Chosen (28 page)

Mariah refused to speak about the Anthony Santatoro
Finding
other than to give Gabriel Winters information about who he was and where. Even though tears glistened in her eyes, she seemed remote, indifferent, almost as if she was bored.

No one in the room that night would ever forget the malevolent look of glee burning in her eyes, nor her facial transformation. Her normal expression—open, inviting, friendly—had contorted into something sardonic, a mask of hatred, of triumph. They did not need to see what happened to Santatoro. They had heard her end of the conversation and knew whatever she had done to him was better left unsaid.

Their reactions were to be expected. The three FBI agents, while noncommittal, were secretly glad she had punished him as no court ever would. A degenerate like Santatoro deserved payback, deserved to experience the kind of pain he had inflicted on others.

While Thomas was of like mind, he was stunned that Mariah was capable of such hatred, such malicious intent. This was
not
the woman he believed himself in love with. Maybe he didn’t know her as well as he thought he did. For the first time since meeting her, Thomas was unsure of his feelings.

That they would talk about this was necessary. He needed to try and understand what was happening to her. Thomas didn’t want to make any decisions about his future with her until he could determine if this primal force, this fury she was capable of, was going to take over more of her personality, maybe manifest itself into her everyday life. For the first time in many years, he prayed to God for guidance, to help both of them through these unsettling times.

Peter Martin was not only saddened he was shocked by the ferocity with which Mariah dealt with Santatoro. She in no way resembled the warm, funny, and talented person who sang in his choir. His fear joined the millions who had become uneasy after the death of Everett Vaughn Hinckley, fostered by the ringing rhetoric of Bartholomew Chemosh, lawyer for Hinckley’s mother—the fear that her ever-increasing psychic abilities were beyond her control.

Michael Jenkins was more distressed then he let on. That she was changing there was no doubt. That her psychic abilities were becoming stronger was self-evident. Fear for her mushroomed in his heart: he was more concerned for the state of her mental health than anything else.

Was it possible she was evolving into a different being? One who used her gift not only for a higher purpose, but to seek revenge? He knew her heart, had
Joined
with her soul, and was sure that if she could not harness the unmitigated power that was causing her to lash out, she would become a creature more to be feared then loved.

Once home, Mariah fell into a deep, undisturbed sleep for twelve hours. Both Raphael and Winters checked on her constantly, but it was apparent she never stirred from the position in which she had collapsed.

When she finally awoke, she was clear-headed and refreshed. After a long, hot shower and a change into a tee shirt and jeans, she headed for the kitchen. She was always famished after a
Finding
, her metabolism having depleted a large quantity of calories. This time, she felt like she could eat everything in sight.

Teddy Boles’ greeting was friendly if a touch wary. With a winning smile, she convinced him to make her a large stack of his famous French toast, which he did without hesitation. She was just polishing off the last of it when Thomas returned from filming a wedding. He heard her voice in the kitchen, her laughter spontaneous and unfettered.

When he strolled into view, she immediately ran to him, her arms circling his neck as she pressed herself against his solid warmth. Looking up, her eyes alight with joy, she said, “I’m so glad you’re home. And thanks for taking such good care of me.”

He smiled automatically, his lips brushing hers. “Think nothing of it. My bill is in the mail,” he said.

She giggled. The sound filled him with delight. This was the woman he had fallen for, the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. He clasped her to him; she didn’t see his smile dim with uncertainty. He hoped she would be the one to begin the dialogue with assurances that she would seek professional help in dealing with this potentially uncontrollable anger.

Mariah was finally alone, curled up in the living room on her recliner. The smile that had been plastered on her face since waking was gone, taking her ebullient mood with it. She closed her eyes, feeling everyone’s eyes on her, trying to hide their furtive looks of puzzlement, awe, and wariness.

She couldn’t blame them. She was worried, but not surprised. And, heaven help her, not sorry about what she had done.

When she first discovered that she had extraordinary psychic abilities and had found Amanda Forrester, she had asked why: Why her? Why now? But there had been no explanation. Convincing herself that God was working through her had gotten her through the worst of the mental anxiety that threatened her sanity.

