Causality - 2. Case 1: Draining Internal Energies, Chapter 1

Case 1: Draining Internal Energies-

 

Chapter 1

 

(Sid’s Excerpt from Book of Fate)

 

I hate running late for new assignments, especially, when I am being placed in an office in Washington. Beltway traffic is the primary reason why I am late, but I can’t tell them that the Baltimore office was a much easier commute, plus I loved my team. After the “mint candy” serial killer was caught, I thought maybe they’d give me a commendation, not a transfer. I’m only 27, two years out of the academy, so I didn’t expect a promotion for myself, maybe my superior. They fired her and disbanded our team due to “budget cuts”. Congress is really short-sighted; you shouldn’t cut down law enforcement’s staff, when your state budgets are cutting down on mental health support. Why do you think we have had so many crazy people with guns recently? Hello, every state in the country just cut 2/3^rd of their mental health budgets, closed down hundreds of facilities, and put patients on generic drugs that do little more than mellow them out and fetch a few bucks on the black market. At this rate, I would not be surprised if thousands of serial killers, sociopaths, and simply unhinged/unemployed office workers start hacking people up for sport. I might have been a privileged kid growing up, but it takes a certain kind of ignorance to world events that allow people to become politicians.

 

I am still seriously pissed off about losing my team, especially after we cracked such a huge case. It was a rough case to break; the 6 victims had nothing in common in terms of background or environments. The crimes took place over a wide area, stretching from Fredericksburg, Virginia to Silver Springs, Maryland. A mint candy was left behind in each of the victims’ mouths by the killer, but no one could find a connection. In the end, it took something I recognized during several empathic recollections at the crime scenes to get a profile of the suspect. There was a combination of moist lavender and mint during each of the murders. Only two of the victims were murdered during rain showers and there was no natural lavender in the area. I reviewed the notes on all the victims, forensic investigators did not find any foreign chemical or compound on the bodies, which were stripped and bleached by the killer. I figured the scent must be something the killer himself had on, since none of the women used a variation of those ingredients in their hair or body products. I cross-referenced body products and found three locations within the crime scenes’ general area that sold either a perfume or cologne with a combination of mint and lavender. Of course, I couldn’t tell my supervisor that I had used my pseudo-psychic abilities to identify the suspect had lavender and mint scent. As I was running out of options, a new piece of evidence was found by forensics, a bracelet with a single thread of fiber. They had already tested it for skin, hair, and foreign matter, but only could identify a chemical trace on the common wool fiber, an exotic perfume made of mint and lavender, which they assumed was from the victim.

 

I fought furiously with my supervisor that the perfume must be from the killer. I won out in the end and an investigation was launched at all three locations, allowing us to eventually catch the killer. I am not a scientist, but I believe in patterns. Any criminal act that is done repeatedly always has a pattern connected with it, which will eventually lead us to the right person. Being able to read emotions is just one way of tracing their patterns, but unlike TV, you can’t base your entire investigation on it, let alone prove its validity. Even people, who know about my uncanny ability to get into the victim or killer’s mind, understand that in a court of law, it is not evidence or even conjecture. If they don’t believe me, I would probably lose my job and be sent in for psych evaluation. Instead, I point the investigation towards the right direction, not exactly TV drama case solving, but it is the best that I can do.

           

Anyway, I can’t rest on prior laurels. If that was the case, I’d be commended, not transferred to a dead end job in Washington. Despite what TV shows might say about Washington DC being the seat of power and importance; for profilers, it’s a dead end. Quantico in Virginia holds the most advanced research facilities in forensics and profiling in the United States. Yet, I am being re-assigned to Washington DC to be part of some small research task force on cases involving the Occult and Crypto-analysis.

