The Chaos Tree
Chapter 9
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It was after midnight when Dean slipped down the stairs, his socked feet silent on the old wood. After all these years, he knew where every squeaky step was, and avoided them. Stopping to take a peek into the living room, he saw that Mac and Nicholas were asleep on one of the air mattresses, their little legs tangled up together. The puppies' cage door was open, and Ted and Maxie were nestled between the boys, both small faces tucked up together under Nicholas' chin. Smiling, he walked silently down the hall and turned into the Tomb.
Once inside, he moved past the large table to the back wall. Most of the wall was filled with shelves that were crammed with books. Beside the shelves sat a small table with a large printer on top. Above the table hung an old picture of Merlin. Dean had no idea how long the picture had been handed down from Guardian to Guardian, but its age showed in the nicked frame and faded paint. Merlin stood atop a small hill, heavy trees and stormy sky as backdrop. His eyes blazing, magic lashed out from his fingertips. At his side were three men; one carried a book and a glass eye, the second a taloned dagger, and the third stood a step or two in front of the others, his face resolute, a massive sword clenched in both hands. Reaching out, Dean touched the lower right corner of the picture, one inch in from the edge, and murmured, "Ego praesidia Fratrum, una electi. (I am the Guardian of the Brotherhood, one of the chosen)." The corner of Dean's mouth lifted slightly as the picture slid to the left, revealing a slim, bronze handle. Even after all these years, saying those words still gave him a thrill. He took the handle and turned it clockwise, and a door appeared in the wall. It slid backwards and to the left, allowing him to enter a small, six-by-five foot room.
Once inside, Dean went over to a large multi-use machine in the corner where several sheets of paper lay in the tray. The cover letter said; Checking chemical companies and biotech corporations for test studies. Results to follow. "Thanks, Jacob," he murmured. Turning to the small table in the corner of the room, he sat down to study the information.
The first several sheets covered instances of violence in the city, and the numbers were staggering. Over a two-week period, four-hundred and thirty fights had broken out across the city, there were fifty-six murders, three-hundred and eight cases of domestic violence, a hundred and forty-six percent rise in burglaries, and a four hundred and nine percent rise in traffic collisions and accidents.
"Damn," Dean murmured.
On the medical side, the hospitals were overrun with injuries from minor to major. The three-hundred and eight cases of minor injuries were turned over to neighborhood Urgent Care Facilities, while the one hundred and fifty-nine major traumas were distributed to equipped hospitals within the Anaheim area.
According to Jacob, police footage showed out-of-control violence in several pockets of the city, notably centered in the bars, clubs and pubs; restaurants were also a hot spot, gyms were worse. Some of the pages contained excerpts from police reports. It was the reports from the last day of violence that were most relevant to their current hunt: fights and violent altercations that stopped abruptly. Each report cited brawler aggression stopping quickly, leaving all the scrappers drained and wanting to know what happened. Ben said rushes of adrenaline could leave people confused and with possible short-term memory loss. These reports appeared to corroborate that.
At the back of the pile were several grainy photographs. Before the first was a note from Jacob saying he and his team had gone through all the crime scene photos looking for repetition in people and vehicles. There were pictures of two men and one woman who were at multiple brawl and fight scenes; man one, thirteen times; man two, nineteen times; the woman, eleven times. Dean studied the photos, one of the men and the woman were identified and their police records were included in Jacob's report. After reading through them, Dean could eliminate them as suspects, as their history were as drunks and troublemakers. For the unidentified dark-haired man, he set that one aside. Since Jacob couldn't identified him from the police records, Dean knew he would be looking through the FBI, CIA and NSA files.
For vehicles, Jacob circled the number of times each vehicle was seen in the crime scene photos. On the first one Jacob had written seven atop the photo of a red corvette. The second photo was of a tan sedan with the number five and the license plate highlighted with the driver's name and address. The third photo contained the same information along with the number eleven, and the last photo carried a black sports car with the number twelve circled. Beside the number Jacob had written unregistered vehicle? No records found. It was the last picture of the black car that captured Dean's attention, because there was a man standing beside the vehicle. His face was in profile, his hand resting on the open driver's side door. The man had white hair, like the man David Lassiter had described from Crossing. The quality of the photo was poor, but he figured this was the first captured picture of the person who could be behind the upheavals. Jacob had written next to the picture; one sighting, not enough pixel resolution for facial recognition imaging.
Setting aside the bulk of the report, Dean stared down at the picture of this mysterious man. He didn't look American; more Eastern European or Middle Eastern. Something about the tilt of his head and the way he held himself. Americans were more casual and relaxed in their stance, even slouchy. This man was straight-backed, but not rigid; more regal, possibly entitled. His hand rested on the door handle of the Hennessey as though only a flick of his fingers would cause the door to swing open. Most Americans were more energetic when they were about to drive their vehicles, especially if it was of a caliber like the Hennessey Venom, which would be a masterpiece to drive. No, this man wasn't American.
Turning to the laptop on the table, Dean booted it up. When he pulled up the Internet, he typed Hennessey Venom F5 in the search bar. On the results page he clicked on the Hennessey Special Vehicles Website, looked up the model and checked the vehicle stats. The Hennessey stood three feet, seven inches at its tallest. Dean looked back at the photograph. The roof of the vehicle was a little above the man's waist. That meant he was tall, easily Sam's height or taller. Jotting that onto a legal pad, he continued to make observations on the man's weight, his clothes, his hair color as best as he could from the photograph.
