by John O'Riley
“I’ve started an investigation of those in his life that may have had the opportunity to do this to him but so far the list of suspects is short,” Driscol said. “Is there any way you can find out through your abilities who has done this to him?”
“No, the individual who did this was very careful to make it impossible to determine his or her identity,” Dr. Freeland said.
“It’s the psychic vampire!” Brian exclaimed.
Instantly, his head began to pound as a headache formed behind his temples and his thought processes muddied.
“You mean an energy transference psi?” Driscol asked with surprise.
“Something’s happening to him,” Freeland said as her gaze became distant for a brief moment. “He was sensing the truth. His aggregate intuition has been trying to work on figuring out his or her identity.”
“When I was going through training with my connectivity psi, I had to keep getting rid of a link that was forming over and over again from a psychic vampire. Melissa said it had been attached to me for years,” Brian explained.
“You’re probably right! This person is aware that he or she is an energy transference psi and is trying to keep it secret,” Driscol exclaimed. “Someone who probably hasn’t registered their ability with the government.”
“Energy transference psi’s are generally shunned socially and looked on with suspicion as their primary ability is to steal energy from others,” Freeland said.
“A large number of them end up in jail. It’s a proven fact that energy transference psi’s are more inclined to criminal behavior,” Driscol said stridently. “I think they should be monitored closely.”
“Most of them aren’t criminals and stereotypical thinking like that is what leads to fear of certain talents and the resulting laws that have strangled the liberties and personal freedoms of many citizens for years,” Freeland said.
“Those laws are necessary to protect society,” Driscol said with amusement. “I didn’t realize you were one of those types that think dangerous high level talents should run around loose in the streets.”
“You are one of those dangerous high level talents,” Dr. Freeland said pointedly.
“And I accept that I must remain under the scrutiny of the government for the wellbeing of society,” Driscol said.
“Times are changing. People are beginning to realize that it isn’t fair to treat innocent, law abiding citizens like that just because of their genetics,” Dr. Freeland said.
“As much as I would love to continue this wonderful discussion, we have important work to do,” Driscol said sarcastically. “Now, it’s time for another hypnosis session. I need answers.”
Brian achieved the same lack of results as before. Driscol dismissed him so that he could go with Dr. Freeland to her office for another healing session. After that, Brian went to his apartment where Paul was waiting.
“Are you all right?” Paul asked with concern.
Brian told him about what had occurred and Paul’s concern grew.
“I hate to give you any more bad news but our case to reverse the FBI’s claim on you was thrown out. The courts won’t even hear it,” Paul said regretfully.
“Have you talked to Jason? I haven’t heard from him since yesterday,” Brian asked.
“No, I haven’t,” Paul said.
“I was hoping he could visit,” Brian said.
“I thought I would take you out to dinner. There’s a great Italian restaurant only a few blocks away,” Paul said.
“Thanks, Dad, but I’m not hungry. Actually, I think I’m going to bed,” Brian said.
“It’s not even seven yet,” he said.
“I’m really tired and I need to work on my psionic shielding longer because it’s weakening,” Brian said.
“It’s because of all the stress you’ve been under,” Paul said. “You’ll start to feel better in a day or so.”
Brian didn’t believe it. He retired to his room, worked on his psionic shielding, and went to sleep with a sense of hopeless despair weighing heavily on him.
Chapter 21
Brian trudged into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee. His father was waiting for him with a plate of eggs and sliced apples. Brian added cream and sugar and reluctantly sat down on the small circular table. His father’s concern washed over him and stirred a rush of guilt. Brian had hardly eaten the last three days which had been horrendous. Three nights of horrible nightmares that tore him awake repeatedly and prevented a sound sleep. Brian yawned and sipped some of his coffee.
“Dad, they aren’t going to let me come back home ever again except to visit during the holidays. You’re jeopardizing your job by staying here,” Brian said.
“Don’t worry about that. I can’t leave you alone with that woman,” Paul said.
“There’s nothing you can do,” Brian said dismally.
“You need to eat something.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“I insist that at least have some eggs,” Paul said.
“I can’t!” Brian exclaimed with frustration. “It makes me sick just thinking about food! I’ll have some lunch and dinner later. All right?”
“I’m worried about you,” Paul said quietly.
“I know,” Brian said as renewed guilt stabbed at him again.
“I’m not going to leave you alone here,” Paul said.
“You’ve already used up all your vacation time and sick leave as of the end of this week,” Brian said. His father started in surprise. “Yes, I know, Dad. You can’t hide things from me anymore. Driscol is getting more and more impatient since I’m not seeing anything. She’s making me work the same case even though we’re not getting anywhere.”
“You’re not having nightmares about the case, too, are you?” Paul asked.
Brian wasn’t allowed to discuss his work with anyone outside the bureau so he couldn’t tell him specifics on his job duties which amounted to holding bagged evidence practically all day long with a session or two with Dr. Freeland.
