A Loner Mentalist Pt. 08

He took her by the hand and guided her out to their balcony. She grew visibly more relaxed and calm with each step. A table for two was set up there and he pulled out her chair for her. They slowly enjoyed their meal and laughed over their game of golf and all the things she saw at the mall. The sunset painted the sky in many hues of red.

He leaned in and whispered into her ear, "You look gorgeous."

She looked away in embarrassment and then looked him in the eye, a naughty grin curling her lips. He paid her body one polite compliment after the other and watched with satisfaction as her arousal slowly grew. They spent the night making love, slowly and tenderly. They woke up with his erection poking her thigh in the morning. She rode him until they came together and fell back asleep.

A little after noon, they packed up and checked out of the hotel. He drove them to a small airfield, where he chartered a plane to take them out to Newfoundland. They landed in Botwood and rented a van to take them to Grand Falls. After checking into a small motel, Jack wasted no time in eating a few of his cookies. Mia took two of the dogs to a nearby park to play.

Jack did his meditations and found himself in the theater. He soon learned that there was exactly one English-speaking mentalist in the whole of Newfoundland. Jack rolled his eyes and learned the man's secret. His high hadn't been spent by then, so he sat there with the dog at his side and looked at the man on the stage. He dismissed him after a while and turned to the dog. "How does this necklace thing work, exactly?"

"The electromagnetic field the necklace makes once exposed to human bioelectricity loops your mentalist power into engaging your own mind again. Just as you do with your own cloak."

"Why can't I make holes in it?"

"It's too strong a draw. The voltage, if you want to think of it that way, is too big for you to overcome with willpower alone."

Jack cocked his head and considered. "How does it protect a non-mentalist when it's on their neck?"

"When your power tries to come into contact with another's mind, the necklace they wear loops it safely around them and they may as well not exist."

"Huh," Jack said. "Can I read their memories?"

"If they were made while they didn't wear the necklace, yes. The aether doesn't pick up anything from a person wearing the necklace."

"Wait a minute! That Eric guy claimed that the aether is projected from people. If everyone was to suddenly put on a necklace, would the aether weaken? Collapse and vanish altogether?"

The cartoon dog though about it for a moment. His long snout wrinkled and relaxed a few times before he finally said, "Yes. You felt it completely sever you from the aether when you put it on. If all of humanity were to wear such necklaces, the aether would quickly atrophy. Mentalists would become powerless."

Jack grunted. "That's a thought."

Stuck in the theater for the time being, Jack decided to see which members of society were readable and which weren't. The nearby military base turned out to only contain one civilian contractor whose mind could be read. The local police was available for reading, but Jack noted that the RCMP wasn't. "Huh," he said. His high ran out before he could look any further. He felt strange, posting just one warning letter.

The next day, they flew back to Moncton and collected their RV.

"Where to now, babe?" Mia asked.

"West," he said. "I don't think there's more than one or two mentalists hidden in all the vast Canadian north." He shook his head. "I'm not going to spend weeks tracking them down in all that space. We're going to do a tour of south Canada and then we'll go back to the States. I'll look in on Vancouver and the Canadian southwest on my way to Alaska."

"Whatever you say, babe."

They drove as far as Baie Comeau that day and Jack decided it was as good a spot as any to look for mentalists. He found the memories of only two mentalists, both of whom died decades ago, with no trace of insanity. There were no active mentalists in the area that he could feel. He didn't find that surprising. No one in the town seemed to have ever even heard of the English language, so there were probably Francophone mentalists around.

They drove all the way south to Peterborough the next day. Jack covered the rest of New York state from there, as well as the most populous parts of southern Ontario. He found twelve Canadians and two Americans to warn. There were also the memories of twelve dead mentalists, whose information he added to his files. Mia and he ate dinner on the green, next to the lift locks. Jack watched them in awe. Mia yawned. Several times.

After a brief stop in Timmins, where Jack found four more mentalists to warn, as well as one recently deceased, they crossed the border into Michigan and drove to Standish. He was going to see a few mentalists he had already seen, but he had another reason why he wanted to go to that particular town.

