Gaslighter

3 Cult Status-2

“Oh, we're proud of her, Reena,” said June through a mouthful of mac and cheese. “Very much so. It's just that…well, we aren't the ones with hypertension.”

“You know,” said Liz delicately, “Mrs. Mylteer can get that righted with a properly proportioned tonic. I could whip her up one, no problem.”

June shook his head. “Mom is aware of that, but she refused,” he told her. “She said that if she got a Green Aura's cure, it would be no better than getting a free pass to screw herself up all over again. So she's managing it Tenth style.”

“Admirable,” murmured Terrence under his breath, “but I'd take the tonic and let that crap go.”

From there, people broke off into tangential conversations, which Jonah listened to with a mixture of amusement and impatience: Liz spoke about how she needed to “buckle down” this year, which Jonah couldn't understand, because she'd always been a brilliant student. Bobby was telling a very disapproving Mrs. Decessio that he planned to double his intakes of eggs, chicken, and tuna so as to pack on more muscle.

“Say you got hurt and were forced to take time off of weight training, Bobby,” said his mother. “If that happened, most of your musculature and tone would fade. And you're talking about putting on more?”

“Mama, you worry too much,” said Bobby, unabashed. “I'm durable. Always have been. And you forget that my girlfriend is a Green Aura?”

Liz, still conversing with Reena, blushed when she heard that, but Mrs. Decessio looked even sterner.

“That's your grand plan, Bobby?” She narrowed her eyes. “To run yourself full throttle every time you play football, and then use Elizabeth's talents as your crutch? That makes no sense—”

“Oh, Mama,” said Alvin suddenly, “let Bobby have Liz's help. If he gets injured, who do you think will have to rehab the injury with him?”

That actually elicited some laughs, even from Mrs. Decessio. Jonah couldn't help but notice that Mr. Decessio, Raymond, and Patience spoke amongst themselves a great deal. He didn't know what they were talking about exactly, but was certain that they weren't observing Mrs. Decessio's shop talk rule.

Jonah spent the whole meal using his ethereality to balance his impatience, and it worked somewhat. But now, the meal was winding down, and the time had come. He pushed his plate away and took a deep breath.

“Alright, everybody.” His voice was level, but from the way everyone eyed him, he may as well have shouted. “Mrs. Decessio, this was a wonderful meal. Best in the world. And for that, I thank you. But it's very obvious that all of you wanted me sated and satisfied for a reason. Well, mission accomplished. Now I would greatly appreciate it if you all would tell me what is going on. What is it that everyone knows that I don't?”

Mr. Decessio sighed. “Jonah, I'm sure Patience has told you that things have changed,” he said.

“He did, sir,” said Jonah. “Has Creyton done something?”

“Yeah, he's done something,” said June. “He returned from beyond the grave.”

Jonah rolled his eyes. “I know that,” he said rather tersely. “I was there. I mean has anything happened since then.”

Mr. Decessio cast an annoyed glance at June, and then looked back at Jonah. “Son, none of us know what Creyton is up to,” he said. “His planned magnum opus of making us obliterate ourselves came to naught, thanks to you, so he was forced back to the drawing board. Creyton has done what he's always done, which is screw things up. But that is on a much deeper level now.”

“How do you mean?” asked Jonah.

“Jonah, life is all about balance,” said Patience. “There is a time, period, and position for everything. And then, it is time to move on, continue the spiritual journey, whether that's staying on Earthplane, becoming a Guide of some kind, or completely passing on to the Other Side. But Creyton's Praeterletum has…made things foul.”

“Huh?”

“Know anything about history?” Raymond chimed in. “Know the story of the early settlers into the New World? How they brought diseases that the indigenous people had never experienced, and things were disastrous because of it? It's kind of like that.”

Jonah straightened in his seat. “So—Creyton's return is making people sick?”

“From an ethereal standpoint, yes,” said Mrs. Decessio resignedly.

