Crestview Place, Bel Air
With a sigh, Derek eased himself down onto the marble steps where Gary
Mattox had died. Nick had asked him, "Why?" That was indeed the question, but what
was the answer? Pride... yes. Fear... also yes... fear of no longer being able to do the
job... fear of more loss... fear of needlessly sacrificing those about whom he cared.
He cradled his head on his arms. Lately, a part of him shuddered at the thought
of playing the general... training his team for combat... testing them... ordering them
into battle. It was so much easier to make the decisions only for himself... to run the
risks himself... rather than to play God... then, with suffocating fear, await the
consequences.
"Stop this, Rayne!" he silently shrieked. This isn't a job that tolerates
introspection. It demands certainty... of self, of philosophy, of action. Introspection
provokes self-doubt... self-doubt equals hesitation and weakness... hesitation brings
death, weakness invites the darkness. "Be certain," he commanded himself, "for the
sake of the team... and for the sake of this bewildered, enraged child-entity. If I'm
not... who will be?"
How could he convince this lost soul to move on? It didn't even know it was a
soul... it didn't understand the basic concepts associated with the words "hot,"
"cold," "life," "death," or the feelings and images evoked by those words. How could
a mind that perceived the world in terms of words and images communicate to an
angry spirit that had never lived to attain such awareness?
Taking a deep breath, the precept finally pushed himself to his feet. He dragged
his fingers along the wall where the young mother had died. Derek swallowed hard.
Opening his mind to unknown forces had never ceased to be daunting. The feelings
were never the same... the images were never the same. Each time was a roll of the
dice.
Feeling the hairs on his arms rise, Derek glanced about as a feather's tickle
skirted along the edges of his perception. A puff of wind tugged at his hair and swirled
on to swipe aside the drapes. The geometric prisms of the chandelier tinkled like a
wind chime caught in a summer storm.
Derek watched as the wind's energies coalesced into a visible plasma. He turned
his mind inward to gather the scraps of his strength, then threw open the gates to his
consciousness. Bit by bit he broke down his feelings... paring away the words... the
images... striving for the bare emotions.
< < + > >
A blazing fire cast giant shadows against rough, stone walls. The
shadows danced to the pulse of a growling hum. A painted, wooden
doll lay upon a flat rock beside the flames. Crooked fingers placed a
small, turquoise pebble upon the doll's chest. Rhythmically, a flint
tapped in cadence... left, right, top, bottom... west, east, north, south...
then reversed... each time it paused to hover above the turquoise
nugget.
< < + > >
At the precept's first movement, Alex pressed the record button. "He's sensing
something," she said.
"There... what's that?" said Rachel, pointing to the small monitor. "Where's that
breeze coming from?"
"Guys, what are you picking up?" Nick asked. "I've got energy readings up the
wazoo. What's he been doing?"
Alex adjusted her mic. "He wasn't doing anything for a bit... just sitting on the
steps... but once he touched the wall, I'm sure he sensed something... then a breeze
seemed to circulate the room," she explained.
"Nick," interrupted Rachel, "were there any open windows or doors... any
ventilation that could cause a draft?"
"Nope... I checked everything," Nick replied. "Keep talking to me, because I
don't hear anything. Do you?"
"No," said the doctor. "All's quiet, but you're breaking up a bit."
"I'm picking up static myself... it must be the energy," Nick said, then added,
"Rachel... if he seems to be having any difficulty at all... tell me and I'll break down
the goddamned door."
"Can you sense anything?" asked Rachel, glancing at her friend.
"Not really," Alex replied. "There's something there... a nervousness... an
anxiety. It could be Derek or it could be the entity, but, from what Derek said, I
suspect I'd feel more fear and anger from it.
"I just wish he wasn't going to do what I think he's going to do."
"You mean channel it?" the doctor asked, never taking her eyes from the
monitor. "Have you ever done it?"
"Not the way he does it," said the researcher. "I don't think anyone quite knows
what he does... and 'the powers that be' don't like it. They think it's a needless risk."
"Look!" said Rachel. Amazement tinged her voice as she pointed toward the
upper corner of the monitor.
"What?" Nick asked loudly. "Talk to me!"
"A plasma cloud," said Alex. "Quite the miniature lightning storm."
< < + > >
Derek swayed as his outward senses faded. He felt the tendrils of energy tickle
his mind the way static electricity tickles the scalp. He searched for a way to
communicate the idea of "child" to the entity, but could only produce the word and its
synonyms... only various images of babies and children... only the memory of
children's sounds... crying, laughing, screaming.
The entity pressed harder into the precept's mind. His head began to throb. He
covered his eyes with his hand as his they began to ache from the brightness shining
through the southern plate glass wall. He felt a faint shock, similar to what one might
receive from a door knob on a dry, desert day. His hands began to tremble as he braced
himself against the couch. Angry confusion replaced yesterday's curiosity.
