

SELF CONCLUSIONS

by

R.J. Hamilton

Smashwords edition

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Self Conclusions

Copyright © 2010 by R.J. Hamilton

ISBN-13: 978-1456388430

ISBN-10: 1456388436

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

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This book is dedicated to the 4 A's whose love is unconditional and forgiving.

The following is our story, the tale of the Hudson's, an ordinary family with extraordinary abilities. We've jotted it down in order to make it public in case anything more is to happen to us. Our tale will not be stifled or kept quiet any longer.

Our existence is known. You've heard about us, seen us on television, not the Hudson's, but versions of our kind made clear through the imaginations of many yet clouded by doubts of the few. You see us everyday though you don't realize it. We brush by numerous in passing on the sidewalks of the crowded streets. We meet eyes on occasion. We hear your thoughts in the bustling of a restaurant as you sit quietly with your family in the corner booth. Our secret is just that, our secret. It's a burden many wish to have, but could not stand to face the reality of possessing it. We live among you, but befriending us would be a mistake, one we will not allow you to make.

Chapter 1

Brandon's Heartache

As I lie half asleep on the uncomfortable vinyl of the train's seat, I feel the motions beneath my body as it glides along its smooth metal rails. A welcomed numbness takes over slightly as I shift for much needed comfort. I begin to let myself go, relaxing mentally. The events over the last few days have taken their toll. My sorrow and sadness are overwhelming. The loss is too much for me to handle. I drift more deeply into slumber as moisture escapes the corner of my eye. Darkness engulfs my mind. The train's soothing motion flows gently into my soul, embracing my thoughts. I slip into my mind's sleepy depths...

I walk through the woods down a paved, asphalt path. The moonlight pours down gently through the dark, leafy canopy from above. The shadows from the trees contrast my own as I continue toward the lake. I recognize this place almost instantly. It's our favorite fishing spot from my childhood, Eagle's Landing. My father used to take me here. As I approach the lake, I notice a shadow flow quickly and silently passed me to the right from my peripheral vision. I glance in that direction. The shadow is gone. The crunch of the pebbles between the tar and my booted feet is one of the only sounds in the air. The atmosphere is still around me. I near the lake, it is still. There is no harmonious orchestra to fill my ears. The crickets are silent, frogs are quiet, and the shore sits calmly against its bordering sand. I step from the blackness of the manmade surface onto the beach's sand. The reflection of the moon upon the water is breathtaking. The white illumination bounces off the surface of the water like a mirror. The sky is flawless and clear. The stars twinkling like bits of nothing in comparison to the gigantic full moon.

I begin to rid myself of the confines of my clothing as I did once before so long ago. Much has changed since then, my high school years seem an eternity. I flop lazily into the soft, cool sand. A slight breath escapes my lungs as I slump. I reach for my boots and unlace them, slipping them off. I remove my socks and then stand. My shirt goes first and then my jeans, naked besides my boxer shorts. The warmth of the summer air is enough to keep my skin happy with the lack of protection from the elements. I take a few steps forward to the water. My toes touch the cool water as a shiver flows up my legs and into my core. Goosebumps form all along my skin with the initial shock of the water's temperature. I continue into the lake until I am up to my waist as I admire the moon in all its glory. It sits low in the sky. A small fish, probably a Sunfish or large minnow, swishes the water against my leg as it makes its escape.

A sparkle beneath the water several feet in front of me catches my eye. I continue wading in. The illumination begins to become more intense. I get nearer but am still a few feet short of it. The water touches my neck and then closes in on my chin. I take another step into the lake and sink over the drop-off. Fully submerged and engulfed in the freedom of the liquid, I begin to panic as my body plunges into the murky depths. My arms soar toward the moonlit sky above. I grab at the water with my scooped hands and kick my feet. The water's surface continues to get further and further from me. I kick and paddle harder in an effort to find the air I desperately need and had exhaled in my surprise from the fall into the depths. Bits of carbon dioxide escape my lips and float up through the water to the surface as if taunting me with their freedom. My lungs start getting heavy, the pressure is becoming unbearable. My efforts to surface lessen and are noticeably wasted as the atmosphere above seems even further with every kick and push. I feel a deep thumping in my brain as my eyes feel like they're going to burst from their sockets. I stop trying to make it to the freedom above and close my eyes. The last couple of tiny bubbles leave my body to join their brothers in the air. My body continues to glide downward, my eyes closed, arms relaxed and effortless. After all I've been through in my life, is this how I'm going to die, simply drowning in a lake?

Even with my eyes closed, the light penetrates my eyelids through the thin skin. I open them. The intensity of the light is so great that the deep water's murkiness is just a shadow behind me. The silt snows gently down between me and the glow. Hands form from the globe of light; it's like a moon underwater. They reach for me as I startle and try to sway my body backward from them. As the hands embrace the sides of my head, a face immerges from the radiance. My wife's beauty is more exquisite than it was when we'd first met. _Sarah, my love, I miss you._ This is the last thought I have as I involuntarily draw a water-filled breath through my nose. Her face closes in on mine as our lips meet. Warmth surges into my body.

I jump in my seat on the train dripping with sweat. I gasp for air hyperventilating as I sit up. The lake is still my reality. I gain my thoughts as my head clears. I cradle my head in my hands for a moment and quickly remove my hands from it. They are soaked with perspiration. I feel disgusted and dirty. Running my fingers through my hair, I realize even my hair is wet from the ordeal. I glance over to the adjacent bench in the seating car, Brielle is asleep and still. I stand to gather a shirt to change into from the framed, metal storage compartment above. After retrieving the clothing and replace the zipper, I exit the car. I quietly slide the door closed behind me as to not disturb Brielle and continue down the hallway to the bathroom. I wait for a few moments at the door for a heavyset, older gentleman to open and abandon the restroom. A stench-filled burst of air escapes from the lavatory and fills my nostrils as I go inside hastily in order to escape further public view due to hygienic embarrassment. I latch the door behind me as I hang my shirt on the steel hook on the back of it, I go to the mirror. I brace myself with both hands on either side of the bowl and stare into the reflection.

My dark, brown hair is oily and messed; it's much longer than I like it to be. My deep, brown eyes still mesmerizing, but the wrinkles in the corners and the bags beneath them take away from their focus as being one of my best features. What used to be nicely tanned, olive-toned skin is now pasty and colorless. All of those years in the coma induced by a madman have taken their toll on me. The Brandon I once knew for his handsomeness is gone. The life and my will to live have been drained from me. Brie is all that I have left and, though I love my daughter with all of my heart and will do anything for her, it's not enough. I am nothing without my wife, my rock, my love, my Sarah. I rid myself of my t-shirt and turn on the water. I scoop and splash the water from the tap onto my face, hair, and neck. My hands resume their original position on the sink as I watch the water drip from my nose into the basin. I noticed how weathered and cracked my hands have become for a moment. I am crazed with emotions and I can't control it. I direct my sights to the mirror again and my old, worn reflection.

As I stare at myself, I begin to focus my anger and hatred at the man trapped in the mirror. _You didn't protect her! You are worthless!_ I hear these words echoing over and over inside my head. The guilt is too much to handle. The heat from my power of telekinesis trapped inside my mind begins fighting for its freedom. The warmth of the blood flow surges through my body. Pressure begins to build within. The psychic force blasts from my eyes into my reflection. The mirror cracks into a spider-web of pieces, it doesn't shatter into bits, but it stays within the frame. My mirrored face remains still, a jagged mess in the reflection. I drop my stare to the flow of water in the sink and breathe trying to regain control of my emotions and focus on the task at hand, to destroy what's left of the Society or die trying.

Chapter 2

Brielle's Premonition

My shoes glide over the pavement of the sidewalk as I run. A ping of pain shoots from my feet into my thighs and hips with each impact. My arms move quickly at my sides as I try to continue my strides, my elbows tucked. The satiny, sky blue top I'm wearing flaps and flows in the wind sticking to the moisture from the perspiration on my upper chest and neck. The air is thick and my breathing is sporadic. Large stone buildings stand tall to my left and right. Only a couple of lights are randomly illuminating the frames of the windows above. Steam rises from the manhole covers and storm drains creating a light fog cluster at ground level. I glance over my right shoulder to my rear to see if they are still behind me, I see nothing but a few parked cars. I slow my stride to quiet my footfalls and soon bring it down to a walk. I stop and turn to listen in order to observe the view from behind. There are no sounds, only vehicle engines from a couple of blocks away. I brush my blonde hair from my face and look down the street more intensely, still nothing but silence. My light blue eyes strain and squint in order to ensure the clarity of emptiness. I take a deep breath and sigh in relief. As my oxygen levels regain normalcy in their levels with my steady breathing, my heart's pounding begins to slow.

Knowing I'm in the clear, I pivot back to my former direction of travel and begin to walk. The sounds of the city seep into my eardrums gently. Everything seems miles away due to the blockage from the surrounding apartment buildings. Saplings stand lonely, random, and motionless along the length of the sidewalk. _Au Secours!_ It's French for help me. The words invade my thoughts as a lone brown leaf flutters down from a nearby sapling in front of my face and flickers down to the pavement. I become more alert as an echo of sobs bounce around in my head. The weeps are not audible to others, only those of us who can read minds. The voice is female and doesn't seem at all menacing.

I notice a dark, narrow alley off to my right and approach. I control my steps in order to avoid any unnecessary noise from my soles. The passage is dark, only the sky's natural lighting penetrates the shadows. It's only about eight feet wide. I get a slight feeling of claustrophobia as I creep slowly in. My crystalline eyes search carefully from wall to wall. I continue my pace quietly. I see her crouched along the left wall. Her arms are crossed over her knees as she squats against the brick of the building beside her. The light is enough to notice the blackness of her clothes and obvious dyed, wavy hair as it falls over her shoulders covering her face. Rings decorate every finger that I can see; their silver glimmer stands out against the grime and the black nail polish. I near her. _J'ai besoin de ton aide_ fills my mind. I need your help. I am within six feet of her as an echoed cackle of laughter escapes her bouncing off the confines of the walls. It is deep and sinister laughter. I stop. She stands fully and stares directly at me with her deep, brown eyes. They bury themselves within mine and begin to dig. I try to grab for my abilities but it's too late. She has me within her grasp. I am mentally paralyzed and cannot move a muscle. My body stiffly slides backward into the rough, solid masonry beside me. My back and my head hit the wall simultaneously. The pain surges through me as I try to gather enough to free myself from her grip. She stalks toward me. The mascara runs down her face leaving a dark, smeared trail from cheekbone to chin. She begins to interrogate me as she tightens her mental push against my throat...

My eyes fly open as I realize where I am. The ease of the gently rocking train vibrates beneath my body. The cloth covered ceiling above is a deep maroon. A hint of yellowish tint indicating the numerous cigarettes consumed in the car coats the fabric changing the hue of red to a brownish. I slide my body up from the vinyl seat to obtain a sitting position. I look to the other bench and notice my father's not there. My mind flies into a screaming panic. Just as I begin to stand and make a rush for the door, it slides open and he walks in, his soiled t-shirt in his hand.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty," he says. The one thing about my father is that he's always trying to be the comic relief in every situation. I know he's hurting more than any normal person can see just by looking at him. He flashes me a smile. I jump from my seat and grab him with both arms, squishing his ribs. I hear his back crack.

"You scared me. I didn't know what to think when I woke up and you weren't there." I loosen my tension as he gives me a quick squeeze and moves me away from him so he can look into my eyes while he talks to me. His hands hold my shoulders as he stares at me, one of which half-holding the material of the shirt, a partial fist pressing against my upper arm.

"Brielle, I'm not going anywhere. You don't have to worry." His deep, calm voice is reassuring. His brown eyes look into mine to show the seriousness of the statement. "We are safe and nothing's going to happen to us." He knows he can't keep that promise. With people like Bennett, my brother, in this world, nobody is ever completely safe. Members from the Society could be anywhere. They could be watching us right now and we'd never know it. Most of them can block others like us from detecting them mentally. But if it weren't for my ego, I probably wouldn't be standing here right now. I wouldn't even know that my father was still alive. I would be their pawn like my brother is. I know he's just doing his job as a father trying to comfort his daughter's mind, but I am not your average little girl looking for solace.

Due to my abilities, I was taken by the Society and they attempted to use me. I watched my mother die by their hand and was forced to kill my own brother because of the brainwashing they'd done on him. I know they are still after us to regain control over me and attempt to kill my father. After all my years under their care, I was witness to the gatherings of many meetings with dozens of members. I was never allowed to attend due to my unwillingness to cooperate fully. They felt as though I wasn't dedicated enough to know what was truly going on within the Society. They were right. I would've ripped their whole operation apart had I been given the opportunity.

My father's heart is empty now. I can feel the void emanating from his soul, one of the burdens of having enhanced empathic abilities. The emotions of other people around you flow into your soul uncontrollably. Sometimes it's overwhelming. The feelings of people in a crowd, their stress, anger, joy, and happiness used to leave me feeling crazy. I've learned to control the empathy now, but with a person like my father, someone so mentally strong, it's hard to keep him out.

I turn from him and sit back on the bench seat. He stuffs his t-shirt into his black, canvas backpack. He returns to his seat as well. I look out the window of the train into the moonlit French-European sky. The light from above illuminates the grapevine orchards on the hillside. The rows are running up the hills onto their peaks. The stars twinkle in the deep bluish hue of the night sky. I watch as the telephone lines running parallel the train's tracks go up and down, the highest point flashes quickly as it passes.

"Brielle, go back to sleep, we'll be there soon." He breaks my scenic concentration with his words as he slides into a lying position on the bench. I shoot him a flash of a half-smile in agreement and do the same. I adjust the shirt I've been using for a pillow and drift back to sleep. My mind goes back and forth between the dream I'd had and the beauty of France's nighttime landscape.

Chapter 3

Bennett's Rescue

I'm pinned under the rubble of the mansion where they'd left me for dead. I've been in and out of consciousness so much that I don't know how long I've been trapped. My body aches all over. It's probably a good thing that I can't move that well. A large piece of something is resting on my chest and my legs are pinned as well. The pain is excruciating. I can't gather up the strength to move anything off of me, even with my power, I've tried. I've been spying on Brielle, tapping into her mind's eye, watching where they are going. I will get the man I once referred to as my father and, due to her defiance, Brielle as well. My new father, Donovan, demanded that I accomplish this and I failed him. He will eventually come. Maybe he's punishing me right now by making me stay. I deserve whatever is coming to me, but I will not fail him again. I cough and wince with the pain as my lungs move my ribs sharply. I don't dare yell or scream in pain. I bite down and bear it. The heat from the pain and dehydration take over again, my eyes begin to flutter. _Please, Father, help me_. I reach out to him mentally as the darkness takes hold.

I awaken to the crunching sound of footsteps against the marble floors. The debris is scattered everywhere within the main entrance. Brandon had blown the door off its hinges when he came barging into the Society's compound. He'd shattered bits of wood and metal far into the house. Things begin to free themselves from my trapped body. I am being uncovered in a way that no normal man could accomplish. Pieces fly away and the gigantic room echoes as they smashed against the walls. My upper body is completely uncovered but I can't see. The dust creates a thick, dark cloud impenetrable with the human eye. The cloud floats down onto my face. I begin to painfully cough again as it begins to settle. A knife of a rib bone stabs me in the side. It tears into my muscle and tissue. I try not to breath, but that is uncomfortable as well. I close my eyes as a gust of wind blows through the house clearing the remaining particles.

I look above my head to see him standing there. It's Donovan, the man who took me in as his own and taught me everything I needed to know about my powers that my biological father wouldn't teach me. Brandon tried to stifle me, but the Society didn't. They helped me to grow and to become much more powerful than I ever would have in his care. Donovan's hair is long and black, to the middle of his back. His eyes are dark and deep brown, almost black in color. His sinister eyebrows look down at me as he works his mental magic, freeing me from my confines. The small marble pillar on my legs is the only thing that remains. It lifts and soars through the air, hitting the wall nearby. The blood rushes into my legs fully; it is an intense feeling. With all the weight removed, the pain of my injuries hits me full-force. The heat rushes into my extremities. It is too much for me to handle. I am safe now, but darkness is my master and I am its slave. I drift away.

Chapter 4

Is There Anywhere Safe?

Our train passes through the Channel Tunnel beneath the English Channel. The thirty-one and a half mile trek seems to take forever. Brielle is still asleep on the bench across from mine. She is beautiful like her mother was, but her exterior genetic features are unlike mine or Sarah's. She inherited both of our abilities, but neither of our dark eyes or hair color. Her light blue eyes stand out behind her olive skin tones. Her hair is nearly platinum in its blondness. Her mental talents go well above and beyond what our capabilities ever were or are. She is a very powerful young woman. I will do whatever I can to protect her, though I don't think she needs protecting.

We soon exit the tunnel, the sunlight pours in from the English coastal sky. The brightness causes Brielle to stir. She opens her eyes and sits up. After rubbing her eyes for a moment, she flashes a smile in my direction, stands up, and gathers her bag. _Bathroom,_ she states mentally as she leaves the car. When she returns, she looks fresh for the day. It's only a few minutes before we reach our destination, Folkstone, Great Britain. We get off the train and find the nearest taxi stand, get in, and head through the foggy British countryside to the city of London. We exit the cab at the airport. It is wonderful to be able to communicate with people in English, the thickness of their accent takes a bit of effort in understanding, but at least it's English.

We go to the ticket counter, show our passports and identification, and purchase our tickets. After all these years, obtaining passports and new cards in order to access my accounts was quite an ordeal. The woman at the ticket counter swipes my card and prints our tickets. I collect everything from her and we set off to the obstacle of passing security.

We finally arrive at our gate and wait for the airplane to begin boarding. The last time I was on a plane it was as a family me, Sarah, Bennett, and Brielle. We had gone on a vacation and two of us didn't make it back. A feel of sadness hit for a moment, I take a deep breath, and swallow hard as the sorrow is forced back into the pit of my stomach. The tears make their retreat back into my ducts. The woman at the gate makes the announcement to board, _first-class passengers and families with babies_. We gather our things from the floor and get onto the airplane. It's going to be a long flight, approximately ten hours before we set foot back in the United States. I'm not even thinking about the follow-on flight at the moment. _One step at a time, Brandon_ , I tell myself. I'm not exactly sure where we're going after we land. I have a vague idea, but it's not concrete at the moment. I need to find a good place to hide. I don't know what else to do. We can't go seeking out the Society, not right now. I'm not strong enough to face them yet and revenge isn't going to solve anything. We just need to find a quiet place where we can just blend into regular society for the time being. I'll make my final decision when we get to Atlanta, Georgia. For now, it's just another ten hours of traveling. At least this part has movies to watch and American food to eat, between naps.

We settle into our large, dark leather seats in first-class seating. Brielle takes the interior window seat after she places her bag into the overhead compartment. I put my backpack in next to hers and take my seat as well. A forty-some-year-old looking flight attendant smiles at us from her station near the cockpit. The door to the flight deck is open and I see one of the pilots tinkering with something on the instrument panel. The other two are standing at the door greeting people as they board.

"Are you doing alright, Brielle?" I ask her. She's staring out the window.

"Yeah, Dad, I'm just ready to be out of here and be done with all this traveling." Her words bounce off the window as she answers, not breaking her exterior observations. There is vehicular traffic and men guiding things around in orange vests near the plane. A flight attendant from the front of the plane approaches and asks if we'd care for a beverage. I hadn't realized how parched my throat was feeling until those words escaped her lips and entered my eardrums. Brielle's outside focus is broken and she turns toward her. We both respond quickly and almost simultaneously with a "yes please." I look at Brielle and we smile at each other. The stewardess returns quickly with our drinks beverages. I decided to get my old favorite, the Screwdriver with extra drive. I need something to help me sleep this flight away with as much comfort as possible. Brielle drinks her cola hastily as do I with my drink. The vodka hits me almost immediately; my tolerance for alcohol is nearly nonexistent. I polish off the drink in a few short minutes and let the alcohol do its magic on my brain. I drift off to sleep before the airplane even gets airborne.

Chapter 5

Mending Bennett

I awaken to the sounds of hammers and electric saws. I assume Donovan has made the arrangements to fix the damage from the battle so many nights ago. Our Society is very wealthy and money is never a worry. The comfort of my bed has never been so welcome. I look around the room; it's my room in the mansion. I try to sit up, but the pain in my ribcage is still present and, although not as intense, hurts when my abdomen flexes. I turn my head to the left to look out the window. The top tree branches blow gently in the breeze. Its leaves flutter back and forth calmly as if waving to me. A tiny, brown sparrow rests on one of the branches, his body bobs up and down in an effort to keep his perch. I gather my internal strength in an effort to test my powers. I need to make sure I'm still intact. The bird begins to shudder on the branch as his feet lose their grip. He drops from my sight to the ground far below hitting several branches with his limp body on the way down. I am satisfied. Knowing they hadn't damaged me completely is utter satisfaction. My body will heal, but if they'd have damaged my mind, I don't know what would've come of me. The Society would have no use for me then and I'd probably be tossed into the streets or killed. I would rather die without them anyway, the Society. I rest my arms beside my body; thoroughly satisfied I drift back to sleep to let my body do it's healing.

Chapter 6

Our Arrival

As I hear the announcement from the captain that our plan is about to land, chills flow through my body. We haven't been on American soil in years. My belly is full and my dehydration is gone. The flight attendant was very polite in waking us for both meals and the snack. Now I just want to get done with traveling and relax. I still have yet to decide where to settle down. We can't go back to Michigan, there's nothing there anymore. My father, mother, grandmother, and grandfather are all gone and I have no siblings. Luckily for us, the money Sarah and I found stashed away at the mansion in Texas was quite substantial and there is still a lot left. Considering the fact that it's been sitting in the bank untouched and collecting interest since we left to Paris, I don't think I'll need to work the rest of my life. There will even be plenty left for Brielle to survive for years to come.

_The mansion in Texas_ , the thought crosses my mind. After all these years, could it possibly still exist? I don't know how much the Society knew about Daniel's activities there. It's worth a shot. It was so long ago since he used me to take the local members lives. It'd be the last place they'd even consider looking. That's where we'll go, but I won't get my hopes up yet. Time changes everything so tremendously, who knows what's there now.

As the plane touches down, I make the announcement to Brielle quietly. She gives me a puzzled look of confusion, but I reassure her by patting her hand a couple of times as if to say, _trust me_. Brielle and Bennett were never told the full extent of the Society's impact on their mother and father's lives. The Society was the last thing we wanted them to know about as they were growing up. In hindsight, it probably would've been a good idea to have told them a little something. Not that it would've stopped their abduction, but it might've cleared Ben's head before they were able to brainwash him. _It's not your fault, Dad._ Brielle says to me, she's been eavesdropping and I've been letting my mind wander.

The plane nears the gate in Atlanta. Our first stop is going to be the ticket counter. We need tickets to Dallas. Then we will definitely hit the food court, I haven't had American food in so long that I don't even remember what it tastes like! Even though I'm not hungry, that's not going to stop me from some American "cuisine."

We've got about two hours before our flight leaves for Dallas, so everything can go according to plan. I decide to treat Brielle to a very unhealthy meal from one of the fast food restaurants in the food court. There is nothing like the fatty goodness of a condiment soaked cheeseburger from a massive chain of restaurants. I place an order for a value menu meal and an extra burger on the side, I plan on overindulging. Brielle takes a more healthy approach ignoring my persistence, a grilled chicken sandwich, no French fries, and a diet drink. The girl at the counter fills our orders and we retrieve our trays. We find our seats at the countless amounts of tables within the main eating area. The Georgia sunlight pours in from the windows. Dozens of people share my idea and are chit chatting and eating. I find us a spot near an outside edge of the crowd and we sit down.

I begin devouring my cheeseburger selfishly. The burger is way better than I ever remember it being. The cheese is melted perfectly, the tomato juicy, and the ketchup, mustard, and mayonnaise are exactly in balance. I eat it so hastily that there is no time for the condiments to seep from the other end of the bun onto my tray. I look up to realize Brielle is looking at me in disgust with a piece of lettuce partially in her mouth. I don't apologize for my actions. She couldn't possibly understand the craving and desire that's currently being satisfied. When the Society got their hold on her, she was only six years old and had never gotten to experience the wonderful delight in American fast food.

I continue my reign of terror on the remaining contents of my tray. As I begin to remove the wrapper from the spare burger I'd purchased, I make a pact with myself to take this one a little more slowly as to not become ill. I pick it up and enjoyed it humanely. Brielle stops staring at her embarrassment of a father and is observing the crowd. She's picking at her grilled chicken between observations as though it's not as delectable as I'd suspected. I join her in people watching as I enjoy the last few remaining bites. We dump our trays in the trash bins and wander around the terminal.

We walk around inside a few of the shops and stands located around the airport on our way to the gate. I pick out a few things: deodorant, cologne, perfume, and we purchase a couple of outfits for both of us. A feeling of discomfort still remains, like fluttery butterflies in my stomach. Being back in my homeland is a wonderful feeling. We put our items in our carry-on bags and continue through the terminal to our gate. We opt for the moving sidewalks located at the sides of the main walkway. I watch as the people across the hallway slide in the opposite direction. We move to the side to avoid the pedestrians who are in too much of a hurry to enjoy the ride. The movement of the conveyer belt is relaxing and enjoyable. We near our gate and step off. It's the end of the line for the free, effortless ride. We find our seats and wait for our flight to board.

Chapter 7

Ben's Father

The door opens to my room and he walks in. I've been lying here for days healing and it's time to finally rid myself of the confines of solitude. His hair is black and tied back in for control due to its length. His dark sinister eyebrows raised high above his deep-set eyes. The circles underneath the sockets make him look as though he hasn't slept in years, it's almost vampiric. His black suit looks unbecoming of a person with hair the length that it is. It falls to his middle upper back, near his shoulder blades. I've become accustomed to his attire because it's what I've been raised with and see it as normal. It hadn't begun to strike me as odd until recently. Over the last couple of years when I was allowed to venture the Paris streets on my own is when I'd realized. After seeing so many varieties of people, it gave me a sense of judgment when it comes to appearance. Before, all I'd known is the mansion and its few inhabitants; the maids, butlers, and cooks.

"Are you feeling better?" He asks upon entry without much feeling in his stern, deep voice.

"I think I'm ready to get out of bed," I reply. The stiffness is still in my joints, but the pain in my ribs seems to have completely subsided. He stops midstride about six feet from my bed. His eyes fill with blackness. I know what's coming next and ready myself for the blow. I allow the heat to rise inside as the pain begins to penetrate my brain. He is testing me and I will not fail him. I shoot a psychic blast at him without making it a deathblow. It strikes him in the chest and pushes his body across the room into the mahogany wall beside the doorway. He hits hard, flat against his back, I hear the breath escape his lungs upon impact. He falls to the ground immediately and then gathers himself up as if nothing happened. He brushes off his buttocks and then comes back over to the bed. He sits next to me in a lush chair.

"Good, I think you're ready as well." He states plain and matter-of-factly. I turn myself stiffly toward the edge of my bed and place my feet on the floor. "We have a lot of work to do and I can't have you lazing about any longer." His English accent is thick and scholarly. "Brandon and Brielle have left the country and I want them found. She knows too much about us and I don't want to be exposed."

"I was keeping an eye on them, but haven't been able to connect with Brielle for a few days now. They must've gone back to America or I'd be able to see through her mind's eye." Due to our link as twins, I've been able to see through Brielle's eyes for as long as I can remember. I never told her about this ability and I'm glad she doesn't know for this very reason. She will either join us or I will be forced to kill her. Brandon, on the other hand, will have to die. He's been against us since the beginning and there is no going back with him.

The moment he let me go was the moment I no longer cared what happened to him. Donovan explained everything to me about Brandon's past. He killed his own grandfather, my great-grandfather, and then destroyed one of our Society's living compounds. Those people did nothing to him. All we want is to perfect our race and be in control.

We already have the upper-hand in politics. We control most of the major decisions in the American and European governments. Some of the decisions are influenced through bribery while some force us to resort to more life threatening influences. Just a few direct showings of power from our Society's members and people have a tendency to give in easily. With no way of protection from a powerful, mental squeezing of the brain or tapping of any other major organ, it is very painful and effective in the way of convincing.

I get up from my bed as Donovan leaves the room. It is time for a slightly uncomfortable shower, a much needed meal, and a long discussion with the other members regarding our next actions against Brielle and Brandon.

Chapter 8

Dallas, Here We Come

The streetlamps illuminate enough to protect me as I'm running. Even though I no longer feel their presence behind me, I want to ensure a safe distance between myself and them. I know that others like me have developed ways to guard themselves from being mentally invaded. Just knowing how good I am at masking my mind makes it even more unsettling. To think about the fact that someone who's like me and has abilities like mine could be standing right next to me in a crowd and I wouldn't even know it sends chills down my spine. We, people with special powers, are at war with each other when we should be learning from one another and growing strong. We are like alcoholics who need to attend meetings in order to feel better, normal. We should be able to take pride in joining forces and gathering to help each other grow in our abilities in a positive way.

I continue my strides in order to create a little more distance and then begin to slow. _Help me._ The words are no longer in French. Dreams are eerie and ever-changing. Her voice echoes within my mind once again. I know what is coming, but curiosity controls my decision making. I have to know why she's crying and why she's attacking me. I need to help her. She can't be much older than me. I near the alleyway as the leaf flutters passed my view again. The dark shadows of the buildings where the alley's entrance is inviting me into the mouth of the cave. I have to know the answer.

I make the right turn hugging the building's wall as I gear myself up for her attack. I glance cautiously into the darkness and see her silhouette crouched against the opposite wall. Her sobs come again. I can feel the heat flowing within my body in anticipation for the assault. She stands abruptly and grabs my body in a full chokehold embrace. I try to lash out at her in retaliation, but it's too late. I want to grab her with my mind and calm her down and to find out why she's doing this. She has me once again. She slams me against the wall. The prickles in my back hit my nerves.

"You people aren't going to hurt me ever again!" She yells as her psychic grip tightens on my body. Her voice is rough, hollow, and violently shaky. A lone tear squeezes out from the pain and finds its way from my tear duct and down my cheek. Pin pricks touch every inch of me. My feet are a couple of inches from the pavement below. The pressure is unbearable. A shot of nerves from my lower back hits me at the base of my neck. An instant migraine headache engulfs my skull. A menacing smirk paints her lovely, flawless face. The mascara trail is the only noticeable imperfection. "Did they send you to take me back?" she screams at me again.

"Who...who's...not going...to hurt...you?" I ask her. The last question she asks goes unnoticed. My voice comes out strained. As the oxygen leaves my lungs, I feel them become tighter and more constricted. I haven't the slightest clue what she's talking about and am not in a position to assume anything.

"You know damn well _who_ I'm talking about! Don't mess with me!" Her words become more forceful and demanding. Another tear leaves my eyes, but it's the opposite duct this time. I can't take much more and I don't have anything to tell her. I don't know who she is or of what she's talking about. She uses her powers to begin drilling into my brain. It's like a screw slowly twisting itself into my skull. With the intensity of the pain, I feel myself losing consciousness. The darkness starts to overtake me as my body heat begins to increase.

The plane's wheels hit the pavement of the runway hard and it bounces a few times, jolting me awake. I reach up to feel the wetness on my right cheek and down to my chin. I wipe it from my face and gather my thoughts. The tingling feeling begins to subside from my back and legs as the reality of where I actually am comes to my mind. I look out the window to my right and gaze off into the Texas distance. Trees line the outer edges of the asphalt, marking the landing strip's limitation. The Texas sun cooks the tar. The heat creates a wavy haze a few feet above the black surface. We make the approach to our gate and the airplane comes to a halt. My father and I gather our bags and get off once the doors are opened and the announcement is made to do so.

We make our way through the Dallas/Fort Worth terminal to the exit. We stop for a few moments at a cell phone kiosk in order to purchase prepaid phones for both of us. We then leave through the front door and find a taxi just outside. I have no idea where we're going or what my father has in mind, I'm just along for the ride. I get vibes from his excited and worried state of mind from my empathic abilities. We slide into the cab from the curbside. I slide over to its far side and my dad slips in behind, shutting the door. He informs the driver of our destination. The driver responds with a simple nod of the head and a grunt. I notice a rancid smell of cigarette smoke lingering in the cab and it nauseates me momentarily. I roll my window down a bit. The air is thick and hot. France has fairly cool summers most of the time and my body is not accustomed to heat like this. I decide to roll the window back up and deal with the stale smell rather than the intense heat.

