Chapter 17: The Prodigal Return

Authors note.

As always my thanks to Neurparenthetical, whose untiring vigilance makes my illegible scribble readable. Any residual errors are left there purposely in order to give you guys something to do.

Enjoy. – and please, whatever you feel about the story feedback is always appreciated. I can’t improve if I don’t know where I am going wrong.

I was stunned. Over and over, I examined the memory. There was no doubt. It had been my power that had been in play. It appeared that I had done exactly what I had suspected Mary of doing. It was my thought that I wanted the twins in my life that had set the ball rolling, and I had somehow implanted it into the twins.

I pondered where that left me. As Jules had said, all we knew about the bond was that the participants had to be willing, but we didn’t know what they had to be willing to do. Was just the willingness to have sex enough, or did it require the willingness to be tied to the other person? Even if that were the case, would that willingness in Mary indicate love, or just that she was willing to sacrifice herself to make sure another evil Stott wasn’t let loose on the world? It seemed for every answer we got, another two questions came with it.

“Well?” asked Jules, breaking into my thoughts. I realized that I had been pondering for some time and they were waiting for a response.

“It came from me,” I said resignedly. “It was my own thought - my own desire. There was no other power active on me.”

“No other power?” asked Jules. “Why? What power was already active?”

“My own,” I said. “I guess that is how we ended up sharing with Dianna and my mother.”

Mary spoke. “We have been over our memories of that morning, time and time again. I saw that thought occur to me, and to Amanda. We thought the timing was purely because of our bond to each other. We often think of things at the same time. I didn’t see you push it onto us, but I was looking at your Compulsion. What if it was your Telepathy? That is much more subtle, and we very well could have missed it.”

“I didn’t have Telepathy then,” I argued.

“You didn’t know you had Telepathy then,” she responded. “You didn’t know you had Compulsion until Angela flashed her ass.”

Jules looked at me. “So isn’t that the answer you were looking for?” she asked, and then looked disappointed when I shook my head.

“Not completely,” I said, a feeling of dread building inside. “It answers the question about why we all thought we wanted a long-term future together.” I looked apologetically at the twins. “I am so sorry.”

“Caleb,” Mary said gently, “I know you don’t believe me, but I was thinking that well before we went into the bedroom. Both Amanda and I made a decision long ago, that no matter what else we got up to, we would save our virginities for the person we wanted to spend the rest of our lives with. We had already decided to give that to you.”

“But what if...”

“What if afterward you said you didn’t want commitment?” she asked, and I nodded.

“That’s not you, Caleb,” Amanda said. “Your sexuality had given you multiple opportunities to give your virginity away, and you didn’t. We could both see that you also were saving yourself. It’s possible you didn’t even know it yourself, but you were.

“That’s why Mary was so nervous when she asked you if you would share your first time with us. It has such a deeper meaning for all of us than perhaps you realized at the time. You may have planted that thought in our minds at that instant, but all it did was reinforce what we already knew.”

I took a deep breath. So many thoughts were rattling around in my head, not least of which was the possibility that I had been solely responsible for the bond.

“Okay,” I said, “I’m sure that Dianna said something about those to be bonded needing to be virgins.”

“It said that in the grimoire as well,” said Jules.

“According to the diary,” I recapped, “the participants needed to be willing, but as you said, a willingness to be there doesn’t indicate love. It could just have been lust. It’s a step forward for me at least to know my desire to be with the girls was mine and not planted, but it still doesn’t prove that the love I see through the bond from Mary is true.”

Amanda looked from Mary to me. “Why just Mary?” she asked. “If you can’t be sure about Mary, why are you sure about me?”

“There’s no easy way to answer that,” I said, “but you know what I said to Dianna. I know I love you, and I am certain in my heart that you love me, almost despite, rather than because of, what the bond is showing me.”

“If you can be that certain,” she asked, her eyes filling with tears, “then why can’t you be sure about my sister? How can you doubt her? She loves you just as much as I do. I feel it through our bond - hers and mine.”

“He doesn’t doubt the love,” Mary said quietly, placing her hand on her sister’s arm, “he just doesn’t trust its origin, and therefore doesn’t trust it, or me. As he said to Dianna, everything that has happened could be explained in one of two ways. Either I’m a cynical, lying, manipulative bitch, doing my best to uphold the Everson tradition of keeping the Stott bloodline under our heel, or I’m a loving, caring girlfriend, making choices - not necessarily the right ones, but with the motive of keeping my love safe and whole. The only difference is the love I feel for him. If it’s not real, then I’m the former, if it is real, then the latter.”