 

The division was created originally as a premier task force in 1972 with the prodding of FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover before he died. At that point, it was hoped that a cross-section of law enforcement specialists could solve cases like the Freeway Phantom on the east coast and Zodiac killer on the west coast during the late 1960’s and early 1970’s. Both cases have remained unsolved despite the best efforts of every branch in law enforcement. Over time, the division began shrinking due to budget contractions in federal law enforcement and the remaining division members have had some odd fates. There are stories circulated about agents and police officers being driven insane by their inability to solve cases. There are even stories about missing agents and grisly murders/suicides due to the nature of the cases that they investigate.

           

In one word, I’d call it, an “ill-fated” division. I am just hoping that I can get transferred out of there in a few months. The worst part about this is the commute; driving from Baltimore’s outskirts to Washington on a good day is hectic, then you have to pray for a parking space in a garage, because I am not privileged to my own designated space. Commuting by train would take just as long from the outskirts, at least with my car, I can enjoy some privacy. The parking garage that I scouted out last week should allow me to make up for lost time. Perhaps, I will only be 10 minutes late at most.

 

The garage is a massive underground structure with several levels below the earth. It probably was some kind of bunker in the past before they changed it for parking. Each level was alphabetical. So, I park my car, I note to myself that I am situated at 31-D. The place is a little eerie today for some reason. I can almost see shadows streaming across the deserted rows of cars and feel a strange presence. It felt like a remnant of something, possibly an old murder or even a recent death in the vicinity. My heart is racing a little, but I have built a strong mental defense; otherwise, I’d be nuts. It does not take that long to ride the elevator towards the lobby or walk the few blocks towards the J. Edgar Hoover Federal Building.

           

Arriving in front of the federal building, an architectural eyesore that in my view the FBI should have abandoned back during the early 2000’s when structural defects were discovered. I sense a lot of emotions from everyone inside. It might be an administrative building, but even bureaucrats are human beings. I learned from a young age to block out emotions from my mind and narrow my focus, even closing my mind. Sure, a passing guy might give off a strong emotion or two, but I am able to control my ability around groups of people without being overwhelmed. When I sense “death emotions”, then my mental defenses start to loosen. I know that issue is a psychosomatic reaction rather than an effect of my abilities.

 

Getting through the standard checkpoints, I went through general registration and obtained an RFID card to access my assigned room, 1134, in the far back. I can tell this place was retrofitted with new scanners and surveillance cameras within the last few years. Underneath the modern machinery, you can still see the piping from old heaters. There was no chatter, no conversations, and no whispers as I walked up the hallways; everything was bottled psychologically to an extremely unhealthy level. I could sense tension, anxiety, and even sexual arousal from the people inside the offices, but no words were exchanged.

 

As I walked further down, I could feel a chill in the air, a very strong presence. With my abilities, I have felt weird things at crime scenes and have recited a few Buddhist chants for departed spirits out of respect, but I have never seen a ghost or anything else. This weird feeling was growing as I walked down the corridor towards room 1134.

 

As I turned the door knob, I was hit with a strong sense of fear and a leftover memory began forming:

 

I/he is walking into a large room with a rectangular table. I/he can smell the aroma of fresh vegetables and meat, but it does not cause any emotions within him. I/he eyes the three others in the room, who were grinning and laughing with joy to see him. I/he had a cold emotional expression, which I just can’t articulate. It feels like the same thing I am experiencing in the building and earlier in the parking lot, but stronger. I try to leave this memory by focusing on my own thoughts, but it is not working. My attempts to disconnect from this vision are met with failure; I’ve never been held by a vision like this before.

 

Without warning, I/he grabs his gun and begins shooting the woman and her children that he clearly has an emotional attachment to, most likely his family. To my horror, I/he did not kill his family with the gunshots, they were meant merely to incapacitate. The woman was shot in her shoulders and hips; the two kids were shot in their knees only.

 

The woman screamed: “What are you doing?

 

I/he did not reply; instead I/he picked up a knife and began to dismember the children first. Screams of agony filled the air, blood splattered everywhere, and the wife could only shed her tears. The children were screaming inaudible things; even though, I could not feel their fright from this perspective, I can see it on their faces as I/he butchers a limb off each. I have never seen so much blood in my life or more gruesome visions, even from the worst serial killers. Whoever this thing was, he was monster. When the children had their arms, legs, noses, ears, and tongue removed, then I/he went over to his wife.

