Her powers hadn’t come with any directions, and Karen was proud of herself and much more confident in her abilities than even a day ago. Like professional athletes trying to improve themselves; maybe that was all part of how to control the gift. The more she practiced the more her confidence would grow.
The dinner crowd thinned. After wrestling with the notion of going deeper, she spotted a middle-aged man sitting alone at the counter. He wore worn blue-jeans, a red T-shirt with a pocket over the left breast, and a yellow baseball cap with CAT on the front.
The man was thinking about the long drive ahead of him. He was a trucker, hauling car parts to Buffalo. He was to be in Albany in a few hours, where he’d meet Valerie, a hooker he often visited on trips Upstate. He was married; Karen sensed a slight flicker of guilt, but nothing so powerful as to keep him from paying for sex. She wanted more and dove deeper.
Unlike the agent’s mind, this man’s seemed fragile. Karen guessed most non-military types were. She pressed harder, wandered into the dark part of the man’s head, finding his fears. She found it astounding how the mind was divided into sections or rooms, each one holding a different type of file. A chill went up her spine. She was deep inside, remaining without much effort. Each time she used her abilities it became easier and easier to employ them.
The man’s fears were real, right there in front of her, waiting to be unleashed if she wanted—images of undercooked meat filled with bacteria and worms, falling asleep while driving, heart attack, cancer. These were only some of his fears, but one in particular stood out from the rest. Karen saw it as if it were written in bright neon colors: Martha, the name of his wife.
This man held a strong fear of the woman. On the outside, he looked rugged and road-tough, but it was a facade. He was a no-nonsense type of guy, but at home his wife was the law-maker.
Karen had never been inside a person’s mind while under control of her emotions, as if the action were no more than a casual dinner conversation. She had been desperate when she inflicted the agent, bringing him to his knees, her anger at its peak, her mind almost out of control, raging. Now she was relaxed and in complete control.
She was tempted to unleash a few of the man’s fears on his cheating ass, but held off and decided to explore different areas of his mind.
Like the fear section, she came across other areas, finding one of particular interest. She saw happiness and joy there, her own emotional state lightening in unison to the discovery. She saw the man’s dog named Boy, his three children, his mother, a recliner, hot shower, and again his wife, but this time the words used to describe her were positive, uplifting, and respectful. She’d found the man’s comforts, his loves. These were the things that kept him going, giving him reasons to exist, and balance to his fears.
The man was eating now, a steak dinner.
Karen latched onto his greatest fear, bringing thoughts of his wife forward. He dropped his fork, grabbing onto the counter as if to steady himself. Karen focused on the wife, bringing her and only her to the forefront of the man’s mind. It was all he was able to think about. The woman was full of rage, throwing his clothes at him along with dishes while his children sat on a couch, listening to it all and crying their eyes out.
The man’s wife shook with rage, her face beet-red, homicidal. She suddenly held a kitchen knife in her hands and began screaming questions—why she wasn’t good enough for him? Was it her weight? Had she gained so much after popping out three kids?
His wife’s rage vanished as fast as it had come on. She now looked somber, bewildered and fragile like a beaten woman with no spirit left. She began sobbing, asking him how he could betray her like this, ruining the life they’d made together. The life they’d built.
The man’s heart raced, his body rigid with anxiety as tears streamed down his cheeks. He appeared ready to shatter.
Karen quickly dumped the fear images, bringing up the joyful ones of his wife. The woman looked beautiful, radiating warmth and love. He imagined himself coming home to her after his trip, feeling the warm embrace of her bosom and the familiar flowery scent of their home. She called him sweetie and had dinner ready for him. She’d also called a sitter and told him they would have a relaxing and fun night out, go bowling, share a few drinks. Then when they came home, she would massage his muscular arms and legs before they made love.
Karen held the images for a while, wanting them to seep into the man’s mind.
The man began wiping the tears away with his sleeves before taking out his cell phone. He dialed a number, the whore’s.
“Hello, Valerie?” he said. “I can’t make it tonight or any other night. I’m sorry.” He hung up and dialed his house.
