Chapter the Fifteenth

In which Talents are discovered

Alexander had sat and watched shadows move across the floor. He had no idea what time it was since he couldn't look at his watch and hadn't been placed anywhere where a clock was within his eye line, but he guessed it had been at least two hours since B had first tied him up.

As he sat there, he both heard and felt footsteps from above and moments later, he heard the door open and watched as feet came down the stairs and one look at the face to whom the feet belonged told Alexander that this was A.

"Hey," B came over to A.

"How is he?" A motioned his head towards Alexander.

"Quiet, is he here?"

"He's upstairs. I'll bring him down in a few minutes," A refused the drink offered to him by B and B drank it himself. The men gathered in a corner of the galley and talked, but their voices were too low for Alexander to hear.

So, there was a C and Alexander couldn't help but wonder what his role would be in all of this. He concentrated on A and was instantly met with a flood of emotions...jealousy, rage, glee, fear and when A turned to look at him again, Alexander was hit by a wall of hate distinctly Damien Thorn shaped. He watched as a cold smile spread across A's mouth and A went back to speaking to B.

This was about getting back at Damien for something. What had his father done to piss off A to such an extent that kidnapping seemed like a rational reaction? Now whatever fear Alexander was feeling had just been ratcheted up more than a few notches. Ransom was easy, ransom kept him alive so that A and his cronies could get their money. The kind of hate that he had felt coming from A...that was irrational and violent. That was about paying back Damien Thorn in a way that would be sure to leave a lasting impression and Damien presented with the body of his dead son would do the trick.

Alexander watched A go back upstairs, no doubt to bring down the mysterious C.

Alexander didn't understand why he could sometimes feel what others felt, not including Delia, of course. Why had he been able to feel his teacher and A? Both had been involved in the plot to have Alexander kidnapped, so maybe he could it when whatever was going on was about him.

But he knew that wasn't true. He had always been able to feel what others felt, regardless of whether it had anything to do with him. Alexander was also extraordinarily good at using those feelings to manipulate people into doing what he wanted them to do...with the exception of Damien and his sister.

As B stood there drinking, Alexander reached out to him: mostly there was fear and want. The fear seemed to be mixed with worry, no doubt B was afraid that he would be caught and sent to prison, or possibly killed. There was also loyalty mixed in with the fear...A and B knew each other well. The loyalty was impossible to guess, but the fear was obvious and well placed: anyone who was stupid and/or ballsy enough to have Damien Thorn's son kidnapped was someone to fear.

A came back downstairs, and as predicted, he didn't return alone. A turned to whom Alexander assumed was C, who stood with B in the galley, and then A came over to Alexander.

He looked up at his captor, "By the time my father is finished with you, you're going to wish your father had never screwed your mother." And he braced himself because he felt it before A did it, a backhanded punch across his face. Luckily, it didn't hit Alexander's nose, but it made his ears ring.

He grabbed Alexander around the back of his neck and pulled him closer, "By the time my friend is finished with you, your father isn't going to be in a mood to do much of anything. Damien Thorn will learn a lesson about taking what doesn't belong to him. I will take something that doesn't belong to me and then I will return you to him broken and lifeless and then maybe, he'll learn not to take things that aren't his. However, if this lesson fails, he still has a daughter," he smiled at Alexander.

Alexander did not let his relief show; Delia was safe. He could feel A's frustration at having to had made a choice between Damien Thorn's daughter or son and A had gone with Alexander, leaving Delia for another time if necessary. Now, Alexander would do everything in his power to leave here, even if he died in the attempt because there wasn't any way he was going to stick around to be a part of whatever A had planned for him.

"Okay, I need to get home or my wife will wonder where I am. Phillip," and he turned around and waved over the man who was standing in the galley with B.

Phillip came over and Alexander held his breath because he could feel what the man was feeling. It was now crystal clear what the plan for him would be if the raw and violent sexual wants aimed at him were allowed to be brought to fruition.