"Your pen pals are prisoners?" Mia asked him, her voice incredulous.

"Yes," Jack said. "They're dog trainers."

"What did they go to jail for? Did they train their dogs to, like, kill people, or something?"

"No. They went to jail for...whatever and they learned how to train assistance dogs while in there. Being in prison means that they spend all their time with the dogs and that's the most important thing about training assistance dogs. Being with them all the time. Reinforcing their training hour after hour."

"I...I don't feel safe going into a prison."

"You don't have to. You can just stay out here and wait."

"No! No, I'm coming in with you. I want to meet your pen pals, it's just...I don't think it's safe."

"What do you think will happen in there without my express permission?" Jack asked in bemusement. "Anyone tries anything and I'll make them twirl around like a ballerina and sing show tunes. By the way, you are not to have sex with me until after we are clear of the prison."

Despite all his assurances, Mia clung to him while they were entering the prison. Much to her relief, they didn't walk through a yard full of prisoners, or a long hallway with cells on either side. Instead, they went through security and were escorted through a short hallway and into the prison mess.

The door at the far end opened and in came five men wearing orange jumpsuits, leading five dogs on leashes. Each dog was wearing a vest. Mia gasped and took a step back at the sight of the men. Four of them were big bastards with visible tattoos, while the fifth was a short, scrawny black guy, whose intense eyes managed to make him look even scarier than the big ones. The five of them lined up and Mia stared in shock as the big, bald white guy with swastikas on his neck stood calmly between the two black guys on one side and two Latinos on his other side. All five regarded them with a mixture of wary hostility and open lust. She was glad for Jack's order. A gangbang would be the last thing she wanted surrounded by actual gangbangers.

"Hi," Jack said. "I'm Jack Watts." He gestured at Mia. "This is my girlfriend, Mia Newman." He held out his hand and walked to the first prisoner in line. "You must be Carlos."

The big, burly Latino prisoner smiled warmly and shook Jack's hand. "Hello, Jack, it's a pleasure to meet you!"

Jack looked at the big dog sitting by the man. "And this would be El Toro, right?" Carlos nodded and Jack pulled a squeaky toy out of his pocket. He held it up in front of El Toro's face. "Here, boy! Here, boy!" He tossed it aside. "Go fetch!" El Toro barely followed the toy's trajectory and remained rooted in place. "Well done," Jack said to Carlos, making the tattooed man beam with pride.

As soon as the attention was on the first dog, the five scary men started ignoring Mia. Their faces changed from intimidating to open and warm. They spoke freely with Jack. They asked him for help with their dogs and she knew Jack was using his power on the pooches when he looked them in the eyes. Jack told each man what was holding up their dogs and advised them on how to get them over their barriers. The men listened patiently and nodded. When Jack demonstrated a few exercises, their faces started to show awe.

Jack started to give a short lecture on dog training and the men listened raptly, completely ignoring Mia. It was a strange situation for her to be in, ignored by tough-looking men, but she felt a strange feeling slowly swell up inside of her. Looking at Jack commanding the prisoners' attention, she felt proud of him. She shook her head and decided to try and pay attention to what he was saying to them. She wanted to sound knowledgeable when she praised him afterwards.Well, I should sound like I was listening to him talk, at least.

Jack claimed that the direction the hair on the dog's scruff swirled in was an indication of their potential as a service animal. Mia nearly gasped aloud, thinking he was pulling a fast one on his pen pals, but they took his words at face value, without a hint of doubt on their faces.

A warm tingle spread through Mia at the sight of these dangerous men treating her boyfriend with such obvious deference.

The visit lasted for the better part of an hour, before the guards declared it over. Mia had been completely ignored in favor of dog talk, but she didn't mind it one bit. The prisoners followed the guards out the mess hall, calling out questions and thanks to Jack. He kept assuring them that he'd answer all of their emails.

"It was an honor to meet you in person, Mister Watts," Carlos said before the guard shoved him out and closed the door behind him.

Jack sighed and glanced at Mia, like he had forgotten she was even there. "Had fun?"

Mia smiled at him. "I learned a lot." She gave him a kiss and they left the prison.