"Could you turn the air conditioner up please, Sir?" I request. He complies with action rather than words. The cool air pushes into the back of the vehicle as we pull from the airport and soon out to the Dallas highway. I observe the beautiful skyline as we pass the large, metal buildings in the heart of the city. I fiddle with my phone without looking at it, flipping it open and closed quietly and nervously. I watch as cars pass by reading the license plates. There are numerous ones from different states, Oklahoma, Louisiana, Arizona, and I see one from Kansas as well. I was so used to all license plates generally having the same look to them. Europeans keep it simple. There aren't any state mottos or logos. The differences are intriguing to me.

My father watches out the window on his side. I can see his cheek raised in a partial smile. I imagine there's a look of satisfaction on his face. We take an exit off the highway and turn to the left. A few miles down the road and a little suburbia begins to reveal itself. The trees become thicker as opposed to the grasslands I'd been seeing off of the highway. The houses begin to get nicer and the speed limit begins to slow to 30 miles per hour. Children frolic in sprinklers in their yards. The crazy spaghetti noodles at the top of the cartoony sprinkler head chase them as they run around. The assortment of colors from the tiny hoses blur as the small stream of water finds its way into the air. The children scream as if their primary goal isn't to get hit by the water, but we know there wouldn't be a point otherwise.

The houses clear and a block of trees take their place. As we continue further down the road, the trees become thicker and the undergrowth more lush. A brownish-red squirrel scurries through the undergrowth and up one of the enormous oaks within. He scurries effortlessly up the gray bark and stops momentarily. His tail twitches and jumps as his head jolts back and forth. He looks beside and below for danger. He continues his way up and into a large, dark hole on the tree's surface. We travel four or five blocks before coming to a stop.

"I can't take ya'll any further, the gate's closed." The driver announces in a thick southern accent as he looks over his shoulder toward my father.

"This'll be fine, Sir." My father replies as he reaches into his pocket. He reveals a bill much larger than the taxi fare amount reads on the meter. "Keep the change for your trouble."

"Thanks so much man." The driver responds excitedly. We get out of our respective doors. The cabby conducts a five-point turn and leaves us standing alone on the shaded tar. The gate in front of us is the end of the road. Where the gate begins, cobblestone starts as well. A huge chain holds the tall, cast iron opening securely closed.

Chapter 9

Honey, I'm Home

Brielle and I stand in front of the large gate. It stands a gargantuan ten feet in height and is tipped with spear-like peaks; there will be no scaling of this fence. The chain is thick and sturdy as I jiggle it with one hand. The padlock is securely fastened as I pull down on it a couple of times. It is slightly corroded with rust as if it hasn't been touch in a far amount of time. The overgrowth of grass in the yard is a sure sign to me there haven't been any inhabitants in many years. The last time I was here was with Sarah to collect a few things, some money from Daniel's safe, he wouldn't be needing it anymore, and my favorite grandfather clock with the angelic figure on top.

Feeling comfortable with what I am about to do, I check down the street behind us. I dig deep within for the powers I once had no control over. We back up a few steps as I blow the metal padlock to bits. The chain relaxes and one side slides from the cast iron gate, falling to the ground with a loud clunk. The black, iron gates relax against the latch with a creak of relief. I approach and lift the latch with my free hand; the other holds one strap of my backpack securely to my shoulder. I ease the latch up on its hinges. It's stiff from all the years of not being moved. It rests against the outermost bar on the left door of the gate. The right side begins to swing open with a metal on metal grinding. The sound hurts my ears a little, it is high in pitch. The door stops halfway.

I motion for Brielle to follow behind me as we enter into the neglected yard. The cobblestones the driveway is comprised of are broken up as the weeds and blades of grass have found their way through in between the cracks. Little, brown ants march in a curvy line between the blades as they collect food. I notice some of them have small, white granules in their mandibles that stand out against their coloring. They use the overgrowth for protection from any predators as they weave and bob in their line formation.

The yard is overrun with grass up to my waist in length and sapling's bright, green leaves peak over the tops as they grow. Bushes line the right side of the drive masking the house as we walk. Several large oaks are scattered about unmethodically and the once beautifully carved hedges lining the drive are now just bushes like unkempt hair. As the driveway begins to curve to the right, the yard opens up even further exposing the mansion and its vastness to us. I'd forgotten how wonderful and beautifully architected the house is.

Ivy has the home covered in a thick, green camouflage. The growth is thick enough that it makes it hard to see the underlying brick and stone behind it. The rows of windows stare at us, the ivy unable to grow over them due to the distance between the porous surfaces. They've formed themselves perfectly around the rectangular shapes and up into the awning where the wall meets the home's rooftop.

The cobblestone roundabout is hard to distinguish between the yard and the drive as we near. What used to be a beautiful fountain in the center of the circle is now just an algae-covered pool only suitable for mosquitoes to lay their eggs in. I remember the awe I'd had been overcome with when Daniel had first brought me to this place. Being a kid from a small town with parents with little money, this place was like a dream to me. Now, although still amazing, the neglect and abandonment has left it a little less wonderful.

We walk up the arc rounded front steps to the door. The cement steps are also overgrown with ivy, but usable. There are chunks missing were the plants have taken their toll in the erosion of the foundation. I approach the solid, wooden door and attempt to turn the knob. It's locked. I focus my powers on the hole where the key is supposed to go and send a shot of psychic force inside. The tip of the knob peels back like a shotgun frayed in an episode of Bugs Bunny where Bugs sticks his finger in the barrel before Elmer fires. I go back to the knob and turn it. The latch clicks as it falls free from the interior frame. The door swings inward as I push it open.

I step inside the doorway with Brielle close behind me. My shoes leave prints in the dust on the floor. If this was a crime scene, the police would have no issues matching my prints to a specific type of shoe. The sun beams down into the great entryway from the first landing of the stairs directly in front of me. The crossbeam support in the round window casts a shadow down like an upside down crucifix from the stairs and onto the marbled floor. Aside from the dirt, the mansion looks to be in perfect shape. We both enter completely and Brielle latches the deadbolt on the door. The usual lock is no longer of any use.

I go into the dining room to the left. The long, wooden table and matching chairs are still in the same place I remember them being. We wander further into the kitchen. The windows provide ample light in illuminating the entire house. Everything has a layer of dust from the years of neglect. I go to turn on the faucet. The water sputters out a dark brown and then begins to flow normally and clear after a few moments.

"Oh my God this is so disgusting!" Brielle exclaims behind me. I turn to see her standing with the refrigerator door open. Black and green mold has formed on the contents. She quickly closes the door and looks at me as if she's going to be sick, her eyes wide in disbelief. A shade of green flushes over her face and then subsides, replaced by her usual coloring.

"What did you expect? It's not like your mother and I cleaned up the place before we left." I respond snottily. "We've obviously got some work ahead of us. This is probably one of the safest places I can think of and, by the looks of it, I'm pretty sure I'm right in thinking so."

"I'm going to take a look around the rest of the house and check out the damages. Can I pick my room?" After her fridge ordeal, I'm surprised at the tone of excitement in her voice.

"I don't care, but there's one you're not allowed to go into, your great-grandmother was killed there and I'd rather it be left alone." I remember that awful morning when I found my Gramm's lifeless body lying in her bed. I wasn't given the opportunity to mourn her before Daniel got his hands on me. When Sarah and I returned later, we laid her body to rest in the backyard the best way that we knew how. We wrapped her in a sheet, carried her downstairs to the backyard, and I dug a suitable grave. After placing her body into the pit, we both said the Lord's Prayer and cried as we held each other. I then covered her body, my eyes filled with tears, and we walked away.

Brielle leaves the kitchen, goes through the dining room, and up the stairs. I went out behind her and, instead of going up the stairs, continued through to the sitting room across the entry area. I glance across the foyer and out a back window. The gravesite is a grassy, overgrown lump near the back edge of the yard. A wooden cross still marks its location. I turn my head and continue walking. The sitting room is vast and the furnishings are minimal. A luxurious sofa and two chairs still sit perfectly in the center with their walnut end tables surrounding them in their appropriate positions. A coffee table sits at the foot of the couch and an end table stands at the corners of each of the chairs at either end. The deep, rich coloring of the walnut is overcast with the hue of the gray dust creating a grayish cocoon. I tap the chair's back closest to me and quickly realize the mistake that I've made as a musty cloud forms from the surface and into the air. The particles enter my nostrils and I begin to sneeze uncontrollably. My sneeze attack is followed by a coughing fit that lasts a couple of annoying minutes. I continue to look around.

Everything is just as flawless as I remember. The bookshelves line the left wall and are full to capacity. There is every classic title imaginable and enough to keep an avid reader busy for years. There is an empty spot in the far corner where the grandfather clock that I'd claimed once stood. This is the exact room where I'd first had the opportunity to mingle with the members of the Society and once met the love of my life. We'd flirted from across the room for a respectful amount of time prior to moving to the kitchen for some personal time. The dust leaves the room and the wall's sconces begin to glow through their crystal shades as my mind wanders to that night in a daydream.

Sarah stands amongst a crowd of the Society's members, including her mother and father. She tosses her head back in laughter with a tall flute of champagne in her right hand. Her eyes move in my direction and flutter in a taunting, flirtatious manner. Her flowing dark, brown hair falls in curls and waves to the middle of her back. Her glorious, deep brown, almond-shaped eyes invite me to join her conversation. I am tempted, but have people of my own to entertain. They continuously flatter me with the length of time they've been waiting to meet me. They expose the fact that they've known about me for many more years than I've been aware of them. I continue chattering with an occasional, yet excessively long glance in Sarah's direction. The images begin to fade and the dust returns. The sunlight from the windows is the only illumination. The sconces are dark once again. Sorrow returns to my soul. I miss Sarah so much. I feel empty and know that it's a feeling that will never be replaced for the rest of my existence. The love we shared only comes once in a lifetime.

"Dad, I found my room!" Brielle's voice echoes throughout the house's main entrance bouncing off the walls and into my ears. She is standing near the railing by the stairs. I leave my thoughts and return to reality as I exit the room and begin up the stairs towards her.

"Show it to me." I say as I finally get to the top and close enough to her as to avoid yelling. She leads me down the hallway on the right into the passage containing all of the 6 bedrooms, 4 bathrooms, and the den. We walk down the corridor to the second door on the right. It's the room I stayed in when Daniel brought me here. We go in and Gramm's face flashes to memory as she knocked on the door in order to wake me on my first morning in Texas. I push the idea back into the depths of my mind with all of the other things and shut the mental door. The room is exactly the way I'd left it so many years ago. My clothes from back then are still sitting on the chair in the corner. The once white shirt is now gray and dirty.

"We're going to have to go get some things tomorrow. We need cleaning supplies, bedding, and a car." Her eyes light up with the mention of the word car.

"Seriously, do I get to pick it out?" Her voice is really excited.

"You can _help_ pick one out." I say to her in a fatherly voice. "Don't forget about the fact that we have a lot of cleaning to do." Her thrill fades a bit with the later announcement. "We should be able to lay low here for awhile. I don't believe they'll even think I'd dream of coming back here after all this time." She smiles. I feel more relaxed than I have in a long time. We continue to explore the house a bit more, shake out the bedding as best we can to make due for the evening, and go to bed.

Chapter 10

Sarah, My Love

I walk along the cobblestone riverside. The mist splashes up from the water's edge, moistening my face. I reach up and wipe the cool water from the left side of my cheek with my shirt sleeve. The sound of the splashes and gurgles against the cement walls beside the river are soothing. The breeze gently combs my hair as it blows calmly. There is a large vessel in the water several feet away from my path. The people onboard the boat are shouting and being obnoxious in their apparent drunken state. The French words are unfamiliar to me, but the language itself is recognizable. I ignore them as I continue down the path beside the River Seine. I recognize my surroundings. The scene is from a scene so many years ago. It was from the time that a crazy couple from the Society stole my daughter and so many years from me.

The lights from the Eiffel Tower sparkle brightly in front of me. The gray clouds above capture the illumination and deflect it like a lightening bug trapped in a child's jar. The child watches it from beneath his blankets as he drifts off to sleep. The bug would be dead by morning. I notice a shadow ahead of me under one of the many bridges. It's canted toward the river, but not fully facing it, somewhat in my direction. The bridge is gray and beautifully decorated with very detailed statue figures that I can't clearly make out. I near the figure as I recall the event from the past. The pain was so excruciating. I approach cautiously; unlike I had in the past. My rage and overconfidence took control then and I won't allow it to now. I continue to near. The person's head is down and seems to be cloaked or covered in shadow.

"Who are you?" I say in its direction just loud enough for it to hear, but not the people around us. I am within ten feet of the figure and begin to gear myself up for an attack. The heat rises from the depths of my soul and into my torso. I am storing it, ready while I continue my approach. "Answer me damn it!" I demand a response and still am ignored in my request. The figure shifts its body toward me almost floating rather than stepping. It is silent and dark.

I am 6 feet or less away from it as I shoot a blast from my psyche in its direction. My power goes through the figure and hits the cobblestone beyond it. The person becomes transparent just long enough for me to see the debris make a dusty cloud and quickly settle. _You should know better than to do that, Bran._ The figure speaks to me telepathically. The voice is familiar and welcome to my ears. She becomes more solid as I get closer. Her hands reach up and remove the hood of the cloak. Her head turns up to face me. A bright angelic light emits from her eyes as she opens them to me. I wince at the sudden change from dark to light. My vision adjusts as the light fades and her eyes replace it with the beautiful, brown coloring I once knew. Her face is a ghostly white, but is as flawless and as perfect as it ever was. Our faces close in for a kiss. A whirlwind surrounds our bodies as my eyes close. A sweet euphoric serenity of bliss engulfs my mind. We are one again as the heat flows through my body and lights my soul on fire.

Our embrace is broken as a chilly air cuts through my clothing and into my skin. I open my eyes. I startle as I realize where we are standing and my hand goes to an old, metal railing beside us. My hair flows violently. I look down from our perch to see the lights from the Paris landscape below. The cars' lights below weave in and out around the tiny streets. The city skyline ends off in the distance creating sprinklings where lone houses stand in the French countryside. The view from the Eiffel Tower is breathtaking.

"You have to stop him, Brandon." Her voice is hollow, yet still recognizable.

"Who do I need to stop, Sarah?" Her presence has my mind numb and confused.

"Bennett, Brandon, he has to be stopped before it's too late."

"We've already stopped him. He was buried under the rubble when he tried to kill Brielle and me." I respond unaware of Bennett's current standing.

"He's not dead, Brandon. You have to either win him back from the Society or take him out. There's no other way. He will kill you both if you don't." I hear her words and it hurts me to remember what happened when I wasn't there to protect her. I go in for an embrace again never wanting to let her go. The whirlwind returns as the dream removes us from the top of the tower.

The violence of the wind clears and I glance over her shoulder to see greenery surrounding us. Tall grasses, large trees, and closed flowers dance in the light breeze. The colors are noticeable with the gardens randomly standing old iron lamps' illumination. The moon shines down upon us in the heart of the beautiful garden. The rustling of the rough grasses rubbing against each other fill my ears. The tulip bulbs sway back and forth as if their heft is going to snap the stems at any moment. The oranges, reds, and yellows flow like boats on the waves of the ocean.

A sudden crash of a thunderous boom rings in my eardrums as a large nearby oak explodes at the base and falls sideways. Sarah begins to lose solidity as a dark figure nears. The messed, dark hair gets closer, but the figure is still just a shadow in my vision. It gets nearer as I stand beside Sarah. The face becomes visible as it steps into the light. An angelic statue behind me explodes into bits of rock and rubble and peppers my back with pebbles. His deep, dark, evil eyes shine against the lamps' lights as he approaches. _I have to go._ Sarah speaks to me mentally as her image fades into the darkness. Bennett's sneer is menacing and vengeful. I gear up for an attack, but it's too late. The hammering begins to tear itself into my brain creating an instant and paralyzing migraine. My palms go to my temples and I holler in pain. Blood begins to run down from my nose, I fall to my knees, and it drips to the grass.

I lurch from my dream and nearly fall from the bed as I sit up, hit by dizziness. My hands go to my nose immediately. I remove them to find blood. I pinch my nostrils to stop the bleeding and hurry down the hall into the bathroom. I quickly grab a dusty towel from the cupboard to soak up the blood and to get it to stop. I tilt my head back as I apply the rough fabric. My head is ringing from the pressure caused by Bennett's psychic force. My brain thumps abusively against my skull. I slide the medicine cabinet open in hopes for an aspirin or Tylenol. Luck is on my side. It may be nearing 10 years old but I'm willing to take my chances as I uncap the bottle with my free hand. I reach for a dirty cup near the sink and turn on the water. The tap sputters for a moment and then begins flowing normally. I rinse the glass again and again before filling it to wash the medicine down. I return to my room and look out the window. The moon is still high in the sky. I return to my bed hoping to get some restful sleep.

Chapter 11

Another Day

We got up the next morning, the dream hadn't come again. As far as I know, it was an uneventful sleep afterward. The sun was low in the sky and shone through my bedroom window intensely. I woke before Brielle and went into the bathroom to shower and to put on an outfit I'd purchased at the airport the day before. I search through the cabinets to find some sort of something to wash myself with. The sweat from the days of traveling was dry and leaving an unwelcome griminess on my skin.

I find some shampoo and a bar of soap. I then rifle through the stacks of once clean linens for a somewhat suitable towel to dry myself with. I dig through to nearly the bottom of the stack and find one that's not as dust covered. I take it out and shake it a bit. A tiny cloud quickly falls to the ground and I place it on the towel rack nearest the shower stall. Shirtless, I push open the stall door and reach for the knob. The sunlight shining in from the stained window of the bathroom is enough to light the room. I turn the hot water knob and wait. I test the water with my fingers after the air escapes the line and becomes a steady flow. I hadn't completely thought this through. Obviously without electricity there will be no hot water. I test the temperature again and decide that the slightly cool water bordering lukewarm will have to do. I undress and get in slowly adjusting as I ease into full submersion. I wash quickly as I force myself from succumbing to teeth chattering.

I turn off the water, get out, and dry off. The warmth from the air and sunlight coming in heats my body. I pull my new boxer shorts, white socks, plain t-shirt, khaki shorts, and tennis shoes, from their packages and hastily put them on. I go for a black, plastic comb on the shelf near the sink and run it through my hair. There is a knock at the door and it startles me momentarily.

"Dad, are you almost done?" Her voice is muffled on the other side. "I have to go to the bathroom bad and all the other ones are disgusting." I chuckle a little aloud and place the comb onto the countertop. I go to the door and open it quickly as I begin to speak.

"Yes, I'm done now, little girl." Her eyes are wide with the surprise.

"Well, get out! I have to go right now." She says bluntly. She isn't being disrespectful, but playfully serious. She pushes me to the side as she hurries inside and almost shuts the door against my back. I feel the breeze from it behind me. I turn back to the door and make an announcement.

"You might want to hurry and get showered and changed. We have some shopping to do remember?" We need to get a rental, clothing, and some things for the house.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I will hurry."

"One more thing by the way, enjoy your cold shower. There's no hot water." I laugh as I leave the door.

I go downstairs to use my cell phone to call the electric company after Googling for the number. I give the lady on the other end the address and use my old alias of Brandon Smith in order to get it connected. She tells me they will have someone out to read the meter in the later afternoon and should have it going by tomorrow morning if not today. I thank her and hang up. I'm not going to share the news with Brielle. She needs to suffer through one cold shower in her lifetime. I giggle a little aloud even though there's nobody around to share in my amusement.

Brielle hops down the stairway and to the dining room where I've been waiting for her. She'd called and I'd answered revealing my whereabouts.

"I'm ready. Let's go." She announces. Her flowing golden locks are perfectly styled and the clothes she'd picked out fit just right. She's wearing a light blue sundress that brings out her eyes wonderfully. The sneakers are a little unbecoming but will work. I am amazed at how quickly she's grown into a young woman and how much of her life I'd missed out on. I Google a local Dallas taxi service and we go outside to wait for them to arrive. I don't want them coming up to the house because of the way the yard is looking at the moment. The less conversation there is with outsiders, the better. We stand out by the gate where the cabby dropped us off yesterday.

"Dad, what was it like here when you were younger? This place is amazing, a little dirty, but still amazing." The tall, nearby trees shade us from the afternoon sun. I think back to the day when Daniel and I came to this place. I remember the excitement, after all my childhood years had passed me by, of someone finally understanding me and they were willing to help. Little did I know that the offering had been a trap, he'd wanted me for his personal selfish reasons. It was to rid himself of the Society who he'd resented his entire life. I now shared in that hatred, but for a completely different reason. I thank the Society for giving me Sarah and now I despise them for taking her from me.

"The place in itself is amazing, Brielle, but what it stands for in my mind, is not so amazing." The mansion represents the power the Society has and through it what Daniel had acquired through them over the years. It is a safe house to us for now regardless and I'll just keep it at that.

"I'm not a little girl anymore you know. You could just talk to me like an adult instead of keeping things to yourself." Brielle was eavesdropping on my thoughts again. Her mother used to do that when I wasn't ensuring my mental guard was up.

"Well then, I welcome you to peek into my head more often if you want to know the truth behind all of the crap that's gone on. I'd rather not have to discuss it out loud." My annoyance is obvious in my tone and I make her feel bad unintentionally. "I'm sorry, Brielle." I quickly apologize to avoid any unnecessary hurt feelings. I should know better by now.

The taxi pulls up, we get in, and I instruct the driver to take us to the nearest car rental place. Brielle stares out her window as we drive through the little suburbia and back out onto the highway. I talk to her telepathically so the driver doesn't know. _I'm sorry, Brielle. I didn't mean to snap at you. I'm serious when I said to listen to my thoughts more often. I think it will enlighten you and it will make it easier for you to understand the Society. It will also make it so I don't have to talk about it as much._ She giggles a little at the last statement. I notice the cabby look back at her from his rearview mirror as she laughs, hopefully clueless. She continues her stare out the window admiring the Texas landscape as we drive into the downtown area.

I pay the cab driver generously as we get out. We go to the nearest ATM and I withdraw a substantial amount of money to pay for the rental vehicle in cash with an extra tip for silence. I rent it under my alias and insist upon not using a credit card for deposit or holding for tracking purposes. The attendant accepts the bribe graciously as he completes the necessary paperwork to finalize the transaction. I take the keys, thank him, and we go to the small, compact car in the parking lot he'd pointed out to me through the window. Two tasks complete, now onto shopping.

My dad and I decide to go to a nearby supercenter to get everything we need for the house. Like I really want to clean that place up? I do admit though, it's going to look really beautiful once we're done. I don't know why we don't just hire some people to do it, it's not like we don't have the money or anything.

We get our mops, brooms, cleaning supplies, linens, pillows, trash bags, and all the other needed things at the supercenter and I tell him I'd like to go to the mall to get more outfits. I'm not going to buy my clothes from a place like this. He's crazy if he thinks I'd be caught dead in rags from here. Luckily he agrees with my request without an argument. He finishes paying and we find the closest mall in the area. I would've settled for an outlet store as long as they had some name brand clothing. The only two outfits that I have in my wardrobe will definitely not be enough. I'm not being a brat, but I know that any girl in her right mind would agree with me.

We finish loading up the trunk of the car and the backseat and we drive out of the parking lot. My father drives like a crazy person. I don't remember the last time we traveled in a car together with him at the wheel. I know it was when I was 6 years old, but I really don't remember it. We go a few blocks and pull into a huge parking complex and into an underground garage. He stops and pulls the ticket from the automatic dispenser and he finds a spot. The shade in the garage is much cooler than the outside Texas air with full exposure to the sun. He locks our doors and we go to find the elevator leading into the mall.

As the doors to the elevator open, my mouth drops to the ground. The mall has several levels, seven from what I can see, and there are so many stores I can't even begin to tell you. I'm like a little kid in a candy store. I love clothes! What teenage girl doesn't? We walk into the middle terrarium as I try to gather the sight before me. Trees decorate the ground floor in huge gardens. Flowers are arranged in bunches in many varieties and colors within the enclosures. A large fountain that is three levels high shoots into the air calmly as the water falls back to the first bowl and flows down into the next and the next beautifully. Thousands of copper and silver coins sparkle at the bottom of the fountain's pool representing wishes from many a passerby.

I stop my dad for a moment and ask him for a quarter. He hands one to me without asking why. I have a wish. _I wish that our lives could be normal._ I say to myself as I toss the coin into the dirty water. The liquid splashes up slightly and engulfs the quarter. It floats lazily to the bottom on top of the others. President Washington smiles at me, winking with his one exposed eye. My wish is more complicated than it seems, but it doesn't hurt to try. We move on, going from store to store. I give my father the opportunity to pick out a couple things and once he's done I announce that it's my turn. He doesn't argue, but he does explain to me the limitation, one outfit per day for a week for now. We don't have room in the car as it is. I'm delighted when he tells me this because that will be the most clothing I've ever had in my wardrobe, ever. It doesn't take me long to fill the order and, with hands consumed with merchandise, we go back to the car.

I'm so excited to try on every single outfit! _Help me!_ The voice from my dreams hits my brain loudly. Her voice is so loud it sounds like she's sitting right behind me in the car as I buckle my seatbelt. My father stops as he begins to turn the key in the ignition.

"What's the matter, Brielle?" His tone is of genuine concern.

"It's nothing, Dad." I lie.

"Brielle, we can't keep secrets from each other. Your mother and I did that once and it didn't end well." His voice is crackly and broken as if he's going to cry.

"I've been having this dream. In the dream there's a girl. She keeps asking for my help, but when I go to help her she attacks me telekinetically. She's really strong and I can't stop her." I feel an instant weight leave me as the words flow from my mouth.

"I had a dream like that before I was almost killed. Brielle, people like us have to take dreams like that seriously. It took me a long time before I realized that. Don't make the same mistakes I have." His tone is stern, but still shaken. "I will not lose you like I have everyone else in my life." A tear moves down his cheek.

"I'll be careful, Dad, I promise." I reassure him but still don't understand who she is or why I'm having the dream. He pulls the car out of the lot, pays the ticket, and we go back to the mansion for a long evening of fun. I'm being sarcastic with that last part.

Chapter 12

Bennett's Vision

The darkness of the trees hides us from the house as we stand silently in the woods. Men shout from the yard to the front of us. Their voices seem muffled, but understandable. I look to my right, Donovan is standing beside me. We stay still. More hollering fills the air for a bit and the sounds of guns being fired begins to resonate. The first shot startles me and I jump. The sounds continue for what seems to be forever and then cease. A few aftershocks of shattering glass crash as the remains fall to the ground and then silence replaces all noise. A light cloud of smoke and from the gunpowder floats into the edge of the trees filling my nostrils with a sour, sulfur smell. It's a little overwhelming in its quantity and makes my stomach churn uneasily for a moment. After a few moments of the silence, I begin to hear footsteps, crunching glass underfoot, and some more voices.

"I think we got 'em." I hear one of the men's voices from where the house is.

"He's over here!" Another one shouts from somewhere further inside.

A huge explosion follows the last announcement. One of the men's bodies lands just short of where Donovan and I are standing. His eyes stare up at the sky as his lifeless body lies on its back before us. His head is just a stride from my feet. Blood pours from his ears and the corners of his mouth. His black S.W.A.T. uniform is covered in gray splotches of dirt and dust.

"Let's go." Donovan announces as he steps around the body. I quickly follow behind him. He means business and is gearing up for a fight. We approach the iron fence that surrounds the yard. Donovan bends the thick bars with his mind in both directions. The sound as the metal bends is like nails on a chalkboard to my eardrums. We step through the bowed gate into the yard. I notice another body beside the fence as I continue toward the mansion.

We enter the house through the front door without fear. Regular human beings are one thing for Brandon to fight, but there are two of us and we're not _regular_ human beings. I get myself ready mentally for the battle about to commence. Bits of wood and glass are everywhere inside on the floor. I quickly dart my eyes to the right and to the left looking high and low with each scan.

I can feel him. I use my ability to see where he's hiding. The back of a sofa pops into my head almost instantly. I take a right into what appears to be a sitting room. One of the chairs is slammed against a nearby bookcase. There are several more S.W.A.T. bodies randomly and limply positioned about the room. Most of them appear to have smashed full force against the walls and settled in their places. Blood splatter paints different pieces of the walls with body impacts. Donovan steps in beside me.

"I know you're back there, Brandon. Why don't you come out and play? Hide and seek is over." I say maliciously to the man who was once my father. He stands with a struggled grunt from behind the couch. His right hand is holding his side and is oozing red liquid.

"I don't want to play your games anymore, Bennett. Let's get this over with." His breathing is labored and the words come out with a lot of effort.

"Ah, come on. I didn't travel all this way for you just to give up on me. Let's play a little." I dig further and ready my mind as the heat begins to increase. He looks me dead in the eye. I know he's getting ready to strike. I decide to hit him first and do, square in the chest. His already broken body hits a bookcase behind and his body slumps to the floor. Several books fall from their shelves onto and beside him. A groan comes from Donovan beside me. His eyes look as though they're going to explode from his head. They fill with redness and become bloodshot. I push against his shoulder. I'd forgotten about Brielle! Blood droplets pour from his sockets as he falls to the ground sideways. I spin around on my heels. She is standing on the landing on the second floor. Her eyes are glowing with white brilliance.

"What are you going to do, Brielle, huh? You're weak! You've always been weak and you'll always be weak!" Her direct sights are on me as the pain begins to knife me in my brain over and over and over again. I try to throw something back at her, but become weak in my knees from the pounding in my head. My legs buckle and I fall to the ground.

I startle awake and realize where I am. I'm in my bed at the mansion in Paris. My anger from what I had just witnessed fuels my desire. I can't do this anymore. We have to go and get rid of those two, soon.

Chapter 13

A Day at the Office

I get up and put on the old clothes I'd traveled in. There is no need to dirty the attire I'd just purchased yesterday. We've got a lot of cleaning to do if we want to stay here and I'm finally feeling comfortable and safe aside from the random strange recollection from my past. The Society doesn't seem to be onto us. Brielle hasn't said anything about feelings or visions from any strangers snooping around. I've been chaining and locking the front gate and using the dead bolt on the front door. Not that those measures would protect us, but they should at least send a warning of an intruder. Having the chain on the front gate should also ensure any members poking around will see it and not think anything has been touched. The lights in the house are only used in cases of emergency and I've explained it all to Brie.

I go to her room to wake her.

"Time to get up, Brie." She groans a response. "We've got a lot of work to do today." I finish telling her as I shut the door to the room. I'm not especially careful as I close it. At least I didn't do like my Gramms used to and open the curtains fully, blinding the sleepy morning eyes with sunlight.

I go down to the kitchen to start on the refrigerator, I'd wiped a spot to place the minimal groceries yesterday, but now it is time for a deep-down clean. I fill the sink with cleaning solution, antibacterial of course, and water and begin. The smell from the fridge is nauseating, but it has to be done. I scrub all the shelves and drawers changing my water several times during the process. Brielle comes through the swinging kitchen door just as I finish rinsing my sponge and the sink out.

"Well, it's about time." I laugh a little out loud so she knows not to take me too seriously. I don't turn to look at her; I continue to rinse the sink thoroughly. "The fridge is done."

"Good, I wasn't gonna clean that gross thing anyway." She laughs too. "I am hungry though."

"There's the yogurt I bought yesterday. We'll get more food once we get everything cleaned up in here. There's a spoon in that drawer." I point to the top drawer in the kitchen island preparation area. "You might want to wash it first though." She's scoffs as she goes to the refrigerator and grabs some blueberry yogurt and then retrieves a tablespoon from the drawer. She goes to the sink, sets the yogurt cup down, and begins to wash the utensil.

"So, what do you want me to do first?" Brielle asks me as she sits on one of the stools at the kitchen island and takes a bite of the yogurt. I think for a moment.

"How about starting with the upstairs bedrooms, just ours, the bathroom, and the den? We can't be sleeping in all this dust, so bedrooms first."

"Ok, will do. Maybe if you get this kitchen clean we'll be able to eat a normal breakfast tomorrow?" She lets out a snicker as she gets up, goes to the sink, and places her spoon inside. She leaves the cup on the countertop and walks out the door.

"That's the plan," I say just loud enough for her to hear as the door swings shut.

