of Lord Hightower's implanted controls, he was still able to master the girls with the barest touch and a simple word. It took a few seconds to break them out of it again once he ordered them down. After about the first ten, it got even harder as he changed his command and started ordering them to sleep instead of to kneel. It took a little longer to break the new compulsion, and 'wake' them again – especially since I had to be careful lest they truly 'wake up' and vanish completely. Still, we were making headway; Hightower was too distracted to remember that it was a dream and wake himself up. As Allison had suggested, his ego wouldn't let him run from the challenge. And they were getting to him. On her second attempt, Samantha had managed to trip him, and if not for some quick footwork, he might have gone down. Unfortunately, he didn't, and in seconds she was down again, only this time he had commanded her to sleep. I had wondered if physical contact might increase his ability as it did mine, but I hadn't counted on just how well it seemed to work. Of course, this was only a dream, so you really couldn't assume that the same would be true in the real world. Finally, April jumped on his back, the belt of his robe in her hands. I'm pretty sure she had intended it to go around his throat, but in his mouth worked just as well, as he could no longer order the girls asleep. In seconds, there was panic in his eyes. That's when everything went wrong. Control no longer an option, Bastion changed tactics; reaching back and grabbing the young girl's hair, he pulled hard, and she instinctively dropped her grip on the belt to defend herself, screaming in pain as he jerked her hard over his shoulder and threw her into the three girls coming at him from the front. They all went down in a tangle of flesh, and I heard one of them scream as her arm went through the glass coffee table. Suddenly there was blood everywhere as the girls tried to escape the broken glass. But tangled together as they were, they only succeeded in cutting themselves up even more. Without thinking I rushed forward to help them, and before I could stop myself, I felt his hand grab my arm. "Got you!" Bastion hissed, and I could feel a rush of force pressing not against my arm, but against my mind. The girls forgotten, Bastion seemed to be concentrating solely on me. A wave of force washed over me, and while I know he didn't speak, the word 'submit' seemed to ride the wave, and I felt my arm go slack in his grip. I pressed back, trying to counter the inrush of force, but I couldn't seem to concentrate. It was like I was being forced back into a... A voice in my mind seemed to scream, "Don't think it!" but it was already too late as the door to the cell slammed shut. My own mind had betrayed me, and the analogy of it being forced into a cell became a reality. "Much better," Bastion said with a laugh. "Now, stop them." The strange voice screamed, "No!" as the room full of girls suddenly froze where they were; even the bloodied bodies of the four girls still tangled and struggling to get away from the coffee table ceased screaming and squirming. "Excellent," Bastion said. "Now, just how good are you? Are they simple images sent to confuse and distract me, or did you somehow manage to bring them all here?" "They're real," I said angrily. At least I still had that. I couldn't seem to challenge him directly, but my personality was intact. "Impressive," he said. "So you can actually move others around with you. I suspected as much from the various descriptions of you with your two little playmates, but to move so many at once – very impressive. Everyone I interviewed spoke of two young women. Not always both of them, but one of them always seemed to be near. Why?" "I didn't trust myself alone with any of your sick little group. I was afraid I'd lose control and start hurting them and tip you off." "Apparently that wasn't always enough, hmm? I assume Frank Watkins has you to thank for that little visit from his loving daughter, back from the grave?" "Yeah, I particularly enjoyed that one, but that was also when I learned I should never be alone with any of them." "We'll get back to that. First, I want all of these girls returned to their own dreams, with no knowledge of any of this; you can do that, can't you?" I wanted to lie; knew I should lie, but somehow... , "Yes, I can do that." "Excellent, and they will not remember me or anything about this place, is that clear?" "Yeah, I got that part," I said hotly. "And let's fix that while we're at it. I am Lord Hightower, your Master from this moment forth, and you will address me with respect at all times, is that clear?" I bit back a response and refused to answer, but then... "Burn!" he commanded, and pain lanced through me as if I were on fire. I screamed and dropped to my knees as invisible flames seemed to wash over me. As I struggled for breath, I couldn't help but remember doing the same thing to Boris. "Enough," he said, and just as quickly as it began, the pain stopped, and I was left gasping on the floor. He had let go of my arm as I fell, and I tried to crawl away when the pain stopped, but he simply said, "Stay," and suddenly my muscles wouldn't respond. This was not how this was supposed to work out. "Stand up," he said calmly, and to my horror, I did. "Now, let's start with poor April and her friends. Heal them and send them someplace nice. Yes, that should work nicely; let's keep it simple, just send them all to a nice crowded beach, one with enough people so they are lost in the crowd and won't bump into each other. They can just relax and work on their tans until time to get up in the morning. Do it now, and I want to hear your instructions." It was just like I imagine it was when he set the trap for Samantha to kill me. I was in a cell, looking out through my eyes, watching myself do exactly what he told me to do. I knew it was wrong, knew I didn't want to do it, but I simply couldn't stop myself. Eventually the girls were all gone, Bastion was back in his robe, and the room was put back together; no trace left behind to reflect the struggle that had raged here moments before. "Now," he said. "Let's get down to the important part: Who are you? What is your name?" Again a voice far away seemed to be screaming, "No!" "My name is James Edward Matthews," I answered. "And how old are you?" "Sixteen." "Sixteen?" he said, sitting in an overstuffed chair and pouring a cup of tea as if we were just two old friends sharing lunch. Except, of course, that he didn't offer me a cup. "Is that all?" He asked. "My word; I suspected you were young, but sixteen? I hadn't expected you to be quite that young? Who are you working for?" "No one," I said. "No one?" he asked. "I find that hard to believe. So no one else knows about me." "No," I corrected him. "There are others who know: a few people with the FBI and a woman at the Department of Justice named Sandra Atkins." "Ah, yes, the lovely Miss Atkins," he said with a smile. "I'm not surprised to find her involved in this. How did you meet her?" "I haven't met her," I said, "and she isn't involved, she's just interested. Mostly she makes sure that no one else that discovers any of this gets too close and gets her in trouble. Her primary focus is to keep the government from winding up in court again. She's monitoring you as best she can, but that's all." "And the FBI?" "Several agents have stumbled across your activities and started inquiries. Some of the disappearances and deaths have caught their attention, but when they try to access your personal files at the Department of Justice, it flags the activity, and Atkins hauls them to Washington to find out what they know. Then she sends them back with strict instructions to stay away but to forward anything they find out. She's been slowly trying to gather enough to get an idea of who is involved." "And how much does she know?" "More than the rest, but still not that much," I said. "She suspects far more than she knows, and she has no idea how you actually get away with all of it." "You didn't tell her?" "I told you; I've never met her. As for the rest, I didn't think it would be a good idea for the government to know what you can do." "Why not?" He asked. "I would think handing me over to the government to spend the rest of my life in a dark corner at some research center under the North Pole would appeal to you." "And when they ask me how I know? Or how I managed to keep you from playing your tricks on me?" "Yes, there is that, isn't there?" he mused. "We could end up as roommates, and wouldn't that be fun? So if sweet Sandra didn't put you onto me, how did you get involved in all of this?" "I was involved helping the FBI track a serial killer known as the Sandman. I somehow got tapped into his dreams of killing several girls. One of them was Amanda Watkins. When the agent I was working with interviewed her parents, they lied to her about their daughter's sexual activity, so she asked me to check out what they were hiding. My sister suggested I bridge Samantha, because sisters always know." "Yes," he chuckled, "don't they always?" Then he got more serious. "The Sandman you say. Do you know someone named David Malcolm?" "Yes and no. I know him, but we've never met. I passed information to him so that he could pass it along to the FBI." "Ah," he said. "I see. And then what happened?" Slowly, question by question, the story unfolded. He was very patient, very methodical, just slowly leading me through the explanation of everything I knew about his organization. For now he seemed far more interested in what I knew than what I could do. That was a relief, but I knew that sooner or later he would get around to it. "Tell me about your friends, Alice and Sharon." "Alice is the name my sister uses when we're interacting with people in dreams." "And her real name?" he asked. I hesitated, and this time he didn't even have to say anything; his eyes locked on mine, and once more pain exploded through me. He let it go longer this time, until I was curled on the floor, unable to even think. I don't know how long I was actually there, but eventually I was able to breathe and move again. "Your sister's name?" he asked calmly, sipping his tea. "Allison," I gasped. "Allison Ann." "And Sharon?" "Her name was Shannon Davis, but she's dead. She was killed in a traffic accident a few months ago." "Oh," he said sympathetically. "I'm so sorry for your loss. You were close?" "She was Allison's best friend, and my girlfriend." I hoped he wouldn't push it any farther. "Your sister's best friend, you say?" He said in an amused tone. "That seems unusual at such a young age? Is Allison your younger or older sister?" "Younger," I answered. "Were you and Shannon having sex before she died?" "Yes," "You were fucking your little sister's best friend, and she didn't mind? I find that very hard to believe. Most little sisters hate it when their friends have a crush on their brothers." He stopped and poured more tea. "You naughty boy, you were sleeping with your sister too, weren't you?" I could only watch in horror as I answered, "Yes." "Of course," he said matter-of-factly. "Were the girls lovers as well?" "Yes." "I suspected as much. It's the only way to keep jealously out of such a scenario, but we'll get back to that later. Let's talk about you..." Before I could start, a chime sounded. "Oh, I guess that will have to wait." He set his tea cup down and stood up. "Kneel." I dropped to the floor and knelt in the same pose that Amber used. He moved behind me and placed his hands on either side of my head. "You will remember nothing of tonight's activities while you are awake. If any of your little friends ask, it was just another unsuccessful attempt to find a way to defeat me. Tomorrow night, you will return as quickly as possible, delaying only long enough to dispel any suspicions they may have. Is that understood?" "Yes," I answered woodenly. "Yes, My Lord," he said, and pain lanced through me again. "You will address me with the proper respect from this moment on. I am your Master now; you belong to me. Is that clear?" "Yes, my lord." The day seemed to fly by, and before I knew it, I was back in the elevator headed up to Bastion's penthouse, where the questioning continued. I tried several times to resist answering, but each time it seemed to become harder and harder to do so. "If you were older, I would have you begin attending church with me, but that would be difficult to explain to your parents. Perhaps you should introduce me; you could bring them with you, and we could discuss their relocating to the Vegas area. What is it they do?" "My mother works for a large inventory control firm; my father is an investment consultant." "Hmm, promising ... We'll have to work on that." The night ended the same, with him instructing me to return again the next night. Once again, the day seemed to pass quickly as I went through the motions of my life before returning to my new master. My greatest fear was that he would tell me to bring Allison with me. More than anything, I didn't want him to get his hands on her. Fortunately, that night he wanted to explore other areas. "I have some people I am concerned about," he said. "From time to time, we have had to resort to ... alternative methods of encouraging some of our members' participation." "Some of them are being blackmailed," I said. "We discovered that some time ago. We suspected it from what some of the girls had told us, and then Doctor Hendricks confirmed it and told us what happened to him." "Ah yes, dear Steven; quite a competent physician, and so devoted to his young charges. He is truly a credit to his profession; too bad he chose so badly when selecting a bride. He will be an excellent place to begin." "My Lord?" I asked. "I don't understand why it's necessary to blackmail them? Doctor Hendricks had no memory of the events on the video he was shown that first day, so apparently you had no trouble controlling him..." "I understand your curiosity," he said. "I have discovered that some people seem to have a natural defense mechanism against direct control; young doctor Hendricks is one of them. It was necessary to disable this defense mechanism in order to gain control over him, and even then it can't be maintained as it can with the others. Nothing short of full time interaction would keep him in the proper ... mindset, if you will. For such cases I am forced to resort to more ... primitive methods. In Steven's case, I used a drink, spiked with a mildly hallucinogenic compound. He then became very receptive to my suggestions. The effects are temporary, but once we had the damning evidence, his compliance was virtually guaranteed. I am hoping that with your help, I may be able to change all that. I'd much prefer to not have to resort to such methods; there is always the chance that some day, one of them may decide they no longer care about the consequences, and that could be messy. There is a limit to how much damage they can do, but – as I'm sure you can appreciate – it's never a good idea to attract attention." "What is it you want me to do, my lord?" "I believe that, working together, we may be able to change their attitudes at the subconscious level, so that they will embrace their participation more voluntarily." "Like the board members?" I asked. That got his attention. "Eventually, perhaps, but it will be some time before I would trust anyone quite that far. The loyal board members are just the opposite. They seem to have no natural defense at all. Plus, each has had years of conditioning, and are no longer any kind of threat to me. Any of them would happily walk up and murder a total stranger on the street, in full view of the police, if I instructed them to do so. Eventually I hope to have that kind of control with all of them, but for now ... we'll take it one step at a time. What do you need to start crafting specific dreams?" "It varies," I said. "Information mostly; the more I know about each of them – their circumstances, their feelings and impressions of what's happened – the better I can craft the scenarios for each of them. My lord, I'm curious. You say the board has had years of conditioning, but they were all voluntary players to begin with, weren't they?" "Why do you ask?" "My ability has made me a rather obsessive student of the mind. I find the more I know, the more I can do. I've noticed patterns in your group; the board members seem different, as is the mindset of the younger girls compared to girls, say ... those Samantha's age. Most of the girls her age hate it, and you seem to need the fear and punishment to keep them in line; where girls just a few years younger, like April, seem to embrace it. I concluded that it was because you got to them at a much younger age, but there still seems to be a fine line." "Ah, so you've noticed," he said, obviously impressed. "You really are a very bright young man. Yes, I've learned that the age at which their conditioning begins is critical. It is especially helpful if they have an older sibling that they can watch – the greater the age disparity the better. Little Rachel for instance has grown up watching her sister – both of her sisters – perform their duties; she has seen the rewards proper service and obedience bring. Already she is beginning see her rebellious sister as being foolish and will embrace her service when her training begins. "But enough of this, let us return to the business at hand: Young Doctor Hendricks. How would you go about changing his position in all of this?" "I would recreate the events he can't remember and use a sequence of dreams to build the memories up until he accepted them as real events rather than images on a video – personalize them if you will. It would be a gradual process, starting with flashes of memory and growing slowly until he thought he had remembered the whole thing, leaving out the spiked drink and any ... help, from you. Then I would change his emotional involvement in the actions themselves, blending the scenes with other, pleasurable encounters, so that he would accept them. Not his actual emotions – I can't do anything like that – but his perception of his emotional state. Gradually strengthening the emotion of the dream until the memory of the dream displaces the original memory." "So, eventually he would believe that his loving wife had set the whole thing up as a special treat for him, recognizing in him a desire for nubile young flesh?" "Exactly," I said. My voice had taken on a more clinical tone as the discussion progressed and I was forced to think about the steps involved. I couldn't believe I was actually planning out a strategy for brainwashing someone. "He would eventually admit that he loved it all, but that he had blocked it out due to guilt – not wanting to admit that he loved having sex with little girls – so he denied it and made up a false memory of being blackmailed into participating. If his wife was still alive, I could do the same for her – make her desire match his. I know it all started as sort of a personal power trip for her, but a similar process could have been used. My Lord, I don't know if you realize it, but her death probably saved you a lot of trouble." "What do you mean?" He asked. "You feel she was a threat?" "Not to you directly, but I think her hatred for Samantha was pushing her towards dangerous territory. At first, having direct access to torment Samantha was a turn-on for her, but she was growing bored and dreaming up new ways to hurt her – ways that couldn't have been hidden. The last time I checked in on her, a week or so before she died, she was starting to shop for one of those machines they show on the porno sites. Her ultimate fantasy was to watch Samantha fucked to death by one, but that would have been way down the road. Her immediate goal was to just use an ever-increasing size of devices to stretch Samantha open to the point where she could no longer recover. She had this weird vision in her last dream, of Samantha going to school with a fully inflated football shoved inside her so she looked pregnant. It would never work of course, but..." I couldn't finish as Hightower was laughing uncontrollably by now. Finally, he stopped and wiped his eyes. "I think I might like to watch that myself. Your own fault, really; since your involvement with Samantha, she has become increasingly difficult. Hmm, a discipline session with her in the spotlight might be instructional for the other girls ... Yes, tie her down, start the machine and work up slowly until ... This has definite possibilities ... The football may be a little much, but I wonder how far we can go?" His eyes got distant, and his voice took on an introspective tone. "Perhaps if we inserted it deflated and then inflated it slowly so as to stretch the tissue without tearing it. I imagine the rest of the girls would do almost anything to avoid such a fate. This does have possibilities... , but again, that can wait. What would you need in order to begin with Steven?" "Just information, my lord. Once I know the details of what they fear – what they're afraid of having exposed, actually – I can start crafting the dreams." "Excellent," he said, practically wringing his hands in glee, "how long will it take?" "It depends on the individual person," I said. "Some will go quickly, others will take more time; if I try to go too quickly, the emotional change may not feel normal, and they may react badly. Plus, I've never actually done this before. It never even occurred to me until you asked. I won't know until I've had a chance to experiment a little." "Very well," he said. It was obvious he was anxious to begin this whole process. "How many can you work on at one time?" "I don't know, my lord. Again, I've never actually done the whole thing. At this point it's all just theory, but I think it would be best to start slowly, small snippets here and there. As I said, short bursts of dreams resembling memory until they're ready to accept the full sequence. With that in mind, I don't think it would be difficult to do several at once. However, we shouldn't over-commit; eventually we'll have to use more elaborate sequences, and the timing could become a problem if we have too many going at once." "Very well," he said. "We'll start small. I think Doctor Hendricks would be a good place to start." "Yes master, when would you like me to begin?" "You require only to review the material that holds them to me?" "Study, more than review, my lord. I must be familiar enough not to leave out important details, but I believe so, master," I said. "Then you may begin at once. Come with me." He rose and led the way across the room to a locked door, placed his thumb in a particular spot on the mural covering one wall, and a door opened. Beyond the door was a small room – more of a closet really. Inside the room was a small workstation. There were several monitors arranged on the desk showing three different views of the room we had just left, three more showing scenes of an empty conference room, and two of a bedroom that I assumed had to be located somewhere nearby as well. "Sit here," he said, indicating the chair. I sat in the indicated seat. "Bring up a command prompt and enter the following information." I brought up a prompt, and he rattled off a file name. The screen changed, now demanding a password. He rattled off an elaborate password string. I did my best to keep up, but I entered it wrong twice. Each time I was punished. "Pay more attention!" He demanded. "If you do not gain entry on this attempt, we will have to wait another day." "There is a limit of three attempts per day?" I asked. "Does the system lock down after that?" "No, that would not be enough to stop someone truly skilled and determined. On the fourth attempt, a particularly nasty virus will activate and destroy all the data." He repeated the password string once more – slower this time – and on the third try, the screen changed again, showing a series of files folders, each named for a particular person. "May I?" I asked carefully as I moved the mouse to highlight the file with Steven Hendricks' name on it. "Very good," he said, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "Yes, by all means. But before we begin, you mentioned the recent passing of Samantha's parents. There have, in fact, been several such unfortunate incidents, including, as you know, Kathy Hendricks. This would not be any of your doing, would it?" "No, my lord, I have not taken direct action against any of your people except the one event with Frank Watkins and his daughter, Amanda." Fortunately, he'd asked the question in a way I could answer honestly. Now if he'd asked me if I knew who was behind it ... that would have been a different issue. There were several documents inside the folder – one was a video file; the others were documents listing a variety of different information. One was a spreadsheet documenting the money Steven had borrowed from the group to equip his basement examination room. The video was long; I'd only seen what amounted to highlights before in the vision Steven had provided when I had confronted him. Now I got the whole thing. Obviously it was part of Hightower's greatest hits; if he hadn't viewed it several times, I probably wouldn't be seeing it in such detail now. I watched it twice to get as much detail as I could to begin crafting the scenarios I would need, but by then it was too late to start, so it would be another day before we could begin. ------- Chapter 34: Welcome to Your Nightmare By the time I arrived the next night, the plan had changed. Apparently, his lordship had decided he wanted to play a little before getting down to serious work. Either that, or he had decided to fuck with me by making me hurt the people I had been protecting. "I have decided to begin with another subject," Hightower informed me when I arrived. "Bring Samantha Watkins here." "My Lord, I..." Pain lanced through me once more as he asked, "Are you questioning me?" "No, my lord!" I cried. The pain cut off, and he said, "I didn't think so. You know, this environment is so much more conducive to this sort of thing. I barely have to think of something, and it happens. Now, do as I commanded and bring Samantha Watkins!" "Yes my Lord," I said. The elevator chimed, and he took me with him to open it. He stood to one side as the doors opened. Samantha knelt inside, waiting, but obviously very anxious at finding herself suddenly in the elevator with no blindfold and no time to disrobe. As soon as the doors parted, she began speaking, "Forgive me my Lord, I don't know how I got here, and there wasn't time, and ... Jimmy!" She jumped to her feet and into my arms. "Oh my God, Jimmy, I thought..." "You thought what, my child?" Bastion asked, stepping into view. "Lord Hightower," she said, pulling away and staring back and forth between us. "Oh no," she said, her hand coming up to her mouth and her voice beginning to shake. "Oh God, no ... This can't ... this can't be happening." She backed completely up against the now closed elevator doors before she stopped. Tears were starting to form in her eyes, and while her mouth still moved, no sound came out. Suddenly she launched herself at me, hands twisted into claws. "You promised!" she screamed as she scratched at me. As before, I was far too fast and strong for her, capturing her hands and twisting her around, so I could hold her still without injuring her. "I know, Sam; I'm sorry." Bastion was chuckling to himself. Then he stepped forward, extending a hand to touch Samantha's cheek. "There, there, child, everything will be just fine. Soon this will all be just a bad memory, and soon after that, you will be happy in your service, finally able to accept your rightful place in God's kingdom." "I'm sorry, Sam," I whispered. "Truly I am, but..." "Master?" a new voice intruded. About time! "Yes, Amber?" I answered. "Amber?" Bastion asked, confused. "Who is Amber? What is going on?" "Jamie says we've got everything we need." "Jamie? Who is Jamie?" Hightower demanded. "Who are you talking to? Answer me!" I lost the next part because I was busy talking to Samantha. "It's okay, Sam. Everything is going to be fine now. I'm sorry I had to frighten you like that, but I think you'll forgive me in a moment." I kissed the back of her head, releasing my hold on her and moving to stand beside her. "Thank you, Amber," I called into the empty air. "Inform everyone that I will be along shortly. Tell them I'll be bringing Samantha with me." I turned to face Hightower, who was practically breathing fire by now. "To answer your question, Amber and Jamie are two very special people in my life. They've been monitoring this little drama from outside the bubble, waiting to see if I would be able to get you to show me where all the blackmail material was hidden, and how to get to it. Now that you've done that, we've got just about all we need from you. So, while it's been a real hoot, I've had just about all of you I can take." "You will pay for this with your life!" He screamed. "Burn!" I stared at him calmly for a moment before stepping forward and punching him in the face so hard that he actually flew back onto the couch. Yeah, it was childish and cartoony – and it never would have worked if it hadn't been a dream – but feeling his nose break under my fist was extremely satisfying. "Not a very quick learner, are you, Christian?" I asked, holding Samantha's hand and drawing her with me as I moved toward him. He was really in no condition to answer, so I just kept going. "But then – thanks to your little gimmick – I guess you haven't really had to be. I, on the other hand, have been forced to grow up way too fast this last year, and that means I've had to learn even faster. Here comes a little trick I learned a while back ... Watch closely, I don't want you to miss it." As I had been speaking, the wall of the bubble had been moving slowly towards us, and the entire environment shrinking as it moved. The edges were now visible, and as Christian Wallace, a.k.a. Elliott Bastion, a.k.a. Lord Hightower, looked around, I could see fear blossoming in his eyes. "This is what we call a bubble. It's a completely enclosed, isolated, and controlled environment – a separate reality, really. In here, nothing is real. Take these last three nights, for instance; did you notice how quickly the days seemed to pass, in contrast to the nights? Can you remember anything else you did during that time? What did you do during the day?" I could see him struggling to recall any kind of detail at all. I just smiled and shook my head. "Don't strain yourself; you won't find anything. That's because none of it was real. All of this has happened in a single night. Less than seven hours ago, those doors opened, and a screaming throng of your slaves – oops, my bad – your faithful followers, charged in to rip your heart out. Of course, nothing can hurt the great Lord Hightower – master of all he surveys – so, naturally, you defeated them. And, most importantly, you finally captured that annoying little bastard who had dared to set himself against you. It was actually while you were focused on catching me that the final change was made. The moment you caught me – while all your attention was on me and you gloated over your victory – the final bubble was formed, and the whole thing moved out of your dream-space. Fortunately, your own elation distracted you and kept you from noticing that you were being cut off from any contact with your own reality, otherwise you might have fought it. Right up until that moment, there was a chance you could have noticed and fought back. Who knows, you might even have won, but once the bubble was in place and moved, your ass was mine. Like I said, nothing here is real; nothing happens here unless I let it happen, and that includes your little mind-control trick; we left that behind as well. "Now, I know what you're thinking; you captured me, you controlled me, you made me tell you all about what I can do and who was behind all the various plots and plans." I shook my head again. "Not exactly how it went down. I did actually tell you all that stuff, and it was even true; the problem is that you aren't going to remember any of it in the morning when you wake up. "Now, I know you're a little confused right now, because everything seemed to work normally, but it only worked that way because I wanted it to. I needed you to believe that you had won and that you were in control. It was the only way you would give me what I wanted. Well, maybe not the only way, but I'm really not fond of torture – although in your case I think I could have made an exception – and I'm fine with how it worked out." "But I am..." he began to scream something, but I cut him off, his voice suddenly dying in his throat. "You're what?" I asked. "Lord Hightower the almighty?" An image of the powerful figure he perceived himself as materialized in the air next to us; his face blurred out, his body strong, fit, and lean; his manhood hanging halfway to his knees. "No," I said, and the image began to change, shrinking slightly, the face coming out from behind the emptiness that had been hiding it, the muscles softening and the body rounding out with fat; the over-sized ego stick between his legs dwindling to a more appropriate size. "The Almighty Lord Hightower is no different than The Great and Powerful Wizard of Oz: A sham, a fake, and a fraud. "Which of course leaves the question: 'Who are you, really?' Elliott Bastion perhaps: Just a humble priest and shepherd of the lost, nurturing and guiding your flock toward heaven by day – and fucking all their daughters by night?" "No," I said again, and the image changed even more. "You're just poor, pathetic little Christian Wallace..." The body shrank even further but kept the over-all shape. " ... the pathetic loser who couldn't even get one of his sister's friends to go to his high school prom with him. The worm in man's clothing who, when he discovered he had the power to control people's minds, couldn't think of anything better to do with it than use it for sex. Oh, but then you found out the hard way that the effects didn't last, and the girl of your dreams woke up one day and realized what she had been doing. When you showed up at her house that day, not only did she tell you that you weren't getting laid, but that if you ever so much as looked at her again, she was going to have you arrested for rape. Of course, you tried to use your gift to persuade her to change her mind, but her strongly emotional state blocked you out. By the time you realized that it wasn't working, it was too late, and she now knew how you had gotten her to sleep with you in the first place. Of course, she threatened to expose you, so you killed her." "That's not true," Bastion protested. "Oh, but it is true. I know, because I got it from your own memories. Another useful little trick I picked up: You've heard the expression, 'A dream within a dream'? Well, we do that in multiple layers around here. So while this part of your subconscious has been dreaming of lording it over me and making me do your bidding, another part has been taking Jamie on little dream trips down memory lane. "You know, it really was careless of you to let it happen a second time. Fortunately, by then you had figured out what it took to get the job done, so you quietly sat in your chair and – right in front of the judge – convinced the jury of your innocence. But two women brutally murdered just so you could get laid seemed like a high price even to you, and you told yourself there had to be a better way. And you found it. A little experimentation taught you what it really took to influence and control others: Repetition was the key; you just had to see them on a regular basis, and they would do almost anything. It was even easier if you were just reinforcing their own natural inclinations. So you found a few like-minded individuals – men who thought that women, especially young girls, were only created to service their needs – and the church was born; the perfect venue to build your own little world with no one the wiser as to how it was being done. This time you started slow, learning the ropes as you went. You used fear and intimidation to bolster your gift, convincing the older girls that there was no way out and nowhere to hide. You used them while you started working on the younger ones, carefully training them to be your own private collection of willing sex slaves. You dealt with the older girls as they reached an age where they might logically be expected to move on. Oh yes, I know about all the tragic little accidents you arranged. You used the more rebellious of the girls as object lessons for the rest. Punishing girls like Amanda and Autumn publicly made it that much easier for you to control the rest. You were quite correct in your assumption that the others would do anything to avoid having those things done to them. Somewhere along the way, you found out, as you pointed out earlier, that – just as some were very easily controlled – others seemed to have a natural defense against this kind of manipulation – people like Stephen Hendricks. "Now, if I were a rabid evolutionist, I would have to guess that you weren't the first person to be able to do this kind of thing, and that at some point in the past someone had pulled this kind of shit on some of their ancestors. I think it would be a fascinating subject to research, don't you? What do you think? Could they have been the basis for some of the mythological 'gods' of the past? It would certainly explain a lot. Zeus, for instance, had a reputation for being a real ladies man; legend has it he'd do just about anything to get between a pretty girl's legs; appearing in a variety of forms to seduce the unsuspecting women. Maybe you're descended from him? You'd like that idea, wouldn't you? A direct descendant of the gods of old, come into his own in modern America. Maybe someday we'll invent a time machine and find out, but it won't matter to you; as of this moment nothing matters to you. As of this moment, you no longer matter." The walls of the bubble were now completely inside the spacious apartment. I stopped them at about a twenty-foot diameter. "Don't worry, Bastion; you'll be perfectly safe in here. Nothing will happen to you, and no one will bother you. If you focus beyond the bubble, you'll find that you're actually trapped inside yourself – kind of like what you did to Sam and the others with that little kill command you sent out in them. You remember that part, right? Well, I hope you don't mind, but I decided to steal your idea. So while you're here, you're going to 'experience' everything that goes on out there. Only to you it will all seem like a dream because, when you're awake, this part of you will be asleep. When you fall asleep at night, this part of you will wake up with full knowledge of everything that happened during the day. So you'll know everything that is going on from here on out; you just won't be able to control or influence any of it. I've got a few other little tricks in store for you as well, but I don't want to spoil the surprise." "I will destroy you!" he screamed. I just chuckled, and, taking Samantha's hand, took us both out through the wall of the bubble and into the elevator. Behind us, Hightower ranted, cursed, and beat at the wall of the bubble. It was amazing how quickly the shiny image of the priest had fallen away when things went wrong. Samantha was looking a little shell-shocked at the whole thing, so, after the elevator had taken us down a few floors, I stopped it. "Are you okay?" I asked. "I don't ... I don't know. Did that really happen? Is it really over? I'm not just dreaming?" I chuckled and said, "Think about that for a second, Sam." I waited just long enough for her to realize what she'd said before going on, "Yes, it's a dream, but, at the same time, yes, it really did happen. We've still got a ways to go, but, for all intents and purposes, it's over. Were you surprised to discover that Lord Hightower was really your humble priest, Elliott Bastion? "Surprised?" she asked. "Try shocked. I don't know why no one figured it out before, though. I mean, I've done Sunday mornings with the Deacons – we all have – I don't know why we never questioned it before." "You mean how all that could be going on right there in the church without the priest knowing about it?" "Yeah!" she said emphatically, "and then there's all the other stuff." "What other stuff?" I asked, curious to see where her mind was going with all this. "Hello? The penthouse on the eighteenth floor? High-tower? The name: Elliot Bastion? Elliot, elite, above, better, superior ... That's how he thinks of himself, like he's better than the rest of the world, so the world's rules don't apply to him, and he can just make up his own. Bastion: as in 'the last bastion of democracy', a fortified place, like a fortress, or a citadel..." "Or a tower," I said as comprehension dawned. "Elite Bastion: 'High' 'tower'. You're right; just tweak the spelling, and ... He must have laughed his ass off when he came up with it. He's been his own private joke for years. As for the reason you didn't realize any of it before? That's simple: he told you not to." "Was all that stuff you said in there true? Did he really kill two women?" "Yes, he did, and he got away with it. He was acquitted in open court on both charges, and those were just the ones they knew about. There are others as well. He didn't kill them all himself, but they died on his orders. But let's not talk about all the horrible things he's done. For one thing, we'd be here all night listing them, not to mention that it would be depressing as hell." The elevator moved on, and, when it stopped and the doors opened, I took her hand and pulled her out of the elevator – which was also the wall of the second bubble – into the changing tent, and then, finally, out onto the beach where 'Alice' was waiting for her with open arms. The basis for Allison's plan to overload Bastion's control of the girls had been good, but, as she was developing it, she realized that he might still be too strong for me to handle in direct conflict. "Ego is his one weakness," she had said, "but it's also one of his greatest strengths. He truly believes that no one can touch him. That confidence gives him a huge advantage in a direct confrontation because, no matter what you tell yourself, there will always be that shadow of doubt that you can win. It occurred to me that all your recent successes in other areas had blinded us. Most of these new abilities are just tricks – nice tricks, don't get me wrong. While it's not actually teleportation, it's still pretty damn cool to be able to move around the way you can now. The fighting skills and stuff are just things you've learned, but, thinking about it, I realized that these things had distracted you from your true strength." "Which is?" I asked. "Dreams," she said. "Jimmy, your greatest strength is the ability to manipulate this environment. You can make him see whatever you want, bring in whoever you want to mess with him." "Yeah, but he can see through some of the illusion. I can't hide from him here, and, if he knows I'm there, he can still attack me." "True, but there are different levels to what you can do here. Like I said, I've been giving this a lot of thought, and I realized that we might have really been screwed if you had been able to beat him. Jimmy, even if you beat him, do you really think you're going to be able to get him to tell you where all the blackmail stuff is?" She had a point. The hypnosis thing wasn't likely to work with him – which left it to torture and mind games like I'd used on Boris before. Just like hypnosis, mind games were right down Bastion's alley, and it was unlikely I'd be able to play the kind of games with him that I'd used before. Allison didn't wait for an answer, hesitating only long enough to give me time to think before moving on. "We have to get that information, or everything falls apart. So let's think judo instead of karate – not trying to over-power or 'beat' him – but using his own strengths against him. In this case, we use his ego and confidence against him; use the fact that you can't really hide from him. If we blow this open, he's going to know it's you, so let him find you, make sure he can; that way we know where he's focused. And, while he is focused there, you make the real move." "Which is?" I asked, wondering where she was going with all this. "We bubble his ass," Jamie had said, nodding her head. "That is what you're thinking isn't it?" Allison nodded very solemnly. "Yes, it's time to play Mission Impossible again, only this time we're playing for keeps. What gave me the idea was the way you handled Spring's protector: by layering two bubbles, one inside the other, so you could show her the futility of trying to fight you, while not risking doing irreparable harm to her self-image. If it had gone badly, you had an out to try again because you had essentially created a dream within a dream, and you could just dissolve it in such a way that she wouldn't remember it, leaving you free to try something else. "Now, all that being said, it's nothing compared to what you need to do with Hightower. Like I said, it's Mission Impossible time, but this has to be perfect, or we're screwed." "So what's the plan?" I asked. "Remember, it's more than just beating him; we still need to find the information we need to save Stephen and the others." "Right, so you bubble him, then you let him think he's won. He captures you, and you immediately become his humble servant; you answer his questions; you..." "But..." I began to interrupt. "I know," she said, cutting me off. "Yes, it's a risk, but if the bubble works, then it won't matter. Now listen to me. You need to keep him in the bubble, convince him that time is flowing normally, and act as if he really has won, and you really are at his mercy. You do what he says; you answer his questions; you resist, of course – he'd be suspicious if you didn't – and that brings up another point: you have to give him enough freedom to be able to punish you and make it real." "Yeah, I figured that part out, but he's going to want information that I can't give him." "I know, but you have to remember: he's not used to people being able to lie to him. You're going to have to be careful because, if he catches you at it, it will tip him off, and then we're back to square one. So just don't be obvious about it; you remember the two best ways to lie?" "Sure, 'tell the truth in such a way that they won't believe you', or..." "Right," she said, cutting in again. "Or tell just enough of the truth to be credible. Like I said, he's not used to people being able to lie to him, so his questioning is likely to be sloppy. Use that against him. He'll undoubtedly ask you about the people who have died; probably he'll ask if you are responsible for it. Are you?" I thought about it for a second before answering. "No," I said with a smile. "Jamie is." "Do you know that?" "Well..." "No!" she said. "You won't have time to think about it when he asks you. No, you don't know because you told Jamie, up front, that you didn't want to know. All you know is what you read in the papers, and, based on that, you have no reason to even suspect that there was foul play involved. With the exception of Essex, you didn't even read the details of how they died." "Frank and Irene Watkins, too." "Whatever," Allison said. "The bottom line is you can say that without lying. You don't volunteer information; you just tell him that it wasn't you. Your primary goal is to convince him that you're helpless. Then you need to get him to show you where the evidence is kept, and you do that by suggesting that you can help bring some of his more wayward followers into line. I'm betting he'll see the possibilities of what the two of you can accomplish together – under his control and direction, of course – and jump at the chance. What would you need to change Stephen's perception of what happened to him?" "What do you mean?" "Jamie?" she said, shifting the focus of the conversation. "It's not your fault, Jimmy," Jamie said. "What she's asking is something you would never even consider doing. She's talking about using your ability to brainwash someone by creating a false memory and getting them to accept it as real." I started to object, but she held up her hand to stop me. "I know, you would never misuse your gift in that way, but think about it for a minute and tell me what you would do if you were going to do it." "Jimmy," Allison said. "I know you don't want to think about this, but, just for a moment, I want you to imagine that Jamie was doing it behind your back; would you be able to spot the steps and realize what she was doing? Do you remember that really boring episode of Star Trek we watched with Mark and Shannon? The one where Piccard was captured by the Cardasians, and that whack job commander of theirs ... what did they call him ... Gol something or other, was trying to break him? The first step was to get him to believe there were five lights in the ceiling instead of four. Just getting him to accept that tiny, small, step would be the key to everything that would come later. And it was working; Piccard was on the edge when they finally found and rescued him. He didn't actually believe it yet, but he was starting to question his belief that there were really only four lights. So think about it. If you were going to try and get Stephen to accept a different version of what happened that night, what would you need to do? How would you go about doing it?" She was right – they both were. I really didn't want to think about this. As far as I was concerned, this was a dark alley I didn't ever want to go down. But, at the same time, if this plan was going to work ... And what was the ultimate goal here, anyway? Not to actually do it, but to convince Hightower that it could be done. So what would I need? "Information," I said. "I'd need to know everything possible about what really happened so that I could tailor the dreams as accurately as possible. They would have to be perfect, at first, nothing even slightly out of place, then gradually introducing new content; enhancing, changing, and eventually replacing the real memories." "And the only way to get that information?" "He would have to show me the original tape," I said, seeing where she was going and nodding my head. "Right," she said, "and once you have it, Jamie can go in and verify that we can access it. Once we have that..." "Yes?" I asked. She just looked at me for a moment before saying, "Then we end this and make Sandra Atkins the happiest woman in Washington." The key, and the trickiest part, had been getting Hightower into the first bubble. As Jamie had said before, the mind will tend to resist being completely cut off – even if it doesn't know what is going on, it will still sense the break in the stream. For most people, that won't mean anything because they won't recognize what is happening and don't know how to resist. As we discovered when Jamie had been working out with Allison, it's different when they know what's happening. Dealing with someone as strong as Hightower ... Not only was he more likely to recognize what was happening, he was strong enough to fight back, and – just possibly – to win. And, in this case, winning was as simple as waking up before we could do anything; which is what he had been doing up to this point. "But what if he's expecting a change?" Allison had asked when I brought it up. "Wouldn't that just make it worse?" I asked. "If he's expecting us, he'll be prepared, and..." "I'm not talking about you," she said. "A dream," Jamie said, nodding her head. "If his mind is expecting a dream, then it's already set to release control. You want us to get there early, before he starts dreaming. Instead of taking over his dream, we don't let him even start one; we move him directly into one of ours that's already running. Or, there's another option: he can see you in a dream, but he can't see you when he's awake. Well, we know where he is, so you should be able to get there. You can use Walter to anchor you if you need to; you've done it before. We catch him when he's awake and daydreaming or distracted." "Or both," Allison said. "Like when one of the girls is paying her respects; I'm betting he gets the same daily treatment these asshole parents get; only the girls rotate. He'll be in his own little fantasy world already." By now she was nodding her head at her own narrative. "Jamie can sneak into his daydream, catch him just as he pops his cork and his mind is somewhere else ... The bubble doesn't need to be hard; that can come later ... This will work!" "And if it doesn't?" I asked. "I hate to be the voice of gloom here, but this guy isn't like Henderson at the bank; he may still notice you once you try to get in. What if he catches you?" "Then I leave, or scream for help, or send Walter to tell you I'm in trouble. Either way, you pull me out." "Ah, but can he pull you out?" Allison asked. "That's the question, and it's one we need to answer before we go any further. Jamie, I know you can get out of me even if I try to stop you, but that may not be true with Hightower. Merge with me." "No," I said. "Doing it here doesn't mean anything. This needs to be a real world experiment." "Okay, then wake us up, and we'll do it in my room. Either way, we need to know. Now when we get there, we'll have to keep it down, or we'll wake up mom and dad, so this is how it's going to work: Jamie, you merge with me, make sure I know you're there," she hesitated before going on. "Maybe we should try this here first. Jimmy? Do you even have any idea how to go about pulling Jamie back from somewhere else? It didn't work in the warehouse with Kurtz, although that may have been due to something else..." "Like just getting my ass kicked and being distracted by the pain?" "And in the process of bleeding to death internally?" She added. "Yeah, that's kind of what I was thinking, but, even when she was dying that first time – when we found out there was a limit to how long she could stay out – you couldn't pull her back inside yourself, she had to do it. Can you pull her back into you now, here, just like we are?" I shrugged my shoulders and reached for Jamie, but Allison slapped my hand away. "Uh-uh, no touching; you're not going to be there physically if Bastion gets her." It took a little experimentation, but eventually we decided that my not being able to get Jamie back in the warehouse was due to other factors – not the least of which was that our energy level had been so low – but also because we had never taken time to learn how. What followed amounted to a game of 'hide and seek', with Jamie moving around and me finding her and pulling her back. Lizzy sensed us playing and asked what we were doing. When we told her, she pointed out that Allison would not be a true test. "You should try it with me," she said. "Hightower is stronger than Allison – he has his own gift. My gift is different, but it's still more than Allison has. I think I could probably hold onto her better." She smiled at Allison and gave her a wink. "Well, maybe not better, but stronger." "Thanks," Allison said, blowing her a little kiss, "but I knew what you meant, and I think it's a good idea. When we move to real world testing, Jamie can go to you, and then we'll see if Jimmy can get her back. Let's try it here first and see if it makes a difference." These girls are so smart it's scary. It was harder – a lot harder – to get Jamie out of Lizzy. The only thing left was real-world testing, so Jamie went with Lizzy, I went back to the apartment, and Allison stayed in the cabana, waiting for us to come back with the results. Not being able to touch her in the dream had made it harder. Not being able to even see her made it harder still. It was a bit of a struggle, but I got her back, and we all went back to sleep to compare notes. "Ouch," Lizzy said as soon as we were all together. "Painful?" I asked. "Ugh! Kind of like being raped that first time, only this was all in my mind. It was like you pulled a piece of barbed wire through my head – you know, in one ear and out the other." She stopped me before I could apologize. "Don't," she said. "It's an analogy, and a good one, but this was still something I volunteered for, and I would do it again to keep Jamie safe. In fact, I think we need to do it one more time, only this time, Jamie, I want you to try to get out at the same time Jimmy is trying to pull you free. I want to see if it's easier with both of you making the effort." "It took a lot of energy, didn't it?" Allison asked. Lizzy glanced at both me and Jamie before nodding. "Yeah it did. They're not really low, but it's a noticeable difference." "No," I said. "We don't need to do that. Jamie said before that she could get out even if Allison resisted, but that she would have to hurt her. What we did just now hurt you, and it hurt you a lot if you used the rape analogy. There's no doubt that Jamie and I both actively working to get her free would make it easier, but it may hurt you a lot more, possibly even damage your mind. I'm not willing to take that chance, and he can't keep her no matter what." I looked at Jamie and held her eye for a moment, asking a silent question that I never thought I would have to ask. She returned my stare for a moment and then nodded before looking away. She understood the risk and accepted it. "No!" Lizzy said. "No! Jamie you can't..." Jamie didn't answer or argue, she just vanished; she didn't come home, she went away. Lizzy turned to me with tears in her eyes. "How could you? Jimmy, you can't let her..." Allison stopped her with a touch on her arm, "It's her decision Lizzy; she knows how important it is, and she's volunteering to take the risk. This is a very brave thing she's doing, Elizabeth, and very much against her nature. Don't take it away from her." Lizzy looked at her for a moment and then dissolved into tears. Allison held her as she wept, and, when the worst had passed, I stepped in behind her and wrapped my arms around them both as best I could. One way or the other, Hightower couldn't hold Jamie long. If he caught her and we couldn't break her free, then she would die. Obviously, that hadn't happened, and all our preparations and practice were unnecessary, but I'd much rather have taken the time to practice than be unprepared. At least this way if everything went horribly wrong, and I lost my sister, I'd know that we had done our best and that – in the end – it had been her decision. I don't know if I could have forgiven myself otherwise. While I was playing Mission Impossible with Hightower and distracting the 'conscious' part of him, Jamie had been busy generating little mini dreams to learn about Hightower's past and see if she could find out other things – like where the blackmail material was – on her own. It didn't matter which of us found it, as long as one of us did. She had learned a lot, but I got to the information we really wanted first. Once I had it, she had taken over Hightower's sleeping body and mimicked his movements in the dream to open the hidden door and gain access to the server room. Then she had sent him back to bed, gone back to get our body, and – with Walter along just in case – had come back and stolen the server. She left Hightower with the safe and secure notion that all was well and there was no need to even think about that room, much less go in there, thus buying us the time we would need to go through the server and do some selective editing. The really sad part in all this was that, aside from his sleazier activities, Hightower ran a pretty decent church. He was a good speaker and an encouragement to his people; he really made a difference in their lives. Not all of them were involved in his little sideshow, after all. I don't know how effective he would have been without his gift, but I couldn't help wondering how much he might have accomplished if he hadn't had the distraction of running his side business. His little empire really only comprised about twelve percent of the church body. Oddly enough, most of the security people didn't even know what was going on behind those closed doors, only that they were not to disturb the deacons once they closed and locked the doors. Thanks to Hightower, it never even occurred to any of them to question why the room was soundproof. Thinking of what Sam and the other girls must have endured behind those doors gave me an idea, and, after we had reached the beach and they had all had a chance to exchange hugs, I asked Sam about it. The grin on her face and gleam in her eye was awesome to behold. She was a little worried about going back, but I sent Jamie along – disguised as me of course – to help out and keep her safe. Let me tell you: hearing Bastion scream as she rammed that big dildo up his ass put a smile on everyone's faces. ------- Chapter 35: Details, details Christine's surgery had gone smoothly, and she was back on her feet in no time. The doctor released her for school after only a few days, but certifying her safe to fly would take a while longer, and as a result, she was shut out of the simulators as well. It may seem like a silly thing, but the goal was to make the educational experience mirror the real world as closely as possible, and pilots had to be physically capable of handling all possible aspects of the job, including emergencies, so she had to wait. Fortunately, that only extended to real world simulations, not the ones she played with at night, so she was in no danger of losing any of her new-found skills. And then there were the other things she could still do in her sleep, regardless of her physical condition. We had to have Walter come in and distract Widget the first night so we could be alone. They chased each other around the jungle while Christine thanked me for looking out for her. In a week's time, we had patterns in place in all the girls and most of the adults we were trying to save. It would have taken longer if Allison hadn't come up with the idea of breaking the larger balls up. She had been working on a study project involving cellular division when the idea occurred to her. She wasn't even sure it would work at first, but with Lizzy on hand to oversee the process, we managed to get through it. If you divided them down too small they became unstable, but to a point it seemed to work just fine. On the one hand, it was great because it really sped things up, but on the other, I was a little saddened because, well ... it sped things up, and Christine and I – and Jamie of course – really enjoyed the creative process. We also discovered that Jamie was correct: not only were the other girls not strong enough to trigger a quickening with Christine, but it was even worse if she was with them, because – as she had suggested – she actually took energy away from process rather than contributing to it. It still took most of January to get set up to take down Hightower. After we finally had him securely locked down, we still had to figure out – or rather Jamie and Allison had to figure out – a way to wrap this all up without loose ends; hopefully, without creating more problems along the way. All, of course, without attracting attention to me – which was going to be difficult at best; too many people in high places already knew David Malcolm was involved in taking Bastion down. With technical support from Rebecca's friend Dillon – who ran a high-end spy shop in LA – we had acquired three fresh hard drives identical to the ones in Hightower's rig, set up a second RAID array, and begun selectively moving data from the original array to the new one. It was slow going because we had to keep changing the date and time settings so that the file attributes would not be lost. That meant we had to find everything we wanted, set it up in sequence by the date on the original file, and change the date in the computer so that it would correctly time-stamp the new copies before we could move them. It was slow, tedious work, but thanks to our time with Bart Reston – another specialist Rod had referred me to when it first looked like I may have to change my name and run – we knew just how critical it was that there be no hint of what we had really done. Bart's official title was "Forensic Technologist", and he was a master at manipulating data. Part of his job was creating backgrounds and false identities for agents working in the field – backgrounds that would hold up to scrutiny from the best hackers bad money, and foreign governments, could buy. The most time consuming part was that we had to actually look at all of it to make sure we didn't transfer anything damaging by accident. Watching all the video was especially painful, but in the end it paid off big time. Nestled in among the other video was footage of several punishment sessions, and, just as important, documentation of Autumn's sale to a foreign national, including all of the contacts. Getting Autumn out of the country had been simple enough once the deal was made; Bastion simply drugged her to make her more pliable and then commanded her to go with the nice gentleman. Fake documents had been prepared identifying her as the man's daughter, and, under Bastion's control, she accepted the role without question. By the time she came out of it, it was far too late. In the end it was these things – the punishment video and proof that Bastion sold Autumn into slavery – that gave Allison the idea for how to end this once and for all. Eventually this could all end up in court, and the defense would surely bring in their own cyber-forensics team to try and prove that the government was setting Bastion up in yet another attempt to persecute him. That's why we couldn't just delete the information from the original drives and be done with it. The methods necessary to make the data truly unrecoverable left very clear evidence that something had been deleted, and that might be enough for reasonable doubt in the case. We couldn't afford that, so we had to do it the long slow way – meticulously, one piece at a time – including a lot of the extraneous stuff that accumulates in a computer over time. If all we had on the new drives were perfectly preserved files, that would raise a red flag all by itself. We were actually going to do some not quite perfect erasures on some files that implicated Hightower; this would make it look like he had tried to delete the files personally, especially considering the password and encryption protections he had in place. While we were trying to figure out how to do that, I remember what he said about the virus that would be set off if anyone without the proper password tampered with the system. With Reston's help we not only isolated the virus, but re-wrote it to only go after specific files. It took several weeks, but eventually we had it all set up the way we needed it and took the server back. One of the trickiest parts of the whole operation would normally be not disturbing the existing fingerprints. Fortunately we didn't have to worry about that; all we had to do was have Hightower go in after we put it back and move it around; a loose mouse cable was all the excuse we needed for that. The really tricky part was leaving the right amount of dust on top of the machine to make it credible. Now that the evidence we wanted found – well, not really wanted, but didn't care if they found – was in place, it was just a matter of waiting until all the other matters had resolved themselves. If everything went as planned, I wouldn't even know it was happening until it was over. Amy's birthday was February 12th, which was a Monday this year. You don't generally see a lot of big parties on Mondays, but Rico Girard had been planning this celebration for years. His annual conference always started on Her Birthday, and ended with a big Valentine's Day Gala, and everyone was encouraged to bring their significant others and celebrate. The big finale always started, if possible, with the same speech, "What kind of party would you throw if one of your family – a son, a daughter, a brother or sister, or even just an old friend – suddenly woke up after years alone in the dark? That is the celebration we're having tonight..." He would then introduce any of the awakenings that had occurred over the previous year. This was always greeted with wild applause, standing ovations, and cheering as everyone – doctors, nurses, vendors, insurance carriers, everyone – welcomed them back to the world. It wasn't always like that; sometimes there were no guests to honor. For those occasions, he had a different speech: "There are no special guests this year, so instead we will celebrate the hope we have for next year. We will celebrate tonight, and then tomorrow we will go home, some back to our jobs, caring for our charges as best we can, so that when their day does come, they are in the best possible state to make the best possible recovery. Others will go back to their research, and they will bust their asses to find anything that can move us even the smallest step forward in our care or treatment of these beloved individuals. Ladies and gentleman..." he would raise his glass, " ... to Hope!" The consolation speech always got a standing ovation as well; it just wasn't quite as wild and didn't last nearly as long. The same could be said for the party itself. This year Rico was pulling out all the stops, because this year, She was coming. You heard the buzz of rumor all around the conference from the moment they opened the doors. And it hadn't started then, oh no. Long before the conference, people had been asking, "Is it true? Is She really going to be there?" No one in the industry had to ask who She was; they all knew Amy's story. Every year since the founding of the conference, her picture – the last one taken before the accident – graced the front of the podium. The news of her rescue – coming as it had in such a dramatic way with the end of the long hunt for the Sandman – had made all the papers and major media outlets, but for most people it was just a name in the paper. The rumor of her awakening, though ... well, that was a rumor, and everyone knows how those travel. Tickets for the Gala had sold out so fast you would have thought the Rolling Stones were playing the benefit. As a result, the hotel – Rico's biggest – had moved everything else they had booked for that week to one of their other locations. A couple of the events had complained at first, but once they were told the reason for the change of venue, both clients were more than happy to comply. One had been a popular talk show host doing a tour as a motivational speaker. He had asked for, and received, tickets to the Gala. They were offered as a gift for his cooperation, but he insisted on paying for them. And, of course, I was doing my part. Aside from setting up a place for Amy and Walter to practice dancing together, I had also commissioned a very special dress for her. It was going to be a grand event. Christine was bummed that she wouldn't be able to attend the Gala, but since she didn't know Amy, and had only met her sister the one time when we were skiing, she didn't mind that much. Mostly she just thought it sounded like it was going to be one of those 'Lifetime' events that didn't come along often. Allison, on the other hand, was totally pissed when I told her she couldn't go. "The hell I can't!" She retorted. "Me, miss Amy's party? Sooo not happening." "But how can you... ?" "Don't bother," she said. "I'm going; that's final." "Allison, dear," Mom began. I'd made the trip out to do this in person just so I could have her in my corner. "Mother," Allison said warningly. "Oh shit," Jamie said. "She used the M-word." "Mom," Allison continued, putting her hand on my mom's. "I love you, but stay out of this. He only came in person because he knew you would take his side." "Now, Allison Ann..." my mother began. "Ohmygod!" Jamie exclaimed. "Dude, I am so out of here. Call me when the shooting stops." "Hey!?" "I'm kidding." "Don't Allison Ann me," Allison said, cutting her off. "I'm