“Time’s up,” I said to it. It snatched my wrist in the air with one hand and placed the other behind my neck and pulled me close.
“Why did you lose her?” it said to me as it evaporated in the air and dispersed like smoke. Its grip was released and my arm hung in midair.
Jude crawled down from the roof and walked up to me. He placed his hand on my shoulder, “How do you feel?”
I looked over at him, “In control.”
“Good.”
“That was amazing,” I said, looking over at Jude, astounded, “Thank you.”
“Of course,” he said with a nod.
We walked back to the house together and parted ways. I thanked Jude again for his help and grabbed an abandoned pot off the porch. I headed toward the garage to find Caleb. As I approached, I heard loud electronic rock music playing through the open door. I peeked around the corner to see Caleb practicing a martial arts routine with his favorite weapon.
It was interesting watching him without his knowledge. He seemed to push himself to the limits. He wore only shorts and sweat dripped from his body. Every twirl and swing was executed with precision and a sort of contained rage. He seemed like he was trying to work out his demons as well. As the current song that was playing began to fade out, I knocked on the side wall of the garage to announce my presence. Caleb’s head shot up in my direction and he stumbled over to the CD player to shut it off.
“Hey, Dani,” he said with a look of embarrassment.
“You’re very good,” I said.
“Yeah, thanks. I try to stay sharp. I don’t really have a gift, so my fighting skills are what I contribute.”
“I see that. I’d hate to get in your way if you were angry,” I said.
“I rarely get angry, but it does happen.”
“I brought you something,” I said, pulling the pot from behind my back.
“A dead plant,” he said, taking the pot from my hands with both of his, “The dead plant from the front porch, if I’m not mistaken. Thank you?”
“I want to try to show you something. Come, sit with me a second,” I said, as I beckoned him to the middle of the room and sat on the ground.
“Show me something?” he said.
“Yes, believe it or not I do have things to give.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean to offend you,” Caleb said, trying to recall his words.
“Caleb, don’t worry about it. You have so much good in you; I don’t misunderstand your intentions. You are very kind and you have done so much for me. I just wanted to show you that I do appreciate you.”
“You’re important to me,” he said.
“And you are to me,” I replied. This made a smile stretch across Caleb’s face. “You contribute more than your physical strength to people’s lives. I can feel your strength. It is pure and powerful.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ll show you,” I said, placing the pot between the two of us as we sat cross-legged, across from each other. “Give me your hand.” I said, holding my left hand out. He reached across and placed his hand in mine. When his hand touched mine, I smiled.
“What’s funny?” he asked with a sound of concern in his voice.
“Nothing,” I said, shaking my head a little, “I can feel it, the good in you, your faith. It’s quite beautiful. Don’t ever devalue your power,” I said, reaching for the plant and letting the tip of my finger touch a shriveled leaf. A green glow surrounded the plant. The shriveled leaves lit up bright green and were revived. Purple petals bloomed and opened up, vibrant and strong.
“How are you doing this?” Caleb said as he viewed the plant in astonishment, “I thought you couldn’t?”
“I’m not doing it. You are,” I said, looking at him as I pulled his power from him. I could feel the plant’s death washing through me with the tingle of an intense sunburn, “You see, even inches from death, things can be brought back to life. That’s what you’re helping me do. What you do matters and it can make all the difference.”
Caleb continued to watch in amazement, his eyes glistening.
“Now that is beautiful,” came Law’s voice from behind me.
I was startled at the sound of his voice and turned around.
“I was unaware of this aspect of your gift,” Law said, kneeling down, observing it closely.
“Yeah, it’s easy to access and can manifest with very little effort, sometimes no effort at all. The first time it happened, it was with a believer as well. An unusually powerful gift.”
“How does it feel?” asked Caleb.
“This? It actually stings a bit,” I replied.
“Huh. I guess I assumed it would feel good,” Caleb said.
“Nope, hurting people that’s where the pleasure comes in,” I said.
“Well, I’d call this progress,” Law said getting to his feet again, “Danielle, why don’t you join me inside for our session when you’re ready.”
“What about me?” Caleb asked.
“We’re not going to be doing any hands-on practice tonight, just talking, so you can take the night off,” Law said and exited the room.
“Wonder what we’re going to talk about,” I said.
“Hard to say,” Caleb responded.
“Well, I guess I better get going and get it over with.”
“Dani, thanks for doing this with me it means a lot,” Caleb said with a nod of his head.
“Of course,” I said, returning his nod and heading inside.
Chapter Fourteen
Trust
I made my way into the living area where we normally meet to find Law. He wasn’t in there, but I could hear a mild clatter of cups in the dining area. As I turned the corner, I saw that he had set out two cups of coffee as well as a variety of small snacks: crackers, cheese, grapes, and berries. I welcomed the idea of a snack after my work out with Jude.
“Please, come, join me. I thought a little something to ease the conversation would be helpful. We don’t always communicate so well,” Law said. I thought I picked up a hint of self-disappointment in his voice.