Jonah looked at the woman. It was clear that she didn't want to be having this conversation, but felt that Jonah had the right to know.

“Creyton's return has made some people act negatively again,” she continued. “Make them more prone to volatility.”

Anger flashed across Jonah's consciousness. “He's blocked the paths to the Other Side again?”

“That's the weird part, Jonah,” said Reena. “He hasn't.”

“He hasn't blocked the paths?” said Jonah, confused. “Then why are people acting volatile again?”

“It's a confusing thing, Jonah,” said Mr. Decessio. “Creyton and his disciples have resumed their Spirit Reaping ways once again, but the path to the Other Side remains clear. It's like Creyton isn't bothering to block them, because he isn't allowing any spirits to reach that far, anyway. But Creyton's return has changed nature. No ethereal human has ever backpedaled from spirit back into physical life. Life functions like a machine. If one cog is disrupted, the whole machine malfunctions. That's what Creyton's resurrection has done to Earthplane and the Astral Plane. He's caused them to malfunction.”

Jonah took several breaths. “So there are people who are acting out of their minds and behaving out of character because Creyton's return to physical life has thrown a monkey wrench into life itself?”

“Something like that,” said June. “So now you can see that when I said Creyton had 'done something' by re-emerging into physical life, it wasn't sarcasm.”

Jonah stared around the table. “Then why aren't we doing something?” he demanded. “Isn't this an all hands on deck situation? Felix, the rest of the S.P.G.—better yet, drag Sanctum Arcist along, those fools adore fighting—”

“Never gonna happen.”

June was the one who said it. His voice was so matter-of-fact on the subject that it wasn't even funny.

Jonah raised his eyebrows. “Um…what's going on with them?”

“Jonah, Sanctum Arcist has become synonymous with bull—” June paused, and glanced at Mrs. Decessio, “—uh, bovine fecal matter. It's like the family issue that everyone in the house is aware of, but nobody talks about. I truly hate to say it, but Mr. Kaine and G.J. got off easy compared to the cesspit that Gabriel and the rest of them had been left in. And the remaining members of The Network? They should have been fed to sazers; The Plane with No Name is a kindness.”

“I'm stopping you right there,” said Patience firmly. He even raised a hand so as to accentuate the point. “First of all, June, to imply that all sazers are wild cannibals is about as bad as the vampire's hemocentrism. Seeing as how your father is a sazer, I'd like to think that you understand that. And speaking as a Networker with three campaigns on his resume, I've been to The Plane with No Name countless times. It is not a kindness.”

June rolled his eyes. “Dial it back, man,” he murmured. “I'm simply saying that Sanctum isn't a good place to be at the moment.”

Patience ignored June, and turned to Jonah. “Jonah, what June should have said is that it's not that simple a matter,” he said. “There are other things that you haven't been told yet.”

Jonah braced himself for the next wave of bombshells. Patience plodded on.

“The Phasmastis Curaie has been cracking down on those of us who know the truth,” he said.

Jonah felt another prickle of anger. “What, they don't believe what I said about Creyton being back?”

“Oh, they believe you.” Mrs. Decessio actually laughed, though it void of mirth. “No one ever doubted what you experienced, Jonah. There can be no question that Creyton is physically alive once again. The problem is where they decided to place the blame.”

Jonah's brow contracted. “They blame all of Sanctum Arcist?”

“You wish,” said Terrence. “They blame us all.”

Jonah gaped. “Excuse me?”

“The Curaie hold us all responsible.” Alvin entered the conversation for the first time. “According to Patience here, they've said that the plots, bloodlust, and treachery led to—uh, what was it, Patience?”

“ 'An environment susceptible to this ongoing unprecedented phenomenon,' ” recited Patience in a hollow voice. “That was their very statement.”

Jonah's mouth dropped.

“Uh-huh,” said Bobby, clutching Liz's hand. “That's exactly what I said.”

