Consequences (9 page)

As a perfectly normal reaction, I am
picturing Ellie in my mind, my favorite image: the one Lune had
shared, to pull me back to reality in Vegas. Ellie was surrounded
by green light; her favorite color …’the color of life’ as she
would say. Artemis reacts instantly to the image that Lune and I
are sharing.

Squirming again, she presses her little
muzzle into the crook of my arm and starts to shake, not trembling
with fear of Ellie; she responds to the image itself warmly. She is
picturing Ursa, Lune, Michael, along with my own face, with the
love of her pack … she is unconsciously asking me if Ellie is part
of our family. I don’t understand that she is probing for an
answer, until she touches the legion’s voices. The monsters living
in my psyche frighten her young, naive mind. No, this isn’t simple
fear … this is terror.

Holding her closer to my heart, I whisper a
hush in her tiny ear and begin rocking slowly back and forth. My
body remembers the nurturing movement it learned with Ellie’s love,
not only calming Artemis, but silencing the menacing voices inside
my subconscious thoughts.

The scene before me as I walk back over to
the whelping pen is … perplexing. Ursa and Lune seem to be in a
trance as Christopher rocks back and forth in what looks like a
semi-catatonic state. Not sure what to do, when not even the dogs
acknowledge my approach, I step over the gate.

“Christopher?” No response, no reaction.

“Christopher, hey man, are you okay?” this
time I reach down and feel his pulse at his neck. Stable. His
breathing is fine and his color is perfectly normal … he just seems
to be in some sort of deep sleep or mediation.

I creep back out of the pen, and tiptoe over
to the recliners, where Christopher and I sat and talked last
night. I have no idea why I am being so careful; he didn’t flinch
when I spoke or touched him … why in the hell am I tiptoeing
around?

I watch the kid and the animals; little
Artemis is sleeping with soft snores, cradled against Christopher’s
chest. After about twenty minutes, my muscles are sore just
thinking about sitting on the floor for that long, I decide to make
some breakfast.

"Maybe that will wake you up." Nope, still no
reaction to my voice.

After finishing the omelets and making extra
bacon and toast, I start to become annoyed by the idea that I might
have to eat all this food alone. Imagining the dogs knocking
Christopher down and licking him raw, I grab a couple pieces of
bacon and walk back to the pen, raising my hand to throw the bacon
at Christopher. He opens his eyes and stares calmly at the fist now
perched over my head, dripping bacon grease down my hand. I try to
smile innocently; feigning a turn back to the kitchen, I throw the
bacon at Christopher’s head. Lune, apparently anticipating my
action, nonchalantly raises his head and catches the fastball of
meat before it can reach its target.

The kid sits smiling, annoyingly not
surprised, and says, “Nice throw.”

Looking at Lune now, avoiding Christopher’s
smug face, I tell the dog,” Nice catch.”

I stand, absorbing the false tension until
Christopher starts to laugh. “That really was a nice catch.”

He puts Artemis down with Ursa and scratches
Lune’s head as he stands. Walking to the kitchen and then washing
his hands, he looks over the breakfast I prepared.

“I’m starving, this looks good.” His voice
still holds an annoying amount of smugness that makes him sound
surprised by my cooking ability.

“Dig in … and maybe I can get you to explain
what that was all about.” I look back at Artemis; she already looks
healthier than the runt that was born yesterday. She is definitely
stronger than the little creature that was nursing on her mother
this morning, although she isn’t any bigger. Some sort of exchange
happened between Christopher and the pup … and whatever it was,
they both look stronger and more content. I have a feeling this is
going to be an extremely interesting relationship to watch
grow.

Shaking my head to release the bewilderment,
I join Christopher in the kitchen. Loading a plate for myself, my
mouth start to water, “I could eat breakfast all day long … if I
had the time to make it.”

“Considering how good this is, I can’t blame
you.” He speaks as he stuffs a forkful of eggs, onion, ham and
stringy, melted cheese into his mouth.