After completion of the kitchen, I go upstairs to check on Brielle. I walk to her room first, it appears to be done. Then to mine, clean as well. I check the bathroom, also done.

"Brielle," I say loudly.

"Yeah, I'm in here, Dad," she responds from the den. I go to it and open the door. She's got a bucket and wet cloth in her hand as she's wiping the dust from the large, oak desk Daniel used to use. A conversation I'd overhead in the past pops into my head momentarily. That was the beginning of my curiosity spark regarding Daniel's intentions. The late night, secret words on the telephone, one-sided, but clear enough to me that there was more to know than I'd thought met the eye initially. This is the place where the secrets of the Society came to my attention. All I had to do was to wait. Those answers came at me like a whirlwind. I break my thoughts.

"Kitchen's done. Would you like some help?" I asked her as I reached for a feather duster from the desk chair.

"I got all the other rooms done. After this that's it right?" She looks at me with puppy dog eyes and a pouty lip.

"No, we still haven't wiped down the dining room, sitting room, the main entrance floor..."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know," she interrupts my list and continues to polish off the deep, cherry colored wood of the desk. It begins to shine in comparison to the drab side that isn't yet finished. I go to the bookshelves and begin dusting. With the stacks upon stacks of books in the sitting room downstairs, I don't understand why he had some many more in the den. I start with the leftmost shelf at the top and work my way to the floor. As I run the duster across the top, a huge clump of a dust bunny falls toward my face. I blow it away quickly, but some of the particles still get in my nose. I begin to sneeze repeatedly.

"What's a-matter? Can't handle a little dust?" She says jokingly. "I'm kidding, Dad. Bless you." As I dry the tears in my eyes with my shirt sleeve, I thank her and continue.

Books upon books upon books line the shelves! They are in perfect order from tallest to shortest. Most of the covers are worn and they are all hardback copies. The spines don't change much as I run the feathers across them. The material their exteriors are composed of is porous and rough. I get to the second shelf and begin the process all over again. This time I avoid the dust from the heavens, dodging it as it falls.

As the duster's feathers glide along the books, there is one in particular that sparkles slightly, it catches my eye. The dust is now free from the spine and reveals no title, but a golden thread shimmers from it. I take my hand and wipe away the remaining bits of dirt. The cover is bound in black leather and sewn in gold thick thread. I take my finger to the top and tip it out from its place on the shelf. I-E-T-Y shows brightly as I slowly tip it further from its confines. _SOCIETY_ is carefully embroidered on the front cover, obviously by hand. Probably by Daniel's insane hands no doubt. I pull it free. It is no more than a couple of inches thick. I open it slowly. There are several names on the first page, the second, and the third. I flip through it. There are hundreds of names within its pages. Each group is separated by location and with addresses.

I thumb back to the first page. _Paris_ and an address are written at the top of it. Names follow, but mean absolutely nothing to me. Everything is handwritten and perfectly aligned to the light, red margin on the left of the page. I turn over to the next page, nothing on the backside. _Texas_ and an address that I was all too familiar with appeared at the top. There is a red _X_ scratched through all of the names, but I could still read them. Tom and Sharon Westfield, the Chesters, the Cruises, the Brooks, the list went on. I know why he'd scratched through them. It is because I'd wiped them out. It was by Daniel's doing, but they are all dead. There is one group of names that hits me as I'm reading, Maddox. Her father, her mother, and then _Sarah Maddox_ are listed in that order _._ I can't take my eyes off of her name and I begin to tear up. He'd planned to kill her that night. He figured she'd be dead after he'd brought me to her that night. He'd planned on making me kill her. He'd used her captivity against me, she was his hostage and those lives were his ransom. It's too bad he hadn't realized just how strong we were together. One of my tear drops slaps onto the page. I quickly wipe it with my sleeve and slam the book shut. Dust puffs out into a light cloud. I quickly leave the room to dry my face and put the book under my pillow for later study. I return to the den and help Brielle finish up using the bathroom as an excuse as to why I'd left so abruptly. I keep my eyes open for anything more that could be of importance. Regrettably the ledger is all that I find, but I'm hoping it'll be enough to end this madness.

Chapter 14

No More Ailing

"We're going to leave soon," Donovan announces loudly from the foyer below. His voice resonates throughout the halls. I am packing my bag as fast as I can and trying to make sure that I haven't forgotten anything. I run through the list in my head and picture where the things are inside the bag as I zip it closed.

"Almost ready," I yell back as I squeeze the two pieces of zipper together at the center of the large piece of luggage. I push a loose t-shirt back into the bag as it is poking out and making it impossible to finish closing the suitcase. I finally get it shut and pull the bag from my bed. The unexpected weight causes the case to hit the floor and almost pulls me over. I leave the bag and walk out of my room, down the hallway, and to the banister overlooking the foyer. "Someone needs to come up and get my bag," I am talking to one of the many servants wandering around as they pile up Donovan's things for our trip. There is a rush of excitement flowing through my body. I haven't been to the States since I was a little kid. I really haven't been anywhere besides Paris. Donovan looks up from the floor below and the expression on his face tells me to get downstairs immediately. I do. As I get closer he reprimands me telepathically.

_That took you long enough!_ The words bounce around in my head loudly. I am mad, but I try not to show it. He has a way of knowing what I'm thinking, but I've learned to block him out. If he knew how angry I was, I'm sure he'd punish me for it. I deserve what I get and I need to do what he says. He's been there for me most of my life and I owe him so much. He's trained me to be a killer with my telekinesis. I can tear people apart from the inside. I can freeze their muscles with a glance. Brandon would never have taught me that. He stopped me every way he could. Donovan has taken me on "hunting" trips throughout the city. Usually it was random homeless people as my practice victims; Paris has a lot of them. I am trained to assassinate anyone the Society needs me to. I like killing. I haven't taken anyone out for the Society, but on this trip I should be able to prove myself to them. Brandon and Brielle are the ultimate prizes and the Society wants them dead. They are no longer my family anyway. I have a new family now. Brandon and Brielle are mean and cruel people who I hate. They tried to kill me! Nobody tries to kill me! I can't wait to get my hands on them.

"I'm ready, Father," I say calmly to Donovan. This is a fight that's long overdue and I'm ready for it.

Chapter 15

Sarah Cometh

A cool breeze blows in from my bedroom window in the mansion. I lie on my side with one arm tucked under my soft, newly covered pillow. The ledger is still stuffed under the other head support on my bed. Another draft wafts through my blankets chilling me to the bone causing goose bumps. I reach down to tuck the blankets more securely around my body and ensure my feet are covered completely. I glance over to the window. It's closed. The moonlight shines brightly in. The heavens are free from cloud cover and twinkling. I close my eyes, shift to my back, and readjust my head against the pillow. I relax.

The frigid air surges up from my toes. I open my eyes. The covers rise and gain shape where the air flows. It continues up my body, my thighs, and my stomach. The blanket drifts over me. The cool is replaced by heat as her face begins to form in front of mine. Sarah. Her eyes look longingly and lovingly into mine. They sparkle brilliantly. Her dark, brown hair flows gently down onto my face, framing it like the canopy over a bed. Her lips are plush and red. She is perfect in every way. I can feel the weight of her body on top of mine.

_Hello, my darling,_ she says without aloud words, angelic, metallic tones ring. Her lips don't move as they are spoken. I don't respond with vocals, but with actions. I raise my head for my lips to meet hers and kiss her deeper than I've ever kissed her before. The heat from her body is warmer than I remember. She returns my love. _I don't know how much time I've got, Brandon._ Thought interrupted. I want for her to be by my side forever. I want it so badly that I forget she's gone. _I have things to tell you before it is too late, I don't know how long I can stay._ Her body fades from above me. I look around frantically. She's relocated herself to the chair beside the bed. The book is in her left hand. She reaches for mine as I sit up in bed. _They are coming for you,_ she announces bluntly.

"Who's coming for me?" I ask her as if I don't already know the answer.

_You know who, Brandon. Bennett and a man from the Society are coming. They don't know exactly where you are yet, but it won't take Ben long to find you. Bennett and Brielle are linked and he has a gift unlike one we've ever seen._ I continue to stare at her in awe thinking that Bennett was dead. I try to concentrate on her words. _He can track her, he can see through her eyes, and he will find her._

"Daniel could do that, he did it to me my whole life," I reply to her with a reminder.

Bennett isn't like Daniel was, Brandon, he's a lot stronger than Daniel ever was or could be. You have to leave this place. Take the ledger and find others. You have to try to find people to help you and Brielle. They are strong and you will die, Brandon.

"Sarah, they can't keep doing this to us!" Her words are frustrating me. "Brielle is strong! I'm strong! We can stop them together like you and I did!"

Please, my love, run from here. Find a safe place and hide. Please.

"I'll check the book and find a place for Brielle, but I'm not running anymore. Sarah, I'm too old. I can't do this anymore. Not without you. I need you. She stands from the chair and places the book on it. She approaches my bed and goes in to kiss me. I know this is goodbye. It's our last kiss. _Please, Brandon._ Her words fade at the "n" in my name as a cool breeze blows into my comforter.

My eyes shoot open as I spring up in my bed. My heart is racing. I look over, the book's golden thread sparkles at me from the chair beside my bed just as she had placed it in my dream.

Chapter 16

My Discovery

The Texas sunlight pours violently in on me. After my dream last night I had trouble getting back to sleep. My mind is filled with so many moral questions, should we stay here or do as Sarah instructed? Even though it's risky, is she right? I decide it's best to take her suggestion. I sit up in my bed, retrieve, and begin thumbing through Daniel's book. I pass the Dallas chapter page marked in the read _X._ It mocks me in a flash as it flips by. I continue through it, _Atlanta, Oklahoma City, Washington D.C., Minneapolis, Seattle, New York, Las Angeles, Topeka, Phoenix, Austin, Paris, Frankfurt, London, Rome,_ the list goes on and on. I go back through again and it hits me. _Austin, TX? That's only a few hours from here._ I read the names listed, there are only 5 families. Four of them are lone men and the other a couple. They'd have to be in their sixties or seventies by now. If they even existed anymore, that was the real question. These people couldn't be much of a threat to us and it doesn't hurt to try. I close the book and set it down. This is the first time I've voluntarily tried to seek out the members of the Society and it worries me. I lie in my bed for a few more moments before coming to a decision and beginning my day.

After showering and getting dressed, I head downstairs. Brielle is sitting at the dining room table eating.

"Who were you yelling at last night?" She asks as I try to pass into the kitchen. I stop dead in my tracks. How do I answer that question? Your mother who's dead and keeps appearing to me in my dreams? I don't know how well that will go over.

"Was I yelling? I don't remember." I try to lie.

"Dad, you know better than to try that. Come on now. Like I can't feel your nerves shaking? You're sending me a vibe that's about to knock me outta my chair." I realize there's no point in keeping it from her.

"It was your mother. She's been coming to me in my dreams, warning me."

"Warning you about what, Dad?" She asks me, her eyes bright and inquisitive.

"Bennett is alive. He and another Society member are coming for us. He can see through your eyes and is trying to track us down." Her face presents a look of confusion.

"But, how can he do that and I not even know?" Her anger and frustration is becoming more apparent.

"Brielle, none of us knew about this gift of his. I don't know how your mother knows but..."

"And why hasn't she come to see me? She's _my_ mom! I didn't even get to say goodbye to her! I was right there and couldn't do anything when Beth killed her!"

I step over to hug her, but she pushes me away. Her spoon clinks in the bowl and her chair screeches against the wooden floor as she pushes it away from the table. She runs from the room and out the back door. I hear it slam loudly in the foyer. I don't run after her. She needs time to think for a moment. I know she's in pain, but she doesn't need consoling in that way right now. She needs to be alone. I walk toward the back door to make sure she's alright, but don't approach. She's sitting in the thin, tall grass a number of feet off the deck from the house. Her back is facing me and I can tell by her breathing that she's crying. _Just give her time,_ I tell myself. I resist my natural reaction as a father and go back inside.

I go to the kitchen to grab a yogurt. We still hadn't managed to go to the store for more food, but this'll do for now. I grab a spoon and sit at the table just next to the spot she was sitting. I go for a spoonful and swallow it. I go back to my dream again, all of the dreams. The last one was the most intimate we've had so far. I am going to have to explain to Brielle what her mother said about finding people to assist and protect us. Hopefully she manages to maintain her composure. We've got a 3 hour trip to ponder what we're going to say when we get to the door of strangers to ask for their help. Brielle enters the dining room.

"I'm sorry, Dad, I didn't mean to get mad or jealous. It's not your fault." She comes over to me and hugs my neck from behind my chair. She then goes back to her seat, wiping her face with her sleeve before going back to her breakfast.

"We have to go to Austin today." She looks up at me surprised. "There are members of the Society there and we need to ask for their help." Her eyes are fixated on me in awe.

"How do you even know that?" She asks.

"I found a book yesterday while we were cleaning the den. It was Daniel's book, my grandfather, the one who tried to kill me, and it has names and addresses of the Society's chapter locations." She continues to stare at me.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I wasn't sure what I was going to do with it. I thought about hunting them down myself initially, to be honest. Then I had the dream last night, so there's been a change of plans. There's no telling how it's going to play out, but we've got a few hours to figure it out."

"Do you think it's a good idea, Dad, I mean, they've tried to kill you more than once?"

"No," I answer her simply, "it's what your mother said to do and I'm not going to argue." We finish our breakfast, dispose of our cups, and go to gather a few things to bring with us.

We pull down the drive. I get out of the vehicle to unlock and open the gate as Brielle pulls the car through so I can reattach the chain and padlock. She gets out and resumes her seat in the passenger's side. I finish the lock and get into the car. I put the address into my phone's GPS _2320 Willow Street, Austin, Texas._ We follow the English woman's voice from the speaker of my phone to the southbound I-35E. Three painful hours, but this is supposed to be an adventure. I think I've had enough adventure to last a lifetime.

Chapter 17

They're Here

Our plane lands in Newark, New Jersey. I am so confused. There are people everywhere and it's driving me crazy. _Calm down, Bennett._ Donovan's voice rings in my head. He's walking in front of me. Some of the people are walking. Some of them are running. I try to breath in order to ease my nerves. I get excited easily and when I do bad things tend to happen. Sometimes my powers get the better of me. Usually it's just a random thing that blows up like a vase or a glass. But when I get really mad, it goes crazy. The windows in my room in Paris have been replaced more than once. Donovan lectured me for hours after the last time. When I was little, stuff like that happened a lot.

Donovan's black trench coat flaps behind him as we walk quickly through the airport.

_Where are we going?_ I ask him telepathically as we hurry along.

_We have a car waiting for us. We are going to stay in the city until you can pick up on Brielle and then we'll go get them._ His English accent is rough and harsh. He's not a man that talks very much and always gets straight to the point. I don't ask him anything else as we leave the security area and go to the main hallway. I focus on his coat waving at me rather than the people darting all around. We finally make it to the front exit. There is a limo driver dressed in all black clothing.

"Hello, Mr. Donovan, I 'ope you 'ad decent traffels?" He has a thick, New Jersey accent. He states it as a question, but it's rhetorical. He opens the door for Donovan and me. He tips his hat to me. "My associate is in gettin' yer bags. He should be back soon." He closes the door and gets into the driver's seat. We wait a couple minutes. He gets back out and goes to the back of the car to open the trunk. His "associate" comes out the door with a cart with our bags on it. I hear them laughing at the back of the limo as he gets to the car. They load them up, the other guy returns the cart, and they both get in.

We pull out of the airport and approach the city. It seems to take forever to get to the hotel. There are so many traffic lights in New Jersey. As the door opens, we get out. I look up at the building. It seems to reach beyond the limits of the sky and goes on forever. This place is enormous! We walk under the canopy and in through the front door as a man opens it for us. He nods his head in recognition. The entrance is shiny and stone floored. Donovan goes up to the desk to talk to the clerk. The desk shimmers and is perfectly polished. My mouth literally drops open as I try to gather in the huge open entrance. I gaze around the room. There's several dark, leather chairs scattered around a large, round wooden tables. A large, crystal chandelier falls from the center of the ceiling. An elderly woman with white, gray hair and a navy blue pantsuit is reading a magazine in one of the chairs. Pearls fall around her neck and a matching droplet dangles from each of her ears. She looks up at me and smiles. _You have no idea who you're smiling at, lady._ I think to myself, but push the thought into her head. Her smile quickly turns to confusion and she goes back to her magazine in order to avoid looking at me. I turn back toward Donovan with a smirk on my face. He passes by me. _That wasn't very nice._ He says to me calmly from his mind to mine. By his tone, I can tell that he's pleased rather than disappointed. He thrives on animosity and control. I follow him to the elevator, the door opens, and we get in.

We go up to the 25th floor of the hotel before the elevator stops and the doors open. There is a long hallway straight ahead with a single door at the end. Tables on either side of the hall in a staggered fashion are each decorated with various flowers in fancy vases. We get to the door and he opens it with the key. I follow him inside. It's one of the penthouse suites and it's gigantic! I immediately begin exploring the room. There's a huge white chair and a couch, a glass coffee table with end tables to match, crystal lamps, and a fireplace in the first room. I walk to my right. There's a small kitchen to my left. I walk through a bathroom into a bedroom. The bed is enormous. I go in and plop myself on my back onto it. The down comforter lets out the trapped air and I sink into it. My feet dangle at the knees to the floor. Finally, I can relax, at least for a little while.

Chapter 18

2320 Willow Street, Austin, Texas

As we travel down the highway there isn't much conversation. Brielle is admiring the scenery. The lush grasses and open fields dance along the highway in both directions as we fly by. I don't remember the last time I felt the freedom of the open road and the 70 mph speed limit had my adrenaline going for about 2 miles. My heart isn't racing anymore as we pass the last few houses in the Dallas suburbs. The city skyline is a shadow in my rearview mirror under the noontime sun.

At the rate we're going, we should arrive in Austin around 3 p.m. which is a decent time.

"Any suggestions as to what we're gonna tell these people when we walk up to their door?" I ask as I turn slightly in her direction while keeping my eyes on the road.

"I don't know. Should we lie?"

"That's the question. They should be an older couple and I don't know if they have abilities or not. Some members of the Society are just in it to help with the cause so they can live comfortably." She takes the ledger out of the glove box and thumbs to the page I have dog-eared for quick reference.

"Which one is it again?" She asks with her index finger gliding down the short list.

"They are the 3rd name on the list." I look at the GPS mounted on the dashboard for an address. "It's the 2320 Willow Street one." Her finger goes back up.

"Michael and Linda Harris, huh, boring names," she giggles.

"So, what do you think? To lie or not to lie, that is the question?"

"How 'bout we just be honest with 'em? Between the two of us, we should be able to figure out if we can trust them or not," she replies.

"That sounds good to me. Why don't you turn on the radio, this is going to be a really long drive otherwise?" I'd rather she choose the music. She taps the knob. Some pop-culture music with a female on vocals fills the car's interior. Her tone is alto and fluttery with a beautiful slide in range. We've been gone for so long that, unless we were on some oldies station, I'd have no idea whose song was playing. She leaves it on the current song, apparently satisfied, and resumes her staring out the window. She shifts her body to get more comfortable. She looks as though she's going to take a nap which is fine; we've got quite a bit of time. I try to understand the music and enjoy the lost freedom of being able to drive. The Texas landscape is as lonely and vast as I feel.

Chapter 19

Help Me

I slow my steps and begin to walk. I've been here before and know exactly what's going to happen. My heartbeat is slowed almost immediately as I come to the realization. The scene is the same as before. The moon is high, the breeze is gentle, and it is quiet. I see the alleyway ahead of me. I am ready this time. That girl is not going to get the upper-hand again. I get the heat flowing within my body. I almost tiptoe as I get closer to the shadowed opening. _Help me._ Her voice comes again. It seems no matter how quietly I approach, she knows I'm coming. I round the corner. Her dark, wavy hair hides her face as it is cradled in her arms.

I grab her with my telekinesis and slam her upright against the wall. I am not about to let her get the better of me. Her body is as straight as a board against the brick, her arms flat to her sides. I near her and look into her eyes. They are dark and sparkle in the moonlight shining down from above. Her lips are a dark red. The mascara lines from the corners of her eyes to her chin as the last tear flows down and drips free after dangling momentarily. I am within a couple of feet from her.

"What do you want from me?" I ask her calmly. It seems as though _I_ _do_ have the upper-hand this time.

"I want you to die!" She yells back at me. The scream sends chills through me. She is like a banshee enraged with anger. Her voice is deep like a man's.

"I haven't done anything to you. Why are you trying to kill me?" Her eyes bury themselves into mine and she begins to laugh hysterically. It is a throaty laughter. My head begins to pound as I dig deeper for more strength to hang on to her. It doesn't work. I fly back against the wall. Her mental hands press against my windpipe, choking me. My head thumps violently. I strain for more power. My brain hurts more with every attempt. A tear rolls down my cheek. _It hurts so badly..._

Chapter 20

The Harris'

As I'm driving down Interstate 35, we're nearing Austin city's limits; Brielle jumps in her seat and lets out a gasp. I quickly glance in her direction. Sweat is dripping from her forehead.

"Are you ok, Brielle," I ask her concerned. It takes a moment for her to answer. Her eyes are searching to figure out where she is.

"Yeah, sorry, I had another dream about that girl. I tried to get her, I actually had her, and she turned it on me! I don't know what happened." A tear rolls down her cheek. "I had her! I don't get it! It hurt so badly." I reach over and pat her on the shoulder.

"It's ok, Brielle, I know exactly what you mean. That happened to me too." I remember the dream at the River Seine again. I'd tried so many times before the actual event to figure out what to do, how to get the better of him, I never did. "You have to take your dreams seriously, if they seem at all real, they probably are. Consider them premonitions. Don't forget that." I take my hand back and put it back on the steering wheel. Brielle uses a sleeve to dab her tears. "I made the mistake of ignoring my dream and look what happened. I was in a coma for 10 years! Be careful." It's all I can give her in the lines of fatherly advice. My mind wanders back again, to the River Seine in Paris. The pain he had caused me was so intense. That ache still haunts me, now with emptiness. I lost so many years that day.

I see exit 234A as the British GPS Lady announces it, that's ours, I take it. Caesar Chavez Street is the road we are on. We are to stay on this road for 1.2 miles the GPS says. Butterflies start fluttering roughly inside my belly. A bit of nausea takes me. I feel flush in the face.

"Dad, are you alright?" Brielle asks, feeling it too. I swallow the feeling down hard.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. I've never been in this position before, going to _find_ Society members." I take in a deep breath and let it out. My nerves are going crazy. It's always the feeling of the unknown that will drive a person insane. "I hate it," I say matter-of-factly.

"Thing's will be fine, Dad. It's _us_ we're talking about here. We're not just a couple of boring, ordinary people who can't take care of themselves."

"I know, Brielle." I try to take her reassurance, but the feeling doesn't completely subside. I turn onto Clara Street as per the talking digital direction finder's instructions. The house is located one-tenth of a mile down the road. I start watching the numbers on the homes as I turn right on Willow Street. 2330...2328...2326...2324...2322...2320...I pass the place and pull off the road to the curb about a hundred feet ahead. The butterflies start badgering my stomach again, worse this time. I place the car into "P" and turn off the ignition. Another deep breath is inhaled and exhaled, this time it comes from both of us.

"You ready?" She asks. I look at her.

"As ready as I'll ever be."

"Let's go then." She reaches for her door handle as I do and we get out. We shut the doors, I leave them unlocked just in case.

We approach the house from the sidewalk. It's an average ranch style home, white with black trim with a border of brick from the ground to where the siding's base begins. The masonry meets the siding of the house at the tenth brick. There is a two-car garage located on the left end; both of the doors are closed. The yard is mowed perfectly, there's not a leaf in sight. The hedges are beautifully trimmed and border the walk that runs along the front of the house from the drive to the stairs. An American flag flies proudly off to the right of the door. The black bracket attached to the house makes it easy for nighttime removal. The stairs are solid, poured cement and have a cast iron railing on either side. I stop just before the three steps at end of the sidewalk. Brielle halts behind me. I take one final inhale and let it out. I take the three ascending steps, time stands still, and the door seems to get further away with each heavy stride. I lift my fisted hand and knock loudly on the thick, metal door. We wait for what seems to be an eternity.

The door opens enough for a partial face to be seen. It's an elderly woman with glasses. The crow's feet border her brown eyes behind the horned-rimmed eyewear. She has silver, short curly hair. The skin on her face is saggy and wrinkled.

"Yes?" She asks softly.

"Mrs. Harris?" I ask.

"I am. Who are you?" She opens the door a bit more. I can see her entirely. She is wearing a button-down, dark brown blouse and khaki slacks with a perfect crease in the front. She looks perfectly harmless. My butterflies subside.

"I'm Brandon Hudson and this is Brielle," I motion toward her. "We could really use your help please." She looks at me as if confused or trying to recollect something in her mind, she then smiles. Her teeth seem a bit oversized on top.

"Well, why didn't you say so, come on in, sweetie," she says as the door swings open fully. The situation seems odd momentarily, but then settles as a thing of southern hospitality. I enter into the house. The smell is a little unsettling. It's a bit dank and smells dusty though it appears to be perfectly clean. Brielle enters behind me slowly. _I don't like this, Dad,_ she says to me mentally. _Its fine, Brielle, just nerves,_ I reply back as I smile at Linda. She turns to Brielle.

"Aren't you a pretty little thing?" She says as she stares at Brielle. She takes her hands into her own and admires her as if she's a grandmother who hasn't seen her granddaughter in a number of years. Brie gives her an uneasy, awkward giggle as Mrs. Harris continues to look her up and down. Linda then turns toward her right shoulder and hollers, "Michael, get in here, we have company."

I observe the décor of the living room. A pastel, floral sofa sits against the back wall and a matching high-back chair is sitting adjacent to it with an end table in the far corner. A lamp with a pink shade decorates the top of the table. A closed, wooden entertainment center sits in the corner across the room from the furniture. By the look of the narrow framework, I'd guess the television within is very small, if there even is one. Random figurines, Precious Moments, decorate the top of the entertainment center. The small children grin blankly at us from afar with their oversized eyes. They are scattered in no apparent order. Just then, an old man with a cane comes slowly into the living room from the hallway to the left.

"Well, who do we have here?" He asks in a shaky voice.

"It's Brandon Hudson and his daughter Brielle, you remember him don't you, Michael?" She answers his question with a question. I become confused. _How would he remember me?_ I ask myself silently. She turns to me and says, "We used to come up to your grandparents farm in Michigan during the summer when you were little. I think the last time we were up there you were 5...no...probably 6 years old." Her answer stuns me like a shock from a tazer-gun as I stand motionless. "How are your grandparents doing anyway?" It's another jolt of electricity. I gather my thoughts and answer her question.

"They're dead." I say bluntly. The shock sent my manners elsewhere for a moment. I managed to pick the house of a couple who just happened to have been good friends with my grandparents? I'm still stunned. I guess I picked the right place. I laugh a bit on the inside as I begin to relax even more. "I'm sorry. They passed away a long time ago. I didn't mean to spring it on you like that." Michael just stood there staring at me, astounded by my rudeness apparently. I turn to him and apologize directly.

"Well, come on in and sit down," Linda says as she motions for the dining room straight ahead through the living room. They both lead the way to the table as we follow behind. Brielle is quiet and observant. We go to the six-person, dark wood table, pull our chairs out, and sit down. "Can I get you something to drink?" Linda asks politely before sitting.

"Some water would be great if you don't mind?" I reply.

"Brielle, honey, would you like something," she asks. Brielle snaps out of her mini-trance.

"Sorry, yes please. Water too?" She responds. Linda nods her head shakily and walks around the counter into the kitchen on the other side. Cabinetry hangs down from the ceiling above the counter bar. The glass doors show off the various glasses inside. She reaches in from the other side and fetches a couple of glasses, goes to the fridge for ice from its machine on the door, and gets water from the tap. Carrying them in both hands, she returns to the table and sets the glasses down in front of us. I pick mine up and take a sip politely. Brielle just sits and looks at hers next to me. Michael sits to my right at the head of the table and Linda takes her seat across from me next to him.

"What brings ya'll to Austin? I'm surprised you even remember us at all, you were so young." Linda kicks off the inquisitive conversation. I stumble for the words in my mind and decide to just spit them out.

"Actually, we need your help. My son and another Society member are trying to kill us. We left them in Paris, but they're on their way here and I don't know what else to do." Neither one of them seem surprised at all by the news I'd just spat out at them. Linda begins to speak.

"Paris you say? The other member you're talking about then is a man named Donovan. He's _very_ strong. Ya'll are best to stay clear of him," she says seriously. Michael doesn't say anything as she talks. He seems to be taking us in with his eyes, observing. "How did you say you found us again?" She asks.

"I didn't. We are staying at the mansion in Dallas, Daniel's old place, and I stumbled across an old book. He had listed all of the locations of the Society's members and their names. Yours was the first I'd thought we'd try."

"Interesting, pretty stupid of you, but interesting," she replies. "I mean, since ya'll didn't even know who we were, did you think it'd be a good idea to come to strangers, especially Society people?" Her question is well taken.

"I thought I might be making a mistake, but it was a chance I thought we'd have to take. There really isn't any other choice and power in numbers is usually the best option." She nods in affirmation.

"That's true. Risky though, very risky," she says as her head still nods slightly. "You can stay here. We have an extra bedroom downstairs in the basement and there's a pull-out sofa bed down there also. We'll do what we can to help. You're grandparents were wonderful people by the way, especially your grandmother, Darla, she was a doll."

I thank her and we go to the car for our things. We'd only packed a couple of small bags for the trip and threw them into the trunk.

_Dad, I've got a bad feeling about those people,_ Brielle sends me a message, _especially that old man. He's weird._

"Brielle, you worry too much," I say aloud since we're far enough away from the house. "You'll feel better about it in the morning, you'll see." I shoot her a smile as we grab our bags and return to the house. She doesn't smile back. All evening she says little to nothing. After a few more hours of conversation, we settle down in the basement for the night.

Chapter 21

The Society Cometh

"Dad, we have to get out of here." I am awakened from my sleep on the sofa bed to Brielle's whispering voice and abrupt shaking. "They're coming. We have to go now." She continues to rouse me.

"Brielle, stop, I told you there's nothing to worry about," I reply, annoyed by her childish nonsense.

"I can hear them. Get up. Get up now, Dad." Her voice is excited and demanding. "We _have_ to go _now._ "

"Okay, okay," I say to her as I slide from the bed only in my t-shirt and boxer shorts. I reach for my pants and slip them on to the knees. I grab my socks and stuff them in my bag. Her backpack is on her left shoulder as she waits impatiently for me. She continuously glances over her right shoulder up the stairway. I slide my sockless feet into my shoes. The rough interior pokes the bare tops of my feet uncomfortably until they're fully inserted. I stand, zip, and button my pants. My shoes remain untied, but the lengths of the laces aren't intrusive to my motions. I scoop up my bag. Brielle leads the way up the basement stairs to the door. She reaches for the handle and tries to turn it. The door had been open when we'd come downstairs earlier in the evening. I reach around Brielle and pound on the door. "Let us outta here!" I yell.

"Dad, don't. We'll just blast it open. We _really_ have to go. I can hear them in my head. They're close," she whispers to me. I reluctantly gear up to shoot the door with my mind. The entire area around the doorknob explodes unexpectedly. I look at her.

"You're too slow," she says, "and we're running out of time." I push the door open, it groans on its hinges. The inside knob hits the floor and drops down the stairs loudly, hitting every step on the way down. I cringe with the unexpected noise and breaking of our attempted silent sneak out. All the lights are out upstairs. A natural lighting pours in through the windows. I peer around the corner toward the living room. Nobody is there. I can't see around the corner to the bedroom hallway where Michael had come from earlier. I look to the left. The sliding glass door beyond the dining room goes out to a deck. It looks clear. "We're too late, Dad, they're here." Brielle announces from behind me on the stairs. There's a _knock, knock, knock._ The sounds come from the front door.

I turn my face in the direction of the noise. There is a wrinkled face with horned-rimmed glasses within inches from mine.

