by J.R. Bowles
CHAPTER 34
Throbbing temples. The concentration he had to use to redirect the energy that opened the centers drained him to the point it had felt as if it would kill him. Michael O'Malley rubbed at his.
It was fortunate he was rich enough to have the oil tanker fake the fire. Money is power, he mused―but nothing like the real power John was developing. All of them had the power of the centers. They had each been born with it, but most of them didn't know they had it or how to use it until their centers opened. Even though he had been substituted he still had his power. But the combined power John would achieve would be beyond control.
Michael went into the bathroom and splashed water on his face. He stared at his reflection in the mirror. He thought his own image seemed unreal, wavering as though no more than liquid, his own substance insubstantial.
The next opening should be one of destruction; he had to prepare for it. After this, John would become dangerous.
He had faked the fire to draw him away from the black man. Perhaps John would learn to control himself through the communications, and the destructive force wouldn't be so deadly. That had been the reason he had redirected the opening. He would have to watch John and judge him to see if he misused the power.
Yes, Michael nodded at his image, the black man was next. Michael knew all of them: All of the people who would be openings. His Grandfather had bought the information many years ago.
He would have liked to have seen the preacher’s face when he received the money he had sent. The man had never seen so much money at one time. Michael almost smiled at the thought. He had hoped he would follow the directions and move into the Castleton.
He sighed; all of those years, while he had amnesia, his detectives had continued to keep track of each one of the people involved. Money was all it took; when he called them, they told him where each person was. He wondered if the detectives had thought it strange, that these people were to be followed twenty-four hours a day for all of these years. Hell, why did it matter what they thought? They did it for the money.
He had worried about how he was going to get the black man into the hotel without him becoming suspicious, but the Indian woman had solved his problem.
His detectives were checking into her background. Surely she wasn't involved, but he was going to have her checked out. Better safe than sorry.
He didn't know when John would come back to the hotel, but he would follow the black man. That way, when the next center opened, he would be there. Yes, the black man was to be next.
