

SELF CONVICTIONS

Copyright © 2010 by R.J. Hamilton

SMASHWORDS EDITION

ISBN 1453658009

EAN-13: 9781453658000

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.

* * * * *

BOOKS BY R.J. HAMILTON:

The Self Series:

Self Convictions

Self Consciousness

Self Conclusions

Self Consequences

And the Hand of God

* * * * *

This book is dedicated to the four 'A's in my life who've been my guiding light throughout this process.

As a child in my early teens, I had first received the idea regarding the basic storyline to this novel. The simplicity of the thought then has intrigued me throughout my life. Although having never completely dismissed the concept, it was not until now that I decided to put all the pieces together into a compelling story about Brandon L. Hudson and his family to come.

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to be allowed the many abilities of the mind? Telepathy, empathy, mind reading, foresight...there are so many possibilities and questions. If an average human being suddenly became aware of their enhanced gifts, what would they use them for? Would they be able to control themselves? Would they take advantage of the ones around them? These are the questions you could ask yourself.

I am going to keep you, the reader, guessing and wondering throughout...mysteries unfolding continuously. I challenge you to fall in love with Brandon and his family. Grow with them, feel for them, and wish to be one of them or, at least, to be a friend of the family.

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The following is my story, the tale of Brandon L. Hudson, an ordinary man with extraordinary abilities. I've jotted it down in order to make it public in case anything is to happen to me and my family. Our tale will not be stifled or kept quiet any longer.

Everyone must be made cognizant of our existence in order to fete and understand us. People by nature do not fear what they comprehend, they fear the unknown. You will never truly know that one of us is near unless we deem you worthy of the knowledge. If you are chosen for the partaking in the experience, be mindful and weary that your life will always be at risk. It's just the way of the world, therefore let me apologize in advance.

Chapter One

Discover My Nightmare

I've lost it, I'm out of control; this thing has a hold on my mind and my sanity is gone. I am strapped to a bed in an institution of my own sub consciousness. I'm swimming with power and guilt. I can feel the heat from the burning metal nearby. The screams of pain from the people I've harmed fill the air, flooding my mind with joy and rage, how can these emotions mix? I am so powerful and yet, helpless like a child in a department store who had gotten too engrossed in the dream of possessing a toy on the shelf. His mother walks away not realizing he's still in admiration and leaves the tot behind. He tries in desperation to find her, hopeless. Someone comes to his aid, a strange, kind man. They exit the store into the parking lot, mother and child separated, forever. I've lost control. I'm in a vise and it's squeezing my head near explosion. This thing is a gift, but it's also my curse. It has complete power over me, how could I have let this happen? The fires blaze on. There's no telling when it'll subside. The scent of burning flesh and hair fill my nostrils. I'm so disgusted, I vomit a little, my stomach convulsing involuntarily. The bitter rancid smell of gasoline fills the air calming my gut; it's almost attractive to me and intoxicating to my senses. Then the darkness overcomes me, overloading my mind with memories, pictures of my life past. The air, the smells, the sights, the sensory and dissonance that surround me no longer exist...I'm slipping...into unconsciousness...

Chapter Two

My Story Begins

His father smiled brightly over him as the infant was removed from his mother's womb, still soaked in amniotic fluid and blood. She was exhausted from the pains of childbirth, a tear rolled down his cheek. He was exhilarated and overjoyed in the nativity, the birth of his new perfect baby boy. His mother sobbed uncontrollably, felicitous and depleted from the parturition. The doctor handed the surgical scissors to the new father, nervous in the possibility of harming his treasure. He clipped the umbilical cord, his hand a little shaky having to use the other one to steady it. This was his first accomplishment as a father.

There, you are no longer dependent on her alone, his begetter thought as the cord was cut free, creating the separation of the two beings.

They weren't your typical happy couple, their marriage was an obligation. It was a requisite in order to appease the church and please their families. There would be no bastard children born amongst the Hudson brood; that would be an insult and depleting to the name. They'd met at one of those college parties leading to an intended one night stand and ended up lasting longer than they had planned. They were strangers other than the sex. Damn the sex. So many nights of premarital intercourse just a fulfillment in sexual gratification and ecstasy, the use of protection would've been a good idea.

The infant squirmed and flailed his newly freed limbs, practicing his screaming and using his newly found voice. He continued his wailing as the doctor handed him off to the gentle and kind-eyed nurse with the bluish green scrubs evidently covering her endowments beneath them. She coddled him then lowered him softly into the warmer, filled with plush blankets, a container of a mystical heaven in the form of a plastic bassinette for a brand new life, the blankets so warm and soft, security of the walls surrounding an infant. She then dampened a cloth dipping it into a nearby sink filled with the warm water and soap meld and began the cleaning process. Working her way down from his full head of ebon locks, removing reminisce of the placenta and the birthing fluids. Down his absolutely adorable, pudgy baby face, plush cheeks, and dark almond shaped eyes, freshening between his chubby baby neck rolls, chest, arms, hands, and working her way down to the plump little digits on his feet. His cries relaxed a bit but his requirement for nourishment was still there. He didn't understand what being full meant or what the order of things were needed to accomplish this, he just knew the unfaltering need and it was intense. His cries proceeded, stronger this time, he would have gratification. The nurse grabbed a tiny diaper off a readied stack in the bassinette and placed it under his little buttocks, securing the tabs. She began folding the swaddling blanket beneath him, wrapping from the bottom corner, the right side, and then the left, a neat little package for delivery. She picked him up and approached his mother. She had what he needed in order to acquire satisfaction, knowing only through instinct, our natural born need for food and survival. Within a few moments he was full and contently asleep in the comfort of his mother's arms, his father observing them in admiration from the chair next to the bed. Mother and son both exhausted, from the events of the day and the beginning of a mysterious life of questions and answers involving a bloodline with a long awaited purpose.

Chapter Three

Where Am I?

I awaken to total blackness.

What's going on?! I blink to make sure I am conscious and alert. It's confirmed my eyes are open. If I am awake, why is it so dark? What happened? Where am I? I try to lift my arms. They are securely fastened to something and I can't see what. My legs are also strapped. What the hell is happening to me? What have I done? Who did this to me? I know I deserve it after all the barbarous things I've done in my life, but regardless of who has done this to me, binding me and containing me, they will not survive this. As long as I can manage to escape my captivity they will pay for doing such a thing, undermining me like this. One look from me and it will be over abruptly for them. I will take their life without remorse or compunction. My anger is so strong right now. My mind has become difficult to level off. The rage and the insanity are making my brain hazy. I am not an animal and will not be caged! I have to escape this and gain my revenge. I can't do it, I have to maintain and lull this monster. I cannot allow myself to lose control again. I don't know what's happening to me anymore. The air is so thick. My lungs are becoming heavy. Every breath is becoming harder and more labored. I'm sure this is what a person with asthma feels like during an attack. It feels as though there is a weight on my chest. The pressure is so intense. It's constricting my lungs, like an elephant on a plastic lawn chair and the legs submitting under the force of it. Each inhale begins to hurt more and more. Unconsciousness has its hold on me again, my mind swimming in the swampy water with the murky depths surrounding it.

Chapter Four

My Early Discovery

At the mere age of four, my parents believed me to be a genius, not just in the typical "parents love for their children" boasting about their kid's cuteness, intelligence, and outlandish abilities. It was the stuff I could do, the words I used and the emotions I projected. Usually small children at this age only used the surface feelings, anger, sadness, and glee. Mine went well beyond the basics. They graduated into guilt and rage to include the many inquisitions at a level above and beyond the questions expected and prepared for in advance. It was surprising to them, and they seldom had the answers, or it was entirely possible they didn't want to give them to me. Maybe my parents called into question my ability to accept or handle the truth. I articulated with the words of a four year old little boy but held the wisdom of someone with more life experiences. As I recall, my irrational thinking had gotten me into so much trouble at times. I was a talker, a convincer, a feeler of others emotions, empathic at the lowest level of depth. This is a talent I wouldn't recognize for what it is until later in life. One could say I had a sixth sense when I came to expressions. I understand it now as a certain level of empathy. I had the talents someone needed to get out of almost any difficult situation, regardless of the circumstances. I didn't understand my powers then, they only occurred on accident and I was kind of scared of the ability so I hid it and tried to avoid using them. During this time in life I had no idea why or how I had the workings that I did, I maintained a great level of confusion for a long time to come. Now, I was only punished when I deemed myself entitled to it. My emotional standing and my ability for reading expressions enabled for me to ensure the discipline was to be conducted only when I felt it was deserved. There were times when I felt the punishments were necessary in order for me to "learn my lesson" as my father had always put it. Sometimes the spankings or the time-out chair had a cleansing feeling necessary for me, to organize my thoughts. My mind would escape me at times and bad things would happen with the loss of control, I did not understand why these things happened but the punishments were definitely necessary. There were a few times I remembered random items being knocked off a table or shelf like a glass or a vase with no person near them, the contents spilling everywhere. They were minor occurrences but notable. My father would get so mad at me at the time, I didn't understand why. I didn't know I'd been the cause of the accidents. I do know now that I was the reason for the incidents but then I hadn't the slightest idea, I was young. I had so much to learn. My future was destined to be consumed with learning and experimentation. There were also some bad things that occurred, things that were not as infinitesimal or insignificant. Those regretful things I didn't remember doing. It was as though I was within my own body but it was just a shell I could see out of and not control. I could visualize them as they occurred. It was as though I was dreaming.

My parents detested each other. They were sworn enemies I think. Even at four, I could feel the anger surrounding our household like a wall of fire burning so intensely, constantly being tended in order to sustain the flames. My parents were the hot coals that enraged the blaze. They could tolerate each other as long as they didn't speak or occupy the same room for more than a few moments. Mealtime tested the limits every time. One was never happy in the presence of the other. I shared many moments of one on one time with them that was comforting and enjoyable but together as a family, never.

My childhood home was simple, two bedrooms, one bathroom, and one level to maintain. Our house was one of those dwellings that had the kitchen and eating area in the same room, the only separation being a large arc of an arch that passed into the living room. We had very few furnishings in our place. The kitchen/dining room had the basics, a small square pine table centered directly under the simple chandelier, with four chairs to match. A navy blue plastic napkin holder bordered by a set of clear glass salt and pepper shakers decorating the middle. A plain white refrigerator and a matching gas stove. My mother was dedicated to buying the ordinarily colored small appliances as well. The yellow tiled countertop was lined with the simply coordinated stainless steel blender, microwave, and toaster. My mother, being the organized and cleanly woman she was, there were never any dirty dishes in the sink or crumbs on the counter. She would get so mad if anything was left in disarray. Clothing being left on the floor didn't happen in our house. Leaving clothes on the floor was not acceptable. The "how many times have I told you" still echo in my mind as if it were yesterday. She'd taught me at a very young age to place things where they belonged and I'm proud of the fact that I'm still trained to this day. She definitely knew what she was doing. Some things from our past learned from our parents carry into adulthood with us. At the time we find it to be annoying and off the wall but the day eventually comes when we realize just how much purpose things had and how relevant they really were. The living room's décor consisted of a couple of random paintings, not very tastefully done I might add, of a ship on the ocean waves and a small fishing boat obviously lost in a storm framed with some sconces containing candles that were never burned. At least there was some sort of a theme there since both of the works of art had a nautical theme. A brown three cushioned fake leather couch with a matching recliner, recorded many hours of my father's relaxation. A large television set in the entertainment center was rarely used during my time awake. Randomly scattered knick knacks and pictures dressed its appearance. There were two end tables and a solid wood coffee table in the center of the family living room space. Our house was comfortable but from what I'd been told we could've lived much more pleasantly if my mother's family would've been more supportive, supposedly they had quite the sum of cash stashed away. They hadn't liked my father from the beginning, especially since he'd knocked up their daughter and "ruined her future plans of becoming a doctor." I think that all of the accusations and through all the craziness of life, my parents' hatred for each other grew. Exceeding their allotted time in the same area always resulted in obnoxious and supercilious remarks from my father and compulsive hen-pecking from my mother. I loved them both, despite the situation. Lucky for me they'd divorced by the time I turned ten years old. I say that in all honesty, life wasn't enjoyable for any of us. During that time in my life, my parents despise of each other was taking a toll on my ability to moderate myself and curb this thing in my head.

My father took the time to teach me to play catch and ride my bike. We also fished a lot. I really enjoyed fishing. We'd go on the weekends whenever he wasn't away on business. He was gone quite a bit. Thinking back I recall him being gone for weeks on end never really knowing what it was he did for his occupation. His absence on account of work was one of the main focuses in their arguments. We'd spend the entire night before the event preparing for it. We'd make peanut butter and grape jelly sandwiches because they were my favorite and these were the times of his apology to me for being such an ass, he cherished these moments. My father and I would get out the tackle boxes and sort through the contents in order to organize it. He'd explain to me over and over again what the function of each different bait type was. We'd go to bed early and wake up before the rising of the sun, rocking me gently to get me up. He'd have his coffee, we'd eat a little dry cereal and milk, gather our things put together the night prior, and jump in his old pickup truck off to Eagles Landing. I remember the sights and sounds of our fishing trips together all so perfectly orchestrated. The bass clarinet expressed the harmonic sound of the water against the shore's terrain. The deep slow waves lapping against the rocks in long notes, so soothing to the soul. The high pitched and jaunty flute sound of the birds soaring masterfully above in the bright sky. They sing harmoniously together in their freedom making everything around jealous with the ease of their flight. The thought of being able to flap your wings and escape from everything was glorious. The wind is their only maestro and inhibitor, having the ability to make or break the mastery of their flight pattern. The harmonica of the bugs was never an issue for me. The mosquitoes humming my ears, the gnats buzzing in and out of audio and visual ranges, swatting them in wasted efforts. Your hand wave simply pushing them away with the gust of wind it creates. Only a fleeting absence, for their return soon is inevitable and yet they had no effect on me. The musical peace of nature enabled me to gather my thoughts and keep calm. Being serene was a necessity in my life that only I realized. Among all secrets and the mystery of myself, I wished so badly that someone, anyone, could share it with me, though I knew there was no one who could. I was content in knowing that my father and I could enjoy something together, away from the arguments and the fighting, the anger and the hate which drove me into a state of instability in my mind. My mother had only accompanied us to the lake for fishing once or twice. In all her girlishness, she complained about nature, the concert, the gross smell of dead fish, the lake water scent that fumigated the air, the pesky insects, and the dry washed up corpses of the once living lake dwellers who'd thrived so gleefully in their watery homes until their unannounced deaths in the sand. I can still recall the arguments my parents had on the drive home, they were huge, the things they said to each other, the words they used, I am sure these weren't things that I should have heard or known at that age. Maybe I'm being dramatic in saying so. All people argue to an extent. It also could've been the volume was optimized within the confines of a small vehicle.

Usually when they fought, I would go to my bedroom and close the door until the echo of a slamming door or an extended period of silence. My bedroom was cozy and typical of a young boy my age, being an only child I had a bit more than most kids did. My plastic car bed was placed neatly in front of one of my two windows, the comforter decorated with random cars. The sheets and pillowcase matched perfectly. Of course, my mother had also purchased curtains of the same design to complete the theme. Stuffed animals sat on a huge shelf staring at me, protecting me while I slept. There were a few that had been too large to sit on it so they just sat on the floor in front of and beside it guarding the underside of my bed for me. Random children's books filled in the gaps, or maybe the stuffed animals filled the holes I suppose would've been the better guess. I loved my toy cars, I had hundreds, and I highly enjoyed reading. The shelf was strategically placed in the corner between the closet door and the other window. A gigantically wide eight drawer bureau filled with clothing and topped with my die-cast cars, stood next to the door. There was no mistaking the dweller of that bedroom. Once one of those weird things occurred, I knew there would be no arguing for a while. They wouldn't even look at or go near one another. The most shared occupation of a space that would occur would be the passing by to put a dish in the sink after a meal or drop an article of clothing into the laundry basket after it was removed. Those instances didn't even involve an accidental brushing of their shoulders. When things got really bad, the explosive yelling, the wood slamming, and the glass smashing, I would sit in my room trying to ignore the chaos, the unsound things would happen in my solitude. I knew it was from inside my mind, I saw the apparition passing in front of my eyes. I never intended to do it even though the arguments were occurring. I just didn't know, in all of my understanding, how to control it. I was constantly wishing there was someone around who could've helped me. He was so substantial and overpowering, always metaphorically throwing a blanket over my face. I was like a child trying to bury himself deep in his bed under the covers in order to stay safe from the monsters in the closet or under the bed. My monster was always in charge, the scare was so vivid. The emotional state of exigency was so great. The imagination was running. The visions were materializing until they could be controlled no longer. Eventually the silence was always broken by a boisterous call to the parent for help, which required an immediate response and was answered. I was never able to call for parental assistance like most other children.

Do not fear me. I'm here to teach you, Brandon, a voice spoke to me from within. It was the first time it had happened, but wouldn't be the last. While I was helpless in the covers this time, I opened my eyes. The shades of the thick gray fog had been withdrawn from my vision. The clouds having been blown away with a tiny fan blowing in my ear, I see my big teddy bear, one with the giant aureate bow. I had received it from Santa Claus last Christmas and it was headless now. The head was resting next to it on the floor by its torso. The fluff of the stuffing poked out of the top of where the caput once was. My poor, hapless teddy, how was I going to explain this? Nobody would understand. I couldn't let my secret free it was mine to keep, forever. This act was so traumatic to me at this age. I could hide the remains in the closet, although, this was one of the things that merited punishment. I would wait until later, once the banging and crashing had come full circle and was concluded. I had begun, by then, to understand that I was the physical link for the punishment of this beast. I had to endure the pain of the conditioning in order to control chaos. The Voice was the one who needed to get punished, not me. I was living with this all alone, knowing I don't deserve to be disciplined. But it was my secret and in keeping my secret a spanking was a small price to pay. It was a little selfish and yet I was so scared someone would discover it and treat me differently or fear me. My worst fear was for people to be afraid of me. I should have known then they would have reason to dread.

Chapter Five

So Young, Not So Innocent

When school started in the fall, things seemed to settle. I could focus on simple problems like colors and the ABC's. I used them as a deterrent from everyday life and its boredom. My elementary school wasn't far from where we lived, probably only a few blocks, but at the age of five the judgment of distance isn't very accurate. Young children, no matter what their level of intelligence, don't focus well during a boring car ride. I loved being in school, to learn more than I could at home and from the educational children's television shows, those were the only ones my mother and father would allow me to watch. Upon arrival on the first day, as my mom and I pulled up to the front drive of the schoolhouse, the tears had already begun to well in her eyes, I could see her through the rearview mirror in the car. I unbuckled as she stopped the car and grabbed a hold of my Justice League lunch box containing a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with no crusts, a green apple, and a chocolate pudding pack. She got out and approached my car door and opened it for me. I caught a glimpse of the building. The sidewalk leading up to it was vast and a bit intimidating to someone of my size. Don't get me started on the flagpole in all its gloriousness. My mom squatted down in front of me and looked into my eyes.

"Brandon, you know that I love you right?" What a silly question.

"Yes, Mom, of course I know that, you're weird." I let a little giggle out and smile at her. I had no idea why she was sad. Her emotions began to seep into my empathic soul leaving a small impression. I found this day to be one of the grandest days to benchmark my life. A tear dropped from her duct and rolled down her soft mommy cheek. She reached out and pulled me into her arms with a big squeeze, burying her face in the nap of my neck, I could feel the wetness of her tears. I returned her love.

"I'm sorry, Brandon." Her breath was hot against my neck. I had no idea what her problem was at the time, I understand now but then I couldn't fathom the mental issues she was having.

I had already known all the colors and the letters of the alphabet. I was even able to read small words, the four to five letter ones, well I could sound them out at least. I didn't know all of them. Thanks to a mother's love and her need to make sure she had a son who would always be ahead of his peers. As a result, before the education process had officially begun, I was prepped and ready. I left my mother at the front of the school. She had explained to me the business of the other parents dropping off their children and that she couldn't leave the car sitting there while she accompanied me inside. Earlier in the week we'd had a "kindergarten roundup," as I recalled them referring to it, so I knew precisely where I was headed. I entered through the huge quadruple set of doors at the front of the school and turned right at the first corridor I'd come to, they always made things so simple for us little ones. My classroom was the third door on the left. I took in some air and went inside. My teacher was there to greet me. She was a portly woman in her mid-forties I'd guess. Her spectacles sat on the end of her nose as she looked over them at me. She was professionally dressed in a long dark skirt and an old fashioned white long sleeved shirt. She was pleasant and nice, the perfect choice for a kindergarten teacher.

"Good morning, Brandon sweetie, you can put your lunch in that basket over there." She pointed to a line of plastic bins on top of a short stack of cubbies filled with school supplies. "Do you remember where I told you your desk is?"

"Yes, Mrs. Ford." I might've only been five but my parents didn't shortchange me in the manners department. I placed my lunchbox into the bin and went to my desk, excited to begin the day in education, I sat quietly observing as the other nineteen classmates came into the classroom one by one. A clumping of parent and children groupings came at the last minute just before the morning bell rang. My first day went by a little too quickly. The morning roll call, it was one of the first times in my life I recall hearing anyone, besides my mother in angry moments saying my full name.

"Brandon Lee Hudson," Mrs. Ford announced.

"Present." It was the answer we'd been instructed to give prior to the first days calling. As I heard her say my name, the nervous butterflies in my stomach hit me, being the center of attention wasn't my thing yet. That time in my life would come much later, once the understanding had taken place, the comprehension of self. The rest of the day consisted of many new experiences and introductions. The basics were just the tip of the iceberg. Mrs. Ford gave us a little rundown of everything we'd be learning over our next year of life. Everything went fairly smoothly for me for a couple of weeks until it was inevitable that I was just having one of those days something wrong was bound to happen.

If only my mother would have instructed me in how to tie my shoes prior to the beginning of the school year, it was one of the little things that apparently had slipped her mind. It was a meaningful task for any child, particularly at my age. The process of doing it was so hard in the beginning and but later it becomes reflexive, being able to achieve it with a blindfold on or in the dark. This lack of knowledge got the better of my emotions one day, a day I would never forget because it was the biggest learning point in my life above all others. It was the beginning of a newly acquired knowledge taught to me without choice. The cognition of the pain I would learn to inflict more efficiently in the future. It was the day that I learned to rip someone apart from the inside and since it was not a noticeable affliction, there were no repercussions. It was such a violent act and, I imagine, it was also the most painful way in which death could be accomplished.

I just couldn't handle it any longer. Those three boys were snickering at me like bad little imps standing in the corner as the evil wizard scathes his prisoner with torture and pain. The end result is to gain the disclosure of the location of the object he desires most to complete his plan for conquest. Why is it that the bully always has a posse, is it a requirement in order to be a bully? They just stood behind him giggling and sniggering maddeningly. David was the chunky, redheaded, freckle-faced kid almost all classes have. He was the bully who began perfecting his art form earlier than most. He was the kid with all of the issues at home being stored for disbursement at school, his parents leaving him to fend for himself. He was not played with and was always ignored. They apparently didn't care about him and he knew it. He needed some discipline, love, and attention. His laugh was so vexatious, that adenoidal snicker with a random snort escaping the nasal passage with a thunderous boom. The ability to tie my shoes was no longer important to me. The taunting and the howls echoed through my brain like the hollow empty crash of boulders breaking away and smashing into the vast canyon below. It plucked at my soul and pulled at my mind. I felt helpless, like a dog backed into a corner. The only option being to bite and lash out against my aggressor. The shade reacted in protection and retribution. He engulfed me and enabled my power. He was using my secret against my will.

Relax, that boy won't be bothering you anymore I promise you, Brandon the Voice again. He was speaking to me from within.

David's cackle carried on for just a few moments. It then discontinued suddenly as his eyes became spacious while mine stayed black and filled with the vicious shadow. My body was boiling, figuratively speaking, smothered by flames and feeling so good. A look of anguish and worry swept over the boy's face. A bit of drool rolled from the corner of his lip, dripping onto his shirt. His knees buckled, he crashed sideways and crumpled in a pile on the floor, a puddle of clothing with a boy's body inside them. When the daze cleared I saw him. He lay on the multi-colored alphabet and lettering rug typical of kindergarten classrooms. Mrs. Ford hunkered down beside him, her dress rested on her thighs as she squatted. One of her hands felt his neck for vitals and responsiveness, trying to figure out what was wrong. She didn't seem to acknowledge a small drop of clear puss coming out of his ear and running to the floor. I smiled a bit with simple satisfaction. On certain occasions his use of my power made me feel exuberated. In cases like these, it made me feel good to know that I could execute these things when it was necessary. He lay back and remained at rest in the shallows of my mind, waiting for the next opportunity to pounce...

Chapter Six

Where Did It Come From?

I stayed with my grandparents in the summertime so I could attend bible school. I also think it was so my parents could have some peace to try to figure things out with their relationship. I really did not understand what there was to figure out, it was pretty much over with in my mind. I wanted them to separate by that point; at the age of ten I could honestly have said that. They could have even been wittingly cheating on each other. Never being bonded in their hearts or souls, nothing at that time in my life would be a surprise to me now. It was not totally out of the question considering the state of affairs. The summer visits to my grandparents' house was always a pleasure, at least my time spent with my grandmother, my grandfather I'll discuss later. My grandmother's a wonderful woman who lives her life in servitude and the care for others. If it weren't for her, I don't think my father and his sisters would've survived their childhood. If it weren't for her, I don't think I would've survived my childhood. She always seemed to know what people were thinking and accommodated them whenever she could. She's the perfect person to talk to about problems because you never really needed to fully express yourself. There was never a struggle to find the words to describe your emotions when it came to her. She just seemed to always know what you were thinking.

I lay on the ground playing with the new spring arrival of barn kittens, I loved them. They were so cute and fresh with their fluffy fur and still underdeveloped meows. Their little paws standing on my chest as I lay there for them to pile on top of me, kneading me. A misguided random claw stuck into the fabric of my shirt. Their ability to control them was not there yet in their young age. It was a little reminder of me and my powers which were still a work in progress. My power was the out of control talon inflicting random pains here and there. The claws sometimes drew a bit of blood from my chest. It was a small price to pay for the freedom and enjoyment of their welcomed company. My grandparents didn't like the cats. They were considered to be good for one thing. Just like all animals on a farm they also served a purpose, killing the rodents in the barn and around the farm. My grandparents owned a cattle farm with a couple of hundred head of cows. The cattle were raised for beef, stuffed full of hay and feed, auctioned and sold for slaughter, a practice every year in late autumn and early winter. My grandfather was a scary old man. As I aged it became more apparent to me where my father had gotten his own attitude. That comes later.

There were hay bales everywhere, scattered about the farm. There was no real method to the madness of their placement. I enjoyed going out and jumping from bale to bale. I also liked building forts in the tunnels where the bales were positioned close together but not so closely that a small boy like me couldn't wriggle his way inside. I would tunnel into them until I'd find a treasure in the middle, an opening with only one exit, a secret place just for me. I cherished every sweet escape from my reality that I could find. Old family cars were also scattered about the land. Automobiles had come to die and existed as excavated skeletons of metal, never to leave their emplacement, their engines long since taken to restore a newer family vehicle fated to end up the same way. The tall grass and weeds engulfed their wheel wells and mold flourished on their interior. There were lines of trees established in to create a windbreak as protection for the cattle and the assorted crops randomly fluxed amongst the acreage. Crops such as corn, wheat, oats and alfalfa always scattered, although the position varied depending on its necessity that year. It was a gigantic playground for a child in all his wonderment.

Spying on someone at this age was so enjoyable, being an American informant sent into the Kremlin in search of secrets to expose the Russian government's plots against the United States, knowing the entire time that your discovery will result in execution. The exciting possibility of getting caught, knowing what wrath I would've encountered if my grandfather were to see me, added to the exhilaration. I pussyfooted along the tree line, like a soldier sneaking up on Charlie in Vietnam, using every elusive effort in avoiding the enemy. I was a well-trained war hero. I rimmed along the edge of a hay stack, it towered above my head, a monster compared to me, as I was nearing the fence line. My grandfather was using the forklift attachment on the old beat up tractor, an old rusty red piece of machinery that looked as though it'd seen the years of the Great Depression and scarcely survived. The engine having been rebuilt several times while the exterior of it was neglected, the paint rusty and brown superseding the articulate red it once bore. He was utilizing it to place a bale for the cows into the hay ring, a big round feed container used for containing a bale. I still, to this day, don't know what that thing is officially called or if there is an actual word in the dictionary that belongs to it. It looks like a monkey bar that's round and can open and shut for the bale to go inside so the cattle wouldn't tear it to pieces and scatter the hay everywhere. I peeked around the corner, keeping an eye on the old man as he dismounted the old beat up tractor, leaving it running and nearing the hay ring.

The cattle crowded around him as he waved his arms to shoo them away. They spooked a little and reared a bit, front hooves coming off the ground and reverting back to the original position, their want for the hay overrode the fear they had of him. They crowded in again, clustering around the ring, tearing at the bale. They chew their cud and savor its blandness, the dry grass passing into their stomachs. My grandfather approached the loop again, several head of them got in the way. He shooed them again and immediately graduated into vociferation, screaming at the top of his lungs, the anger and wrath within him building as they ignored him again. His fists began to swing and he was striking them. The bovines' mass was not affected by those small human fists. He commenced to kicking at them, cowboy booted feet thrashing. They reverberated but still protested him and his attempted raucousness. He then stepped back, stopped yelling, punching, or kicking. My grandfather just stood there, he acted as though he had been defeated, like the captain standing at the bow aboard a pirate ship at sea after completing the raping and pillaging of a coastal village. He observes a fleet of naval colonial ships hot on his trail and gaining, knowing he is about to meet his maker. Then a wild look consumed his face. It was a sneer. It was malefic and spine-chilling. His hands began to gleam, literally and with brightness. They gave off the illusion, like the heat reflection off the road in the hot scorching desert, the wavy mirage of a watery surface suspended in midair. A breeze tufted my hair as I ogle him in astonishment. There was a random moo from the crowd. The cattle that had blocked the path had crashed to the ground violently and rolled onto their backs. Their legs flailed in the air as they kvetched madly in the failed attempt to achieve balance and get back on their feet. Their moos then became groans, ones that were dreadful sounding from deep in their throats. They sounded as if they were choking, like some massive hand squeezing their larynx, crushing it. Their trunks began to slide along the pasture floor, moving away. They were disuniting for him as if he were Moses parting the waters of the Red Sea. The others continued in the feed, unmindful of the goings on nearby. All of a sudden, their bodies elevated off the ground a couple of feet and winged off. They tumbled as they hit, like light wooden pins on the bowling lane. The air escaping their enormous bodies, some from the mouth some from the other end, losing bowel control in the course of the pain. The glow in his hands subsided. The Holsteins lay there, stunned. Random cuts from the sharp rocks splattered their bodies, abrasions everywhere. One of them was not moving. There is no heaving of its massive gut. Its tongue was sticking out of its mouth. Its eyes were wide and void of life. The blood poured from its head, the large rock beneath covered with a crimson liquid. My grandfather began to move, he was coming out of his spell. He then closed the hay ring and casually walked back to the machine. He mounted the tractor and continued about his business as if nothing had happened. I just stood there, still concealed, in absolute amazement. I had never thought things like I had just experienced were possible. Weird things had happened to me, things I never truly recollected doing. I was astounded and now curious. I could never share the fact that I knew about his secret and I never would. My grandfather would have beaten me and called me a liar. His secret was mine, as was my own. It was too much burden for a young boy to take on but I could deal with it. What power he had in all his ire and lunacy. He was insane and because of that we hardly ever spoke. He was too scary for me to talk to. I never remembered him not being off a bit. He'd always been a little crazy.

After seeing my grandfather's performance, I was thirsty to gain and improve my own abilities in order to discover and tap into it. I realized what I possessed then more than I had ever before in my life. I started with a little practice in my grandparent's barn, up in the hayloft. The hay mow consisted of a staircase leading up into it. The stairs were so narrow and old, dangerous and crooked. One had to be very heedful when maneuvering the ladder. The barn was scattered with random effects, none of which safe for children to be around. That never stopped me, it was possible the danger of it all enticed and drew me there, the sharp scythes, the stabbing pitchforks, the jagged cinderblocks, and randomly assorted attachments for the use on the livestock. Once arriving at the top, it opened into a giant room, a hayloft with rope swings and a straw lined floor, dusty and decades old. The floor creaked and in places there were breaks you could see through to the floor below. Playing up there was absolute merriment. The quondam dirt was stirred up and caked the nostrils causing uncontrollable sneezing and a runny nose. My father and his sisters used to play up there when they were little. When they weren't getting punished or doing the daily chores.

The kittens played up there, rolling and pouncing. Teaching each other and discovering the things essential to a barn cat's future of catching rats, mice, and the occasional bird. Sometimes it would bring its trophy to the steps of the house in all its pride only to catch the end of a broom to the ass, the payment for its accomplishment. Some of the kittens scattered as I approached. I had gained the trust of a few of the others by taunting them with something tasty to nibble, like a bit of overcooked bacon from the breakfast table I had put into my pocket when Gramms wasn't looking during her haste to clean up the kitchen after the preparation of the meal. She was probably hurried in order to avoid ridicule from the Grandfather. I would lure them in and then grab them in order to pet them and stroke their fur so they would realize I wasn't something to be feared, or so I'd thought.

They assembled around me, meowing, brushing against my pant legs, rubbing and purring at my feet. I began to concentrate, thinking back to what I'd seen earlier in the day, what he'd done, and the force he'd used. My psyche focused, the heat began to course throughout my core, I'd never felt such a rush. It reminded me of the fever I'd had with my chicken pox earlier in the year, so hot, so tiring. It surged through me into my extremities. The flaming hot desire engulfed me entirely, an enigmatic ecstasy that I would not actually recognize for years to come as orgasmic pleasure. My hands and head burned, almost painful like a fever. I heard a susurration from inside my head.

I will give you aid and teach you and I will take other things away during your learning, it's the only way, a deep mellow snicker of jest followed. It scared me. My heart sprang but that did not barricade me in my search or in my quest for the knowledge of the powers in which I possessed.

The three kittens at my feet stopped and stared at me, their little feline eyes glinting into my soul sensing the wickedness within. I was in a dream state, filled with the ignited pleasure. They began to hiss, a strange gargling wheeze came out of them. Their hair stood on end like in an angry tussle of a cat and dog fighting, the cat being so tiny in relation but the ability to hold its own with its dangerous claws, able to cause such an intense pain, fearing nothing. I was trapped. I couldn't stop myself. The darkness had me. The kittens started to slip toward the hole in the floor, the pit of death. The old wood lightened as their claws dig into it, their claws not being strong enough to stop their bodies. They fell down into the abyss. My brain cleared. He disappeared. I dropped to the floor in a sopping shower of sweat and tears, the god awful feeling of the anguish I'd just caused. I regained my senses after a few moments. I began to stand, my legs shook, my eyes watered from exhaustion of the use of power and the strain, headaches, the remorse. I approached the hole, fearing what I'd see but having to look anyway. I looked down, bits of fur and mangled little bodies laid next to the cinderblock to the right of the stairs landing. Poor little babies, I didn't mean to hurt them. He did it, he made it happen. I broke down, a flood of tears rolled down my cheeks. I felt so awful. He consumed my mind. It was as if he were trying to take my sanity. I vowed to learn to control him and in turn master myself.

After the incident with the kittens and upon my return home I'd vowed to myself to grow and learn more about my powers. I didn't practice anymore at my grandparent's house that summer. I decided to wait until I'd returned home. There was less chance of injuring any more life. We'd had a pretty large backyard separated from the other neighbors with a high wooden privacy fence. My mother had come to get me from the farm, she'd stay and visit with Gramms for about an hour and then we'd go; that was the tradition during the early years of my visits there. My Gramms loved my Mom, even though her own son hated his spouse, my grandmother didn't let that stop her from showing my mother the love she'd deserved. We said our good-byes and went to the car, our hour long return home. We arrived and my father wasn't there, of course, as I said before, he rarely was. I'd decided that I'd wait until the next day to begin the practicing. It was lucky for me my mother didn't coddle me too much and that I still had a couple of weeks of fine tuning and practice to accomplish.

Chapter Seven

Learn From My Mistakes?