“But how—how can that be?” cried Jonah. “That's not fair at all! That's like the last person at the crime scene gets slapped with the charge! Did anyone mention that Creyton used his disciples to plant those seeds of bloodlust and treachery in the first place?”

“It fell on deaf ears, Jonah,” said Reena. “They're convinced that we all had a hand in creating this mess. They believe that we've had too much free rein to experiment with the Eleventh Percent.”

“You've got to be kidding,” said Jonah. “I thought that the Spirit Guides were intelligent!”

“Jonah, it's not a question of intelligence,” said Patience defensively, like he felt compelled to go to bat for them, “it's a lack of reference. This has never happened before. They are afraid. We all are. And they're Spirit Guides, so their perspective is very different from our own.”

“That may very well be,” argued Jonah, “but blaming us for Creyton's achieving Praeterletum is full-blown stupid. We need to be fighting him and his Deadfallen disciples. We're no match for anyone if we squabble amongst ourselves.”

“It all comes back to fear, Jonah,” said June. “And that is a fear that was exacerbated last night, when every known Eleventh, sazer, and herald had that freakin' dream.”

Jonah gave an involuntary twitch. “Patience told me that in the car. That many had that dream?”

“Yes,” said Mr. Decessio. “The lush peaks, the barren valley full of lost spirits and spiritesses, the Deadfallen disciples' aura colors going dark, the archer and the crow. We all dreamed it.”

Jonah didn't know what to think. Didn't know what to feel. “And I take it that that's never happened before, either?”

No one answered.

“Great,” muttered Jonah. “Did the archer tell all of you to run, too?”

Reena looked confused. “No. Were you told to run?”

Now it was Jonah that didn't answer. So a legion of ethereal humans had the same dream, but only he was told to run? Why did that seem like it had something to do with his being the Blue Aura? After all, he really needed to stick out from everyone else even more than he already did.

“For what it's worth, Jonathan's not pleased in the least by the Curaie's stance, either,” said Raymond.

“It's nice to have some support from the Spiritual side of things,” Jonah ground out. “I'll probably be in need his counsel a great deal, and for an indefinite amount of time.”

Liz swallowed. “Indefinite is a really long time, Jonah,” she said delicately. “You might need to lean to your own understanding.”

“And what in the world does that mean?” Jonah turned his eyes to Liz.

She didn't respond. Everyone at the table exchanged glances. Jonah almost said something bad, but caught himself at the very last second.

“I would be quite grateful if you guys would stop doing that,” he said with measured calm. “Just spill it!”

Reena licked her lips. “Jonah, we might not be seeing too much of Jonathan for the foreseeable future,” she told him. “His presence, especially for extended periods of time, might make things worse.”

“Make things—?”

“We're being investigated as a cult, Jonah,” Terrence blurted out.

Jonah stared at him. “I'm sorry, but for a moment I thought you said we were being investigated as a cult.”

“Yep,” said Terrence, surprisingly serious.

Jonah couldn't believe it. He refused to believe it.

“Started about three or four weeks ago,” said June. “You've been watching the news, haven't you?”

“Not if I can help it,” admitted Jonah. “Far too depressing.”

“Eh, that's fine.” June got out his phone, pulled up a YouTube video, and showed it to Jonah. “That guy. He's the investigator.”

Jonah looked at the man in the video. He looked to be in his early fifties, and his face seemed ready-made for glares and sneers. His eyes, gray like Jonathan's, shone with a cold brilliance. He was yelling passionately about something, but as June's phone was silent, Jonah heard nothing. But it seemed that he was angry about something in the video as well.

“His name is Balthazar Lockman,” revealed June. “Former right-wing congressman-turned cult buster after his daughter was murdered by what he thinks was a cultist nine years ago.”

“What do you mean, 'what he thinks was a cultist?' ” asked Jonah.

“The man his daughter was involved with was named Davis Powell,” said Patience.

