After Becky left for her daily chores, the mobile phone rang as the two brothers walked out the door.
"Yo!" Michael frowned at the French accent and semi-familiar male voice.
"Michael Tanner? This is Jean-Marc Fontaine, Tori's husband. I am in New York and a little concerned about Tori and Jennifer. I could not reach them on the phone, I wondered if you had heard from them..." More than the words, the inflections conveyed real concern. Michael felt an immediate affinity with this stranger worried about Jennifer.
"No, I haven't. All I get is a machine."
"Could you call my office at Chemitek in New York, if you hear anything?"
"Chemitek, you said?" The name sounded familiar. “Isn't that the company that's dumping chemical waste in upstate New York?"
"You heard? My European colleagues and I do not agree with it. I am trying to stop it, but I cannot get the support I need. My American higher-ups have powerful connections. The newspapers are hungry for sensational articles, but not one is willing to help me fight."
Michael linked his mind to the voice of the stranger, all the way back to its source. There he found honesty, love, good will, and strength. "Well, I know someone in Washington who would love to hear your story and can do something about it besides, if you have inside information that is."
"Oh, I have all the information you need, including a nasty plan to eliminate a certain Crusader who stands in the way... You may have heard about him."
"I know him well."
"You do? What a small world. But recent rumors say this guy is a dangerous outlaw."
"Oh, he's been on the wrong side of the law a few times."
"Outlaw or not, he does not deserve to die. I am glad I called you. Now, this person in Washington..."
While discussing strategy with Tori’s husband, his unexpected new ally, Michael watched, through the window. Dave and Clara laughed and horsed around on the grass in front of the trailer house. Michael felt a pang of sadness, thinking of Jennifer... God, he hoped she was all right...
Finally, Michael joined Dave outside. Clara, totally devoted to this cool uncle who knew so many magic tricks, followed the two men, showering Michael with questions and expecting answers for each and every one of them. Clara had an opinion about everything and expressed it whether Michael was interested or not.
“Go play and let us work,” Dave told the child once they reached the construction site.
After a short discussion, the brothers decided to work together on the front of the big structure, so they could talk and enjoy each other's company as they worked. As usual when the two brothers met, Dave stirred up memories of their childhood. Having survived and now well adjusted, Dave firmly believed in therapy. Therefore, he used every opportunity to help Michael get over the deep-rooted hatred for his abusive stepfather and the mother who tolerated such mistreatment.
"She was afraid of him, Mike," Dave said soothingly.
"No she wasn't. How many times did I help her through the hole in the fence? She was seeing other men. She was beautiful... She could have had any man she wanted..."
"But he was the only one who offered to marry her. She did it for you, so you'd have a father, a provider... Of course, he never did like you! That's for sure. Us other kids didn't have it as rough... But you were always opposing him, that's why he hated you. I saw her try to protect you so many times, but no, you had to gall him, you couldn't help it." Dave returned his attention to the work.
"I hated his guts for taking Mother away from me. I would have rather lived without a father. At least I would have had Mom's love." Michael pounded on his nail with vengeful strength.
"You always had it, Mike. You always were her favorite, despite the fact that you rejected her. She often told me so." It was Dave's turn to vent his frustration with the hammer.
"Well, she sure knows how to lie. But at least now I understand her a little better since I know who my father is."
"You what?" Disbelief spread on Dave's usually calm features. He dropped his hammer.
"I found my real father." Michael grinned. “Or rather, he found me."
"You say that so calmly, I can't believe it." Dave had to sit down on a drum of plaster. "You'll never cease to surprise me, Mike. So... Who is he? Even Mom pretends she was a virgin when she married, two years after your birth. I never understood why she stuck to such an obvious fabrication."
"In that, she may have told the truth, Dave. I have to give her credit for sticking to her incredible story. And the truth is even more unbelievable, but I think you should rephrase the question. It's not who is he, but what is he?"
"What do you mean by what?" Now Michael had Dave's full attention.