I woke up the next morning and ate my cereal and milk, she wouldn't wake up for a couple of hours yet, that was always the way it was when my dad was away. I cleaned up after myself and went out the patio door to the back yard. I had a few toys out there. They were always neatly placed against the side of the house as instructed by my parents. I'd moved my big wheel to the center, near the sand box, I figured the wheels would make it easier for me to test my skills and hone them. Patchy grass filled the yard. It was always mowed neatly due to the criteria as set by my father about a perfectly tended lawn. The boy who was eight to ten years older than me always checked in on Saturdays during the summer for his five dollar earnings through lawn mowing. He always did a fair job, the occupation was probably not very tasking considering all the bald spots and he hadn't deserved the five dollars. I could've accomplished the chore with some safety scissors. I stood in the sand box and stared at the toy, thinking about moving it. I had an extremely hard time trying to figure it out. I was attempting to tap into it. It wasn't working for me, I was beginning to sweat. A bee swooped in my face. I reacted with a natural swat at it. I knew about bees and their attitudes considering all of my time spent with the nature of the farm. I'd forgotten to think before I reacted. My mom always said to think before I spoke, that probably applies to actions also. The bee got angry and I felt the pain of the sting in the side of my neck. It hurt so bad, it was worse than getting my shots for school that spring. A tear welled up in my eye, an understandable response to the pain. Then I got mad, not so much at the bee but mostly at myself for the action I'd taken. My insides started to heat up, I thought that it was an immediate reaction to the sting but I soon realized it was something else. It was the reason I was standing in the sand box staring at the big wheel in the back yard in the first place. The blood was flowing. I started to feel really good deep in the pit of my stomach. The calm of the morning was going away. The breeze had begun to pick up, the earth in the box swirled like the snow drifting in the winter. It surrounded me, coming up from my feet to my head, circling my body, around and around. The tornado of sand made a barrier between me and the environment, the sand box was nearly empty. Pebbles and rocks began to uncover, the black dirt beneath was within sight. The pebbles started to pick up and join the twister, the larger rocks followed. In my reveling I started to feel a fear for what I'd begun and didn't know if I'd be able to stop it. As my worries composed themselves, my control was extinguished. The sand, rocks, and earth flew away from me, the protective barrier broken. The elements peppered my surroundings. The few trees, the privacy fence, my toys, and, of course, the house taking chunks from the plastic siding and wood with the shot. A crash fills my ears, the window into my parent's bedroom smashes.

"Oh my God, Brandon, what are you doing out there?" I guess my mother is awake now. My voice box swells to what feels to be an apple in my neck.

"I'm sorry, Mom, it was an accident." What do I tell her? I was messing around with my strange powers that nobody else besides my crazy grandfather has and I oops, smashed your window out with a rock. I've got it, here's hoping this one will fly. "I threw a rock out of the sand box trying to hit a bee. It stung me on the neck, I'm so, so sorry." That one may do the trick, she did just wake up and maybe I'd get some pity for the injury in the process.

"Get your butt in here and help me clean this up! I'll look at your bee sting later. You're grounded for the next two weeks and you're going to do a lot of chores to pay this off you know." Thank God, it worked. I may have been grounded but at least there'd be no more explanations and that's all I'd cared about.

"I'm coming, Mom." I went inside and met her in her bedroom. I was lucky that her bed wasn't positioned under the window yet , she rearranged her room a couple of days later, that could've been catastrophic. I helped her clean up my mess and then she called a guy to come and replace the window, not too much harm done, it could've been worse.

Chapter Eight

Proper Use of Power & Abandonment

I had grown into my teenage years. I was a strong, handsome boy with the same benighted hair and chocolate-brown eyes with which I was delivered. My physical structure was hard and metamorphic from the activities I had conducted on a regular basis, football, baseball, soccer, I'd pretty much participated in all of the seasonal after school sports. They helped me rid the angers of everyday life and everything for me was, and still is, always about control. You couldn't really consider me a high school sports star. I was good at them but wasn't trying to be impressive. They were an outlet for me and that was all. I was tall for my age and very dominating to everything in my life. The power I possessed had acquired equipoise by that time.

He'd take a little from me from time to time but mostly I persisted in the control that I needed to get what I wanted. In case you don't know it yet, than I am sorry. My faith and might in my power had me arrogant beyond my years, though it was well deserved. Even though I was herculean, I did still tire out easily when I utilized the power. In doing so, I believed I'd become stronger for it. I had practiced and developed my powers for some time by this point but had yet to push it to the terminal point. I hadn't used it to its fullest capacity. In my adolescence, my ability had increased daily and along with it, I was pushed a little closer to insanity. I continued to push it though, my hunger for power would be my undoing, but I had to learn and grow. I had to develop it and I was so hungry for it, like a fat nobleman at a banquet devouring a turkey leg, stuffing dates in his mouth with the other hand and then following it with the jeweled goblet of wine. A piece of the foul containing a bone, the liquid washing it into his esophagus and it penetrates, lodging itself, his hunger and gluttony being his demise. My power was much like this, in all the piggishness and gluttony. I had begun to lose my mind just as my grandfather had. It seemed to be the trade off, sanity for power. I choose power. The arrogance, wouldn't you be arrogant if you were able to accomplish feats in which I am able? Tell me that you wouldn't enjoy it and I would be so inclined as to call you a liar. You have no choice but to love me because of my good looks and yet hate me from the jealousy of all my gifts and talent.

Obtaining a girlfriend was never an issue for me, given my social standing, but there was still no one who I would confide in about my secret. I was a loner. Also know that I didn't use my powers to obtain love, I relied completely on my arrogance and ego to get what and who I wanted, my body being that of a Greek god. At that point in my life, I wasn't focused on love. I was concentrating on my development and testing my limits. I struggled with my sanity and it seemed that staying focused was very difficult at times. The people around me had no idea I was, in essence, two beings balled into one. I could've probably blamed my parents for the inability to communicate properly with others. Having had a childhood like mine hadn't made things easy, my parents were no longer together and it made me happy to say the word, divorced. Everything had been so hard. The arguing and hate that had always filled the house was overwhelming to my brain. It was like the baby birds in the nest in the tree right outside your open bedroom window early in the morning. The arrival of the hen perking them up, heads popping, voices carrying, making you want to push the nest to the ground and end all of the obnoxiousness from echoing in your ears. The constant bickering was less taxing than the silence if that makes any sense? My father had his seemingly endless silent treatments. One could feel the heat in the air, so thick with anger and scorn. My father hadn't loved my mother. I didn't know why. If I would've believed any of the words during the disputation, I would have said it had something to do with her father, pregnancy, and obligation, unnecessary obligation. My mother just cried and yelled. It was all blubbering though, her words in her expressed sadness. They were never very easy to understand.

My mother is beautiful though, she's where my good looks had derived from, my sinister almond eyes of deep mocha brown, my dark, near ebony hair and my height. I neared six feet at this age and my golden skin, so easy to tan. I don't mind restating the fact that I was a Greek god. I really didn't know what it was my father contributed to my being. His apparently pathetic gene pool of recessive traits, his being consisted of shortness, light sandy blonde hair, and blue eyes. His height was under my towering six feet, probably by a near half of a foot. He wore glasses to correct his vision. His brownish hair was thinning and the crown of his head was lacking it completely. I was nothing like him. Maybe it was his cold personality or his ability to shut someone out without effort, the turning off of emotion could've been his contribution. I couldn't really say for sure, he never came around anymore. He had become a ghost in my life which was upsetting me at times, other times I dealt with it just fine. One day I'd returned home from school and my mother was sitting at the kitchen table. I recall there being a glass in her hand with something alcoholic in it, I could smell it on her as she spoke. She was blubbering again as she explained to me my father had left us early that morning. She told me he'd left a note, she handed it to me. It had some wetness from her tears on it:

Dear Brandon,

I'm sorry. I have to go away now. All I can tell you is it has something to do with work and nothing to do with you, or your mom. I don't know when and if I'll be able to see you but I promise I will try, if allowed. I'm sorry I can't explain more to you right now but hopefully I will be able to in the future. I love you and will miss you dearly.

Love,

Dad

P.S. Take good care of your mom for me.

That was all he wrote and that was the last time I'd hear from him. I was okay with it, his anger was more than anyone could take or needed to tolerate. He would always fly off the handle at the slightest actions. Everything it seemed would set him off. I may not have known what he'd contributed to my being but I do know what was given to him, all that anger. There were times that a simple drop of juice on the coffee table would cause him to explode. Then there was the silence, if you believed my mother was the only one who got to experience the silent treatments, you would be mistaken. He would practice the silent treatments on both of us, often. The note being addressed to me came as a surprise actually. I was amazed at the fact he'd even left any correspondence at all. It seemed the older I got the more I reminded him of my mother thus being put into the same category. The discovery of the note and his departure was no real surprise to me.

The hustle and bustle of the school day wasn't really that strenuous for me, I've told you before, I'm an intelligent guy and the education system kind of just left me feeling bored and empty. I had become a self-taught person by this time since I'd felt the way that I did in regards to the boredom of the school's teachings. I devoured every book and educational program, not to mention life experience, I could. They knew me well at the city's library, I was a nerd of sorts but that also was a self-proclamation, nobody at school had the slightest inkling about what I did when I wasn't there. You could say I was a little hard on myself in my self-convictions. The slamming of metal lockers filled the hallows of the air inside the educational institution while everyone was getting ready to go to the last class of the day, mine happened to be History in English Literature which bored me to tears. I grabbed my text, notebook, and pencil from my wall locker and joined in the symphony of slamming and began my trek to the classroom. That course was the farthest one from my stowage compartment, up the stairs and down to the end of the seemingly mile long hallway, the last door on the right. My teacher was Mr. Anderson, a crazy old coot who'd lost touch with reality years ago. He was always dressed to kill, a light short sleeved shirt with dark grossly colored stripes crisscrossing it. He wore a tie of dark mocha brown, a maroon one, or a forest green one, and lastly there was a ridiculous one with one of those bright yellow smiley faces like the one's from the "shit happens" t-shirts. In case you can't tell, I'm a bit sarcastic at times. I run up the double flight of old cement formed stairs and begin down the hall to the classroom. This time, unlike any other time before, there was a group of students, boys and girls, all crowded in a ring; I couldn't really see what it was they were around. I near the group and catch a glimpse, two guys fighting, one stood above the other, kicking him in the side. The one on the ground is pleading for him to stop in between blows to the ribs. His glasses lay next to him, one of the lenses out and crushed on the floor. I recognize the kicker as one of my teammates, Brett, from the soccer team, he towers the boy on the ground by a foot or so in height and several inches in width. I felt the need to stop it, he may have been a fellow teammate but I was sure the other boy did nothing to antagonize his actions. I allowed the atoms to gather around me. The heat began to build. I had to be very careful to not harm any of the bystanders even though they'd deserve my response for egging it on. I focused my mind's eye on Brett's head; my act was intended to disable him for a few moments, just long enough to cease the actions that were happening. I'd done some studying in human anatomy on my own in attempt to know the workings of the human body so when I'd needed to strike I'd know where and how to do so without having to harm the person. The apparition suddenly made himself known. I had a plan and he wasn't supposed to be involved in it. I became overcast. The surge flowed from me as I stood away from them. It entered Brett's skull, his brain's nerves were struck and mashed by my power. His kicking had stopped and he fell to the ground. My mind cleared as quickly as it had been consumed. Brett lay on the cold floor twitching, his eyes fluttered. One of the other students came to his aid.

"Call 911," she yelled, "someone, call 911 now!" One of the other girls took her cell phone from her pants pocket and began the call for help. The nerd gathered up his glasses and replaced them on his face. He wiped the blood from his nose with his shirt sleeve and stared at the flailing Brett having no idea. The ambulance would arrive shortly but Brett's use of his mind would never be the same again. That soccer scholarship was no longer a possibility for his future. I cried myself to sleep for a week after that. The tears probably still stain the pillowcase.

Upon completion of the school days, I didn't ride the bus. My mother always picked me up; I guess it was her way of saying "I care about you." When she didn't forget or was too preoccupied with something else. Who knew what she was doing then. She'd forget me there for an hour or so, after everyone else had dispersed for the day. I never got mad at her, I confess I had been angry for the first ten minutes into the wait but I knew she'd arrive eventually. I'd always occupy my time by moving things, the blades of grass, pushing small pebbles, or brushing the branches of a sapling with my mind. I would practice and perfect, honing my skills this way. It was fun, especially if you factored in the possibility of getting caught. Even though I was very proud of my gift, I was not sharing it with anyone. It was my little freaky secret, forever. Do you know what people would've thought of me if they knew?! That was a judgment I didn't want. That would've created a feeling of helplessness I couldn't have handled. Being in a situation I had no control over was unbearable to me. With this kind of power, I would rest assured that I'd never feel helpless in my life then or now.

One of the days when I had been waiting I'd decided to try a little experiment in my boredom in an attempt to maximize it. I first began with focus. My power would only work with utmost concentration. It was always the key element. My body started to heat up, that feeling of nirvana neared, my temperature rising, beyond normal at this point. My plan was to store it up and use it, to see how much I could do without exhausting myself the way I always had in the past when I overused. The rush flowed within. The zephyr began to pick up, swirling around me, a tuft of my hair winged out, stronger, higher. My target was a rather small sapling nearby. The energy was fully stored like a charged battery fresh off the charger. I shot an inconspicuous shaft of light at the tree, it detonated at the base tearing up its fresh green body, the crown of leaves making it fall with the gravitational pull onto the ground. This was just a pocket-sized yet satisfying demonstration of the power I'd experience in the future. I remember how proud of myself I was after that, all of the control I had in direction of the force, it felt amazing and gave me a sense of attainment.

When my mother finally did arrive, there was always an excuse, "I had to work late," "I ran into someone who I haven't seen in forever," there was never an apology, only excuses. She had begun to drink, a lot. Since that day I'd seen her sitting at the kitchen table with the teary note of my father's departure in her hand. My mother had problems I'd not been aware of. I'd always believed we had a reasonably close relationship between mother and son, especially with the disappearance of my father. She had stopped confiding in me and started to entrust in the alcohol instead. I'd made many attempts to break back into the circle and free her from her self-destruction but I'd never succeeded and it was upsetting. The car pulled up near the curb and I opened the door, generally speaking, there was no real conversation, but this time she had something to say to me.

"Hey there, Brandon, how was your day?" She sounded as though she really cared about my answer to the question.

"It was fine Mom, thank you for asking." I glanced at her. The top of a bottle of gin poked out of the center counsel, the lid couldn't have been closed all the way. The bottle was too big. At least my surprise had been answered. She'd started before she came to pick me up.

"Mom, are you alright?" The car sat still, idling in the lot.

"I'm fine, Brandon why do you ask?" She glanced at me and then her eyes wavered from mine, probably the guilt effect. I look down at the bottle revealing my understanding. She notices and began to show signs of discomfort. I gave her a look of disappointment.

"Mom, I'm going to drive us home." Someone had to be the responsible one in this family and that someone would have to be me.

"Fine, Brandon but I'm alright." A tear glistened in her eye. She looked away and got out of the car. I followed her lead, our paths led around the car on opposite ends. She didn't want to face me apparently. She stared out the window the entire trip home. I assumed that she was crying and left her alone in her sorrows, a mistake I'd be paying for in the future.

The same old same old every night of the week for me, she was usually gone, off courting a new boyfriend. There were a great many of them. I'd guessed she was in search of a new potential husband but none of them ever lasted long. The worst part was when they would come back to our domicile. I never liked any of them but I truly detested hearing things from the bedroom. I was very disgusted. At that age, it would have been better to think my mother didn't have sex any longer. It was during those times I was reverted to the younger years of hiding in my room, times that should've long since passed. I'd sit on my bed blocking out the sounds with my CD player and music, death metal seemed to work best during these times. It kept my mind contained. Some respect would have been nice, I knew I was just a kid but didn't I deserve it? There was one time where I couldn't stop it, my body started heating up and, as you know, that was a bad sign. When the power and the heat surged through me, generating from my core into my arms and legs, into to my toes and fingertips, the pleasures were so intense. It always felt like some hardcore sex, nearing the climax and just staying there, hovering at that sweet spot. My curtain rod began to bend slowly down towards the floor, the curtains then hit the ground. The hooks had been ripped from the dry wall. The rod lay there. The fabric was still intact but the metal was at a 90 degree angle. I had to stop thinking about this. Stop. Stop. Breathe. Concentrate. Be calm. Adolescence, with all the hormones and chemical imbalances, made it hard to control sometimes, even with the smallest results, losing the hold on it really freaked me out. I could not allow it to get the better of me. I was stronger than that. I had to be.

There was also another time when one of mother's boyfriends decided to test me. He was standing in the kitchen, only wearing blue jeans. He was very inappropriate and trashy, her taste erred every once in a while. She decided to dig through the garbage can for this one, possibly finding him near the bottom where all the maggots had settled with the stuff stuck around the inner rim of it. He was digging in the refrigerator, probably looking for some slop. My mother was in the shower or something, I can't remember. He turned toward me whilst bent over, the door still ajar, and gave me a look. I didn't know why or what I'd done, sometimes people are just that way. He then proceeded to ask me a question.

"What the hell are you looking at?" He ordered me discourteously.

"Nothing," it was my unproblematic response. Immediately he followed my answer with a container of yogurt thrust through the air toward my face. I didn't have the time to react. It had made a connection with my cheek leaving a bit of the sloppiness on my skin. I immediately grabbed a dishtowel from the back of the dining room chair and wiped it off as I stared at that piece of crap. He stood up from his crouching position in front of the icebox and sneered at me, an attempt to stare me down. He was actually challenging me in my own house. The nerve this guy had. This would be the last grin he'd ever express in this house or anywhere else for that matter. The fire within me began the usual response; it was time for him to give me some compensation. Like the sapling in the schoolyard, I blasted this guy in the face. His nose exploded, the skin and cartilage separated and peeled back. The nasal bone split down the center, blood shot from the wound pouring into his mouth immediately. He fell into the stove next to the fridge directly behind him. The back of his melon made a cracking sound with the impact and he lay on the floor. His face bathed in his own bloody liquid as it flowed from him around his cheek on the linoleum of the kitchen. He was still stirring. He wasn't dead and, for the first time in my life after using my abilities I remember thinking, too bad. I returned to my bedroom. When my mother's scream filled the hallway, flooding between the cracks of my door, I responded by pretending as though I had no knowledge of the event. These simple satisfactions in life were incomparable.

Chapter Nine

Lost In the Darkness

A blinding light floods my eyes. It hurts a little but is welcomed. The surging sound fills my brain as my eyes adjust. The darkness and not knowing my environment is getting annoying, I don't like questions like that, the unknown. It is a personal problem regarding the helplessness I spoke of earlier, I can't stand it. One long florescent strip light contained in a bright white casing hangs from the ceiling above. The walls are white, sterile, and flat. I look down to confirm that indeed I'm still adhered to a table of some kind, almost altar-like. Remote sensors are attached to my head, brain wave measures maybe? I can feel their stickiness on my brow. I can't see a door anywhere as I frantically dart my eyes around, trying to gather a mental picture of my surroundings in case the blackness returns. There is a small vent on the one wall, nowhere big enough for any type of escape. Not even a small child would be able to put his arm in there. Where am I, who has done this to me? Why isn't really a question in my mind, I already know why. I've harmed so many. All of those people. The death, the heat, the screams, what have I done?! All of the other incidents were so easy and containable, easy to cover up. After all of the "accidents" that I had been the cause of; how did I allow it to get a hold of me so tightly? He's supposed to share not steal, he isn't playing fair. The warmth begins to surge through me again. I have to stop it. But I need to get away from here. I can't control it anymore. I must escape! The darkness engulfs me again. It's not him this time, it's something else. The weight in my lungs and breathing again, fumes filling my bronchus, heavy and...

Chapter Ten

Abuse of Power & Acceptance

My later high school years were the most productive and most satisfying thus far. I learned that I could control the shadows use of my power. As long as I fed him a life from time to time, giving him the entertainment he craved. Though I felt bad and guilty in doing so, in order to have my power for myself, it was worth it. Besides, my selection of victims was evident. I tried to pick the ones who deserved to die, the ones whose sins were unforgivable. At times it didn't work out that way. I was an archangel amongst men, a twisted superhero if I may be so inclined to say so. Being popular wasn't part of the plan but that was just the way things were. Attending parties was the easiest way for me to find my prey, my offering to him. These killings were just something he required in order to let me keep my mind under my own control. I've always had the utmost regret and sadness contained in my soul for my own sins, unforgivable.

One warm sticky Friday evening in August, a couple of weeks before the beginning of my senior year of school, there was a huge party consisting of almost all the soon to be senior class and a few extras. It was to be the last big bang of the summer. The keg party was set to commence fifteen miles out of town in the woods, as they often did in the area where I grew up. An area often referred to as the Trails. It consisted of a two mile long path to the party. It was lined with cars on both sides. I noticed as I made the turn off of the rural road onto the gravel. The way in had tire wear ruts on either side wide enough for a car or pickup truck to get in. The grass grew tall in the middle, brushing the underside of each vehicle as it passed over. The wood line was a welcome sign of freedom from the law. Many had used this area in the past as we did again that evening. Two or three generations of people had partied there. After that night, none forgot the Trails and the story following the evening.

I parked my car just inside the woods, off the trail, away from the others only a little further into the cover and concealment of the trees and bush. The wind blew gently, rustling the leaves in the canopy above creating a slight rattle sound as they moved. The walk to my final destination was still about a mile, music hummed in the distance, being carried in my direction by the breeze. The blaze of the bon fire glowed slightly through the brush. The smoke smell from the burning pine, birch, and oak lingered in the air, unmistakable. I exited the wood line onto the route, I had begun my adventure. He had been pleading with me for atonement that night and I felt it necessary to oblige his request. I would give in to his need. The pleasure in the act of violence was also very enjoyable to me. I continued along the path. Being one of several visits for me out there, I knew where I was going without the use of my eyes. I also knew my first stop wasn't where the main festivities were in progress. I had an alternate plan. I arrived late because I knew that in the yours of pre-adulthood we all had curiosities and needs which needed exploring. With the combination of a few minor drugs and some alcohol, those needs were easier to accomplish. The inhibitions broken down and the instincts to get laid take over.

About a mile and a half down the path, a half a mile short of the party, there was a fork in the trail. The route to the left was a mere goat trail made by a combination of wildlife wandering for food and shelter and teens going in for a quick romp. There was no possibility for vehicular traffic on that one, thick oaks line the edges. That was the way, the place they would go. I'd gone that way to do it myself once or twice. I was almost there. The bushes filled in between the oaks and poplars. I heard the slight moans of pain from the cover, female, sexy, arousing. I approached quietly, hoping to enjoy a little show before the pounce, delightful. I saw them against a tree, standing, her skirt pushed up, her breasts exposed. That sight was beautiful, the moonlight made it almost magical, illuminating every shadow of muscle and flesh. His pants were around his ankles, boxers at his knees, his ass tensing with every thrust, her breasts so young and firm, exquisite soft, light nipples, perfect.

Enough, Brandon, do it now before you fall in love, I snapped out of it, the admiration of the horny couple, realizing my own stiffness. His time had come for fulfillment. My mind faded and he took control to do his own bidding. With age I'd been able to see what was happening even through the fogginess of my mind. I had no control, but I had these horrific memories to relive, the screwing couple, groaning and moaning, oblivious to our presence. The bushes in the front of me were part like a tunnel of wind blowing them to either side. Some of the dry branches snapped from the force. The boy turned his head in the direction of the blast but was too late, he flew through the air. Hitting the ground hard, the oxygen forced out of his lungs, his eyes rolled back into his head. His pants still were around his ankles, still erect, the act was so sudden his brain and body hadn't had time to react. She stood by the tree in shock, here bosom still exposed. I realized my hands were extended out in front of me, the heat pouring from them. The boy began writhing in pain, his back arching, his muscles contracting. Vomit escaped his mouth and blood dripped from his nose, the whites of his eyes, the only part visible. His fingers curled like the talons of an eagle gripping its prey. He stopped, breathing, convulsing, everything. A bit of blood dripped from the corner of his mouth. He laid there, eyes open, pupils relaxed, peaceful. I approached the dazed girl; he had to have her before he killed her. If there was going to be satisfaction it might as well have been complete in all areas, mental and physical. I freed myself from the confines of my jeans and joined her against the tree, entering her forcefully. She couldn't move or scream, he had control of her with his invisible hand. I touched her breasts as I penetrated her, deeper and harder, the sensation so wonderful. I finished in seconds, the rush so great I couldn't help myself. She stared into my eyes as I finished my task. Her face presented the question of why in all of the dismay. I removed myself from her and back away, I knew what was going to happen next and I hate it. Her body began to slide up the tree, her arms reached for my assistance as she pleaded with me. I couldn't stop it, couldn't help, it was not my doing, I was not in charge then. Her body continued to climb the vastness of the oak, higher and higher. About a hundred feet into the rise, she stopped. He stopped controlling my power and left my mind. She descended with such speed and forcefulness that upon impact, her body left an impression in the grassy forest floor, dead, instant, painless. He was satisfied. I was terrified. He subsided, going back to his cover, hiding behind my eyes. I stood there, shaking and awed pants still down under my ass. I pulled them up and zipped the crotch.

I turned around and rushed for escape back to my car. Running would've drawn attention. I didn't feel like joining the party anymore, I had to drive somewhere, somewhere quiet and collect my thoughts. I hopped into my vehicle. I'd only been there for thirty minutes or so but it had seemed like forever. Luckily I wasn't blocked in by another. I dive a hand into my pants pocket, fishing out the keys. I shoved the key into the ignition switch and started the car. The lake was where I would escape to, a place of serenity and solitude. I backed out of the wood line back to the trail and sped down the road returning to the highway at the end. I made a left turn, not using a signal. I lowered the windows so I could feel the wind on my face, it was refreshing and cleansing. I raced, 70 miles per hour towards Eagles Landing. My father and my favorite fishing spot. I continued on for five more miles when I arrived at my destination. I steered counterclockwise into the lakes boat landing access area. My headlights bounced off the picnic tables, standing barbeque pits, and shelters. The reflection of the ripples on the lake and the combination of the moonlight invited me to it. I turned off the lights, put it in "P" and turned the key to "off." I exited the car quickly and trekked toward the water. I found a bench situated near the edge of the sand and sat. I started stripping, removing my shoes, socks, and shirt. I took off my pants and placed everything onto the bench hastily. I left my boxers on as swim trunks. I then stepped onto the fine sand, enjoying the coolness of the evening on my sweaty feet. The granules stuck between my toes. I approached the water, entering it quickly. Ankle deep, thighs, the shocking coolness at the crotch, my stomach, I dove in. My conscience clearing as the water rushed past my arms and head, refreshing. The water was so delightful. I stood at neck level and looked across the lake. My self-baptism and the forgiveness of the soul completed. The moon was full, the sky so clear, invigorating, crickets chirping on the shore, the frogs croaking. The moon was awesome. I love the moon in all of its beauty, the constellations so mysterious. I turned and waded back to the beach. I exited the water and flopped down on my back in the sand, admiring the night sky. My head felt clear. I had cleansed myself from the evil things I'd done, the leaves above, a nearby birch, towering above, waving at me happily. My eyes closed. So relaxed, sleep...

Chapter Eleven

Will the Darkness Subside?

I come out of it in a rage, this will stop now! It's dark again, I can't manipulate what I can't see and the constriction of it pisses me off so much.

I yell, "Let me out of here, now!" I hear the rattle of the light fixture above, my anger projected without direction. Then a crackle over a speaker system,

"Mr. Hudson, you've done some very bad things and we've got some issues to discuss that are of the utmost importance," the voice is pleasant yet so condescending, mellow and crisp, well-articulated. Somehow the voice sounded a bit familiar to me.

"I haven't done anything wrong. Let me go now!" It's my enraged response.

"We've been watching you for a very long time, Brandon. We've known about you, even before your conception. I think I've said enough for now. Your brain activity is rising to dangerous levels. I must bid you good night again before you start causing unnecessary damage." A click and silence. The darkness is now my only company once again. This guy knows more than I think, he's pulled all the right punches in order to make sure I don't get out of here. Just one glance, that's all I need. One moment of light and then I will have freedom! Now I have more purpose than ever before, the need for survival is taking over all of my cerebrations. I thought I had hidden my wrongdoings well throughout my whole life. The kittens, Brett, everything, keeping my talent concealed this entire time. My parents didn't know, my grandparents didn't know, hell, my friends for sure never found out. I was wrong in thinking nobody knows. Someone has discovered my secret, but by whom? That smell comes again. It's occupying my lungs. It hurts my throat, making it burn. A tear escapes my duct and rolls down the side of my face, the warmth rounds my head and drips on the table; I hear its whispered splash as it impacts the vinyl cushioning. I can't stay in here. I must get out. He can't keep me under his control any longer. The vapors fill my nostrils, damn it, I can't let this happen...again...

Chapter Twelve

Let Life Begin & End

I was in my early twenties. I had breezed through high school with an impeccable grade point average. I had been accepted to a reputable college on a free ride soccer scholarship. I didn't really care to attend college. Since my mother had committed suicide shortly after my high school graduation. Her drinking had taken a horrible turn for the worse and I'd stopped trying to make her quit. Actually, I quit her all together. We were to the point where we didn't even speak. I had assumed my father's position in a sense except for the fact there was absolute silence instead of arguing. I ignored her every attempt to converse with me. One day after riding the bus home from school, I entered the house and went to use the restroom as I always had immediately following the school day. The door was locked. I decided to break the silence and knocked on the door calling to her. I didn't hear anything inside. I knocked again and there was still no response or noises from the bathroom. I hit the door with my body smashing into it, it was solid. I geared up my mind for the attack and blasted the door off its hinges in my fretting. I went inside and found her, lifeless in the bathtub. She had sliced her wrists, a bottle of pills sat open on the countertop. The water was painted pink around her naked body. Her flesh was blue, she was finally at peace. The vision of it still upsets me to this day and I don't want to discuss it any further. Therefore I didn't care to continue with the cultivation of my education. I had a life that needed to be lived and some major guilt that needed dealing with. So instead, I got a job in a small city construction business making decent money, enough to maintain my lifestyle, not to mention my physique for the ladies. The upside to working for this kind of business and living in Detroit was that when the winter months came I didn't have to work, leaving me to party whenever I felt like it and the freedom to do whatever I wanted. My primary function was laying the asphalt on Michigan highways and it paid higher than most jobs, so I was able to stockpile a lot more cash for later. I did party my ass off all the time and went to the clubs pretty much every night. Don't even get me started on the sex. There was an overabundance of it. With these looks, I got it whenever or from whomever I chose. I'm not being over the top or high on myself, I just believe, between my looks and confidence, I got what I wanted and I will continue to say that as fact for the rest of my life and when telling the tales of my past. I worked my ass off during the day but I really knew how to have fun and how to unwind at the end of the day.

My favorite club to attend was called The Abyss, the men and women allowed access were only the most attractive ones. The bouncer, Paul who stood at the entrance to the place was very picky. Under strict guidance from the club's owner, I assumed to be some drug lord or pimp, maybe a mafia member, one could only presume. You know the clubs from movies in the past, ones that referred to the bad ass discos from the '70s era in America's history? There were the crazy ones where all the party people of the day did all the drugs and just went completely nuts in those places. Well, The Abyss was pretty much the same in that aspect, that's why there was always such a high demand for inside attendance. The sign over the door illuminated in a florescence of orange THE ABYSS shone brightly, there were velvet ropes leading into the club, acting as some sort of impenetrable fence. Did anyone realize how simply passed this barrier was? I'm sure they did, but getting through Paul's mass would've been a whole other story. Shrubbery in great marble pots designed in an old Greek type of architecture on either side of the door, white like ivory. Upon approach, the creamy bricks on the exterior wall added to the attractiveness. Paul was one of those huge bodybuilder types with gigantic biceps and a broad barrel chest. He was one of those guys you'd love to see in bouncer action. You just to watch him kick someone else's ass I was sure that would be very impressive.

The line to that place was always long, but I'd never waited. Paul knew me in all of my haunts there. I'd attended the club at least three times a week on average. I fit the criteria and never caused any problems. With my looks and attitude, access was never denied. It gave me a little flight of joy when he let me in, I'd give him a little nod as I passed him. I could feel the jealousy from the people in line and I loved it. I felt a little sorry for them in the sense that genetics hadn't been as kind to them as they had to me, but that never changed the pride I projected as I passed. I strode in head high, sending a strong message, here for the taking.

A bar to the right and the dance floor positioned to the left. The dance floor was a gigantic sunken circle with five or six steps leading into the 100 foot circle approached in every direction. It was a hole with steps all the way around so anyone entering it could do it from any place in the club. The dance floor was lit up with bright lights beneath squared glass, illuminating everyone above its shine, it was beautiful. Men and women painted the club beautiful. It was like eye candy for the taste buds, so pleasing to the tongue like being in a store filled with sweets and you're a young child with a hundred dollars, everything in the place only costing a penny. I couldn't help but get instantly aroused when I entered the place and it was exhilarating. I approached the bar and made my request, a shot of Stoli with a slice of lemon and a Screwdriver for a chaser. I thanked the bartender with a tip of my hard earned cash and took the shot. The alcohol was so warm and pleasing to the brain and pallet. I quickly followed it with the lemon slice to calm the soothing burn of the booze. I put the whole piece between my lips and sucked the juices, delicious and sour, brisk. I placed the shot glass back onto the bar and thanked him again. With the Screwdriver in hand, I began to mingle amongst the sexes. I was checking out all of the amativeness as I walked to the table nearest the dance floor, making coquettish eye contact with each potential person as I strode past. A little smile, a casual head nod, a wink, all low-key but understood. I sat down with my drink. I observed the dancers, admiring, and watching them, the sights were delightful, relaxing and enjoyed. I liked to abuse my powers once in a while, just a reminder to myself of my talents. A hard smack on the ass, a brush of a crotch, it was a blast, you would enjoy it. The techno music pumped loudly in my ears. I was so relaxed, with the aid of the vodka and the atmosphere, my day was calming quite nicely. Then there was a sudden thought interrupting tap on the shoulder. I could smell trouble and I believed it had just found me because there was a vile stench in the air and it stunk very badly. It was nothing I couldn't handle so the fear of a troubling situation never hit me as unsettling. I turned to face a huge lumberjack looking guy wearing a light blue mock turtleneck shirt and blue jeans. His brown locks were a messy tuft atop his head. His evil eyes of blue were his apparent trademark feature framed by unwarranted crow's feet. Paul was slipping in his allowances. Because of his mistake, I was sure there was going to be another error in judgment this evening. A mistake other than the one that guy had made.

"You got a problem, buddy?" He asked me.

I replied with "I don't think so but apparently you do." My cockiness leaked through purposely in order to antagonize a relieving response. I thrived on violence at times, it made me feel high. I hadn't needed to ingest any of the designer drugs that had frequented The Abyss. That would've probably been a much more dangerous decision due to my necessity in maintaining mental control at all times. I had learned what I could do and I was able to focus my abilities very well.

"You want to step outside then?" It wasn't really a request. It was more of a pleasantry. It was an underlying challenge and a demand. I decided I'd humor him.

"Sure," was my very simple response to the challenge, following it with a smirk. I could play that game all day long. I slammed the rest of my orange juice mix and rose from my seat. The guy towered over me with probably a whole head in height difference. I had nothing to worry about though. I had some magic tricks up my sleeve. I turned from my stool and headed toward the door, leading the way. I glided through the crowd, weaving and smiling with anticipation. We exited the club and began to venture to the nearby alleyway as to not gather attention. It was dark in the alley. The moonlight was the only light brightening the atmosphere yet casting only slight shadows, it was overcast. It was the perfect place to do what I was about to do. I'd prepared myself for the fight; this son of a bitch was going to wish he hadn't messed with me. There was no doubt in my mind about it.

My hands began to burn as my body was gearing up for the brawl and preparing to rock this guy's world. I had led the way into the corridor, he was still behind me and I felt him there as I walked. He suddenly stepped up and double arm shoved me from behind. His actions were unexpected but I loved it. Every moment of increased anger was feeding me and made me surge and delight further. I'd decided to play the game a little. I stumbled forward a couple of steps and continued, deeper into the alleyway. He came from the rear again and shoved. If he'd only known what he'd been doing, I'm sure he'd not have done that. The heat was becoming more intense and the replicated action had fed the power and brought it even on more intensely than before.

"What's the idea with checking out my girl, buddy?" I had no idea which woman this guy was referring to. There were many gorgeous women who I'd ogled inside the club that I couldn't have even begun to take a gander at a guess. I'd pretend I knew which one it was who'd belonged to him so I could turn the flame into a blaze in him. I was like a Boy Scout out on his first camping trip, his Scoutmaster instructing him on the importance of using fluffy birch bark to ignite the fire more easily. I enjoyed the feeling of this guy's anger and the projection had become an extreme one. I was absorbing his ire as quickly as he was throwing it at me. I turned to face him again with a glow of molecules and heat.