Jonah stiffened. “Wait. I swear I've heard that name before.”

“You have, Jonah,” said Reena. “It was one of those Deadfallen disciples that Felix told us about last fall.”

“Back up,” said Terrence, looking at Patience, “you said he was named Davis Powell. He isn't on The Plane with No Name? Did he escape?”

“No one has escaped The Plane with No Name,” said Patience with pride in his voice. “Powell was placed there, yes, but he passed into Spirit under very mysterious circumstances once Lockman began investigating.”

“Would it have mattered what Lockman found?” asked Jonah.

“Yes, it very well would have,” said Raymond. “The Deadfallen disciples are integrated into Tenth society, remember? Exposing our world like that would have been bad for all Elevenths, and of course, bad for Creyton.”

“Creyton had one of his own disciples killed?”

“Jonah, he has done it at least once before in the past,” Reena reminded him.

Jonah looked away. “Oh yeah. I forgot.”

“But at the time, Lockman went nuclear when he found some information Powell had written in a journal about the Transcendent, spiritual endowments, and being ethereal,” said Patience. “The man obviously doesn't know about the Eleventh Percent, or where we put our prisoners, but he did get a hold of that journal. Before we could tie Powell to his crimes in a way that would appease the Tenth side of things, Creyton had him killed, and then had Wyndam O'Shea burn down his home.”

Jonah frowned. “That was awfully sloppy for Creyton,” he remarked.

“Made to look sloppy,” corrected Patience. “By making it look like a bumbling cover-up, Creyton provided misdirection from his and his disciples' actions. Then he punished Powell by having him killed; I have no doubts that he got a message to one of his disciples on the Plane to do Powell in. Anyway, when all was said and done, Balthazar Lockman was an angry, hurt father with no answers.”

“And the anti-cult crusader was born,” supplied Bobby. “He is after us now.”

“He doesn't even know—” Jonah shook his head. “How did we even get on the man's radar?”

“Specifics are unknown,” said June, “but Creyton and his usual schemes are in there somewhere. That's why I'm here. Jonathan and I have our differences, but I'll be damned if all the good he's done at your estate and in the ethereal world go up in smoke because this guy never got vengeance for his daughter's murder.”

Jonah nodded. His blood simmered, but he figured that June's aid was better than nothing at all. “So Creyton's resurrection has made people crazy, again, the Curaie hopes that all the problems will go away if they ignore it, and are mad at us for supposedly causing, it, and then there is this nut job cult hunter, whose presence is making Jonathan go semi-incommunicado. Does that about cover it?”

“Yeah,” murmured several people around the table.

Jonah narrowed his eyes. “And why did no one see fit to tell me?”

Reena looked at him with caution. Terrence meant to say some bracing remark, but Jonah shook his head.

“Don't say because you wanted to respect my vacation,” he said. “Don't say that you thought that you were doing me a favor, either. It was not a favor for me to be tucked away in the Outer Banks while you guys slogged through hell. Wanted to protect me, did you all? I'm a member of this team, and of this huge family. When something happens that concerns the estate, it affects me just as much as it affects all of you.”

“Jonah, you're mad at the wrong people,” said Reena steadily. “After all that you witnessed, everyone just thought—”

“Who says I'm mad?” said Jonah quietly, disregarding everything else that Reena said. “I ain't mad at all.”

Reena sighed. “Yeah, you are,” she said. “Your essence is—”

“Don't do that, Reena.” Jonah felt his nostrils flare. “Don't presume to think that you know everything about me, because you sure as hell don't. You were wrong to keep me out of the loop on this for so long, and that's all there is to it.”

Reena looked angry herself now, but she said nothing. No one else did, either, and Jonah was glad for that. If anyone said anything about wanting him to be safe, there just might be an outburst.

“I'm going home,” he muttered. “See you when you all get there. Mrs. Decessio, thanks again for the meal.”

He turned his back on them all without another word, got into his car, and sped off.