"Where do you think ya'll are going, Brandon?" The old woman asks. "I don't think so." A psychic blast hits me in the forehead; it's not enough to hurt me. It pushes me backward. I lose my footing on the stairs. Brielle tries to stop me from falling by holding her arms against my back. It's too late. I begin to plummet down and am taking my daughter with me. I swing around and grab Brielle with one arm as I try to use my body to protect hers from hitting the ground. I hit the floor hard with Brie on top of my chest. The back of my head hits the edge of an area rug, saving me from sudden death. The ache pounds instantly as my brain is jostled in my skull. My blurred vision clears quickly as I reorient myself. Linda is standing at the top of the stairs with her husband by her side. He has no cane and stands perfectly erect. _Knock, knock._ There is another bang on the door, louder than the first.

"Did you think we were going to let you hide here? Do you have any idea what would happen to us if Donovan found out?" Linda questions us from the doorway as Michael dismisses himself to the living room. I hear the door open and muffled voices follow. "We haven't lived this long by being stupid! Do you think we're stupid, Brandon!" She asks rhetorically. Brielle stands quickly and backs out of her view. I follow her lead and roll in her direction. The cement floor shatters into a hole and a dust cloud forms above it. "Ya'll come into our house and treat us like _we're_ stupid? I'll show _you_ stupid!" Her voice is high pitched and turning raspy as she yells.

We back against the farthest wall from the stairs having nowhere else to go. I look around quickly. There are only small windows leading out to little exterior gutters that are covered with grating of some sort. There is no escape. We'll have to fight.

"I'm sorry I didn't listen to you, Brielle," I whisper to her apologetically. My head is still throbbing as I gear up and ready my powers. I have an idea, "Help me hit the staircase." I throw everything I've got at the middle of the stairs. The wood snaps in the center and bows toward the opposite wall. A body falls from above and smacks against the cement in a belly-flop fashion. Blood begins to pour from the face onto the cement. I don't recognize the person. With the staircase gone, we've bought ourselves some time hopefully. I inspect the wall our backs are against. There are three windows, there has to be a way. I skirt against the wall. Brielle mimics me and begins to check the wall on her side. All the people above us need is a glance and it could mean the end of one of us. We stay against the wall. I get to the far end of the basement. The grate is missing from the dugout area by the window. I motion for Brielle to come to me. The view to the doorway above is still invisible to my sights. Their shadows dance against the wall as they appear to be trying to get a visual on us. I reach upward, behind my back, and unlatch the window hinged at the topmost point. I cup one hand at my waist and Brielle steps in the saddle. She pushes against me, wriggles up and through, and is gone.

The grass is cold and damp. It stains the front of my shirt as I slide out from the basement window. I go as fast as I can. My eyes dart quickly around. I'm okay. I turn to the window and say to my dad, _I'll be right back._ He replies, _no, Brielle, you can't go alone!_ I reassure him, _I'll be okay, don't worry._ I then leave him. He continues to try to yell at me telepathically, but I block him out. I can handle this. I have to test myself if I'm ever going to face that girl in the alley. Obviously, I survive this or I wouldn't be having that dream, right? No time for questions or doubt. I dig deep within myself to pull my powers from the depths of my soul. The heat is intense and immediate. All of the adrenaline flowing through me has everything increased and faster.

I approach the back door. A tall, dark man is standing a few feet from the basement door with his back to me. I can see him through the sliding glass. There are two other men I don't know. One is squatting atop the stairs and the other stands behind him. Linda and Michael are on the far side standing still facing my direction, waiting. I stride up the stairs to the deck swiftly and smoothly as if floating. My first blast cuts through the thick glass. Shards fly above the kitchen table stabbing the tall, dark man through the back into his heart. Another piece hits the other standing at the top of the stairs in the side of the head piercing his brain. They both fall to the ground immediately. I step into the dining room. The glass crunches under my shoes. The squatting man stands abruptly. I push him through the doorway into the basement to join the man from earlier when we blasted the stairs apart. The gurgling sounds from below tell me that my dad has taken care of him. My eyes are afire and glowing white like a heavenly light. They are empty with illumination.

"Ya'll," I begin mockingly, "have a little problem now!"

"I don't think so, little missy." These are the first and the last words Michael utters as a chair smashes against his face and he slams to the ground. I suddenly begin to feel a needle-like prickling against my skull. It starts like a shot and then begins to become more severe. Linda is staring me down now. I turn my gaze at her and grab her by the throat with my telekinetic hand. It picks her up and pounds her horned-rimmed glasses against the living room wall. She is pinned, but continues to try to pick at my brain. _I'm through playing with ya'll_ , I mock her once again before stopping her heart with my mind. Her lifeless body slumps to the floor. I gather my concentration and idle my powers. I begin to breath normally again. My eyes gain back their brilliant blue. I go to the doorway to the basement as I step around bodies.

"Are you alright, Dad?" I ask into the emptiness. I see the men's bodies lifeless on the floor below. His shadow first comes into view, then the rest of him. His eyes are wide.

"Yeah, are _you_?" He asks confused and astounded.

"Definitely," I answer him happily. I have just proven to myself that I am not the delicate little girl I appear to be and it feels awesome. I lie on the floor completely and reach an arm down to help my dad up. I use my abilities to ease the load and he comes up more easily than I'd expected. "What are we going to do about the mess?" I ask him.

"Nobody knows who we are and we're not in any databases or anything, I'm sure we'll be fine," he replies.

We get all evidence of our being here, walk out of what used to be a back door, and we get into the car that we'd luckily parked a few houses down. We make our way back to the mansion in Dallas. What a wasted trip

Chapter 22

Bennett's Link

I startle awake in my hotel bed. _I know where they are!_ I think to myself. I felt her power and it was strong! I sit up and run my fingers through my hair. I don't want to wake Donovan right now. I know that he'd want to know, but not at this time in the morning. I cradle my head in my hands as I sit on my bed. I rest my elbows on my knees. Brielle is really strong. I got a rush of power that flowed through me when she used her abilities. I got a flash of the events as they took place. I was seeing through her eyes. It was like a dream in my head while I was sleeping. The glass from that door exploded everywhere. Bodies fell so quickly. The chair flew across the room into the old man's face killing him. When she grabbed the old woman, I felt like it was me crushing her windpipe. It felt so good. I watched as she died. As her power usage subsided, I lost the images. Her power is my beacon at this distance apparently. The only question I can't get from my mind is where was Brandon? I didn't see him anywhere. I didn't see him using his abilities. Has he left her to fight alone? This might be easier than I'd thought it would be.

I wake Donovan a few hours later, waiting for the sun to come up. He is angry that I hadn't awoken him as soon as I'd had the feeling. I apologize profusely for my mistake. He ignores my plea for forgiveness and tells me to get ready. We are leaving as soon as we can get a flight out of New Jersey. I do as I'm told and leave him to his anger.

Chapter 23

Donovan's Story

The nurse takes the baby from the doctor as he hands him to her. He is fresh from the womb and has yet to take a breath on his own. She picks up the nasal aspirator bulb from the nearby clear, plastic hospital bassinet as she cradles the boy in her other arm. She squeezes the bulb and sticks it into his mouth. She releases the bulb. The mucus sucks into it. The sound fills the hospital room. She repeats the action over and over again until switching between the nostrils and the mouth very quickly. She is a professional and has done this numerous times. He lets out a weak cry at first and then it becomes louder and more intense. His little arms shake uncontrollably as the screams continue. The glass door cabinet across the room cracks. The nurse smiles to herself. She carries him to the bassinet and takes a towel, removing the afterbirth from his skin roughly. Once he's clean, she begins checking his vitals. The extreme temperature difference from the womb to the open air is shocking. She wraps him tightly in a blanket under a heat lamp.

The doctor continues to tend to the baby's mother. Blood continues to pour from her. The red pool has gone beyond the medical chuck absorbent pad under her and the drops begin flowing to the floor. He doesn't seem concerned and it's unsettling. The woman moans in agony on the bed. Her face is pale and lacking blood flow. The doctor sits on his stool between her legs watching the redness pool by his feet. The liquid splatters onto his shoes from the pool, leaving sprinklings of red on the white of his sneakers. He sits calmly and still, staring at the woman as her eyes roll into the back of her head from the pain.

"Michael, could you please take care of her, I'm getting sick of listening to the whining?" The nurse asks the doctor.

"Yes, Linda," he responds blankly.

He stands and goes to a drawer in the hospital room. He opens it and retrieves a syringe filled with a clear liquid. He closes it and goes back to the mother. He reaches for the intravenous tube running from her arm to the bag on the metal stand. He slides the needle into the plastic tubing and pushes on the plunger. All of the liquid flows into the tube as the plunger stops at the dead end point of the syringe. The woman stops making noises after a few moments. Her head relaxes to the side upon her pillow. The machine she's hooked up to that measures her vitality begins to beep loudly. The doctor unplugs it and goes to the hallway to get help. A crew returns quickly and begins working to restore her life. They have no idea their efforts are in vain.

The nurse continues to check the newborn. She admires his deep, brown eyes which are almost black in color. They peek out at her from beneath his eyelids. His dark head of hair is full and messed. His cries begin to subside as she stares down at him. _You're going be just fine, my little man. You're going to be just fine._ She talks to him telepathically. She shushes him as his eyes close. One of his arms is free and has ventured to his mouth. He sucks on his hand for comfort.

She goes over to the baby's mother's bed to act as though she's helping. They both know there is no resuscitating her lifeless body, but need to ensure there's no suspicion raised. Michael, the doctor, her husband, the killer, announces her death and the efforts to bring her back cease.

Linda goes over to the bassinet and wheels the baby down to the nursery. She announces the situation to the nurses. She grabs a bottle from the refrigerator, picks up the infant, finds a place to sit, and begins to feed him. The nurses are all upset at the news of the loss of the mother and swoon over him. The poor little guy, what are we going to do with him? It's one of the questions they ask aloud. Linda feels out the situation as she stares down at him in her arms. She removes the bottle from his mouth and moves him to her shoulder for burping. As she begins patting him on his tiny back, she makes a suggestion, "Michael and I could adopt him." The nurses are excited by her suggestion and then one asks, "I think we'll have to check to see if she has any family first, don't we?"

"Yes, but if they can't find anyone, we'd be happy to take care of him," Linda says. She knows they won't find any relatives and is more than willing to comply with the rules. The Society had been following the young, unwed mother since she was first impregnated by one of their members. The baby's father was killed due to a conspiracy against the Society. She had no abilities and wasn't worthy of caring for the baby. The Society decided they would avoid having to take him from her later in life. Michael and Linda volunteered their services out of loyalty to them and they had the means to make it happen without detection. A couple of weeks later, after not finding anyone else to take the child, Linda and Michael bring their baby, Donovan Harris, home.

Donovan is mischievous in his abilities. As a toddler, he knocks things from tables and moves things at random. Linda and Michael teach him what they know. They aren't very strong but know what it takes to move things using their telekinesis. Linda is a mind reader with weak moving powers. Michael's ability to move things is a little stronger.

By the age of five, their little boy is a prodigy. Linda sits Donovan down at the dining room table and begins to probe his mind. She starts softly at first.

"Don, honey, remember what we talked about, try to keep me out," she says to him. His little body sits slouched on the wooden chair. His legs dangle a foot or so from the floor. His black hair is messed and dark, brown eyes are large. His skin is a light brown from the Texas sun's exposure.

"Okay, Mommy," he replies softly. She probes at his thoughts, looking to say aloud what's on his mind for proof that he's not doing it right. She tries to dig more deeply. She's not getting anything out of his thoughts. She taps into her telekinesis and plunges a thread into his brain. "Stop, Mommy, it hurts," he says as his hands go to his head for attempted relief. "Stop, please, Mommy. I don't wanna hurt you," he warns her as a tear forms in the corner of his right eye. Linda continues to pry at him. Suddenly a shot of psychic force punches her in the throat. Her chair plummets backward and slams to the ground. Her hands go to her larynx as she gasps for air. Donovan immediately leaps off his chair and goes to her. "I told you to stop, Mommy. I told you," he says as he squats down beside her as she regains her lungs capacity of air. His hand goes to her chest in concern.

"I'm fine, honey, I'm fine," she says as she rolls to her side and lifts herself off of the ground. She replaces the chair in its proper place. She turns to him, places her hands on his shoulders, and crouches down by him, "you did beautifully, Donovan. The Society will be proud." She stands and pats him on the head. He smiles with content. "I'm going to do some gardening now. You may go out and play if you'd like." She goes out the backdoor. He goes out behind her. He practices on insects and other small animals. It's fun for him.

Linda and Michael decide to take a trip up north to visit some friends when Donovan is 10 years old, the summer was free for traveling. They had made up their mind to teach him everything he needed to know with his abilities and in the formal education realm from home. His powers were too great at too young an age to allow discovery and children don't know when it's okay to use them. It was the best choice to keep the Society and him safe, not to mention other people, and the Society approved of the decision. Linda and Michael did what they were told, there's too much at stake. They needed to represent the Society in meeting the infamous Brandon Hudson and the best way to do that is by befriending Darla Hudson, his grandmother. The Society keeps close tabs on everyone, even its own members. One never knows when there would be a threat from the inside and that isn't a risk they are willing to take.

They catch the flight to Michigan and arrive at the Hudson's farm. The driveway is long and gravel as they pull off the highway and into the yard. Lilac bushes border the entirety of the yard and are in full bloom. The beautiful scent of lilac fills the air as it flows into the car's open windows. Donovan sits quietly in the backseat of the black, Dodge 4-door sedan, he watches the scenery. Michael glides the vehicle along the one-car path of a drive. Random potholes make the car bounce endlessly on its shocks as they approach. Trees grow just beyond the line of lilacs to the left of the road. Their tops blow high above in the Michigan breeze.

A large, shed stands next to an empty grain bin. The sliding doors are open to the shed and an old pick-up truck sticks halfway out from it. There is a single-car garage straight ahead of the driveway. Beyond the garage, there is a large barn with an attached corral. As the end of the lilacs pass, a tall, white house pokes out and into view. Four, paned windows face the vehicle as it approaches. They are evenly spaced on the house's side, 2 at the bottom level and 2 at the top. Perfect crossbeams dress the centers, separating the individual panes. The wood around the windows is painted black. The house is a sore thumb in color compared to the rest of the buildings on the farm. The black and white completely contrasts the reds.

There is a pretty woman in a light, floral sundress standing near the driveway. She waves excitedly and smiles. Her hair is cut short and black. The flattering bob cut is very much in fashion. Her grin is perfectly flawless and white. Her chocolate, brown eyes glow in the midday sunlight. Michael parks the car next to the garage and they get out. He goes to the trunk for their bags. Linda skips to Darla and embraces her like they are sisters who haven't seen each other in years. Donovan walks to them slowly and is introduced by Linda. Darla gives him a hard hug. He stands blankly as she squeezes him, not knowing how to respond to a stranger's clinch. _Don't worry, Donovan, you'll be fine here._ She says to him with her extrasensory skill. _Brandon's here, you'll have someone to play with._ Just as those icebreaking words flowed from her thoughts and into his, a small boy who didn't look more than 5 years of age, exits the house. He walks down the short staircase toward the group. His eyes match his hair in their chocolate coloring, just like his grandmother's. He doesn't say anything as he goes to her side and stares at the strangers. Donovan gives him a look of discontent and Brandon returns the glance. His eyes go to the ground as his foot moves a small pebble around with the tip of his sneaker.

"Gramms, can I go play by the haystacks?" Brandon asks.

"Sure, honey, but stay off of them, you know how much your grandfather hates that." She replies. "Why don't you take Donovan with you?" She asks though it is more of a demand than a request.

"Where is your husband anyway, Darla?" Linda asks.

"Oh, he spends nearly every waking moment in the fields taking care of crops and cattle. Such is the life of a farmer I guess." Darla rolls her eyes.

Brandon looks at the strange boy as he walks away. Donovan follows behind at a distance. He's not really interested in playing right now but does as he's told anyway. Brandon walks through the backyard and goes into a breaking path in the lilac fencing surrounding the yard. A bee flits from one purple flower to another collecting nectar. Donovan enters the pathway. After three feet, the flower bush's border ends. The world opens up before him. Birds flutter above in the clear sky. The sound of a Killdeer hits him as it warns him to stay away from his mate and nest somewhere nearby on the ground. Its skinny, long legs scurry along as it calls its warning. Donovan ignores it and continues following Brandon. There is a road molded deeply in tractor tire tracks between dozens of haystacks on either side. The tracks are solid and cracked; they used to be mud and are now dry.

Brandon tucks between some stacks about five rows up. Donovan follows him in. There is a tunnel tall enough for a child to walk upright into between the hay. The stacks tower high above each of their heads. Donovan turns as he follows the tunnel. A feeling of anxiousness and claustrophobia overtake his emotions. He begins to panic and walks more quickly. He takes another turn, to the right. It opens up into a room between the stacks about ten feet in circumference. Brandon is standing at the far end of the circle facing him. His eyes are a solid black.

"What are you doing here?" He says in a deep, haunting voice, nothing like that of a 5 or 6 year old boy.

"My parents said we were coming for a visit. I don't know," Donovan responds.

"You people cannot be here! Go away!" The voice becomes demanding and violent in volume. An invisible force slams into Donovan's chest and throws him to the ground. He hits. Hay is littered everywhere and it doesn't hurt when he impacts. His eyes dart up almost immediately. He pushes a blast at Brandon; it punches him in the throat. The little boy's body bounces into the stack behind him. His hands go to his throat. He gasps for air. Donovan gets up from the ground and walks toward Brandon. His eyes regain normalcy. The dark, brown coloring returns. The whites are as they are supposed to be. He gets his breath back and asks, "Why did you do that?" His question is that of surprise.

"You...you...you can't tell," Donovan said shakily. He runs from the enclosure amongst the haystacks. Brandon has no idea what's just occurred, he shakes it off, and leaves just the way he'd come in. They don't so much as look at each other the remaining portion of the Harris' visit.

Donovan continued his life with the Harris' until the age of 18. The Society provided him with the best tutors money could buy. He soon moved on to college. He said goodbye to the people he knew as his parents, not realizing he'd never see them again. Since the Society had plans for him within the government, they got him into Georgetown University to have him close. He would obtain his Ph. D. in Human Psychology.

While attending Georgetown, Donovan maintains a fairly low profile. The Society leaves him to his studies and they allow him to live a fairly normal college life. He manages to get high grades and never sees the need to use his abilities. They lie dormant within his mind as they wait quietly. Just a few months before graduation, he takes a break from the books and decides to attend a party at a local frat house. Donovan never drank for fear of emotional overload or accidental power usage and this time is no exception to his personal rule.

As he approaches the house, he questions his reasoning for being there, but decides to go anyway. The house is three stories high with four huge, white pillars lining the outskirts of the front porch. Several steps lead up to the front door. The music from inside is loud even on the lawn. Silhouettes of a multitude of students show through the thin curtains hanging on the windows of the bottom floor. The yard out front is still in perfect order thus far besides the lines of vehicles in the drive and up both sides of the street. He stalks reluctantly up the steps to the door and gives it a knock. He waits for a moment. No doubt the raps on the door cannot be heard over the volume of the interior music. He tries the door knob and it opens. The sounds from inside become even more intense than they had been from outside. His eardrums take a moment to adjust to the obnoxiousness of the volume.

Donovan is only a few feet inside the house when a guy he knows from a couple of his classes approaches. His plaid button-down shirt is partially buttoned and in a crooked fashion. He puts his arm around Donovan and begins talking, his breath reeks of alcohol.

"Hey...hey man...glad you could make it," the plastic cup in his hand, almost full of beer, sloshes and nearly gets Donovan's pant leg. The staleness of the beer nauseates Donovan as it's breathed in his direction. He attempts to back away but the man stumbles with him awkwardly. "Have I...got (hiccup) the perfect girl...for you," the annoying drunkard mutters. His finger points beyond the others wrapped around the cup in a general direction of a crowded room. He stumbles forward a bit, his arm dropping from Donovan's shoulders. He catches his balance on a nearby wall. Donovan walks away from him. _I really don't need a drunk-ass frat boy to pick out my dates for me, thanks,_ Donovan thinks as he immerses himself into the groups of people to get away from the drunken annoyance. He can't decide whether he's made a mistake in coming or if this was a wise choice. Some of the students are noticeably intoxicated while others seem to be under control. _There is nothing worse than a sober amongst drunks._ He scans the people in an effort to perhaps find anyone he actually knows on a personal level to interact with.

Then he sees her. She is standing next to the fireplace in the great room talking to a couple other women. She has a soda in her hand. Her name is Vicky Sullivan. He's had several classes with her in his years at Georgetown, but never really gotten to know her. They've shared quick pleasantries in passing, a simple _hi_ in the hallways. That's about the length of their conversations. Her hair is long and blonde with a seductive wavy curl as it flows to the center of her back. Her light blue sundress is held up by two very skinny straps at the shoulders. The ties on her platform style sandals wrap like snakes around her perfectly formed ankles. He's been infatuated with her since first glance his sophomore year but was too nervous to pursue her. _There's no time like the present,_ Donovan says to himself in an effort to boost his own confidence. He pushes his shoulders back and gently makes his way through the people between himself and her. As he nears, butterflies begin to smack him in the gut but he ignores them. He stands next to her and her acquaintances in a quiet effort to not interrupt. She stops and looks at him.

"Hi, it's about time you approached me. I thought we were gonna graduate and never even get to actually talk," she says. He clears his throat, a bit surprised at her comment.

"Yeah...umm...well, I'm here now," he doesn't know what else to say. He looks into her eyes. She gives him a smile. He reaches out his hand to her. "I'm Donovan Harris. It's nice to finally meet you." Her hand goes to his. Her hand is soft as a baby's newborn skin. It's amazing to his touch. She gives a gentle and ladylike handshake, they seem to hang on forever and then their grip subsides. The moment begins to become awkward because Donovan's never done this before and doesn't know what to say or how to act. The silence is suddenly broken.

"Would you like to go out sometime?" She asks him. It is the time of women's liberation after all. He is surprised once again by her straightforwardness. He likes it. It takes the pressure off of him.

"Damn right I would!" He replies, not realizing the desperation that shines through in the expression. She smiles and him and giggles. The silence is back.

"What time and when would you like to go out, Donovan?" She asks.

"Oh, sorry, how's tomorrow night around 7?" He asks uncomfortably.

"That sounds great!" She writes her address down on a napkin she pulls from her purse and hands it to him. "This place is too loud for a real conversation. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" She was right about the loudness and it seemed inappropriate to pick up a girl in a situation like this. He nods to her and smiles. He decides to leave. The anticipation of the following night leaves him tossing and turning in his bed all night. The many situations and possibilities play themselves through in his dreams.

Donovan is at her house the following evening as promised, he is ten minutes early. He doesn't understand the importance of a woman's preparation time before a date. He parks his Society provided black BMW at the curb in front of the house and gets out. He skips up to the door and knocks. A big, burly man in his early 40's answers the door. A cigarette hangs from his mouth off to the left side. His eye is squinted in order to avoid the tearing the smoke contact would induce.

"Yeah?" The man simply states as if he doesn't know what Donovan is there for.

"Good evening, sir. Is Vicky here?" Donovan asks nervously.

"Come in. She'll be down in a minute." He opens the door fully to accompany the invite and Donovan does the proper thing in response. He follows Vicky's father into a sitting room located to the left of the entrance. They pass through a white framed, arched doorway into a room decorated in dark, earthy tones. The room has two three-cushion sofas and a chair to match in a deep, pea green. Donovan goes to sit following the lead of his host. He inches his way between the coffee table and the couch and eases in. Her father sits on the sofa directly across from him. The extensive ash on his cigarette is near falling as it bows downward. He removes it from his lips and carefully flicks it into the ashtray on the table in front of them. He smashes it out amongst the other butts, retrieves another from a pack, puts it in his mouth, and lights a match. The pack still open, he offers Donovan a cigarette with a grunt.

"No thank you, sir, I don't smoke," Donovan replies.

"Suit yourself, son," he replies as he closes the pack and places it back onto the table. "So, what are your plans with my daughter tonight?" He asks pointblank. No idle chatter, straight to the point. It catches Donovan off guard. His hands are sitting stationary on his knees. His palms are sweaty from nerves.

"Umm...well...we're going to that little Italian restaurant downtown," he says. Her father ponders the answer for a moment before responding with one squinted eye.

"Sounds like a good choice, son. What time you plan on having my little girl home?" Knowing that Vicky isn't a "little girl", Donovan still treads carefully before answering the question.

"I'll have her back by 9 o'clock, sir," he responds. Her father nods at the reply. Donovan takes the response as an approval. He wipes his hands on his slack's legs. There is a sudden clop in the direction of the stairs to the right of where he'd entered the house.

"I'm ready!" She announces from the entryway as she comes into the sitting room. Donovan stands to greet her. She immediately approaches and puts her arm around his waist. Donovan looks at her father to check his reaction. His eyes are still peeped but his forehead is wrinkled in a downward fashion. Donovan doesn't respond to her arm around him.

"Is it time to go?" He asks uneasily. Without delay, her hand slides from his waist to his hand and she leads him out. "It was a pleasure meeting you, sir," Donovan says as he's led out the front door. He quickly takes the lead and opens the passenger door of his car for her.

"Wow, this is a nice car! How can you afford it?" She asks him.

"My family is fairly well off," he replies as he snuggly shuts the door behind her. He goes to his side of the Beemer. The paint shines beautifully under the moonlit sky. The fresh wax that was applied earlier today looks wonderful. He opens the door and slides in. "How do you feel about Italian food, Vicky," he asks her.

"I love Italian food," she responds. He puts the car into gear and drives to the restaurant. They save the small talk for the meal. When they arrive, Donovan gets out and hands the approaching valet his keys. The kid hands him his ticket and thanks him. Donovan goes to the passenger side to open the door for her. She steps out. In his nervous haste, he hadn't noticed how stunningly she was dressed. Her blonde hair is fixed tightly in a bun. Her eyes are edged in black liner and mascara that accentuate her light blue eyes. Her lips are cherry red and inviting. The dress she's wearing is perfect. It's a red that is almost an exact match to her lipstick and her heels are the same. She tucks her handbag under her arm and wraps the opposite arm into the crook of his. He feels a bit underdressed in his brown, diamond-plaid cardigan with a white, collared shirt underneath and his khaki pants, but walks proudly inside with a beautiful woman on his arm. A doorman opens the door and welcomes them.

A crystal chandelier hangs delicately from the ceiling at the entrance. A lone man stands at a podium near the entrance. He is dressed in a black suit with a matching tie. His mustache is thick, black and distracting at first glance.

"May I help you?" He asks in an Italian accent.

"Donovan Harris, table for two," Donovan replies. The maitre d' checks his reservation list that is posted atop the podium.

"Ah, yes, Mr. Harris, right this way please, sir," he says as he leads them into the depths of the restaurant. Quiet conversations flow everywhere within as they pass by. They try to ignore the love in the air at nearly every table. Older couples hold hands on top of the tables sweetly. Younger couples stare longingly into each other's eyes like little puppy dogs. Whispers are everywhere. They reach their table near the back of the restaurant. Donovan nudges the mustached man as he tries to pull Vicky's chair out for her. He moves so Donovan can do it. She smiles up at him as she takes her seat. He finds his as the maitre d' excuses himself, after announcing that someone will be right with them. They sit across from each other and begin talking. Vicky starts.

"I'm so happy you finally asked me out. What took you so long?" She asks.

"I don't know, I just thought you'd say no and I don't take rejection well. Plus, with school, I'm pretty busy. I don't even usually go to parties. I just decided to go last night on a whim," he replies.

"I guess it's a matter of being in the right place at the right time then huh?"

"I guess so." Just then a waitress approaches them and pours their ice waters. The wine glasses instantly develop a frosty condensation on their exterior. She introduces herself and leaves the menus. She will give them a few moments to decide and leaves. They cease their conversation long enough to figure out what they'd like. They announce that they'd like the Osso Buco, veal shanks, at the same time. They laugh at the strange similarity. The menu has nearly 20 main dishes on it and they decide on the same one. Donovan's being at the party last night was evidently God's intention. They continue their first date as a landmark for many to follow.

Donovan graduates Georgetown University with Honors. Vicky becomes pregnant a couple of months prior. They get married and move in together. Donovan's apartment, though lavish, would not be suitable for a family. The Society gives them a house upon his request in the D.C. area. Donovan keeps them a secret from his bride. They are a group that is never introduced to outsiders and, since she has no powers, she is considered an outsider. Donovan also never exposes his own secrets to her, the abilities he's kept contained for several years.

The house the Society donates is chosen by Donovan personally, the price he'll pay for their generosity is yet to be determined. It is a Victorian style home with a large porch, enormous fenced-in backyard, and is provided fully furnished. A white picket fence borders the front from one corner of the house to the other. A swinging gate blocks the sidewalk from the front to the door. The Society asks him no questions, they only provide. Vicky and Donovan move in immediately. As he pulls his car up to the curb, her jaw drops to the floor. Her eyes are as big as saucers and the scream she lets escape is ear piercing.

"Oh my God, are you serious?" She asks loudly. "This is our house? Tell me I'm dreaming and pinch me." He reaches over and pinches her lightly and whispers in her ear.

"I'm pinching you but you're not dreaming, my dear." She lets out another quick squeal as he gets out and goes to her door. He opens it and she leaps out. She begins running to the house and goes for the knob. The front door is locked. She turns to him and frowns playfully. "Your husband will be carrying you over the threshold. Did you think you'd get over that easily?"

"I'm so fat. You probably can't even pick me up." He smiles at her as he gets to the top step and scoops her into his arms. The arm under her torso goes to unlock the door. It turns easily as does the doorknob. He swings the door open and walks in. He sets her down and kisses her deeply.

"I love you, Vicky," he says after their kiss is complete. She smiles at him and begins running through the house screeching giddily like a school girl opening her first Barbie Doll at Christmas.

Every room is perfect. A brown, leather couch sits in the living room just to the right upon entry. A matching recliner stands beside it. They face a large console television. The coffee table, end tables, and Tiffany lamps accent the room gorgeously. There is a live plant in every room, hanging or sitting in a corner or on a table. Fresh flowers in a crystal vase decorate the kitchen nook table. The kitchen is fully stocked and well lit from the easterly morning sun. The white walls reflect the light throughout the room. The yellowish tile matches the countertop. Everything downstairs is beautiful and tastefully done.

They go up the stairs. There is one master bedroom off to the right, a bathroom straight ahead, and a bedroom to the left. The bedroom is directly across the hall from the master. All of the furniture in the room is decorated in cherry oak. The king-sized bed is covered in a rich royal pattern. The main bedroom also has a walk-in closet that is fully stocked with clothing for both of them. Vicky is in awe and cannot believe what she is seeing. Her heart is beating a hundred miles a minute and doesn't feel like it will ever slow. She ignores the bathroom and goes into the bedroom across the hall. It contains a white crib, other furnishings to match, and is decorated in greens and yellows, perfectly neutral colors for either sex of a baby. The closet in this room is also chalked full of everything the baby will need. Donovan is standing behind her. She grabs him and kisses him over and over again. "I love you! I love you! I love you!" She says between kisses. He is just as happy as she is, but doesn't want to reveal his secret so he takes the credit for everything. Everything seems to be perfect and wonderful until a week before her due date.

"What was that?" She stirs in their bed. The size of her pregnant belly makes it hard for her to turn in his direction of the bed.

"What was what?" He asks groggily, his eyes hazy from sleep. He squints to see the lighted numbers on the clock's face on the nightstand. It reads 3 a.m.

"I heard a noise downstairs," she whispers to him. "Please, Donovan, go down and check." This isn't the first time she's false-alarmed in the middle of the night. He exhales softly as to not alert her to his discontent. He slides from his bed and slips his slippers onto his feet. He stands and grabs his housecoat from the hook on the back of the bedroom door and puts it on, tying the front with the attached fastener. "Thank you. I love you," she says as he begins to leave the room.

"I love you too," he replies as he closes the door behind him.

The wooden stairs creak under his slipper covered feet from his weight. He turns and goes down the remaining steps to the main level. The house is dark. He looks around the room hoping not to validate her claim. He walks into the middle of the room and looks toward the front door. It's cracked, the streetlights shine in slightly. His heart begins to pound. _Didn't I lock the door? I always lock the door. I know I locked it._ He goes to it and reaches for the handle. He closes it as quietly as he can. The click echoes throughout the room in the silence. His arms drop to his sides as he turns his head to the side listening. He is suddenly immobilized.