"He's not exactly a person. Not in the usual sense. Let's say he's from very far away... He was just passing by."
"I expected that much. He couldn't have been from around here. He would have been known. It's hard to hide such secrets in a small town... So where's he from? And how did he find you? Even the police can't find you." Dave stared, waiting.
"He's not from this planet."
"Stop it, Mike." Dave laughed heartily. "I almost believed you for a minute here. Have a little respect for your brother. From another planet..." He shook his head. “Really, Mike... You'll never cease to amaze me."
"I'm not joking, Dave... Do I look like I'm joking? Where do you think I learned to throw glasses through the wall and make spoons dance on the table?"
"I don’t fall for tricks to impress Clara! Didn't you put the glass in the dandelion patch last night and just pretend to throw it through the wall this morning? I still don't understand how you rigged the spoons though..." A frown creased Dave's forehead.
"Nothing was fake, Dave. It’s for real."
"Good God, Mike, what are you saying? As much as I want to believe you, I can't even begin to imagine the repercussions. I knew my brother was many things..." He winked. “But such a joker?"
Dave had not quite finished the sentence when a piercing scream ripped their eardrums. Both men jumped up and turned toward the back of the house, just in time to see a small dark body in a hot pink dress fall, flailing, from the highest scaffolding. The cry stopped short on impact with the concrete slab below. Becky came running out of the barn, but Michael was the first one to Clara's side. The child twitched for an instant, then lay very still, like a broken puppet, arms and legs at odd angles, eyes fixed, mouth open, no breath moving the inert chest.
Michael looked up to see how high the child had fallen from... Mentally, he scanned her body for signs of life and found none. She was an empty shell.
"Becky, call the ambulance," Dave yelled as he waved Michael aside and immediately started CPR. "There's no pulse, no breath, nothing... My God... Please... Please let her live..."
Bright red blood pooled under the crushed skull. Michael laid one hand on his brother's shoulder. Dave was frantically working the little body, as if he could restore some life into it, some breath, some heartbeat, something. He counted aloud the thrusts upon the child's chest: thirteen, fourteen, fifteen. He gave two mouth-to-mouth breaths, then thrust again: One, two, three...
"She's gone, Dave, there's nothing you can do." Michael's words slowly made their way to Dave's brain.
After a few more desperate attempts, Dave finally stopped, picked up what was left of his new daughter and held the frail, limp body close to him. Blood trailed from the head and soaked his jeans. When he raised his face to the clear morning sky, big tears rolled on his cheeks, wetting his bushy beard. "NO!" he screamed in anguish, as if refusing to give up the child who had just recently blessed him. Sobs racked the big chest, the mouth contorting in a grimace of utter pain.
Michael couldn’t stand Dave's plight, couldn’t bear to see him suffer such a loss. With a surge of adrenalin came a familiar tingling in Michael's body. He centered himself, focused on the young girl for a minute then gently took the little body from Dave's arms, saying softly, "Let me try something..."
&nb
sp; Becky ran back from the house toward the child, anxiety tensing the muscles of her face, but Dave stopped her and held her in his arms as Becky collapsed, wailing in agony, understanding the tragic truth.
Michael laid the lifeless form on a patch of grass in the shade and concentrated on the injuries. Strong fingers ran along the spine, broken in several places. In his mind’s eye, Michael saw internal bleeding, a badly fractured skull, and brain hemorrhage. The child had lost a great quantity of blood. Michael sat crossed-legged by the slight frame of the child and set his mind to work.
Laying his hands on Clara’s head, he visualized the mending of bones and arteries, willed the hemorrhage to shrink, fused the broken spinal cord, mended nerves and ligaments, muscles, and smaller internal injuries. After all that was broken or torn had been repaired, Michael conjured new blood and started the heart pumping. Then, he coaxed the spirit floating nearby to come back and inhabit its physical form again. When it did, the chest took a shallow breath and, under the stare of Becky and Dave, Clara blinked, swallowed, and smiled peacefully, as if waking from an afternoon nap. She looked at Michael first and said, "Thank you, Uncle Michael, I love you too."