 

She looked at me/him with disgust, “Why don’t you end this? Please”

 

I/he finally had an emotional response, it was satisfaction. I/he took out the gun, reloaded it, and gave each child a bullet to head. Then, I/he took the defenseless woman and began tearing off her bloody clothes. I/he lusted after her.

 

I don’t know how much time passed in my visions. I kept trying to force myself out of this empathic tour of a criminal mind, but I couldn’t get out. I usually am able to navigate my way through these things, but something wanted me to see this. When the debased acts of sexual pleasure finally ended, I/he took the knife and slit his wife’s throat.

 

At that moment, I/he felt a stirring; it was an awakening of his emotions. Then, a flood of emotions filled me/him: Loss, guilt, hatred, and finally emptiness. I/he picked up a gun and pointed it towards my/his head.

 

I could hear a final thought screaming in my mind along with the pain of death: “The Demon is within…”.

 

I began falling forward, but a pair of strong hands held me up and a jab came at my stomach. My “own” eyes open wide to see the face of a handsome Asian man. He had short dark hair, a cleft chin, and a pointy nose that gave him a very distinguishing feature. As I am admiring his features, I begin to feel the pain in my abdomen from his earlier jab at my gut.

 

Between the traumatic vision, the punch to my stomach, and a cute guy in my face, I can only respond with, “What the fuck happened?”

 

He responds, “Well you were zoned out, tripped, punched by me, and seem to be an ungrateful asshole on top of all that.”

 

One of the things I do when meeting new people is read their emotions, but I couldn’t read him. I know it’s sneaky, but I want to gauge and understand their personalities. I tried expanding my empathic ability and picked up something strange and horrifying. That same presence from the memories was in the room with us, along with something else that didn’t seem quite human, but felt warm and inviting. I did not bother with the latter entity, which seemed non-belligerent, but instead focused on finding the being with the horror movie preview. I scouted the room and my eyes could only see myself and this guy, which made me suspicious.

 

I stood up and pressed for answers: “Where are the others? I thought there were five people in this division.”

 

He looked at me and mocking laughs maniacally : “Yes, you came too late, they are all gone…muhaha”

 

I step back and pray for divine intervention, “Gone like how? Did you do something to them?”

 

He probably sees my uneasy expression, so he stops the mock cackle, “Look, you were late and did not get the information about what happened to this division from the assistant director, who came by. The lead agent, Anthony Davis committed suicide after murdering his family a week ago; it’s been kept out of the news due to certain ugly details.”

 

Oh yeah, gory details like hacking your kids to death and fucking your wife before killing her. I can see why no one at the top want that stuff revealed, but I am guessing there was more to this case behind the scenes. What I felt in this room may be the probable root cause of it. I took his hand and softly shook it, hoping to gather a read on him with body contact. He is still blocking me somehow, is he in league with the thing that caused Agent Davis to massacre his family?

 

The guy just turned his head to two tables on the right side, “Officer David Crowley and Agent Adam Morrison disappeared three months ago, investigating a case.”

 

Walking over their desk, I saw a photograph on the desk of Officer Crowley, it is of him and another man, who, based on the emotions from the other desk, is Agent Morrison. They seemed happy and I could feel warmth from the area that Officer Crowley sat in, probably the only warmth I can feel from the entire room. Something told me that wherever those two guys were, they were happy.

 

The guy kept dispensing his information pointing to the two desks on the left side: “Agent Carrols died of suffocation due to carbon monoxide poisoning and Dr. Fuller had to be sent to a psychiatric facility for evaluation. At this moment, I am the senior agent and I will be heading this division. Sorry about the laugh earlier, but it seems like our little division is cursed.”