“Yeah, not always,” I said, grabbing my seat, picking a grape off the plate and eating it.
“Danielle, I just want to say that I think you are doing well here. I hope you will continue to make strides as you have already. I know it isn’t easy, but I think some more time with us would be great for you,” Law said.
“Yeah, I don’t really plan on going anywhere, at least not yet. I would like to go to my place sometime soon and get a few things. Some things that might be helpful- my journals, for example. They could definitely help in the training process.”
“I think with the proper precaution that is definitely doable,” Law replied.
“Awesome,” I said with a smile.
“I wanted to ask you about this,” Law said, sliding a small plastic bag with remnants of powder in it toward me.
“Ah,” I replied.
“Rebecca found this in your room when she was doing laundry,” he said.
“Yeah, I got it off someone I work with the other day,” I said.
“You know this is not allowed here?”
“I know,” I said, dropping my head, “It just helps. . .”
“It doesn’t help, it numbs. It numbs the things you are meant to feel,” Law replied.
“Sometimes I just feel too much,” I said.
“I can understand that, but this is not okay. I don’t ever want to see this in my house again. If I see it again, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave. There are people in this house who have been battling addiction for years and I will not have temptation exist in the one place I can control it.”
“Okay. It won’t happen again,” I said, feeling a wave of guilt course through me as I ran my hand through my hair.
“I believe you,” Law replied, “And if there’s anything I can do to help, let me know. I know a lot of people and
a lot of programs that can help you.”
“I might take you up on that,” I said, acknowledging my problem for the first time.
“You inquired about what I plan to do with Franklin a while back. I’m beginning to build my trust with you and there are certain things about my relationship with Franklin and Mr. Hooker I would like to share with you,” Law said, as he slowly stirred sugar into his coffee.
“Mr. Hooker? What does he have to do with this?” I asked, relieved at a shift in topic.
“Well, everything. The information that you intercepted from Mr. Hooker was actually information he gave to me. We knew Franklin wanted that information, and if he could get his hands on it, he would try to. We had to make it seem like the information came from us. Jeff knew you were coming and he knew why you were there.”
“And now Franklin has information he shouldn’t because of me?” I asked, feeling guilty.
“Oh no, I wanted Franklin to know what was on it. I wanted him to know that I was about to take him down.”
“But now he has the information and you don’t,” I said.
“Danielle, we made a copy. . . .” Law said with an expression that suggested that I should already have known this.
“I don’t know how any of that computer stuff works,” I said with the wave of a hand, “Aren’t you worried that if he knows what you know that he’ll just come after you?”
“I suspect he will, and I worry for the consequences for everyone here. I think we’re ready though. It’s time to end his reign over this city. He should never become mayor.”
“You think he really has a chance?” I asked.
“He already has the majority for his party, there’s no opposing party candidate running, and with the passing of his son, he’s likely to get the sympathy vote.”
“Wait, what did you just say? What happened to his son?” I asked, horrified.
“Well, he drowned. . .” Law said slowly, glancing at me suspiciously.
“When?” I asked, as my heart throbbed in my chest.
“In November,” he said.
“What day?” I exhaled.
“It was about a week before Thanksgiving. You were still working for him. Did you know his son?” he asked.
“No,” I replied quickly, wanting to retreat as far away from the conversation as possible, “So what did Franklin do to you?”
“Well I’m from Lantis, born and raised on the bad side of town. Throughout my life, I never faltered. I never fell into the wrong crowd, never did drugs, wasn’t involved in gangs or crime or anything like that. I knew my goals and I was determined to get there at whatever cost.”
“What was your goal?”
“To be a lawyer,” he said.
“Ah, ‘Law’, I get it now.”
“Yes. Well, I set out to do it. I got scholarships to the best schools, I got the grades, I got into law school, and finished with exemplary marks.”
“So you’re a lawyer?” I asked, mildly shocked by the information.
“No, not yet,”
“Well, when did you finish law school?”
“About a decade ago.”
“So what happened?”
“Well, I finished school and came back home to visit my family and celebrate. I registered to take the bar exam here, as I had gone to law school out of state, but I wanted to practice here. The night before my exam, I was out driving, just trying to clear my head. A car going about fifty miles per hour comes ripping through a stop sign of a relatively secluded road and t-boned my car.
“I remember coming to and seeing one of the passengers of the car lying across the hood of my car. Her face was just covered in blood and ripped apart. It was quite a disturbing sight. I had never seen anything like that to that date. I got out of the car to go check on her, but she was already gone. As I went to the driver’s seat, there was Franklin, knocked out, bloodied face, shards of glass stuck in his arms, his foot mangled under the front end of the car that had crumbled in, stooped over the steering wheel. The car reeked of alcohol. There was a bottle of vodka shattered between the floorboard and his lap. It had spilled all over the inside of the car and drenched the air with its stench. I pulled his foot free, and as I did, he started coming to.