Finally, he sat back and yawned. His body was stiff from sitting in the straight-backed wooden chair, no matter the padded seat. Glancing up at the clock, he got a shock: it was after three in the morning. He hadn't realized he'd been working so long. Stacking up the pages, he placed them in a folder and walked out of the hidden room. The door slid shut and the picture slipped back in place. He then returned the table with the printer back under the frame. After placing the folder on the table, he walked out of the Tomb.
When he passed the living room again, he stopped when he saw Joshua sitting in a chair near the hallway, watching the boys. Looking up, Joshua smiled. "Get some information?"
Dean huffed out a quiet laugh. "Yeah, law enforcement information about Anaheim. We'll go over it tomorrow."
Joshua nodded.
"Why aren't you asleep?"
"Wanted to make sure Nicholas wasn't afraid of sleeping in a strange house on his own without me and Carolyn." Joshua watched Nicholas and the puppies. "He seems to be doing fine."
"Mac's in bed with him," Dean said softly. "He probably got a little freaked, and Mac climbed in. Mac's good like that."
"Yes, he is," Joshua said, smiling. Little Mac always reminded him of his adoptive father, whom he missed something fierce. Though the two Macs weren't related by blood, the child's steady demeanor, his compassion and curious nature just reminded Joshua of his step-father. Mac had always been supportive and loving with his stepson, never treating him as anything other than blood. He'd cherished that after having grown up under the demanding, distant Harland Sawyer. "I miss him," he murmured.
"I know," Dean said, knowing exactly who Joshua was talking about.
"He was the only real father I ever had. I cherish the years I got call him that."
Dean nodded, but didn't say anything.
With a sigh, Joshua rose slowly and walked quietly into the living room. Gently he ran a hand over Mac's dark head and Nicholas' blonde one before turning back to where Dean was standing. "I think I'll head back to bed. You should get some sleep as well."
"I will," Dean said, his eyes still on the two little boys asleep in their fort. "Yeah, I will."
Sunday Morning…
Ethan strode through the terminal of the West Houston Airport, a small privately-owned aviation airport in Harris County. It was just before six in the morning, and he knew Caleb's Hawker 1000 Jetliner was already fueled and ready for takeoff.
The jetliner had gotten a lot of use in the last week, with Caleb and Dean taking it to Utah, Caleb sending it to Arizona to pick up JT, and now this trip to Houston to take him and Elijah to the farm for a brain storming session about the mysterious violent eruptions around the country. Since it was less than a two hour flight, the jetliner would bring them back that evening, so he could be at work in the morning. The precinct was still in disarray and he didn't want to be gone long.
"Ethan!"
Ethan looked up and saw Elijah standing beside a check-in desk. Smiling, he waved and increased his stride. "Eli," he said, clapping his brother on the shoulder.
"Leave it to you to be late," Elijah said with a smile.
"The flight doesn't leave for…" Ethan squinted at his watch.
"Ten minutes," Elijah said.
"Then I'm not late."
"We should have already boarded." Elijah looked back at the gate agent and drawled, "In the world according to Ethan, you're only late if the plane is in the air."
"Damn straight," Ethan declared. He handed his driver's license and police badge over the counter top to the agent and waited until they were passed back.
"The Hawker stairs are already lowered. Once you gentlemen are on board, the captain will signal the tower, and you'll start taxiing to the runway. Take off will be in fifteen minutes." The young woman stepped out from behind the desk and walked to a nearby hallway. "Go through the third door on your right. The plane will be directly ahead."
"Thank you," Elijah said.
Together the two brothers walked down the hall and out the door. Within seconds they were up the stairs and sitting in the luxurious seats of the Hawker.
Captain Michael Foster stepped out of the cockpit and said, "Gentlemen, this will be a quick flight. I'll be staying over in Louisville in order to fly you both back tonight. There are croissants and coffee in the rear galley."
"Thank you," Elijah said.
"Then I hope you get some time off," Ethan said, grinning.
"Don't mind the flights," Captain Michael Foster stated. Giving both brothers a grin, he confided, "Best gig I ever had."
Ethan laughed as the pilot went back into the cockpit and closed the door. Looking over at his brother, he asked, "Want some coffee?"
Elijah shook his head. "I'm tired. Think I'll try and get some sleep before we land."
Ethan nodded and used the side lever to lower his chair back. "Yeah, think I will too. It's been a crazy few weeks. It'll take me a year to catch up on my sleep."
Elijah snickered. "It'll take you a month."
Smiling, Ethan conceded, "Maybe."
There was silence as the plane taxied to the runway. As the jetliner picked up speed, Elijah said, "You think there's someone behind all this, don't you?"
Ethan rolled his head to the side, eyes on his brother. "Yeah, and I haven't the vaguest idea who that is or how to stop them."
Elijah nodded his head slowly. "Yeah, neither do I."
Dean rolled over and knew the bed was empty. "Uuggghhh," he groaned. A look at the clock told him it was after ten in the morning. "Damn it," he grumbled, and shoved himself into a sitting position. He should have been up two hours ago.
A knock on the door had him turning around to see Sam walk in. "Bout time you woke up," Sam said, dropping into the chair near the bed and propping his feet up on the mattress.
Dean frowned. "Juliet?"
"Making a very late breakfast." Sam yawned before taking a sip from his coffee mug.
"Mary here?"
"No. Josie got home this morning, so they're spending the day together. They'll both fly back to New York this evening. Josie's got a friend who gave her two buddy tickets in exchange for free passes to the New York Museum of Art and the Whitney Museum of American Art. Apparently the friend and her mom are fans."
Dean nodded. "You sleep all right?"
"Mary and I stayed up until after midnight talking, but it seems we got more sleep than you," Sam stated. "Juliet said you didn't get to bed until almost four."