 

That much I knew, but I wanted to find that presence in the room. I looked at my future partner, who was reading something off his iPad, so I guess he must be done with the introductions. The asshole didn’t even tell me his name and he expects to be cracking jokes at my expense. With a boss like that, I will probably be on medical leave within a month. I walk towards Agent Davis’ desk and felt the presence was somewhere nearby. The hairs on the back of my neck grew stiff with fright and I kept hearing the same phrase repeated over and over again, “The demon is within…”. Fuck, I am not an exorcist, but whatever this thing is, I’ve got to find it and stop it. I became a criminal profiler for that reason, it doesn’t matter who the killer is or his motives. If he/she/it exists, then I will use everything at my disposal to find and prevent it from future crimes.

 

I push open a drawer from the desk, revealing pencils, pens, a letter opener, and a ruler. As I touch the drawer, I feel something entering my mind. It is strange and foreign, like something that should not be here. I try to scream for help, but I could not open my mouth.

 

A voice speaks to me, “What do we have here? A sodomite, I see.”

 

The presence feels overwhelming in my mind, “Who are you? What do you want?”

 

It replies, “You saw my work, I see that now. The Catholic bastard must have left some strong beacons behind. Too bad, you could not help him before I consumed his soul.”

 

I press on with my question, “Who are you?”

 

It taunts, “Who I am does not matter? I will enjoy tearing you apart. I see you have a little brother, a nice family reunion filled with blood, lust, and fear would be entertaining. You shall desire death by the end, when you realize all you have has been destroyed by your sinful hands. Tell me, does your little brother like it in the front or the back before or after a blade?”

 

I felt my mind growing numb and then a brilliant flash came that broke its hold on me.

 

(Alex’s Excerpt from Book of Fate)

 

Is he an idiot? I am reading everything that’s going on from his perspective from the Book of Fate, lucky for him. I just wanted to know more about my new partner beyond the regular biographical details from official records. He’s got some talent, but he is reckless and woefully underprepared. The Tao-Ming has known about telepaths and empaths along with precognition for centuries. Empathy is highly susceptible to psychic invasion especially by ghosts, because it is a receiving ability not transmission based like telepathy. Sure, you can track down people and objects much better than anyone else, but who is the hunter and who is the prey, when you encounter something stronger than you?

 

An energized quartz crystal can drive the entity from his mind; luckily, I have one. Due to his foolishness, I think I know where this spirit’s “anchoring point” is. What people call “demonic possessions” are not actually caused by demons, but spectral entities. Based on this one’s malevolence and energy wave density, I am guessing around 350 years old, probably a disillusioned European immigrant to the New World. Maryland had an armed uprising in 1650 due to religious conflicts, which have led to a lot of malevolent spirits in the area. The last case Agent Davis was investigating was near Horn Point, Maryland. He must have found the spiritual anchor, an object a spirit inhabit to retain its form.

 

After tossing the quartz crystal, my new idiot partner began coming to his senses and ran towards me, “There’s something in that desk. We have to call the Director and get …I don’t know some priests or an exorcist in here.”

 

I shook my head and mentally told Patrick, “He’s such a dork.”

 

Patrick, my ghostly companion, being invisible next to me, replies, “Well, he is sort of cute. If he can do something about those big ears, I think we could work a friend with benefit deal out.”

 

I held back a laugh and mentally respond, “So do you want to haunt or date him for a while?”

 

Patrick frowns, “Hey, he’s gay at least. I haven’t had any action for 16 years, except with you, but we’re practically married. You think he minds a non-corporeal threesome?”

 

I ignored Patrick and went toward the open drawer. I picked up the ruler and letter opener. I placed the ruler at the drawers’ edger, which held a crack big enough for a ruler. I applied the letter opener against the ruler, pushing down and forward to reveal the hidden compartment in the desk. There was an old rusty iron hunting knife. Agent Davis must have tried to hide it to prevent others from being possessed by direct contact, too bad he didn’t think about psychic contact. I grabbed the jade devices in my pocket and tossed them at the knife. I waved Patrick to get out of there, so he would not get hit by the residual neutralizing energies. It won’t disrupt his bioenergy matrix to the point of disintegration, since he’s not within the target area of the field, but I don’t want a whiny ghost to be on my ass, literally.

