Rich Boy: Awakening - 23. Chapter 23

“What’s this?” Worthington asked as Barry handed him a piece of paper. In the middle of the paper was a stylized logo with MR in fancy cursive script.

“It’s what the guys all want.” Barry said with a shrug. “Mike’s Riders.”

“Oh.” Worthington said with a grunt and he moved back to his chair and sat down. It was a bright day outside, and warm. It wasn’t hot yet, but it was definitely getting warmer, moving towards summer. His muscles were sore, too, from a long workout in P.E. Coach Vanderbilt seemed to be taking it as a personal affront that several of his wrestlers were gaining too much weight, and had spent the afternoon making them sweat.

“We all got together last night, before we went on patrol.” Barry explained, and there was a little smile on his face. “Everyone pretty much agreed that things had changed, and well, the old name no longer fit us anymore. We all agree, you’re the real leader of the gang, even though you’ve pretty much let me run things. It’s your money paying us, you doing all the stuff that… well, it’s like we have a purpose now.”

“A purpose?” Worthington asked and Barry shifted where he stood. “Why don’t you sit down?”

“Thanks.” Barry said with a slight grimace, and grabbed one of the chairs Worthington kept against the wall. Having a few chairs in his room seemed fitting these days.

“What do you mean ‘a purpose’?” Worthington asked.

“This thing with the demons, we have a reason to ride now.” Barry said with a shrug, and that uncomfortable look on his face. “Look, we’ve always been a bunch of guys that get together and ride. We had fun doing it, and some of us were real friends too, beyond the riding, but that was pretty much it. Now though, it’s like there’s a reason. We still ride for fun, you know, hang out and shit, but we’re also doing something good. Doing something good… well it just feels good, you know, like we’re making a difference.”

“You guys are making a difference.” Worthington agreed.

“Yeah, we know.” Barry smiled. “At first it didn’t make much sense, I mean, we’re not able to do that magic shit. All we were doing was riding around, but now, we know. We’ve seen you come riding in like a fucking angel of death, flinging that shit around, and people who would’ve died ended up alive because you got there in time. The only reason you got there in time was because of us, and that makes us feel good, even with those that were already dead when we found them. If Dave hadn’t found that one family, you’d have never known about that, and that made a difference, so there we did good again.”

“But there’s no need to change the name.” Worthington argued. Most of these guys first met him as Michael, or Mike, and while most of them now called him Worthington, they thought of him as Mike in their mind. He had no problem with the name, but he was surprised at the idea that there was a need to change it.

“It’s important to us.” Barry shrugged. “You going to say no?”

“No, if it’s what all of you want, then that is what you’ll get.” Worthington said with a sigh.

“Good, because most of the guys already are making arrangements to get that logo painted on their bikes and helmets.” Barry said with a grin. “You want to be official leader now? It’s no problem by me.”

“You’re the leader.” Worthington said firmly.

“Fine, but what about when I graduate in a few months?” Barry said with a grin as he leaned back in his chair. “You going to take over then?”

“What usually happens?” Worthington asked with real curiosity.

“It’s always been kind of informal, you understand.” Barry said with a slight frown on his face, but he felt excited. “But now, well, we’re feeling the need to formalize it. We’re all going to graduate from high school someday, but we don’t want to leave MR behind, and not just because of your money. MR’s a part of our life now, and to be honest, I like it that way. Word is you’re planning on going away to college when you graduate next year, but then you plan on coming back here. Is that right?”

“Yes, that is right.” Worthington agreed. “I like it here, and people I care about are here. When I finish university, there will be businesses to run, and I have a lot of properties so I’ll be traveling a lot, but when I’m home, this is where I’ll be.”

“That’s what most of us thought.” Barry said with a sigh. “A lot of us like it here, too. I mean, I’m going to a good school, Stanford, and so are some of the other guys. One of those graduating this year is going to a local community college because he fucked up his grades last semester, and another’s going to ASU. All of us though are talking about moving back here after we’re done with school and finding jobs. We were thinking when the time came we’d check and see if you had something for us, but even if you didn’t, well we’d hoped we’d still be a part of MR, you know, riding, being friends, and helping you whenever you needed our help, such as it is. It isn’t about the money, either. Don’t get me wrong, the money’s nice, and we appreciate it, but most of us feel a connection to you that’s more important. If you needed us, we’d be there for you money or no money.”