Dave and Becky, astounded and beside themselves with joy, laughed through their tears and hugged the child. Then Becky led Clara toward the trailer, the child jumping and running around.
The siren of the approaching ambulance brought the adults out of their euphoria. Dave asked one of the paramedics to examine Clara, stirring them toward the trailer, away from the bloody concrete.
The male nursed inspected Clara. "She's fine," he finally declared. “All vital signs are okay. We can take her to the hospital to make sure if you like... She mustn’t have fallen from very high." The medic turned to Dave and motioned to his blood soaked jeans. “What happened to you?”
"Nothing... Just butchering." Dave led the medics back to their vehicle. "Sorry to disturb you for so little."
Once in the ambulance, the medic turned to the driver. They thought they couldn’t be heard, but Michael smiled as he witnessed their comments in his mind. "I don't understand parents, sometimes. They panic about nothing at all. She didn't even skin a knee..."
Michael watched the vehicle drive away then looked at the imposing height of the towering framework. No child could survive such a fall. Looking down at the pool of blood on the concrete slab, he made it disappear with a snap of his fingers.
From the trailer, Clara waved at Michael who waved back. Becky took her by the hand and led her toward the barn.
Dave approached his brother with new humility. "I don't understand what happened just now... What you did... I just know that one minute she was dead, and the next she was alive and well... I'll never forget this. Thank you, Mike." Dave choked on a sob. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me, Dave, that's the least I could do under the circumstances." Such a display of gratitude embarrassed Michael.
As he relaxed, Michael felt the sudden need to lean or sit. His insides turned to oil. He grabbed hold of a stud then dropped onto a plastic pail, his mind drowning in thick liquid.
In his excitement, Dave did not notice at first. "This is really incredible. How did it happen? I thought only God could do something like that. I'm sorry I was so skeptical earlier. You weren't joking, were you? I'd like to hear the whole story, if you don't mind..." Dave stopped talking, staring at his brother. "Mike? Eh! Mike, are you all right? You look like a ghost."
"Nothing a good night sleep won't cure." Michael forced himself to smile. "I depleted my energy. There is always a price to pay."
"By all means, I'll get you inside. You must rest. Sorry about asking so many questions."
"Don't be. I was going to tell you the whole story but I wasn't sure how to begin. I guess Clara solved that for me."
They did not work anymore that day, but Michael explained to his brother the secret of his birth and his destiny as an avatar.
Chapter Fifteen
In the following days, the two brothers made good progress on the building despite the many breaks needed for the sake of conversation. Worried about Jennifer, Michael teleported to Paris, only to find Tori's penthouse empty. It was early morning there. He scanned the streets of the French capital all day in vain. He even explored the countryside with his mind, but Jennifer and her mother had disappeared without a trace. More worried than ever, Michael re-materialized in Arkansas. What could have happened to them?
Upon his return, the mobile rang. Out of area said the digital screen.
“Hi, Dad, it’s me!”
Michael should have felt relieved at the sound of Jennifer’s voice, but the call filled him with foreboding. "Jennifer? Did you get my message? Are you all right pumpkin?"
"Not really, Dad... We're not hurt or anything, but..."
"What is it Jen? Tell me what's happening."
The next voice that came over the line chilled him to the tip of his toes. "So you call yourself Crusader now,” Krastinios railed in a melodious voice. “That has a nice ring. A little rough for my taste, though... I warned you not to get in my way, Tanner, but you wouldn't listen. That is really too bad."
Cold sweat collected in Michael's eyebrows, and his upper lip trembled with barely controlled rage. "You better not touch a single hair on her head, understand?"
"My, my, my! What arrogance! As it happens, I am the one giving orders here. I want you to grasp the situation."
