Chapter 33: Crunch Time

Being confident was important, but Elliott Bastion was hands down the biggest threat I had faced – even counting the Sandman – and that said a lot. But the most the Sandman could do was kill me; Bastion could, maybe, turn me into something so dark it made Jamie on a bad day look like Phoebe in church. Nothing we had tried had been even remotely successful, and I still didn't know how I was going to handle someone I couldn't even look at in a dream. Trust me, over-confidence, wasn't a problem. Maybe if we had a clue...

"I don't suppose you've come up with any new ideas on what to do about Bastion himself? I was kind of hoping that if I left it alone, something would come to me, but so far that hasn't worked."

"Sorry, Bro," Jamie said, and I could almost feel her shaking her head. "I don't have any more of a clue there than you do. I guess as a last resort, we could just kill the son of a bitch and be done with it."

"That might be a little difficult, don't you think? Close enough to do the job puts us in his reach, not to mention that I'd really rather not be up on murder charges myself if I can avoid it. Don't get me wrong, I'm not opposed to the idea, but I don't know any way to do it cleanly enough to get away with it. Sniping him from long distance is about the only option I could come up with, and even that has a whole list of drawbacks.

"Too true," she agreed, "but it would be nice to have the option. If we could get away with it, the rest would take care of themselves."

"I'm afraid of what they might do along the way," I said. "There is always the chance that some of them may decide to take a few people with them. And what if one of the girls was there when they went off? That would bring up exactly the kind of questions and attention we're trying to avoid."

"Yeah, it would really suck if, after everything we went through, we got one of them killed because we were careless. So what are we going to do?"

"What else? Talk to Allison."

As usual, Allison was the one with the plan. We'd pretty much determined that going one on one with Hightower, even in a dream, was a recipe for disaster. He was just too powerful in his own right. If I'd been able to hide from him, I would have at least been able to study him and try to come with something, but even that was a luxury we didn't have. The two times I'd tried pulling him into my dreamspace, he had simple woken himself up. So, one way or the other, anything we did would have to be in his dream – meaning we had to give up not only power and control, but also the home court advantage. After all that, I was a little surprised at what she had in mind.

"It's not going to be easy," Allison said after she had laid out the basics of her plan. "We don't know if or how fast he can take them back, but if nothing else, it should provide one hell of a distraction." She paused for a few seconds before going on. "I think if we're going to do this, we need to pull out all the stops and just bring it. Everything we've got."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I mean we may only get one shot at this, so we should hit him with everything, don't hold anything back for a second try, because if we don't get him the first time, we may not get a second chance. Surprise is going to play a big part in this."

"So what are you suggesting?"

Allison's plan had been simple, gather together all the girls that Hightower had been fucking-over all these years, release every inhibition he had put in place, and turn them loose on him all at once. With all of his groundwork destroyed, he shouldn't have time to regain control before I got to him. In a truly ironic twist there was a chance I was going to have to save his sorry ass from them. After years of torment and abuse – to suddenly be able to get their hands on the man behind it – some of them may not want to stop, and that would be a disaster. I wished we'd had time to put more of the protections in place for the girls, but we were past the point of no return. Too many people were asking too many questions about so many people from the same church dying. The ME was under a lot of pressure to find something – anything – that said these weren't really accidents. Hypnosis creates chemical responses in the brain. Most hypnotic drugs were synthetic versions of these compounds. If any of those drugs had been used, they would have found them before; the naturally produced ones break down faster and are harder to detect, but if they started looking deep enough...

Elliot

The chime sounded right on schedule, and I turned from staring down at the masses walking the street two hundred feet below. As always seemed to be the case, I was fascinated by how – more than anything else – they reminded me of ants. Viewed from a height, the resemblance became even greater as the milling crowd surged, gathered, and disbursed with the changing of the lights and the passage of traffic. Not so much at night, as darkness seems to swallow the street, reducing the scene to scattered pools of light cast by the streetlights. On the strip, where the incessant glow of a couple of million kilowatts bathed the scene in a perpetual twilight glow, the resemblance was even greater. But here in the business district, the glow only seemed to deepen the shadows as the light pollution fooled the eye into thinking it could see. It reminded me of standing in my bedroom as a teenager, staring out the window trying to catch a glimpse of Beth Carmichael as she prepared for bed. There was an empty lot between us, so, if I was careful, she couldn't see that I was watching. If I left the light on in my room, or even just left the door open to the hallway, the glare was enough to prevent me making out any details in her room. But if the light were out, ... then the dark expanse seemed to vanish, and ... Well, now was hardly the time.