"Hey, buddy, I'll check out anyone I damn well please." He got so angry. I stayed calm as I basked in it and continued to feed his rage, feeling the tension mount within me, edging the sensation of orgasm. "Why would she want you when she can have me?" I teased him. His intense anger broke free through physical expression instead of the oral ones. I always found it amazing, even through thousands of years of evolution we could still resort to the violence sent with the use of our own physical being, our own hands and arms being used as a hammer in order to inflict pain on another human being. He took a swing. His action wasn't executed quickly enough, I hit him full force mid-swing with the focus of energy. It impacted him square in his chest, his being knocked backward into the side of the garbage dumpster close behind. The thick metal vibrated loudly bouncing off the brick walls of the alley.

"You should've thought twice before deciding to pick a fight with me." It was as all I felt the need to say after hitting him the way I had. He had no breath to respond with, all of the air had been forced out, squished between two slices of bread, my blast to the front and the bin to the rear. I'd probably made his heart skip a couple of beats. That was the intention anyway. He just stood there pinned against the trash can in a state of shock. When someone experiences my display, there is only a partial understanding of what is going on, people have a hard time absorbing the unknown. He obviously had a minor understanding but it was only a vague one, he was a bit thickheaded. His body began to rise off the ground as I eyeballed him using my invisible force. I was guiding him into the air with the use of a laser pointer though the impacting point wasn't visible, the warmth and pressure still were. The line of vision in which my eyes were directed brings his body to the spot as instructed. The sounds of the town, the vehicles passing and the boisterous laughter from the drunks coming out of the bars, muffle his pleas for me to stop. By then it was too late, he would now pay for his bad decision. This was guaranteed to not have been his first confrontation with a random guy who'd checked out his woman in a bar. Who knew the outcome of the other past situations? Judging by his size, I was sure all had ended with him coming out on top. This was the last time he'd be given the chance to beat anyone else to a bloody pulp and leave them for dead in any other alley. His body floated further and further up the stories of the building. Level five, six, nine, ten, as he neared the top I moved him close to the edge of the rooftop in order to taunt him a little more. I teased him with the possibility of freedom from his obviously awaiting fate. I could sense his relief as he neared the ledge, his tension was being relieved and his emotions calmed. The joke was on him though. I then dropped my gaze from his body as it had floated above. The connection between us was lost, as was he. He fell. He hit the ground with a thudding sound, flat onto his back. There was an actual snapping. Several of his bones probably hadn't made it in whole pieces. I stood there for a moment watching him, he was still stirring slightly. I couldn't just let him suffer. I'd always been taught that if an animal was injured it was my duty as a human being to put it out of its misery. I took the few steps needed to be standing directly over him so he could look into my eyes. The blood oozed from his mouth caking everything within. It drained from the corner of his lips and ran down his cheek. His eyes were moving freely but the rest of his body seemed inhibited and unable to follow, his neck had probably snapped on impact causing paralysis. He looked up at me with those sky blues. My deep browns then buried themselves forever into them. I was the last person he'd ever gaze upon. I used it to cease all of his brain activities, pushing it past his pupils and into the mushy gray matter contained. All functions had stopped. I was finished, it was then time to go back inside and find that lucky person in order to fulfill one of my other needs of the evening. There were times where I felt no remorse or grievance for my actions. This had been one of those times.

Chapter Thirteen

Grandfather Hudson

I didn't use my telekinesis for self-gain very often, but I did when I'd felt like it. I had used it for good deeds as well. It just depended on my need at the time. A random act of kindness didn't escape my heart. The minor unexplained shove of a random person on the street or sidewalk to save them from an unexpected fate or bodily injury wasn't above me. I may have been vain but I was not without a heart. He didn't need to tell me to feed his evil tendencies I did his bidding and enjoyed it at times, especially when it meant getting to relieve an angry soul filled with hatred and rage. I had no issues in taking that sort of life. Presently in my life, my powers are strictly used for protection. Also, I don't currently display them often, unless it's necessary to (those are reasons that you will discover later in my tale) because exposure isn't wanted or needed at this time in my life or in the lives of those dear to me.

I was in my late twenties now. My abilities were very well tuned by this time. I could focus the surge to a quarter-sized element or I could make it huge, it just depended on how much power I needed to use. Let me describe to you how it works. I think about moving something and I can move it, I have to want it bad enough though, it doesn't just happen. I picture it moving in my head. The heat that consumes me is a combination of atoms and energy. It flows through my torso and head and down into my hands, mainly it surrounds my eyes and gives me the feeling of an acute fever. You know how it feels when you're a small child and you are home sick with febricity. Your mother comes to your bedside with a cool damp washcloth and places it on your forehead. It feels so wonderful for a few moments and then the water contained in the cloth begins to quickly warm, changing the comfort level to miserable and irritating. That is the volume of what I encounter whenever I draw upon my talent. The heat is present but the comfort is a desirable one rather than an unnerving one. It then creates an invisible projection of force, like a laser. Regular people cannot see the focus of energy. You need to share the ability in order to notice the glow and illumination of it. Do you understand? I hope you do because I don't have any other words to describe it in order for you to envision it, sorry. I'd gone so far as to be a little mischievous by moving automobiles in the way of fire hydrants and into crosswalks getting them ticketed, it was bad I know but there were much worse things I could and had done. Don't let it escape your knowledge. As I've said before, I never forgot to throw in a good deed here and there to try to balance everything in the universe. I do believe that once you've crossed the line into killing someone, you are damned to hell and that is the curse I live with even now, the current days being easily described as the happiest ones of my life. I had to feed a demon inside my head in order to keep my gift intact, or so I thought, and would not allow him to take control of me. In doing so, they were small prices to pay. I was damned to spend eternity with demons via a demon, a little bit ironic, would you agree? I'd tried to keep the balance between good and evil, I was the yin and he was the yang, not a complete being without one another. It was a love- hate relationship. You can hate me or you can love me. Take me or leave me. Everything in my life was yet to be discovered, there was so much I still had to know and would soon be informed whether I was ready for the cognition or not. My grandfather had the curse of the demon and was entirely consumed by it. It actually killed him in the end. That is an interesting story.

I've told you before that my grandfather was evil, but let me expand. He was maniacal! Downright dirty! He had my father and his two sisters, my aunts. They were "farm hands," not children. They were expected to do everything, most of it in his accompaniment. They'd pitch hay for the cattle, clean the manure gutters in the barn, mow the acreage of lawn, tend the weeds in the garden (my grandmother aiding in that chore), removing thistles from the miles of pastures, the herds of cattle to be returned to the fences when they had made their escape, there were so many things to be accomplished on the farm. He'd stand over them waiting for them to mess something up. His presence alone made them so nervous they were guaranteed to do something wrong. If he wasn't happy, they were beaten; belts, sticks (switches as they were often referred), he'd use anything within reach. I think the story had once graced my ears regarding a string of barbed wire and my father's ass. I think it goes without saying that he'd been whipped to bleeding on that occasion. My father's scars, both physical and mental, would never be recovered from, an entire life of open sores and pain. My grandmother is a very sweet and caring woman who's always sure everyone around her is tended to and happy. She feared my grandfather. The dread regarding him had escaped no person who'd ever graced his presence. He would smack her just as he had his children many times. I myself had experienced an occasion or two when he was angered and aggressive to her, I hated him for it. They lived on the outskirts of a very small Midwestern town made up mainly of older people. The rest of the populous, about fifty percent of it, was middle aged. The kids who'd grown up there didn't stay anymore, it was a dwindling community. It being mostly comprised of the elders made it a primary zone for gossip. Everyone there knew about my grandfather's wrath and feared him, that's probably why all three of my grandparent's children escaped as soon as doing so became financially possible. Anyway, I've established his level of anger and his sanity issues, things he did never really made any sense to me. You already know how I came upon the knowledge of our shared power. Now let me tell you about his demise, his grand finale in life.

I was there when the incident came about. I actually took part in the revelation of it, a little. These things weren't me as you know. It was Christmas time, I was eighteen. It was deathly cold outside. The Arctic breezes blew into the Midwest from Canada. Snow covered the ground in feet rather than inches. It was so cold you couldn't even see your breath anymore; that is really cold. The piles of snow that had accumulated over the last few days had made the traffic very dangerous and horrific. My grandfather had lived the farm life throughout his existence and the cattle were his livelihood. They were the financial support for him and my grandmother and once the three children as well. With these Arctic blasts coming in, the cattle needed to be rounded up and collectively placed in the barn so they didn't freeze to death. Evening was approaching and he hadn't come to join the family in the Christmas festivities. The entire family, the cousins, aunts, uncles, my grandparents, and my parents, would gather in the living room around the old pine tree as my grandmother would recite the coming of Jesus, the nigh in Nazareth, directly from the Bible. It was a tradition for as long as I can remember. I was the oldest, and only, boy so I was asked to go out and find him. I went to the entryway and opened the closet in order to retrieve my winter coat and footwear. Another family tradition was to hang and place all outside worn items neatly in the closet in the entryway. Another fear instilled from my grandfather was all I could assume. I bundled in my goose down jacket and well insulated winter boots, hating the venture into the cold evening. I've always enjoyed looking out the window. I would watch the wind as it blew the snow everywhere, thinking, "I'm sure glad I'm inside." I opened the door and exited the house. The air blasted me as the hot tried to fill the cold. Being the intelligent guy that I was, I understood that the expanded heat always tries to fill the contracted cold. That is the nature of the organic beast. The moon was already high in the sky. It created an illumination that bounced off the bright snow banks and reflected everywhere, making it so there was no need for artificial light. It was dusk then, I stopped to listen in hopes of hearing something to give me a clue as to his whereabouts. I heard cattle bellowing in the barn. There was no light on in the shelter built off the side of the building, the red paint barely noticeable under the lighting conditions. It was just a shelter built specifically for occasions such as this. It was large enough to house at least two hundred head of the bovine. I didn't hear him. His usual nonsense cursing, random swearing at the top of his lungs none of the words understood. The loudness of his voice wasn't coloring the dense winter air, burning at my eardrums. My grandfather was quite the yeller. I approached the barn cautiously. Ever since that childhood experience, I'd learned to stay away from him, always maintaining my distance. The vision of the cattle he'd obliterated in the pasture flashed through my mind on quite a few occasions. Knowing what he was capable of and my own able-bodied state of psyche, I knew he was a person to be feared. All of the people who were scared of him hadn't the slightest idea of the reasons why they should've truly feared him. We'd only had minimal communications since that day. My fear of him was too overwhelming. The sounds of crashing came from the interior of the main building where the stairs to the hayloft were. There was a flash from the interior through the barn door. Then it was dark inside again, it was like a lightening flare, quick and gone. He was in there, I could feel him. Slowly, I neared the door. My hands were unsteadied a little by that point. I knew something was wrong with him, I could feel it. So much rage flowed from inside. Another flash, I was remaining firm right in front of the door. The flashes sounded like a light bulb blowing out, that would explain the bursts of light. I took one step inside, just one stride. I saw him, just his shadow. I called to him. My voice escaped me at the level near a whisper in my nervousness, "Grandpa." No response, I got a little annoyed because I knew he was standing right there and didn't respond. I increased in tone with my next announcement. "Hey!" My request was once again acknowledged with nothing but silence, although now I could hear him breathing. His breaths were raspy and shallow, he was really intimidating me now. I was now a toddler in a dark hallway I'd never ventured into before, knowing there was nobody else there but me. No one else around to scream to in case I'd needed any assistance. I stepped further into the darkness and reached for the light switch. I palpated the wall for it, sweeping my palm over the wood. Click. I'd discovered it. The lights overhead flickered. I jumped back startled by the look of him. He stood barely four feet from me. My grandfather's eyes were black. They contained no pupils. There weren't any whites of the eyes. He was completely eaten up by the shadows. An evil sneer spread across his face. It was filled with the expression of a killer. My body could feel all of his emotions and it knew he was something evil and I should fear him greatly, more so than I already had.

"Get out of here you little bastard!" His voice was throaty and hollow like he was choking the words out the bass of a kettle drum echoing in the climactic finish of an anthem before a professional ballgame; the last note of the song ringing throughout the amphitheater. A stone flew in my direction. I barely dodged it as it whizzed by my ear, the actual mark being my forehead. It was coming, the surge within my torso. It was building up for my personal protection. It was now becoming a defensive maneuver inside my soul. This time, the barely controlled response was justified and necessary. It began to work its way to the tips of my extremities. The feeling was always hot and so delightful. Though I didn't know for sure at the time if my actions were the right ones, I did know that this had to end now. I had to end the curse. My grandfather was crazy to be attacking his own grandchild like that and like his own children in the past. My body was burning like fire. The anger was as intense as the fog rolled in over my eyes. I had no choice at this point, it was the shadows turn and now he was in control. I watched like a puppet on a string as my arms rose. My fingers extended. The pressure flowing from my digits, a scythe from behind him began to come away from the wall. I threw it at him like a Frisbee. It missed him. It was apparent I still had much to learn, especially when going up against another like me. It hadn't missed by much. While he was distracted, a massive blast of psychic energy shot at him. It hit him directly in the face. His body toppled head over heels into the wall and bounced like a rag doll off of it. He fell to the ground limply. His head smashed against the very same brick that had claimed the poor kittens' lives years before. His skull shattered. The blood poured and pooled out onto the floor. His curse was over while mine had only begun. He had been cursed by a demon and would live in eternal damnation for his sins. The remorse for my actions did come, not immediately but very soon after seeing his lifeless body lying there. My mind flashed between the vision of the kittens and then of him. I fell to my knees and held my head in my hands as the tears dripped out.

I explained the incident in the barn simply to the rest of the family. I'd found him there laying on the floor, falling down those steep steps was always a hazard and everyone knew it. Our festivities of the holiday ceased, of course, but I don't recall if the mood had really shifted all that much, if anything there may have been a bit of relief in the air. I felt no more remorse in taking his life, realizing I had done what needed to be done after feeling the reactions. He was defiantly one of the bad people I had referred to earlier. There was something that puzzled me though and it was how easily and quickly his death had been accomplished. The only explanations I could come up with were either it had to be his age creating frailness or the craziness caused an impuissance. Which one of these things had made it so easy? I am still unsure to this day. Maybe he chose to die and had willingly made it unchallenging for me. I don't know the resolve. He was dead and that was all that mattered.

Chapter Fourteen

Discovery of Self

I wake up again. This time I've been freed from the confines of the table. The components that had me secured were removed completely from the chamber. The light is still blinding and hurts my eyes. The pupils dilate and begin to make their adjustments as things become more focused. The rooms interior begins to come into clear view, the details of it are becoming more apparent. This room has no windows or doors. Someone has a plan to make sure I do not escape my confines. My joints are a little stiff from the table. My back has a minor ache in the lower portion of it, probably from lying in one stationary position for an extended period of time is the cause. I reach back and give it a little rub in a futile effort to relieve the tension. A speaker is mounted in the corner. This is my prison. Could this possibly be one of those things you view on television? An Area 51 of sorts? Is it the government has finally discovered me and now they are going to use me against my will? That is something I won't allow, unless they've maybe discovered some way of forcing my power from me? I do know they can't use me when I'm unconscious. This knocking out with the gas thing has to stop. It's getting a little irritating. I guess whoever it is they must have some working knowledge of me and my abilities because this room is inescapable by design. I stand up and begin feeling for a hint of an exit along the wall, only to find nothing. They are smooth and rock solid. There are no cracks or hints of possible freedom anywhere. If I can find something, enough to know how I got in and how it opens then I can use my ability to enable my flight out of here. I can't escape unless I can figure out where I entered from.

"There's no way out Mr. Hudson." It's that man again. "You may as well relax until you are freed because you're wasting your time. If you don't, you're just going to make yourself angry and if you do that, I'll be forced to use the gas to knock you out again."

"What the hell do you want from me?" My anger was evident.

"My first request is simply for you to hear me out." His composure is outstanding.

"Why would I do that?" It's an honest inquiry.

"Is there anything you require of me? Could I get you some water or something else maybe?" He asks.

"I don't even know who you are. I don't want anything from you. You could just let me out and then we'll see what happens." It's another one of my angry expressions with a mixture of frustration, an underlying request.

"There's no need for threats Mr. Hudson. Remember what I told you and don't forget who's got the upper hand right now. Maybe if you'd listen to what it is I know we can control this beast together." There's a small flux and plea in his voice. Is he lying? Is it possible it can be controlled? Could I become a good person? Is it too late or can my soul still be saved? Could I make this balance right and end the eternal damnation? I can't trust him yet. I need to know more before I can even begin to trust him.

"Mr. Hudson, are you interested in hearing me out? The choice is yours even though you know it really isn't. I do kind of have you in a bit of a position don't I? After today's accounts I cannot allow you freedom so you can inflict any more damage than you already have." In my mind I was agreeing with him but I still had much more to know before my decision could be reached.

"Hold on a second, I just need a minute to understand. First of all, how can I trust you, you haven't proven anything to me?"

"Mr. Hudson, we've been watching you, expecting you actually. We just needed you to reach the place where your grandfather was in order for you to realize you need us to help you." I was a little shocked he was even using my grandfather in any of the explanation.

"Need you? I don't need anyone's help!" I even shock myself with this expression.

"Mr. Hudson, I can show you how to control it. I have the tools you need in order to achieve the harnessing of the beast, I can teach you how." I then become interested a bit more in what this guy had to tell me.

"I'm curious. How can I control it? What could you possibly know what I don't? I mean, I have had this thing my whole life and you haven't." My cockiness was beginning to become an issue, I could feel it myself and even I wasn't enjoying it as much as I usually do.

"Like I've already told you, we've been watching and studying you, your entire family actually. We know things about you that you could never know or learn on your own." Once again, he's got my interests.

"I'm listening."

"I'll begin by telling you a story of the beginnings, a little insight into the past. It was a time when people like us didn't exist and if we did it had to be in secret. Bonds in membership had to have the utmost trust before exposing one's self as being a member of this cult. We are known as SOSHA, the Studiers of Super-Human Abilities. We are a very small but very wealthy scientific society with limited membership. Our cult began in Western Europe. We were mainly focused in England until about three generations ago when we migrated to the United States. The secrecy stayed in place but the ability to expand our member population was easier due to the open-minded standings of the American people. Our little clan has become quite extensive actually. Now let me go back to the beginnings, the spark that lit our group and set the bonfire's motion."

"Our story begins in the year 1692, during the chaos of the Salem Witch trials in the northeastern portion of America. Everyone is aware of it happening, even in today's general society it still is a discussion had here and there. People were so superstitious back then. There was no real understanding of the human mind. The populous lived in constant fear of the unknown and unexplained. Instead of welcoming, embracing, and learning from it they tried to destroy everything they didn't understand. The burnings started from rumors mostly. On this particular day a woman by the name of Scarlet Gertrude Hudson stood trial. She was your great, great, great grandmother and she was a woman of great beauty. She had deep brown eyes with dark hair flowing down to her waist. A figure any man in the town would and had fought to obtain, none actually winning, her flirtatious attitude was so direct and unheard of for the times. She was gorgeous in every way, from head to foot.

She sat on the stand for her trial being exposed to the one sided questioning. She was already condemned in the eyes of the men in the jury. She stared blankly at the crowd as they observed her from the wooden pews. She already knew her own fate, but showed no emotion and stayed reserved in her seat.

"Mrs. Scarlet Hudson, you have been found guilty in the act of heresy." The judge announced. This was the easiest accusation to prove as judgment back then. Heresy was the best way of keeping the intelligent, well educated women under control. Since rumors and gossip were generally spread by ruthless women, a gorgeous woman like Scarlet wouldn't stand a chance against the flock, like hens in a henhouse with nothing better to do then peck at each other in retaliation. Two of the men approach her, securing her under the arms.

"Heresy, by law, is punishable by death." A good old fashioned burning at the stake was always the way in the destruction of a witch since they could never come back from the fire. Scarlet still showed no emotion. It was as if she had given up on life. The crowd roared with the satisfaction of the judge's announcement. Entertainment came at a hefty expense during these days of old, no matter the vial disgust of the act involved. They take her straight to the barbeque pit. The men carry her down the aisle, half dragging her seemingly lifeless body in a catatonic state. A bystander opened the door to exit the courthouse. They carried her down the stairs, pulling her along as they move swiftly, the bottoms of her shoes dragging. The crowd followed closely behind, eager to witness the act of violence. The fire pit awaits her arrival. It had been prepared prior to the commencement of her trial. An eight foot wooden pole sticks up from the center, logs stacked neatly in a circle around its base. Sticks and straw are piled on top of them for kindling. They near the pile, stepping on the wood as the tinder crunches below their heavy feet. They turned her around roughly and then secured her arms to the stake. She has yet to display any feelings. Scarlett the beautiful was now a mess. Her hair was ratted and snarled, there was a small tear in the shoulder of her red dress and little smudges of dirt scattered on her face. The men stepped away from her, satisfied with her security in the bindings. The crowd then began to chant, "Burn the witch, burn the witch, burn the witch!" A gangly man in tattered clothing appeared from amongst the villagers. He approached her with a lit kerosene lamp in hand to be used in the ignition of the fire. Scarlet's eyes widen but not from fear. Her hair waves as the winds around her began to pick up. The man stopped. He began to tremble. His knees shook. His hands waver. He is silent. A single drop of blood ran from his nostril. He collapsed on the ground, a crumpled pile of scrawny bones. The crowd gasped. The lamp crashed down, the nearby grass then started on fire. Scarlet's body glowed, she was ablaze. Her bodice projected the light of an intensely burning streetlamp with a hint of blue. Her eyes were blackened. There were no whites visible. Her breathing was heavy and concentrated. She seemed as though she was overtaken. The stake against her back began to swell. It exploded. The splinters of wood flew everywhere around her. Her hands were now freed. She was so angry, so filled with vengeance. She was so murderous. The people continued to ogle her not having any idea what to do. Their mouths agape and eyes like saucers. She extended her arms with fingers outstretched, all gnarled and glowing. The people cowered and bunched together in fear and distress. One person escaped the group. He was running in search of freedom from the wrath and the known destruction that was going to occur. Scarlet pointed a bony digit in his direction, he stopped immediately. In a nearby haystack there was a pitchfork sticking from it. The pitchforks tines secured deeply within the depths of the hay with the handle protruding. His body lifted and began its flight towards the fork, his eyes wide and filled with fear. The blunt handle entered his body at the abdomen and exited from his back. The blood flowed, turning the once golden hay into a deep rich crimson. He was dead and it was over. His torso relaxed, resting partially on the stack. Scarlet possessed so much power. She turned her focus back to the crowd who still remained grouped like cattle around the feeding trough. Scarlet then used the forces within herself to push the fire in their direction, the "livestock" up for slaughter. The winds blew and the fire raged on. The men's trouser legs caught the flames, followed by screams of pain. The logs and kindling around her lifted and flew in every direction. Some of the bigger wood finished the targets, the sounds of their skulls cracking and the sight of the blood pouring. A few of them were only scathed a bit from the smaller branches although some of them protruded from the skin. The irony of the ones who were on fire was humorous to her. The laughter escaped her once immobile lips. It rang out loudly and boisterously. One final crack and it was complete. A large oak tree near the crowd began to swell like a large balloon being inflated too fully. It broke and fell free from the confines of the earth, the roots pulled from the ground. It had towered above them and then it was coming toward them like a rolling pin preparing to squeeze the dough flat. The timber met its mark. The glowing subsided. Her eyes cleared. The deed was done. She had no regrets, they got what was deserved. She smiled brightly. It was time to move on, time to disappear from here. No one would ever know. Except for the young man who had witnessed the entire act as he remained concealed behind the old wagon near the courthouse.

"Scarlett Hudson was our first encounter with this gift. As it turns out, it was as far back as we could trace it, until your grandfather. Your grandfather's abilities weren't nearly as strong as Scarlett's were. Perhaps he didn't understand them or maybe it was due to insanity which created his lack of control." He pondered the possibilities, it was apparent he hadn't really given it much thought.

"I was there in the end. That was not my grandfather anymore. Yes, he was crazy but at that moment he was far beyond crazy. That wasn't him." My mind flashing to that moment, exactly to the point when I'd stepped into the barn and turned on the light. Those eyes bore into my soul. They were the scariest thing I'd ever experienced in my lifetime, even to now.

"I know, Mr. Hudson, so many of the happenings in your life, you have no idea."

"How though, how do you know, tell me!" I am desperate to understand and willing to learn what it is he has to teach me.

"Your grandmother, do you think this would escape our study? We've been watching and learning from you for years. There were subjects we'd followed from Europe to America but none have been as powerful as your bloodline. Your family has become our main focus. The others seemed to be a waste of time and money, to be honest. Your grandmother was planted into your family tree through much planning and manipulation. She also has secrets. She is a visionary, a mind reader, an empathic. She is a tad bit psychic herself. She can see things as they happen through your mind's eye, reading the thoughts and truths from people without them saying anything. Haven't you ever wondered why things have been so easy for you? Haven't you wondered how it is you can feel emotions from people around you? Maybe you aren't even aware of it, it is possible you are so used to it that it's become a natural occurrence and you don't notice it." All of his questions being asked of me in a rhetorical fashion, no answers required.

"So, you arranged a marriage between my grandparents?" I'm astounded something like that was even possible, even during that era.

"We do what we have to do. We needed to save the bloodline and with any luck your grandmother's gentle genes combined with your grandfather's powerful ones. We were hoping to enhance the ability to maintain sanity. We needed to keep genes safe and to make it evolve. It's our effort in ensuring the security of the Hudson bloodline for a better future and survival."

"I still don't understand why you people are so interested in my family's abilities." An honest expression is my concern in what this guy wants.

"We've discovered that, in all of our years of research, your family has had this gift and it's not understood as to when or where it first came about. Unexplained events in history relating to the locations of the different Hudson's at the time may have been clues. Although Scarlett is as far back as we've been able to trace the bloodline officially, the other knowledge has been passed by word of mouth through stories. Just before our flight from England, it is said there was a huge fire that destroyed all of the documentation, the history in the organization's main facility, and the inhabitants. You, Brandon, are by far the most talented one thus far. I won't take all of the credit for your being, but you may thank me for it later. The Society needs you now and you need us so you can understand and control yourself and not end up like your grandfather. We are here to help you and to stop you from his fate. We are scientists, so to speak, but not the kind with test-tubes and laboratories. We study the unknown and unexplained. That is our gratification in life." His concern sounds genuine and trustworthy.

"But he controls my thoughts and my mind, what do you know about that? I can't stop him!" My desperation vocalized.

"Who are you talking about, your grandfather?" He has no idea what I'm talking about and makes it very evident to me.

"No, the ghastly shadow in my head, he hides behind my eyes. He controls me. When nasty things happen, he's there controlling me from within. All I can see is through a fog and haze but I don't have anything to do with what's going on before my eyes." My explanation is the best I can come up with to describe it to him during my confusion and the uncomfortable position I'm currently in.

"Brandon, I'm not sure I understand what you're talking about. I'm a little confused actually. I thought we understood you. This isn't good. I need you to help me to comprehend what it is that's going on in there."

"When something bad is about to happen, I get cloudy. My vision becomes blurry and I no longer control my own body. He takes me over, mind and body. My powers become so strong and the sensations that come with it are so irresistible. I can't stop him or I don't want to, I don't know which is true. I am at my ultimate in the use of my telekinesis. It is at its maximum potential when I am under his control. Every awful thing I've done in my life, every drop of blood spilled, I get to see even though I am not the cause. It's been so hard living with the guilt my whole life." In hearing me explain it all for the first time, I get choked up, a tear escapes my eye and I lose composure for a couple of seconds. I have to maintain so he doesn't find any weaknesses to use against me later.

"Okay. I understand more now but I realize how much work we have to do. The sickness is much more advanced than we'd thought. There is no shadow, as you describe, hiding in your mind. It has been your own doing all along. You are displacing your own actions so you don't have to feel the guilt, or satisfaction, you've received so many times in the past from the wrongdoings. It's part of the affliction." He now sounds like a psychiatrist. I might as well be lying on a couch in his office as he picks at my mind, costing me a hundred bucks for one measly hour. I do all the talking and he just sits and asks about my crappy childhood while scribbling in that notebook he's holding.

"No, I couldn't have been the one doing all of those things," a feeling of shock flows through me, "not me, I could not commit murder! Besides, how do you explain the force and the intensity of the power? It couldn't have been me doing all of those things."

"Brandon, listen to me. It's the insanity. It's all part of the sickness your grandfather had. I can help you. This should've been avoided. We should've intervened before you got to this point. I could've helped you avoid all the pain and the guilt. I'm sorry. I thought you were fine until yesterday."

Chapter Fifteen

The Nightmare Returns

I was walking through the crowds looking as handsome as ever. I was in my late twenties. The streets and sidewalks were so riddled with traffic, vehicular and pedestrian. It was a little hot yesterday. It was mid-July in the city and the smog trapped the heat from above. I loved the hustle and bustle of it all. I began to realize there was something wrong. My head started to spin. I hadn't given in to him in quite some time, so long in fact, that he had begun to cause me issues downtown in the middle of all of those people. He was messing with my mind and I hated him for it. My life had been so wonderful and calm. Nothing bad had happened with my powers for at least a year. Now this occurrence, I had to ignore it. I continued down the walk with the presence of everyone becoming more and more unbearable to me. I was nearing an almost claustrophobic point. Everything felt so close, so cramped. I needed to be able to breathe! I had to get away. I tucked inside the First National Bank, the sweat was beading on my forehead. I felt almost instantly better. My head was still spinning a bit. My mind began whirling again. The sweat rolled down my face, parallel my nose and onto my upper lip. My extremities were shaking. It was so hot. One of the tellers, a gorgeous blonde with a huge rack accented by her tight, blue cashmere sweater, stared at me from behind the counter, suspiciously. I paid her no further attention. I could feel her eyes still on me. She wasn't acting like I was turning her on. She must have known I was a threat to her existence. The teller reached under the counter for the button linking the bank to the police station in case of a robbery or, in this case, some other emergency. Her fright level had reached its limit, although it was a little premature. I hadn't noticed her actions. My head was still spinning as I tried to breathe. I attempted to calm my heart down and slow the race. I took slow steady inhales and exhales. My heart rate was beginning to drop. He was no longer in control of me, thank God, the relief I felt was exhilarating.

Suddenly the sounds of sirens blared from outside the door. I hadn't noticed their approach during my efforts to relax. I took no heed. I reveled in the calm and control I had just acquired. The two police officers exited their vehicle and steadily approached. They rushed inside, one had his weapon drawn. The other had his hand hovering over his 9mm as they ran in, ready to draw it if necessary. Blondie pointed at me. Though I understood the gesture, it still caught me a little off guard. One of the officers grabbed me from behind, pushing me down to the floor. At least it was carpeted but it did burn my face a little. The pressure of his knee buried in my back was so intense. I had to get him off of me. The rage came to the surface again, full force. I was so angry. The power surged through me. The wind from the collection of atoms picked up inside the building. That time the blast came from my core. It had never happened like that before. It flowed from my base like a force field. It was like a bubble had popped. It exploded, everything around us shook. The policemen flew across the room. The one who was on me died instantly from his impact into the wall. The other lay on his side ten feet away, groaning and holding his arm. The pistols they once had in their possession, I picked up and cast off to the side, out of reach, with my mind. The island table holding the deposit slips, withdrawal forms, pens, and pamphlets had scattered everywhere. The table itself had been shredded with only the base of it remained. I was exhilarated and overjoyed with the flow of power. I was free. All those years of not being able to demonstrate my power because of the fear of exposure had been eliminated. I could use the power as the people watched the destruction and feared me! The teller cowered behind the counter riddled with debris and papers. I smiled. I was so hungry to use it freely, as though I'd been locked in a cellar without food for a week with no hope of survival. I turned and walked towards the glass door, so shiny and clean. I focused my power, crashing glass blew out everywhere, it was delightful! I stepped through the empty door frame, the glass crunched under the soles of my shoes. I had no need to worry about the crowds anymore. They needed to worry about me and my newly found freedom. I walked to the right as I exited. Some of the onlookers were staring. They had no clue of the miracle they had partaken. It was history in the making. I was so high and so full of power. I strode with so much pride, my head held high, my shoulders were back, my hair waved in the breeze as I strutted like a model on the runway. I enjoyed every eye on me, loved it. More sirens were approaching. What a turn out. It was extremely exciting to know there would be more pain to inflict. Three patrol cars approached. They drove right past me, in route to First National I assumed. I was so awesome and consuming to the crowd. I heard the police officers from behind me.

"Stop or I'll shoot!" I stopped. I turned toward them raising my hands into the air at the ready. One of them edged to the right of me while the other two approached me from the front. They approached cautiously even though they could see I wasn't armed with a physical weapon.

"You stop," I pronounced wittily with a calm smoothness to my voice, obviously confident and ready. They ignored me thinking they were the ones in charge, which was not the case. It was far from the case actually and they were sadly mistaken. Their underestimation would be their undoing. I blasted the two officers to the front of me high into the air. They flew higher than the height of their own bodies. When would they stop, a quarter of a block, a half a block? How about three quarters of a block! They hit the cement with crushing force completing three or four revolutions before all movement ceased. They were dead.

Now it's your turn.. I turned abruptly toward the third cop. He growled at me. He was ready to strike. He stood only a few feet away. With my arms at my sides, I turned my right palm to him. I could feel the atoms collecting and the pressure building. There was so much power! The cop looked down at my glowing hand, astounded. I hit him full force. The street opened, catching his body like a catcher on the mound at a baseball game. The ball smacking into his mitt with such force as the batter struck out. A passing car was his maker. He was the ball slamming into the passenger window of the car, ass first. The back of his head smacked the door frame, shattering his skull. The driver panicked from the crash as the glass beaded in on him. His head hit the steering wheel. He looked up, trying to regain control, and reached toward the pain on his forehead. The blood coated his fingertips. I just stood there watching him as he stared at the fluid on his fingertips shaking from the mere thought that the blood had come from his own body.

Anyone else? I thought to myself as I glanced around, noticing everyone gawking at me. The fire still raged inside me. Gasoline leaked from the crushed car's tank, running onto the pavement. An unexpected BOOM vibrated through the air. The car with the bloody headed driver had exploded. The automobile it collided with went up in flames also. The feelings of shock and delight both ran through my mind. I had jumped at the sound of the explosion and then realized what had happened caused me to feel happiness at the occasion. People screamed as it rocked the nearby buildings. Some of the windows shattered. The beings inside slammed to the floor in reflexive action. Glass, fire, and chaos, I stood there staring. The heat was so intense. My hair flowed. My dark silhouette was so evil and destructive. My brain began to collect my own thoughts back. I had lost it, I was out of control; this thing had a hold on my mind, my sanity was gone, strapped to a bed in an institution of my own sub conscious, swimming with power and guilt! I could feel the heat from the burning metal nearby, hearing screams of pain from the people I had harmed filled the air, flooding my mind with joy and rage, how could these emotions mix so powerful and yet, helpless like a child in a department store who had gotten too engrossed in the dream of possessing a toy on the shelf, his mother not realizing, walking away, leaving the tot behind. He tries in desperation to find his mother when someone helps him, a man. They exit the store into the parking lot, separated forever. I had lost control, in a vise squeezing my head near explosion, this gift, this curse. It had complete power over me, how could I have let this happen? The fires blaze on, no telling when they would subside, burning flesh and hair filling my nostrils, so disgusting I vomit a little, my stomach convulsing involuntarily. The bitter, rancid smell of gasoline filled the air, calming my gut. It was almost attractive and intoxicating to my senses, like a wonderful perfume on a beautiful woman. Then, darkness overcame me, the air, the smells, the sights, the sensory and dissonance that surround me no longer exist...slipping...unconsciousness...

"Now here I am in a cage. You have me contained. It is understandable after what I've done. I would like freedom though." I have begun to understand and am now to the point of request rather than demand.

"Mr. Hudson, I don't know that I can fulfill your request quite yet. I'm not satisfied in your mental stability or your ability to control yourself." His statement was a fair one.

"I'm calm now. There isn't anything to worry about."

"Brandon, you're calm now but there are still things you must be informed about, these things may upset you." This guy does more of an understanding than what I'd thought.

"Like what, could you do anymore damage?" He might as well just get it out of the way. I'd like to get out of here sometime within the near future. If I'm to get angry then let's just get it over with.

