problems.”
“ How do you fix them?”
“ Any way I can. Whatever it takes.”
“ But you’re my age...I don’t understand.”
“ You don’t need to understand,” I said.
“ But these are adults.”
“ I fix adults, too,” I said. “What’s wrong?”
She had completely forgotten her food. She wondered if some punk teenager could help her with her problems, and I was beginning to suspect her problems were very, very big.
“Look,” I said. “None of us wind up in night school without a seriously screwed-up life. All the normal kids are getting trained for day jobs in regular society. We’re the sort they don’t want peeing in the pool. So whatever it is, it’s okay.”
She chewed without tasting, staring blankly out the window at her past.
I reached out and gently touched her forearm with my finger. I knew what the reaction was going to be, and so I was ready for her to shiver.
“ I can help you, Parker. But you need to tell me what’s wrong,” I said, and something interesting happened as my fingers rested on her arm, as I spoke sincerely and honestly with her. The darkness in my heart, the dark whisperings that sometimes filled my mind, subsided. Subsided significantly. I almost, almost, felt human again.
“ There is a man who likes killing girls.”
For most people, something like that would be a shock. But I’m not most people. I’m not even people.
“That’s terrible.” I didn’t ask if she was making up a story. She wasn’t.
“ You believe me?”
“ Who is this man?”
She turned and looked at me, and I saw the tears in her impossibly round eyes.
“My dad,” she said.
Chapter Three
I hoped this wasn’t a pervert case. I hate pervert cases.
“ And you know this how?” I asked.
“ That part I need to fill you in on later.” Her once-sweet, shy exterior had now turned a tad darker. Which was okay with me. Darker was right up my alley.
“ So what can you tell me?” I now grabbed a pencil from my pocket and began writing on a piece of paper.
“ What are you writing?” she asked abruptly.
“ Don’t worry,” I said. “My notes will be cryptic.”
She didn’t get the wry humor. “Alright, my dad is one of the most intelligent men in the world. I know that sounds crazy, but it’s true. He’s a world-renowned physicist. He does a lot of research for Berkeley and Ivy League schools. Over the past eight years he’s been delving into a different, ah, kind of scientific method.”
“Different how?”
“ It’s not even really scientific. It’s more...metaphysical. To put it simply, my dad runs a cult. He has this big compound called ‘Cloudland’ on a property near Mount Shasta.”
“ A Moonie-type thing? Branch Davidians? Suicidal comet-hoppers?”
I wondered if she would catch the references, but she didn’t miss a beat. I guess when your dad runs a cult, you’re up on all things cultish. She said, “One man’s cult is another man’s paradise. But this is way bigger than just one power-tripping dabbler in the dark arts. He’s converting some of the greatest minds in the world into believing his theories.”
“And how does killing girls play into it?”
“ Just like with every cult, people eventually wise up and want to leave.”
“ And he kills them before they leave?”
“ Well, he also wants the blood sacrifice, I guess. Killing two birds with one stone.”
“ Why only girls?”
“ Because he believes women are the conduit to the mystical power he wants to channel. The ‘feminine divine,’ I’ve heard him call it.”
“ So mostly women are in his cult.”
“ Right. Men are just not that attracted to a religion where they are second fiddle. Plus, he kind of likes to be the center of attention. He’s a total alpha male.”
“ So what do you want me to do?” This was becoming a lot larger than anything I had previously taken on. There were a lot of layers to this.
“ I want you to stop him.”
This was a
“ How do you fix them?”
“ Any way I can. Whatever it takes.”
“ But you’re my age...I don’t understand.”
“ You don’t need to understand,” I said.
“ But these are adults.”
“ I fix adults, too,” I said. “What’s wrong?”
She had completely forgotten her food. She wondered if some punk teenager could help her with her problems, and I was beginning to suspect her problems were very, very big.
“Look,” I said. “None of us wind up in night school without a seriously screwed-up life. All the normal kids are getting trained for day jobs in regular society. We’re the sort they don’t want peeing in the pool. So whatever it is, it’s okay.”
She chewed without tasting, staring blankly out the window at her past.
I reached out and gently touched her forearm with my finger. I knew what the reaction was going to be, and so I was ready for her to shiver.
“ I can help you, Parker. But you need to tell me what’s wrong,” I said, and something interesting happened as my fingers rested on her arm, as I spoke sincerely and honestly with her. The darkness in my heart, the dark whisperings that sometimes filled my mind, subsided. Subsided significantly. I almost, almost, felt human again.
“ There is a man who likes killing girls.”
For most people, something like that would be a shock. But I’m not most people. I’m not even people.
“That’s terrible.” I didn’t ask if she was making up a story. She wasn’t.
“ You believe me?”
“ Who is this man?”
She turned and looked at me, and I saw the tears in her impossibly round eyes.
“My dad,” she said.
Chapter Three
I hoped this wasn’t a pervert case. I hate pervert cases.
“ And you know this how?” I asked.
“ That part I need to fill you in on later.” Her once-sweet, shy exterior had now turned a tad darker. Which was okay with me. Darker was right up my alley.
“ So what can you tell me?” I now grabbed a pencil from my pocket and began writing on a piece of paper.
“ What are you writing?” she asked abruptly.
“ Don’t worry,” I said. “My notes will be cryptic.”
She didn’t get the wry humor. “Alright, my dad is one of the most intelligent men in the world. I know that sounds crazy, but it’s true. He’s a world-renowned physicist. He does a lot of research for Berkeley and Ivy League schools. Over the past eight years he’s been delving into a different, ah, kind of scientific method.”
“Different how?”
“ It’s not even really scientific. It’s more...metaphysical. To put it simply, my dad runs a cult. He has this big compound called ‘Cloudland’ on a property near Mount Shasta.”
“ A Moonie-type thing? Branch Davidians? Suicidal comet-hoppers?”
I wondered if she would catch the references, but she didn’t miss a beat. I guess when your dad runs a cult, you’re up on all things cultish. She said, “One man’s cult is another man’s paradise. But this is way bigger than just one power-tripping dabbler in the dark arts. He’s converting some of the greatest minds in the world into believing his theories.”
“And how does killing girls play into it?”
“ Just like with every cult, people eventually wise up and want to leave.”
“ And he kills them before they leave?”
“ Well, he also wants the blood sacrifice, I guess. Killing two birds with one stone.”
“ Why only girls?”
“ Because he believes women are the conduit to the mystical power he wants to channel. The ‘feminine divine,’ I’ve heard him call it.”
“ So mostly women are in his cult.”
“ Right. Men are just not that attracted to a religion where they are second fiddle. Plus, he kind of likes to be the center of attention. He’s a total alpha male.”
“ So what do you want me to do?” This was becoming a lot larger than anything I had previously taken on. There were a lot of layers to this.
“ I want you to stop him.”
This was a
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