 

In moments, I give the voice command to activate the devices. It takes mere seconds and a little light show, but the big bad evil spirit is neutralized. Ghosts are easy to handle, when you have had thousands of years in documented cases from your peers. Ghosts and spirits are easy to explain; basically, they are disembodied consciousness or souls, if you are religious. A spectral entity is usually invisible to the naked eye, because they exist outside the visible light spectrum in the form of waves that are slightly stronger than infrared. At times, it is possible for spectral entities to alter their form to be visible to human vision through increased wave oscillation.

 

Tao-Ming has two practices, when it comes to ghosts:

 

1. Lead them towards Da Yu and the Twilight Junction in order to seek a chance at reincarnation 18 years after their death.

2. Destroy their energies or, in essence, their souls by breaking down the energy connections between the sub-quantum strings that create consciousness.

 

In Patrick’s case, he didn’t want to leave me, norforget about our relationship in the next life. I couldn’t bear to destroy his soul and never seeing him again, since I loved him too much. While we have had an open relationship for a few years, we both knew it was each other that really gave us the fullest enjoyment. Thus, I used “Ghost binding” technique that binds his soul with mine, giving us the famed “power over ghost” ability and creating a psychic bridge. The ability allows a two directional telepathic link to be established between us along with a permanent “Yin-Yang” connection. Ghosts usually dissipate after a few days without an anchor or source of energy, which is why malevolent spirits possess and consume human souls or bioenergy. It gives them a longer lifespan equivalent to that of the human bioenergy consumed.

 

That is just part one of the forbidden technique I used, the second is an energy conversion technique, my soul and body’s energy are mixed with Patrick’s spiritual energy, allowing him to live as long as I do without constraints like normal ghosts, i.e. he can walk around in the day time without shades. On the flip side, he gives up Yin energy that he collects as a ghost to me, which nanotechnology converts into standard human bioenergy to replace energy I gave up to him, creating a two way circuit, which is limited by the energy loss rules in the Laws of Thermodynamics.

 

Well, enough self-description, I don’t need to go through all the knowledge of my mind to deal with a simple malevolent ghost problem. With the thing defeated, the idiot will ask a few questions soon, so I will just cut to the chase with him, “Look, it is dead, or deader than it was before. I know stuff about these kinds of things and I can dispatch them.”

 

He looks down at his khaki pants mumbling, “Well….thanks”

 

He is attractive, when he is not so full of himself. He looks like a 9 year old after being caught painting pictures on a wall. I know he’s talented based on reading about his life and his background. He is also driven to succeed, because his own parents were killed in an act of violence. Even with money and a kid brother, it couldn’t have been easy on him, plus adding college and police training; he’s done pretty well for a 27 year old. I can see why he was chosen for this division, which usually has a team composed of a telepath and empath in pairs. A telepath can project thoughts and read current conscious thinking in an individual, while an empath gathers emotions and emotionally connected memories from every source around him.

 

My moment of sympathy and weakness was noticed by him, “Hey, don’t think I am some rookie. If you had told me about that thing in the room, I’d be able to handle him.”

 

Patrick at this moment materialized behind him and whispers, “So you’re not afraid of ghosts?”

 

He was screaming and hollering, “Another one, Fuck, shit!”

 

Luckily for us, the federal government had added sound proofing into the walls to help maintain secrecy in this old building. Even without sound proofing, I would guess that whoever put this weird team together would have the means to keep us all silent. Outside of the Tao-Ming, I know of a few secret societies that would need such an arrangement. They are only seeking a “New World Order”, but they simply desire “Law and Order”. In a world, where mainstream science is thousands of years behind “actual” science, there needs to be guardians of order. Long ago, there was a common understanding between the Western and Eastern secret societies that technological progress should be hidden and revealed slowly to allow people time to accept new concepts, but along the way, the protocol was breached. Despite being the oldest and most knowledgeable of the ancient societies, the Tao-Ming maintained a limited interference policy in development; even if it risked their own existence. We take the concept of “無為” or “No action” very seriously.