"Let's start with the fact that you believe yourself to be possessed by another being, a thing inside your head. This is not the case. It's not even a possibility. The only thing here is you. The genetic discomfort of insanity is the only risk to your wellbeing, not something or someone else thriving inside your mind." There is a level of ridicule to his explanation.

"How is that possible? I've told you, I can feel him taking over my mind. He overpowers me. He makes me stronger. What about all of the bad things that have happened? Explain it to me, how could it be?" My frustration is evident.

"Brandon, your grandfather used to be like you. He was not quite as strong as you, but he was like you. In his early twenties he started to display the craziness. He had fits of uncontrolled rage. They got to the point where your grandmother began to fear for her life. She was there to keep an eye on him and so we could keep tabs and study him. She did a very good job for The Society and was very helpful in her reporting. He had, as you know, gotten to the point where we soon didn't know what to do. We were at a loss in his case. His insanity had become too overwhelming to us and himself. Maybe it came with the power. Maybe his thirst and need made it too much for him to handle. We'll never know, thanks to you."

"I was protecting myself!" This comment angers me highly. I hadn't wanted to kill him and still felt guilt in doing so.

"Were you? Or were you perhaps acting just like him? Your hunger for power, or a territorial kill, maybe? You couldn't have someone else in charge. It was like a battle in the animal kingdom. The old worn out stallion in the herd getting stomped, nipped, and eventually banished by the younger one of the herd, one of his own. I believe this was the case whether you'd like to admit to it or not. I apologize for thinking so but we must substantiate a level of honesty and trust between us here." His explanation made complete sense although after already having searched my soul for what happened that night, I know this wasn't the case.

"Okay allow me be honest with you then, there's no way in hell I could have done any of the things on my own accord. I'm no murderer!" I am very appalled by the thought that anyone would have this idea about me.

"Brandon, hear me out, I've told you before. We can help you. I can help you. We are here to aid you in your abilities. You can control it, you have the means. You haven't been taught how yet, but I will teach you before it's too late, before your mind is no longer yours." More and more of the explanations from him are getting through my thick head but I still remain standoffish, a natural defense mechanism in my self-appointed solitude.

"What could you possibly have to teach? You don't know anything about what goes on inside my head." I have so many questions and hopes but I don't want things to get me too enthused yet. He hasn't proven anything. I still have no idea what he knows about me. He obviously knows about my family but there is no way he can explain the workings of my brain.

"I know more than you think. I've already told you that. I'm not going to explain anything further now. We have so much work and catching up to do. In order for me to get you to the place you need to be for you to be healthy, you're going to have to trust me. Now, can you be calm and stay that way? Do you feel you can trust me enough to let me help you? Perhaps you need more time to collect?" There are so many questions, so many answers. There is so much knowledge to be obtained still.

"Would you mind letting me just sit in here for a minute? I'll be fine. I'm clear. I just need a few moments to think and reflect on all of this. I want out but I can't take any risks. Can you just give me a few moments?" I honestly don't want anything to ruin the opportunity I've been given. I can snap at any given moment, I know that now. I have to wait just to be sure I can be calm.

"Alright, take your time. Just let me know when you are ready. I'll be nearby."

"Thank you." I go to the corner with my back resting against the wall and sit down on the floor. It is all so upsetting, all of the things I've done wrong, all of the destruction and damage to lives and loved ones. In all of my selfishness there have been so many lives taken by my hands. A tear escapes my duct and runs down my cheek. I have so much guilt. I'm so sorry. This is my repentance. All of my life there has been nothing but excuses, just like my mother when she'd pick me up from school. I am always forgiving myself and not taking the blame for any of my mistakes. I'd made him up. He's been my brain's way of allowing me to be crazy. I've been enabling my own abuse of power and my thirst for violence. I'm so sorry, God, forgive me. My soul will never be clean, not after all of the souls I'd donated before their time. Deep breathes escape my lungs. My crying is to refresh my mind, cleaning it out. It is a small part in a new beginning. Or, so I think.

"Alright, I'm ready." My announcement and request for freedom to be granted is made. A moment passes, click.

"Okay, step away from the wall and watch your head." The voice was sounding over the loudspeaker again. I stand and take one step forward as the whole room begins to move. It goes upward, into the sky. The metal scraps loudly in the background. The sound echoes like nails on a chalkboard. My skin crawls a little sending a shiver down my spine into my toes. The room is now high overhead. It's just a box, like a trap in the cartoons, with the stick holding it up with the bait centered in the middle of it. A small piece of string is attached to the stick. The trap never works though no matter how hard the villain tries. My surroundings are vast. I'm in a warehouse of some sort. There's a booth in front of me, it's rectangular in shape like a miniature box car from a train. I see a smiling face peering out at me from the window. He looks very interesting to me, matching a voice to a face is always a pleasurable experience.

"Well, Brandon, we finally meet in person." He's still speaking into the microphone strategically placed in front of him on the tabletop. Click. He abandons his post, taking a right and exiting through the door. It opens as he steps out of the booth. This whole experience is now reminding me of the scene from the Wizard of Oz where Dorothy, the Scarecrow, the Tin Man, and the Lion discover that there is a regular man behind the curtain as Toto pulled back, revealing the Wizard. He is suited in black Armani with a light blue shirt. The ensemble is completed eloquently with a blood red silk tie. His highly polished black shoes reflect the light from overhead. He's an older man, perhaps in his early sixties. He is very handsome. A round nose, well defined cheekbones, thick neck, and a perfectly toothed smile. His eyes decorated with crow's feet framing them in their dark brown hue. Full ebony locks top his head. He steps down the three steps leading to the concrete floor. He then turns to me, outstretching his hand as he nears. A curious yet welcome handshake is offered. I return the favor; my hand meets his and grips firmly, shaking it.

"Hello, Brandon, my name is Daniel and it is my pleasure to finally meet you in person." He gives me another smile and nod.

"It's a pleasure, Daniel, nice to finally meet my capturer." I release a small laugh. Our grips release. "What now?" I inquire.

"Now we begin our adventure, a new beginning for you. I intend to give you the training you require to enable control. Well, soon we will do that. First, I think we will go to my house and relax, maybe something to eat and some freshening up first?"

"Where will we go?" I ask, trust yet to be established. My whole life there is only one person I've believed in heart and soul and that is my grandmother. She partook in a majority of my raising and she's the kindest, most caring person I've ever met.

"Brandon, you'll be fine, come with me." He places a hand on my shoulder guiding me into the opposite direction in which I'm standing. I turn to face the door. This place is gigantic, it echoes our footsteps, they bounce off the walls like ping pong balls. We walk towards the door situated a couple of hundred feet away. The walk seems as though it takes forever. When we finally reach our destination, Daniel reaches for the metal knob and turns the handle. As the door opens, the sunlight floods in onto my face, another blinding of the eyes again. The heat is comfortable and welcome. That room had been surprisingly cool, the surrounding stone and concrete held in the night temperatures. The sweat I'd worked up prior to my being caught made me feel as though a sheet of ice had formed on my body.

"What time is it?" I never wore a watch. There was never a real need to know what time it was for me. I knew my alarm clock at home woke me up for work and the clock in my truck told me if I was going to be late but other than that there was no need to know.

Daniel pulls his jacket sleeve back and glances down "It's nearly seven o'clock in the evening." He then replaces his sleeve and drops his arm.

"Where are we?" The question hadn't really come to mind until seeing the surroundings outside of the building and realizing they are much different from what I was used to.

"We're in Dallas, Brandon."

"Dallas? Dallas, Texas? How'd I get from Detroit to Dallas?" I was in shock. I'd traveled so far and hadn't known it until now.

"I had to get you away in order to save you. Do you know what they would've done to you once you'd gone unconscious, much worse than anything I did, I promise you that. I hope you understand?" He was right, I knew that he was and that was the scary part.

"Yeah, I guess I understand but Dallas of all places, why not Cancun or the Bahamas, someplace eloquent and exotic? Wouldn't that be more fitting for some foreign secret society?" My line of questioning seemed to have him a bit miffed.

"We chose Dallas because it seemed to be the logical place at the time. We are still in America but we are centralized in North America and it also makes the escape across the border quicker, if you get my meaning? I had to get you away before the authorities realized what was going on. For being so smart and keeping your secret for so long, you sure blew your whole load all at once, eh? Don't worry, I'll never allow that to happen again." I feel a load lift from my shoulders. Daniel has a way of making people relax. He's what you'd refer to as a people person, meaning he knows how to be convincing and reassuring to most everyone around him. His voice is calming and reassuring. Having just met, I find it a little odd, but welcoming.

The sun begins to drop in the sky, dusk is nearing. I am wearing plain running shoes, blue jeans, and a navy blue t-shirt. The words PARTY HARD decorate the front obnoxiously in bold white lettering. Obviously I hadn't been trying to impress anyone today although it did take a horrible turn in the opposite direction. I'm sure I have many people still in awe after the events earlier. The people at the bank had no idea what happened to the windows or the police. Everything that had occurred today was very clear to me and was making me feel a little uncomfortable. I was envisioning the police officer penetrating the vehicles window and the driver's reaction, the collision of the cars and the explosion to follow. What a story for the bystanders to tell at the evening's supper tables. I can hear it now, "this guy walked into the First National Bank on Washington today, I was just standing there minding my own business, he was looking all sweaty and crazy..." Even though the end result was violent and not humorous, thinking about the mark I've made makes me giggle. Nothing like that will ever happen ever again. Daniel has made me a promise and for some reason I believe him. A black limousine waits for us in front of the building, I'd been so lost in thought I hadn't even realized it until now. What else would a secret society have but a limo, and of course it would be black and mysterious. I've never been in a limo. I guess there's a first time for everything. Daniel opens the door to the car for us himself. The sophistication of a driver opening the door for him is apparently unnecessary, making him that much more attractive to me in personality. I always felt those rich people who relied on their servants were some of the most annoying people in existence.

"I am a self-sufficient person who doesn't need servitude." Once again, I was impressed. It was as if he'd read my mind. I glance around, open deserted fields of grass and sand all around with a random newly seeded bush and Joshua tree. I'm sure it won't be long before this place is crawling with the little critters you see on the Discovery Channel or Animal Planet, the ones that only come out to hunt during the cooler hours of the night. The building is the only thing made by human hands within miles from what I can see. I'm going to take a wild guess here but I'll assume this as a safety precaution just in case I couldn't have been contained. I'm happy to know Daniel has this much faith in the strength of my abilities. He's taken a huge step in order to keep me and knowing this makes me feel very important.

With the door open, I step inside. I observe the smooth white, leather seats, so luxurious and comfortable. After being in a small ass room containing nothing to relax on, these seats are very inviting.

"You know, placing a chair or something of comfort in the box would've been nice. What would you have done if you hadn't convinced me so quickly?" I break the silence with my inquisition of curiosity.

"That would've provided you with something to bash the walls apart. That probably wouldn't have been a good idea. Brandon, what do you take me for an idiot?" He gives an uneasy giggle. "Besides, yea of little faith, you underestimate my knowledge of you. I knew you'd succumb quickly. What did you think I've been doing all my life? Surely I haven't been wasting away and not figuring you out." The partition is comprised of glass tinted in such a dark shade that you can't even see a shadow on the other side. I sit in the seat closest to the separation. The seats are so comfortable, cushioning my underside. I'm sorry now that I've never been in one of these before. Daniel sits across from me closing the door behind him. A small table bolted to the floor a bit to the right of where I'm seated. A miniature refrigerator stands next to it.

"Would you care for something to drink, a screwdriver perhaps?" Once again, reading my mind. They had definitely done a lot of watching I do know that much. For him to even know what my drink of choice is, it's almost creepy.

"Oh, you have no idea, please." Daniel grabs a couple of drinking glasses from the deep walnut brown wood shelf mounted to the side of the refrigerator. The shelf resembles a pool cue holder, the holes at the bottom being much larger in circumference for the bases. He places the glasses on the table and reaches into the icebox. He pulls out some orange juice and the Stoli vodka. The glasses are crystal, they look so pure and delicate and big enough to contain three shots in each. One shot will have to do for now. He pours the vodka generously. It leaves a frosty layer of condensation on the outside of the glass, even with the level of its contents. The orange juice pours thickly, mixing the liquids with the pour. Immediately upon the completion of the drink pouring, I help myself rudely, almost greedily to one. I begin gulping it down, feeling the heat of the vodka as it coats my throat and flows into my stomach.

"Cheers," he announces as I'm still drinking. Mine's almost half gone before the glass escapes Daniel's lips. I swallow what remains in my mouth. I stop and move the glass away from my lips.

"Sorry." I tip my glass to him in apology.

"It's understandable, Brandon." He returns the tip of the glass in acceptance of the apology. I resume drinking, not to be rude but I need this drink so badly right now. All of the stresses of the day are being relieved through the abuse of the alcohol. How something so bad can feel so good is a question I don't have an answer for. The heat of the vodkas' alcohol rushes to my brain as the glass empties into my mouth. I look out the windows, watching as the sun begins to set. All of the shades of color combine in the skyline. The blue blends with the orange radiating into the red, a brilliant combination contained within the sunset. The city approaches. I start to see houses, followed by tall buildings. I'm in utter anticipation of the knowledge in which I am soon to discover. After all these years of observation how could there not be so much education in store for me? With me in The Society's possession, I can only dream that my power will be found, maximized, and most importantly, controlled. We enter the city via the highway, passing buildings and multiple cars, semi-trucks, taxis, and vans. The vastness of the big city will take some getting used to. I'd spent all my life living in a small town outside of Detroit with no rush hour traffic and no hurriedness to the day. There had been just relaxation and daily enjoyment in the slow pace of both work and play. We travel the entire length of the city and exit out the other side. The orb of the bright lights bounces off the smog covered atmosphere above the city.

"Where are we going?" I inquire of Daniel.

"We're almost there, my good man." He responds to my inquisition. Immediately following his response, the limo veers off the interstate onto the off ramp. It then comes to a stop at the crest in front of the stop sign marking the four way intersection. The car then continues on to the right. Houses and streetlamps scatter the suburbia. All of the yards are beautiful with a random sprinkler watering the grass which had been parched from the day's heat. Trees are scattered in a brilliant plan to save the nature amongst the human inhabitants. All of these homes obviously house families consisting of at least four members. I am sure there is probably the random person living in loneliness, the home being so vast and the acreage way beyond their minimal needs. The dwelling purchased with the possibility of one day finding a love in which to fill it with a family. It is entirely possible also that they had lost their family, the emptiness of the place being a constant reminder of that loss. Either scenario was sad to me.

The car rounds a steep corner, the houses scattered behind us. The tree line begins slowly and starts to thicken; there are no lights here. This area is secluded. It reminds me of a place you'd bring someone to finish them off and dump the body, not ever to be discovered. A small glow in the trees appears as we slow down. We take a right turn, off the roadway onto a drive. A heavy cast iron gate blocks the entrance. It begins to part while we sit in front of it, welcoming us in our arrival. The driveway seems to go on forever. We finally crest the forest. A glorious mansion of a house awaits us. A typical secret society stereotype again. First a limo, now this house, I can't wait to see what other ordinarily secret things don't surprise me this evening. A tiny snicker of amusement escapes my lips.

"What?" Daniel asks.

"Nothing," my response, "so ordinary and expected I guess." I feel a little bad having to express my feelings to him like this but I have to be honest with him.

"Ordinary, that's an interesting use of the word. I've always thought 'extravagant' would be the word used to describe our society's accommodations." He's amused by my comment.

"Well you have to admit it is stereotypical, all of this secret society stuff. It makes me laugh a bit." I was apologetic in my words.

"Why?" His curiosity had gotten a hold of him and now he required an explanation from me. He projects a level of childlike innocence and honesty.

"Let me just say stereotypically ordinary and let's just leave it at that, alright?" I was hoping my reasoning was enough because I really don't want to get into it at this point.

"Fine then, are you ready?" He was settled and that makes me happy to know.

The car enters the roundabout and halts at the front door. The granite stairs climb to the double doors of the gray brick home. The house is fantastic. It's huge and simply amazing. I've never seen a house like this before, besides in the movies. A fountain focused in the center of the roundabout, the water spews from the gargoyle's mouth into the pool below, bubbling delightfully. The squared off hedges line the edge of the short walkway leading to the stairway. They run along the house all the way around. I lose sight of them in the darkness. I can see the shadows of the vines crawling up the sides, covering the dwelling in a thick overgrowth of green ivy. It consists of two stories of home with what looks to be at least twenty windows on this side alone. I am amazed. Huge dome shaped sconces attached on either side of the French doors shine brilliantly. Two old fashioned street lamp style light posts at the outer edges of the roundabout light the way perfectly. As I step out of the vehicle I notice the cobblestone drive at my feet. It adds its own brilliance in the presentation of the home.

"Come on, Brandon." Daniel's voice breaks my concentration, I hadn't realized in all my amazement that I was spacing out and lost in the moment. I'd taken some time to myself in order to gather everything in. As I snap back to reality, I shake it off and follow behind Daniel. He approaches the stairs, quickly ascending them in groups of two. He's very comfortable with his environment. I take them a little slower, still trying to absorb the reality of everything. The fluttering butterflies invade my insides with the excitement of everything around me.

I get to the top of the stairs and he goes directly for the door. He reaches for the handle. The door opens on its own! A woman stands in the doorway. It takes me a few moments to focus on the figure and realize who it is. What is my grandmother doing here? She just stands there ogling me. She looks so beautiful. She's wearing a casual solid yellow sundress with pearls around her neck and in her ear lobes. Flip flops protect the bottoms of her feet. This can't be her, she's so free and happy looking. She rushes to giving an unexpected hug. I react quickly, returning her welcome with pleasure, squeezing her hard. I haven't felt this way since I was a little boy arriving at the farm for the summer, having anticipated it for the rest of the year. She's been so good to me. She's been protective, pretty much raising me for the majority of my childhood. I owe her so much in life and have every intention of repaying my debt. I don't know how she'd been able to live with my grandfather for all those stressful years. She lost so much time in her life, poor woman. She's so strong, so great, and so beautiful and she is the person in my life who I love with every fiber of my being! We relax our embrace, my hands slowly descend her back and I step away from her a little.

"Come on in, my dear." Her voice is so crisp and confident in its presentation. I am still a little confused as to what exactly is going on. Wait, Daniel did say she was the link between me and The Society. She was the informant of my well-being and my caretaker.

"How are you, Bran?" She refers to me as Bran on occasion.

"Good, Gramms. I'm a little surprised and overwhelmed by the events of today, but still good."

"Daniel has already revealed everything to you then I'll assume? I'd hoped he would prior to your arrival." She showed a sign of relief. "I'm sorry. I know it's a lot to digest all at once."

She had no idea. My brain hadn't stopped swimming in the flood of it all since it first started being explained. I'm still feeling like a swimmer surrounded by murky lake water with my eyes open, trying to find a lost article at the bottom in the sand.

"Yes, Gramms, I think he's informed me of all I can take for one day, can we just relax a bit? My brain can't take anymore right now." I exhale with force to express my stress a little more.

"Sure. Are you hungry, my poor baby? I've cooked up a little something for us to nibble on. A beef roast, baby carrots, and some mashed potatoes." My Gramms always prepared meals like a madwoman in a café full of hungry truck drivers.

"Oh yeah, I'm starving!" I hadn't realized just how famished I'd been until the mention of food. My stomach was aching it was so empty. It was growling at me like a troubled dog left chained in the back yard with no one paying attention to him, the presence of strangers angering him. As we enter, the aromas greet my senses. The atmosphere is filled with deliciousness. My mouth instantly begins to water, the flood gates have opened. As a child, I remember how great my grandmother was in the kitchen. She wasn't a professional gourmet chef, but she could hold her own, especially during the holidays. The glorious smell of freshly baked cookies, cupcakes with frosting topped with Christmas colored candies, and pies: pumpkin, assorted berry, and apple. The small farm house could have actually gained flight into the heavens from the wonderfulness of all the aromas, they were so deliciously inviting. She always put maximum effort into making sure the holiday season was memorable, even with my grandfather's involvement, in all his unmistakable attempts to ruin everything. Baking was grandma's specialty, as I assume is the case with most grandmothers, especially around the holidays. It's a pity that most of my childhood memories about her revolved around food, they are very good memories though. My mind goes to one particular Christmas Eve, the one involving my grandfather's death. I feel so sorry, my poor, sweet and thoughtful Gramms having to go through all that crap in her life.

"I'm alright, dear, don't worry about me." My thoughts are interrupted. "My life has been very satisfying and now, with you here I'm complete. I have no regrets." I then remember what Daniel had told me earlier about my grandmother. Why she was there, the reason she was chosen, her personal abilities. Her talent for touching feelings and reading minds was the reason for her intervention in the first place.

"I can only read what is readily available to me, those thoughts and feelings projected from the surface, Bran, I can't dig very deeply. Your innermost ones are safe from my prying, don't worry." She looks at me with such caring eyes.

"Gramms, stop that, it makes me uncomfortable." I was talking about her mind reading mostly but also her stare.

"I had to express myself to you, my dear." It's her explanation and change of subject. "Now let's eat."

We enter the dining room, or dining hall should I say. A huge, cherry colored table, probably fifteen feet in length and five feet wide, it was looking lonely in the middle of the room. Its only company being the several matching chairs surrounding it, their seats white satin. They succumb to their leader, bowing before its vastness. The carefully prepared meal barely lands on the table before it makes its way hastily to my plate and into my gut. So delicious, pleasing my palette so perfectly. Every morsel is scrumptious. I'm hardly chewing and yet enjoying every bit of it. In my mind, my grandmother is a culinary artist. It is a wonder I don't lick my plate, although that would come off as a bit childish and rude. We complete our meal by finishing with a soft, smooth, sweet red desert wine, apparently sparing no expense. I'd never been one who enjoys wine of any sort. I'm more of a vodka man, as you already know. The wine flowed so sweetly down my throat, it was simply delicious.

"Thanks, Gramms. That was the best meal I've had in a very long time, as usual." I was satisfied now.

"Anytime, dear, I'm sure you're tired." She was definitely right about that.

"I'm exhausted!" I exclaim.

"Alright, let me show you to your room then." We stand. I exchange pleasantries with Daniel and follow my grandmother to the enormous winding staircase near the entrance. It reminds me of a scene from a movie. A scene where the lady of the house awaits her love at the top, the crowd attending the party that evening all cease every action so they can gasp at the sheer beauty of her. He stands near the bottom, watching her approach and then she begins her graceful descent. She loses her foothold. Her high heels, the accents to the evening gown, are the end of her gracefulness. The deadly fall takes her soul. The railing is solid, highly polished, and smooth sandstone. It's white and purely flawless. The paintings and tapestries that dress the wooden walls are illustrious and exquisite. We reach the landing at the top. The red carpet cushions the floor continuing along the banister to the wall opposite us. The ceilings are high; a skylight observing the night's constellations overlooks the entire center of the house, its shape like a dome above. All of the décor has a renaissance touch to it, Da Vinci's, Donatello's, Bellini's, Bruegel's, and Michelangelo's all sharing a space under one roof, sharing the spotlight in the show. Obviously not originals, at least I don't think they are, but pleasant and magnificent none the less.

I continue following Gramms. We pass the first door, the next door. We stop at the third door in the line. It's a dark walnut door with a bright brass knob and the old skeleton key hole still intact. She reaches for it and turns the knob. The door opens freely and easily with no old creak, it is silent. I am surprised by the quietness of the hinges.

"Here you are, my dear." She outstretches her arm gracefully in a welcoming gesture.

"Thanks, Gramms. I love you." I give her a soft peck on the cheek. I worship her very essence and being. If there is anyone in my life to look up to, she's the one.

"I know, darling. Get some rest and pleasant dreams."

"Night, Gramms," I respond as I enter the bedroom. She reaches in and shuts the door leaving me to my thoughts and in isolation. The sleeping room is just as impressive as everything else in the home. Plush blood red silky curtains with a golden tassel tie back accenting the massive single paned window. A sheer curtain hangs underneath it, the night in view beyond the cover. The king-sized bed welcomes me. It calls to me loudly, my brain floods with the images of cotton filled fields lined with golden flowers and lush grass. It's a welcome resting place, just lying there staring up into the night sky. I watch the clouds pass as the gentle breeze touches my skin. The covers on the bed are a rich crimson satin, everything in the room matching so perfectly, all unison and related.

I'm so tired, what a day! I strip myself of my constrictions, my clothing, down to my boxers, my sleeping attire. I peel back the covers and tuck myself into them. I'm so comfortable, so...asleep...

Chapter Sixteen

Just the Beginning

I wake with an abruptness, forgetting where I am then quickly relaxing again realizing where I am. I need to use the bathroom. I need to find it now. In all of my haste and selfishness for sleep I hadn't bothered to inquire about the bathroom. I guess the adventure will now begin and hurriedly. I throw on my undershirt. I have to show some decency in the event of Gramms wandering the hallway. I head to the door, hoping this doesn't take too long, I may not make it.

"Which way do I go?" I ask myself. I figure continuing down the hall in the direction in which we had approached initially would be the safest way. We'd walked past the other doorways in route to the bedroom and it would be a comfortable assumption that a bathroom door would be left ajar in any instance. All of the previous doors were closed. "To the right it is then," I say to myself. I pass one door, and another, then another. This hall seems never ending. I'm relieved that my urge for urination has subsided a little in my venture; otherwise I'd be leaking through my drawers right now and severely embarrassed.

I hear a voice nearby. It becomes closer as I near the next door. It's nearly three o'clock in the morning. Why would anyone still be awake? A little bit of light spills into the hallway through the narrow crack in the door.

"He's here," I hear Daniel speaking quietly, "I know, I know, give me a little time." Silence follows as I peer beyond the sliver and into the room. I can only see the back of his head and he's holding a telephone to his ear. "I told you, it's not going to be an overnight event. He's worse off than we'd suspected. I need some time. It's going to take some time." He adjusts in the seat.

"Alright then, I'll report more as the events unfold. Good bye." Then the electronic beep of the telephone as he hangs it up.

He can't know that I've overheard his conversation though not very informative, one sided, but still. I quickly pad my way back to my sleeping quarters before he exits the room. I slip back inside and close the door silently, thank God for the soundless door. My heart races in my chest, the adrenaline flowing intensely. There is nothing anyone can do to me with my powers. I can't help feeling a little excitement. Suddenly my life is going to be more interesting. I have nothing to worry about. Although I have limitations I can handle anything. I'll just hang on and learn what Daniel has to teach me. When the time comes and if it's necessary I'll disappear. It's a simple plan on my part. Right now though, I still have to pee. With the rush of things, the urge has returned full force. It's nearly tripled in intensity. I hope this window opens. I slide the pane up and open the flap on the front of my boxers...ah, relief.

The sunlight pours into the room through the sheers, I'm so thankful for the new day. Although I'm still tired, the abuse of my power would be almost sinful right now, closing the curtains with my mind as I've done in the past so many times. I won't do it though, not now. I'll just greet the day instead. I have some curiosities that need entertaining anyway. Daniel's little telephone conversation last night has my interest sparked. I swing my feet to the floor, just as I do there's a light rapping on the door.

"Brandon?" The door opens just a crack, its Gramms. "I thought you could use these." She cradles in her arms some clothing and some sandals hang from her fingertips. I get up and greet her, taking her offerings.

"Thanks, Grandma, I really appreciate it." I give her a good morning smile.

"The bathroom and shower are located in the third door to the right, further down the hall." Damn, I was so close. One more door further down the hallway and I could've saved myself from having to pee out the window last night.

"Alright, Gramms, thanks again." She leaves, closing the door behind her. I check out my new duds. The leather sandals are the kind you can run in without worrying about them flying off due to the security strap around the back of the heel. A pair of regular blue jeans and a plain silky brown short sleeved button down shirt all perfectly sized and appareled specifically for me. My Gramms sure knows me, I wish I was able to say the same, with the information newly obtained over the last twenty-four hours I was still trying to let it all sink in. Don't get me wrong. I love her even more now knowing what I've learned over the last few hours. Knowing about her abilities and her patience, her willingness to withstand and put up with my grandfather. She protected me and her children before me, all the while the insanity rounding every corner like a cat sneaking in on the fallen baby bird that'd just been pushed from the nest by its mother in an attempt to teach it to fly without success. It falls from the nest without the successful flight, its ending. She is a strong and powerful person and I respect and love her deeply.

I wander towards the bathroom, which just happens to be the next door past the den. The room I'd eavesdropped Daniel's phone conversation from. As I suspected, the door is open. There is a huge bath and double sinks with golden faucets beautifully framed by a wall sized mirror above them. The bathtub is glorious, white porcelain held up by the four feet that look like the paws of a lion or some other sort of feline. The bath is so inviting, I think a soak is in order. I need to take advantage of the current opportunity and soak my muscles. As I undress I look into the mirror to see bruises on both of my upper arms. The bruising is a deep purple and the markings are rather large, just above the biceps. They resemble finger marks. The impression is still highly noticeable. Where did these come from? How did Daniel get me away from that place on Washington? There's still a lot to learn, and I will in good time. The hot water flows into its basin, the steam rising into the air, fogging the mirror quickly. I lower myself in, the water is so hot. My skin tingles upon entry like tiny pin pricks on my flesh, the pain subsides and becomes quickly comfortable. I lean my back against the cool, gentle slope of the back of the tub; the heat of the water hasn't conducted itself into the porcelain yet. I lie there relaxing and thinking about the events that have occurred recently, making an open ended potential plan. There's so much to absorb. I nod off a bit in my comfort, just for a few seconds. I open my eyes. He's standing there! Standing before me with all of his anger, my heart jumps; his eyes burning into my mind. The water becomes hotter than it already is. It's not the water; it's my flesh becoming higher in temperature. The vase on the ledge near the tub explodes, sending shards in all directions. I lurch forward in the tub. He's gone. He left behind the mess of material on the floor for me to clean before someone notices. I get out of the water, enough relaxation for the morning. I dispose of the pieces into the trash, and get dressed in my new clothes.

I go downstairs into dining room and a breakfast fit for a king awaits, Gramms at it again. Daniel is reading the paper at the end of the table with his coffee cup next to him, so sophisticated. I sit down and prepare to partake in some fresh fruits, scrambled eggs, and bacon. I grab the pitcher of orange juice and pour it into a glass, filling it to the rim.

"We're going to have some company this evening, Brandon." I choke a little on my eggs, I hadn't expected that announcement.

"Oh really? Who?" I ask as politely as I possibly can with the eggs between my choppers.

"Some members of The Society, we're going to have a little meet and greet this evening for you. Are you up to it?" He politely asks even though my response doesn't matter since the invites, the planning, and the preparations have already been made.

"Sure, it sounds exciting." I am a little nervous and excited at the same time. With his announcement the lump in my throat becomes rather large and the butterflies begin to swarm. These people already know me and I have no idea who they are, now I'm going to meet them all at once. I have a lot of reason to be nervous.

"Don't worry, dear, they're all very nice." Gramms is reading my thoughts again.

"I know, maybe that's why I'm nervous, Gramms." They all were aware of everything Daniel was aware of. All of my life's wrongdoings and the blood spilled, that's more of a reason to be nervous above all others.

"We have some work to do today prior to the guests arriving, a little practice and control workings." Daniel interrupts our conversation as he peers over his paper. "I need you to show me what you can do. I know some of your accomplishments but I need some personal viewing."

"I'm looking forward to the display, Dan, without a doubt. May I call you Dan?" I ask the question but the answer really isn't all that important to me, I'll probably call him it anyway. He goes back to his paper as if he doesn't even hear me. I was honestly looking forward to the whole exercise. In fact, to be able to use my power in front of another person is very exciting. We finish our hearty breakfast.

"We'll be practicing in the back yard where it is open to nature and it'll help to free your mind. You need to be able to focus and in case there's a screw up there won't be too much damage caused."

We exit the house through the back door of the kitchen where there's a huge wooden patio directly off of the house. In the center of the patio there's a picnic table with the umbrella attachment in the middle. Off to the side sits an enormous shiny stainless steel gas grill. The yard is well kept. Trees line the exterior of it from one edge to the other, what looks to be, several hundred feet or so. A barely noticeable breeze flows through our hair as we step onto the porch. The sun shines brightly but the day is relatively cool and perfect, undoubtedly comfortable. Everything seems so perfect, almost too flawless actually. Is it possible for things to be too good?

Several random objects scatter the yard, some large, some small. A multi toned green rubber bouncy ball, a rusty old fifty gallon drum, and a wooden shed about six feet by six feet. I don't wait for Dan to give me the go ahead. The fluid starts flowing through my veins, I don't skip a beat. I fling the ball towards his head. It is an inkling of revenge meant for last night's little secret phone conversation about me. Although his not knowing I know about the chat will ultimately be his undoing. All in good fun though, no harm done.

"Hey! Watch it, Brandon, I'm not ready yet. How are you going to learn if you don't listen? You need to control yourself." He's scolding me for the action that was a bit out of line.

"Sorry, I was just trying to lighten the mood. You're so serious all the time." He continues to scowl at me in frustration.

"I understand, but you can't just do things like that when I'm trying to help you. You need to maintain your composure and not abuse your power."

"I get it and once again, I'm sorry." I felt a little bad but not really as much as I should've.

"Now, sit in this chair and relax." He motions to a wooden lawn seat in the middle of the sod a couple hundred feet from the deck. It's covered with a comfortable plush looking cushion. I sit down. Dan assumes a position behind me and places his hands on my shoulders. He speaks into my ear softly.

"Picture the most pleasant, pleasing place you can." His voice is so confident and reassuring to my soul as it echoes in my ear. "Can you see it?" I imagine with my eyes closed, that night at the beach, wearing nothing but my wet boxer shorts on the sand, staring up at the night sky, the crickets and frogs sounding off. The moon was so high in the sky casting a reflection off of the ripples on the water of the lake, so calm.

"Do you have the image that will help you focus? Is it a clear picture in your head?" His questioning is a little excited in tone but I manage to maintain the image.

"Yeah," I say simply not to break the imagery in my mind.

"Keep it there, let it consume you. Now open your eyes while keeping the image, that mantra. That is your mantra. Now focus on the barrel over there." He commands me to do it without being too demanding about it.

A hundred feet from where I sit, the 55 gallon drum waits for me. I'm ready for it. I look at it, I stare at it. It stares back at me, taunting me. The heat surges flow again throughout my body feeling so good, the orgasmic sensations pulsating through my body. The atoms begin to gather and the wind picks up around us. I push them towards the metal of the barrel. The barrel begins to shudder back and forth, the tin rattles. The action is so hard. I've used my power on much bigger things than a 55 gallon drum. Why is this so hard? I ask myself. The drum continues to move side to side. Water starts to splash over the top, out of the rim. Now I have a complete understand why it's so difficult. My eyes strain, the energy begins to drain out of me. The weight of it becomes unbalanced as the water pushes it. It tips over, the contents dumping out onto the morning lawn, splashing everywhere.

"It's so taxing for you because you aren't using the evil as an excuse to accomplish your task. All these years you've been thinking your power came from some wickedness underlying in your mind, giving you more power. Do you understand it yet? The power can be accomplished through good on your own once you gain a steady balance and stop believing in the existence of the thing you'd thought was there." I am only hearing bits and pieces of his explanation due to the strain I'd just experienced.

"It's very hard. I've never had such a hard time with it. Not since I was a little kid anyway." The drainage is still evident in my vocalization.

"You have to remember this, always. If you don't stick to your mantra, if you don't control it, it will control you and take over your head. You will become him. Your grandfather's sanity will be your fate. Do you want that?" My mind was clearing, I understand fully now what he's saying, absorbing his every word. His words are a cold drink of iced tea on a hot summer day. The reality of it all strikes hard. "No, of course, I could never be like him, ever!"

"Keep going then, bring the barrel to you. Use your mantra to obtain the power you need to accomplish it." I close my eyes in order to regain the image. The mental picture reenters and the focus comes back. The breeze picks up again. The heat flows through my veins. The barrel begins to move, still on its side, it starts rolling.

"Stand it up, don't roll it, that's cheating and it takes less effort! Brandon, you need to push yourself harder." Daniel is yelling at me. I can hear him through my focus. I see him in my minds mantra standing in the sand in the moonlight in front of me. I stand the barrel. It raises slowly, the corner digging into the earth as it goes upright. The container continues to move forward as it turns. A dribble of sweat runs down my forehead into the corner of my eye, burning it. Come on, Brandon, I tell myself, stay focused. The barrel begins to lift into the air. My eye is burning so badly. The metal is approaching us quickly. I have to stop it. It continues toward us. It's picking up speed. My eye is burning, stop the burning. It comes straight at me. It smashes into my chest knocking the wind out of me. It hits the ground as my chair topples over backward. Damn it! I will not let you win, a voice deep within my head. I've failed.

