Tfam The Magic Touch Ch 04

The plane was filled with a tense nervousness, or maybe it was just me. I felt like the girls were watching me and tailoring their own demeanor based upon what they saw. Maggie, always the perceptive one, could easily tell that I was unnerved at the prospect of confronting my 'mother'. But sadly, since we were in public view, she couldn't risk doing anything more overt than pretending to fall asleep on my shoulder and give me some covert reassuring squeezes on the arm she had turned into her pillow. I could tell from her occasional glances and from years of having actually slept next to her, she was far from asleep. But she put up a pretty convincing performance for the flight attendants.

Also, since my 'mother' had insisted that I dress appropriately, I couldn't even try to use my powers with Mags due to the dress shirt having long sleeves. I was altogether miserable over the lost opportunity to share whatever comfort could be had while under such potential scrutiny.

Cecilia was also able to see that I was upset and she probably guessed it had to do with the upcoming conflict. But as she was forced to sit across from us, again keeping up the pretext of being just my aunt, she could only keep trying to draw me into the small talk she was keeping up with Candy. I am sure that she would have loved nothing more than to hug me tight to her heart and tell me that everything would be okay. But, I was a grown man now and that would seem odd for even an affectionate aunt to do to her nephew that was going to attend his estranged 'father's' funeral.

Candy, on the other hand, was probably aware of why I was upset, but she chose to basically attack the task of trying to comfort me by acting like the giggling girlfriend and all but dry humping me in my seat. Of course, since she needed to keep up some pretense of decorum, Candy kept a constant conversation going with Cecilia. She seemed to intersperse every statement with some kind of compliment or bragging comment about me and how amazingly happy she was to be with me. I figured that the flight attendants were probably reporting back to my 'mother' about how unbelievably wanton my new girlfriend was.

Either way, the flight itself was uneventful. It only took about 1.5 hours for the plane to touch down in Colorado Springs Airport. It was then a very short 15 minute drive to the cemetery where the funeral was set to begin in just over an hour. The girls and I were separated upon arrival at the funeral home. I was ushered rather forcefully into a guest room where a tux was waiting for me. I took one look at the damn thing and wondered why my 'mother' would go through the trouble of telling me to be dressed appropriately and then basically act as though I needed my hand held to fulfill her demands.

I put the uncomfortable clothes on and it felt like she had chosen the scratchiest most tight fitting piece of crap she could find off of a shelf and expected me to just deal with it. I was almost certain that even something this petty and small might have been an intentional effort to make me feel off balance. I even acquiesced, and put the small white gloves on. I was absolutely certain that she was trying to be a bitch at that point. The gloves were at least two sizes too small.

It occurred to me that the tux might have been tailored for a teenager, and since that was when my 'parents' had last interacted with me, maybe she had thought that I would still fit this size. The arrogance behind such a petty move was not unusual with these people. As the memories of the last few interactions we had had together began to intrude on my thoughts, I pushed down my rising sense of nausea and revulsion in order to face the circus that was to come.

As soon as I left the guest room, the bullshit began. I had to wade through an ocean of 'mourners' that just so happened to be toadies for my 'father'. I recognized many of these men's faces from having seen these same individuals hanging around our house, trying to seek my 'father's' notice. Most of these toadies were probably being paid to be here to make it look as though my 'father' was a reputable and well-loved man. All I could remember was the prick that would rain his fists down on my back and shoulders in time with the relentless screams of encouragement from my 'mother'.

I started to look around for my girls to seek some form of refuge from this charade of respectability. All of the toadies seemed to want to interview the son of the great 'man', and get my take on how well my sister might be adjusting. One particularly bold ass-hat even went so far as to passive-aggressively call my manhood into question. "How do you feel about being upstaged by your younger sister Ronin? One would think that voluntarily stepping down was an admission that you didn't have the balls to run such a major corporation!"

I ignored the tittering laughter that followed this scathing comment. I recognized this man from the several hundred times he had been a 'guest' at our home. "I am just not sure that I am the right man for this job Timothy. My 'father' was always so demanding of you guys. But me, well I have never liked the thought of other men licking my balls." In the dead silence that followed, I made good my escape to the buffet table at the end of the room.

The company usually spared no expense when it came to making the proper impression to the public, and the death of the founding CEO of the company certainly qualified as an appropriate time to go all out. There were ice sculptures of nymphs and dryads dancing nude, which seemed a little oddly festive. Even though the company's logo was a nymph in a green halo, to see one dancing at my the funeral of my 'father' seemed a little on the nose.

There was still no sign of my girls anywhere and I was starting to get worried. Oh how right I was to worry... Either way, I did happen to spot my sister near the main entrance to this waiting room from the greeting hall. I figured that the girls were probably in the greeting hall with all of the other 'mourners' and anyways, I had promised Mags that I would at least give Camille a fair chance. So, I started to make my way over to her. But, even before I was able to take two steps, my 'mother' appeared behind me and placed her hand on my shoulder.

The reaction that followed was as weird as it was unexpected. It might be understandable to some that frightening a person would cause them to jump. It might also be understandable for someone to expect that an unwelcome person surprising you by physically touching your shoulder would be cause for some anger. But what I felt in that moment was beyond anything understandable.