“I appreciate that.” Worthington said with feeling. That had not been a part of any spell cast on them, or the anklet. What Barry was talking about was something they’d come up with on their own, and he was surprised at how good it made him feel. His father had never trusted people he didn’t directly control, and the more control the better. Most Dark mages he’d known were the same way, never fully trusting anyone that they didn’t have under control of various spells or through other means. It was one of the things about the Dark path that he was consciously rejecting, seeking a different way, and it sounded like he was succeeding. “I can’t promise that there’ll be work for you with me when you’re done with college. I don’t even know what your major is.”

“I haven’t picked one yet.” Barry said with a shrug.

“Whatever you do end up doing though, there’s always ways I can be supportive.” Worthington said. “For instance, if you decided to start up a media relations firm, well we might be able to give you some business, or send you some. Not that you should pick what you do based off that. It was just an example.”

“I got that.” Barry smiled. “I didn’t know you knew what my dad does for a living.”

“Yeah, well, Barry, you guys aren’t the only ones to understand how important the gang has become for them.” Worthington said with a shrug. “All of you have become important to me too, real friends, real people I can count on in a crunch. It means a lot to me, and I tell you what. Any of us going to college, you’re not going to have to worry about money, really. I’m going to set up an MR scholarship for people. $1,500 a month while you’re in college, and if you come back during the summer and ride with us, it’ll be $2,000 for the summer. How’s that?”

“You sure?” Barry asked. “I mean, I ain’t going to turn that down. With what my parents are giving me for school, and that, I won’t have to work at all until I get out.”

“Yes, I’m sure.” Worthington said, just having decided that. He liked having ties to these guys, and he liked having their loyalty. The money wouldn’t buy their loyalty, but it’d put them in a situation where they could keep the loyalty a lot easier, and would keep him in their thoughts. Sure, one or two of them might abuse it, never come back, but once they left school, that’d be it. No more free money. They’d have to earn it from him or just go on their way. Yes, that would be best.

“Well, then, I feel a lot better.” Barry smiled. “So, you going to take over after the school year?”

“No.” Worthington said. “It might have my name, but I think it’s best if someone else leads, kind of like the example of how we’ve worked.”

“You handle the big picture stuff and a leader like me to handle all the little things?” Barry asked. “I like that, and I think others will too. You pick a new leader each year.”

“A new manager.” Worthington said firmly.

“Manager, I like that.” Barry laughed. “Too bad it doesn’t come with a bigger paycheck.”

“I should have thought about that already.” Worthington grumbled. “I’ll have Brandon fix that. An extra grand a month I think, and of course a manager has assistants, so maybe two of them who get an extra five hundred. When they go to college, that turns into five hundred and two-fifty for the other two extra.”

“They’ll like that.” Barry said with approval. “One of the two assistants has to be a junior, really. That way we’ve got a natural first-pick for next year’s manager, although I don’t think you necessarily have to pick the guy if he’s not working out.”

“That’s a good idea, Barry.” Worthington agreed. “What other ideas you got running around in that head of yours?”

“We need to start picking people out sooner.” Barry said and he stood up. As he continued to speak he started pacing. “Always before it was just guys who had bikes and went to school with us, rode with us. Most of the time they were good guys, but every now and then one of ‘em would turn out to be a real work of art. Last year, we had this bastard named Warren who was a senior. Thought he could just muscle in and make us all lick his boots. We ended up giving him a little fist party and he went his own way, but he still caused trouble every now and then. Plus, I mean, well, we’re all fairly well off guys as it is, so most of us have no problems getting our family to buy us bikes, but you know, there just aren’t that many people our age who ride.”

“True.” Worthington agreed.

“So, here’s what I think we should do.” Barry said as he stopped pacing and held out a hand, ticking off fingers as he spoke. “First off, since we’re getting organized about this now, we should start looking at kids who are sophomores and freshman right now. Find good ones, kids with the right attitude.”

“What attitude is that?” Worthington asked. He was enjoying this, and Barry seemed really in his element.

