Michael is taking the news better than I thought he would. He doesn’t like the fact that I don’t have any hard alcohol around, but he gratefully takes a Summer Honey Ale when I hand it to him. I listen to his mind as it runs a mile a minute, applying what I have told him to every possible myth he’s ever heard. I remember when I started putting the pieces of knowledge about the ethereal creatures together, and how the awareness was both awe-inspiring and insane.
When I hear Michael's thoughts speak about the Inuit tale of the Taqriaqsuit, or shadow people, it catches my attention right away.
“Tell me about the shadow people?”
He looks relieved to be lifted out of his own musings, “The Inuit believe that they are benign entities, who live just outside our realm of perception. If you hear laughing or talking, but no one is around to make a sound, they say, you’ve just been exposed to a Taqriaqsuit. The tribal Elders say that if you actually glimpse one of these shy creatures, they will appear to sink into the ground, so as to avoid contact. Stories say that some Inuit have chosen to cross over into the shadow people’s world, but they never returned to tell anyone what it was like.”
“You said they were benign … are there evil entities, too?” Cringing internally, I almost think better about asking, but it's more important to be armed for the future, than it is to be squeamish about history.
“Of course there are. If a culture understands good or benign, then they’ll also see evil. If nothing else, my interest in mythology has taught me that humans have the same ideas and fears, no matter where, or when, they live. I’m sorry if I sound brash, but you have to know how incredible it is to find that there are more ties between different civilizations than just the stories they have told. These creatures are everywhere, leaving behind footprints throughout time. The concept of, and the varying ideas about, these entities, must have crossed oceans long before humans ventured out into the sea. The thought that the thread of truth in so many folk stories may not only be morals, but that these creatures exist… there could be actual facts, proof, showing that they are real, and have been here for a very long time.” I can see his empirical, deductive mind fighting with his imagination. The only obvious truth inside of his confusion is his overwhelming excitement over uncovering answers to philosophical and historical mysteries.
“Give me an example of evil … please.” I am still shrinking away from knowing more about evil … I've seen enough evil. But I need to know for safety's sake.
“Well, the Inuit have another tale about creatures known as the Ijiraat. They are shape shifters, who change into any animal or human that they want in order to lure lone travelers to a trap. The only things that they can never change are their eyes: always red and full of danger, never trust those with red eyes.
"When an Ijiraat catches a traveler, they steal memories … maybe even feed on the echoes of emotions attached to those memories. Some of the ancient council members, I've read about, think that the Ijiraat are also benign, because they aren’t known for physically hurting anyone. Personally, I think someone stealing memories and emotions, is still causing physical harm.” He shrugs his shoulders and takes a long draw from the bottle.
“I agree.” Flashing into my mind, the expression on Ann’s face as I pulled out her most guarded secrets; I broke her heart to the symphony of V’s laughter.
“Why do you do that?” He says as he studies the nervous movement of my hand.
“Do what?”
“Rub those scars; like that … you act like they still cause you pain.”
“Hmmm? Yeah, I guess they do cause pain, of a sort.”
“Pain … of a sort? Maybe something sparked for you, brought on by my opinion that stealing memories are physically harmful?”
Even though Michael doesn’t have the paranormal talents that I have … he can read people as well as any psychic.
“Yes; something like that.” Looking over at Lune, I don’t want to relive all that happened … not yet at least, so I don't answer with anymore clarity.
When the shock to my central nervous system finally reaches my brain, I know exactly what Ellie is going to say from the intensity of her touch. “You promised him the truth, Christopher.”
Through gritted teeth I answer her as quietly as possible, “All right!”
Looking back at Michael, I can see he is confused, not only by my pitiful responses, but by my behavior. While I am organizing my thoughts, and noticing that Michael has drained his beer, I go to the kitchen to grab him another one. From the kitchen, I start my story.