Just the mention of four in the morning had Dean yawning. "I got the intel about Anaheim. Sorta got caught up in reading it and lost track of the time."
"It's in the Tomb?"
Dean nodded.
Sam watched his brother and wished he could give him another couple hours of sleep. He looked tired. Instead, he said, "Elijah and Ethan will be here soon."
Dean looked around. "Why are they coming?"
"Have you checked your email?" Sam asked, smiling.
Dean thought back over the last couple of days, and honestly couldn't remember if he'd check it or not. Seeing Sam's grin, he defended, "I've been busy."
Sam laughed out loud. "Ethan sent you a very detailed report covering the law enforcement records of the violence in Houston over the last two weeks. Elijah has done the work on the Houston social media front. They're coming to compare notes and find out, and I quote, What the hell is going on."
Dean gave an acknowledging shrug and pushed himself up. After a long stretch, he asked, "Everyone else up?"
"Yup. Nicholas, Mac and Lisa Anne have already eaten and are playing outside. JT is showing some of his pictures from the shoot at the Supai Village to Juliet and James. They're pretty amazing," Sam added. "Caleb drove in to Louisville to pick up Elijah and Ethan, then they're all come over along with Max and Ryker."
"Joshua?"
"He and Carolyn are watching the kids while Ben and Maya have a bite to eat. They're leaving in a couple of hours."
Dean nodded. "What's on the agenda?"
"Go over what we have, figure out where to go from here."
"Ben needs to talk to Onida," Dean said, "see if she can give him another viewpoint on what happened to you, Caleb and Lassiter."
"I'll text Caleb. If Onida isn't with him, he can either stop by and pick her up, or she can drive over in her own car."
"Good," Dean said, stretching again. "I'll be out in a bit."
Sam nodded and rose. "Eat a good breakfast, cause I think we're going to need all our brain cells on this one."
Dean bit his lip as he stared at the closed door. "Yeah," he said to himself, "I think you're right on that one."
This hunt was an odd one, with random violence spread out across the country. Monsters didn't fight that way. Sure, years ago a vampire named Beckett Moreau had attempted to unite the vampires into a fighting force, but he'd been unsuccessful. Dean had always wondered if the vampire would have had a smoother road to success if he hadn't kidnapped two-thirds of the Triad. He might have made more headway, but he had no doubt the end would have been the same. Of course, David Lassiter showed that some monsters lived in one unit like family, as did the werewolf families in Chicago. However, integrating non-humans into the fabric of a very human society took discipline and an adherence to human laws. As a rule, monsters didn't obey laws nor congregate. Violence could be a goal, but they liked to participate, not sit on the sidelines and watch. So the question became, what was happening and who was orchestrating the drama?
And what was in the damn box?
His mind went back to the shadowy figure preparing to climb into the black car. While the photo didn't yield much about the man, Dean's gut told him this was a very dangerous and powerful person, and he had no doubt whatsoever that David Lassiter had felt the same.
.
Twenty minutes and a long hot shower later, Dean was sitting at the kitchen table eating eggs, biscuits and a cup of fruit.
"JT's pictures are amazing," Juliet enthused. "You need to check them out before he goes back to his place. And I think we need to plan a visit to this village."
Dean looked up, his coffee poised half way to his lips. "What? Go to Arizona?"
"You've been there before, haven't you?"
Dean frowned, casting his mind back through the years. "Maybe, years ago." Suddenly he remembered a strange hunt from years before. The mysterious hum and his encounter with the bear on a dirt trail. He'd been injured, and had crawled into a cave for shelter. Caleb and Sam had found him and taken him to a hospital. Sam had been at Stanford then, and had refused to answer calls from Dean. That day on the mountain had been the first time he'd seen Sam in months. No, he really didn't want to go back to Arizona.
"Then we have to go. There's this waterfall that is idyllic." Juliet got up and refilled Dean's coffee before starting to put the food away. "There's virtually no communication with the outside world." Leaning over, she whispered in Dean's ear, "I want two whole days there with you and no one else." When Dean looked around, she bobbed her brows at him suggestively, then put the fruit into the refrigerator.
Maybe Arizona wouldn't be so bad this time around. Grinning, Dean said, "I'd even fly on Caleb's plane for that."
"Then mark your calendar, Mister," Juliet stated. "After you clean up the current evil, we're going."
"Going where?" James asked, coming into the kitchen. Grinning at his mother, he said, "Those pictures were amazing."
"They were," Juliet agreed. "I can't wait to see the feature in print."
"Uncle Sam said there's more information on the hunt," James stated.
"James Murphy Winchester," Juliet stated, "You know we don't talk about work at the table."
"Sorry, Mom," James said, not sounding sorry at all. "I'll check in with Ben, see if he needs help getting the camper packed up."
"When is he planning on leaving?" Dean asked, forking the last of his eggs in his mouth.
"Around noon, I think."
Nodding, Dean rose, washed his plate off in the sink and placed it in the dishwasher. "Where is he?"
"Outside with Uncle Joshua," James said, pointing to the back yard.
Dean leaned over and gave Juliet a kiss. "Did Sam tell you Ethan and Elijah were coming in today?"
Juliet nodded. "I'm heading into town for supplies with Carolyn and Onida."
"How about just Carolyn," Dean suggested. "Ben needs to talk with Onida about how she helped Caleb and Sam yesterday."
"Onida's going to be disappointed," Juliet informed him. "I'm going to get changed."
Dean frowned. "Why? You look great."
"Ah," Juliet smiled, and leaned over to kiss Dean again.
"Come on," James whined, looking the other direction.
Dean smirked. "I love traumatizing the kids."