“They have to be carefree spirits, enjoy the thrill of riding, not scared easily, although we can probably work on someone who is scared and teach them not to be.” Barry explained in a rush. “People that understand while money’s good, it ain’t all there is in life, that having good friends, people at your back you can trust, well that’s good too. It’s like when we’re riding in the pack, we trust the lead and the tail, and we all move in and out of those positions when we feel like, because we trust each other. It has to be kids who can get that, understand it, and live it with us. Of course, if they’re a part of MR, they’re going to learn about magic and while you can block their memories, and will, it should be something they can deal with, so we can sound them out about that real oblique like so they don’t really catch on we’re being real about magic. No drugs of course. Drugs fuck people up fast, and we don’t want no fucking stoners and dusters in our bunch. But we don’t want ‘stick in the muds’ that’ll look down on us for a little drinking now and then. What about girls?”

“What about them?” Worthington asked.

“You got a problem with them?” Barry asked, and he paused, realizing what he’d just said and blushed. “I mean, ah, shit. It ain’t no secret what you got going on between you and Jamie and Jeremy. It kind of freaked a bunch of us at first, but shit, you guys are all cool guys. I even heard a couple of the guys decided to fool around with each other just to see what it was like ‘cause of you three, and well, they’re now saying they’re a couple.”

“Who is that?” Worthington asked with surprise.

“Dave and Jim.” Barry laughed. “Never would have figured those two either, but they say they like playing both sides of the street, so no one who is close-minded about that will work in our group. If they got that attitude, they’ll have to lose it in order to get their head shaved.”

“I have no problems with girls.” Worthington said with a shrug. “With my family fortune, I’ll end up marrying, and having kids myself.”

“I know Jamie won’t mind that.” Barry laughed. “That guy’s stuck his wick in more holes than I ever thought about, and I’ve heard it’s with guys and girls. What about Jeremy?”

“We’ll all work it out.” Worthington shrugged, not wanting to go into details.

“He’s a good guy.” Barry said with approval. “That’s between you guys, though. So, if a girl rides, and wants to ride with us, we can bring her in?”

“If she fits in, yes.” Worthington agreed easily.

“That’s good.” Barry said.

“You got one in mind?” Worthington asked.

“Huh?” Barry sounded confused for a second. “Oh yeah, no, no girls in mind, but it’s good to know we ain’t gonna have to turn them down. Wouldn’t seem right. So, anyway, we start looking at lower classmen, and gals, looking to see which of them have the right attitudes. Then we pick the best of them, smartest, best looking, all that, and we offer to take them for a ride sometime, see how they respond. We spend time getting to know the ones who like riding, and we wait for them to ask to learn how to ride, and then we start teaching them. Maybe the gang will get a few old bikes, some 250’s or the like, and keep ‘em up at the mine. We can take the kids up there on the weekend and start teaching those that’ve asked to learn. The best of those, well sometime after the end of the sophomore year, and they’re sixteen, we take them down to the MVD and get them their motorcycle license, and they get their head shaved. The best of them, mind, not all of them. I figure we can let the gang grow a bit. Even if you don’t keep the money going after this demon thing is over, we still won’t want to get too big. Maybe sixteen or so total. That’s more than we have now, but not too big.”

“The money thing has stayed secret, right?” Worthington asked and Barry nodded. That was good, especially since he hadn’t used magic to keep them from talking. “Then the money will stay secret, but everyone who gets their hair shaved, gets a stipend. Call it a retainer for services if I need them.”

“Their going to love that.” Barry said with a smug grin. “Especially the juniors who are worrying about not having the extra cash next year.”

“They’re earning every penny now, and they probably will in the future.” Worthington shrugged. It was an investment, an investment he was quite willing to make.

“So, we look for the right kids to replace us when we graduate, they get their head shaved when they join as a junior, although if we bring in a girl we might have to think about that.” Barry said thoughtfully. “Naw, they want to be one of us, they get shaved like everyone else. After high school, we go off to college and get our stipend while going there, and after we graduate, we can come back here if we want. Membership in MR is lifelong, but you stop getting paid after four years of college.”

“That sounds about right.” Worthington agreed.

“I think I’ll draw up papers saying all that, and a Code of Conduct.” Barry said. “When I get them done, you want to look them over. You’ll always be a member, but you know, MR is yours.”

“Give them to Brandon and he’ll work them in with the rest of my stuff.” Worthington said and he stood. “Barry, this has been a pleasure.”

