But I had underestimated the effect that our “vulgar art” had made with people, in the many years that we’d toured the globe. Our performances were still viewed as legendary, revolutionary. There had been nothing like them before or since, which was what our intention had always been, and anyone who’d been lucky enough to see one had never forgotten it. And so, on the evening of July the seventh, the guests began to arrive, and the house, expansive as ever, was none the less filled to capacity. It was astounding to me. I’ll admit, I felt a sense of pride. Let it never be said that I couldn’t still throw a party, and the strange community that I’d once been a part of still existed.
I was enjoying myself all night, visiting with old friends and meeting new ones. It was a liberating experience, just like old times, but I was sad too, as Madeline was not far from my mind. I tasted the Essence from the fount, and I need not tell you what that is like. Indeed he didn’t. Tad shuddered, remembering the taste, and a laugh that wasn’t his own sounded from some recess in his inner ear.I wandered from room to room, absorbing it all, in a state of wonderment. I started in the caverns below, and gradually made my way to the upper stories, until eventually I climbed the stairs into The Eye, and there I saw a sight that turned me to stone as I stood. For there in the moonlight, surrounded by guests who sat and stood around him like his disciples, was James. But he was not the same scrawny mute who had sat nearly unmoving for the past seven years. He was lively, he was animated, and he was speaking. He capered, he laughed, he told bawdy jokes and stories; he pinched the guests, barked and howled like a dog, and cackled and grinned like a mad jester. It was if he’d been waiting for this moment to rise from the dead. Around his shoulders was draped an overly long velvet cloak that had belonged to his father, and there was a top hat perched on his head. He carried a cane with an extraordinary diamond at the center that had also been Remy’s, and he twirled and flourished it as though he’d been born with it in his hand. His face was made up with powder and rouge, enhancing the clownish appearance, but I have to admit, I was fearful of him, not amused. Though nothing more than a thin fourteen year old playing dress up, he commanded a presence that I recognized all too well. His parents had both had it in abundance.
But the most distressing thing about the whole scene was the way everyone was looking at him. It was the same look his father had once commanded, the same awe, and the excitement at being in his presence, and the blind adoration. And they laughed at his jokes, and the women and men both sidled up to flirt with him, and he teased and gesticulated in a way that one never sees, and should never see, from someone so young. And they did not call him James anymore, nor Jimbo, which had always been my pet name for him as a baby. They called him Daddy, and they began to chant it with one voice, until the domed ceiling rang with it, and I asked someone who was standing near why they called him that, and they said that it is what he was introducing himself as. It was what he wanted to be called.
That was the beginning of it all. From that point onward, my strange roommate, who I’d known since his very birth, became the undisputed master of the house. I’d thought his mind broken, but it had not been. For all the time that I’d been finding new things to live for, and largely ignoring James, his mind may have been in hibernation, but it had not been idle. What he was capable of was soon to become apparent, and there wasn’t a whole lot I could do but watch it all unfold. The spirit of both the mother and the father was alive in the son. This new entity, “Daddy,” that had once been James Crawley, was a difficult person to know. A large part of the reason was that his personality was always changing, or perhaps, as I began to suspect after a time, there were many personalities crammed into one body. You’ve witnessed this phenomenon, of course. You may even have asked yourself which was the real personality, of all the ones you’ve become acquainted with over the course of your relationship with him. Did you ever figure it out? Tad shook his head grimly. He could honestly sat he hadn’t. Do you know why that is? It’s because there isno real personality. There are certain characteristics that are common to all of them, but there is no actual single persona in there that is dominant over the others. Or, to put it another way, he doesn’t turn it off and on; he doesn’t perform for some and not for others. That’s really the way he is, and he acts exactly the same whether he’s with you, or whether he’s with me, or with others, or all by himself. I know that. I’ve seen it.
He paused, letting this sink in. Tad sat with his hands clasped in his lap, thinking it over, but refrained from commenting. After a moment Stitch went on. And the personalities come with different voices, and as you’ve seen, some of them require different costumes. He knew all about makeup and costuming, and theatrics, of course, as it was all around him from a very young age. And from the age of fourteen on, when he awoke from his trance and launched himself on the world again, he would go through all those molding racks up there, and throws outfits together, and then he would become that character, and he would add them to the ever expanding rogue’s gallery in his mind. Stitch was smiling, but he wore the expression painfully, and he spoke with bitterness now. Some people might think he was faking it all, or better yet, they might mistake it all, all his behavior, for harmless eccentricity. But it’s not harmless, as I’m sure you realize now. And after observing him for those first few years after he revived, I revised my opinion of him yet again. I’d been right the first time. His mind was broken. He was completely and utterly insane.
