Chapter Eight
Nightmare

She had the world at her fingertips. Anything and everything that was connected to the internet, or any other electrical device for that matter, was a potential tool for her to use to gather information, to learn things that nobody else could or should know. Erin Sykes had always loved computers and technology. It was her life, her world, her everything. From an early age she was adept at mastering even the most complex computer coding, and was even able to break apart and put back together entire machines in no time at all. She was considered a genius, a prodigy. Universities and colleges all over the world had heard of her gift, her talent, and vied for her to register and attend their institution.

However, Erin had no interest in any of that. Her life revolved around her electronics, her computer. She never had any friends, none whatsoever. She never went to parties or social functions, always opting to spend her time tinkering with her machines and spending time on the internet and working with coding. She had never developed people skills, which caused people to think of her as being a cold, unfeeling individual. Though the fact of the matter was, Erin was bored with reality and had no interest in anything that involved the outside world. That was when she discovered her real, true gift, the power that would forever change and shape her life. She had found her one true love, the most dedicated of lovers.

It was technology itself.

“How is it going?” Hawke asked as Erin sat in her chair, connected to the network. Her body was lifeless, empty, her consciousness digitally transferred onto the network. A cold, monotonous voice of a woman echoed out all around the room in which they were in.

“Everything is well,” she replied.

Hawke smiled menacingly.

“Very well. Has there been any sightings as of yet?” he asked.

“Not as of yet. If a sighting I should spot, alert you I will do,” Erin said.

“Alright then. Carry on,” Hawke said, patting Erin’s lifeless body on the shoulder before turning to leave the cold metallic room, closing the door behind him.

Erin didn’t know what Hawke was up to, what his plans or intentions were, but when he had approached her a month and a half before, he had offered her a meaning, a purpose to her life which had, to that point, been void of any meaning or purpose. He never told her what his plans, his intentions were, nor did she care either. In exchange for her gifts, her abilities, Hawke had offered her a utopia, a place where she could go and be really, truly happy, and in turn give her a sense of meaning, a purpose to continue living for. So she could care less what he was looking for others like her for, so long as he lived up to his promise and gave her a reason to live.

So far, she was pleasantly pleased.

--

Mariah arrived at the public library, where she picked up a phone book and sat down to look for Sophia’s home address. She flipped through the pages and turned to the M’s, and started searching for anyone with the last name Milos. She found the name, and started scanning down the list until she found the one and only name that matched the one she was looking for.

‘Sophia Milos. Bingo,’ Mariah thought to herself. She wrote down the address, and slammed the phonebook shut. She got up, left the library, and started out on her way to find Sophia Milos, and bring her to justice for killing Mr. Reeves.

--

Edgar was putting the finishing touches on Dawson’s tattoo after nearly three and a half hours of laboring over it. Dawson and Elizabeth were amazed by his work.

“That looks amazing! It’s beautiful,” Elizabeth remarked.

“Well, what can I say? I’ve had a lot of practice doing roses, but this is new design I just worked out. I have to say, I think it’s one of the best I’ve done,” Edgar replied.

“Well it looks amazing. Great work,” Dawson complemented.

“Thanks bud,” Edgar said. “Let me put a bandage over it. You’ll need to keep it on for a couple hours. And try to avoid taking really hot showers or pools for several weeks to avoid infection or fading. Other than that, you’re good to go.”

“Great. I appreciate it,” Dawson said. “You do amazing work. I’ll definitely have to come back sometime when I want another tattoo.”

“Which won’t be for a good long while,” Elizabeth chirped in, “you already have two. I don’t think you need any more for a while.”

“I guess you’re right. But when I do, I’m so coming back here,” Dawson stated.

Edgar chuckled in amusement.

“I’m glad you’re happy. Be sure to spread the word about my shop to your friends. I could always use a little extra business,” he said.

“Sure thing,” Dawson said.

“Well, we should be going,” Elizabeth said, taking out some cash to pay Edgar with. “Thanks for fitting us in. I really appreciate it.”

“Oh, there’s no need to pay me. This one’s on the house. Just spread the word and we’ll call it even,” Edgar said.

“Thank you so much,” Elizabeth said, smiling as she shook Edgar’s hand. “I’ll be sure to refer anyone looking to get a tattoo to you.”

“Alright then,” Edgar said, giving a nod to Dawson and Elizabeth. “You two have a good night now, and a happy birthday to you, Dawson.”

Dawson gave a nod as he gave a wave good-bye as he and Elizabeth left the parlor. Once they were gone, Edgar walked over to the window and looked out as the two of them started back towards their car. It had finally stopped raining, and the sky was turning a deep, dark purple as dusk set in. Edgar chuckled, and switched the sign on the window from Open to Closed.