"Dan, I can"t do this right now, can we take a break?' The feeling of failure overwhelms me. I know I can do better, I have faith in myself. I'm too tired right now. This display has me whipped out. Why is he still speaking to me, he's not supposed to exist.

"Sure, this is about you right now. I'm trying to help you. If time is what you need, time is what we'll take. There is no rushing this, it has to be perfect." His explanation sounds genuine.

I get up and brush the random sprinklings of dead grass from my clothing. I am so upset and disappointed in myself, my heart sinks. "He will not beat me, I won't let him" I say to myself. We go back inside for a little refreshment and some small talk with Gramms. We sit at the table, Daniel leaves us. I will venture to guess he's going to make another informative phone call. Gramms and I relax as we enjoy some of her freshly baked chocolate chip cookies.

"Brandon, you have to do everything you can to keep this beast suppressed in your soul. You must remember that he does not exist." She looks into my eyes and takes my hand. She's making every effort to comfort me.

"I know, Grandma, it's just so hard. I can control and overcome it but it's taken me over so many times in my life." No excuses, I can't use any more excuses "I'll try harder, I promise."

"Brandon, do you know that your grandfather was just the way you are now in the beginning? He was in denial but, unlike you, he didn't try to fight back. He gave up early. He wasn't a bad person in the beginning, he became that way over time. He abused his power, wasting it. He used it for himself and for his own benefit. His selfishness was his undoing." She continues to comfort me in her explanation of him, "Bran, you have me here to help you. I can help you with my abilities. I will aid you in the control. I will keep your mindset in the right place by stopping you when I feel it going astray. With the combination of mine and...your grandfather's genes, you can do this. I have faith in you. I will not lose you, Bran, not like he was."

"Gramms, I need your help. He is too strong." The desperation in my voice makes it quiver in the expression.

"HE doesn't exist. HE is a figment in your mind. HE is the representation of your insanity, your way of dealing. HE is your excuse, your way of forgiving yourself. If you don't let HIM go, I will lose you. Let HIM go, Brandon, you have to. If not for yourself, for me, I love you too much!" I've never seen her so concerned or frustrated before and it's almost exhilarating to know she has these types of emotions. I've always envisioned her as the housewife and the caretaker of everything.

The reality of the metaphor of this being having existed in me forever and it not being real was overwhelming to me. I believe my grandmother, in all her power and wisdom. Now knowing and understanding the level of her talents, I know she is right. My mind is a jumble and jumping everywhere. My brain feels like one of the popping toys that a child rolls around, the balls contained within bounce and pop forcefully, hitting the interior wall of the surrounding hard cheap plastic bubble, miniature explosions inside it.

"I believe you, Gramms. I really do need your help very badly." I confess my feelings to her knowing that she'll understand me if not verbally then mentally.

"Brandon, I've been here since before your birth anticipating it and I will be here for you so that I don't have to outlive you, even if it's only figuratively speaking. Your death in the healthiness of your mind would probably be worse than your physical death. Although either one would be detrimental to me. I'd die inside having to experience either one."

"Gramms, thank you. I love you." Daniel approaches, the heart to heart conversation comes to an end for now.

"Our guests will be here at seven o'clock this evening. They are eager finally meet you, Brandon. That was expressed by more than one of them."

"I'm excited too, Dan. I can't wait." I'm sure that he can tell from the expression of my voice that I actually can wait but I am excited a little.

"Don't be nervous. Just remember your mantra and everything should go fairly well, don't worry." At least he is confident in the whole thing. I know what I have to do and that is what I plan to do.

"I'll remember, Dan, I promise." I honestly answer him and then I'm overcome by an extreme tiredness. I'm sure that can be blamed on the early display "I think I need a quick nap before the arrival, the last couple of days have taken their toll on my brain." I excuse myself and go to my temporary living quarters up stairs. As I enter the room, I notice the curtains have been drawn. I'll have to blame Gramms again. This mind reading thing is going to drive me crazy if my own issues don't. There's a pair of casual khaki slacks and a navy long sleeved button down shirt, a t-shirt, and some boxers on the chair next to the window. Everything has been set into motion. The anticipation is killing me. I need to sleep. I lie down on the bed.

Chapter Seventeen

Utterly & Completely Society

His eyes are so black and hollow they are frightening. They go straight through my sockets into my soul. The air is dense in here it's so humid and sticky I feel sweaty all over my body, immediately. There are objects flying everywhere. His hair blowing all over the place even though there is no breeze in the barn. I hear the kittens above hissing and screaming. Everything is happening so fast. I'm so hot. Unbearably hot. My clothing is constricting and sticking to my body. He's so intimidating. His face is spooky looking, haunting. His eyes tear open my head, dissecting my brain. I can feel him literally poking and prodding around inside, taking my thoughts. It feels like a worm crawling underneath my skin, wriggling and inspecting, feeling its way around as it moves. It's so intense. It's burning at me, it hurts so badly! I have to stop it, his snooping. I have to stop him. I have to hit him before he hits me. Focus, Brandon, a hard pure focus is necessary. The intense heat is stirring inside me. The strange fiery heat escapes my hands as I hit him with it. His body falls, bloodied. His head turns to me, he is obviously dead, his flesh is blue in tint and his eyes are sunken and losing their liquid contents, drying out, "save me, Brandon" his blackened tongue is noticeable inside his mouth, the words escape raspy and rough...

I wake with a jolt. Well so much for a peaceful sleep. I look at the clock. It's nearing six o'clock anyway. It's time to get ready for yet another evening of stressful fun. I am about to meet the people from The Society that had a hand in almost every part of my life. I am intrigued and excited about all of it and yet a little bit overwhelmed. What I really need right now is to find and control myself. The last thing I need is another loss of control. That could be extremely bad, especially for the company I was about to keep. My ego has been stroked quite a bit throughout this ordeal, not that I really was in need of it. My ego is already much too big for containment as it is. Now not only do I know about my own power but my own grandmother has her gift. I belong to a whole family, a whole bloodline of power. I am delighted, it's wonderful. Now the only issue is in regards to sanity. Supposing I can come to grips with that there will be no telling what I will be able to accomplish. Will I be unstoppable? If only Gramms had passed on her gift to me. I guess she had a little, my intellect for one. What about the fact that I hadn't lost it as early in life as my grandfather had? Maybe The Society's plan had taken its effect on my genetics. I put my thinking on hold so I can get ready. I have another plan before the arrival of our guests anyway.

I dress quickly. My hope is to get a couple of drinks in before the first meeting. I've never attended any social gathering comfortably without partaking in a drink or two prior. Call me an alcoholic if you will but it calms me and I do what I must in order to control myself. I descend the staircase cautiously. I scan in both directions as I near the bottom. I'm looking out for any early arrivals and don't notice any, what a relief. My grandmother approaches looking as beautiful as ever. Her hair is up off of her shoulders. Pearls apparently are her gem stone of choice. They accent her off-white evening gown which is a very expensive cocktail dress. It flows freely down off her hips from above. Her shoes are quarter heeled pumps of creamy white, making the pearls stand out all the more. She reminds me of Glenda, the Good Witch of the North from the Wizard of Oz.

"Well, Brandon, feeling better?" My grandmother asks as she hands me a martini filled to the rim.

"A little...thanks." I take the beverage of deliciousness from her, the glass frosty on the outside, it contains the clear vermouth and vodka, the olive on the toothpick rounding the rim of the glass as she hands it, partially tipping it. I tip the glass to my lips, savoring it, it's dry and smooth, the vodka overpowering the vermouth sliding down my gullet. The alcohol in the vodka immediately penetrates my brain, calming my nerves, so good, gone. Maybe the whole mind reading thing is a blessing in disguise. The nightmare flashes momentarily in my brain, those eyes.

"Soon those too will pass, my dear." Hating her words and at the same time knowing she's right. Just finding out yesterday after twenty eight years that my own grandmother can literally read my thoughts is something that's going to take some time to get used to.

"Thanks, Gramms. That was good." I look at my empty glass, trying to get beyond the haunting images in my mind.

"You're welcome. I'm going to assume you'd like another? Let's take the next with a little less haste, eh?" she gives me a little half smile with a little scolding behind it.

"Sorry, nerves." I know she understands. She's just doing her grandmotherly duty.

"It's alright, go sit in the Great Room, I'll get you another and meet you in there.' She motions to her right towards a large archway to my left. It looks like an entrance to an arena, the gladiators of the Greek past entering a battle to the death. She walks towards the dining room and I lose sight of her. Upon entry to the arena I observe the décor. It's as elegant as every other room in the house. The huge windows are bordered with royal blue curtains like the kind in the movie theaters, the thick velvet ones on either side of the movie screen. They are held back with thick rope tasseled at the ends. A bookshelf lines the wall, containing thousands of books. They are all literary masterpieces, classics, Hemmingway, Dickenson just to name a few. All of the wonderful novels of yesteryear, all originally bound, it's a miraculous sight for anyone who appreciates literature of this caliber.

Daniel sits in waiting with a cigar in hand and an empty martini glass sits on the coffee table in front of him. The renaissance has fluidity throughout the entire house's being. It is marvelously decorated at every turn. There's a large overstuffed sofa and rich matching chairs at either end of the table. They add to the perfection of the room for the entertainment qualities when the guests are contained in it. A large oak grandfather clock stands in the corner watching over the room, it's taller than an average man with the width the same. I walk over to it, admiring its craftsmanship in its woodwork. The smoothness of the edging, the grooves tapered inward making the contents of the glass encasement the focus of the piece. The giant brass pendulum rocks back and forth with all of its weight a strain on itself. An angel's upper torso and wings escape the crest at the top of the clock, her wings spread wide. The detail of every feather finely carved into the oak, nothing missed. Her face is so smooth and perfect. It's turned to the side with her eyes closed, shyly scoffing at anyone gawking at her beauty, melancholy in appearance. A tiny satisfied smile on her face, just to look upon this glorious figure gives me a feeling of calm redemption. I'm in love with this heavenly frozen figure etched out of oak.

"Here you are, dear." Gramms breaks my love spell by handing me another drink.

"Thanks." I realize then that Daniel hasn't said anything to me. He just sits there apparently enjoying his cigar. The sweet aromatic flavor of it fills the room. The smoke is thick and gray, billowing around everything and dissipates slowly into nothingness. I take a sip from my glass, she'd made this one a bit stronger than the last, possibly realizing my need for it. Thanks again Gramms.

"You're welcome, dear." Before any response can escape me there is a loud chiming echo throughout the house. The grandfather clock begins its hollow, delightful bong. I feel the vibrations in my chest. It is followed with a ding dong of a doorbell. I jump a bit, a small drop of liquid landing on my hand.

Daniel stands up from his seat. "Are you ready, Brandon?"

"As ready as I'll ever be, Dan." He walks towards the door, Grandma grabs my arm, cradling it in hers locking at the elbows, she pats my hand in reassurance. She glances at me with a smile. I return one nervously in her direction as we approach the door.

Standing near the entrance like the British Royal Guard at Buckingham Palace, sturdily waiting as Daniel opens the door. A gaggle of people standing out on the stoop, could I be more overwhelmed with all of them arriving at once? My heart flies out of my chest, my throat shrinks like a grape in the hot desert sun turning to a raisin. My brain begins to tingle. I feel like a nervous child who is about to sit on Santa's lap at the mall. I'm excited about getting to tell him what I'd like for Christmas and at that exact moment when I sit upon his lap I look up at him. I notice the redness of his cheeks and his beard staring down at me, I forget what it is I'm going to tell him. They are all dressed in expensive clothes, so elegantly attired. Was this all for me? An older man and woman in their mid-forties enter first. She's wearing in a bright red dress with onyx colored stones around her neck, her black hair up, showing off the long giraffe-like skinniness of it. He is decked out as all the other gentlemen, in a casual suit. A suit jacket, a couple are navy blue and a couple tan, all with ties of assorted colors.

"Brandon, it is a pleasure to finally meet you in person." She says upon entry "I'm Sharon Westfield and this is my husband Tom." She grabs my hand, one of her palms on top of mine. She's smiling ear to ear.

"It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Westfield," I respond politely, my voice shaking a little. Tom then follows in gripping my hand tightly, shaking it with enthusiasm and excitement, almost spasmodically. My nerves begin to calm with each greeting. Gramms was right, all very pleasant and welcoming, easing my tensions at each turn.

Daniel announces "The Chesters," "The Cruises," "The Brooks," and finally "The Maddox's." I shake the last hand of the evening, ten vigorous and enthusiastic members in all. I thank God the greetings are over. The crowd still gathers around me, they gab with my grandmother and Daniel, than Mrs. Maddox turns towards me.

"Oh, Brandon, there's someone I'd like to introduce you to." Great, another person, as if I haven't met enough people already. I turn towards the door with her gesture, there she is, the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. My heart stops, it misses a beat. Then its beat begins again with furiousness. It's almost painful. My knees become weak, all of the blood pumping to other places, stealing the flow from my brain. Her hair is long dark brown, wavy and flowing down her back and ending around the shoulder blades, a grouping on either side to the front of her shoulders. Her eyes are a deep, rich brown like honey and shaped like almonds. Her face is made up to perfection, lightly eye shadowed and lined in black to extenuate her gorgeous eyes. She reminds me of Cleopatra, the Egyptian Queen of the Nile. Her lips are a lovely hue of red, full kissable lips so luscious and inviting. Her defined cheek bones accented with a little blush and perfectly round nose. Her skin is beautifully bronzed from the sun, she is a goddess of Greek proportions no matter who the observer. A flowered navy blue sundress with daisy accents randomly scattered on it. The dresses flow stops just above her knees, her legs long and well defined, also tanned to perfection. Her sandals are the last thing to complete her attire, a perfect package. She hasn't gone overboard in presentation. She's not trying to impress on my account. Knowing she isn't here to impress impresses me even more. In all of my frequented visits to clubs assorted with beauties like The Abyss always was; I'd yet to meet any woman as amazing as this one.

"Brandon Hudson, I'd like to introduce you to Sarah Maddox." I outstretch my hand to meet hers, soft and smooth. My throat becomes overcome with dryness.

"The pleasure of making your acquaintance is mine." I stare into her eyes as we meet, they engulf me, I'm here but floating above in the clouds, so pleasant and light. She gives me a smile. Her mother grabs her arm gently and leads her into the house. Daniel shuts the door behind them. I turn to watch her as she goes into the sitting room, staring at her buttocks swaying slightly beneath her dress. The evening begins with drinks and appetizers, made by Gramms of course. The appetizers are delicious, having eaten nothing but a large breakfast I was a little hungry and this wasn't exactly a dinner party, more like a drinks and snacks gathering. All this and no servants seems rather odd, no Bruce Wayne and Alfred relationship with this household. I guess in the secret goings on, there is no one Daniel trusts enough to allow access to the information he possesses. How very overprotective of him. It seems as though he doesn't want our family secret to be exposed to the wrong people, perhaps the government. I'm sure they'd use us for experimentation, like guinea pigs or rats in a maze. They'd breed us selectively in order to produce the ultimate weapons of war. It would be expensive in the beginning but cheap in the processes of the war itself. Wouldn't we prove to be beneficial to the government in all the wasting of money in its war efforts now? How financially sound would the government be if they used psychic warfare rather than the means they do now? Being used in this way, I thank Daniel in my mind for keeping my secret. He's kept me and my family safe for all these years.

I was enjoying the company very much even though I didn't really partake in sharing the company of others, besides my family. I had a standoffishness to even them. My worry had always been the exposure of my secret and had kept me from getting too close to anyone. Now I was in the company of people, all of whom knew my secrets. If I'd have known my grandmother knew I probably would've changed a few things in life. I could've at least talked to her instead of having to live with this thing alone in solitude. I was like a man trapped in a well in the middle of nowhere with nothing for miles, his screams for rescue only being heard by the wildlife as they run from the terrible noise in fear. I feel a small shred of resentment toward her, how could she let me deal with all of this alone, knowing my feelings and fears? I notice as she is looking at me from across the room. She mouths "I'm sorry" in my direction. "You're forgiven," I think, knowing she is hearing me. She throws me a wink in approval. I still love her. Sarah isn't chatting with the others. She's just standing within a gaggle of four and staring down at her feet wiggling her red painted toes in all their freedom. She's obviously bored and I intend to free her of her confines. I walk towards her calmly, my throat and vocal cords loosened with the aid of some alcoholic deliciousness of the martinis past, now graduating to my favorite orange juice mixed vodka beverage. My courage is at its peak right now and I plan to take full advantage of this inhibition elimination and false confidence. She's holding a glass of champagne, probably Dom Perignon, knowing this place. The champagne is in a crystal fluted glass, the bubbles magnified inside, some sticking to the sides while the others flow freely to the surface.

"Hey," I boldly state with an eyebrow cocked.

"Hey," she returns the greeting with a giggle to follow, the kind that doesn't imply her finding me stupid, just amusing. She turns to me, away from the group, we are lost in a room full of people yet everyone around disappears into a foggy haze. The voices echo in my head; the only thing in sight is this beautiful lady. She has all of my senses aroused and she smells good, eatable actually. Arousing thoughts keep flashing through my mind, legs wrapped around the small of my back. Stop it, Brandon, focus, this one could be the one. I'm not going to try to get this one in the sack upon our first meeting, like so many other females in the past. We are going to partake in some idle small talk. Our conversation will graduate into some likes and dislikes. Later it will hopefully further into something along the future plans line of conversation. I motion towards the exit of the room, she nods and smiles at me. We leave the crowd to the other room, escaping the boredom and old people talk. We pass the stairwell through the dining room and into the kitchen. The only room in the house not reflecting times of old, no expense was spared in this room. All of the appliances are dressed in a stainless steel modern exterior. The oven is at waist level and mounted into the wall; the large heat resistant glass window framed within its front. The kitchen has an island in the middle, it has black marble surface, a preparation table doubling into a seating place, Grandma's chef prep table at this point. Copper bottomed pots and pans hanging above. A couple of stools placed on one of the sides of the island, perfect just for us.

"Would you care for something to nibble on?" I offer. Having never been in this part of the house before I have no idea where anything is. My plan is to function on instinct to find whatever I need, maybe a reflection of placement from my Grandmothers farm house kitchen. Typically, all kitchens have the same general placement, a natural order of things by design. She makes me so comfortable with her body language and the delivery of her gestures. I fell so warm inside. This is love at first sight it's the only way I can describe the way that I am feeling about her right at this moment. It is a little frightening to me and unfamiliar. I open the refrigerator in search of something. There are no leftovers. No Tupperware containers. This is not at all like my grandparents' house. There were many nights when Gramms just heated something up because she'd made too much the night before. This is so different. I don't even know her anymore. This cooler doesn't contain anything like that at all; assorted juices, fruits, Jello, lunch meats and cheeses, but nothing suitable for the current situation. Maybe in the freezer, I shut the fridge and open the icebox above. It contains bags of ice, frozen meats, frozen veggies, and ice cream.

"Would you care for a bit of Ben and Jerry's New York vanilla ice cream with some fresh strawberries?" I ask her. Who can resist that temptation? I don't think I've ever met anyone in life who could.

"That sounds yummy." It's her excited response. She's letting the kid in her escape for a moment. I let the freezer door out of my grasp as I reach in for our treat. The door opens fully, the freezer wide ajar. I set the ice cream on the counter, there's nothing like a little Ben and Jerry's to get the taste buds settled. The freezer door slams shut behind me, I turn in surprise, gravity making me jump a little. I hadn't done that. I look at Sarah to see if she noticed my scare, she's staring at me with her head cradled in her hands, adorable. I open the fridge and retrieve the berries. I take a few extra moments to find the paring knife I need and finally I begin cutting the strawberries into halves. I grab a couple of bowls, placing three scoops in each and dressing the ice cream by dumping the plump berries on top. I'm a bit of a culinary artist myself when I try to be, especially in order to impress a lovely lady. My grandmother has taught me a few things. My creation looks delicious, if I may be so inclined to say so. We devour our ice cream and berries as we engage in pleasant chatter. I'm falling for this woman more and more with every sentence. She's intelligent and beautiful, how could one ask for more? She's being very flirtatious. Even more so than I am, if that's possible, she's batting her eyes and enjoying her ice cream just a little too much. She fills the spoon and places it into her mouth, pressing her red lips together and slowly pulling it out. I'm not stupid. She's trying and succeeding to be sexy and arousing. Her eyes close as she removes the utensil, enjoying it immensely. At least she only does this for the first few bites, her playfulness is wonderful. I do love this woman. It is a shame since we've just met. I really didn't think the whole 'love at first sight' really existed. Now after meeting Sarah, all those pessimisms regarding love are gone. We finish our refreshing treat. I take the bowls and place them into the sink. She thanks me and I welcome her. Everyone is gathering near the door, evidently it was time for the festivities to come to a close. I feel my heart drop. I'm not really ready to call it an evening's end for me and her.

"Would it be alright if I call you tomorrow?" Sarah interrupts my thoughts, as if that were even a question.

"Please, I'd love it if you would!" I'm a little overexcited and lose my cool composure.

"Okay, tomorrow then," she says quickly as she dives in and gives me a quick peck on the cheek. I can't tell but I'm almost sure I'm blushing, I can feel the blood flowing into my face, unexpected and pleasant to have my heart racing again. I feel like a young boy in early adolescence with a crush on the hottest girl in junior high. I'd lost this awkwardness by the time high school had arrived. I shake every hand again and wave my good-byes, say my "nice to meet you's," and then everyone is out the door. She lags in the rear of the departing party looking over her shoulder at me. She's smiling so beautifully. Her ass is so full and round under her dress as she leaves me unsatisfied yet content. I wink at her. She waves her hair as she turns her head forward getting into the car. This vehicle does have a driver who opens the door for my classy lady. She takes one last glance and steps in. She's sitting and the door closes. The driver tips his hat to me and resumes his position in the driver's seat and off they go. She waves a little from the window she's cracked for one last adieu. I return the wave. I feel so good inside, this woman has me. She has captured my soul. She could do anything to me right now and I'll probably thank her for it. We go back into the house and close the door.

"So you like Sarah then?" Gramms already knows the answer. She doesn't even need her talents to know how I'm feeling about Sarah right now.

"Do you need me to answer that question, Gramms?"

"No, I just thought if you'd like to talk, I'm here for you."

"As always, I know. I love you but right now its bed time." I can't help but smile knowing she knows my thoughts and feelings and I don't care. I run to the stairs letting my giddiness escape me and sprint up the entire flight. I stop at the top to catch my breath. I'm in complete anticipation for tomorrow and the phone call I'm expecting to receive.

Chapter Eighteen

Whole Confusion

He hits the ground so hard. It's so fast and so deadly. I can feel the crack of his skull against the cement block deep in my bones. The vibration carries through the air. My skin crawls and shivers travel the length of my body. What have I done?! Blood seeps from his wounds like molasses flowing. It's so thickly flowing. It oozes slowly. His face turns to me. His eyes are open. His skull has a gaping hole in it. I can see parts of the tissue within. His brain pulsates inside. His heart is still pumping. The nerves are still responding from the quickness of the act. He looks into my eyes.

"Brandon, you have to stop him. Don't let him get to you like he did me," his voice gargles. His blood mixing with the air as it escapes his mouth. His eyes roll back into his head. He groans loudly. He is choking on the fluids. I jump in my bed.

What's going on, what is my grandfather trying to tell me? There's something going on I have to know. All this time I thought he was pure evil. I'd thought him to be the worst man I'd ever known. Now I don't know what to think. Is it just a dream or a vision? I'm so confused right now. I'll have to figure it out later. Sadly enough everything lately has been about later. I'll have to deal with some of these things eventually, probably sooner than later.

I get up, shower, dress and head downstairs where breakfast waits. Gramms plays her usual hand in serving. I eat greedily, the ice cream long since gone from the evening prior, the meal is delicious as usual.

"Gramms, you're always out doing yourself. You never cease to amaze." I give her a little showing of my gratitude.

"Well, I'll consider that a compliment, my dearest, although it is just cheese omelets and sausage." She's always so modest.

"We need some more training today, Brandon." Daniel interrupts. With all of his sophistication he can be rather short worded and rude sometimes. It's beginning to wear thin.

"Alright, what's the plan this time?"

"You need to learn control, once you've established that, everything else will be smooth sailing." Once again he's being a bit rude in the delivery of his words. Maybe I've just woken on the wrong side of the bed, but he's affecting me in a bad way this morning.

"I am interested in how you are going to teach me to contain this beast, Dan. So far, I'm not impressed by your instruction." It was my turn to be rude.

"Let's go then. I'll teach you the hard way if that's what you want?" He picks up his empty coffee mug and hurls it at me. I have no time to react it is totally unexpected. It hits me in the shoulder and the pain is excruciating. It begins to throb instantly and my hand goes numb.

"What the hell, Dan?" I express as I am holding my shoulder in shock.

"Well, you want to learn, let's learn the hard way, quick fashion." He's now being rude yet again and I'm beginning to get really pissed off. My body starts to heat and the fires churn inside, the need for revenge rises to the top of my mind.

"Remember your mantra." Dan says to me, I faintly hear his voice but realize his goal and allow my mind to respond properly. The stars and moon pop into my head. The heat continues to grow. I am controlling it. I throw it at him. It hits him in the shoulder in the exact same place he'd hit me with his coffee mug. It was a controlled burst, but I hit him fairly hard. I was trying to hit him in comparability. His chair tips to the side and then topples over backwards. He hits the floor. The heat subsides within, I'm satisfied we are even. Daniel rolls to the side and pushes himself off of the ground and stands.

"That was very good, Brandon. It was great actually. Have you been working on it a little?" He asks me as he brushes off his pants legs. The immediate surprise was gone from him.

"No, I just did what you said. I focused on the mantra and it worked." I'm very proud of myself. This was the most control I'd ever been able to obtain in my life, ever. I was beaming inside. It felt so good and my brain was so clear. I'm smiling in my head. I didn't want to give too much of myself to him but I am very satisfied. I am like a rooster in a cock fight, standing over my kill with my feathers fluffed and my chest out.

"Well, Brandon, you've done great." His fatherly approval is given in acceptance. We are both holding our shoulders. We look at each other and laugh.

The phone rings and my heart races. I am sure it's Sarah. Gramms answers in the kitchen. There's a cordless telephone strategically placed so one could be nearer without having to run all the way across the house to the entertainment/party/lounge in order to answer it.

"It's for you, Brandon." She hands me the phone with a wink and a grin.

"Thanks, Gramms." I receive it from her and pass into the kitchen. The door swings closed behind me.

"Brandon, I hate to call and be rude right off but I don't know how much time we have so I'll just spill it." It's a weird beginning to a conversation, off to a good start with this one. "You aren't the only person in the world with this gift and your family isn't alone either." Now I was in shock and I can't believe what I'm hearing her say.

"What do you know, Sarah? Why do you think that?" I'm still amazed.

"Don't flatter yourself. Do you think The Society would exist if you and your family were the only ones on Earth with power?" I'd never really thought about it. "The company you had there last night is just a small group from one of its chapters. No one really even knows the whereabouts of the others. I've tried to find them myself without any luck. All of the communications are done via cell phone or internet and unless you're a hacker or something of that nature, it's really hard to find out who's on the other end. I mean anyone can make up an identity on the internet and the cell can have a number to anywhere in the world. Trust me though, Brandon, there are others. I don't know how many."

"How could you know then? You haven't been able to discover anything?" I'm not quite getting it. How could she know this much and not any more than it? I trust her but things have been so complicated lately. I'm getting sick of all the questions. I need answers not more questions.

"Brandon, I have been born and raised within The Society. I've heard plenty of things and know a lot more than you are giving me credit for. Something else I know is they have a plan. I don't know exactly what it is yet either, but it's in the works. It's some kind of plan for power. I just get bits and pieces here and there, things I overhear. I need your help and I've come to believe that you need mine as well. I didn't realize it until last night how much we need each other." She is now pleading with me. She's trying to convince me, I don't need convincing.

"I've just discovered so many things in the last few days, Sarah. Now this, I don't know what to do. I'm so confused right now, everything is so overwhelming." I believe her. Like I said before, now I need answers. "I overheard Daniel talking on the phone two nights ago. I don't know who he was talking to or what he was talking about. The conversation was rather subliminal and one-sided." Sharing my little tidbit in what I'd seen in the little time I've had here.

"Would you like to go out tomorrow night?" She changes the subject to a more enjoyable one.

"Why put off to tomorrow what we can do tonight?" I say jokingly yet very serious. I want to spend as much time with this woman as I possibly can. She makes the butterflies swarm to my abdomen every time I think about her. Even over the phone she's having this effect on me.

"Alright then, pick me up at seven o'clock?" She giggles a little. Either she was playing hard to get or she found me amusing in asking. I'm hoping it is the first of the two because I do like a challenge. "We'll talk more tonight then alright?"

"Okay, Sarah, I'll see you tonight." Controlling the excitement was a little difficult for me now, I can feel a loud yell building up deep within me and I cannot let it out because that would be foolish.

"Bye," was her last utterance.

"Later." Click. I hang up the phone. I press the button on the phone. Our conversation is complete. Cloud nine here I am, will you have me? The excitement and anticipation is amazing. My stomach is queasy with all the overactive nerves. My cheeks hurt from smiling. This woman has me and I don't even know her yet. The fact that she's confided in me information detrimental to the welfare of the old three or four generation secret society says a lot about our relationship. Why though? Why would she do that? She just met me last night. My mind wonders again as I stand next to the wall with the telephone still in my hand. The receiver stares at me to the left of my head at eye level, waiting for its counterpart to be placed in its holder. Okay, so let me think. I flip out, I get captured, I then learn my grandmother...my grandmother, that's it, could they be doing it again? Are they staging another coupling in their attempts to save an insane bloodline?! But then that leaves yet another question. What can Sarah do? Isn't that part of the criteria in order to join the Hudson brood? You have to be able to do something special right? I guess I'll have to work on that and make it my first priority for discovery. My heart drops. The butterflies are dead. Their wings are piled in the pit of my stomach. I still want her but the question of whether the emotion is shared now consumes me. I have to push the questions out for now and save them for later. I will get the answers I require this evening. I reach up and place the telephone on the receiver. I take a long refreshing breath and exhale as I push open the door. I replace my current mental image with my mantra, emotions, and thoughts. If it works to control my demon then it should work in keeping Gramms hazy in her retrieval of messages from my mind. I want her to know how I feel about Sarah but the conversation in its entirety, I can't let her have that, knowing what the reaction might be. I brighten my face with a smile and exit the kitchen, moonlight flooding my brain.

"So, how'd it go?" It's her honest inquiry.

"We're going out tonight. Can I use the car? I pick her up at seven." Asking Daniel and telling them both. I'm trying to get some sort of a reaction from one of them about our coupling. My grandmother seems excited and I can't tell if it's excitement for me or what the deal is. She is happy though. If that means anything, Daniel is a man of very little emotion, someone very difficult to read and very stuffy. His chair had been replaced to its original position. My shoulder doesn't hurt anymore. I can't help but wonder if his does, he seems a little upset still.

"You can use the car. Can't he, Daniel? Herb's been to the Maddox's before." Herb is the limo driver. "I'll just give him a call and tell him I need him tonight. It's early enough, I'm sure he'll be fine with it."

"Once again, Gramms, thank you." My grandmother is very accommodating, especially when it comes to love, she has a soft heart.

My excitement for the evening becomes more and more intense as the day progresses. Even though I have a lot of questions and I don't know for sure what is truly going on, I do know I am totally and completely into Sarah. Whether it boils down to a quick roll in the hay or just because The Society had her as part of a "plan," then sex will have to happen and I will enjoy every minute of it. On the other hand, if she does care for me, this is going to be the best thing that has ever happened. How do I dress? Where do I take her? I will take her someplace quiet and romantic with privacy for conversation, maybe some candles and low lighting. Gramms will be able to tell me. I leave my room in search of her to inquire.

"Gramms." I approach the landing near the stairs as I call her name.

"Yes, Bran?" She returns the yelling from below, looking up at me.

"I need a plan for the evening, someplace candlelit with a romantic mood." I've placed my request.

"I know just the place. I'll call and get the reservations taken care of for you, okay?" As I said before she's a lover of love.

"Thanks, Gramms." I flash a smile in her direction "I'm going to get ready now."

"Alright, I'll make the call to Mickey's."

I back away from the banister with a smile and return to my room to ready myself. I think casual wear, a button-down and khakis with some loafers. I need to impress a little but the majority of the impressions were made last night so I'm not worried. I've completed getting dressed and now the hair. Maybe I'll put a little extra effort in the do tonight. I think a bit of gel is in order for the evening. Standing in the bathroom at the mirror, I put a little water on my hands and then in my hair. I add just a dab of gel and rub it in. I run the comb through it, perfect. I'm as handsome as ever if I do say so myself. My wavy locks are just right, a little squirt of cologne and I'm done. I go downstairs for a little refreshment prior to the departure, just one.

"The reservations for a table for two at Michelangelo's are all set and ready to go for you," Gramms reports to me.

"Gramms, I want to thank you again for everything you've done. You are the best grandmother anyone could have ever asked for." I feel more love for my grandmother now than I've ever felt. Knowing all of the things she's done, all the pains endured.

"Once again, you're welcome. I love you!" A little tear forms in her eye, her invasions may be hard for her sometimes.

"Where's Dan?" I was just noticing his absence.

"I'm not sure actually. I think he may be upstairs cleaning up or relaxing, I don't know."

"I just want to thank him for the use of the car tonight." I leave her, rushing up the steps two at a time, a sign of comfort in my environment.

Chapter Nineteen

A Match Made in Heaven?

Walking and glancing as I stride past the doors, I near the door from the other night. This one's closed, Daniel's probably in there. I knock and there's no answer. I try again giving the wood a harder rapping this time, still nothing. I begin to turn the knob and the door opens. The room is a study or a den of sorts, an elaborate oak desk sitting near the window. A large red leather chair behind the desk, the desk has numerous files on it. There's a large bookshelf riddled with the varied assortment of literary works like the entertainment room downstairs. I review the titles, there's a much more colorful blend here. There are not only The Classics, but many others. Books about the supernatural, ghosts, witches, spell books, ESP. There's a lot of knowledge to be had here in the study. Then the psychology books, the Freud's, Ainsworth's, Garcher's, Piaget's, some containing the modern studies of the human mind with many different theories regarding the workings of the human psyche. This is all interesting, very interesting. It makes me laugh a little even in the seriousness of the moment. The thought reminding me of a patient lying on the shrink's couch as he tears his brain apart trying to gain personal access to his innermost thoughts. The doc dissecting his mind using all his education and yet his personal opinion of weird or crazy are the only real things in the situation, all he has to do is say the word "insane" and you're in the nuthouse. Daniel apparently needed to learn about people like me as best he could. The books involving the government scatter the bottom shelves. I am amazed at Dan's selection of reading materials. The workings of the Government, the White House and the military, weird, Government is a subject in which I've always disliked. It bored me to tears. A huge range and assortment, this miniature library has a little something for everyone. A couch matching the desk chair, a coffee table in front of it, a delightful room to come to for peace and relaxation or to get some studying done, studying in the study, the window perfectly set in the middle of the rooms' wall, directly behind the desk, how powerful it must be sitting at the desk, someone enters the room, almost an instant intimidation factor.

I pick up one of the files, contained in a manila folder, thick with papers. I open it to see a picture of me at infancy. I begin thumbing through the folder, further into my life, my family, randomly assorted pictures as my years progressed. I come to one with Daniel, my grandfather, and my grandmother together in their younger years, all in their teens I assume, people seemed to be harder to figure in age back then, especially when a picture is in black and white. The next picture is of Daniel and my grandmother next to each other, holding hands, some sibling rivalry I'll assume. The next is a picture of my great grandparents and two young boys, my great grandfather and great grandmother stood behind the boys, no smiles, as pictures were often taken during those times, like a smile would've been sinful, maybe with all the bad personal hygiene no one wanted to expose their awful and crumbling teeth or maybe the lack thereof. My great grandfather had his hands placed on either shoulder of the taller of the boys, an evil look on his face, evil eyes, black and empty. My great grandparents in the back layer, my great grandfather wearing a light gray button down long, sleeved shirt and black pants, his shirt tucked into his trousers neatly, the undershirt poked out of the top of his shirt having the top button open. My great grandmother was wearing a gray quarter-length sleeved dress with oddly shaped white markings scattered among the middle shade of gray material, she was so beautiful, her lips so dark. I imagine the lipstick being a deep shade of red in the black and white photo, her eyes almond and her skin dark, all of the genes and their origin solved. Both of the boys wore short sleeved button downs with t-shirts, one light and one dark. The smaller of the two boys was short and gangly, his hair cut in the "butch" fashion, all shaved the same length, light colored eyes and pale skin, flushed face with pudgy cheeks. The other boy's hair was flowing and well kept, dark in color, eyes as almond as his mother's and dark as well, his skin tanned in hue, it was obvious who got whose genes and who was the favorite. My great grandfather's sinister look as he stood behind the boy was pure hatred. Nothing I can say would describe the look better, if this picture could tell a story through movement, I can see my great grandfather reaching behind himself, picking up a hatchet, and taking this boy's life, head falling from his body, elimination. I'd only seen a picture like this once before, hanging in the living room of my grandparent's farm house positioned directly above the center of the upright piano, it only contained the great grandparents though, no boys in that one. I continue thumbing through the madness, it's not right. It doesn't make sense to me. The answer is here. I will just store the pieces for now, my time is limited.