"Phillip, this is Alexander; Alexander, this is Phillip. He is going to be your special friend for the evening."

He touched Alexander, not with his hands, but his thoughts and feelings reached out and assaulted him, making Alexander flinch with the intensity of the sexual violence that filled Phillip.

"Okay, give me half an hour and then take the boat out. Do whatever you want with him, but wait until dark to bring him back," A moved towards the galley and gave a look at B, who nodded. "And Phillip, take your time and have fun," A winked at C and then left the boat.

A half an hour, well, no doubt less time then that. From what he could feel from Phillip, he wouldn't be waiting for thirty minutes to start.

B pressed a button on his watch to start the count down to a half an hour. "I want a drink," he went to the galley and poured himself a drink and then looked up at Phillip, "want something?"

"I'll get it. I'm in the mood for vodka. Alexander, do you want something?"

He shook his head.

"This is a date, Alexander, everyone drinks on a date," Phillip smiled at him.

Both he and Delia had gone behind Damien's back and tried what their father drank and very little in their dad's liquor cabinet had jumped out at him as something that he wanted to drink again. He would have preferred not having anything, but given the circumstances, he didn't think that was an option. Alexander was acquainted with vodka and decided to go with that. He looked up at Phillip, "I'll have vodka, too."

The man winked at him, "Good choice," and Phillip left to get their drinks.

Alexander watched him pour something that looked like water into two plastic cups and then brought them over and held one of them up to his mouth for him to have a drink. Alexander knew that it wasn't water, so it was no surprise as the burning liquid hit the back of his throat and Phillip kept the cup titled until Alexander had drank everything.

"Want more? "

"Yes," as before, Alexander didn't really feel like he had a choice to refuse, so he watched as Phillip finished his own drink and then he went into the galley to pour more vodka for the both of them.

He needed to do something, or he would be too drunk to do anything but pass out. Usually, Alexander used feelings to get people to do things he wanted them to do: he simply felt at them. Most times, he could make someone happy enough and put someone in a good enough mood that they would bend over backwards to be helpful, but Alexander realized that that wasn't going to cut it in this situation. B wasn't a happy camper right now and there was too much going on that could distract him. Alexander had an idea. It was nothing for him to go inside Delia's head and talk to her. He would never get his sister to do anything against her will, but if he could go inside B's head, then maybe he could control B and get him to do something that would get him out of here. So, Alexander thought about being inside B's mind and the next thing he knew, he could feel the familiar pressure as he attempted to share space with someone else's consciousness.

It was different than communing with Delia. Being with his sister was fun and effortless and he had once described to her like the two different colors of a candy cane wrapped around each other to make one object. While joining with B was jarring and felt foreign, there was also something else: it felt right. Alexander was in control and it made him feel in-tune with himself, like he was doing something that he had been born to do. He couldn't read B's mind, the way he could with Delia, but that didn't matter.

He was relieved to find that like with Delia, he could be inside of someone's mind and be aware of his surroundings, so he knew that Phillip was on his way back with more vodka, so whatever it was that he was going to try had better be quick. B took a sip of his drink and Alexander thought to him,

dump your drink down the sink.

And as if it had been his intention all along, B turned and poured his drink down the small sink.

Alexander had to stop himself from smiling: that was too easy, but just to be sure, he would try something else. He watched B reach for the bottle of brown liquid, more likely than not it was whiskey, but Alexander quickly took control of his mind again and made him reach for the vodka instead and B poured himself a drink of the clear liquid as Phillip made his way back to him, their cups replenished.

"Here we go," and Phillip held up the cup to Alexander's mouth, "How old are you?"

And he swallowed what Phillip had made him drink, but Alexander couldn't answer Phillip's question because he was distracted as several things seemed to be happening to him at once.

If he had been determined to get away before he had known the things that Phillip wanted to do to him, his efforts would now be trebled to get the hell out of Dodge before Phillip laid one finger on him.