Charlie now, Charlotte if you're pissed at me, and he knew damn well I wasn't going to go along with this. He's just trying to drag you into the middle because he knows that you'll back him up. Go ahead, ask him." "James?" my mom had said, cocking her head and adding a silent question mark after the name. I resisted the urge to give 'Charlie' a dirty look. "That is not the only reason I came in person, Mom. Charlotte and I talked about it before Christmas, and she told me she thought you would really like to see me." "Not the only reason," she said with a frown. "Charlie, you're forgiven, and you're right about the name; I'm sorry. Now, what's going on? One at a time ... James?" "It's too dangerous," I said. "If we're together, the wrong people may recognize us, realize who she is, and then follow her back to you." She nodded her head and turned to Allison. "Charlotte Montgomery is no one anybody is going to be interested in. She looks nothing like Allison Matthews, and nobody who sees her in a crowd of a couple thousand people is going to have reason to suspect any different. The people who know David Malcolm is really Jimmy I can count with my shoes on and one hand tied behind my back, and only a few of them will even be there. Not to mention that there is no reason whatsoever for James or Allison Matthews to be invited to – or attend – a party for Amy, whom they've never even met." She was right about Charlotte Montgomery not looking like Allison. The changes were simple but striking, tinted highlights in her hair and a more ... severe style of cut. Her tan; I thought she had tanned well in Southern California, but here, under the tropical sun ... wow! And she wore it well, too, dressing to accent the new style she had adopted. She had talked about going more toward a punk-not-quite-goth look – Abby from NCIS was her television hero – but she didn't want people drawing the parallel, so she had gone the other direction instead. Her clothing choices were now somewhere between the prep-nerd and the junior vice president. When she was at school, she was all business, sporting a very conservative, no-nonsense look: straight skirts or slacks, low heels or pumps. Island weather didn't leave room for a jacket, so she stayed with simple blouses or polo shirts. Being on a home study program, her visits were really only to check in, test, or do lab work she couldn't do at home anyway. The polo shirts went just as well with her casual look, usually matched with board shorts of varying lengths. As for beachwear ... I'd grown up with her in bikinis most of her life, but now she tended to wear board shorts or wraps over the bottoms most of the time, only taking them off when she was going into the water; which she did a lot. When she was surfing, she wore competition grade suits. It generally only takes one time losing your suit because a wave popped your strings before the girls learn to respect the water. Swimming had become her primary exercise as well, and her body was filling out nicely, which was a good thing since her uh ... body was filling out nicely. She was also playing for one of the local volleyball clubs, and planning to try out for the college team once she reached the level where she could attend full time, which – at the rate she was going – wouldn't be more than another year. I was now convinced that she had really been holding back all these years. Someone that had seen her sunbathing over the years might put two and two together if they saw her just coming up out of the water with her hair slicked back, but dressed up with her hair and makeup done? She was right; it was unlikely that anyone who had seen her just the few short months ago – before she disappeared – would recognize her. "She's right," Jamie said. "Besides, who says we have to give anyone a chance to follow her? We've got a suite; we'll just bring her straight there and back. We can fake up a ticketless flight itinerary, have your folks drop her off at the airport and pull her out of the bathroom or something." "I don't know if that will work in the airports here; they're not that big." "Whatever," she said. "We'll work that out later. Now suck it up, make nice, and tell her she can come. Then you better do something nice for your mom so she doesn't think that really was the only reason you came in person." I was traveling under my 'other' identity, so it was Matthew Jameson who had reservations to take them all to the luau at the Westin. It's a really nice show; check it out if you ever get the chance. We got around the airport problem by scheduling her flight for a time when both my parents were at work and having her catch a shuttle from one of the local hotels. It would have been really nice if she could have come early, and we could have seen some of the sights, but David Malcolm was a known entity, and for him to be seen around town in the company of a young girl risked attracting attention. Besides, it was cold as hell, and everything was frozen over anyway. Bringing her straight to the hotel as I did kept her out of the worst of it, and Lizzy was bringing an extra jacket for her when she and Amber came – just in case we wanted to go out. I took her downstairs just long enough to introduce her as one of my party, get her a key, and make sure they knew she was cleared to charge whatever she wanted to my room. Otherwise she stayed inside where it was warm most of the time. We had dinner with Bob and Rebecca the first night, and neither of them recognized her when she walked into the dining room. She had me wait while she went in, and it wasn't until she spoke – telling them that I would be along in a minute – that they realized it was she. Looking back, I now realized that the dream image we all had of her still reflected the girl we knew before, and as I said, the recent changes were rather striking. "Where's Amy?" Allison had asked. "I thought she'd be here with you." "She's flying in tomorrow," Rebecca answered. "Rico was afraid she would be a distraction if she got here early. He's probably right; the buzz about her attending the conference got the attention of the local media and got them asking questions. I've had two requests for interviews already, and just so you know, you're sitting with us for the gala, along with Rod and Selena." "Will we all fit?" Allison asked. "You know Lizzy and Amber are coming, too, right?" "Of course," Rebecca said. "The tables seat eight, so this way we have the whole table. It works out perfectly." "What did the doctors say?" Allison asked. "They said she could try," Rebecca said. The look on her face and her tone said she still had strong reservations about Amy exerting herself too much. "I made her promise to take it easy. One dance, and then we'll see how she feels. She's asked for David to dance with her." She turned to me, "David, are you strong enough to catch her if she starts to fall?" "Oh yeah, no problem," I assured her. "Are you sure?" she asked. "He's sure," Allison assured her, and then her face lit with an idea. "But don't take my word for it, let's go dancing!" Glances were exchanged all around, and suddenly we had plans for the night. We got directions to an upscale local club that featured Swing, Salsa, and several of the other, more energetic, ballroom styles. All the practice Bob and Rebecca had put in really showed in their dancing, and several times they were spotlighted and received rounds of applause. We weren't in their league, but I think they were impressed with Allison and me as well. Hey, we knew it was coming up, and we had wanted to make sure we didn't embarrass ourselves, so we had been practicing as well – as had Amber and Easy, although it was a little harder for them since they had to take turns leading. All in all, it was a great night. The only spot of tension was when we first arrived and Rebecca had approached the bouncer and asked to speak to the manager. At first he took it personally that she thought she needed to go over his head for something, but a discreet flash of her ID got her an audience very quickly. When he tried to send her with someone else, she had quietly insisted that he leave the new guy at the door and take her himself. Once in the office she made it clear that she was not here in any official capacity, but just to have a good time. The reason she had wanted to see the manager was that she needed a safe place to leave her gun. The reason she wanted the head bouncer there was so that he would understand who she was and make sure his people made an extra effort to insure that nothing happened that she might be required to take official notice of; someone getting a little pick-me-up or mood enhancement in the ladies room was not something she was worried about, but someone dealing in the ladies room would be an issue. Not that she was under the idea that anything like that would ever be allowed in the club, but ... Everyone understood the 'but', and there were no incidents while we were there. It was late, and we were pleasantly worn out by the time we got back to the room. A half hour soak in the heart shaped two-person spa tub, and we were ready for bed. Let me tell you, a whole night, uninterrupted, with Allison snuggled to my side, was a real treat. Lizzy and Amber arrived the next day, and the women spent the entire afternoon in the salon getting primped, pampered, manicured, and coiffed for the big event. When Amber came out of the bedroom in her prom dress I almost cried. At first I thought it was Angela, but then I noticed the choker at her throat. It was a simple strip of brushed suede, dyed to match the dress, with a small dangle hanging from the front. If you looked closely you would notice that the dangle was actually a lock securing the leather around her throat. I recognized the dragon shape as the one that graced the first collar I had given her, back when she was seeing Jasmine for training and learning who she was. "Do you like it, Master?" she asked when she knew I had noticed it. "I like it very much, Amber," I said. "Wherever did you get it?" "My Mistress had it made for me," she said in a voice that reminded me of any five-year-old showing off a new necklace. "We were talking about what I could wear that would reflect who I am without being too obvious and I remembered this little guy from my training dreams. I drew it up and she had a local jeweler make it for me. It took a couple tries before we found someone who could do it, but she found this one guy, a really sweet old guy, who put himself through college as a locksmith when he was younger. He was so excited when he saw the design, and we told him what we wanted. It's not really finished yet, but he said I could take it for the weekend." "I think it's fabulous," I said, kissing her softly. "Thank you Master," she said, and then raised her voice and called, "Okay Allison! You're up!" The door opened and all I could think was "Wow!" She was wearing a black cocktail dress that hugged her shape nicely. It was very sexy, yet conservative enough that she was in no danger of flashing anything; not on accident anyway. Still, I wanted to jump her on the spot. Neither prepared me for my fiancé. When the door opened the third time and Easy stepped out into the light ... suddenly I couldn't breathe. Somehow she had captured the essence of her dream dress – the one she wore to the garden to meet me – in a style and material that would move well while dancing. It was simple, yet elegant, the material light and ethereal but at the same time heavy enough to drape properly. I think it was the garland of flowers woven into her hair that really brought it home for me. There was no way they were going to survive the night, but for now ... My knees still get weak when I think of it. "Okay, you two," Allison said, breaking the spell. "First rule: kisses are limited to cheeks and hands. For tonight I think it would be best if lips were considered off limits. If either of you feels the need for more, Amber or I will be happy to accommodate you, but we don't want this turning into the biggest spontaneous orgy in American history, so behave yourselves!" Everybody was on the edge of their seats as Rico went through his traditional speech. This year's version included more history than usual as he led up to Amy's introduction. He introduced the other three awakenings first, then the directors of both of the facilities that Amy had spent time in, as well as every person that had ever attended her. Neither Allison nor I were in the room for most of it, having slipped away to prepare for Amy's introduction. Allison went to the little room Amy was waiting in and prepared to push her wheelchair out into the main room. Meanwhile, I was in a different room preparing my personal surprise. The door locked securely, I stepped across into dream space, and when I returned I was a foot taller, with shoulder-length black hair tied into a tight ponytail and wearing a black tuxedo, with tails. As Rico finished his speech, the lights suddenly went out, and a curtain was rolled back. Seconds later, Rico spoke into the darkness, "Ladies and gentleman, won't you please join me in welcoming this year's guest of honor, Miss Amy Lynn Hampton, to her birthday party." A spotlight flashed on to reveal Amy sitting in her wheelchair wearing the gown I had commissioned for her. Instantly the room erupted into cheers as everyone surged to their feet. We'll never know how long the cheering would have gone on, but it slowed down considerably as Allison stepped forward and began pushing Amy's wheelchair into the room and onto the big dance floor in front of the podium. When the spotlight was close enough, everyone suddenly noticed the tall man waiting on the floor for her. Walter bowed deeply before stepping forward and extending his hand to Amy. Allison held her chair firmly as he kissed her hand, and there was a collective gasp and then more applause as he helped her gently to her feet. Her smile was radiant as he took her in his arms and slipped his hand through the strap at the back of her dress. The strap was part of the special harness that was sown into her dress specifically so that he could help hold her up. It was exactly the shade of Walter's hand, so it was unlikely anyone would notice it while they danced, and up until that moment had been hidden behind a second zipper on the back of her dress. I don't know whether she could have made it through the dance on her own or not, but we were taking no chances. In that dress, he could have carried her around the dance floor like a grown man dancing with his five-year-old daughter. The music started, and everyone stood in awe as Walter and Amy waltzed around the floor; and I do mean waltzed; the choice of dance having been dictated by the need for Walter to keep his hand securely in the strap. It was very elegant and did a wonderful job of showing just how far Amy had come in her recovery. When the dance was over, Walter returned her to her chair and presented her with the bunch of roses that Allison was holding for her. Then, bowing low once more, he turned and walked off into the darkness and disappeared. Well, he didn't actually disappear, but he stepped behind one of the many curtains that hid the surrounding walls. As soon as he stepped away, Allison began pushing Amy's chair over to our table where the girls quickly made room for her. Rico stepped to the podium and said a few words of thanks to everyone as they moved through the crowd. This got everyone seated again and kept them at their own tables long enough for Allison to get Amy safely to the table. Without it there is a good chance they would have been mobbed coming off the dance floor. A few moments later I rejoined the group and did my best to ignore the look in Rebecca's eyes. It was a hard look to describe, but the one thing I was sure was in there was a question. "You are in deep shit, my friend," Bob whispered softly, leaning close. "Spectacular move, but you've got some serious explaining to do. "Who the hell was that?" Rod asked. I was ready for the question – there was no way it wasn't coming up – and had a story prepared. I had even told Amy while we were dancing, but I was surprised when she answered for me, "He's a professional dancer David hired to make sure nothing would go wrong to spoil my dance." She turned to look at me. "But you're not off the hook. You owe me a dance, and I plan to collect." "I'm sorry, Amy," I said, raising my voice as the music came up, and around us people started to rise and make their way onto the floor. "I know you asked me to be your first dance, but I couldn't risk something happening and you getting hurt, so I asked Walter to stand in on my behalf." I could see Rebecca's eyes widen suddenly, and knew I had answered the question I had seen there moments before. "I'm a bit of a runt, and I didn't trust myself to catch you if your strength gave out. But I promise you I will dance with you at Rebecca's wedding in June, okay?" "Okay," she said. "I'll forgive you this time because I know you were only looking out for me, but next time I want you." "Deal," I said. "How did the dress work out? The harness didn't tug or bind, did it?" "It was great," she said, smiling. "Thank you, David." "So that's why you wouldn't let anyone see her dress before tonight?" Rebecca said. "Right," I said with a big smile. "I didn't want to give it away, and if you'd seen the dress, you might have wondered what was different about the back of it." "Sneaky," Rod said, and then he rose and offered his hand to his wife and led her out onto the floor. People started dropping by the table to meet Amy and say all the things you expect to hear at such an event. I took turns dancing with all the girls. As I was dancing with Elizabeth, I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to find Bob standing beside me. "May I cut in?" he asked. The smile on Rebecca's face behind him made we wonder if it was safe, but I bowed slightly and handed Lizzy off to him before moving to take up Rebecca's hand. "Before I kill you," Rebecca began, "let me just say that you are the most amazing young man I have ever met. And I am not talking about what you did so much as the fact that you would even consider doing it. That being said, I want a straight answer: Was that really who I think it was?" "Yes," I said, spinning her lightly out and away, and then drawing her back into position to continue. "How is that possible?" She asked as we moved gracefully through the crowd around us. Rebecca is a really good dancer. "If you really want to know, ask me again later, and I promise I'll tell you. All I ask is that you don't share it with anyone, especially your boss. I think he's freaked out enough at just the stuff he already knows I can do." "I know," she said, "and that doesn't even count the stuff I know he suspects; and I'm now beginning to suspect that even that is just the tip of the iceberg. You're not going to tell me everything, are you?" "No," I said. "Good," she said just as the music stopped. With a bow and a curtsy, we thanked each other for the dance and returned to our original partners for the next round. "She's really conflicted about this," Lizzy said as we held each other close through a slow dance. "Good conflicted or bad?" I asked. "Mostly good. She's happy. There is a motherly kind of loving glow all around her, strongest when she looks at Amy, but with a prideful undercurrent when she's thinking of you." "But?" I pressed. "Fear, of course," she confirmed. "It comes and goes; my guess is she wants to trust you, but it's hard to think about what you're capable of and not be a little afraid." "That's to be expected, I guess. Do you think it's something I need to be worried about?" "No," she said. "She seems to be working through it pretty well." "What about Rod?" I asked. "He's hard to read; he covers well and keeps himself under tight control. Comes with the job, I guess. I don't think he suspects anything about Walter, but there is a level of ... discomfort, I suppose." "Suspicion?" I asked. "Hard to say," she said. "Amber is having a really good time tonight, though, in case you hadn't noticed." I had noticed, actually. All three of the girls had been asked numerous times to dance; Lizzy usually declined, and Amber always looked to one of us for permission before accepting. Allison was managing her own dance card and everyone was rotating so that someone stayed with Amy at all times. During one energetic set, Allison had danced with Bob and Rebecca while the other two danced with me, and Rod and Selena stayed with Amy. I was surprised at one point – about an hour in – when I glanced over and saw Rod pull out a cell phone and walk towards the door. I hadn't even realized he had one with him, but I guess when you run an office for an organization like the FBI, you need to be available pretty much all the time. I hoped it wasn't anything important enough that he might have to leave, but then, he was over three thousand miles from his usual jurisdiction, so it wasn't like they could expect him to drop everything and rush down to the office. Shortly after that, the girls informed me that it was time to leave. "Oooh, play time!" Jamie said. I suspected she was right since it was still fairly early and none of us were tired. If anything, we were more energized due to all the dancing. I was all set for a fun evening when they dropped the bomb. "You want to do what?" I demanded. "Lizzy and I have been talking about some of my theories, and we decided the best way to test them out was for Lizzy to see what happens when you and Jamie kiss with someone else in the middle." "You don't mean..." I began. "No," Allison assured me. "Don't be silly. For one thing you're waiting, and this is hardly the place to take that kind of a risk. Besides, she can't observe if she's in the middle of it. We were thinking Amber might like to be our guinea pig for the evening." "Sweet!" Amber said excitedly. "What are we doing?" "Recreating the wildest time of my life," Allison said. "Back when Jamie first arrived we were experimenting with some stuff and discovered a serious side effect to her being with other people. You know how it is kissing them both, how much more intense it is? That's like nothing compared to this." "Really?" Amber asked, eyes wide. "I can't wait to..." "No," I said, shaking my head. "Not for this. I understand what you want to do, and why, and I understand why you think this is the perfect place, since god only knows when we'll all be together in the same place again, but not like this. She has to understand, and it has to be her choice. Amber, take off your collar." I sent Angela and Allison into the other room so Allison could explain everything that was about to happen – or at least everything that we knew and understood about what had happened before – while I talked with Lizzy. "I take it you've been planning this for some time?" I asked. "Not really. We talked about it a little while ago. I was worried about what she had said about you being sterile, and she told me her theory about what it would take for your DNA to survive long enough to do the deed. She thought at first that if Jamie stayed with the girl, you know ... after, that she could provide the necessary energy." "Only Jamie uses energy," I said, nodding my head. "We had a similar discussion not too long ago, only we were talking about whether any of you girls might be able to trigger a bud with Christine if she went with you. We concluded that Jamie was more likely to hinder the process than promote it." "Exactly," she said. "Allison's not sure if any of us contain enough at any given time to insure the survival of the little swimmers; we don't store your energy, after all, it just connects us to you and passes through us when Jamie needs it. At least that's the theory so far." "And you're just going to watch all of this with me and Angela?" "Well..." she rolled her eyes and bumped my shoulder with hers, "for a while anyway. One of the reasons we both wanted Allison to be here for it – besides having an observer with a different perspective – was so I'd have someone to play with. You know I love to watch, especially you, and especially you with Amber, but I don't know how long I can take that kind of show without getting in on a little action myself, and I don't want to risk getting 'caught up in the experiment' so to speak, so Allison is going to be there for me when the time comes as well." "You girls are so smart it scares me." "Hey, you're no slouch either, man-of-mine. I know you don't consider yourself the brains of this outfit – and with Allison around, how could you – but you're still one of the smartest people I've ever met; especially when it comes to people. Your grasp of human psychology is amazing, even Bob thinks so." About that time the bedroom door opened, and the conversation didn't so much end as make a dynamic shift. Angela was so excited she could hardly stand it. Her first thought had been to recreate prom night and let me help her out of her dress, but Allison had warned her that it may not be wearable afterward, so she had come out in just her underwear. She looked smokin' hot in just the purple bra and panty set – and her heels of course. I don't know what it is about shoes that changes things, but boy does it change the mood and vibration in the room. "So?" I asked, staring into Angela's eyes. "You still want to do this?" "Oh yeah!" She assured me. The look on her face and in her eyes was pure, bring-it-on, lust. "Okay then," I said with a smile. "Who am I to stand in the face of scientific advancement?" I reached and took her hand, and I could feel Jamie moving over into her, at which point she bit her lip and said, "Tingly, I like it." "That's just Jamie teasing you," Allison said, rolling her eyes. "If she didn't want you to, you wouldn't even know she was there." Suddenly, Angela's eyes got wide, and she giggled as she said, "I think she just struck her tongue out at you! God, that is so weird, it was like I could feel it." She let go of my hand, took a deep breath and let it out, and kind of settled herself into a more comfortable stance. "Okay, we're ready. Or at least ... I think we are." "Okay, well just hold on a second," Allison said, then turned to Lizzy and pulled her over by the other bed. I think she was going for a safe distance away but it may have just been for observation purposes as she asked her, "What do you see so far? Anything different?" "They're both anxious – the girls that is, Jimmy is just nervous. Other than that it looks pretty normal." "Alright then," Allison said, "go for it, but try not to get too caught up, this is supposed to be about learning, and we may have to stop you from time to time." I just rolled my eyes as I moved forward to kiss Angela. "Wow," Lizzy said, as soon as my hand touched her. I dropped my hand away and turned to her. "What?" "I'm not sure," she said, "but there was a definite change when your hand touched hers this time." "Different from when they were holding hands for Jamie to move?" Allison asked. "Way different," Lizzy confirmed. "That was just ... I don't know ... normal I guess. This was ... different." "Okay," Allison said, "my guess is it's something to do with the emotion behind this action compared to the first one. That was like crossing a street; this is going somewhere with a totally different destination in mind. Sorry, go ahead." I looked back at my partner. "She takes all the fun out of it." "Not all," Angela assured me, then she reached her hand up to brush my face. I mirrored the movement and leaned in for the kiss. It was everything I remembered, and I found myself lost in the sensation of kissing her. Every sense seemed to be heightened, and I would swear I could count the taste buds on her tongue with mine – if I'd been able to think and focus long enough. It was just short of what I felt with Lizzy in that I still felt the passage of time and got to enjoy the kiss. I don't know how long it actually lasted, but suddenly Angela seemed to slump in my arms, and I had to catch her and help her to the bed so she could sit down. As I was doing that, I noticed that Lizzy was now sitting on the other bed staring very intently away from us. "Are you okay?" I asked. It was a general question, and I wasn't looking at either of them when I asked it, so I guess I shouldn't have been surprised when they both answered. "Wow!" Angela said, still wavering a little as she sat on the edge of the bed. "That was incredible! And I don't know..." At the same time Lizzy was saying, "I'm okay, it's just ... I wasn't prepared for what happened, and ... I'm sorry Angela, you go ahead." "No, it's cool. I was just saying that I don't know what it did to Jamie, but she is like..." "Staggering around in your head like she's drunk and can't find the bathroom?" Allison asked. Angela giggled, "Yeah, something like that, only I don't think it's the bathroom she's really looking for. I don't think she knows what she's looking for, it's just..." Her voice trailed off. "What about you?" Allison asked Lizzy. "What happened? One second you were fine, the next, you practically fell off the bed you jerked so hard. Now you're just sitting there staring into space like..." "Like I'm blind?" Lizzy asked. "That's because I am ... sort of." "What?" Allison and I both asked together. I started to move towards her, but as soon as I took my hand away from Angela, she started to fall over. Meanwhile, Allison had jumped up and moved around into what should have been Lizzy's line of sight. "Oh good," Lizzy said, "it's starting to come back. I could see a vague sort of blur when you moved, but now it's hard to make out in the glare." "What glare?" Allison asked. "Them," Lizzy said, pointing at us with her head. "Mostly Angela, or, more likely, Jamie. You remember how when we first met, I couldn't look at him because it hurt my eyes? After Jamie showed up, it toned down, and ... I don't know if it got better, or I just got used to it, but, for the most part, it doesn't bother me anymore. Until now, that is. As soon as they kissed it was like ... you know how when you're watching a movie and the reel gets stuck? The heat from the bulb melts the film, and it looks like the whole scene just dissolved into that white glare? It was like that. Everywhere they touched it was like a hole formed, and I was staring at the sun at high noon. About a second in, I couldn't even tell them apart, and after that, I couldn't see anything at all." "What about now?" Allison asked. Lizzy glanced our way, but immediately spun away again, squeezing her eyes shut at the obvious pain. She shook her head and said, "It's like two stars went nova right next to each other. The only reason I can tell there are two, is that they're different colors. Jimmy's is still his normal bluish-silver, and Jamie's is more of a pure white, like burning phosphorous." "Are you okay to go on?" Allison asked. "I think so," Lizzy answered. "I don't know how much use I'll be, but as long as I don't look directly at them, I think I'll be okay." "Okay," Allison said. "Jamie, I don't know if you can hear me, but it's time for you to go home. Jimmy, you may need to help her." I felt Jamie come staggering back into me and had to sit down for a second. This was much worse than it had been the first time with Allison. "Jimmy?" Allison said. "As soon as you can stand again, I want you to go out into the other room for a second." "Okay," I said, standing up. "I'm good now; whatever it was, it's passed. Let me know when I can come back. The called me back in about five minutes later. "What happened?" I asked. "Apparently when Jamie went home she took all that excess energy with her. I'm guessing she's still a little out of it?" "Yeah, you could say that." In my head I had an image of Jamie flopped across a make believe leather couch, all but passed out." "Right," Allison said. It was then that I noticed she was now down to her underwear, and Angela was laying back on the bed, naked. "You've been busy," I said. "Hey!" she said defensively and shoved my arm a little. "I'm working. I wanted to see what kind of effect you'd had on her and how she reacted. The first part was the same as it was with me – like she had this huge, full-body orgasm, and then pretty much passed out. Then I needed to see how she would react to someone else before we turned you loose on her again. It was fun, but not really any different than any other time; I mean, as far as I could tell ... Lizzy says Jamie took that overwhelming energy with her when she went, so she could look at her again. She still can't see all that well yet, but she's getting better – or she was until you came back in. Lizzy?" "I'm okay," she said, still looking away. "He's just killer bright, and it makes my head hurt if I look too close. I'm going to try and focus on her and watch out of the corner of my eye to see what happens." "Okay then," Allison said. "Brace yourself Angie, it's show time. Jimmy, she's all yours." I know she was trying to be funny, but – just like before – as soon as I entered Angela, something changed. Suddenly it was like she couldn't get enough of me inside her, or keep it there long enough when she did. It didn't take long for Lizzy to figure out what was happening, and she explained that all the excess energy that Jamie had been carrying seemed to be flowing back into Angela through all of the contact points; the stronger and more intimate the connection, the greater the rate of flow. We ... mixed it up a little to see how it affected things, and – according to Lizzy – it gave new meaning to sucking the life out of someone. Allison speculated that what Jamie had literally been drunk on the extra energy that she had been flooded with and that she would recover as the levels got closer to normal. Fortunately for me she was recovered enough to take over by the time my energy – physical energy – started giving out. Once they had figured out what was happening, Allison and Lizzy decided they had worked hard enough and could enjoy themselves while the experiment ran its course. The two of them quickly got naked and Allison made sure that Lizzy wouldn't be blinded by the glare that was still pouring out of me. The night ended with as close of a re-enactment of prom night as the four of us could do. Amber had brought a couple toys which the other two took turns using on each other while pretending to be Tim and Cindy. The biggest difference was that, this time, Angela wanted to go through with the one thing she had passed on before. More surprising than that was that Allison wanted Lizzy to do the same to her, using a smaller toy, though, since it was her first time. Angela neither required nor desired any special attention, but Lizzy took extra time to make sure Allison was ready before penetrating her last virgin orifice, and together we rode them both into over-powering orgasms. Maybe it was the extra control she had learned as Amber, but this time Angela managed to stay conscious through the whole thing. Everyone was completely wiped out by the end. and Lizzy confirmed that my energy was back down to a bearable level but that Amber's was still considerably higher than normal – almost exactly at the level mine was. Allison speculated that what had happened was that the energy had flowed out of me and into her until it reached a balance point – like water between two containers that were connected by a pipeline. It was a nice effort on her part, but we were all too tired to care at the time, so we just threw both of the comforters over one of the beds, to cover the – several – large wet spots, and piled like puppies on top. Lizzy and Allison ended up cuddled to either side of me with Amber spooned up around her Mistress with an arm draped around her so she could be touching me as well – and we all drifted off to sleep. At which point I had some serious explaining to do. ------- Chapter 36: Explanations Cuddled up with the girls, I was reminded of one of the major drawbacks to my gift: twenty-four hour days. We were all worn out, but where the girls got to arrange themselves for sleep, I still had some serious explaining to do. The first step was to bubble Rebecca so that it would still be safe when we were through. This posed a unique problem since I wanted to be honest with Rebecca, and for her to understand what had happened. The problem was that neither of us wanted her to remember the details of how it was done. She was uncomfortable with the knowledge she already had of my abilities, and this... After discussing the situation with Bob he suggested that – by using a bubble – we may be able to let Rebecca pick and choose what she got out of it; from complete details, to just a feeling that she understood what had happened but didn't need to know the whole truth. I left Lizzy and Amber cuddled together someplace quiet and took Allison with me to meet with her and Bob. I switched the furniture in the cabana to something more business oriented, losing the bed and covering the sunken area where we usually sat and hung our feet in the water. "A lot has changed in the last six or eight months, Rebecca," I said. "I'd say so," she agreed. "It seems pretty obvious that your gifts are no longer limited to dreams." "Yes and no," I said. "Most of what I do is still dream related, or at least it seems to be. It's just that the dream environment itself has changed, and I seem to be changing with it, or it may actually be the other way around: I may be changing, and the dreamscape changing with me. In either case, the spaces that we've all been using these past months are not the same as they were when we started. Have you noticed that you and Bob can pretty much come to the beach anytime you want?" "Sure, but that's what those keys you gave us are for, isn't it?" "Yes and no," Allison said. "The keys gave you access to each others' dreams; they should not have given you access to this space. Remember how you used to have to ask, and then Jimmy would send you here? Somewhere along the line you stopped needing to ask." "Then how are we getting here?" Rebecca asked. "We're not really sure," I said. "At first we suspected that since I would allow it if I were here, that somehow – unconsciously or subconsciously – I was letting you come here. Allison now believes that theory to be wrong – or at least only be a partial explanation. Rebecca, somehow this space has become self-sustaining." "I don't understand what you mean by that," She said. "We're not really sure either," Bob said. "What we do know is that anyone who is close enough to Jimmy to have been here in the past, can now come here anytime they want, even if he is awake." "Wait a minute," she said, shaking her head. "I thought this place was just a dream. Granted, it's been a while since I was in school, but doesn't that make this a sort of subconscious projection that he created? I know it's probably not the right way to explain it, but haven't we, for all intents and purposes, been playing around in a little corner of his imagination somewhere all this time?" "No, you've got the basics right," Bob assured her. "As to where we really 'are', I have no idea, but I cannot discount your assumption either. Up until the change, I would have agreed with you that that's where we were actually going; either that, or in a tiny corner of each other's minds – depending on the chosen venue for the evening. Now?" He shook his head. "I have no idea. That could still be the case, because the subconscious still operates even when you're awake, but there have been other changes that that theory doesn't account for." "What kind of changes?" "You know Walter?" Bob asked. "I thought I knew about Walter?" she answered, turning to me. "You told me he was a sort of ... wolf-thing you'd met in a little boy's nightmare, and that you'd taken him over to stop the nightmares and help the boy deal with his stuttering. When Angela disappeared, you tried to have him help you find her, but that didn't work out. No one ever told me he was actually a man until after Amy woke up and thought she could see him. When I tried to explain to her that he wasn't real, she wouldn't hear of it and told me I was wrong. I let it go based on the fact that I was arguing with an eight year old, and she wasn't capable of understanding. I thought he was just sort of an imaginary friend, but after tonight ... That was him dancing with her tonight, wasn't it?" "Yes and no," I said. "Rebecca, we don't understand half of what is happening; we're working on it, but all we know for sure is that there is a lot more going on here than we ever – for lack of a better term – dreamed of. You know about what Lizzy sees when she looks at people?" "I wouldn't say I know – I certainly don't understand it – but she explained that she doesn't see people the way we do." "Right," I said. "Allison has a theory that what she sees is a sort of energy pattern that we each generate. She got the idea from something a Russian scientist discovered years ago. He theorized that all living creatures generated this sort of 'field', and that each one was unique. I think it had something to do with the electro-chemical energy driving our nervous systems, but I never really got into it. He even came up with a way to photograph it. I don't think any of his work ever got past the novelty stage, really, but the photographs – though crude – supported his theory." "Oh, it's more than a theory," Bob said, interrupting. "There is a lot more to what they call 'The Kirlian Effect' than just photography. The research actually began all the way back in the late 1930s, but it didn't really start going places until the early seventies, when the Russians released information about it. Since then – while sporadic – there has still been a lot of research done around the world. Romania spends over a million dollars a year on it. That may not sound like much, but you have to remember; Romania's entire economy doesn't equal that of half the states in the US. I also remember reading somewhere that there is a hospital in New York that has been using it to research different holistic medical ideas, including acupuncture and even 'laying on of hands' – which goes all the way back to biblical times. Again, for comparison, that single hospital spends more on research every year than the entire country of Romania. "Like you, Rebecca, it's been a long time since I was in school – longer even – but even then it was amazing the way the images of just fingertips changed based on the emotional and physical state of the subject. Some of the studies done involving couples were even more startling. Unfortunately, where some see an enormous potential in diagnostics and treatment, others see New Age mysticism: the kind of fringe lunatics that use it to bolster their religious beliefs, claiming that it proves that trees and animals have souls, and driving serious people – and research money – away. I would love to be able to compare what Lizzy sees when she looks at someone to what appears in the photographs, but I don't know how you could possibly do that." "Easy," Rebecca said. "Show her the subject, and then show her the picture. She sees things like photographs, movies, and television just fine. It's only in person that she can't see people. But we're getting off subject. What does all this have to do with my sister dancing with a character Jimmy pulled out of some kid's nightmare?" "Nothing, really," I said, shaking my head. "I was just trying to explain where Allison got the theory she's been using to try and answer some of these questions. As usual, though, we're coming up with more questions than answers, so we really don't have much in the way of explanations, but it's clear that something is going on because more and more things keep happening." "What kind of things?" Rebecca asked. "Well," Allison said, "like Bob said, you know about Walter, but what you don't know is that Jimmy can see Walter during the day as well, and that Walter can move around just about anywhere in our physical world. Not only move around in it, but perceive it and communicate those perceptions to Jimmy – all while Jimmy is wide awake." All Rebecca could do was sit and stare. "It gets even weirder," Allison assured her. "Not too long ago we got another surprise. Jimmy? Could you call Widget?" "I can try," I said. "Just remember she's a cat, so..." That got Rebecca's attention, and she shook herself out of the daze she seemed to be in. "Did you say cat?" "Yes," Allison said, "Christine's cat, to be exact. Shortly after Christine moved in, her cat followed them into dreamspace. Actually, she followed Christine, but that doesn't matter for this discussion. What matters is that when she first appeared there, they didn't recognize her." As she was speaking, Widget came walking out from behind the couch and started rubbing against my leg. I reached down and scratched her head, and she started purring. "Lizzy only sees real people in dreams," Allison continued. "If you and I are in a dream with her, she'll see both of us, but if she's in my dream and I'm dreaming of you, she will see your face like she will a picture – if she sees you at all. It's weird, trust me, and I'm only mentioning it so you'll understand the significance when I say that as soon as Widget showed up, only Lizzy recognized her." "Why didn't the rest of you recognize her?" Rebecca asked. "Because she was scared," I said. "The images we project of ourselves here are merely how we see ourselves at any given time. You remember when my family was kidnapped? When I called you, you showed up in an evening gown because you and Bob were off somewhere, but as soon as I told you what had happened, you switched," I snapped my fingers, "to work clothes. It wasn't a conscious choice; you just went from 'Rebecca Hampton, out for the evening', to 'Special Agent Rebecca Hampton, on the job'. Widget had just gone from being curled up in the bedroom of my apartment to finding herself in a strange jungle. Understandably, she was scared and angry; who wouldn't be? Well, you know how kittens get when they're playing? How they seem to think they're much bigger and badder than they really are?" There was a growl from around my ankles, and, when we looked down, Widget was in full-blown badass kitty mode. Allison quickly knelt and scratched her head. "He's just trying to make a point, Widget. We know you really are all that." Widget rolled onto her back, grabbing Allison's hand and licking it, and suddenly she was normal sized again. "That is too weird," Rebecca said. "Oh, yeah!" Allison agreed. "So anyway, they didn't recognize her, but Lizzy did, because she had ridden out from Georgia with Christine and spent three days in the car with her, so she immediately recognized Widget by her pattern. The problem was, according to Lizzy, her pattern had changed. It was now stronger and more complex than it had been in the car. What happened to change it is a longer and weirder story all by itself, but what matters now is that suddenly we have a cat that not only dreams, but who can follow Jimmy or Christine into this..." she waved her hand around indicating the room, " ... environment. We don't know if they are the only ones she can follow, but we know she can follow them because, just like now when she showed up here, she can follow Christine from one dream environment to another. I don't think she can go anywhere on her own, but we've been too busy with other things to do much in the way of experimenting." "Do I want to ask?" Rebecca asked. "I don't know," Allison answered seriously. "Do you want to know the answer?" "I'll decide later. So how does all this tie in with Amy being able to see Walter, and him showing up to dance with her?" "That's a little more complicated," I said. "When you asked if that was him, I said, 'yes and no'. The yes was that yes, he was there, and it looked like him. The no, was that he was there, but it was me looking like him." "What?" Rebecca asked, shaking her head. "Right," I said. "That's exactly how I felt the first time it happened. Just wait. "Walter!" I called, and moments later the door opened, and he strode in, dressed once more in his usual leather outfit. As soon as he stepped in, Widget jumped up and ran to him, leaping up with every apparent expectation that Walter would catch her, which, of course, he did. "Ho, Little Warrior, well met," he said, holding her up so she could rub her head on his chin and neck and scratching her with his free hand. You could hear her purr from ten feet away. "You summoned me, My Lord?" Walter said, striding forward. "Walter, I would like you to meet Amy's sister, Rebecca." Walter immediately dropped to a knee at Rebecca's feet, setting Widget on the floor as he took her hand and kissed it. "Milady, it is an honor to meet you at last." "Get up Walter," Allison said. "You're embarrassing her. You two can get acquainted later; right now we're working. Would you merge with Jimmy please?" "Certainly," he said, rising. I rose at the same time and held out my hand to stop him. "Not yet," I said. "Now, Rebecca, before we do this, you need to understand that, if I want to, I can look like Walter, here, any time." As I said it, I changed to mirror his appearance. "It is a dream, after all, but..." I switched back to my normal appearance, " ... what we're about to show you is different. Go ahead Walter." The big man stepped forward and vanished into me. "Don't ask me to explain how this works because I don't have a clue, but if Lizzy were here right now, she would be able to tell that Walter is inside me. And not just that he's inside of me, but that his pattern has actually merged with mine. God, there is so much more to explain in all this. Okay, the weirdest part of any of this is that I can now move physically into this space, or someplace that I perceive as being this space, and out again." "What?" she demanded, and I could see she was about to launch into another question when Bob put his hand on hers and stopped her. "Thanks, Bob," I said. "I can't explain it, Rebecca, because I don't understand how it's possible, either. All I know is that I can, and – and this is the part that answers your question – when I leave, I take the appearance I'm in with me. What happened earlier tonight was that I went somewhere where I could be alone, crossed over to this space – wherever it is – merged with Walter, and stepped back into our reality as the man you saw. Walter does not have a physical body, not in our reality. But he can merge with me and share mine. So what you saw tonight was me – dressed, if you will – as Walter, dancing with Amy. As you've seen here, Walter's body is considerably bigger and stronger than mine, and that was what gave me the idea to do it. We were all concerned about Amy hurting herself if she tried too hard or fell. But if her partner were strong enough to support her, that wouldn't be an issue. I had her dress made with that special harness sewn into it so that, using Walter's size, I would have the strength and leverage to keep her from falling and hurting herself if her strength gave out. And before you say it, yes, you're right; all of this is impossible. You know it, I know it, Bob knows it; everyone knows it. That's why we're having such a hard time dealing with it and figuring it out. It's impossible, but, somehow, it's happening. Allison's theory is that there is something radically different about my energy field and that that's what first allowed me to wander around in people's dreams, and which, as I've grown up and started using it, has now grown and changed to the point that it is impacting our physical reality." Rebecca had been looking appropriately shell-shocked over the whole thing, but now that she had some sort of explanation, things seemed to be falling into place in her head. "Un-fucking real!" She swore. "So that's how you took out Kurtz?" "No," I said. "It wasn't until after I fought with him that I learned I could move physically between the two..." I shook my head, struggling for a term, " ... worlds, I guess. Places, spaces, whatever. Rebecca, Kurtz beat the shit out of me; I was dying; broken ribs, punctured lung... , but by moving here, I was able to heal the damage he had done because here, in a dream, just about anything is possible – for me at least. I can't explain how it works; I'm just glad it does, or I'd likely be dead now." Apparently, she had figured out the next part on her own, as well. "But you also discovered that you can enter from one place and exit somewhere else, didn't you? That's how you got out of the warehouse without opening a door. I knew that was your voice I heard. How the hell is any of this possible?" "We don't know," Allison said. "I have some theories, but I just don't have the science for it. Believe me, I am busting my ass in school, but it's going to be years before I can learn enough to even begin to explain any of this. There may be someone out there who can, but, in light of what's going on, I think it's more critical than ever that Jimmy keep as low a profile as possible about the things he can do." "Yeah, no shit!" Rebecca swore. "Rod doesn't know any of this, does he?" "No, but he may suspect. When I got my parents back, I did my best to make it look like what happened at the bank, but I may have made some mistakes along the way, and, well, you know Rod." "Oooh, forgot about that. So it was you that did it. You found, and killed, four professional mercenaries – mercenaries who had taken out four trained agents and a surveillance tech – all by yourself?" "Yes," I said. "I would have preferred to find another way to do it, but there just wasn't time." "And it was you that got Allison back?" "Rod doesn't know that either," I said. "I denied having anything to do with it. The fact that she showed up in Tahiti kind of helped back me up that I couldn't have had anything to do with it. I don't know how convinced he is, but he seemed to let it go." "Don't be too sure," she said. "Rod hates mysteries. Walter, could you come out again, please?" "Certainly milady," Walter said, stepping forward once more. She turned to the rest of us and asked, "Could you give us a minute?" "Go wherever you'd like, Rebecca," I said. "Walter will follow you, and you'll be in your own dreamspace, so no one else will bother you." "That should be an interesting conversation," Allison said after they were gone. I was just about to answer when my phone rang, the one in the hotel room, not the dream. Rebecca Never in a million years would I have expected to have the conversation I was about to. Looking back, I guess I should have been prepared for something like this. After all, Amy was my responsibility. Mom and Dad had been dead for years, – another thing I had had to help Amy through, to her they were dead suddenly – and I was the closest thing to a parent she had. Sooner or later – assuming she got better – someone was going to take an interest, and if that interest grew – and why wouldn't it? Sooner or later, there was the chance that someone was going to want to talk to me about her, or, more likely, I was going to want to talk to him – or maybe her – about his or her intentions towards my sister. But I never would have imagined myself talking to a cartoon character about it. Walter wasn't real – he was a figment of some kid's imagination; I knew that. Jimmy had explained it long ago when he had first suggested using him to find Angela. When Amy had awakened and started fixating on someone who clearly wasn't there ... She'd just woken up for the first time in almost thirteen years; I was willing to cut her some slack, and it wasn't like it was going to hurt anything. Now, on the other hand... Now I was faced with a situation so bizarre it was hard to even imagine. Not knowing really where else to go, I had moved us to one of the conference rooms at work. It was a place I was familiar enough with to be comfortable, or at least to not be distracted during what was coming. "Milady," Walter said before I could even frame a sentence. "I believe I know what it is you wish to discuss, and, before you begin, I would just like to say that I am most profoundly sorry to have placed you in this position." Wasn't ready for that! "What position is that?" I asked. It was just a way to buy time; he was too much a gentleman ... It was weird to think of him that way; I'd seen him in his fur coat. Either way, he was too much a gentleman to not be concerned about it. "You are concerned for your sister's well being, and her apparent fixation on someone who is not even real, much less human. I have discussed this with her many times, but she will not hear reason in the matter, and I have been unable to dissuade her." Another surprise; this really wasn't the way I'd pictured this conversation going... "Really?" I said. "You've actually discussed it with her? How did that go?" "As I said Milady; not well. She is steadfast in her belief that..." His voice faded, and he could no longer meet my eyes, turning his head away and his eyes downward. "That what?" I asked. His voice when he answered sounded like he needed a drink, and not just water. "That we will one day be man and wife," he said softly. Oh ... my ... God! "But you're ... not even real! You're a figment of some kid's worst nightmares. Even if you were real, you're..." I didn't want to say it. "A beast of nightmare?" he said, filling in the blank for me. It's not what I was thinking, but it would do. "As I said," he continued in a voice suddenly grown hoarse with what I could only assume was frustration. "I have tried to explain these things to her, numerous times, but she will not see reason. Behold..." The scene around us changed, and I found myself in a broad field, like a meadow from an old movie or something. We were under the only shade in sight, a huge tree that spread out above us at least forty feet from the broad trunk. "No, Little One..." the image of Walter said, pacing the open area under the spreading canopy. Beyond the leafy umbrella, the grass grew almost a foot tall, but here in the shade, it had that short, manicured look you see at golf courses. Only this was no putting green; that grass had spring to it, and even though Walter's pacing didn't even leave footprints behind, I was willing to bet it even softer than it looked. " ... you must not attach yourself to me in this way. You are real, a woman of flesh and blood, whereas I am the dark product of a young man's fancy, nothing more." "No, Walter," Amy replied. She was sitting in a medium sized rocking chair watching him pace. "I know that's how you started out, but Jimmy changed all that. You are more than that now. I know that you don't understand, but believe me when I say, you will be my husband one day." "It is not possible!" He cried out in exasperation. Suddenly, he changed, and where the man had been, the beast now stood before her. "This!" He growled. "This is what I am!" Amy simply smiled, slipped from her chair to kneel beside him, and placed her hand on the beast's broad chest. The change was more gradual this time, but soon it was a man kneeling on all fours before her. From the expression on his face I could only surmise that the change hurt. Had she actually forced him to change back? "She changed you back?" I asked the man standing next to me. "Yes." "It looked like it hurt." "Yes," he replied, indicating I should continue watching. "Are you saying you don't want me, Walter?" The man sat up on his knees and turned his head away. You could almost feel his pain as he said, "You know that is not true." "Then you do love me?" The young woman pressed. "Do not mock me, my Lady, I beg you." "I would never mock you, Walter; I may make sport of you from time to time, as has always been the prerogative of lovers, but I..." "Amy!" He gasped, obviously affronted. "Regardless of aught else, you are too young to speak of such things." "Walter," she said with a smile. "You used my name; that's so sweet of you. If I'd known all I had to do was embarrass you, I would have done it sooner. And I'm almost twenty-one years old." "You know very well what I mean," he admonished her. She sighed. "Yes," she said. "Yes, I do, and it is true that I've slept away most of my life, but, at the same time, I am not the innocent little waif that everyone seems to think I should be. I don't have specific memories, but I ... grew up a lot somewhere along the way. I know all about the birds and the bees. I know what it is my sister and Mr. Shelby, and Jimmy and the girls, do in their free time." "Silence," he said suddenly. "Say no more, Little One, I beg you. It is not right for a Lady to discuss these things with a man not..." "Oh," she interrupted. "So suddenly I'm a Lady again? And exactly whom should I not be discussing them with? A man not my husband? Is that what you were about to say?" I could see the anger and embarrassment in his face as she berated him. Suddenly she moved forward and lifted her hands to cradle his face. "I'm sorry, Walter," she said. "I should not tease you like this. Not yet, anyway. But..." she pulled his face back around as he tried to look away, " ... listen to me: I know you do not believe it, cannot even conceive that it might actually happen, but listen to me, and believe me when I tell you that we will be together one day." She covered his mouth with her fingers as he tried to speak. "As man and wife, we will be together. Now, no more arguing, no more discussion; I am right, and one day you will see that I am right, and when you do, I will be sure to point out that I told you so. Now, it's time for my reading, so unless you are correcting my speech, I want to hear no more from you. Is that clear?" Eyes to heaven, the big man shook his head and gave an exasperated, prolonged sigh before nodding his consent, turning her towards her chair and holding her hand as she took her seat once more and then pulled out her latest book. Apparently, they were all the way up to 'The Silver Chair' in the Chronicles of Narnia. The image faded, and once more it was just Walter and me, alone in the conference room. "As I said," Walter spoke into the silence. "I have tried, but she is a most stubborn young woman and will not listen to reason." "She comes by it honestly," I said. "It runs in the family. Do you love her?" The question apparently caught him off guard – as I had intended it to – and he was momentarily at a loss for words. His hesitation seemed to trip something inside me, and suddenly I was treating this as an interrogation, which was definitely one of my comfort zones. "It's a simple question, Walter. Are you in love with my sister?" "Milady, I..." "Yes or no!" I demanded. He turned his head away, eyes downcast and whispered, "Yes milady, I fear that I am." "Then you want what is best for her?" "Yes," he answered, turning back to me. "Of course, how could I not?" I couldn't believe what I suddenly found myself saying. "Then leave it alone," I said. "Don't argue with her, don't bring it up. If she brings it up, just let it go. You and I both know that there is no future here, don't we?" "No, definitely not," he confirmed. "You believe then, that she is merely infatuated and will grow out of it?" I could actually see a glimmer of hope in his eyes. Thank God he understood where I was going. "Yes, I think she's got a crush on you. She thinks that just because she's almost twenty-one that she understands what she's feeling, but she can't, not really. She doesn't have the experience to handle it, and her eight-year-old mind can't deal with the rational side of it; she just wants it to be true and thinks that is enough. I think that if we just let her go, she'll get over it on her own. Not right away, because you're just about the only interaction she has besides her therapists and doctors. But once she starts getting out into the world, she'll realize she's been silly and move on. She'll meet a real man – no offense intended, and I mean that purely in the sense of him being a physically real person. If he's half the man you are, she'll be a very lucky girl, but in either case, once she gets out and starts meeting real people, I think she'll come around. We could push the issue now, but she'd just dig her heels in, and that would get us nowhere. Walter, I appreciate the effort you've made to make her see reason. Thank you." "As a gentleman, there was no choice. Though I must admit that at times I did consider turning her over my knee and taking a much less gentlemanly approach. For such a little thing she can be so... infuriating at times!" "I'm sure," I said with a smile. "Okay, we should probably get back and see what we've missed. Oh, and thank you for dancing with Amy; crush or not, I think that was her favorite present. One thing, though: did Jimmy really need your size and strength to catch her if something went wrong." "No," he answered. "His strength is greater when we are joined, but even alone he could have handled her easily. He is far stronger than he appears." "I thought so; the little shit did it for her. One of these days I am sooo going to kick his arrogant ass!" It wasn't much of a smile, but I caught it and asked, "What's so funny?" "Nothing milady, but I am suddenly reminded of a conversation I overheard while passing a work-site recently. Two friends were having a discussion when one of them made a similar threat, to which the other replied – please forgive my language, I am quoting – he said, 'Bring your lunch, asshole, because it's going to be an all day job!'" Part of me wanted to argue the point, but the rest of me was pretty sure he was right. In my mind, I saw the photos Rod had shown me of the safe house; followed closely by the scene from the house they had found Jimmy's parents in. Four highly trained and experienced mercenaries ... I was good; I had no doubt whatsoever of my ability to kick major ass, but that... When I got back to Bob's office, he was alone. "What happened?" I asked. "Where is everyone?" "I don't know," he answered. "Jimmy got a phone call, and they all disappeared." Shit, what now? ------- Chapter 37: Endgame Amber was already handing me my phone as I 'woke up' in the big hotel bed. "Has he called?" Sandra Atkins asked as soon as I answered. "And good evening to you, too, Miss Atkins." I felt Allison and Lizzy stirring beside me and slipped out from between them and off the bed. "Or should I say, 'good morning?'" I asked after glancing at the clock. "About time I got to return the favor," she said and then asked again. "Has he called?" "Has who called?" "Your mysterious source." "No, no one's called," I answered. "Why? Did something happen?" "You don't know?" "Know what?" I asked. "Damn," she said. There was a moment of silence before she added, "If you don't already know, then I can't tell you. If you hear from him, let him know I want to talk to him." "Okay," I said. "Are you sure you don't want to tell me what this is about?" She hesitated again before saying, "No, just have him call me." "Sure, no problem." It took a little effort but I managed to ignore the obvious implication that something was up, and rejoin the others. An hour later the phone rang again, this time pulling me back from a quiet cruise around the bottom of the lagoon with the girls. It was Spencer this time. "Hello, David, I'm sorry for waking you. Can I ask where you are?" "New Jersey, and it seems to be my night for it. Why do you need to know where I am?" She ignored the question. "How long have you been gone?" "I flew out Monday morning. What's going on, Spencer? Atkins called me an hour ago wanting to know if I'd heard from my source." "Atkins called? And she didn't tell you?" she asked. "When do you get back?" "Tomorrow morning. Friday tomorrow, not today." "Is Christine with you?" "No, she couldn't come; she had school." "Okay," she said. "Do me a favor? Come see me when you get back, before you go home, okay?" "Nicki, what's going on?" "Nothing I can tell you about on the phone. Don't worry about it, just come and see me when you get back." "Sure, no problem, I'll call you as soon as I land," I said and broke the connection. "Jamie?" I said after I hung up. "Is there something you want to talk to me about?" "No," she said, flatly. "Jamie?" I asked again. I felt Jamie take over, and suddenly I was up and walking toward the other room. "Where you going stud ... muffin?" Elizabeth asked, sitting up as I moved toward the door. The hesitation told me she had realized that Jamie was exerting herself. "Something is going on," I said. "I shouldn't be long." Then Jamie spoke through me, "Allison, could you come with us, please." "Sure," she replied. She got up and grabbed two robes, closing the bedroom door behind her and handing me one of the robes as she joined me on the couch. "What's up?" Allison said. "We can't talk about it here," Jamie said through me. "Then why did I have to get up?" Allison growled, obviously irritated. Allison's not a morning person, even when it is morning. Waking her up and dragging her out of a nice warm bed – especially one where she was cuddled up to nice warm bodies – was not a good way to start her day. Moving to the loveseat, she stretched out with the robe spread over her, while Jamie and I took the couch. In moments we were back in the cabana. I felt around and confirmed that there was a bubble out there somewhere. This couldn't be good. Jamie looked at me, "Tell her." "First, Atkins called and wouldn't say why. Then, just now, Spencer called wanting to know where I was and when I was getting back. I assumed this meant something had happened, but when I asked Jamie if there was anything she wanted to tell me, she said no." "That's what you get for asking the wrong question," Allison said. I started to respond, but she held up her hand. "Yes, something happened. But it's nothing she wants to talk to you about because you're better off not knowing until after you meet with Spencer. You need to look surprised, and – while you are getting better – you're still not that good an actor." "Well, that's just guaranteed to keep me up the rest of the night. Thanks a lot." "Sorry," Allison said. "I wasn't sure they would call you or if they would just wait until you got back. You being concerned and wondering what's up will actually be better in the long run anyway." "Couldn't we just say my source told me?" "We could, but it might seem a little too convenient. If he were going to tell you, he probably would have done so before they called. No, I think it's best if we just leave it alone for now and let it play out naturally." The look in her eyes said there was more. "What?" I asked. "Your source needs to call Atkins." I thought about what she was saying, or rather not saying. My source needed to call Atkins, but I didn't know what was going on. I couldn't very well wait until Spencer told me what was happening; the timing would be just a little too obvious. "You want Jamie to call Atkins, but I can't hear what they talk about," I said. She nodded and said, "Yes. He needs to talk to her before you find out." "So I get the bubble treatment while Jamie covers my ass. I'm working hard to not put two and two together here, Sis." "I know," she said. "So the less we talk about it the better, don't you think?" "Yeah, when do you want to do it?" "Do you think it's too soon?" Jamie asked. I thought about it. "No, it's been over an hour since she called me, which means whatever prompted the call happened at least that long ago, probably longer. Obviously, she thinks it's something he knows about. Chances are she'll ask about me – just tell her you haven't told me yet. If she asks why, tell her what you told me." "Okay, Jimmy I'm so..." I cut her off and put my finger to her lips. "Don't," I said. "It's pretty obvious you're doing this to protect me. You don't ever need to apologize for that." "You sure about that?" Jamie asked. I had a sudden image of Brad Russell on his knees clutching what was left of the arm she had broken. I smiled. "I was talking about Allison." She stuck her tongue out at me, then moved in and hugged me. "I love you, too. Now kiss little sister and go read a book for a while." Jamie "Atkins." "Happy Valentine's Day," I said. Mine was the voice Atkins was used to hearing whenever David and Rebecca's 'source' called. We'd figured out early on that, even without recording the calls, it wouldn't take much for someone at her level to recognize the similarities to 'David's' voice if Jimmy made both sets of calls. My speech pattern and tone are significantly different than Jimmy's, even though I'm using his vocal cords. She had no problem figuring out who it was. The first time one of us talked to her, it had been Jimmy, but there was a significant time gap before David Malcolm came on the scene, so it was unlikely she would put the two together. Especially considering she had been sound asleep when the call came in. She had no trouble figuring out who was calling. "So it was you?" "I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about," I said, "but you shouldn't have any trouble convicting him this time, even without the video." "Video?" she asked. "What video?" "He has cameras all through the apartment. The video, along with a lot of other stuff, is stored on that computer they found. One word of caution: don't let anyone try to crack the password; if they do and screw up, you'll lose everything – not that that would be a bad thing, but the defense may try to claim you destroyed evidence that would clear Bastion. Just get it somewhere safe and keep everyone away from it. If things go the wrong way, and you need the video, I'll get you the password." "Who are you?" she asked. I knew she wasn't looking for an actual name. "Who are you with? You seem to have connections I can only dream of." If she only knew. "How the hell can you know his password?" I let the silence stretch out until she decided to move on. "There's no chance they're going to find evidence that someone's been in his apartment, is there? You'd have to have been inside to know about that stuff. There's no way they're going to find evidence suggesting... ?" "No," I said, cutting her off. "They are going to find evidence; there is DNA all over that place; most of the male stuff will be Bastion or the board members; most of the female will be unidentified unless the parents had the girls put in a kidnapping database somewhere, which, all things considered, I doubt very seriously. Speaking of the girls, how soon can you get the girl back from the Middle East?" "I'll look into it," she said. "If all goes well and there are no complications, maybe a week at the outside. Why?" "Do you need a reason?" I asked, but then didn't give her time to answer. "I think she's been in hell too long already, and, now that it's safe, I want her home where she belongs as quickly as possible. And I want to see the look on Bastion's face when she walks into the courtroom. If she wants to, that is; she may not. Even if she does, it may be a while before she's ready to confront him like that. But as much as possible I want Bastion to see it all fall apart, one piece at a time. When it's safe, I'm going to have David take Phoebe in, if she wants to go." "I figured you had her stashed away somewhere," she said, "but don't you think that's a little much for girl her age? Why put her through it?" "I want her to know that he is going to face justice for what he did to her family. She doesn't need to stay for testimony or evidence, but I want her to know he didn't get away with it." "And how do you propose to do that? We can't prove he had anything to do with that family's death. Last time I checked, she was still the primary suspect. You bring her into Nevada and she's going to be questioned." "That's not a problem," I said. "We can prove she was already out of state before the fire was set. In a truly ironic twist of justice, Bastion hired David to find her a while back." She chuckled. "You have got to be kidding." "Ask him yourself," I said. "Really freaked him out when it happened." "You seem to rely on him pretty heavily for such a young man." "He's proven himself more than competent for the jobs I've sent him." "Can I ask where you found him?" "You can ask," I said. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Would you mind sharing him when he's not busy?" "David's a free agent, but I'll warn you up front, a lot of the anonymity I enjoy was his idea. He didn't want to be able to identify me. You won't have that luxury, and if you're thinking that working for you means he'll share more information, you're going to be disappointed." "I figured as much. So what do I call you? I don't expect you to tell me your name, but it gets old referring to you as 'the voice'." "Justin." "Justin?" she asked. "Yeah, you know; Justin Case." "Got it." I could almost see the eye roll. "One thing, I haven't told David what's happened yet, did you?" "You didn't talk to him? I assumed that's why you called. I called and asked if he'd heard from you. When he said no, I asked him to have you call me when he did. If you didn't talk to him, then how did you know I'd be up?" "You didn't tell him, did you?" I asked, ignoring her question and putting a trace of concern in my voice. Wondering how I knew she would be up should keep her busy for a while. Being who she was, her first thoughts would probably be electronics or a mole in her organization. It was going to be a busy week for her staff, either way. "No," she answered, "why don't you want him to know?" "Come now Sandra; after their last conversation, you know Spencer is going to be wondering if he is involved. She may not look at him as a suspect, but she knows he was working on the problem, and we both know she called and told you he was after Bastion for me. I want her to tell him, so she can see his face. She won't believe he's not involved any other way. I was going to call him and tell him to stay away from the news until after he gets back. He'll suspect something has happened; probably already does if you called wanting to talk to me. As far as I know, there are not any other cases we're both working on." "I don't know," she said innocently. "Why don't you email me your current case load, and I'll compare?" "I'm still waiting for your team roster," I reminded her. "Yeah," she said. Her tone made it clear I shouldn't hold my breath. "So, what happens now?" "I did my part, now the fun starts. One suggestion..." "What's that?" "Try to keep the DA focused on the murders. He's going to want to make a – pardon the expression – federal case out of this, but a lot of people stand to get hurt if he pushes too hard. Not all of them are innocents, but stopping the cancer doesn't do any good if the patient dies from the cure." "I don't understand," she admitted. "Yes, you do. Not all of it, but enough. This is the kind of case that will make a DA's career." I'd picked that up in some books Allison had been reading one night when I slept over, and the author's explanation fit this scenario perfectly. "This is one of those cases where the facts are sufficient, and the truth – the whole truth – is better off left alone. It'll make his career either way, but lives get destroyed the other way. Those girls have gone through enough without the sort of stigma this would bring. It's going to be hard enough on them already. If the truth – the whole truth – comes out..." There was a pause as she digested what I was being very careful not to tell her. "Anything else?" she asked. "Not at the moment; if you want to talk again later, let David know, and he can pass it along." "Couldn't we just set up a time to talk again later?" she asked. "I'm sure we could," I answered, "but could you resist the urge to try and get cute with the call?" "Probably not," she admitted. "One last thing," I said before she hung up. "If Bastion offers to open the computer, don't let him try more than twice in one day, and if he hasn't got it open by the second day, quit and tell David, and I'll get you that password." Jimmy It wasn't easy, but I managed to not think about what was up – much – all the next day and night. Of course the girls were all doing their best to keep me distracted. A big part of that distraction was discussing what had happened the night before. After a few minutes discussion, Allison decided the best way to get a handle on it was to slip over to dream space and have Lizzy project what she had seen in a way that allowed all of us – but, most importantly, her – to see it all. At first I was afraid that I was going to be forced to endure what amounted to a porno starring Amber and me, but, for this, we were incidental at best – just two body shaped outlines providing a backdrop for the sheets, waves, and currents of energy that Allison was interested in. The fact that those energies had all but blinded Lizzy at times made it extremely difficult for her to present them for Allison to study. Still, since it was a dream environment, she had more options; one of which was to substitute colors for intensities. While this did make the whole thing easier to deal with, there were still whole sections that we couldn't do anything with because, for her, it had been one big blur. The initial flare seemed of particular interest to Allison, and she had Lizzy run it several times in slow motion and using ever wider arrays of colors and shadings to illustrate what was happening. After about the third run-through, I got bored and left, telling them to call me if they needed anything. Allison Wow! Every time I get to experience even a glimpse inside Lizzy's world, it just blows me away. The first time had been when we were playing with the little power balls Jimmy and Christine made, and – while it was fun and exciting – it was nothing compared to stepping into her dream and having her project the world as she sees it. But even that – as amazing as it was – paled in comparison to an event like this. Ever since I came up with this energy theory, I've known that I was going to be limited in what I could do until such time as I could get Lizzy to help me – or I got lucky and found a way to see it myself. Seeing it first-hand would no doubt be better, but this was a great option! Watching the flow of the energy as it moved around between the three – Jimmy, Jamie, and Angela – had been amazing. Ending up with more questions than answers was just something that I took for granted by now. Do you dream in slow-motion? Me either. Unfortunately, neither did Lizzy. Slowing the dream down to the point that we could see what was really happening was a long process. Essentially, Lizzy had to replay it, over and over, slowing it further each time to allow more of the details to fill themselves in. Day to day, you just don't realize – probably can't even comprehend – how much information your our mind captures, processes, and stores, and not just general images, but every tiny detail. It doesn't keep it all, not for long anyway; we train our minds to filter out what is unimportant. The most important filter is generally emotion. Strong emotional moments are captured much more thoroughly than say, the time you spent shampooing your hair. Unless, of course, you have help that is, but then, that sort of makes my point. Night time is when your mind does a lot of its processing – sifting through the day's events to decide what to keep. It took several attempts to get the scene to play out in super-slow motion. Along the way, Lizzy replaced the images of raw energy with a series of graduated colors, in hopes that I would be better able to understand what I was seeing. Eventually, we reached a point where the colors varied themselves as the intensities changed, and we had a pretty good picture of what was happening. Lizzy's description of the scene looking like an old movie self-destructing was right on. The burn had started the instant Angela's lips – with Jamie firmly attached to them – came in contact with Jimmy's. "Picture a balloon filled with something really really flammable – not a little kids balloon, but one of those three foot, heavy duty balloons that they use for weather tests – the kind that you have to shoot with something high-powered – instead of just poking with a needle – to pop, and even then it doesn't burst, but just leaks. Now hook it to a pressurized gas line that is pumping fuel into it faster than the escaping fuel can burn. Eventually, you will reach a point where the heat of the escaping fuel being ignited so close to the surface weakens it, and the ever increasing pressure causes it to tear more, until finally it ruptures, and the suddenly released fuel goes up in a huge fireball." She paused to let the visual set in. "Now picture that happening in an enclosed space." Well, this was like two enclosed spaces – spaces that were connected at several points. In this case, it was points like lips, fingertips, and lets not forget Angela's points against Jimmy's chest. Now picture them as just two 'people-shaped' balloons, full of more fuel, or better yet, oxygen, and those connection points are openings to the central chamber where the fuel has been escaping. It wouldn't take much for the heat and pressure to force it's way to the oxygen, and then... I'm not sure exactly what I expected to see. I just had this hazy idea of Jimmy's energy flaring up when it hit Jamie's, and ... actually I'm not sure what I expected after that either, but somehow the reaction would cause a feedback of sorts, and Jamie would get caught in the surge, overwhelming and disorienting her. Not able to fully absorb the phenomenon, she would bleed the excess energy into her host where, presumably, it would linger long enough to nurture Jimmy's small contribution to the procreative process while it did its job. That much of the theory seemed to hold up pretty well, although I hadn't expected to see Angela's Pattern stretch – not exactly the right word, but as close as Lizzy could come – as it received the overflow. The real question – and in my mind it was a pretty critical one – wasn't what caused the flare, which was pretty obviously the intersection of their fields. No, the real question was: where did the energy in the surge come from? Like I said, we watched it several times, and it didn't start in either of their fields, but at the point of intersection, or, more specifically, the point of overlap. On a secondary note, why hadn't this happened more often? If it was the intersection of their fields outside of Jimmy's body, then why didn't it happen every time he touched one of us with Jamie inside? For that matter, why didn't they explode when Jamie came back to him? Especially now, when she was bringing all that 'unburned fuel' back into him? What was staying behind that caused such unbridled lust the second he touched his partner again? As usual, seeing what was happening – while enlightening – left us with more questions than we started with, and I was once again left wondering what the hell was going on? "Allison, don't stress yourself out over this," Angela said. "You're the smartest person I know, but this was only the first experiment. No one expects you to have all the answers the first time." She grew a Cheshire grin and added, "And don't worry; I'll be happy to help out when you're ready to try again." I rolled my eyes and said, "Slut!" Her grin got even bigger, and she replied, "Jealous!" It's hard to argue with truth, and there was a part of me that really wished it could have been me again. I stuck my tongue out at her and tried to get back to more practical arguments. "I wish I had your confidence," I said. "I can't even see this shit without Lizzy's help; Jimmy doesn't feel any of it – the energy shifts, that is – and the lucky girl goes into a mind-numbing lust as soon as it starts, and doesn't remember anything besides that she couldn't get enough. What makes you so sure I'm going to be able to figure this all out?" She hesitated, looking down and biting her lip as if she were afraid to answer. Shit! She knew. I don't know when, but chances were – somewhere along the line – she had figured out the rest too. "It's okay," I said. "You can say it. Because Jimmy made me smarter; that is what you're trying not to say, isn't it? It's okay, Angels; I figured that out a long time ago." "That's not true," Lizzy said. "I wish you guys would stop saying that. Jimmy isn't changing you. He may be responsible for what's been happening, but he's not causing it. He didn't make you Amber; he didn't make Christine like girls. He doesn't change who people are or what they can do." "I know," she said, nodding her agreement. "It's more like he opens doors and let's things happen." "Yes," Lizzy said, "and how far the door opens depends on how important he thinks it is. Look at Christine; he wanted her to fit in, but he was worried about rushing her, so the change took longer." She moved and ran her fingers through Angela's hair, combing it gently, the movement ending with her hand cupping Angie's face. "Amber, on the other hand ... Angela, he knew that what you were going through was killing you, and he desperately wanted you to get better. The thought of losing you after you fought so hard ... Everyone was amazed at how fast you progressed." "And, at the same time," I added, taking over the commentary, "he opened a door in himself so that he could become what you needed. Trust me – I grew up with him; before this all started, he would never have even conceived of the kind of relationship you have. Of course, by then he had help, so of course it went faster." "What do you mean he had help?" Lizzy asked. "You mean Brandiy?" "She means you, silly," Angela said, and then she grabbed her by the face and planted a fast, sloppy, kiss right on her mouth. "If you hadn't been there to unlock the door, he wouldn't have been able to open it." "Huh?" was all Lizzy could say. "Don't you get it?" Angie went on. "Allison said it the first night Widget crossed over. Three days on the road with you had changed Christine's pattern. Allison was always smart, but it wasn't until you came on the scene that she really started to spike. Look how fast she came up with this whole energy theory, and how right she's been about everything. I'm surprised she sleeps at all with all the stuff that must be going on up there twenty-four-seven." She turned to look at me. "I'll bet you're smoking your classes, aren't you?" Like I said, you can't argue with the truth, and I'd already been down this road. The surprising thing to me was that Lizzy hadn't figured out her part yet. "And you're okay with all this?" I asked Angie. I was pretty sure it was a rhetorical question, but you never know how someone is going to react to news like this. "Duh!" she said. It had been so long since I had spent any real time with Angela – instead of Amber – that I was taken a little aback by her tone, but, at the same time, I was making a mental note that I really needed to spend more time with her this way. "Okay with it?" she continued. "Gee, let me think: alone, miserable, contemplating suicide; versus happy, whole, and surrounded by people who love me – all of me. Okay doesn't begin to describe how down with this I am!" Rhetorical is good. "So," Lizzy said, breaking the moment and putting us back on track. "Did we learn anything about what we talked about before?" I shook my head. "Nothing specific, but I think maybe I was half right. Jamie is necessary, just not the way I expected, and I don't think you'll need her at all. From what we saw, she acted as a catalyst, or key, opening the way for that massive surge of energy. To use Angie's analogy, she unlocked something. I think if you'd been able to watch the whole thing, you might have seen it happen. And as far as the stretching goes ... somewhere in there – probably while things were too bright – something changed in Angela's pattern; a modification was made that allowed Jamie to use her like an extra battery, and shift some of the energy into her. That's what caused her pattern to, as you described it, stretch. Then when Jamie goes back to Jimmy, she takes all that energy with her, but it's still too much for her to hold, and she's sort of drunk on it. Meanwhile, Angela's modified pattern – which was stretched to accommodate all that extra energy – is now just a big empty space. Worse, when Jamie left and took all that energy with her, it left a vacuum behind. "So now you have Jimmy and Jamie, brimming over with all this energy, and Angela with this big hollow space just begging for something to fill it ... and as soon as Jimmy touches her again, the energy starts flowing back." "That's almost scary," Angela said. "What would have happened if we hadn't, you know, done it afterward? I mean ... Actually, I have no idea what I mean, but wouldn't it be dangerous for both of us? I mean, I'm all stretched and empty – which is shockingly similar to how certain other parts feel now – and he's got all that energy built up with no where to go..." "Sounds like the ultimate case of blue balls, doesn't it?" Lizzy giggled. "What do you think, Allison?" "I don't know," I admitted with a shrug, "but I can attest to the stretched and empty feeling she's talking about, not to mention sore." "Oh, but what an ache!" Angela said in breathy sigh. "Alright," Lizzy said, "you two need to stop that. You're making me jealous. After all, he's my fiancé." "True," I said. "So as I was saying: as soon as the lucky girl gets back in the act, the energy – not all of it, but a lot, flows back and fills up the spaces that got stretched, and, until they are full – or maybe just until they reach a balance – she can't get enough of Jimmy." I looked back at Lizzy, "You tell me... , did it appear to be trying to balance the pressure or just make a mad rush back in? And, what do you see now; has it lingered?" "Balance, I think," Lizzy said, "but it didn't stop moving even when they evened out. After that it just seemed like it was swirling back and forth between them. At least that was what I was seeing, I'm not sure if you could tell from the replay though. Anyway, it's mostly gone now, and her pattern is 'shrinking' as it leaves, so it seems to be just a temporary effect ... but I still can't see what is different in the pattern that allows the energy to remain. It looks like her pattern should be back to normal size again before too long." "I hope the rest is too," Angela interjected, "but I think that may take a little longer." She really is much snarkier when she's not Amber; Amber would never tease her mistress this way. Lizzy gave her shoulder a playful shove before turning back to me and continuing, "So you think that modification allowed her pattern to hold the energy like Jamie's does? I'm curious what would have happened if she hadn't gone back to Jimmy but stayed for the whole thing. Why don't you think that I'll need Jamie when my time comes?" "Because Jamie acted as a catalyst for the change; she didn't do it herself, or it likely would have happened before. You're already a catalyst, your pattern unlocks things without her; I think I mentioned before that it was part of your healing." She shook her head, "No, or if you did, I don't remember it, and I'm not sure you're right about me not needing Jamie for this." "What do you mean?" I asked. "I mean that, even if I am a catalyst, it doesn't mean I could promote this change in myself. Catalytic compounds in nature still need something to make them work, and I may still need to get the energy boost provided by this process. Gasoline by itself is pretty harmless, until you expose it to oxygen, but even then, you need a spark or something. But if you were to add something else to the mix – something that will react and generate heat or even just enough static – boom! It's not a great analogy, but, it's a moot point in any case, for two reasons: first, I'm not going to take the chance that I do need it and risk not having children just to satisfy your scientific curiosity. Second, he's my man, and if you think I'm going to deny myself this experience, you've got another think coming, sister!" Before I could react, she lunged and began tickling me, saying, "You selfish little..." I tried to fight back, but then Angela jumped in, on her side of course, and I was helpless to defend myself. I squirmed and fought as best I could, but eventually... "Stop!" I cried, holding my hands up between us while keeping my upper arms and elbows tucked in as best I could to protect my ribs. "I surrender, I quit, I give up!" Thankfully they relented and let me breathe. I took a moment to recover and remember where I'd left off. "And as far as the catalyst thing being part of your healing; I must have mentioned it when I was off talking to Christine, you know after the thing with Widget, when she wanted to talk. Anyway, I think Jimmy's energy can do most of what's been happening by itself, but it takes him a lot longer. I think it's been working on me our whole lives, but when you came along, it multiplied the effect, speeding it up immensely. I was above average before, but Angela's right, since you showed up ... I don't know, it's like someone oiled my brain and things just work faster. And that thing Jimmy does where he learns in his sleep, not just mentally, but muscle memory and stuff as well, I think I'm doing that now too. In fact, I think we all are. "What makes you think that?" Lizzy asked. "Just look at what Christine is doing in flight school; she's tearing it up, and not just the book material, but the simulators, too. As for me ... a few months ago, the closest I'd ever been to a surfboard was watching them put wax on some down at one of the shops in Malibu. I took one class just before Christmas, and now I'm carving pipe with people that have been doing it all their lives; Liki wants me to enter a contest this summer." "Leaky?" Lizzy said, here face taking on one of 'those' expressions. "Who's Leaky? Shit! I so hadn't planned to go here yet. Oh well, too late now, I rolled my eyes and fessed up. "Alamea Aliaki; she's a second year girl I met at the college during a pickup volleyball game. I call her Liki: L-I-K-I, it's a reasonable corruption of her last name; so most people don't get the joke. If anyone asks, we tell them it's an old joke about the first dugout canoe she made when she was little." Angela caught it right away. "But the truth is... ?" "Her first girlfriend gave it to her. I don't know experientially, yet, but apparently she's a gusher when you get her going. Betsy was a military brat and moved to Okinawa in the middle of their Senior year of high school; it wasn't that serious, but they keep in touch. I hit on the nickname by accident when I was setting one day. One of the towers went up for a block, and the girl dinked over her. I screamed 'Liki!' for her to make the save, but the dork-ess froze instead. Apparently Betsy was the only one who ever called her that, and she panicked. She apologized after, when we were alone, and we laughed about me discovering her secret, which I had to drag out of her; at first she just said, 'my friend Betsy.' Apparently no one knew about them, and, well, it's an island, and if word gets out, everyone knows. I told her about Shannon and how she had died in a crash. She gave me the usual, 'oh, that's so sad' line, and..." "Fell right into your trap?" Angela said. "Yeah, pretty much. You should have seen the look on her face when I kissed her. Oh my god! Anyway, that was the ice-breaker. I think she's still holding back a little because of my age – even with the new ID I'm still only sixteen, but we're getting there." "She's worried about taking advantage of you," Angela said with a sarcastic chuckle. "Not that is funny!" "Well, I think it's sweet," Lizzy said, "and very responsible of her. But you're thinking about it?" "Oh yeah!" I answered. "Don't get me wrong, you guys are all great, but dream sex can only do so much. The fact that Jimmy can come and spend the occasional night is really cool, but it would be really nice to have someone here that I can..." "Allison, that's wonderful," Lizzy said, hugging me. "I'm so happy that you found someone to be with. What's she majoring in?" "Marine Biology." "Just the girl Marine's or the boys, too?" Angie asked. Lizzy pulled a throw pillow out of the air and chucked it at her. "I'm just asking!" She ducked the one I threw at her. "She is really sweet," I said, "and mmmm... such a babe! She dances at a couple of the big hotel shows to pay for school." "Well, show her to us already," Angela demanded. Apparently we were done with research, and the session dissolved into girl talk. Jimmy Somehow – around everything else that was going on – I managed to take each of the girls out separately for a meal, just the two of us: Allison for breakfast, Amber for lunch, and then a really nice dinner with my bride-to-be. Jamie stayed with Amber for that one. As soon as I got back, though, I had to take Allison home again since her 'return flight' was also getting in at a time when it would be inconvenient for my parents to pick her up. She took a shuttle to one of the hotels close to where my dad worked and waited for him to pick her up after work. Amber and I were still sore from the previous night, so we just enjoyed the three of us being able to cuddle up and sleep together. Friday morning we went to the airport together and then separated to go to our respective gates. In order to save time, I called Spencer with my flight information, and she arranged to have me picked up, saving Christine a trip. Christine was a little concerned when I called and told her I wouldn't need her, but she relaxed after I told her I had business with Dominique that couldn't wait, and that she was picking me up. I think it says something a little odd about my life that people relax when they find out I'm getting picked up by the FBI ... It sucked to actually have to go downstairs and wait for my baggage, but it would have looked really suspicious if I'd shown up with just a carry-on after being gone for four days. Ah, the perks of a Federal ID ... Spencer met me at the gate, and we made small talk on the way down to pick up the rest of my bags. "So when are the condos going to be finished?" She asked, a hint of a smug tone creeping into her voice. What can I say? I was impressed. Not for a couple more months yet, should I be flattered that you care enough to keep tabs on me, or worried?" "Yes," she said, "to both, because it wasn't me. David, you moved a hundred thousand dollars into an escrow account from overseas; that kind of activity gets noticed. Your name has come up enough recently that someone got curious. They contacted me and asked if I knew anything about it." "She contacted you," I said. It wasn't a question but a statement. We both knew who I meant; there was only one woman I knew with the resources for this kind of scrutiny that would even be interested. "Yes. You bought Rayburn a condominium? That's a little excessive, don't you think?" "I didn't buy her a condominium," I said. "I bought two condominiums as an investment. Tanya and Melissa will just be living in one of them while she goes to school." "The other one is for Angela?" I stopped for a moment just to make sure I had her attention. "Did she tell you that as well?" "More like she asked me," she replied "If she asks you again, tell her Amber is off limits. The same goes for her roommate." "You want me to ask Atkins to stay away from them?" She sounded a little worried about making such a request to someone at that level. "No, I want you to tell Atkins to stay away from them. I can't afford to have attention brought to people that I'm close to. You know that; now I'm asking you to make her understand it." She nodded her understanding. "I've read Amber's psyche evaluation," she said. "They say she's better, or at least well enough to resume her life, but they stopped well short of saying she was recovered. Based on descriptions of her before and after... ," she left the thought hanging. "Why are you doing this, David?" "Some things you don't recover from, Nicki," I said softly. "I'm just trying to help her put some kind of a life back together." "Doesn't answer my question," She pointed out. "You can't just keep adopting everyone you come across in a bad situation." "A bad situation?" I said, stopping again. "She was kidnapped, then raped and tortured for four weeks. I think that qualifies as a little more than a bad situation." "I wasn't trying to belittle what she went through, David," she said. "I'm sorry if it came out that way, but it seems like the same thing you're doing with Tanya. Why?" "Same reason as before: because someone needed to, and I was available. She..." I had to stop. "It's complicated. The most they would do was hide her out and keep her alive. She deserved more." "Still, that's a lot of help. That school isn't cheap." "I used part of the reward money I got for rescuing her and identifying the killer." "Hell of a way to run a business, don't you think?" she asked. "Reward money is how you earn your living. And now you're doing the same thing for Tanya Rayburn, just because you were afraid someone might go after her?" "No, I'm doing it because Victoria Essex stole her life and her future from her." "Well, you can bring her back now if you want. Bastion is in jail, and he's going to be staying there for a long, long time." I stopped in the middle of the concourse. "Come again?" "Elliott Bastion is in jail for murdering twelve people," she said, stopping and watching me closely. "Twelve... ?" I began. I suddenly understood why Allison had held off telling me. I couldn't have faked the necessary surprise for an announcement like this. Before I could finish framing the question, she went on. "Yep," she said. "It looks like he invited the entire church board up to his apartment and then killed the lot of them." Stunned doesn't begin to cover it. We walked in silence to collect my bags, and then Dominique showed me the way to her car; you know, the one in the no parking zone. Once we were safely inside, the story started to unfold. Elliott Bastion called a meeting of the Church board the day before Valentine's. He said he had something special prepared as a reward for their faithful service through what had been a very trying and difficult year. Apparently Andrews hadn't been exaggerating when he said Hightower was generous in his rewards, because all of the board members were excited at the prospect. There was some concern when none of them returned home that night, but it wasn't unheard of. The phone calls started shortly after nine the next morning when none of them showed up for their regular jobs. Finally someone called a senior member of the security team. When calls to Bastion's apartment went unanswered, he took it upon himself to check it out. When the elevator wouldn't respond to his key card, he tried the stairs from the seventeenth floor. The door from the stairs into the penthouse was apparently blocked, and, without an alarm going off, building maintenance refused to over-ride the elevator controls without the police present, so a call was made. They found Bastion standing at the window with a gun in his hand, staring down at the crowd of pedestrians on the street below. The responding officers immediately drew their weapons and instructed him to drop the gun, repeating the instruction and moving closer until they reached him. Bastion never moved or acknowledged their presence; he just stared out the window. They didn't notice the blood until they had almost reached him; the dark purple, long-sleeved, dress shirt he was wearing hid it very well. He was still unresponsive as they took the gun from his hand, cuffed him, and sat him on the couch. Then they started searching the apartment. It takes a lot to make a twenty-year veteran of the streets toss his breakfast. The scene in the conference room qualified as a lot. The board members were still seated at the big table, and, if not for all the blood and tissue splattered everywhere, it might have almost looked normal. They wouldn't need the medical examiner to tell them what had happened; the scene spoke for itself. One by one, they had all apparently been shot in the back of the head. The fact that they were all covered in what used to be their colleagues' blood, brains, and bits of bone said they had all been seated at the table when the shooting began. So why didn't anyone try to escape? There were twelve board members and the gun they had taken from Bastion was a .38 Special revolver, which meant that if it was indeed the murder weapon, then he had needed to reload it at least once during the process. Why would twelve people sit at a table and calmly watch their spiritual leader blow their brains out, one by one, without putting up a fight or trying to escape? And if they weren't going to fight back, why use the larger rounds? A .38, fired that close into the soft spot on the back of the head, would have had no problem penetrating the skull and destroying the brain. As long as you were careful and aimed upwards, the heavier bone of the forehead would probably contain the round and minimize the mess. With its higher capacity charge, the 'Special' round pretty much guaranteed you were going to make a mess, and you also had to worry about what the bullet was going to do when it exited the target. Maybe when you have the whole floor to yourself, you don't worry about stuff like that. At first they wondered why no one had heard the shots being fired, but, once they started looking, they discovered that the entire apartment had been built with noise reduction in mind. It baffled them why someone would go to such lengths when they had the entire floor to themselves – especially since the rest of the building was dedicated almost entirely to office space and therefore empty during the evening and weekend hours, when most domestic noise was generated. They would stop wondering once they processed the apartment and discovered the variety of DNA all over the place. At that point, some of them would undoubtedly think it funny that a 'man of god' lived a playboy lifestyle behind closed doors. Others would think it sacrilegious. The news media would think he was wonderful for providing them with so much material. If they got into the computer and found the video – and other files that we'd left intact – I was betting everyone else would universally want him strung up by his balls and killed very slowly and painfully. The news media wouldn't care one way or the other, but just praise God for the extra material. And, of course, if you'd let them broadcast the mob stringing him up... I was hoping that it didn't go that far. The files we'd left on the server would undeniably confirm exactly what had been going on – and confirm that a lot of recently dead people were involved – but it would also risk exposing the girls' identities. Oh, they could put those black dots over their faces, but it would only be a matter of time until someone figured out that these were those people's own children. Not long after that, they would discover that the girls were still alive. We were hoping to be able to keep it contained to just a few people – highly placed people – but there was no way to guarantee that. Timing was going to be critical, and there is only so much you can control from the shadows. As for what had happened in Bastion's penthouse; I could have told them why no one fought back or tried to run, but for some reason they never thought to ask me. Of course, I don't think they would have believed me if I had told them that they did it because Bastion told them not to. If there was enough intact material to work with, the Medical Examiner would undoubtedly spot the elevated levels of certain neuro-chemical signatures pointing to a hypnotic compound of some kind. That should lead them to do some rechecking of the other – recently dead – members in the videos, and they would finally have the connection they were looking for. Not in all of them; the naturally occurring chemicals are quickly re-absorbed and broken down by the body. Spring's parents, for instance, had been fully conscious for some time before they died. That, and the massive amounts of adrenaline running through their systems, would have wiped out any traces. It's amazing the cleansing effect of adrenaline on the human system. Did you ever see that scene in Pulp Fiction where Uma Thurman's character was dying of a heroin overdose? One massive adrenaline injection, and she is not only recovered, but fully awake and cognizant. They didn't make that up. Of course, they left out the part where she probably had to pee a small lake shortly after. The same thing happens to drunk people when they see a red light in the mirror on the drive home; it triggers a surge of adrenaline – a much smaller amount by far than was in that needle they used on Uma – which flushes the toxins created by the alcohol from the brain, and, for a few minutes, they are able to function fairly normally. Unfortunately, the rest of the alcohol in their blood is still being metabolized, so, after a short time, they are drunk again; which is one reason cops tend to take their time when dealing with a suspected drunk driver. It's the sheer volume of alcohol in their bloodstream that trips them up. Contrast that to the minute amount of most hard drugs, like heroin or cocaine, that are actually necessary to get you high or kill you. It seemed pretty apparent that Bastion was in shock, and they took him to the hospital to be checked out rather than to the police station for immediate questioning. A team from the Vegas Crime Lab went along to confiscate his clothes as evidence, as well as to check him out thoroughly for other traces of evidence. One of the tests they don't show you on television involves the use of specialized x-ray equipment that causes gunshot residue to fluoresce, which – using special lenses – allows the spread pattern to be photographed. Analysis of the pattern can help identify or eliminate certain variables. They didn't need it in this case; there was so much GSR on Hightower's clothing they couldn't even separate the patterns, and the lack of residue on everyone else made it clear that he was the only shooter. It wasn't that there was none on the rest of them, but the individual patterns matched the visual evidence that they had all been shot in the back of the head. The rest was just random drift from the sheer volume that must have been floating in the room. The ventilation system had to have been damn good to keep the smell from reaching the main room They had needed to confiscate the security guy's cell phone to keep him from calling anyone and telling them what he had found. Officers were dispatched to the church to seal the building until detectives could go over it for clues as to why this had happened. There were also a crap-load of interviews to do, and Vegas PD was pissed when the FBI refused to assist, but they got over it once Spencer called Atkins, and Atkins called the DA to explain that federal involvement could jeopardize any case he might try to make against Bastion. She did convey that the FBI would be happy to act as 'consultants' during the investigation, and, as a peace offering and show of good faith, warned him about the tip they had received regarding the dangers of playing with Bastion's computer. Part of that warning was not to let Bastion try more than twice in the same day to open it if they decided they absolutely had to see what was in it. The password was complicated, and therefore it was perfectly believable that he would make a mistake, but he knew it – and the consequences of making a mistake – too well to screw up, so if he didn't get in on the first try, toss him back in his cell and do it the hard way. They were encouraged to just stick with what they had, but there was always the chance they would ignore the warning; however, considering the source – and how badly they were going to want to nail him – I doubted it. Seven of the twelve board members were single, which, while it was – frankly – unusual for a church, and seemed extremely odd for this particular church – I mean, you would have expected that membership into the inner circle would have required that you have at least one young girl the rest could enjoy – was a blessing for the officers who had to go break the bad news to the families. It's practically impossible to contain a story this size, and, despite their best attempts, word of the killings – and the arrest of Bastion as the primary suspect – had gotten out and made the news. By the time officers got to the homes, three of the wives had already killed themselves. The other two were alive only because they had not had the television or radio on and therefore had not heard the news, but, much to the dismay of the police, both died by the following morning; one while the officers were still present. Upon hearing the news of her husband's death – and her priest being arrest for his murder – she quietly excused herself and went to her room. The officers just assumed she wanted a moment alone to deal with the shock, so they gave her the space and waited for her to come back out. Then they heard the gunshot. Their daughter – another young girl named April – was with CPS awaiting placement with the family that was supposed to take custody of her if anything happened to her parents. The last had been taken into custody as a precaution, but she assured them that she was fine. She was so convincing that even the police psychologist had deemed it safe to let her go home. She was found dead in her car the next morning when the neighbor smelled the exhaust fumes coming out of her garage as he was leaving for work and went to investigate. Apparently, she had filled up on the way home and the car was still running. The idiot neighbor almost killed himself going in to try and rescue her. He barely made it back to the door before collapsing. Fortunately, he had called 911 before going in, so the paramedics were already on the way. He was going to be okay, but that's not the kind of story you want to highlight your fifteen minutes of fame. "I thought you killed all the compulsions?" I asked Jamie. "I did," she replied. "Those were straight suicides, they knew what was going to happen when the truth came out." "So you didn't help them along any?" I asked, my voice heavy with sarcasm. I felt her blush a little as she said, "Well, maybe just a touch, you know, here and there. I had to make sure none of them got a chance to talk." "Good work, Sis. I'll talk to Lizzy about a suitable reward later." "Anything you feel an urgent need to tell me?" Dominique asked when she had finished relaying the story as she knew it. "No," I answered. "This definitely isn't how I pictured it going down." True enough, I hadn't ever pictured it happening quite like this. The ending was along the lines I had hoped for, but the method was a surprise. "Good work, sis," I said. "Thanks, I thought it was a nice way to wrap things up neat and tidy like you asked. Listening to Bastion scream and rant as he was forced to watch himself doing it was a nice little bonus. Kind of a nice little payback for what Stephen and everyone else would have gone through if something had happened to him before we killed the compulsions." "I assume you pointed that out to him?" "Of course," she replied. "Well, technically you did, I've never let him see me." "Yeah, I figured that. How did he take it?" "Oh, his personal air of indestructibility is really starting to fade. I think he's come to realize just how thoroughly he's screwed. I watched from outside the bubble for a while after you broke the news to him, and, after he trashed the place, he sat down and cried, then started all over again. I think in children it's called a temper tantrum." I did my best not to let the laugh get out. It really wasn't the time... "Then how did you see it going down?" Dominique asked. I just looked at her. "Off the record," she said, "just between you and me." "What about Atkins?" I asked. "I told you, I don't work for her." "Okay, off the record ... I don't know, really; I don't usually get involved beyond the information stage. This doesn't make sense to me. Why would he do this? He's worked his ass off to stay below the radar all this time. Why would he blatantly go out and slaughter twelve people like this? No attempt to hide it or cover it up; he didn't even try to get away." "Are you asking for my opinion?" She asked. I wasn't, but... , what the hell. "Absolutely," I said. "I am always open to new ideas and opinions, and it's not every day I have the chance to get them from someone at your level. Go for it." "I think he realized you – not you specifically, but someone – was closing in on his little party." "Why would you think that?" "Don't play stupid, David; it doesn't work with people who know better, and I've been around you long enough to know better. His people were dropping like flies. I only know about Victoria, but you know a lot more. How many of the recent accidents were Bastion's people? There were others, but if you look at the statistics, the other deaths – the ones that didn't go to his church – account for the normal number of accidental deaths in Metro Las Vegas for that time period. A few extras could be tossed off as a normal swing of the pendulum, but almost twenty people – all from the same church? If they had been on a bus trip I could understand it, but individual couples dying together... ? The statistics can't handle that kind of aberration. I think one of our major players, either Atkins or your guy, or maybe someone we don't even know about, got tired of waiting and started taking steps. You apparently know more about these people than anyone else. How many of those people were part of Bastion's pedo-ring?" And the trap snapped shut. "Slave ring would be closer to the truth," I said. "Remember he sold at least one girl that we know of, and there are others that we can't account for. They didn't walk away – that's not allowed. So either he sold them, or they're dead, because that's the only way he could guarantee their silence. I lean towards dead because he made it a point to show the other girls the picture of the one he sold – it was in an Arabic newspaper, and she was dressed up like Barbara Eden from the old 'I Dream of Jeanie'. He did the same thing with the news stories on those families that died: the ones that tried to run and the one where the girl turned her father in." "Whatever," she said. "Answer the question. How many were on your list of players?" "All of them," I said. "But it doesn't wash, Nicki. Every single one of those couples had girls they were abusing and passing around to the rest of the group, and every single one of them made arrangements for those girls to go to new families – families with no apparent connection to the group – if anything happened to them. And all of those couples had reciprocal agreements if they should be the unfortunate ones. All of the couples interviewed said they had been moved by one of Bastion's sermons. This is the part that has been driving me nuts. Why would Bastion allow that? I can see the safety net, but why let them use people outside the party? What if the girls talked after their parents died? Why would he risk the truth getting out and... ," I stopped like I'd just thought of something and pieces were falling into place. "What?" She asked. "Nothing," I lied. "Nothing my wrinkled ass!" she swore. "Don't pull that shit with me, Malcolm; you thought of something. What? Talk to me, David." "What if... ?" I began. I paused just long enough and went on. "What if Bastion were the one arranging the accidents?" I asked. "This is going to sound fucking weird, considering who we're talking about, but what if Bastion suddenly grew a conscience and decided that this had to stop? He can't just call a meeting and say, 'Okay, boys, playtime is over.' He's in the same boat they are if anything comes out. If he even suggested it, there is every possibility they would just get rid of him and carry on without him." I could almost hear the wheels turning as she thought about it. I didn't wait. "And people were starting to get nervous; they had to have been with the rash of 'accidents'. The slow and steady had become untenable; he'd done all he could that way, and he needed to finish it. He calls a meeting, gets the last of the bunch together, and ends it. That would also explain why he saved the board for last: because he knew he would be able to get them all together when the time came." She sat for a few seconds mulling it over, finally shaking her head. "No way," she said finally. "Pedophiles don't change; it's been proven time and time again: you can't rehabilitate them; it's how they're wired; all you can do is cut off their access." "And he did, permanently." "Why?" She demanded. "Why would he do it? He was living the predator's dream, and no one even suspected. Well, obviously someone did; they got you involved, but, as far as he knew, everything was still fine. Why stop?" "Hell if I know," I said defensively. "I just had a thought, and you dragged it out of me. I told you it was nothing, but you wouldn't listen. It's too far-fetched. Who knows? Maybe he found Jesus." "Oh, you're funny," she said sarcastically. "Well, there's one way to find out." "How's that?" I asked. "Talk to the girls. Now that all the bad guys are dead, they'll be free to talk." Now it was my turn to be sarcastic. "Yeah, right! Good luck with that." "What do you mean?" "Well, for one thing, we don't know that all the bad guys are dead, and even if we were sure, they wouldn't believe us. As far as they know, there could still be some out there waiting to kill them if they open their mouths. It's not like Bastion introduced them to whoever was doing the group's executions. Besides, if you were a teenage girl, would you admit that your parents used you for a fuck toy and passed you around to all their friends? I think they'd die before they let that get out. Say it was you, and you'd just got handed a fresh start with a new family ... Are you going to take a chance on screwing that up? "And how would you justify needing to ask those kinds of questions in the first place? You think the new mom and dad are going to let you question them alone? What if the new daddy or mommy is one of those on-the-edge types that leans that way but resists? Knowing the new girl in the house was used to it – had grown up doing it – could be all it took to push them over the edge. You want to be the one responsible for dropping one of them back into the same hell she just got out of?" "But... ," she began, but then let the thought die unspoken. We both knew what she was about to say, and we both knew that none of those girls would ever trust 'the system' to protect them. Hell, those girls wouldn't trust an armed guard following them everywhere they went, because there would always be that part of them that wondered if – while he was watching out for them – he was also watching them, and maybe reporting back to someone else. "Maybe" was all it would take to keep them silent. Well, that and a little encouragement from me. "So what now?" Dominique asked when the silence got too long. "Now you take me home," I said, "where I am going to really enjoy sleeping in my own bed again, and then tomorrow we both go back to work and wait to see how it all unfolds. If what you're telling me is true, then it's all in the hands of the lawyers now." It was going to be a long night. ------- Chapter 38: Group Therapy Most of the time it was a basketball court – and a nice one at that. It took up one end of the warehouse and was used by the employees for recreation during lunch or on particularly slow days. In the season it was used by a local youth team coached by the building's owner, and hosted games almost every weekend. The league's championship game had been played there for the last three years – ever since he had installed the state of the art, collapsible bleachers along the back wall. Oddly enough, it was a boy's team; at least he was keeping a low profile. There was talk of forming a 'Geezer' League in the city, and the owner had been approached about renting it out for practice sessions. So far, he didn't seem interested. It wasn't that he didn't want to, he just couldn't. My guess was that that position would change by next season. His was easily the nicest privately owned court in the city, and the teams would probably be lined up begging for a shot once he opened the door. Polished parquet floor with all the right lines gleaming invitingly in the glare of overhead lights; state of the art Plexiglas boards at either end ... it just called out for ten people to choose up sides and toss up that first jump ball. It would be interesting to see how it turned out. But that was for another time; tonight... Tonight it had a different purpose. Tonight the lights were turned down low; in fact, most of them were turned off ... all but two. One shone down on a podium; the other did its best to illuminate the oddly shaped bulges hidden under the large black tarps along the near sideline. A side door opened, and people started arriving. Slowly, one by one, they filed in, and soon a good portion of the seats were filled. There were not many – seats that is, less than fifty in all – since the bleachers were still folded into their wall storage compartments. Regular folding chairs had been set up, and tonight – unlike past nights – over half of them were empty, and would remain so. Each person entering wore a black robe that covered them from neck to floor, complete with a hood to conceal their hair as the masks concealed their faces. Faceless, nameless, intended to be sexless, but that didn't always work, as there is only so much even a robe can hide. One by one they filed in and took their places, each alone in the blank sameness of anonymity. Despite the intentional feeling of isolation induced by their sameness, they had much in common. Fear, for one; this was a place they had learned to fear long ago. Sorrow, for they knew that someone would be made to suffer tonight, and maybe tomorrow, and maybe even longer than that. It all depended on the degree of her transgression. And finally – for many – relief that it was not they who would be subjected to whatever lay hidden by the expanse of black cloth, not this time. Very soon the stream stopped, and they waited, patiently, silently, for what would come next. The door opened again, and three more entered, two in the same robes, leading a third whose robe was different. For one thing, it was red instead of black, signifying the sinner in their midst. Then there was the fact that her robe had no hood but simply draped her body from shoulder to knees. Below the hem, her legs and feet were bare. Above, instead of a draped hood and mask, she wore a black cowl, like the ones executioners offer their charges so they do not have to see death coming – and so the witnesses didn't have to see the horror in their face and eyes as they died. The cowl was pulled snugly over the head and tied with rope around her neck. Of course it was a girl; it was always a girl, and, judging from her size, one of the older ones again, no surprise there. One of the men stepped up to the podium; the other stayed with the girl, a step back and to the side. "I know what you're thinking," I said as I stood at the podium. "You're wondering how you got here, because the last thing you remember is going to bed. It's simple really; you're asleep, and this is a dream. Now you're thinking, 'but it seems so real.' It is real, or at least, as real as a dream can be. Which is this case is very real. As for how that is possible; we'll save that for another time, but, as much as it is possible, you are all really here, sharing a dream. Why here? Because, I know what this place is, and what it means to all of you. Well, not anymore. Tonight, all of that changes." And then I did the unthinkable: I pulled back the hood and began unbuttoning my robe. "Tonight the hiding ends. Tonight, the pain ends. As of tonight, the fear ... ends. Now I know that is an easy thing to say, and I understand that you will doubt me when I say it..." I let the robe fall in a bunch at my feet, leaving me standing before them in jeans, a polo shirt, and black tennis shoes. I let the lights come up and pulled off my mask. " ... but you know me," I said. "You don't know how or where, but, sitting here now and seeing my face, you are asking yourself, 'Where do I know him from?' Well, I'll tell you where. Not long ago, I visited each and every one of you and took away something that Lord Hightower had hidden within you. The dreams were different for all of you, but they all went something like this." I replayed the scene of Lizzy and me visiting Stephen Hendricks. I could see heads nodding as the newsbreak announced that Elliott Bastion was dead. "Before this moment, the memory of that dream – or your version of it – was hidden from you. That was done for your own safety. Do you know why that compulsion to kill was hidden within you?" Around the crowd heads shook as people began to get caught up in what I was saying. "It doesn't make any sense to you, does it? Why would the death of your priest cause an overwhelming urge to slaughter the people you love and take your own life? That is one of the questions I am here to answer. Perhaps you know this man..." An image of Lord Hightower with his face blurred out appeared beside me. I saw several small figures draw back against the larger figures next to them. The adults whispered to them and pushed them back to sit up on their own again. "Lord Hightower; the man no one remembers, the monster responsible for the atrocities that you have been forced to endure, and take part in, all of these years. The reason you don't remember him is simple; you don't remember him because he told you not to. The reason he told you not to is simply because he didn't want you to know who he really was. Perhaps you will recognize him now..." The distortion disappeared, and they gave a collective gasp as Elliott Bastion stood revealed before them. "Now do you recognize him?" I asked. "I know this is shocking to you, even more shocking because as I revealed him you suddenly remembered something else. Suddenly, each of you remembers sitting in church for the past few weeks, and, as the sermon went on, your priest made eye contact with you, and with that contact came a voice with a message tailored just for you. The message varied from person to person; each a little different because each of you is a little different, but that was how he kept control of you. You see, the man you know as Elliott Bastion has a unique gift: he can implant a hypnotic suggestion just by looking into your eyes. I know that's hard to believe, but you've heard the messages these past few weeks, haven't you? I wish I could have revealed it sooner, but it was important that he not suspect anything had changed in you. If you had realized it was there, your mind would have automatically tried to resist it. You've been hearing that message, probably not the same one, but a message, from him, for as long as you have attended the Church of the Inner Circle. Why, you ask? That's a valid and important question, so why didn't you think of it before? Again, because he told you not to, just as he told you to come back every week regardless of circumstances. He had to have you there every week, you see, because he had to reinforce his control on a regular basis. Let me ask you, when was the last time any of you missed church?" I waited while they thought about it. "Probably not since you started attending his church," I said. "Even if you were too sick to work, or go to school, nothing short of being physically incapacitated would keep you from attending church. Even your vacations were short enough that you could make it back by the next Sunday. That was another compulsion. Why? Because his control faded over time, and too long away would free you from it. I know that's hard to believe, but now that Bastion is in jail, over the next couple of weeks, as that control fades further, you're going to start realizing that it's true. Not for all of you; some of you attended because you had no choice. You know who you are, and you know the reason you dared not miss a Sunday morning, but we'll save that for later. Some of you will notice changes in yourselves, in your behavior and attitudes. Some of the younger girls may suddenly discover that the sex they seemed to crave is no longer as appealing as it once was." Towards one end, I finally got what I'd been waiting for, a hand crept up. I wasn't ready for questions just yet, but it was nice to see someone taking the initiative. "Yes?" I said, pointing toward the person. "You have a question? If you would wait for just a moment longer, I will be happy to take your question. I just have a couple more things I want to share before we get to that. "This is not going to get better overnight," I said. "It's been going on for a long time, and healing the damage will take just as long, or longer; some of you may never fully recover. But before there can be any chance of healing, you will need two things: Two things that you have lived without for so long that some of you may not even recognize them. One is hope, and that is what I am here to offer you tonight. But before you can have that one, before you can have hope, there is something else you will need. It is a simple thing, so simple that you probably don't even realize that I've already offered it to you. Just by standing here, like this, I have offered it you, but I can't make you take it, no one can. It is a thing that will be hard for some of you to accept. For some, accepting it will seem the hardest thing you have ever done, but harder still will be passing it on, and it's very important – critical even – that you do both, because until you do, you will never have hope. "That thing ... is trust. Not trust of me, not right away at least – that would be asking too much – because you really don't know me, and it may be some time before you will be that comfortable. I hope that once your questions have been answered you will begin to trust me, but I will understand if you don't. As I said, this will take time. There are some among you that trust me already, and I will now introduce them to you. Samantha?" Behind me, Sam shrugged out of the costume she had been wearing – the red robe and cowl falling away in a single piece – and stood revealed in a pair of shorts and a loose top. I could see the shock as the audience realized it had just been a prop. Once the disguise had settled to the floor, she moved forward to stand next to me. "My name is Samantha Watkins," she said, "and I have lived this nightmare for most of my life. Some of you know me because we have 'served'..." she hung a couple of air-quotes around the word, " ... together over the years. Some of you knew my sister, Amanda. We were part of the first group to be sent for training. Some of you know what I mean by that as well. One of the questions I'm sure you are dying to ask is who this man is. Well, his name is Jimmy, and we met some time ago, when he came looking for information about the man who killed Amanda. Needless to say, he found a lot more than he bargained for. The truly miraculous thing is that when he learned the truth about what was going on here, he didn't just run away screaming, didn't ignore it as simply not being his problem. Not even later, when he learned what he had gotten himself into, and understood that the price of knowing the truth of our lives was death, or worse ... becoming part of our nightmare. Even then, he didn't run away; instead he promised me – swore to me – that he would find a way to stop it; find a way to save me, and, more importantly, to save Rachel, my sister. And again, when he realized that in order to save us he had to save all of you as well ... Well, here we all are. "A year ago I cried myself to sleep every night, not so much for myself, but because I knew that it was only a matter of time before they came for my Rachel. Now my tears are tears of joy because I know that she is safe for the first time since Amanda died. As for me, I now wake up happy in the morning because I have hope. The parents that forced me into this life of pain and abuse are dead, and now Rachel and I live with a man whom I know loves us. I would trust, have trusted, this man – Jimmy – with my life and the life of my sister. I hope that – in time – you, will learn to trust him as well." Behind us Stephen dropped his robe, removed his mask, and stepped forward. "My name is Stephen Hendricks. Many of you girls will know me as your doctor. Some of the adults know me as well; the rest will recognize me from what you just saw about the buried compulsion. For those who do not know me, I am one of the doctors that have been seeing to the girl's medical needs over the years. It was my responsibility to oversee their general health, deal with accidents, sickness, all the usual things, plus managing their diets and birth control. As for how I got into this position, ... Jimmy?" An image formed of Stephen's visit from Ed Rivers and the video he showed depicting Stephen having sex with three underage girls. "I had no memory at all of that night. All I knew was that my wife, Kathy, had taken me to see some new friends she had made, and – the next thing I knew – I woke up at home, wondering how I had gotten there. My first thought was that maybe I'd had too much to drink, but I only remembered having one." "Stephen did only have one," I said, "but that drink was laced with a drug designed to make him more susceptible to hypnosis. Apparently some people, and that includes some of you others, have a natural defense against the kind of manipulations Hightower was capable of. You can still be controlled for a short time, but it wears off as soon as it is not being actively maintained. There is no easily reinforced, lingering effect, like there is with most others. For these situations, Hightower resorted to good old-fashioned blackmail. Once he had the video of Stephen..." Someone stood up towards the end of one row; the way the robe hung made it pretty obvious it was a girl. One of the adults reached for her, but she had already moved out of reach. As she came forward, she unbuttoned her robe and let it fall, then removed the mask and dropped it behind her. She was naked under the robe, so I put a pair of shorts and a t-shirt on her. Without hesitation, she walked directly up to Stephen, threw her arms around his neck, and started crying. "I'm so sorry, Stephen," she wailed between sobs. Sam moved forward and joined Stephen in holding the distraught young woman, and, after a minute or so, he pushed her gently away. "Sorry for what?" He asked. "Do I know you?" "My name is Stephanie, and I was one of the girls they filmed you with. They, my parents that is, told me later what they had done, and I've always wanted to tell you how sorry I am for what I helped them do to you, but I only ever saw you again at church, and I couldn't say anything there, and ... and I'm just so sorry..." She dissolved into sobbing again. Stephen pulled her in close again and rocked her gently as she wept. "I forgive you, Stephanie," he said. He was whispering, but I made sure everyone heard what he said. "There was nothing you could have done. They gave you no choice. With Bastion there, there was no way you could have resisted. So you really didn't do anything, any more than I did anything to you. Yes, it happened, but it wasn't your fault, and I don't blame you for it." "Really?" she sobbed. "You mean it?" "Of course he means it, Stephanie," Sam said, gently stroking her cheek. "It wasn't you; it was Hightower controlling you, maybe not directly like he was Stephen, maybe it was through your parents, and fear of being punished if you didn't go along, but he made you do it; it wasn't you." "And that is what we are here for tonight," I said. "To begin the healing process for all of you. The most basic step towards that healing is what you have just seen happen between Stephen and Stephanie. For years, Stephanie has carried the pain and guilt of what she helped Lord Hightower do to him. Now, finally, she has been able to tell him that she was sorry. Stephanie, were you surprised that Stephen forgave you?" "Yes," she said, pulling back from his embrace and wiping her eyes. "So