“It has.” Barry grinned. “Don’t forget our ride on Saturday. We can’t get to the mine, but we’re thinking of hitting that little German restaurant. Tell your Jeremy he’s going with you, and to tell his brothers they got rides too if they want to go. I still don’t take riders, but other guys will take them. We’re thinking in a few years they’re going to want to be in MR too.”

“They’ll make good additions.” Worthington smiled. He’d never planned this, never thought about it, and knew his father would be calling it a waste of good money, but he couldn’t help thinking he’d accomplished something here. For once he didn’t feel guilty having taken his riding ability from Steph. Sure, Steph suffered a loss because of it, but it was turning into such a force for good with other people. It didn’t justify what he’d done, but it at least was some form of atonement.

“I’ll see you at school, tomorrow.” Barry said as he got ready to leave.

“Thank you, Barry, for everything.” Worthington said with a grin. The older teen smiled, and held out his fist. They bumped fists, and ended up clasping each other’s forearms, both of them smiling at each other before Barry left. Worthington stared at the closed door, thinking for a bit before shaking his head. Right now a gang of teenage bike riders was not what he needed to focus on.

Fifteen minutes later he was dressed in his riding gear and heading out of the house on his latest bike. The salesmen at the dealership had to be wondering why he was going through bikes so fast, but they liked the commission too much to ask questions. With this new bike he had to be careful, mostly because it wasn’t broken in yet and he was supposed to limit the rpm’s he put on the engine until it had been ‘broken in’. That was a pain the ass, keeping the bike down in speed, but he would bear with it.

It didn’t take long to put six hundred miles on the bike for the first service, and the end of the first ‘break in’ period. Between six hundred and fifteen hundred miles he was still limited in how many rpm’s he should put the bike, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as the first six hundred. After that, the bike could be opened up to its full throttle, and would be more of a joy to ride.

As he wound his way down the hill and headed west into Phoenix proper, he relished the ride. There was just something about being on a bike, without all that metal around you that made even riding on surface streets a joy. Even a convertible was not as enjoyable as a bike.

All too soon the ride ended as he pulled up outside the coroner’s building. Before taking off his helmet, he cast a slight glamour on himself. It would give him an older appearance; make his face look to be in the mid-twenties, maybe late-twenties instead of his true age. This made his continuing deception of the Phoenix officials a little easier. Instead of teenager in black leather pants and jacket, they saw a man a little young for his position, but still of a believable age.

“Worthington Sinclair, I have an appointment.” He told the clerk on entering the building. She nodded briefly, and buzzed him into the back. There had been too much going on yesterday, and he’d had school earlier today, but now he was going to take a good look at the two mages that they’d managed to kill in the battle the other night. He had tonight and tomorrow before the Demon Lord ‘contacted’ him. Knowing demons, he had a good idea it would either be at his house, or at Jeremy’s, if the Demon Lord had learned of his relationship with the mundane. Either way, the Demon Lord would choose a location that would give him the maximum advantage over Worthington.

“Mr. Sinclair, you’re quite punctual.” One of the junior coroners, a man in his early fifties said as Worthington walked down a short hallway. The man was dressed in a lab coat and looked quite officious. He hated the type, but at least they were quite easy to deal with without resorting to too much magic.

“Thank you for sparing me some time, Doctor.” Worthington said with a nod of his head towards the man. “Are the bodies where I can examine them?”

“I wasn’t aware you were a doctor.” The man said with a slight sniff. “We haven’t begun more than cursory work on either of the dead men. We did remove the metal from one of them, though. Quite impressive piece of work that. The strut went completely through the chest cavity.”

“It was quite a night.” Worthington smiled. “No, I’m not a doctor, but sometimes there are other means of learning things from a body besides medical evidence. That is what I’m here to look for.”

“The second man died from extreme electrical burns.” The coroner sniffed again. “He has third degree burns over most of his body. I don’t know what you expect to find with that kind of damage. Was there really a freak lightning storm at the same time as your raid on the terrorists?”

“Sometimes reality is stranger than fiction.” Worthington said with a sympathetic smile on his face that was a total lie.

