Jillian Spectre & the Dream Weaver

by Nic Tatano

  Still, it was wonderful falling asleep in his arms, feeling safe and protected. I've never had such a restful night. Even had a nice dream that wasn't a product of someone's attempt to break us up.

  Anyway, that's the least of our concerns on this Saturday evening, which does not have me dressed to the nines for a night on the town. Once again our date night gets blown up by the forces of evil. Ryan and I are at The Summit waiting for some evil minion of my father to contact him. Sebastien has come up with a terrific plan. My father's brain waves are being closely monitored, and as soon as he exhibits a change similar to the last time he was contacted, Ryan will zip into his mind and hopefully unlock a few secrets and answer some questions.

  And maybe find out who's contacting him.

  Speaking of which, Sebastien has had his geek squad pouring through the massive amount of information I copied from Cruise's laptop. We're seated around a round table covered with stacks of papers that have been printed out. "What you sent has been invaluable," he says.

  "Have you gone through it all?"

  "No, we're perhaps halfway through. But it contains a great deal of information about your father and his network of followers."

  "Did you get names?"

  "Unfortunately, Cruise was careful. And she's using code names for your father's plan. All biblical terms. Jericho, Babel, names like that. It appears she is associated with Babylon."

  "My, how appropriate."

  Sebastien takes out a single sheet. "Your father apparently had a three part plan, and had designated one person to oversee each part." He takes a deep breath and pauses for a few moments.

  "What, Sebastien?" I ask.

  "As I said, there are three parts of his plan. Babel was the first, which thankfully we defeated. To be followed by Babylon and Jericho. We surmise that Cruise is overseeing the Babylon portion of the plan." He stops and looks to the side for a moment, then down at the paper.

  "What aren't you telling me, Sebastien?"

  "The one real name on the chart is under Jericho. It is the person your father obviously wanted to oversee the implementation of part three. The endgame." He slides the paper toward me and Ryan.

  My hair stands on end as I see my own name.

  Ryan wraps an arm around me. "Calm down, Sparks. It's just your father's warped way of thinking."

  Sebastien nods. "This document is time stamped right before you took down your father, right after you let him think you were on board. Remember, he wanted you to be the liaison for the cell phone, to be the face of the company for your generation. He obviously wanted you to be the point person for the final part of the plan."

  "Sorry, it just creeps me out," I say.

  Sebastien hands us another sheet. "Here's a flow chart showing who is in charge of what. Apparently, your father had assembled three teams to work under the three leaders. Of course, we don't know if one team leader knew what the other was working on, or what may have changed since he became incapacitated."

  "How many people are we talking here?" asks Ryan.

  "Maybe two dozen. But there are no names, simply titles."

  I scan the sheet, but the notations make no sense. It's all code. "Cruise has to be one of the other two team leaders."

  "Yes. It makes sense that he would have a dream weaver as one of his key subordinates."

  "I wonder if there's a power struggle with her and whoever is the other team leader," says Ryan.

  "Definitely something to consider," says Sebastien. "But I would guess she might have the upper hand, considering her powers and her, uh, relationship with your father." Sebastien's eyes grow sad. "I'm sorry, Jillian, I know that was a difficult discovery for you to make."

  "Nothing surprises me about the man anymore." I look through the window at his comatose body, which has begun to look fragile and pale. A far cry from the powerful man who almost took down society a few months ago. "He obviously didn't give a damn about anyone but himself. He certainly didn't care about me or my mother."

  Ryan sees my eyes welling up, reaches under the table, takes my hand, and entwines his fingers with mine.

  He doesn't even need to read my mind anymore to know what I'm thinking.

  "There's a little more of great importance," says Sebastien.

  I shake my head. "Not sure I can take much more, but bring it on."

  He hands me the paper. "It's a correspondence between Cruise and someone else in the organization. But we don't know the identity of the recipient."

  I read the simple email:

  Jillian's dream implantation and brain wave alteration complete. Though her bond with Ryan is a strong one, creating doubt in her mind through the use of physical and mental temptation should be effective. She is still an innocent teenager in her first serious relationship and should be very susceptible to physical stimuli. Both real life and dream interactions will be very effective in making her have second thoughts about her current relationship.

  Jake will not be a problem as he is already entranced, and I should have the little telekinetic under control at the proper time. Driving him and his girlfriend apart will significantly weaken Roxanne, who is basically ruled by her emotions and should easily be taken.

  The last line of the email gives me chills. "Oh my God, she's planning to kill Roxanne."

  "We'll protect her," says Sebastien. "And you've already foiled her plan to drive them apart."

  I bite my lower lip and am close to tears. "But she killed a muse!"

  "I won't let anything bad happen to her," says Ryan, pulling me close. "They've thrown everything they've got at us and haven't been able to break any of us apart, Sparks. We defeated your father, and no one was as powerful as he was. We're unbeatable as a team, you know that."

  "God, I hope so. But her anger towards us might be a factor. We may have put the man she loved out of commission. She may simply want to get even."