you didn't expect him to forgive you – didn't even care if he did. You just wanted – needed – to finally confess and apologize? How do you feel now, knowing that he forgives you?" She thought about it for a moment, glancing at Stephen several times before finally saying, "Free. I think more than anything, I feel free." "And how does that feel?" I asked. "Wonderful," she said, and the tears came again. "It's the most wonderful feeling I think I've ever had." Sam moved in and hugged her again as she alternately laughed and cried as the emotional waves poured over her. I left them to it as I turned back to the crowd. "Now, there are some things I cannot tell you, mostly for legal reasons, but beyond that I will do my best to answer at least some of your questions." "Wait," Stephen said. "Before you start that, I just want to say that, like Sam, I trust Jimmy. And because of what he has done and what he is doing in bringing us together – here – to start the healing process, I'm going to trust all of you as well. There is a secret I've been hiding for a long time, and I'm going to share it with you. Eight years ago, one of my girls got pregnant. She had gotten sick, and I had prescribed an antibiotic for her. My wife loved to watch me have sex with the girls; it reinforced the feeling of power for her, so any time one of them would come over, we would have sex, unless Kathy wasn't around, and then I left it up the girl. Long story short, the antibiotic messed up the girl's birth control, and she got pregnant. It didn't take long to figure out what had happened and that it was my child. We hid it as long as we could, but you can only do that for so long, and eventually it was discovered that she was pregnant. There was a lot of pressure to abort the baby, let me tell you. "Ironically, the girl was one of our more consistent problems, rebelling every chance she got. She had already been disciplined twice. I think it was her unwillingness to give in that impressed me the most, but it had reached a point where they were ready to give up on her. That girl was Samantha's sister, Amanda. He turned to Samantha and said, "Sam, I'm sorry I never told you, but Rachel is not really your sister, but your niece. I loved Amanda, Sam, I truly did. I couldn't bear the thought of losing her, so I convinced her to make a deal with the group: If they would spare her daughter, our daughter – though they didn't know that part – keep her out of this life, then she, Amanda, would stop fighting. It was a cowardly thing to do, but it saved your sister's life. Both of their lives, actually, since the alternative would have been to abort Rachel." "I know, Stephen," Samantha said, smiling and taking his hand. "I've known all along. Mandy told me you were the father. And you should know she loved you too. And I loved you, because of what you did for her and for saving Rachel. It wasn't until after Mandy died that I started falling in love with you for myself, and now, thanks to Jimmy, we're finally a family." He pulled her closer, and Stephanie moved away to give them room. He kissed Sam's hair and then turned his attention back to the room. "I am Doctor Stephen Hendricks, I have been both a victim of, and a party to, many of the same terrible things the rest of you have. I trust Jimmy, and I trust you, and I pledge to do whatever I can to help heal our hurts and help us all to move on." "Thank you, Stephen," I said. "Now, the one rule with regards to questions is that you must take off your mask before asking them. I was going to make you lose the robes, too, but after Stephanie's little surprise, I think we'll make that optional. Do you still have a question?" The one that had raised a hand earlier stood and pulled off his mask. "My name is Franklin Sweet, and I was going to ask how we could trust you, but I think you've answered that pretty well. Right now I just want to thank you for bringing us here and say that I think we're off to a great start. I've been caught up in this mess for over four years, and while I will admit that I enjoyed having sex with all of you girls, I am still sorry. Regardless of the reasons, it was wrong, and I knew it. I hope someday you will be able to forgive me." "I forgive you," a voice said. A mask flew, and a robe dropped, and there was Spring; standing in shorts and a sweatshirt. "My name is Spring, and for the record, I really enjoyed having sex with you, too. Of course, after my parents, I'd have enjoyed having sex with almost anyone, but you and your wife were always very pleasant to be with." More and more people were starting to take off their robes and masks. A few were still holding out, but I was pretty sure they would come around in time. "Okay," I said, raising my voice above the growing noise. "This place... ," I waved to indicate the room, and the tarps – along with whatever had been underneath – vanished, " ... is now a place of healing. Beginning tonight, you will all be required to come here at least twice each week. While you are here, I would encourage you to talk to each other, or, if you choose, and if you need them, there will be professional psychologists and therapists available. I can't guarantee there will always be someone here – they have lives too, believe it or not – but if you come here and can't find someone, pick up that phone, and someone will answer. While you are here, I expect you to encourage each other, get to know each other – that should be a novel experience considering the way you are used to meeting new people – and learn to trust each other." That got me a chuckle, and I paused before going on, "I think once you've had a chance to get to know each other, you'll find it a lot easier to talk about what has happened to you. I know what you're thinking, and yes, that sounds a lot easier than it probably is, but give it a try. I have some business I need to take care of, and then I'll be back to answer more questions. Stephen and Samantha may be able to answer some of them for you. And don't worry, you're not prisoners or anything like that, you can leave if you want, but don't get too involved with anything else, because when I get back, you will automatically find yourself here as well." With that, I left them to get acquainted and moved on to my next task. While it was too soon for the legal formalities, Elliott Bastion was about to be charged with twelve counts of first-degree murder. I have to say, he was taking it well... "Hello, Elliott," I said as I stepped out of the elevator. I was surprised to see that he had redecorated, and really surprised at the type of changes he'd made; the term decadent came to mind. "Ah, young James," he said cordially from his seat on the plush leather sofa. "So good of you to drop by. How goes the good fight?" "So far, so good," I replied. "Everyone is still in a little bit of shock at this point, including the authorities. I've started the rest on what I hope to be the road to recovery." "I can only assume you mean those that you allowed to live. I realize now that it was indeed you that killed the others. It's going to be interesting to see what the weight of all this death does to you over time. I must congratulate you, though; besides the sheer weight of statistics – which is unavoidable – there is not a shred of evidence to suggest that any of those deaths were not the accidents they appeared to be." "I told you, Hightower; it wasn't me, so if you're waiting to see what my guilty conscience does to me, you're going to be waiting a long, long, time. Interesting choice of décor, by the way." "Thank you," he said. "Now that I am no longer constrained by appearances, I decided to indulge myself. You should see the bedroom; you and your little friends could have a really good time in there." "My little friends?" I asked. "You should pay better attention, Elliott. I told you; Shannon died in an accident, so now it's just me and Allison." "Oh, please," he said, rolling his eyes. He picked up a tumbler off the coffee table and took a sip. "Ah, I have missed this. I'm looking forward to tasting the real thing again soon; I find that after going without for so long, I've lost the details." He took a sip before continuing. "Now then, you do not truly expect me to believe that you are going to suddenly be content with only one woman after tasting the pleasure of multiple partners. Or your sister – who obviously has a taste for her own kind – either, for that matter; especially with such a variety of willing young volunteers suddenly beholden to you both. You can't possibly think me so naïve as to believe such nonsense. Young Samantha alone would give her soul to be with you, and probably your sister as well. Several others come to mind, too, but I'm sure you came here for some reason other than to banter such trivial issues with me. What can I do for you?" "For someone facing twelve counts of murder, you seem very content with your situation." "Hardly content," he pointed out. "I am, after all, incarcerated, both here and out there where it really counts. I can think of countless places I would rather be." "I think you have that backwards. The prison that really counts it the one I've put you in, and I'd get used to the idea of a more conservative lifestyle if I were you," I said. "Hmmm," he said. "Let me think ... nope, sorry. I just don't see it." "You really think you're going to beat this?" I asked, surprised. "You were arrested at the scene of the crime, holding the murder weapon. A weapon you had to stop and reload in order to kill them all." "We shall see," he said smugly. "I think you underestimate the possibilities here." "One of us certainly is," I said, "I hope your ego can take the damage when you find out it was you." With that, I turned and left again. The whole thing had gone pretty much as I had expected. He had dropped the pretenses a little more completely than I had expected, but everything else fit my expectations pretty closely. "Pretty sure of himself," Jamie said. "He's never lost before; why should he expect to this time? Any signs of him trying to tamper with the bubble?" "No," she assured me. "So now what?" "Well, I was thinking of dropping in on the DA and Bastion's lawyer to see what the latest is, but I think it's still too soon to really get much there. My guess is that they're still trying to get a grip on what they're dealing with." "Still, he seems pretty sure of himself," she said. "Makes me wonder if we're missing something." "Have to wait and see," I said. "Let's go find Bob, so we can get back and play twenty-questions; then we can get started on some of the private meetings we need to have." I moved us to my office and was about to call Bob when Jamie stepped out and stopped me. "I don't like it," she said. "Which part?" "That smug son-of-a-bitch sitting in his cushy apartment sipping champagne and gloating about how untouchable he is." She had a point. "What did you have in mind?" She took a deep breath, and suddenly I knew there was more to this than she had said. "Jimmy, you watched the video; you know what he did, to Amanda, to Autumn, to all of these girls. The man is scum. His picture belongs in the encyclopedia under "Evil"; right next to Hitler, Bundy, and a few others. He needs to die, but before that, he needs to know the hell he put those girls through. I want him to..." She stopped and turned away, but it didn't matter; I could feel – hell, practically see – the conflicting emotions of anger, pain, and hurt coming off of her in waves. "Allison!" I called. A few moments later she walked in the door, took one look at Jamie, and stopped. "What the hell happened?" She demanded. "Talk to her," I said. "Why do I need to talk to her?" she asked, eyeing me skeptically. "Because I don't trust myself, and I don't want to rush into a bad decision." "A bad decision about what?" "I'll let her explain, and then we'll talk about it. Right now I need to take Bob back and introduce him to the girls." I didn't wait, but sent them both off to Allison's glade and called Bob. "You ready to get started?" I asked, doing my best to focus on what I needed to do, and not think about how much I agreed with Jamie. "Absolutely," he answered. "And you're sure you don't want to use any kind of disguise or anything?" "Jimmy, I can't ask them to trust me if I'm lying to them. This is all taking place in an environment you've created and control, so I don't have to worry about them remembering me or talking about me when they're awake. Unless something goes wrong with your control, I'm not worried. Let's get to this." "Okay, just making sure," I said. "Who do you want to start with?" "I think the ones that have generated multiples are the ones we'll need to reassure the most, so let's start there." "Okay then," I said, standing up and heading for the door. He joined me, and we stepped into the warehouse. Most of them had broken up into small groups, mostly by age, but a few of the younger girls had gone with the adults. The all-girl groups were cleanly split by generation. There were a few singles sitting alone, and, not surprisingly, they were all part of the group we wanted first. As we crossed the floor, Spring got up and came to meet us. "Can I talk to you?" She asked. "Alone." "That's why I'm here, Spring, and it's why I've brought Bob with me. First things first, though, look behind you." She turned and was obviously surprised to see herself sitting where she had been. She spun back around to face us, a question already forming on her lips, but I held up my hand. "No one else saw you move; as far as they are concerned, you're still sitting there, and Bob and I are talking to each other. Spring, you're not the only one who has generated a protector. There are several others, and the first thing Bob wanted to do was spend time with all of you, so give me a second to introduce him, and then we're going to send everyone else home for the night, so we can talk to just your group, okay?" She nodded, and I moved her back to her seat. When she suddenly found herself back where she started, she made a face at me. I took it as a good sign and turned to address the whole group. "It looks like we're off to a great start," I said to get everyone's attention. I introduced Bob, and we talked for a few minutes before I said again, "I think we've made a good start, so why don't we break for tonight and give you all time to try and get a handle on what's happening? That should give you a chance to come up with some new questions before next time." I sent all of them back to their own private dreams except the group Bob wanted to talk to first. "I'm sure you're all wondering why I've kept you here after sending the others away," I said. "The reason is that you all have something in common, and Bob wanted to talk to you first. Bob?" I turned it over to him. "Hello," Bob said. "My name is Robert Shelby, and I am a board certified psychologist from California. The first thing that I want you to know is that yes; that is my real name, and – such as it is – this is my real face. As Jimmy pointed out, the first big step for most of you is going to be learning to trust, and I can't ask you to do that if I don't show you that same trust. Now, I noticed when we arrived that several of you were sitting alone rather than joining in with one of the groups. I don't have to ask you if you wondered if maybe the others were alone for the same reason; I already know you did. I also know why you didn't approach one of the others and ask if you were right. You didn't want to risk exposing yourselves if you were wrong. Let's get that out of the way right now – you were right. Every one of you – and even these others still here who did join groups – have manifested alternate personalities to deal with what you have been going through. Which brings me to my second point: by no stretch of the imagination am I an expert on Multiple Personality Dysfunction – MPD, for short; what the average moron on the street – and I say that with the greatest love and respect because that's all of us in one way or another – thinks of as 'Split Personalities'. Another term most people are familiar with – a far more accurate term – is 'Alter Ego'. In fact, the separate and distinct personalities are referred to as 'Alters'. "The most common of these new personalities are what we refer to as protectors. They are the most common of this type of manifestation, and they take many forms depending on your individual needs. Some of you may have needed a strong character to take the abuse, or maybe a lesbian personality to deal comfortably with those times when you were forced to have sex with another female." I don't know if he caught it, but I saw one of the girls suddenly stiffen and glance around when he mentioned the idea. "Some of you may have also generated what is referred to as a 'shell presenter', which is very different in that it is not an actual personality so much as it is a mask that you can hide behind. You retain control, but no matter how extreme the situation, your true emotions and reactions don't show through where someone may discover them. The clearest example I can point to of this was Amanda Watkins. Some of you probably knew her and saw this first hand; you others will have to trust me on this for now. You recall earlier that Stephen said they made a deal with Mandy: They would spare her daughter if she stopped fighting them. Well, Mandy was an athlete – a competitor – and giving up was not in her nature; she couldn't just stop being who she was, but she was desperate to save her daughter. So she created a place to hide; a place that allowed her to be aware of everything that was going on – because it was crucial that she respond correctly..." A couple girls nodded at this point. " ... but didn't allow the situation to touch her deeply enough to cause a reaction and give her away. A shell presenter is a coping mechanism, like a coat you put on to go out in the rain. If you had a sister or a friend that needed to go out, you might let him or her reach into your closet and borrow your raincoat. That is the difference between a presenter and an Alter." The girls all nodded their understanding. "Others of you," he continued, "like you, Spring, may not have been able to submit and generated a personality – an Alter – that could. As with all things in life, your individual situation and need determines your response. For Amanda, a presenter was enough, but Spring needed more. In Samantha's case, she knew the truth about Jimmy, what he was doing, and a lot of what he was capable of. She needed someone to keep his secret safe, so that he could continue working to end what was going on without having to worry about her giving him away to Hightower. "As protectors, you are naturally less trusting of change in general, and strangers in particular. Don't feel bad because you couldn't relax enough to join one of the groups. For many of you, that is part and parcel of your existence, though some are just the opposite; you are naturally rather shy and introverted, and the abuse exacerbated that, causing you to withdraw further, and, in your case, the protector is the one who allows you to work comfortably in social situations. Regardless of the form your protector takes, they are all quite normal, and very natural, for who you are. The reason you are here now, is so that you will know that you are not alone, and that you have others that you can talk to who will understand your unique situation and some of the fears that come with it. Samantha and some of the others felt safe joining a particular group for one of two reasons. Either they were comfortable enough in the situation, and membership in the group, that they felt safe – in Sam's case, she was in a group with Stephen, whom she knows, loves, and trusts. Plus, she has known about all of this longer and therefore she believes and trusts what Jimmy has set up. Others of you joined the group because you felt like it was a better way to hide than sitting alone. It attracted less attention. So don't make the mistake of jumping to conclusions about another girl's problem just because they did or did not join a group." Again I saw some eye movement and a couple of heads nodding slightly. Good. "One last big point I want to make, and this is crucial, so I need you to really focus on what I am about to say. You are not SICK! Got that? Let me say it again just in case you didn't catch it. You are NOT sick, and I am not here to heal you, or make you better. I'm here to help you understand, and cope with, the changes your situation has caused, and to help you live, and function, in the real world. I would prefer that you had someone better qualified – and someday that may be possible – but neither Jimmy nor I believe that you would be willing to share any of this, or even want any of this known by, an outsider – not yet anyway. That kind of trust – the trust of a total stranger – is a long ways off. Your trust in me, right now, is a tenuous thing at best, based only on the fact that you now realize that Jimmy has been working to help you for so long and that he is the one introducing me to you. "Now, who wants to ask the question that's got you all so worried?" Samantha looked confused, but Spring jumped right in, "What will happen to us?" "That's not the whole question, and I think everyone understands what you're really asking, but I'll finish it for you anyway. What will happen to you now that you're not needed anymore? That is what you really wanted to ask, isn't it?" She nodded her head. "Okay, first rule. When you have something to say, or when you have a question, I want you to say or ask exactly what you mean. You have to remember, I'm only a man – an old man at that – and we're not known for our listening and communication skills, so it's much easier for me to jump to the wrong conclusion and give you the wrong answer." That got him a couple of smiles. "Here, in this place, with these others, there is no need to hide. You're here, together, so that you have someone to talk to that understands you. I want you to feel free to express yourself. If you are angry, sad, happy, even horny, I want you to feel free to express that. Violence is the only kind of expression that is not allowed, although if you feel the need to express something that way, we can – and will – provide you a way to get it off your chest. "Rule two, you will not take it personally if someone expresses something to you or even at you. If Spring tells me to go fuck myself I may question why she said it, but I will not be angry, because I have given her the freedom to express her feelings to me. It is a choice I have made freely, and because it was my decision, I still retain control. Remember, no one can hurt your feelings unless you let them. Conversely; if one of you feels an overwhelming urge to take me somewhere and fuck me until I can't walk, feel free to express yourself, but know up front it's not going to happen, ever! For starters, I'm engaged to a woman who carries a gun and has no problem using it. But beyond that, and far more important for you to understand, is that it would be wrong, and I would never – let me repeat that – never, ever, compromise our professional relationship that way. Please feel free to make the offer, though; it's good for my ego." They all chuckled at that, and Bob went on. "There is also the chance that one of you may want to approach another in a similar fashion. Please don't. If you should find yourself so attracted, come and see me, and we will sit down with the object of your affection and discuss it openly and honestly. Does anyone know why I want to do it this way?" It was Samantha that answered, "Because we're not used to having the right to say no." "Very good, Samantha," Bob said. "She is exactly right. Would you want to find out later that the girl you approached consented out of some sense of obligation; some automatic response that was triggered in a moment of weakness? Isn't that exactly the kind of life you're all trying to escape? Would you want to be responsible for doing that to someone else?" There was a universal shaking of heads and some very adamant statements of denial. It was good to see them loosening up and expressing themselves. "I didn't think so, and let me clarify by saying that just because you may have had a relationship before, even enjoyed each others company, that doesn't matter. As I'm sure Jimmy mentioned – and you have no doubt noticed – things have been changing over the past few weeks, and I don't want anyone to risk hurting anyone else's feelings or having their own feelings hurt if her former partner doesn't want to play anymore. You heard Jimmy mention that some of you may have generated a lesbian protector? Well, how would you know which one you are hitting on? If it's the straight one, she's going to be embarrassed because you've put her in a position where she either has to hurt your feelings, or go along with something she doesn't want to do. Most likely she would turn it over to her other self at some point, but still, it wouldn't be her consenting. How would you feel? "Now let's go back to rule two for a moment. If someone says something to you that bothers you, or hurts you, and for some reason you just can't seem to let it go, I want you to come to me so we can talk about it. I can't stress to you enough how important this is, so please, don't be embarrassed or feel weak, or stupid, because you feel you can't handle it; talk to me, it's what I'm here for. "Ladies, this is not an easy thing we're trying to do here, and, if we are going to have any hope at all of success, we need to be open and honest with each other. Without that, there is no hope of ever trusting, and believe me when I tell you, without trust, the world is a lonely place. Do you want to go on living the way you have, afraid of everything you say and do, constantly worried about every little detail? Of course not, so..." "Mr. Shelby," Spring interrupted. "I'm sorry for interrupting, sir, but getting back to that first question, what I want to know is – and I can't speak for the others – but what I want to know ... what worries me is, now that we're not needed, will we ... you know, die?" "I'm sorry, Spring; I got off track and forgot to answer that. Will you die? That is not an easy question to answer. While, as I said, you all have a lot in common, you are at the same time, all very different. I am not a specialist in MPD; I'm here because I am someone Jimmy trusts and can therefore encourage you to trust as well. I don't think I have to explain why he thought that was important, do I? No? Didn't think so. As I said, I'm not a specialist in the field, but I do have some knowledge that I hope will be helpful. Will you die? Well, the first part of that is, 'can you die?' The answer to that is yes, but generally that only happens in extreme cases where a personality either commits suicide or others 'kill' it. Documented cases of either of those instances are extremely rare and generally only happen in people who have generated multiple multiples. Believe it or not, there are known cases where people have generated what amounts to whole villages of people, not just a protector. I'm hoping we can help all of you before that happens. In those larger cases, as in any situation where you have lots of people, there is the chance that one may feel out of place, or as if they are not needed, or any of a thousand other things that lead them to take their own life. Again, as in life, this is an extremely traumatic thing, and it is even worse because, quite literally, a part of the person has died, and they feel that loss intensely. So intensely that most of them start manifesting other problems, which can lead to even more multiples being formed as they try to replace what they lost. Or it can lead to a fragmenting effect where the individual personalities begin to deteriorate to the point that they cannot function at all. "The other extreme is that one particular manifestation is such a pain in the ass or problem, that the others will actually get together and kill him, or her, or even it – some personalities form free of sexual orientation of any kind. Again, the results of this can go several ways, most of them bad. About the only way it is ever 'good', and by good, I mean less bad, because it's still murder. But the only 'good' situation is when that manifestation is the embodiment of everything the person considers evil about themselves, and killing it is the first and only step towards making them feel better about themselves as a person. Too often, though, the killing just escalates as others in the group now consider it an acceptable way to deal with those that do not agree with them, and it turns into a bloodbath, and the result is the same – the person slowly descends further and further into a fragmented sort of unreality, their ability to cope with day to day life disappearing with each passing day. "Pretty bleak picture, huh?" Bob asked. It was a rhetorical question at best and got the expected response. I felt Jamie return just as Bob began talking again. "What did I miss?" she asked. "I'll have to fill you in later. What did Allison say?" I could see Bob preparing to move on. "Never mind, we'll talk later." "Now," Bob continued, "at this point, and because all of you are different, I think we need to save discussing the goals and needs of your individual situations until we can spend some time together, one on one. Kind of a nice thought, don't you think? Getting to spend one on one time with a man where you actually get to keep your clothes on for a change?" That got him some smiles as well. "For some of you, that may actually be a frightening thought: being alone with a man, any man. If that is you, then you need to tell me! I'm not a mind reader. And don't worry; you are not going to hurt my feelings by telling me you don't want to be alone with me. Just tell me, and we'll arrange for someone else to come along while we talk. If there is someone else in the group that you trust and they are willing – again, it has to be their choice – then we'll use them. If not, then we'll find someone else. "Now, there are only two ways – that I know of -- and remember I'm not an expert – to safely resolve any of your situations, and neither involves any of you 'dying'. The first is that you re-integrate with the primary personality, essentially merging the two parts into one whole, with all memories intact and a new, single, sort of a compromise personality. If you were created to be stronger, the new you would be stronger than they were, but probably not quite as assertive as you are now; if you were created to be submissive, then just the opposite. The important thing to remember there is that it's a compromise that you and your other must come to completely before it will work. Any hesitation or reservation on either of your parts, and it simply will not happen. Without spending a lot of time with each of you and getting to know you and your situations better, the only one I currently see that happening for is Samantha, because her protector exists solely to protect specific knowledge, and now that it is safe for her to 'know' the truth, the protector will likely just fade out and be reabsorbed into the whole once more. It may have happened already, and she just doesn't realize it." "Really?" Sam asked. "Oh yes," Bob assured her. "How would you know?" "That is weird!" Spring said. "I think I'd drive myself crazy just trying to figure it out," another girl said. "Actually, no you wouldn't," Bob assured her. "It happens so naturally you never even notice. Think about it. Can you picture waking up one morning not remembering that you didn't remember something yesterday that you remember today?" That was met with a universal look of confusion. "See what I mean?" Bob said with a smile. "Now, the other – much more common resolution – is that you and your other will learn to co-exist. The goal for most of you will be to find as much common ground as possible so that neither of you feels cheated. Also, because there are going to be areas of disagreement, you must agree to disagree on certain issues, and acknowledge each other's right to those things that are unique to the individuals. For instance, if you manifested a Lesbian personality to handle the things you were asked to do, you must acknowledge her right to continue having access to that form of pleasure. Most likely you will just go to sleep, or maybe go to your room and turn the stereo up, while she is enjoying herself, and vice-versa. How you do it is up to you, but the important thing is that you decide together and then honor that decision. Now, we've covered a lot tonight, so I'd like to stop and give you time to think about all of this, and then, next time we get together, we'll start working one-on-one as well as talking together as a group, okay?" Everyone agreed that sounded like a good idea. "Okay then," Bob said. "Handshakes on the left, hugs on the right, and we'll say goodbye until next time." He indicated two lines but only ended up with one. I quickly got in line behind him. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" Bob asked. "Duh!" I said. "A bunch of pretty girls lining up for hugs, and you think I'm walking away? Maybe I need to find someone else to help them because you're obviously delusional! Unless, of course, any of you don't want a hug; it's your choice, of course." "Does that mean you're available for more if we want it, or is it the same as with Mr. Shelby?" Spring asked. "No, it doesn't mean that at all, but, only if Mr. Shelby approves. As far as that goes, I'm just like any of the rest of the group; we sit down and talk about it before anything happens. That goes for you too, Sam." "What!?" she demanded, and, in my mind, Jamie echoed her. "What!?" "That is so not fair!" She actually stomped her foot at me. "You told me that when it was over, if I still wanted to..." "What she said!" "She's right, Jimmy," Bob said. "That has nothing to do with what we've been talking about. You're on your own with her." "Yes!" Sam said, pumping her fist. "But not tonight; it's getting late, and I don't want to have to rush." "Oh I like her!" "Now," Bob continued, "to clarify for everyone else, Samantha has wanted to thank Jimmy for what he has been doing, for quite some time now. Jimmy knew of her desire, and, rather than ignore it, he talked to her about it so that she would understand that his denying her had nothing to do with her, but everything to with the situation. Who can tell me why?" One of the other girls spoke up. "It's what she said earlier: Because until she was free to say no, there would always be the doubt that they both wanted it, and it would be no different than any of the others that have taken advantage of her over the years." "Right," Bob said. "He made it clear that it was not that he didn't want her, but that he needed to know that it was what she wanted, and he promised her that when that time came, if she still wanted to be with him in that way ... But, let's be clear on one thing; Jimmy, are you doing this out of some sense of obligation to Samantha?" "No," I said, shaking my head. "For one thing, Sam wouldn't want me that way; no matter how badly she wanted it, she wouldn't touch me if she thought I felt obligated. After living this life for so long, I doubt if any of you would. This will be a very special time for Samantha: the first time she has been with anyone totally by her choice. Even though there were others in the past that she may have enjoyed being with – like Stephen – the first time was not by choice. Now, she is free to say no, and I am honored that she would choose to be with me. I've also grown quite attached to her over all these months, and a part of me has really been looking forward to this." I flicked my eyebrows at her. "A big part!" They all got the joke. ------- Chapter 39: Little Things It had been two and a half weeks since Bastion had been arrested – two weeks since my big argument with Allison and Jamie. I was the one who called Allison in to talk to Jamie about her desire to torment Bastion, but I was prepared for – even expected – Allison to go along with it. Jamie was right; I'd seen the video, seen the damage – both mental and physical – that he had inflicted on these girls. I'd seen – through their own dreams, and visions shared by their protectors – the things that his followers had done to them, many to their own children. The reason I called Allison to intercede was that, for the most part, I agreed with Jamie; the bastard didn't deserve a moment's peace for the rest of his miserable existence. I'd called Allison because I had hoped that a cooler head might prevail. Either way, I was prepared and could support either argument. Or so I thought. "Jimmy, why are we letting this bastard live?" Wasn't quite ready for that. "Excuse me?" I said, stunned. "You heard me. Jimmy, I've thought about this a lot – even before you called me to talk to Jamie – and I think we're making a huge mistake. I understand that you want to give the system a chance to work; I get that. You want to do the right thing, but Jimmy, this is a bad idea. Bubble or no bubble, Bastion is too dangerous; he knows too much, not just about the girls and innocents we've been working to protect, but about you. Not who you are – that knowledge is locked in the bubble with the other one – but he knows that someone named 'Jimmy' has been after him, and he has to at least suspect that it's you who has been killing his people. I know this isn't what you expected – or wanted – to hear, but like I said; I've been thinking about this – a lot – and I can't help thinking that we're making a huge mistake. Jimmy, he needs to die. Forget the plan and just end it." It was all I could do to stick to my guns and give the system a chance – especially when every fiber of my being screamed that she was right. But in the back of my mind I kept hearing my conversation with Rod when I'd gone to him about turning Gordon Ceres in to the authorities. Our legal system isn't perfect, but, damnit, I'd been judge, jury, and executioner too much already just getting to this point; I didn't just want to let the system do its job, I needed to give it that chance. What I had told Bastion was true; I hadn't killed any of his people. But Jamie – as independent as she may be – is as much a part of me as Spring was part of Dawn – maybe more so – and she would not have done it if I hadn't given my consent. I had no guilt over what we had done – yes, I do accept my share of the responsibility. Left alone, they would have died when we took Hightower down anyway. The difference was that doing it this way allowed us to place the girls in safe environments and provide them with at least a chance at reclaiming the lives that had been stolen from them. It wasn't – in my mind, anyway – a question of whether the system could have handled it; clearly it couldn't, or it would have already. If someone like Atkins can't level the playing field, then it can't be done; not playing by their rules anyway. I might regret letting Bastion live, but I feared that I would regret the consequences of condemning him to death myself more. I needed to know. In the end I compromised at letting Walter have him. Whatever else he may have become, Walter began his existence as a nightmare. The only other time I had let him do this was when Rebecca had captured the scumbag who was raping little girls out by Palm Springs. I had him merge with me so I could give him the memories I had of all the video we'd seen. That was probably all the motivation he needed, but then I let him spend time with the girls and experience some of their memories first hand, starting with Spring. He didn't even come back to speak to me before he left... The case was moving along pretty well. The DA and Bastion's lawyer had bantered back and forth a couple times. The attorney had made the obligatory attempt at plea bargaining, but considering he had – quite literally – a smoking gun, the DA did not feel inclined to entertain the suggestion. Of course, this was the second lawyer, the first having quit when Bastion – against his advice – pled guilty. The plea bargain proposal had been made based on diminished capacity. After all, why else would someone plead guilty to twelve charges of first-degree murder? I probably could have given them an alternate suggestion, but – go figure – they didn't ask me. Probably just as well they didn't, though. Needless to say, Jamie was happy with Walter's work to date. Actually, it was a team effort; Jamie went along with him into the outer bubble and made sure Bastion didn't have any tricks up his sleeve. Believe me, if he was holding anything back, it would have come out by the end of the second night. "We have to give the system a chance," I kept reminding her. "Yeah, 'cause they have such a stellar track record already," she reminded me back. Allison My brother is a fool. I love him to death, but everything about this just screams, "MISTAKE!" I even understand why he feels this way; he believes in the system – or at least he wants to. He wants to believe that – without Bastion using his gift to interfere – none of this would have happened. Moron! The only way to keep that from happening again is to interfere himself, and every time he does that, he risks exposure. Of all the times to draw a line in your moral sandbox ... He stood aside and let Jamie quietly dispose of ... what? ... thirty people? Okay, the last twelve weren't so quiet, but why now, when you've finally gotten to the rotten apple at the bottom of the barrel? I'm tempted to call Brandiy and ask her, but ... well, mistake or not, it needs to be our mistake. Besides, I don't think she'd tell me. Jimmy There were two significant events scheduled for this week: First, thanks to the efforts of some person or group that doesn't exist, Spring's big sister, Autumn, would soon be coming back from her long exile in the Middle East. I had discussed the event with Spencer, and it had been made clear that the Bureau was still maintaining a discreet distance from anything connected with Bastion's case. That put me in a bind since I needed a place for her to stay that was safe and would allow her to ease back into both Western life in general, and her own life in particular, without overwhelming her. No small task. Spencer surprised me by suggesting that perhaps she could stay with Doreen for a while. Apparently, during one of their now-weekly dinner or lunch get-togethers, Doreen had confided in her that she was finding herself increasingly bored and lonely. With no one to take care of but herself, the house was starting to feel big and empty. Having Christine and me over a few nights a week helped, but it wasn't enough, and she had found herself watching more and more daytime television just to fill the hours. The second time she had caught herself screaming at some idiot that was whining to Oprah about her life, Doreen had decided she'd better find something to fill her time. "But how do I explain the situation to her?" I had asked Spencer when she broached the idea. "Tell her the truth," Spencer said. "David, this is your job; you find things, information included. You found out about this – you don't need to tell her how – and you're trying to help the girl ease back into a life that was stolen from her. Her parents are dead, which, based on what you've told me, is a good thing because she sure as hell couldn't stay with them. Her sister is living with the new family that graciously took her in when mom and dad fell overboard, but you certainly can't expect them to take in a twenty-year-old just because her fourteen-year-old sister lives with them. We both know you're going to be doing your usual white-knight thing until she gets back on her feet and can take care of herself, so you may as well have her close-by, so you can keep an eye on her." "Am I that predictable?" I asked myself. Apparently I asked too loudly because Jamie answered, "Is that such a bad thing?" "It was a rhetorical question," I pointed out. "No, it wasn't," she corrected me. "You had one of those brief, shining, moments where you felt pathetic for being such a sentimental sap. I'm merely pointing out that it has its place, and it's one of your more noble qualities. Don't worry; you're plenty macho and bad-ass when the situation calls for it. In fact, I think you're more of a black knight than white – in the original sense – a free-lance warrior in pursuit of a noble cause to support or an innocent to defend, and, when you find one, you are quite capable of doing what it takes. Don't be so hard on yourself, big brother; you're a dying breed." "Thanks, mom." "Fuck you." Meanwhile, what Spencer was saying made sense, and, if Doreen was willing to have someone who may be more than a little dysfunctional rooming in for a while, who was I to look a gift horse in the mouth? Breaking the news to Spring was going to be the really hard part. I had talked about it with Bob several times, and all I got was his usual apology for not being very helpful. Re-introducing her to her sister was the easy part. Helping the 'Spring' protector persona deal with the fact that 'Dawn', the primary, had lied to her, was going to be a whole different problem. 'Spring' may very well see her whole existence as a lie. She saw 'Dawn' as weak and inferior because she had given up and crawled into a hole and hidden rather than face her life, when the opposite was actually true. Yes, Dawn had hidden, but not as an escape; her hiding had been a way of preserving the truth and living to fight another day. I couldn't help but wonder if the wall Spring had put up around 'Dawn' – the one that kept her isolated, safe, and locked into the image of the little girl – was as solid as 'Spring' thought. Keeping them straight in conversation was a bit of a challenge as well. The girl was Spring; normally the protector would be the one with a different name, but, in this case, being the only 'public' persona, she had kept the name and given 'Dawn', the primary persona, a new name. When 'Dawn' woke up, she would also think of herself as 'Spring' because that was the name she had been born and grown up with. It wasn't so bad now, since 'Dawn' was still out of the public picture, but it made for some interesting conversations while we were discussing our options. And 'interesting' didn't begin to describe what we expected when 'Spring' learned the truth. "The question is, are you better off if you're right or if you're wrong?" Bob had pointed out. "Jamie and I have debated the same question," I told him. "I get the impression I'm going to be playing referee for a screaming match, with both of them yelling that if the other one would just shut up and listen, maybe she would understand." "You could be right," he admitted, "which would put you at a bit of a disadvantage for a change. Your normal grasp of interpersonal relations has never included people screaming and yelling at each other. You only had one sister, and you got along with her. If you'd had two, your upbringing might have been a lot more ... educational. The downside of a decent home life I'm afraid." "Yeah, that occurred to me as well," I admitted. "I was wondering if we shouldn't maybe wake Dawn up first and do a little therapy to help them reconcile the issues before we bring Autumn into the picture. Let Dawn be the one to explain that she lied and why. If she can make Spring understand that it was knowledge of the truth that was putting her the most at risk, maybe ... I don't know ... it's just an idea." "Well then, it's a good one, and apparently you do know, because I think you're exactly right. I think you – we, actually – need to spend some time with Spring, explain to her that there is a reason Dawn created her, and that it was a really good one. I don't know how she'll react to the news that her sister is still alive, but at least she may then not see 'Dawn' as being a weak-willed baby hiding from the people being mean to her. You have to understand that, whether she will admit it or not, to a great degree Spring feels like 'Dawn' abandoned her to face all this. It's her image of Dawn that you see in that little bubble, not Dawn's. Once she knows the truth ... it's hard to say how she'll react, but it doesn't have to be bad." He was right. Actually, we both were, to an extent. I was right in my approach, and in my hope that having Dawn be the one to tell Spring the truth would be better than us doing it. Of course, that didn't make it any easier in the beginning. In spite of everything else, Spring loved Dawn, was determined to protect her at all costs, and held firmly to the idea that she would not be able to cope with the real world, even though the threat of abuse had been removed. "I understand why you may feel that way," Bob said calmly, reassuring her that her reaction was both normal and reasonable based on what she knew. "The problem, Spring," I said, "is that you don't know the whole truth about why she felt she needed to hide in the first place. You're a protector, so you naturally assume that what she created you to protect was her." "What are you saying?" She asked, obviously confused. "That that's not why I'm here? That's just stupid; I'm here because she couldn't deal with reality and wanted to run away." That statement – and the tone it was delivered in – confirmed that I was right about what 'Spring' thought of 'Dawn'. "Actually, that's only part of why you're here, Spring," Bob said. "Would you be surprised to learn that there was more to it? That she needed you to help her protect something else?" "What do you mean she needed me to protect something else? How could you know if there was more? You weren't there, and you've never even met her." "That's true," I said, "but would you at least give me some credit for knowing and finding out things that other people can't?" "Well, yeah, I guess ... I mean, you figured out all of the stuff that was going on with ... you know. But that was because you can do stuff like this. Does that mean you've talked to 'Dawn' already?" "No," I said. "You remember when I started to wake her up before?" "Yes," she said guardedly. She obviously remembered that if I wanted to, I could do pretty much anything I wanted, and she couldn't stop me. "Well, someone talked me out of doing it because she realized that there was more to it." "She?" Spring said. "But the only one there was Samantha, and you left her with me." "That's true, but that doesn't mean we were totally alone. Spring, there is a reason I understand so much about what you are feeling and what is going on. You see..." "Jimmy," Bob said, interrupting me. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" "No," I said honestly. "But that's never stopped me from doing stupid things in the past, so I don't see any reason to stop now. Besides, I think it will help. Spring, the reason I understand you so well is that I have a protector of my own." "You have a protector?" she asked, eyes wide. "But ... why would you need a protector? You can do ... anything." "Hardly," I said with a laugh. "Would you like to meet her?" "Her? Your protector is a girl?" "You got a problem with that?" Jamie asked, stepping out. Spring's jaw dropped as Jamie seemingly flowed out of me. I could sort of understand why, considering how Jamie was dressed: She looked like Walter in spike heels – fitted out head to toe in soft black leather, with a spiked collar, belt, and half-gloves, and a big-ass sword strapped to her back. She looked like she could walk into a bar full of bikers on PCP, spit in the leader's drink, and walk out in one piece again. The scary part is she probably could. "You're his protector?" Spring asked, apparently awed by the vision of destruction before her. "Sort of," Jamie said. "Most of the time he doesn't need me. He kicks pretty righteous ass all by himself, and, if it came down to it, he could kick my ass, too. Most of the time I just watch his back, and he keeps me from starting bar fights just for the fun of it. Every once in a while, though ... he lets me come out and play. It's generally not very pretty." There was a wicked grin on her face as she said the last part. "Wait," Spring said. "He can kick your ass? Then how are you his protector?" "Come on Princess," Jamie said, "you, of all people, know that there is a whole lot more to protecting someone than beating people up. I know you fought hard to keep us away from Dawn the first time we showed up, but the truth is you've spent most of your existence being fucked over by everyone you knew. You put up a good fight, but we both know that Jimmy could have taken you any time he wanted to. The reason he didn't is because he would have had to hurt you to do it, and that would have defeated the whole purpose." You could see the embarrassment and disgrace in Spring's face as she realized that we really did know the truth of her existence, and she quickly turned away in shame. Jamie was having none of that, though; stepping forward and grabbing her shoulders, she turned her back so they were facing each other and lifted her chin until she could see her eyes. When Spring wouldn't look at her, Jamie grabbed her face and shook her a little. "Look at me when I'm talking to you," Jamie said sternly. "Don't ever be ashamed of who you are or what you have done. Standing there and taking that shit doesn't make you weak – just the opposite, in fact. Doing what you did took a different kind of strength; the kind of strength that Dawn didn't have, or she wouldn't have needed you in the first place. Strength comes in many different forms, babe. What you need to understand and come to grips with is that Dawn didn't hide because she was weak; she hid because she wasn't the right kind of strong. Your sister had something she needed to protect, and she couldn't do it alone; she needed you. The question now is whether or not you're strong enough to deal with the truth." "What truth?" Spring asked. "It's not my place to answer that question," Jamie said. "You want the truth: ask her." She pointed with her head to one side, where the image of Dawn curled up asleep now floated. Spring started to turn towards the bubble, but Jamie held her face and said, "You have to kiss me first." "What?" Spring demanded, starting to pull away. "Like hell I do!" Jamie just smiled and said, "Good girl! Way to stand up for yourself!" Then she spun her around so she was facing the bubble, and smacked her hard on the ass. "Now, go talk to your sister," she said, pushing her gently towards the bubble. Spring looked back once at Jamie; that 'are you sure' look kids get, and when she looked back again 'Dawn' was standing up looking back at her, and she wasn't a little girl any more, either. I won't go into the details of the conversation that followed, but it looked like a roller coaster event. You could tell when Dawn dropped the bomb that Autumn was actually still alive. Spring was so stunned she almost fell over, and only quick footwork kept her on her feet. Then, she was apparently so angry she actually attacked Dawn. Jamie and I were right when we suggested that Dawn might not be the quiet little wallflower Spring thought she was. Spring may have come into existence as a protector, but it wasn't an aggressive kind of protection that Dawn had been in need of, so when it came down to it, Dawn handled her easily. She didn't hurt her or anything, but simply blocked Spring's attacks, then pulled her in too close to do any damage and held her there until she gave up. It reminded me of my conversation with Tim back when he gave up running because he thought Angela was dead. And, of course, that reminded me that it was also the day I met Britney, so then I was pissed off. "Chill," Jamie said, and suddenly the anger was sucked away. "Thanks." "Don't mention it. Should we break them up or let them keep going?" "It looks like they're off to a good start," Bob said. "Why don't you two take off, and I'll stick around to answer any questions Dawn may have and bring her up to speed." "Okay, but don't tell her Autumn's coming back yet." "Duh," Bob said. "I wouldn't give her that kind of hope until her sister is firmly back on US soil." The other big event may not seem like much in the scheme of things, but it was important to me. Phoebe was coming back to Las Vegas to answer questions from the DA and to meet with two judges, one from Vegas, and one from her home state. Together they would decide her future. I had given her the option of seeing Bastion behind bars. She was thinking about it. Bob was waiting with Susan and Phoebe in one of the other conference rooms. Susan was having a hard time of it. On the one hand, she was happy that Phoebe's name would be cleared and – if everything went as expected – that she would be free to return home and join her new family, who were beside themselves at the news that she was alive and well. All of this, however, still hinged on convincing the judge to approve their pending application of adoption. Together, Rod and I gave a very brief – and heavily edited – version of how I came to be involved with Phoebe, along with the time-line we had established for her departure from Las Vegas and subsequent disappearance. The DA was royally pissed that the proof of her innocence was so blatantly available, and I had to remind him that Andrews and Charles had both been members of Bastion's church and that Charles had actually been on the board. Once he accepted the evidence and agreed to dismiss any and all pending charges against her, we had Phoebe come in and repeat the story she told me when I found her. She was very careful not to refer to me directly as the one who had found her, but instead only mention 'the young man' she had met. When she had finished her narrative, Rod recounted how he had been contacted by Agent Hampton's mysterious 'source' regarding the importance of hiding the girl and the actions that he had taken. No one was happy that the mysterious 'source' had managed to remain so mysterious throughout the entire affair, but there wasn't much anyone could do about that, either. When it was all over, Phoebe surprised everyone by asking the judge if paperwork could be drawn up, or something written into the adoption paperwork, that would allow Susan joint custody of her. "I'm sure it would be possible," the judge from Illinois said. "May we ask why?" "Your honors, I was raised in a godly home; my parents were very devout followers of God and his Son – my Savior – the Lord Jesus Christ. Throughout this whole time, my faith and trust in Him, and my steadfast belief that everything that was happening was part of His plan, was all that sustained me. Time and again I was tested – my faith and trust pushed to the last limit. Each time I clung to the hope that my parents had instilled in me, and each time God delivered me from evil, eventually leading me to the one young man that my story would mean something to, and through him, to Susan Swann, who took me in despite the risks – both professional and personal – to herself. "I have known Don and Carol Ballentine almost all of my life. Their children – Curtis and Valarie – are the brother and sister I never had. They took me in when my parents died, cared for me, and loved me as their own. I cannot tell you how happy I am to finally see them again, and to know that they will now actually be my brother and sister, is truly a dream come true for me. "But, your honors, if Elliott Bastion had not been brought to justice, I would still be in hiding, my life in constant danger, and Susan would be there for me, and I would be okay with that. In the hour of my deepest need, Susan Swann opened her home to me, but, more than that, she opened her heart to me, and that has meant so much more. From the first night, I felt safe, truly safe, and loved, for the first time since I was forced to leave the Ballentine's. She is a wonderful person; I could not love her more if she were my own mother, and I know, in my heart, that she looks at me as the daughter she never had. If this experience has taught me nothing else, it has taught me the uncertainty of life and the importance of proper planning. Losing my parents was painful, but being taken away from the Ballentine's, and thrown into an uncertain future on the whim of the system, was far more devastating. It is not an experience I would ever want to repeat. I know that God would be there for me, again, as He was, and is, and always will be. There are many ways He could have hidden me, but I believe He gave me Susan not only to reassure me, but to reward me for my trust and faith. "Your honors, I know that Susan will always be there for me, but if you don't mind, next time – if there should ever be a next time – I'd rather have something in writing." The looks on the judges' faces – it was all I could do to maintain a moderately straight face with Jamie rolling on the floor laughing inside me. It would take a few days to draw up the paperwork and arrange for her trip home. Elliott He'd gotten to me. After all my preparation, all my planning, somehow I had underestimated him, and he had gotten to me. Now it was all gone, and I was stuck in that stinking pit of a cell; only allowed out for a few minutes each day. You can't imagine what it's like to go from having as much sex as you want, to nothing, in one day. I wasn't made for a celibate lifestyle. Masturbation wasn't even an option for me; the very thought disgusted me to the root of my being. It had been years, decades even, since I had touched myself that way. Besides, privacy was a very short commodity there. It was bad enough that I had to lie there at night and listen as ... The last thing I wanted was for any of them to think I wanted sex. As long as I was there, sex was something I could only think about in my sleep. And then, even that was taken from me. Sleep. Lord what I wouldn't have given for a good night's sleep. I feared sleep almost as much as I feared death. Such power. I never would have believed that something so simple could prove so devastating. He could move around in people's dreams. So what? Sure, he could pick up secrets; there was great potential in such a gift for things like that, but I never imagined ... especially after his first failed attempt. Ah, the carelessness of youth; showing up like that with his girlfriend, thinking I would be unable to discern their presence. Careless was the wrong word – arrogant maybe – but, in the end, it was I who was arrogant, and now look what it had cost me. But how? How had he gotten to me? He couldn't hide in my dreams, and I was careful to never let him pull me into his. Yet somehow he found a way; it was the only possible explanation. Just as important as how, was when? By the time I realized there was a problem, I was already in the boardroom with the gun. Stratton saw it and started to get up, but I just told him to sit down. I took him first. There are words ... and phrases that I had used on most of them for years. They didn't hear them, or at least, they didn't remember hearing them, but once spoken, they were mine. Most of them would do anything, including jump from the nearest window, if I told them to. The new ones; Stratton and Versace – no relation, mores the pity – were the most likely to break free, so I killed them first. Of course, I say I killed them, but it wasn't me somehow. I did it, I know I did, but I don't really remember doing it. The whole thing was like something I had watched on television. In fact, I remember being upset when it was happening and screaming to try and stop it, but no one heard me, and so ... I killed them. One by one, all around the table, and even when I stopped to reload, they waited. I can see it all so clearly ... and yet ... not. Not during the day at least. It wasn't until the dreams started that I truly knew and understood – he had gotten to me. I don't know how many times I've awakened covered in blood, only to discover that it's actually only sweat. I used to laugh when people talked about being afraid to go to sleep at night. After all, I'd had nightmares as a child – who hasn't – but they are only bad dreams, and it's not like anything bad can happen to you in a dream. I now know better. Before, when he would come and try to sneak into my dreams to spy on me, I would simply wake myself up, and it would be over, but now that option seems to have been taken away. The neighbors are starting to complain about the screaming... But I'm not finished yet. I know his secret, if not who he is. I know his, just as surely as he knew mine. A gift like that he would want kept secret, and that meant I had something to bargain with. "Call the Justice Department – not here, but in Washington – tell them you want to speak to Sandra Atkins." "Who is Sandra Atkins?" my attorney asked. It is so hard to get good help on short notice. "Who she is does not matter," I said hotly. "All that matters is that I need to see her. Here, in person, as soon as possible. They will undoubtedly tell you that they don't have anyone working there by that name. Tell them that's fine, but that when they don't get a hold of her, they shouldn't tell her that Christian Wallace wants to talk to her about Carmen Dantes." Less than twenty-four hours later, I had a phone call. "Hello, Christian," the familiar voice said. "Come now, Sandra, don't be petty; I made a perfectly legal name change. Why are we having this conversation? I gave my attorney strict instructions that I wanted to see you, not just talk to you." "You don't really expect me to jump on the first plane west just because you want to chat, do you?" "Not unless you want the truth," I said. There was a slight pause before she answered, "The truth about what?" "Everything," I said, "and I mean that; I will answer all of your questions, but only in person; you, me, one other, I don't care who, just pick someone. In a conference room, not an interrogation room, no recordings. Once you hear what I have to say, you'll understand why." "Why?" she asked. "I just told you..." "No," she interrupted, and I couldn't help but think that this was why women should never be given positions of authority – it makes them arrogant. "Why now? Why do you suddenly want to tell me the truth?" "Because I'm not going down alone, and you now have a much bigger problem on your hands." "What's that supposed to mean?" "You will understand when we talk. I'll look forward to seeing you." I hung up and called for the guard. I had nothing to lose by playing hard to get. I knew Sandra Atkins well enough to know that curiosity would bring her to me. She was obsessed with seeing me brought down; the only thing more important was protecting her precious government from scandal. For someone like me to suggest that she had a problem was a carrot she just couldn't resist; she would come, and then he would pay for what he was doing to me. At first, everything had been fine; my dreams were my own, untroubled, except for bits and pieces that tried to creep in from other parts of my subconscious; usually flashes of the boardroom as... , but I shoved it all away and relaxed in the quiet comfort until, eventually, the elevator would ring, signaling the arrival of my afternoon guest. I had several favorites; how could I not? Each day one – or sometimes two – of them would come to pay their respects to me. I'm not sure why, but since the little bastard had started stirring things up I had become especially fond of Samantha, only now it was more about using her rather than enjoying her. Perhaps it was my way of striking back at him. She was obviously special to him, and I couldn't believe it when she told me he refused her. How could any man refuse something so lovely – not to mention willing – as Samantha? The loss of her sister had been personally painful for me, especially after her daughter was born and she stopped causing problems. The two of them together – Sam and Mandy that is – was like a preview of what heaven must be like. I used to love to watch them make love to each other, and it was love – true love – that moved them; believe me, you couldn't fake what they had, and I could tell the difference, having seen so many such couplings. Some of the other girls were close, drawn together by necessity and need. Autumn and Sara for instance – it was always the older girls – but it wasn't the same. The dream always started the same; riding the elevator up to penthouse ... It seemed so normal, so ... safe. For one shining moment, everything was as it had been, as it was supposed to be. But then the doors opened, and, instead of my comfortable living room, I found myself staring across the hall at my cell. And it was my cell, the same one that defined my existence in the waking hours. That was when I knew beyond certainty that he had me. But it wasn't over yet; I still had cards to play, and if it took my last dying breath, I would make him pay. ------- Chapter 40 Sandra I absolutely cannot believe this shit! I'd been after Christian Wallace for the better part of two decades – almost twenty years being haunted by the two women I had let down. If half our suspicions were right, there were a lot more bodies out there – maybe not dead by his hand, but, when you're giving the orders, I still hold you responsible. It really didn't matter either way since all we had – all we were ever likely to have – were suspicions, but still, I was looking forward to laying a few wreaths and giving some of my personal ghosts the news that they could rest, now. The others would have to take what comfort we could squeeze out. Hopefully, seeing the bastard fry for the twelve current counts, knowing that no one else would suffer at his hand, or orders, again... And now this! I couldn't believe I was packing a bag to go and visit this son of a bitch. I had planned on going out for the trial either way; had been looking forward to seeing him finally go down in court, but to slink out like this ... It stank too much of being summoned, and being summoned by someone like Christian Wallace made me yearn for things: a quiet place to toss my breakfast, a really hot shower ... Damn that man! Still, it wasn't all bad; to finally learn the truth after all these years... ? How could you not look forward to that? What really had me worried was the way he had said it. Like it was the silver lining of a particularly dark cloud. Like it was somehow going to justify everything he'd done. Of course, that was probably just me reading more into it than was really there. There was also a hint of something else there; hidden behind the ego boost he was getting from all but ordering me to visit him. What could he possibly have meant when he said I had a bigger problem on my hands now? I contented myself with the thought that maybe he was just grasping at every straw he could think of. If that was the case, then I was going to enjoy this trip far more than I should. Wallace was in quicksand, and he knew it, and, if he was grasping at straws, then I wanted to be the last one, just so I could see the look in his eyes when I pulled that last straw back out of his reach. Now that would make it a worthwhile trip. Jimmy Things seemed to have settled down for a while, and I had been able to get back to the routine of business – as routine as it can be trying to earn a living while constantly wondering if or when the next disaster was going to land, anyway. I found the routine oddly reassuring; just doing the small jobs to keep busy, promote the business, and make a living. Most were still the anonymous tip jobs for reward money, which is usually pretty good. The trickiest part of the jobs themselves was not making them look too easy – not a huge problem when no one knows where the information is coming from, but still ... There had also been a few smaller-scale jobs for a couple of companies that Veronica Blake had recommended me to, and searching for Phoebe, of course, although I didn't see myself ever collecting the reward for that particular job – not that that was ever my intent. And then there was dinner with Ceres. I wasn't sure what to expect after I told Veronica Blake that I would attend Gordon Ceres' party – I certainly wasn't ready