Jules slumped back in her chair. “So, I failed,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not over yet,” I said. “We still have one lead left. Let’s see what we can find out about what happened between Edward and Sarah after they married, and how she died. That could maybe give us a clue.”

We ate dinner in a subdued mood. Amanda was clinging to Mary like I might be about to evict her from the house, but I understood. She was caught in the middle and didn’t know where to turn. Jules didn’t seem to be taking any side, talking to us both like she had before, and not acknowledging any dispute between us.

After dinner, Mary and I cleared up, not speaking at all, and then I went for a shower before retiring to bed. It was early even for me, but for some reason, I was drained, and not in the Dianna definition of the word.

Josh and Louise had gone out earlier in the day and had not returned by the time I went to bed. They were still on summer break, and because they hadn’t run away, they had already taken their exams. I settled into bed, alone for once, and considered what I had learned. My thoughts about having the girls in my life had been truly mine. That made me happier than I thought it would. I really had wanted to be with them. It had not been a Compulsion or some other mind-control artifact that had made me feel that. If what Mary had said was true, then so had her and Amanda. But again, although I’d never for a second doubted Amanda’s motives, what of Mary’s? Was she a loving girlfriend or a fanatic, willing to give up her entire life in order to remain in control of someone like me? I wouldn’t put it past her family to do such a thing. They had a young man – whom I suspected wasn’t even gay - prepared to be a gay lover to me if that proved to be my preference. It seemed there was no end to their willingness to ‘take one for the team.’ I sniggered to myself as the thought that he would have had to take a lot more than one crossed my mind.

Mary and Jules were on either side of me when I awoke the next morning. Amanda was behind Jules, which was a favorite spot for her. I gazed down into the sleeping face of Mary. She was so beautiful that my breath caught. Although they were twins, and to everyone else Mary and Amanda were identical, to me they were totally different. Both of them were beautiful but in different ways. I sighed and slipped out from between the girls to start my daily regimen.

Just before eight, I showered and dressed. We were all going to travel together and have breakfast in the cafeteria before the day’s exams.

The day passed pretty much as expected, with one exception. I did something that I had never done before. I read my own mind. It was in the first exam when I was trying to remember a specific date. I knew I had read it, but I just couldn’t recall when so pulling up the memory was a non-starter. I would have had to have to sift through months of memories to find it.

Briefly, I toyed with the idea of ‘peeking’ into the head of the lecturer, who was invigilating the exam. I knew it would be in there, and that I could retrieve the information in a matter of seconds with nobody being any the wiser. I shook my head; I wasn’t going to do that to someone without their knowledge.

Then the thought struck me: if I could find that information in the head of someone else, was it possible for me to find it in my own? I turned my awareness inside and started to look around. The first thing I noticed about my own mind was that it was a goddamned mess. Random thoughts, facts, and information just lay scattered around like so much litter. I determined that I needed a good cleanup, but not just then. I needed that particular nugget. Suddenly, there it was: the information I had been looking for, lit up in neon lights. I couldn’t understand how that could be, but I also wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Exiting my own head, I began to write. The rest of the exams went much easier after that.

Something changed on day two of the exams.

An invigilator sat watching me – just me. There was one for the room, but there was a second one, who sat at the front, but always somewhere that he had a clear view of me. On the odd occasion that I glanced up, his eyes were always on me. I thought it a little odd but continued as I had the day before, answering the questions easily with my newfound access to every piece of information I had ever read, seen, heard, extrapolated, or imagined.

On day three, he sat beside me.

We had been directed to leave everything outside the room. Beyond every conceivable electronic device, we also weren’t allowed to take our bags in. We were provided paper and pencils to answer the questions, and, as I said, the invigilator sat right beside me, watching my every move. I had no idea what was going on, but I decided not to let it worry me, and once again answered the questions, finishing the papers easily within the allocated time.

“Done?” he asked when I closed my paper on the last exam.

I nodded, and he snatched it up and requested I follow him out of the room.

We ended up at the Dean’s office, and I was asked to wait outside while my escort went in. They kept me there for half an hour before the door opened and I was invited inside.

The Dean sat behind a large, leather-topped mahogany desk, devoid of everything other than some exam papers. I concluded quite quickly that they were mine, from all three days’ exams.

My head-of-year sat beside him, along with the university counselor. I took the empty seat in front of the desk, and the invigilator took his own seat.

The dean stared at me for a while. I sat, relaxed, not in the least bit intimidated by this power play. Eventually, he spoke.

“Caleb Stott,” he intoned, with the manner of one calling a criminal into court, “end of

year exams year two of our Criminology and criminal justice bachelor’s degree.”

