“How did James kill her parents?” I can hear Michael's built-in detective, voicing curiosity about what James had done.
“He forced something he called ‘confusion’ into their minds, making her father drive into a concrete barrier at sixty miles an hour.” Michael’s mind is telling me that my matter-of-fact tone isn’t sitting well with him. Maybe now, he’s starting to understand that my line to rational thought has to, for the sake of survival, withdraw almost completely from emotions.
Continuing my story in monotone, hoping to keep my despair buried inside, I have to try and explain my last day with Ellie, so that Michael might understand my downward spiral when I returned to Vegas for a second time. “When I returned to Colorado, after my visit with Ann, I was informed by James that Ellie would be a better prize than me. If I allowed James to take her to V, he would leave me alone. I, of course, knew better … if I let them take Ellie, they would kill her then come back for me. So I brokered a deal with James: If he left Ann and Ellie alone, I would go with him voluntarily, and I wouldn’t sacrifice him to V as a failure.
"I broke in ways I’ll never be able to explain, while I waited for Ellie to come back to me. You have to remember, I had already pushed her away once, so that I could visit Ann and find out more about James. Waiting for her to return so that I could rip her heart out again, in order to save her from V, just about killed me. Don’t get me wrong, Ellie can take care of herself, and by that point she had already shown James that he was no match for her … but V; he would destroy her in the most painful ways possible. The weight of hurting her, so that she wouldn’t walk into her own destruction, brought about a certain death to my soul that will never heal.
“Nothing was as intense though, as the constant paranoia that V might find out about Ellie, before I could warn her about him. By the time she found me, I was dying … eaten away, from the inside out. I didn’t know how much of a double-edged sword freewill could be … the choices I made, gutted me. The most surprising part was finding the strength to follow through with the promise I made to myself … the conviction to push her away forever. It came from a place I didn’t know I had. Death didn’t scare me anymore, but life without Ellie terrified me. You'd think I would have cursed the miracle that allowed us to find each other, just to leave us hanging, destined to lose one another. I wished for Ellie … the chance to love and be loved without remorse, even if it was a mistake … there were never any regrets; and somewhere in that realization, I became stronger.
"When she finally returned, she performed a miracle of her own, so that she could be with me … she made a deal with the powers that be: twenty-four hours, just twenty-four hours to hold me … to love me. When she left that last time, she took a strand of me with her, a life line reminding me of who I used to be; who I wanted to be. After those precious hours were gone, I thought I would unravel without her, but when James came, I knew it was time to deal with the consequences of my choices, my promises … so I returned to Vegas, and right into V's waiting arms. I returned as a condemned man; but they weren't going to have all of me … because Ellie took my soul with her.”
“Ellie left.” It was phrased as a statement, not as a question. Michael seems to instinctively know that probing into that wound will break my fragile, illusion of control.
“So what happened in Vegas?” Without a sound, I thank him for changing the subject.
“Lune and I arrived with James in tow; he led us to his old penthouse apartment on the strip. Apparently he had purchased the space for three million dollars, and it had sat vacant since his death. He had already set up a remote withdrawal plan, out of his Swiss bank accounts, to pay for the upkeep … including a maid service that came once a month. He was buried with no ceremony whatsoever, and as long as the apartment was being cared for, no one asked any questions. The apartment, like James, just simply slipped into non-existence. I followed him into a lifestyle that I had never dreamed possible for someone like me. All of his clothes, his living space, false identities, everything … if I dreamt it, I could have it. And it all came with an allowance that would provide anything I wanted; whenever I wanted … it was mine, just as long as I allowed V to use me.”
“Okay, I have two questions before you continue … what exactly did V want from you, and where did all the money come from?” I have to smile because Michael’s mind is full of questions, but he only asks two.
“On the way to Vegas, James finally, and for the most part, honestly, told me why he had been hunting me. V is very old, approximately 550 years old, and he was part of a particularly scary sect of Aztec priests. In his human lifetime, he was responsible for tens of thousands of deaths. Psychotic with a taste for terror, thanks to his talents for inflicting pain and feeding on hope, he became a sort of vampire. When we finally met, I pulled memories of him bathing in blood. In any case, James explained to me that V was looking to resurrect his cult; he needed for us to torture people so that he could feed. He saw James as the one to prepare the sacrifice, by imposing terror, and I was to perform the surgery, extracting secret truths about fears … then all V had to do was make sure those fears would come true. James neglected to tell V that I could pull memories out of the threads of truth, and he swore me to secrecy: I was to never tell or give any sign that I could read ethereal creatures in any way. I understood eventually that James had done that to protect me, and since James would never do anything without harvesting something for himself, he did it, hoping I would protect him, too. That was the real reason he gave me free reign with his assets.
"James made his money as a hit man for his mob family. He took side jobs, and hid the money, and his actions, from those in control, mainly his boss. When he died, he had sunk all the money that he had earned from the family into real estate, like his penthouse apartment, and all of his other secreted earnings went into Swiss bank accounts. Between both, he was worth about seventeen million when he died. Hoping to give me incentive to keep him safe from V, and give the appearance of cooperating with his master, he gave me access to his Swiss accounts. Working without names, just in numbers, no one was the wiser when I became approximately twelve million dollars richer, overnight. I just had to stay away from any of the assets tied to his family … ignoring that particular warning, I stupidly used the penthouse.”