The phone perfectly placed on the desk next to the file stack, that night Daniel was sitting in this chair telling secrets on that phone. The phone, my last mission before I leave this room, or I am discovered, hopefully Daniel hasn't made any other calls from this phone in the last few days, he never really comes upstairs, as least not that I've noticed, besides that night. Does the man ever sleep? I'm sure he does but goes to bed after me and wakes before I do. Always at the breakfast table when I go downstairs in the morning. I lift the telephone off the receiver, anticipation rising in my gut, the nerves making me a little queasy and sick to the stomach. I press the "on" button, a beep follows instantly, now for the hardest part of all, I extend my index finger holding the phone out in front of me, "redial," beep, and numerous electronic beeps follow, dialing. I place it against my ear covering the microphone with my other hand. Ring, wait, ring, wait, beep.

"Hello, Daniel..."

Oh, God. I hang up immediately, almost dropping the phone in my fumbling, my hand shakes profusely. I place the device back onto the receiver just as it was. It was one of those phones which could be hung in either the forward facing or the backward facing position. I am sure it was like this, I remember it that way. I know that voice, if I would have stayed on the line longer. I know that voice! I have to get out of here before I get caught. I've got enough for now, I'm sure Sarah will be able to help me with filling in the gaps, maybe she'll be able to aid in clarifying of it all.

I'm ready to go, clearing my head and filling it with the mantra, I don't think Daniel realized the present he was giving me when he taught it, now if I can keep it I'll have saved an exposure twice from Gramms interrogations of the mind, her skills will only be received with the moonlit sky, the stars, and the nature. I leave the room closing the door quietly, working the image as I go down the stairs, a smile on my face, I cannot expose the falsehood I'm presenting.

"You look very handsome." She startles me a little but I don't let my guard down.

"Thanks, Gramms." It was pleasant yet a bit uncomfortable.

"I think Sarah will be very pleased." Now I relax a little at the thought of her.

"That's the intent. Is the car ready?" I'm feeling better now.

"Why yes it is, he's waiting out front for you."

"Thanks again, Gramms." I give her a peck on the cheek, I stop at the mirror near the door to ensure I haven't messed myself up during the recent adventure and misbehaving. The mirror is high, long, and narrow with a table below it, the perfect place for one to discard keys and empty pockets upon entry. I run my fingertips through my hair making minor adjustments, so vain, only looking for perfection in presentation for a lovely, pleasant evening, and the impression being of uppermost importance to me. I send a little wave to Gramms, open the door and descend the exterior stairs. The driver stands in waiting next to an open car door, now that's more like it, the image being a perfect start to an enjoyable evening. I take the steps in twos, feeling like the richest man in the world. I sit as the door closes behind me. I help myself to a beverage from the fridge since I was unable to do as planned prior to leaving the house, the usual drink with a bit more alcohol than normal, an unfair mix I think, the orange juice gets a little jealous.

The vehicle is in motion, leaving the roundabout down the driveway and out the automatic iron gate taking a left onto the rural highway going back in the direction from which I'd come a few days prior. Passing the families houses, children playing in the yards, splashing in the pools, riding their bikes, entertaining various dogs, perfectly peaceful neighborhood, a dream state in suburbia. We pass the turn off ramp for the interstate, over the interstate. Cars race below in a hurried attempt to get to their destination knowing that in the race they could hit another and the attempt would be in vain. Gas stations on either corner of the ramp, a quick stop for fuel off the highway, we continue on our drive, back into the peace of suburbia, almost a mirror image of the other side of the overpass. Our quest goes on through the housing development and the neighborhoods begin to fall short, the road continues, the trees thicken as the forest grows. The shade from the woods overcast the highway, a manmade tunnel passage through. We go on for miles, possibly ten, I'm not sure, the anticipation is getting the better of me and when you're excited to arrive at your destination I've found it seems to take forever, especially when you aren't the one at the wheel. We crest a hill and there is a clearing from the wood line, six houses in all, not positioned next to each other. They all have their own personality on the landscape. A couple of acres separate them. They are all great big houses, not as huge as Daniels, but comparable in size and beauty, they compete with each other in presentation. We take a right into the first driveway, glorious, we've finally arrived, I think, I was going to explode. Two Mercedes Benz, one navy and one black, parked in the front of the garage of the beautiful home, two-story red brick with cement stairs, molded in a blossoming arc leading to a black metal door, a large bay window to the right of the entrance supported in the brick, wonderful craftsmanship and masonry.

The curtains are drawn but I see movement inside as one swings closed, evidently I'm not the only one in absolute excitement of our date, making myself crazy in the thought of the high school senior getting ready for the prom, waiting for my arrival, she'd been tanning and preparing for this moment for the last two or three months, the perfect dress, her dates' cummerbund matching, the tie, everything must be perfect, all that working, not realizing how miniscule all this is compared to her wedding day. I get out of the car unassisted; the door to the house opens as Sarah emerges from it quickly with a gigantic grin on her face. I'm amazed once again by her beauty, her black hair flowing as she skips towards me, minimal makeup, gorgeous. Her dress of sky blue flowing and bouncing with her body, one of the single spaghetti straps on her right shoulder begins to slip. She reaches up and fixes it immediately without missing a beat in her steps. Her bosoms are so nice, perky, not too much bounce. Her white toeless sandals like pumps with the cork bottoms and the white straps around the ankle intertwining with it, like a miniature boa constrictor sliding up a sapling, a little red rose painted on her lower leg above the ankle but below the calf, completing her look. My God this woman is perfect, my Cleopatra.

"Hi there," I say as she approaches but there no more words as I'm interrupted by a kiss, she very confident in herself. I like that a lot, no need for a rat in a room full of cats to run, just go down quickly and easily because the fate is inevitable. Her lips are so sweet, like the perfectly ripened strawberries from the previous night's treat. Her lips are even more succulent and much more desirable. They taste lovely. My hands explore her back, stopping at her lower back not wanting to be too pushy or indecent. I'm sure she's aware by now how attracted to her I truly am, she breaks the lip lock and takes a step back, just a half of a step. I am still able to feel her breath as she looks into my eyes

"Hi there yourself," There's a half smile and a bat of lashes, her head turns a little as she looks up at me. "I wanted to say good-bye to you last night and didn't get to so good-bye and hello, sleeping was a little difficult."

"Well, thank you. It was a very nice good-bye and a very pleasant hello." Her straightforwardness had me blushing combined with a pleasant level of uneasiness. I take her hand and assist her into the car, she sits on the same bench as me, scooting to the center apparently wanting to be close, I approve. I get in and close the door behind, sitting next to her and we're off to the restaurant.

"How about a little drink before we get there?" She notices my empty glass on the table. I'd finished it as we pulled into the drive.

"With pleasure, my lady, what's your poison?" A giggle, the boy in me had returned. She created this nervousness and made the butterflies gather into a massive hoard within my loins.

"Well, my good man, a screwdriver would be nice, little screw and a whole lot of driver." She snickers apparently at ease in the current situation, I am glad she is because she makes me nervous as hell. I begin to mix the drinks, a little screw and a lot of driver, love it. We enjoy every last drop, a woman who appreciates an orange juice and vodka mix as much as I do. Is there anything that isn't sexy about this woman? Not as far as I can see. We finish the beverages and I place the glasses back into the rack.

"Where are we going, I'd never bothered asking?"

"Someplace called Michelangelo's I think, my grandmother recommended it."

"Really, I've heard that that place is delicious. Italian and classy, never really bothered to go, but my parents have been there." She adds, "This whole money thing my family has going for it, I'm not really into it. Don't get me wrong, I like it but it's not important to me, I rebel against all of the 'classy' and 'manners' while maintaining my 'ladylike' stature." I'd noticed that people with money never really "cared about" the money and I've always thought it was because they don't know what it's like to be without it. Poor people eating breakfast meals for supper because they were cheaper or living off ramen noodles or macaroni and cheese with hot dogs cut up in it for weeks on end.

I'll let this one slide for now, this evening is off to too good of a start to ruin it with an argument so meaningless.

We arrive at Michelangelo's, the parking lot is packed with Beamers, Mercedes, Lincolns, and a few random limos, ours now adding to the count. We drive up to the door and the vehicle stops, a guy with a suit and tie opens the door for me, I get out and then reach back for Sarah's hand, so soft and so beautiful, a perfect fit in mine. She emerges from the back of the car. She is mine, my possessiveness this early in the game freaks me out a little but on the same token she's a prize worth keeping, the half karat diamonds in her ears catch the light, I guess money isn't so unimportant after all my sweet.

I turn to catch a glimpse of the restaurant, a deep red canopy overhead to deter the rain from an expensive suit or dress, the words "Michelangelo's" in a calligraphy presentation painted over the door's archway in a half circle, double doors of a light pine with big brass handles await. The guy who'd opened the door jogs past us and opens the right side entrance, tipping forward a bit and motioning with a hand for entry in welcome. Did this guy work for tips? I hope not because in my naivety to the situation I'd forgotten to give him one as we entered and Sarah was absorbing too much at the moment and not paying attention to tell me about it, we are greeted by the host at a podium framed behind with assorted plants and lattice.

"May I help you, sir?" His is a snub inquiry with a fake Italian accent.

"I have a reservation for two." Not skipping a beat, I feel a little underdressed I notice as I glance around soaking in the atmosphere.

"Name please, sir?" He asks with his nose partially upturned.

"Hudson, Brandon Hudson." His face softens with the announcement of my name. Apparently my family name has more pull than I'd expected. I can only guess that Gramms frequents this place.

"Ah, Mr. Hudson, welcome, right this way please." He leads us into the Dining area where the clank of glass, scrapping of utensils and idle chatter fills the air. We catch a few glances in our direction from suit laden patrons. We keep our heads up, ignoring them and continue to follow the host to the back of the room. Our table is tucked away in a private corner, as requested. The candles are already lit. The lighting is soft and pleasing, romantic. The décor reflects a touch of Italy. The murals on the walls are of the canals of Venice, carefully illustrated and realistic. The gondolas and the bridges for walkways, the buildings of the city beautifully reflected in the ripples of the canal waters below. We sit. Sarah flashes me a wink and a smile, flirtatious. I return her pleasantry with a cocked brow and a flash of teeth through a grin. A waiter approaches almost immediately with water in wine glasses and the menus. He quickly introduces himself as "Todd" and says he'll return shortly. We review the food assortment and agree on chicken parmesan for both of us. We chatter a little awaiting Todd's return, within moments he does and we place our order. The wine can wait until the meal arrives I instruct him as he departs.

"Sarah, I'm going to jump into this so we can continue our evening more easily okay?" She gives me a nod and places her hands under her chin. She's interested and I have her full attention, "What do you know, that's a start?"

"I know there's a plan for us," she begins.

"By us, are you referring to me?" More confusion I don't need any more right now.

"Yes, I'm talking about us, you and me, all of us." Here we go again.

"What do you mean all of us?"

"All of us with power, Brandon, you still don't get it. I thought you were smart? I told you yesterday, there are more, others like us."

"You, you have abilities too?!" Just as I ask the question my wine glass filled with water slides to the floor with no visual assistance. The ice water splashes out of the glass onto my pant leg and the glass shatters. I'm both astounded and embarrassed at the same time.

"Does that answer your question?" She's not really asking, it's more of a statement from her.

"Well, yes, it does actually. Wow, aren't you full of surprises?" I am in awe, finally someone who I can share everything with. All my years of secrecy and loneliness coming to an end at this moment, my care for her increases yet again. This woman and I were destined to be together, I have no doubt about it.

"Our meeting, it was planned wasn't it? That has been a question in my mind all day," I ask her.

"I honestly don't know, Brandon. I suppose it could have been, but I don't care. I've fallen for you so even if it was a set up I'm happy about it. I think pleasing The Society in this aspect would be my pleasure. I don't care and I'd rather not think of us as a 'set up' anyway." That's her genuine response I wholeheartedly trust and believe. "Good, I'm glad you believe me because it's the truth, Brandon." I'm a little set back with the exposure of more surprises. I slump into my chair. So a woman of many talents then, she's caught me off guard. "Sorry, I just think we should be honest with each other, totally and completely. I have to tell you everything." She grabs my hand in hers, cradling it, a full confession pure in truth and heart.

"Thank you. I believe our meeting may have been intentional but as long as The Society doesn't know we know. I'm satisfied in letting them feel as though we are their doing."

"I'm more than happy to hear it, Brandon." Todd interrupts us with our meals, they look delicious. The noodles are topped with a chicken breast with marinara poured delicately over it and a slice of mozzarella cheese as dressing. The oregano sprinklings are added for color and an underlying flavor, and a sprig of parsley on the side, perfection. The plates are culinary works of art. I am in love with food, especially ones so greatly prepared, so much thought in the process of appearance. The waiter sets our glasses of house red wine down last. I thank him politely and he's off again to conduct his servitude to the other snobs surely not getting the thanks and appreciation he deserves in all his ass kissing and ball busting efforts. Our chatter stops, only concentrating on the eating of the meal interrupting the silence with a random utensil scrapping on a plate. An exchanged MMMM in delightful enjoyment and a random glance of content expression is all that fills the silence. We nearly lick our plates, with her figure I'd taken her as a bird eater, the annoying dates you take out for a delightful meal and they insult you by picking at their food delicately and not actually eating. Their intentions being a ladylike presentation but it turns out to be rude and annoying. Sarah was full of surprises, ones that make me glad to be with her. We wash it down with the wine, a perfect match, pleasing to the palette, a wonderful finish.

"That was delicious. Perfectly delicious, thank you," the silence is broken by the Beauty.

"It was and you are welcome."

"So, what more should we discuss, have you discovered anything since our talk yesterday?"

"Well, as a matter of fact I have. I did a little unintended snooping today and found a file folder containing some interesting things, some pictures of me throughout my life and even more mysterious, a couple of pictures of my great grandparents, one with two boys in it, I never knew I had a great uncle. My grandparents had never mentioned it and obviously I've never met one."

"Interesting, is there anything else?" Her head in her hands again, so adorable with her inquisitions.

"Yeah, the phone call the other night, when Dan was on the line, my eavesdropping session, well anyway, I tried the 'redial." She interrupts me in her excitement.

"What, Brandon, who picked up?" She has so much interest in the finale that won't happen.

"I don't know, I mean, I know the voice but I can't place it."

"Brandon, you have to try, it could be very important, we need to know who Daniel is talking to." She sounds desperate and I understand, but I don't have the answer she seeks right now.

"Calm down, Sarah, I need to know too, don't you think I know that?!" I'm frustrated and getting a little angry at my own idiocy.

"I'm sorry, I know." Her expression of excitement softens and becomes more compassionate. "Hey, let's get out of here. I know a great club downtown we can relax and let our hair down. Let's get some of this stress out." What a terrific idea, to party it up together the two of us, so attractive and so full of power. Let's go make everyone around jealous, yes, what a brilliant idea.

"Alright, let's go then." She does it again, snooping inside my head.

I leave the waiter a fifty dollar tip for all of his troubles and the rest for our balance paid in full with a little change left over to add to his tip. We depart the romantic setting of the restaurant to fulfill our desires in drinking and being merry, the car waits in the parking lot, we're off.

Chapter Twenty

An Evening Ruined?

We arrive at the dance club. It reminds me of The Abyss a bit but darker and more mysterious. It's called The Vertigo, obviously illuminated on the sign protruding the top of the buildings eave. I tell the limo driver we don't need him anymore this evening and that we'll be taking a cab home instead. I have no idea how long we'll be, I am actually planning to turn an early evening into a very late morning. We get out of the limo as I remove my hand from her thigh. I replace the loss with her hand in mine. I observe the club. The sign above the entryway is huge. It illuminates the downtown, the bright yellow light is as bright as the sun, not literally, but you understand. Spotlights scan the air above, randomly rowing back and forth out of unison reminding me of the spotlight from a police helicopter scanning the ground in search of a perpetrator who'd committed a serious enough crime to warrant the use of the taxpayer's dollars. The line at the door is long. This place is very popular indeed. We walk up to the door guard, Sarah shoots him a glance, a slight wink and a smile, he unhooks the royal blue velvet rope and in we go. I'm not at all surprised. I should've known entry was going to be simple considering the company I'm with. As we push open the door, the music hits us like the passing of a freight train, the bystander positioned too closely to the railroad tracks as it goes by. The wind from the thumping of the speakers is intense. There's nothing like a bit of grunge rock to get the blood flowing and the heart pounding. The interior atmosphere is filled by a very dark light, a deep red aura in the room. You can feel the anger with the mix of the rosy illumination and the hard rock music, a wave, a rough angry arousal rushing through you. I thought I haunted my club, this girl was a specter, a vampire with a soul, I am delighted to be in her company. We find a small table close to the dance floor to watch the crowd of people, a rave of sorts actually, I wonder how many drugs are present right now, probably enough to fill a dump truck with them as long as you drain all of them from these people's bodies. By the sexuality on the floor, ecstasy seems to be the drug of choice. A cocktail waitress approaches our table, beautifully attired, making eyes at me of course, I really don't pay her much attention since I'm currently infatuated and lost in the moment in Sarah's eyes and beauty. I let her order drinks for us, trusting her judgment considering our shared tastes for seemingly everything and she never ceases to amaze.

"We want four vodka shots with slices of lemon on the side for each and four screwdrivers." This woman is amazing

"You are looking to have some enjoyment this evening aren't you?" My awe is getting the better of me.

"Hey, Mister, hope you aren't too much of a light weight or you're in for a very rough one." I give her a laugh. I have no doubts in myself or my abilities in alcohol consumption.

"I think I'll be fine, my sexy lady." I flash a toothy grin in approval.

We finish our drinks quickly, no need to waste time in the enjoyment of them, we've got dancing to do. She grabs my hand, guiding me to the dance floor. My hands on her hips, grinding, almost sex except for the standing and fully clothed part, so sexy. It's the cleanest version of foreplay possible, luckily there are no children present although I don't think I'd be off in saying we're the oldest people in this place, though we don't look it. We dance for what seems to be forever, enjoying each other's bodies and movements. The dance floor is packed but we're close enough that it doesn't matter. We aren't taking up much space between the two of us. There's a creepy, scruffy looking guy who I notice dancing closely behind Sarah. He's dressed in all black, a skull in yellow colors the front of his t-shirt, a lip ring and eyebrow piercing, sleeves for tattoos in an assortment of colors, a plethora of ink, so extensive in the mess I can't tell where one tattoo ends and the other begins. His tattoos are disgusting and jumbled, his eyes exploring Sarah's ass, undressing her with his eyes. The anger is surging in me, at first I was okay with it, proud actually, but when his tongue comes out of his mouth and he starts licking his lips, an aggressive expression of attraction, it becomes appalling and now I am becoming extremely angry. I can feel the emotions flowing from him in combination of his actions. Horniness mixed with anger, he seems to be projecting a little bit of the crazies. Sarah is looking into my eyes and she gets a worried look on her face, I'm sure she is reading my mind. I can't help but wonder if she can see him in my mind's eye standing behind her looking like a sexual predator waiting to pounce, licking his upper lip with his near reptilian tongue, his eyes wearing holes in the seat of her clothing.

"Control yourself, Brandon." I can barely hear her but I can read her lips as the near whisper escapes her mouth. My mantra comes in. I obey her and let it fill me. The heat within begins to subside. I am calming the rage of my power. Although I'm still extremely pissed, my anger as a normal human being is present. I push away the person who can rip someone apart with his mind. I do as my lovely Sarah asks, we can't let this thing become a show for all to observe. He then does the unthinkable and reaches up, grabbing her ass. Her eyes get huge in her surprise. My anger flows violently through my veins. This is the ultimate personal test of control. I keep my picture in my brain as I step to the side around her. I cock my fist back and plow him in the nose with all my bodily force. The blood flows instantly out of his face. My jewel incased class ring torn flesh from his cheek and his nose lays crooked on his face. I have been able to maintain control through the physical aggression I've expressed. It felt so good. The angry energy had flowed down my arm and into my hand as it had connected with his face. Sarah's hand goes to my chest and the other around my waist, stopping me from any further actions. She comforts me, her man. She calm's me, my feeling of jubilation is apparent to her. My chest stays pushed out as I hold my head high. My broad shoulders canted back. I feel awesome with the power of a normal human being. For the first time in my life, I hadn't resorted to using the gift I'd been blessed with. The crowd had made some room for him as his blood flows from his hand onto the floor. It drips between his greasy fingers. He stands partially bent over. His hair is gnarly and long, dirty blonde. His blue eyes contain his anger and his pain. With the combination of the adjustment of his eyebrows and the wrinkles in his forehead, I can tell he's getting ready to lurch towards me. I am ready to defend myself if necessary, still on my guard.

"I'm going to kick the crap out of you!" Just as the words escape his lips, three bouncers approach and interrupt his pounce with by their grasp on his arms. His gangly body has no chance against their massiveness.

"It's time to go, buddy." They announce to the grungy rocker man as they drag him away.

"You are screwed man. I'm going to mess you and your little woman up." One of his hands is still holding his nose as the other points and waves its fist in our direction. His feet stumble backwards, it's lucky for him the bouncers had secured him or he would've fallen and bashed his skull on the floor. What a shame that would've been. Sarah on her tiptoes and sends a whisper into my ear

"You did well, my love." She kisses my cheek sweetly.

"That felt great. I can't even begin to describe to you how good that felt. I blocked it and controlled it for the first time in my life. I'm a new man. Sarah...I love you." There, I'd finally said it. I'd felt that I loved her since our first gaze, but now I've expressed it to her in words. I'd actually spoke them to her. I'd never said that to anyone I wasn't related to before in my life and now I am so high with everything. I am high on life and in love with her.

"I love you too, Brandon." She throws her arms around my neck and kisses me deeply. Our tongues dancing on the dance floor and I'm lost in her. My hands dare to venture to her butt now, though it's a rub in apology for its earlier mistreatment. She smiles in approval. I can feel her cheeks rise as we kiss and her lips tense against mine as the grin spreads across her face. I break the lip lock. We're done dancing, I've been able to control myself so far but another incident like that and there's no telling if I'll be able to accomplish it again. Two of those together could be quite taxing. We return to our table and have a couple more drinks. I believe there's been way more than enough foreplay for one evening. We sit and partake in more mixed drinks ogling each other as the alcohol is absorbed. We are making love with our eyes. I revel in the fact she can read my thoughts because they are so explicate right now and I'm not attempting to keep her out. Her smiles reassure me that my thoughts are fine. I give the cocktail waitress her final tip of the evening and we depart the club.

The silence outside the doors is welcome. Finally my ears can get some rest. The whoomp of the speakers and the hardcore rock music is still present but it's much better, lowered to a muffle. The line out front is gone. A man no longer guards the door. There seems to be no traffic except for a random automobile passing, it must be really late. I check my watch to observe that it's almost two thirty in the morning, it's still early. We take a right down the sidewalk. We'll enjoy a romantic stroll and a little peaceful chat before calling a taxi from Sarah's cell for a ride home. Small shops line the walkway, a women's clothing store with the mannequin all decked out and ready for a cocktail party watches as we pass her by. We ignore her silent pleas for escape from the stores' window, maybe it's the clothes she needs freedom from; I let out a small giggle. Sarah smiles at me, "sorry" I tell her, she acceptances my apology with a hand pat against my chest. We hold our arms around each other as we walk on. We continue for about a block or so, enjoying each other's company. We will have no serious talk right now, just the pleasantries surrounding each other's company. She stops me abruptly, it's already too late. Her ability hadn't given her the advance notification we'd needed.

"Hey, you!" the voice comes from behind; it bounces off the walls of the stores next to us. I'd forgotten about the nights previous occurrences. I turn. It's him, the broken nose guy. It looks as though he's brought a friend, a guy molded in his mirror image. I notice another one standing on the other side of the street staring at us as well, an onlooker or over watch strategically placed. His arms are crossed as he braces himself against a lamp post. Rocker guy looks as though he's cleaned up a bit. The blood loss from his nose is gone. He's holding a gun at his side so as not to expose it in case of a passing car. Some people just take things too personally although this is just taking things too far. To bring a firearm and two buds to the party, that's extreme. Sarah already knows who it is and doesn't bother to turn and face him.

"Hey, even though that is a fine ass, turn around and look at me. I want to see that pretty face." Our cuddled embrace drops and I grab her hand as she turns. We stand next to each other, facing them. The guy near the post is only within peripheral vision but still in view. I begin to feel the heat in her hand almost immediately. She'd already had an early warning in regards to their presence. She's had a bit more preparation time than I have and it shows. The atoms are gathering and her hair is waving slightly, I can see it from the corner of my eye. Her anger may also have stemmed from the sick thoughts this guy has projected to her. I can only guess they involve ending my life and taking her to gang rape at gunpoint then kill her, leaving her body in a nearby alleyway or trash dumpster for a stranger's rude morning awakening. Now I feel her anger building inside of me. The images I've just experienced are enraging me as well, I start to burn.

"Come here, both of you, now." He and his buddy are standing about twenty feet from us. We step off simultaneously like soldiers on a parade field conducting a drill and ceremonies marching flawlessly after practicing for weeks, the anguish and intensity overwhelming, dreading each day as they strive for perfection. Our hands burn together. Our hair is waving with the wind. The power is increasing. We have to contemplate our moves precisely. The gun is still pointed in our direction, the vision I've seen leaves me without a doubt of what is bound to happen. His hand wavers a bit as we near fifteen feet, twelve feet, ten feet, never missing a beat in our step. We are one soul with two separate bodies. The guy across the street pushes himself off of the pole and begins his approach, slowly crossing. The other stands next to his "friend," awaiting our arrival. A snicker and a sneer is the only hateful expression he possesses, rocker man's crony.

"Stop, now turn around, I've got a bone to pick with you." I hear him vaguely. His voice is wobbly and unsure. I can feel the insecurity he has and I will not turn around, nor will I engage in any discussions with this piece of trash. Sarah and my heat combine and join together. It's flowing from our cores and linking in an unholy union at our hands which are still interlocked. It feels like a molten ball of metal that has been in the kiln for hours and yet doesn't hurt. Our hands glow with such brightness, he looks down at our unity, a look of confusion overcomes his face, eyes widening, mouth a agape. His buddy next to him is oblivious to what's going on. He looks consumed by the potential crime he's going to commit. He's fantasizing about Sarah. The other is only half way across the avenue on his approach.

"What the hell are you, what are you doing? Stop it now, stop." His words almost demanding mixed with the obvious pleads for mercy and compassion having no idea the wrath he has now brought upon himself. I feel so powerful and so in control. I don't know if it's the combination of us or the recent ability in my learning to keep myself in line for sure but it is US I believe as the correct answer. Boom! A gunshot fires, it rings out into the city and disappears into the nothingness. I hear the bullet as it impacts, followed by a crumbling of bricks to the cement below close behind us. In all his nervousness, a scared man with a gun is always a very bad idea. Nothing meets its mark, neither of us scathed. These guys have messed with the wrong couple and now I think one of them at least is beginning to realize it. It's a little late after coming back with a weapon and extra bodies in defense for a broken nose. This is the worst mistake and the last one he will ever make. His other friend stands behind us. I can almost hear his breath. A car passes as he lowers the pistol concealing it at his hip again. Smoke still oozes from the barrel. The vehicle continues by and turns off, disappearing around the corner. He begins to convulse, the 9mm drops to the ground. We have to stop him first. The others are less of an immediate threat to us. My mind sees his brain as it begins being squeezed by his own skull. The hand of God reaches out of the sky, the thick fluff of the clouds parting to make way for him as he grabs his head and crushes it like fresh preserves. The very thing put there to protect the brain being used as the instrument that destroys it. His eyes become crossed as he looks into the sky. He's trying to see his own forehead. His nose flows again, fluid starts coming from his ears. Fresh seeded strawberry preserves. We stop for a moment. He falls to his hands and knees on the cement. The blood and saliva pour onto the ground. His buddies stand nearby in amazement to the happenings, they haven't the slightest clue. His breath comes in a wheeze on the inhale, then a forced exhale. His gasps become groans escaping him with the dispersion and expulsion of his air. The clear and red liquids combine in a pool on the ground. His vomit is added to the painful mix before his eyes. The puddle is a blur through the wall of tears filming his eyes. We can't stop here; this guy will not stop with us, who will be next? If he had not chosen us then the other couple wouldn't have been so lucky. Theirs would've ended with death, rape, and another death. We are his redeemers', we will be the ones to deliver him to his god; Satan, Beelzebub, the Devil, the Prince of Darkness. It doesn't matter what you call him, that's where him and his pals will be going. His soul will swim in a perpetual river of darkness and fire to pay for his sins, forever. His body raises upright, fully erect, though not propelled by himself but by our will. Our hands still boiling, we lift him off the ground in his ridged, frozen state. His body is in flight with one quick swooping movement towards a large store window, he smashes the glass with his torso. A large shard claims his abdomen. He looks at it. His hands venture towards the protrusion but don't make it to it. He then collapses. His soul is finally on its long awaited journey to Hell. Oh don't worry, we haven't forgotten. They can't believe what they'd just seen, neither of them is responding, yet.

"Brandon, let's have some fun now that he's out of the way," Sarah projects her thoughts into mine as to not expose her plan to the enemies nearby.

"What did you have in mind?" I think for her to grab.

"Just wait a second, you take the one behind."

"With pleasure my dear, it has only begun to be fun." We drop our grip; the pleasures lessen but only minimally. "No longer being The Hunted it was now time for the hunt" the response only takes a couple of minutes. They both just stood and stared at us for a few moments and then broke for their freedom. The one to the front turned and ran, Sarah pursued him immediately. I spun to see mine behind me, he turned as I did. He also begins to run. I am athletic enough for this chase to be an easy one. I am in pursuit. He turns to the right onto another street. I round the corner and begin to think, why am I running like an imbecile? I focus all of my force, sending a massive blast into his legs. His knees blow forward and his upper torso and face flow with his lower half. He smashes his face into the pavement. I hear muffled screams from nearby, no need to worry about Sarah. Those are screams from a man. I near my foe as he rolls onto his back to look at me. His pant legs are mangled as shredded flesh, blood, and material dress his lower extremities. He is panting excessively with shallow ins and outs. His face has bits of concrete and pebbles imbedded in the flesh. Minute blood droplets come from his wounds. I no longer hear the frights in the distance. She has finished what they'd begun and now I must do the same. I'll do it simply. I reach into his brain beyond his eyes. One final squeeze, a roll of the eyes, and a final exhale of air completes the process. I leave him to rot. Someone will find him tomorrow in the hustle and bustle of the day. Instances like these can never be explained, so natural causes always being the ruling or maybe some random act of violence with no person to connect to it. I retrace my steps to join Sarah back near the events point of origin. She smiles at me, I smile back. No remorse for actions taken.

"I worried about you, my darling," I tell her.

"Sweetie, if I would've needed you, I would've called you. If ever I'm in trouble, you'll know." She is so pure and lovely. We begin to calm, the deed is done and the salvation is accomplished. The archangels are relaxing on the clouds. Our hands quickly begin cooling. The softness of Sarah returns without an exchange of words. We turn back from whence we came, resuming our hand-holding. Our trance is complete. Our love continues on even stronger than before. The power we had as separate individuals is nowhere near what we have now. Together we are unstoppable. Our meeting may have been intentional but it was a mistake for them in doing it. There is no controlling us; we are the ones in charge of our destiny. The Society no longer has us.

We walk a bit further and turn right on a street filled with lights and a hotel within our view. Sarah knows where we're going. This is her city, not mine. She's got something in mind. Something I'd fed her with my images earlier? I am very excited. My body is one step ahead of my mind. We approach the hotel and it's a very nice one. It doesn't look like the kind of place that accepts guests who come strolling in off the streets at this time of night or one who takes payment by the hour, but I'm sure we'll be greeted with open arms. We pass under the hunter green canopy towered by six stories of building, possibly more and enter the glass and brass revolving door. It's the kind as a child you'd go around and around in until a parent grabbed you by your arm and ripped you out of it making you feel like you were a dog who had just taken a dump on the rug. Or, the alternative being you go around and around so much that you get dizzy and then it's immediately followed by queasiness. We walk up to the desk and ring the bell, an annoyed frizzy haired woman with entirely too much make up on answers our call.

"We'd like a room please," I announce.

"You do realize it's almost 4 a.m. don't you sir?" She asks me snottily.

"Yes, I am well aware, thank you." I'm a little annoyed, there's sex to be had and she's slowing down the process.

"Well, regardless of the time, check out is at 11 a.m." I hand her my credit card. She expresses further annoyance, great customer service chalked up for this place. She swipes my card, we wait, the receipt prints out, I sign it, and she hands me my copy. She grabs the card keys for room #313 and I collect them from her. She reminds us again that "check out is at 11:00am" as we walk towards the elevator. I push the "up" arrow elevator button and the door opens immediately, its last occupant had apparently gotten off at ground level, at least there was one thing to expedite our arrival. We enter the box and I press the "3" button. The doors close. The button on the illuminated strip announces in LEDs as we ascend. First the floor "1" light ignites, next the "2," Sarah hits the "emergency stop elevator" button with her power. How abusive and sexy of her. She dives at me and kisses me. I respond without hesitation, my hands working their way up her dress. Her bare ass cheeks in my hands, her thong leaving them exposed without the outside material present. Her hand ventures down grabbing my crotch, it's like a rock against her palm. I reach to the front, she's wet with anticipation.

"Stop, we have to stop, wait for the room. Let's not have our first time be in an elevator. I want you in a bed," I think. She removes her hand, I release her dress. The light thin material flows back down past her buttocks. I hit the button with my projection this time. How abusive now on my part. The button releases. The halted vessel resumes its movement towards the heavens. The light illuminates "3" and the doors open.

"Don't be mad," I think to myself knowing that she'll hear. She's not mad. She's admiring and staring at me. Evidently my wanting to wait for a bed to present our pleasures has impressed although I do really want our first sexual encounter to be a glorious lovemaking session.

"I know and I do love you for the thought." She smiles.

I remove the card key from my pocket. The green light on the silver metal box attached to the door lights up upon removal of the card. I push down on the knob and we enter the room. We commence in the almost literal tearing removal of each other's clothing. If it hadn't have been for the fact that we needed to wear these articles home later on today, they would've been button missing shreds that would not be wearable any longer. We kiss again with intense passion, but this time we're naked. We stand against each other as our hands explore each and every inch of our bodies. It is the best sex I'd ever had and, by the way, those beautiful legs I'd spoken of before, I had them wrapped around me...twice.

He stares up at me with his eyes lacking color, only a shade filling them. Bodily fluids are oozing from his head. It's my grandfather again.

"Brandon, help me...," I look into his blackened eyes. My head begins to flux and waver. I fall into them, I am the airplane whose engines have ceased over the ocean and I plummet. His eyes envelop my mind as the images overtake me. His recollections of the past begin to consume. My great grandmother stands on the steps of the old shack. The house is so small and decrepit. The white exterior paint peels from the wood, chipping away from being weathered. She yells.

"Frankie, Danny, dinner." I see them off in the yard. My mind's eye zooms in on them so quickly that I hardly realized there had been any movement on my part. They seem to be playing with something in the turf. I am positioned behind the eldest of the two. He is sitting in a squat, the other looks on, standing in front of him. A look of disgust spread on his face. I see a frog or a toad of some sort wriggling in the grass beneath the oldest. He stares at it with blackness in his eyes and a slight glow radiates from him.