‘Time to see what you’re made of, Dawson.’

--

Antonio led Alex to Clair’s flat, where he knocked on the door and waited for Allen to answer. While the waited, Antonio noticed Alex kept looking down at the ground, never once looking up for a single second. He was starting to shiver a little from the cold dampness of his clothes, and Antonio sighed.

“What’s your problem?” he inquired.

Alex looked up at him.

“What do you mean?”

“You look like you just lost your best friend. What happened?”

Alex snickered.

“Nothing that would be of any concern to you,” he replied.

Antonio laughed sarcastically.

“Figures. You always have to be a hard ass, don’t you?” Antonio asked.

“Speak for yourself,” Alex stated.

The door opened, and Allen looked at Alex and Antonio upon answering.

“Miss Clair is in the den. Follow me,” Allen said. Alex and Antonio went inside, and Allen closed the door before leading them down the hall and through a room on their right until they reached a room with a sofa and a recliner with a coffee table with a tray of cookies and hot cocoa on it. Across the room a roaring fire was going in the fireplace which made the room feel comfortably warm.

“You boys must love walkin’ in the rain. Look you two, you’re soaked to the bone,” Clair said as she entered the room. “Take those soggy jackets off and grab a blanket. Take a load off, have some cocoa and cookies.”

Antonio did exactly as Clair asked, removing his wet jacket and handing it off to Allen, who handed him a warm, fluffy blanket to cover up with before finally sitting down on the sofa. Alex remained standing, taking in his surroundings. Allen turned to Alex, waiting for him to take his jacket off, only for Alex to shoot a glare at him to back off.

“There’s no need for all that animosity, Alex. We’re all friends here,” Clair said as she took a seat in the recliner. She paused for a moment, and smiled. “Of course, you’re not going to take your jacket off or sit down, are ya? I didn’t think so. But now that I’ve pointed that out, you’re probably going to do it just to appease me. That’s the way you are.”

Alex blinked, looking at Antonio, who had already started in on a cookie and a cup of hot cocoa, and then back at Clair.

“Who are you?” Alex asked bluntly.

“For one of the most powerful telepaths there are, you sure don’t know a lot do you?” Clair asked. “I guess that happens when you don’t use your powers to their full potential. Then again, you have a legitimate reason, so I won’t pester you too much about it,” Clair said. She smiled, and sat waiting, expecting Alex to finally remove his jacket and sit down.

“Who are you?” Alex repeated through caged teeth.

Clair sighed, rolling her eyes.

“Since you’re being so difficult, I guess I’ll give you what you want. The name’s Clair Jones. I’m a telepath, just like you. That man who’s so patiently, which is a virtue you should learn, for you to give him your jacket is Allen. He, too, is a telepath like you. He’s also my bodyguard, not that he’d have much of a chance against you, if the legends are anything like they say they are.”

Alex raised an eyebrow, and glanced over at Allen, who patiently waited by Alex’s side. Giving in, Alex finally took off his blazer and handed it over to Allen, but left the blanket and sat down anyway.

“Alright. Now that the introductions are out of the way, how the hell did you know my name, and more importantly, how the hell do you know so much about me?” Alex demanded.

“Pushy little bastard, isn’t he?” Clair asked, looking towards Antonio.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Antonio replied, taking a bite out of a cookie.

Alex snickered impatiently.

“I’m not the most trusting person, if you don’t know that already. Especially if someone knows as much as you do about me without me ever having heard of you before.”

“Not my fault you choose not to fully embrace your abilities,” Clair remarked. “But if it’ll shut you up, I’ve heard a lot about you from Antonio here. If you don’t know already, he’s a shadowshifter. Anyway, I’ll cut to the point here. A couple centuries ago there was a man who lived around these parts who was a great and powerful telepath who was able to generate a sword from his hand, but he grew so strong he eventually left to go find stronger adversaries to help hone his skills even further and help him become the most powerful telepath there was. Unfortunately, him being the megalomaniac he was, enough was never enough, so he eventually began to produce offspring, children of his own in the hopes of one day using their power to strengthen his own and become the strongest telepath in the world.

“But, as legend has it, the great telepath was killed by one of his own sons, which only caused the other child of the telepath to become enraged by his father’s death which led to a conflict between the two brothers. In the end, the good brother triumphed over his evil brother, and went on to live a normal life with the rest of the world. However, the truth is his father wasn’t really dead. He had managed to find a way to transfer his consciousness over into the subconscious mind of another person, which enabled him to go on to live and continue his evil ways, eventually finding the son that killed him and returned the favor, only to start the vicious cycle all over again by creating two more offspring in the hopes of using their power to strengthen his own. Is this starting to sound familiar to you?”