Watching him like this, I could almost
believe he is still in his teens, still growing. Grunting a laugh
in the back of my throat, ‘still growing’? The kid is already a
giant: almost as wide as me and at least six inches taller.
Standing next to him, even the wolves look small. He doesn’t see it
though … always stuck in his head, listening, watching, and
thinking. He has no idea that, to some, his size is as intimidating
as his precious ‘talents’.

“We make quite the pair.” He still has a
mouthful, and is stuffing more in, “I was thinking the same thing
about you earlier.”

I am not surprised by his interpreting my
thoughts, and then answering them. But, I am in awe at the simple
changes in his personality as he speaks. For approximately six
months, I’ve watched this kid, and this is the most relaxed I’ve
seen him. He’s almost more … open. I’ve never seen anything like
it: people with as many walls as Christopher, don’t just pull them
down like this. The tension around his eyes has released and the
muscles on his jaw become slack between the bites and chewing. It
makes his face look softer, younger … and his eyes are almost
glowing. I’ve watched those eyes, studied them for motive and lies,
and they have always been a muted, blue-green, nothing remarkable …
but now they are almost, iridescent.

Concentrating on Christopher’s expressions, I
press him to explain what just happened in the pen. A look of
wonderment crosses his features as he shrugs his shoulders and eats
a bite of toast.

Absentmindedly he tries to explain, “I’m not
sure. Somehow Artemis reminded me of everything I was missing, and
at the same time everything I have gained. She forgave all my
wrongdoings, with such innocence. Well, she’s too young to
understand what she was forgiving; but the love involved gave me a
wave of relief I didn’t think I’d ever feel again. Hey, she showed
me who she has decided is her pack … you’re there. She sees you as
some sort of nursemaid.” Snorting as he says it; I can just see him
picturing me as a nanny wearing a high-collared dress like Mary
Poppins.

“Ha! Very funny.” I lace my words with
sarcasm, but I can’t help finding the thought comical. “Is it
normal for animals as young Artemis to communicate like that?”

“I don’t know. I’ve only communicated with
Lune, Ursa, and of course the pack ... none of them are young. I
didn’t know, with Artemis being half husky, if she would inherit
the ‘passing of history’ that the wolf pack shares. From what she
showed me though, she obviously has that knowledge … I guess
communication at her age maybe a trait unique to the wolves.

“Ann once said that she thought Lune was some
sort of spirit guide. She was always going on about protecting him
… something about how dog spirit-guides help us to understand the
duality between doubt and faith; and that they can heal emotional
wounds.

He continued. “After I returned to Vegas, and
she knew V had started manipulating me … she wouldn’t stop
reminding me every time we spoke that Lune would be the one to help
break V’s hold. Whatever powers inhabit Lune, she was right; he was
my savior in the end. Given the possible, inherited abilities of a
spirit guide mixed with the given qualities of the wolf ... I can’t
even envision how powerful Artemis is going to be.”

“You never did finish telling me last night,
about how you got those scars.” More hints, more questions …
Artemis forgiving him, and now mentioning Lune saving him. As
usual, talking about his time in Vegas leads him to unconsciously
rub the scars on his neck again. Pushing away his mostly empty
plate, Christopher looks at me with agitation behind his glowing
eyes.

Even though I haven’t felt the presence of a
ghostly entity today, Christopher looks around expectantly before
he grudgingly answers. “Where did we leave off?”

“You told V to kill James.” My voice is even,
but I know Christopher will see the mental flinch that comes with
understanding he is capable of ordering someone else's death. The
responding smirk is made that much creepier by the new intensity in
his eyes.

“You should understand, James had become …
problematic. He didn’t respond well to my ‘interaction’ with his
foster father. For whatever reason, he still saw the old man as his
boss, and respected him.” Stubborn as usual, Christopher’s voice
has taken on the monotone response of a practiced criminal under
scrutiny.

“I’ll tell you what I do understand: I can’t
pass any kind of judgment, because I’ve never been put in the
position where I would need to survive in those conditions. You’re
being intentionally dodgy … just tell me what happened.” His
posture relaxes slightly; but I can still see the defensiveness in
his distracted face.