“James was a hit man? Did he use his special talents to commit murder?”
“Yeah, that’s what made him so valuable. No evidence, just a relatively mentally sound person doing things like throwing themselves off of buildings, or having the sudden urge to drive out into the desert and never return. I say relatively sound because he couldn't force someone to take their own life if they didn't want to … he would infect their brain with hallucinations, making them act like habitual PCP users. Ultimately, he made rational thought impossible for even the sanest person.”
“I think dealing with a sociopath, with that kind of talent, is actually my worst nightmare.” Although he has an almost joking tone, I can sense he is being completely honest.
“What happened next? Even though it was blood money, it had to be kind of cool to have the freedom that only that amount of money can provide.” Michael is horrified; he puts up an understanding front, but he is having problems with the direction I allowed my life to take. That’s all right; I have problems with it, too; and I haven’t even told him what I’ve done during my time with V.
“At first, I knew there were going to be prices to pay, but I rationalized that at least Ellie and Ann were safe. I thought as long as we were focused on criminal types, feeding them to V, the pluses outweighed the negatives. V decided to work on James’s family first.”
Michael's thoughts are muddled and weary as he speaks, “Good, I mean … well, I’m not sure what I mean. I don’t know if even criminals deserve torture like that.”
“You sound like Ellie. Working to catch different kinds of offenders, I think you of all people would want to see a few of them broken?” Even though we don’t h
ave contact, I can hear Ellie tsk-tsking from beside me.
“Most of the people I investigate are harmless, there are those few that I really want to see pay for their crimes … but I can’t be judge and jury. I try my best to catch them legally, and put them through the system. The citizens here need to want to work with me, and if I go off half-cocked all the time … that attitude undermines protecting the amount of land I’m responsible for.” He finishes with a resolute tone.
“I’m glad you feel that way, because realizing that vigilante justice is an oxymoron is part of what led me here in the first place. I don’t want you to think any less of me for what I’ve done … but I’m not going to lie to you either.” I can see, as much as sense, the anticipation on Michael’s face. His mind is ringing with relief at finally getting some answers, while also anxious about the rest of the answers left to come. When I hear the remnants of his thoughts hinting at a different kind of relief, I have to smile … he is glad to know I make mistakes, glad to know that I’m just a human ‘kid’.
Michael’s understanding and forgiving nature, allowed me to continue. I didn’t realize how badly I needed to talk about these things … I guess confession is good for the soul. “V was very clever. He knew that even though James had the nicely polished mask of a sociopath, he was flawed … he had feelings for his mob family. We worked our way up the ladder, intentionally starting with James’s friends. James hid from V how uncomfortable it made him, but he couldn’t hide it from me. I admit, vengeance can be very satisfying, but seeing him honestly in pain, wasn’t as enjoyable as I thought.
"Trying to hide the ability to see memories was becoming more complicated, and the more I tried to pull away from the memories, the more thoughts I pulled out. After the fifth person, I started to realize that I was actually removing the memories from their heads. V knew something was different, but the amount of pain I caused, kept him appeased, for awhile.
"The side effect of exposing myself to, and even absorbing, the memories of drug dealers, murderers, and con artists, deadened my emotions, my principles. No excuses for my behavior, I just wanted to make sure you understood why I lost my moral compass.
"I ultimately drew the attention of the family … living in James’s apartment. The men that came in contact with me, returned to their boss as drooling idiots. The family knew about people with 'talents', and used them, like James and Ann …and they knew that something was ‘special’ about me. So, I soon became priority number one. Everyone they sent, fell into V’s web and the angrier I became … thus the more damage I did to their minds.
"James did what he was told, but the pressure was building inside, until he blew. He told me to gut V’s mind, revealing my upper hand. I asked him why I would do that … his money was mine now. What was he going to do … take it back if I didn’t do what I was told? Feeding off our chaos, V became excited by the prospect of finishing the argument thoroughly. After enjoying our bickering for weeks, and after I'd gone too far in destroying the people James cared about, V asked me what I wanted … and I told him to kill James.”
“You did what?” I can see a sickness rising in Michael’s mind. He honestly can’t understand what would make me think I have the right to destroy minds, and then order the death of another living being. It doesn’t matter to him that the world would be much better off without someone like James. Michael is screaming inside his skull, "We don’t have the right to pass judgment … implement self-preservation, yes; but not judgment."
“Michael, do you believe in justified homicide because of the certainty of an imminent threat?”
“Yes, I do, when you’re talking about a habitual victim … like a battered wife. They are the underdog taking advantage of a momentary upper hand, in order to protect themselves in the future. You, on the other hand, were a habitual victim, maybe ... but not the underdog by any means. I do understand why you feel it was justified … you saw what they did to Ann, and then the possibilities of what they could to do to Ellie. I also understand that you felt your hands were tied, because there is no system that you know of, to hold these creatures responsible for their actions." Deflating a bit, he continues. "In your shoes, I guess, I would have made similar choices … I’m just very uncomfortable with the fact that to fight the beast, you had to become the beast.”