“No, just about Samantha. I’m only getting flashes now. I never see anything that makes any sense. She’s always tossing knives, running, and practicing her other abilities,” Brian said.
“Do you know how long she’s been a PSA psi?” Paul asked.
PSA psi was a variant talent most commonly found in athletes. It allowed the individual to move inhumanly fast, sharpened their reflexes, and provided enhanced strength. The serotonin levels of PSA psi who exercised daily was fifteen times higher than the average person.
“I’ve only seen her practicing with it for the last several nights but she could have been doing it before without me seeing,” Brian said.
“Driscol isn’t having you focus on helping to track down Samantha?” Paul regarded him with incredulous disbelief.
“No, she’s having me track someone else. She says there are expert remote-viewers tracking her down.”
“Why haven’t they caught her now that they have personal possessions of hers to lock onto?”
“She’s blocking them somehow. They can only see her for brief periods of time and it’s very sporadic.”
“She should be having you focus on that case then. What is wrong with her?” Paul said.
“She’s not much fun to work with,” Brian said. “What are you going to do at the end of this week?”
“I can’t afford to lose my job but you’re not going to be alone here,” Paul said. “I’ve been trying to reach Jason but he hasn’t returned my calls. Dick said he can take some time off but not until the week after next. Your mother will probably be able to get here over the weekend but she’s on one of her assignments so I can’t contact her directly.”
“I see,” Brian said.
“Don’t worry. We’ll figure something out.”
“It’s okay, Dad.”
Brian finished his coffee and walked to the FBI’s Special Operations headquarters in San Francisco. It was only about a ten minute trek and
it helped to clear his head a little. He wondered if he would get his own office here someday or just share one with Driscol indefinitely. She was busy at her computer as usual when he entered her office. He closed the door as he stepped inside because she always went straight to business. She turned away from her computer and smiled tightly at him and her eyes flashed with impatience as she was expecting more dismal results from him.
“Let’s waste some more time, shall we?” Driscol said curtly as she shoved a box across the desk at him. “Get started.”
She turned back to her computer as he grabbed the first evidence bag containing a broken piece of furniture. He closed his eyes and dropped into the second sight which snapped into place immediately. He wondered why his dreaming visions weren’t so accommodating even though Dr. Freeland had explained his subconscious had been brainwashed and was fighting against itself. A disquieting sensation made him sit up straight and carefully examine the energy patterns shifting around him.
“What are you doing?” Driscol snapped.
“Something’s wrong,” Brian said with confusion.
“Yes, it is,” Driscol said sarcastically. “You’re just not cooperating.”
“He was always so cooperative with me though,” Samantha said from the other side of the room.
She wore a gray polo sweater and jeans with white sneakers. Her hair was restrained in a pony tail and her lips curved in a sardonic smile.
“How did you get in here?” Driscol snapped as she whipped out a gun in record time and had it aimed directly at the scientist in a matter of seconds. “That was stupid.”
In a blink of an eye, Samantha vanished and reappeared beside her. Driscol leapt to the side and shot her several times in rapid succession. Samantha’s cold blue eyes pinned her with an intense look and her chilling smile widened.
“You’re slow on the uptake, Driscol,” Samantha said.
“You’ve become an illusionist,” Driscol said with amazement.
“Obviously.”
“You’re just a hologram. You can’t do anything here,” Driscol said irritably as she shoved the gun back into its holster.
“That’s where you’re wrong.”
Driscol suddenly gasped and stumbled backward until she hit the wall. She struggled to breathe and her eyes widened with terror.
“That’s a new variant ability I developed. It’s just a small sample of what I have in store for you and Brian,” Samantha said coolly.
Driscol was panting heavily now and she straightened to her full height.
“What did you just do?” Driscol demanded.
“I just played with the oxygen level around you for a little bit,” Samantha said. “I haven’t developed it well enough to kill yet.”
“What do you want?” Driscol bit out.
Samantha blinked out of existence without warning then appeared just to Driscol’s left side.
“I want you to suffer. I’ve been practicing my talents quite a bit over the last several days. My PSA psi is especially intriguing. I’d always thought it was a Neanderthal talent but it feels so good and it doesn’t detract from my other abilities at all,” Samantha said.
Driscol struggled for breath again and then Brian realized he had the same problem. He dropped into the second sight but Samantha’s energy wasn’t visible on this plane so he couldn’t lock onto her position and attack her psychically. He breathed heavily as his lungs burned for air. A moment later, Samantha was gone and he quickly recovered. Driscol took a moment longer to regain her breath. When she did, she yanked out her cell phone and dialed someone.
“That psychopathic freak is stronger than we anticipated. We need outside help in catching her,” Driscol said intently. “Let’s get the team to meet in the main conference room right away.”
She stabbed her finger on the disconnect button, shoved the phone in her pocket, and walked briskly to the door. Before she left, she turned and threw an annoyed look at Brian.
“Start another session by yourself and try to pick something on Samantha,” Driscol snapped.
“I will,” Brian said.