Now focusing on another time, another place,
he continues. “I had set up a meeting with James’s father; V wanted
to suck the life out of a human with so much influence … it was
some sort of power trip for him. I didn’t have much of a choice
about following through with the events in motion; V was in
complete control at that time. I do admit … I wanted to make it so
that the old man couldn’t bother Ann, or me, ever again.”

Christopher’s eyes are moving back and forth
like he is in the middle of REM sleep, but his lids are open.
Whatever is playing out in his head, I have a feeling being patient
is the only way I am going to hear it. So I put the teakettle back
on for more coffee and start cleaning up breakfast.

“I had set up a meeting with James’s father
at his hotel, at midnight of all times. He was going to have a
sniper waiting for me when I appeared; so I went early and scoped
out where the gunmen were going to be placed. He obviously thought
I was going to be a threat, but not much of one, because he only
employed three men to kill me before I could reach him. Not one
bodyguard with him personally, he figured I’d be dead long before I
could reach his penthouse suit."

He pauses, and I think about waiting for him
to continue, but curiosity gets the best of me. “How did you take
care of the gunmen?”

Still watching the movie play out in his
head, he answers without his standard games. “I read the plan in
their heads, and attacked their minds in the order of who was most
dangerous. Starting with the sniper stationed in the building next
door. I walk up the flights of stairs, with V close behind. He was
making sure I had the right amount of motivation until I was right
outside the door where the sniper laid in wait. I could see the
memories being formed in his head, and was able to look through his
eyes with only a momentary delay. The sniper could see the other
two guards waiting in the lobby, one hidden by the elevator and the
other covertly working behind the information desk. They were
planning on me using my abilities on at least the one by the
elevator. Even if I took control of the two stationed in the hotel,
the third man would finish me, shooting right through the large
glass arboretum that made up the lobby. At first I was scared, but
V absorbed that, and magnified the hatred I was already feeling …
he was making sure I wouldn’t let morals interfere. You see ... if
I have the power to invoke one emotion, outside of his control,
that would lead to others, potentially breaking his spell. He
wasn’t going to allow me to think about what I was doing.”
Christopher chews through the last thought with such bitterness … I
can taste the bile in his words, forming in my mouth.

I can see that whatever happened next in his
story, he regrets every choice that was made … the images
physically sicken him. As he stuttered to start again, I notice
that tears have begun to roll down his stone-like face. “I forced
myself into that man’s head, the one with the rifle. First I
accessed the memories of his orders to kill me … then I wiped them
clean, replacing them with the order to shoot the two bodyguards on
the ground floor, and any others that might interfere with the old
man’s meeting at midnight. I told him that he was to time the
killings for 11:58. Then at 12:30 he was to leave the rifle behind,
someone else would be by to pick it up and dispose of it later. And
then, he was to return to the penthouse for payment.

“I knew that he would be greeted by one of
two things; more hotel gun-toting ‘employees’ ready to take revenge
on him, or the police, who would take care of him in their own
way.”

For the first time, Christopher makes eye
contact, and I can see that the horror of what he has done is still
eating away at his mind. “It only took, maybe, twenty minutes to
reprogram the guy. A little voice in my head prayed that I failed.
But he was a killer; I didn’t make him do anything he wasn’t
prepared to do in the first place. I slid down the wall that was
next to the door where the sniper hid, and watched the clock until
it was time to move.

“I forced my conscious thoughts to continue
looking through his eyes as I walked back down the stairs, and
waited in front of the building. I had to make sure he was going to
follow my orders, before stepping into the line of sight of the man
at the information desk. Counting down the seconds, I walked up to
the glass doors at 11:57:45 and made eye contact; the few people
that stood around in the lobby would never connect me with what was
about to happen, soon they would be too distracted. I heard the
sharp ping of the bullet slicing through glass, the gun must have
had a silencer, and the man at the desk crumpled. Then, as the
momentary, delayed memories of the sniper responded, I watched him
pull the trigger. Not waiting to see the first man fall, the sniper
already had the second man in his sights.