Delia. She had always tried to make him to understand that she, he and Damien were different, even before she had words to express the idea. Then three years ago, when something had happened to her and they stopped sharing everything with each other and she had become grudgingly secretive about some things, she would become nearly apoplectic in both her inability to completely come clean and just tell him and his inability to understand what little she could articulate.

Mostly importantly, he now accepted as fact what his sister had been trying to tell him because he felt different and looking at the two men, they looked and felt different; they looked and felt like they weren't people.

"I asked you how old you are."

Alexander now returned to reality and looked at the man who wasn't really a man, "Twelve."

Phillip began talking to him, but Alexander blocked it out, this time it was on purpose. This was all still new to him, so there was no way he was going to handle both of them at once, so he needed B out of the room to figure out what to do. Alexander had thought about starting with Phillip, but any unusual behaviour from him would be noticed by B; Phillip, however, was too distracted with him to notice or question anything unusual on B's part, so Alexander looked over at the small bookcase that was beside a recliner. He went back into B's head and told him to grab a book and go into one of the berths and read until the alarm went off and like magic, B obeyed, going to the bookcase and picking up the first book he laid his eyes on.

"I'm going to read. I'll be back out when the alarm goes off. Don't do anything to him that will make him scream," and with the book tucked under his arm, and a drink in his hand, he made his way to one of the bedrooms and closed the door behind him.

Despite the severity of the situation, Alexander giggled; he felt drunk and he was pretty sure it wasn't the alcohol that was making him feel that way.

"I said, have you had sex, Alexander?" There was more than a little anger in Phillip's tone.

"Nope, never had sex."

"Has your father has ever touched you?"

"What? No," Alexander didn't bother hiding his disgust.

"What about your sister? She's very pretty. Has your father ever touched her?"

And as Alexander registered the unabashed glee in Phillip's eyes at the thought that Damien Thorn had hurt one of his own children, he decided that time was up and this had to come to an end now. He would die while trying to escape, if that's what it came to, but there was another option—he didn't have to be the one who lost his life.

Alexander had gotten into fights, he could throw a punch with the best of them; killing, however...that was something totally different. But he understood what would happen because he had felt it rolling off Phillip in thick, uncontrollable waves. Phillip would violate him and once the guilt of that overtook him, he'd kill Alexander. He then would be left somewhere where he would be found and then Damien Thorn would get the phone call that no parent ever wants to get.

The thought that his father would have to live with that feeling for the rest of his life was something that Alexander couldn't bear; but if Damien would be inconsolable, there was no word for how much of a loss it would be for his sister. He didn't want to kill, but if it was the only way out of this mess, then he would do it...he would do anything to get back to his father and most importantly, to get back to Delia.

His first thought was to have Phillip untie him, but something stopped him, a sudden feeling like having cold water thrown in his face. If he killed both Phillip and B, Alexander would be left tied up, which he didn't care for, but that's what his gut was telling him to do and it had helped him this far, so he would trust it to help him in this.

Alexander could feel anger radiating off Phillip and guessed that he had been trying to talk to him while he had been thinking through things. But the time for thinking was over and once again trusting in whatever was helping him, Alexander put himself into Phillip's mind.

Phillip's face went slack and the plastic cups that had been in his hands fell, landing silently onto the plush carpet, spilling vodka everywhere.

Alexander looked around and he spotted a potentially useful object located in the small seating area. It was a statue made from granite and was supposed to be a human figure rising out of the material, its arms reaching up towards the heavens, while its feet were undifferentiated, bound by the granite and it was stuck. Whatever its artistic merit, and Alexander felt that it had none, it would be the perfect weapon.

While it was unnerving to be inside Phillip's head, at least in comparison to B, it was also easy. Phillip's mind screamed for structure and Alexander provided it. Silently, he instructed Phillip to get the statuette and go wait by the door until the other man came out and Phillip did what he was told.

It was quiet enough for Alexander to hear the alarm from B's watch and he smiled.

B no sooner opened the door then Phillip took the statue and hit him as hard as he could over the head. Once was enough to render B a vegetable for the rest of his life, twice killed him, but Phillip didn't stop until B's head no longer resembled anything looking like a human's.