for the invitation that arrived a couple days later – but I figured that, if he went to the trouble of printing invitations, it was pretty unlikely he was trying to lure me to my doom out of revenge, so... "So what exactly is 'dinner casual'?" I asked Christine when she showed me the invitation. She had forbidden me to open the mail after the first week, saying, "David, I'm your secretary, you have to let me do something, so I feel like I'm earning my paycheck." "Just about anything above sweats and sneakers," she answered. "In the summer, you can even get away with shorts and a polo shirt, but only if the party is at least partly outdoor, like a barbeque. Might be a good idea to see if anyone you know has been to one of his parties, though; you don't want to be too casual." "Ah, so there's casual, and then there's casual?" "Definitely," she said, "especially when you're around rich people. Sometimes casual means nothing designer; other times it stops just short of the 'good' jewelry." "Well, I'd have to say Ceres qualifies as rich," I said. "Did I show you the pictures of the estate?" "No," she said dryly. "As I recall, I tried to look, but you just kept telling me to turn the next page. Do you think the pictures are still up?" "I don't know," I answered, walking to the desk and opening up my laptop. "Let's find out." They were, and she was suitably impressed. "Wow!" she exclaimed. "Do you have Veronica Blake's number in your phone?" "Yeah, you want me to call her?" She gave me one of 'those' looks. "And ask her what?" Have I mentioned how much I hate that the women in my life are always right? I handed her my phone and was surprised when, instead of calling, she copied the number into her phone and saved it, then made the call from her phone. I guess it made sense, though, she was my secretary after all; it was sort of important that she have the phone numbers of my clients. "Hello, Miss Blake? Yes, good evening, this is Christine Payson, with Finders; am I interrupting anything... ? Yes, I'm Mr. Malcolm's secretary, and I was wondering if you might be able to give us an idea what to expect at this party he's been invited to, at Mr. Ceres' estate? The invitation says dinner casual, but, as we all know, casual for the rich and famous isn't always the same as casual for you and me. As you can imagine, David has problems with people taking him seriously, something about his age and the way he dresses; he's basically a jeans and t-shirt guy at heart, so ... exactly! He doesn't want to be too casual, but he doesn't want to overdress, either. I was wondering if ... really? Well, David will be very relieved to hear that. Thank you Miss Blake ... Veronica, for your help ... Wonderful, I'll look forward to meeting you." She broke the connection and turned to me. "She said Ceres is a very casual kind of guy. His idea of dressed up is shoes that you have to polish and that anyone wearing a tie at one of his affairs is usually part of the catering staff. Dockers and a polo shirt should be fine." "What are you wearing?" "What do you mean?" she asked. "Don't give me that," I sneered derisively. "The invitation says 'and guest', and you just told Veronica you would meet her there." "No," she retorted, "I said I was looking forward to meeting her. I'm your secretary; she's a business associate, so it makes sense that we'll meet one of these days." This sounded so much like arguing with Allison that it was scary. Clearly she wanted to go, but it was just as clear that, if I wanted a date for the event, she wanted me to ask her. Well, I can play hard to get just as well as the next guy. "Oh, well then, I guess I'll need a date. Hmmm ... Christine?" "Yes?" She answered, smiling sweetly. "Would you book a flight for Amber to arrive the day before, please? And she'll need something suitable to wear so – when you pick her up – why don't you..." By now her jaw was on the floor, and there was fire in her eyes. If we'd been closer to the couch, I'm sure she would have been reaching for a throw-pillow already. I'm just glad we didn't have a fireplace – pokers, tongs, hot coals... "I'm kidding!" I said quickly and then stepped in close and put my arms around her waist. "Christine, would you be my date for a dinner party?" "Why, David, I'm flattered you would ask me," she said. "I'm sure you would rather take your fiancé." "Well, of course," I said, "but she's away at school, and I don't want to pull her away from her studies on a whim. And, if you remember, this is one of the reasons she wanted me to hire you: so I could go to these types of things without looking like fresh meat to the local piranha. Do you think you have something suitable to wear, or do you need to go shopping?" She pulled back a little. "Seriously? You want me to buy a new dress?" "That's up to you. Do you think you have something appropriate? I know most of your clothes are in storage." She shook her head. "David, I didn't put any clothes in storage. The last couple years, my wardrobe has pretty much been uniforms for work and a couple pairs of jeans and sweats, for around the apartment. I think the green dress you bought me would be a little much for this type of event..." This time I pulled back and, addressing her sternly, said, "Miss Payson, if you're going to accompany me on business, you are going to need to dress appropriately. Why else would there be a wardrobe allowance in your compensation package?" She looked properly surprised and dropped into the character of a secretary being scolded by her boss. "I'm sorry, Mr. Malcolm; I was just so excited about getting the job, I really didn't read all the details in my contract." "Oh, really?" I said, grabbing her hand and dragging her towards the couch. "Then you probably missed the punishment clause altogether." I moved the coffee table aside with one foot, sat down, patted my lap, and said, "Well, I'm waiting?" Looking chastened, she dropped to her knees and started moving forward. "What do you think you're doing?" I demanded. "I thought..." she began, confused. "Miss Payson, it appears you didn't read your contract at all," I said. "The contract clearly indicates 'underwear only' for disciplinary purposes. I have no intention of wasting my time spanking your jeans, now drop them, and assume the position!" "But..." she pouted, finally understanding what I had in mind. "Now, Miss Payson!" With a face that would have made an errant five-year-old proud, she unfastened her jeans, pushed them to her knees, and lay across my lap. The ivory globes of her firm behind were exposed – and defined very nicely, I might add – by the black T-back she was wearing. "I'm sorry, Mr. Malcolm, I ... ow!" she cried softly as my hand came down on the near cheek. "I promise I'll ... ow!" she cried out a little louder this time. "Please, Mr. Malcolm ... OW!" she went on like that for the full ten swats and then sat with her head in my lap whimpering apologies over and over again for being a bad girl and offering to make it up to me. She sounded sincere, so I let her, which, of course, led to other things. Sometime later – after our showers and after I had shoved two more proto-patterns over to the other side – I took her to dinner and to look for a new dress. "You know I'm really going to miss this job when I graduate and start flying," she said as we were eating. "Me too," I said, and then took a sip of my water before continuing. "I'm hoping that the business will expand to the point where I'll need a private jet and crew within a few years." "Oh, right," she said, rolling her eyes. "You planning to be the private eye to the rich and famous?" "Oh no," I said. "I plan to expand into a lot of different areas. Once my research team graduates and gets to work, I hope to have a lot of new opportunities." "Your research team?" She asked. "Research into what?" "Not sure yet. It depends on what she comes up with that's marketable." "She?" "Yeah, Allison – my sister – she's on an advanced, independent study program, so she can move up faster and get into serious classes." There was a pause, and Christine had sort of a blank look on her face for a second. It didn't take long to figure out what had happened. "Okay, I think we're getting into areas that are a little too sensitive for her," Christine said. "I'm assuming you mean what she learns researching her energy theories about you and Easy. Do you really expect to get big enough to need your own jet, or were you just pulling my chain?" "I'm sorry, Christine, I didn't mean to drag you out in public like this; I should have been more careful. Do you want me to change the subject? I could just say I was teasing..." "No, that's okay," she said. "I'm already here, and it's nice to get out once in a while. Besides, I'm curious about how you plan to get that big, because I get the impression you're not kidding." "No, actually, I'm not," I said. "Allison's already warned me that her research is likely to be expensive, and, considering the nature, it's going to have to be one hundred percent privately funded. She's hoping that somewhere along the line, she'll come up with something that has marketable applications." "Really?" She asked, obviously interested in the idea. "Like what? I mean how would you... ?" "I have no idea," I said. "I'll have to wait and see what she comes up with." It's amazing how long it takes a woman to find a casual dress, but we did manage to get home eventually. They say a picture is worth a thousand words, and that's true, but it's also important to have the right photographer telling your story. The photos on the realtor's website did not come close to doing justice to Ceres' estate. If I had been impressed on my first visit, I was blown away on my second. Darkness and decorative lighting turned the place into a sight to rival any of the casinos downtown. "Wow!" Christine said as we turned into the driveway. A man in a red coat waved us forward and opened Christine's door for her as another magically appeared to open mine. He handed me a ticket stub, and, as soon as we were clear, pulled the car forward and parked it with about two dozen others not far away. The man in the red coat actually escorted us inside to that huge lounge I mentioned before and announced us. "Mr. David Malcolm and Miss Christine Payson," he said in a voice that carried easily through the room despite the buzz of conversation and the music playing in the background. Heads turned our way briefly, and, out of nowhere, Ceres voice boomed out. "David!" The voice barely preceded the presence as Ceres made his way toward us. Given his stated dislike of handshakes, I was totally unprepared for the enthusiastic greeting as he not only grabbed my hand, but pulled me in and hugged me. "I was afraid you wouldn't come," he said. "You grace my humble home." He turned and repeated the greeting with Christine, saying, "And you must be Miss Payson? I had heard you were beautiful, my dear, but, I must say, the rumors do not do you justice." "Why thank you Mr. Ceres," Christine said, dropping a quick curtsy. "I could say the same for your 'humble home'. David told me a little about it, and I saw the pictures on the realtor's site, but this ... You have a beautiful home." "One of the rewards of hard work is that I get to surround myself with beautiful things. Come, let's get you a drink and introduce you to some of our other guests. Dinner should be ready in about thirty minutes. And please, call me Gordon. Paul!" The object of Ceres' affection detached himself from a conversation and made his way over to us. "Paul, would you get Christine something to drink and introduce her around while I talk to David?" "Certainly, Gordon ... David, nice to see you again ... Hello, Christine, I'm Paul; what can I get for you?" He led her off towards the long bar, introducing the people they passed along the way. "This is Suzanne..." I lost the rest as Gordon Ceres took my arm and walked me back towards the far corner, where I saw "Femme en Bleu" standing on an easel behind a cordon of velvet ropes. "Now then, David, I'm sure you're curious as to why I invited you here." "Well, it does seem odd after all the trouble I've caused you." "Nonsense," he scoffed. "I was fully prepared for the possibility that someone might actually find the painting. I cannot fault you for doing the very job I hired you to do." "But you didn't hire me," I pointed out, "Intersure did." "A trivial point," he assured me, waving the thought away like an annoying insect. "I'm sure you've heard the rumors that I bought my way out of the charges?" "Yes, actually, I have." "Well, they're true. The entire venture cost me about two million dollars, including what it cost to set the whole thing up in the first place." "Mr. Ceres..." "Gordon, please." "Gordon ... this isn't helping my confusion any. I don't understand how you can be so happy about me costing you that kind of money." "Ah, but you gave me so much by doing it," he said in a voice gone airy and melodramatic. "I am old fool, David. Worse, I am an old fool in love, and you will discover that there is nothing so pathetic in all of the world. I was desperate to know if Paul loved me as much as he seemed to, and so I devised that insane scheme to test him. It was a folly worthy of the poets of old, to be sure, and I realized too late what I had done. I almost lost him when the truth came out. And if you had not found her, I would have been forced to hide my Lady away forever, lest someone realize the truth. But, having been found out, I have no need to hide anything any more, and that is quite a relief. Having to keep too many important secrets from the important people in your life is both tiring and tiresome. He had that one right. But, thanks to you, it all worked out: my Lady is back, so I am free to display her for all the world to see; and Paul has forgiven me for putting him through the anguish of thinking he had betrayed me." "Well, I'm happy it's all worked out for you, but two million dollars is a lot of money," I said. "Don't give it another thought, it was money well spent," he assured me. "A very smart man named Einstein once pointed out that everything is relative, and, while it is a lot of money, it is only about two percent of my total worth. Tell me: If you were down to your last dollar, and it would cost you two cents to know that the love you feel is true, would you hesitate?" I smiled because I had no need for such a test, but he took it as confirmation anyway, and I did understand what he meant. "Of course you wouldn't," he said. "So don't give it another thought. I am not in any way upset with you; quite the opposite, in fact, so relax and enjoy yourself, and after dinner I will play for you." "Oh, don't do that," I said, catching him off guard. "I'd much rather you played for her, Gordon; I'm pretty sure I'll get a better performance that way. You might play well for me out of gratitude, but, when you play for her, it will be from the heart, and that is where all great music begins." "Wisely spoken, my young friend," he said, obviously touched by my words. "There is far more to you than meets the eye; though you hide it well behind the facade of your youth, and that is wisdom in itself. While it can be a royal pain to not be taken seriously, being underestimated can serve you greatly in life. Now then, let's get back before Christine thinks I've done something horrible to you." Dinner was fabulous, and his new chef, Josephine, got a huge round of applause when he introduced her afterward. While the rest of us enjoyed desert – and more drinks – Gordon played for us, first with the quartet that had been providing background all evening, and then solo. He's good – really good – and there was a noticeable difference when Paul and one of the servers carried The Lady in and set her on her easel in front of him while he played. Christine was in tears by the time he finished, and she wasn't alone. "I could listen to him for hours," Paul said, wiping his eyes. "When we first met, he used to joke about the woman in his life, and I was terrified by the love in his eyes when he talked about her. When he finally introduced us, my first thought was: 'Thank god she's only canvas!'" "So what will you be doing once you move?" I asked. "Aren't you worried about being bored out in the middle of nowhere like that?" "Bored?" He said. "Are you kidding? That place is huge! Between managing the coffee plantation and starting up the vineyard, the last thing I'll be is bored. God, I can't wait to get started. I have some ideas for new varietals that I'm dying to test out, and..." After Ceres finished, the musicians came back in, along with some of their friends, and the dancing started. I was very glad I'd taken those lessons for Amy's party. All in all, it was wonderful night, and Ceres wouldn't let us leave until we promised to come visit the estate once they'd moved and got things set up. And then it was time... Everybody knew what Samantha wanted from me. Allison had known all along, and, now that she could look at her, Lizzy said, "Oh, yeah! She wants you bad! Jimmy, when she looks at you, it's like I'm seeing Amber's twin sister. Not exactly the same, of course, but ... you know." Yeah, I got it. The last thing I needed was another woman in my life, and I knew that Samantha really loved Stephen, regardless of how she felt about me, so I decided to take a different approach and show her how it was done in the real world. Or at least in the dream version of the real world, since I didn't want her to know who I really was, and I certainly didn't want anyone questioning why I was dating the sixteen-year-old ward of a local doctor. I started with dinner, nothing fancy – that would come later. Then we went miniature golfing. I had Lizzy tagging along invisibly to keep an eye on her. We chatted and got to know each other a little over dinner, and Lizzy said Sam was frustrated when I didn't take her straight to bed after, but that she got over it quickly as we played through eighteen frustrating holes of golf. Slowly, the mood changed as she began to loosen up and have fun for the first time in a very long time. Lizzy confirmed that she was still really frustrated when I took her home and gave her a very chaste kiss goodnight. I think poor Stephen had a rough morning as she relieved her stress on him. He could thank me later. For our second date, I took her to the mall and let her shop for clothes. There were people all around, but, for some reason, no one noticed when she paraded in and out of the dressing room to show off her lingerie choices for my approval. It was obvious what she was trying to do, but I refused to let her drag me into the dressing room and dropped her in the lagoon when she started unbuckling my pants behind one of the clothes racks. "That's not fair!" she yelled when she came up for air. I dropped her onto the water slide in front of me and then took her mermaiding around the lagoon when we splashed down into the water. Once more she woke up frustrated, but then, finally, on our third date, I went all out, taking her on the date that Christine and I had shared our first night. By the time we got back to the room from seeing "O", she was ready to tear my clothes off, and I finally let her, but, throughout the whole encounter, I made her be the aggressor and stopped anytime she started to slip into a submissive role. "Thank you," she said, kissing my chest as we lay snuggled together in the big bed afterward. "So this is how the rest of the world does it?" "No, not really," I told her, "especially not in High School. Well, the miniature golf and water slide are pretty normal, depending on where you live, and there are places you could go snorkeling or even scuba diving, but that's about as close as you're likely to get to the whole mermaid experience. By the way, you look really good in seashells; why did you keep trying to take them off?" She bit down on my nipple, growled, and shook her head like she was trying to bite it off. She wasn't serious, but it did tickle and make me squirm, which is what she wanted in the first place. "You know very well why," she said, releasing me and giving the ravaged flesh a quick kiss to make sure it was still okay. "And you know what I mean about all this, too. Is this what dating is like?" "Yes and no," I said. "Dating is different for everyone, but it's supposed to be about getting to know someone, not jumping in the sack – although that does happen quite often. But if you rush into the sex, then everything else sort of gets lost for a while. And, if you don't really know each other well enough, then eventually the sex isn't enough to sustain the relationship. I'm sure you'll agree that sex is different with people you know and care for – someone like Stephen, for instance – as opposed to someone like Ed Rivers?" She nodded and said, "Oh yeah, boy do I know. Even being with Stephen alone, just the two of us, versus when Kathy or one of the others was around. I didn't mind – because it was still him, and I knew he was just putting on a show for them – but yeah, big difference." "You guys are going to have a problem until you get older. You can't have real dates without risking him getting in trouble. If you're going to stay together..." "We are," she interjected. "Right, but in order to make that work, you'll probably have to move someplace where no one knows what happened. Otherwise, people will always question and be suspicious that something was going on before, and, even though – or, more to the point, because – they would be right, it's not something you want people to know about. So, for now, you're pretty much going to have to look like a normal family going out to dinner or the movies or whatever it is you're doing. You'll need to make sure it really looks like a guy taking his two daughters out somewhere: no kissing or touching, no adoring looks, not even meaningful glances anywhere where someone might notice – that kind of thing." "That's going to be a problem with Rachel, too," she said. "How do you mean?" I asked. "She doesn't understand that what was happening was wrong," she said. A cold chill crept down my spine. "She wants to be with Stephen?" "Yes. She doesn't understand why I don't do the things for him that I used to for Frank." "What things?" I asked. "You mean like the nightly 'welcome home' rituals?" "Yeah, stuff like that, she knows they were planning to start her after her birthday, and she wants to learn. We've talked, Stephen and I, but we don't know what to do." "Well, I think the second thing we should do is talk to Bob." "The second thing?" She said, raising up and staring at me in confusion. "What's the first?" I rolled over so I was on top and kissed her passionately. She dove right into the kiss and started caressing my back and clutching at my ass as she ground herself upward against the rapidly swelling hard spot between us. "Oh," she said, smiling when the kiss broke. "Right, first things first..." This time Jamie joined in – I guess she had decided that it was time – and I'm pretty sure Sam noticed the difference as the orgasms began piling one on top of another, and we pushed her harder and harder towards the edge. Apparently all of her years of 'service' had given her serious control, and she refused to pass out until I had reached my second release. Then she gave a huge sigh, hugged me tightly to her, and just sort of faded off with the most beautiful, contented smile on her face. It was really a 'dream within a dream' moment, and, in my mind I could see her sort of drifting peacefully somewhere in hers. "Wow," Jamie said. "That was incredible." "Yes, it was," Lizzy said, fading in with her arms wrapped around my back. "You are just the most amazing man, and I am so glad you're mine. You have no idea what you just did for her, do you?" "What do you mean?" I asked. "Jimmy, you healed her." "Healed her? How do you mean 'I healed her'? You mean like... ?" "Yes, I mean like I do," she said, kissing my back and squeezing me a little tighter. "You, and Jamie ... that last time; it was like watching what happens when I'm with someone that way. So much of her pain and hurt just seemed to flow away ... It was so beautiful. It's not complete, of course; that will take time, but it's a start." "How is that possible?" I asked. "I've never... we've never, done anything like that before." "Maybe you've never been with anyone that really needed it before," she said. "What about Amber?" "Amber? Don't be silly, Jimmy; Amber didn't need healing; she wasn't hurt that way." True, still though... "You heard what she said about Rachel?" "Yes," she said with a sad sort of sigh. "I was afraid that might happen, Allison too. The other young ones will probably be the same way; the ones that were raised to it from birth, the way she was. They'll be much harder to deal with than even the girls in April's group. We definitely need to talk to Bob about them ... but that can wait. Send Sam back to Stephen. Right now, I just want you to hold me." "Was that hard on you?" "Sort of; not really hard, but watching you in her arms like that, with love just pouring into her ... I wanted to be her so badly, Jimmy. I want you to hold me like that; I want you to make love to me, both of you – Jamie, too. I want to know that feeling. Do you think Bob and Rebecca would mind if we made it a double wedding?" "Seriously?" I asked, trying to roll towards her. "No, no," she said, clutching me tight so I couldn't move. "Don't turn around. If you do, I won't want to stop, and all that waiting will have been in vain. Yes, I'm serious. School will be out by then, so we'll be free to take whatever steps Allison thinks we need to, you know, to keep the Earth in a stable orbit." "Okay then," I said. "June it is, or maybe July if they don't want to share, but, yeah, if that's what you want, I'm ready. Are you sure you don't want to just elope?" "No, because then you'd have to fight my father when he hunted you down and tried to kick your ass, and I don't know if I could forgive you for beating up my daddy." "Yeah, that would suck," I agreed. "You're worth waiting for." She hugged me hard and kissed me once more on the shoulder. "Oh, Jimmy, I just love you so much." She disappeared just as I felt the first teardrop land on my skin. "God, I wanted to roll over," Jamie said. "Yeah," I said. "You and me both. You know, you could still go and be with her if you want." "No," she said. "Not now; maybe later, or even tomorrow, but not now. Come on, we need to go talk to Bob about Rachel, and then we need to bring Rebecca in so you can talk to both of them. That or go start a bar fight somewhere..." I would have liked to think she was just kidding, but I was feeling the same weight of emotion she was, and, if we didn't find a distraction, we were going to need a way to burn it off. While any of the girls would have been happy to help out – especially Amber, given Jamie's mood – I didn't want a substitute; I wanted... "Stop that!" The view changed, and suddenly I was sitting at the big desk in my version of Bob's office. A few seconds later, Bob walked in, and I brought him up to date on the latest problem. "I wondered if something like this might happen," Bob said, nodding his head. "I suspect Hightower has been messing with the girls in Rachel's age group since birth. Probably dropping in on the preschool and Sunday-School classes while the adults are singing and waiting for service to start – never suspecting the serpent already in their midst. Some knew, of course. I'm sure Frank and Irene did; not about Bastion specifically, but they obviously knew about the board members. Exposing the girls to his control at such an early stage of development would have left them wide open to just about any kind of conditioning he wanted to give them. I guess it could have been worse, though." "How so?" I asked. "Well," he began. "He could have been a Muslim extremist and been programming them to be jihadists later in life. Call me selfish, but I'll take sex slaves over suicide bombers every time. Everything is relative, my boy – even something like this. As bad as it is, there is always something worse. Kind of makes me wonder if part of the reason God gave you your gift was because of the way Bastion was using the church to exploit his." "Kind of a convenient suggestion, don't you think?" I asked. "That's how God works," Bob said with a smile, "but don't take my word for it. Feel free to go argue the point with Lizzy anytime you want, or – better yet – Roxy. You know, now that Hightower is safely behind bars, we can probably go back to using her real name." I had to smile at that. Phoebe would so see God's hand in this, and who was I to say she was wrong? All I have to do is look back at all the miraculous occurrences in my life to date – not the least of which was meeting her – and I'd be out of arguments before we started. It made me feel a little better about my decision to wait until we were married to have sex with Lizzy, but then – in light of the rest of my sex life – it was hard to not see the hypocrisy in that idea, either. "So what do you suggest?" I asked. "About Rachel?" "Yeah, but not just her," I said. "I'll probably have to take Lizzy and drop in on all of them to find out how they're doing. The question is: what should I do if I find the pattern we suspect is there?" "Well, I think the first thing, – loath though I am to say it, – is to reinforce whatever prohibition Bastion had in place to keep them from talking about it. That's not a solution, but it will buy us time until we can come up with one. The good news is that it should be really easy to do; they should be wide open to just about any kind of suggestion you might want to make." "Oooh!" Jamie said. "Bad thought." "Why don't you come out and share it with us?" I asked and then turned to Bob. "Jamie thought of something." "Well, of course she did," Bob said. "She's beautiful and brilliant; despite being related to you, I might add. What?" Jamie stepped out, so I wouldn't have to relay the thought. "You don't suppose there is any chance he actually buried anything in the young ones, do you?" She asked. Ouch! That was a bad thought. "I doubt it," I said, "but ... Bob?" He was already looking thoughtful, but, in the end, all he could do was just shake his head. "I'd like to say no, that even he couldn't stoop that low, but so far I haven't found a bottom of the well that is human depravity. I think you're right, but the only way to be sure is have Easy look at them and see if she is able to spot anything unusual. It won't prove something isn't there, but, considering the level of control he seems to have had with them, he may not have tried as hard to hide it, either. I suspect she won't find anything, but I wouldn't want to pass up the chance we might get lucky and see something before it's too late." "Why do you think he wouldn't?" Jamie asked. "Ego," I said. "He was experimenting on the next group. After the success he had already had with the second, or maybe even third, group – the girls April's age. Seeing how well starting so much earlier with them had gone, he would want to see how far he could go if he got them virtually from birth. If there is anything there, I'm sure it's a prohibition, something to keep them from talking about it with any outsiders." Bob was nodding along with my narrative. "You could be right," he said. "And if he has had access to them all their lives, any inhibitions or suggestions he has instilled in them are likely to be deeply ingrained." "You mean we wouldn't be able to remove them?" Jamie asked. "I don't know," he said, "but we're not talking about a buried compulsion here. Those, I think, would still be the same. No, what I mean is that if he has, in fact, been 'programming' these girls for lives as sex slaves, then we may not be able to dissuade them. At best, we may be able to contain them to the immediate families. Most likely they were kept in the dark about their sisters' activities outside the home. In fact, I would bet on it, because it would run counter to their secrecy imperative." "So, Samantha and Steven may have no choice but to allow Rachel access to her new 'father'?" Jamie said. "Yes, and the others as well," Bob confirmed, "and if we're right, then I won't even be able to talk to the younger girls about it." "Because you're an outsider?" I asked. "Exactly," he said. "We'll have to wait and see, but it's very possible that the girls may bury the whole thing when others are around and appear as perfectly ordinary little girls, and – if they don't know about their sisters' outside activities – that may include when they have friends over. It's a good thing we didn't bring any of the younger ones to that first meeting. It might have gotten ugly." "Shit!" I swore. "Are we talking about a whole new group of splits here? I mean, that's going to get harder to manage as they get older. Do you think they'll split to help maintain it?" "Actually, no," Bob said. "If what we're suspecting is true, then it will just be second nature to them. The hard part will be when they graduate and move on to independent lives and have to start deciding for themselves. I suspect there are going to be some surprises in store for whatever boy finds himself alone with one of them." "A generation of porn-star librarians?" Jamie asked. "Where the hell are you getting this stuff?" I asked. "First it's romance novels; then lines and scenes from TV shows; now you're citing plot lines from pornos? Who have you been spending time with when I'm not looking?" "Jimmy, shame on you," Bob chided me, "invading your sister's privacy like that. Tsk-tsk. As for the analogy, it's most likely something she's been picking up as she spends time with all of you. If she's with you, and you are in 'open communication' about something, and you make an analogy, she picks it up. Because she 'sees' the subconscious imagery behind the thought or idea, it becomes a stronger referent, and she picks that up as well. The porn reference she could have gotten easily from Allison, Amber, or your blushing bride-to-be. Most likely it was Elizabeth, since she is by far the least inhibited, but even girls that have never been exposed to the professional images would recognize the concept of a demure and respectable wallflower turning into a hellcat behind closed doors. Even at her age, I guarantee you that Allison either knows – or knows of – at least one girl whom everyone thinks is sweet and innocent but in truth would be labeled a complete slut if their peers could see them when no one is around. And all of them have been exposed to the common plot lines of the average romance novel, so Jamie wouldn't need to read one to pick up the main themes." "Oh my god!" Jamie said. "When you put it that way, Allison doesn't just know one, she is that girl! She and Shannon both were, but I would never think of either of them that way." "That's because you love them," Bob said. "Our emotions color all of our perceptions, Jamie. A boy lucky enough to hook up with a girl like that certainly does not think of her as a slut. At least, not until something happens and she dumps him; then she is likely to become the very incarnation of sin, crawled fresh from the pit to roam the earth in search of innocents – like him – that she can tantalize and corrupt, all because his emotion has changed and taken the perception with it. Everything was fine as long as it was him, but if she's with someone else..." As usual, he was right; I'd known guys who thought that way. She was an angel sent fresh from heaven until she hooked up with someone else, then suddenly she was a crack whore turning tricks for homeless winos. How did we get to this conversation anyway? Oh yeah... "So it sounds like, more than anything, we're going to need to warn the families that their new daughters are going to be expecting their new daddies..." "Not just the fathers," Bob interrupted. "You never mentioned Amanda or Samantha being with their mother, but I think it's safe to assume that, in some cases, as with Phoebe's cousins, the mother's were just as involved. Even if they weren't, if there were two older sisters – again Sam and Mandy come to mind – the younger ones may have witnessed them being intimate as well." "What happens if we ignore it?" I asked. "There's a rhetorical question if I ever heard one," Jamie said. "What happens when any seven or eight year old feels like she's being singled out for punishment? Obviously you must not love them; and when it's a 'new' mommy and daddy doing it? I don't think we want to go there." "No," Bob agreed, "definitely not. At best, I think you'll be able to reveal the truth to them later, as they grow and see more of the world around them, but, even then, it may be difficult for them to believe because they will just assume that everyone else hides it the same way they do themselves." We were going to have to be very careful with the younger girls. ------- Chapter 41 Just when I thought things couldn't possibly get any weirder... Christine and I had just spent a really energetic time getting each other up and motivated towards our respective days – somewhere nearby, I knew there was a really big ball of energy, or maybe two, waiting to be pushed across to the other side, where they could dissipate safely on their own – when Jamie suddenly left. I assumed she was running off to wake up with Allison, something she had been doing a lot lately, but that wasn't the case; apparently, something had caught her attention. "Jimmy!" She called moments later, suddenly sounding alarmed. "What's up?" "You better get out here," she said. "We've got a problem." "What kind of problem? Do I have time to dress?" "That would probably be a good idea," she said. "Doreen may not take it well if you run around the patio naked." "Okay," I said, sliding out of bed and grabbing the pair of running shorts I kept close by just in case. "Are you going to tell me what the problem is, or do I have to guess?" "Trust me," she said. "No way are you guessing this one!" She didn't sound angry or afraid, so I figured it couldn't be that bad. "Do I have time to make coffee?" "Jimmy! Get your ass out here!" "Okay, okay. Jeez, sis, what could be so..." about that time, I opened the front door and saw the dolphin in the swimming pool. Okay, for starters, it's not even possible. The logistics of getting a full-grown bottle-nosed dolphin into a residential swimming pool would be insane. And, even if you got it there, it would sink like a stone and drown because fresh water isn't dense enough to provide the kind of buoyancy a dolphin needs to float. Sure they could swim and stay up, but a residential pool really wasn't big enough to let them move laterally, so their effort would amount to tail-standing in order to tread water, and the amount of energy they would need would wear them out fairly quickly. Still, there it was, sort of... He was twelve feet long, probably weighed 600 pounds, and, judging from his antics, he was happy to see me, or rather us, since Jamie had been petting his snout until I came out, at which point he became somewhat more enthusiastic about expressing himself. It was weird watching him leap in and out of the water without so much as rippling the surface. "Oh shit!" I whispered. "Yeah, that was pretty much my reaction, too," Jamie said. "If you listen really closely, you can hear sort of an echo of the splash; that's what got my attention. You know that really quiet time when you were just laying there listening to each others' hearts beat? I thought I heard something, so I came to check it out." Meanwhile, Zeus was waiting patiently for me to acknowledge his presence. I felt more than a little weird kneeling down at the edge of the pool and stroking his nose, and I couldn't help wondering what Doreen would think if she picked that moment to look out the window. Fortunately, Christine was headed into the shower, so at least I didn't have to worry about her coming out, for the moment. This was too weird... I knew she was going to kill me, but I really needed to talk to Allison, so I retrieved my secure phone from the living room and made the call. At the last minute, I grabbed the regular phone and took it with me back outside as well. "This had better be important," Allison's sleepy voice answered. "There's a dolphin in my swimming pool," I said. "Very funny," came the fuzzy, though obviously irritated reply. "You woke me up for..." "It's Zeus," I said, interrupting her. "What?" she asked, all hint of sleep suddenly gone from her voice. "You're not kidding, are you?" "Nope," I answered. "Physically there," she confirmed, "in your swimming pool, right now?" "I don't think physically really applies – this is more like when Walter runs around in the daylight hours – but otherwise, yeah." "Jimmy, you're sure he's really there?" "I touched his snout, does that count?" "Holy Shit!" "Well," I said, "I guess it's unanimous; that's pretty much the same reaction Jamie and I had." "Okay okay, give me a second and ... Call Walter, see if he sees him too." "Ooh! Good idea!" Jamie said. "Walter!" It only took a second before the shadowy figure appeared around the side of the apartment, trotting towards me on all fours. Suddenly he staggered and fell over as if he'd been shot. I resisted the urge, barely, but Jamie screamed, "Walter!" and rushed to where he lay unconscious on the patio. I heard something and realized it was Allison screaming into the phone. Had she somehow heard Jamie? This was getting out of hand fast. Her screaming like that was guaranteed to wake up my parents. "I'm back," I said into the phone, trying my best to keep my voice as level as possible, so I didn't attract more unwanted attention myself. The last thing I needed right now was Doreen or Christine coming out wanting to know what all the shouting was about. "Allison, something seriously weird is going on here, and..." "Hold on," she said. "It's okay dad; I'm fine. I'm talking to Jimmy, and something weird happened. I don't think it's dangerous, but it distracted him, and I was trying to get his attention again. I'm sorry for waking you up." I could picture my dad shaking his head as he closed the door and headed back to the bedroom to reassure my mom. "Okay, I'm back. Jimmy, what the hell is going on?" "I have no idea," I said. "That's why I called you, remember? Now, Walter showed up, and, about half way to me, he just keeled over. I'm going to hang up for a second, so I can try and see what is going on; I'll call you back." "Jimmy, we need help," Jamie said. "I can't tell what's wrong with him." "Well what the hell am I supposed to do?" I asked, completely at a loss. "Why don't you start by calling Lizzy and seeing if she's free? Maybe, if we shift all the way to the other side, she'll be able to see something." I made the call and got her voice mail. "She didn't answer," I said. Suddenly my phone gave a chirp, signaling a text message had arrived. I looked, and it was from Lizzy, just a question mark. I sent her back a short message – '910' – signaling that it wasn't an emergency but serious, and asked if she could get someplace 'quiet'. Thirty seconds later the phone rang. "Hi," I answered. "I don't know what's going on, but there is major weirdness happening here in sin city, and now something is wrong with Walter. Can you get somewhere where it's safe to nap and meet us?" "Wait," she said. "Slow down. What happened to Walter? Is that why Jamie is so worked up?" "Yeah, but I don't know what's wrong; I called him to see if he could see what I was seeing, and..." "What do you mean?" she interrupted. "What were you seeing?" "Zeus in my swimming pool." There was silence for a second, and finally, "Did you just say... ?" "Yes," I said, the absurdity of the situation suddenly pulling a half chuckle out of me. "Zeus is in my pool; I'm seeing him the same way I see Walter when I'm, you know, here. I called Allison, and she suggested calling Walter to see if he could see him, too, only, when he showed up, something happened, and now he's passed out on the patio. Jamie is sitting with him; there's no sign of injury, but we're not exactly in a position to judge, you know, so she suggested calling you and moving the whole scene to where you can get a look at him." "I don't know if that's a good idea," she said. "He may not be like you and me, but there's still the risk that moving him could make whatever it is worse." She paused. "Can you come and get me?" "What?" I asked, shocked. "You mean, like, in person?" "Yes, come and get me; take me back with you." "How is that going to help?" "I don't know, but I'm wondering if I'll be able to see them the way you do. We've never tried it, but I've thought about it ever since you started seeing Walter in the day time. We probably should have thought to have me try before, but ... Can you?" "Shit!" I said. "I don't know if ... damn, hold on." I put my hand over the phone and said to Jamie, "She wants me to bring her here. I mean really bring her." Then I realized how stupid it was to cover the phone to talk to Jamie. Talk about losing it in a crisis! "Well, we have to do something," Jamie said. "He's out cold and barely breathing." Naturally that's when Christine showed up at the front door to see what I was doing. "Is something wrong?" She asked, standing in the doorway, in a light robe. "You didn't make coffee this morning, and you always make coffee." Shit! This just kept getting worse. I took a deep breath and spoke to Lizzy first, "Find a safe place; let me know when you're ready." I disconnected and walked to the door. "I was talking to Lizzy; she said to give you a kiss." As our lips touched I 'woke up' the real Christine. She was startled at first but then just sort of leaned into the kiss, if you know what I mean. "Mmmm," she said when she finally pulled back. "Nice way to wake up. What's up? Why am I here?" "Something is going on, and I need you to take over for a little bit – finish getting ready and stuff – but stay in the back until I tell you it's safe to come out. I'm going to be doing things you – and especially the other you – can't know about. I figured it would be easier to tell you what I need rather than try to make up something plausible for the other one." "Okay," she said seriously. "Come get me when you're through, but don't take too long, I have to get to school. I'm already running late so I'll just hit Starbucks on the way." She gave me a peck on the cheek and headed back into the bedroom, closing the door behind her. Lizzy had apparently already found someplace that she felt was secure enough, and I could feel the image forming in my head. "Jamie..." I began. "Just go, Jimmy; I don't want to leave him here by himself. What if he fades out while we're gone? I don't know if we could find him again." I closed my eyes and got a clearer picture of the image Lizzy was showing me. For a moment, I was distracted by the fact that she was still the only one it worked this way with. For anyone else, I would have had to have already been on the other side. With the image clearly in my head, I opened the door to the apartment and took the two steps – one into, and another out of, dreamspace – into a small utility room 2000 miles away. Lizzy stepped in close to wrap her arms around me from behind, kissing the back of my neck and giving me a good squeeze before releasing me again. "How is he?" She asked. "No change that we can see," I answered. "Jamie wanted to stay with him just in case he faded out or something. She was afraid that we wouldn't be able to find him again." "Would you?" She asked. "I don't know," I answered. "I've never tried before, so I didn't argue with her. I'm pretty sure I could, but ... better safe." "Right," she agreed. "Are you ready?" "Sure, whenever you are." Picking a line in the tile to use as a threshold, I turned us both around so we were facing the door and asked Jamie, "Is Doreen up and looking out the back window or anything?" "No, all clear here." Then – with Lizzy in front of me – I pictured the view looking out the door from the apartment and took two quick steps – one in and one out – through dreamspace. It's a good thing I was stepping quickly, because, immediately upon arrival, we both collapsed to our knees at the sudden onslaught of sensation. Glancing over, I saw Jamie laid out on the patio next to Walter and knew that whatever had hit us had once again been passed to those closest to us. I was still trying to catch my breath when my phone rang again. I knew without looking that it was Allison, but I checked anyway before answering. I was planning to skip the pleasantries anyway, but I hadn't even really answered before I heard, "What the hell are you doing back there? I thought you were trying to help Walter, not..." "Stop!" I said. "I don't know what happened; I just brought Lizzy over to see if she could help with Walter, only..." "You what?" she demanded. "You brought her ... there ... with you? Are you crazy? You..." "Shouldn't be discussing this on this phone," I interrupted. "Oh! Right! Sorry, but ... well, you did it again. You better check on Christine; she's probably wondering what the hell just happened. At least I knew what it was. Are you guys okay?" "Recovering is more like it. That was like ... instant overload. No foreplay, no buildup, just..." "Total release," Allison finished for me. "Like something stuck wires in all your pleasure centers and set them all off at once." "Yeah, like that," I agreed. "How's Lizzy?" She asked. Good question, I had crawled away and left her lying on the patio when I answered the phone. Now, I turned to check on her and found her kneeling, staring at me with her hands over her mouth and tears streaming down her face. "Elizabeth!" I cried urgently, moving toward her. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?" I could hear a steady buzz of questions coming from the phone again, so I took a moment to reassure Allison. When the phone was close enough, I heard "Damn it, Jimmy, talk to me! What's wrong with... ?" "I'll call you back in a second," I said, and I shut the phone off. It probably wasn't he most reassuring thing I could have done, and the last thing I heard was, "No! Don't you dare... ," and the line went dead. I set the phone on the ground and – kneeling in front of her – took Lizzy into my arms. "Are you okay?" I asked. Before she could answer, the phone was ringing again. She sort of giggled through a sob and picked the phone up. "I'm okay, Allison," she said. "I'll tell you about it later, I promise. No, really, I'm okay. It's just going to be a little hard to explain. Right now I need to see about Walter ... Okay, love you too." Allison would never take that from me, but ... Lizzy just turned the phone off and set it down, and then took my face in her hands and kissed me tenderly; on the cheek of course, we had enough problems without ... you know. "I'm okay," she said. "It's just..." "What?" I asked. "You have the prettiest eyes," she said with a smile. I could feel my jaw drop. "You mean you can ... see – really see – my eyes?" She bit her lip and nodded shyly, then burst into tears again. They were happy tears though. I was still in shock as she stood and reached for my hand. "Come on let's ... holy shit!" That pretty much made it unanymous. I followed her gaze as she stood frozen staring at Zeus. Suddenly, she spun around to face where Walter lay next to Jamie, who was at least sitting up again. "Ooh, not good," she said, moving forward. "Girlfriend, you look like hell; go home, we'll take it from here, okay?" She leaned in and kissed Jamie, and suddenly she was gone, and I felt her come back to me. Then Lizzy turned her attention to Walter. "This is un-real!" she said and turned to me. "I'm going to go out on a limb here and say you and Christine had breakfast in bed?" My face fell again. "You're kidding?" "Nope," she said, shaking her head. "I have no idea what is going on, but he is like ... surrounded by your little love bomb. It wasn't keyed was it?" "No, I was just going to push it over to the other..." the light came on, and I turned to face the pool. "Oh my god." "Uh-huh!" She said, nodding her affirmation. "My guess is that someone has been playing catch with those sparkly little balls you've been leaving floating around, and either he caught a big one, or eventually that energy built up. I'm going to need to take a look at the others as soon as possible." "What about Walter?" I asked. "Same thing," she said. I don't know if he walked into it, or ... actually, from what you said, it sounds like it was drawn to him the way the first one was to you when we were experimenting; I'll have to ask Allison. Widget was likely playing with the one that got hers, but this sounds like it was drawn to Walter's energy; which is simpler, but still very similar to yours. The good news is that, while I don't know what it's doing, it doesn't seem to be hurting him." "Should I try to pull it away from him?" I asked. "No," she said shaking her head. "For one thing, I don't think you could – well, you probably could, but it's keyed to him now and seems to be merging with his pattern." "You mean like what happened with Widget?" "Yep, just like Widget. Jimmy, regardless of what Walter was or could do before; his pattern is simple compared to a regular person. Like I said, I can't really tell what's happening, but this is much bigger than what tagged the little fur ball, and, just like with her, I don't think you could pull them back apart without destroying them. We'll just have to wait and see what happens. As for our little friend, 'Flipper', over here..." She turned and walked back towards the pool. Out in the water, Zeus made a strange noise then splashed water toward Lizzy; which must have taken real effort since he hadn't even made a ripple jumping in and out so far. Of course, the pool still didn't move, but somehow you could see water appear out of nowhere and disappear again. "Oooh, someone doesn't like the nickname," Lizzy laughed. "It's a good thing the water he's actually touching isn't any more real here than he is. "Wait a minute," I said. "What do you mean he doesn't like the nickname? Are you saying he understood what you were saying?" That stopped her! I actually saw her tense slightly before she turned a curious eye to me. "I ... I don't know," she said, "but when I called him that, I saw a flash of anger before he tried to splash me. I wonder..." She turned back to the pool, "Zeus?" In the water, the great dolphin powered up to his tail, chittering loudly. "He clearly understands his name," she said. "We're going to need to talk to Allison about all of this. Meanwhile, I better get back inside before your landlady spots me and wonders when and how I got here. Is there any coffee left?" "No, sorry, but Jamie hustled me out here before I got a chance to start it this morning. What about Walter?" I asked as she turned towards the door. She stopped and shrugged. "I don't think there is anything we can do for him. You can try to move him inside if you want, but I don't really see how it would make a difference." That actually made sense. "Okay," I said, "but we're going to have to get you back to school before someone wonders where you disappeared to." "David, it's college; no one cares if you walk out of class. Now if I'm not back for a meeting or some specific, scheduled event – like practice – then they'll ask questions, because they're paying for me to be there for that; otherwise everyone will just assume I didn't feel like showing up today." "What do you mean they're paying you for practice?" I realized it was a stupid question, even as I said it, and corrected myself. "Duh! Scholarship; they're offsetting your school costs. Sorry, tough morning, but I still think we should get you back." "Well, we're not going anywhere until you've had a chance to rest. I'm surprised you don't feel it, but your energy is way down; has been ever since we got here. You're going to need to be careful of this in the future, because I think at least part of what happened to Jamie, is that you stole energy back from her to move me. Don't worry; it wasn't that bad, and, if not for the rest of it, she probably would have been fine, but we need to keep an eye on it. Your energy is coming back, but I'd guess we've got at least an hour to kill before we should risk anything like that again." She got a sexy smirk on her face. "Amber is going to be sooo disappointed when she gets home and finds you in her room napping while you recover from bringing me home. I guess we shouldn't be surprised; you were unconscious for hours after getting Allison off that ship." "Damn," I said. "What about Christine? She's in the bathroom getting ready for school, and she has to leave soon." She waived it off. "No problem," she said. "Just go in and close the door to the bathroom for a second, and I'll hide under the bed until she's gone." The mischievous grin told me this wasn't the first time she'd had to do something similar. I think it was the raised eyebrows that gave away what I was thinking, because suddenly she grinned and said, "I'll tell you about it after she leaves." Since there was no coffee, I poured a glass of orange juice for us to share. Or, at least that was the plan, but as soon as the glass hit my lips, it was like I couldn't pull it away, and I ended up downing the whole glass. "Wow!" I said. "I wasn't expecting that." I poured a second glass and added, "I better check on Christine." I handed her the glass and headed for the bedroom to check on Christine. I found her just buttoning up her blouse. "Rats!" I said stepping up behind her. "Guess I'm too late." "Not necessarily," she said. "Want to make me late for school?" "I would love to. In fact, I'm pretty sure I already have. Are you about ready?" "Just about," she said, fastening up the last two buttons. There was a tie that went with the outfit, but she never put it on until she got to work. Normally it lived in her purse, but she also carried a spare in a zippy-bag in the glove box of her jeep, just in case she forgot it. "I just need to get my shoes on, and I'm out of here. By the way, since she didn't already say it, thank you for this morning, it was really something; I think I had a flashback while I was brushing my teeth. Is everything okay? Can I let the little princess back out of her cage?" "Sure, but I need you to go into the bathroom for a second, first. Do you mind?" "The bathroom?" she said. "What? You need to hide your girlfriend under the bed, so I don't see her on the way out?" Fortunately, she kept going before I had a chance to react. "No, I don't mind. How long do you need?" "Not long," I said. She gave me a peck on the cheek on her way past and asked, "Any chance she'll still be around when I get home?" She didn't give me time to respond, "I'm thinking that this would be a good time to switch back, okay; just knock on the door and warn me about the time. Ooh! And get my jacket out for me, okay?" I patted her on the butt and shooed her on her way. As soon as the door was closed I ushered Lizzy in, but, instead of making her crawl under the bed, I put her in the closet, giving her a quick peck before closing the door. As I moved to knock on the bathroom door, I noticed Widget jumping off the bed and going to sit in front of the closet door, blocking it so you would have to move her to get it open. At first it struck me as odd, but then I flashed on the scene of Lizzy talking to Zeus in the pool and wondered if maybe there was more to Widget's odd behavior since the 'accident'. "Thank you, Widget," I said. The disdainful look she gave me was pure cat. I tapped on the bathroom door and said, "Hey Sunshine, you better get going, or you're going to be late. I got your jacket out for you." "Thanks," came the muffled reply. "I'll be right out. And if I'm late, it's your fault!" "What do you mean my fault? I was all set to get up and head to the gym. You're the one who was whining about it being cold without me." The door opened, and she asked, "You complaining?" "Not likely," I said, stepping forward and slipping a hand around her waist. "I just love a woman in uniform..." I kissed her and reached for the zipper on the side of her skirt. Instantly she was pushing me away and slapping at my hand. "Oh no you don't, or I really will be late. Where's my jacket?" "Got it right here; come on, I'll walk you out." I decided to pour myself a second glass of OJ and sipped at it while Lizzy told me about her experiences – yes that's plural – hiding under beds. We also discussed the fact that she could suddenly see me 'in the flesh'. What was really amazing was that she had been able to turn her gift on and off for the brief time it lasted – which was about an hour. "I hope you're not too disappointed," I said. "No," she said, stroking my cheek lovingly. "Not at all, but it's really weird; like I'm suddenly watching the whole world on television." It was only in 'reality' that Lizzy saw people's energy patterns; on camera, photographs, or any other type of media, she saw people normally. "Jimmy, you just can't know what it's like. I look at you now, and I see a handsome young man, with pretty blue-gray eyes – and who looks like he could really use a haircut – and it's hard to reconcile that with the ... force ... that I know as Jimmy. You've had this really ... serious look about you ever since we got here, which I'm just not used to seeing. Of course, that's silly because I'm not used to seeing any of this. I know you can be serious, but even then I'm used to seeing the other aspects at the same time; like that playful streak that almost never goes away. I don't know how you all get through life like this. It's like I'm blind, even though I'm really seeing for the first time. I find myself switching back and forth to make sure it's really you." "Actually, I do know," I reminded her. "The night I set Shannon free and met Jamie ... for a brief time I could see the way you do. It was the only thing that saved me from screwing the whole thing up." "That's right," she said. "Somehow Brandiy was able to share my sight with you. Or rather, her sight, since it was really her pretending to be me. She's got amazing control; you know, I didn't realize it until just this moment, but even after she gave you my sight, she was still hiding from you. You were both right there, and yet you never questioned that even with 'my' sight, I still looked the same." "What?" I said, looking at her. "Damn! You're absolutely right! It never even occurred to me to question it." We chatted on for some time, discussing plans for the future and what Allison was going to make of all this. If all this had happened one day later, she could have stayed, since it was the last day before the beginning of 'Spring Break', and she and Amber were both coming out the next day anyway. Of course one of the first things we'd done after Christine left was to text Amber to call us, so we could reassure her that everything was all right, or as far we could tell it was. Eventually Lizzy decided I was sufficiently recovered to handle taking her home. We were just getting ready to leave when she stopped and said, "Walter is awake, maybe we should check..." She cut off suddenly as he staggered through the door and into the main room. I moved quickly to steady him, realizing, even as I reached for him, what a futile gesture it was. "Thank you, My Lord," he said. "Believe me, I would avail myself of your assistance if I could. Then he noticed Lizzy and said, "Good day, Milady I... ," The rest was lost as reflexes took over, and he tried to bow. He only managed to catch himself by shifting swiftly to his four-legged form. "Forgive me, Milady..." "That's quite alright, Walter," she said. "You've had a busy morning. What do you remember?" "Very little, I fear," he said. "I was attending to Amy's morning lessons when I heard..." he sat up suddenly and turned towards me. "My Lord, you summoned me – or rather your sister did ... I remember arriving, but then..." "It's alright, Walter," I said. "We had a question, but it's been answered. Partly by what happened to you." "How so, My Lord? And, if I may ask, what did happen to me? One moment I was crossing the walkway, and the next I was awakening on it like a common drunkard." "Hmmm," I said. "I'm not really sure how to explain it. You know what happened to Widget? What allows her to follow Christine and me into the other realm?" "Something has happened to the little warrior?" he asked, concerned. "Okay, that's a no," Lizzy said. "She's fine, Walter. What he is referring to is the accident that allows her to cross over. You see, whenever Jimmy and Christine get busy, they make a little..." She stopped as Walter turned his head away, obviously embarrassed. I mean, if I could tell, through all that muzzle fur... "Oh Walter," she said. "You are too cute. A byproduct of their time together is that a ball of energy is created – a very special ball of energy. We first discovered them when Widget suddenly followed Christine into a dream one night after she and Jimmy had ... shared some quality time together. At first, no one realized it was her – well, no one but me that is. I could tell right away that it was her, only her pattern had changed. The change was caused by one of those little balls of energy attaching itself to her. Long story short, the same thing happened to you when you showed up here this morning, only what hit you was a lot bigger! Normally Jimmy pushes the balls into dreamspace, so this doesn't happen; only he got distracted before he could do it. That's a whole other story by itself, and the reason he summoned you in the first place. Apparently the dolphins have been intercepting some of them – or at least one of them has – when they drift over the water before dissipating. See, the reason Jimmy called you is that Zeus – the alpha – was frolicking in the pool. His jumping around is what caught Jamie's attention. She called Jimmy; he – of course – called Allison; she suggested calling you to see if you could see him as well and ... well, the rest is history." "A remarkable series of events, to be sure," he said. "You say one of these ... objects, struck me?" "Not just struck you, but attached itself to your pattern. How do you feel?" "As you saw, I was somewhat dizzy and out of sorts when I first awoke, but I feel as if I have been improving steadily." He stood up into his human form again, a wary look on his face as he checked his balance. "Yes, I am much better now." "So you don't feel any different?" I asked. He had a speculative look on his face for a moment before shaking his head and answering, "No My Lord, I feel quite normal. Should I feel different?" "I have no idea," I said, shaking my head. "Do you see anything?" I asked Lizzy. She just shrugged and answered, "Something has changed, his pattern is different, but the changes are hard to pin down. As for what effect it will have..." She paused for a moment, "Walter, can you merge with me?" "I do not know Milady; I have never tried, but, since you are so much a part of My Lord, I suspect that I can." Moving forward, he vanished into her, and she suddenly staggered. "Whoa!" she said, clutching the edge of the breakfast bar for support. "Wasn't ready for that." "Are you okay?" I asked. "Yeah, I'm fine, but ... what a rush. Is it like that all the time?" "To some degree, yes," I said. "Usually not quite like that, but when we went after Allison and my parents ... yeah, it was intense." "What about the time at the school, when the three stooges confronted you?" "Similar," I said, "but you really couldn't compare the two. Can you talk to him?" She hesitated for a moment and then said, "This is so cool! It's like talking to Jamie, but why do you ask?" "Because when we went after my parents, we couldn't communicate ... well, actually that's not true – he seemed to be aware of all that was going on, but the only communication seemed to be him sending us images; the layout of the house, for instance. But you can hear him?" "Yeah, like I said, it's like when Jamie is with me. I wonder if it's just me or if more has changed." "One way to find out," Jamie said. "Have him come to us." "Jamie!" Lizzy exclaimed. "You're back! How do you feel?" "Like I need to change my underwear," Jamie laughed. "If that happens every time he moves you, we're going to have a problem." "Good to have you back, sis," I said. "You're okay otherwise, though? Not tired or anything?" "A little tired, but I'm okay." "Good. So you think it might be different if Walter merges with us again, now?" "No idea," she said, "but we can't use Lizzy's experience as a baseline because, number one: it's her first time, and number two: it's her, and things are always different with her. If Allison were here, she'd suggest you find someone who doesn't carry your energy to experiment with. He couldn't merge with Atkins' two goons that first night, so if he could merge with a stranger now, then we would know that it's a real change and not just something about Lizzy or that she holds your energy. Remember, he said he thought he could because she was already so much a part of you." "Good point." "I've been spending more time with Allison, something must have rubbed off." Lizzy's eyes got wide and her mouth dropped open as she said, "Oh! You naughty girl! That is so not what we are talking about! And now you've embarrassed Walter! Shame on you. So, you want Walter to merge with you now?" I thought about it for a second before answering. "One other thing that was different was that we were in dreamspace when we merged with him the other times when it was so much more intense; maybe we should skip over there so we have an apples-to-apples comparison." "I see she's been rubbing off on you, too," Lizzy said. The grin made me suspicious of what she may be implying. "I feel like I should be jealous. Maybe I should have been spending extra time with her as well, it might have helped with midterms." She took my hand and tugged me towards the bedroom. "Come on, you can snuggle me while we're gone. That way I get to wake up in your arms." She started to undress, kicking her shoes off but then stopped just as she grabbed the bottom of her shirt and started to pull it up. "Ugh! Walter!? My God, you're a grown ... We're not going to be doing anything for heaven's ... You are such a prude! Okay, okay, whatever..." It was all I could do to not bust out laughing as she tugged the shirt back into place, flopped on the bed, and said, "He is such a baby!" I already had my shoes off, so I just lay down and reached for her. "Mmmm, this is still nice though," she said as she snuggled into my side, her head sliding perfectly into the hollow spot Allison had worn in my shoulder. In moments, we were on the other side, and, almost immediately, Walter stepped out of her. "Forgive me, Milady, but..." She stopped him, placing her fingers over his lips. "No Walter, don't apologize," she said. "I was just teasing by what I said. It's very noble of you, and it's one of the things I love about you, and I don't want you to change. And I'm very sorry if my being so improper scandalizes you from time to time, but I'm not going to change to protect your delicate sensibilities, either, so sometimes you're just going to have to deal with it. Now, let's just forget about all that and get on with this. First, though; I haven't had a chance to say hello to Jamie, and I need a kiss from my favorite bad girl." "I thought you'd never ask," Jamie said, stepping out in the leather outfit she'd worn to meet Spring the first time. At the sight of her, Lizzy's eyes narrowed and she bit her lip. "Oh God, you look so sexy like that. Kiss me, and then you better go back before we do something to really make Walter blush!" I could almost feel Jamie thinking about it. "Don't," I said. "Just a kiss for now, you girls can play later; right now we've got work to do, and I don't want you picking on Walter." "Thank you, My Lord," Walter said, relief evident in his voice. "Spoilsport," Jamie said, sticking her tongue out at me. Then she was in Lizzy's arms, and, while the kiss was intimate, and promises were definitely made, it stopped well short of passionate. It occurred to me that