"Me too," Juliet said, grinning wickedly. "Write down anything you want and I'll get it while I'm out," she called as she headed for the stairs.
James went to help Dean finish loading the dishwasher. "You know when Uncle Caleb will get here?"
"No. I'm not sure when Ethan and Elijah's plane landed."
James nodded. They worked in silence for several minutes before he said, "Monsters don't start country-wide violence."
"No," Dean agreed, washing out a cup and placing it on the top rack. He poured in the dishwashing liquid and closed and set the machine. Standing, he leaned back against the counter. "Other than demons, monsters don't usually have a vision for worldwide domination."
James stopped clearing the counter. "You think this person is going for worldwide domination?"
"It was just an expression," Dean said with a smile. "But I suppose if he were, here would be the place to start. The United States is one of the biggest powers in the world, and there's freedom to move around."
"But why would someone want to do a spell over a whole country?" James asked thoughtfully. "Power? That's a rather archaic premise in the modern world. Wouldn't the goal be money, wealth? You can do anything with enough money."
"That's pretty powerful," Dean commented, casting his son a sidelong look.
James rolled his eyes. "All right. Money is power."
"Wanting power is eternal," Dean stated, but he frowned. James saying the modern world reinforced his hunch that maybe the shadowy man in the picture was old or from an old world country.
"If the violence is a result of a spell, then we're looking at a powerful Sorcerer or coven. If we rule out magic, then we're looking at a drug administered through the air or the water, mass hypnosis or subliminal influence."
Dean's brows rose in surprise; he hadn't even thought of subliminal influence. He would forever be amazed at his gifted and intelligent children.
James saw the smile and misinterpreted it. "You already thought of that, didn't you?"
"No," Dean readily admitted. "I hadn't, actually. I was stuck on the violence and the nature of it, where it was happening. Yeah, I'd ruled out most monsters, but I hadn't gone further than that yet. And I hadn't thought of subliminal mind control at all."
James relaxed. "Subliminal messaging is much easier than you'd imagine, with digital advertising. People work on computers all the time, tablets and cell phones are common place. You've got LED and digital advertising everywhere. In fact, there's been research on influencing people through acoustical mind control. We're surrounded by mediums that can send subliminal messages."
Dean frowned. "Acoustical mind control? I've heard of that in science fiction movies, but that's really possible?"
"IRL, Dad." James smirked.
"IRL?"
"In real life," said James stated, rising to refill his coffee cup.
Dean rolled his eyes behind his son's back.
"Do you think there are any covens that are trying to make a name for themselves by creating havoc?" James asked.
"I haven't heard anything, but power is addictive." Dean knew covens wanted power, and Joshua's coven wasn't exempt from that pursuit. "Sounds like something Joshua and maybe Adam would need to check out."
They heard the sound of tires on the driveway
James rose and hurried to the front door, flinging it open just as Onida was about to knock.
Jerking back in surprise, Onida exclaimed, "Oh! Hi. Did you sense me or something?"
James stepped aside, holding open the door. "No," he said, smiling. "We heard the car drive up."
"That makes more sense," Onida stated. "Clairvoyant doesn't mean psychic."
"Actually…" James started.
"Not in that way," Onida clarified.
James laughed, and retreated to the kitchen.
Dean walked up. "Morning."
Onida smiled. "Good morning. Max and Ryker went with Caleb to pick up Ethan and Elijah. They're on their way."
"Good. Do you have some time to tell Ben about what happened with Caleb, Sam, and especially David Lassiter yesterday?"
Onida's face fell slightly. "We were going shopping."
Dean felt horrible. Going to the grocery store could hardly be called shopping, but to Onida, going to the store with friends was something she cherished.
"Okay," Onida said quickly. She'd felt Dean aura darken, and knew he felt bad about asking her to stay. "Juliet and I can go real shopping tomorrow. Plus, Carolyn said she would take us to a spa she knows so we can get facials." Her voice had risen in excitement at the thought of a spa. "I've never had a real facial."
"Thank you," Dean said, "and I appreciate it."
Onida nodded. "Where's Ben?"
"Outside. I'll get him."
Five minutes later Dean, Ben and Onida were sitting across from one another in the living room.
"I'm not sure what to tell you," Onida said. "I healed them."
Ben smiled. "Just tell me what you did as concisely as you can."
"There's no pressure," Dean said softly. "Describe what happened and Ben will do the rest."
Ben stared at his father. He wasn't even sure he'd be able to interpret what Onida did as something medical, and it sure wouldn't be a diagnosis.
Knowing exactly what Ben was thinking, Dean gave him a smile and said, "And you do your best to figure out what she says."
Ben huffed out a soft chuckle, shaking his head.
"But I do energy," Onida reminded them, "not biology."
"You do biology," Ben said reassuringly "You just call it something else."
"Yeah, okay," Onida said uncertainly. Sighing, she thought back to when Caleb had fallen to the ground. It had been a scary experience.
"What happened when you touched Caleb? Dad said you reacted like you'd been burned."
"It was … like touching a livewire." Onida frowned, trying to find the words. "I didn't know what was going on at first, but it was like his body was in flux."
"Flux?"
Onida nodded slowly, her eyes still closed. "Like it was shifting around. I stabilized myself and touched him again, focusing on his brain. He couldn't speak or talk, and his mind was in chaos, fluctuating and vibrating for some reason. So I pushed energy into healing the fluctuation and it stabilized. His blood pressure was erratic, so I focused on calming and lowering the pressure. Sam was the same, only not as dramatic."
Ben nodded, taking notes. Onida healed with energy and had been taught to control magnetics and the brain contained magnetic particles. The brain was a complicated machine. Onida healed it using instinct and energy. He needed to put science to her metaphysics.