Later that day, Jack ate the last of his pot cookies and saw nine American mentalists living in range, as well as several Canadians, two of whom he had already seen. One of the Americans was bad, so he noted the first time that woman used her powers. He took three trips out of the theater to write down the intimate memories of the rest of them. His high hadn't run out by the time he was finished, so he looked at the memories of his pen pals.

He didn't know if he was more relieved, or saddened, by the fact that they were all justly convicted. Three of them even had more serious felonies that could be pinned on them. He was a little surprised to see that he couldn't read the memories of any of the guards after they got their jobs at the prison.Corrections officers, too? Wow. Everywhere I look, people are wearing anti-mentalism dog tags.

While he went to mail the warning letters and call the evil woman to take away her power, Mia got started on the cookie mix. They baked enough of them to last him the rest of his tour, making sure to put plenty of leaf in each cookie. Mia didn't mind sleeping in the RV that night. Their next destination was right up her alley. Chicago.

From the Windy City, Jack found thirty-two mentalists, thirteen of whom were organized into a crime ring in the city itself. They felt superior to all the other humans and they used their powers to take other people's money and things, as well as evade capture by the police. Originally, there had been seven of them, but they had a run-in with the FBI, whose agents had been immune to their powers. Three of their number were captured and vanished, while the rest regrouped and recruited new members.

The recruitment was not amiable. They changed the minds of mentalists they could find and turned them into abusers, too. They recreated their group but they didn't bother with the small stuff and daily risks anymore. This time around, they went big and discreet. They focused on taking pretty, young girls and changing their minds to become perfect sex slaves. The girls were then sold to every rich man that came along. They also took grown men and changed them to become perfect lovers for rich ladies. Many of their rich customers were also immune to mentalism, Jack learned.

Jesus fucking Christ, is everyone and their mother-in-law in on the whole mentalism thing?

He prolonged his stay in Chicago to three days, during which he called the evil mentalists and altered their minds. The good ones, he changed back and convinced to undo the damage the group had done. He changed the bad ones, too and sent them to find and retrieve all the sex slaves they had sold. They were to undo the changes they had made to those girls' minds and give them enough money to allow them to restart their lives. They were also to bring down all the rich bastards and cunts that had bought slaves and custom-made lovers.

While he hunted, Mia was sightseeing and having fun, followed by her service dog, Porthos. One day, a pair of Asian tourists accosted her on the street and jumped up and down, excitedly chattering away in their own language. Usually, she'd feel afraid in such a situation, but she had Porthos with her. Also, this girl and boy were both smaller than her and wore thick, coke bottle glasses, which made them seem non-threatening. She had no clue who they were, or what they wanted with her, until they pulled out a Katy Perry CD and held it out, along with a pen. She laughed and autographed their CD for them, signing Katy Perry's name. They hugged her and took selfies with her, before growing serious and bowing repeatedly in gratitude. As she walked away from them, they waved goodbye to her until she could no longer see them.

When Jack and Mia departed Chicago, she looked longingly at the city in the rear-view mirror.

After Chicago, Jack cut a line towards the Atlantic, moving south and west of the area he had already checked out from his home town. In every stop they made, it was the same thing. He'd eat pot cookies, meditate and find mentalists. The good ones got a warning letter, the bad ones got a call that stripped them of their powers. All of them got added to his files, along with the dead ones. The whole trip, Jack would check his dogs' minds for any sniff of Shauna Patrick, or her master, only stopping when he was asleep, or they were on the road.

Mia would explore the town while he did his thing. Some nights, he'd have nightmares about doctors cutting into the back of his skull with gunpowder-actuated power tools. Other nights, the dead goons would vomit blood into his face, startling him awake. After breakfast, they'd start the long drive to the next spot on his tour. The only anomaly on this part of the tour happened when he was in Knoxville and felt a crazy, suicidal mentalist in a mental health facility in Chattanooga.

So, Jacobs was in Tennessee before coming to my neck of the woods, Jack thought. He noted the woman's name with special care, but did nothing more. Without a record of which memories Jacobs had taken, he couldn't help her.