Alex narrowed his eyes, and swallowed as he leaned forward.

“What does this have to do with me?” he asked.

“Are you that dumb, or are you just playing stupid?” Clair asked.

“I know what you’re getting at, and personally I find that whole story to be a load of shit,” Alex replied.

“Why is that?” Clair asked.

“Because it doesn’t make any sense. You’re saying my father is this ‘great telepath’ you spoke of, and that I’m the result of his twisted little cycle that he’s repeated who knows how many times? It’s absurd.”

“That’s what makes it so interesting and believable. Your father’s a crazy, power hungry man. It takes a crazy, power hungry person to do crazy, absurd things like create two offspring in the hopes of using their power to strengthen their own. It just makes sense,” Clair explained.

“If this story were the least bit true, then wouldn’t I be dead? Wouldn’t my father have emerged again to kill me and continue this asinine cycle?” Alex asked.

“Oh, but that’s where the story really gets interesting,” Clair said. “Over the years, people have become able to control and manipulate other forms of matter, such as shadows and fire, but they still all come from the same course,” she explained, pointing to her head.

“So you’re saying people became able to generate fire and manipulate shadows with their minds, right?” Alex asked.

“More or less, but those aren’t the only two, there are other types of powers as well. At any rate, these powers only seemed to be based upon specific regions, which made them less common and unseen in other places, hence why you never saw or experienced any of these types of abilities back in New York,” Clair stated.

“Makes sense,” Alex said. “But how does this relate to the main story you were just telling me?”

Clair chuckled, and shook her head.

“So damn impatient,” she said, pursing her lips. “Since you want to know, I’ll tell ya. You see, supposedly there’s a person who’s capable of learning, adapting different peoples’ powers and basically conducting them so that they can use them whenever they want. Basically, if this person came into contact with the shadow manipulator and the pyrokinetic, they would gain both of those abilities.”

Alex’s eyes widened in realization, but tried to remain calm and keep Clair from catching on.

“Wait…” Alex said, trailing off. He slowly rose to his feet, and tightened his jaw. “Let’s say for a moment that the story you told me about the insane telepath is true, and that everything you’ve told me about these people with the different abilities is true as well. You said the telepath was capable of jumping from one person’s consciousness to another, right?”

Clair nodded.

“So far you’re making sense. Go on,” she said.

“So if the telepath were to take control of the conductor’s subconscious, then essentially he would be able to gain any and all of the others’ abilities and become virtually unstoppable,” Alex said.

Clair’s face lit up with a grin, and she snapped her fingers.

“Bingo. You hit the nail right on the head,” she said.

“Do you realize how asinine all of this sounds? My father is dead. End of story. And that whole thing about being some ancient telepath who’s jumped from body to body over the centuries? Bullshit,” Alex snapped.

“I’m not making this up Alex, but I can’t force you into believing anything you aren’t willing to accept. The only reason I brought you here was to make you aware of it and hope that eventually you’d come to accept and believe it so that maybe we can help prevent any unnecessary bloodshed from occurring,” Clair said.

Alex clenched his fists, and wrinkled his nose up in contempt.

“I don’t believe any of that. I killed my father. He’s gone, no more. End of story!”

“You don’t think you ended up out here for a reason?” Clair asked, remaining perfectly calm. “You don’t think you were destined to end up out here for some higher purpose, some divine reason?”

“You’re saying it was my destiny to leave New York to come to Colorado to start a new life, only to end up having to fight my father’s reincarnate and stop him from becoming some all powerful deity whose hell bent on fucking over the world and everyone in it? No thanks, I’ll have to pass on that load of shit.”

As Alex turned and snatched his damp jacket back from Allen and bolted towards the door, Clair suddenly called out to him.

“Alex!” Clair shouted, stopping him in his tracks. “I’m not asking you to believe me. All I’m asking you to do is trust me. In time you’ll come to understand your reason, your purpose for being here. Until then I just want you to keep all that I’ve just told you in mind. That’s all I ask.”

Alex hesitated for a moment, and tightened his fists.

“One more question before I go,” Alex said, trying to contain his anger.

“Go for it,” Clair said.

“…If what you say is true, and my father is still alive… does that mean that he’s already here somewhere, and that I could be killed at any moment?”

Clair sighed, and nodded.

“Yes, I’m afraid that’s very well a possibility,” she replied.

Alex swallowed, and closed his eyes.

“Is it my destiny to die?”

“That… I don’t know for sure,” Clair replied. “That’s up to you to decide.”

After hesitating for a moment more, Alex finally left, and Antonio turned to Clair.