 

About 80 years ago, a new arrangement was reached with the US; many of the 5 Elemental members departed ancestral hiding places in Asia during the start of the Sino-Japanese war for other sanctuaries to continue research, and established secondary locations outside Sol for safety. We have interstellar capability, but we do not desire colonization or conquest, so we have established small outposts. As the holder of the Book of Fate, I know the true history of humanity, the cosmos, and things that mere mortals can never know.

 

Beyond the big picture, thousands of years in accumulated knowledge from research and books like mine have their drawbacks. Technologies from 2,000-3,000 years ago are misused and are still very advanced compared to modern standards. Understanding of spectral entities is considered a fringe science in the “mainstream”, but we’ve collected enough data to typify and identify various type of spectral entities known to man and even others beyond. To most people, this stuff looks like magic, but I’d imagine the tribes of New Guinea having a similar interpretation of their first airplane. As I said, human beings are just not ready to accept all the wonders of the universe, so magic and fairy tales is the best alternative.

 

As the idiot continues to worry and scream, I walk over and slap him twice for silence, then dress him down “Look, he’s just a ghost. He’s my boyfriend, so stop freaking out. I am a Taoist master like in movies, so it’s like magic, okay”. I pause to give him time to digest that information. He begins to calm down little by little, then I continue “Look, don’t be a douche about this shit. I know you won’t get half of it and I don’t expect you to be able to understand why or how my gear works or my connection to Patrick. You got to trust me, okay?”

 

I pulled out the iPad, the Book of Fate in its latest incarnation, to view what he is thinking and hopefully get him calm enough to work with. I don’t feel like having to blank his memory, which I know how to do, but it is not as simple as a little pen flashing lights. I can tell him the truth about certain details, but I can’t reveal specific details about the society or any technological secrets. He must think this stuff is magic for plausible deniability. This is why few people believe in actual ghosts or other creatures that haunt our nightmares, since the truth is unexplainable.

 

(Sid’s Excerpt from the Book of Fate).

 

I can’t believe what just happened; I can’t believe what he just did. Hell, I can’t believe there’s a strange looking translucent guy floating a few inches from me. Come on Sid, snap out of it; it must be a bad dream. Did he just say the ghost guy is his boyfriend? So, he’s gay or into ghost guys or a necrophile. Does that mean he likes dead people? Is that why he is assigned to this division, like a real life Ghost Whisperer or Medium?

 

He quickly yells at me, “I am not a necrophile; I don’t like dead bodies, what the fuck? I know your head is fucked up right now from the possession, but what makes you think I am into that sick shit.”

 

Patrick, the ghost, gave off an incredible jolt of amusement, “I knew it; he’s been cheating on me with corpses.”

 

His facial expression quickly changed to annoyance, which even I can read, “Shut up Patrick”

 

A thought just dawns in my mind, “How can you know what I am thinking? Are you a mind reader?”

 

He shakes his head, “No, I just possess the famed Book of Fate, the real one. It can tell me about the past, present, and future of any individual being based on an interpretation of their perspective.”

 

That makes sense, I guess. I remember getting my fortune told from the “Book of Fate” or the “Book of Three Lives” by a fortune teller in Hong Kong a few years ago. I thought that stuff was bullshit, but after being possessed by a ghost and seeing one in front of me, I really need to believe. It also explains the weird lights and stuff, but it all seems so weird. I don’t really believe in magic or spirituality; ever since my parents died, it’s been something that I do not keep practice in, except a few random Buddhist chants that I remember.

 

This is all a lot to take in, but I am a professional and having a partner with magic powers, a book that tells the future and a ghost boyfriend is just window dressing. At worst, the guy just relies on his special tools and stuff to solve crimes faster than everyone else. Shit, I wonder if he knew I was thinking that.