"Hello, Donovan," a man whispers in his ear, "it's time to pay your dues." His body involuntarily begins to pivot, his slippers slide effortlessly against the polished wood floor. He looks his mental attacker directly in the eyes, they are black like oil. His hair is just as dark and greasy, unkempt. His face is hollow and dark.

"What do you want?" Donovan asks.

"You know what we want, Donovan," the evil man replies. Two other men resembling him step out from the hallway's shadows. The smirks on their faces are sinister and vengeful. "We want your baby." Panic strikes deep in Donovan's heart. He begins to call upon the powers he's let lie dormant for so many years. His efforts are wasted. "It's not going to work, Don, try all you want. I've got you," his initial attacker remarks as if he's feeling his calling for his abilities. "I've got a hold on you like a puppet and you're going to do exactly as I want you to do." Donovan's body begins to slide across the room to a Society provided chair. He involuntarily sits. His posture is perfect with his hands on his knees. "Right now, I want you to watch." He's facing the stairs as the other two men sneak quietly up them. Donovan draws in a breath so he can warn his bride. The man stands in front of him waving a finger, "uh uh uh...that's a no-no, Donny." He cannot exhale forcefully enough to make a sound. It comes out as air escaping in a whisper. His body sits helplessly as a tear flows down his cheek.

The two men return from upstairs, Vicky is unconscious. One man has her by the legs walking backward and the other has her by the shoulders. Her head lies limply toward the ground. Her hair drags. _What have you done to my wife!_ Donovan yells telepathically.

"Tom, get a grip on him! If you've got him I shouldn't be able to hear him!" The man at her shoulders shouts out loud from the stairs. Donovan winces as a sharp pain hits him at the base of his skull. He digs deeper for strength. His tears are falling freely like waterfalls. The two pains, his wife being taken from him and the psychic one in his brain, are too much for him to handle. His attacker, Tom, goes to the back of the chair Donovan is trapped in. His eyes focus harder on the back of his head. Donovan tries to concentrate, ignoring the pain. _I'm going to kill you all!_ He yells. "Tom, come on man!" The man yells again. Donovan digs as deeply as possible, using his anger for strength. A psychic blast shoots from his mind and slams the man at her feet into the wall. His skull smashes against the wood. The wall opens up to him, splinters gouge his flesh fatally. Blood paints the wall from the opening and flows downward. Vicky's feet fall to the steps, the man at the shoulders struggles to keep his balance. A hot, hard thump slams into the side of Donovan's head. Everything fades into nothingness.

His eyes open to bright lights recently switched on. He struggles against the straps holding him to the bed. The last thing he'd seen runs over and over in his head. _Oh my God, where's my wife? They took my wife! Vicky!_ He continues to struggle as the white Velcro digs into the flesh of his forehead. Warm liquid runs from the strap to the sides of his head. He stops thrashing about.

"It won't do you any good to fight us, Donovan," a soft, female voice enters his ears.

"Let me go!" Donovan responds.

"Not until you agree to do as we ask," she answers. Her voice has a slight British accent, but is obvious she's been in the States for a few years as it is dull.

"I won't do anything for you!" He begins to move violently again. "Where's my wife?"

"Mr. Harris, you'll never see your wife or child again if you don't do as we ask," her voice is steady and doesn't waver, totally serious. He stops. "Now, when you can agree to cooperate, I'll let you free. Don't lie to me either, I can tell. You're not the only one with abilities you know." He hears the metal hinges of a door screech open. "When you're seriously ready, just give me a shout." The door shuts with a screech, a click, and the slide of a deadbolt as it scratches across its metal holder. Donovan lets out one last bit of resistance in vain as he slams his extremities down against the bed. He lets out a breath and the tears return to his ducts. His frustration is wasted and useless. He closes his eyes.

He's sitting at a plain, metal desk with a small tray on top as a man enters the room. They are both alone. The man is short and has features that are as dark as the rest of the Society's members. He is wearing a dark blue pinstriped suit. His small framed glasses accent his chocolate eyes. His hair is perfectly molded and combed back. He looks to be a decade older than Donovan. His shiny, black shoes clip across the linoleum floor loudly as he approaches. He bends down in Donovan's face, his hands placed on either side of the metal desk. Donovan stiffens and tenses his body as he nears, not knowing what to expect. The man leans into his ear and speaks to him in a whisper.

"Don't say a word. Listen to me and you'll be okay, Donovan. I am going to teach you things you never thought imaginable. You are going to learn all that I can show you. We are going to tear the Society apart from the inside. You are going to help me do it. Obey, my boy, everything will go according to plan." He backs away a few feet. The door he came in from opens. The man's eyes dart to the camera in the corner on the wall. He points to his own ear. Donovan understands the unspoken communication. The Society is always listening and sees everything. The first man in the room steps toward him once again, this time he offers his hand. "Nice to meet you, Donovan, my name is Daniel." "You too," Donovan responds still a little overwhelmed. Another man, dressed in a white lab coat, enters the room. He has a tray in his hands.

"This is Matthew Hudson," Daniel introduces the man before he gets a chance to announce himself. Donovan and Matthew exchange nods and grunts. "Matt is going to take some samples of blood from you. We are trying to figure out a little more about how people like us work. Is that ok, Donovan?" Daniel asks

"Yeah, sure, no problem," he answers as he places his arm on the desk's surface. Matthew looks at Donovan quickly and then fixes his focus on the needle and the vein he begins to slide the needle's catheter into. His young hands are shaking slightly. Donovan taps into his thoughts. _Poor guy, he doesn't even know he's a father. His daughter is adorable. She looks like Brandon did when he was born._ Donovan's mind shoots back into itself. He tries to keep himself from showing that he knows what Matthew had been thinking, but a tear still finds its way out.

"Is everything okay, Donovan?" Daniel asks.

"Yeah, yeah, everything's fine. I really hate needles," he replies. His response seems to be sufficient as Daniel eases his stature. Matthew pulls the needle from his arm, places the full vials in the tray, and leaves the room. He closes the door behind himself.

"Are you ready to learn from me, Donovan?" Daniel asks. Having just heard the news from Matthew, he is left with little choice.

"Yes, Daniel, I'm ready," he says as believably as possible. Daniel nods his head in assurance. _Hang in there, we'll make them pay, Donovan. Don't worry._ He turns and leaves the room. Donovan sits with his own thoughts for a few moments. His training begins the next morning.

The Society members randomly torture and push Donovan's powers as hard as they can. They take turns on him, exhausting him. Daniel comes to him when he's at his weakest moments during the training sessions. After all the years of nonuse, his abilities were hindered initially. He'd forced himself to try to live a normal life, little did he know, he'd never be allowed an average existence.

"Push it, Donovan!" The woman he'd first met when he'd arrived yells at him. He concentrates on the young, sweaty man who's affixed to a wooden chair in front of him. They told him the man had been caught in acts against the Society and they want him eliminated. "He has to be punished! Reach in and kill him! Do it now!" She hollers more loudly at him from behind. The man's forehead drips onto his lap. His blue jeans stain with the water from his body. The armpits of his shirt are soaked. Donovan knows what he has to do. His power begins to form from the depths as he calls it up. His ability drills into the man's skull and crushes his brain. The man's eyes roll back into his head as the blood drips from his sockets, ears, and corners of his mouth. His head slumps back and the breath seeps from him.

"There, are you happy now?" Donovan turns to the woman and asks in a shout. She nods at him.

"Well done, you may go now, Donovan," she replies calmly. He quickly pushes passed her and leaves the room. It has gotten to the point where he will do whatever it takes to get to see his little girl and wife. They still haven't let him see them and he's done everything they've asked.

He takes a detour. _I have to find them. I can't do this anymore,_ he thinks to himself. He watches for members as he walks swiftly down the corridor. The facility is a maze. He takes the first door he finds to the right. The door is locked; he blasts it with his telekinesis. It swings freely on its hinges in front of him. He finds another and another, every door leads to an empty hallway. He begins to run, seeking his daughter and wife desperately. A red strobe light fixed in a corner is flashing brightly. He ignores it as he continues his search. The cameras move with his movements in their scanning. He busts through another door and is greeted by a familiar man on the other side. He is standing at the end of the hall. It's the man who abducted him and his family from their home.

"Hello there, Donovan," he says with a smirk, "it's been awhile." Donovan gears up for a battle as the man's friend and another unknown guy step up from behind him. Donovan doesn't wait for them to strike first. He thrusts a huge burst of psychic energy at the immobilizing man's face before he gets a chance. Blood immediately gushes from his nose and mouth. He falls to the floor face down. The smack of flesh and bone against the cement sounds like a belly flop on the surface of a pool. The other men run toward him and he blasts them both simultaneously. Their bodies fly backward slamming into the brick wall behind. They hit so hard the masonry cracks from floor to ceiling. Pools of blood form around their lifeless torsos. Donovan begins to take a step and then is stopped. He cannot move. _I told you if you stick with me everything will be okay. You didn't listen and they saw everything. My hands are tied and now you have to be punished, Donovan._ Daniel's thoughts are pushed into his immobilized mind.

When he awakens, Donovan is strapped to a chair. Daniel is standing in front of him. His eyes are a solid black. Donovan tries to move and can't.

"You have to be punished," the voice coming from Daniel's throat is metallic. "I am going to be the one to teach you the lesson I didn't want to have to give you." Donovan searches for words of retaliation, but can't even think straight. The pain drills deep into his head. Daniel stares into his soul with his oil-filled eyes. Donovan tries to look away, the pain continues and intensifies. He looks back at Daniel and attempts to call upon his own abilities for defense. His efforts are wasted. The pain causes his eyes to tear and the salty liquid makes its way down his cheeks to his chin. Darkness begins to take over his mind like a flood. Consciousness comes and goes several times; eventually the darkness overcomes him completely.

When Donovan wakes hours later, he is numb to everything around him. He is emotionless. His eyes open and he sits up in his bed. There are no straps or restraints. The door to his room is open. He doesn't get excited as he notices his freedom. Nothing matters. Daniel enters his room.

"Hello, Donovan, how are you feeling?" He asks.

"I feel fine. Why do you ask?" Donovan questions him back.

"Is there anything you'd like to discuss?"

"Nope, I am feeling a bit hungry," Donovan responds. Daniel smiles in satisfaction; his mental invasion was a success.

"First we'll eat and then we can finally get down to business. The Society's got a mission for us." He reaches out his arm for Donovan to join him as they exit the room and go to the cafeteria for dinner. Daniel striped Donovan of his emotions, memories, and caring, but the lasting effects have yet to be determined.

The next day Daniel and Donovan sit down to discuss the business he'd referred to the day prior. They sit across from each other in a room containing a shiny, wooden table that looks like something used for board meetings. There are 10 highly cushioned, leather chairs on either side and 1 on each end of the table. The camera in the room's corner is fixed on the couple. Daniel begins the conversation.

"The Society needs our help. Now that you're thinking correctly, let's get down to business. As you know, we are a group with a lot of power. We are currently undergoing some substantial monetary strain." He takes some photos from a manila envelope he'd carried in with him and places them in front of Donovan. "These are our targets." He fans them out and separates them carefully. There are 6 pictures in all. Donovan looks at the photos of the men. Daniel then slides one of the snapshots directly in front of Donovan near the edge of the table by his chest. "He's our main target. We go after him first. His name is Charles Keating and he has the means to get these other men to pull the strings we need pulled. We won't kill them. They need to be _persuaded_ into doing what we want. There are billions of dollars to be gained. With you as my wingman, I _know_ we'll get them to help." He winks and smiles at Donovan. Donovan doesn't return the emotion of excitement.

"When do we leave?" This is the only question he asks Daniel. His wife and child are no longer people he knows or remembers. Daniel is ultimately satisfied.

"We'll depart tomorrow morning, Mr. Keating has an appointment with us. We've arranged the meeting to ask for a charitable donation. He has no idea what's to come." They leave the next morning and the transaction goes down in history. This is only one of many the Society conducts.

Everything goes according to the Society's plan. Daniel stays at Donovan's side for a few years as a mentor and partner through several projects. He is eventually promoted to charge the Paris chapter and moves. Daniel is pushed to the Dallas chapter. They continue to maintain regular planning and conversation. Daniel has much more to gain than Donovan, but his grandson, Brandon, and son, Matthew, become a major focus for him as his sanity becomes compromised throughout the years.

"He's here with me now," he says in one conversation with Donovan after gaining Brandon's trust. It is a late night discussion for Daniel, but an early morning one for Donovan.

"Good. When are you planning on introducing him to Sarah?" Donovan asks him.

"I'm planning a get together within the week. I have to make sure he's comfortable first. We don't want him to become suspicious in any way," Daniel states his plan.

"Alright, you know how important this is to our survival. Any children they have together are going to be very powerful and we _need_ them."

"Don't worry, Donovan, everything will work out perfectly and according to plan."

"I trust that it will. Good night, Daniel. Keep me posted." Donovan hangs up the phone first. Daniel closes the book he'd been writing in prior to the phone call and places it on the bookshelf.

Years pass when Donovan receives word from other Society connections in America that Daniel and the other members in Dallas were obliterated by Brandon and Sarah. He knows then that they will not be left unattended and he will have to take matters into his own hands. After the loss of Daniel, Donovan is traumatized. The dramatic effect on his thoughts allows a break in the barrier that had been placed in his mind all those years ago. Insanity begins to set in, but he maintains. He doesn't know where to begin in the search for his wife and child. He's sure Vicky has forgotten about him, the Society would've made sure of that. He never knew his daughter's name and is well aware of the fact that it'd be a wasted effort to try. The next best thing is revenge against the Society itself. The twins are the key to success.

He employs a couple of his star pupils who are looking for a way to get his approval. Derrick, a very talented telekinetic, and Beth, a wonderful immobilizer and mind reader, are excited and enthusiastically accept the assignment. After a couple more weeks of last minute training, Donovan sends them to the States with specific instructions to keep their distance and to keep him informed at all times. With their help, Donovan manages to continue watch on the Hudson couple. They are there when the twins are born in Las Vegas, watch them board the plane to Florida, and as the Hudson's eat their dinner in the hotel's restaurant. Derrick and Beth strike when the time is right and with Donovan's permission.

With the plan completely in place, Brandon falls into Donovan's trap as planned. Donovan has the twins and Sarah in his possession. Brandon is dead. Everything is perfect. He begins training the children and is successful with Bennett. Brielle on the other hand, is a different story. He uses Sarah to persuade the kids to do as he asks, but it only works momentarily with the female. She helps her mother escape and Donovan is forced to kill Sarah after she kills Derrick. The losses are minute in comparison to the bigger picture. Donovan leaves his prodigy, Bennett, for a meeting in America with the Society in Washington D.C. They are unaware that he has the twins until he needs them to know. Just as he is unaware that Brandon is alive and storming the mansion in Paris during his stateside meeting. When he returns to Paris, the bent gate, smashed doorway, and rubble infested foyer are his telltale signs of an invasion. He saves the boy who now refers to him as his father and they crave for revenge together.

Donovan and his adopted son arrive in Austin, Texas. Bennett directs Donovan as he drives the rental vehicle to a place he is not unfamiliar with. His ears become deaf as they take the exit from the interstate. Donovan knows where they are going. He maneuvers the vehicle through the neighborhood and parks in front of the house.

"Stay in the car," he tells Bennett. Bennett looks at him questionably. "Please, stay in the car, Bennett." He obeys and leaves his seatbelt buckled. Donovan leaves the keys in the ignition and the air conditioner blowing. He gets out of the car and shuts the door. Walking across the grass, he goes to the front door and attempts to open it. It's locked. He rounds the house to the back deck and climbs the stairs. The glass on the sliding door is completely shattered and scattered across the dining room floor. He sees the bodies near the basement door. He doesn't recognize the younger men. The flies are buzzing about the bodies and the blood. The smell of death floats in the air. He sees his father; a bloody chair lies next to him. His eyes are wide and blank, empty. He reaches down and closes them with tears in his eyes. He looks up into the living room. His mother's lifeless body is slumped against the wall nearest the door. Her head is facing the ground. He cannot touch her; he can't be linked to this crime. He wipes the tears from his eyes with a handkerchief from his pocket. He wasn't even allowed to see his parents before they'd been killed. _You're going to die, Brandon. I'm going to be the one to do it,_ he thinks to himself. Daniel's death was the breaking point and this is just the icing on the cake. He whispers good-bye to his mother and father and leaves quickly the way he came. He gets back into the car.

"Is everything okay?" Bennett asks.

"Yes, everything is fine," he replies. "I need you to find her. I need you to find her _now._ They killed my parents and that will not be tolerated." Donovan begins to drive off as Bennett closes his eyes to concentrate. They fly open suddenly.

"Go north! She's north of here and it's not that far away," Bennett is excited by the greatness of the sensing. They begin their drive toward Dallas, Bennett leading the way.

Chapter 24

No More Hiding

Brandon and Brielle pull up to the mansion back in Dallas. Brandon gets out and unfastens the entry gate. She stays in her seat on the passenger's side. The conversation was lacking on the way back. It was a quiet 3 hour drive. Brielle watches as her father swings the gate open and returns to the car. He pulls in just far enough to shut the gate, replace the chain, and mockingly place the padlock around the metal links. They drive to the house and go inside. The shocking ordeal in Austin was to be expected, but not what they'd been hoping for. Sarah had been wrong and neither one of them wanted to discuss that fact.

Brandon goes to the dining room and sits down at the table. He places Daniel's ledger on it and begins to go down the list. He then turns to the _Austin_ page. He goes into the kitchen to retrieve a pen, the pages aren't worn enough to stay, they fan out. He comes back and draws a thick, black _X_ through the names listed after finding the correct page again. He continues studying. Brielle enters the room.

"I'm going to take a shower, Dad." She announces plainly and leaves the room. He nods in response, not noticing that she's already dismissed herself. The list is overwhelming. _Is it possible that the entire Society is corrupt?_ He asks himself. He knows the answer to the question, but can't stop himself from wondering. _There has to be someone on this list to help us. Honey, I don't understand._ He pleads for an answer from his dead wife, there is no response. Sarah has delivered her message and is gone. He lays his head down on the book and closes his water-filled eyes.

The sun is setting in the Texas horizon. An intense, orange light beats into the west side of the rental vehicle as they travel north on interstate 35. Donovan drives with one hand on the wheel and the other dialing his cell. Bennett sits by his side looking out the window concentrating on his sister's location. Her vibe is strong from here and getting stronger as the miles pass under their tires. Donovan thinks he knows where they are and is ready, but not without a little assistance from some of the Society's outside sources. The phone rings twice and then an answer. It's a male voice.

"Dallas S.W.A.T, Lieutenant Johnson speaking," the man says.

"Lieutenant Johnson, this is Donovan Harris, we have a problem," he replies without further explanation.

"Yes, sir, Mr. Harris, my unit will be ready when you need us. All I need is a time and a place. We'll meet you there." Donovan gives him the time and the address.

"You _will not_ do anything until I give the go ahead. Do you understand Lieutenant?" The man responds with an unconvincing grunt. "I don't think you fully understand the situation, Johnson. If you move in without my approval, there will be hell to pay. The people at that location are armed and _very_ dangerous." Donovan says sternly.

"I understand, sir. We will not move without you. You have my word," the lieutenant replies, more credibly this time.

"Good." Donovan hangs up his phone. _If we're going to take him down, this is the only way._ He thinks to himself. Bennett looks over at him and half-smiles. He is feeling confident as well.

Brandon sits up in the chair and shakes off his emotions. He slams the book shut as the moisture soaks into its pages. _What the hell are we supposed to do, Sarah?_ He prays for an answer that he's not going to receive. Brielle comes back into the dining room, her hair wet from the shower.

"She's not coming back, Dad," she says. Brandon looks at her angrily.

"How can she do this to us, Brielle? I don't know what to do! She's tells me to go find Society members and look what happens! We were almost killed for Christ's sake!" Brielle walks up behind him and wraps her arms around his shoulders.

"I know, Dad, but how was she supposed to know? Everything will be fine," she tries to reassure him.

"Maybe if she was wrong about Austin, maybe she's wrong about them coming for us?" Brandon tries to put his own mind to rest. She squeezes him harder.

"Maybe...I love you, Dad," she gives him a last jolt in her embrace and backs off. The bright, orange sunlight pours in through the windows and dusk arrives. "I'm going to my room to read."

"Ok, I love you too, Brielle. Thank you," he says as she leaves. She turns to him and flashes a smile. She goes upstairs.

They exit the interstate and go to the designated meeting place. Donovan pulls the car off of the main street and into a wooded area down a dirt path just wide enough for a vehicle. As they enter, he shuts off the car's lights. The two gravel ruts are barely visible through the poking weeds and grass overgrowth. The trees are thick and concealing. The density of the woods drowns out the nearly set sun's penetrating light. The Dallas S.W.A.T. van is just ahead at the end of the path. Trees stop the vehicles from traveling any deeper in. Donovan and Bennett get out of the car after turning the ignition off, leaving the keys hastily.

They meet at the back of the van as a short, stocky man gets out of the passenger's side. He approaches them. He is dressed in a dark blue, urban tactical S.W.A.T. suit. His armored vest matches the outfit. He is gloved and helmeted. He removes his head protection, tucks it under his left armpit sideways, and reaches out his hand.

"Hello, Mr. Harris, it's nice to finally meet you," he greets Donovan. "My father's retired now, but he's told me a lot about your people." The handshake drops.

"All you need to know, Lieutenant, is that you're not dealing with ordinary people in that house. Don't go in thinking there will be a kind surrender or some way of reasoning with them. You and your team will go in and you will shoot on sight. I don't care about your codes or ethics. If you don't do as I'm instructing you, you and your men will die."

"But..." he tries to interrupt.

"Don't worry about the legalities of things. We will take care of that. As far as I'm concerned, you and your men were never here. You will be compensated quite nicely, I assure you. Do I make myself clear?" Donovan's voice is solid and straightforward. There is no room for questioning.

"Yes, sir, I will brief my men and we will be ready whenever you give me the word." Dollar signs flash in the lieutenant's eyes. He turns, opens the back of the van, and gets in, closing the door behind him.

Brielle lies in her bed fully covered. "A Tale of Two Cities" rests against her knees as her eyes scan the pages absorbing its contents. Brandon sits in the sitting room downstairs pondering what they should do next. He questions things over and over in his mind as he runs through the different options and possibilities. His life's happenings flow through his thoughts. His childhood with his parents and grandparents, his wrongdoings when he was young, and all the pain he's caused. Everything changed after meeting Sarah. _I was a good person with a wonderful family. The Society destroyed everything I had. Besides Brie, my life is meaningless._ He ponders quietly. _How different would things have been if I were normal? I wouldn't have been introduced to Sarah, but did that even matter now? The Society wouldn't have been interested in me. They would've left me to have a normal life. I'd have an average family and an average life. I'd probably still have everything I'd worked my entire life to get. My heart would be whole._ All the questions keep flowing. His heart is sinking with every thought. _That's not how things are. They were never intended to be that way. Normal? What is normal anyway?_ He slouches further in the leather chair. The material makes a sound with the movement.

The S.W.A.T. team gathers at the edge of the trees. They are spread out with approximately 6 meters between each other. They are approaching the mansion from the east side. They kneel down on one knee awaiting further instructions. Dusk is completely upon them and the stars begin to twinkle above. The moon is bright and casts shadows into the wood-line behind their kneeling bodies. The loud fiddling of crickets' legs and the croaking of frogs' throats, from somewhere nearby, fills the still atmosphere. A gentle breeze flows from the mansion's yard toward them. Donovan and Bennett stand a few feet to their rear for deeper concealment. After Donovan's instructions are whispered to the lieutenant, he approaches the point-man in the formation. He kneels down next to him and says something quietly. The man reveals a small, metal saw and crawls toward the iron fence just a couple of feet to his front. He begins to work on the fence. The grating is not as noticeable as Donovan had expected it to be, nature's orchestral assistance drowns the sound.

Brielle lies in her bed. The book rests against her legs which are no longer canted upward. Heavy breaths escape her sleeping body as the moonlight showers her elegant blonde hair with its splendor. Brandon's body droops lazily in the chair. His breathing is also heavy and his thoughts are still. Dry tears dress his cheeks' olive flesh.

The fourth and final rod is removed expertly from the fencing and placed neatly next to it. The S.W.A.T. member is careful not to clang any of the pieces together as he sets them down into the lush grass. He motions to the team with one arm that his task is complete. The lieutenant glances over to Donovan for an approving gesture to move, he gets one, a simple nod. The cutter-man places the saw back into his pouch and slips his slung weapon from his back into his hands. The M-16 is armed and loaded. Lieutenant Johnson pats the man on his shoulder as he motions for the others to start their approach. They stand in unison and begin quietly walking toward the opening as they maintain their distance from each other.

The cutter goes in first with two others distanced behind. The lieutenant takes his position in the middle. They tread lightly toward the front door as three members go to the back of the house. The leader tells them on the earpieces placed in their ears quietly, "wait for my word, we want to go in all at once." He whispers, "Remember, we shoot on sight." They near the front door. The team in front is the only group Donovan and Bennett can see from their vantage point. _This is going to be a bloodbath._ Donovan thinks to Ben. Bennett smirks at the thought. _Are you ready, son?_ Donovan asks him. The young man looks at him and nods evilly. Revenge is the only thing motivating his actions. There is a crashing sound from the mansion. Bennett jumps a little with the surprising noise. It's the front door being kicked in by the lead man and the back door as well. The echo flows to their eardrums from the back of the house and bounces off the trees.

Brandon jumps from his chair in the sitting room. It takes him a moment to realize what's going on. The blurriness clears from his eyes as he looks beyond the chair. There are three men dressed in dark clothing entering the foyer. They scan as they step but don't notice him there. He ducks behind the chair just before a red dot hits the floor next to him.

"Dad, what's going on?" Brielle yells from the upstairs banister. She is dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt, her hands rest on the railing as she hollers down to her father. All the red dots go in the direction of her voice, she drops to the floor and crawls backward, and the bullets bury themselves in the wall above her. She releases a quick scream of surprise. Bits of the wall fall onto her in sprinklings. She backs further down the hallway toward the bathroom. Brandon gears himself up for a fight. The heat begins to flow as his heart beats hard against his chest. He stands from his hiding spot. The life and safety of the only loved one he has left is in his hands. The three are still fixated on the walkway above. The shooting has stopped. They've gone from laser beams to flashlights. The rays dart back and forth into the entrance of the hallway. Brandon doesn't see Brielle.

He sends his force directly into two of the men who are standing closest together. Their armor protected bodies slam into the wall below the spot where Brielle once was. Their rifles swing lazily at their sides on their slings as their bodies fall to the ground. One lands facedown, the other on his back. The third man pivots around, his flashlight glares Brandon in the eyes. Brandon drops down quickly as the bullets begin to fly toward him. The chair's white stuffing explodes in round puffs from the deep, red leather restraint as the bullets hit the high backing of it. Brandon rolls to his right quickly, the wall is his protection now. Wood splinters as the rounds continue to follow him. More voices fill the foyer. "Upstairs!" He hears one shout over the gunfire. _I have to stop them,_ Brandon thinks to himself frantically. He crawls behind the large sofa, but as he does he notices dots of dark liquid spotting the floor. He stops fully hidden. The blood begins to pool in front of his face on the wood.

Brielle slips into the bathroom and silently slips the door shut. She takes refuge behind the towel's large cabinet door. _It's not going to protect_ _me from bullets, but it'll give me enough time to stop them,_ she thinks.

As the blood pool forms before his eyes, Brandon knows that it's now or never. _Brielle, I love you,_ he sends her a telepathic message. _No matter what happens, remember that you are my angel and your mother and I are proud of you._ He stands from behind the sofa as he receives his response. _Daddy, don't!_ The words are loud in his ears, it's as though she's standing right next to him yelling directly into them. Brandon's head is pouring blood from the scalp, bits of flesh are peeled and hanging from his hairline. The S.W.A.T. member lurches quickly, his trigger finger is ready and pushes. A single bullet escapes the chamber and grazes Brandon's left arm, but that's all he accomplishes. His body lifts from the ground as the rifle is ripped from his hands, the sling tears and falls with it. Brandon directs the man to a window to his left. His body hits the glass and part of the frame. The sound of bones cracking rings out. The body slams into the yard's bordering fence a few yards beyond the window. Brandon's eyes are filled with black as the anger flows into his veins. Another man rounds the corner, his weapon is at the ready. The flashlight hits Brandon's vision and immediately cracks. The light goes out. The barrel of the weapon shreds backward. _Die you son-of-a-bitch!_ Brandon's mind invades his. Blood flows from the man's right nostril as his eyes roll back into his head. His body elevates and follows the same path as the last. More portions of the mansion's framework are exposed as the man's torso and head rip through the exterior. His body lands in the fence near the other one. His head slumps dislocated to one side, his right arm is lodged at the elbow between the bars. Brandon falls to the ground behind the sofa. All the energy is seeping from his body in the form of blood. He moans as he slumps to the floor.

Brielle can see the flashes of light seeping in from the hall as the men dart their weapons back and forth in search of her. A door is kicked in. She jumps even though it's not the bathroom entrance. She gets herself ready for the attack. Her eyes become white, blue no longer exists within. The heat surges through her torso and into her head. _Dad!_ She yells a mental request for a response and gets nothing in return. She tries again, _Daddy!_ There's still no answer. Rage pulses through her. The loss of her mother was enough and she will not lose her father too. She closes the cabinet and places herself squarely in front of the doorway to the bathroom. She is several feet from the entrance, but ready for them. Her eyes are aglow with the moon to her back perfectly framed by the window. Her lip curls into a snarl.

The door kicks open, splinters from the frame fly in and hit the floor. The three S.W.A.T. members are within view. They hadn't expected the vision before them. A young woman standing before them with flowing, blonde hair and glowing, white eyes, a bright moon at her back. The lead man's trigger finger initiates the gunfire for the rest. The bullets fly at Brielle and explode a couple feet before they impact, in midair. Her telekinetic blast is momentous and devastating. All three of the men's armored vests shred with the blow as they slam through the wall behind them. One body comes to rest with a bedpost sticking out of his chest. He dies almost instantly. His body goes limp as his last breath leaves him. The second man blasts through a bedroom window from the top floor. There is only a thump when he hits the pavement of the driveway below. The third S.W.A.T. member slouches in a corner, his neck crooked against the outer wall. Blood seeps from every natural hole on his head, his nose, mouth, and ears. He pleads for mercy and Brielle gives it to him with one quick, crushing blow to his skull's contents.

The gunfire ceases and the bodies lie lifeless on the fence in front of them. Donovan takes the first step toward the old Dallas Society mansion through the breached fence with Bennett close on his heels. He says nothing as they pass the bodies. Bennett takes a glance at them as they walk. Blood dresses the ravaged faces, their eyes are wide and empty. He continues to follow. They walk up the front steps and into the foyer. The wood shreds turn beneath their feet against the floor. Donovan scans the room. More bodies lay dead against the wall. _The lieutenant didn't have a chance,_ he thinks as his eyes leave the empty shells of what used to be human beings. Bennett wanders toward the sitting room observing the bullet holes in the wall and then in the chair. His eyes venture to the floor and he notices the dark droplets leading to the back of the sofa. His eyes fill with darkness.

"Come on out, Brandon, I know you're back there," he says menacingly. The voice flows into Brandon's struggling ears and his eyes open weakly. He pushes himself to his feet with much effort. The blood continues to pour from his head as he stands behind the couch. The little color his skin once held is now milky and flush.

"I thought you'd never come, son," he strains the words from his dry lips. The pain drills into his wounds and his body becomes rigid. The tips of his shoes scrap along the floor as he slides toward Bennett.

"I want to look you in the eyes before I kill you," Bennett snarls hollowly.

Brielle approaches the bullet ridden railing and looks frantically down into the foyer. She sees her father standing stiffly in front of her brother. Donovan is watching behind him. Her eyes begin to glow as the hatred flows.

"Ben, stop!" She yells just before sending a blast of rage toward Donovan. The middle-aged man turns to her and takes the force directly between his eyes. His skull shatters. Bennett's eyes drive a force through Brandon's head, passed his bone, and directly into his brain. His eyes become empty as he falls to the floor never to get up again.

Sarah's soul appears in the place between reality and the other side. Her hand reaches for Brandon's as she helps him to his feet. The atmosphere around them is empty and illuminated by the moon. There is no horizon, no stars, and no ground, there is only blackness. The moon's light doesn't penetrate the air, it only shines for itself. She retrieves his soul. _I've missed you, my love,_ she says to him. Her voice is angelic music to his soul. _I've missed you too,_ he replies. They embrace as their souls begin to fade, united once again.