"What happened with David Lassiter?"
"That was weird. As a shapeshifter, his cells are different; malleable like jelly. I suppose that's necessary, as they take on a different shape to mimic different people." She frowned. "Is that right? They're being someone else?"
Ben chuckled. "Pretty much."
"When Brian showed me how a shapeshifter changed, he didn't become someone else; he just became a younger version of himself," Onida mused.
"When a shapeshifter becomes someone else, they need to connect to that person psychically," Dean explained. "They feed off their thoughts and read their memories to become the best version of that other person. When they're finished, sometimes they kill them."
"But not always."
"No," Dean stated. "Sometimes they just move on. Years ago a friend of Sam's called on him for help. Her brother had been arrested for murder because a shapeshifter used his body to kill someone. Unfortunately, the victim often becomes the scapegoat for the shapeshifter, as they're left to pick up the pieces or take the blame for what the shapeshifter has done."
"Are the two shapeshifters I met like that?" Onida asked.
"No. David Lassiter is the leader of the shapeshifters in Chicago, and he keeps a pretty tight rein on his people."
Onida nodded slowly. "Anyway, David's cells were fluctuating all over the place, like they weren't capable of holding their form. But I realized there was a frequency at which the cells would stabilize. I focused on pouring energy into that frequency and keeping a hard line on that tone, and his cells slowly stabilized."
"A frequency?" Dean asked, frowning.
"The human body has a fundamental resonant frequency of between five and ten hertz, depending on which research you believe," Ben stated.
Onida nodded. "It seems like the shapeshifters resonate around twenty-five hertz."
"Interesting," Ben said, continuing to write.
Onida leaned forward, watching the young man. "What are you doing?"
"Trying to put what you're saying into medical terms," Ben said with a smile. "Maybe we can figure out what happened to Uncle Sam and Uncle Caleb, medically speaking."
"Why? I thought Caleb and Sam were affected because they were psychic."
"Other psychics may be affected, or other species, like the shapeshifters," Ben said. "If I can figure out how you helped them, then the medical arm of the Brotherhood can help anyone else who goes through the same thing."
"Oh," Onida said, interest threading her voice. "What do you think?"
"Well, this is very preliminary, and I'll need more time to focus on body magnetics and resonance, but it looks as though both Caleb and Sam's parietal and occipital lobes were unstable. The parietal lobe receives and processes sensory information, and the occipital lobe processes visual data and routes it to other parts of the brain for identification and storage. It also seems as though their thalamus was damaged somehow. The thalamus acts as a two-way relay station, sorting, processing, and directing signals from the spinal cord and mid-brain structures up to the cerebrum. It's almost like all the relay pathways of their brains suffered a short of some kind."
Dean was leaning forward, frowning. "What could cause that?"
"Typically a brain fever, or trauma from an accident or blow to the head," Ben said. "Sometimes meningitis causes disruptions in the brain. Some illness cause lesions on the brain, which can disrupt brain function" He shook his head. "But we know none of that occurred here. I'll need some help checking the supernatural records to see if something mystical could cause brain disruptions like we saw in all three men."
"Alison can put someone on that," Dean offered.
"I think I'll check with the network first," Ben stated. "Their medical experience could help, or at the very least cut down on research pathways."
Onida rose and said, "Have Juliet and Carolyn gone to the store yet?"
"They left fifteen minutes ago," Dean said regretfully.
"Then I'm going outside to play with Nicholas, Mac and Lisa Anne," Onida declared, moving toward the kitchen. Abruptly she stopped in the hallway and looked back, as though something had just occurred to her. "Or maybe I should help Maya pack." Giving the two men a guilty smile, she walked through the kitchen and out the back door, obviously choosing playtime over packing.
Dean laughed. "She really loves having Nicholas, Mac and Lisa Anne around. You sure you can't stay longer?"
Ben rose. "I've got rounds in the morning. And if I want to get all this," he waved his notepad in the air, "down into a cohesive report and out to the community, I'll need to get going."
Dean sighed, wishing they could stay longer.
"We'll be back in a couple weeks," Ben stated. "I can't keep Mac from Nicholas much longer or he starts demanding I get him a video phone of his own so he can talk to Nicholas as often as possible."
Dean followed his son through the kitchen saying, "I told you about relocating closer to home."
Ben grinned. He'd definitely been giving the suggestion a lot of thought.
.
It just after twelve-thirty when Ben and Maya, Mac and Lisa Anne left the farm for home. Everyone gathered in the front yard to see the family off, with JT and James jogging alongside the camper, shouting that Ben should reconsider staying for lunch. Juliet and Dean stood at the base of the porch stairs, waving as the vehicle headed down the drive. Nicholas leaned into Joshua's legs, saddened at seeing Mac leave. He'd stood watching the camper drive off, little Mac at the back window waving to his best friend.
Joshua rubbed at Nicholas's back. "You'll see him again soon."
Juliet decided a distraction was needed, and went inside to call Adam and Margaret. Soon she was back outside saying, "You boys will have to fend for yourselves during lunch today. Carolyn, Onida and I are taking Nicholas, Maisie and Lucas to lunch and then the park."
Joshua frowned. "Margaret?"
"I asked her to come, but she'd like to have some alone time with Adam," Juliet said with a smile.
Carolyn went over to Nicholas and held out her hand. "Come on, baby. Let's go get Maisie and Lucas and have some lunch. Then we can go to the park!"
Nicholas looked back at the house, where Ted and Maxie were resettled inside their cage in the corner of the kitchen.
JT came over and knelt beside the small boy. "Why don't you go have lunch, and when you're done, I'll bring Maxie and Ted over to the park, deal?"