First, I could 'feel' her influence even through the fabric (I would later learn how she had done this, but it was absolutely shocking to feel something that wasn't on bare skin at this point!). This alone was shocking enough. But any thought I might have harbored about being the only person with powers was immediately and summarily destroyed. I had not done that!

Second, I could not only sense her attempting to influence my mind, I actually recognized the feeling immediately. Why? Because the bitch had done this to me before! When I was a child, my 'mother' would actively participate and encourage my regular beatings. And every night, after the beating, she would come back into my room and put her hand on my forehead. I had always thought that she had done this to check that I was still alive or something. There was never any comfort in the gesture, and I had only once asked her what she was doing. She had back-handed me immediately and then resumed whatever it was she had been trying to do.

I had never realized that I had been under her influence, but now a great many things became crystal clear in an instant. The weird sensations from her touching my forehead at the time now became easy to understand. The 'Head Bitch' had been influencing me to never tell anyone about the abuse! The all-encompassing rage that burned within me must have been plain to my 'mother', because she jerked her hand away immediately as I slowly turned to glare at her.

Her eyes were cold and calculating as she regarded me. I can only describe her expression as one of the deepest and most loathsome disappointment. "So, you have actually managed to manifest some small amount of ability then." It was a statement, not a question.

"I presume that you have a great many questions and have probably already made another mess for me to clean up." Her tone was crisp and dismissive. "If you manage to behave yourself during the funeral, I may decide to give you some answers. But you will be watched very closely little worm. If you or your whore step one toe out of line, I will have you both executed." I looked deep into the shark's eyes as the bitch finished.

I have always been one to try and keep my cool in times of danger and I barely contained myself enough to respond, "Understood." As the woman walked away, I couldn't help but shake with unbridled fury. Here was a woman that had clearly abused her power over her own child in just about every way it was possible to do so. More so even than a person without these powers! And she expected me to be a good boy and just wait on her good pleasure for some answers.

I stormed out of the waiting room, blowing past my sister. I saw that she had tried to call out to me as I was passing, but she couldn't escape the people that she was surrounded by and I was in no mood for playing social games at the moment. I did manage to see the slightly crestfallen look she gave me as I stormed past and even in my rage that registered in my mind as something I had done wrong or a missed opportunity. Sadly, anger and rage have powerful influences on the minds of those trapped within their whirlpools. Even when you try to break away from them, they keep pulling you back down into their abyss.

Luckily, I found my aunt worriedly standing and looking around in the greeting hall waiting with the other guests. She could immediately tell that things had not gone well in the other room. She rushed over to me, and asked in a near panic, "Ronin, have you seen Maggie or Candy? We were separated as soon as we got here and I can't find the girls anywhere! Are you okay baby?"

My rage subsided almost immediately. Now I began to enter into a full blown panic. Not only had the bitch apparently taken Candy captive, she had also managed to spirit away Maggie! Now, with two potential hostages, I had to wonder what all exactly the bitch knew! Did she know about Maggie and Cecilia? Did she know about my relationship with the girls? I would not put it past the bitch to have had someone keeping tabs on us to some extent. Especially now that I knew that she had powers too.

I quickly relayed all of this to my aunt and watched as all of the color drained from her face. I could almost hear the pieces clicking together in her mind. When I mentioned the threat to Candy's life, Cecilia blanched and tears started to flow. It seemed like the 'Head Bitch' was currently holding all of the cards and that we would be forced to play nice for now. Neither one of us dared to risk the lives of Candy or Maggie. And we were both certain that this woman could easily make good on such a threat. With all of the resources and power that she had at her disposal, getting rid of two bodies in Florida would be a simple matter.

Auntie C and I decided to stick together for the remainder of this farce. We figured that we might have a slightly better chance at keeping the ruse going (and thus keeping the girls alive), if we were able to work together. Cecilia let her emotions of fear and anguish help her keep up the appearance of a grieving family member. And I stood there stoically lending my weeping aunt my silent support.

I had managed to rip a small hole through the cheap white material of the gloves when I had been clenching my fists in a rage. As such, by putting my arm around her, I was able to establish a point of physical contact with my aunt's bare shoulder. The familiar (to me at least) 'spark' felt like an island in an ocean of turbulent uncertainty. My aunt, however, had an altogether different experience.

She instantly tensed as she felt me connect with her. She played it off as a bad coughing fit, and turned into me, leaning her head against my chest. I could feel her deep inner turmoil and fear. But I could also sense her budding hope in feeling my presence as more than just a physical thing. I passed as much of my care and love for her back into her as I could. Both of our hearts communing in our shared fear and fury. Because, make no mistake, my aunt was absolutely furious as well.

I kept feeling this recurring thought echoing back from her, "Why did Sheila do this?" It was clear to us both that the 'Head Bitch' had obviously suspected that I would have powers. It was also clear that not only did she have similar powers to mine, but that hers were more powerful or at least more refined and familiar to her than my powers. If it came to a head-on confrontation, I would probably lose.