Donovan's face explodes from Brielle's force as she yells, "Noooooo!" His body crashes to the ground. Bennett spins around on his heel to see his sister at the banister above. _You're next, Brielle!_ He shouts at her mentally. He strikes first as the force hits her in the chest. Her body flies down the hallway and slides against the bare, wooden floor. She gasps for air frantically as she instinctually turns to her room. _There is a way down out my window. He's too strong for me,_ she says in her head. Her feet slip as she scrambles to gain footing. She stands and darts down the hallway. Her bedroom door is hanging from one hinge. She turns the latch and the windows swing outwardly open. There is a vine-infested lattice dangling from the window's edge. She doesn't think. She just goes; her legs leave the confines of the mansion and find an opening for her toes in the old wood. Her arms ache as she lowers herself down to the back wall of the house. Vines grab at her extremities and she shakes them free, ripping them from the lattice. One of the pieces of wood breaks as she descends; she hangs by an arm as she regains her footing. A few feet from the ground and she jumps to the grass. Bennett's head pops out from the window above.

"You're not gonna get away from me, Brielle! I'm not going to stop until you're dead!" She turns and runs to the east side of the mansion. "Do you hear me, until you're _dead_?!" The last word rings on longer than the previous as his voice fades around the corner.

She runs along the edge of the fence and finds the hole the S.W.A.T. team members used to get ont the property. Ignoring the bodies, she quickly bends over and goes through. _There has to be a vehicle somewhere! I have to get away from him!_ She thinks as she runs into the woods. The sweat from the heat of the Texas night beads on her forehead. She enters the tree line as she runs watching the ground in order to maintain her footing. A small branch slaps across her face. It stings but her adrenaline is pumping so fast it doesn't matter. _He's my brother! I can't just kill him. He needs my help._ The thoughts flow frantically as she comes to the clearing where the S.W.A.T. van and Donovan's car are parked. She goes to the car. The keys are in the ignition. She turns the key, locks the doors, buckles her seatbelt, and begins backing out.

Asphalt and rubber from the tires of the car meet, it seems to her like hours. The back end of the vehicle swings toward the entrance to the mansion's driveway. She places the car in drive and looks in the rearview mirror. Bennett is standing in the middle of the road. His eyes are filled with a murderous, black hate. Her heart leaps into her throat as her foot quickly moves from the brake pedal to the gas and she begins to pull away. The slight wind begins to pick up. The leaves of the trees next to the road are rustling wildly. She watches her brother's image get farther away behind her. Suddenly a tree falls onto the pavement, then another, and another. One crashes down onto the front of the car, smashing the windshield. Brielle's hand shields her face from the bits of glass as they spray inside. The wheels spin on the tar. The weight of the lumber is too much. Her mind races and she gathers her own internal abilities. The tree lifts as the car rolls forward. It spins and falls on the ground parallel the road. She speeds off wildly leaving him in the distance behind her.

Bennett takes Donovan's phone from his pants pocket and hits the green button to initiate the call. The number had already been set in case this had happened. Donovan was always well prepared. "She's heading in your direction," he states. He listens momentarily, "No, he's dead, she killed him. Don't let her get away." His voice is calm and collected, he'd learned from the best. He pushes the button to end the call and places the telephone into his pocket. He turns back toward the mansion. _There is still something I need to get,_ he thinks as his shoes cross from asphalt to cobblestone. The night is stuffy and warm, but the moon is fuller than he's ever seen it. _Now, let's see who will win this game of life, Brielle._ He's not talking to her; the thoughts are simply for him. He's not planning on coming out on the bottom ever again. With Donovan gone, it's all up to him and _his_ Society.

She maneuvers the car down the road and through the residential area. She has no idea where she's going, but she sees the lights of the downtown Dallas area ahead just beyond the overpass. Safety in numbers is her only concern and hope for her wellbeing. She follows the speed limit signs accordingly as she nears the bridge. Hundreds of lights fly from either direction beneath her from the cars, trucks, and buses traveling to unknown destinations.

A glare in her rearview hits her in the eyes. A large sport utility vehicle had just pulled out from one of the side roads and is coming up faster than normal behind her. Excitement jolts her heart for a moment. _It's probably nothing,_ she says to herself as she goes back to concentrating on the road before her. The lights get brighter as the driver flips on the high beams. The vehicle is much bigger and the lights ride just below her rear window. It's much closer than before. She picks up speed a little. A sudden jolt of acceleration from the SUV sends the trucks fender into the trunk of her car. The metal crinkles a little from the impact. Brielle's head bounces forward on her shoulders. Fear takes over as her heart begins to race. _It's them!_ She knows what's behind her, she doesn't know details, but she knows what or _who_ it is. The Society's henchmen are trying to kill her.

Her right foot presses the accelerator closer to the floor and the car begins to pick up speed. The SUV falls back a few feet, not enough to create a comfortable distance to escape. She bears down on the pedal further. The car's speed goes well beyond legal limits as she races over the interstate and into the midtown area. The first intersection's lights are red. She focuses on them like she had in Florida so many years ago. Concentration is difficult for her as the wind whips her in the face. She squints in order to protect her eyes the best that she can. The light changes to green. The oncoming vehicles stop accordingly as she flies through the crossing. She changes the next one and the next on command. She maneuvers her car carefully between the others traveling in her direction with several near-misses, but no accidents. The SUV continues to follow closely. It's about five car lengths behind. She can't focus on the trailer and driving simultaneously, she glances quickly into the mirror.

The buildings begin to thin and the lights lessen around her. Apartment buildings ranging from three to five levels in height appear to be taking over. A parked car on her right side is swerved around and missed by inches. Her speed is still constant and dangerous. _Leave me alone!_ She yells in her head with frustration. A stop sign managed two-way intersection is to her front, she has to go through it. As her car is a few feet beyond the sign she'd just run, a pick-up truck slams into her passenger side full force. Her vehicle comes to an immediate halt and is shoved sideways toward the opposite corner of the junction. Her body is jostled and her head hits the driver's window. The glass cracks under the impact of her skull. The SUV collides at the corner of the intertwined vehicles. The right side of the vehicle hits the right rear corner of her car and the driver's side of the pick-up truck. The top of Brielle's skull smacks the roof of her car's metal frame.

Dizziness and a haze take over her vision. She shakes her head to the left and to the right in an effort to rid herself of the fog. Her eyes blink uncontrollably from the dryness and injury. She reaches down for her seatbelt and releases the button with a shaky left hand. It releases easily. She opens the door and gets out. Her knees feel as though they're going to buckle as she stands. She braces herself for a moment against the car with her right hand on the door and the left on the roof. She looks over the top of the vehicle toward her pursuers. She cannot get a clear view through the deep tinting of the glass.

She glances to the pick-up truck. The driver is slumped forward against the steering wheel. She gains control of her extremities and walks around the front of her car to the truck. The front of the vehicle is buried into the passenger's side of hers. Steam rises from the grill and upwardly bent hood. A chill has suddenly begun to flow in the arid Texas night and it makes her warm sweat uncomfortably cool. Goosebumps from the negative exhilaration and her drying, chilly sweat begin to form all over her body. She rubs her forearm with her opposite hand to create a nervous friction. She opens the passenger's door of the truck and reaches in. Her eyes constantly dart in the direction of the SUV for movement. "Hey, are you okay, sir?" She asks calmly. The driver groans a weak moan and begins to stir slowly. He sits up as he pushes his body off the steering wheel pillow. "Are you alright?" She asks again.

"I think so," he quietly replies as his hand goes to his head. There are minor contusions but the blood is minimal. He reaches into his pocketed shirt and pulls out a phone. He begins to dial 911. He pushes the "9" and then a "1", his fingers are unsteady and it takes a lot of effort.

"I'll do it," Brielle states as she holds her hand out for his permission and hand-over. He turns slowly to look at her; his eyes are droopy and tired in appearance. He begins to extend his phone-ridden arm to her and she takes it from him gently. His eyes enlarge in shock and amazement suddenly. His mouth becomes agape and pained. Blood trickles down from his tear duct like a raindrop on a window pane to his jaw line. It leaves a smooth line trail of red where it'd traveled. It collects and drips to the seat. Redness begins to pool in his open mouth as it drowns his tongue. It seeps between his teeth and flows to his chin like a waterfall. His body slumps to one side against the seat itself. Blood colors the material.

Brielle gasps and leaps backward. Her vision goes to the SUV she'd only neglected for a moment. A tall, dark haired man dressed in a black suit and bright red tie is standing between the vehicles near his passenger door. His eyes are as black as Bennett's are when he uses his abilities. A second man is standing near the driver's side of the SUV staring at her over the vehicle's rough, black hood. He is dressed similarly with a different tie. He has a pistol pointed in her direction. She immediately drops to her knees from the truck. She sneaks to the other side of her car as she uses the pick-up and her vehicle for cover. She readies her powers and quickly stands to face the men. Her focus goes to the gun and it flies from the man's hand instantly. Her head pounds suddenly reminding her of her recent ordeal. Her hands go to the throb involuntarily for comfort. _I can't do this right now, it hurts too badly,_ she thinks to herself.

She pivots quickly on the ball of one foot toward the roadway leading down into an apartment infested residential area. Sirens begin to ring in the background. She gathers all the strength she can and takes off down the sidewalk. The men pursue her, their dress shoes making a lot of noise against the cement as they run. She races feet in front of them. Her body leaps from curb to curb as the blocks pass. She can hear the sounds of their shoes as it bounces off of the surrounding buildings. She pushes herself harder. The clamor becomes more and more lessened behind her with each stride she takes. Her lungs can't handle the strain as her heart pounds like a kettle drum against her chest. Her arms swing frantically yet rhythmically with the motions of her legs. Her breathing is sporadic. She is no athlete, though one wouldn't know by looking at her physique.

She glances quickly over her shoulder and listens. There is nothing but the sounds of the car's motors in the distance. The sirens from the emergency vehicles are silent. She slows her pace. The chilly breeze penetrates her sweatpants and t-shirt uncomfortably. She comes to a halt and turns to observe what's behind her. There are only the apartment buildings lining either side of the street. The Society's pursuers are gone. She strains her eardrums in an effort to catch the slightest click of a shoed heel, but nothing makes a sound.

She deliberates on her breathing and her heart's rapid beat. She takes a long, deep inhale and then slowly exhales. She turns back to the direction she'd been traveling and takes a step. The apartment buildings continue for a few more blocks on both sides of the road. The sidewalk is smooth and well-kept at her feet. The road nicely paved as if it were the city's summer project or a newly developed neighborhood. The moon is high and bright, the lacking of streetlights is compensated for. Its illumination is brilliant yet cold as it blends with the air itself. Brielle looks around the neighborhood further as she walks. Random saplings leaves dance in the slight breeze. Their trunks are surrounded at the base by thick iron grates. Little sprinklings of garbage, sucker and bubblegum wrappers, lie within. A green leaf flickers passed her vision as she instinctively bats it away. Steam floats up from the small holes in the manhole covers along the road's center line.

She's been here before, she suddenly realizes as the all too familiar _help me_ enters her thoughts. Her body is exhausted and she has no idea where she's going or what she's going to do next. There is no time for mourning, though her father was just taken from her. She's lost him before. At least now there's no question, he won't be mysteriously returning. She can't bring herself to tears. Her nightmare is now a reality. She is alone and she's being beckoned. _Dreams can be wrong,_ she thinks to herself. Even with the uncertainty of what's to come, she calls upon her abilities and prepares herself. It is a painful struggle for her mind to gather her powers. The ache in her head is overwhelming.

She sees it. The alleyway she's seen a number of times in the past. She approaches cautiously as she'd done in the more recent visions. The moonlight guides her toward the opening as she slowly rounds the corner. She glances around the brick and into the darkness. She doesn't see the girl. She allows herself to go in and continues to observe. _Help me,_ rings in her ears again. An echoed sobbing bounces off the masonry's surface. She sees the girl at the end of the corridor, she's sitting just like before, with her arms wrapped around her knees. Her black hair hides her face as her silver rings sparkle from every finger in sight. Brielle crawls forward. _What do you want?_ She pushes the mental question to the girl's mind as she nears her slouched body. The girl suddenly leaps to her feet.

"I want you dead!" She screams angrily as Brielle is immobilized instantly by the girl's mental grasp. Her mascara streaks her face on both sides. The black eyeliner is thick above and below the lids, she looks like an Egyptian queen of the past, it meets in a point beyond the outer corner of her eyes. The corners are smudged a little in the center as the tears swept the coloring away. Brielle stares frozen. Her body is stiff and uncooperative, helpless. Her shoes slide against the pavement and she slams into the wall behind her. A tear begins to drip from her duct with the intensity of the pain.

"Who...are...you? Why are you doing this to me?" Brielle gasps some strangled words out and pleads with her captor.

"I'm Rebecca. Don't play dumb with me, sister. You know damn well who I am!" She stares Brielle directly in the eyes; hers are tar-solid with power. Her clench bites down harder on Brielle's brain matter as she yells.

Chapter 25

Rebecca

The unborn baby jostles around in the unconscious mother's womb helplessly as the man drags her to the van parked out in front of the house. He slides open the van's door and lifts the mom inside, placing her onto a mattress on the floor. _I need your help in here!_ The voice rings in his head from inside the house. Frightened by what could happen to them if they don't get out quickly enough, he returns rapidly, nearly tripping up the Victorian style house's front steps. He is greeted by an angry dark man. He is holding a pistol by the barrel as he stands behind an unconscious man in a chair. The man's breathing is heavy. He goes to help with his body.

"Get him first," Tom, the dark man, says to him. He shakes and shuffles his way back to the stairwell he'd just descended with the pregnant woman.

"What the hell happened back there?" the man asks.

"He's a strong son-of-a-bitch, what do you want me to say?" Tom replies snottily. The man scoffs at the response and grabs his partner's lifeless body from the stairs by the shoulders. He grabs a handful of clothing and pulls him down. The dead man's feet clunk loudly with each step. Blood trickles leave a trail as he drags him along. "When you're done, I'm gonna need some help with this one," Tom says as he's leaving the front door. He grunts a reply and continues to pull. As he goes down the front steps, he glances around his surroundings in order to ensure there are no onlookers. The coast is clear. He gets to the van and opens its back door. He juggles the body inside toward the back and shuts the doors quietly. He returns to the house and the men grab Donovan together. They close the front door and lock it with the key. They place his body next to his pregnant wife's and pull away from the curb.

Vicky awakens in a strange place and with no knowledge as to what's going on. Her heart begins to pound roughly in her chest. Her room is like the suite in a lavish hotel. Floral patterns decorate every piece of furniture. There are no pictures on the walls or lamps; it is simple but beautiful none-the-less. She slips off of the luxurious bed still in the clothing she'd worn the night prior and her feet touch the carpeted floor. The sun shines in through the sheer, white curtains which are bordered with a matching floral patterned panel on either side. She goes to the large window and slides the curtain away from her view. The vision is amazing outside. There are tall skyscrapers in the distance. The sky is a clear blue. She focuses downward. Hundreds of vehicles line the streets below. They look tiny from the stories of distance above. She gasps with a quick onset of dizziness. She's never been up so high in her life and it is overwhelming. She steps away from the window and walks between the small living room setup to her left. The bed is to her right as she goes to the room's door. She discovers the door is locked as she tries the handle unsuccessfully. Her baby kicks the interior of her belly in the excitement. Vicky's hands go down to cradle and comfort her unborn child. She rubs softly over the top of her pajama's fabric. "It's okay, honey," she whispers softly. Her hands move to the door and she begins pounding wildly. "Let me out of here!" She yells. Tears begin flowing down her face in frustration. A voice sounds from a speaker box somewhere within the room.

"Calm down, Mrs. Harris, you're going to upset the baby," the man says. She stops pounding with the announcement, due to the surprise of the audible invasion.

"Who are you and what do you want? Where's my husband?" She inquires through the sniffles of tears.

"We are people whom your husband neglected in telling you about. We are the ones who gave you that beautiful home and everything he asked for," the voice replies. "He's fine for now. Don't worry your pretty little head about that." Vicky is in shock. She searches the room for the speaker box. She finds a camera mounted to a wall above the small living room instead. She glares into it. "Don't be upset with us, Vicky, your husband is the one to blame. He asked and we gave. We don't give things for free though." Her glare turns into that of wonder.

"What do you want from us?" She asks curiously. There is an extended pause before the answer comes.

"Your baby," the answer is delivered. Her hands go back to her belly.

"You'll never get my baby from me," she yells up at the camera.

"I'm afraid that we're not giving you a choice to be quite honest, my dear," the voice answers menacingly. Her eyes drop down to her belly. She will do everything within her power to protect her unborn child. She will die if that's what it takes. She ends the conversation and goes over to the bed. She sits and stares at the huge bump directly above her waist. The baby moves inside as it tries to find a more comfortable position. Vicky lies down on the bed holding her child. She closes her eyes and ponders her options. She wonders why and what Donovan had lied to her about and how he could keep secrets from her. How much of their marriage was a lie and why had he chosen her? The questions continue to flow without the possibility of answers. He's not there to defend himself. She drifts off as the tears continue to flow lazily.

She is in labor after only a week in the Society's confines. They haven't answered any of her questions, nor has she gotten to see her husband to find out. The labor pains strike her to the bone as the sweat pours from her pores. Two men dressed in full scrubs including masks and head covers stand near the door. Their eyes are focused on her. A male doctor sits directly in front of her, watching her efforts. A nurse stands next to her and offers her a hand to bear down on, but Vicky declines. Another contraction flows through her entire body. The doctor begins to order her to push. Her body comes up in order to apply pressure on the abdominal wall to increase the efforts. She hangs onto the backs of her knees with both hands. The baby's head begins to crown. She can feel the pressure intensify as the skin tears. Tears join the sweat beads on her face, conjoining, and flowing to each side. She can feel the little body as it's pulled from her slowly. She falls back onto her pillow with relief.

The doctor hands the baby girl over to the nurse after cutting the umbilical cord. She takes her over to the table and uses the suction bulb on her until a healthy cry escapes. The nurse maintains an emotional distance as she wipes the baby's soft, black hair and her beautiful, puffy face. Her black eyes peek out at the nurse for a second and clamp back shut. Her cries are strong. Vicky begins to speak.

"Let me see my baby," she requests to the staff. The nurse continues to wipe the little girl off only glancing up at Vicky momentarily with annoyance. The doctor motions to one of the men standing at the door. He approaches as his eyes fill with darkness. He stares into the scared mother's eyes and moves his sights to her chest. His mental arm reaches into her body cavity and grasps her heart in its clamp. It squeezes tightly as her arms go to it in a wasted effort for pain relief. _Relax, Mrs. Harris, it'll all be over with soon,_ a voice whispers in her head. A lone tear rolls down the side of her face, following the trail its brothers used a few minutes ago. The air leaves her exhausted body and she falls into a sleep that she'll never wake up from.

The Society keeps Donovan and Vicky's little girl for themselves. She lives her life like Brielle and Bennett had while captive in Paris. Her father never knows of her existence nor does she know of his. In order for them to be successful in their quest for power, the Society has to change their way of doing things. Knowing the bloodline and how the genes work now, after all the years of study, they pick their potential followers carefully. They knew from the time of conception that Rebecca, as they named her, is going to be a powerful being. Learning from their mistakes with Brandon and many of their people before, getting the children as young as possible seems to be the only way to ensure compliance.

"Rebecca, I need you to concentrate," the English accented woman says. Rebecca is 5 years old. Her black hair is long and wavy with curls. Her eyes are dark brown, almost black, and inquisitive. When she wants to be, she is very persuasive, she's got a perfected puppy dog plea in her eyes. Her telekinesis is unlike that of any the Society has ever seen of a person at her age. The English woman is asking her to move a stack of chairs in front of her. The little girl sits in a chair of her own. She is like a doll in comparison, her legs dangle and kick from her seat. She is wearing a satiny, blue dress with white stockings that go all the way up her legs. Her tiny, black shoes reflect the light from above with their sway. She's holding a small, porcelain doll in her right hand and twisting its black hair that pokes down from the bonnet. The doll's outfit matches Rebecca's, but she has a frontier type of design. She isn't paying attention at all. She's bored by the lessons. "Rebecca, I'm talking to you," the woman repeats her earlier request. The little girl looks up from her fidgeting and leaps from the chair to the ground. Her shoes click as they hit the tiled floor.

"Fine," she says as she stares at the stack of chairs before her. They are piled ten high within each other and must weigh at least a hundred pounds all together. They are solid metal framed with leather seats and backings. She glances at them quickly. They immediately fly into the wall behind them. The metal tops slam into the large one-way mirrored window on the wall. The window cracks from the point of impact and spider webs one-third of the remaining glass. She looks up at her instructor, "Is that better?"

"Yes, Rebecca, thank you," she replies graciously.

"May I go to my room now? I'm bored," the little girl requests.

"That's all for today, Rebecca. You did a good job today." She goes to the door and opens it for the toddler. Rebecca begins to walk out when she looks up at the teacher.

"My name's not Rebecca, its Becky," her words are disrespectful as though she's said this many times in the past and is fed up with repeating herself. She goes down the hall and into her room.

As she opens the door, she goes to the coffee table in front of the television where her crayons, paper, and coloring books are and kneels down. She opens her sketchbook to an empty page and goes to the crayon box for the right color to start with. She finds the yellow and begins to draw long, blonde hair near the top of the page. Once she's finished, she replaces the yellow and obtains a light blue. She begins to roughly draw a set of eyes on the girl she's creating. She continues the drawing to completion. Not knowing that Brielle has only recently been born, her picture bears an uncanny resemblance. She is also unaware of the fact that the room she's lived in all her life is the same one her dead mother was kept in against her will until her birth.

Life goes smoothly for the little girl, but there are always many questions. She is never satisfied that both of her parents are dead, there is always an unexplained emptiness in her heart. She is tutored and taught everything the Society feels necessary for her to become a productive member within the population. They have a plan for her, not only in developing a beautiful, talented girl into a breathtaking young woman, but they are planning to make her a killer. She will be a killer who someday, if everything goes accordingly, will be in a position of great power.

By the time she is in her early twenties, they feel that she's ready for an assignment. The hardest part in training their talented members is getting them to enjoy the taste of blood, figuratively speaking. It always takes a special person to carry out their bidding and the development of the subjects in this area is yet to be perfected. The first assignment is always the milestone and it makes or breaks their people instantly. When dealing with the situation, there is always an entourage of the Society's members watching, normal and otherwise. If the student fails or cracks, they will be eliminated. There is no other way around it.

Rebecca is sitting at her vanity mirror in her room. She's picks up the eyeliner and begins the delicate application process. She paints it on elegantly, but in a gothic fashion, just like the way she applies her mascara, thick and precise. Her hair rests in a perfect wavy elegance on the middle of her back. Her clothes are black as well. Loneliness and self identity are her motivations. Lastly, to rebel against her rebellion, bright red lipstick is applied last. It's a defiant act in response to being a stereotypical gothic chic. Her fingernails are delicately painted an ebony color as well. She reaches into her jewelry case sitting amongst the make-up and begins pulling sterling silver rings out. She slides them onto her fingers one at a time. There are ten in all and each is different in design. One is a Wiccan star, a skull, a heart, and the list goes on as her fingers get decorated. There is a knock on her door as she's finishing up with the last ring. "Come in," she says as she stands to greet whoever is on the other side. A man dressed in a suit with a red tie enters the room.

"I've been told to tell you to be downstairs in 10 minutes. You are going out tonight," he states plainly and without emotion. She gets excited.

"Really, did they tell you where? You can't just dump that on me and not have an answer," she is annoyed, but the enthusiasm doesn't subside. She quickly puts on her shoes and ties them. She then makes her way downstairs to the lobby.

The Society has the building disguised as an upscale apartment building in Oklahoma City. The entire thing is self contained and protected by a doorman. It looks like a luxurious hotel with huge pillars and shiny marble floors upon entry. The interior contains hundreds of rooms on the above ground floors, inhabitants have limited access. The elevator requires a security card in order to stop on any of the floors the Society hasn't granted special entry to. The genetic laboratory and libraries for GenCo are located in the basement. Their scholars are directed that access to the building will only be granted if they report to their jobs dressed in street clothes.

Becky has only experienced life on her floor, high in the sky. They just recently gave her permission to leave the building though she's never unattended in her ventures. They assign her people with abilities disguised as butlers, maids, teachers, and drivers. The Society hasn't shared any of their secrets with her, that won't be allowed until she passes her first test.

The elevator doors open. Bright lights shine from above onto the highly buffed, marble floor below. Her recent freedoms help her to forget the fact that she's alone. The depression doesn't ever completely go away, but she does her best to push it as far into herself as possible. Her sneakers squeak with every step she takes into the vast lobby toward the front exit doors. Her excitement makes the distance between the elevator and the outlet seem to take forever. A slight smile shows on her face as the doorman opens it for her.

A white limousine is waiting curbside. The driver is standing by the back door and has it open and ready for her entry. She gets in and pushes herself to the door on the opposite side. The door closes behind her and the driver gets into his position. The car pulls away from the building. Butterflies begin to surge through her as she watches the night's city lights from her window. They drive for what seems to be forever. The vehicle passes a line of people waiting by a door. The neon light shines brightly in the night above the door, _Eclipse_ it reads in pink. The butterflies flutter even more as the car begins to slow.

The vehicle stops and the driver gets out, he opens her door. As she stands in front of him, he reaches out a hand to her. It contains a wad of cash. Her mouth drops and she quickly stashes it into the front pocket of her black jeans. She begins to thank him, but as she opens her mouth he interrupts.

"Have a good time," he states simply. Still in a state of awe, she begins to walk to the line. Behind her, the driver tips his hat to the bouncer monitoring the line at the entrance.

"Miss...Miss," the bouncer calls for Rebecca as he unlatches the rope from the pole. She turns to him confused and points questioningly at herself. "Yes, Miss, you can come on in." She is dumbfounded by the gesture. She observes the other people in the line as she walks toward the door. They are all dressed in beautiful clothing and done up perfectly. She is wearing gothic, depressing clothing and totally stands out among them. She brushes off the uncomfortable level of the situation and decides that she'll be having fun and it doesn't really matter. The wide, muscular, African-American bouncer nods at her as she passes and walks inside the door. The limo driver tips his hat to the bouncer once again and smiles. They exchange glances. He goes to his side of the car and drives off.

As Rebecca walks into the club, the bass pummels her eardrums. The music is extremely loud, but the inhabitants seem to be having a good time. She smiles as she ignores the rude looks from some of the other patrons. She goes up to the bar and orders a beer, not draft, but bottled. The bartender removes the cap and hands it to her with a smile. She places the appropriate amount of cash onto the counter with a nice tip in respect to the pleasantry. Her hands wrap around the frosty beverage and she takes a deep, welcomed drink. The bubbles burn her throat a little as they enter her esophagus, but she continues to down it.

_It's time, Rebecca,_ a voice says as it invades her thoughts, unmistakable over the boom of the club's music. She nearly chokes on the final swig of her beer as she pulls the bottle away from her mouth. Her opposite hand goes to her mouth in order to protect anyone near from her coughing. As she regains control of her coughs, she begins to think in hopes for an answer, _time for what?_ It takes a moment for the response to come. _Time for you to pay us back for caring for you all these years,_ he answers. Her eyes dart around the room for a source, but there is nobody looking at her and if there is she can't see them. _You won't find me, it's no use trying,_ he says to her. Her eyes stop scanning as she drops them to focus on her beer bottle which is half gone. _What do you want me to do?_ She asks the unknown voice. _Look on the dance floor, there is a man with black hair and a dark tan, do you see him? He's wearing a red, button-down shirt._ She listens to the description and begins to scan. She sees him jumping up and down on the dance floor, one of his arms in the air. _Yeah, I see him, and?_ She asks as her thoughts are pushed into the air. _You will seduce him, get him out of the club, and when the time is right, you will kill him,_ the voice shockingly states. Her mouth is wide open, she realizes, and quickly closes it. _If you don't do as I tell you, you will be the one dying tonight. Do you understand me?_ The question is rhetorical and a response is not necessary. She quickly turns back to the bar and chugs the remaining beer. She sets the empty bottle onto the bar and requests another, the bartender complies. She begins thinking to herself, _it's not like I have much of a choice, how am I gonna do this,_ the butterflies have returned again. Anxiety replaces excitement and fear supersedes the anxiousness.

She turns back to the dancing man and slams the other beer. The burn of carbonation makes her eyes tear. Her head begins to get warm. She turns back to the bar and sets the other hollow bottle on it. The bartender asks if she'd like another, but she declines over the noise nonverbally. She focuses back on the Tan Man and gathers her courage. _I don't know this guy, what difference does it make?_ She tries to tell herself lies to pump herself up. She pushes her shoulders back and straightens her posture. She struts her way down to the dance floor the best way that she knows how and breaks her way through the crowd. She's never even flirted with a guy before. Everything she knows is from years of television alone in her apartment.

He sees her as she shoves her way to the center of the circular floor. The multicolored lights flit about the air spotting the dancing inhabitants. He sees a gothic dress young woman with a lot of make-up on and depressing clothing at first, but then his eyes go to hers. Her eyes are dark and mysterious and her lips are as red as a rose in full bloom. They are luscious and inviting. She doesn't waste time with dancing or wait for questions. She nears him and her eyes meet his. She grabs his face and kisses him deeply. Though unexpected at first, he succumbs to her advances and gets involved as well as his eyes close. His arms go to her butt, she's uncomfortable. It's her first kiss and, though she continues to do it, she's not enjoying herself. His breath is repulsive and the stubble on his face is irritatingly painful against hers, like hundreds of tiny needles poking the surface and not penetrating. She tries to numb her mind to the current events. Their lips disconnect and she reaches for his hand. He looks at her questioningly. She motions her head toward the door as if to say, _come on._ He doesn't resist her; he thinks he knows what's to come.

They leave the confines of the loud music and overly crowded club the same way she'd come in. _The limo is gone,_ is the first thought in her head as they exit beyond the rope. She tows him to the left of the club down the sidewalk.

"Where are we going?" He asks her.

"You'll see," is her response though she has no clue.

"Don't you at least wanna know my name?" He asks as she forcefully pulls him along. "It'd be nice to know yours. That's probably the hottest kiss I've ever had." She's hearing him, but is trying to figure out what to do at the same time.

"You're sweet," she says quickly. They continue to walk down the sidewalk further from the club.

"You know, I do have a car, we could go to my place," he suggests.

"No, I was thinkin' we have a quickie in an alley somewhere. You game?" She asks boldly.

"Uh, sure, it's not really my style, but if it's yours then it's cool," he complies. She notices an alley a few feet ahead and drags him faster along. She looks back to make sure she's not being followed as they duck into the passage. She leads him to the wall at the end and pushes him against it. She stands in front of it and begins to speak.

"Listen to me very closely. You need to get out of here as fast as you can. Don't let anyone see you," she whispers to him forcibly. He looks down at her feet as his black, pomade-contained bangs drop in front of his face. He begins to laugh loudly. She stares at him in disbelief. _You just made a really big mistake, Rebecca,_ he says to her telepathically. His head straightens up and eyes fix on her, they are completely blackened within. She gasps.

"We gave you one simple task and you messed it up!" He yells at her. "Do you know what we do to traitors, my dear?" He asks her. "We do exactly to them as you were supposed to do to me!" She begins to pivot and run, but she is stopped immediately. Her body stiffens as she is slammed face-first into the brick wall. Her cheek is flat against the masonry as the roughness of the filler between the brick digs into it. She is facing him. Her hands are against the wall in an upright push-up position. She strains and tries to remove herself from it with her arms to no avail. She hears footsteps behind her approaching at the opening of the alleyway.

_I can't die like this,_ she thinks to herself and blocking others from her thoughts like she'd been taught throughout the years. Her eyes fill with a darkness of their own and she immediately fires a psychic missile into the Tan Man's hate-filled head. It meets its target as his skull cracks against the wall behind him. His eyes return to normal as he falls to the ground. His grip is broken. She immediately pushes and spins herself toward the people approaching. There are two men dressed in black suits holding guns in her direction. She doesn't give them a chance to take her out, their intentions are obvious. She hits them with a wide blast knocking them both to the ground and their weapons spin off in the direction of the sidewalk's curb. They lie on the ground moaning as she runs passed their bodies.

