Lesser Gods Ch. 01-05

"That's interesting," he said, obviously amused.

"Please tell me one of your powers is not mind reading," she asked desperately, heat rising from her blush.

"No, I can't read minds," he said, to her great relief, until he continued, "but I can see what someone is seeing, and with permission, I can search memories, as well as being an empath, so I always know what people around me are feeling."

"Great! Just great," she mumbled. She continued, "just so you know, I didn't try to think those thoughts. In fact, I'm horrified. Wait a minute, you planted those didn't you? It's you making me think those awful thoughts! You said you could plant ideas, and you're planting them in me now!" she shouted with indignation, while simultaneously feeling that she didn't want the feelings associated with those visions to stop.

"No my dear, I'm not planting anything in your mind," he said calmly, but still with amusement. "That is all you. In fact, considering your talents, and the fact that I intensify the talents of lesser gods, you are likely seeing your, or rather our, future."

"In your dreams! I have no intention of staying here after tonight, and I certainly don't plan to ...well...any of that," she screamed.

"As you wish," he said mildly. "You are not being held here. You may do as you please, now that you know the truth. I am going to the library to watch the news, if you would like to join me."

She really didn't want to be in the same room with him, but she wanted very much to watch the news and prove he was wrong about the riots. If he was wrong about tonight's events, then he was wrong about everything, and she could just go back to her old life, depressing as it was. She followed him through the door that had been locked a few minutes earlier, and across the hall to the library.

He didn't turn on the desk lamp, only turned on the TV and sat on the couch across from it. She went and sat in the desk chair so there was a heavy piece of furniture between them. Commercials were playing, so she took a few moments to look at him in profile. He appeared to be in his early to mid thirties, with a long, straight nose and well proportioned face. The eye she could see looked a lighter, Caribbean blue from the side, and still seemed to glow. She had the impression he was being very deliberate in facing the TV and not turning toward her. She looked at the rest of him and again felt her body thrill to him, as if he was touching her. He was well built, muscular, tall. She brought her gaze up to his face again just in time to catch a small smile lifting the corner of his mouth, which was quickly erased.

The news began with a 'late breaking story' from Russel, where a riot had broken out after a citizen march protesting the arrival of a child molester ended in front of the halfway house he had moved into that morning. As the cameras on the scene showed a crowd of shouting people, gunshots rang out and the cameraman and reporter both dropped to the turf as glass shattered somewhere near them. The camera came up from the grass enough to pan the crowd and show police in riot gear trying to disperse the crowd while more shots were fired and two people were on the ground nearby, apparent shot and bleeding.

This couldn't be happening! This mustn't be real! It looked real. The reporters were familiar. How could he know this was going to happen? Had he planned it, was it happening because he had set it in motion?

Her agitation was growing as she ripped her eyes from the television to look at the man on the couch. He was looking straight at her. She was paralyzed. Fear, and dread, and excitement, and longing all shot through her at once. She tried to pull away, to shake her head, even to blink, but she couldn't move. She could barely hear the reporters continue to babble through the roaring of blood in her ears.

Grey stood and took two steps toward her. That was all she needed to break the spell and jump to her feet. "Don't touch me! Don't come near me! What kind of monster are you?" she shrieked.

"I am not a monster. I knew this would happen, but I did not cause it, I could not prevent it," he said calmly.

"You could have stopped it, but you didn't," she yelled, backing all the way up against the window behind her.

"Yes, I could have stopped it, by breaking every rule in place to prevent higher beings from having undue effect on humans. You don't understand the implications of taking free will away from someone," he replied with regret.

"Oh, I understand the implications just fine! People would not have been shot tonight. Someone there could be dying, could already be dead, because you let it happen!"

"Someone is dead, and someone is dying, but I couldn't change that without the repercussions being too great, without changing history in unacceptable ways." He started to take another step in her direction.

"You are evil! How can preventing people from dying pointlessly have negative repercussions?" She screamed, backing away from him and tripping on the draperies puddle on the floor.

"Evil is in the human heart, not mine. You see the deaths as a separate issue from the bigger picture, as unfair right here and right now. I must act based on the whole of human history, past, present, and future. Revoking free will, even in just one or two people, violates the plan for all of humanity," he explained patiently.

"You are an egomaniac! What right do you have to decide what is and what isn't good for all of humanity?" She tried again to back away, to get untangled from the drapes without moving into the room, and again tripped, falling to one knee, but never taking her eyes off the man looming over the desk.

"I am not deciding what is good for mankind. That is exactly my point. People make their own decisions, for good or evil. It is my job to try to mitigate the consequences of those actions so the bigger plan remains on track." He took another step towards her.

She was about to scream at him to stay back when she heard gunshots again from the TV. Glass shattered and the camera turned to show the front of an old motel, the glass from a room's front window hanging in shards. A scream rang out and a woman's face came to the window shouting, "my baby! My little girl is shot! Help me, please, God, help me!"

The TV went mute but the video continued to play as Zoe turned horrified eyes back to Grey. "Is she...is she one of the dead?" she asked, voice shaking, tears beginning to flow.

"Yes, I'm afraid she is," he answered, sounding heartbroken.

Zoe burst into tears and crumpled to the floor. Grey was immediately beside her, stroking her back and gently shushing her.

She pulled away from his touch, curling into a tight ball and crying harder, hysterically. His hand rested on her shoulder and she felt a warmth flooding her body, followed by a heaviness that made her so groggy she could hardly lift her head. She wanted to tell him to stop, to leave her alone, but her mouth wouldn't form the words.

He lifted her as easily as a parent lifts a newborn, and carried her up the stairs and into her room. He laid her on her bed facing away from him. He pulled a blanket over her, then leaned over and kissed her gently on the temple. She heard the door click shut as he left, and then felt oblivion overtake her.

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