"Food?" Nicholas asked.
"I'll make sure they get some lunch."
Nicholas looked relieved and smiled.
"Come on, then," Carolyn said, holding out her hand.
"We'll be back later," Juliet said, leaning in to give Dean a kiss, "or when you sound the All Clear."
With Juliet and the others gone, it fell to Dean to organize lunch. He put JT and James to work cutting up fruit while he and Joshua put together sandwiches and Sam made a pitcher of Pastor Jim's sweet tea. They were laying plates and napkins on the table when they heard the cars in the driveway. It wasn't very long before Ethan, Elijah, Caleb, Max and Ryker had joined the others at the table.
Without the ladies around to add civility, lunch was noisy and boisterous as everyone laughed, joked and enjoyed the camaraderie. Eventually when the sandwich plate was empty and the chip bowls considerably lower, the younger generation got up and went outside to talk and finish their iced tea or water, leaving the others loitering around the table.
"It's been great, being around Pastor Jim's table again," Ethan said, his gaze taking in the old cupboards and the pantry door. Very little had changed since he, Elijah and Gideon had come here in their youth; same cupboards, same old fridge, same hutch against the wall. "We used to sneak slices of Pastor Jim's apple pie from the pantry. Being here is a walk down memory lane."
"Those were great times" Elijah agreed, also eyeing the familiar kitchen. As Jim Murphy's second proposed Triad, he, Ethan and Gideon Lane, Guardian of their trio, had come here to work with the Jim Murphy when they were young. Gideon had given his life to save Dean on a hunt in which the leadership of the Brotherhood had been in the balance. Since Dean, Sam and Caleb became the Triad, he and Ethan had been to the farm many times. Through those visits, the pain of losing Gideon had eased, with fond memories taking the place of sorrow. Lifting his eyes, he met Ethan's gaze across the table, and smiled. Gideon was a part of this house and its past just as they were.
Dean rose. "How about we move this into the Tomb, pool our information and see where we go from here." Turning, put grabbed the box of cling wrap and put it over the fruit.
Sam and Caleb both got up and started clearing the table.
Ethan and Elijah refilled their coffee mugs and headed for the Tomb while Joshua opened the back door and called for the younger generation.
When Ethan stepped into the Tomb, he went to straighten his paperwork while Elijah checked out the whiteboards. When they'd dropped off their notes earlier, there hadn't been time to review the work Sam and the others had already done. Now he wanted a good look.
After organizing his report, Ethan set his notes aside and began examining Sam's. After a minute he said, "These reports are similar to Houston."
"Yeah?" Elijah stepped away from the whiteboard to look over Ethan's shoulder. "Wow, those statistics are high. Where is this?"
"Anaheim," Ethan said. "It was the same in Houston."
Giving his brother a sidelong look, Elijah said, "I know you don't want to hear it, but I am sorry I didn't notice what was going on sooner."
Ethan smiled. "It snuck up on me too, little brother."
"Still, I could have helped."
"We all could have helped if we'd been paying more attention," Caleb stated, entering the Tomb carrying a plate of pastries. "But we're used to creature mayhem, not human mayhem. And violence in six cities when there are over twenty thousand cities and towns in the country redefines needle in a hay stack." Putting the plate down in the center of the table along with some napkins, he continued, "We're all agreeing to move on from guilt. Now, you'd better claim a seat before the boys come in." He hadn't even finished his sentence before Ryker, JT, Max and James filed into the Tomb and grabbed chairs around the table. "Too late."
There was general chatter and chair scraping until Sam entered carrying a large carafe of coffee followed by Dean.
"Sam?" Dean said.
Sam looked around the room and went for the jugular. "Here's what we've got so far…"
When Sam had finished, he sat down and looked over at Ethan and Elijah.
Ethan cleared his throat and said, "This is what I've got from the police reports," and he passed out some folders. "The majority of the written reports highlight the aggression of those involved in the brawls. Several combatants were just regular folk, ones not usually involved in these kinds of skirmishes. The back two pages are the written coverage of the end of the violence: all officers' remark on the fights stopping abruptly, with the combatants looking stunned or confused."
"Ben said that confusion or memory loss were symptoms of an aggression rush," James stated.
"Interesting," Ethan said thoughtfully. After a moment, he pulled up another folder and said, "This…" he handed out more sheets, "is a report of the preliminary blood results from the crowd at Viceroy's Cabaret. Nothing unusual in the blood: no toxins, poisons, antigens, hallucinogens or drug residue."
"When was the blood drawn?" Ryker asked.
"Within an hour of the fight ending," Ethan stated. "There was onsite triage, then all those involved in the brawl were taken to the Convention Center for observation. For most, blood was drawn within forty-five minutes of the fight. Due to the extreme nature of the disturbances, clinical analysis of the samples was expedited."
"That was a break," Sam commented.
"Did you have a warrant to draw the blood?" Caleb asked.
"No," Ethan said. "But while the Supreme Court ruled that law enforcement cannot take blood without a warrant, blood can be drawn in cases where people are unconscious and need treatment, are being treated for extreme injuries, or in the case of a possible pandemic."
"And this would have qualified," Elijah interjected.
Ethan nodded. "In addition, I was able to get a court order for my department tech to go over the digital surveillance footage from the Club. Since Viceroy's Cabaret has a fairly crappy recording system, she's working to clean up the footage in order to get decent images of those in the club."
"Can she see anything at this point?" Sam asked.
Ethan shook his head. "The chip is just too degraded to see much of anything. It almost wasn't worth the electricity to run the surveillance system. But Jacks is extremely skilled. I hope she'll be able to clean up enough of the footage for us to see who started the fight, or who might have instigated it."
