Chương 196: 185. Open mind

"Lazarus?" Rey frowned. I nodded.

"The man brought back from the dead by Jesus after he died of a disease."

"What does that—" Rey began, but then stopped speaking as he turned to me, looking me straight in the eye.

"Was it a real story? Is the Bible real?" I smiled at his questions.

"The version you know? More or less. The core is there, let's say." Rey looked like he was about to ask more questions, but the interview picked back up.

"Lazarus," Filip said slowly.

"So, you're a religious man?"

"Yes." The man nodded with a smile.

"But I don't think you understand in what way."

"I don't imagine you are all about the Sunday Mass?" The suspect smiled wider in response.

"The miracle of Lazarus is but a guiding light, a story of deeper meaning." I looked on with a growing frown. The magic had died down. Apparently, the suspect had given up on using it, and by the looks of it, he was about to call his lawyer. But one thing bothered me. Rebirth in the mortal world might have been a magical and mysterious concept, but in the magical world, it was a technical issue, practically impossible to solve. Once your spark was gone, nothing was going to bring you back.

You might gain a new one, and some spirits became entirely new beings, but that wasn't rebirth—that was creation. So which one was he talking about? I looked down and found the small microphone Josh used to talk to Filip. Picking it up, I spoke into the contraption.

"Ask him if he's going to solve the spark problem." I could see Filip frown slightly at hearing my voice.

"So will that faith help you with solving the spark problem?" he asked nonetheless. Lesley immediately looked confused.

"What spark?" he asked. I once again took the microphone.

"Ask him if the person who put that thing inside him told him anything."

"Did the man or woman who put that thing inside you not inform you? Were you not devoted enough, maybe?" This time around, Lesley looked surprised, seemingly truly caught off guard for the first time.

"Ah, shit," I groaned.

"Well, I doubt he's the main issue," I said to Rey.

"You think it's a bigger case?"

"I think someone did something to him. Not sure if he was always crazy or if it pushed him. Hell, I'm not even sure if it's him inside there." Rey looked at me with a growing frown.

"So it's a weird one, huh?"

"Yep, very much so." I nodded.

"What are you going to do with him?" I asked.

"Gather the evidence. He practically confessed already, but the murder weapon would be useful. Then prosecute. So maybe put him in jail in a year or two?" I turned to him, blinking rapidly.

"A year or two? Are you serious?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Nothing," I relented, shaking my head before changing the subject.

"I imagine Josh can help with the murder weapon."

"Mhm. He doesn't look too good, though," Rey said, looking at the conversation in the room.

"Well, I'll go talk to him," I said, curious about the sudden change in the kid.

"You tell Filip to press on the devotion and sickness angle. And if he starts talking about his wife again, slap him across the face." Rey looked at me with raised eyebrows.

"Or not. My god, I'd be afraid humor is illegal here, but there isn't much to be afraid of if you'll get me in a year or two," I said, leaving the room. I walked out and then through the FBI corridors until I saw Josh sitting outside. After clearing security, I went out to check on the empath.

"Why the long face?" I asked, approaching him.

"Huh?" Josh looked at me, clearly surprised.

"It's nothing."

"Well, it sure looked like something to me."

"Why are you so curious?" he asked, a frown of discontent making its way to his face.

"Well, I'm more concerned than curious. Empaths are a rare thing among us mages."

"Then don't be. I'm fine," he said, looking away.

"Look, I don't care for your personal problems." I could see him twitch lightly at my words, turning back to look at me.

"I really don't, and I'm not here to pry into your business. For all I care, you could have invaded his head, danced on his childhood memories, and left him paralyzed. But what I'm concerned about is that you have a weak will," I said bluntly. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. He sat there for a few seconds, clearly not sure how to react to my words. Finally, he chose anger.

"What do you know about my will? We only just met," he spat.

"Yeah, and back there you retreated before going anywhere deeper into that guy's psyche, and I would like to know why."

"What do you know about going into someone's head?"

"Oh, quite a bit," I said with a smile.

"You might be the only empath I know, but you're not the only one capable of invading someone's mind."

"Then why didn't you do it?"

"I can't do what you can. I can't look over someone's memories, at least not like you. I can't read a place's past either. But I know minds, and I know that if you have a weak will, you will die sooner or later, especially as an empath." He looked at me for some time as the expression of anger slowly morphed into that of confusion.

"Why would I die?"

"Well, not on your own. But you will be very susceptible to attacks and possessions. Did you feel a strange energy from that man in there?" He looked at me, surprised, and nodded.

"That was a form of mental magic. Had you been in that room in place of Filip, we would have been carrying you out. Possibly injured, maybe even permanently, depending on how strong your consciousness is."

"Why? You think I'm not as resilient as Filip?"

"You're not," I answered without hesitation.

"But that's not it." I paused, catching myself on what I did with Peter, measuring someone against my own standards.