I set the glass of bourbon on an end table as I moved toward the elevator. It was a luxury I could only afford in my dreams now, and the remembered taste had been fading for some time. I could no longer even be certain that it was bourbon and not brandy that I tasted, and as much as I longed for it, it was a luxury I could never afford in waking – not even here in my private sanctuary. Appearances were important after all. In the earlier days, I could have taken a 'mission trip' down to Mexico – or even just to another part of the country – and indulged myself. Unfortunately, in the days of cell phone cameras and internet video, such pursuits were far too risky.

I made the short walk to the wall containing the elevator and pressed the tile concealing the hidden button; today's guest had arrived, and I mustn't keep her waiting. More importantly, I didn't feel like waiting, and I loosened the tie on my silk robe as the doors began to part. I always enjoyed that first glimpse of the blindfolded girl kneeling naked before me, waiting patiently to obey my slightest whim and ... What the... ?"

Hands, lots of hands, pressed through the opening as the doors parted; they seemed to be pressing them apart in an effort to get out more quickly.

"You bastard!" a girl's voice screamed. "How could you? We trusted you!"

Suddenly there were hands grabbing and slapping at me. I tried to back up, but someone had already grabbed my robe. Fortunately, self-preservation outweighed modesty, and I spun desperately away, pulling my arms free and retreating, naked, into the center of the room.

There had to be thirty girls in that elevator! And apparently they all wanted my blood. It wasn't even possible; the elevator couldn't possibly hold that many ... Him! It had to be... him. That little bastard! Apparently, he had decided it was time to make another attempt. When I got my hands on him, I was going to ... I forced the thought away with an effort, best to deal with the hands that were after me first.

"Samantha child, April, Monique, what has gotten into you?" I said in a calming voice.

"You!" April screamed. "You let this happen; you were behind it all along!"

A clawed hand slashed forward, grabbing at my chest. Painted nails raked parallel lines of fire across my flesh as I barely managed to dodge back.

"Enough of this!" I snarled, grabbing the girl's hand and screaming, "Kneel!"

Instantly she dropped to her knees, hands folded neatly in her lap. I didn't have time to enjoy the heady rush of satisfaction, as there were many more still apparently desperate for my blood. I had five more on their knees before I realized April was after me again. Stepping behind a couch, I looked quickly around, and ... there! I could just make out the ghostly image of my true adversary touching Linda's shoulder as she knelt where I had left her following her last attempt. It only took a couple seconds contact before she leaped to her feet and started for me again. Damn! He was better than I gave him credit for, and he was breaking them free almost as fast as I was stopping them, and that left too many free for me to deal with safely, especially since it was necessary to actually touch them first. I did not relish the idea of being within range of so many at once. Perhaps something a little stronger...

Jimmy

Shit! I couldn't believe what was happening. Despite seemingly stripping away all of Lord Hightower's implanted controls, he was still able to master the girls with the barest touch and a simple word. It took a few seconds to break them out of it again once he ordered them down. After about the first ten, it got even harder as he changed his command and started ordering them to sleep instead of to kneel. It took a little longer to break the new compulsion, and 'wake' them again – especially since I had to be careful lest they truly 'wake up' and vanish completely.

Still, we were making headway; Hightower was too distracted to remember that it was a dream and wake himself up. As Allison had suggested, his ego wouldn't let him run from the challenge. And they were getting to him. On her second attempt, Samantha had managed to trip him, and if not for some quick footwork, he might have gone down. Unfortunately, he didn't, and in seconds she was down again, only this time he had commanded her to sleep. I had wondered if physical contact might increase his ability as it did mine, but I hadn't counted on just how well it seemed to work. Of course, this was only a dream, so you really couldn't assume that the same would be true in the real world. Finally, April jumped on his back, the belt of his robe in her hands. I'm pretty sure she had intended it to go around his throat, but in his mouth worked just as well, as he could no longer order the girls asleep. In seconds, there was panic in his eyes.

That's when everything went wrong. Control no longer an option, Bastion changed tactics; reaching back and grabbing the young girl's hair, he pulled hard, and she instinctively dropped her grip on the belt to defend herself, screaming in pain as he jerked her hard over his shoulder and threw her into the three girls coming at him from the front. They all went down in a tangle of flesh, and I heard one of them scream as her arm went through the glass coffee table. Suddenly there was blood everywhere as the girls tried to escape the broken glass. But tangled together as they were, they only succeeded in cutting themselves up even more. Without thinking I rushed forward to help them, and before I could stop myself, I felt his hand grab my arm.

"Got you!" Bastion hissed, and I could feel a rush of force pressing not against my arm, but against my mind.

The girls forgotten, Bastion seemed to be concentrating solely on me. A wave of force washed over me, and while I know he didn't speak, the word 'submit' seemed to ride the wave, and I felt my arm go slack in his grip. I pressed back, trying to counter the inrush of force, but I couldn't seem to concentrate. It was like I was being forced back into a...