Dean nodded.
JT's cell went off and he pulled it from his pocket. "I've got to take the puppies to the park," he said, rising.
"I'll help," Max said, and he followed JT from the Tomb.
"On the social media front," Elijah said, getting back on track, "I saw the red corvette license number 2BCF129 from the Anaheim photos in Houston nine times. Robert Kirkland seems to get around. As for the black car, I only saw that one once."
Sam groaned inwardly. He was hoping for more sightings of the dark sports vehicle.
"Have we heard anything from Alison?" James asked.
"So far they've covered Rockland, Ashland and Kennebunkport social media," Sam said. "Not much going on there. They're working on Baltimore now."
"And Jody?" asked Caleb.
"I got an email from her this morning," Sam said. "She, Mark and Donna went through the police reports and the social media photos and videos, and there was nothing conclusive. She said when she and Mark get back to South Dakota, they're going to look through social media again, but as of right now, we've got nothing from Stillwater."
Caleb nodded, disappointed.
"According to my contact in Anaheim, law enforcement records showcase the red corvette, the black Hennessy and a beige sedan multiple times," Dean said. "One of those pictures of the black car shows someone about to get in. A recent contact identified the black car near a scene of violence. Here's what I could get from the picture of the man." He handed around copies of the picture and what he could discern from the photo. "I know it's not accurate, but it's…"
"Dad, this is terrific," James exclaimed, his eyes on the photo and the description. "You should have been a cop."
"Don't insult me, Son," Dean chided.
"Hey!" Ethan interjected, his eyes on the copy of Dean's research.
Dean smiled at Ethan's mock offense. After a childhood spent being terrified of Child Protective Services and a youth and young adulthood tangling with law enforcement, he had no love for the police. Ethan Matthews and his own connections in California had made him much less wary of the services they offered.
"Excellent," Ethan murmured. "Good description. I don't think my team could have done any better."
Elijah looked around and room. "Just to make it official; we're definitely dealing with this like a full-fledged hunt." It was a statement, not a question.
"We are," Dean stated. "I think there's enough strangeness to warrant a deeper look."
"We've got some good leads with the cars and the anonymous man," Caleb stated. "Our first in-person citing was in Mount Vernon, Illinois by David Lassiter."
"The Shapeshifter?" Ethan asked. "He's your recent contact."
Caleb nodded. "He and a friend of his were coming home from a conference on ancient languages. They stopped at a club and Lassiter noticed him. He drove away in a black car, and left something behind," he finished, giving Sam a look.
Sam rose and went to the table with the printer. Opening a drawer, he pulled out the box David Lassiter and Brian Mayfare had turned over. Setting it on the table, he said, "We need to figure out what this box says."
Elijah moved in closer, frowning at all the sigils and lines of script. "How many languages are represented here?"
"At least five that we know of," Sam said. "Phoenician, Ancient Chinese, Sanskrit, Cuneiform and something earlier than Sumerian."
Elijah's head jerked up. "Come again?"
"That's what Brian thought," Sam said, "and he's the ancient languages expert."
"Brian Mayfare?" Elijah asked. "Where is he? He isn't staying to finish this?"
"He took a rubbing so he could continue to work on the translation," Sam said, "but we have our own resources."
"Yeah," Elijah nodded, "we do." Squinting a little, he said, "I think this," he pointed to a small three letter word in the lower left corner, "is Aramaic."
"Really?" James said, leaning in to view the small box.
Sam picked up a stack of papers and handed them over to Elijah. "Here's what he translated in one night."
Elijah bent over the page, nodding as he examined the rubbing and the translation.
"Do you know what's inside the box?" Ethan asked.
"No," Caleb said. "David opened it, and the results were unpleasant. Onida needed to heal him." He left out the residual effect on him and Sam. They didn't know anything about that either, so there was no point at this time. "He didn't get a look at what was inside."
"Is it safe right now?" Elijah asked.
"The box is cocobolo wood," Sam said. "Whatever's inside is contained."
Dean decided to move on, or they would be talking about ancient languages and the box for the next several hours if Sam, James and Elijah had anything to say about it. "We've got outbreaks of violence in six cities. I'm leaning toward the driver of the black Hennessey being the one behind this, though we'll not rule out the red corvette and Robert Kirkland as an accomplice."
"We'd considered the violence stemmed from either a toxin introduced into the water supply," James said, "or a biological weapon of some sort."
"We already eliminated toxins," Ethan said. "There was no trace in blood samples."
"Could it be a fast dissipating toxin?" Ryker asked.
"All toxins leave a trace of some sort if you look hard enough, even if the effects have subsided," Ethan said. "Our team was very thorough in view of the magnitude of the violence."
"In addition," Caleb added, "the outbreaks all happened within the space of two or three months. The logistics of coordinating a biological attack on that scale would take a massive amount of resources, and that's tough to keep quiet."
"Something would have leaked," James agreed.
"That leaves subliminal influence…" Caleb began.
"Or magic," Ryker finished.
"We figure a spell," Joshua stated quietly. "We just don't know which kind or how to counter it."
No one had much to say to that, and there was a general, uneasy silence. Finally Caleb looked over at Ethan and Elijah. "When do you need to get back home?"
Ethan glanced at his watch and was surprised to see it was after five. "We should probably head back to Louisville now. By the time we get there, get on the jet and fly back, it'll be after nine o'clock before we land. I've got to get back to the precinct."
"Not tonight," Elijah stated, his brow furrowed.
"I've been gone since late yesterday," Ethan stated. "After all the unrest of the last couple months, I want to make an appearance before going home."
Elijah sighed his acceptance.