Beginning where we left off, seems like the best place to start, “I mentioned James, right?” He nods as I hand him a fresh bottle of ale. “While James was infecting my mind with his manipulative emotions, Ellie soothed my thoughts by just being herself. Our relationship was pretty limited physically, because of the separation of the ethereal divide, but we still managed to fall in love … it was like being hit by a truck that no one else could see. Thanks to Ellie, I even learned how to block James, for the most part. When I realized that James wanted to destroy Ellie … he wanted to feed her to V, I pushed Ellie away thinking that would help. No, wait, that’s not quite true … I was ashamed that I couldn’t physically help her, so I pulled away, intentionally hurting her … because I felt inadequate. Not knowing what else to do, I went to Vegas to talk to Ann Morris, an acquaintance of James’s when he was still alive. I was prepared to be highjacked or at least conned into helping James in some way … but what I found was a good friend, who wanted to help Ellie and me, any way she could. Ann was being abused by James and V, and had been for a very long time … apparently those of us with these talents, attract entities from the mist. Unfortunately for Ann, she had only met dark ethereal creatures in her past.
"She wasn't entirely prepared for the existence of Ellie. Ann told me about her friend and confidant, William Blackbird … I think he helped her hold onto sanity, much the same way she did for me. He knew she needed to believe that there was good to counter all the evil that she had seen. He explained that these creatures were only as powerful as we make them, like a fire is only as strong as the oxygen it breathes. If she hadn't found that philosophy, and taken the leap of faith to believe in it … she would have died, and she couldn't have saved me from myself.”
“So, Ann is talented like you … in what way?”
“She can project her voice into your mind. James’s powerful mob-like family used her to manipulate marks and cheat at high-stakes tables … waste of talent if you ask me. She can also see and hear the ethereal creatures without them having to initiate contact.” Ann has broken away from James's family, and started a psychic-medium business, where she can use her talents to console people instead of manipulating them … but I don’t think Michael needs to know that.
“So you can’t see or hear the creatures?”
“At first, no; but I’ve become more sensitive to the change in the air. I know when one is around, and of course I can sense their minds … and in their minds I can hear their voices. Ellie made herself solid for me, or maybe better put, she crossed the veil for me. She was only able to do it for a short amount of time … and then she was gone. I have only knowingly met two other ethereal creatures, V and James, but they couldn't make themselves solid. They had to rely on influencing people with thoughts alone. Unfortunately, most people don’t know how to, or that they even need to, guard themselves from that kind of outside psychological influence.”
Michael nods his head in response, “Most people wouldn’t know how to protect their minds, even if they understood what those creatures were doing. So, you went to see this Ann, and what did you find? ”
“I found someone beaten to a pulp, emotionally and physically. James had killed her parents when she was sixteen, and V had taken a cruel pleasure in absorbing and denying her happiness whenever possible. That’s why she named him V, short for the Void, because that’s what he leaves behind, when he’s done feeding.
“In my short time with her, Ann taught me that some creatures, the monsters, live to absorb the chaos they create … the more you fear them, the more they will gorge themselves on your panic. The more control you give to them, the more power they actually have. After a lifetime of being terrorized, Ann’s body only knew how to run on the muscle memory of constant dread. They used her like vampire bats use cattle … feeding whenever they wanted, and making new wounds every time. For good reason, she became paranoid to the point of mental breakdown."
“Living through all that, she should be flat-out insane … not just paranoid. Christopher, this is a mad world you’re describing … it’s almost impossible to believe that it’s actually around us, all the time.” I can see that Michael understands: Ann is a soldier in the middle of a war, not some nut case that can’t be trusted.
“Try being part of it. I think those of us that are exposed to their world have to be slightly cracked to start with, but by the time they are done with us … there’s nothing left that remotely resembles sanity. Over the years, after her parents' death, with no other family, William helped Ann in the only way he knew how … education. As a member of the Southern Paiute tribe, and believing in the old stories about spirit guides and evil souls, he researched everything she told him; he treated her like a victim instead of a freak, and gave her fear validation … by being a grounding influence, he kept her sane.” Silently I add … just like what you have done for me, and I thank you, Michael. My heart aches for my friend, who still lives in Nevada. At least Ann has William watching her back; I am grateful for that small blessing.
“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 have 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.