 

He glares at me, “You fucking prick. You think about me getting it easy, because of this stuff. You crack cases by just sensing things and get shown images of crimes happening. The book lets me know details about the victim, but it doesn’t tell me who killed them, if they don’t know. Patrick can interview the victims for even more details and assistance with tracking their killer, but I don’t get it easy either. I have to use real technical understanding of evidence, chemical composition, and environmental conditions to track my suspects. You get a scent of lavender and mint handed to you.”

 

Oh fuck me, he can read what I am thinking, “Stop reading about me in that weird iPad. Sorry, okay, but everyone has private stupid thoughts, you know. Can you lay off me? Besides, I can’t even read your emotions, because you are magic or whatever.”

 

Patrick, the friendly ghost, whistles for attention, “Guys, hold it, you are both being stubborn. Alex was originally trying to learn more about his new partner in this division. He told me that he read that you were trying to read him empathically without his permission, twice. Maybe, we should cool down and call it even.”

 

He puts the iPad away in a messenger bag and I stopped actively scanning for emotions. Patrick is right, but I never thought I’d agree with a ghost. I shouldn’t have tried to read him. Shit, I thought he was cute; I wonder if he told his boyfriend about that too. Sure, we’re all gay guys or ghost, but it’s really embarrassing to have your private thoughts televised to the world….Okay, I guess I am guilty of that, too.

 

After we both silently offer each other a nod to end the feud, I offer a seating arrangement, “Let’s take those seats on the right.”

 

Alex nods, “I think you’re right, those guys had the best fates out of everyone in this division lately. Even though, Feng Shui is just as bullshit as you may think.”

 

Out of curiosity, I ask, “Do you know what happened to them?”

 

Alex shook his head, “Not exactly, they are neither dead nor alive, but they’re happy together. Probably, it’s another plane of existence.”

 

Sounds interesting, I took Crowley’s seat “Feels like they were good partners on and outside the job.”

 

Alex took Morrison’s seat, “They did the best they could. Morrison was a telepath and Crowley was an empath like you. Pitcher and catcher, you know.”

 

That’s why I can feel Crowley so well, maybe that means Agent Davis was an Empath as well, but it poses a question about him as he’s not a telepath, “Did they have any guys like you before now?”

 

He looks at me like I had hit a lightning rod, “Some questions, I can’t answer you without dire repercussions. Like how I am able to prevent you from reading my thoughts or emotions. I can’t tell you specifics like that.”

 

A man of mystery, he sounds like a dream catch, “How about you Patrick? Are you bound by Don’t Ask Don’t Tell?”

 

The jovial spirit gave off a radiant array of emotions, I think he and I will get along better, strangely enough, “I don’t know too much either, but I know enough to understand that shit happens and it’s better not to know too much. Just understand, it is not just your ass on the line, Alex and me both have to walk a fine line as well. Outside of the magic stuff or private shit, you can ask me anything. I am 8 inch hard if you’re wondering.”

 

Wow, he’s definitely not afraid to be out there, “I’d say that’s TMI, but you’re a ghost. Everything you say is so transparent.”

 

Patrick flies towards me and whispers in my ear, “Don’t worry about Alex, he’s cold at first, but he likes you, too. Give him some space and time to adjust. Alex and I know that the evil ghost crap earlier probably spooked you up, so feel free to vent”. As he said this, I felt a hand on my cock and balls, it felt a little cold, but extremely stimulating. He flew back to Alex’s side and left me with a case of blue balls. For a moment, I nearly forgot about the memories of Agent Davis’ family massacre.

 

Alex noticed the flush look on my face, “Patrick, did you grope him?”

 

Patrick acted completely innocent, “Would I do that to your new partner?”

 

Alex nods his head emphatically and turns towards me, “He’s a good guy, but he is not a cop or a specialist. Dying at 18 has made him a perpetual freshman in his afterlife. We’re all gay guys here, but we should try to keep this professional. Patrick, we got a new case from the Assistant Director, can you run some leads for me?”