  Two hours later Sebastien, Ryan and I are still pouring through the mass of printouts from Cruise's computer. I've seen everything from term papers to a class syllabus to a bunch of stuff that doesn't make sense and is obviously in code. The latter get put into a pile, since we're assuming those pages hold the keys to the answers we seek. A technician in a white lab coat reads a magazine as he sits next to the machine that is monitoring my father's brain waves.

  And when the machine beeps, we all sit up straight.

  The technician leans closer to the monitor, then turns to Sebastien. "It's happening, Sir. Contact is being made right now."

  Ryan gets up and quickly moves close to my father's chamber. "I'm on it." He closes his eyes, puts his hand on the side of the steel chamber and the machine beeps again.

  "Ryan is in," says the technician.

  Sebastien and I both get up and take positions behind the technician as Ryan remains quiet with his eyes closed. I'm within a couple of feet if anything goes wrong, but his face remains calm and peaceful.

  "Separating all three patterns," says the technician, who punches a few buttons. The screen divides horizontally into thirds. My father's name appears above the top brain wave pattern, Ryan's above the one in the middle, and a question mark tops the lower third. "Copying that of the visitor."

  "Anything you see out of the ordinary regarding our mystery guest?" I ask.

  "Heightened activity in the Delta waves." He points to my father's pattern. "He's showing significant changes. He's being accessed."

  I look at Ryan's pattern, wanting to make sure it doesn't change. "Anything happening with Ryan?"

  The tech shakes his head. "He's fine. No changes."

  Suddenly my father's waves jump violently up and down, looking like a seismograph during a major earthquake. I catch some movement out of the corner of my eye, look up.

  And see my father moving.

  His fingers twitch. "Look! Is he waking up?"

  The tech shakes his head. "No. His entire brain is being accessed now. It's natural that there should be some physical activity. It's a sim
ple neural response."

  My father's arms and legs begin to shake. He looks like he's having some sort of a seizure. His brain wave patterns and those of the visitor are both jerking up and down, while Ryan's remain on an even keel. His face is still calm.

  And then the visitor's brain waves disappear. My father's go back to normal, he stops twitching.

  Ryan opens his eyes. "Wow. That was intense."

  "Do you know who it was?" I ask.

  He shakes his head. "No idea. I couldn't even tell the sex of the person. But it's someone your father knows extremely well."

  "Both brains showed significant activity," says Sebastien. "Could you access what was being done?"

  Ryan nods. "Yeah. And you're not gonna like it."

  My pulse spikes. "My father's not getting his powers back, is he?"

  "No, he's still powerless. But the person who made contact basically copied his brain."

  Sebastien originally planned to bring Roxanne to The Summit to discuss the incident of Ms. Cruise killing the muse. But when he saw how upset I was and knew I would tell her about the email, he decided I would be a better person to go over it with her. I'm surprised he would delegate something like this to me, but he seems confident this is the way to go. Especially since Cruise thinks Roxanne's emotions can be used against her. Honestly, I don't disagree. Her short fuse is easily lit.

  Rox hops up the steps to our front porch on this beautiful Sunday afternoon and joins me on the wicker bench. "How was the trip?"

  "The visitor showed up on schedule. We don't know who it is, but my father's brain was copied."

  "Copied?"

  "The experts aren't sure how it was done, but Ryan knows it happened."

  "So…what does this mean?"

  "We're not sure. He doesn't have powers anymore, but his subconscious might have information about his master plan that was never shared with anyone else."

  I go over the flow charts and other information Sebastien shared from Cruise's computer. Then I pull out the single sheet of paper that contains the email. "Okay, I want you to remain calm when I show you this."

  She furrows her brow. "Why? Is this something that will make me upset?"

  "That's putting it mildly."

  I hand her the paper and study her face as she reads it. Her eyes narrow, her jaw clenches and her hands ball into fists. She finishes reading and tosses it on the bench. "Bitch."

  "Let me guess. That Sicilian revenge chromosome has just shifted into high gear."

  "I'll kick her ass."

  "This is exactly the reaction she wants from you, which is why I'm sharing it with you now. When and if you two have this muse-siren steel cage smackdown, I want you to be in control of your emotions."

  "Are you implying I'm emotional?"

  "I'm not implying anything. It's a stone cold fact. You will need to remain calm."

  She rolls her eyes. "Jillian, you think that's even possible with me?"

  "Honestly, no, but I want you to be aware of it. She's planning to use that hot head of yours against you."

  "I'll crush that skinny bitch like a grape."

  "Rox, I know damn well you could kick her ass, but if there is a battle, it won't be physical. We're talking her power against yours."

  She exhales deeply and looks away. "Damn it, Jillian, why do you always have to make sense?"

  "That's why we're such a good team. We know how to protect each other. Now, do you think you're calm enough to hear about the incident?"

  Her eyes fill with sadness. "You mean how she killed the muse?"

  "Yeah. We can do this later if you want."

  "No, get it over with."

  "Okay. It's actually a very short story. Cruise made an appointment with a muse, acting as a normal client looking for inspiration. When the muse went into her head, she attacked her on a subconscious level. The muse ended up in a coma and eventually died."

  "So it wasn't a singing contest like the legend."

  "No. And the muse had no idea she was going to be attacked."