"All right," Caleb said, rising. "Let's get going."
JT and Max returned to the house and passed Caleb, Elijah and Ethan leaving.
After the three were on their way to Louisville, the remaining team sat around the table, looking at all the information spread out there. Dean's eyes were on the box.
"Don't even think about it," Joshua warned.
Sam's eyes shot up from his study of the box lid, then widened as he realized to whom Joshua spoke. Gaze darting to his brother, he said, "Absolutely not."
Dean sighed and with great restraint refrained from rolling his eyes. He hadn't planned on opening the box, but he was considering how to do it if it came down to that. "Eventually we'll need to know what's inside."
James and JT were watching their father with concern and fear on their faces.
"Even talking about opening the box is extremely premature," Joshua stated. "There may be clues as to what's inside once the lid is translated."
Ryker's eyes went from his mentor to Dean.
"And did you forget what happened to David, and by extension me and Caleb?" Sam demanded.
"I wasn't planning on being reckless," Dean argued. "If at some point the box needs to be opened, we could draw a protection circle around me so if anything went wrong…"
"No!" JT declared, his voice stern.
Ryker and Max's eyes shot to JT.
Staring his father down, JT said, "Uncle Joshua is right. It's premature to open the box. We translate the top and see what it says. Then we plan a way to use it." Forcing his heart to calm its rapid beating, he said, "There are a lot of other avenues to research, and opening the box is way down the list."
Dean stared at JT's white face and nodded. "I wasn't planning on opening the box right now," he said gently but firmly. "But we do need to consider how to do it safely should it need to be done."
JT's eyes stayed locked with his father's, the others waiting as the standoff between Guardian and Guardian-elect played out. James' face was pale as he watched his brother. Finally JT's shoulders relaxed and he nodded. "Agreed."
Sam got up, saying, "I'm going to get more coffee."
Joshua rose and walked from the Tomb followed by Ryker. Max got to his feet and tugged lightly on James' sleeve, silently urging him to come. The youngest Winchester didn't look as though he wanted to go, his eyes darting between his father and his brother, but finally he walked out.
Dean scooted around the table until he was next to his son. "I'm sorry we got into a discussion about something I was only contemplating. There are times when my mind runs in a million directions all at once, thinking through a situation from all angles and all it's possible contingencies." After a brief pause, he smiled and confided, "When I was younger, Dad used to come home and check my notes on some hunt he'd asked me to research. He said my scrawls were illegible and erratic."
JT smiled. "Really?" This was a story about his Winchester grandfather he hadn't heard before.
"I usually had to rewrite my notes so dad could understand them. I just don't think in a linear way like my dad or your Uncle Sam. My brain usually goes at a problem from a lot of random directions, but somehow comes out on one path. I wasn't planning on opening the box prematurely. I'm sorry I scared you."
JT shrugged slightly. "Scared is a bit extreme," he finally deflected, ignoring the fact that he was sure his face was whiter than snow. "When Uncle Joshua said…"
"You're Uncle Joshua knows I'm not going to do anything reckless," Dean said. Then amended, "Too reckless."
"When he said not to think about opening the box," JT swallowed. "I thought about what happened to Uncle Sam and Uncle Caleb."
"Yeah, well, you're Uncle Joshua sometimes jumps to conclusions." Leaning in, Dean stated sincerely, "I wouldn't do that to you or your brother."
JT nodded, sighing. "You know, this is really all Uncle Joshua's fault," he stated, giving his father a wry smile. "If he hadn't said anything, I wouldn't have jumped the gun."
"And then your Uncle Sam piled on."
JT nodded. "Yeah."
"You know, I think this whole situation was their fault."
JT laughed softly. "Yeah, we'll blame them."
Dean laughed and squeezed his son's neck. "I am so proud of you."
JT looked astonished. "Why? I freaked out."
"Because when you thought I was going to do something reckless, you stepped in and told me no. That takes courage and conviction of heart." Leaning in, Dean said earnestly, "You are going to make an outstanding Guardian."
The color came back to JT's face in a rush as he turned bright red. "Uh…"
Dean chuckled and rose. "I didn't tell your mom we were through, so she's probably on her way home, a little put out."
"You mean angry," JT corrected.
"Probably. Let's get some dinner on the table as a peace offering."
"You should text her now. We really did just finish, and she won't be as mad by the time she gets here."
"Good plan." Dean pulled his cell from his pocket as they walked from the Tomb. JT went on ahead to help with dinner while he sent off a text to Juliet.
After pocketing his cell, he thought back over his conversation with JT. It was a fact that his natural flare for problem solving was unlike his father's or Sam's. In his youth, he'd tried very hard to research hunts like his father, but his brain just didn't work that way. So he would research his way, come to a conclusion regarding a hunt, then rewrite his notes so his father could understand them. Later when he and Sam hunted together, their differing approaches to hunting had been an asset in their work. It was during those years, and with considerable encouragement from Caleb, that he began view his approach to hunting in a new light. Maybe his way of dissecting research and hunts wasn't wrong; just different.
Tonight, he'd been surprised when Joshua had called him out about opening the box. Yes, he'd been considering how to do it should the need arise, but they were nowhere near there. He wouldn't have put anyone in jeopardy like that without a damn good reason and a clear path to safety for Sam, Caleb, and James. That Joshua and then Sam went to the open-the-box place with so little provocation was an indicator that they were all feeling overwhelmed by the excessive amount of data on this hunt. Nodding his head decisively, he closed the door to the Tomb and headed for the kitchen. He was the Guardian of the Brotherhood, and it was up to him to set a concrete direction for this hunt before someone really did do something reckless.
.
TBC