"Phillip."

The statue fell from his hand and he turned and looked toward Alexander.

Suddenly, it was as if Alexander was making a movie inside his head and Phillip was the star of the show. He was in the school yard of Briarwood Academy and he was running towards the playground, running away from Alexander. Phillip stopped at the monkey bars, because sitting on one of the rungs was a large, black raven. Two more seemed to swoop down from out of nowhere and and three more after that and then five more until soon, every rung of the monkey bars was shiny black.

Phillip ran, but the ravens rose as one mass, and the sky was black, blotting out the sun, the sky and everything. And then, like a living tornado, the ravens came spiraling down at the man.

Alexander had at first been a spectator, but now it was if he was one of the ravens—no, he was all of the ravens and he wanted the man.

Alexander the ravens pecked and scratched at the man. Alexander's multitudinous wings flapped in man's face, blinding him. The man reached up, trying to pull the ravens away, but that only seemed to create any empty space which was shortly filled with more ravens.

The man's eyes were next, but the Alexander ravens wanted more, so they set to work pecking and scratching at the man's head until hair gave way to scalp, which have way to bone, which gave way to what was inside.

Soon, the man, with frothy pink foam oozing from his mouth, lay motionless on the ground and the ravens departed and soon, it was as if they had never even been there.

Drenched in sweat, dizzy and nauseated, Alexander opened his eyes to find Phillip on the floor, dead.

Alexander became very aware of the silence and the smell of blood, other bodily fluids and things that filled his nose. He wanted his sister and father, he didn't want to be in charge anymore and he wanted out of the chair because he needed to puke. He tried to hold it back, but he couldn't and threw up and didn't stop until he had vomited up everything in his gut.

Sweat dripped in his eyes and he was suddenly very exhausted and wanted to go home. He knew she wouldn't answer, but out of desperation, he called for whom he wanted most of all,

DEEDLE!?

But instead of silence, he was meet with his sister and Alexander felt hot tears roll down his cheeks.

Nander, I'm here!

He could feel her relief and love and all he wanted to do was get to her.

I'M SCARED!

But he reigned in some of his fear once he felt her reaction. She wanted him, to be with him and comfort him and the frustration of not being able to do those things ate away at her.

Nander, I know, but Damien is with me. He's going to talk to you and then he'll know where you are and we will come get you.

And the next thing Xander could feel was the strong, reassuring presence of his father and he knew that it was only a matter of time until Damien came for him.

Xander, think to me and I'll know where you are.

And that's what he did, he told his father were he was. However, as much as he wanted his sister, he did not want her here. He didn't want her to see what he had done and he didn't want her to see him sitting, covered in his own vomit.

PLEASE COME GET ME. I WANT TO COME HOME. I WANT DEEDLE BUT PLEASE DON'T BRING HER HERE!

Hang on, Xander.

There was a long pause and then Delia was talking to him again.

Damien's coming to get you right now!

Delia, what's going on?

He sent out a surge of confusion. He knew that she would understand what he meant; however, he could feel a spike in her frustration level and again, he tamped down his feelings.

Xander, I can't say anything, but you and Damien are going to be having a talk once all this settles down...stay with me until he shows up.

They didn't speak, theirs was a relationship that didn't need words so instead, they simply let their minds be together, weaving in and out of the other's until Alexander knew his father was here.

I'm leaving you now; be with Damien, you need him. I love you more than anything and I'll see you soon!

She didn't give him a chance to reply before she was gone and no sooner did Delia leave him then Alexander, as before, felt and heard footsteps on the boat, but he was filled with relief because the sound of footsteps was followed by his father's voice.

"Alexander!?"

"I'm downstairs!"

The door was flung open and then two people came down that stairs, but the only person Alexander cared about was the one not wearing the policeman's uniform.

"I'm tied up!"