I waited. He hadn’t told me anything I didn’t already know.

He sighed theatrically. I chose to embrace the contradiction. It was very obvious they were going to accuse me of cheating, but I couldn’t for the life of me think of a single credible reason why they would think I had.

“Mr. Stott,” he began, “here at the university, we are very proud of our students and their achievements, which is why it is so disappointing when we find out that one of those students has done something as reprehensible as cheat in his exams.”

“I presume that you are insinuating that I somehow cheated in my exams?” I asked.

“Not insinuating,” he snapped. “Stating a fact.”

“Facts are only facts if they are supported by evidence,” I countered. “What evidence do you have that I did anything wrong?”

“The results speak for themselves,” he said. “Prior to this week you were averaging a three point five GPA, enough to get your degree, but nothing stellar. This week you have aced every single exam paper. Aside from the two questions you missed on the first paper from day one, you didn’t get a single answer wrong. If you weren’t cheating, how is that possible?”

It had never occurred to me that by accessing my own memories, my academic standard would go up from just above average to something akin to genius. Prior to this set of exams, I had been wearing the amulet, so, despite working hard, my performance hadn’t been stellar. In the span of a single semester – well, plus most of the summer – I had been freed from the amulet and had grown into an incredible suite of psychic powers. Suddenly, it did seem quite so strange that some alarm bells triggered.

“Memory exercises,” I said. “I spent the last six weeks on an intensive memory mapping course, and now I have perfect recall of everything I have ever seen, heard, or read. That includes any conclusions or thoughts I had about that information at the time. You had me under close surveillance from day two, and we were practically strip-searched going into the exams today. Exactly how was I supposed to be cheating?”

The dean looked uncomfortably at the head of year. “We don’t know,” he said, “but we are prepared to allow you to drop out of the course, with nothing being entered in your record if you tell us. Otherwise, we will have no choice but to convene a full disciplinary hearing, with all the incumbent publicity and sanctions.”

“You obviously don’t believe me,” I said, “So you need proof. You have the syllabus and know what I have read and been taught. Ask me any questions you like. Alternatively, have your counselor test my memory – see if I have perfect recall now, as I claim to. I didn’t cheat, and I refute all allegations of so doing. If you convene a disciplinary hearing, I will fight it with every tool at my disposal, and when they find me not guilty of any wrongdoing, I will be coming back with a legal team to seek redress. If you’re aware of any reason why an accusation of cheating pursued through a university’s kangaroo court, with no evidence at all to support the charge, wouldn’t open you up to a defamation suit in a real court, by all means, go ahead.”

“When was Habeus Corpus first introduced in the U.S.?” my head of year snapped.

“August 20^th 1787, at the Constitutional Convention. It was introduced by Charles Pinckney, a delegate from South Carolina. It was voted substantively on 28^th August, and the first part passed unanimously. The second part passed by a vote of seven to three.” I answered immediately, having brought the image of the textbook to mind. I simply read it out. I even told them which textbook, chapter, and page number I was quoting.

They fired more questions at me. Then the counselor asked me to memorize a series of numbers. There were five hundred of them. She then asked me what was the twelfth number, the sixtieth, and the two-hundred-and-fourth.

I was in the dean’s office for nearly two hours. Eventually, they accepted that I hadn’t cheated. I was dismissed.

For an instant, I seriously considered asking for an apology, but then decided that it wasn’t worth the effort. I got out of my seat, bade them all good day, and left. A slight smile crept onto my face. All four people had started to squirm in their seats, an unrelievable itch suddenly making itself known in a very personal place.

The girls were all waiting in the cafeteria for me, and since I was hungry, we ate.

I told them what had transpired, and how I had had the idea to read my own mind, which had given me unprecedented access to all the information in my own brain. I gave them all the memory of the encounter in the dean’s office.

Amanda giggled. “You didn’t.”

I grinned at her. “They were never going to apologize,” I said, “so I thought a little payback was warranted. it’ll only last until this time tomorrow,”

I glanced across at Mary, expecting a disapproving scowl, and found her to be giggling like her sister.

“They deserved it,” she said. “Accusing you with no proof and trying to bully you into a confession. You could take legal action, you know.”

“I know, but it’s not worth it,” I said. “It will only hurt me and the school in the long run, so I’m content with my petty revenge. Besides, my grades are going to rocket now. A, I am no longer hobbled by the amulet, and B, I have perfect recall.”

All our exams were over, and I was pretty sure, following my trip to the Dean’s office, that I had passed. The others were equally confident, which left us with the weekend, and another week of holiday, before we had to be back for the final semester of the year.