“Oh, my yes, that is quite true.” The man replied as he turned to walk down the hallway, obviously expecting Worthington to follow him. “I remember when I first started working here we had a case of a construction worker who had fallen on the job site. He’d fallen onto some rebar forms and was punctured by ten of them, but not a single one of them caused his death. You see, what had caused the man to fall was that he was stung by a wasp, and went into anaphylactic shock. The fellow fell five stories, was punctured by steel rebar in ten places, and would have survived, if any of the workers who rushed to the scene had realized he’d been stung by the wasp and was having an allergic reaction.”

“The weirdest things do happen.” Worthington smiled as the man laughed at his story. Really, it was quite gruesome, but what other kind of humor could you expect from a man who spent all day cutting up dead people to see why they died? “Thank you, Doctor, I’ll let you know when I’m done.”

“Of course, Mr. Sinclair.” The doctor said as they’d reached the end of the hallway and he’d held the door open for Worthington. All it had taken was a little mental nudge to get the doctor to accept that dismissal, and Worthington was alone in a room full of dead bodies. Suppressing a shiver, he moved to the two he hoped were the right ones. Pulling back a sheet he was glad he’d gotten it right on the first try. This was the one that had been killed by Jamie’s lightning. The coroner was right. A cursory examination revealed he was too badly burned to give up the information Worthington was looking for.

The second man, despite the gaping hole in his chest cavity was in better condition, and Worthington touched the cold, stiff body long enough to lift it onto its side and spread its butt cheeks with one hand. Then he let the body fall back on the table with a grunt of disappointment. Both of these men, like the mages he’d seen before were dark-skinned, probably African-American, but still he would have seen the brand mark if his Uncle had done to them what he’d done to Carl. He’d expected to find proof that his Uncle was behind this, and while this did not mean he’d been wrong, it at least meant that if these mages did work for the man, they were not being used the way Carl had been used.

That was a depressing thought.

“Find anything interesting?” A man’s voice surprised him, just as he sensed another mage entering. He should have felt the man a lot sooner, and whirled around, his shields raised and power ready to attack. What he saw though surprised him enough that he held off from lashing out.

“Who are you?” Worthington demanded sharply at the strange mage in front of him. The mage was strong, very strong. In fact he was stronger than any mage he’d met in Phoenix up to now. While the man wasn’t quite Adept in power, he was near enough as to make little difference. His black hair had grey streaks in it at the temple, and he had a square face with a very prominent chin. His nose was like a flat rudder in the middle of his face, and he had fine sun lines around his eyes. Physically he had wide shoulders, was just a bit shorter than Worthington, and appeared to be physically fit.

“Unlike you, I really do work for the Department of Homeland Security, Mr. Sinclair.” The man said with a knowing smile. “I believe we are due for a little chat.”

“I have nothing to say to you.” Worthington said flatly. He might be able to take a man in a fight, if the man wasn’t as skilled as he was strong. A quick testing thought revealed well-structured shields though, and that usually indicated at least adequate training.

“Worthington Michael Sinclair, the Fifth.” The man said as if he was reading from a file that he did not hold in his hands. “Sixteen years of age, recently orphaned in a freak accident of lightning hitting his house. Strange that, and one of these men dead of another freak lightning storm. Did you impersonate a government official then to see the burned bodies of your relatives, or did you not need to since you were family? Then again, this is not the first time you have impersonated a government official, and you have had the help of a very mistaken police detective in that. How much are you paying her? Why did you kill these men, and what kind of game are you playing, Mr. Sinclair? Why do you wish to make the people of Phoenix believe there are terrorists in their midst, and how does one as young as you have the hubris to believe you can do all this without attracting the attention of the real government?”

“For someone who wants to chat, you sure do seem to ask a lot of questions.” Worthington said as he studied the man with his eyes, and his sense. He was not interested in having a fight with this person that embodied something he thought was impossible. Or was he merely a mage who worked for the government, the way Kendrick was a detective who was also a mage? If the man’s superiors didn’t know he was a mage…

“Questions are my business, young man.” The man said sharply. “Did you really think the government would not know about mages? That you could run roughshod over the people’s government without ever facing repercussions?”

“The government knows you are a mage?” Worthington asked with a lift of his eyebrow as he let the power he was holding for a bolt fade away. His shields he kept up at full, though, and he realized he should call for backup just in case. The thought he sent out to Jamie ran into a brick wall though, and he winced.