Headlights shine down the street in the same direction she'd led the Tan Man to the alley. It is running and the doors are open. They hadn't wanted to alert her to their presence apparently. She jumps into the car and speeds off. The passenger's side door slams securely with the acceleration. She races to the interstate. She'd overhead a conversation years ago regarding a traitor to the Society in Dallas, Texas and doesn't have any better options. She finds the quickest way out of the city onto I-35 and pushes the limits. She doesn't know exactly where she's going, but she's got a pocketful of money and knows that anyone like her will find _her_ themselves. All she has to do is get close enough to be detectable. Sorting out the good from the bad, that's a whole different story.

The headlights lead her down the highway and she cranks the music. Tears roll down her face as feelings of hopelessness and betrayal overcome her. The interstate and the oncoming lights from cars on the opposite side of the road become a blinking haze. _Get a grip, Becky,_ she says to herself as she dabs the tears with her shirt. She sniffles and makes them stop by concentrating on the heavy metal music blaring from the car's speakers.

The three-and-a-half hour drive takes an eternity as she pulls off of the interstate into the city limits of Dallas. She merges onto the off ramp and comes to a stop. A small car speeds by as she waits; it's too fast to notice any details. An SUV trails closely behind the speeding vehicle and passes. She looks to make sure there are no more racing automobiles coming from the right and she takes a left turn toward the taller visible buildings and lights of the city. She watches the taillights in front of her as they get smaller flying through fast changing traffic lights.

She nears the first light and decides to turn left instead of following the dangerous drivers. As she gets a few blocks down the street, another car starts tailing her abnormally close. She slows to let them pass, but they refuse to take the hint. She continues driving the speed limit. The trail vehicle pulls up beside her to the left. She takes an immediate right at the next intersection. The other car continues down the street she had just left. She exhales in relief. She continues down the street. _I suppose I could find a hotel for the night, they'll find me eventually, good or bad,_ she thinks to herself as she comes to a crossroads. The car she'd thought she'd left to never see again hits her front quarter panel sending both of them into the streetlight pole on the right corner. She is jostled around in the car as her airbag explodes in her face. It feels like a punch as it smashes against her skin. Her skin burns as it pushes her head against the backrest of the seat uncaringly. Dizziness sets in unexpectedly. She blinks and fights the sack against her face as she tries to break free from it. It begins to deflate enough as she fights blindly for the car door's handle. She pulls on it, but it's locked. She feels around further for the unlock button, pushes it, and it clicks the lock free. Her hand goes back to the handle, but the door opens before she can even get to it.

"Get out of there you little wench!" A male voice yells as she feels an immediate tug on her head. He's grabbed a handful of hair and is using it as a handle. She involuntarily follows his motion in order to avoid further pain that would come with resistance. Tears of pain begin to flow, smearing her mascara and eyeliner even more than they had been from the cry on the way down to Texas. Anger takes over inside her head. Her eyes become deep and shady. She stares her attacker directly in his middle-aged, scarred face and gets for his eyes with her mental abilities. They explode in their sockets. His grip on her is released as his hands go to his face painfully.

"Stop!" She hears another man's voice from inside the car. She doesn't wait for him to be able to get out as he struggles with the handle inside. She rounds the vehicle and runs down the street as quickly as she can. The blocks are behind her. The accident scene is gone. A siren rings in the distance. She rounds a corner in a safe looking neighborhood that looks fairly new in its development. There is an alleyway ahead, it's dark, it's quiet, and it looks safe enough to gather her thoughts and to dry her tears.

Chapter 26

Good or Bad?

Brielle is pinned against the wall by Rebecca's overwhelming power. Tears flow from both of the girl's eyes. Rebecca's because of frustration and Brielle's for the same reason with an additive, pain. Rebecca stands in front of Brielle with a snarl on her bright red lips. Brielle's scream has just subsided as Becky had loosened the picking at her brain with her abilities. Brielle begins to call upon her power. She is exhausted from its use over the last few hours, but she'll not be taken out like this. The heat flows into her quickly and her eyes begin to white over. Rebecca pushes her body against the rough brick of the building with a bit more force. A slight release from the pressure on her lungs comes, but Brielle stays strong and digs for her telepathy. With the lack of oxygen being pushed from her body, she can't speak aloud. _I am not one of them,_ she pleads with the girl who calls herself Rebecca.

"How do I know that? How am I supposed to believe you? The tricks you people play! You're sick, all of you!" Rebecca yells at Brielle angrily as the tears continue to flow from her ducts causing her make-up to run even more. Brielle begs as her skin begins to turn a deep shade of red. _I don't know what I can do to prove it to you. My brother is one of them. He just killed my dad and was coming after me. He could be on his way here right now for all I know._ The vibes Brielle is projecting with her emotions begin to reveal themselves to her capture. Rebecca loosens her grip and Brielle takes in oxygen, the color on her face subsides and returns to its normal peachiness.

"Thank you, Rebecca. I _promise_ you, for what it's worth, I'm not one of _them,_ " Brielle explains as her free hands rub her neck. "I know it's hard to know who to trust, believe me."

"We can talk more about it later. If this brother of yours is on his way, I'd rather not be around. I've had enough of this crap for one night," she says roughly as she begins to walk away. She turns back to Brielle, "By the way, call me Becky, I hate Rebecca." Brielle nods in acknowledgement.

"Brielle or Brie, either is fine for me," Brielle adds as she looks at her. Becky continues walking as Brielle watches.

"You comin' or what?" Becky calls over her shoulder. Brielle moves away from the wall and walks toward her. She gets next to her.

"Where are we going?" She asks her beautiful, new dark friend. Becky reaches into her pocket and pulls out a huge wad of cash. She flashes it to Brielle.

"I think I can afford a hotel room." She smiles. "I don't know where one is, but I'm sure we'll find one eventually. The only problem is I think we're gonna have to go back through the way I came. Maybe cut down a couple of blocks? Yeah, that should work." She answers her own question as she thinks out loud.

They walk down the street. Both of their ears are perked for the same reasons, though they don't know it. Brielle shivers as she walks with her arms crossed in front of her. The sweat is now drying, but it's gotten a little colder since her earlier escape from the car crash. Becky doesn't seem to be bothered by the chill. Neither of the girls have ever had a friend, especially one whose got the abilities they do. As they continue to walk and scan the area, they are excited within themselves and hopeful. There is no sign of either of their pursuers in route to the hotel. The night is brisk, full mooned, and quiet now. After walking a number of blocks, they come to a place to stay for the night.

Chapter 27

Freedom

Bennett is thoroughly disgusted with himself for allowing her to escape yet again. _It doesn't matter right now,_ he thinks _, I've got something else to tend to._ He goes back into the mansion and goes upstairs. He walks down the hall to the den and begins his search. _Father said it's black with gold lettering,_ he thinks as his eyes rifle through the bookshelves quickly. Bennett has been trained to care very little about others and the loss of both of his father's isn't as much of a concern as it would be for most. He knows he can handle the task at hand and he's ready to be his own boss. He feels a sense of freedom, but there's still a job to do. _At least now, I don't have to wait for permission._ He continues looking without success. He sits at the desk and begins to rip the drawers from their slides and allows them to fall to the floor. Still no luck in finding the book, he checks the other upstairs rooms thoroughly. He then moves to the railing by the foyer where Brielle once stood and scans below while thinking. He sees the black book on the edge of the coffee table in the sitting room where Brandon's dead body lies. _How ironic, both of his father's together,_ he chuckles a little at the thought.

He hurries down the stairs and steps over the bodies as he enters the sitting room. He scoops the book off the table and begins skimming through it. He flips and reads the city's names at the top of each page. Each city seems too far away and then he comes to one within a comprehensible distance _Oklahoma City, that's not too far from here._ He closes the book and sticks it in the front of his pant's waist. He walks to the door of the mansion and looks outside. There is Brandon's car. _It's not like he'll be using it anymore,_ he thinks. He wanders to the dining room and immediately sees the keys on the table. He smiles at the luck.

_There's just one more thing to do before I go._ He goes into the kitchen and begins rummaging through the draws. _There's gotta be some matches around here somewhere._ After the fourth drawer is searched, he's in luck. He fetches the matchbox from inside and goes up to the den. He begins tearing pages from the books and throwing them to the floor in crumples. Once the pile is high enough, he strikes a match against the side, and lights the kindling. The old, dry pages ignite immediately as a bonfire quickly begins to form. Satisfied, he goes to the sitting room downstairs and does the same thing, this time he makes the pile near the bodies before lighting it up. He watches as the flames gain height and depth, spreading toward the chairs, rug, tables, and the other books. Content with the life of his fire he leaves the house and gets in the car.

He starts the engine and begins to pull toward the gate. As soon as he sees the chain, he doesn't waste time getting out. _I've got powers. I might as well use 'em,_ he thinks as the metal explodes and the gate blasts wide open. He momentarily pulls to the side of the road. _It's going to take them awhile to get here, this place is well hidden._ He opens the book to the Oklahoma City chapter page and takes out Donovan's phone. He plugs the address into the map feature and waits for it to load. The phone reports that it's going to be a 3 ½ hour drive. He's completely content by the result and he pulls away from the side of the road toward I-35N. There's nothing to stop him now.
Chapter 28

Friends

Becky and Brielle settle into a hotel downtown, it's not much, but it is a place to get some rest. They get a room with one king-sized bed because there are no doubles left. Brielle immediately goes to the end of the bed and flips on the television.

"We have to see if there's anything on the news." She explains. Rebecca sits and takes off her shoes. She places them perfectly next to each other by the long bureau the television is sitting on. She peels off her socks and lets the air to them. Brielle stares contently at the glowing light waiting for something mentioning her.

"So, now we talk." Becky tells Brielle. "What exactly are you capable of? You seem a little helpless to me." Brielle is instantaneously offended by her statement.

"You should talk, Miss Raccoon Face!" Brielle yells at her. With the unexpected comment, her retaliation hadn't been thought out very well. Her opponent begins to laugh hysterically.

"That's the best ya got?" She asks in between laughs. She stands, goes to the bathroom, and flips on the light, leaving the door open. She looks into the mirror at her own face and the hysterics elevate. It becomes hard for her to breath. Brielle, once sitting on the bed with an upset face at the ridicule, now begins to join Becky's laughs. Brielle flops backward onto her back on the bed as she also tries to catch her breath. The girls gather their composure after a few moments. Becky washes her eyes in the bathroom and Brielle continues to watch for a report of some kind. Becky finishes cleaning up and Brielle takes her spot in front of the mirror. She wets a washcloth and removes the tear stains and sweat from her face.

She returns to the main room and goes to the other side of the bed. Becky is already in the bed and lying on her pillow facing the inside. Brielle slides under the covers and faces her. "To answer your question, I can move things, read minds, and I feel other people's emotions. I also have visions once in a while." She whispers her words carefully as she looks into Becky's dark, brown eyes. Light from the television flickers shadows across their faces as the pictures move and change.

"That's pretty cool. I can basically do all those things too. I don't catch the emotions feeling thing though. Tonight was the first time that ever happened." Becky states. Brielle looks at her puzzled.

"What do you mean?" She asks.

"Well, when I was about to pull the trigger on you, I just got this crazy overwhelming feeling that you were being honest with me. For a second, I actually felt how scared you were and how sorry you felt for me." Becky explains.

"Just to set the record straight, I wasn't feeling sorry for _you._ I was feeling sorry for _me._ " Brielle says. "My brother killed my dad in cold blood tonight." A tear begins to form and drops to her pillow. "He was all I had left and now he's gone." Becky reaches an arm over and places it on Brie's arm. "The worst part about it is I know I could've killed Ben, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I was too weak mentally. It's like I feel there's still something inside him that I can change or something. I don't know what to do." Her tears flow more freely. "I managed to kill that son-of-a-bitch who turned him into the monster he is now though."

"It's not that I don't sympathize with you, Brie, I really do. It's just that you should feel lucky you got any time with any family at all." Becky tells her opinion. "I never knew either of my parents and those people treated me like total crap. I've never felt love from anyone, ever. You're lucky, you don't know it, but you will. I promise." A small tear flows from Becky's eye and she quickly wipes it away. Brielle's arm reaches over and rests on hers. They stare at each other for a moment and drift off with the television on.

Chapter 29

The Oklahoma City Chapter

Bennett pulls the car off the highway and onto the road the GPS has instructed him to. The surrounding buildings swallow his car like a tiny bug in their vastness. His eyes wander as he absorbs his surroundings. The sunlight is beginning to shine through as it lights up the morning sky. As he gets deeper into the city, the phone announces his arrival a half a mile after his next left turn. He begins to feel anxious. This is like a job interview to him and the first impression must be a lasting one.

He parks his car in a metered spot across from the building and looks out at it. It towers high above and is mirrored, gray glass from bottom to top. A couple, a man and a woman, enter the front door. He's in a dark suit and a she's wearing a pleated, black skirt and yellow blouse. He waits for a moment, checks his side mirror for traffic, and opens the door. He shoves the ledger deep into the back of his pants and pulls his shirt up over it. He stands next to the car and continues to watch. There is no other foot traffic to fight with nearby. He races across the street; the early morning traffic isn't heavy either.

As he nears the doorman, he looks down at his shoes. He passes him and goes for the door and a hand suddenly grabs him around the upper arm.

"May I help you, sir?" The doorman asks. "I'm afraid that this is a private building for tenants only." Ben turns and looks at the man, his eyes are solid.

"I think I have a hall pass." He states as he glares into the man's soul. The doorman drops his grip and allows Bennett to enter the building. The door closes behind him. The doorman pushes the button on his clear, plastic earpiece.

"He's arrived. He's on his way up." His hand drops from his ear and interlocks with the other in front of his body. He whistles a quiet tune.

Bennett's loafers make a loud noise as he crosses the floor toward the elevator. There is nowhere else to go besides those doors, he notices as he glances around. He goes to push the button as they open up to him automatically. He looks inside expecting someone to get out, but the box is empty. He steps in and turns to push a button. The elevator doesn't give him a chance as the doors close and he starts going toward the sky. He lurches backward against the railing running all around the inside of the elevator at waist level.

"Relax, Bennett, we've been waiting for you." A male voice speaks to him from somewhere above the ceiling of the box.

"Waiting for me for what?" He asks the sky cockily.

"You'll know soon enough, just calm down because everything's going to be fine." He settles against the rail and waits for the elevator to come to a halt. He wonders what he's gotten himself into, but doesn't care because he knows he can handle anything the Society can throw at him. The doors finally open when it gets to the thirty-fifth floor. He watches as they slide open on their tracks. There is a woman in a lab coat, black, pleated skirt, and yellow blouse. She's the one he watched entering a few minutes prior with the man in the suit. She reaches out her hand to shake his, he accepts. "It's nice to finally meet you. Donovan's told us so much about you." She looks around Ben and into the elevator. "Where is Mr. Harris by the way?"

"He's dead. Brielle killed him, you know, my sister?" She doesn't look a bit surprised by the news. It's as if she'd known the answer before he'd delivered the message. "You already knew that though didn't you?" He already knows. The Society is one of the most powerful groups on the planet and he's proud to be a member.

"That's too bad. I guess our little Brielle is going to have to conform or pay, huh?" She asks in a condescending manner. He just looks at her.

"I'm not a baby you know, you don't have to talk to me like that." Bennett says as he stands at least a foot to a foot and a half taller than her.

"I know, Ben, I'm sorry. I just want you to know that we're as interested in finding Brielle as you are. Come with me." She steps away from the elevator and leads him down the hallway to the left. She talks to him as he follows. "We've been awaiting your arrival, so we've got a room all ready for you. I think you'll find the accommodations satisfactory. Donovan called us as soon as the two of you flew into New Jersey." He isn't surprised by her news. _Secretive things go on in the Society all the time. If they didn't, it wouldn't be the Society. It's just the way things are._ The woman turns to him and says, "Exactly!" as she points a finger into the air in acknowledgment. He is a little taken aback by the fact that she's heard his thoughts, but shakes it off. They arrive at the room, she slides a key card and she opens it. She pushes a button located near the latch after she opens the door. "That's to turn off the automatic locking mechanism. We wouldn't want you to think you are our prisoner." She throws her head back with laughter.

She opens the door for him and he slips in between her and the door. The ceilings are several feet high above. As he walks in, he notices a large bathroom off to the right. There are two sinks with gold colored faucets tipping over like the bow of a swan's head. The hot and cold handles look as though they are edged in ivory or mother of pearl. A mirror decorates the entire countertop from base to ceiling. He continues inward, the room opens up from the hall. To his left is a doorway into a lavish bedroom colored in a navy blue with a walnut poster bed against the farthest wall. To the right is a small kitchen, all the appliances are stainless steel. The countertops look to be marble and gray. The room he's standing in has an enormous window with maroon curtains approximately ten feet high. Several tall buildings decorate the landscape and block a lot of the view, but it's still breathtaking. The living room area has a large flat-screen television mounted to the wall in front of a deep red, suede sofa. A chocolate colored, walnut coffee table sits directly in front of the couch.

Bennett goes to the window to admire the scenery with his arms crossed.

"I hope it's to your liking?" She asks. He ponders for a moment.

"It'll do." He answers as he continues to look outside.

"You'll find new clothes in the closet and in the bureau as well. I'll call on you when they need you. With Donovan gone, it appears as though you're next in line. Congratulations." She excuses herself and closes the door. He goes directly into the bedroom to sort through his new things snubbing the things he doesn't approve of and tossing them into a wicker basket. He's impressed with the fact that they did get most of his tastes correct. His clothing items are mostly in black with a few of the more dressy things having a bit more color. He picks out a dark outfit, jeans and t-shirt, and proceeds to the shower. The filth in his mind doesn't wash away as he remembers the ghastly way that he'd snuffed out his enemy's life as the hot water hits his olive toned shoulders. Bennett decides, in the Society's safe arms, there's no time like the present to bring her to him. Daniel's book rests quietly on the walnut dresser, its reflection smiles in the mirror attached to the back of the furniture.

Chapter 30

Becky & Brie

The young women stir in their bed, Brielle is the first one to rise. Their ground level hotel faces west. The Texas noontime sun falls beyond the overhang's shadow through the sheer, white curtain near the air conditioner unit. She smiles at her companion as she carefully gets out of the bed. Becky is beautiful and peaceful. Brie goes to the end of the bed, the television is still on, but the volume is low. There are pictures from an aerial cameraman. The building is smoldering from its rubble and ash remains. She recognizes the set-up immediately and gasps. She goes to the volume knob so she can hear.

"The home, it is reported, has been abandoned for several years now," the male newscaster says, "so, the question is, whose bodies are they? Police are telling us that the bodies of two adult males were found early this morning after firefighters managed to put out the flames. If anyone has more information, please call the Dallas Crime Stoppers Hotline at..."

Brielle turns the volume down as Becky begins to stir in the bed. "He burned the mansion to the ground." Brielle states in a whisper.

"What?" Becky asks groggily as she sits up and rubs her eyes.

"Bennett burned the place to the ground. Donovan and my father's bodies were still there. What if someone finds out? What are we gonna do?" Brielle starts to panic a bit in her head. Becky reaches for her shoulder.

"Brie, you don't have anything to worry about. Look at it this way, he burned everything that links you to even being there." She reassures her. "Hey, we need to get a mode of transportation and some new clothes." Becky tries to lighten the mood. "I've got plenty of money. Whadaya say we go do a little shopping? It'll make you feel better." Brielle turns to her and smiles, she has to forget about things in the past and now she's got a potential friend unlike any other.

"Let's do it." Brielle says. She goes to the bathroom to fix her hair before leaving.

The girls turn in their room key and wander down the sidewalk. There is plenty of foot traffic around, so the threat level looks low. They walk a few blocks further into downtown and find a clothing store suitable for both of their tastes. It's kind of funky, but tasteful at the same time. They wander around the racks separately as they look through the clothes. Brielle finds a couple of different shirts and cradles them in her left arm as she continues to move the hangers around the round rack. _Brielle,_ a voice calls to her in her head. She recognizes the voice immediately. She concentrates. _What do you want, Bennett?_ She asks him angrily. _Come to Oklahoma City, I'll be waiting for you. If you don't, I'll send people after you. See ya soon._ His voice tapers off from her mind. Chills flow over her in the form of goose bumps. She hangs her clothing items back on the rack and looks at Becky. She doesn't want to risk the life of another person she's got feelings for. She turns toward the exit door and walks out as a little bell above the door jingles. She begins to walk quickly on the sidewalk, there are footsteps behind her. A hand reaches for her shoulder.

"Where the hell are you going?" Becky asks as she stops and forces her face to face. Brielle is embarrassed and stares at her feet.

"Bennett just sent me an ultimatum. Either I go to him in Oklahoma City or he's going to send people after me." She looks at Becky and flips her hair back from her face. "I can't risk having another person I care about killed. I have to go to him or this will never end."

"Brielle, listen to me. I know where he is! That's where I lived my entire life! You won't go there alone and I won't let you tell me no. You're right, this _does_ have to end. _We_ can do it, _together._ " Becky is determined and makes her point clear. The worried look on Brielle's face doesn't go away, but it does soften. "Now, let's finish our shopping. That asshole can wait." She wraps her arm around Brielle and they walk back to the store. Rebecca is Brielle's strength.

Chapter 31

The Chairman

"Bennett, we're ready for you." A voice sounds in his ears from the speaker in his room. He's sitting on the couch relaxing, reveling in the fact that he's back with the Society. He gets up from the sofa and picks up the remote. He turns off the reality television show he'd been watching and places the remote control back onto the coffee table. He goes to the door and leaves the room.

The woman in the lab coat meets him at the door. She reaches a hand out to him.

"Forgive me. I neglected to introduce myself earlier. My name is Samantha. You can call me Sam. That was rude of me and I apologize." He returns the handshake pleasantly. Inside he could really care less what her name is, but acknowledges her anyway. "Right this way." She says as she turns toward the elevator. Bennett follows her to the doors, they open, and they step inside. Remembering the jolt he'd experienced earlier, he spaces his feet apart for bracing and places one hand on the railing. The doors close. Sam scans the card around her neck against the inferred scanner near the floor number panel. She pushes the button for the top floor and the elevator begins to climb.

"Where exactly are we going?" He asks her.

"We have a meeting to attend, Mr. Chairman." She says sneakily. Bennett looks at her confusingly. "With Donovan gone, you're next in line." His eyes light up. "You know, the Society knows everything and they've chosen you for this chapter. You should be flattered by the proposal."

"Oh, believe me, I am flattered." Bennett responds.

"Good, you're about to learn things about us that most members have no knowledge of." The elevator doors open. She begins to walk out. "You know, you could've worn something a bit more appropriate." Her eyes scan him from bottom to top and she scoffs. He looks at himself and follows after her.

"I would've, maybe if you'd have told me beforehand." He explains.

"It's too late now. Next time you'll know better." Samantha says over her shoulder as she leads him down the hallway. They go to the end of the corridor and she opens the room on the end. The light from the sun pours from the room. A window covers the entire wall. Occupants can observe the entire city from this view. Bennett looks around the room. Several people, male and female, some in lab coats while others are wearing suits, sit around the large oval table. There are two empty chairs, one at the head of the table and the other seat is to the right of it. Sam turns to Ben and motions for him to proceed to the head chair. He does as she requests and takes his seat in the comfortable, brown leather.

"Welcome, Bennett." There is a man at the opposite end of the table. His is dressed in a suit with a bowtie, the tie is decorated with dots of different colors, and his lab coat is a bright white. "It's a pleasure to finally have you onboard." His accent has a hint of German to it as if he's been in America for enough years that it's faded, but not completely vanished. "First things first, introductions, my name is Joseph." His eyes go to the next person sitting at the table and then the next. They all tell Bennett their names and what they do at this chapter of the Society. He doesn't feel the need to introduce himself. He knows they all already know who he is and Samantha simply nods at him. It gets back around to Joseph. "Now that you've been introduced, we get down to business. You are a special young man, Bennett, that's why we'd like you to be the head of our group here. We do, however, have a problem." His tone changed abruptly from a little spunky to serious. "There aren't many of your kind left. We've been working on coupling as many of you as we can, but we seem to be running out due to a rebellion against our organization."

"What do you want me to do about it?" Bennett interrupts. Joseph's mouth remains open for a moment as if the rudeness has him confused.

"Well, there are only two of you at this table with gifts at all. As you already know, Sam is our mind reader, but you have many talents, Ben. From what I hear, you can locate others like you?"

"What you've heard is a bunch of crap. There's only one person I can find and that's Brielle. She's blocking me out at the moment." Joseph seems confused. Apparently he's not used to his sources being wrong about things like this.

"Don't worry about her. Our people are keeping a very close eye on her and her companion."

"What companion?" Bennett is now the one who's curious.

"Well, up until a couple of days ago, we had a very special girl here with us. She was intended for you actually. We tried to test her and she failed miserably. Unless you can manage to get her back to us, I'm afraid she's going to have to be eliminated."

"If I know Brielle as good as I think I do, she'll be on her way soon. It wouldn't hurt to force the situation a bit though. Have our men move in on them when the time is right. I think there's been enough commotion stirred up down there, so let's keep it as quiet as we can." Bennett is falling into his seat quite nicely. He's a born leader. "If that's all you've got for me at the moment, I'd like to get back to what I was doing." He looks at Samantha and gets up from his chair. The others seem confused by his dismissal, but that's the way Ben likes it. Now that he's in charge things are going to be different. Samantha escorts him to the elevator and gets it set up for him. She pushes the button to his floor and waves goodbye as the doors close. She stays on the top floor. Bennett goes back to his room and continues to watch television. He's a little annoyed that the show he was watching before the meeting is now over.

Chapter 32

One Last Time

Brielle and Becky, having completed their shopping and obtaining a rental car, go to a gas station downtown to change into their new clothes. They set the bags into the trunk and find a place that doesn't look too trashy. They each grab one outfit from the trunk, including shoes, and go inside. The cashier hands them the requested key and they go around to the side of the building.

As they walk inside, the floral scent overwhelms their nostrils. The mixture of bleach, pine oil, and flowers is revolting at first, but it soon fades as they become accustomed to it. They each begin to sort through and remove the tags from their articles excitedly. They remove their shoes from the boxes and throw the stuffing into the wastebasket. They undress and redress. Brielle is wearing a sky blue, her most flattering color, v-neck t-shirt, black jeans, and some flats to match. Becky is wearing her usual black from top to bottom; rings still adhered to each finger from the day prior. After dressing, they each begin to rifle through the new make-up they'd purchased. They place their items onto the edge of the sink and start the artful process. Black and red for Becky and light blue accents for Brielle, they share the red lipstick.

As the last of the redness is applied perfectly to Becky's lips, the door handle jiggles a bit. "We'll be out in just a second!" Becky replies to the attempted entry. The handle wiggles again, almost immediately after her announcement. "Hey! We'll be out in..." Her words are interrupted as the door breaks from its hinges and swings open. The metal frame pops inward. The young women turn toward the door as a large man walks inside.

"I don't have a second!" He proclaims with blackened eyes. He hits them both at the same time with a psychic force. They stumble backward. Brielle's back hits near her kidneys against the porcelain of the sink as she falls to the ground on her hands and knees. Becky lands between the toilet and sink alongside the wall. Her eyes close. Brielle tries to see through the hazy vision as the man approaches with a step. He reaches for her wavy, blonde hair and begins to pull her upward. She grabs the side of the sink to ease the pulling of her roots. "Just the little lady I'm looking for." The man says to her angrily. She lets out an involuntary moan as anger and fear begin to flow through her. Her eyes change color as she is forcefully tugged upward. Her vision goes to his face and shoots a devastating blast. His head immediately whiplashes back as he stumbles toward the opposite wall. He smashes into it as he falls and smacks onto the concrete floor.

Brielle verifies his immobility and goes over to her friend. "Becky, Becky, come on, we have to go." Becky begins to respond slowly. Her eyes flutter and then fly open, they are black with hate. "No, I got him. Calm down." Brielle helps Becky to her feet and they leave the bathroom after scooping the remaining items into a bag. They go to the car, Becky drives. After a couple of moments of silence, they begin to converse.

"Did you know that guy?" Rebecca asks.

"No, but I know what he wanted. He wanted me." Brielle replies. "Bennett said they would come after me if I didn't come." Rebecca turns to Brie and grabs her hand.

"Well, I guess I know where we're going then." She looks at Brie with a bit of worry, but she knows she has strength now that she's never had before and no matter what the outcome she'll be okay. Brielle returns the look and pretends to smile. She nods her head and turns toward the window on her side of the car. A lone tear finds its escape as she daydreams and they drive northbound on the highway.

Chapter 33

The News

There is a knock on Bennett's door and he gets up to answer. It's Samantha. "He failed and they are on their way here." She seems happy with the delivery of the news, but also panicked.

"Good, I'll be waiting for them." Bennett isn't worried and is as cocky as ever.

"You can't face them alone, Bennett. They are too powerful together. We'll figure out a way to separate them and take them out." Samantha pleads. She realizes the attitude her new boss is displaying. He goes to shut the door to her.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," is all he says as the door shuts. He walks back to the sofa and remembers his childhood. _All my life people have doubted me. I've failed in the past and I'm not going to do it again._ He kicks his feet up onto the coffee table and continues to watch the television. A smile crosses his lips, overconfidence.

Brielle and Becky pull into the limits of Oklahoma City. Through bits of conversation during the 3 hour trip, their nerves are settled and they have a plan. The sun is gone and the city is lit with manmade lights. The moon is making its crawl to becoming the king of the night sky for another evening. Clouds are absent from the atmosphere. Becky knows a little about the city from her trips out as a child. She definitely is familiar with the building that sticks high above the skyline where she was held for so many years.

They find the nearest restaurant to get something to eat. Besides gas station food, they haven't eaten much of anything in the past two days and they're going to need the energy later. They sit down and order.

"Are you sure this is the best option, Becky?" Brielle asks as she chews on a breadstick.

"Do you wanna keep running for the rest of your life, Brie? I know I don't. You've been running since you were 5, isn't it time to stand up and put a stop to this crap?" Rebecca is serious in the delivery of her words. Her eyes are buried into Brielle's as she delivers the statements. Brielle can't keep eye contact. Hers keep venturing around the room and back to Becky. She looks at the couples and families around them and begins to go into their minds one by one. She is sick of the feelings of someone always watching her. _Those people are everywhere and seem to know everything,_ she says to herself.

"No, I don't want to run anymore. I'd like to be able to go to a nice restaurant and not worry about who's staring at me from behind a menu. I'd like to go to a store, a mall, anywhere, and not have to wonder who's gonna try to get me next." Her words are forceful, but not loud enough for anyone else to hear. "Bennett isn't gonna stop until I'm dead, I realize that now. He's not going to change. I can't do this anymore, Becky. I just can't." Tears begin to flow with the frustration. She picks up her napkin and begins to dab them away quickly. The last thing she wants is for their waitress to come back and ask her what's the matter. Just as she finishes drying, she returns with their food. She doesn't notice.

The ladies spend a couple of hours at the restaurant. It may be their last, so they choose to enjoy each other's company for as long as they can. Rebecca slips the cash and a generous tip for her trouble into the black leather, folding case with their bill and they leave the restaurant.

"Call him, Brielle." Becky says to her. "Let him know we're ready for him." Brielle reaches out mentally to her brother and he hears her happily. He grabs the ledger, sneaks from his room, takes the elevator, and walks out the front door. A different doorman than the one who was there during the day watches as he leaves the building The women get into the car and drive toward another location just a few blocks away, minutes from the Oklahoma City complex.

The yellow, striped arm to the parking garage opens after Rebecca retrieves the ticket it dispenses. She sticks it into a pocket on the car's door. She pulls into the inner-city lot. They go to the highest point, the top of the parking lot. The moon greets them directly from above as they immerge from the cement structure. Becky finds a spot to pull into. There is only one approach at this level and they plan to use it to their advantage. They get out of the car, go to the back, and wait for him to arrive. Rebecca turns to Brielle and embraces her. "Thank you."

"Thank me for what?" Brielle asks through Becky's hair.

"For being," she simply states.

"Awwww, isn't that sweet?" His voice sounds from the ramp they'd come up only moments prior. They drop their arms from each other to face him.

"It doesn't have to be like this, Ben." Brielle explains.