I was also thinking about what that might mean for my sister. Did she also have these powers? Did my 'father'? There were just too many questions and too few answers to make any decisive choices. So we waited.

Luckily, my sister had finally managed to break free from her gaggle of social piranhas and had made her way into the greeting hall. I made a split second decision that I will forever be grateful to fate for having put before me. Granted, my motivation was to more to gain information than anything else. But, the opportunity was far too good to miss. I rushed my aunt and myself over to my wayward sister and we both managed to successfully pull her into a nearby restroom.

My aunt locked the door behind us and I faced my stunned sister. She was momentarily shocked by what had just occurred and was trying to figure out how she wanted to respond to this weird new development. I reached out to touch her face and, being too shocked to move away in time, my sister and I 'sparked' together. The instant flow of emotions and information that happened in that instant were far too much to explain all at once.

We instantly had a moment of what I can only call 'communion' between us. I knew almost immediately exactly how trapped and scared Camille was. Not only that, but I also could sense her complete panic at having discovered that I also had these powers. She kept going over and over in her mind about how our 'mother' had warned her that if a man ever had these powers, that she would be forced to kill them because no man could ever be trusted with so much power.

I could also sense the absolutely ridiculous amount of conflict within her because apparently Camille had had a crush on me for almost her whole life. She had always believed that our 'parents' were wrong for sending me away, but she had never dared to challenge Sheila. And now that Camille could also apparently see back into my mind, she had a front row seat to all of the brutal beatings and manipulation that I had endured.

During this exchange, an internal war was waging within Camille. Her previous understanding of her own powers and what our 'mother' had taught her clashed harshly with what she saw within my memories. Curiously, she watched with rapt fascination and even a hint of jealousy at all of the memories of sex between me and all of the girls. It was clear to me that Camille had been strictly warned against having sex with anyone. And now that she was about to be ascending to the proverbial throne left by our 'father', the one thing she wanted more than anything was for someone that she trusted to take her v-card.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to see how this was going to play out. In that instant of absolute clarity and sharing between us, we both came together in a tight embrace and just cried. There was no more honest reaction to sharing in an instant the sum total of another human's life experiences. Everything I felt, she felt. We watched through each other's eyes every painful memory and every wistful dream.

This feeling of almost total trust and connection was something beautiful and pure. Nothing she or I had ever felt really came close to what we had just both shared. She now knew everything about me, the good and the bad. And likewise, I was instantly aware of all of her suffering as well. All of the confusing circle talk and the controlling nagging from our 'mother', had left my sister in a depressed state of submission. At every turn Sheila had hammered into Camille that she was just too unskilled or too immature to be able to make her own way. And, naturally her dear 'mother' must always orchestrate everything.

The 'Head Bitch' had apparently wanted to groom my sister to take over the company for one purpose and one purpose alone. In order to truly rule, Sheila needed a figurehead. She wanted to remain in the background so that she could continue to be the power behind the throne. Sheila had claimed to my dear sister that they were both functionally immortal so long as they had minions to feed on. She had admitted to my sister that she had maintained a multitude of lovers with our 'father's' knowledge and approval. This stable of men functioned as Sheila's source of 'life force'. She even claimed to have been well over a century old.

Of course, the approval of our 'father' was gained through the use of her powers. Naturally, nothing so pedantic as human rights mattered to someone that was apparently not subject to the limited existence of a mere mortal. Sheila had never told my sister exactly how the powers were passed on to the next generation. She had instead focused on teaching Camille how to focus her abilities to feed off of others in small doses and exert only minor influence over them.

This training had helped Camille to hone her abilities in certain ways, but it was clear that she was not able to produce any truly powerful affects on the subjects that she had been allowed to practice on. Also, Camille had been strictly watched and heavily punished if she ever spent too long 'contacting' any one individual. Camille had instead been taught more about how to get a deep and penetrating 'scouting' of a target's weaknesses and secrets. This was supposedly to allow her to become a better businesswoman. And it made a great deal of sense. What CEO of a multi-billion dollar corporation wouldn't want the ability to get instant access to pressure points of their opponent in a negotiation?

This changed everything about how I now viewed my 'parents'. Apparently, our 'mother' had a lot more questions to answer for than I had ever guessed! Now that I knew that Sheila was the instigator and probable puppet master of our lives, I had to re-evaluate my thoughts about my father. Yes, the man had made a living hell tailored just for me. He had beaten me and brutally abused me emotionally. But, had that been entirely his choice? How much of my father's actions were a result of our 'mother's' influence? There was only one person that could shed light on the truth behind our past.

All of this exchange passed within the span of a second. As far as Auntie C could tell, we had just abducted my sister and then she had turned around from locking the door to find my sister holding on to me and crying like I was a long lost lover returned. To say that she was confused would have been a gross understatement! And that confusion only increased when Camille looked longingly up into my eyes and promptly reached up to slide the straps of her silk dress off.

While we were 'communing' as Camille called it, she had made it clear that she needed someone that she trusted implicitly to help her. She couldn't express the exact reasoning behind the 'why' of it all to me mentally. She seemed to have this impression that she needed to belong to the person that she trusted and that this was the only way to do so.