“None of that, now.” The man said with a smile. “I set a dampener over this building before coming in here. It won’t let your thoughts escape. No calling for help until we’ve picked up your co-conspirators. Normally we don’t take direct action against mages, lest they discover their little attempts to deceive the government have failed.”

“Now there’s a mistake.” Worthington said with a little chuckle. “You don’t expect me to keep my mouth shut when this is all over, do you?”

“I’m afraid your Uncle is going to get his wish, and inherit the family fortune after you disappear.” The man said with a shake of his head. “That’s okay though. You don’t have to worry that you’ll be killed. As much as anyone might deserve it, we don’t kill people, not even rogue mages like you who have killed so many innocent people. Dr. Lorenz will have a field day though, examining you and using you for his experiments. He’s come up with a lot of brilliant things, like this for instance.”

“What is that?” Worthington asked with a sudden nervousness as the agent held out a small white box and pushed a button on it.

“This is a scrambler.” The man said with a smile as Worthington’s shields crumbled to dust, and he staggered with dizziness. Spells wrapped around Worthington, and spun deep into his mind. They were compulsion spells that stripped away his will to resist, his will to fight back. No, he couldn’t harm this man. Fighting him was insane. Worthington should not resist, not fight back.

It’s a damn shame the thing fucks up my shields too. A strange voice said in Worthington’s head as he felt another presence enter his mind. The desire to resist, to fight back was dead in him, and he swayed there in front of the handsome man, letting the man rummage through his mind. Let’s see what game the kid is playing. Then we can round up the rest of them causing this trouble and maybe that Lorenz freak can figure out how to make one of these scramblers that don’t take down my shields too.

Worthington didn’t even want to resist as the man looked through his mind, replaying the events of the last few days, and then weeks. He could feel the man’s surprise and disbelief at what he saw. Demons don’t exist. Magic isn’t really magic. It’s just energy and force, fully explainable by science! Demons are a thing out of fairy tales. What is the real story, boy?

Demons are real. Worthington answered, the truth spilling out of him as the man set another spell on him, compelling the truth. He’d been a fool to think the government wouldn’t know about magic, wouldn’t know how to handle mages. It didn’t matter though. For him the fight was over, he could let go and trust in the government people. That’s what they did, serve the best interests of the country.

Show me the truth! The man’s mind roared, and Worthington quivered as the desire to tell the truth shook him. He showed every memory relating to the demons he could, but it wasn’t enough and he began to worry. He had to please the handsome man. How could he not want to please such a fine looking man? Maybe if he could not tell the man what he wanted, he could please him in another way. Worthington wouldn’t do it, wouldn’t unbend that far, and he retreated, his mind fragmenting again.

Yes, he could show the man what Michael could do with his body. He knew he was attractive, especially in this outfit. It showed off his fine, fit body. It didn’t matter if the man had never been attracted to other men, or to someone as young as Michael.

All it meant was that the man didn’t know how good sex could be. He’d be happy when Worthington showed him how good it was. Yes, the man was even looking at him now in that way, as though he had just realized he had a handsome young stud here under his power.

The kid was a degenerate, he’d probably look on it as fun if the man took a little bit of time with him, sampled his young body. Gerald Norman hadn’t had sex in a long time, not since he’d taken that pretty young witch who had killed her parents. That had been two years ago. His work kept him from having personal time, time to look after his own needs.

I don’t mind, not at all. Michael said mentally and took off his jacket to show the man he didn’t mind at all. His black t-shirt was tight, and showed off his well-built torso. He spent a lot of time working out, more than he should, and so he had a good build. Wouldn’t Gerald enjoy a few minutes, sampling how different a male body was from a female? Michael could please him, that was for sure, and his leather riding pants had kneepads built into them. He could stay on his knees, worshipping Gerald’s cock for hours if that was what he wanted.

Gerald let a small growl escape his throat and strode across the room, ignoring the dead bodies around them. With one hand he grabbed the back of the kid’s head. There wasn’t enough hair to grab onto since it was cut so short, but that didn’t matter. The kid sank to his knees, knowing what he was supposed to do. His hands ran over the hard cock barely being restrained by his slacks, and slowly began to lower the zipper.

Yes, a little fun before I take this kid downtown. Gerald thought as the kid freed his cock and began to lick its hard length. He certainly knew what he was doing unlike that little bitch. This was so much better, he knew as the kid swallowed his entire length. Both his hands were grasping the kid’s head, pulling him in tighter.