Lizzy being here provided the opportunity to follow up on several other things as well. I brought one of them up to Jamie when she came back. "I was thinking about waking up in the hospital with Allison and how we seem to be able to step back out in different physical forms, and I was wondering if..." "No," she said, stopping me. "I appreciate the thought, but no." "Really? Why not?" "Two reasons; first: I totally agree with why you two are waiting, and a part of me wishes that I'd had the strength to wait as well. Don't think I haven't thought about it, but there is a reason I didn't bring it up. Yes, we could probably do it, but I wouldn't take that away from you, either of you. Second: Allison is worried about what is going to happen when you two get together. I don't want to take the chance that it might happen with me. I think when the time comes, it would be best if you were in charge. There is no guarantee that it will make a difference, but, if it's as bad as she thinks, then I'm all for stacking the deck as much in our favor as possible, and when it comes down to it ... well, you're the best hole card we have. Merging with Walter was almost a non-event – comparatively speaking. There was the expected rush, but it was nothing like the rescue mission, and this time there was no problem communicating. I suspected that, just as with everything else, emotion may play a big part, and I wasn't nearly as worked up as I had been then. It would take a little more experimentation before we understood it, but for now ... I smacked my hand on my forehead. "What?" Lizzy asked. "When we merged with Walter before, we were here physically, so of course it's different this time." "Ah," she said, "I missed that, too. Obviously, I'm going to need to spend more time with Allison." "Bummer," Jamie said with a laugh Widget, of course, had followed us to the other side, and – once we had finished with him – played with Walter while I took Lizzy down to the water to look at the dolphins. It appeared as if all of them had been playing with the balls Christine and I had been throwing away. According to her, Zeus and Hera – the two alphas – were the most obvious. At first she tried to describe it, but finally she just painted what she was seeing into the dream, so I could see it as well. "We probably would have noticed sooner if you weren't spending so much of your time lately on the girls. I mean, when was the last time any of us spent time with them?" "It wouldn't have mattered if we had," I pointed out. "You're the only one who would have noticed. The rest of us wouldn't have realized what was happening if we'd watched them pluck one out of the air. To us it would have looked just like any other time they were playing." "There is that," she said. Since there was apparently nothing more we could do for Walter, we sent him back to Amy and took a moment to check on everyone we thought might respond to me taking Lizzy home. Mostly I was concerned that someone may be distracted while doing something dangerous. I wasn't worried about Amber; she would understand -- maybe not what was happening but that I was doing something with her Mistress -- and probably hide her reaction the best. The problem was that I didn't know just how far the effect would go. I wished I had thought to ask Christine just how severe her reaction had been. A quick check-in with Allison did a lot to alleviate my fears... "It's strong," she confirmed, "but nothing like those kisses were. If you have a chance, check with Bob and see if he felt anything." Bob was at break – sitting with Susan and Melinda – so I called and confirmed that he hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary. "Well, that's good to know," Allison said when I called her back. "Maybe since this is a lesser effect it's only impacting your more 'intimate' associates. Hmmm, you may want to look in on Sam, just in case." "You really think it got to her if Bob didn't feel it?" "What part of intimate didn't you understand?" "What? You mean, just the people I've had sex with?" "I don't know," she said, "but I think it's something we need to find out, don't you?" She had a point ... naturally. Unfortunately, there was no easy way to check on Sam until tonight, so – besides making sure she wasn't in a vulnerable situation – there wasn't much we could do: so – using the bathroom door in her dorm as our touchdown point – I took Lizzy home. The bathroom door was a good choice, as we both staggered forward and collapsed on Amber's bed. "Wow!" Lizzy said when she was finally recovered enough to speak. The trip hadn't been quite as rough on me this time, so I recovered very quickly. I'm pretty sure it was because Jamie was with me for the return, although she was just about as disoriented as Lizzy. Allison called while we were recovering. "You're going to need to work on that." "You think? I'm hoping that it will get easier with practice." "Let's hope so," she said. "I had this really bad visual of that hitting just as I was riding a twenty-footer." We rested for a while and then went to Frankie's for lunch. Then we split up, and Lizzy went to Tanya's while I took a nap in the dorm room. She was right; Amber was very happy to see me. ------- Chapter 42: Spring Break Even though their options were vastly different from most of their peers, the girls had a tough time deciding what to do for Spring Break. Amber really wanted to get in some face time with all of her friends – specifically me, Christine, and Allison – a plan that appealed to all of us, but was impossible unless we all went to Hawaii. Unfortunately – after ditching them for Christmas – she had promised her parents that, if she could afford it, she would be home for Spring Break, and it would have been really hard to explain being able to afford two weeks in Hawaii but not a trip home. That actually made it easier for the rest of us as well. With Allison still in school; Amber with her parents, Bastion behind bars, and Phoebe staying with Spencer pending the finalization of all her paperwork; Lizzy and I decided it would be a good time for me to get to know my future in-laws. The trip to Hawaii would have allowed us to introduce her to my parents, but since I hadn't even broken the news of my engagement to them, I was kind of glad that it hadn't worked out. The Yosemite Valley is an incredible sight any time, but this Spring – following a mild winter, and therefore blooming early – it was nothing short of spectacular. It's a different kind of beauty, but, even in the dead of winter, it is ... awesome to behold. I don't know this experientially; I'm just repeating what Lizzy told me. Even though I had lived in California most of my life, I'd never actually been there before. Our family had been camping a couple times when Allison and I were little – mainly in and around the local mountains – and I knew my way around a campsite, but it was nothing like this. It didn't take long to figure out how it had been picked to be the country's first National Park. Lizzy's sister, Molly, was way jealous that we were going without her, but she was stuck at home being tutored to make up for her poor performance in Algebra, and Betty was staying home to keep an eye on her. The change in Duke Street, when we stepped out into the semi-wilderness of Yosemite, was striking. He was like a different man; still strong and confident, but there was an ... alertness ... about him, as if he knew where every living thing for a mile in every direction was, and what it was doing. I don't think a mouse could have made it through camp without him knowing it. I mentioned it to Lizzy to see if it was just my impression – apparently it wasn't. "He's always like this the first day," she said. "Something about the woods that pushes the 'Ranger' button in his head. I guess it's because it's so much like the jungle. He'll be fine by tomorrow." He rigged up a really cool suspension system that held our beds about fifteen feet in the air, and, about an hour after we turned in, he sent us a text message to be very quiet, but to look down. There, below us, was a mother black bear with two cubs, rooting through the bushes. As we watched, one of the cubs pulled out a package of marshmallows that Duke had hidden in the underbrush, and the fun started. Within seconds, the cubs were wrestling for the sticky sweets and, before you knew it, they were covered in white goo. It was hysterical to watch and almost impossible to not laugh out loud at. When we got up the next morning, Duke was already awake, sipping a cup of coffee and watching the world wake up. "Good morning, daddy," Lizzy said, as she hugged his arm and snuggled into his side. "Thanks for last night; that was fun." "You're welcome, sweetie," he said, kissing the top of her head before pulling a second cup out of the backpack next to him. "Coffee?" "Duh!" she said. "How about you, David?" "No thank you," I answered. "Never acquired a taste for the stuff." "You're not one of those tea people are you?" he asked. "Only on social occasions," I said, "and even then I prefer green teas." "Don't know what you're missing," he said. "I don't know what it is, but there's something about sipping a fresh cup of hot coffee in the morning that just seems to start the day out right." I gave an understanding "Hmmm", before saying, "I know what you mean. It's called a caffeine addiction, and I'll stick to a five mile run and a glass of orange juice." "You're a sick young man, David. I can't imagine what Easy sees in you." "Me either," I said with a smile. "All I can say is, 'thank God love is blind.'" "Amen!" he agreed, toasting me with his cup. Lizzy just sat quietly, smiling and drinking her coffee through the whole exchange. We hiked into the upper park to see Yosemite falls, spending the second night close enough to hear the roar but far enough away and upwind so that the spray couldn't reach us. Still, just the proximity of that much rushing water brought the temperature down several degrees, and I was glad I had Lizzy to keep me warm. I promised myself, and Lizzy, that we'd make time to do things like this more often. Walter stopped by the next day and spent most of the time exploring the park – invisibly of course – by our sides. We were careful not to stare or speak out loud so as not to attract attention and make Duke wonder at our sanity. If we needed to speak to him, he merged with me; otherwise he spent most of his time padding through the surrounding brush. "This is truly a grand place, my Lord," he said. "With such beauty available, I have to question why you spend your life surrounded by concrete and pavement." "That is a question man has struggled with most of his existence, Walter," Lizzy said. "It is beautiful, but, for most people, there is not enough challenge here to hold them. Don't get me wrong, it's very hard to actually 'live' out here, but it's a boring sort of life, with so much of your time spent just struggling to exist ... Most people prefer a life that challenges the mind more, saving places like this for recreational enjoyment. And, while one day it might be nice to spend more time in places like this, right now, Jimmy's work requires him to be elsewhere." "Sad but true," I said, "and I would like to spend more time in places like this, but, for now, I'll have to be content with the odd vacation." Had I known what was going on in Vegas at the time, I would have been much less content with the timing of this particular vacation. Sandra While I had secretly hoped he was just desperate, I was fully prepared for Wallace to be pulling my chain for the fun of it. What I wasn't prepared for, was the truth. "Alright," I said, calmly, once we were behind closed doors. I must say the sight of him sitting at the table in his orange jumpsuit, shackled at both ankles and one wrist to the heavy chair they had provided, almost made the trip worthwhile, regardless. The chair itself was as far from the door as the room allowed. They hadn't wanted to even leave the one hand free, but he had indicated we might be here for a while, and, unless I wanted to hold his water for him... , and the guard was armed, after all. "We're here, just you and me, no recorders, and only the one guard. What's this all about?" "I told you" he said, "it's about the truth." "And why exactly should I trust you to tell the truth about anything?" I asked. "I will leave it up to you to decide, after you've heard what I have to say. It's safe to say you know more about what's been going on here than the locals?" "That depends on which part you're talking about," I answered. "If you're referring to the events leading to your arrest, then no; I don't have any additional information. If you're talking about your ... let's call them, extra-curricular activities ... then yes, I know more than they do, but nowhere near as much as I would like to." He had been watching the guard – who was standing just inside the door – ever since we walked in. He raised his voice slightly and said, "You may as well sit down, officer; we're going to be here a while; I don't expect you to take my word for it, but I have no intention of trying to escape. Also, you look like you're in pretty good shape, so you could probably reach me before I managed to get free. Even if I did, I'm pretty sure you could take me." The guard ignored him but looked at me and said, "Ma'am?" "You can relax, officer; I don't think he asked me all the way here from Washington just to attack me." "Thank you ma'am," he said, taking a seat and pulling out what looked like a portable game of some kind. I turned back to Bastion and said, "You were saying?" "You know about the recent series of accidents?" "You don't believe they were accidents?" "No more than you do," he said. "I'm certain you've checked the statistics for the greater Las Vegas area and seen that we are up slightly in deaths per capita. While the increase does not exactly match the recent figures, it is close enough to be questioned. I'm also quite sure you've had someone run the numbers on the odds of so many people from one church dying suddenly in random accidents?" It wasn't a question, and he didn't wait for an answer. "They were murdered." "You have proof?" I asked. This was getting interesting very quickly. "Of course not, the way it was done wouldn't leave any physical evidence; there is one possibility, but it may already be too late to find it. You'll have to ask the medical examiner. You have of course considered the possibility of, shall we say, professional involvement." "My, you really are being direct here, aren't you?" I asked. This was definitely not what I had expected. "There is little point in being evasive at this point," he said. "You have – quite literally – a smoking gun." "Then why bother?" "Two reasons," he said. "Mostly revenge; I want you to find the person who did this." "Did what?" I asked. "So far we have a string of accidents that – while I will admit they defy all statistical probability – have all been investigated and verified to be exactly what they seem." "Come Sandra, you don't believe that any more than I do. I would like to see justice for my people, but, more than that, I want him caught for doing this to me." "You're saying you were set up?" I asked. "You must be kidding." "No, I'm quite serious, but you'll have to hear the whole story before you understand why I say that. I'll get into the how later; let's start with the why. You know about the girls?" "Do I know about the girls? Nothing concrete, or I'd have had your ass ages ago, but I have a pretty good idea what you've been up to." "How many do you know about? Adults, too." "Perhaps a dozen all together." "Then you knew nothing," he said, smiling and shaking his head. "Would you be surprised to know that every single one of the people – from the church that is – that died recently was involved?" Surprised didn't begin to cover it. "You can't be serious?" "Oh, but I am. What did your statisticians say about the odds of each and every one of those accident victims leaving behind one or more children – all female – and what are the chances that in all of those accidents, not a single one of the children was with them when they died?" Good lord! He was serious! This certainly changed things. For one thing, we had no idea that many people could possibly be involved in a situation like this. That made the sample group even smaller; we were no longer dealing with members of the same church, but members of a much smaller group within the church. The addition of the daughters ... no way this was random chance! We had had our suspicions before, the leading candidate being Hampton and Malcolm's mysterious source, but so far we hadn't had any luck at all in identifying who he was or whom he was working for. The idea that he may be a freelancer was tossed out almost as fast as it came up. Why would a freelancer even get involved? Freelance talent was in it for one thing and one thing only: the money, and there wasn't any here to be had. There was one very surprising conclusion the tech people had drawn, but... "I see the shock on your face, Sandra; this pushes your numbers well past the wildest of probability. So let's see just how far out you're willing to stretch. How surprised were you to discover that all of those people had recently – within the past few months, in fact – laid the groundwork for another family to adopt their children if something should happen to them?" By changing the subject, he was purposely handing me time to think about this, why? "We were surprised," I admitted. "Personally, I was more surprised to hear them cite you as the reason. Apparently, one of your sermons moved them to consider what most people never do; the what-ifs of life." "Yes, I know; a brilliant move, to use something like that to cover his tracks." "Cover whose tracks?" I asked. "I'll get to that later; I'm not through with the current discussion yet. There are more; they weren't all killed." "More?" I said, shock and alarm clear in my voice. Christ! How big was this? "Do you think they're at risk as well?" "No, they were meant to survive." "That makes no sense," I said. "If someone was killing all of the people involved, why would they stop?" "Two reasons: First, these people are different; they weren't voluntary participants; and second..." I held up my hand to stop him. "Wait, what do you mean they weren't 'voluntary participants'?" "They were being coerced." "Coerced?" I said. "Right, they were being coerced into molesting underage girls." "Yes," he said, and there was that ... feel to his voice that suggested that no matter how far-fetched it may sound, he was telling the absolute truth. "How?" "I won't go into all the specifics, but primarily through a combination of blackmail and intimidation." "Really?" I said, the sarcasm coming through just as well as the alarm had moments before. "By whom?" "Don't be naïve, Sandra, by me, of course. Who else do you know that could have pulled it off?" "No one," I admitted. "No one including you! There is no possible way you could have kept this many people under such strict control." "Not as far as you know," he pointed out. "Obviously I had help, but that was only part of it. The rest I'm afraid you'll have to wait to find out. Besides, how else would I know about it unless I was behind it? Now, do you want to hear the rest or not?" "Oh, I'd love to hear the rest; by all means, continue. You said there were two reasons." "Yes, he needed a safe place for the girls to go after their parents were dead." Of all the... He held up his free hand to forestall the objection he saw coming. "Hear me out; I will admit that this part is conjecture on my part, but I have had considerable time to think about all this recently, and, based on what little I know about him – which is not much – I think it all fits." "He? You keep saying, 'he'. Are you suggesting that all of this was done by one man?" "A boy, actually, I doubt if he's even old enough to vote, and he's not working completely alone, there are two girls – roughly the same age – helping him, but there is nothing to suggest that they are more than helpers, barely more than window dressing; he is the only one that matters." "You seem to know quite a bit about him? Who is he?" "I know very little: he's young; he's very intelligent; he's very careful; and he is probably the most dangerous person you will ever encounter." "Why do you say that?" "Because he – working alone – managed to do what no one else could; think about it Sandra, even you – with all the resources at your disposal, and with all the time and energy you've put into catching me – had barely scratched the surface of my little world. He managed to learn everything, and destroy it, all in a single year. I can't say for sure how long he has known what was going on, but I first became aware of him last March. You're the expert here, Sandra; given what you know about all this, how good would you have to be to do all this? Infiltrate an organization this secretive; discover who everyone was; sort out the good guys from the bad – based solely on whether their participation was voluntary or coerced, and how could you be sure? – make arrangements for the children; and then kill all the bad guys without leaving a single clue that you were ever there?" No one was this good. "Christian, you have lost your mind," I said. "Do you have any idea how ridiculous this all sounds?" "Yes," he said calmly, "I do. But what if I'm right?" "You're not right," I said, shaking my head. "It's simply not possible." Good God! Could he really be that good? "It is possible," he insisted. "Write this down..." He rattled off an elaborate string of numbers, letters, and symbols, correcting me twice when I wrote a character incorrectly. "That is one of the passwords to the server they took from my apartment. I'm sure they told you about the video cameras ... Several of the files contain the information that was used to blackmail the surviving members of our jolly little band, along with ... other activities over the years. I'll warn you, the punishment sessions may be hard to take, but they served their purpose: the girls would do almost anything to not have a starring role in one, so would their parents. Do you know about Autumn?" This was a surprise. "The girl you sold to the... ?" He held up his hand to stop me. "Please, don't go there." He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. When he opened them again ... I didn't think it was possible... "I couldn't bear to kill her, but I couldn't let her continue to defy me. After Amanda died, she became unmanageable, saying that, if they were supposed to be our slaves, then it was our job to protect them from outsiders, and, if we couldn't, then..." Oh my god! He didn't seriously expect me to believe he loved her? "Look at the files; you'll see that I have told you the truth." "You know that the DA is going to want to be there," I said, "and once he sees it, he's going to want to press additional charges." As chuckles go it was a good one; starting with his head forward and his body shaking slightly, ending with his head back and grinning broadly before he stopped and said, "I'm facing twelve counts of first degree murder, with possible special circumstances of lying in wait. There is nothing in those files that can get me in any worse trouble." "Is that why you want the DA to see it?" "No," he sneered, anger clear in his tone. "I want the DA to see it so he can go arrest what's left of the group, break up all the happy homes, and scatter the girls he worked so hard to take from me to the four winds. Yes, it's petty; a small victory at best, but, at this point – if it hurts that little bastard in the slightest little bit, disrupts his perfect little world, or causes him pain in any way – I'll take it. And hurting the girls will hurt him; especially Samantha Watkins." "Why her especially?" "Because she is special to him; she was the first one he found – probably because Amanda was killed. If that sick, twisted bastard hadn't kidnapped and murdered one of my girls, he would never have found me." He stopped as if to refocus himself. "She didn't lead him to me; couldn't have if she wanted to, but saving her was his ultimate goal." That was a very interesting statement. Wallace calling someone else sick and twisted had to be one of worst examples of the pot calling the kettle black that I had ever heard. "I think we should stop here," he said. "Look at the files, and then maybe you'll understand what I'm talking about. After you've watched it all, think about what I have told you – about what it would take to control it all and keep it a secret. Then come back, and I'll tell you how I did it, and then I'll do my best to tell you how a single young boy took it all away from me. I could tell you now, but you wouldn't believe me." Well, he was certainly right about that, but he was crazy if he thought I was going to waste another day listening to this bullshit! I couldn't help but wonder if he was just using me to try and set up some kind of mental incompetency defense. The next morning I was back in the conference room, and I was pissed! Six hours spent watching video of men and women molesting young girls will do that to a person. The fact that all of those people were now dead made it a little better – but not much. The DA was still going through the rest of the files, but, as far as we could see, there was nothing to indicate anyone else was involved. Wallace was furious when I confronted him and accused him of wasting my time. "That little bastard!" he swore. "How!? Damn him! How could he have gotten to the server?" Holy shit! He really believed this! It only took him a moment to calm himself again. "Now do you see?" He demanded. "Do you understand now what I am talking about? That server was hidden behind a false wall; the door was a reinforced steel fire door with a false face to blend it into the rest of the wall. It was secured by a scanner that only my fingerprint would open. My attorney told me they only found it because they were tracing the camera feeds, and even then they had to cut the door out of the wall to get in. Even if he got to me, he still couldn't get into the apartment without the cameras spotting him..." Should I tell him we already knew it was there? That we had been tipped off about its location? I had already concluded that the He Bastion kept referring to was Justin. Nah, save it for later. "You still expect me to believe that one boy did all this? Even after you lied about the information on the server, you still expect me to listen to more of your bullshit?" "I didn't lie," he said angrily. "It was there." He took a deep breath before continuing more calmly, "I cannot blame you for doubting me, Sandra, but yes, I expect you to continue listening. I did not bring you this far to waste your time. Destroying his careful plans would have been a nice bonus, but I can still do the one thing he fears most." I couldn't wait... "And what might that be?" "Expose him." "Expose him?" I said. "You don't know who he is, if he is real at all, and I, to tell you the truth, have my doubts." "Then let us correct that, right now." "Oh, this should be good." He ignored me and began speaking. "What I am about to tell you will sound like something straight out of a bad science fiction novel, but please, hear me out. It will answer questions that I know have haunted you all these years. Would you like to know how I got away with killing Carmen?" I just stared at him and waited for his lips to start moving again. "Of course I didn't expect you to be surprised; you've known I did it all along. What you don't know – could never understand – is why the jury acquitted me. Would you like to know why? Because I can tell you." This was getting tedious. "Very well," I said with a protracted sigh. "Why?" He stared me full in the face, so I would have the best of views as he calmly said, "Because I told them to." What? "Come again?" "I – told – them – to," he repeated slowly and methodically. "You see, Sandra, I have a gift. I can control people's minds, hypnotize them if you will, from a distance, and with no physical props or contact of any kind. Not everyone, but most people, including those twelve jurors, even you." "Bullshit!" "I told you it would be hard to believe," he said, "but I assure you it is true, and, before we are through here today, I will prove it to you. For now, simply assume that I am telling the truth; it would explain much, would it not?" "It wouldn't explain why you had to kill her." "Oh, but it does," he said. "You see, I was still learning to use it; had only begun to learn its limits." "But why kill her?" "I had to," he said. "She had discovered what I was doing and threatened to expose me." "Expose you? To whom?" "People like you," he said. "Anyone she could get to listen. What can I say? I panicked; it was the first time I'd ever used the gift, and I didn't know there was a time limit. By then it was too late, and I couldn't reassert control. Forgive me my act of desperation, but spending the rest of my life being dissected in one of your basements just didn't appeal to me." "It's not the house of horrors you may imagine," I said. No point in denying that's what would have happened, after all. "Doctor Mengele turned us down." "I'm sure," he said dryly, "but would I ever be allowed to leave? Not a risk I was willing to take. And, for the record, I'm not willing to take it now either, so don't think I'm looking for some kind of deal. I'm sure the question you are dying to ask – one of them anyway – is, if I have this great power, then how could she break up with me?" It was exactly what I was thinking. He didn't wait for an answer, but hesitated only long enough to see the answer in my eyes before continuing. "Because I was still learning, still experiment with my control, and I made a critical error." "Let me guess, you pushed too hard? Forced her to do something that was too against her nature?" "Oh no, nothing like that; once I have established the necessary control, there is almost nothing my subject will not do, and the longer I maintain that control, the shorter that list grows. You are, of course, familiar with Carmen's background? Coming from a very conservative Southern-Baptist family, devout and devoted to her faith – her father was a minister after all – and firmly committed to saving herself for marriage to that special someone God had prepared just for her..." He had let his voice go all soft and dreamy, like a teenage girl swooning over her latest crush. "It was that holier-than-thou attitude that attracted me to her in the first place. In my personal archives, I used to have two videos; one was of her with five very large and very black men she invited home from a sports bar in a very bad part of town, doing things that would make a New York hooker blush. She didn't remember the encounter despite being so sore she could barely walk; as far as she knew, it was just a really great night with me. The second was of her with five women she had met in a bar those men would have been afraid to go into. She thought her discomfort over the next few days was due to an intestinal bug that was going around, but having someone's arm shoved almost elbow deep into your ass really loosens you up, if you know what I mean." He was serious! I could see it in his eyes; he believed this had actually happened. The autopsy had indeed suggested that Carmen had been a very naughty girl, but... "So what went wrong?" I asked. "Her brother died in a car accident, and she went home to help her mother with the funeral arrangements. She was gone for over two weeks. You see – as I said – there is a time problem with my little gift; in order to maintain my control, I must have access to my subject on a regular basis. Too long away, and it starts to fade. Those memories were gone – along with many other things that I told her to forget – but she began to question some of the things that she did remember doing. Why had she broken her purity promise? And why with me? I was certainly no one special, after all..." My thoughts exactly. "After the trial – as you know – I moved west, finally settling here in Las Vegas. I had had plenty of time to think during the trial, not to mention practicing my new craft on the various members of the court. Do you remember the court reporter? Her little chair sat facing me most of the time, and for some reason, after the first week, she stopped wearing panties under her skirt. I used to have her flash me when I was bored. Jazelle, the big black bailiff who worked on Tuesdays? Whenever the court would break, she would take me to the holding cell until they were ready to resume. You would never think someone as butch as she was could give such good head. I often wondered how her girlfriends would feel if they knew she smoked pole. "By the time I reached Las Vegas, I had a plan. It didn't take long to round up a few supporters, and the church was born. I was very careful in my early selections, choosing men who were devout, affluent, who had no hint of resistance to my mental intrusions, and who's taste in women matched my own. I took my time, carefully and methodically training them to the point that they were absolutely obedient. One of them was far easier than the rest, obedient to a fault. It turned out he had a fetish; he liked to be tied up and dominated. I arranged to meet the woman who had overseen his training. "With a little encouragement – from him, not her, I couldn't touch her – I discovered that she was an immigrant with a rather dark past. I managed to get a hold of evidence that she had been involved in training a young girl who had been purchased by a wealthy Indonesian drug lord. The girl was underage by just about any international standard. She hadn't wanted to do it, but her father had owed the man a debt, and after his death, she felt honor-bound to clear his name. I used the information to force her to train a few of my people, using the daughters of several of my more loyal and supportive congregation members. After the first two groups, she refused to do more; it seems she had discovered the use we were making of them, and therefore had information that she felt – quite correctly – balanced the threat I held over her. We were at an impasse; I could not touch her personally, and she was meticulous in her security precautions so as to never put herself at risk to me. She has a wealth of knowledge in her craft, knew all about the various drugs which could be used to help me gain control of her, and avoided any and all situations where our paths might cross. "Little by little, I built my empire to what you now know. It took me years, but eventually I had everything and everyone I needed to insure that no one could betray me and get away with it. Along the way, I refined my gift, learning more and more about the human mind and how to control and manipulate it. I planted suggestions and compulsions in all of my followers to insure that I would never again be exposed by a simple accident. You would be amazed what can be accomplished this way. Until that little bastard showed up and started meddling in things, none of them even knew that it was actually I, their priest, who was behind it all. But then things started to go wrong... "The first hint that something was amiss was when Frank Watkins came to me to tell me about a particularly vivid nightmare he'd had, in which his daughter, Amanda, had returned from the grave to exact her revenge for all that he had done to her over the years. Part of maintaining my control was a subconscious compulsion to come to me if anything unusual occurred in their lives. Apparently the dream had been so real that the images carried over into the first moments of waking, and he had actually injured himself trying to escape from her. It was an isolated occurrence, and – to my everlasting regret – I made the mistake of passing it off as a random event. I can't say for certain that it would have made a difference, but, if I had discovered the truth then, I think I could have prevented all of this. Of course, it probably would have meant killing his other daughter, Samantha, but considering the alternative..." He waved his free hand around the room to indicate the results. "Samantha was his first contact, and from there he eventually managed to find them all. Eventually I discovered what was going on, and it was then that I sealed my fate. As you can imagine, a gift such as mine tends to give one an over-blown sense of one's self-worth. I thought I had managed to set that aside in my efforts to secure my little world, but, in the end, it was my own ego that got the best of me. You see, my young adversary has a gift of his own, and, when I discovered what it was, my first thought – rather than stopping him – was controlling him, and adding his power to my own. Oh, the things we could have accomplished. I even considered reaching out to him, but as I interviewed more and more of my people, I finally recognized him for the threat that he truly was. He was committed, you see, to bringing me down – utterly destroying everything and everyone who was a part of what he considered my evil empire of domination and abuse." The sarcasm in his voice clearly showed his contempt for his adversary. He didn't seem to understand how anyone could think of it that way. The man's ego truly knew no bounds. "Somewhere along the line, he had realized that he was making a mistake, and, suddenly, there were no fresh memories of his visits ... Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot to tell you that part. His gift, the reason my first thought was to control him, is that he can move freely, and seemingly at will, through other people's dreams." He paused to let me digest what he had said. It actually took me a moment to realize why he had stopped. I was so caught up in his little narrative that it had taken on the feeling of listening to one my grandfather's stories when I was a little girl. I replayed the last few seconds from memory and couldn't believe what I was hearing. "I see the disbelief in your eyes, and I do not blame you," he said, apparently moving on now that I had caught the point. "I know it seems beyond belief, but, I assure you, it is quite real. Can you imagine the potential of such a gift; to be able to walk into a man's most private world? And not just as a bystander – oh no – he is far more than just a spectator when he appears. He can control and craft dreams – your dreams if he chooses – any way he wants. Think of it, Sandra! Is there any secret he could not uncover? It does not explain how he got physical access to my computer, but that is undoubtedly how he got the password – from me. I still have not discerned how, but eventually he came for me directly. By now, of course, I was expecting him. My people were dying, their orphan children being adopted into the custody of families that – while tacitly loyal to the group – were only there because they had no choice. He had managed to secure their futures while still leaving them in the care of people that no one would question. Do you see the pattern here, Sandra? What must it have taken to arrange all of this? To even secure the necessary legal procedures – iron clad and unquestionable. I had my own attorneys look at the forms, trace their origins: They were created by a legal student as part of a class project, tested and argued by members of the local judiciary, and sent back for correction and refinement. "And then to convince the various members to take the necessary steps? You must understand; some of these people did not care if their children lived or died, except to use their bodies. Autumn's parents used to chain her naked to the front porch of their cabin for days at a time, feeding her like an animal and using her like a blow-up doll. What must it have taken to arrange all of this: The time; the attention to every necessary detail; the patience even? At times I questioned that he could truly be so young, and yet at the same time so capable, but every encounter that I could uncover revealed him as a young man, no more than twenty, tallish, with short-cut, sandy-blond hair. And the name: Jimmy. Almost any young man entering adulthood drops the use of the nickname except among the closest of friends because it makes them seem young, and older men tend to not take them seriously regardless of their qualifications. Once they are older and more established, the name may return, but only then. "And what older man would have the time to involve himself in the first place? By college age, their own hormones would make most of them see my little world as a dream come true; young, attractive women at your beck and call, ready and willing to do anything to please you? Youth alone holds the innocence and idealism necessary to perceive it as evil and resolve to do something about it. He is young; I will stake my life on it. "But not innocent," he added. "He has seen things, this one; known tragedy and pain. It is that which drives him to 'make a difference'. He bears all the hallmarks of White Knight Syndrome, rushing to the aid of these poor, defenseless girls... , but to take it to such extremes and be willing to accept the burden and responsibility of all this ... And, if he is as young as I believe, what might he be willing to do when he is older? What moral guidelines will remain to him after slaughtering so many in the name of rescue? Does it not stir fear in your soul to think what such a person, with such power, may be capable of, Sandra?" He was right. God damn it to hell; he was right. If half of what he said was true, then it accounted for so much of what had been previously unexplained. If it were true. There was still the overshadowing problem that all of this was patently impossible. "I can still see the doubt in your eyes, Sandra. I'm sorry; I had hoped it would not come to this, but ... go home Sandra, and think about everything that I have said, everything that has happened. Perhaps when you have had time to reflect, you will realize that everything I have said is true, and you now have someone running loose out there who is far more dangerous – far more a threat – than I ever was. Go." ------- Chapter 43: Beware the White Rabbit Spencer I had never had children of my own, and – having lived alone since my husband died – wasn't prepared for a teenager invading my space. I must say, though, given my – admittedly limited – knowledge of modern teens, Phoebe was a comparative delight to have around. Helpful when there was something to do; quietly unobtrusive the rest of the time. She wasn't addicted to television or loud music, preferring to sit quietly and read when there was nothing more pressing to do. She was up at five the first morning, asking if it would be okay if she joined me in my morning exercise routine. She then read her bible – every morning – for an hour, followed by five or ten minutes of prayer, which she began by thanking God for me and all of my help in this time of uncertainty, and always ended with a prayer for someone named Jimmy; that God would keep him safe, grant him wisdom and discernment, and lead him through the many trials he faced. I didn't ask. The routine was the same until one morning, just after she began praying, she stopped suddenly, and was silent for a few minutes. Suddenly her head came up, and she turned to look at me. "I need to see him," she said. "You need to see who?" I asked, confused. "Elliott Bastion, I need to see him, today, as soon as possible." "Elliott Bastion?" I said, shocked. "Why in God's ... I mean, why would you want to see him?" "Because I have to forgive him," she said. My first thought was that I must have heard her wrong, but there was a clear sense of urgency about her, as if this were a matter of great importance. Call me callous, but – now that he was behind bars – nothing that had anything to do with Elliott Bastion tipped my 'give-a-shit' meter anywhere near 'urgent'. "Phoebe, he slaughtered your family – not personally, but he's admitted to being behind it. He had people hunting for you to finish the job. Why would you possibly want to forgive him for that?" "I know all that Missus Spencer, but I was in no danger; God had already arranged for my safety, long before I ever left that house. As for why I need to forgive him, because God commands it of me." I'm sorry, but I've just never really understood the whole Christian obsession with forgiveness. But ... this wasn't about me, and I knew how important it was to her, and – after all she'd been through – if it would help her to put it behind her, I would go along. Maybe it was one of those closure things the psych staff always babbled about. "Okay," I said. "I'll call when we get to the office and see if we can get an appointment to see him. Don't get your hopes up, though, okay? These things take time; they have to be cleared through channels, and that may take a while. If things go well, we can probably get in to see him sometime tomorrow." "Today," she said, shaking her head. "It has to be today; tomorrow will be too late. Please Missus Spencer, I have to see him today." Well hell! "Phoebe, what's going on? Why the sudden rush?" "I don't know," she said. "I only know that I have to see him, today, as soon as possible." That urgent sound in her voice was getting worse. "Okay," I said. "No promises, but I'll do what I can." "Thank you, Missus Spencer. I knew you would understand." "I never said I understood; I just said I'd do my best." "I know you will," she said with a smile. "You can't help yourself, it's the way He made you." "You are a very strange girl, Phoebe; do you know that?" "I like you, too," she said, bouncing to her feet and coming over to hug me. "Thank you, for everything." A very strange girl. It turned out Bastion was already being interviewed, so, if we didn't mind waiting, it would be possible to see him before they returned him to his cell. I was surprised at where they had him for the – as they put it – interview. This wasn't one of the usual places a prisoner would have access to for a meeting with his lawyer – or even the DA. Still, it was in a secure area, and there were guards around; depending on whom he was meeting with, there may be a guard in the room with him, a suggestion our escort confirmed. "Yes Ma'am, there is a guard in the room with them. This far out, there is usually an officer in attendance at all times, sometimes more than one. I'll have to talk to them when whoever it is is finished, to let them know we need to see the prisoner before he's returned to his cell. Whoever it was had to have a lot of pull to get him here, rather than one of the normal rooms. Did I say pull? I almost wet myself when the door opened and Sandra Atkins walked out. She seemed a little preoccupied, not even looking around, just glancing at her watch and making a bee-line for the exit. What the hell was she doing here? Our escort went to check with whomever had been left behind with Bastion, returning a few moments later. "Right this way, ma'am, he's still secure, but we'll both have to remain with you during your interview; I hope that's not a problem." "No problem, officer, she just wants to talk to him." Bastion was seated at a table at the far end of the room; there was a cup of water on the table not far from him, so, whatever Atkins was up to, they had been at if for some time. Most likely Bastion had been allowed a free hand to drink with, but now both hands were once more secured to the shackles near his waist. The guard who was attending him stood close behind and looked like he hoped Bastion would try something. I'm not sure what kind of reaction I was expecting from Bastion when he first saw Phoebe, but it certainly wasn't 'no reaction at all'. He had been hunting her down, after all; I don't know what it was he was afraid she might know, but he had definitely not been taking chances. He had to at least suspect that she was the catalyst to his downfall. Even I didn't know why she was so important, only that David – and Sandra Atkins – had felt she was important enough to hide and protect. 'Protect' I could understand; she was an innocent victim of circumstances far beyond her control, and she was a child; what else is our job if not to protect people like her? But hiding someone is an expensive and risky job. Still, I would have expected some kind of reaction out of Bastion. Phoebe followed me quietly; the guard escorting us followed close behind her. It was a good sized room – not an interrogation room at all, but more of a conference room – with three tables placed cross-ways and six folding chairs at each of the first two. The last table only had one chair opposite Bastion, the other five having been removed to create a clear space, mostly as a security precaution, but also to make room for the larger chair he was secured to. If it had been anyone else but Atkins, I would have been surprised. I stopped Phoebe as she started to move towards the single remaining chair. "This is close enough, Phoebe," I said, laying my hand on her shoulder. "It's okay," she said, looking up at me, "he can't hurt me, but if it will make you more comfortable..." She moved back to take a seat on the far side of the second table. "Elliott Bastion... ," I said, flipping my ID open so he could see it, "Special Agent Dominique Spencer, FBI Las Vegas; I believe you already know Phoebe." He didn't answer, simply nodded an acknowledgment and turned his attention back to the girl. He was obviously shocked to see her, but still... She didn't even return his gaze; much less speak to him. Granted, I didn't know her, but it still struck me as being out of character. I'm not sure what I had expected, but so far this whole thing was a study in anti-climax; once seated, Phoebe bowed her head over her folded hands and began to pray silently. The guards and I exchanged questioning glances, and all I could do was shrug at their unspoken questions. I had no more idea what was going on here than they did. She stayed like that for a good five minutes before whispering "amen" and raising her head to look at Bastion. "I forgive you," she said and then rose as if to leave. When I looked back at Bastion for his reaction I almost fell over. His expression was haggard and worn, and I could see wet patches on his jumpsuit as if he had been perspiring heavily for some time, and he was crying. Not so much crying as weeping softly like you do when you're watching one of those tearjerker movies and you don't want anyone else to know that you're crying, too. There were tear tracks down his face that I would swear weren't there a moment before. In fact, I would swear this wasn't the same man who had been there before. What the hell had just happened here? And how had I missed it? Elliott I was genuinely sorry for what I had been forced to do to Sandra. Not all of it, of course; call me selfish, but after so long, that last part was rather a nice treat. The fact that it was her doing it... ? Well, one could not but appreciate the irony after all these years, but I really had hoped it wouldn't come to that. It was his fault, though; he had left me no choice. By raiding my files, he had removed the last bit of evidence I had available to convince her that I was speaking the truth, and she had to believe. This way was better, actually, because when she finally realized what I had done, I was certain that she would believe me, and then the hunter would become the hunted. I was surprised when she left and a second guard appeared. I had been preparing myself mentally for the tedious walk back to my cell. If you've never had to shuffle along taking six-inch steps – like a child taking baby steps in a game of "Simon Says" – while the people escorting you take normal strides, then you have no idea how ridiculous – and embarrassing – it is. The new guard whispered something to my escort, who then began what, I assumed, would be the processes of preparing me for the long shuffle back to my cell. My free hand was once more secured, but then, instead of releasing the sections that bound me to the chair, he re-checked to make sure they were secure before stepping back against the wall. I was still wondering what was going on when the door opened again and the other guard re-entered, holding the door for a woman I didn't know, and ... Oh my god ... it couldn't be ... crap! What do you say to someone whose death you had ordered when the attempt fails and you then come face to face with them? I had never even considered the possibility, so – naturally – I was at a complete loss for words. What would she say to me, the man who had ordered the murder of her last remaining family? The man who had used her cousins to try and seduce her into joining a life that I knew went against everything she believed in? I braced myself for the worst. Not that she would scream obscenities and epithets, but the accusations alone – coming from her – would be hard to take. Phoebe had surprised me from the moment we had met – even before that, actually. My first prodding attempts at exploring her met with failure, but it was a different sort of failure than I was used to. Normally, if a person is resistant to my gift, I get a sensation akin to hearing static from a radio. In either case, the subject does not realize what has happened; not the first time at least. As I had learned in my earliest attempts, once exposed to its effects long term, the subject would recognize an attempt to reestablish control. With her, though, it was like hitting a wall, as if the probe simply stopped short of reaching her. Later, when I actually touched her, it was like touching plastic-wrapped food; you could see it, feel the warmth or cold through the covering, but no matter what you did, you couldn't – quite – touch it. Now she surprised me again as she simply bowed her head and began to pray. Suddenly the room exploded in a light so bright, so intense, that it seemed to burn everything else out of existence. My eyes shut of their own accord, my head turning and my arms automatically coming up to shield me from the glare. Even that did not seem to help, as the light seemed to pass through them unhindered to sear my tortured retinas. It was then that I realized what I had just done. My hands were chained to my waist; how could I have... ? Bracing myself, I opened my eyes and found myself, not shackled to a chair in a prison conference room, but cowering in the corner of a room that seemed to be made of that same pure white light. Before me was the girl, still in her praying position, but now kneeling rather than sitting, and behind her was a ... being was the best description I could come up with. Whatever it was, I couldn't bear to look at it long enough to even consider details. Before I could even really take it in, a voice spoke into the space. She wasn't speaking, but it was still somehow her voice, and yet ... not. It didn't even seem to be coming from her; rather it was just ... there. "Christian Allen Wallace, what have you done?" Despite my confusion – and yes, I will admit, fear – I felt somehow compelled to answer. "I don't... ," I began, my voice seeming to catch in my throat, "I don't understand." "You were given a gift – a great gift – with which you could have accomplished so much good in this fallen world ... behold..." Suddenly the room was gone, and I was in a stadium, surrounded by thousands, tens of thousands of believers, there to hear me speak. It changed again, and I was in a room with a man I did not recognize but still somehow knew to be the President. Again, and I was leading a group of volunteers in prayer, commissioning them to travel halfway across the country to help flood victims rebuild their homes and their lives ... Again and again the vision changed, each showing me a hint of a possibility of what might have been... " ... but instead you chose to squander it on your own selfish lusts..." In rapid succession, visions of the young girls I had abused over the years played out before me. And not just the girls, but the parents I had blackmailed into using – and allowing others to use – their daughters. " ... piling evil upon evil upon evil with no end in sight. Corrupting and destroying everything and everyone you touched along the way..." Then came the visions of punishment, as I sought to use fear and intimidation to control the group, and finally, death. One by one, in graphic detail, the deaths of everyone who had died either by my hand or on my orders. My two girlfriends from college, Carmen and Monique; the father brutally beaten to death in the Clark County jail; the scene of Carl Andrews sneaking quietly through a suburban home, slitting the throats of the two sleeping girls and watching intently as they coughed, choked, and died; the same Carl Andrews, placing the hands of the girls' mother on the knife he had used to murder her daughters, and then – his hands on hers – shoving it into her heart. I seemed to stare out of his eyes as he stared into hers, watching the last spark of life fade away. Even the two girls that Carl had kidnapped, raped, and murdered before I gathered him to my flock. Somewhere in the back of my mind, my pride told me I was saving more innocents by taming him to my need, rather than letting him continue on his own whim. In that instant – watching the vision – I knew that pride for the sin that it was. Then I was shown all of the people that my mysterious young adversary had had to kill in order to stop me; apparently those deaths were on my head, too. I watched the nightmare that had driven Carl Andrews over the very brink of sanity, causing him to shoot down his partner, and then watched as his own vision killed him. I saw the 'accidents' that claimed my faithful. On and on it went: right through the vision of me pulling the trigger over and over again as I slaughtered my helpless board members; then the visions of their wives taking their lives when they heard the news; every life that had been snuffed by my word, deed, or action. And with the visions came the guilt and remorse I should have felt all along, until finally... "Stop!" I cried. "How can you know these things?" The girl lifted her head to look at me, and I could not hold back the scream at the sight of her face. It's not that she was suddenly hideous, or even scary; it was still her face, except for the eyes. The barest glimpse of those eyes burned me to the core of my existence. In those eyes I saw the totality of my sin, shining from her innocent face to condemn me. I was in agony, sure that the very flesh was melting away from my bones. But that was as nothing compared to the pain in my chest, where I felt as if my very heart would burst. So deep was my grief and shame that I felt as if I would rather die then and there than live another moment with what I had done. I tried to look away, but those eyes held me in a vice-like grip, helpless and hopeless in the face of my own sin. The nightmares of the past week paled to insignificance in comparison. An eternity later – as suddenly as it had begun – it was over. I was back in the conference room, and she was simply praying once more. A moment later she lifted her head and said, "I forgive you." No sweeter sound had I heard in my life than those three words, and I wept at the sound of them. Silently, for I had no strength left to express the emotions running through me. The experience had left me utterly exhausted, mentally, physically, and emotionally. My jumpsuit clung to me as if I had been running a marathon in it, though that was purely impossible given my restraints and location. With that, the young girl rose, thanked the two officers for being there, thanked the woman – Spencer I think her name was – and walked out the door. I could see the confusion on the older woman's face as she went in pursuit of the girl, the last thing I heard before the door closed was, "That's it? We came all the way down here for that?" and then the guards were unshackling me from the chair for the trip back to my cell. Atkins I left Wallace for the guard to deal with and headed for my car. Glancing at my watch, I was surprised to see how much time had actually passed. Not that it mattered; one of the perks of my position was that I don't have to deal with airline schedules. Wallace's little diversion had been interesting, to be sure, but I still couldn't credit it as being more than an attempt by him to rationalize what had happened. It might make a good book if you could get someone like Stephen King to write it; it would be one hell of a television series if you could find a way around all the sex. It was far too intricate for a movie, though, too many subtle nuances to try and convey in a two hour window, and it's hard to keep an audience much longer than that. I called ahead and instructed the pilot to get the plane ready so we could leave after a late lunch. That thought struck me as odd; why hadn't the guard said something? And why hadn't I thought it odd before this? He was a union grunt, after all, and they tend to be diligent in their pursuit of all their legal breaks. Nice looking, though a little too macho for my tastes; even in my younger days I hadn't gone for the body-builder Tarzan types. They tended to think they were doing you a favor just being there, and their presence alone should be enough to satisfy you. True, some of them could fuck for hours, but if there was no feeling behind it, it got boring pretty quickly. What on earth was wrong with me? I hadn't thought about things like this in years. Perhaps Christian's little narrative had reawakened something in me. Maybe the whole trip wasn't a bust after all... Lunch was delicious – if a little boring – and most of the flight back was spent on the secure net, catching up on everything that had happened while I was gone, and arranging my schedule. I spent a little time researching some of the suggestions Wallace had made; nothing serious, just enough to reassure myself that he was beyond delusional. It brought a smile to my face to think of him rotting away in his cell, grasping at theories to try and convince himself that someone else was responsible for all of it. Hopefully he wouldn't completely melt down before the trial. I wanted him on death row before anyone even hinted that the wheels may have come off of his wagon. Having traversed three time zones, we landed late in the evening – Washington time – and it was later still by the time I finally got home. I was used to traveling, though, and knew that all I needed was a nice long bubble bath to relax me and get me ready for bed. I love a good soak, and years before I had found the perfect tub. It hovered somewhere between sumptuous and decadent on the scale; white marble streaked with gold and touched with little flecks of gold here and there. It was cultured stone, of course; I doubt you could find a rock big enough to carve something like this out of and still have it hold water. And it was the perfect length for me; I could relax, completely at ease in the water without feeling like I was going to slip and drown at any second. I started the water and began gathering all of my favorite bath accoutrements. The proper mix of salts and oil soaps were dropped in at just the right time to insure the bubbles would be the perfect consistency when I stepped in. Candles, of course, you simply can't take a proper bubble-bath under incandescent lighting. My latest book; I had been making my way through the adventures of an American-born faerie princess as she struggled to survive in modern America. It all came crashing down when I started to undress. Everything was fine until I took off my bra and a flash of color caught my eye. There, in one cup, written boldly in blue ink, were the words: "NOW DO YOU BELIEVE?" Memories crashed, and suddenly I was back in the conference room with Wallace, hearing his final words again... "I can still see the doubt in your eyes, Sandra. I'm sorry; I had hoped it would not come to this, but ... look behind you." I turned, and there stood the guard, just behind me, and ... OH my God! He was masturbating! His service belt was missing, and, with a glance, I located it on the floor next to the door – which now had a chair wedged firmly under the knob – and I started to turn back and demand to know what the hell he thought he was doing, but then ... well it was obvious what he was doing, and why wouldn't he be doing it? If I had a cock like that, I'd want to take it out and play with it, too. I found myself mesmerized by the sight of his hand moving slowly up and down the thick shaft, and, before I knew it, my own hand reached out – seemingly of it's own accord – and took over the motion for him. He didn't object, but instead began unfastening his pants so that I could reach more of him. As he did so, my mouth decided to join my hand on his cock. Within moments he was standing naked from the waist down, except for his socks, of course. He might have tried to take them off, except that doing so would have meant prying me off of his cock first, and he really wasn't in a hurry to do that. Somewhere in the back of my mind, a voice was screaming at me that this was wrong and that I should stop, and I knew the voice was right, but I just couldn't seem to stop. I felt the telltale signs, and quickly removed him from my mouth, switching instead to those lovely dangling orbs below. I've always had a thing for men's balls.;I just love them, and – if not for most guys' impatience – I could play with them for hours. Usually a few seconds was enough for most men to calm down, though, so I didn't push it today. Taking him back into my mouth, I began bobbing slowly up and down as my hands busied themselves unbuttoning my blouse. The sudden rush of cool air caused my already excited nipples to pop to full attention. The breasts themselves were years past such gymnastics, but the little buds still had some life left. Then I was bent at the waist, with him holding my head and fucking my mouth as I stripped off the rest of my clothes. As soon as I was naked, he pulled me up and shoved his tongue into my mouth. I liked his cock better, but at least his breath was fresh. Suddenly his hands were on my ass; lifting. Automatically, I lifted my legs and wrapped them around his waist. God, I should have done this years ago. The many advantages of a strong, muscular man, played like a movie in my head; the different positions that were possible just because he was strong enough to support me without worry ... At the moment, I didn't care which one we used as long as he was in me. Gentlemen have their place in the world, but I was beginning to understand what some women saw in the more Neanderthal members of the species. I shifted my position slightly, trying to slide my hand between our bodies to grip and guide him, but a voice came from behind me. "Ah-ah, Sandra, safety first," his tone changed, and he addressed the officer. "You were to bring a condom, where is it." Shit, I'd actually forgotten Wallace was even there. "Left shirt pocket," the guard said. He was breathing hard, and the words came out strained and anxious. Nice to know he wanted this as much as I did. My hands were once more working on their own as I found myself sitting up in his hands as if they were a chair. I quickly had the pocket in question unbuttoned and was fishing for the little foil packet. Dropping my legs, I simply said, "Down," as I ripped the packet with my teeth. Tossing the wrapper aside, I dropped to a squatting position in front of him; placing the condom perfectly, and unrolling it to just behind the flared crown, I then braced one hand against his hip and, with the other holding one cheek, I leaned in and began unrolling the condom with only my lips and tongue. Slowly, oh so slowly, I forced the latex sheath over his shaft, teasing him every inch of the way. At the halfway point there simply wasn't enough left to work with easily, so I used my hand to unroll the rest, then stood and kissed him again. His arms went to my waist and mine around his neck, and he bent to meet me. Our tongues danced like two snakes wrestling in a sock. Immediately, I started moving backward toward the table, drawing him with me as I went. Once more my hand came down, seeking the object of my desire, and finding it just as I felt the cold edge of the table against my thighs. I felt the table begin to sag as soon as I tried to mount it, and I realized it would never hold us. Sliding sideways out of his grasp, I slipped to the near end and folded myself over the tabletop, thrusting my ass upward and spreading my feet wide in a wanton display of desire. Instantly, he was behind me, but, instead of giving me what I wanted, he dropped to his knees and began laving my enflamed sex with his tongue, lapping hard at me with the rough pad of flesh. In seconds I felt myself getting close, but payback can be a real bitch sometimes, and, just as I felt I couldn't take any more, he withdrew. I was actually starting to turn around and rip his head off when he grabbed the back of my head and pushed me back flat on the desk once more. Before I even realized what he was doing, I felt his shaft plowing deep into the steamy wetness that seemed to make up the core of my being. I wanted to scream at the rush of sensation, but I knew that it would attract attention, and the last thing I wanted right now was to be interrupted. Clutching at the edges of the table, I braced myself as best I could and began thrusting back against him. Within seconds the first orgasm hit, slamming into me like a storm wave on the rocks. I don't know if my eyes actually closed, but my vision went dark as I lost myself in the wild sensation of the first man-made orgasm I had felt in years. The tide began to recede, and I thought perhaps the storm was passing, but then he began to move again. Only then did I realize that he had stopped and waited for me to recover before pounding into me once more. Almost immediately I felt my next orgasm building, and began thrusting back to him again, wanting – needing – to get just a little more of him into me on the next thrust, and the next. "Sandra?" the voice came again. "Aren't you forgetting something?" Oh shit, I had forgotten he was here again! Without hesitation, I pushed myself away from the table, my partner thoughtfully pausing to help me move the table out of the way. Then I was on my knees, fingers fishing for the fly on Wallace's jumpsuit. It didn't take long to find what I was after, and once more I was luxuriating in the feel of man-flesh filling my mouth. Wallace wasn't as large as the bodybuilder who was once more seeking entrance to my nethers, and I quickly took as much of him as I could into my mouth. I hit my limit just as Goliath slammed into me full force from behind once more, and I gagged slightly as Wallace slipped in a little bit more than was comfortable or prudent. Instinct pulled me back, and I coughed slightly before taking him in once more and doing my best to suck his heart out through his dick. I don't know how long it lasted after that; it was just a giant blur of pleasure, culminating – as all such events do – with the men emptying themselves into their respective receptacles; the guard into the condom and Wallace into my mouth. I hardly noticed it when it happened, being so lost in my own pleasure. When the rush finally passed, I stood and stretched and went to fetch my clothes from where they were piled on the floor. No words were spoken between myself and the guard, and I dressed once more, the only sound coming when Wallace asked me – told me rather – to give my brassiere to the guard, who then wrote something inside one cup before handing it back to me. I've never been one for autographs but, what the hell. I didn't even bother to read it; I just finished dressing and resumed my original position, sitting back at the table as if nothing had happened. "I am very sorry that was necessary, Sandra. You will not remember any of it until much later, but when you are home, and safe, these memories will return, and then you will understand that everything I have told you was the truth. The guard, on the other hand, will have no memory of the event at all. As far as he