“Hi, Baby,” he said. “I love you.” The man looked ready to cry again but held off. “No nothing’s wrong. I was just missing you and wanted to say hi.”
Karen detached herself from the big teddy bear, feeling her task was done. She managed to work on her skills and at the same time maybe save a marriage. She’d gotten her guinea pig and hadn’t caused any damage. There was no way of knowing if the man would stick to his words. Maybe after her intrusion wore off, he’d go back to seeing his whore. Nevertheless, she accomplished something positive.
Sitting and drinking her coffee, the beverage cold now, she thought about what had just happened. Had she controlled the man’s thoughts? Told him what to see? Manipulated his mind? Or were those
his
thoughts? Had she doctored the mind-conversation of his wife? There seemed to be more to the gift than she originally thought.
The waitress came by with more coffee, but Karen suddenly had a taste for something sweet. She couldn’t remember the last time she had a regular soda, having switched to diet long ago. She desperately wanted the sugar. “I’ll have a Coke please.”
“Sure thing,” the waitress said, then left the table and returned with it quickly. “Shift’s ending, so have a nice day, hon.”
“I will and thanks for everything,” Karen said, and then drank the entire contents of the glass in one gulp. She’d been in the man’s mind longer than anyone else’s, and the effort must have taxed her body.
With one mystery solved she’d opened up another. She’d have to experiment further; see if she could truly manipulate another’s mind. And see if the urge for something sweet returned.
Chapter 39
Morgan came through his apartment door an hour after leaving the Murphy compound. Karen lay on the couch, appearing to be in a restful and pleasant slumber. She looked radiant, beautiful. He wondered if she was dreaming about her past; a moment of normalcy.
He’d picked up a tuna salad sandwich, fries, and a container of orange juice on the way home, and set them on the kitchen table.
“That you, Morgan?” she asked.
“The one and only,” he said, glad she was awake. “Brought you something to eat.”
“Thanks, I’ll eat it later.”
Confused, he said, “I figured you’d be starving.”
“Um,” he heard Karen say.
Leaving the kitchen, he stood in front of her as she sat up.
“You didn’t.”
Karen nodded. “I kind of did.”
Morgan ground his teeth. Anger bubbled through his blood.
“I thought we agreed that it was safer for you to stay inside,” he said. “Remember the whole ‘you’re supposed to be dead’ thing?”
Karen stretched. “Yeah, but I had a breakthrough. A major breakthrough.” She smiled at him from the couch.
Morgan didn’t care about any breakthrough at the moment. He was pissed at her lack of responsibility. Most likely The Murphy Unit believed she was dead, but her being in the same vicinity with them was extremely dangerous.
“You’re angry with me, aren’t you?” she asked.
“I don’t want to see you get hurt. You could have been spotted, followed here.”
“You’re right,” she said, looking away from him. “I completely agree with you. It was stupid of me to go outside. I could’ve jeopardized everything.” She stood up, fists clenched at her sides. “I just wanted to help out in any way that I could.”
“I’m sorry that I left you here for so long, and without any food.”
Karen came back to the couch and sat. She smiled and patted him on the knee.
“I made great progress today,” she told him.
Morgan sighed. “How so?”
Karen explained what had happened at the diner. Morgan was impressed. After she finished, he told her about the compound, the guards coming and going, and the fuel trucks.
“Wow, we both had eventful days,” Karen said. “But it sounds like getting into the compound will be nearly impossible.”
“Not necessarily.” Morgan grinned. “I have a plan.”
Karen sat back. “Of course you do.”
Chapter 40
Karen loved the plan to blow up the compound using the fuel trucks.
Morgan went to bed but woke at two a.m. and phoned an old acquaintance.
Her name was Elise, a vampire he met in Chicago in 1959. She’d been a thief and he a night watchman for a savings and loan company. One night while Morgan was on duty, the two ran into each other. After some conversation, Elise agreed to leave the place without a fuss if he’d agree to have a drink with her on his night off. He accepted her proposal, and for the next twenty years, the two vampires became lovers.