 

Patrick nods in understanding, “Don’t worry Alex, I can handle it. Sid, remember what I said.”

 

He vanishes and I turn my head towards Alex, “I don’t think I introduced myself to you yet formally, but you probably already know all about me. I am Sidney Sam Po-Tai. I guess you know I like to be called Sid for short.”

 

I extend my hand towards Alex, who makes a parallel motion; Alex responds “I am Alex Liang Zhang. I will open myself up to you as much as I can, if it does not endanger anyone.”

 

With the formal introductions done, it is time to work, “So what is our first strange case: Ghosts, Aliens, or government conspiracies?”

 

Alex hands me a file and says, “It’s a murder case, 10 kids age 13 have been murdered in New York across 5 boroughs. They are ethnically diverse: 4 African Americans females, 4 Caucasians males, 1 Asian male, and 1 Hispanic female. Social backgrounds are roughly equivalent: working class families, urban, below average academic performance, and disciplinary issues. Their birthdays are on the same day September 19. Their times of death were; 12-2 PM, 2-4 PM, 4-6 PM, 6-8 PM, 8-10 PM, 10 PM-12 AM, 12-2 AM, 2-4 AM, 4-6 AM, and 6-8 AM. There were candles discovered at the sites of the murders along with Latin writing, praising a demon that devours children.”

 

I swallowed a gulp of saliva, “I’ve seen the movie about the demon and it doesn’t end well for the fiction writer, who gets hacked to death by his own kid.”

 

Alex shakes his head and expresses a negative facial expression, “Wrong movie to be basing your concepts on. There’s another thing that’s weird about this case…all the kids have been drained of their blood and bioenergy. I think the demonic references in Latin were planted there to throw people on the wrong track.”

 

I exhale a little, “So, it’s not the boogie man, but Dracula that we have to worry about.”

 

Alex shook his head, “Vampires don’t act this ritualistically and cannot eliminate all the body’s chemical reactions down to the last molecule. The MRI’s of the last victim showed a completely inert corpse, which is usually not the case as the body has residual activity for several days after death. I worry it’s something far more dangerous.”

 

I sigh again and memories of earlier began to come back, “So we’ve scratched vampires off the hit list, add in doomsday cults, an insane serial killer, and your basic kid killing demons. Do you have any other clue to narrow this down?”

 

Alex nods, “September 19^th, the killer began this on September 8^th and it is September 17^th. Whoever is behind this has a deadline on that date?” Alex scratches his left ear lobe and continues, “I remember that Chinese hours in a day are calculated in intervals of 2 western hours each. Each child was born and killed within those two hour periods according to their post-natal and post-mortem medical records, meaning there’s a ritualistic element towards victims based on the timing of birth and age. Being 13 means that they were born in the year of the Dragon, it holds a special meaning for some.”

 

I try to focus my thoughts on the case, away from the memories, and add another support to his conclusion, “The “traditional” lunar festival is September 19^th. Would that mean anything?”

 

Alex shifts his seat and flipped open his enchanted iPad as I stared wondering what is next. As if sensing my discomfort or reading up on me again in that book, he turns around and responds in a laconic tone, “Let’s get to work.”

 

As I try to concentrate on the case, trying my best to find a profile that would fit such an unusual killer, I found my mind back in that room with Agent Davis’ mutilated kids and wife. I have had a lot of crappy memories in my head from serial killers to victims’ literal final breaths. Extreme emotions tend to have a memory associated with it; I remember in first year psych class, it is part of our developmental consciousness trying to create associations. The memories of Agent Davis and the feeling of being used by whatever that thing was, there is no comparison in psychology. It felt like I was the one killing my kids, not Agent Davis. I have never experienced an empathic vision that warps my perspective so much. I can barely keep from breaking down and crying my heart out right now. If it weren’t for the years of compartmentalizing my thoughts and emotions, I wouldn’t be able to function after that crap.

           

I need to focus on my job. If I can keep cool, it will all be alright.