However, after
Finding
Sophie Duval and manipulating (and hurting) Sophie’s abductor, she was convinced that God was not the source of her increasing psychic abilities. And seeing those two aliens in one of her astral projections ... somehow it made more sense to now believe she was evolving into another species.

Or was she using that as an excuse? Blaming the introduction of an alien substance into her DNA had definitely changed her. For better or worse? She had read Michael’s sorrowful expression and knew what was going through his mind. She saw the guarded look from Matthew and Peter ... stunned and hurt, like she had betrayed them. The sentiments of the agents were expected: not exactly condemning, just more watchful, more cautious.

Pain gnawed at her gut, seizing her in a closed-fisted grip. It was the way Thomas had held her, almost reluctantly, when she had thrown herself into his arms. After all the strange things he had witnessed and accepted, she was nearly convinced that what he had seen during the
Finding
of Anthony Santatoro would be the undoing of their newly emerging relationship.

If it were possible, she would stop the
Findings
immediately. If she could erase the dreams of the clown, even though she knew he was doing great harm to others, she would. It was a matter of self-preservation. She valued her relationship with Thomas above
Finding
more children, above
Finding
that abomination and stopping him.

But it wasn’t an option. She was still on that train, still rocketing down the tracks, unable to jump off and resume the new life that had started so promising—that of
Finding
kidnapped children. With a tremulous sigh and a shake of her head, she tried to ignore the sense of loneliness threatening to engulf her.

Mariah sat in the automatic glider, trying to recapture the sensation of peace and tranquility Michael’s back yard had previously fostered. But it was not to be. She was edgy, uncertain.

“Yes, of course,” she said, in response to his question. “I want to hear everything you have to say. This is not the time to hold anything back.”

Michael watched her resigned expression, knowing she expected the worst. If she was looking for chastisement, she would have to find it elsewhere. He must choose his words carefully; what he said today would have an important impact on her future.

“I’d like you to think back to the very first
Finding
, the one of Amanda Forrester.” She nodded, and he continued. “Amanda was terrified, but essentially unharmed. How did you feel about Billy Kramer, her abductor?”

With a slight frown, Mariah stared down at her hands for a moment before answering. “Nothing,” she said. “I was glad when the FBI arrested him, but basically, that was all.”

Michael nodded, and said, “And after the
Finding
of Joseph Armstrong: did you have any strong feelings about Reginald Carter-Smith?”

She looked pensive. “Other than the fact that he was a pervert and I was happy they locked him up? Nothing.”

He smiled. “And I’m sure you’re going to say the same thing about Kevin O’Reilly’s kidnapper, Julio Martinez. Or, for that matter, the men who kidnapped Timothy Saginotu, Dianne Cormier, or Zaphiel Engel. Correct?”

“Agreed.” A look of wonder and anticipation had replaced the trepidation on her face. For the first time since the night of the triple
Findings
, she appeared to relax slightly. Michael allowed himself the tiniest bit of satisfaction, hoping he would achieve his desired effect.

“Now, let’s look at the Finding of Sophie Celeste Duval. Unlike any of the others, right?” When she nodded, he said, “And why is that?”

Mariah thought for a minute then said, “She was dying. George René Malchelosse nearly killed her.” Her eyes clouded momentarily, remembering how frightened she had been when she realized that Sophie had been so close to death.

“Exactly,” Michael said, watching Mariah’s eyes. “He hurt her. Everyone has “hot buttons”: things that make us furious due to instinct, environment, education, and so forth. Some are primal instincts, or fixed action patterns, like fear. The same incident might make another person upset, but doesn’t produce the same raw emotions.” He waited a heartbeat, and added, “Why do you think that, out of all the things your psychic powers could be used for,
Finding
kidnapped children is what came first?”

He was gladdened by the slight smile that touched the corners of her mouth. He realized how much he had missed the lopsided grin he hoped would appear momentarily.

“You were furious that Malchelosse nearly killed Sophie. You knew he was mentally unbalanced, but it didn’t matter. So, your “hot button” is? Hurting children.

“So you manipulated him in order to find out where she was being held. And all you gave him was a momentary headache, albeit a bad one. Even back then, when your power wasn’t nearly as strong as it is now, I’m positive you could have done worse.”