Damien went into the kitchen and pulled open drawers, sending them and their contents to the floor with thuds and clatters until he found a knife. He came back to Alexander, who was bucking in his seat wanting to be loose.

"Stop, I don't want to cut you," and Damien sawed back and forth until the ropes gave way.

Xander took a hold of the collar of his shirt and as carefully as he could, pulled it over his head. He looked up at his father, "I have to go to the bathroom." He was shivering even though it was stiflingly hot on board the boat.

"I'll be right outside, don't lock it, okay?"

While Alexander was inside the bathroom, Thomas had come down, but then was sent right back upstairs to Damien's car to get a clean shirt for Alexander.

The door to the bathroom opened and Alexander stumbled out and Damien helped him on with the clean shirt, took off his jacket and put it over his son's shoulders and then lead him past everything that was going on in the boat. Thomas would stay behind and let him know what had happened.

Damien lead Alexander onto dry land and before Alexander knew what had literally hit him, he was on his ass, having been run over by his dog, who didn't know whether he wanted to lick his master, jump on him, sit in his lap or do all three things at once.

"Hey, Milo," Alexander buried his face in the dog's neck and while he could mostly smell dog, he detected the faint scent of Delia, who must have recently been in contact with Milo. Alexander didn't want to know how he could smell his sister on the dog, it was all too much for him to process right now.

Damien let his son be for a few moments, but eventually held out his hand, "Come on, the quicker we get into the car, the quicker we get home."

Alexander reached out for his father and Damien pulled him up and they made their way to the car and got into the backseat.

Milo jumped into the car and lay across his master, wanting to let him know that he wouldn't tolerate anymore of this Alexander being gone nonsense.

Alexander's eyelids felt like they were made of lead and he could no longer keep them open and before he knew it, he was asleep.

...oOo...

At the house, Delia had been sitting on the steps of the foyer, but Damien had sent a message to her that Alexander was safely in the car and they were leaving, so now, she was pacing back and forth on the marble floor. She hadn't removed her shoes because she wouldn't be waiting until her brother was in the house before she got to him.

When she knew that Alexander was close enough, she threw open the front door and ran, her dog close at her heels.

Alexander's head jerked up; he had been woken from out of a dead sleep. He could feel Delia and knew she was coming to him. He sat up and tried to open the door, but it was locked. He began whining and pounding his fists against the glass.

Milo jumped down onto the floor of the car.

"Anna, stop the car," Damien reached down and unlocked and opened the door and Alexander fell out of the car, but picked himself up and ran to his sister.

The car hadn't yet made it off the main road onto the long semi-private road that was shared by the Thorns and two other nearby families. Delia had sprinted from the driveway onto the semi-private road just as Alexander was turning from the main road onto their private one when they spotted each other, picked up their pace and threw themselves into each other's arms. They had been crying, but now that they were with each other, the sobbing subsided and they held each other, their foreheads pressed tightly together.

The car made it to where the children were and Damien got out and held his children to him. Eventually, he bent down, "Delia, you either have to let go to get back in the car, or start walking to the house."

And clutching onto each other, Delia and Alexander walked up to the house. Damien kept his arm around Alexander and the dogs walked beside their masters.

Anna drove up to the house and informed Charles and Cecile that Alexander was fine and the others watched as Damien and his children made it to the house.

"I knew you'd be back here tonight," Cecile reached out and kissed the top of Alexander's head.

But the youngest Thorns took no notice of anything that was going on around them as they made their way up the stairs with their dogs at their heels.

"Cecile, Charles will take you home. Don't worry about coming tomorrow," Damien helped her on with her jacket.

"You call me whenever you want me here," she smiled at Damien and Cecile and Charles left. Anna closed and locked the door behind them.

Damien followed his children upstairs to Alexander's room. "Xander, do you want to take a shower?"

"I think I need to live a shower for the rest of my life, I feel disgusting," Alexander sat on the bed and Delia sat beside him, her head on her brother's shoulder. Neither had let go of the other.

Damien went into the bathroom and turned on the shower.