A voice in my mind seemed to scream, "Don't think it!" but it was already too late as the door to the cell slammed shut.

My own mind had betrayed me, and the analogy of it being forced into a cell became a reality.

"Much better," Bastion said with a laugh. "Now, stop them."

The strange voice screamed, "No!" as the room full of girls suddenly froze where they were; even the bloodied bodies of the four girls still tangled and struggling to get away from the coffee table ceased screaming and squirming.

"Excellent," Bastion said. "Now, just how good are you? Are they simple images sent to confuse and distract me, or did you somehow manage to bring them all here?"

"They're real," I said angrily. At least I still had that. I couldn't seem to challenge him directly, but my personality was intact.

"Impressive," he said. "So you can actually move others around with you. I suspected as much from the various descriptions of you with your two little playmates, but to move so many at once – very impressive. Everyone I interviewed spoke of two young women. Not always both of them, but one of them always seemed to be near. Why?"

"I didn't trust myself alone with any of your sick little group. I was afraid I'd lose control and start hurting them and tip you off."

"Apparently that wasn't always enough, hmm? I assume Frank Watkins has you to thank for that little visit from his loving daughter, back from the grave?"

"Yeah, I particularly enjoyed that one, but that was also when I learned I should never be alone with any of them."

"We'll get back to that. First, I want all of these girls returned to their own dreams, with no knowledge of any of this; you can do that, can't you?"

I wanted to lie; knew I should lie, but somehow... , "Yes, I can do that."

"Excellent, and they will not remember me or anything about this place, is that clear?"

"Yeah, I got that part," I said hotly.

"And let's fix that while we're at it. I am Lord Hightower, your Master from this moment forth, and you will address me with respect at all times, is that clear?"

I bit back a response and refused to answer, but then...

"Burn!" he commanded, and pain lanced through me as if I were on fire.

I screamed and dropped to my knees as invisible flames seemed to wash over me. As I struggled for breath, I couldn't help but remember doing the same thing to Boris.

"Enough," he said, and just as quickly as it began, the pain stopped, and I was left gasping on the floor. He had let go of my arm as I fell, and I tried to crawl away when the pain stopped, but he simply said, "Stay," and suddenly my muscles wouldn't respond.

This was not how this was supposed to work out.

"Stand up," he said calmly, and to my horror, I did. "Now, let's start with poor April and her friends. Heal them and send them someplace nice. Yes, that should work nicely; let's keep it simple, just send them all to a nice crowded beach, one with enough people so they are lost in the crowd and won't bump into each other. They can just relax and work on their tans until time to get up in the morning. Do it now, and I want to hear your instructions."

It was just like I imagine it was when he set the trap for Samantha to kill me. I was in a cell, looking out through my eyes, watching myself do exactly what he told me to do. I knew it was wrong, knew I didn't want to do it, but I simply couldn't stop myself. Eventually the girls were all gone, Bastion was back in his robe, and the room was put back together; no trace left behind to reflect the struggle that had raged here moments before.

"Now," he said. "Let's get down to the important part: Who are you? What is your name?"

Again a voice far away seemed to be screaming, "No!"

"My name is James Edward Matthews," I answered.

"And how old are you?"

"Sixteen."

"Sixteen?" he said, sitting in an overstuffed chair and pouring a cup of tea as if we were just two old friends sharing lunch. Except, of course, that he didn't offer me a cup.

"Is that all?" He asked. "My word; I suspected you were young, but sixteen? I hadn't expected you to be quite that young? Who are you working for?"

"No one," I said.

"No one?" he asked. "I find that hard to believe. So no one else knows about me."

"No," I corrected him. "There are others who know: a few people with the FBI and a woman at the Department of Justice named Sandra Atkins."

"Ah, yes, the lovely Miss Atkins," he said with a smile. "I'm not surprised to find her involved in this. How did you meet her?"

"I haven't met her," I said, "and she isn't involved, she's just interested. Mostly she makes sure that no one else that discovers any of this gets too close and gets her in trouble. Her primary focus is to keep the government from winding up in court again. She's monitoring you as best she can, but that's all."

"And the FBI?"

"Several agents have stumbled across your activities and started inquiries. Some of the disappearances and deaths have caught their attention, but when they try to access your personal files at the Department of Justice, it flags the activity, and Atkins hauls them to Washington to find out what they know. Then she sends them back with strict instructions to stay away but to forward anything they find out. She's been slowly trying to gather enough to get an idea of who is involved."

"And how much does she know?"

"More than the rest, but still not that much," I said. "She suspects far more than she knows, and she has no idea how you actually get away with all of it."

"You didn't tell her?"

"I told you; I've never met her. As for the rest, I didn't think it would be a good idea for the government to know what you can do."