They moved to the Big Apple and fed on their victims together, wreaking havoc throughout Manhattan. With no official vampire authority around, the bloodsucker population was growing out of control. Hunters flocked to the area. One organized alliance in particular, The Murphy Group, had set up a siege for the building Morgan and Elise were living in. Morgan was captured and taken prisoner. Elise escaped, thinking him dead. It was only years later at a Pink Floyd concert that the two ran into each other again. But Morgan was different by that time, changed and no longer a creature of the night. Elise had wanted to start up their tryst again, but Morgan declined, sending her away confused.
Fifteen years after that night, they met up again in a nightclub in Manhattan. With the invention of the Internet, and having deep ties in the underground world, Elise became an information-getter. She was hired to hack into databases, whether for corporate espionage or by a spouse suspecting his or her significant other of cheating, for a large retainer, always in cash. Her services were highly sought after; and Elise lived an upscale life.
Morgan was a vampire-killing machine, but that didn’t prevent him from having contacts, even friends, that were vampires. All vampires drank human blood, but some were more civilized about it than others. Elise used blood bank supplies or willing human donors.
“Morgan, my dear,” Elise said, answering her phone on the fourth ring. Her sultry voice brought renewed pain to his soul. He had loved her once and guessed he always would. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Morgan felt guilty about calling her out of the blue for nothing more than business. But he would pay her like any other client, hoping she wouldn’t make his request any tougher than need be.
“I’m guessing this isn’t a social call? No reminiscing about old times?” she asked before he could answer.
“No, I’m afraid not. I’m in a bit of a jam and need some information.”
Elise sighed. “What is it? Hunters on your ass again?”
“No, nothing like that. I need you to run a plate number for me and get an address.”
“Can I ask what this is about?”
“Better that you don’t. I’m putting you in enough danger just by asking this of you.”
“Trouble is one of my favorite words, remember?”
“Yes, but this is different. Hopefully one day I’ll be able to share the story with you over a candlelit dinner, but for now it must remain on the down-low.”
Elise huffed into the phone. Morgan knew she was curious, but soon heard her laughing.
“Morgan, Morgan, Morgan,” she said. “Always in some kind of predicament.”
“You could say that.”
“I wish you’d clue me in. Ever since you were captured by those hunters…”
“Elise,” he said. “Please, I haven’t got time for this. I need your help, but I can’t get into specifics.”
“Give me the plate number.” Elise’s tone had changed abruptly from sultry to cold. Morgan gave her the number. “I’ll call you back when I have something.”
“Thank you, Elise. You have no idea what this means to me.” He waited for a response but received none. “Elise?” Looking at his phone, he saw that he was talking to no one. She’d hung up on him.
He placed the cell phone on the nightstand next to his bed. Lying down, he stared at the ceiling. His chest ached, his soul still longing for the past. Even though he was no longer a vampire, Morgan still held onto his feelings for one. All these years later and he still loved Elise, guessing he always would.
Most vampires were incapable of love or even caring for one another, but when two damned souls met—in rare cases, it was said—the two could yield a bond between them that would last for eternity. That bond of unification, when broken, brought on a form of humanity for the
damned
involved.
Elise had changed, too. Her love for Morgan had been her method of alteration; Morgan’s from the Murphy people. She still drank human blood and most likely was involved in the occasional kill, but she no longer let it be the driving force behind her existence. Elise knew there was a bigger picture to living, vampire or not.
She’d told Morgan all of this on that long ago night: no longer feeding on the first available prey, avoiding families and children. She sought blood-bank blood and the occasional derelict of society: drug pusher, rapist, killer, and the like. It made life more difficult for her, of course, but she was happy doing what she believed in. He wondered if part of the reason he was able to change wasn’t just from what the Murphy people had done to him, but also from his disconnection from her.
Morgan felt the pain of loss, like a sharp dagger drenched in garlic, in his gut. Letting a true love go, Elise reduced to nothing more than an acquaintance, was pure agony, forever torturing his being. It tormented him to treat her as if their past together meant nothing. She still loved him, this he knew. He knew calling her would bring him pain—her as well—but he didn’t have a choice. The world and Karen depended on it.