"Stop, Danny, don't do it." The youngest whispers the plea to him quietly so their mother doesn't hear. But he doesn't stop. The frog looks as though it's being squashed. The air escapes it with the insides following. The stomach spills from its mouth. Its nerves continue to respond for a moment and then nothing. The frog is dead.

The older boy stands and says, "You'd better not tell anyone." Without warning the younger child falls to the ground. He is shoved backward onto his butt in the grass.

"I won't tell." He complies as a tear rolls down his cheek. My mind begins to rise from the yard. It's being sucked out of the depths of the blurry blue ocean. It rises towards the sky and everything below disappears. My essence comes out of his eyes and I'm back in the barn watching him as dies. His eyes continue to grind into my soul. His flesh darkens and the blood surfaces in his veins. His face becomes distorted and purplish black. A cat jumps on me from behind. It grabs my pant leg, digging into the flesh of my calf deeply. As I jump up in the bed I rip my arm from the cradling of Sarah's head. The sweat drips from my head and bare chest. Sarah wakes startled.

"Bran, what is it? What's the matter?" She's very concerned.

"My grandfather, I dreamt about him again. This time he asked for my help and then sucked me into one of his memories, one from his childhood." I'm excited and flustered.

"Tell me, Brandon, I want to know." She looks at me with deep warmth in her eyes. She sits up, covering her breasts with the sheet.

"He and Danny were in the backyard messing around and Danny was using projection on a frog and he killed it rather harshly. When he was done he pushed my grandfather down with his mind and told him not to tell anyone."

"Okay, what does it mean?" She's apparently not awake enough and groggy. She is smart but she is not gathering it all in.

"Danny, Sarah. Daniel." I can't believe my own words as they escape me. She can't believe it either, her mouth drops.

"Brandon, I've known Daniel my whole life and he's never projected any power to me of any kind. I've never experienced an inkling of mention of it from him mentally." She's in amazement and denial.

"Sarah, it's him. Trust me." Now looking at the memories of the photos I make the connections. It was so obvious. How could it have escaped me earlier? His eyes, the hair, the chin, the whole face, everything except the nose, noses don't really start taking their adult shape until a couple of years after that picture had been taken. My great-uncle and one with powers too, I am in amazement. But why didn't he tell me? I would've trusted his judgment in training more if I'd have known he's like me and had a complete comprehension of it.

"Sarah, does anyone in The Society here know about Daniel?" I'm still in absolute amazement of the dream, it was mind blowing.

"I didn't even know, Brandon. Daniel and I have been acquainted for twenty seven years. I have no idea if the others know or not." It had mind blown more than just me.

"The other members, do they have abilities?" There are so many questions now.

"Once again, I haven't a clue, my parents don't. My grandmother did, that's where my gifts came from I'm told. I never met her. She died before I was born."

"I'm sorry, my love." I kiss her forehead to express just how in love with her I am. "It's only seven o'clock, let's just go back to sleep for now alright?" I do not want to deal with this right now. I figure I can work it out easier with a little more rest. I can feel a hangover looming. We reassume the cuddling position. We are still naked and free and so comfortable. We rest for a couple more hours, the dream doesn't return. My lust for Sarah is revisiting though. We move our lovemaking to the shower. There's nothing better than the after sex shower sex. When we are all done and fairly satisfied, we get dressed and call a taxi from the hotel room. We grab the rest of our belongings and leave the room for the maid to go about her business. Don't worry. I didn't forget to leave a generous tip on the nightstand by the bed. We'd left a bit of a mess I really wouldn't have wanted to clean up and the majority of it did belong to me at one point in time. We exit the elevator and go to the front desk. The lady from last night was no longer the one on duty. This one was much more pleasant and is more glamorously appareled in her clothing choices. I thank her and we exit the building through that infamous revolving door. The taxi cab awaits us in the delivery lane out front. I open the door for me lady and we get inside simultaneously announcing our destination to the driver.

"Brandon, what do we do now?" Sarah asks me.

"I'm going to talk to Gramms, it's about time I do that. Unless you don't think it's a good idea, I mean I know I can trust her. She's my grandmother and has been my appointed caretaker." I know I don't have to explain it to her but do anyway.

"Yeah, that is probably the best idea. She can fill in some of the blanks I'm sure. There are so many questions, especially now after the dream. Brandon, I love you."

"I love you too, Sarah. I'm so glad I met you." I kiss her cheek. She returns the loving gesture and squeezes my hand. We arrive at the Maddox residence, parting is such sweet sorrow, but I know we'll talk again soon.

"Until we meet again, my love," it's just a thought for her. We are out of the car. I kiss her on the mouth and give her a huge hug.

"Brandon, I want you to know, I'm yours forever." She states this as fact, a fact I'm sure I'd already known.

"I know. I am yours as well, my darling." We exchange smiles and I then get back into the cab. We wave our good-byes. My heart is residing in my throat and the butterflies are fluttering violently. Now is the time for the moment of truth. We drive through the "Pleasantville" and finally arrive at the house. The love butterflies are replaced with the nervous moths. I know I can trust my grandmother but I'm still a bit worried about the presentation of the information I've acquired and how I received it. I reach over the seat and hand the cash to the driver, not forgetting the tip once again of course. I would never want you to believe me not to be a generous man, I may have some evil tendencies but I am filled with care for other human beings when they deserve it. I get out of the car and go inside as the feeling of dread overcomes me. I'm going to shower and change my clothes first so I can delay the discussion for a bit longer. Gramms greets me as I enter and we exchange pleasantries. I excuse myself explaining my plans of freshening. She gives me the unnecessary blessing and I'm off to take care of business. The repeated shower feels so good having not had sex that crazy in so long, I'm a little stiff and my muscles are a bit achy, but it was well worth it and I'll be doing it again the next chance I get. The hot water relaxes me. It's exactly what I need. It's the calm before the storm. I turn off the water, dry myself, and dress. It's time for the moment of truth.

Chapter Twenty-one

A Ghost from the Past

I descend the stairs. Gramms has prepared sandwiches for lunch. I sit, no Daniel, good.

"Gramms, where's Dan?" She can sense the urgency in my voice.

"He went out for a while, Bran. Why?" Her return of concern is evident. She looks at me as though she's trying to gain entry.

"Good. I have something I need to discuss with you and it's none of his business. Not yet." We sit at the table with our prepared lunch before us. She sits in the chair at the head of the table and I sit in the one nearest her. I tell the story. She's doesn't seem surprised and stays calm throughout the duration of my tale.

"Brandon, now it's my turn for confessions." She reaches for and takes my hand into hers placing the other on top for comfort. "Daniel...is your grandfather, not Frank." The shock of the news is too much to take. The moths in the depths of my bowels have now been replaced by eagles. They are flapping their huge wings as they stand on the old tree branch near the massive nest. Up and down, up and down, the winds flowing beneath them before the flight. Having always thought my actual grandfather was an insane nut job who'd possibly have an effect on my sanity had been mind-numbing. Now this! Daniel is my real grandfather! He's so together. He's so sane. He's so sophisticated. Hold on a second...

"Gramms, you and Daniel were together at one point? I don't understand." The picture of them together I'd seen in my investigations, now everything was making sense. Except for the fact, how did my grandparents end up together? I present the question in my mind, she grabs it and she answers it simply.

"I had gotten pregnant and he left me. It happens so often now but then it was unheard of. I should've known because he'd only been home on one of a few visits. His brother, Frank was there for me throughout the whole pregnancy. The Society set Frank and I up, I found out later when they finally approached me about everything. Daniel and I were the initial plan, but Frank and I just happened. Luckily it was the back- up plan or it wouldn't have been allowed."

"Wouldn't have been allowed? What does that even mean?" I had hoped for clarification and instead I am becoming more confused.

"Brandon, you cannot begin to fathom the extent of the power The Society possesses."

"Never mind, I can't deal with all of that right now. Gramms I don't think we should tell Daniel I know quite yet, okay? Let me think about everything some more and I'll let you know when I'm ready, okay?" I show her a look of pity and sorrow. I need her to understand my plea.

"We can wait until you're ready, that's fine." She gives me a kiss on the cheek. "So your evening went well with Sarah then?" She already knows the answer, she's just being polite.

"I'm in love with that girl, Gramms." I smile, one of the biggest grins I can muster, she returns the act. We stop our chatter and finish the lunch she's prepared, even a sandwich can be good when made with love from a grandmother.

I have all of this information, so what do I do with it? Sarah spoke of a "plan." Part of the reason I told Gramms I don't want Daniel knowing I'm aware of him being my real grandfather. Right now I'm hoping my mental toughness is enough to ensure my grandmother didn't dig information from my grey matter. When it comes to the "plan," I don't have anything to support the possibility of one. I guess some more snooping will be in order as soon as possible.

"Gramms, last night was rough, I'm still a little hung over. I'm going up for a nap okay?" I stand, moonlight swims in my brain.

"Alright, Brandon, don't be upset okay?"

"I'm fine, Grandma, just a little tired." I go upstairs. There will be no nap yet. With Daniel gone, I've got some business to attend to in the study before his return. I open the door and continue where I'd left off. I search the file folder in more detail. There's nothing more the phone will tell me. What about the desk? I haven't checked that yet. There is one main center top drawer and three larger side drawers to the right of the chair. I sit down in the seat and begin my careful rummaging. I start with the most obvious center top one. I shuffle through everything as to not make it transparent I have been digging through it and its contents. The contents are fairly standard items like pens, pencils, notebooks (void of any scribbles). Then I make a mysterious and magical discovery. It is under the notebook. It's a business card with the words "Gen Co-human genetics gateway to the future" on the front in a shiny splendid metallic red. I flip it to find a name handwritten on the back with a cell number Matt, could things be any more difficult? Matthew is probably one of the most common names within the generation. It may have just as well been David or Josh or Jason. This is so frustrating. I place the card in my pocket and take the ransacking a bit further but find nothing else of interest or mystery. This will have to do I guess, hopefully it's enough. Off to bed then. I need to sleep this thing away, this maniacal head pounding. I'm riddled with the newly acquired information and now the vodka mixes in the mind boggling.

I take the well-deserved nap and awaken feeling much better. There's a gentle rapping at my bedroom door. It's quiet and barely noticeable. If I hadn't already been aroused I wouldn't have even heard it.

"Brandon," a slight melancholy whisper of a voice as the door cracks and Gramms enters. "Are you going to get up sometime soon?"

"Yeah, I'm awake. What time is it?"

"Almost eight o'clock at night. I kept your dinner warm for you, come on down and eat." She begins to exit and turns back towards me. "Oh, Sarah called."

I jump up in the bed with excitement and bitterness combining. "Gramms, if Sarah called you should've woken me!"

"I couldn't, Brandon. I came up and saw you sleeping so peacefully. I didn't want to disturb you." It's apologetic in tone.

"I'm sorry. Next time wake me up no matter how peaceful I look, okay?" The idea that Sarah could have had something important to discuss besides the issue of our love, and the fact that I could've been confirming or denying something of importance right now. It was rather upsetting.

"Sarah knows?" Gramms read it, in all my excitement I let it slip.

"Gramms shut the door. I may as well tell you now since you've already stolen it from me." She closes the door and I tell her everything I know, everything. Upon completion of the whole story, we go downstairs and I eat my supper she's so nicely kept aside for me. Daniel is in the sitting room doing God knows what. There is a little dislike for him considering the fact that he'd left my grandmother in her time of need. He'd left his younger brother to bear the burden of raising his child. Another weird thought is that he is my father's father. My feelings right now are allowed and I believe them to be justified. After I finish eating I call Sarah. I'm very interested in what she called about earlier.

"Hey there," is a simple opening of the conversation.

"Hi," plainly answered.

"Your grandmother told me you were taking a nap. Was I too much for you last night?" A small giggle follows.

"No, just trying to sleep off a little head pounding, love. What are you doing tonight?" I have information to disclose and I will not do it over the phone. With all of the secrets in this house, he could have a wire or something. Nothing surprises me at this point.

"Nothing, what do you have in mind?" She's suggestive in her tone with flirtation in the mix.

"I was just wondering. Can we get together and talk, maybe something else after?" There are suggestions in return.

"Sure, let me pick you up tonight okay?"

"Alright, when?" It's my crazy anticipation.

"Say a half an hour or so?" Her question followed.

"I'll be awaiting your arrival, sexy."

"I love you." Her saying it first makes it sound that much better.

"Love you too. See you soon." We hang up the phones. I go to get ready. I'm running and making the announcement to the world as I ascend the stairs to make sure I'm not unkempt after my slumber. I change my clothes promptly and check myself in the bathroom mirror. There's no telling what her plans may entail, so I dress for any casual occasion. I then go back downstairs and wait by the door. I'm like a little boy awaiting the arrival of a promised surprise pick up at the store from a parent. The parent hadn't wanted the child's company because there were more plans in the trip than he'd been told prior to departure. The headlights approach in the drive. I announce my leaving and step out. One of the Mercedes from the Maddox residents, it's the black one. There's no surprise there, Sarah's a dark kind of person who likes to take risks and this car seems to fit her perfectly. She drives into the roundabout and immediately steps out of the car running into my arms before I can fully react. We kiss passionately. I love this woman. The make-out session lasts about a minute and I love it, then we take a break.

"So, what's the plan, my man?" Her breath is so sweet on my face.

"We have something to discuss, but we can't do it here. Let's go somewhere else." I look over my shoulder as I announce the need for privacy. I see Gramms looking out the window so I throw her a wave, as does Sarah.

"Alright, let's go then. I know just the place." She jogs around to the driver's side of the Mercedes. I open my door and get in.

"I'm sure you do, my dear, I'm sure you do." She puts the car in drive and we're off, the tires throw little pebbles to the rear as we depart. This woman also drives like a bat out of hell and along with all of her other attributes, I find it very sexy.

We go through "Pleasantville," turn onto the interstate, and exit onto the off ramp into the city. We drive into downtown Dallas and then we pull into a lot. There's a park in front of us, it's a secluded spot in the middle of the city. It's a beautifully kept lawn in an oasis with a thin sprinkling of young trees. It's your typical inner city park with benches and trash cans scattered throughout. We get out of the car and move our conversation over to one of the sticky park benches. We sit down closely bunched together, hand in hand.

"I've told Gramms everything, I mean everything, Sarah, not all of it intentionally though. When she woke me up from my nap I was a little out of it. She mentioned your phone call and thoughts popped in and I didn't think about it, sorry."

"I understand, Brandon. You should've waited until we could've figured things out a bit more. I know mind reading is a very tricky business and it was just a matter of time before she'd received pieces and put the puzzle together anyway, so you're forgiven. There is a trick to that you know. We'll have to work on it some other time. Did you find anything else out?"

"Yeah, actually, I did. It's not much, I don't think, but it's something to get started with." I pull the card from my pocket, lucky for me I hadn't changed my jeans or I probably would've forgotten it. I hand her the card. The read lettering on the front catches a light from the nearby streetlamp and it sparkles like a precious ruby gemstone.

"I've heard of this place in passing conversation a couple of times while eavesdropping on the parents. Maybe it's listed in the phonebook or something? That sounds a little too simple but it's worth a look." She stands up. There is a phone booth across the park. Hopefully there is a directory in that thing. It seems like whenever you need one, there never is one. We approach it. I can see it hanging. It looks like we're in luck this evening. She enters the booth and lifts the text. She thumbs through it. Maybe now it'll be like in the movies where she arrives at the page we need and it's been removed, that would suck. She continues checking the book, thumbing through the pages on a quest of discovery. She stops, oh no. A grin spreads across her face, thank God.

"There it is '1034 West Poplar Drive.' Perfect, we'll go there tomorrow. It's not much, but it's a start." She gives me another kiss. I'm beginning to like this constant affection. I am feeling some of her emotional needs shining through and they are amorous ones. "Well then, Mr., you are in for quite a bit more affection than that, if you'll have me?"

"Are you kidding me, lady? You have no idea." We walk arm in arm to the car and we're off again, at least tonight there isn't any alcohol involved so we'll enjoy things even more. We go to another hotel. This one's much nicer than last nights. We make love all night long, exploring each other beyond limits ever experienced in the past.

We are on our way to hopefully solve some sort of mystery, we are both in great anticipation and it's hard to sit still in our seats. Poplar Drive is located in an industrial park by the looks of things, smog billows above from the smoke stacks of the factories scattered throughout the area, huge white and gray chimneys line the horizon. I fiddle with the card, admiring it as the red of the lettering reflects the sunlight, sending a flash onto the roof top of the vehicle as I spin it around and the printed Matt stares at me mockingly. Just the thought of the complexity of it makes me a little angry. Why does it have to be so common, so difficult to resolve? Maybe we'll just get lucky, who knows.

"I wouldn't worry about it too much, my darling. We are the unstoppable couple, the dynamic duo, Batman and Robin..."

"I get it, Sarah." I giggle, her optimism is reassuring. Maybe she's got some sort of problem resolution I'm unaware of. "Do you know that I don't like the mind reading gift? When you do use it it's not so bad, but when Gramms does it I hate it, especially now that I've been suckered into exposing secrets she shouldn't have known yet."

"I'm sorry, Brandon I can't help it. I can limit the source of where the information comes from by focusing on the person, but I can't really limit how much of the information I hear in my head. It's one of those gift curse things. Surely, you off all people understand that? I still love you though." She looks at me scornfully.

"I love you too. I didn't mean it the way it came out." I grasp her free hand in mine, giving it a loving squeeze.

"It is okay, Brandon. Just remember, I can read minds and I know what you're thinking all the time. If you knew what I was thinking and were paying attention you'd realize that. We're here by the way." I look up to see a large building, white and boring, but gigantic. It looks like a prison. The windows are small. The windows on the door are bigger than the windows on the building. Evidently they don't want people to be able to see what's going on inside. She pulls into the parking spot closest to a door. There are only two cars in the parking lot. At least we don't have to worry about being bombarded with people. We get out of the car. We both take a deep breath, almost at the same time. We look at each other over the top of the Mercedes, sharing nervous smiles.

"You ready?" She asks.

"No, but here goes, there's no time like the present." We walk towards the front of the car; grabbing each other's hands for support we approach the front door.

"Just so you know, you'll be doing all the talking. I need to be able to listen and it's easier when I'm not trying to figure out what to say next." I understand completely.

"I'm ready for anything at this point, don't worry." At least I think I'm ready, I have no idea what we're about to walk into. Usually I like to scope things out a bit before jumping in. For example, the clubs I've attended in the past, I'd always go there once or twice first before actually drinking or dancing, to absorb the atmosphere and get a feel for the place. My main reason was to figure out if there was going to be trouble or not.

We near the entrance, there are no markings besides the numbers "1034" on the outside wall to the left of the door in gold reflective lettering. I reach out and open it, leading the way and pulling Sarah in behind me. I am her knight in shining armor and have to lead the way into trouble. There is a lone rent-a-cop sitting on the desk. He's dressing a neatly pressed dark blue uniform, long sleeves and pants. His uniform's shirt has a stitched on patch of a shield on its chest, very cheaply done. He probably sewed it on himself or had his inexperienced wife do it. The thread was starting to come out and the top of it was starting to sag away from the material of his shirt. We approach the desk almost forcefully, my goal is to make sure I look like I have purpose and know what I'm doing. I try to act as though this isn't my first time here.

"Hi there, I'm here to speak with Matt." I decided to just cut to the chase in order to see where that gets me. Rent-a-cops aren't usually that smart, stereotypically speaking, cheap labor. He looks up at me from the magazine he's currently engaged in reading. He was aware of our entry but hadn't acknowledged us until just now.

"Who may I tell him is calling?" Maybe smarter than expected, the cliché you can't always judge a book by its cover may be correct. One confusing thing though, could it be this easy? Could he be the only "Matt" in this place? That doesn't say much about the employee count in this facility. Why not just announce myself as "Brandon L. Hudson." The most he's going to do is 'shoo' me away; so what difference does it make if he knows my name or not?

"Brandon Hudson," I tell him. An unexplained look comes across his face. This one's rather hard to read, it's a look of mystery combined with a little awed amazement. He reaches for the phone on his desk and dials the extension, turning his back to us in an attempt for us not to be able to hear his conversation. Sarah will be able to inform me later. He turns back towards us.

"Matt will be with you in a few moments. You can have a seat over there." He reaches across the work station and points towards the wall next to the door. There is a stack of plastic chairs joined together by welded aluminum that line the wall. There are six in all. The row ends with a large fake tree adding to the class of it all. This institution is so bland and unappealing, blah. We sit down in the chairs next to one another. Alright, I think, so far so good. Matt is on his way to meet us.

"What was going through his mind when I announced myself? His expression was weird. I did feel some strange uneasiness, it was almost nervousness yet comfort, I don't know." I was confusing myself with my explanation.

"I didn't get anything. All I saw was an open field of daisies and lush grass, a meadow of some sort." She sounds almost a little disappointed as she tells me. I take her hand, apparently I'm not the only one whose been taught to keep people out with the mantra. There's no question where Daniel learned this trick now.

"It is okay, my love, even I could keep you out if I wanted to, but I don't need to and never would." I glance around the room. Directly beside the rent-a-cop's desk is a metal door with no window. It holds only a doorknob. It's a boring silver knob positioned parallel to a keycard security board for the restricted access to whatever is behind the door. The handle turns with a noticeable squeak and the door opens. A feeble man emerges. He's short, thin, and not very handsome. His glasses ride on the tip of his nose. He's immediately recognizable to me. Matthew Hudson. My father! What is he doing here? I'd said before he was gone a lot and I never really knew what he did. Now I know, well, where he works anyway. The question of what he does here is still unanswered. He looks up from his stare at the sterile tiled floor and we make eye contact. I think our jaws dropped at exactly the same time. Our reactions are immediately followed by half smiles. The wonderment still looms in my head. Sarah and I stand up from our seats. The shock of his presence hits me hard and fast. I haven't seen him in so many years. I'd say now is the best time for explanations. Like I said before, his leaving really hadn't affected me much. I'd understood for the most part why he'd gone. I get up, letting him approach me first. It's his move now, not mine. He's the one who went away. He also had the choice whether he wanted to meet with me or not. I would've had to question his choice had I introduced myself to the guard under an alias. His response is impressive. He nears and grabs me with a hug, it's a little strange, but welcome. I return the gesture, though I am bitter, I still love my father. We break it up as he initiates the conversation.

"Hi, Brandon, how've you been? I'm sorry about your mom." It's a genuine question from a man I haven't seen in years, but is immediately stifled with the later comment.

"I've been fine, Dad." I smile at him uneasily. I'm not going to make it a part of the conversation right now, but he could've at least come to her funeral.

"This is Sarah." He shakes her hand.

"I know of Sarah. It's nice to finally meet you young lady." The statement is very interesting. My father already knows of my girlfriend.

"Follow me please. We won't be able to have a decent conversation with nosey eavesdroppers nearby." He made the statement loudly enough for the borrowed police man to hear. He sends the guy a demeaning flash. The guard's attentive stare drops and he continues reading his magazine.

"Since you're here I know you're already aware of enough of the secrets, so I may as well fill you in completely." He delivers this note quietly enough that the rent-a-cop can't hear it. He throws a motion toward the doorway with an arm and then leads the way. He dips the cardkey into the slot from the necklace he's wearing. The lights flicker and he inputs the code. The green light above the doorknob flashes confirming that access is granted. We walk down the hallway following my father as we both glance from side to side casually. There are several doors on either side but they are all closed. This place is so sterile and white. It reminds me of the room in the warehouse where Daniel held me captive. We near the fourth door on the left side of the hall, he opens it. The office is immaculately decorated. It's well organized and just as orderly as the rest of the building, my mother would've been proud. There are no windows and that's the first thing I take note of. An immaculate, dark, finely crafted desk is centered. A large red leather swivel chair sits at the desk. Two chairs are placed neatly in front of the desk, miniature stationary versions of the larger one behind it. He offers us the seats. We sit down. I'll begin the conversation, my tongue has been idle for long enough.

"Dad, I'm not going to bullshit you, what do you do here at Gen Co?" There's no more time for messing around. If anyone was going to know about a "plan" it will be him. I did find his card in Daniel's desk drawer and I know now his is the number on the redial of the phone. I didn't recognize the voice's owner before because it has been so long since I'd actually spoken with him and he was the furthest person from my mind who could be involved in all this stuff.

"We are here to develop and gather individuals who possess special abilities. Through the further development in human evolution, people are being born more and more into the population with a preexisting talent to use parts of the brain normal people aren't. We feel it to be our civic duty to pluck and harness these beings in order to guide and aid them. Somewhere along the lines it had been determined that the evolution was going into a backward motion. We had to stop it through selective breeding and intervention. Brandon you asked me directly so I tell you directly." His remarks are straight and to the point, just the way I like it.

"What exactly does that mean 'selective breeding and intervention'? That doesn't make any sense?" I'm still a little confused.

"We are the foundation of The Society, you, Sarah, my mother and father. All byproducts of the interventions, the evolved human beings created through good breeding." I'd never heard my father talk this way before. Could it be that his past anger had stemmed from the secrets and knowledge he'd possessed? He continues spewing information. "Yes, Brandon, I know of your powers and of Sarah's also. I have known since you were a boy." A slight anger starts through me. Another person in my life who could've helped me and I didn't know. "We've discovered the powers have been known to skip a generation and then they return in the next, more powerful than the last. Your mother and I were never blessed. She never knew about you actually. I anticipated it upon your birth." He stops, apparently gathering a thought. "Just so you know, Brandon, I didn't leave because I wanted to. I had to go. I was forced by Gen Co and The Society because I had planned an intervention and escape of my own, with you. I was given an ultimatum, death or abandonment. At that time in my life, I wasn't ready for death, so I had to leave you. I don't expect you to understand the power they possess yet, but you will eventually." A look of sadness spreads across his face with the explanation of it.

"So then, what's the plan once Gen Co does figure out how to create the effect in other human beings, the normal ones who aren't naturally enhanced? What then? Can you tell me that?" The lab rat effect on people really makes me angry. People don't need to be studied for the altered cause of another. People need to live and be happy, enjoying life to its fullest.

"I don't know. They only tell me what I need to know. I'm not allowed any more than that. Because of my hairy past and deceit I'm not trusted with much."

"Why are you so willing to disclose this information?" He's got me curious.

"Because, Brandon, they are going to kill me. I know too much for them to keep me alive. Everyone who's worked for them ends up dead; it's the power of the game. Why do you think the secrets are still secrets? That's why I am telling you everything I know. Someone needs to stop all this madness." I don't know how much of the story that I believe, it all sounds fishy. Why would he spill it to me so easily? Killed? That's ridiculous.

"Dad, what could you possibly know that would make someone want to kill you?"

"Let me tell you a little story, Brandon. I'll explain to you about someone whom you've met very recently. This is Daniel's story."

Chapter Twenty-two

Daniel's Story

Danny was a good boy with special powers, he didn't understand them when he was young but he did know he was special. His brother had power too but wasn't as good at it as he was. They'd go back and forth with each other when nobody was looking and it mostly ended with his younger brother in tears. Frankie usually did some really strange things when using his ability and in everyday life. Danny understood his abilities and could control them very easily. Frankie was really jealous of him because of it and tried so hard to compete when they toyed with each other. His father despised him while his mother adored him. Neither of them had any type of power, not that Daniel was aware of. It got to the point where Frankie's abusive usage became so annoying that any time he tried to get Daniel, Daniel would strike with force right away. Frankie's anger was too much to deal with. Daniel also had a talent that Frank didn't. He could use others with his mind.

His parent never really knew what he'd done in the beginning. Daniel had become so fed up that he'd torment and torture his younger brother using his powers to break, destroy, and harm things, and blaming everything on Frank. His father knew what was happening, but his mother was oblivious to the things he was doing. She protected him at every turn and it caused many issues with the family to include a lot of loud arguments. Frankie suffered the most from getting pushed around. With all the harm he'd undergone, Daniel had almost killed him on several occasions. He'd strangle him, knock him to the ground and chock him with the invisible hand projection. Frank had lost consciousness on two of these occasions. Danny would kill animals for the sheer pleasure of it. He'd torture them like he tortured his brother. His father started to notice something was wrong with Frank. The boy had random bruising on his neck, arms, and chest. There was only one thing his father could do and he knew that. He couldn't personally do anything. That boy was evil and the things he could accomplish scared even his own father. A telephone call was all he needed to make. There were these people who had expressed an interest in Daniel when he was just a toddler. They'd told them how special he was. Special indeed, he was especially demented. He placed the call before Daniel had gotten the opportunity to kill Frankie. That poor little boy, he deserves the focus and the love his mother keeps directing to the wrong one.

The next day, a pleasant man showed up at their home. He had a kind face with a brilliant smile. He seemed very kind. After some conversation with his parents, he took Daniel with him. Daniel would still be allowed to go home, but only for an occasional visitation for a couple of days at most and Frank usually wouldn't be present during those times. He was brought to a place in the city, a lab-like dwelling. It was like a hospital in its sterility. He had a room and toys. The accommodations were fairly normal but odd in its seclusion. Daniel had no social life except for the home visits.

There were tests. Test after test and tests upon tests. He was forced to use his powers until his nose bled and his head felt like it was going to explode. He was hooked up to all kinds of machines, multiple blood samples were drawn, and there were always new tests. There were always new challenges. It never stopped. He was treated like a lab rat and they were picking at his brain. As he grew up, he was able to establish control, his powers were so strong. He had tutors coming in daily to teach him his school lessons. Nothing he had was considered formal education, but he had received a well-rounded top notch one. Then one day, the teachers stopped coming and they never came back. He'd guessed that it had been decided he did not need them anymore. It hadn't mattered. He'd begun to tire of his lessons from the textbooks anyway.

In his late teens during a visit home for a couple of days, he met her. The one, the girl he'd fallen in love with. She was his first and only love and that was his last visit home. Then there was Stephen. He was the man in charge, he ran the testing, and did everything. Besides the teachers, Stephen was the only other person Daniel was ever in contact with in the institution. He was the man who'd received Daniel from his parents. Sometimes Stephen was calm and nice, all smiles and kindness. He'd treated Daniel as if he were his own. Other times, mainly during the tests, Stephen became what you'd refer to as a mad scientist using many unorthodox methods. He forced Daniel to push the limits of his powers. When he couldn't anymore, when Daniel was on his hands and knees on the floor, Stephen would yell at him to keep going, over and over again. Daniel's body couldn't handle it, he'd get so sick. The end result was usually Daniel passing out on the freezing cold floor. He'd awaken hours later with vomit pooled to his head, fever burning his face, and urine staining his pants. Laying in his own filth like a pig was Stephen's punishment. He was all alone in a locked room. He was no longer allowed any freedom. He was s boy in a bubble, never to see the light of day. He was being trained and molded into something for the future.

The day finally came. They left the building. It was the biggest day of Daniel's life, a new beginning. The sun was so beautiful. He was like a convict who had just received the news of his pardon, freedom after twenty years in the slammer. At least prisoners had the opportunity to walk the yard to see the burning sphere in the sky. He hadn't been allowed that privilege. They got into the car outside the lab. They traveled through the city and onto the interstate. The car veered right onto the off ramp. They went through a little suburb community and beyond the trees. There stood the most glorious house Daniel had ever seen. They drove in and got out of the car. Stephen then brought him inside and handed him the keys. They sat in the lounge room where Stephen told him everything.

"Daniel, everything you see here is yours." He sat across from Daniel with his legs crossed. "But there are conditions to my offer."

"Continue, Stephen." Daniel was intrigued to know what would follow.

"All of this is yours but you have to promise to be available to us for anything we request of you. I warn you that some of the tasks will be difficult, but I think I've trained you and toughened you into someone who will be able to handle any of the feats requested."

"Stephen, I hate you but I accept your offer."

"You mustn't be bitter, Daniel. Everything I've done was to make you better at your skill."

"Thank you." The sarcasm flowed thickly off his tongue as Daniel made the announcement.

"If you cause us any problems I will have you exterminated. You know I can and will, without hesitation." An obvious understood threat. "Good-bye, Daniel." He left. As long as he did as he was told and conducted their bidding, fulfilling all of their requests, he would be provided for extensively. Daniel was given anything he wanted or needed. He was then left alone with his thoughts. He'd receive phone calls on occasion stating they needed his assistance. It usually involved killing people, discretely, secretly. An accident, it always had to look accidental. He was an assassin for them, his entire childhood used to mold him into a mental killer, a crusher of souls. He never complained because it gave him a bit of personal pleasure in doing it. Sometimes he would reach in and crush the person's heart, traveling past the sternum like a ninja undetected, standing across the crowd filled room at a lavish gathering of money, squeezing the heart until it stopped, a heart attack, nothing more. Simple killings were fun for him, but the ones he enjoyed most were the murders involving a body flinging, lashing someone up, or best of all, giving someone the opportunity to harm him first. He'd taken a punch or two, dodged a bullet once, but that was all in good fun and entertainment. Teasing someone and toying with them knowing they'd never win. Although there was one time, who knew he had a gun? Luckily the guys aim sucked, it was close though, he'd felt the wind past by his ear prior to impact. He loved his "job." It was simplistic and easily accomplished. All he had to do is kill people and continue to live without worry or fear of bills, residency, or transportation. They had provided a car for him with a driver included. His involvement in the organization of SOSHA was a stage. Daniel was being used as the middle man in order to minimize the information gap between the two groups. Gen Co uses The Society in order to find more candidates to obtain for the implantation of assassins and sources all over the world. These local chapters are some of the lowest on the totem pole. Daniel knew about their project. His hatred had become so intense for them both, knowing about their plan. He had to have some design of his own. Which he did...

"Let's get out of here then, Dad. Why don't you just leave? We will protect you." Even though he'd left my mother and I now understood why, I don't blame him for it.

"Brandon, they need me. You need me as an insider to figure out what the actual plan is. You can't figure that out without me. Besides, my fate is already accepted and I'm fine with the end result, if it's necessary. If I need you, I'll contact you, I promise." A tear forms in his eye. I feel compassion for him right now, I love my father.

"I'm not by myself, I have Sarah. We will do it together." I'm still grasping her hand tightly, the story I'd just heard was a bit of a shock. It was unexpected and sudden, let's not forget just how sudden. "Alright, you better be careful and if you need us, don't hesitate."

"Yes, Brandon, I will be very careful. Don't worry." We stand together. Father and son approach one another and hug. We finally have an understanding, a long awaited revelation in peace. He shows us to the door.

"Dad, I love you." Little did I know this was the last time I'd ever see him.

We go to the Mercedes and open the doors, the high temperature from the inside hits us like a wall making our hair fly back with the gush. Now we have a problem, Gen Co and The Society working together for all these years. They cultivated together yet against one another, what is the outcome? The all-around climax, what do they want from us in the end? Our power united, we can accomplish so much. We'd proven that once already and that was a minor presentation. It was nowhere near what I felt and know we could've projected. We were holding back, that is a fact I am sure of. Sarah starts the car, another blast of heat to the face as the air conditioner vents throw the air out at us like a pitcher hurling a fast ball. We sit for a few moments.

"What now, Brandon? What's the next step for us?" Sarah asks me.

"I don't know. Daniel is the only one who is fully aware of the plan. I guess he's the key to solving the mystery. He must know what the plan is." At least I think he is. There are still a few unrequited questions looming in my mind. Why did he find me? How did he know where I'd be on that particular day? It was a random trip that wasn't planned, a stroll more or less. I know now I've been under surveillance all my life, but how closely have I been under the limelight? He definitely has revenge in mind, but to what extent will someone like him go? He's killed so many I'm sure. How soulless could one man be?

"Do you think that's a good idea?" Hers is a voice of concern, bringing me back from my questions.

"Sarah, I'm done. We can't do this anymore. We have to know what's going on." It is true. I can't do this any longer. All of it needs finishing. Especially now after knowing all that we know. The wrong person is eventually going to find out that we have this knowledge and shit is going to hit the fan, full force.

"Fine, talk to him but be careful, Brandon." She's gathered some of the thoughts and understands the urgency of the situation. "I don't want you getting hurt, I love you." She looks at me with remorse. Loving moisture fills her gorgeous eyes.

"I love you too, Sarah, so much." We quickly kiss. There are much bigger things to accomplish right now than making out, even though I'd like to very much. We back out and sped from the parking lot. The coolness of the vehicle's air conditioner has kicked in and the atmosphere lightens within.

We pull into the traffic circle in front of the house. We kiss and say good-bye. I get out of the car and Sarah returns to her house. I storm the house, violently swinging the door open as I go in, anyone on the other side would easily have been knocked to the ground. I don't care. I need to hit this one hard. There's no more time for bull. It's time for truth.

"Gramms! Daniel!" My grandmother comes from the sitting room with a magazine in hand. Her finger still marks the page where she stopped due to the interruption.