"Like what, Brielle? Huh? Like what exactly?" He continues to approach. His black clothing makes him look more menacing than usual. His pale skin is accentuated by the moonlight as his greasy, black hair tufts freely and onto his forehead and into his eyes. He flicks his hair back with his head without success. It falls back into its original placement. "You killed my father! You destroyed everything we'd been working toward! You are a selfish little bitch! Why didn't you just do what you were told and everything would be perfect?" Rebecca steps between the two as Bennett gets within a few feet of them. Her eyes glaze over with black. Bennett looks at her and uses his telekinesis to fling her body out of the way. "This doesn't involve you!" His voice sounds hollowly. His eyes are solid. She lands several feet to his right onto the cement surface of the parking structure. Brielle looks over at her and then brings her sights back to him.

"Ben, it doesn't have to be like this, please!" She pleads with the shell of a man she used to call her brother. He pushes her into a sport utility vehicle behind her and pins her against it. "Ben, our parents loved us! Please believe me! Dad couldn't help us, he tried...please...Ben...don't do this." Her words begin to strain as she fights for air against the pressure on her back and chest.

His eyes widen as the pressure on Brielle begins to lessen. Rebecca is standing beside him, her eyes are solid. "Leave her alone, asshole!" Her voice is empty and deep as she vocalizes the words. His body flies against a car to the left of theirs. His head smashes into the rear window as the security alarm beings to ring out loudly, it's high-pitched and painful to the ears. He lays motionless as Brielle begins to cough in an effort to get her wind back. Her hand goes to her throat. Rebecca goes to her as she drops to one knee with the choking. "Are you ok?" Becky asks as she kneels down beside her friend. Brielle nods between gasps. Her convulsions become lessened quickly.

"Stupid little boy!" A female voice comes from somewhere behind them. Brielle's sights go toward the ramp. "I told you not to go alone, but no, you wouldn't listen!" A woman in black heels, a black skirt, and a yellow blouse is clicking her way toward them across the pavement. Several others follow behind her. Rebecca stands and swings around on her heel in front of Brielle. She recognizes a few of the people in the entourage. One of the women used to clean her room for her, a guy who'd driven her around a few times, the doorman, and there are more who she's never seen before. A few of them are holding pistols pointed toward the girls. "I told him," Samantha shouts at Rebecca and Brielle, "I told him, but he wouldn't listen!" She is hysterical in expression. Her hair is messed and flying everywhere with the breeze atop the building. "And you, little missy, why couldn't you just do a simple little thing?" She says to Becky. "All you had to do was try to kill that guy, that's it, is that so damn hard?"

The group nears the girls as they gear themselves up for a fight. Brielle's eyes begin to fill and so do Rebecca's. Bennett begins to stir on the trunk of the car. Samantha goes to him and grabs him by the collar. He looks at her groggily. "What did I tell you, boy?" She slides him off of the car and onto the ground. "It seems as though you may have a problem with authority." She kicks him in the gut with her heeled shoe. He groans and grabs his stomach in pain. His head is bleeding from the impact of the car's window. As Samantha's eyes come back into view, they are murky and evil. A sneer comes across her face as she looks at the girls who are dumbfounded by her actions. Their readiness had subsided in reaction and ill-preparation for her actions against Bennett. "Are you going to come quietly or do I have a fight on my hands?" The girls consider their options as they look around. There are three to five guns pointed at them. They are outnumbered with nowhere to go.

They begin to raise their hands in subservience and look at each other sorrowfully. Rebecca gives Brielle a wink with the eye farthest from their onlookers. They both shoot a mental blast into Samantha and her entourage. Some are forced to the ground while others stumble when bodies make their legs unstable as they knock into them. The girls run toward the ramp. The car's alarm still resonates in their eardrums as they round the spiral road to the next level below. They run to the halfway point and stop. They turn back toward the ramp and prepare themselves for an attack. The sound of the security alarm stops.

Suddenly, Bennett yells out in pain from above as his voice echoes into the level below. Brielle lurches forward in a response to aid her brother. Rebecca's arm goes up in front of her.

"No, that's what they want. We stay and wait for them." Her voice is stern as Brielle looks into her serious eyes. Her muscles relax as she listens to him scream a few more times and then there is silence. A ringing of a lady's heels against the hard surface beings to sound, multiple other shoe steps follow. The group is heading in their direction. Samantha is still in the lead as Brielle and Rebecca are ready for her attack, their eyes tell it. Her feet come into view, her legs, waist, blouse, and her head. She sees them waiting for her.

"What are you little girls going to do? Brielle, you left your brother to die and ran away like a coward. That's not very ladylike." The others come into view as she nears them. Rebecca focuses on the people to her rear. She gathers more power than she's ever attempted to before in her life and she fires at them. Their bodies slam into the metal railing beside them. Guns fly over the railing along with a few bodies. Their yells sound as they fall five stories to their deaths. One is slammed into an edge where the open railing meets the wall. The corner smashes his skull and he falls to the ground. Samantha realizes what is going on and sends her thoughts to one of the parked cars closest to her. She gathers it in, pulls it from its parking spot, and stops it in the middle of the path between the girls and herself. "You want to play dirty, I can play dirty!" She sends her force to the car. It goes barreling toward the girls. It flips door over door in their direction. They both concentrate on the hurling chunk of metal. It stops and whips to the left onto another parked car. Alarms ring through the air again, but this time is louder due to the enclosed space. The vehicle cradles itself between the cars.

Samantha yells out in frustrated anger. Her hair is askew and laying in every direction. She looks insane. Two of the men's bodies behind her are struggling to get up without success. The girls begin to approach her. They join hands. The heat flows between their bodies as the strength surges inside their souls. The wind begins to pick up as the coolness of the interior of the parking garage combines with the heat they are emitting. Their hair starts to flow like a flame on a flickering candle and then picks up like a bonfire. Dust left from car's tires picks up and flies freely around them creating a ball of energy. They float an inch from the ground as they near her. Fear appears on Samantha's face and then is replaced with a determined anger as one of her eyebrows goes downward. She grabs telekinetically for another car and throws it in their direction. The vehicle veers off and slams into others before reaching them. The girls' eyes hauntingly stare down their opponent as she begins to cower in fear. Their bodies glide back down to the surface. Samantha's hand goes to her face in an effort to shield it from the debris. Her wild hair flips violently. She looks up at them. They release the psychic force like a large atomic blast of light. It hits the women's body and busts through the cement wall. Her body soars into the open air with wide, crazy, empty eyes. Shock overtakes her as everything seems to be in slow motion. She plummets toward the earth below.

Brielle and Rebecca allow their abilities to settle within. They turn to each other and hug tightly. Tears begin to flow down both of their faces from the release of emotion and adrenaline. They hang onto each other for a few more moments. They go back up the ramp to their car. Clouds are rolling in over the moonlit sky. As they near the edge of the top level, they see a silhouette standing by a vehicle near theirs. They know immediately who it is. The girls prepare themselves as they join hands and their eyes change to the color of power. They approach him. He's facing the other way. His is barely able to hold himself up and is resting on an elbow. They get within a couple feet from his back.

"Please, just kill me. I don't deserve to live." Bennett says. His voice is soft and hardly audible over the car alarms from below. The girls stand strong together. He revolves his body to face them as he switches from one arm to the other against the car trunk. Red blood trickles down from his head, his hair is matted to the top, and his face is wet. The moon breaks free from the clouds and its light shines down on them. His eyes are sunken and white. His skin is pale. Tears are flowing down his cheeks. "I've done so many wrong things in my life. Brielle, kill me, please!" His efforts make him cough slightly. Brielle's compassion takes over her body as her eyes return to normal. She runs to her brother and embraces him. He pushes her away and looks into her eyes. "How can I live with the things I've done? The Society doesn't want me, I've hurt you so badly, and our parents are dead. It's all because of me! Just do it! Kill me!" Brielle's eyes begin to tear up as well.

"Ben, it's not your fault. You didn't know any better. They are the reason you've done the things you did, not because you're bad. I love you, Bennett. You're my brother and you always will be." She rushes back to him. His height is beyond hers by about six inches. She pulls harder into his chest. His hands stick out beyond their bodies awkwardly. He winces against the pressure of her hug against his ribs. She doesn't pay attention and revels in the moment. He closes his lost hands around her back and squeezes in return.

"I'm sorry." Bennett whispers softly. Rebecca steps in.

"I hate to break up this reunion but there's gonna be cops here soon. We should probably go." She begins to walk toward the car and gets in. Brielle leads Ben to the back and opens the door. He lowers himself in carefully and she closes the door behind him. She gets in and they back out of the space. They spiral down to the ground level and approach the gate.

"I'll take care of it." Brielle says as the gate lifts so there's no evidence left on their car. They leave the parking garage and turn onto the street outside. They find the nearest highway and start to drive. The twinkling of the city's lights wink at them as a sign of goodbye. Brielle looks back at her long lost brother. "It's good to have you back." She smiles.

"It's good to finally be back, I was lost for too long." Ben replies. He looks out the window and stares up at the moon. He smiles as he remembers how things used to be. A tear travels down his cheek. He feels an uncomfortable something in his back against the seat. He reaches into the waist of his pants. "Here, we might need this." He places the ledger onto Brielle's lap. She looks at it, surprised.

Chapter 34

Society-Bound

The trio drives down the interstate with Brielle at the wheel. The sun is bright and high in the sky. The brown grass flows gently in the field beside them. Birds soar effortlessly above as they catch the wind's free ride. Bennett is asleep on the back seat using his shirt for a pillow. Dreams of his parents and sister dance in his mind from when they were kids back in Nevada. His family is happy again and together. Rebecca is thumbing through the pages of the book with interest. She stops on a page, flips her phone open, and dials the number written.

The members sit around the boardroom table debating their next move in governmental control. The Society has been slipping lately in their quest for power and control. With the economy in so much turmoil, the selfishness is blowing up in their faces. The telephone near the head chair rings and the man picks up.

"Hello?" He hadn't been expecting anyone to call, especially in the middle of a meeting. "Hello?" He asks again.

"Hi there." The female voice says. "You don't know me and I don't know you, but there are about to be some major changes and I don't think you and your people are going to like it. See ya soon." She hangs up the phone. The members around the table are in a state of shock.

Rebecca hangs up the phone. Brielle looks at her and they both laugh. "Washington, here we come!" Rebecca shouts loudly. The yellow stripes on the highway soar beneath their car as the miles pass by. She types the destination into the phone and waits for it to calculate the distance. The mapping system tells her approximately sixteen hours.

"I don't see the point in driving the entire distance in one day, do you?" Brielle asks Rebecca. "Why not enjoy it a little? You know, between the three of us, we're not going to have any problems taking them down in D.C."

"Yeah, let me take a look." Becky begins to push the screen on the phone with her finger as she searches for the halfway point. She zooms out to make the job easier. "Nashville's not exactly halfway, but it looks like a good spot. We've still got a decent portion of the day left and I've never been there. I've always wanted to go."

"That sounds good to me." Brielle says.

"That's the plan then." Rebecca says as she rolls the car window down and slips off her right shoe. She sticks it out and lets the wind whip between her toes through her sock as she wiggles them. The warm wind curls its way throughout the car, back to Bennett, and whips Brielle's hair wildly. They look at each other and smile. Rebecca's eyes wander to the countryside on her side of the vehicle. They arrive in Nashville near dinner time.

"Let's go find a place to stay first and then we'll see about something to eat." Brielle suggests. Bennett sits on his side of the car quietly watching the cars pass by and the city's lights as they exit the highway. "Sound good, Ben?" His eyes don't leave the window as he answers.

"Whatever is fine with me," he responds plainly. They pull into the entrance of the first hotel sign they see as they exit. The outside doesn't look too unappealing. The exterior has a stucco kind of design and the parking lot is about halfway full.

"I'll go in for the keys." Rebecca announces as Brielle pulls the car to the front door under an awning. The entrance is all windows with silver, metal framing. Becky gets out and closes the door behind her. Brielle can see all the way to the desk which is located directly inside, across a small lobby sitting area. The clerk is Indian and wearing a black vest with a white blouse underneath. The red dot on her forehead is noticeable from the car. The silence is broken by Bennett.

"Why is she with us?" He asks rudely. "We don't need her." Brielle turns to him as he sits on the opposite side of the car.

"Bennett Matthew Hudson, she saved my life more than once. She doesn't have anyone either. Why would you be okay with discarding her?" Brielle has excitement in her voice, but doesn't want to make it too obvious.

"You and I are family. She's not one of us. You and I are strong enough together. Do you want her to get hurt?" His expression seems genuine.

"Ben, she can handle herself and we can use all the help we can get with what we're about to do. Besides, do you know what they did to her? Do you know how they treated her? Remember when we were little? Remember what they did? How could you even _think_ that it's okay? You should be happy to have someone who is just like us. Dad had nobody to talk to when he was growing up. We're lucky. It's as simple as that. This discussion is over." She turns back to watching as Becky comes out of the hotel with an envelope in her hand and a smile. She holds the card key package up in her hand and waves them to Brielle. Brielle pushes a smile in her direction with the discussion on her mind. The car door opens.

"Room 102, it is right over there." Rebecca announces as she points toward the end of the tri-level complex. Brielle begins to pull the car over to the parking spot nearest their door. Becky looks at her. "What's wrong?" She asks concerned. Brielle looks at her as she maneuvers the vehicle through the parking lot.

"What? Oh, nothing, I'm fine." Brielle lies. Becky glances around her seat at Ben who's ignoring her. She turns back as they pull into their spot. They all get out and retrieve the girls' things from the trunk. The tar from the parking lot meets level with the cement of the walkway in front of the hotel. Rebecca goes to the door and removes a card from the envelope. She slides it and the red light turns green. She opens the door. A musty staleness hits their senses upon entry. Brielle switches on the light and Becky sets her bags on the bed.

"This one's ours." Rebecca announces as she sits and bounces on the end of the bed. Bennett rolls his eyes unnoticeably as he goes to lie on the other queen-sized bed nearest the half-bath. There is only one sink in the countertop with a full mirror above. The sink is a yellowish color and the faucet is silver. The mirror is affixed to the wall with tiny, metal mounting brackets, eight in all. They aren't spaced evenly across the top. The center one is canted off to the left. The water is slowly dripping from the faucet making a rust stain on the metal plug and on the ceramic base.

Brielle sits on the bed next to Becky and grabs the remote off the pressed-wood, brown dresser. She turns it on and begins to surf the channels quickly. "When are we going to eat?" She asks between flips.

"I'll grab a phonebook and check out the restaurant section." Rebecca rolls and crawls to the top of the bed and opens the drawer to the matching nightstand. She pulls out the book and rolls back to her previous position on the bed. She finds the area three-quarters of the way through with the edge colored in order for a quick find. She thumbs through page by page. "Chinese, Indian, Italian, American, what kind of food do we want?" She asks her friends. "We could just order in?" Brielle looks at Ben.

"What do you want?" She asks him. He has a pillow placed over his face as he speaks through it.

"Whatever, I don't care." He says muffled. Brielle turns back to Becky and shrugs her shoulders.

"Let's order in Chinese, I don't know if I've ever had that." Brielle explains.

"Chinese it is then." Rebecca agrees. She takes out her phone, dials, and places a large order with a little of everything so they can try it. When asked where to deliver, she reads the card atop the television. She hangs up the phone. "It's on its way." Brielle looks at her with wide eyes.

"You didn't have to order that much!" She exclaims.

"I know, but I thought it'd be fun since you've never had it. I've got plenty of money left, don't worry." She smiles at Brie.

"I've got money too you know." Brielle says as she goes back to surfing.

"Yeah, well, I'm buying. You can get it next time." Rebecca says as she pats Brielle's leg with her left hand and dismisses herself to the bathroom. She closes the door. The fan is loud and squeaky from inside. Brielle turns to Bennett.

"You know, you're being really rude. It wouldn't hurt you to try." She says to him. He removes the pillow from his face and looks at her seriously.

"You already know how I feel and it doesn't matter. I won't be nice and I'm not really feeling that good right now. I just need to get some sleep and I'll be fine. I'll try harder tomorrow." His expression lightens with her angered reaction to his beginning explanation. The pillow goes back over his face.

"Fine, go back to sleep, but you better try because we're going to have to stand strong _together_ tomorrow. We can't do this without you." Brielle finishes the conversation as the toilet flushes, the fan goes off, and the door to the bathroom opens. About an hour later, their food arrives. Rebecca pays the delivery man generously for his trouble and sets the bags on the nearby table as he hands them to her. She thanks him and shuts the door.

"I hope you're hungry." Rebecca tells Brielle. Bennett is snoring quietly from under his pillow as he faces the wall across the room. Brielle goes to the table and helps clear it off. The table is small. They set the brown bags on the floor so they can arrange them as they need to. Rebecca brings a couple over to the dresser and clears more space. She begins to pop open the covers to the Chinese food cartons and the Styrofoam containers. The steam rises and the condensation of water that's built up on the roof drips down. "How about we do this smorgasbord style?" Becky asks. Brielle agrees and grabs one of the containers. Becky scoops her contents into the empty side of one and Brie follows her lead. They then go from plate to plate and load up. Once they're satisfied, they go back to the hotel's table and sit. They eat until they're overly full and repackage the remains.

"I'm so full I could explode." Brielle says. Rebecca laughs.

"Wanna watch some TV and crash?" She asks. They get comfortable and crawl into bed, propping their heads up. They both pass out before getting through the first half hour program.

Rebecca wakes up before the sun rises and goes to the bathroom. She feels sticky and disgusted from the food ordeal and decides that a bath is in order. She gathers her clothes from one of the bags and brings them into the bathroom with her. Brielle is sleeping like a baby. The flicker from the television lights the room with an infomercial. She closes the door behind her and pulls the cream colored, vinyl shower curtain back. She pulls the water knob on and the water begins to flow from the spigot. As she checks the temperature, it quickly begins to warm, and suddenly becomes too hot. She makes the adjustment and gets it to a satisfactory level.

She pours some of the hotel shampoo into the bath to make bubbles. The lavender scent rises and smells inviting to her senses. She gets undressed and places her clothing onto the towel rack above the toilet. She places a floor towel down and puts another for her body within an arm's reach from the tub. She slowly lowers her body into the water as a tingle from the heat prickles at her skin. She submerges up to her neck and uses her hands to surround and cover herself with the suds. She closes her eyes and allows the steam to settle on her face. She begins to drift off.

She hears a door latch click and her eyes open. She looks toward the door. Bennett is standing there.

"Get out." She says to him forcefully, but not loud enough to wake Brielle. He goes to the bathtub and kneels down beside it.

"You know you want me, Rebecca. I see the way you look at me." His face goes to hers and he kisses her deeply. His face is rough and stubbly. His breath is offensive and bitter. She struggles against him and grabs the back of his hair to pull him off. His eyes are black as night as they come into her view.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" She is in shock. He stares into her soul.

"You need to leave us alone." His voice is hollow and wicked. She feels a sharp pain in her head and darkness takes over.

She jumps in the cool bath water. The bubbles are gone and her naked, cold body is fully exposed. Her eyes dart to the door, it's closed. She sits up quickly as the water splashes around her; some goes to the mat on the floor. She grabs the towel and stands as she wraps it over her breasts and to the middle of her thigh. She reaches for the door and goes out. The sun is starting to crest the horizon and the room is partially lit. She checks the beds. Bennett is lying in the position she'd remembered from earlier. Brielle is sleeping soundly. A local news program is airing on the television.

She goes back into the bathroom confused. _Wouldn't Brielle have noticed if I'd have screamed? I know she would've. This place is really small._ Her words don't settle well in her brain. She begins to dress in the bathroom, the door is locked, and the bathtub is draining. She pulls on her pants and sits on the toilet seat as she puts on her socks. She holds her head in her hands with her wet hair dripping onto the floor. She starts to cry. _It felt so real._ She sits for a few minutes as she gathers her composure. Drying her face with her body towel, she goes to the mirror to apply her usual make-up, and finishes what she started a couple of hours ago. It isn't long before Brielle and Bennett are up. Brielle goes to shower, while she's gone, Rebecca goes outside on the sidewalk for a cigarette. She doesn't want to face Bennett alone with her nightmare. When they're all ready, they pack up, load up the car, and turn in the keys.

Chapter 35

The Capitol Chapter

They pull onto the interstate with Rebecca in the driver's seat. Everyone has been fairly quiet this morning besides Brielle. She's been chipper and smiley. She looks over at Becky. "What's the matter with you this morning?" She asks. Rebecca keeps her eyes on the road.

"Nothing, I think that Chinese food screwed me up last night." She excuses her quietness. Brielle agrees and looks out the window. Bennett watches out the driver's side directly behind Rebecca this time. They are on their way to Washington D.C. and they contemplate their moves upon arrival silently as they drive down the highway.

They pull off the road into Potomac, Maryland, a suburb to the capitol city. Brielle has the address put into the mapping system. They follow the directions as the sun begins to set. They pull down the suburbanite road with twists and turns. The trees line their path and wave at them as they pass. The woods are thick and look as though they've been in place long before the citizens in the area. The road seems to be freshly paved and painted. It is smooth under the tires of the car.

"It should be right around this corner." Brielle says to Rebecca. She begins to slow down quickly as they round the bend. A large mailbox engulfed in brick is marked with the numbers of the house they're looking for. Becky takes the right turn into the driveway. They are greeted by a large gate with an intercom box, a camera mounted atop the support for the fence, and a guard shack. They pull up to the guard's hut and come to a stop. A man dressed in a navy blue uniform with a security badge on his chest steps out and approaches the driver's side of their car. His thick glasses sit on the tip of his bulbous nose and a pen swings from the clipboard in his right hand.

"Can I help you kids with something?" He asks as he stands beside Rebecca's window.

"Yeah, I think you can. You can open the gate and let us in." She says. Bennett stares at the guard from the back and Brielle looks straight ahead. Butterflies begin to flutter in her belly.

"I'm afraid I can't do that without permission, young lady." The guard responds respectfully. "I'll need to ask first. Excuse me." He turns and walks back to the brick structure with one window and gets on a telephone. He talks for a moment, hangs up the phone, and returns to the car. His hand goes to the 9mm pistol inside his hip holster and he unsnaps the strap. He rests it there. "I'm sorry, miss, I can't let you in. I've been instructed to ask you to leave."

"I'm sorry too, mister, I'm afraid we can't do that." Rebecca's voice becomes hollow and echoed nearing the end of her sentence. Her pupils engulf her eyes. She hits him with a force and knocks him back against the brick guard shack. He falls on the ground to his side. She quickly gets out. "Brielle, get that gate open!" She yells as she retrieves the gun from its holster. She pulls and gets it free. Brielle gears up and smashes the gate open effortlessly. Rebecca gets back in and steps on the accelerator. They drive up the road and near the house. The dwelling is enormous. It's light gray in color with white trim on every window and edge. Huge white columns stand in front at the top of the steps holding the balcony up on the second story. The shingled roof is dark gray that meets in a sharp peek at the top. Windows of all different sizes line the front; rectangles, circles, squares, and ovals in various patterns. A multicolored brick chimney juts out from the house's right side.

Rebecca stops the car abruptly as bullets begin to hit the windshield and rooftop. Brielle screams. They open their doors and take cover behind them on the ground. Brielle and Becky glance up at the balcony almost simultaneously and the two armed men fall from their perch onto the hard ground below. Bennett slowly closes his door and squats behind Rebecca. "Are you sure you can handle this?" He asks quietly into her ear. She scoffs and pretends not to hear him.

Suddenly the front door opens to the large house. A man who looks to be in his fifties walks out onto the porch with his arms up in surrender. He is dressed in a deep gray suit, white shirt, and dark gray tie. His black shoes stand out from the rest of his attire.

"We don't want any trouble, ladies." The man shouts from the steps.

"You should've thought about that before your men starting shooting at us!" Rebecca yells back at him. Brielle stands by her door looking at the man over the top.

"You attacked my entry guard, Rebecca, what should I've done? I don't know your intentions. You obviously don't come in peace. That threatening phone call made that quite obvious." He continues to stand with his arms in the air.

"We want all of this to stop! You can't keep hurting people like this! You've destroyed so many lives!" Rebecca's desperation rings out loudly. With a quick flicking of his finger, a hand goes over Rebecca's eyes. Another man slides a sandbag over Brielle's head quickly from behind and a hard material pushes against her throat. She gasps with surprise.

"I asked you a question, Becky." Bennett's voice whispers into her ear. His other hand goes over her mouth before she can respond. A sandbag follows quickly as another man approaches from the left of the house. Duct tape is placed on their mouths and the girls are in complete darkness. Their hands are bound behind their backs with zip-ties. The man cinching them down doesn't seem too concerned about blood circulation as he pulls. They struggle but it's no use. They are led inside by their bound hands. They are brought upstairs and placed into chairs in the center of an empty room. The chairs are bolted to the ground with metal posts at the center base. The young women are secured to the chairs tightly with a thin cord. They hear the shuffling feet of their captures and a door slam loudly. They sit in silence for a short period of time when the click of a door handle releases.

Soft pads cross the floor to Becky's front. "So, Rebecca, you thought you could get away from us huh?" The man's voice sounds familiar, but she can't remember his face. "You walked right into this one and managed to bring Brielle with you. You saved me a lot of trouble. Thank you, my dear, sweet girl." She recalls the owner of the voice. It's a man who used to tutor her in American History when she was younger. His name is Thomas Jensen. His is a tall, scrawny man with depleting, brown hair and beady little blue eyes. He always wore brown, teed suits that were too short for his wiry arms and legs. "I'm afraid you're still going to have to pay for your defiance though." A sharp, stiff hand hits the right side of her helpless face. She groans as Brielle jumps in her chair. The sound of burlap doesn't muffle the skin contact very well. Rebecca's face burns with the friction of the bag against her flesh. Her right eye begins to tear as she inhales heavily through her nose. Brielle's stifled yelling comes through slightly, but is not comprehensible through the duct tape secured over her mouth. The shuffles of his feet move to the other chair.

He stands in front of Brielle. "You, little lady, have caused an enormous amount of trouble and also will be paying for your disobedience." A hard smack meets her right cheek as well. _Brielle, give me your hands._ She hears Becky's voice echo inside her head along with a hot, throbbing pain. She begins to move her fingers into an opening in the back of her chair. She feels around blindly with her fingertips. Brielle's fingers meet Rebecca's as they both curl and interlock at their first digits. The heat begins to flow almost immediately. Their punisher stands before Brielle as he cocks back for another blow to her head. The wind begins to fill the empty, windowless room. It climbs quickly into a whirlwind from their feet and blows upward. The sacks flip toward their hair. Brielle's flies completely to the back of her as her white, glowing eyes are revealed to the man. He turns to run and she blasts him into the nearest wall. His head bounces off violently and he falls to the ground in twitches. Rebecca looks down at her confining elements and peels them off one by one with her mind. They shred apart like a rope slowly snapping string by string before a climber falls to his death on the rocks below. The loops fall to the floor, they stand. Rebecca turns her back to Brielle and offers her bound hands. _Please get these damn things off of me,_ she says inaudibly. Brielle sends her focus to her wrists and shreds the plastic. Rebecca's nearly purple hands begin to turn their normal color instantly when the strips fall free. A deep indent stays in her skin as she rubs her free wrists. She turns, twirls Brielle around, and frees her hands as well.

The girls go for the entrance and try the knob, it doesn't move. Rebecca hits it with her mind and it flies open outward. The hinge's screws pop from the wood frame and the door falls to the floor. The room faces the main entrance to the building from the second floor. A railing lines the hall and is lined completely in red carpeting. It runs from the hall to the stairs in, what appears to be, one piece. A 3-tier fountain flows upward in the center of the room. Several large, potted plants decorate the corners and some of the walls. Three men armed with semiautomatic rifles stand near the door to the house facing inward. _I've got this,_ Rebecca says to Brielle silently. She hits all three of them like bowling pins. They crash through the door and down the stairs outside.

The man who'd pretended to surrender comes running out from below them and into the main entrance. He spins to look up at them. Bennett follows closely behind, he stares up at the young women, and his eyes fill with hate. Two more armed men dressed in suits come running from the same area and begin to climb the stairs, missing several at a time in their strides. The girls focus on the pistol-wielding danger as they duck back into the room. Bullets begin to fly inside taking out chunks of ceiling tiles. The white powder snows down from above onto the floor. They join hands firmly. Their knuckles whiten with the tightness of their grip. As the men approach, each of them sent hurling off into the emptiness of the foyer and smacking onto the floor below.

The girls step calmly adjoined toward the railing, their opposite-colored eyes are filled with rage. They are united and feed from each other like water droplets flowing together to form a rushing river. The earth erodes beneath its mass creating a mudslide capable of destroying entire villages in its wake. Their focus goes to the man in the gray suit as his body crumples to the ground in a pool of its own fluids. His insides crushed with a psychic force that implodes his internal organs.

Bennett glares at the women above with evil, enraged eyes. The fountain next to him explodes, the water dumps onto the ground from the pipe at its base as the marble falls to the ground. It cracks the solid floor on impact. "Give up, Brielle, you'll never win!" He shouts in his empty, metallic voice.

"You betrayed me for the last time, Bennett. I can't live like this anymore." Her voice is calm and angelic, but also hollow and godlike in resonation. A blast from him hits the base of the wall beneath their feet sending shards of drywall and glass from pictures flying upward. The pieces spray their bodies, stopping inches from the psychic flow of protection around them. The railing breaks free before them as they glide into the open air. They float at an angle toward the ground and land a few feet in front of him. He tries to hit them again with his mind. The force is lost in the air and joins their protective cocoon of power. His eyes widen and he turns to run from them. His body lifts from the ground helplessly. It soars into the wall in front of them and comes to a stop. He pushes against the pressure with both arms and flips his body to face the sirens. "Goodbye my, dear brother, may God have mercy on your soul." Brielle's angelic tone is the last thing he hears as he stares into her glorious, white glowing eyes. The illumination burns into his as his flesh begins to peel from his bone in the form of ash. The oily coloring subsides as the pain becomes overwhelming. He explodes into an ashen cloud of gray and his remains sprinkle to the ground.

Chapter 36

Conclusions

As we drive away from the compound in Potomac, I can't help but think about my long, lost brother, Bennett. The terror filled his eyes as Becky and I were forced into doing what we did. I look into the passenger side mirror of the car and see the flames shooting up into the sky. I feel sorry for him, but I know we did what had to be done. He was my brother and I did everything I could for him to redeem himself. He failed me and would continue to fail me.

I turn the pages of the book, the one Daniel had constructed so many years ago, and I read the entries. We are going to our next Society destination to plead with them to stop. If they decide their way is better, we know what we'll need to do. We won't stop until they agree or are gone. I type the next location's address into the phone's GPS system and watch out the car window.

The birds are soaring lazily, the grass is bowing respectfully, and the sun is shining brilliantly. I see my father, my mother, and my brother as he was so many years ago as they play in the grassy field. My father smiles as he catches Bennett in his arms. My mother rests her hand on his back. They hug. The image fades.

I only have Becky now; my mother, my father, and what used to be my brother, are all gone. She is my rock and together we will get rid of the Society. All we want is for them to stop hurting people. Until they agree, we will continue to seek them out. This is the last time I'll be writing to you, we have a job to do. Not only are we trying to save ourselves, we are trying to save regular people. You may not know it, but you are also in danger. The Society takes your money, your government, and maybe even your life or the lives of the people you love. Don't try to find us because that may end badly. Know that we exist. You see stories of our kind on television all the time. Those stories are true. I don't want you to know us, just know _of_ us.

I turn toward Becky and I smile. I reach over and take her hand in mine and squeeze. _You're all I've got..._

About the Author

R. J. Hamilton was born and raised in the small town of Detroit Lakes, Minnesota. He graduated from the local high school with a profound interest in English. R. J. graduated a few months prior to the remaining class in 1994.

Upon completion of his high school education, R. J. joined the United States Army where he has done 2 tours in Bosnia and 2 tours in Iraq and had served his country for 12 years. He was stationed in Germany for a total of 5 years which enabled him to see many things that most people don't in a lifetime. His ventures in Europe, as a whole, and trips to the Middle East, are picturesque reflections in his stories. Combined with the many real-life situations that the Army itself has put him in, they are an added realism to his works.

He is now out of the military and resides in Topeka, KS. Mr. Hamilton is currently attending Washburn University as an English Major.