Her surprised expression was enhanced by eagerness. She said, her words coming quickly, “Hinckley. I wanted him to stop hurting Estella Fuentes. I wanted to do more, like scare the hell out of him.” She paused, staring into Michael’s eyes. Excitement began to replace melancholy. “I didn’t know about the blood clot. I didn’t kill him.”

For the first time since
Finding
Estella Fuentes, Mariah’s thoughts were clear. Without realizing it, she had erected a barrier that night to hide behind. While trying to deny it, she blamed herself for Everett’s death, that instead of just frightening him she had reached into his chest and physically pushed that clot into his aorta. Knowing that she hadn’t done it made her giddy with relief.

But Michael wasn’t through. “Now, let’s look at what happened after Frannie died.” Mariah’s smile dimmed, but she felt determined. She knew she needed to settle these doubts permanently.

“None of us will ever know what you would have done to Damion Lazote if Kelly Garrett and Frannie hadn’t killed him, but let’s not dwell on that.

“Up to this point, the
Findings
were easy for you. Basically, you never had to do anything. The
Findings
just happened. But things changed after Frannie died. You began to experiment, to find out what you were capable of doing.

“Why?”

The question caught her off guard. She began to give him the obvious reason: so she could defend those around her, so she would be prepared ... for what? For another assassination attempt?

With sudden clarity, a look of delight came into her eyes. “So I could do more than find kidnapped children.”

Michael’s smile reflected joy that she had reached this level of understanding on her own. “Exactly. You knew you were capable of doing more. You proved that when you inadvertently deflected Lazote’s bullet that would have buried itself in your chest. Without thinking, you performed a psychic act so different than what you’d previously done. And now you were focused.”

He waited for his words to sink in. “And then you outdid yourself: you found three people. But something was drastically different in all three.”

She thought for a moment, a frown creasing her brow. “Wasn’t Benjamin and Joseph Ringeisen a normal
Finding
? Bel Muldur was too drunk to remember even kidnapping them, so even though they were hurt, it was only through neglect. Scaring him out of the woods and into the arms of the FBI was all I wanted to do.” She thought a minute and her eyes widened. “No, wait, something else happened,” she said, unaware that she was leaning forward. “I
Healed
Ben and Joey. By laying my hands on them. Not only the infections caused by the rat bites, but their dehydration. I’ve never done that before.” She stared into his eyes. “Up to this point, the
Healings
were also automatic—mine and those who assisted me in the
Findings
.” Michael grinned at the wonder and amazement on her face. It was like watching the sun emerge from behind a blanket of rain clouds.

“Geralyne Barrett was the first adult I found.” Almost to herself, she murmured, “But I didn’t hurt Gustavo Diaz or the men who tortured her. I knew she’d be saved. And I had something more important to take care of.”

The speculative look on her face was replaced by that lopsided grin Michael had sorely missed. “But I
did
hurt Anthony Santatoro. Because of what he did to children. The prostitution, the drugs ... the beatings. He thought it was physical, but it was all in his mind.

“I hated him. I could have killed him, but I didn’t. Just like Malchelosse. And Hinckley. I wanted to, but I didn’t. I was just venting. A lot of people would say that what I did was wrong, and they might be right. But I bet if most people had the ability to act on their anger, their frustration, they would.

“I
have
control over what I did, Michael. The power was great, even scary. I was furious, and yes, even smug. But I didn’t kill him. I’m not playing God.”

Mariah felt dizzy with relief. She had
not
lost her humanity to this daunting psychic power. She had reacted like most people would—with anger; however, in her case, she could make the perpetrator feel this wrath.

Smiling at her, Michael said, “You’re going to have to be very careful, however. I think it’s safe to assume you haven’t reached your psychic limitations. But your emotions must continue to be tempered by reason, even when you’re angry. Regardless of what you believe, I am thoroughly convinced that God is truly working through you. And that He will not let you cross that line.”

Mariah said nothing, just hugged and thanked him for helping her through this mental morass. She wasn’t going to remind him about the aliens, about her belief that they were playing a major role in her development.

They had not come to her. Yet. She wasn’t sure they even knew she had seen them at that moment when she was separated from that by that malleable barrier. But she was content for the moment, for the first time since the
Finding
of Sophie Duval.

She felt her resolve strengthen. Now she would go after the clown. It was her destiny to stop him.