Chapter 32

The girls and I spent a couple of hours doing dishes; cleaning pots and pans, putting the china and silver back into the cabinet and just generally being domestic.

Okay... there was a little bit of grab-ass involved, mostly on my part, so the actual work involved took maybe an hour and ten minutes. But hey, we were young and energetic and a little bit buzzed from all the wine and liquor.

We said good night to Anya, staggered our way upstairs and tumbled into bed. There was another hour or so of additional groping and fondling, kissing and cuddling and then we all fell asleep in our usual mound of flesh.

The next couple of days passed quietly, which surprised the hell out of me. I expected some kind of fallout over eliminating a second Director, but nothing happened and no one called.

We slept and woke, ate and played, wandered the house, wandered the grounds, Peggy spent time with her horses, we all took turns working out with Anya and beginning to learn some of the things she could teach us, ate and played and slept and woke then did it all over again.

Day three AP (after the Party) started out differently and kept on being different no matter what I tried to do.

I hadn't actually gone to sleep the previous night, so I never actually woke up that morning. I'd spent the wee hours of the morning in the library reading. For some reason I couldn't get comfortable enough to fall asleep, so I snuck out, went down and curled up with a first edition volume of Tom Sawyer. Tom and Becky were wandering thru the cave when I realized that the phone in the study was ringing. Setting down the book I hurried to get the phone before it woke anyone.

"Blacktower."

"Jones here. We have some problems and the Doctor thought you should be warned. Senator Mortenson has been nominated to become the next Director. Mr. Davenport, you will no doubt be surprised to learn, has fallen into a kind of coma and is not expected to wake up any time soon. His replacement as acting Director is still being discussed within headquarters, but Congressman Bustamante is heading up a congressional investigation into our former Director's untimely death and the acting Director's sudden sleep disorder. And lastly... we've been going thru Mr. Davenport's files, and while there's nothing concrete to base our suspicion on, we believe that Davenport may have set an assassin after you prior to our visit. I'm going to try to get out there today with Anya's toys and some of her personal effects, but the weather may turn nasty and delay or ground me. Keep an eye out and don't let down your guard."

"Appreciate the news and the heads up, Mr. Jones. Give my regards to the Doctor and my condolences to Mr. Davenport. See you when I see you."

I hung up the phone and went to wake Anya.

I knocked on her bedroom door and it swung open almost immediately. Her hair was mussed but her eyes were bright and active as she tugged the robe around her.

"Mr. Jones just called to tell me there might be an assassin headed our way. The weather is supposed to turn ugly soon. He's planning on coming out here with your weapons but might not make it, so you and I will have to be on guard. I want you to patrol inside the house. Keep moving around and pay special attention to all the doors, especially the ones at the back. I'll watch the outside."

"I'll dress and get right on it." she said.

"Remember, your primary mission is to protect the girls."

"Yes sir."

I smiled at her. "You're doing a fine job Anya." She brightened up considerably.

I went across the hall and entered the master bedroom where the girls were sleeping peacefully. Dressing quickly, throwing on my pea coat and watch cap, I hurried back down to the pantry and brought out the British sniper rifle, loaded my pockets with rounds for the gun and went out the front door, closing it behind me.

The early morning sky was cloudy and gray; a thick mist hovered over the grass, moving in and around the trees that surrounded the vast expanse of the property. There wasn't much wind, just a small breeze that swelled from time to time and blew the chill air against my face. There were no birds chirping that morning, the only sounds, apart from my footsteps on the ground, came from the swaying of the taller trees and the occasional cracking of their bark.

I took a seat on the porch steps and scanned the area, keeping my eyes loose and looking for signs of movement.

I was loading a round into the rifle when I spotted a small figure moving towards me at the far end of the drive, some two hundred and fifty yards away. It was definitely human; and from the way it moved I guessed it to be male. There was no way he should have gotten past the external security unnoticed, so I immediately was alert. I linked with him and flipped the covers off the rifle scope, bringing the weapon up to my shoulder and the sights over his torso.

Thru the scope I could see his features better and was surprised to find that he was a young boy, maybe fifteen or sixteen years old. His hair was damp, hanging half way between his ears and shoulders, a redish color several shades darker than my own had originally been. He didn't have any facial hair; his skin showed signs of acne but was otherwise a fairly good looking kid.

He took his hands from the pockets of his military style OD green jacket and raised them up to shoulder height, but kept moving towards me.

Thru the link I could feel his excitement. He was pleased, eager, and not the least bit afraid. There was also an underlying sensation of menace and malice.

I probably should have shot him right then. But I didn't. I hit him hard with a rush of fear.