"Right. Did you ever experiment, try going into your own mind, try to meditate, or find some occult literature about your condition?" I asked, rattling off everything I would do the moment an interesting phenomenon appeared. To each of my questions, he shook his head.

"Right," I sighed.

"Nothing, really?"

"Well, I did try to find something on the internet, but there was so much bullshit I stopped and just focused on using it to… Never mind. So what is my condition?"

"Okay," I said and took a deep breath.

"Everyone has a mind, as you know. Not the head, not the brain, but THE MIND. It's like a construct, a separate part of your spirit, something like a bridge between the flesh and the soul, as a horrible oversimplification. That construct has a shape. Usually, for normal people, it's something like a palace or a castle, a physical place that represents said construct. Are you with me?" He nodded, listening intently, although clearly slightly skeptical.

"For a normal person, that place is just that—a building with walls and rooms. And each of those rooms and spaces within it represents something. Some things metaphysical, like traumas and memories. Other things physical, like what you see with your eyes or what you smell. The deeper you go into the palace, the more complicated it will get, and the closer you will get to the soul. That is for normal people.

But much like some are born with mutations—missing arms or an extra eye—there are also people born with mutations of that place. For some, it's simple, like extra rooms, allowing for tasting music or some other savant bullshit. But there are a few extreme cases. For example, people born with an open field instead of a building. Like a massive open circus tent, a mind lacking walls."

"Am I such a case?"

"Yes," I nodded, reciting what I had learned from the recently gained literature on empaths.

"And as I said, normally physical senses have their own place, their own rooms. But if your mind is an open field, then it's problematic. The senses don't have clear boundaries, and so they mix and grow. The brain also doesn't know what is what, so it mistakes spiritual parts for senses, bombarding them with everything it experiences. And over time, those spiritual constructs learn to experience the outside, to read it, and become new senses. And that is how empaths are born.

No two are the same, but what they have in common is that their minds are open to everything, allowing them to read thoughts, moods, and sometimes more extreme things, like the past of a given place."

"Oh," he said about halfway through my explanation, the skeptical frown disappearing and being replaced by concentration.

"So that's how…"

"Hmh. Were you a difficult child? Did you cry a lot? Parents thought you might be sick?" He silently nodded, a smile making its way to his face.

"Yep. Mother thought I was a special kid. My dad… well, he assumed the other kind of special," he chuckled.

"Did you always have the gift?" I asked, now curious.

"Yes. Although not to this extent. It… strengthened," he said, his eyes still unfocused before a frown made its way back onto his face.

"Okay. But why would I die?"

"Well, as I said, your mind doesn't have walls. Normally, when someone attacks your consciousness, there are natural defenses. You, however, are exposed to everything, so the only way is will. You have to learn to fight off an intruder, and for that, you need a powerful mind. The good news is that you should be a natural at using it. But… you retreated, you hesitated. That is not the action of a disciplined mind. So I want to know why." He chose his words for some time before finally speaking.

"Let's just say I have bad experiences with reading minds. Or rather, with hearing loud thoughts." I was about to try and press on, but he stopped me.

"Can you tell me how to train it? I mean, my mind?" I smiled at that.

"Sharing magic is not a small ask between mages. And it takes a legal process, but… I can teach you a few tricks," I said.

"But how will you pay me?" That seemed to take him aback as he stiffened, confused.

"Well. I have some money—""I don't want money," I cut in.

"The help of a trained empath in the future would be appreciated."

"I already work for the FBI."

"And you have free time. I'm not going to work you to the bone. It's just that if I ever need something, you don't get to say 'no' easily. And if you want to switch employers, then, well, we can consider this your trial."

"I'm not switching employers." I put up my hands defensively.

"I'm not telling you to. So what will it be?" He hesitated for some time before finally nodding.

"Fine, but no big favors, and no asking me to invade someone against their will."

"I wouldn't do that." I shook my head just as Filip, Rey, and Marvin, together with the FBI woman, exited the building. They all looked to be in a hurry.

"What's going on?" I asked, curious, as they seemed rather distressed.

"Move to the van now," Sarah commanded. I looked at Josh, and he shrugged.

"So what's up? Are we going on a sudden field trip?" I asked, catching up to Filip.

"Well, I did follow the devotion line, and he finally broke," he said, not an ounce of happiness in his voice.

"And he said they were side projects. And that if we want to see the true fruit of Lazarus, we should go to his home."

"Oh, interesting."

"Yeah," Sarah said as we loaded into a van.

"We were working on a warrant, but now he's given us permission."

"So why the hurry?"

"He said that if we hurry, someone might even greet us."

"You think it's a live victim?" I asked, getting nods in return. It was an interesting theory, but if the guy was crazy about disease and resurrection, then, well… we would most likely be greeted, but I didn't think there was a need to hurry. I strengthened my mental shields and stirred up magic just in case, meeting the tense eyes of Rey beside me.

"Why so nervous? We've been through worse," I said to him.

"And I don't remember it fondly."

"Oh. Well… I'm sure we will have some fun this time around," I said, making his frown deepen.