knows, he sat quietly in his chair until time to leave. Since he used the condom, there will be no physical evidence to link him to any accusations you may consider making later. You may want to consider the damage you would do to both of your careers before you make any such wild and unsupportable claims. Go home, Sandra, and think about everything that I have said and everything that has happened. Perhaps when you have had time to reflect, you will realize that everything I have said is true, and you now have someone running loose out there who is far more dangerous, far more a threat, than I ever was. Go." I woke to the sound of running water, and it took me a moment to remember where I was. I had no idea how much time had actually passed, but I recognized the sound of water running down the drain. The tub was full, and, if not for the overflow control, would likely have flooded half the apartment. I opened my eyes to find that I was lying – curled in a fetal position – on the floor, my muscles stiff from an as yet undetermined amount of time spent on the cold tile. I didn't realize how much pain I was in until I tried to sit up. With an effort, I managed to drag myself to the tub and shut off the flow. Thankfully the water was still warm, and – without even bothering to put my hair up and oblivious to the water that sloshed over the rim and onto the floor – I crawled in and let the warmth thaw me out. Just as I was finally starting to feel human again, the horror of what had happened hit – I had been raped; assaulted both mentally and physically – and I began to sob. That only lasted for a few moments before the anger hit. That bastard! How dare he do this to me! His last words rang in my mind, and I knew he was right. There would be no point in even attempting to make any kind of charge. Hours had passed, so my credibility would be shot to hell before I even opened my mouth. It had happened in a building crawling with officers, and not only had I not screamed for help, but there were no signs of physical struggle or resistance. There would be no vaginal trauma because I hadn't resisted in the slightest, hadn't even wanted to. In fact, the opposite was true; I don't know how many times in my life I had heard a rapist claim that the girl secretly wanted it, and he was simply giving it to her, but, in my case, it had been true. Nothing had been more important to me than having... I suddenly felt as if I would never be clean again and attacked myself with every tool at my disposal, as if I could scrub the skin off and be free of the memory. It took a while, but eventually I gave up, realizing how stupid I was being. "You're a grown woman, Sandra," I told myself. "There was nothing you could have done to prevent it, and it could have been a lot worse. Right now we've got bigger problems." The irony that I was using Wallace's exact words was not lost on me. Admitting that he was right, and Jimmy – whoever he was – was a bigger threat than Wallace had ever been, was personally painful. The knowledge that I would never have reached that conclusion without him demonstrating that the rest of his claim was true lent some justification to his actions – a thought that would likely haunt me for a long, long time. I would have preferred a different approach, but, if our situations had been reversed, I can't swear that I would not have done the same thing to convince someone in my position. At the moment – now that I had rushed through several levels of the recovery process – there was a lot to be done, and I had already wasted too much time. Still wrapped in a towel, I went to my computer and pulled up the number for the jail. It took a few minutes to convince the clerk of who I was and get her to put me through, but eventually I was connected to the person in charge. "I want Elliott Bastion in solitary as fast as possible; no one – and I mean no one – is to be allowed in to see him without my express authorization, is that clear?" "Perfectly clear," the sarcastic voice came back, "but I don't know what good you think that's going to do; the man's been dead for over three hours. Now if you don't mind, the DA was right in the middle of ripping me a new ass, and I'd just as soon get it over with. Right now he's holding on the other line; I'll be sure and tell him you said hello." I wished him luck, and asked him to pass on to the DA that if I could be of any assistance, that he shouldn't hesitate to call. I fully expected he would take advantage of the offer, if for no other reason than to wake me up in the middle of the night. Still, it would likely be a while before I heard from him, and I had a few more calls of my own to make. I took a deep breath and dialed. "Henry? It's Sandra. I'm sorry to bother you so late, but I need Everest." ------- Chapter 44: The Other Shoe I was in a paddle-boat at Roeding Park, in Fresno, with Lizzy, when Elliott Bastion died. The wave of disorientation was so strong Lizzy actually had to grab me to keep me from going over the side. Her father would later comment that almost falling out of the boat into that water was probably the closest I had come to certain death, but at the time... "Jimmy!" Lizzy exclaimed as she grabbed the strap of my mandatory issue life jacket. The dizziness passed quickly – just a quick shake of the head, really – and I was fine again, but something was obviously wrong. Lizzy, of course, had seen it, as well as simultaneously feeling Jamie's reaction. Jamie recovered just as quickly as I had and was just as concerned as either Lizzy or I. "What the hell was that?" she asked. "What she said," Lizzy said. "For a second there it was like your energy just spiked. I'm surprised it didn't sunburn my arm it was so bright." "I have no idea," I said, "but whatever it was, it's gone already. I think maybe we should head back in – just in case – and later we need to see about putting in a block like I used on Lynn and Mel; you just called me 'Jimmy' instead of 'David'. We're lucky it happened here instead of somewhere someone important might have overheard." "Oh my gosh!" Lizzy said. "I did, didn't I? I didn't even realize ... yeah, we better do something about that. Probably with everyone, just..." "Shit!" Jamie swore suddenly, interrupting. "Jimmy, Bastion's gone!" "Gone?" I demanded. "What do you mean gone?" Unlike Allison, Lizzy could hear Jamie's side of the conversation either way, so as long as I spoke out loud she'd be able to hear both sides of the conversation, and if anyone was close enough to hear us, or watching, they would think it was just the two of us talking. "I mean, Bastion's gone; the bubble is not there, and I can't find him!" "You mean he got out?" "I don't know," she said. "Jimmy, this is bad. If he's out, with everything he's learned about us intact..." "I know," I said. "Damnit! And we can't even call anyone and ask if something is wrong." "Why the hell not?" I guess it was her turn to demand answers. I made a mental note to try not to sound like that in the future; chances are if I didn't like her doing it, that she hadn't liked it from me either. "Because," Lizzy said, answering for me, "you can't justify knowing, and without that, there is no way to explain calling and asking – especially since you've taken such a hands-off approach since he got arrested." "Oh yeah," Jamie said, sounding far more contrite. "We could drop in on Nicki," she suggested. "Maybe she knows something." "I don't think that's a good idea," I said. "It could attract attention to the fact that we've been playing around in her head. What if it distracted her while she was doing something important?" "Besides," Lizzy added, "how would you justify knowing anything later if she or Atkins didn't tell you? If you say one did and the other checks..." "Well you're just being little miss gloom and doom today, aren't you?" "Sorry, but Allison wasn't here to be the reasonable one. I'm just doing the best I can to fill in." "Well, you're doing a damn fine job," I said, kissing her cheek. "Keep up the good work." "For that?" she said with a frown. "I don't mean to sound negative, but that's not much in the way of motivation. Is that your best offer?" I started to lean in and sweeten the pot a little, but Jamie put the brakes on and pulled me back. "I don't think that's a real smart idea at this particular juncture. You guys stop the clock again, and there's no one here to try and snap you out of it except me, and I think we agreed we didn't want to take that chance." "Now who's being a killjoy?" Lizzy said. "Raincheck?" "Deal," I said, kissing her nose instead. "Since there's nothing we can really do about any of this right this minute ... be a shame to waste a sunset; looks like it's going to be a really nice show." She snuggled into my side and laid her head on my shoulder as Jamie left to tell Allison what was going on. The call came in from Spencer right after we turned in our paddleboat and were walking back to the car. The fact that she never called me unless something serious was going on made it easy for me to skip the pleasantries and get straight to the point. I didn't even say hello... "What's wrong, Nicki?" "And good evening to you, too," she replied. "What makes you think something is wrong?" "Simple; you wouldn't be calling me if there weren't. You're not the chitchat type; at least not with me. Doreen maybe ... or small talk around the dinner table, but you wouldn't call just because you miss the sound of my voice." "Okay, I'll give you that. Elliott Bastion is dead." "What?" I didn't have to fake the surprise; the hard part was not sounding relieved. "When did this happen? And how? I thought he was still locked up. Did they have a riot at the jail or something?" "About an hour ago, and he just dropped dead in his cell. We won't know why until they do the autopsy. I don't suppose you know if he had any history of medical problems?" "No," I said dryly. "I never bothered to look past the psychological problems; that was plenty sick enough for me." "Well, whatever it was, he just saved the taxpayers a lot of money. Do you want to hear the really interesting part?" "There's more?" I asked. "He had a visitor today; two if you count Phoebe." "Phoebe went to see Bastion?" "Yeah, first thing this morning, right in the middle of her morning prayer time, she stops and tells me she needs to see him, today, as soon as possible. It's almost spooky." Uh oh! "Did she say why?" "That's the spooky part; she said that she needed to forgive him, and that it had to be today – that tomorrow would be too late. I had some things to take care of first, but I called mid-morning to set up an interview. These things normally take time – not to mention a really good reason – they don't like jumping through all the hoops to bring prisoners out. It turned out he was already meeting with someone else, though, so all we had to do was show up and wait. I figured it was his lawyer, but I knew that was wrong as soon as I got there. Lawyer's meet in a secure area attached to the lockup; this meeting was in a conference room in the administrative section." "That's seems a little strange, doesn't it?" Was Bastion playing with people in the jail? It was hard to imagine him risking exposure that way, but maybe he was getting desperate. "That was my thought as well," she said. "Then I found out who he was with..." "They told you?" "No, I was in a waiting area with Phoebe and saw her walk out. Ready for this? He was meeting with Sandra Atkins." Oh shit! "Atkins?" I said, and I felt Lizzy stiffen beside me. "What the hell was she doing with Bastion? I thought she was staying away from the case." "So did I," she confirmed, "and I don't have any idea yet, but whatever it was, they'd been talking about it for two days." "Two days!" Oh, this really wasn't good. "Yep, she was there most of yesterday and then came back bright and early this morning. I've had a call in to the DA to see if they could tell me anything, but – considering the way we bailed on them after this all blew up – I don't know how helpful they're feeling. In either case, that was before he died, so it may be a while before we have any details at all. "Did you think about calling Atkins directly and asking?" "I've thought about it," she admitted. "But you don't want to have to explain what you were doing there?" "Pretty much, yeah; mostly I don't want to have to explain about Phoebe wanting to see him. David, how much do you know about her?" "Atkins? Not much, why?" "No, I meant Phoebe. What do you know about her?" Red lights began flashing all around my brain. "What happened, Nicki?" "What makes you think something happened?" "You're asking me what I know about Phoebe. The only reason I can think of that would make you do it is because something happened, so ... what happened? "Nothing really," she said, and I could almost see her shaking her head as she went on. "It was just all very strange. First she wants – and I mean desperately wants – to see him, insisting that it can't wait, and it has to be today. So I get her there, and all she does is sit down and pray for a few minutes, then tells him, "I forgive you," and gets up and walks out; a few hours later the man is dead. I don't know; it's just really weird is all. It's almost like she somehow knew he was going to die and that if she didn't do her thing today, it would be too late." Shit! That was going to attract attention. I took a deep breath and tried for the most serious and sincere tone I could get. "There was a time I would have felt exactly the same way," I said. "If it were anyone else, I would probably agree with you – weird – but ... well, you've spent some time with her. Would you say she was serious about her faith?" "You're kidding, right?" she practically laughed. It's funny how sarcasm comes out some times. "That girl is about the most devout person I have ever met." "Hands down," I agreed with her, "and you say she came up with this suddenly, right in the middle of her prayer time?" "Oh, give me a break," she said. "You can't be serious." "Do you have a better explanation?" "No, but really..." "She really challenges your faith, doesn't she?" I said very seriously. She kind of huffed and said, "Yes! But at the same time you just know it's nothing to do with you – she's not trying to show you up or point fingers or anything. She doesn't hit any of the holier-than-thou buttons most of the religious zealots do, but just being around her, seeing her go through her day, you just feel..." "Unworthy?" I suggested. "No ... well, yeah ... a little, maybe," she said, "but, at the same time ... at the same time, somehow you know that it has nothing to do with you. It's just weird." "Trust me," I said. "I know what you mean – alone on the streets for weeks, no idea what lay ahead, just living on faith ... I couldn't do it. And I don't mean I don't think I could do it; I mean my faith just doesn't go that far." "Mine either," she admitted. "And that's what bothers us," I said. "We wonder why we can't have that kind of faith, and what our lives would be like if we did." "Are you sure you're only twenty-two?" "You should feel sorry for me, Nicki; you've had decades to get this jaded." "Yeah, and that's it, too," she said. "I am jaded, I've seen too much." "True, but then you see her, and think about what she's seen – what she's been through – and yet she's not jaded – rather the experience seems to have deepened her faith – and it makes you wonder that much more." "You're starting to depress me." "Sorry," I said. "Do me a favor and keep me posted on what you find out. My source is going to have a lot of questions. I'm his go-to guy out here, but just like you – and, up until now, Atkins – I've been staying away. I'd like to have as much information for him as I can before he talks to Atkins." "You really think he'll confront her?" "Confront? No, but if it were you, wouldn't you want to know what she and Bastion were up to behind closed doors for two days? He put a lot of time and effort – not to mention money – into putting Bastion behind bars, and while dead is certainly an acceptable solution, I think it would have been better if the girls had seen him face justice." "Yes," she said. "If nothing else, it might have gone a long way to restoring their faith in the system. I'll do my best to keep you informed." I called Jamie back and took a couple minutes bringing her and Lizzy up to speed on the latest developments, then she went back to pass it all on to Allison while we drove back to Lizzy's house and prepared for what was looking to be a very busy night. Upon her return, Jamie informed us that Allison would be going to bed early. I asked her if she was going back to stay with Allison, but she declined. "I thought about it, but I'm thinking it's going to be a busy night, and I might need the extra energy." Lizzy and I retired to my bedroom – the den – to 'watch television', and gee, we must have had a tougher day than we realized, because when Molly peeked in on us a half hour later, we were cuddled up asleep on the couch. "Pathetic," she mumbled, shaking her head and turning off the television. I think she was jealous. Allison stated the obvious as soon as we had all gathered in the office, "We need to know what was going on between Atkins and Bastion." "Oh, you think?" Jamie said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "The question is how? Or maybe just when, because that will probably determine how." "Do you think it's too late to call?" I asked. "You know," Lizzy pointed out, "it's possible she doesn't even know yet. Did Mrs. Spencer say anything about telling her?" "Good point," I said. "No, Nicki didn't tell her; she didn't want to explain what she was doing there with Phoebe. I'm sure it will come out eventually but ... Don't you think the locals would have called her?" "Maybe not," Allison pointed out. "Remember what Nicki said? About the cops not being happy with how the feds had bailed on them after they arrested Bastion? Atkins is higher up the chain; chances are not too many people know about her in the first place, and they are probably even less fond of her than they are of Spencer." "Do we wait for her to call us, then?" Jamie asked. "Or do we do a little snooping ahead of time?" "How?" Lizzy asked. "Jamie left a little something behind the first time she visited Atkins, and..." Naturally that's when my phone rang. I left Lizzy with Allison and went back to take the call. Show time. "I'd say good evening, but, given the time, this can't be good. "I suppose you've heard," Atkins said. "If you're talking about Bastion being dead, then yes; Mrs. Spencer called me earlier. She didn't have any details beyond that just yet, so if you were hoping for information, I'm afraid I can't help you at the moment. I'm pretty sure she was planning to call you in the morning whether she knew more or not. She probably would have called tonight if she had enough information to justify waking you. Obviously, that's not a concern. How did you find out?" She ignored the question. "I need to talk to your source; he said before to contact you and you would pass it along." "I see," I said. "I'll do what I can, but I'm in California with my fiancé's family; it may take a while." "It's not life threatening; I just need to talk to him." "Okay, I'll let him know. I'm sure he'll contact me when he finds out about Bastion. I was already preparing to cut things short here and head back." "I doubt there will be anything for you to do," she said. "Hardly worth canceling your vacation plans. I know that you and Miss Street don't get to see each other very often..." "Right," I said, pulling my other phone out of my bag and hitting a button. "Like that would make a difference to you if you were in his position. We can be together in Vegas just as easily as here, and, for what he pays, I have no problem making myself available just in case he needs me." My phone beeped, signaling another call coming in. "Hold on a second, I've got another call coming in ... The number's blocked; it may be him. Do you want to hold? He won't leave a message." "By all means," she said. I switched lines and took a few seconds before switching back. "It's him; I told him I had you on the other line and that you want to talk. I'm going to go and let you two chat; chances are he'll have a better idea what he needs from me after you're finished. Just call me back if you need anything else. Of course, if we're talking actual work here, then we're going to have to figure out a fee schedule..." "I'll call you if I need you," she said. "I'm sorry to have to interrupt your vacation." "It's not a problem," I said. "I'm used to it." We broke the connection, and I waited a few minutes before letting Jamie call her back. Jamie Call me paranoid, but I had a really bad feeling about this conversation. "Good evening Miss Atkins, David said you wanted to talk to me. I assume this has something to do with your recent visits to Elliott Bastion – since the details of his death haven't been released yet." She didn't bother asking how I knew about her visit ... not good. "You would be correct. The waste of flesh formerly known as Lord Hightower had some very interesting theories on how so many of his people ended up dead, and he himself behind bars. He actually believed that a single person was behind it all. At first, of course, I dismissed it as being impossible. How could one individual accomplish what the US government – with all the resources at its disposal – could not?" This was not sounding good at all; that question had 'trap' written all over it. "Come now, Sandra," I said. "There have been many instances where a lone person, operating – seemingly – independently, has been able to succeed where whole armies have failed, and, you have to admit, your resources were somewhat hampered by your mutual past." "True enough," she conceded, "but you're talking about infiltration, and that's not what happened here; at least not in the conventional sense." Okay, now I really didn't like the sound of this. "Shit," Jimmy said. "He told her about me." "I'm afraid I don't follow you," I said. "No Justin," she said, the tone nothing short of accusatory, "I think you understand exactly what I'm saying. As I said, at first I dismissed his theories as a desperate attempt to find someone else to blame. The whole thing just sounded so far-fetched ... but that was exactly the reaction he would have expected from me, so he went a step further. "He went on to explain to me exactly how he had twice gotten away with murder, and how that had led him to found the church and grow it into his own private empire. He claimed that he had the power to control peoples' minds; that he had used this ability to manipulate both the jury, and then his followers. He went on to discuss some of the other – more conventional – methods of persuasion he used to insure obedience in his select group of followers." "Like torture and Blackmail?" "Yes," she said, "along with the occasional disappearance – or outright death – of a wayward member. Do you know why he claimed to have sold Autumn into slavery?" "No, the best we could come up with was that he wanted to make an example of her." "He claimed he loved her too much to take her life, so he sent her away instead. Not in so many words, of course, but the implication was pretty clear." "You're kidding," I said. "Why would he admit to all of this?" "My question exactly," she replied. "He said there were two reasons: First; that considering the charges against him, nothing he told me was going to make his situation any worse, so he had nothing to lose, and second; that it was the only way he had left to strike back at the person who had done this to him. He had an interesting theory about how a mysterious young man who called himself 'Jimmy' had somehow arranged to have over of a dozen of his followers die, but that first he managed to convince them to prepare for their – soon to be orphan – children, to be taken in by certain – shall we say – less enthusiastic members of the group. The method by which this was all accomplished was quite original – as such things go – even more outlandish than his claiming to be able to control peoples' minds. According to Bastion, Jimmy could invade – and even control – other peoples' dreams." "Damnit!" Jimmy swore. He doesn't make a habit of swearing, but this time he had every reason to be pissed. "Son of a bitch! That's what I get for not listening to Allison." "Now's not the time," I reminded him. "We need to deal with this first." "And you actually believed all that?" I asked. "Of course not," she said, and I breathed a small sigh of relief. "He didn't expect me to either. So he arranged a demonstration." A chill ran through me, and suddenly, I knew. A demonstration of his own ability would lend credence do his claims of mine, and knowing Bastion's predilections ... There was really no point in trying to maintain pretense. We were busted. "Please tell me he didn't rape you." "So it's true," she said, and I could almost see her nodding her head. Or at least I hoped she was nodding – nodding was confirmation – shaking would mean she blamed me on some level for Bastion raping her to prove a point. "Yes, he raped me, although I could never prove it, and I certainly didn't think of it as rape at the time." "Would you have done it if he hadn't made you?" I asked. "No, of course not," she said. "Then it was rape, no different than if he had used Rohypnol, except that he could let you remember it if he wanted to; which obviously he did. Sandra, I know this is going to sound strange, but don't let the fact that you enjoyed it keep you from recognizing it for what it was. You were raped; forced to have sex against your will." "I appreciate your concern, Justin, and I am fully aware of what he did to me, but far more important to me at the moment is why he did it. He did it to prove that what he had told me was true, and the mere fact that you knew where I was going only reinforces that he was telling the truth, and he really could control a person's mind; and that you knew about it. And if that is his ability was real, then how much of a stretch is it to believe the rest? "Once I understood that he was telling the truth and accepted that all of this was really possible, many other things began falling into place. I think it's time we met, Justin, or should I say, Justine?" "Justine?" Jimmy said. "Where the hell did she get that?" Sandra apparently interpreted my silence as a sort of shocked admission that she was correct. "I must say, it's very clever the way you've managed to manipulate everyone into believing you're actually a man, but I have a lot more resources than most people you've probably run into. I've been recording our conversations whenever possible. Nothing fancy, just a simple earpiece with a built in microphone; it records the sound as it passes through and stores it on a digital recorder. I've had a team of experts going over it with everything they could think of, and, while they haven't figured out the exact device you are using to mask your voice – they're interested in seeing it, though; they say it's better than anything they currently have access to – they have determined that the original voice is female. "They estimate that you are in your mid to late teens; which matches up very well with Bastion's observations and speculations about his mysterious adversary, Jimmy. Except that the underlying speech patterns; tone, inflections, even the pace of speech – I really don't understand all the technical and psychological aspects – all come back as female. As I said, a masterful piece of misdirection; which would cause one to question whether you are as young as Bastion suspected, except that, if your gift is as real as I now suspect, you could learn from the best – Rebecca Hampton and Samuel Rodriguez, for example; you could learn a lot just from the two of them. I think I'll save the rest for when we meet. When should I expect you?" "You really believe all of that?" I asked, trying to sound as unbelieving as possible. "Don't make me do this the hard way, Justine. I just want to talk." She hung up before I even had a chance to respond. I put the phone away, and Jimmy and I went to rejoin the others in the cabana. We had a lot to discuss. Jimmy "Where is she now?" Allison asked. Using the link Jamie had placed before, I was able to sense Atkins from dreamspace like any of the others in our group. "Looks like she's trying hard to get to sleep," I said. "How hard?" Allison asked. "What do you mean?" "I mean ... never mind, stupid question. If you keyed to her and went there, do you think you could take Lizzy with you?" "Got me," I said, shrugging my shoulders. "I've never tried anything like that. Why?" "I want her to read Atkins – look for any signs of unusual stress, anxiety, anticipation, anything that might say 'set-up'. Call me paranoid, but I don't trust her, and she seems awfully anxious that Jamie come see her tonight. Unfortunately, Lizzy can't see her in a dream unless she's actually in her dream, or she's in yours, and that seems like exactly what they want." She seemed to be weighing options for a moment. "I think this will work," I said. "Going to someone this way is just one step short of actually entering their dream, and I can take her with me into a dream, so I don't see how this would be any different." "I don't know," Allison said, skeptically, "there seems to be a lot more to it this way, but I guess it can't hurt to try." "Now's probably not the time to be trying new things," Lizzy said. "Why don't you just go and look around? If you don't see anything suspicious, and you still want to try, then we can, but I think it would be better to experiment closer to home first, if you know what I mean ... maybe go look in on Allison first, before we try it with someone who may actually be up to something." It certainly made sense when she put it that way. It was a trap – shocker – and I didn't even need Lizzy to tell me something was wrong. The bundle of wires running out from under her pillow and away from the bed was a big hint. If that wasn't enough, the technician that came in to check several connections really gave it away. As I was watching, the phone rang. It was 'Justine' calling back to tell her she couldn't make it until the next night. Atkins passed the news on to the technician, who looked at her like it was somehow her fault. He looked like he was working hard at not saying what was clearly etched on his face. Then his expression changed, and he nodded his head. "That could actually work to our advantage," he said. "It'll give us a chance to run some baselines, so we'll have something to compare to." Damn, he was talking about mapping her brainwaves during a normal sleep cycle, so they would have something to compare to later. It was a good idea, but I knew – they probably did as well – that it would take several sessions to determine her individual rhythm well enough to spot an aberration. Everyone is different, and, while the sequence was generally the same, the time spent in each of the different stages of sleep which led up to the REM period varied widely. "So, what? I'm supposed to sleep with a bunch of wires stuck to my head? You're not going to have to shave anything, are you?" "No ma'am," he said with a chuckle. "We've advanced well beyond that stage." He pulled back the pillowcase, revealing a piece of memory foam about an inch thick. The bundle of wires appeared to disappear into it. I moved for a better look and saw that there was an actual cable plug sticking out of the top edge. "We poured the foam around the sensors to hold everything in place and so that it would mimic a real pillow; as long as you don't lift your head too far, you can even roll over without interrupting the readings." "And this will tell you when she shows up?" "We hope so," he said somewhat dubiously. "Normally we would need several sessions to establish a baseline. Unless the outside intercession causes something anomalous – like a spike of some kind, though it needn't be that severe – we may not notice it at all. I can't tell you how excited I am, Miss Atkins; this is really cool stuff! When Everest told me what we were doing ... Do you really think there is someone out there who can enter another person's dreams?" "I don't know," she said, "but the person who suggested it made a very compelling argument." "Wow! Is there any chance I could meet this person? Maybe interview them? The more information I had, the..." "He's dead," she said, cutting him off. "He died within hours of telling me." The technician had gone white and was swallowing hard. "I don't know that the two events are related," Atkins continued, and I saw the man visibly relax. "I don't see how they could be, but I find the timing extremely suspicious, and if I'm wrong..." "Fuuuck me!" The technician said in awe. Atkins just stared at him for a moment and then shook her head. I shook my head in sympathy; that particular exclamation – while innocently spoken – likely brought up painful memories for her at the moment. Meanwhile, I needed to talk to Bob; we may have a real opportunity here. "Holy... ," Bob's voice trailed off as he shook his head slowly back and forth. "Okay, aside from how obviously bad this is, yes; you have a real opportunity here, especially since you and Jamie can be in two places at once. Jamie can go in and do what she needs to with Atkins, and you can stay out here and monitor the technician." He turned to Jamie. "Telling Atkins you can't make it until tomorrow was brilliant, by the way. Is there any chance you could take me with you? Or Allison, maybe?" "I don't know," I said. "We talked about it earlier, and the way I see it, it's one step short of taking someone into a dream with me." "Not necessarily," he pointed out. "Something is different because you are much more limited in what you can do – being tied physically to your focus person for instance. If the technician is in the next room and you use Atkins as your focus, you wouldn't be able to see what he's seeing. Obviously, you'll want to focus on him; there isn't going to be much of anything going on with her, after all." He started pacing. "God, this is great! You're going to get to see actual clinical work to discover if what you're doing can be detected. That's huge! And even if it is – possible that is – they aren't expecting you, so when you show up tomorrow they won't even see a difference." "I think it would be better if they do," Lizzy said. "Bob, do you think it would be possible to force a reading?" "What?" He asked. "Why would you want to?" "Because if they have a solution they think works," Allison said, "they won't keep looking for one that actually does. Our big advantage tonight is that we'll know when Jamie goes in, so we're more likely to spot something they may not. Unless it's a clear indication – a spike or something, like he said – they may not notice anything out of the ordinary. Since there is already a bubble of sorts in place, there isn't likely to be change in the reading just because Jamie is suddenly using it. And if she pulls Atkins into the bubble ... my guess is her mind will generate a ... I guess you'd call it a resting pattern while she's inside. Once Jamie is done with her, I think we need to have her create a second bubble to see if the machine picks it up. Like Lizzy said, I almost hope it does because then they will think they have something that works." "But would we want them to see it tonight?" Bob asked. "Good point," Allison admitted. "Probably not, but it would be nice to know – tonight – if we would be able to create some kind of indication before we actually need to do it, tomorrow." "Right," I said. "I also want to see how it affects the machine if Jamie merges with her." Allison smiled and said, "I've got a better idea; why don't we have Jamie merge with her before they start, then see what happens when she leaves. That way, if it's a really significant change and they freak out, they'll likely be thinking that it was Jamie arriving, not her leaving. Either way we see the results, but they don't have what they want." The results were very interesting: There was no reaction from the machine at all when Jamie merged with Atkins while she was awake – that wasn't surprising, considering they were setting up to scan for alpha waves while she slept – but it did react when Sandra fell asleep and Jamie left. Again, it wasn't much of a change, and they didn't know what to make of it since it was too soon for Atkins to be in REM-sleep and generating the kinds of waves they were looking for. I know all this because I was there with them – watching and listening – throughout the whole process. Bob had been right; there wasn't much going on with Atkins, so I keyed off of the technician, instead. Watching him watching her while talking to himself, and jotting down notes, was very informative. The really good news was that – just as Allison had predicted – there wasn't so much as a ripple when Jamie pulled the already dreaming Sandra into a bubble. That was the last of the good news. "Well," I told Zeus later, as I was standing, waist-deep in the lagoon, petting the soft, rubbery skin on his back, "I've really screwed it up this time." Even without any solid proof, Sandra Atkins was now thoroughly open to the idea that "Jimmy" really existed, and that he really had managed to single-handedly accomplish what Sandra – with all her resources – couldn't. After Bastion – or Wallace as she referred to him – had demonstrated the truth of his own abilities, she had no problem accepting his explanation for how it was done. The best part about the bubble was it provided something that wasn't really possible anywhere else: a chance to be totally honest without risk. Well, almost totally ... she still thought I was a girl. The interview was long, but only subjectively, and I still had plenty of time to go over the information with the rest of my 'team' and decide how to handle it. "So how did she react when you told her you didn't kill Bastion?" Lizzy had asked. "She was willing to concede the point for the sake of argument," I said, "but she doesn't believe it." "So on top of everything else, she thinks you're a murderer?" It was a rhetorical question at best, but I answered it anyway. I fact, it was all I could do not to laugh. "Are you kidding? A dozen times over at least. Bastion's explanation made too much sense; filled in too many blanks, blanks they didn't even know needed filling. I'm now guilty until proven innocent." "That is so not fair," Allison said, angrily. Bob started to say something, but she stopped him. "Don't bother," she said resignedly. "It's not like I expected anything else from her, but it's still wrong. At least we had proof of what they were doing, and it was the only way." "I agree," he said, "but in her eyes what you did was far worse. Not just killing them – the only complaint she has about that was that she didn't get to try them first. No, she's far more upset that you let the others live, and that there is nothing she can do to prove their involvement." "What if she questions the girls?" Lizzy asked. "I'll make her wish she had never been born," Jamie said, and there was no doubt about her meaning. "The girls won't talk to her," I said. "None of them would risk their new lives, or the lives of any of the others." "I don't know, Jimmy," Bob said. "Atkins would have no qualms what-so-ever about threatening them, or the ones they love, with whatever she felt she needed to." "They're all minors," I said. "She can't question any of them without a parent, guardian, and/or an attorney present, and I'll know if they try. I had a thought, though, Bob, and I wanted to bounce it off of you. What do you think the chances are I can get her to set up additional counseling for the girls in the hopes that one of them will let something slip to a therapist?" "Oh!" Lizzy exclaimed, hugging me and kissing my cheek. "You are such a naughty boy! I love you!" "Bob?" I asked, ignoring her for the moment. "She's right," he said with a chuckle. "That's a great idea. The girls will get the kind of help they need without really being at risk. Any decent therapist will figure out that they're holding back, but they'll expect that – based on their background and what was done to them. They'll be going in expecting it to take a long time. You may even be able to stack the deck a little in that regard." "How?" Allison had asked. "I honestly don't know," he said, "but I'm sure we'll come up with something." "So what do we do about the girls?" Lizzy asked. "The DA and Bastion's lawyer saw the video – along with the evidence clerk. Even Sandra agreed that it was probably a matter of time before something leaks." "Jamie?" I asked. "I'm thinking we start with the evidence clerk, arrange for the server to have a little problem – a secondary virus they missed or something – then bridge the DA and Bastion's attorney, find out if anyone else has seen it, and make sure it doesn't go any farther. Do you think a simple prohibition to keep them from talking about it or pursuing any of the girls for information would be enough?" "No, but I think it's a good place to start," I said. "Once that's done I think we should make it more personal; find a girl they're close to – daughter, niece, childhood sweetheart – maybe run some dreams about what her life would be like if word got out that she was one of them." "Fox? Or Mikkelson?" "Use you're own judgment," I said. What she had done to Fox after he outed me to the press and put ... whoever it was ... after my family, was a shadowy image of what she'd done to Detective Sergeant Mikkelson for outing Rebecca's pursuit of the Sandman. By the time we discovered what was going on – and got it stopped – Mikkelson was bordering on suicidal. Of course, that was before we even knew about Jamie, and she had fixed it before it was too late, but still, just thinking about what she had put the man through came close to giving me nightmares. She was smiling as she answered, "I don't think I'm ready to trust my own judgment just yet. I'll take Lizzy or Allison with me and keep an eye on them from time to time, just to be sure." They grow up so fast. ------- Chapter 45: Loose Ends Amber Jamie I met Sandra Atkins in her office, just so she would have a familiar point of reference. "Why the disguise?" "This is the way people see me here. It's easier to be consistent, and I've been using it so long that – unless I'm specific – this is the way I appear." "I see," she said. "Well, thank you for coming; I wasn't sure you would." "There isn't much point in avoiding it at this point; you know too much, and you're used to getting your way – by whatever means necessary – and I didn't want you to do anything that I might have to make you regret." "Is that a threat?" She asked. "No," I said, changing one of the straight-backed chairs in front of her desk to a large beanbag and flopping in it. "I try not to make threats; they attract attention, even in dreams. Your subconscious wants to pick at it and see if it's real; it causes problems." Now her desk was too high, so I changed the beanbag into Jimmy's mom's old rocker-recliner – with a different cover on it, of course, no point in taking chances. "You're going to try and catch me, aren't you?" That seemed to take her off guard. I don't think she expected me to be so direct. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to," she said. "You're too dangerous." "You mean I'm too dangerous to risk someone else catching me first," I accused. "That too," she admitted. "Yeah, that's what I was afraid of. I almost walked away from Samantha and the others rather than risk it." "Well, if it's any consolation, I'm glad you didn't." I rolled my eyes, "Duh! You get your man – finally – and now you've got me to chase in his place. What do they call that ... job security?" She shook her head. "Wallace said you were young – late teens, but under twenty. I had my doubts, but now I'm not so sure." I don't think she actually expected me to answer, but I did anyway, "Younger, much younger." Around a year old by one way of looking at it, but I certainly wasn't going to tell her that ... I also didn't want to give her time to ask; time to change the subject. "You can't find me, Sandra; there are no links to follow. I learned that lesson once; I won't risk it again. David is your only link, and he doesn't know who I am. Both Hampton and Rodriguez think it's him, and they'll do everything they can to protect him, and what they can't do, I can. Henslith already learned that lesson. We did a better job of hiding his family this time, but she still knows where he is. One of these days she may try again, or she may have decided that it's not worth it." "I'm not going to ask," she said. "Not right now, anyway. Why David?" "What do you mean?" "I mean, why did you pick David?" "It was an accident. When I first learned I could do this, it was all really random; I'd meet someone, and the next thing you know, I was in their dreams. One of my old baby-sitters had a crush on him ... God, she used to go on and on about him. I would bounce in and out of her nighttime fantasies, and she'd be making out with him and stuff. Then, one night I found myself in his dream. Turns out he was seriously into the spy thing – in his dreams, anyway. Kind of a James Bond meets Jason Bourne kind of guy. He's really good, and he hides it really really well; you'd never know it to look at him. Even his parents don't realize ... And don't bother asking; she's dead – car accident – and no, I didn't have anything to do with it, but again, there is no traceable link to me. "I decided to play along with one of his ... you know 'missions'. It was fun, and I wanted to do it again. He was the first one I could go to on purpose. One night when I showed up, he just stopped and started talking to me. Nothing fancy, he just told me I needed to be more careful. You can imagine how surprised I was that he realized I was an actual person and not just another character in his fantasy, but then, I guess if you went to that much effort to craft a scenario, you would know all the players. We talked; he taught me a lot. He was the one who warned me about people like you, and what would happen if you found out about me." "Does he know how old you are?" "He knows I'm young. He knows that I knew Shannon, but not how I knew her. We were there for each other when she died, but that was later. Anyway, one night I found myself in a strange place, seeing things that I knew I couldn't know; people I knew I'd never met. And it was weird; like I was looking out through someone else's eyes. It didn't last long, just images of a girl in different places. I told him about it the next night, and the next time it happened we tried something new: as soon as it started, I kind of pulled him to me so he could watch with me. As soon as he realized what was happening, he told me to leave – that this was something I shouldn't see. I didn't know if it was even possible to leave him there – it was all so new then, and I'd only just brought him over – but he insisted, so I left. We'd never tried it before, but it worked, and he got to stay for the whole thing. It must have been pretty awful; I could see that it really hurt him to watch it, but he knew it was important, so he stuck it out. That was our first real meeting with the Sandman, and what we were seeing was images of him killing Diane McKenzie. Well, you know, not just killing her; there was all the other stuff too, that's why he didn't want me to see. Considering what it did to him, I'm glad he made me go away. Jimmy – that's David's real name, and the first really big mistake we made was in not changing it – got Rebecca involved. That was tricky, let me tell you: we had to convince her that the crime was real, while at the same time not ending up as the prime suspects ourselves. It wasn't easy. She was a fed, and Jimmy didn't want her to know about me, so he became the person she was used to dealing with. Then something happened one night – unrelated but still bad – and they actually ended up meeting for real. They'd been working together long enough by then that she trusted him, so it wasn't a big deal, and it proved to her – once and for all – that he was too young to be the killer. The rest you know: with my help, they eventually got Kurtz, and David got the credit. "What we didn't count on was Henslith turning out to be the Black Queen. Apparently while she and Hampton were on a stakeout in Palm Springs, Henslith did something – we think it was a combination of drugs and hypnosis of some kind – and found out the truth, or at least, she found out about that Jimmy was Rebecca's mysterious source. The next thing we know, someone is trying to kidnap him. The first one wasn't so bad, Jimmy spotted him and took him down, but they killed him at the hospital before Rod could question him; we knew then that they'd keep trying. When they grabbed Britney, we decided it would be better if we lived to fight another day, preferably on our own terms. We caught a break on a drug thing at his school, and that gave Rod a provable case to attach moving them all to. He'd met Jimmy during the time when Angela disappeared, and again after they caught the first guy. There still wasn't much Rod could do without risking drawing more attention, – he had to stay under the radar – but he could handle moving them and getting them new IDs. It still sucked, though; I screwed up, and they all paid the price. Jimmy was cool about it, though; it was his idea to split them up; it was safer for them, and it freed him up to try and help Sam and the others. We'd stumbled onto Bastion's operation while investigating Amanda Watkins for Rebecca. He came up with David as a cover..." "Is that why you pay him so well?" "I ruined his life," I said, looking away. "My mistake put his friends and family at risk. I promised him I would do everything I could to protect them after that. It hasn't been easy – Henslith is really good." "Where did you get the money?" she asked. I did my best to look embarrassed and said, "I stole it." She started to react, her head just beginning to shake back and forth. "It's not like that," I said. "Rebecca and her 'new partner' – this was before we figured out who she really was – were looking for a way to shake up the Sandman and get him to do something, so they could get another shot at him. They figured the easiest way would be to disrupt his finances. In one of his dreams, I found a scene of him opening an account at a bank in Europe. I got the access codes and passwords, and then had David use the information to clean out the account, figuring that would get a reaction. Anyway, once it was transferred, he went to see how much it was and about wet himself. He was worried that we had gone too far, and that Kurtz would go crazy, so he went straight to Rod and told him what he had done. You know the rest of the story, right?" "I know enough," she confirmed, "how much?" "A little over six million," I said. "Wha... ? Six million? Good God, no wonder everyone was so worried. That was right before Henslith disappeared, wasn't it?" "Yes. She knew something was up when Rod insisted on protection for both of them. We think she took advantage of the situation to stage her disappearance. Rod had been looking for a way for David – Jimmy actually, he didn't become David until later – to turn the money in, but it's hard to hand over that kind of cash and remain anonymous. He was still working on it when someone grabbed Britney, and everyone had to go away, so Rod told him to keep it, figuring Jimmy would need it to hide and start a new life. Turned out he was right. Anyway – in spite of everything that had happened – Jimmy liked working with me; he didn't blame me for what had happened; said it was a lesson we had learned and next time we had to be more careful. There was still Sam and the girls to deal with, so ... as long as the people in his life are protected and taken care of... "I give him help when I can – like finding that missing painting – and I keep his people safe. He likes helping people, particularly people he feels are getting screwed; it was his idea to use some of the money to help people like Angela – and later Tanya – who got caught up in things they couldn't control. We figured we knew how the Sandman made it, so if we could use it to help people, it sort of helped make up for it. I think he can be a benefit to you in many ways." That seemed to catch her off guard. "You mean besides leading me to you?" "I'm not worried about that," I said, rolling my eyes. "I already told you, Sandra, he can't lead you to me, but I promise not to be too upset if you try, as long as you're doing your part to keep him – and those he cares about – safe. And, if he's working for you and needs my help ... I'll do what I can. As for how he can help you, he has some interesting ideas; talk to him." I guess I couldn't blame her for being curious. "So what would have happened if I'd gone after David or something to get you to come to me?" "I'd rather not go there," I said seriously. "I know what you want, Sandra: Bastion told you what I could do; you believe him, but you want me to prove it. Like being here now – in your dream – isn't proof enough. Okay, how about this... ?" Just like that, we were sitting by the pool: she in a lounge chair, wearing a bathing suit and a big floppy straw hat to keep the sun off of her face; me in the water, looking up at her. The scene changed again, and we were in the basement room she had taken Rebecca to when she brought her in to ask her about Bastion – only this time it was her in the chair and Rebecca doing the questioning. Behind Rebecca the door opened, and that ball thing Darth Vader had used on Princess Leah came floating into the room. Then we were back in her office. "Is that enough proof?" "So you really can control dreams; not just enter them," she said. Her voice was neutral; she had gotten the confirmation she had expected, nothing more. I could see almost see the wheels turning as she decided where to go next. "You don't strike me as the torture type." "I'm not, but I won't let people be hurt again because of me." I pause just long enough to be sure I had her attention. "It doesn't have to be torture, Sandra." "No? What then?" The scene flickered, and for a split microsecond she was back in the conference room sandwiched between Bastion and the guard. It lasted only long enough for her to recognize where she was. Maybe it was my imagination, but she looked like she had lost a little color when we got back. "You could relive that, every night, over and over, only each night it could get just a little bit worse, last just a little bit longer – Ask Rebecca about a cop from San Diego named Mikkelson ... I'm not afraid of you, Sandra, because you can't reach me. I understand that you're afraid of me – and that that little demonstration didn't help – and why you're afraid. I just don't want innocent people getting hurt because you feel like you have to catch me. I know what I did was wrong, but it was the only way to stop him; you know it was, because you couldn't even touch him on the stuff you did know about. Given what you know now – especially about what Bastion was capable of – could you ever have stopped him?" "That doesn't make it right," she said, not really answering the question, but acknowledging my point nonetheless. "Tell that to Sam and the others," I retorted. "They feel safe, some of them for the first time in their lives! They're with people that they know love them and will protect them. I know it wasn't right, and believe me, if there had been another way ... but there wasn't. I'm sorry it was necessary, but I'd do it again tomorrow. Only next time I'd make sure he died before he had a chance to talk to you." "Why did you let him live?" she asked. "It was Jimmy's idea," I said. "I thought we should have let him die along with the rest of the board, but Jimmy wanted to give the system a chance. He said that it would be better for the victims if they could see him face justice. I don't argue with him about things like that. Jimmy's amazing when it comes to understanding people. You know Rebecca's boyfriend, Mr. Shelby?" "Fiancé," she corrected me. She hadn't meant to interrupt, it was just one of those things people do in a conversation when someone gets something wrong. If she only knew... "Whatever," I said, "Jimmy talks to him about stuff, like what the girls are going through, and Mr. Shelby is constantly amazed at his insights. He says knowing Bastion died in jail won't be quite as good for them, but it's something anyway. Still, if we had to do it again..." "You see," Sandra said, and this time she was interrupting. "That's what worries me. You could do it again, and no one would know. That makes you dangerous, very dangerous." "I know," I said, looking away as if I was embarrassed, "but stopping me isn't really what you want. What you want is to control me, study me ... use me. Otherwise you wouldn't be doing this..." The scene changed again, and she was lying in the bed at the special facility where she was spending the night – in a very special bed – being watched over by the same young man who had been with her the night before. Only now it was me in the lab coat, talking to her as I checked over the last of the wiring. She was obviously surprised at her surroundings. "Dreams are funny things, Sandra, and you can have more than one at a time. All I did was encourage a little one about getting ready for bed, and you did the rest. I'm not your enemy, Sandra, and – as I'm sure you have already figured out – David is not the only person I have helping me; he's just the only one I'm helping – or who knows it's me they're helping. It's a very complicated story, but before he died, Rene Kurtz thanked David for stopping him. That was wrong, too, but it was better for everyone that it happened the way it did. Even Rene didn't believe we could hold him long enough to see a courtroom. Care to argue the point?" Silence. Yah ... didn't think so. I was surprised that she hadn't pushed for more on exactly how Bastion came to be holding the gun that slaughtered the board members. Atkins "He's not coming." I recognized David Malcolm's voice, but I was momentarily thrown by what he had said. I almost asked him what he was talking about, but managed to stop myself. Obviously she hadn't told him about our little meeting the night before. Apparently she was serious about keeping secrets from him. There were so many questions I had wanted to ask her – and him now – but it was too soon to push. The last thing I wanted to do was scare either of them away. "Really," she said. "I'm disappointed." "I'm sure," he said. "Apparently, exposing himself to your lab friends was just a little more risk than he was willing to take. So where does that leave us?" "My lab friends?" "Come on Miss Atkins, you don't really expect me to believe you weren't planning to be buried under a mountain of sensors trying to find a way to spot him when he showed up? After all that's happened – all that you now know he's capable of – tell me your first priority in life isn't tracking him down? You can't seriously expect him to just hand you a chance to see if you can spot him in someone's dream." "Well, when you put it that way ... And of course I'm going to try and find him; he presents too great a risk." "I guess that depends on your point of view. He knows what would happen if you caught him; he's not going to let that happen, and he certainly isn't going to help you track him down." "I could haul you and your friends in for questioning," I suggested. "You wouldn't get any answers," he said. "He's just a voice on the phone most of the time. You know the rest, and I don't talk about it – even on a secure line. The girls don't know anything about him at all. They know the drug story was just a cover, but that's it. My family doesn't even know the truth; All they know is that I got reward money for some of the things I did, and that I used it to set myself up in business. It's not the life they envisioned for me, but they're proud of me – especially about how I used some of the money to help Angela get her life back. They'd like to see me, but I told them that I didn't want to risk anything happening again. After that last attempt, they don't question anything anymore. "If Henslith hadn't gotten to Rebecca, this wouldn't be necessary, but there's nothing we can do about that now. I could change my name and move again, but that's expensive, and I'm just getting established here. I don't know what her game is – based on what I do know, my guess is she wants the same thing you do – and I'm betting she hasn't given up. If she wanted me dead, it would be different, but that's not the case, and it's a lot harder to kidnap someone in a crowded public place. She's tried hiring the job and it hasn't worked, so if she does try again, I'm guessing it will be in person. What is the reward for someone like her? "It almost sounds like you are looking forward to her trying again. I'd question your sanity – wanting someone like her to find you – except that you're right. You just better hope she doesn't change her mind about her goals." "He said you asked about working with me before you knew about any of this. Now he figures you'll want to just to maintain access and hope that somehow I'll lead you to him. I'm okay with doing the occasional odd job for you, but we play by my rules. I don't know you, but I know what you represent and, to some extent, how you work. Your first priority is maintaining your invisibility, everything else – everyone else – is secondary; I learned that when you wouldn't help with Phoebe. I represent an opportunity for you to work in front of the curtain for a change – without risking exposure – a chance you probably don't get very often. And, obviously, I bring a unique set of resources with me, but again, we play by my rules or we don't play. As you've probably noticed, I don't like it when innocent people get hurt. I understand that it's dangerous playing in the big leagues, and that sometimes bystanders get hurt. The difference is that I don't look the other way when it happens. Do you know he's providing counseling for the girls?" "What do you mean?" "I mean that he's arranged for them to have access to therapists, at night, when they're sleeping. It's not a perfect solution, but when you're trying to keep the world from knowing the truth about what happened to them ... Can you imagine trying to go through high school if everyone knew that your own parents had been raping you and passing you around like a party favor for years?" I could, actually, I couldn't help cringing at the thought, and I'm a grown woman; to actually live it... ? "I get the idea you have something in mind." "I do," he said. "You – the government, I mean – knew what was going on. Not all of it, of course, but you knew enough, and you stood by and let it happen. I think the least you can do is try to help make it right." "What did you have in mind?" "I want them to have access – when they're ready, that is, and that may be a while – but when they're ready, I want them to have access to some of your top psychologists. The ones agents talk to when they have issues. The ones that don't have to answer to anyone about what those agents say to them behind closed doors and aren't going to write a book about it later." "Is that all?" I asked, surprised that he seemed to be setting his sights so low. Apparently Justine – or whatever her name really was – wasn't kidding when she said he wanted to help the bystanders. His actions to date – first with Angela Osborn, then Tanya Rayburn and her niece – certainly showed he was serious. Apparently he didn't expect a lot of help with his pet projects either. Of course, with Justin – I had decided I really needed to think of him/her that way, regardless of the truth, otherwise I might slip up and reveal that truth to David by accident. Being young, and with Justin bankrolling him, he probably didn't think about the realities of money that much. He hadn't even asked for free counseling for the girls, just access. Of course, I had no problem with the girls having access to our shrinks; after all, it was one more way to keep track of, and – just maybe – get a clue to finding, Justin. Keeping the girls – and David – accessible was currently one of my primary goals, and here he was handing me that access ... A part of me couldn't help but think that this was all just a little too easy. Jimmy "What is it with you Malcolm?" Spencer had asked. It was Tuesday morning, and we were in her office, where Tony was going over the paperwork for the home I was buying in Washington. Well, not me personally. Technically, Sha-Mar Enterprises was buying it; I was just signing the paperwork. It was a four-bedroom, four-bath affair on a sprawling one-acre lot about four miles from where Ben Cotton worked. It had an amazing second story balcony that ran the whole length of the building, covering an equally large patio on the first floor; a spacious three-car garage; hot tub; and was close to the highest rated schools in the area. Oh, it also overlooked an arm of the bay and was within ten miles of eight different colleges, so Britney could pretty much take her pick. It was a nice place in its own right, but almost a shack compared to many of the places around it. That was probably why it had been on the market for so long. Following my father's advice, I had Tony make an offer to the buyers for twenty percent below their asking price. They countered at ten percent, and we countered back, with cash and a ten-day escrow if the house passed inspection by a certified and bonded company. The home had been sealed when the inspector finished and would remain that way until escrow closed. Despite having gone through this process when we purchased the condos in Indiana, I still didn't really have the slightest idea what I was doing, so I had Tony going over everything before we brought the notary in to handle the actual signing. Along with the escrow papers on the house, there were two other sets of documents, one of which was a rental agreement for the Cottons, at a ridiculously low price. "What do you mean?" I asked. "You bought a condo for Angela Osborne after you rescued her, plus one for Tanya just because she might have been in harm's way..." "Technically it wasn't me – I was merely acting on behalf of the company – and since we already discussed it, you know there was more to it than that." "Whatever," she said. "Now you're buying a house in Washington and renting it for below market. Who are these people, and what did they do that got them on your gift list?" "Keeping in mind that I don't owe you an explanation ... do you remember back when Avery and the Davidsons were following me? I told them that it had happened before, and the bad guys ended up kidnapping my girlfriend to get to me? You'll recall I told you all that I got her back, but that the whole family had been forced into hiding." She stared at me for a moment. I could almost see the gears turning, but I didn't give her time to come up with a reply. "Britney's a nice girl who made the mistake of going out with me. She doesn't deserve to have her life ruined over it. We weren't even serious, but her father lost his job, and the whole family had to walk away from everything and everyone they knew just because their daughter went out on a couple dates with me. Rod pulled what few strings he could to hide them and helped them make a fresh start, but there is only so much you can do without official involvement, and almost nothing to do with me is ever official." "David, how are you paying for all this? And why the hell do you have to do it in my office?" "On the advice of counsel, he's not going to answer that first question," Tony said, looking up from the sheet he was reading. "As to the second: we're here because the FBI is subsidizing the rent so that he isn't losing money by hiding someone out for them. At such time as it becomes safe for the Cottons to resume their lives, the house will be made available to the FBI and other select government agencies for use as a safe house or retreat – depending on the needs of the moment. One of his first priorities is to get permits to add a dock so as to allow a wider variety of access. I'm sure you can appreciate that they don't want details like this getting out. His accountant is currently setting up a special non-profit trust to cover his philanthropic donations to the continuing education of persons displaced due to criminal activity beyond their control, involving federal agencies." "You're kidding," Dominique said, actually chuckling at the thought. "You've found a way to deduct what you're paying for Angela and Tanya's college?" "And Britney's when she's ready to start next year," I said. "How the hell are you going to get that past the IRS?" She asked. "Special dispensation from the Treasury Department," Tony said, "as long as the FBI or other qualified federal agency signs off that the individual – or family – fits the guidelines of the program. We're still working it out, but the money will come from a special account we're opening under his parent company. The goal is for no one to know where the money is coming from. They're even going to grandfather the contributions he's already made. The condos in Indiana will also be made available – on the same terms as the house in Olympia – once the girls no longer need them. Essentially, David's taxes are going to be handled personally by his accountant and someone at Treasury, and they'll balance the money owed against his tax bill so no one has to cut a check that someone may later be able to trace." "Are you kidding me?" She demanded. "How the hell did you get... ? Atkins! Damn, I knew she was high up the chain, but I never realized she had this kind of clout." "You're kidding, right?" I said. "The woman hauled federal agents – including you –in for interrogation if they so much as looked at Bastion's file, told them to stay away; actually threatened them if they didn't, and you didn't think she had the clout?" "David," she said, shaking her head, "threatening FBI agents is one thing, but this is the IRS we're talking about." "People in high places see value in David's abilities and his willingness to work with our government's intelligence and law enforcement agencies," Tony said, without taking his eyes off the page he was reading. "They agreed it was a worthy cause." "Well, I certainly can't argue that," Spencer said. "I think it's great as long as no one abuses it." "That's why someone has to sign off on the people in the program," I said. "And I decide who gets the money. I don't want some mob boss hiding out in my house, or his kid going to college on my dime. We may occasionally stoop to hiding a government witness, but this program is for regular people who get screwed over when stuff happens." "People like Autumn?" Spencer asked. "Autumn is a special case," I answered. "Technically she doesn't meet most of the requirements we just discussed, but Atkins confirmed to someone that at least one Federal agency knew of her situation and didn't intervene solely because they didn't want to compromise their ongoing investigation of Bastion." "You're a very strange young man, David ... and don't think this settles the question of your finances. Forgive me, Mr. Cicarelli, but advice of counsel notwithstanding, I guarantee you that at least part of the reason Atkins went along with this little scheme is so she can try and figure out where David's money is coming from." "I already told her my source pays well," I said. "Something she's going to need to keep in mind if she plans to start tossing jobs my way." "That's another problem," she said. "Why's that?" "She has to be wondering about your past. Before this thing with the Sandman, no one had ever heard of you. You're young; forgive me, but very young, to be this good, and you've apparently made a lot of money doing it. Those two facts don't fit together well in a profile. In this business, youth and experience tend to be mutually