“Should I go after him?” Antonio asked.

Clair shook her head, closing her eyes.

“No. Let him go,” she said. “After talking with him I know without a shadow of a doubt that he’s not the enemy.” She opened her eyes, which began to tear up. “If anything, he’s a victim.”

--

The streetlamps had already begun to come on as Dawson and Elizabeth walked several blocks down the street to the car. They talked and laughed with each other as they walked, and merely enjoyed each other’s company.

“So where do you want to eat tonight for dinner?” Elizabeth asked.

“I don’t know, I could go for just about anything right now,” Dawson replied.

“How about some Chinese? Does that sound good to you?” Elizabeth asked.

“That sounds great,” he replied.

As they reached the parking lot and started for the car, a soft breeze blew past them, and the streetlamps suddenly started to flicker and dim. They both stopped and looked up, and then glanced at each other.

“What’s going on?” Elizabeth asked, shivering all of a sudden.

“Must be having a power surge or something,” Dawson replied.

Elizabeth swallowed, and shook her head.

“No, there’s something else. I just got this weird feeling all of a sudden. It’s creeping me out,” she replied as she turned around to see what was going on.

“I’m sure it was nothing. Don’t worry about it. Let’s just go,” Dawson said.

Elizabeth sighed, and nodded.

“Alright,” she said. “I just felt something…” she started until she turned around, only to come face to face with a tall, dark, hooded figure armed with a scythe. Elizabeth’s face turned pale as her eyes widened and mouth gaped in horror. She let out a blood curdling scream that made Dawson spin around in a flash, and rush to her aid.

“Elizabeth, what’s wrong?” he asked frantically as his sister fell down on the ground in hysterics. “Elizabeth, what’s the matter? What’s going on?”

“Get it away from me! Don’t let it touch me!” Elizabeth screamed at the top of her lungs, crawling backwards, trying to get away from the phantom before her.

Dawson looked up to see if anything was behind him, and then looked back to Elizabeth.

“Elizabeth, there’s nothing there! Nothing is going to hurt you!” Dawson yelled, putting a hand on either side of Elizabeth’s face. She continued to scream and fight, trying to escape from the phantom. “Elizabeth, listen to me! You’re safe! Nothing is going to hurt you!”

As Elizabeth continued to struggle to get away, Dawson suddenly drew her close to him, wrapping his arms around her tightly to keep her safe.

“It’s okay, nothing is going to get you,” he whispered to her, keeping her from being able to look around. “Everything is going to be just fine. You’re safe, I’ve got you.” Elizabeth began to weep and cry into him as he sat on the ground, holding her in his arms as he tried to calm her down.

Meanwhile, across the street, Edgar viewed the spectacle with great interest. He narrowed his eyes, smiling ever so deviously.

‘So the illusions don’t work on you, huh? I guess that verifies my theory,’ Edgar thought, grinning. ‘Interesting.’

--

Sophia was on her way home from running some errands, still wearing the jacket Antonio had given her the night before. She had wondered where he was now, and what he was doing. A part of her wanted to see him, to thank him for helping her and giving her his jacket. But another part of her wanted to hate him and blame him for losing her phone, but the former outweighed the latter tenfold.

As Sophia walked up the front steps of her apartment complex, a young woman with long, curly brown hair and square glasses, dressed in a dark gray trench coat with the sash tied tightly around her waist suddenly stepped out from around the corner of the building and confronted Sophia.

“Sophia Milos?” the woman asked.

Sophia froze in place, turning to face the woman. Their eyes met with immense intensity. There was no denying the contempt this woman held against Sophia.

“Can I help you?” Sophia asked.

“Yes, you can,” the woman said, slowly removing her glasses before glowering back up at Sophia. “My name is Mariah Gelespi,” she said, returning her glasses to a hardened leather case and returning it to her purse. “And you killed Mr. Reeves.”

--

Erin sat dead still as she monitored all the hundreds of thousands of data streams that flashed before her at once, waiting and watching for anything out of the ordinary that caught her attention. In a mere instant, one data stream suddenly caught her attention. With her split consciousness she investigated it closer. Two women appeared to be at a standoff. A wild sensation was sent throughout Erin’s entire conscious mind. She knew she had found something. Immediately a signal was sent to Hawke, who appeared by her side in an instant.

“What do we have?” Hawke asked.

Erin flashed the image of the two women on a screen in front of him, and explained.

“Without a doubt, these two women, you do seek.”

Hawke moved in closer towards the screen and observed the two women closely, and grinned ear to ear.

“Excellent work,” he said. “We may have just found ourselves our next two candidates.”

In an instant, Hawke was off.