His youthful features twisted slightly and his steps became hesitant. He shrugged and shook himself, straightened up taller and continued moving forward.

I should have shot him then. But I didn't. My curiosity was aroused. I changed the flow of fear into abject terror and watched him closely.

His face went white, his eyes opened wide and his hands dropped down. He looked from side to side quickly then over his shoulder. He stopped moving and began turning in circles. I could feel his personal fear rising up in him along with a splash of paranoia. He shook himself like a dog and the fear, paranoia and the terror I'd sent him vanished. He grinned and started forward again.

I should have shot him on the spot. Instead, I unloaded the rifle, set it down on the steps and got to my feet. I started walking towards him while he came at me. We both stopped moving with about five feet between us. He was about five ten and kind of heavy for his height.

"You shouldn't be here. Turn around and go home." I said looking down at his boyish face.

"My name's Tim. You have got to be Ike Blacktower. There couldn't be two people in the whole world that look like you." he said in a light tenor voice that was just a little reedy and nasal.

I nodded, feeling the malice grow in him. "What do you want here Tim?"

"Arthur Davenport sent me. You know him, right?"

"I've met the man, yes."

"He's my uncle, my mother's brother. He told me you were a very dangerous man."

I watched Tim and felt his heart beating faster and faster.

"He said that you killed the Director of the CIA and that you were going to kill other people if I didn't stop you."

"You came here to kill me?" He nodded. "Have you ever killed anyone Tim?" I asked him.

His eyes lit up and his grin got bigger. I felt his heart pounding and a flash of almost sexual excitement filled him.

"Yeah. It was wonderful!" he gushed.

"You like killing? It makes you feel stronger, more powerful, more important... right?"

"Yeah. It sure beats the hell out of jacking off!"

"I would imagine so. There are better feelings, you know. Jacking off is the least of those."

"I know. But fucking isn't nearly as good as killing. Its okay, don't get me wrong. But nowhere near as good."

"I can show you something that feels better, a thousand times better. If you'd like."

"Nah, thanks anyway. My uncle warned me about you. I shouldn't even be talking to you. He said just get in, kill you and everyone in the house and get back out."

I nodded. I also started to get angry. "How are you going to do it... if you don't mind me asking?"

"It's a thing I do with my mind. I'm going to 'think' you dead."

"I see. Do you have to touch me or see me or can you just 'think' about me and do it?"

He shrugged. "Touching makes it easier, but generally I only have to see you."

"What's it like? Burning, drowning, cutting... anything like that?"

"Nah, more like going insane. It's really fun to watch. Sometimes I can almost feel them freaking out before their hearts stop."

"Tell me something Tim, did your uncle tell you how I killed the Director of the CIA?"

"No. I guess you probably used poison or a knife or something. Doesn't matter."

I sighed. "Tim, I'm bigger and stronger than you. I've killed maybe a hundred men, men who had guns and were trained to kill. You don't think that matters?"

"Nope. 'Cause you left your gun back there. And I don't have to let you hit me or use your strength or size. You won't have time."

'This is fucking pathetic. Unless you plan on trying to fix this pup, just kill him and get it over with.'

Tim's eyes got even wider when he heard the change in my voice.

"I don't like the idea of killing kids."

'This kid likes killing and he's more than happy to go after everyone in the house. You can't save this one. He shouldn't be saved.'

"I'm not a kid, you fucking freak!" Tim screeched, his voice cracking. And he lashed out at me thru his own link.

He had power; there was no doubt about that. Lot's more than I'd had at his age. The wave of pain hit me like a tidal wave and before long I was fully immersed in the emotion.

I smiled at the boy. "Not bad." I said. "But pain only works if the person you use it on can't take it. I've felt worse."

'Stop playing around and kill the little fucker!'

"He's right. I'm really sorry to have to do this Tim, but you shouldn't have come after me."

Reaching out I wrapped my hands around the sides of his face and held his head firmly between them and unleashed my rage.

Tim continued to try and drown me with pain, and I can't say it didn't hurt. It did. My head felt like it was going to explode, every joint ached, every muscle screamed with agony. But it was only pain and I'd hurt worse before. Pick 'em up and put 'em down.

The pain fed my rage and I let the flames of that inferno rush down the length of my arms and thru my hands into his body. Tim screamed loudly as his entire body burst into flame and then turned into one man sized charcoal lump which crumbled into gray ash and fell thru my fingers to form a pile at my feet.

The link was severed and the pain in my body melted away. I brushed my hands against each other to clear the dust, noticing that it had started to snow. I walked slowly back to the house, picked up the rifle and went inside.