They hit the sea in Charleston, South Carolina and went south to cover Florida with two stops. He saw a society of mentalists living in Miami. They were all of Cuban descent and he perceived them through the eyes of their bilingual members. His ability to swear in Spanish didn't allow him to see Spanish-speaking mentalists. He sent all fifteen of them one warning letter. The mentalists of foreign descent, he noted, seemed to gravitate towards joining with those like themselves, while American mentalists preferred to go at it alone.

New Orleans came next. Jack found only eight mentalists in range and none of them lived in the city itself. Mia and he stayed in New Orleans for two whole days, enjoying the cuisine and music. He didn't have any nightmares there, but he felt like he was in a waking one when he saw the remains of the damage Katrina had wrought. They left the city with a sour taste in their mouths.

Three stops covered all of Texas and revealed sixteen mentalists living in the Lonestar state. They were in Midland when the news cycle became saturated with reports of prominent people in all the states that bordered the Great Lakes getting arrested. Some even stepped forward to confess their crimes. The crimes ranged from insider trading and other corporate abuses to rape and murder. Jack watched it all with satisfaction. The Chicago gang was undoing its crimes with great speed. He decided to go back there. By the time he arrived, they would be done with their work. He'd take away all their powers and send the bad guys to jail. The mentalists that had been originally good, he'd just strip of their powers and let go.

He didn't feel like he could trust them to not revert to such evil behavior after participating in it for years. The bad guys had changed their minds too thoroughly over too long a period of time for him to be able to just undo everything in one sitting. Particularly if he wanted the changes to stick forever. He didn't have the time to go rooting through their minds with a fine toothcomb and catch every evil thought. He made himself a promise to come back to Chicago and restore them as soon as he finished his tour.

The road back to Chicago led through Oklahoma City and Jefferson City. In Chicago, Jack did his work with the evil mentalists in two long days. At the end of the second day, he found himself back in their hotel room. Mia wasn't there and he was thoroughly exhausted, so he just sat down on the couch and munched on some cookies from their bags. He ate six of them before his tired brain remembered they were special.

He growled and put the bag away. He was going to get high in about twenty five minutes and there was nothing he could do about it. He didn't like being high, so he decided to be one with the aether and spend it all quickly. He found himself in the theater and chatted with the cartoon dog about reshaping minds. There was hardly anything new to say, so they chatted about the lists Jack was making.

There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to how Jacobs had hit mentalists in the past. Sometimes, he'd hit a young person that was just discovering their powers and other times he'd hit an old mentalist, whom he had passed by several times before. It all seemed so random.

"I need to find out exactly what Jacobs' movements had been these past fifteen years," Jack said. He shook his head. "But there's no way for me to know all that. It's not like the man left a journal for me to read."

"There were lots of people attending his events," the dog pointed out. "Those events were advertised, the venues booked and paid for. There is a trail out there for you to find."

"I should have been thinking of people who had attended Jacobs' prayer events, too, right?"

The screen at the back of the theater came alive with a multitude of images. It was split into at least a thousand smaller screens, each showing Jacobs on stage from a different perspective. Even a cursory glance at them showed that Jacobs was dressed in twenty different ways in those movies.

"He's been to Chicagoland as a faith healer more that two dozen times." Jack shook his head. "This is too much information for me to sort through."

"True," the dog said. "What you need is an assistant for all that data."

"I can't put Mia on this. I mean, she'd do it and all, but the tricky part is me getting all this data out of this theater and into the real world. Hell, once I do that, I don't need any help at all. I can just see how it correlates with my lists."

The dog said, "You need a data miner."

Jack nodded. "I need a data miner. A hacker who can gather all this data from mundane sources and give it to me."

The screen changed to reveal almost a hundred faces in tiny boxes, typing and talking into headsets. Jack understood them to be the most competent hackers in range of his aether-reading abilities. He smiled. "Ok, if I'm going to reprogram a hacker to serve me and discreetly gather data for me, then I need an evil hacker." The boxes vanished except for eight of them, which grew to fill out the whole screen. There were five geeky-looking guys and three bitchy-looking girls on them. Jack's eyebrows rose. "Uh, I was kidding about the reprogramming and serving bit."