“He was terrified when he woke. I told him that everything would be okay. He asked where his wife was. I didn’t know what to tell him. He tried to get out of the car. As he tried to get out of the car, a part of the center console that had pierced into his side was ripped from him. He began bleeding profusely. He looked up at me and just started crying and telling me he was going to die. I told him he wasn’t going to die. I used my gift and I healed him in that moment. I thought I was doing the right thing. What am I saying? Of course it was the right thing to do. I couldn’t just let a man die when I had the ability to help him.
“Anyway, law enforcement arrived on scene. They knew Franklin, he was the District Judge’s son. I did not realize what was going on at first. Then they started questioning me. They asked me if I had been drinking, and then they did a field sobriety test. Still, I wasn’t worried. I watched them step away and talk amongst themselves. They kept glancing over at me as they made phone calls. I thought maybe Franklin had told them something about my gift and was slightly worried, but saving someone’s life at the risk of possibly exposing my gift, I was willing to deal with.
Nothing could have prepared me for the moment they arrested me for intoxication manslaughter. I was completely dumbfounded. I assumed they‘d made a mistake. They set my bond at a million dollars. My family couldn’t come up with the money to bond me out, and my court appointed attorney had good intentions, but he was young and inexperienced. The more he told me about the information on the case, the more confused I became. I sat in jail for two years, just awaiting trial. I was so frustrated and angry, but optimistic I’d have my day in court to explain this complete misinformation. When I finally did, I couldn’t believe how well they had fabricated this new story about what had occurred that night. The District Attorney himself and another young lawyer prosecuted my case.
“‘Why?’ you ask? Well, like I said, Franklin was the son of one of the judges. So not only did I receive an indictment for intoxication manslaughter, but also one for intoxication assault against Franklin. They showed images of Franklin’s injuries, even though there were none. He testified to the viability of these claims though. How he was newly married to the love of his life and after a dinner for their anniversary, some drunk came through the intersection, running a stop sign, causing him to hit their car, and his wife to be ejected through the windshield. He cried and put on a show, they all did. The things they said about me, I could not believe. They assaulted my character and accused me of things I could never do. I thought there was still a chance, until the State presented - would you believe it - a toxicology report that showed that I had a BAC level of .19, over twice the legal limit. Anyway, the rest of the trial was a blur after that, and they sentenced me to twenty years in prison. I’m still technically on parole to this day.”
“Wow, that’s the craziest shit I’ve ever heard. See, that’s why I fuckin’ hate cops,” I said.
“You hate cops?”
“Hell yeah. They’re so crooked.”
“Well, I think you’re overstepping your generalization a bit,” Law said with his hand slightly raised.
“How do you mean?”
“Well, there’re good cops out there, really good cops; then there’s really bad cops, but that’s not the point. There is no generalization to be made for the group, there’s just good and bad representations of every group. No group defines the individual.”
“What about the KKK or Nazis?” I asked.
“All right. Well, you got me there. Just try not to generalize people into this ‘all or nothing’ category. Nothing is that black and white.”
“I’ll try. . .” I replied, not committing to the idea, “So then Franklin rose
to the top and is about to become the mayor, the guy who runs the city?”
“Yeah, he seemed to springboard himself off of that, became the widower, victim, and most eligible bachelor. I’ve tried to keep tabs on him for years. I’ve watched what he’s become. It’s like he saw how he could take advantage of the gifted after what he did to me, and began seeking them out and using them any way he could. He always gets what he wants. However, for some people, the truth can haunt them into insanity. Their conscience grows. They evolve to this new level of humanity where hiding the truth is no longer an option. They must be set free, at whatever cost, so they don’t have to look over their shoulder anymore, so they don’t have to wait for the ax to drop.”
“Jeffrey Hooker approached me a while back. He told me something had been weighing on him for many years. I, of course, remembered Jeff from the trial. He had aged significantly since the last time I saw him, but I remember him in the courtroom. He sat with the District Attorney but never said a thing. He did not close, he did not question, he simply had this disillusioned expression the entire time. He told me he knew I wanted to become a lawyer and he asked me if I still wanted to. I told him yes, now more than ever. He wanted to know why. I told him so no gross injustice like what happened to me would ever happen to anyone else, if I had the opportunity to prevent it. He asked me what my ideal job was and what I would want to practice. And I told him ‘Well, sir, I want your job’. He said that he thought we could change what happened; that he had a recording that he believed had the capability to exonerate me. He played me that tape.”
Law pulled a tape recorder from his pocket and placed it on the table. He pressed play:
“I need you on our team, Hooker, are you with us?”
“What are we even talking about here? You can’t frame someone for some little frat boy’s fuck up,” came the voice of a much younger Jeff Hooker.
“We can’t have the son of a judge go to prison for murder”
“Oh, please. The court would gladly give that twit probation.”
“Watch the way you speak about my son,” came a third voice.
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