I looked at him for a moment, letting all the information just sort of gel.
“See, I woulda thought a dude like you would have an easier time believing all this shit, but you look like your trippin,” Chet said.
“Well, I think I'm more bugged by the idea that the federal government and the largest police departments in the country have teams to deal with this.”
He laughed and then started to hand me books to read.
“There are a few more, but you'll have to read them here. I don't let anyone take them outta my library, if ya know what I mean.”
Next, I was scheduled to sit with Gina. She was on the phone when she waved me into her office so I took a moment to look over the plaques on the wall. She had a Masters in psychology from Columbia, as well as certificates of completion from various profiling courses at the FBI Academy at Quantico. She also had a certificate of completion in Facial Action Coding System signed by a Dr. Paul Ekman.
Next to that was a framed diploma from The Princeton Engineering Anomalies Research group. As I finished the last title, she hung up the phone and looked at me for a moment. Then she spoke.
“So, by now you'll have figured out that I am a psychologist as well the group's parapsychologist. I'm also the profiler for our little squad.”
“That's a lot of hats you wear.” I said.
She smiled. “Yes, but we all wear many hats here. Fran is our medium, but she is also our Case Manager. Steve is our weapons expert, but assists Chet with technology, while acting as one half of our own little spec ops team. Brian is the other half of that team and our close combat trainer. Fighting with stronger, faster opponents takes skill, you know.”
Oh, how very well I knew that lesson.
“Brian also has Crime Scene Technician training, as does Chet. Inspector Roma is our leader, but he is also the team Medic, although I am backup medic. And even Olivia is more than she seems, acting as our logistics coordinator, and dispatcher. So that brings us to you. What hats do you see yourself wearing?”
“Well, despite living in the Big Apple, my favorite hat is a Red Sox ball cap, followed closely by a Springfield Armory hat.”
She didn't laugh. “Your humor tells me a lot about you, you know.”
She was under my skin, just that quick.
“Tell me, by all means, about myself,” I said.
So she did, in a calm even voice. “You are angry and lonely, but you cover it with humor. You feel set upon by God, perhaps cursed by Him.”
“Anything else?” I said through clenched teeth.
“Just one more thing. You feel that you are a coward at heart.”
I exploded to my feet, my chair flying back, clattering to the floor. In my peripheral vision, I could see Brian and Steve moving into the central conference room, but Gina's face remained calm and un-alarmed, and she spoke again before I could start yelling at her.
“And despite all those feelings, you still put your life in danger daily to protect others. Why is that?”
Her statement and question deflated the rawest part of my anger.
“What the hell do you mean?”
“Why do you continue to help others? After all that God has done to you? Why haven't you just walked away? Why did you help that little girl?”
“What kind of questions are those? Are you saying I shouldn't help people?”
“It's a very reasonable question. If God has cursed you and taken from you, why should you do His Will?”
“I don't! I do what I do because I choose to! My will, not His. And how could I not help people, how could I stand by and let others go through what I had to. To lose what I lost.”
“But isn't it easier and safer to just avoid the demons?”
My anger had bled away, replaced now, by cold calm and a stubborn resolve to keep from responding to her ploy. I hadn't been prepared, hadn't been ready for her button pushing. A tiny part of me was admiring her skill, while the lion's share resented her manipulation. I righted my chair and sat, before answering. “Sure, you’re right. That would be easier.” I agreed.
“Then why not take that route.” She persisted.
“Maybe I will, at some point. Hell, maybe I'll join them.” I said.
She surprised me by smiling. My cell buzzed.
T: ?
C: I'm fine. Mind games with a shrink.
T: O.K. See u later?
C: Yes.
T: Can u come here? They are fussy.
C: Sure.
I really didn't want to go to Galina's house, but after meeting Senka, and hearing about last night's trouble, I understood why they didn't want her traveling about.
“That the girl who isn't your girlfriend?” Gina asked.
I refused to get caught in her games again, so I just nodded coldly.
She looked at me levelly for a moment, then continued in a different direction.
“Chris, has anyone ever told you what it's like when you exorcise a demon?”
Damn, she was confusing. “What? No one is ever with me when I exorcise demons.”
“I'm talking about the people outside, the ones waiting.” She said.
“Detective Velasquez , I don't have the foggiest idea what you're talking about.”
“When you exorcised that little girl's home, everyone outside felt it. We all knew that you had banished it. Didn't you know that people could sense what you do?”
I shook my head. No one had ever mentioned it before.
“Well, let me tell you about it. Every time I had been to that house right up till you went in, it felt wrong. Evil. It made my skin crawl. Then you walked in and after a minute, I felt a...vibration. Like the thrum of a guitar or a note on a harp. Crystal-clear, pure. It wasn't a sound, but a feeling. Then a sharp snap or a pop. Like pressure released. And the wrongness was gone. I looked around and I could tell that everyone else held felt it. I could read it in their faces. But no one said a thing, reluctant to speak, like we were not supposed to talk about it. Like we shouldn't. It wasn't something you could put into words and even now, I haven't done a good job of it. But I'll tell you this, every one of us felt instantly better. I, for one, felt like God was nearby and watching over us.” She said.
For once I had nothing to say, dumbfounded at this revelation.
“Now, I have a lot of work to do, so if you'll excuse me, I believe you are scheduled to meet next with Brian.”
And just like that she ushered me out of her office and shut the door.
My time with Brian was much more straightforward. He hadn't said a word about my outburst in Gina's office, but took me into his little dojo and asked me about my martial arts background.
So I gave him my background, but he surprised me by asking for details, instructor’s names, years of study, belt rank, dojo names. I had never thought about my training in that manner and it made me defensive. I hadn't studied for belt rank, but for survival.
Next he had me change into sweatpants and a tee shirt and he began to test my knowledge, by sparring. I held my speed and strength back for a couple of reasons. First, the team was just starting to accept me a little. Being more of a freak than I already was wouldn't help that. The second reason was my promise to Dr. Singh and third, Brian Takata knew a lot more about practical technique than anyone I had ever met. I figured the best way to learn was to push him enough to make it a challenge and see what he brought to the mat. He didn't disappoint. I learned more in twenty minutes than I had in the last year. I also learned that had I exerted my full strength and speed, I could have beaten him. He showed me a flying arm bar I hadn't come across before, a version that was purely functional, stripped of all glitz. Arm bars are basic joint locks that work by exerting leverage on frail human joints. A flying arm bar uses the body weight of the person employing it to bring down the person who is the recipient of this less than gentle treatment. Had I chosen, I was certain I could have held his full bodyweight and flexed my arm through the lock. While that gave me confidence, it also told me that many of these techniques would be worthless against vampires, weres and other supernaturally strong critters.