Driscol slammed the door as she stormed out of the room. Brian winced and placed the ear buds in and activated the hypnosis session. He’d only listened for several moments before she burst into the room again. Her face was flushed and her eyes flashed in anger.
“I need you to listen in on the conference. Now!” Driscol snapped.
“All right.”
Brian reluctantly rose from his seat and followed her down the hall to the conference room where over a dozen agents who must be the ones assigned to work on the case sat around a large rectangular, white plastic table. Brian slipped into the chair in the far corner and Driscol walked briskly over to the head of the table and stood next to a projection screen. Driscol brought everyone up to speed on the attack that had just occurred in her office.
“Is Brian still unable to receive connectivity visions?” one of the agents asked.
“Unfortunately, yes. Whoever has brainwashed him has the reprogramming deeply entrenched in his subconscious mind,” Driscol said.
“Does Dr. Freeland have any working theories on how to restore his abilities to maximum use as soon as possible?” asked an older balding male sitting only a couple of seats away from Brian.
“I do,” Freeland said from her position near the head of the table by Driscol. “If I use the standard healing treatment, it will take weeks or even months for him to recover. However, if we can discover the identity of the individual, it will probably release the programming on Brian’s subconscious even though there will still be some residual emotional trauma. With the work I’ve performed through other victims of similar brainwashing techniques, I am reasonably sure of a few things that will help us find our target.
“First of all, the target is definitely a multipath. The target is probably a casual family friend but it is possible that it’s a distant relative. It’s likely that this individual is brainwashing others in the family as well. He or she probably has a lot of objects that are programmed with brainwashing psychometric energy at Brian’s former house in Lynnwood. Our best bet is to question the family and get a list of friends and relatives who visit occasionally. It’s probably not someone who they see on a daily or even monthly basis. Also, if we get some psychometrists to work with the objects in the house that have been programmed, it may be possible to identify the target that way,” the psychologist said.
“Thank you, Doctor,” Driscol said crisply. “Would it be a good idea to have one of these objects brought here to headquarters for Brian to try to read?”
“That would be risky because the objects are specifically tuned to him and would probably reinforce the brainwashing.”
“What about if we discovered an object that was being used against another one of his family? Would that still be dangerous for Brian to read?” Driscol asked.
“Yes because the programming might be adaptive to include anyone in the family,” Freeland said.
“How likely is that scenario?” Driscol pressed.
“We’re not taking that risk,” the older man near Brian said.
“Yes, Director,” Driscol said and her face flushed slightly. “I will contact Hurst who’s still in the Lynnwood area working on finding this individual.”
Brian tuned her out as she continued to talk about the case and then organized the people in the room to specific smaller teams with detailed tasks. Brian wasn’t surprised to find himself assigned to Driscol along with the two agents who’d served as guards for most of the time. Sometimes, like this morning, Driscol didn’t have them watching her office but that would likely change now that Samantha had taken the offensive.
“Brian, your full efforts will focus on locating Samantha,” Driscol said.
“You are all so very predictable,” Samantha said from directly behind Brian.
Everyone in the room started and heads whipped around to gaze at the researcher whose form was slightly tr
ansparent. Samantha’s amused smile and chilling blue eyes conveyed a ruthless edge.
“What are you doing back so soon?” Driscol sneered but her voice trembled just a bit with fear.
“Over the last few days, I’ve come to the conclusion that the only way to get any kind of peace of mind for myself is to get you guys to abandon your hunt. I’m prepared to negotiate,” Samantha said briskly.
“What do you have to negotiate?” Driscol said heatedly.
“My proposal is very simple,” Samantha said as she slowly walked around the table toward the agent. Her gaze swept over room as she slowly traversed the room. “I’ll allow you to live if you stop pursuing me. What do you say?”
Driscol burst into brittle laughter and shook her head with amusement.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” she finally said.
“No one can stop me now. I could easily kill everyone in this room and just to prove it, I’m going to get rid of two of you right now. Who shall they be?” Samantha said coolly.
“You’re bluffing,” Driscol said.
“We’re prepared to negotiate with you. We’ll need time to consider your offer and perhaps to propose a counteroffer,” the director said.
Samantha didn’t acknowledge that he’d spoken. Her gaze rested on an agent at random. He was a middle-aged male with close cropped black hair and green eyes. Brian suddenly sensed a surge of energy and the agent screamed shrilly for several seconds before passing out. His head thudded against the table and blood trickled from his nose. Everyone stared at him in shock but then the exact same thing happened to another agent. Brian brought up his second sight and prepared to help the two unconscious agents but a burst of energy flew at him and it took all of his concentration to block it. Samantha was keeping him busy so he couldn’t help them before they died. Her image faded so that she was barely visible.
“Brian! You can help them!” Driscol said swiftly.
“I’m trying. Samantha’s attacking me,” Brian said tightly.
Everyone gazed at each other as they struggled to come up with some plan to save their two fellow agents.
“Agent Garcia! Help him!” the director ordered.