"You smell like a distillery," she was trying to lighten the mood, but she lacked her brother's way with humor.

"He tried to get me drunk, but..." Alexander frowned.

"What?"

He turned to his sister, "I drank a lot, like way more than when we've snuck booze out of Damien's liquor cabinet," he had lowered his voice during that last part, "but nothing. I puked, but that had more to do with...other things than being intoxicated." He stared at his sister, "Delia I should be hammered."

"Alexander, I can't tell you, so please drop it, but it has to do with what Damien will talk to you about, whenever he decides to talk to you."

Damien came out of the bathroom, "You're shower is prepared, sir."

"Thank-you, Jeeves, please make sure my brandy and cigars are ready when I'm done. Come on, Milo."

And the dog let out a bark, happy to not let his master out of his sight and followed Alexander into the bathroom and Alexander closed the door behind them.

Delia's eyes narrowed to slits and she turned to her father, "Someone tried to get Alexander drunk so that he could have an easier hurting my brother?"

"Pretty much."

"And they're dead?"

"Two of them are. The one behind it all wasn't there. Deedle, we are in the homestretch right now, and you're itching so badly to tell him everything, I can taste it. But you have to hang on until all this is done."

She took a deep breath, "I know."

They sat and waited until eventually, the shower was turned off, "Oh, Jeeves, I need my pyjamas, por favor."

Damien went to Alexander's drawer and got a pair of pyjamas for him. He put his arm in the door and Alexander took them. Once Alexander came out, he grabbed his pillows and all of them made their to Damien's bedroom.

Delia and Alexander got into bed and the dogs curled up beside their respective masters. A few minutes later, Anna came upstairs with a double decker tray that held two bowls of chicken noodle soup, two mugs of tea, a sleeve of crackers and two grilled cheese and bacon sandwiches. Delia and Alexander sat in bed and ate while Damien and Anna stood by the door.

Alexander couldn't hear what was going, but he knew the gist of the conversation, "Damien, it's okay, you don't have to come to bed now. You won't sleep, anyway. I'm safe at home."

"And I'm not letting him out of my sight, quite possibly for the rest of his life," Delia took a bite of her sandwich.

Anna and Damien exchanged a few more words, "Good night, I'll see you both in the morning," she smiled at Delia and Alexander and then turned and left.

Damien shut the door and sat on the bed, "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, D-man, I'm sure."

"Damien, he knows who took him."

"I already know who took you, but I want you to think him into my head."

But Alexander only looked at his father and then turned to his sister.

She smiled, "Really, just think him into Damien's head."

Alexander closed his eyes and pictured A and then thought that image to his father.

"So, who is he?" Delia looked at her father over the rim of the mug of her tea.

"It's not important right now. Finish eating, please, so you can both go to sleep," he sat on the bed as the two them ate everything. When they were done, he put the tray on his desk and then came back to them. "How you did what you did? That conversation might not happen for a few days, but having to kill, that we'll talk about that tomorrow, but for now, you need rest."

Delia and Alexander got under the covers. Damien shut off the lights, came back and sat on the bed beside his son and went into his mind, sending calming thoughts and feelings to him and it didn't take long until he could feel that both of his children were sound asleep.

He turned on the lamp that was on the bedside table closest to Alexander and examined his son. The left side of his face was a bluish-green bruise. He put his hand against his cheek and could feel a tiny fracture in a bone. He looked at his wrists, which were raw from where Alexander had strained to get out of the the chair. He had, of course, smelled the alcohol the minute he had stood beside his son.

Damien was still in control of himself, he needed to be until all of this was over, but fury had begun to unravel itself in him and while he knew that Alexander's injuries would be gone by tomorrow, that thought did nothing to abate the anger that patiently waited to be set free.

He shut off the lamp, grabbed the tray and at the door, he turned back and watched his children sleep. Normally, Alexander slept under the covers, a lump in the middle of the bed, but not tonight: Delia and Alexander lay facing each other, their heads touching. Damien closed the door and went downstairs.