Balance - Book one

  Part of me hoped against hope that she would look around sleepily and dance with joy at being free. But even before the screaming started I knew this was an unrealistic expectation.

  She shrieked, the shrill voice amplified to a pitch that would have shattered wine glasses had there been any nearby. Then she raised her hands and began to claw at her own face, tearing the skin and drawing blood.

  “Linda! Stop that!”

  I grabbed her wrists and attempted to restrain her, but she flailed hysterically, thrashing her head from side to side and screaming as though the world was ending. And for her, that is exactly what was happening.

  “Linda! Linda!”

  I took her up in an embrace and held tight, squeezing her arms against her body in an attempt to restrict movement. It seemed impossible that such a tiny creature could be so strong, but I could have sworn I was wrestling a wild bull.

  The screaming continued. Tears streamed down her bleeding cheeks.

  I released my Spirit again and bombarded her with positive energy. Gradually it took effect and she relaxed in my arms. The screaming subsided.

  “Jet!” Benny’s head was visible by the front doors. “What’s going on? You okay?”

  “Yes. I’m fine.”

  “Who’s the girl?”

  “I… helped her… she’s been under my mother’s spell for years.”

  “Shit, Jet. That is not the way spell breaking is done. There is a proper procedure.”

  “I’m sorry. I just…”

  “Never mind, I’ll take her.” He took a now wistful, unresponsive Linda by the hand and led her outside. “Just do what you have to do,” he called over his shoulder, “Quickly.”

  I nodded. With my “good deed” for the day achieved, I returned my focus to the interior of The Sushi Palace.

  Amazingly, so deep was the level of control that the other waiters had ignored the whole affair and continued working, completely oblivious to any negative distractions outside their immediate area.

  A movement from the direction of the kitchen caught my attention and my head snapped round. There, standing in the kitchen doorway, was my mother; body posture reflecting a concern that made me feel like a dangerous intruder. The warning buzz intensified.

  “Jet,” she said timidly, “I heard screaming.”

  “I set Linda free,” I told my mother, “She’s not under your control anymore.”

  “I see,” she replied, then stood and stared at me, as if expecting I might pounce.

  I looked back at her and noted the terrified eyes and hands nervously fidgeting, and had a rather unsettling realisation. I had come here with every intention of murdering her. I had meant it; I believed she deserved it. I had ended the lives of the deserving once before and I had come to repeat the process. Clarence-child ends the life of Clarence-senior. Blood kills blood, the circle complete. She had every reason to be scared.

  “I came to talk,” I said, feeling an urge to seem less threatening.

  “Okay. What would you like to talk about, Jet?”

  “Well…” my eyes drifted to the floor, “I was hoping we could sit down for a minute.”

  This wasn’t at all how it had gone in my Logical Prediction.

  “Sure. Let’s do that,” she agreed, gesturing towards a central table. I moved towards it gratefully. “Would you like some coffee?”

  My coffee quota for the morning had already been filled before I left, but more never seemed like a bad idea. “Please.”

  I took a seat and watched as she hurried over to a side table, poured a steaming mug and delivered it, placing it before me with characteristics that made her seem like some kind of abused servant. She had probably brought me hundreds of cups of coffee in my life, but never before had I felt that I was demanding them until that moment.

  She stood waiting. I had no idea why at first, then took a sip of the coffee and nodded. “It’s fine, thank you.”

  “Oh good,” she said smiling with relief, then took the seat across from me.

  Is this what I’ve become? My mother scurrying around, trying to please me for fear I may do something terrible? When did I become this person? When did I become a thing of which people are terrified? Who have I become? Who am I if not me…?

  “So what did you want to talk about,” she asked, sitting with hands folded in her lap.

  “I wanted to talk about my father,” I replied, but part of me was already uncertain I wanted to bring up the topic at all.

  “What about him, dear?”

  “Gran killed him.”

  “Yes dear, she did. I was very upset about it. It was a very unfortunate incident. ”

  “Gran tried to erase it from my mind.”

  “She did, that’s right.”

  “You used him as a slave.”

  At this her expression turned to one of shock, then offence. “I did no such thing. I loved your father.”

  “He was under your control, wasn’t he?”

  “Yes. That does not mean I did not love him. It’s not the way you think, Jet.”

  “It’s not the way I think?”

  She paused, looking at me carefully. I looked back.

  The tiny light expanded to blot out the flame. Not a few hours ago it had occurred to me that no one would miss me if I had died, and I desperately wanted that to not be true. Regardless of what she may or may not have done, I wanted a mother. I wanted a family, because without my family, I had nothing. I wanted her to tell me I still had someone who cared about me, that I still had a home, a place which I could rely on for love and support no matter what I had done.

