But the fun was only starting.
CHAPTERONE
Miles Sterling sat in the leather chair he had claimed as his own over the past six weeks, watching Dr.Mitchell review her notes from their previous session.She had a methodical way of preparing for their conversations, always taking a minute at the start to refresh her memory of where they had left off.The habit used to irritate him, but now he found it oddly reassuring.It meant she was paying attention.It meant these sessions mattered to her beyond the clinical requirement of keeping notes.
"So," Dr.Mitchell said, looking up from her tablet."How have the nightmares been this week?"
"Better," Miles said, and he meant it."I only had one.Maybe two if you count waking up at three in the morning but not really remembering what I dreamed about."
"That's significant progress."She set the tablet aside, giving him her full attention."Two weeks ago, you were having them almost every night."
Miles nodded.For seven consecutive nights after returning from Los Angeles, he had dreamed about James Clancy ascending into the sky beneath those weather balloons.In the dreams, the scene played out exactly as it had in reality until the moment Clancy disappeared from view.Then the dream would shift and Miles would suddenly be thousands of feet in the air, watching from some impossible vantage point as Clancy fell.The man would plummet toward the Pacific Ocean in complete silence, his body tumbling through the atmosphere while Miles remained suspended and helpless.The fall would last forever, stretching through hours of dream-time while Miles watched and understood he could do nothing to stop it.
With Dr.Mitchell’s help, the dreams had started to taper off, but they hadn’t completely disappeared.Still, he knew he was making huge progress.
"I've been thinking about what you said," Miles continued."About how Clancy made his decision long before I got to that parking lot.That nothing I could have done or said would have changed his mind."
"And do you believe that now?"
Miles considered the question carefully.Dr.Mitchell never let him get away with easy answers, which was part of why these sessions had become valuable.She pushed him to actually examine his thoughts rather than just recite what he thought she wanted to hear.
"I'm starting to," he said."When I got there, he had already strapped himself into that harness.He had already filled those balloons with helium.He had already cut through half the ropes holding him down.All of that happened before I was even on the scene.He was going up whether I showed up or not.To think otherwise is actually sort…well, it’s almost conceited."
"But you still feel responsible."
"I feel like I helped him do it, as dumb as that sounds.Like, my presence gave him the final push he needed."Miles leaned forward slightly, his hands clasped between his knees."He thanked me.Right before he cut that last rope, he looked down at me and said thank you for helping him do what he couldn't on his own."
Dr.Mitchell was quiet for a moment.When she spoke, her voice carried a gentleness that never felt condescending."What do you think he meant by that?"
"I think he was too afraid to go through with it alone.I think seeing me there, knowing the FBI was closing in, it gave him an excuse.Like he could tell himself he had no other choice."Miles sat back again."But the truth is he had already made the choice.He just needed something external to push him over that edge.If it hadn't been me, it would have been something else.Hell, maybe just his own guilt eating away at him until he couldn't take it anymore."
"That's an important realization."
"It doesn't make it easier to live with."
"I know.But accepting that you weren't the cause of his decision is different from being okay with witnessing it.Both things can be true at the same time."Dr.Mitchell picked up her tablet and made a note."These disciples, the ones following Gabriel Kane's philosophy…you're starting to understand that they may be beyond reasoning."
Miles felt something tighten in his chest at the mention of Kane.Even after all these months, after everything they had learned about the man and his network of followers, hearing the name still affected him—even after he’d been locked away for nearly seven weeks now.Almost two months.
"They're not just believers,” Miles said.“They're true converts.Kane found people who were already broken in some way, and he gave them a framework to understand their brokenness.A mission that made sense of their pain or their fear or whatever else was eating at them."
"And you can't reason someone out of a position they didn't reason themselves into."
Miles nodded, thinking about the other disciples they had encountered: the fluorine killer who believed he could smell chemical corruption in people's bodies; the nitrogen killer who thought his victims were demons disguised as humans; the oxygen killer who had trapped him in that sealed chamber.Each one had constructed an entire worldview around their chosen element, a delusional framework that felt more real to them than objective reality.
"Clancy wasn't just afraid of heights.He had built this whole philosophy around elevation and gravity and who deserved to exist at high altitudes.When I tried to talk him down, tried to reason with him, he wasn't even hearing the same words I was saying.We were speaking different languages."
"Do you think that understanding will help you in future cases?"Dr.Mitchell asked.
Miles considered the question.Right after they’d returned from Vegas, the FBI had assembled a task force specifically dedicated to hunting down Kane's disciples before they had a chance to start their work—or “becoming active” which was the terminology the bureau was using.It was called the Elementalist Task Force, which Miles thought was a stupid name and a little on the nose.But no one had asked his opinion.The formation of the task force had taken some pressure off of him and Vic, which was a relief.He no longer felt solely responsible for stopping every disciple who emerged from whatever hole they had been hiding in.
"I think it means I need to focus on stopping them rather thansavingthem," Miles said."That sounds cold, but I don't mean it that way.I mean I can't approach these cases thinking I'm going to talk a disciple down from their beliefs.I can't expect to show them evidence and logic and have them suddenly realize they've been wrong.They're going to do what they intend to do, and my job is to stop them before they can hurt more people."
"That's a pragmatic approach.How does it make you feel?"
"Tired."Miles realized it was true as soon as he said it."I'm tired, Dr.Mitchell.I'm tired of chasing people who want to die.I'm tired of arriving too late to save victims.I'm tired of watching Kane's philosophy spread like a disease through people who might have been helped if they had gotten real treatment instead of his manipulation."
Dr.Mitchell nodded slowly."That's a natural response to the work you're doing.I know that working the field like this isn’t your forte.You’re used to labs and research, right?”