Michael knew this all too well as he took the man’s entire length down his throat. He knew what it was like to be helpless, to be trapped by spells of compulsion, to be constrained. As he worked to please the man who had captured his mind, he felt the man losing concentration, and that was when Worthington struck, through Michael. They were one and the same, but the spells the man had cast didn’t understand multiple personalities, and couldn’t understand two minds in one body. The spells were meant to control one mind, not two, and so they stay focused on one mind.

Michael was bound, but Worthington was free, and when the man lost concentration, became totally involved with the physical pleasure he was receiving, Worthington surged forth, casting his own spells of compulsion. That was why he had retreated, resurrecting albeit for a very brief time, the dual personality he’d had before Jamie had finished bringing them together.

Gerald stumbled backwards as the spells hit him, and he released the compulsion he’d placed on the kid. He couldn’t control it, couldn’t stop it, and as he stumbled backwards, and the kid got to his feet, he felt his own hand reaching into his pocket, where he’d put the scrambler, and he turned it off.

The device was turned off, and Worthington felt the world return to normal. With a snap that was purely internal, he felt himself merging back into one personality, the temporary split healing as if it had never been. He spun out more spells, all focused on placing controls on the man before his shields came back. Gerald Norman never stood a chance, for all his power, and he was now firmly, if temporarily controlled.

The first order of business was to dig into the man’s mind and find out everything he knew. Images sprang up almost immediately as the man sought to provide the answers that Worthington demanded silently. He’d come here with one other mage, a much weaker young man, Curtis Parks. Curtis Parks had just come to work for the Department of Homeland Security two years ago, and had not realized he was a mage until Gerald had started the training, as per his orders.

Who gives those orders? Worthington demanded, and was concerned when no answer came immediately. Pushing further he found sections of the man’s mind walled off, almost as if the man himself didn’t know they were there. He knew he’d been given orders, but not by whom. Parks was one of three lesser mages working for him on special assignments. The young man was the only one available when he’d been sent to investigate the events going on in Phoenix. Before leaving, he’d been given a file on all mages known to be living in the area. That had included Worthington Michael Sinclair, the Fifth, Jameson “Jamie” Bradwell, Elizabeth Bradwell, and a few others.

Gerald was outraged that a mage was impersonating a government official, and had found and arrested Detective Kendrick almost immediately. Then he’d laid his trap for the Sinclair boy, waiting for him at the morgue where he had an ‘appointment’. Parks had been left to continue questioning the female detective in the downtown police headquarters.

Where do you work? Worthington demanded. Who is this Dr. Lorenz and where can I find him?

Who? Where? Gerald responded in confusion. The answers were behind those walls, Worthington knew, but it would take a lot of time to batter them down without damaging the man’s brain. For a moment, he considered just ripping out the man’s mind, leaving him a vegetable in order to gain the information. Yes, he would do that, if lives depended on it, but he couldn’t say if lives depended on it. There was a difference between causing permanent, irreparable damage in a good cause, and what he would have to do to the man. It would be the equivalent of killing him. No, it would be worse than killing him.

Yes, if there was a clear and present danger, he could do it, but he couldn’t sense one in this. It was dangerous, what this man represented. He was trained, after a fashion, and worked for the government, a government which DID know about mages despite all the efforts at secrecy. The man had been planning to take Worthington to wherever his base was, and planned to keep him prisoner, but did not plan to kill him.

He could not justify ripping the man’s mind apart based on that alone. This was not even protecting a secret, because the secret was already out of the bag. What was right here, and what was wrong?

“You will help me fix the mess you’ve caused.” Worthington said aloud as he reached a decision. If he could not safely get the information from the man’s mind, and he harbored no illusion that he’d be able to keep his hands on the man long enough to safely extract the information, then he would settle for the next best thing.

“Of course.” Gerald Norman said eagerly, and began to offer suggestions on just how to do that.

Well, that was unexpected, but very helpful. Most of them even seemed logical and the right thing to do. When Gerald started making suggestion to use him as a messenger back to ‘base’, Worthington actually began to laugh. He was still laughing as they walked out of the morgue.

Sometimes when you ran into a brick wall, it was just easier to go around it than trying to break it down, or climb it.