  Was she so different from Benny? Perhaps it was all just a matter of perspective…

  Her expression melted into one of maternal affection. “Is that what this has all been about? How could you ever doubt you came from a loving family, Jet? How could you ever question such a thing?”

  Images drifted slowly through my mind, memories that preceded my place of calm and made up the childhood of which I was so fond…

  Warm summer days spent by the swimming pool, the smell of steaks and sausage cooking on the open fire…

  Trips to the drive-in under a clear sky, watching movies that were not as important as the actual time spent with loving parents…

  Lying under the table when gran visited, satisfied from the evening of incredible food and shared laughter…

  How could I have forgotten these things? How could I have forgotten the times that had made me who I am?

  My mother leaned forward across the table and fondly caressed my cheek. “My boy,” she said, “My precious boy. When did you forget who you are?”

  “I don’t know, mother.” I realised tears were running down my cheeks.

  Again I was looking into the face of my beloved, caring mother. A woman who had supported me for all my life, through the hard times my family had endured, through the flailing confusion that had been my life. She was so beautiful.

  “There’s an Enforcer outside,” I found myself saying, “He’s here to take you away. I came here to kill you, but I changed my mind. I’m sorry, mother.”

  She flinched. “What?”

  “I was scared. I didn’t know what to do. I’m sorry, mother. I though you deserved it.”

  Her lips drew into a disappointed pout. “That’s okay, Jet, that’s okay. I understand.”

  “I think maybe he can help you. Maybe he can make the charges… less significant. It won’t be so bad, I think. He’s a good man.”

  “I guess I’ll have to face the law, won’t I?”

  “Yes.” My tears were dripping from my chin and pattering down onto the table.

  “We all have to deal with the consequences of our crimes, don’t we?”

  I barely registered that she was rolling up the sleeve on my left arm, exposing the wrist.

  “Yes, we have to deal with the consequences of our actions,” I agreed.

  “Because we can’t just go around doing as we please?
Can we? There must be rules or the world will be unbalanced.”

  “Yes. The world must have balance.”

  Now she was rolling up the right sleeve.

  “Listen to me very carefully, Jet.”

  “Okay.” I gave her my full focus, so glad that my mother was paying me attention again, so relieved that I once again had a family. She forgave me, and I was her little boy again.

  “You need to stay right here. Okay?”

  “Okay, mother.”

  She dragged the blade of the knife across my left wrist, pushing down with the weight of her entire body. Blood spurted out, shooting ten clear inches across the table.

  “Mommy has to go and do important things. You stay here and don’t say a word. Not a peep! Understand?”

  “I understand, mother.”

  She moved to the right wrist now, cutting deep, severing tendons and veins. There was no more than a distant pressure. I did not understand what she was doing and it was not important, something that was beyond my levels of comprehension.

  “That’s a good boy,” she said, then turned and yelled over her shoulder, “Mother! Mother!”

  Fran Clarence burst through the kitchen door, having been waiting just out of sight on the other side. She approached as fast as her old body would allow.

  Gran’s here gran’s here…!

  “There’s an Enforcer outside,” my mother said to her, “It’s over; we’re clearing out.”

  “I told you,” spat gran in response, “I told you, Liza!”

  “I know, I know! There’s nothing we can do about it now, is there?!”

  Gran looked down at my wrists and scowled. “Such a waste. Such a complete and utter waste.”

  “He was a success, mother. Any way you look at it.”

  “Yes, that’s my girl,” gran snorted sarcastically, “A glass half full kind of person even in the face of dismal failure.”

  “We can do it again!”

  “In case you haven’t noticed I am not getting any younger, Liza! He took twenty odd years to develop a single iota of Spirit level!”

  “Well, your age is not my fault,” my mother responded curtly, “Now is it?”

  To this gran had no response.

  “Let’s go, out the back,” my mother continued, “We can’t hold him for long.”

  “Such a damn shame,” gran repeated, giving me a final look before heading back towards the kitchen.

  My mother turned back to me. “You’ll stay right here, won’t you?”

  “Yes mother,” I replied obediently, “Where is gran going? We haven’t even had dinner yet.”

  “Never you mind, mommy loves you, okay?”

  I smiled. “I love you too mommy…”

  She kissed my forehead, patted my cheek and exited into the kitchen.

  I sat quietly, the smile lingering on my lips. I was content. More than content; euphoric. The world made perfect sense in all ways, leaving me with a feeling of safety, happiness and belonging. I never wanted to leave that place; I never wanted to leave that bubble in which the world was right.

  Thank goodness I decided to change my mind, I told myself, my mind recalling that I had previously had some kind of conflict, thank goodness. I have a mother again, and she loves me.

  Time passed. A minute ticked by.

