Fraser had been able to talk Mr. Lee into telling them the whole story, after the restaurateur had recovered from the effects of being under Bon Bon Hai's control.
The infiltration of the community had started quietly. Those with corrupt leanings--like the shopkeeper Ray and Caine had run into--became the emissaries, luring others with gilded words. Soon the honest citizens didn't know which of their neighbors they could trust. And the more followers he obtained, the more Bon Bon Hai's power grew.
Finally it reached the point where he could possess even an unwilling subject. He had taken over David Lee's mind and used the boy to bring his parents to the theater, a strategy that had proven exceedingly successful.
Ray, however, didn't believe a word of it. Rather, he insisted that they had been victims of hypnotism instead of possession. He couldn't satisfactorily explain the wind and the flickering lights he had witnessed in the theater, but he maintained that old wiring and a malfunctioning ventilation system were probably at fault.
"I suppose that is...possible," Fraser admitted. He was more concerned about how he would handle Dief's newest attitude. The wolf had become insufferably smug since helping to defeat the forces of evil. He considered asking Caine to give the animal a stern talking-to.
He tended to ignore the babble Ray's family raised around him, finding it generally confusing and unproductive, but one particular eddy of conversation caught his ear. "So, you're a sharpshooter, hmm?" Francesca was asking Peter from directly across the table.
Peter was sitting at Fraser's left, so his answer was clearly audible. "Yes, I am. Comes in handy in my line of work. I don't use my gun as often as I used to, however."
"You know, Fraser's a marksman too, I hear, even though it seems he doesn't keep his gun loaded." She glanced at the Mountie out of the corner of her eye, as though to make sure he was listening. "Maybe you could give him a little...competition."
"I don't think that's necessary. After all, I'll be leaving town shortly, so I won't really have the time. But it's considerate of you to be thinking of things for me to do while I'm here."
"Oh, I can think of things a lot more interesting for you to do. Fraser can use some competition in other areas as well."
Peter nearly jumped out of his chair, drawing the attention of those immediately around him. "Uh...yeah," he mumbled, focusing intently on polishing off the remaining food on his plate. Francesca regarded him with the same expression Dief had been sporting recently.
Ray glared at her. "Frannie, leave the guests alone for once?" She pouted but complied, returning to the regularly scheduled chaos of Vecchio communication.
Fraser touched Peter's arm. "My apologies," he said in a low voice when the policeman looked up at him. "I hope she didn't cause you any embarrassment."
"Nah, that's okay." Peter brushed off the incident. "I'm used to it."
Fraser shook his head in amazement. "That is something to which I will never become accustomed. But then, my father once gave me a helpful piece of advice. He said, 'Always...'" The Canadian paused, a flash of red catching his eye.
Caine, as a priest, had been awarded the seat at the head of the table, even though he didn't share the same religion as the Catholic family. He met Fraser's eyes across the length of the table, then purposefully turned to look directly at the specter of Robert Fraser that stood behind him, one hand on the Shaolin's shoulder. The older Mountie winked.
Peter watched the interchange, confused. "He said what?"
"He said..." Fraser couldn't help staring as his father vanished without any others showing signs that they had seen him. "Never mind."