Insane, but highly, highly intelligent…that, and insightful, and persuasive, and endowed with gifts that immediately set him above and apart from the vast majority of others. His talents gradually manifested themselves, and I must say that a part of me looked on with fascination at what he’d become capable of, but it was accompanied by horror. Perhaps you’ve already gathered that James has a special relationship with the land that surrounds this house, the land that belonged to his mother, and all things organic that dwell here. The trees, from their bark deep into the beating hearts of the timber, and the grass, with its roots reaching down into the soil, and the water, on the surface and flowing beneath the ground, and all the animals that live in the trees or on the ground or fly through the air. He cannot control them, but he knows how to make them listen to him, and they like the attention that he pays them. They think of him as a kindred spirit, and they are flattered that he entreats to them for his power, as his father taught him to do, and he knows the old ways and is respectful of them. For if there is one thing that James respects, it is power. That is something he learned from his father. The mistaken way of thinking was passed along.
The traffic in the house increased, as I mentioned, in the years that followed the second Decadence event, but the people that came were no longer coming to visit me. They were coming to see Daddy, the wittiest and the most ribald sensation since, well, his parents. I had officially sunk into the background again, good old Gatey, the man who is content to watch but does not participate. I’d lost most of my hair by this time, and I’d put on weight from eating so much of my own cooking. He’d become the main event, young as he was, a live wire in any of his personas, and everyone that he came in contact with were thrilled and delighted by him. Of course, they all realized his mental instability too, but I think that was part of the appeal. To be so close to a force of nature, so wild and unpredictable, is an adrenaline rush. He’d become the new drug, and everyone was hooked on him.
He traveled, in his late teens and early twenties. There was still plenty of money left behind from his mother, and he took advantage of it to explore, much as I’d done in the company of my extended family when I was his age. Sometimes I went with him, but more often he was on his own. Who knows exactly what he did during that time, or where he went. Sometimes there would be no contact for months, and I’d think I was never going to see him again. But he always showed up, sooner or later, as psychotic as ever.
And so it went. Decadence went on, every seven years, drawing bigger crowds every time.
Those were his chances, his opportunities to revel in the opulence of his insanity in front of the largest possible audience. I, for my part, was always happy to see old friends, but I stayed mostly out of the way. I accepted my role and was content with it, happy to take part in the sometimes dubious enjoyment of Essence, and maybe get laid. He stopped at this point to grin at Tad, who flushed. He liked using those opportunities to seek out new conquests, new people who caught his eye whose lives he could invade. Tad shifted in his seat. He was paying special attention to this part. Those didn’t usually last any farther than one or two trysts, before either James lost interest or the other person realized just how twisted he really is and wanted out. He uses people up, you see, if given the opportunity- he drains them. That is the true danger of this man; he is like a vampire. He is incapable of caring for someone in the conventional sense. If he sees qualities that he likes in another human, then he is not content to be with them and enjoy that quality. He wants it for himself. He is tremendously selfish, and self absorbed, and all he does is take. He is incapable of giving. I feel bad talking about him like this, because privately, I always hoped, though maybe it was just wishful thinking, that his redeeming qualities would somehow even things out in the end...but he doesn’t have any. Although of course, now you know where he comes from, and what he’s seen, and the hell he was put through. I’m not making excuses for him, because much of what he does is inexcusable. I’m just saying, that’s how he is, a product of his environment in the end, just like everyone else. We are what we were made to be. But what he was made to be is cruel, and shallow. Manipulation comes to him as readily as breathing to the rest of us.
And now that I’ve unraveled the story as best I could, I’ll end by saying that you have my deepest sympathies, because you’ve attracted his attention, and he’s become quite obsessed with you. You’re the shiny bauble in his crosshairs, and the fact that you refused him makes you all the more appealing. He would much rather drag what he wants out of you than have you give it to him willingly. As I’ve said, there is power that’s exchanged through the taking from unwilling victims. He doesn’t believe that anything readily given can be of value, and nothing that I’ve ever said has been able to change his mind about that. So he’s after you, and congratulations on thwarting him so far, but you have to realize the worst is yet to come. Using the guise of friendship, he coaxed you into revealing to him your weakness- your family. And now he will strike at you through them until you concede and submit to him everything. And he will take his time picking over the bones of what was once your life, because that’s what he does. I’m sorry, my lad.
“Are you?” Tad broke in hotly. “You know, you really don’t seem to be that brokenhearted about it.”
The big man shrugged. “At least it’s not me.”
Tad nodded, furious. “Typical. That’s about the answer that I would expect from you, “Gatey.” It’s not actually you doing these things, fucking with people’s lives, so you’re guiltless in the whole affair, right? Let me tell you something. Your buddy there picked the wrong guy, and you’re going to get involved, because I’m making you get involved. Your story answered a lot of questions, but I’ve got a few more, and you’re damn well going to answer them. Isn’t that right?”