That evening at home, things seemed to be almost back to normal. We all sat and chatted and watched some TV; there was no arguing and no animosity. Josh and Louise sat with us also, and I had a pretty good evening. I even stayed up late, not going to bed until after ten.

I was just settling down when I felt a nudge from the bond, from Ness.

“Hey, squirt.” I sent.

“Hey, Caleb,” she returned.

“Are you okay?” I asked, wondering if she was getting pain again. I figured that Jules was probably due before she was, and I hadn’t heard or felt anything from her.

“I guess.” She didn’t sound overly keen.

“You guess?”

“Bobby’s nice enough, but I don’t really like him like – like that.”

“Is there someone you do like like that?” I asked. In my defense, I was tired.

Suddenly the light came on.

“It’s a shame,” I sent. “If I were not ten hours’ drive away, and this boy said no, I would ask you myself.”

I felt amusement. “Dick!” she sent. “You know who I mean.”

“We’ll be up for a few days at Christmas. And if I remember correctly your birthday falls just after we finish the winter semester in seven months. So how about I take you out then?”

I felt a surge of happiness and smiled to myself.

I sent her an image of Dean shoveling dirt into an unmarked grave in the dead of night. I could almost hear her laughing.

“Just be careful,” I sent. “When is the dance?”

“Saturday night.”

“Have a good time.”

Since I didn’t hear anything more from her, I guessed she had fallen asleep, so I followed suit.

At eight forty-five the next morning, I was standing outside an impressive red brick building. I was a little nervous. I was about to brave the lioness in her own den, but I guessed it was the best way to deal with the situation I had created.

Not to put too fine a point on it I had fucked up. There had been mitigating circumstances no doubt, and I didn’t agree with everything that had been done to me, but Maggie hadn’t been wrong when she had said I had stormed off in a snit. I had thought long and hard about my career choices, and about all the different alphabet agencies I could apply to. The military was definitely out. I wasn’t going overseas, which pretty much immediately ruled out the CIA also. That left the Secret Service, Homeland, the NSA, and the FBI.

The Secret Service I had been warned off of; Homeland, despite the catchy name, also had overseas postings. The NSA ... well, I didn’t want to be spying on my neighbors all day every day. The only place I actually wanted to work was the FBI. I needed to try and rebuild some bridges, but without becoming a puppet. I hoped I could make it work.

I checked my attire once again. I had my best – well my only - suit on, plus a tie. My hair was combed neatly and my shoes were shined. I walked up the steps and through the door.

After I passed through the ubiquitous metal detector, I was directed to a reception desk, where I informed them of my nine o’clock appointment. I was signed in, given a temporary pass to clip to my pocket, and directed to a seat. They informed me that someone would be down directly to escort me up.

That someone was James.

He smiled as he approached. I stood up and took his proffered hand.

“Good to see you,” he said, “follow me please.”

He led the way to an elevator and punched the button for the top floor.

Maggie’s’ office was obviously the biggest on the floor, and probably in the building. It reminded me of a lawyer’s office. A bookcase stuffed with leather-bound, legal-looking books lined the wall behind where she sat at a light oak desk. In front of the desk and off to the side a little was a low table with four chairs around it, presumably for informal meetings, and there was a single chair across from her at her desk. A spare chair stood to the side of her desk, angled toward the empty one.

Of course, there was also a flag on a stand in the back corner. A door, on the side wall, was closed. I presumed it hid her personal bathroom.

Maggie didn’t get up when I entered. She wasn’t playing power games - not pretending to be on the phone or reading something - she just watched me as I walked toward her and took the seat she indicated.

“I must say,” she said as I sat down, “I was surprised when Dianna said you would come to see me here.”

Since there wasn’t a question in that anywhere, I waited for her to speak again. She didn’t. I decided to move forward with my planned approach.

“I think,” I said, “given the way things went the last time we spoke, we should really be starting this meeting with an apology.”

I saw her face flush a little and she started to draw breath. I went on before she could speak.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I said and did some things that I now regret. I could rattle out any number of justifications, but that wouldn’t change the fact that what I did was wrong.”

She opened her mouth, closed it again, and then finally said, “What brought you to that realization?”

“I had a long chat with Major Vince Wragge from the NSA,” I said. “He wasn’t quite as, shall we say, direct as you were, but the message was the same. I needed to listen to the message and understand the situation.”

“The NSA made you an offer?” she asked.

“He said he would take me on in a New York minute,” I said. “They are doing background checks as we speak.”

She nodded. “So why are we here, Mr. Stott?” I winced, but didn’t correct her. It would sound condescending.