A fuzzy picture plastered itself on Michael's mind. The vision was flat, two-dimensional, and lacked color and detail. It showed a dark room in a castle, low vaulted ceilings, the glint of metal over two black leather tables. Tied upon one, lay a beautiful woman that Michael recognized as Tori, naked. On a chair, struggling against the bonds holding her hands and feet, sat Jennifer. Michael's heart sank. The second table obviously waited for his daughter. Close at hand, an arsenal of sophisticated tools on surrounding tables showed what kind of refined torture Krastinios could submit them to.
"Now that you have a clearer view of who is in charge," Krastinios went on in a sympathetic voice, "I want you to publicly announce that you are a fraud, that you did it for money and that you do not believe in your own words. I also want you to give yourself up to the FBI who will handle you as I ordered. Is that clear?"
"You... Mother-fucker!" Michael exploded, unable to contain the rage any longer.
"Or else..." continued the suave voice, "both of these young females will be Chosen for a sacrificial ritual and put to death after much exciting foreplay..."
Michael felt the blood drain from his face. "I will have your head for this, I swear..."
"I see that you need some reflection time, my dear Tanner... Very well, I will call you back in exactly twenty-four hours. By then, maybe you will have come to your senses. Or else..." Krastinios left the sentence unfinished. The powerful jolt Michael sent through the lines hit him in the face, leaving him speechless.
"Take that, you, son-of-a-bitch! Don't you threaten me! I may not know where you are, but I'll find you, I swear to God." Michael was yelling.
"It will not do any good to swat at me like an angry bumble bee, Earthling." The voice had lost its usual cool. "Tomorrow night, you agree to give yourself up to the FBI or they both die. It is that simple."
The line went dead. In the silence that followed, Michael dropped into a chair, head in hands, shaking like a leaf. In a voice hardly a whisper, he whimpered, "Good God, what have I done?" Then he sobbed, out of control.
"What is it, Mike?" Dave looked awed by this outburst of emotions.
"Krastinios." Michael spat rather than spoke the name. "The bastard who killed Veronica... He's got Jennifer and Tori, and he will kill them both if I don't retract the Crusade and surrender to the FBI."
Dave just looked at his brother. Michael knew he understood his dilemma.
"My God, Michael... What are you going to do?" Concern filtered through Becky's simple words.
As Michael had explained that afternoon, there was n
o turning back. The Crusade had taken a life of its own and didn’t need him anymore. Even if he wanted to, Michael couldn’t stop it. Under Dave and Becky's sorrowful gaze, Michael stood up and dragged himself to the liquor cabinet. From it, he extracted the bottle of Jack Daniels. Not bothering to get a glass, Michael unscrewed the cap, threw it across the floor, then looked at the bottle.
"I screwed up big time," Michael said to no one in particular. He needed an anchor to avoid being drowned by the irresistible flood, so he held on to the reassuring presence of the bottle. He couldn't look Dave or Becky in the eyes.
Suddenly, Michael realized the enormity of his behavior. No. He wasn't going to make the same mistake. If Krastinios counted on that weakness to defeat him, Michael would not give him the satisfaction. Not this time. Not ever again.
Under the stupefied stare of Dave and Becky, Michael, in a struggle to control himself, started shaking violently, knuckles white from the pressure on the bottle of Jack Daniels. The rage at his own weakness, the wrath for Krastinios, the thwarted love for Veronica, the turmoil and the guilt about Jennifer and Tori, all these emotions rose and crashed inside him like a violent storm against the rock of his new resolve.
The trailer started to shake. Bottles on the rolling bar knocked down the glasses like during an earthquake. A window shattered. As Dave and Becky looked around in fear, Michael struggled to get out, staggering, still holding the bottle. Out of control, his powers would destroy the trailer, and Dave's family didn't need to suffer in Michael's fight to exorcize his own demons.
Once in the open, the fury of Michael’s inner fight against his weakness lifted him from the ground. He twisted in mid-air while storm clouds gathered above. When a rod of his own lightning hit him, Michael screamed, hurling the bottle to the heavens so high it never fell back down. As the dry storm gained in intensity, lightning struck Michael again and again, accompanied by loud thunder. Each time, he screamed in pain, fear, and rage, until a massive jolt ended the trial.
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