"What is it, Brandon?" I've obviously upset her. How quickly does she put her ability into effect? Could the quickness of the situation have her flustered enough that she can't do it that speedily?

"Where is Daniel, Gramms? I need to speak with him, now." The urgency in my voice is very evident.

"He's not here right now. He said he had to go take care of something and he didn't tell me what. I don't even ask him anymore because I know he won't tell me anyway. He does things for The Society that I'm not allowed the pleasure of knowing." There's disappointment in her voice and I can feel it as she speaks. Her emotional status pushes itself onto me for a moment but I shake it and continue the conversation.

"Gramms, I saw my father today. He works at Gen Co., ever heard of it?" There's no shocked expression on her face. I capture some of her surprise. It's evident that the astonishment is the fact that I've spoken with my father at all after all these years.

"Yes, Brandon, I do know of Gen Co." There's another disappointed look looming. She knows a further line of questioning is pending.

"Well, Gramms, what's the plan then? Why the set-ups and the selective reproduction? Sarah and I aren't stupid. We know more than you think we do. What do they plan to use us for once the establishment of the evolution is accomplished?"

"What did your father tell you?" A little shock and distrust in her response.

"The truth about Dan and what he did to my grandfather when they were kids. All the evil things he did. All of the torment and the anguish he caused him. And that they took him away so he couldn't hurt anyone else."

"Brandon, you don't know the half of it. Do you have any idea what they did to him?" Her expressions are adamant and excited. "The torture and pain they caused, forever scarring his already twisted brain?"

"Gramms, what is he going to do and how do we stop him? I know he needs to carry out revenge in order to feel better about himself. What does he require for closure?" I am frustrated. I know she has feelings of compassionateness for Daniel and I don't know if she'll give me the answers I need.

"That's just it, Brandon, I don't know the answer..."

"Gramms, come on..." I don't believe her and interrupt.

"If I did I would've already made sure it couldn't come about. I would stop him." I start to get an honest projection from her emotions and my disbelief cowers away. I begin to calm down.

"Where did you say Dan went?" I ask again in hopes that she knows and lets the answer slip.

"I don't know, I never know!" She's so thwarted. She is shaking her magazine laden fist against her legs. The pages begin to crumple in her grasp.

"Okay we'll wait then." I reach out to her and gently remove the tattered reading from her grip. "Have you told him anything?"

"Honestly...yes. I wanted his help with you in developing the understanding of what they'd done to him. I didn't know you were going to Gen Co to seek out your father's advisement. You needed to know what had happened to him. See, Brandon, I may be a mind reader, but I don't know everything." I don't know what's next. Everything had been blown way out of proportion. Who knows what's to come? He is bad. He has to be evil in its purest form, sitting next to Lucifer himself. His life began evil and now it's worse than before. An assassin for pleasure, although I understand him a bit, I know the thirst for power and the joys in using it. But I'd always felt a certain level of remorse for killing people randomly. Why does life have to be so complicated, is it a necessity? Where the hell is he?

Chapter Twenty-three

Gen Co

The night is so inviting to Daniel as he approaches Gen Co. This will end now and there will be no one left to tell. He is no longer in the world of the reasonable. His mind has slipped into the land of vindictiveness. Daniel's eyes are glazed over in black. He is in the trance as the power flows through him. The veins in his forehead throb, the blood is rushing thickly through them. The wind circulates, following him as he walks, creating dirt devils twisting behind. A person comes out the front door. He is a predator now. He is hunting his prey like a lion waiting in the tall brown grass in the wilds of Africa. He is watching as the gazelles graze and the recently born calf stands. It is unsuspecting as it follows its mother, lagging behind. He is waiting, watching, calculating his next move, the opportunity will come and then the hunger will be gone for a little while, only soon returning with the utmost intensity. Who the person is has is of no concern to him. The shadow fumbles with its car keys. Their jangling chimes out musically. Its footfalls thump and crunch across the pavement. The face and name matching it make no difference. All the inhabitants and employees of Gen Co. must and will perish, even if it is only guilt by association. The person nears him and their eyes meet. The man stops short of Daniel and bursts a question.

"Dan, what are you doing here?" It's a rhetorical question, he already knows the answer.

"Hello, Matthew." His voice comes out solid and metallic. Matt looks into his eyes, he immediately realizes the severe intent of his purpose. He thought he'd come for answers, but had no idea that the time for revenge had come.

"Father, kill me if you will. I know that's what you're here to do, me and all the others. But let me first advise you that the secret is out. Killing us isn't going to stop anything now. I've exposed The Society and Gen Co. to others and I will never tell you who." Matt is scared but not afraid for his life. He's a compassionate man and more concerned about the lives of the others. His father could never harm him. People with power have ways of inflicting pain that no professional oppressor could possibly inflict on another human being. He's only expelled the information in hopes that Daniel will change his mind.

"In that case, Matthew, I will need you to tell me who you've told. You haven't changed anything. I will still have my revenge and the others you've told, consider the fact you've caused them further pain than was originally planned. Now, tell me who." A demanding threat, Daniel also knows the extent of his endowments and will use them to get what he wants and none will stand in his way. Matthew braces himself prior to saying it.

"You know I can't do that, Daniel." Immediately upon delivery of the words, the pain begins to flow throughout his body. He can feel his stomach twisting inside his gut. The ache is excruciating. His body is hoisted and thrust toward a nearby tree in the parking lot, he slams into it. The rough bark tears at his clothing and digs into the flesh beneath, warm liquid runs down his back, he is pinned. He cannot tell Daniel anything, no matter the pain he has to endure. He knows his father is gone mentally and knows the revenge he seeks. He also is aware of the fact he will not be able to stand in his father's way. Matthew knows this is a curse. What a blessing it would be to have it flowing through his veins right now. That would be beneficial, at least then there would be some fight to give, a chance at life. His insides twist and wrench, a deathly scream escapes his lips. He looks into his father's eyes as his soul begins to escape his body. His heart stops and all walls in his mind are broken.

Daniel leaves the body lying on the patch of grass next to the tree. Blood flows from his mouth, eyes forever gazing at the night sky. He knows all he needs to know for now, those other issues can be dealt with later, for now there's revenge to be had and actions to kibosh. Daniel nears the door. It rips from its alloy hinges. It flies inward toward the night rent-a-cop at the security desk, hitting him in the head. The corner of it bashes his skull in, instant death. He is knocked to the floor. The blood splatters the door hitting the wall and leaving a puncture wound in the drywall. Daniel is aflame. He's illuminated with power and his body glows in it. The card key access door pulls from its frame. Daniel tears it towards himself ducking as it flies over his head. It smashes through the window behind him, taking part of the frame with it. He moves into the empty hallway, his fury still burning. His body is its own flashlight. It lights the way like a black light looking for evidence at a crime scene, a murderous bloody crime scene. He knows incisively where he's headed, having spent part of a lifetime here being dissected. Down the stairway at the end of the hall into the darkness his body still lighting the way, the conversance makes lighting unnecessary. He reaches the bottom, going for the first door in sight. He slowly opens each door. He will kill them all one by one, but Stephen will be the most pleasurable to wipe out. Daniel mustn't wake him, it's a surprise. He is going to pay for everything he has done. His plans, everything, revenge is so gratifying. He finishes the others quickly, naturally, and quietly; just as he'd been taught. He squeezes their hearts and brains, stopping all bodily functions. He is finished. All of the others are dead, still in their living quarters, lifeless in their comfortable beds. There's one door left unopened, one Christmas present lying under the tree. It's the biggest one of all. The anticipation in waiting to rip off the wrapping has been part of the pleasure. Daniel approaches the door. There's no need for quiet any longer with all the other ears unable to hear. He forces the door. The entire thing, to include the metal frame, is ripped free. He pulls it into the hallway. Surprise! Stephen jumps up in his bed as Daniel stands in the empty doorway. Daniel's breathing is labored and heaving loudly in the echoing empty corridor. Stephen sees Daniel and immediately knows the events to come. He maintains a certain level of composure. He's eaten the contents of Daniel's brain from childhood, adolescence, and into early adulthood. He knows the games that need to be played in order to make him submissive again.

"Daniel. What a pleasant surprise." His voice shakes with a combination of fear, shock, and just the simple fact of the rude awakening.

"Don't be naïve, Stephen. You knew it was just a matter of time before I came to pay you back for everything you'd done to me." Daniel seems tired but not finished. Through all the tests, there was one thing that Gen Co and Stephen could be thanked for and that was the ability to push it beyond the limits of exhaustion.

"Well, Daniel, I'm not going down as easily as you'd hoped." A vase flies from the bookshelf near the bed and pounds Daniel in his forehead. Daniel was not expecting that action, the fires begin to burn more ferociously within him. Blood runs down his face from the gash in his forehead. He regains and looks back in Stephen's direction, his head lifting, his eyes cutting the air, and his lip curling in anger.

"How do you think that I'd been able to be such an outstanding mentor to you, Daniel? It would've been difficult to teach you if I didn't have some firsthand knowledge of my own." Daniel doesn't wait for him to complete his speech. He throws his power at Stephen. It hits him in the throat, his Adams apple pushes into his larynx. Stephen's hands grab at the pressure in his neck, tears well up within his ducts from the pain. His eyes take aim towards Daniel. Daniel reacts quickly and darts away, disappearing out of the room and out of the way. Stephen had already dispersed his blast, a portion of the door and the plaster of the wall explode into nothingness. He hears a release of air from Daniel's lungs and the thud of his body hitting the wall, his efforts hadn't gone to waste. Stephen leaps from his bed in pursuit of Daniel partially tripping over one of the pant legs of his pajamas. He regains his coordination. He nears the doorway and looks out. He's not there. He looks to the right, towards the stairway and only sees pieces of wood and metal, random papers scattered in the hall. No Daniel. He thinks now it's time for hide and seek.

"Daniel, come out and face me! You've endured my wrath before, why not again? I'll go easy on you this time. I told you not to defy me. I wasn't lying when I warned you of extermination!" He yells as the echoes carry throughout the corridor. From the far end of the hall, Daniel emerges from the last open room. He turns in Stephen's direction. They are gunslingers preparing for the draw. Both of their faces are consumed with anger, their lips both curled and ready to strike.

"You know why I'm here, Stephen. It's inevitable, you know it is." Daniel growls. "I'm so much stronger than you'll ever be, accept your fate."

"Like I taught you in the past, Daniel, if you want it, you'll have to work for it." He hits him in the chest. He knocks Daniel backward. Daniel falls to his ass on the floor. Breath escapes his lungs from the force of the impact. He is unscathed.

"That's an old trick that played out years ago, nice try though." Daniel's inner flame becomes so intense, his black eyes surge with an illuminating red hue. His body resumes its position on its feet, effortless and self-propelled by mind. He rams his mental force into Stephen's face. His face collapses inward, brain matter splashes the wall behind him as the body hits the floor.

"I think that's enough effort put forth on my part, Stephen. This hand has been dealt and you have been forced to fold." Daniel turns and ascends the stairs to exit the building. His mission being complete, Daniel stands in the parking lot for a moment watching as the building burns to the earth, the bodies contained inside are already dead and roasting in a fiery grave, a delivery to the hell where they will all be personally received by Satan himself, with open arms. Now there was other business to tend to. The next will be a bit more of a challenge, but he has no in certitudes about his mission. He leaves peacefully, contented by his accomplishment.

Gramms and I sit in the lounging room awaiting Dan's arrival, I still can't believe she told him. What was she thinking?

"I was trying to assist you, Brandon, not impair you." The front door opens, he's arrived at last. Gramms springs up.

"Hey, Daniel did you do what you needed to do?" She's doing well in covering her urgency.

"Yes, Darla, I'm jaded though. I need to get some rest. It's been a taxing day." He lets out a remedied breath of air.

"Don't you want to talk to your grandson?" My grandmother prods at him, nagging.

"Not right now, later unquestionably. I'd like to go to bed right now, I'm so tired. It's been an unhinged evening." Drops of perspiration sprinkle his forehead. There's a degree of botheration in his tone. He's preoccupied with something deeper than I can feel.

"Is everything alright, are you sick?" She reaches to place her hand on his forehead as grandmothers often do in their expression of interest when a family member is ill. He retreats from the unwanted contact. He is noticeably avoiding direct eye contact, his eyes are focused towards the ground and his head is cocked to the side.

"I'll be okay. I just need sleep. Brandon, we will talk tomorrow." A quick delivery with an implication of no response needed.

"Alright, Dan...I guess." I chime in as he disappears up the stairs, the landing, the hallway, ending with the bedroom door closing.

"Gramms, what was he thinking? I have to know?" My judicature is relying on her ability. Hoping she had received some sort of information by the picking of his brain.

"All I could see was a glowing fire in the horizon. The whole picture was pretty hazy. He keeps me out fairly well, Brandon. He's well-rehearsed in it actually. He's been taught many things that most of us will never be inclined to discover." She is apologetic and a look of disappointment is upon her, personal failure colors her expression. I should've already substantiated Dan's mental skills by this point and not let anything surprise me.

What has he been up to? I could feel his depletion as he stood here, but there was also a touch of alleviation and a sense of accomplishment, like a huge weight had been lifted from him. It was leaving me inquisitive. I'll have to hold off until morning. I can't do anything right now. He's up to something and I need to know what.

We chat for a few more minutes and decide to go to bed. I know I can't accomplish anything with Daniel in bed for the evening. I decide to call it a night and depart to my room. Neither of us has any idea of Daniel's plan.

Daniel opens the door to his room. He'd heard them when they'd come upstairs about an hour and a half ago. They should be asleep by now, he thinks. His head still throbs a little from the impact of the vase. Stephen's battle was both admirable and surprising. There are only a couple of steps in order to complete his goal; regrettably Darla was one of the beings who had to be eliminated. The love they'd shared in the past cannot be allowed to inhibit the actions he was about to take. The only thing that matters to him at this point is his mission. None can be left and that has to be the end result, no matter the pain. He'd already been forced to kill his own son, his own flesh and blood, there's no turning back now. He is crying as he nears her bedroom, she has been so good to him. It isn't her fault she'd gotten dragged into this situation. She has been so helpful and loving. He slowly opens her door, quietly. He nears her bed. He admires her from above. She looks so peaceful, asleep in her bed. She's such a beautiful woman. He's undeserving of her love. He begins to focus and push. He reaches into her heart and squeezes. She stirs a little and then awakens, her hands grab her chest. Her eyes are wide as she slinks back into her mattress. Her last breath flows from her lips. Daniel bends over her and kisses her gently on the forehead.

"Forgive me, my love. I'll miss you." He brushes her hair from her face and adjusts her covers perfectly over her lifeless body. One last glance and he leaves the room.

I stir and go downstairs, Gramms isn't flittering about like the usual busy bee she is during mealtime. Daniel sits at the table, his usual position at this time of day, a cup of coffee and the newspaper. I sit down in the chair furthest from him at the end of the table.

"Where's Gramms?" I ask discourteously with a tone of demand.

"I don't know, maybe still sleeping. She likes to sleep in once and a while." Not so much as a glance up from his paper. I see the front page headlines, 9 Killed in Fire Last Night. I see Gen Co. in the caption on the photo with burnt rubble remaining. I get up from my chair almost making it tip backward onto the floor and go to the stairs. Gramms... have to check on her... he's out of his mind! I fly up the stairs, leaping three at a time, holding the railing. I push off of it like a crutch propelling my body forward as I soar up to the next level. I run down the hall and stop at her door. I take a deep breath. I knock on it. Wait. There's no answer. I turn the knob and go inside. She's in bed, the covers pulled up over her face. Gramms. I call to her in hopes for a response as she straightaway springs up in her bed from her slumber. There is no harmonic voice in reception. I near the bed and slide back the sheet unveiling her face. She's not asleep, her flesh is blue! Oh my God! I've seen death plenty of times before, but not someone I love. Her eyes are wide. I fall onto her bed, the tears flooding from my eyes. Her nightgown absorbs them. They are my last donation of love. I could've given her so much more. He did this, Daniel did it! He killed my grandmother, his love! Why? Why would he kill her when she's done so much for him and kept so many secrets to protect him?

"Because she knew too much and there can't be any trace left of our history." I turn to face him. He's standing in the doorway, a hand elevated and placed against the door frame. The calm collectedness of his presentation stirs my insides. My forehead droops into a scowl.

"Don't worry, Brandon, I have some compassion. I loved her. She was asleep and it was reasonably painless."

"You, son of a bitch," the power is billowing in me, my anger is so intense. A sudden powerful blast hits me directly in my chest, one that hadn't originated from me. I fly through the air, hitting the dresser. I smash the mirror attached to it with the back of my head. Fuzziness consumes my vision. He stands in the door watching me slip. Everything fades into the dark abyss of my mind. I can no longer defend myself. I am unconscious. Daniel rendered me so with his powers.

Chapter Twenty-four

The Power of Two

I hear her calling my name, its vibration echoes in my head. An echoing Brandon calls me, beckoning me in my mind. Where is she? Where am I? Help me. The vibrant, metallic echo fades, leaving me feeling empty and helpless. I move a little and am awake and groaning. I am on the floor of the bedroom. I push off the floor and prop myself up. Glass from the shattered mirror are scattered over the rug. I rest my upper torso against the dresser. My head hurts so badly. I reach up, placing my hand on the pain. It hurts to the touch; it makes me wince in pain. I remove my hand. There's blood, not a lot of it, but it's still there. I rise to my feet. Oh it hurts. I ache all over, feeling like I'd been hit by a car. I slowly get up. I stand all the way as I glance towards my grandmother's bed. Her body is gone. Where'd he take her? I have to find him, he's so strong though. What do I do? Sarah, she's my only chance. I'll call her. I go to the study. My arms and legs are shaking like gelatin. I'm in some serious pain and it's so deep that it penetrates my bones. I pick up the phone and dial the Maddox number. It rings on the other end...once...twice...five times...twelve rings, what is going on? I hang up. The phone rings in as soon as I pushed the end call button. It makes me jump. I answer excitedly, supposing the caller id had been checked and redialed.

"Sarah?"

"No, this isn't Sarah, Brandon." It's a possessed voice loud and grating, Daniel's emptiness. "I have her and you'll never see her alive again unless you help me destroy them all."

"I will kill you!" I realize it's an empty threat but I can't let him know that he's gotten the better of me.

"I think we already know how far that threat will go. Haven't you felt enough pain and loss, Brandon? Do you need to feel more in order to be complete in all your self-convictions, so guilty and unclean in your mind? Your soul is filthy. You have already condemned yourself. You will help me wipe them out or she's dead." He's got me. What are my options? I have to save her, no matter the cost.

"Who, Daniel? What do you want from me?" I ask in despair.

"The Society, they all have to be dealt with and you will help me or you will suffer the consequences." Why? Why must everything end in death and blood? I have to agree to aid him in his massacre, what choice do I have? It's either the people I've only met once or the life of the one I'm meant to spend the rest of my existence with, there really isn't an option.

"I will help you, what choice do I have? Are you really giving me one?"

"Yes, Brandon, you have a choice. You will help me or Sarah will die, that is the choice. Now which one do you pick?"

"You already know the answer, Daniel or you wouldn't have made the effort of taking her. How do I know she's safe?"

"Well, Brandon, I guess I'm going out on a whim here and I'll say you're just going to have to trust me." He lets a little snicker loose. "She'll let you know if she's safe, hasn't she already?"

"Yes, she has. How do you know? I'll help you for her."

"I've told you before. I know more than you think. I thought you'd agree, meet me out front." The phone hangs up. I do as he demands leaving everything as is, going to the front door. Sarah's black Mercedes waits for me in the night. The sight of her car induces more anger and anguish to course through me, I have to wait. I can't take him alone, especially now after the bashing he's already put me through, I'm not strong enough. I open the door and get into the car. I lower myself in painfully. I try not to let my pain escape me but I groan a little as I sit. I'm so sore. It's simmering deep inside me. The hatred is so strong. I have to level off, Bran you can do this. I push the anger into the depths of my being as we leave the yard. Somehow I will get us through this.

"Where are we going?"

"I've already told you, Brandon. We are going to take care of The Society, they are the remaining tie. We must eliminate them and that's exactly what we will do, together." The thought of the lives I was about to destroy for reasons unknown makes me queasy, I disgorge on the floor of the car as a reaction both in the unpleasantness of destruction and in the excruciating pain of my body. I wipe my mouth with my shirt sleeve. There is no reason for this, no reason at all.

"No reason? The Society and Gen Co. work together! They tortured me and others before me in order to use us to create you and Sarah. We will stop them from interfering or harming anyone else! This is the destiny they have created for themselves, it is inevitable. Now that you are mine again, Brandon." He turns towards me upon the conclusion of his speech, his eyes bearing into my soul. There is so much dedication and drive filling his being. I begin to question my ability to stop him, even with Sarah's help. I can feel it all, so much anger, pain, and hate overtaking me. His emotions are becoming my emotions, a genetic bond in our souls. It's the flood of a river flowing into a lake. It feels so good and so complete. I am one with him in my mind.

We arrive at the homes of the members of The Society. It is time for revenge and payback entitlements all paid in full. We hit each home one by one in The Society's mini community. We save the Maddox home for last. Together, my power is almost as powerful as it was with Sarah, he has so much control and his focus is astounding. Grandfather and grandson made by a Society now tearing down that Society. The doors blown off hinges, windows exploding, glass everywhere. People choking and vomiting, their hearts and lungs crushed. The skulls are crunching as we are fulfilled by sweet revenge and termination. We are tearing down the very thing that had created us, how wonderfully ironic. All of them perish quickly as they lounge in their pajamas. They had been watching television prior to answering the door with a "Hey, Brandon, Daniel. What brings..." and that is as far as they ever get before they are blasted and ripped to tatters from the inside, they've paid their dues and all has been forgiven through the death and devastation. Simple humans who have no powers are so easily wiped from existence.

Brandon...Help me, Sarah's mentally projected voice of desperation. The blackness of my eyes clears. My mind begins to think rationally again as I shake it off. I am alert; suddenly realizing all those years the evil inside my head was him. It was Daniel who was doing it to me. My own grandfather who had been invading my mind, consuming my thoughts, abusing my powers, and using me my whole life!

"I was teaching you and training you to use your power. Don't confuse the facts, Brandon, let's stick with reality here." He too had returned, fully composed with seemingly no exhaustion or strain from the actions and use of the talent. I was feeling drained and violated, my body ached everywhere. It was now him again, Daniel, the snobby self-important man.

"You are a disturbed man, all that time using me against my will. All that death, all those lives taken...your own brother, you are probably the reason he was crazy! You've led me to believe I was the cause of the deaths and the destruction, all the guilt for all these years!" I'm standing directly in his face yelling at him, spitting and sputtering as I vent my anger. He looks into my eyes with a blank stare, incorporating no emotion or care in regards to what I'm enunciating.

"You need to relax, Brandon. Getting angry about it won't do you a bit of good." His voice is condescending because he knows he can do whatever he wishes to me at this point, I don't know how to stop him.

"Take me to her now! I've done as you asked!" demanding his oath be carried through.

"As antecedently agreed, I did promise." We go to the car, leaving the chaos to the police. Daniel walks with his head held high, carrying an obvious feeling of accomplishment. I am ashamed and revolted by myself as I follow behind him. I don't care what they had done. They did not deserve what they had received. The families of The Society, slaughtered. It was mad massacre, an enigma.

Our drive takes us through the city and out the other side. Down a familiar road to a familiar place, the place I'd originally met David. The warehouse is situated in the field, the lights of the Dallas/Fort Worth Airport landing strips light up the sky line nearby. The thunder of an airplane flying overhead fills the air shortly after takeoff. We get out of the vehicle, I run to the door, opening it hastily. The mammoth stone room is in place on the ground. Sarah's in there, I can feel her with my psyche. I place my hands on the outside of the wall. It is solid granite or marble, unquestionably it is not made from cement. It is too dense and thick.

"Get her out now, Daniel!" He goes to the control booth, grabs the handle and the motor squeaking in its labor of coiling of the line, raising the room. The cable seems to be strained under the pressure of it, though it is as thick as an empty paper towel roll. The container raises just high enough for me to slip under it. I enter and turn to see Sarah strapped to the slab, just as I was. I see her eyes as she turns her head towards me. I'm so thankful that she's alright. I stand next to her.

You called, my love? Despite the situation, I give her a smile.

"Oh God, Bran, I'm so sorry." A tear rolls down her cheek as she lays there, so vulnerable. The cage begins to fall back to the floor, making both of us now his prisoners.

"I knew it was a trap as soon as you approached me, I didn't have enough time to warn you." Her eyes still teary and running, bringing a little of the eyeliner and mascara so delicately applied down her cheek. I wipe the moisture away with my finger, she is so picturesque and I love her so much, she has my heart and my soul. I free Sarah from her bonds, my heart is relaxed and I am felicitous to be with her now, even in our confines we are complete. Together we are unbeatable, we embrace.

"Brandon and Sarah, I've finally got you both. You two are all that is left in connection with those god awful organizations and this will end here and now. I have a little trick I've been honing for years. Brandon, I believe you are familiar with it?"

"You wouldn't dare, you can't!" my worry overthrows any other emotions. I'm filled with the vexation for what is about to happen. We are strong as one, but I know if he separates my mind, there's no telling what will happen.

"I can and I shall. You know you can't stop me. You never have been able to. A shadow lingering behind your eyes, bah! I'm there whenever I choose to be and you've been a great experience for me, my marionette, making you kill those two in the woods, marvelous. I'll have to admit smashing my brother's skull was the most satisfying pleasure you've ever delighted me with, absolutely magnificent!" His laughter reverberates over the loudspeaker like the mad cackle of a kookaburra. Sarah and I are about to become gladiators in an arena with no one to impress but a madman viewing us on a television monitor in a tiny windowed room. Not like the gladiators of Roman times fighting in a gigantic coliseum for a monstrous crowd of people betting and cheering, our weapons gleaming and stained with the blood of the many warriors of the past, their lives lost for the simple entertainment of it. We are only armed with one weapon, our minds, as lethal as any blade or man-o-war, axe or saber when reined and used properly. I feel the cloud moving in like many times in the past, he's coming. My eyes begin to blacken. The transformation is almost accomplished. My fire is burning. The fury and hatred are filling my soul as I am fading, a whisper within.

Brandon, you can stop him. Think. Barricade him. You are more powerful and more impregnable in the mind with rational thought and sanity, why else would he want you dead, fight him... I love you. I begin to gain a bit of my own thoughts, her voice acts as a sweet spring breeze smelling of lavender and lilac as it blows through my mind, so fresh clean and pure. My love for her pushing like two stallions in a herd, a battle for power, strength, leadership and breeding, rearing and kicking each other with their front hooves, biting, so muscular and strong, their muscles ripple with every violent movement. He's losing to the moonlit sky, the twinkling stars, water on the shore, to my father and me fishing by the lake so peaceful and calming, the fog is nearly depleted.

Brandon, I love you. The final push to my self-conscious exemption, my mind crystallizes, it is mine, Sarah is mine, revenge is ours, and this has to end now. I take hold of her hand, our passion and desire meet, our bodies fill with each other, our love being the fuel for our now burning fire, our power coalesces, intermingling, my stomach feels like the initial drop off on a roller coaster ride and my heart banging so hard it's near explosion.

"Brandon, we have to end this, there's no way else to do it."

"I know, my love." The power consumes us. The glow from our bodies looks almost radioactive with intensity. The air current begins to pick up in the container, the buckles on the altar swaying as the atoms in the air swirl and mix. A sphere of static and light surrounds our bodies. We lift off the ground a little. Intense is this monster called love. The flood tide is nearing. The physical and mental stimulation, a world of emptiness, consisting of nothing else but us, we are the center of the universe. The spherical wall of particles and energy breaks free, sending an explosion in all directions. The cage is like peanut brittle, broken pieces fly everywhere. Everything smashes to bits. Boulders four feet thick crush the walls of the warehouse, tearing through the metal siding, leaving nothing but a void of rock and distorted metal. The booth is demolished with the initial blast having an immediate consequence. Pieces of the wooden wizard's box splintered, electronic bits scattered. The glass is gone, having flown off, the shards breaking into crumbled bits as they hit the cement flooring. Even the flooring hasn't escaped unscathed. Chunks of cement are broken from the impact of the marble. There is no blood, no pieces of a body, nothing, Where's Daniel?!

An abrupt alarm pops into my head as I hear a car door slam from behind. We are qui vive as we turn in the direction of the racket, our hands meeting as we pivot. We stay physically and mentally coupled. We allow ourselves to be devoured by the telekinesis again, so much pleasure. Her dress drifts in the breeze towards the rear, flapping. Our hair blows in the air with our strides as we exit the building, just outside near Daniel's position. Everything is happening in slow motion, he will not escape us. We will not permit it. The engine attempts to turn over without success on the first turn. He tries again, this time the spark conflagrates the gasoline in the cylinders. We are ablaze with our power as the tires explode. The chunks of rubber fly everywhere. The windows crumble inward like water droplets falling from the sky into the car. Daniels hands go up in his surprise and in order to protect his face from the glass as it falls into his lap, painting his clothing with random scintillating chunks. The car begins to crush at the doors. They are caving in on him like a vehicle in the junkyard being smashed into a nice neat little package in the crusher. The engine dies as the hood and fender invade the fan blade, stopping it, bending the other moving components along with it. Daniel has given up. He knows his fate. He has to recognize it by now. He slithers out of the car window on the opposite side. The automobile flies end over end backwards, smashing it more, four complete revolutions and then discontinues. Daniel stands and faces his undoing. We are his redeemers, his archangels, his creations, and ultimately, his demise.

"You are not the only ones. There are many others like you. I can help you find them." Tufts of his hair blow randomly, squinting to avoid getting sand in his eyes. "There are also more guilds of The Society and companies like Gen Co. planning things. They are waiting and plotting against your kind, all of you. I can help!" The wind is blowing so violently from our strength that he is squalling in order to hear himself. The demolished car begins to come at us slowly, a deterrent. His power is diminished by his nervousness. A piece of the metal from the building flies at us from the storage warehouse nearby, it is warded off by the orb surrounding our bodies. It falls heavily to the ground, a superfluous effort. It is then followed by another large chunk of I-beam from a main support of the warehouse. It is deflected again. The atoms and molecules protect us. They are too strong and fast to be penetrated.

"Daniel." The hollow metallic sound of our voices in unison, it's so powerful and nearly divine. I am a god with my goddess at my side, not to be worshipped, but to be feared. We are the Greek divinities of ancient mythology, Zeus and Hera.

"It's too late for that. Don't start begging now, after the damage you stimulated in me as a child and the evil you made me do. It's too late for a pardon. It's time to meet your Lord." His body begins to lift. He is as rigid as a board. His poor tormented soul. Loud screams of agony fill the empty air. It's an atrociously slow death. His insides are mashing and squeezing like silly putty contorting in a child's hand. He rises, higher and higher, until his body is a perfectly framed silhouette against the illumination of the full moon. My mantra is in full view right before my eyes. His flesh begins to shift and shape as though it's melting against the moon's cool light. There is one final scream of agony. We release our force, the spherical wall of atoms breaks from our minds capture. The blast does the damage it was meant to. The wave smashes the warehouse completely. It's like a nuclear explosion, it tears everything like paper. Daniel is no longer a resident on this plane, his body is gone and his essence is being received. May the Prince of Darkness have mercy on his soul? Sarah and I relax and clinch. We glance around to see that everything within our near proximity is gone. The earth is dry and clean of all vegetation. Where the Joshua trees and grass once thrived, they are no more. The warehouse lay flat to the ground, the metal and assorted bits of building materials washed away. The demolished car has disappeared as well, not a trace. Sarah and I turn to each other and stare into each other's deep brown eyes. She smiles at me. I share my relief with her. We are it, two people. We partake in one power. We are one love. We share everything including our future...

Chapter Twenty-five

Our Story Begins

Sarah and I had one of those quick Las Vegas weddings due to the fact that we had to get away before any other members of either group discovered us. We know there are many others; the question is, how many? How many of them are like Daniel? What extent will they go to in order to find us? Kill us, or capture us? We don't know the answers to those questions. We are cautious in everything we do now. We can't take any chances. The only question we know the real answer to is this...we have to stay one in order to survive. Shortly after our wedding we made a pleasant discovery.

I smile brightly over him as our child is removed from Sarah's womb, still soaked in amniotic fluid and blood. She's exhausted from the pains of childbirth, a tear rolls down my cheek. I am contented and overjoyed in the nativity, the birth of my new perfect baby boy. Sarah sobs uncontrollably, felicitous and depleted from the parturition. The doctor hands the surgical scissors to me, I'm nervous in the possibility of harming my treasure. I clip the umbilical cord, my hand a little shaky having to use the other one to steady it, my first accomplishment for my child as a father. Upon completion of the newborns separation from Sarah's womb, the doctor has an announcement to make as he resumes his position in front of her. Her eyes are fluttering from the enfeeblement.

"Stay with me, Sarah. You've got more work to do." I stop in the admiration of my boy and resume my position beside my spouse. I am utterly amazed, we had no idea there were two babies. In all our hiding and escape from The Society and Gen Co.'s discovery, we hadn't been able to seek the proper medical treatment she should've had. Thank goodness she had had a normal, healthy pregnancy or there would've been some problems for us, more so than the ones of the past. She screams in pain from the contractions.

"All right, Sarah, push." She bears down on my hand and scrunches up, pushing as hard as she can. Her face turns red in her efforts.

"Almost there, one more push, you can do it." The nurse is encouraging and exudes confidence through his experience. I regret he wasn't our doctor throughout the pregnancy. She relaxes quickly and then pushes again, more forcibly this time. The doctor takes the baby in his hands.

"It's a girl. Congratulations to the both of you. Great job Mom, you did very well, considering that you're a first timer." He chuckles from his belly for a moment. We go through the motions of the cord clipping again and he hands her to the nurse. The tears are gushing from our eyes, we are ecstatic, twins. What more could anyone ask for?

The infants squirm and flail their newly freed limbs. The boy is practicing his screaming and using his newly found voice, she only lets loose a small whimpering. He continues his wailing. His nurse coddles him then lowers him softly into the warmer, filled with plush blankets, a container of a mysterious heaven in a plastic bassinette for a brand new life. The blankets are warm and soft, the security of the walls surrounding an infant. My baby girl seems to enjoy her new freedom and remains fairly peaceful. Her eyes are open just a little. The lights are bright to her new peepers. She is laid into a newly placed bassinet matching her brothers. The nurses each take a cloth and dip it into a nearby sink filled with warm water and soap mix and begin the cleaning process. They are well practiced in this event and do it together like clockwork. They work their way down from the babes' full heads of ebon locks, removing remnants of the placenta and the birthing fluids. Down their absolutely adorable, pudgy baby face, plush cheeks, and dark almond shaped eyes, cleaning in between their chubby baby neck rolls, chest, arms, hands, and working to those plump little digits on their feet. His cries relax a bit but his requirement for nourishment is still there. His cries proceed, stronger this time, he will have gratification. His sister still absorbs the atmosphere quietly, only a few noises escape her. The nurses each grab a tiny diaper and secure them tightly, but not too tight. They begin folding the swaddling blanket beneath each of my children, wrapping from the bottom corner, the right side, and then the left, a neat little package for delivery, a little bundle. They must teach this in nursing school. They pick them up and approach Sarah. There is a silent motion exchanged from her implying she will receive our baby girl first and she nudges a chin in my direction for our baby boy's acceptance. The one nurse hands her to Sarah, the other approaches me and delivers our boy. I coddle him gently, I'm not experienced in baby handling but instinct and fatherhood guide me. He is so precious and tiny in my arms. The tears are still present on my cheeks. This is by far one of the most delightful experiences in my life, next to meeting Sarah. One of the candy strippers comes into the room with tiny bottles for us to give the children. Within a few moments they are full and contently asleep in the comfort of our arms. I sit by, observing Sarah and my baby girl in admiration from the chair next to the bed, glancing down, adoring my boy. A mother, daughter, and son, exhausted, complete from the events of the day. It's the beginning of a mysterious life of questions and answers. Only some of the questions being answered involving a mysterious bloodline with a long awaited purpose. The bloodline has just begun to thrive...

****

Authors notes:

If we dream of something long enough and wish hard enough, the ambitions we possess, the ones that live deep within our soul, will someday disclose themselves to us.

What will we do with these aspirations upon their revealing, once the opportunity presents itself?

That, my friends, is the ultimate question.

Will the end result be

a conviction of your self?

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 college with his main focus being in English.