  To my right I saw a group of people I did not recognise setting the tables one by one in silence, moving towards and then around me. They avoided my own table intentionally, but I didn’t mind.

  A few moments later I was aware of a sound near my legs, a sort of pattering, like drops of rain dripping from a roof and splashing onto a solid floor. What was that sound?

  I leaned over to get a look and saw liquid gently cascading from the table and onto the floor. It was red and sticky, like a melted Popsicle on a warm day.

  I felt myself frowning, wondering where this liquid could be coming from.

  As this thought entered my head another soon followed; my wrists felt strange… they were cool and moist. Why this was I could not fathom. I stared at them, watching the blood pour from the gaping wounds, but my mind would not put the pieces together.

  All at once my Spirit started to scream for attention. I knew that what it wanted to say, or make me aware of, must have been important, but I had no interest in hearing. After all, acknowledging it would be allowing my bubble of happiness to burst.

  I continued to stare at my wrists, wondering where my mother had gone and what could be taking her so long. I was starting to get hungry.

  It occurred to me that my coffee was still on the table, now sitting in an odd red coating that was covering the table’s surface. I decided I would have a sip before it got cold and tried to pick up the mug. But my fingers were not working as they should. It confused me and I frowned.

  My Spirit continued to scream.

  Things were starting to go woozy and my head swam, why this was I could not figure out.

  There was a flash in my head and my body jolted. I recognised the sensation from previously in the kitchen with my mother and grandmother. This was significant, I knew, but why I could not say.

  Another flash and my body jolted as if struck by lightening. Reality shunted into place.

  All at once I was sitting at a table in my mother’s restaurant, bleeding to death from wrists that had been slashed by a meat cleaver.

  Defeat washed over me, complete and utter defeat. I felt my shoulders sag and heard a sound escape me from somewhere inside; a lingering groan. It was a sound so primal and uninhibited that even to my own ears it was heartbreaking.

  She had sucked me in, played to my emotions and killed me without so much as breaking a sweat. It had all been a spell, from the moment I had laid eyes on her; the submissive gestures, the coffee, everything. And I had fallen for it hook, line and sinker. Worse yet was that I had not even experienced the expected vertigo warning. She really was good, my mother, she really was a master of her craft.

  A lone wet sob escaped me.

  My mother had killed me. It was a final note to the symphony of my life that had been both confused and chaotic in equal parts.

  Horribly, astonishingly, even as I attempted to staunch the flow of blood with hands that were useless from severed tendons, the spell still lingered in my mind, wondering where my mother was and when she’d be back.

  Had I ever had a mother? No. It was obvious to me then that I had not. I had been in denial thinking otherwise, another self imposed spell. It had not been Logical Prediction I had performed just minutes ago. So badly had I craved a family that I had self imposed a spell, forcing myself to believe that there was no reason to doubt what my childhood had been. But I could see it clearly now; my family had been a lie. What the reasons were for this, I did not currently understand, but I would. Later.

  Who am I? Who am I if not me? I had been so terrified of being a Clarence. But a new thought, infinitely more terrifying raised its head. I was no ones son.

  A mental wall collapsed and a hungry maw once again gaped open; my old friend insanity was back and stronger than ever, sucking at me like the eye of a tornado. I would never be able to confine that maw again, it was simply too strong. And even if it had been possible to rebuild the wall, those roads led inevitably to the development of a second, and maybe even a third demon.

  I realised my body was shuddering violently as I wept like a scolded child, staring through glazed eyes as my numb fingers fumbled clumsily in an attempt to staunch the blood. But it was in vain; I was bleeding out and would be dead in minutes.

  “Benny!” It was my own croaking voice, drowning in sobs and tears, but it sounded like that of a stranger. “Benny!”

  No answer. Linda, he was tending to Linda. It seemed no good deed went unpunished. The girl would inadvertently be the death of me.

  I looked up and realised someone was sitting in the chair across from me. Something. My demon; there it was in its tuxedo, blue face expressionless as it gazed at me.


  I held my wrists up for it to see, irrationally thinking that it could somehow offer assistance. It was not moved to action.

  “Help me,” I whimpered. But my mind was chaos and control slipping; it did not move. “Help me!” It stared in response, purring softly.

  I exploded, the tears rapidly giving way to a rage I had never known existed. The flame which had so recently been eclipsed by light exploded in a mushroom cloud. I hated that creature. I hated it as I had never hated anything before. It was everything that I hated, everything that made no sense. And I wanted to kill it. I wanted it to be gone. I wanted it to disappear.