  Roxanne nods. "Then we have the advantage."

  "How's that?"

  "Well, if the only way for a siren to kill a muse is for a muse to get into her head, then I simply don't go into her head."

  "You forget the dream weaver aspect of this. She could make you think you're dreaming and make you do a session with her."

  "Oh. Hadn't thought of that."

  I take her hand and squeeze it. "We'll figure it out, Rox."

  “Maybe so. Or maybe we reverse the process and take the fight to her.”

  Chapter 11

  My cell phone brings a smile as I see Ryan is calling. "Hey."

  "Sparks, turn on channel seven."

  I hang up my jacket and move to the living room. "Why, what's going on?"

  "Just turn it on and call me back later."

  He hangs up. I grab the remote and fire it at the television. The picture clears and I see a split screen of an anchor-babe on one side and an empty podium on the other, with Rebecca Cruise walking up to it.

  "This is a ground breaking piece of legislation," says the anchor, "if she can get it passed."

  "Hey, Mom!" I yell. "Come watch this! Hurry up!"

  Mom comes running in, licking chocolate batter off a wooden spoon as she goes. "What's so important?" I point at the TV, she looks at it and glares. "Oh. Her."

  The split screen cuts to a shot of Cruise moving to the podium, with a half dozen other senators behind her. A horde of reporters are waiting. There's an easel covered by a red sheet next to the podium. "Thank you all for coming," she says, flashing her warm smile. "Today I, along with the members of the United States Senate who have joined me, are announcing that we will introduce a bi-partisan bill that will end identity theft as we know it. We are proposing the creation of a national identity card which will be issued to every man, woman and child in the United States. While this may sound like a massive project, and it is, in the long run it will make all of our lives better and protect our personal assets. Once we have every person in the database Americans will be much safer from criminals who profit from identity theft. In addition, this will also eliminate voter fraud."

  "Stop identity theft, my ass," says Mom. "She's about to steal everyone's identity. And then do God knows what with it."

  Cruise pulls the sheet covering the easel and unveils it, which features a sample giant ID card with a photo, name, and fingerprint. "This is what everyone will be issued should this legislation pass. It will entail a massive campaign to get everyone registered." She takes a pointer and taps the fingerprint. "You'll notice that each card will carry the fingerprint of the person it is issued to, so no one will ever be able to do anything should you lose your card or have it stolen. Each card is unique to you and you alone, as unique as your fingerprints. It cannot be duplicated. It will be your personal assurance that your identity is protected."

  "She's picking up where the cell phone left off," I say.

  "Or maybe this was phase two of the plan," says Mom.

  A male reporter fires a question. "Doesn't this infringe on people's privacy?"

  She smiled and hummed a bit. The reporter's face relaxed. "It's no different than a driver's license, when you think about it. And at some point everyone needs proper identification. You'll be able to swipe this like a credit card when someone asks for ID. And your fingerprint will verify that you really are the person on the card."

  Mom shakes her head. "She just did her siren number on that guy. Watch, the only tough questions will come from women."

  Sure enough, mom is right, as the male reporters lob softballs which Cruise easily knocks out of the park. She deftly side-steps a few hard questions from the female reporters, and it's clear she's in charge of the room. She announces the bill will be brought to the floor in a day or two for debate, asks for the public to contact their local member of Congress to support it, then wraps things up.

  I hit the mute button before the anchor-babe h
as a chance to speak. "So, waddaya think?"

  "It's bigger than the phone," says Mom, sitting on the couch. "Not everyone had one of your father's phones. But everyone will have one of these. And the law will require it."

  "What's the deal with the fingerprint?"

  "It's gotta be her way of being connected to everyone. Trust me, they'll be taking more than a fingerprint when they issue these things."

  "You think this is connected to someone copying my father's brain?"

  "Has to be. But how they're going to use it is anyone's guess."

  Mom gets back up and heads to the kitchen to finish baking whatever chocolate concoction she's got going. I follow for two reasons: I want to talk to her about my father and I traditionally lick the bowl.

  She adds chopped walnuts to what I recognize as dark chocolate brownie mix. "You're making Ghirardellis?"

  "Your favorite."

  "Yours too." She mixes the nuts into the batter, then starts spooning it out into a prepared glass pan.

  "Whoa! Not all of it."

  She leaves a significant amount of batter in the bowl, then hands it to me with a spatula. "I know what my little girl needs." She runs a finger across the side of the bowl, scooping up a bit of batter, then licks it. "Tribute."

  I fill up the spatula with the rich chocolate batter and lick it clean, the rich cocoa giving me the familiar sugar rush. "Oh yeah."

  "Needed a fix, huh?"

  "You know me too well, Mom." She puts the brownies in the oven and sets the timer. "Hey, can I ask you something personal?"

  "No, I don't wanna get fixed up on a date. There's no way I'm going on one of those Internet sites for middle-aged singles."

  "Not that, though I wouldn't mind seeing you with someone if that's what's holding you back. You sacrificed enough for me."

  "That's sweet of you, Jillian, but not right now. Maybe someday when we're done saving the world. So what did you wanna ask me?"