Derek tried to focus on the concept of love, but again images filtered through his
mind... images of all those he had ever loved, which meant nothing to this little, lost
soul. Another gust of wind swept by him to circle the room. The immense windows
began to vibrate. Overhead the chandelier's crystals exploded like firecrackers.
Ducking, Derek shielded himself from the showering glass. Suddenly, his stomach was
hit with all the force of a mule's kick. The breath was knocked from him. Gasping for
air, he dropped to his knees as he heard light bulbs burst in their wall sconces. A
torrent of electrical sparks erupted from the video-cam, which was then hurled against
the wall.
Hearing Nick's shoulder hit the door, Derek shouted with all the breath he could
muster, "It's OK. I'm fine. I think it just discovered I'm not its mother." He hoped the
mics were still functional.
The precept dug deeper into his own soul to find the overwhelming sadness of
tragedy and loss. He concentrated on the dark abyss that had absorbed his very being
at the moment of his father's death... at the moment of Alicia's final heartbeat.
Again the wind rushed by. It slammed Derek against the wall to once more
knock the breath from his lungs. His fingertips tingled with the electrical charge, but
this time, he knew that it had sensed something. The potency ebbed. Once again, he
felt a feathery sensation along the rim of his mind, then the impression of roots digging
their way into his brain.
"Let it happen," he whispered to himself. "Relax... feel the way you felt when
Father died... pure, terrified emptiness... be as alone as on that night." A trickle of
sweat along his temple distracted him. The frightened, bewildered phantom recoiled.
"David," he murmured... only to feel it stab at his brain with another spasmodic jolt
of energy. He gasped, but controlled his reaction to the pain. He rubbed his chest to
sooth the pressure of anxiety, to steady his breathing, and slow his erratically racing
heart. He allowed it to feel his anguish and desolation. "Shaq," he thought and
whispered. It stopped and again began to probe with a gentle tickle.
Derek began to hum a melody from Don Giovanni, but detected no recognition
from the entity. He shifted to the breeziness of Eine kleine Nachtmusik. The tendrils
hesitated in their nervous exploration. The precept could sense an excitement at the
familiarity. A Mozart lullaby... he needed a lullaby... the Clarinet Concerto in A.
Immediate calmness settled in, bringing with it a sensation that neared happiness. Still
humming, he concentrated only on the music... allowed his mind to become the music
as he did when he let it flow through his fingertips into the piano keys.
Suddenly another rhythm intruded... chaotic and irregular. Derek felt timid
hesitancy. He pushed the odd notes from his mind to focus only upon Mozart.... Calm
inquisitiveness returned.
In his mind, he created light... warm light that sang with the smooth, sweet
melody. The golden sun of his imagination hollowed itself out into a sweeping tunnel.
Thrice before he had seen that passage and had desperately wanted to enter, but had
known that he could not... not yet. He allowed the contented energy he felt nestled
within his brain to experience the joy of that desire with its promise of freedom. He
then focused upon the sadness of his decision to remain on this side of the light.
Suddenly, a burst of warmth spread through the precept's body. A downy
lightness seemed to momentarily lift his soul. Then, it was gone. Chilled weakness,
exhaustion, and vertigo swept through him. Derek steadied himself against the wall...
his lungs couldn't seem to take in enough air. In the flash of a nanosecond, the tiny
soul had thanked him by sharing its radiant transformation as it entered the light. One
day, he thought, I won't have the strength to stay.
* * *
"Derek!" yelled Nick, throwing all his weight against the doors. On the third try
both doors gave way. His momentum carried him down the steps.
"Boss? Are you all right?" he asked with concern as he reached for older man.
The precept's face had taken on an ashen hue. "I'm OK," he replied breathlessly
as he pushed his windblown hair back from his face. "Just a headache and a little
winded. It moved on... I could feel its joy when it finally understood." Suddenly, pain
stabbed through his chest... agony infinitely worse than when his shoulder had been
pierced by his own sword. Derek cried out at the surprise of it.
The former SEAL caught his friend as his legs gave way. "Derek?" said Nick,
lowering the precept to the floor. "Rachel!" he screamed. "Alex! Call 911!"
"It's my heart," Derek mumbled before losing consciousness.
* * *
In the distance, Derek heard voices and a faraway siren. They floated to him like
the sound of sleigh bells through a snowy forest.
"It's no good.... We've lost him," said Rachel.
"No! Keep going!... I'll pump... you breathe," Nick gasped.
They were panicked voices, but he didn't care... the light was here... so warm
and bright. He felt nothing but the warmth.
"I thought you were supposed to see yourself," Derek mused, but all he saw was
the light. God... he wanted it so badly.
"Derek!" he heard Nick shout. "Don't do this!"
The precept reached out to touch the light. "Hummm? Odd," he thought. What
was he reaching with?
"Derek!" Nick said quietly... close to his ear. "Stay.... We need you. I need
you."