I can hear the fear that I've been waiting for, finally seeping into Michael’s excited revelations about the mist holding so many answers to his mythical questions. He is starting to see why I made him answer the simple question “Give me an example of evil, please.” This isn’t story time … finding out that the Grimm brothers’ demented stories are more real than Disney, should scare the crap out of you.
I hadn’t realized the time passed by so quickly, until I notice that the stove has burned down to embers. Lune and Ursa wait patiently in the pen to be let out one more time before bed. The pup wriggles around on the floor, blind and helpless, whimpering for her mother’s warmth. Michael, seeing that the pup might be cold stokes the fire, while I let Ursa and Lune outside. Going into the pen, we clean all the paper and lay down towels that will give Ursa and the pup more comfortable bedding.
The baby is hungry again, and roots around while I hold her. Michael cleans up Ursa’s bowls and puts out fresh water. Then he chops up some squirrel and rabbit meat, and mixes it with more cottage cheese; all the while explaining that Ursa will need to eat about three times her normal amount to produce enough milk for the little one.
When Ursa returns, she goes straight to the pen and lies down, waiting for me to replace the pup. She sniffs at the food with little interest, and goes about cleaning up the baby while it starts suckling. I step outside and yell for Lune to hurry up. When he comes rounding out of the trees with something feathery in his mouth, I know what was keeping him … he was hunting again.
“You know, he keeps this up, and I’m going to have to take him in for poaching.” Michael steps up behind me and even though his voice is monotone, the joke is obvious. He admires Lune, for taking such good care of his family.
Wrapping the bird in plastic, I figure I’ll pluck it tomorrow, saving me from the mess of Ursa pulling out the feathers and leaving them around the cabin.
I am relieved to see the exhaustion written on Michael’s face; hoping that means I don’t have to delve any further into my time in Vegas. The question about my scars is forgotten in the flood of information I've just dumped into his exhausted mind. I am saved, temporarily, from talking about my greatest shame. Michael may never speak to me again after he finds out what my scars are from, what actually drove me to come here … but mostly, why I’ll never trust my own conscience again.
Chapter 5
Influences
Standing in our place again, I miss our place. Dreaming about the ghost town of Gothic, Colorado is just about the only thing that makes me homesick for my childhood. Even in sleep, I usually don’t allow myself the chance to miss my old sanctuary, because acknowledging its absence mixes with my anticipation of my one glimpse of Ellie. Tonight though, something like peace counteracts the eagerness. I sit on the banks of the stream and listen to the water lightly smacking against the smooth river rocks at the base of the waterfall. I watch the tips of the surrounding aspens sparkle, while their leaves sway and twist in the breeze.
Letting my heart rate match the patterns of motion and sound, I start rocking back and forth; closing my eyes I can almost feel the pressure of Ellie’s back resting against my chest. Keeping my eyes closed, I wrap my arms around her, feeling her warmth swaying with me. I know she is gone, at this moment far away, probably touching others’ minds … I wonder if she dreams about me.
Michael is here this time, mumbling in the background about Lilly. At first I am angry about the intrusion, but when I open up my slumbering eyes, I realize he isn’t talking to me. I was listening to his dreaming mind, while I was asleep. This is a first; I guess not living under the same roof with another human, for almost a year now, changed m
y ability to deflect others’ thoughts. As a defense mechanism, when I was a little kid, my mind naturally filtered most people’s thoughts from invading my own. When James and I talked about the development of our talents, he thought they were probably strongest when we were born. Then as time went by, we learned to suppress them for the sake of sanity and conformity. He told me he remembered his mother’s moods changing, coinciding with his own. He learned quickly that he could force emotions on those around him. The problem with his particular ‘talent’ was his strongest emotions tended to be negative ones, especially when he was little. A tantrum from him would result in his mother angrily breaking his arm. Then he figured out that he could share the hurt she caused, and that was when he would make her feel the pain she had inflicted. Later he discovered how to control, and focus, his manipulation of others … but in turn, his mind had to learn to not feel … and a sociopath was born, or so he thought.
Ellie is a different creature altogether; instead of retreating from emotions, like me, or suppressing emotions like James, she yearns to touch others so that she can understand what they, and in turn, what she is feeling. Kind of like: calmly forcing yourself through a maze, because it's the only way to find the exit. Ellie is the strongest person I’ve ever met, just for embracing her own vulnerability.
The voices of loss, always here, start yelling again from within my dream forest… “She left you, promises broken, pain left behind; she is just like everyone else in your life. A LIAR!” The voices are so much more pronounced now that I am not enveloped in my typical obsession with Ellie. I can hear it clearly; it isn't just one voice, but many voices speaking together … a legion built within the loss, anger, and pain, coming from trusting, and being let down. I can hear one voice above the others … James.