  “Go away!” I screamed at it, rising from my chair and leaning across the table. “Go away! Get out of my life! I command you to get out of my face!” Spirit roared into life around me, sending shockwaves across the ground that shattered tiles, splintering them upwards into showers of debris. “Get out of my life! Get out!” The energy grew, developing into a crackling, swirling mass that begged to be released and let loose, was anxious to be my extended hand and deliver on the world the rage that burned in my stomach. “GET OUT!” I was rapidly losing control, on the verge of releasing energy that would tear the building to rubble and send it shooting across the parking lot in deadly fragments of shrapnel. It would be glorious, a beautiful, raw display of power that summed up my feelings to the letter.

  Seconds before I allowed the destruction to commence, an image flashed through my mind, so clear I could have sworn I was transported outside for the briefest of instants.

  Logical Prediction…

  Benny was helping a still dazed Linda into his car as he reassured her with comforting words.

  The Sushi Palace suddenly erupted from an explosion within, the entire roof lifting off as if floating on a cloud of hot air. The walls first bowed then fractured, sending fragments of debris like a million tiny bullets.

  Both Benny and Linda looked up at the carnage and a second later were pelted by the debris, their bodies jerking rhythmically as puncture wounds and bloody bruises appeared.

  Finally the shockwave swept over and they were not so much torn to pieces as more reduced to a cloud of twisting red ribbons…

  This time I was certain my prediction was accurate, despite my previous failure. My destruction parade would kill them both, and no, despite everything, I was not able to allow this.

  With enormous effort and equal amounts of reluctance I managed to reign in the Spirit, drawing it away and letting it melt back into my body.

  I returned my attention to my demon.

  “Go away,” I told it, “I don’t want to see your face when I die.”

  It regarded me with cool indifference, absorbing the words. Then its head snapped forward and it released a sharp, aggressive chirp into my face, making me jump back in surprise. My shoes slipped in the blood and I toppled backward, hitting the ground with a thud.

  And there I lay, flat on my back, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

  I was finished; broken. In every way it was possible to be beaten, I was beaten. There was nothing left.

  As the world began to darken and I felt the thumping beat of my heart begin to slow, my view of the ceiling was eclipsed by my demon’s face. It was kneeling above my head and looking down at me, apparently wanting a front row seat of the entertainment as I checked out.

  “Who am I if not me?” I asked it.

  “I’m Jet Clarence and I’m a rapist,” it replied.

  “I never went through with it and the guilt haunts me still.”

  “I’m Jet Clarence and I’m a thief and a murderer,” it said.

  “Thing’s done only in an effort to save a friend’s life,” I replied, “I can only wish others would do as much to save mine.”

  “I’m Jet Clarence and I’m the person who let Brent Kingston die,” it said.

  “I failed to save his life. But then I did not lead him down the road which killed him.”

  “I’m Jet Clarence and I ordered my demon to slaughter four men,” it said.

  “And may the world be a better place without them. I can only assume I saved many more.”

  It seemed satisfied and went quiet.

  “I’m Jet Clarence,” I said to it, “I have no childhood and I have no family, but I’m still me.”

  Calm descended over me and slowly, like an inexorable sheet of storm clouds, the dark maw enveloped my mind.

  My blood continued to drain and I knew death approached. This time, Clinton did not make an appearance in my thoughts. I wished only that Selena would live a life of happiness now that I had been taken from it.

  Warmth slowly drained, my blood stopped flowing, and I can be certain that my face began to turn blue.

  In my last moments, the demon and I were identical.

  Colours faded and the world retracted and began to be drawn away.

  But then; a contraction in my abdomen, sharp and violent.

  I became aware of a pressure on my breast, as if an enormous, invisible weight were present there. At first I thought this sensation was some kind of manifestation of death, then I realised that the demon was leaning over me, its hand reaching into my chest.

  The bastard will feed on me as I die, I thought, even in death it will not grant me dignity.

  There was another contraction, then my heart was beating again and the world snapped back into focus. Life returned and I gasped as air rushed into my lungs.

  The demon withdrew its hand and gazed down at me, red eyes exploring my face with an intensity that seemed almost human. I stared back, my chest heaving as breath tore eagerly down my throat.

  It had saved my life. The demon had reached into my chest and massaged my heart back into activity. My guess was that as I had regained mental focus in my last moments of life the demon had likewise been brought back under my control, allowing it to carry out my previously ignored order.

  But at that moment, as I stared up into the blue face, I could have sworn I saw a spark of humanity present in those red eyes. A spark of humanity that suggested, what I can only imagine, was affection…

  Then the demon was flung to the side, its face replaced by that of Benny. He was looking down at me and yelling that I should hang on, that I should not give up, it was not too late.

  It’s already too late, I thought. But even as I attempted to form these words with trembling lips he was tearing strips from his shirt and tying them around my upper arms.

  “Stay with me, stay with me…” he was saying, “Just stay with me…”

  And I did. Regardless of the fact that I now lived inside the maw of insanity.