He had risen to his feet, and was glaring at Stitch, furious again. Stitch, for his part, shrank back against the wall, his fingers working so rapidly they could barely be seen. Tad was getting that edge to his voice again, and the older man was desperately afraid of it. “I’ve told you, I’ll answer your questions, if I’m able to.”
“Alright.” Tad began to pace about the room, rubbing his chin with one hand. The shadows on the floor had begun to lengthen, as the afternoon was growing later. He could hear the creak of the floorboards as something moved elsewhere in the house, but he was used to this by now, and it no longer startled him. “The first question is, why me? Why did Daddy seek me out, and how does he produce that feeling that he’s capable of, the one that makes me come to him?”
“What do you mean?” Tad attempted to describe the horrible, prickly itchiness that only got worse if it was ignored. He told Stitch how good it had felt, on the first afternoon of the Summer in Between, and how it had drawn him directly to Daddy. When he was finished, Stitch narrowed his eyes. “I know this isn’t the answer that you want to hear, but I don’t exactly know. In all honesty, that’s not a weapon in Daddy’s arsenal that I’m at all familiar with. It could be something new that he’s developed. Or maybe it’s something unique about you that makes you particularly susceptible.” He was silent for a moment, thinking hard. “There’s a theory that I have. Maybe there’s something to it, maybe there isn’t. In the time that I’ve known you, I’ve seen the two of you interacting together. I’ve spoken to you when he wasn’t around, and I’ve listened to his deranged ramblings about you when we’re alone. And lately I’ve begun to think that maybe, just maybe, there’s some sort of connection between the two of you, a link that binds you together in some way. I don’t have the faintest idea what that might be, but I’ll tell you this much. I’m under the impression that he’s begun to think so too. He speaks of you as being special. I don’t know what he’s referring to, but you remember the power that I told you Madeline had, and Remy even more so, the power of suggestion, the sheer force of will that made it almost impossible for others to disobey them when they gave a direct order?” Tad nodded. “James has it, but you have it too, and that’s not usual. Not just anyone has that ability.”
Tad nodded slowly. “Okay, so that power. How does one attain it?”
“Well, when it comes to things like that, in the general way of thinking there are two ways. The first is through long and studious practice. Through a series of meditative techniques, you learn to focus the right part of your mind, and you gradually work at it, as you become stronger. At first, it is necessary to induce in oneself a trancelike state and work from there. For this purpose, the mind is like any other muscle. It’s like strength training. You build up the ability gradually. For that, of course, you need a trainer, a teacher who is already a master. I would guess that Remy, who traveled the world for so long learning the best ways to manipulate and control others for his purposes, went by this method. By the time of his induction into the group, his mental prowess was already so skillful that resistance to his way of thinking, as I said, was extremely minimal.
Then there’s the other way- you’re simply born with the talent. It’s rare, but it does happen. When it does, sometimes the person never even uses it, and it remains latent all their lives. But sometimes it’s forced to the surface, during times of extreme stress or emotion, and then the person begins to use it with no training required, relying purely on instinct. There is no meditative state, there is no mental preparation. They’re doing it without even realizing it. Take a politician, for example, that is a strong public speaker. They are poised, they are articulate, and they have a keen grasp of the issues. They’re charismatic. They know how to hold their constituents in the palm of their hand. But there is something more than all of this at work. Every once in a while when you see someone speaking, and you are moved by not only the power of their words, but by something in the air, something intangible but undeniable, then that person, whether they know it or not, is using that power. That is why people who have it often rise to places of prominence in the world. With that super-charisma, the power of persuasion, they have an advantage that others do not. Madeline would have fallen into that second category.”
“So I guess it goes without saying that I’m in that second category too. What about Daddy?”
“Ah, James is a special case. It’s my opinion that not only does he draw on a natural groundswell of this power, he has even learned to enhance and augment it through techniques taught to him at a very young age by his father. Remember, it was Remy who set him on the path, and first kindled the same interests, (or dare I say the same obsessions) in his son. It would be fair to assume t
hat anything Remy knew or was capable of he might have taught to young James. And remember also that James traveled about for several years, possibly retracing his father’s footsteps. Who knows what else he might have picked up? Now, typically this ability can only be put to use when the person controlling and those being controlled are in the immediate vicinity of each other. But it might not be unreasonable to assume that James has developed a way to broadcast his will over long distances. And if there really is some sort of connection between the two of you, it is even more likely that he is able to work on you from far away. Which means that unless you can devise a way to negate that power, I have no doubt that he will continue being able to torment you from a safe distance until you submit to his wishes.”
Woods Page 43