“I don’t really want to work for the NSA,” I said simply. “Sneaking around spying on my neighbors sounds too much like 1984 to me. Even Major Wragge told me I would probably not like the work, and I would be a much better fit elsewhere.”

“So, it was always a bargaining chip?” she said, looking a little impressed.

“Not just a bargaining chip,” I said. “A little security as well. I formulated the impression - and I don’t want you to think I am accusing anyone - that a viable option, should I not wish to join you, would be my elimination. I got scared. I needed an option that you couldn’t object to. I needed to show you that just because you and I were not friends, I wasn’t going to become an enemy of the state.”

“So, you gave yourself an alternative that meant you were still one of the good guys,” she said, “and still subject to oversight, although not by me.”

I nodded.

“Sound thinking,” she said. “How did you come up with that idea?”

“I had help,” I said. “Someone older and wiser helped me work it through.”

“So, I expect you have come with a list of demands?”

“Not demands,” I said. “Requests. Things I would like to happen if we can reach an agreement.”

“And if we can’t?” she asked.

“Then I’ll say thank you for your time and apply elsewhere.” I said mildly, “just like any other applicant. Perhaps sometime in the future, I might get to know my great-great-grandmother, but that would be totally separate from my professional life.”

She sat back in her chair and spread her palms. “The floor is yours.”

I spent a moment marshalling my thoughts.

“I am offering you access to the most powerful user you have seen in generations,” I began. She knew that already, but it was the central bargaining chip. “I have Compulsion, although I have only just started to train that properly, TK, which I have trained extensively, Telepathy, and Empathy. Even untrained as I am, I have taken down two Psi predators, a Norm predator, located a previously unknown user, and recaptured a drug dealer rapist and murderer and his gang.

“I don’t pretend that any of that was anything more than pure chance - being in the right places at the wrong times - but it shows that with the proper training, I could be a real asset to your organization.”

“And in return?”

“I want to be able to trust you,” I said bluntly, “and not be wondering if everything that is going on in my personal life is some kind of subtle manipulation. My family is not a lever by which you can pressure me into action. You told me that I needed to take the hits because bad guys wouldn’t hesitate to use my family against me. I accept that as the truth, but isn’t the corollary that anyone who uses my family against me is, by definition, a ‘bad guy?’

“As far as training goes, the gloves are off. Throw whatever you like at me, and I’ll stand or fall on my own abilities, as long as my family is not endangered for real. I’ll take the hits. Vince Wragge also told me I had all the prerequisites to be a Healer. If possible, I would like that training, please.

“Obviously, I need to finish my education. I have two years left. I am confident that I will get a good degree, but we might be jumping the gun a little even having this discussion just now. I would, however, like to know what my options are – or aren’t.

“Outside of that, a living wage. I will have a family to keep, and although they will also be earning, I eat a lot all of a sudden.”

“Is that it?” she asked.

“Two more things,” I said, and she inclined her head.

“I would kind of like to get to know my great-great-grandmother. I never even met my grandparents, and I have relatives I didn’t know about at all. The last few months have been a revelation.”

“And the other?”

“Twenty years of missed birthday, Christmas, and Thanksgiving gifts. I thought grandparents were supposed to spoil their grandchildren.”

She actually cracked a smile at that.

“Dianna told me about your two housemates,” she said, “and you using them to train your Compulsion.”

I nodded. “I was convinced by someone that I needed to train all my powers,” I said. “Their request seemed like an ideal opportunity to kill two birds with one stone.”

“Would you show me?” she asked. “It’s a touchy subject, but I need to know you aren’t abusing them.”

I offered her the memory, and she took it. Her eyes glazed for a moment, and then she chuckled.

“You were fairly extensive in your getting them to state their requests,” she said. “It was a good use of your Telepathy both to let them guide you in their fantasy and also watch for trouble, and nice to see you ask permission first. It was also nice to see you realize that not every need generated by a fantasy should be fulfilled. A horny mind can cause a lot of damage if not moderated.

“If all your ‘training sessions’ with them follow a similar pattern, I see no issues. We will have to request a random sampling to ensure things aren’t degenerating, but otherwise, I would say carry on.”

I nodded.

“First of all,” she began, “thank you for coming here today, and for the apology. I know that things have been, and are still, intense for you in both your personal and professional life. Believe me, it will get easier eventually – though it may get harder for a while at first. I have heard about your research into the bond, and Jules already reached out to Dianna to ask about the people the bond was created for. Unfortunately, since the family were Norms, their records are not part of the Everson Library. I do, however, happen to have a rather large department of interns, and I have set a couple of those to find out what they can. I’ll let Dianna know if anything turns up.”