exclusive traits. When they both show up so prominently they tend to appear as very large red flags. People in this business don't like mysteries. The higher up they are, the less they like them – myself included – but even though we met under less than ideal circumstances, I've been leaving you alone. At first because you asked me to – and gave me a good enough reason to believe you were telling the truth. Since then, because I think you've earned it. For the record, I plan to continue leaving you alone unless someone instructs me otherwise, but that may be a luxury you won't enjoy much longer." "Why's that?" I asked. "Because, as I said, you've come to the attention of people who don't like mysteries. Specifically: People like Sandra Atkins, who not only don't like them, but have damn few restrictions on how they go about solving them." You've heard of the tangled web? Spencer thought Atkins was using this as a way to use my finances to track my source; Atkins thought that if she kept me and the girls close enough, one of us may someday provide that same link. Neither knew the truth, and they were working off of two different variations of the same lie. Meanwhile, the people I was most concerned with were getting what they needed or deserved. The girls were guaranteed access to some of the best care available – when they were ready, of course; it would be some time before any of them would develop the level of trust necessary to take advantage of it. Britney, Amber, and Tanya were taken care of... Now if I only knew what the hell Henslith was up to. ------- The Cottons were understandably upset when Rod told them they were being moved to a new location, but they got over it quickly when they discovered that it was just a local move to a new home. Jolene, Britney's stepmother, was beside herself when he gave her the address. Finding my truck – already registered in Britney's name – parked in the garage had gotten quite a reaction as well. I'm in trouble if she ever gets her hands on me; she hates crying in front of people, especially her family, and her first thought was that something had happened to me. Finding out that I was okay stopped the tears, but according to Rod, my ass is grass anyway. At first I didn't get it, but then I remembered my dad saying it once to warn me not to do something, or rather, not to get caught doing something. I think the whole quote was, "your ass is grass, and I'm the lawn mower." I don't think she really wants to hurt me, but that doesn't improve my odds of surviving the encounter. "Oh, what she is going to do to you!" That was the general consensus from all the usual sources, Lizzy, Allison, Bob, Rebecca, and Amber. Angela – who knew Britney best – made it a point to take me to the Courtyard – the hotel where she and Lizzy went with Tanya – and provide a little graphic instruction in what I could expect. "And that is nothing compared to what my little Black Cloud is going to do to you," she assured me as we lay together in the sweaty afterglow. A night with Angela is very different from a night with Amber. If that was preview, then there are worse ways to die, I guess. ------- It was also time to settle my debt with Lady Jasmine, and that could only be done face to face. I flew Amber in for the weekend – Christine was very excited when I told her Amber was coming to town – and the two of us joined Jasmine and May for morning tea. Cherise met us at the door. "Cherise," I said, bowing slightly and reaching for her hand when the door opened. "It is very nice to see you again." "Mr. Malcolm," she said. "I am honored you remember me." "Nonsense," I said. "It was a night I hope to never forget. May I present my slave, Amber, whose place you filled so memorably that night." "It's very nice to meet you, Amber," Cherise replied, extending her hand. I could see the surprise on her face when Amber took her hand, then dropped to her knees before kissing it. "I am honored to meet you, Cherise. My Master has spoken very highly of you; thank you for tending his needs while I was away. Also, Tanya sends her love." Cherise had clearly been taken aback by Amber's submissive gesture to another slave, but, at the mention of Tanya, she actually stumbled. "You've seen Tanya?" she exclaimed. "Oh my God, is she alright? I've been so worried since..." She caught herself and stopped, flushing in embarrassment as she turned her attention back to me. "Forgive me," she said, averting her eyes. "I have overstepped myself." Reaching out, I gently took her chin and turned her back, so I could see her eyes. "No, Cherise," I said. "Don't apologize. I should have realized that your Mistress had not shared Tanya's fate with you. I will discuss the matter with her, but for now, be assured that Tanya is well, and safe, and as happy as she can be while separated from those she loves. Now, your Mistress is waiting." "Of course," she said, bowing slightly. "Right this way, please." Amber rose without any prompting and followed behind me as Cherise led the way through the house and out into the gardens behind. The walled courtyard behind the big house was nowhere near as grand as Ceres' estate, but it was still very impressive, with high shrubs and hedges separating several sitting areas. There was also a stream of sorts wandering through the whole area. The stream led to a large pond in the very center, and, in the center of that – perched on short pillars – was an ornate pagoda. Standing in the arched opening, Lady Jasmine stood waiting, dressed in the familiar green dress that she always wore in our dreams together. The only difference I could see was that her hair seemed longer in real life. Beside her, kneeling on a cushion, May waited patiently. Cherise stopped at the little walkway that crossed the water, bowing and gesturing that we should proceed without her from there. Taking Amber's hand, I led her up the gentle incline, stopping just outside the entrance. "Lady Jasmine," I said, bowing slightly. "It is an honor to meet you at last. This is Amber." Without hesitation, Amber dropped to her knees and bowed her head. "Mistress," she said. "I am honored beyond words to meet you at last. I am forever in your debt." "You honor me, Amber," Jasmine said, "but do not speak to me of debt, for there can be no debt between us. All that I did, I did at the request of your Master, and if a debt lies between us then it is no concern of yours." "Thank you Mistress," Amber said. "Now, with your Master's permission, rise so that I may introduce you to May, she has been looking forward to finally meeting you, and I fear that if I do not let her do so soon, she might do something foolish, and then I will be forced to punish her." Looking down, I could see the eagerness in Amber's eyes and gave a curt nod of approval. While we did not know exactly how the introductions would go, I had discussed this moment with her at some length. "Lady Jasmine," I said. "Amber has expressed a desire to greet your slave in her own way; with your permission?" "Of course," she said, inclining her head. "May? Rise and greet your student." Except for being completely different physically, it was like watching someone rise in front of a full length mirror, as both seemed to move with a near liquid ease. Without hesitation, Amber moved forward and drew May into her embrace, leaning in to kiss her full on the mouth. Having already received both permission and instruction to greet her student, May didn't hesitate to return the kiss. It was like seeing long lost lovers at last reunited, and there were tears in both their eyes when they finally separated. I have to admit I wasn't expecting the greeting to go quite this way, but... "Tea?" Jasmine offered, breaking the momentary tableau. "We would be honored," I said. I took a seat in one of the low chairs, with Amber kneeling on the cushion next to me. Jasmine took the other chair, and we waited patiently while May prepared tea for everyone. We were on our second cup when I finally broached the subject of my debt to Jasmine. "How can you still speak of debt?" Jasmine responded. "Our initial agreement was only for me to train your slave. Training which you alone made possible and aided greatly in. Your actions on behalf of those girls unfortunate enough to find themselves at the mercy of that hell-spawn who called himself Lord Hightower, was more than sufficient payment. That you also acted to safeguard Tanya puts me in your debt." "I disagree, My Lady," I said politely. "You allowed me to use Cherise, as part of my own training when Amber was not available; you loaned me your personal slave, at some risk I might add, not to mention the personal inconvenience of not having her available to perform her regular duties." A moment passed as we held each other's eyes. "Then you insist a debt remains between us?" she asked, her eyes never wavering. "Indeed," I said gravely, "and a large one at that." She thought for a moment, clearly weighing her next words carefully. Finally she said, "I desire nothing for myself..." I started to protest, but she held up her hand as she continued, " ... however, May has expressed a desire of late. Perhaps you may be of assistance in this area." May was so shocked by Jasmine's words that she almost dropped her cup, the look on her face leaving no doubt of the internal conflict she was going through. If that wasn't evidence enough, she actually spoke up unbidden, saying, "Mistress, no! You cannot..." Green eyes flaring so bright with anger that I thought I could feel the heat as her gaze slashed past me. "Silence!" Jasmine said. Gone was any hint of the devoted lover; in her place a cold and callous MISTRESS now sat. Her harsh tone a mixture of scorn and distaste for the impertinent insect kneeling at her feet. If May had been a fly I would not have been surprised if her wings fell off at the touch of that voice. Instantly May subsided, her head bowed and her hands cradling the teacup she still held in her lap. "Forgive me Mistress," she said demurely. When Jasmine's eyes returned to mine it was as if nothing had happened. What can I say? I was in awe of her control, both of her own emotions and of the woman kneeling at her feet. If I had not witnessed it first hand, I would never have known anything was amiss between them. "Please forgive her," she said, "she has been on edge since she learned that she would finally get to meet your Amber." With a small shake of my head, I dismissed the comment as if nothing had happened. "You were saying?" I asked, sipping my tea. I almost dropped my cup when she told me her price. "Oh ... my ... God!" Jamie whispered when Jasmine told us of May's desire. Understatement of the week! fast. ------- Chapter 46: The Wedding It was a simple ceremony, with only a small contingent of guests in attendance: our parents, of course; Allison ... sorry, 'Charlotte', and Molly, who were bridesmaids; and Rod and Selena, who were using the trip as an excuse for a second honeymoon – the kids were flying out the following week for a family vacation. Rod was also standing in, along with Bob, as one of my groomsmen to balance out the girls standing up for Lizzy. Lizzy had asked Amber to be her maid of honor; my Dad was standing up as my best man. Several of the major players – me included – were also standing in at Bob's wedding. I was completely blown away when he asked me to stand up as his best man. I figured he would go with Rod, but I guess that would have been difficult since he was giving the bride away. Amy and I would be the only attendants for Bob and Rebecca. There were more people in our wedding but more guests for theirs – primarily because we didn't actually send out invitations. Christine was there; having finished flight school and taking a break before moving on to the more advanced program which would qualify her on larger aircraft. Mel and Lynn were coming, of course, as well as Susan and Roxy, who were originally going to pass due to the cost, but then Bob and Rebecca had explained that it was a small wedding and they were picking up the travel expenses. In truth, they were splitting them with Warren Street, my new father-in-law, since they were all guests at both weddings – we just weren't advertising ours. Duke figured he was still saving a fortune compared to what it would have cost him to have the wedding closer to home, since half of Fresno would be on the guest list. Besides, he and Betty had wanted to Hawaii for years. The option of a separate reception in Fresno for all of her friends – after we returned from our honeymoon, of course – was still on the table. Lizzy's parents hadn't been happy at first; they wanted us to wait until after Lizzy graduated, and they were worried about the stress that living in different states would put on a newly married couple. The subject came up again at dinner – barbeque, of course – when they met my parents. I hadn't been looking forward to explaining that my family was in hiding – or that our names were different because of things I had been involved with in the past – but that part at least went better than I expected. "I understand, David," Duke had said. "Some of the men I served with had to do the same thing when they came back to the States because of the people they had dealt with on missions. They were good men, and I miss them, but sometimes you have to do what you have to do, and if that's what it takes to keep your family or other innocent people safe, then you do it. It won't be a problem for us. So how do your folks feel about you two getting married so soon?" I blushed and grimaced when I said, "I haven't told them yet, but I don't think they're going to be any happier about it than you are." "It's not that we're unhappy, David," Betty interjected. "We just think it would be better if you waited. We don't want you to rush into marriage and regret it later." I started to answer, but Lizzy interrupted by stepping forward and hugging her mother. "Thank you, mom... ," she moved over and hugged her dad as she continued, " ... daddy. I'm so lucky to have parents that love me so much. We understand your concerns, and we thank you for expressing them. This is one of those issues I think we just need to agree to disagree about because there is no such thing as a convincing argument on either side. All we can do is wait and see, and I promise not to get upset if everything falls apart and you say, 'I told you so', later." "Elizabeth!" Betty exclaimed, scandalized. "I would never!" "I sure as hell would," Duke managed to say through his laughter. "Easy, you know I love you, and I've got a pretty good idea just how much this young man loves you, but I'm still your daddy, and worrying comes with the job." He looked at me, "One day you'll understand that. I know you understand what we're saying, and hope to God you understand just how much I hope we're wrong, but if you kids start to have problems, I want you to promise me you'll come to us before you do anything hasty. Lord knows we've had our share of problems, and it would be a shame to let everything your mom has learned along the way go to waste because..." "Everything I've learned!" Betty said, scandalized again. "You arrogant..." she started pinching at his ribs, then pinched his arms even harder, as he tried to cover up, "self-centered ... You take that back or..." Lizzy grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet. "That's our cue to leave, lover; I feel make-up sex coming on. Why don't we go pick Molly up from school and take her to the movies or something? You guys want to meet at Scooter's for dinner?" Duke was still busy trying to defend himself as he replied, "That sounds ... OW! Damn it, woman, that hurts!" "It's going to hurt a lot more than that if you don't take that back. Lizzy, maybe you should pick up take out and meet us in the emergency room..." "OW!" Duke screamed as she latched onto his left breast and squeezed. "All right, that does it!" He grabbed her hands and jerked her forward, ducking and lifting her onto his shoulder suddenly. "No!" Betty screamed. "Duke! You put me down this instant or so help me..." I lost the rest as Lizzy ushered me out the door. Duke was headed for the hallway with Betty kicking her feet and banging her fists on his back as the door closed. The one that really surprised me was my mother. Knowing how I felt about Allison, and after losing Shannon ... Well, I just assumed she would be upset that I was marrying someone she had never even met. I met her on the beach one night, so we could talk privately. "Upset?" she had asked. "Jimmy, why would I be upset? Surprised, yes, it does seem a little sudden. Allison ... sorry, – you'd think I'd be used to it by now – Charlie says you've known this girl less than a year, and at first, I will admit I was a little, bothered, but ... Well, the way your life has been going, everything that's happened ... Okay, I'm rambling. You thought I was going to be upset because you're dumping your sister, didn't you?" "Well, yeah," I admitted. "Jimmy ... You know, I think part of the problem is that I still think of you as Jimmy, instead of David, and that makes me think of her as Allison, instead of Charlotte. Anyway, we talked about this when we first found out about the two of you. We knew there was a chance – a good chance – that your relationship would change over the years." I started to speak, but she held up her hand to stop me. "No, let me finish. I know you still love each other, but the chance of you two staying together was very small. Besides, at least this way I get to have grandchildren. That wasn't going to happen with you and Allison, and, well ... never mind, it's none of my business." Things had apparently changed a lot in my absence. For one thing, Mom and Allison seemed to be getting along better. The one time I saw things start to get heated, Allison had reached out and touched my mom's hand and said, "Mother" – something that had always been a signal to head for the nearest fortified structure – but this time, instead of escalating the problem, the argument had stopped. Even Jamie had been shocked, and we asked Allison about it later. "After you left," Allison explained later, "I noticed the tension between us started getting worse. You remember how I said things around you tend to work out? I think maybe you've been ... helping us all these years without anyone realizing it. At first I thought it was just the added stress of us all having to disappear, but it seemed to be getting out of hand pretty quickly, so I sat down with mom and had a little heart to heart about what was happening. We each picked a word that the other only used when things were escalating and combined it with a touch to let the other know that we were concerned. It's been working out pretty well so far." "Jamie thought maybe you were using your little sponge trick and sucked her anger away." "God, I wish," she said, rolling her eyes. "So far that only seems to work with you." "Well, either way, I'm glad it's working out," I said. "She seems to be taking the whole wedding thing pretty well." "Don't let her fool you," Allison said. "I'm sure she put on a really convincing show, but she's not really happy about you marrying someone she's never even met – especially someone that you've spent so little 'time' with." She hung a couple quotes around 'time', and went on to explain. "She doesn't count dream time as time together, and if you take that out, you and Lizzy have been together for what? A week, maybe?" "A little over that with Thanksgiving and the holidays," I said. "So what am I supposed to do?" "Nothing," she said. "I told her to wait until she met Lizzy and saw you together, and then we could talk again. I think you guys should come in on separate planes, and mom should go with you to pick her up." Jamie stepped out and said, "You want him to give her a real kiss? In public? Are you insane!" Around us the scene at Frankie's took shape. Then a collection of images she had gathered around Lizzy's dorm after the last 'incident'. "Allison, it's getting worse. At the least you'd be attracting attention; at the worst ... Hello, bad idea!" Allison was looking properly chagrined as she said, "Hmmm, hadn't thought of that. Okay, change of plans. You can come in together. Apparently seeing you that way was enough for Christine, so maybe it will work with mom as well. But I think it would be better if you guys weren't as careful as you usually are once we get to the house." "It might help if you and Lizzy were a little more honest, too," Jamie suggested. "I mean, your mom already suspected about you and Shannon; maybe she'll realize that you're not losing a brother so much as gaining a sister, you know? Unless you think she'd have a problem with you being bi." "Hmmph," Allison snorted. "Not likely. I'm starting to think Jimmy was the exception, not Shannon." "What do you mean?" I asked. "I mean I'm finding myself surprisingly disinterested in all the beefcake on this rock," Allison said. "So far I'm more interested, much more interested, in their sisters. So, either you spoiled me, or it's just me. Dad actually seems a little relieved." "That's understandable," Jamie said. "He knows you're active, and all the girls on the island couldn't get you pregnant. Have you and 'Liki hooked up yet?" "Jamie," I warned. "I'm just asking," she said defensively. "Slut," I accused. "Look who's talking!" she shot back. "I'm not the one with the harem!" "Jamie," this time it was Allison warning her. "Well he does!" she said. "No," Allison said. "He has a small group of women who love him. If you're not sure of the difference, go spend some time with Autumn; I'm sure she can explain it to you. Besides, you get to spend time with all of us, too You getting bored with the current selection?" "Nooo!" Jamie exclaimed, obviously affronted. "Allison, how could even say that?" "Just checking," Allison said. "For a minute it sounded like you were interested in checking out my girlfriends." Jamie blushed, suddenly finding great interest in her toenails, and I saw understanding dawn in Allison's eyes. "Jamie?" Allison said softly. "Are you going 'big sister' on me?" Jamie's blush deepened, and she went on, "Jamie, that's very sweet of you, and I'm flattered that you feel the need to watch out for me, but don't worry; I'm not in any hurry, and I'm perfectly happy with the lovers I already have. As for Alamea ... No, we haven't taken the plunge; I've been doing my best to keep it casual and not rush things – mostly because I didn't want to have to tell her she couldn't come to the wedding. Actually, the wedding would probably be okay; it's what comes after that worries me." We'd all heard that story, especially the part where Brandiy had confirmed that there would be no way to shield those closest to us from the backlash of our first coupling. I just hoped it was only the first time that we had to be worried about, and not every time. June is considered a hot month in Hawaii, but, having come from Las Vegas, it wasn't the heat that was bothering me. Living in the desert the past ... seven? ... eight? ... months, I had forgotten what real humidity felt like. I'd heard all the usual horror stories about planning a wedding, so it was almost scary how well things seemed to go once Lizzy and I made the decision, and I found myself waiting for the other shoe to drop. Since I was locked out of participating in the wedding costs, I took care of the reception – including dinner and dancing at one of the nicer venues on the island. For the most part, we were just a large party out for the evening, but I tipped the band an outrageous amount of money, and they were at our beck and call for the evening, even clearing the floor so we could do the traditional wedding dances. Buying champagne for everyone to toast our unions helped win the crowd over, and the evening went very well after that. I would have liked to have been able to let Walter dance with Amy, but, all things considered, I thought it might be pushing our luck a little too far. Considering the need to prevent anything ... untoward ... occurring, the wedding had been nothing short of anti-climactic. The kiss was – of course – our greatest concern, but between me thinking of Atkins looking down at us via satellite; Lizzy thinking about the grades on her finals, and Jamie screaming at both of us, we managed to get through it without anything getting out of hand. Our first night together as man and wife wasn't going to be anything special either. Yes, we were spending the night 'together' but except for the jewelry, it wasn't any different than the nights we'd spent before. The following morning we boarded a plane south. Tahiti is about the same distance south of the equator as Hawaii is north, so the climate is almost identical. The middle of winter in either location means temperatures in the mid seventies to eighties in the heat of the day. The middle of June generally meant high eighties and sticky, but at the moment it was overcast and unseasonably cool, due to a killer storm churning away about six hundred miles to the south. In the Caribbean it would have been a hurricane, and I know south of the equator they are generally referred to as typhoons, but I remember reading somewhere that what you call them depends on where they are on the globe. I don't care what you call it; when it's six hundred miles away and still affecting your local weather, it's big! I was a little surprised that no one seemed concerned, so I asked, and was told that we were past the danger point, and unless the earth started spinning the opposite direction, there was no chance of it getting any closer to us. I'd never been in a hurricane – just a couple of earthquakes – but, from the pictures I'd seen, I was happy we were out of harm's way. A short trip by shuttle took us from the airstrip – note I didn't say airport –to a marina, where we checked in, and our luggage was stowed for the trip to the small island where we would be spending the next week. Even under dark skies, the island was breathtaking; well worth the price – and the forty-minute boat ride. The small break in the clouds just as we rounded the point and turned into the small cove on the lee side of the island was a nice touch, as the whole scene seemed to explode into color just as the beach came into view; the gray tree line and dark water suddenly turning to emerald and sapphire. The skipper pulled the boat up to the long pier to let us off, handed our luggage over to me, and went over the safety procedures one last time. His last instruction was to contact the main hotel on the satellite phone under the bar. It was important that we do that right away, so they knew it was working and that we had a way to contact help in case of an emergency. "Do you get those a lot?" Lizzy asked. "It happens," the old man said with a smile. "Usually it is the man falling from a tree while thinking he is Tarzan." He turned to me and added, "Take my advice my young friend; you are here, and she has already said yes; you do not need to impress her further. Congratulations to you both. Enjoy your stay." With that, he shoved off and headed back out to sea, and we made our way up the path to the cottage. At first I thought it was just a cabana, but, once we got inside, you could see that the outside was carefully crafted to give that impression while hiding the fact that it was a very modern structure with a full roof, stucco walls, and windows that you could actually close against the weather. The heavy shutters on either side of the large windows were more than just decorations and appeared have been built with bad weather in mind. After carrying my new bride over the threshold, I put the suitcases – we were traveling light, so there were only two – in the bedroom while Lizzy checked in on the phone. Suddenly I was nervous. "Great," I thought as I stood looking out the window at the lagoon. "I've been waiting months for this moment, and suddenly it's like my first night with Allison all over again." "You too?" Lizzy said from behind me. "Me too what?" I asked, turning towards her. "Oh, come on, Jimmy, you know very well what I mean. You're nervous, and I don't even need my sight to see it. I bet I can even tell you what you're thinking. 'I've waited all this time and now... '" She stepped in close and hugged me. "I know; I feel the same way. I've wanted this so bad ... Now I'm scared." "Scared?" I asked, pushing her back so I could see her face. "Why scared?" "Because we're here, and we don't have to hold back, and I'm worried that Allison is right and..." "And that's why we're here," I said, interrupting. "I'm sorry, but if this isn't safe enough, then the world is just going to have to cope. I'll admit to being nervous, even to being a little scared, but you're my wife now, and I think we've waited long enough, don't you?" Her eyes lit, and she scrunched up her nose as she said, "I like the sound of that, say it again." "Which part?" "The part about me being your wife," she said, biting her lip. I smiled and kissed her nose, "You are my wife." "Yes," she said, kissing me back. "Yes, I am. And as your wife, it is my responsibility to see that you don't neglect yourself. I foresee a long and strenuous night ahead of you, so I think we should eat first, and then maybe take a walk and watch the sun set, what do you think?" "I think I am just the luckiest man on earth." "Not yet," she said with a smirk, "but if you play your cards right..." "Ooh, I like the way that sounds. Come on, let's see what they left us." The refrigerator was small but very well stocked, and we settled on a simple meal of fruit and some really tasty shrimp, along with a glass of a very nice white wine. The beach was quiet, and the little pier faced directly into the setting sun, so we sat with our feet in the water, our arms around each other, and her head on my shoulder, wishing we could see the sun instead of just the angry red clouds. "Make love to me, Farm Boy," she whispered. "As you wish," I replied, and, standing, pulled her up and swept my arm to catch her knees and lift her into my arms. "Uh-uh," she said, dancing back out of reach. "I appreciate the thought, but I'd rather you saved your strength for when it counts. You can carry me across the threshold again when we get there if you want." We walked arm in arm up back up to the cottage, slash apartment, slash cabana, and then I carried her inside. Crossing the threshold, I felt the change. From the way Lizzy stiffened in my arms, she felt it to. "Jimmy, what did you..." "I didn't," I said quickly, cutting her off. "For one thing, both of us could hardly stand when I moved us before. I think maybe..." "Oh my God!" she said when she looked behind me. She moved in my arms, and I put her down, turning to look at what she had seen. The most obvious sign was that the door was closed behind us, and so were all the blinds over the windows. I opened the door and was met by a night so dark that, if it hadn't been for the stars, I wouldn't have been able to see past the glow of the hurricane lamp – the one that hadn't been there before. This cabana was also smaller than the one we had started in. That one had been more like a one bedroom apartment; this was more like a studio, with a kitchenette on the other side of the breakfast bar. "Jimmy?" Lizzy said from behind the door. I turned and found her holding a familiar looking envelope. I'd seen this particular stationery before, and just the sight of it answered most of my questions. The note inside was written in the same flowing script that the others had been, and we read it together. "Mr. and Mrs. Malcolm, Here, you are as safe as I can make you, and – perhaps more importantly – the rest of the world is as safe as I can make them from you. No amount of explanation could prepare you for what lies ahead, but you have no need to fear. As to where you are ... The stars you see are shining through the eye of that really big storm that robbed you of your first sunset together. Not to put any pressure on you, but it is important that you consummate your union before the eye passes and the rest of the storm arrives. I would have told you all of this in person, but it took a lot to get you both here, and you would have been stuck with me until I had time to rest. That would take a while, and I didn't think you would want company the first night. We'll talk later. Brandiy P.S. Congratulations! "Does this scare you?" I asked. "A little," she said, "but obviously someone decided this was the safest place for us to be. I think I'll trust her judgment. What worries me is how we're going to do this." "What do you mean?" I asked. "Jimmy, we all but pass out from a kiss; how are we going to get to the good stuff?" "Trial and error I guess," I said with a grin. "It may take us a few tries, but I'm willing to keep trying until we make it work. You're not suggesting we skip the foreplay are you?" "I thought of that," she said, gritting her teeth and biting her lip, "but I'm really hoping we don't have to. I've seen you in action, and, I have to admit, I've kind of been looking forward to getting the whole package." "Me too," I admitted. "If we go slow, maybe take a break if things start getting too fuzzy around the edges..." "No chance of that," she said with a grin. "That... ," I kissed her nose, " ... is not what I meant." "I know," she said, scrunching up her nose at me before turning away. "Untie me?" I took my time releasing the ties on her bikini top, stroking my hands over her shoulders and kissing my way down her neck, shoulders, and back. From the first brush of lips, there was a tingling sensation every time we touched, which seemed to spread outward from the point of contact until even my fingertips itched where they brushed her arms. Lizzy was taking long slow breaths mixed with little gasps with each new touch or caress. When I reached for the knot on her sarong, she turned to kiss me... We lay on our sides, facing each other, and it seemed like we had opened our eyes at the same moment. The last thing I remember was the warmth of her breasts pressing against me, her arms going around my neck, and our lips touching. "This," she said with a smile, "may take a while. Should be fun, though. You ready to try again?" I took a deep breath and let it out. "Yeah, if you are," I said as I crawled to my feet and helped her up. "No bruises that I can detect, but maybe we should stay away from anything with hard corners for now." She stepped back and tugged the knot on her wrap, letting it fall in a puddle at her feet, leaving her in just the bottom half of her bikini. Hot did not begin to describe her. "My turn," she said with a grin. "Hold still." The tingles were back as soon as her lips touched my neck. They spread outward with every touch as she unbuttoned my aloha shirt, and I thought it was going to catch fire when she slipped her hands inside and around, drawing me close and reaching for my mouth with hers. As her tongue entered my mouth I could swear I heard a scream and I know I felt Amber pass out. Lizzy must have felt it too because suddenly she giggled and pulled back, which is probably the only thing that kept us on our feet. "Okay, this may not be helping as much as we thought," she said. "If that's any indication, I'd say the others are still getting caught in it." Suddenly, Jamie was there, "Damn, you're not even naked yet? This is going to be a long night." "How bad is it?" I asked. "Hi, Jamie," Lizzy said. It was very convenient that her gift allowed her to hear Jamie even when she was still inside me. It was one of the things Allison envied most about her. "Hi," Jamie answered. "How bad? Let's see: Amber is already out, and Allison almost went with her. Christine is having a ball. I couldn't risk staying, so I've been hiding in Roxy because she was the only one not reacting. I'm going to need to talk to Allison about her later." "Why?" Lizzy asked. "I think she knows I'm there." "She does?" I asked. "Is she trying to talk to you?" "No, it's nothing like that, and I don't seem to be interacting with her the same as everyone else, but my energy seems to be holding." "I'm glad," Lizzy said. "Are you planning to stick around?" "No!" she declared emphatically. "I love you both, and I can't wait to join you, but I'll wait my turn. Besides, at the rate you're going..." And she was gone. "Do you really think Roxy knows she's there?" I asked. "Do you really want to talk about it now?" Lizzy asked, moving behind me and pulling my shirt down my arms. She dropped it on the floor by her wrap and ran her hands around me and up my chest. Fire seemed to trail behind her fingers as they slid over me. She hugged herself against me, and I felt the tingling return as she kissed my shoulder blade. I started to answer but lost the ability as her hands slid down and began tugging at my swimsuit. "I didn't think so," she said as the waistband got hung up. Her nipples had been hot points on my back, but now they turned into hot pokers, trailing lines of fire as she slid down, taking my suit with her as she went. The room started to spin, and I pulled myself away as I stepped out of the suit, barely catching myself on a chair in time to keep from hitting the floor. "I think we better skip ahead," I said as her hands fell away. "I think it may be safer that way." I turned and found her on her hands and knees; somehow it didn't look like she was going for the sexy, pin-up pose. She blew out a breath and shook her head before looking up at me. "Yeah, no kidding," she said. She took another breath and reached a hand up towards me. "Whew! God what a rush!" I pulled her to her feet and kissed her cheek; heat blossomed where my lips touched, and she pulled away. "Do you want to risk it, or should I just take them off myself?" I know she was trying to be funny, but the tone still came out serious. "Maybe if you sit on the bed," I suggested. I still didn't get far. I had barely started kissing my way up from her ankle, and hadn't reached her knee, when I woke up on the floor again. "Okay," she said, rocking onto her back and peeling her bikini bottoms down while I struggled to pull myself up off the floor. "So much for the slow seduction," she said. Rolling off the bed, she pulled back the covers and re-settled herself on the sheet. There was humor there, but I could hear the underlying strain in her voice as she said, "I hope it gets easier later, but for now I think we're just going to have to take the plunge. I think we better stick with the traditional missionary position just to be safe. I'd rather be on top, but it's a long way to the floor from up here." She crooked a finger at me and in a husky voice said, "Come here, you." It was nothing like what I had envisioned all these months; I slid onto the bed from one side; she rolled under me as I rolled over her, and suddenly we were body to body. My vision blurred, and I felt myself starting to fade again as she spread herself and reached for me. "Do it," she moaned as she gripped me. "Quick, before I faint, I want to feel..." Even as she spoke, parts aligned, her hand slid free, I slipped forward and... To describe what actually happened may be impossible; I simply don't have the words for it. I 'felt' Jamie's sudden arrival; her shock at suddenly finding herself there with us – clearly it hadn't been her idea. At the same time, I saw it happen, and part of her shock had to be at finding herself not in me, but in us, or maybe it was we who were in her; it's all still a blur. I knew the ... shape ... below us was actually Lizzy and me, physically connected in the act of passion, but I didn't see us as distinct shapes. What I saw was akin to what I expect Lizzy would see if looking at two people in similar congress, but at the same time, it was more than that because, instead of two shapes, I saw three, and it was as if the two were somehow inside the third. I say below 'us' because I felt Lizzy there, with me, and somehow she was looking down at the scene as well. Even as I was 'seeing' this, I felt the physical activity, knew my body was still not only buried inside hers but thrusting just as you would expect when deep in the throes of passion; although it was a little earlier in the game than usual for that level of ... commitment. For her part, Lizzy was matching me effort for effort, meeting my thrusts with her own, but at the same time I 'felt' her there, with me, touching me, attached in an intimacy that reflected, but was wholly different from, the physical acts taking place below. It was as if I were looking down with her, and through her, at the same time. There was no perceived doubling of the image, but still it felt as if I were watching it through more than one set of eyes. I 'felt' her lips on mine, her body pressed to mine, but none of the sensations that went with what was going on below. Through it all – over it, around it – was a sound that I couldn't identify. It rose as the activity below became more urgent. I could feel a pressure mounting, and the sound seemed to rise with it, gaining in both pitch and power until it became almost painful. I say almost because while it felt like it should hurt, it really didn't. Have you ever been on a plane and for some reason your ears won't pop? It's one of the reasons small children – babies in particular – cry a lot on planes. I mentioned it to her what seemed like an eternity later, when we cold actually discuss what happened, and Lizzy said she had seen it before on a plane: a woman was holding a baby as the plane ascended and the little tyke was having a hell of a time adjusting to the cabin pressurizing; kicking and screaming and generally causing all kinds of unrest among all the other passengers. The flight attendant almost popped a cork when this little old lady unbuckled her seat-belt and made her way forward to where the woman was sitting and spoke to her briefly. She then bent and retrieved a bottle from the woman's diaper bag, which was stored under the next seat, and handed it to the woman, who immediately offered it to the child. Within seconds, the screaming had stopped, and after a few more seconds, the child was pushing the bottle away. By then the elderly woman was halfway back to her seat. Lizzy heard the old woman's answer when the angry flight attendant caught up with her and demanded to know what she was doing out of her seat before the light went out. The old woman had continued making her slow, careful, way back to her seat as she told the attendant that the baby was in pain because its ears hurt from the change in pressure. Being so small and apparently congested, it couldn't get its ears to pop and equalize the pressure, but sucking on the bottle and swallowing had been enough to do the trick. By the time the attendant got back up the aisle, the baby was asleep and the rest of the trip passed without incident. It was 'like' that but, at the same time, different. Suddenly a new sound reached me, only this time I knew instantly what it was. It was Jamie screaming in the throes of what must have been the mother of all orgasms. It was nowhere near the volume, but the pitch was very close to the other sound. Then it was the same, and in that split second when the sounds became one, the world seemed to explode as several things happened at once. It happened far too fast to follow, but, at the same time, I watched it happen – starting as a single point, but quickly blossoming until the writhing shapes 'below' us seemed to evaporate in a burst of light. It wasn't white – exactly – but, as white is supposed to contain all colors, so did this light seem to, but still it was like no light I had ever seen before, and I simply do not have the words to describe it. With the light came a change in the sound. Jamie's scream remained, but the other sound was suddenly replaced by something that sounded like the ocean rushing over a cliff. Niagara falls wouldn't do it justice. Jamie's scream either stopped or was drowned out by the new sound, and, as the sound grew, the light seemed to spread outward as if following a single line. Place a piece of magnesium, or better yet, white phosphorous, in the center of a pipe; make the pipe out of one way glass so the inside is reflective but you can actually see into it from the outside. Flood the pipe with oxygen and find yourself a motion camera capable of shooting light in slow motion. Now touch off the phosphorous and record the whole thing. Can you see the burst of light from the igniting phosphorous? Can you see the light reflecting off the inside of the mirrored surface and expanding either way down the pipe? That is what it looked like; like you were somehow flooding the pipeline with light from the center outward. I never saw it reach the end of the tube, but I knew when it happened. "JIIIIMMMMMMMYYYYY!" Jamie cried, and there was no missing the desperation in the cry. And it was a cry; I could hear the undertone of weeping as it echoed around me. I don't know how you reach for someone's hand when you don't have one, but I did it. Almost as surprising as finding hers was realizing that Lizzy's seemed to be there as well. "It's alright, Jamie," Lizzy said. "We're here." That was when everything went dark. All of that was what we pieced together over time – much later. All I remembered at the time was being poised over my bride and plunging downward into her. The next conscious thought I had was waking up next to her – which was odd in itself, since I distinctly remembered being on top. I knew without asking that Jamie had come home, but either she was asleep, or she had retreated deep into a bubble. I'm not sure if she was hiding or if she was just doing it so that Lizzy and I could be alone, waiting for me to tell her it was okay to come out. I could tell she was okay, though, which was all that mattered. I recognized the interior of the cabana from the night before. Everything seemed to be as it had been, but still, something was different. Lizzy stirred beside me, and I looked down at her just as her eyes opened. Settling myself beside her once more I reached out and stroked her hair. Her eyes closed again, and she sort of snuggled into my hand, her own hand coming up to capture mine and hold it where she could kiss it softly. "Good morning, Mrs. Malcolm," I said softly. She smiled broadly and said, "I like the way that sounds. What time is it? Do you remember anything?" I couldn't help the disappointed face I made as I answered, "Yes and no. The last thing I remember was you guiding me; after that ... a lot happened, but don't ask me to describe any of it." I shook my head. "Somewhere in there Jamie came home, but other than that ... it's sort of a blur." "Same here, I remember her coming back but that's all. No idea when or what else was going on. Do you have any idea what time it is?" "That's what's different," I said, realizing it as she asked. "It's lighter. Must be getting closer to morning." "Doesn't surprise me," she said. "I feel like I've been asleep for hours. You know what else is different?" "No, what?" "This." Scooting forward, she proceeded to give me a good morning kiss that reminded me I was male and that all the parts were still attached and in working order. That was when I realized what she meant. Normally a kiss like that would have had other effects, but this just felt like a normal, "Happy-Good-Morning-why-don't-you-come-over-here-and-start-my-day" kiss. "Wow!" I said, when she finally gave my tongue back. "Yeah," she said in a husky voice. "I want you inside me while I can still appreciate it." Life is good! The room was much brighter by the time we finally decided we couldn't put off getting up any longer. There were two reasons we finally had to give in; nature was calling, and so were our stomachs, loudly. Lizzy was the first one up, and she immediately opened the blind out onto the lagoon. "Wow," Something in her voice got my attention. "What is it?" I asked. "It's morning, late morning by the look of it; the rest of the storm should have gotten here by now, but there's not a cloud in the sky. Do you think she moved us back?" "I don't think so, but then I'm not sure I would have noticed," I admitted. "Did you feel anything?" "You know very well what I felt," she said, flicking her eyebrows at me. "Not what I meant," I said, rolling my eyes and shaking my head. "I know. And I don't know if either of us really knows what we felt. We're going to have to talk about it sooner or later, but for now, if that's okay with you, I'd rather put it off." Stepping in close, I wrapped my arms around her and looked out the window. This particular window faced out over the water, and, I have to say, the view was great. Something about the water looked different. I thought maybe it was the color, but I couldn't put my finger on it. Then it hit me: We were over the water. Our original cottage had set up on a hill, looking down on the lagoon. This was more like the dream cabana, right over the water. "Hmmm, is it just me, or does the water look different?" "A little maybe," she said. "Probably just from the storm. Join me for a morning swim?" Pulling away, I took her hand, and we headed out the door. It was Lizzy that opened the door, and, when she did, she immediately froze. I had to stop fast to keep from running into her. The walkway leading back to shore confirmed that we were on the water, but that's not what caused to her stop short. "Oh my God," Lizzy whispered. Her grip on my hand suddenly increased, and I heard her take a deeper breath before continuing. "Jimmy? Why are there two moons?" ------- Epilogue Allison I knew it was going to be rough on everyone when Jimmy and Lizzy finally took the plunge, but I really had been joking about the natural disasters, or at least I thought I was. It wasn't as bad as what had happened when I kissed Jimmy while Jamie was still hiding inside of me. That had been ... it still gives me goose bumps ... it wasn't like that, but it was close. Thankfully, I had both Amber and Christine to keep me company. It would be interesting to learn how far the effect had spread, but it's not like you can ask, so I was going to have to wait until the chitchat started and people started comparing notes. Eventually Bob would be able to confirm or refute my suspicions. I had no doubt that it had reached everyone at the wedding; my parents, Lynn and Mel, and of course Bob and Rebecca, had all felt it before. Of course only Bob and Rebecca knew the truth, and they had been warned. I had been concerned about Susan simply because Jimmy had spent so much time with her over the first year or so – reliving the same childhood nightmare – before he even realized it was her that he was seeing. But then Jamie had gone to hide in Phoebe – in hopes that her absence would minimize the impact on the rest of us – and reported that not only did she suspect that Phoebe knew she was there, but that she was also somehow shielding the three of them: herself, Susan, and Lizzy's little sister, Molly – who had spent the night with them so that her parents could have the room to themselves – from the effects. That was going to take some serious looking into at some point, but for right now, it was nothing more than a footnote on my to-do list. Christine – the real Christine – had been warned as well, and I was really happy that she had brought all of Amber's toys from the apartment. Not surprisingly, Amber was the first to pass out, though I think a lot of it was just timing. I could feel the surges hitting me and knew that Jimmy and his new bride were getting close. Well, closer anyway. What had really surprised me was the wash of sensation I had felt when Amber went over the edge. "Wow!" Christine said. "I wasn't expecting that." "Me either," I admitted. "Kind of makes me wonder what it's going to be like when they get serious." "You mean that was just foreplay?" she asked. I could hear the tension in her voice, incredulity warring with apprehension. I just smiled and nodded my head as I climbed over Amber's unconscious form to kiss her. Since Amber was already out, Jamie had decided to stick around and share the joy by bouncing back and forth between me and Christine. The last thing I remember was her being ripped out of me in the middle of a mind-blowing orgasm. For me at least, the fun ended the next morning – late morning – when I found the notice the hotel staff had slipped under our door. Sometime in the night there had been an earthquake –a really big earthquake – in the South Pacific, and a tsunami warning had been issued. "Shit!" I swore, as I scanned the notice I had spotted on the way to the bathroom. It had taken a serious effort of will to drag myself out from between my two bed-mates; if I hadn't had to go so badly, I could have happily spent the rest of the day wrapped in their arms. "What is it, Charlie?" Amber asked sleepily. As a precaution, Jimmy had given her to me until he or Lizzy returned. I wasn't really that comfortable with being her Mistress, but I knew how important it was for her, so I did my best not to let it get to me. I drew the line, however, at the title, and one of my first commands had been that she address me by my name. "We're stuck inside until further notice," I said, holding up the notice. "Tsunami warning. Apparently there was a monster earthquake somewhere down south in the middle of the night. Since we're on the southwest side, we're in the line of fire if there's a surge." "Holy crap!" Christine said. She was herself as well, since the 'daytime' Christine didn't know me and might have had an issue with my age. "I thought you were just joking about the end of the world stuff." She jumped out of bed – I assume with the intent of coming over to see the notice for herself – but as soon as her weight was on her legs she stopped and grimaced. "Ooh! Obviously not about the rest, though. God, what a night!" She made her way over to me, took the notice, and then kissed me before reading it. "In case I forget later," she said, "I had a wonderful time last night." "Mmmm," I sighed, hugging her and nuzzling my head under her chin. "Me too, thank you back ... and I thought I was joking about it, too. Okay, gotta go or I'm going to wet the rug and spoil the mood." As the door was closing behind me, I had a thought and called, "Amber!" "Yes, Mistress?" she replied. I decided it was my tone that triggered the more formal response and let it go. "Call down to the desk and see if it's possible to get us all massages. If they can't get us appointments, see if we can rent or borrow a table, and we can take turns with each other." "I love you!" came the enthusiastic reply. I actually heard the bed squeak as she bounced out to make the call; being my brother's sex slave must build endurance, although she was the first to pass out ... She had the news for me when I came back out. "Good news," she said. "The regular spa is on the ground floor, and it's closed for the duration of the emergency, but several of the staff didn't get the message and showed up for work. The hotel is making them stay until it safe, so they're free. Most of their appointments were outside in the Grotto, and the customers turned down the in room option, so they've got a couple people available in about an hour and a half. The dining room is closed, too, but they are doing room service; I ordered bagels, fruit, and coffee." "Smart girl!" I said, sidling up close and kissing her cheek before announcing, "I'm going to jump in the shower; anyone who's interested is welcome to join me." I'd made sure we got what they called a 'handicapped room', so it had a walk in shower as well as an oversized tub. The phone, of course, chose that moment to ring. "That will be my mother," I said. "Amber, get the shower ready; I'll be in shortly." I picked up the phone. "Hi mom! How are you and dad this morning? Did you sleep well?" It was a short conversation. Mostly she just wanted to make sure I'd seen the notice and that we would all be good girls and stay in our rooms as the hotel had requested. I assured that we had and that we would indeed stay indoors. Locked in with two hot babes that I didn't have to behave myself around, and I was getting a massage, too? Could this day get any better? Yes! I could get to shower with both of them! Room service had delivered breakfast by the time we came back out, and we enjoyed a little quiet time before our massages. And then we waited... It would be some time before I learned all the details, but it was no coincidence that Brandiy had set the kids down in the middle of a hurricane. According to her, the storm was the only active force on earth capable of masking the forces unleashed when the corridor formed. It couldn't stop them all, of course, and as a result, sometime after midnight seismic monitors all around the Pacific Rim had begun screaming their alarms into the night. As soon as the technicians – most of whom were dragged from their beds – saw the data, they immediately broadcast their findings to the tsunami watchdogs, and half the world went on alert, and waited, but the expected surge never came ... because there was no earthquake. They're still trying to figure out what really happened and why the monitors went off. Rebecca I waited until Bob's eyes started to flutter before I bent down and kissed him good morning. "How you holding up, old man?" I asked His eyes opened and tracked towards the sound of my voice; his head turned slightly; and I could tell he was having a hard time focusing. "Normally I would take exception to that," he said, "and make you regret it, but – honestly – I don't think I have the strength. I'm actually afraid of moving for fear of what will happen. You look like you've already been up; how bad is it?" There is always that temptation to sugarcoat it, but this was definitely not the time. "That bad," I said. "What is it about those two? I mean, you told me Allison had warned you about a sort of ... psychic backlash, I think you called it, but even you thought she was exaggerating." "It's Charlotte, ' he said, shaking his head ruefully, "and apparently not. Does stretching help?" "Hmmpf," I scoffed, "took me twenty minutes before I could stand up straight enough to reach the coffee pot." "So I should crawl to the bathroom?" He rolled toward the far edge of the bed and then froze as the motion caught up with him. "Ow." "You're lucky," I said. "I was too close to the edge and actually fell off." He moved – more slowly this time – to sit up. "Good thing you have those catlike reflexes. Can I interest you a brisk morning stagger down the beach?" "Nice idea," I said, reaching for the paper on the nightstand. I'd found it just inside the door on my way to the bathroom. "Not this morning, though; we're under house arrest until further notice." "Were we that loud last night?" He was very careful with the first couple steps, but it looked like he could make the teacher's lounge on his own. I handed him the paper and went for coffee. I sat at the little table and waited for him to come back. "Holy Jesus!" he said, before resuming his trek to the bathroom. A few moments later I heard the toilet flush, and then the sink ran a few times while he washed his hands and brushed his teeth. The door finally opened, and he made his way across the room at an almost normal pace. Not bad for an old man. "I knew I felt the earth move last night, but I thought it was just us," he said, bending to kiss me. I rolled my eyes and pushed his cup across the table. He took the hint and sat down. There were several questions I wanted to ask, but they all sounded too bizarre to even pursue. The look in my eyes must have given it away. "What?" he asked. Did I dare? "If you're wondering if it's going to be that way every time they get up close and personal, all I can say is, 'God, I hope not!' If it does, we're going to be in big, big trouble." Not where I was going, but probably a safer line to follow. At least this one didn't make me feel foolish. The others... ? I mean, it had to be a coincidence, right? That earthquake couldn't possibly have anything to do with... "No, I don't think the earthquake had anything to do with them." "You were thinking it too?" I asked. "No, but I could see you were worried about asking something you felt was nuts, and that was the most outlandish thing I could think of. Given your concerns about what's been going on with Jimmy lately ... He's just a young man with a gift, Rebecca; he's not Superman, or the Anti-Christ." "Okay, it was a stupid notion," I said, " but I wasn't going there. So what now? It looks like we're going to be stuck in the room for the next several hours, and forgive me if I spoil the mood, but sex is not an option – not for a while, anyway." "Thank ... you ... God!" he said emphatically, setting his cup down and reaching both hands toward the ceiling. "One of the reasons I took so long in the bathroom was I was worried it would fall off any second." I started to answer, but the phone picked that moment to ring. I was closer, so I picked it up. "Hello? Oh, hi Christine, what's up? ... Ooh! That's a great idea! I'll call right now. Maybe we can meet for lunch later, thanks." I hung up and grabbed the directory out of the nightstand. "What's up?" Bob asked. "Charlie had one of her usual moments of genius. A couple of the massage people came in before they got the warning. It seems most of their appointments were for outside and canceled due to the current emergency, but they're stuck here until the danger is past. Charlie has two girls coming up to give them massages, and I'm going to see if we can book them for when they're done." "Maybe we could just rent a table," he suggested. "Works for me," I said, "but I have to warn you, I learned my massage techniques at interrogation school." "Let me help you find that number." Allison By the time my massage was over, I had had time to think and try to piece together what had happened. Somewhere in there it occurred to me that I hadn't dreamed at all after passing out. I'd passed out from passion before, but I had always woken up again quickly, either here or in dreamspace. Last night had been a solid – according to the clock – ten hours of total and complete blackout. All things considered, I wasn't that surprised, but at the same time I couldn't help but be a little concerned. I waited until the girls were done with us before bringing it up to the others. Neither of them remembered anything either. Christine seemed to be on about the same level of concern that I was, but Amber took it in stride. "They're fine, Charlie," she insisted. "Think about it ... You know how it was for them before; they blacked out from a kiss, so you know that whatever hit us was nothing compared to what they went through." That turned out to be an epic understatement, but I didn't know that until much later. I caught her eye and held it as I asked, "Are you sure?" Apparently she got my meaning as she rose from the chair without a word, walked out onto the lanai, closed the door behind her, and knelt in that pose she does when she's in slave mode. I had another cup of coffee and nibbled at a wedge of pineapple rolled up in a pancake – a snack idea I'd stolen from Liki – while I waited. Christine was staring at me like I'd lost my mind until I offered her the last bite, then she rolled one up for herself. A few minutes later Amber came back in. "They're fine," she announced. I didn't need to ask how she knew. Amber's connection to Jimmy is difficult to comprehend, much less explain. The beginnings of it were founded in a series of books by Jaqueline Carey, which Bob had given Jimmy to read in order to help him understand what was happening to Angela. The heroine of the series was woman named Phedre who's body felt pleasure and pain as the same sensation. The greater the pain; the greater her pleasure. In moments of extreme stress – usually when she was being tortured and on the verge of surrender – Phedre had seen an image of her God, Kushiel, and known that he was watching over her and that all that she endured served his purpose. The knowledge gave her the strength to endure. There was also a man, Josceline, her lover and protector – a warrior monk of some kind, dedicated to the service of another deity but fallen from grace as a result of breaking his vow of celibacy ... with her. Loving her seemed to be his personal penance for his sins. Forced to live with the knowledge of who and what she was – an extremely well paid and highly sought-after courtesan – and protect her as she made her assignations, knowing full well the punishment her clients would subject her to. Among other things, she was a spy and one of the most dangerous arrows in the quiver of the Queen. Her quests took her into the deadliest of perils, but, in the end, when her need was greatest, Josceline always came for her, risking everything, willing to give his life, his very being, to protect her. Jimmy was no god, but knowing he was there for her gave Amber the strength to face her life, and the one time she had called out to him, he had crossed hundreds of miles in the blink of an eye – with no hesitation or even a thought of the risk – to go to her. I'd known him all my life; I was his first love, but I didn't delude myself by thinking I had that kind of connection. If ninja assassins had kicked in the door last night, Jimmy might have heard me scream. If Amber had called out to him, there would have been dead ninja's littering the place before the echo died. "Thank you, Amber," I said, kissing her lightly. The news services were all over the big event – both on television and the web – and I felt a lot better when I saw the map they were showing. The epicenter of the big quake was a long ways from where the loving couple was staying. Was it really just a coincidence after all? There was only one person I knew who might be able to answer that question, and I was debating taking a nap to see if I could ask her when the phone rang again. This time Christine was closest, so she answered. "It's Amy," she said, handing me the receiver. "Hi Amy," I said. "How are you this morning?" "I'm wonderful!" she said, and she sounded it; I don't think I'd ever heard her sound so happy in my life, but her voice took on an irritated tone as she continued, "but someone is having a problem. Could you come to my room?" "Sure, I'll be right there. Is something wrong?" "Depends on whom you ask," she said with a giggle. "You'll understand when you get here." "Okay, I'll be right over." I hung up the phone. "Amber, I'm going to Amy's room for a bit; you will obey Christine until I return." "Yes, Charlie. Is something wrong?" "I don't know," I said. "Apparently something happened, but it's open to interpretation as to whether it's bad or not. The last time I heard someone sound that happy..." I had a sudden flash and felt the color leave my face, " ... oh ... my ... god." "What?" Christine asked, suddenly alarmed. I could feel the smile growing on my face, and I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing. Amber must have gotten it because suddenly she gave a little gasp, and her eyes got big as she said, "No way!" "What?" Christine demanded. "What are you guys talking about?" "Explain it to her," I told Amber. "I'll let you know for sure when I get back." As soon as I saw Amy, I knew I was right. She had that blissful-contented-fulfilled look that only comes from... "Oh my god!" I said. "You knew this was going to happen, didn't you?" There was nothing shy about the grin on her face, and the gleam in her eyes bordered on evil. "Let me guess," I said, "now the big lug is feeling guilty for taking advantage of you." I rolled my eyes. "Guys!" "I knew you would understand," she said, hugging me and ushering me into the room before closing the door. "Would you talk to him? Explain it to him? I've tried, but he won't listen to me." "I'll try," I said. "I was thinking of taking a nap anyway." "Oh, you don't need to do that," she said. "Walter! Show yourself." I'd known Jimmy and Lizzy could see him during the day, but I almost fell over when Walter stepped out of a wall, drew his sword, and dropped to a knee. Turning the sword, he offered me the hilt and said, "Slay me! Take my life, I beg you. I have shamed my Lord and do not deserve to live." From Jimmy and Lizzy's – and Amy's – descriptions, Walter's appearance in daytime was more like seeing a ghost; but now he seemed so ... real. I hesitated for a moment, but eventually I couldn't resist and reached out my hand and ... whew! I was actually relieved when it passed through the hilt of the sword. "Get up Walter, I couldn't kill you even if I wanted to; your life is not mine to end. Now get up and talk to me." "How did it go?" Amber asked when I returned to the room. She and Christine were cuddled up in the big bed looking very recently satisfied. One of the advantages of passing out so early was that we had been spared the physical effects of what would have otherwise been a very long night of raw lust. I started slipping out of my clothes as I answered. "About as well as can be expected: Amy is on cloud nine; Walter wants to die, or rather, Walter wants someone to put him out of his misery. It took a while, but I convinced him to hang in there until he can confess his sins to Jimmy in person, and then of course there's Rebecca to consider, how she's going to take it..." "It's none of her business," Christine interjected. "Amy's a grown woman – well past the legal age of consent – why even tell her?" "Walter doesn't see it that way," I said, shaking my head and pulling the sheet back so I could slide into bed with them. Christine apparently had the same idea I did because she held the sheet up and indicated that I should crawl in between them. Ahh, life is good. "As far as he is concerned, Rebecca is Amy's guardian, and he has betrayed her trust by raping Amy." "Raping Amy?" Amber said. "Are you kidding me? If anyone got raped it was him. If anyone took advantage, it was her." "I know," I said, shaking my head. "What can I say? Men!" "Amen!" Christine said. The conversation was lost as four arms wrapped around me. Eventually we all drifted off to a blissful sleep, and I found myself in a very familiar castle once more. Maybe now I could get some explanation as to what was going on. Lizzy Wow! That's all I could think. Just ... wow! Everything was different, yet the same, sort of ... The sand on the beach was still just sand; the ocean was still ocean, but subtly different, in both color and taste; the plants were still plants, though the colors and textures were strange; as was their energy signature. And that was different, too; normally I see plants like I see any other inanimate object. It was just people and animals that appeared differently, but these ... It was like they were somehow more alive than they should be. And then there were the people... Author's end note— The story is not ending, but this will be the last chapter of Dream Master, the primary purpose of which was to bring closure to the saga of Lord Hightower. As if the web of intrigue he was already forced to live with was not bad enough, Jimmy's life has taken yet another unexpected turn; only this one comes with cosmic implications. Where was this new world? How did they get there? Could they get back? Should they go back? Maybe they should stay, start a new life far from people like Sandra Atkins. But what about the others? He couldn't just leave them; there would be too many unanswered questions if he simply vanished; questions people like Atkins would want answered. She had already discovered that Spencer and Phoebe were the last to see Bastion before he died. Given that she thought his mysterious source, Justin, was actually a young girl, she had to be wondering about Phoebe. And what about Phoebe? Jamie had said she thought Phoebe was somehow aware of her? And then there were the deeper questions: Why was he here? So far there didn't seem to be much that happened in his life by accident or coincidence. What had really happened last night? Where was Allison when he needed her? Hah, and he thinks he's got questions! ShadowofMoonlite ------- The End ------- Posted: 2010-02-28 Last Modified: 2011-02-04 / 10:25:30 pm ------- http://storiesonline.net/ -------