The Dark Path (23 page)

One of the thugs drew a large knife from beneath his long jacket. Another drew a switchblade while the man beside him pulled out a short metallic tube that shot out into a baton when he pressed a button on its side. The fourth stood back with his hand inside his jacket while the other three spread around the young man. “You’re gonna pay for what you just done to Gabriel!” snarled the one with the baton.

Something inside the young man’s mind clicked. “
Gabriel?
Why, my name is Gabriel also, and I didn’t do anything to your friend–he attacked me.”

The man on Gabriel’s left suddenly lunged forward, his knife plunging towards Gabriel’s unprotected ribs. Gabriel instinctively batted the weapon aside, and pushed the man away from him. The force of the blow was such that his assailant flew several feet through the air and collided solidly with the wall at the end of the alley, slumping to the ground unconscious.

The three remaining muggers hesitated briefly before the last drew a pistol from inside his jacket and fired point-blank into Gabriel’s face. The bullet connected with the side of the young man’s head and knocked it askew before flattening and dropping to the alley pavement.

Plink.

Unharmed, Gabriel slowly turned his head towards the gunman. A deep crimson began to burn within his eyes and he pronounced with soft power, “Get ye gone, infidel! Who are ye to stand before the will of God almighty?”

The three thugs sensed the force within the young man’s words and as one they turned and fled for their lives.

Gabriel chuckled softly. Although it had been an abuse of his earthborn powers, the altercation had been refreshing for his spirit. It felt good knowing the Angel of Death could still make men quiver in their shoes.

His memories trickling back, Gabriel turned his attention to the unconscious mugger still slumped against the alley wall. Ignoring the screaming leader, he concentrated on replicating the man’s clothing, and identical garb instantly cloaked his form. He then moved towards the crippled boss and reached out for his shattered arm. The thug tried to crawl away from Gabriel, but every movement sent howling shards through his entire body and he quickly submitted to the young man’s grasp.

An intense white light shot out as Gabriel placed his hands onto the mugger’s pulverized arm, momentarily illuminating the entire alleyway like a prolonged flashbulb. When the radiance receded, the mugger’s arm had been completely restored without even a hint of blood. Even the crimson that had splashed onto his grimy shirt had disappeared.

“W-what the hell are you, man?” stammered the mugger.

“I am a messenger,” said Gabriel softly. “And now I must go and deliver my message. Goodbye.”

The young man disappeared down the alleyway and the mugger rose unsteadily to his feet. “Boy, I’m glad that message isn’t coming to me,” he muttered, before moving tentatively towards his comrade and beginning the long chore of trying to rouse him from his unnatural slumber.

* * * *

Vain walked calmly through the airport, looking neither left nor right, simply focusing on the floor directly ahead of him. This lessened his chance of attracting the attention of any curious passersby, while also allowing him more use of his peripheral vision. Sudden or unnatural movement was easier to detect at the edges of vision, a protective system from a more primitive time in human development. Vain managed to screen out the normal movement around him by doing this and still instinctively realize when he was being watched or followed.

Suddenly he noticed a change in the motion of the crowd to his right and subtly altered his direction away from the disturbance. The flight back to New York and his access through customs had proceeded without incident so far. He’d used a different identity again and left his weapons behind to minimize the chances of being caught, this time posing as a middle-aged Lebanese taxi driver from Queens returning from a much needed holiday. Dressed simply in a bright t-shirt with a thin grey jacket over top and loose blue jeans, on his head he wore a baseball cap turned backwards, while several days’ stubble partially disguised his face. 

The papers and passport had been difficult to obtain at first, and he had finally had to resort to dealing with a local Triad group in Beijing. Vain hated dealing with Asian gangs. Triads and Yakuza were all basically the same. Always promising their dealings were sealed with the honor of their ancestors, but at the first sign of profit elsewhere, they would sell you out for two cents, they hated the round eyes that much. He wished he had time to deal with them all in a manner more to his liking, but forced himself to smile and bow and very nearly kiss their asses in order to get the paperwork he had needed. Another time perhaps.

Vain heard rapid footfalls behind him and readied himself for attack or flight. “Excuse me sir,” beckoned a voice from behind him. Vain stopped and slowly turned towards the two security guards.

“Yees?” asked Vain with what he hoped passed for a thick Lebanese accent.

“Sir, could you please come with us?” asked one of the guards. The Dark Man raised his eyes as the second guard inched around to his left, his hand resting nervously on his belt near the grip of his gun.

“Why?” asked Vain.

“Sir, we have some questions regarding an incident that happened here a while ago,” the guard explained confidently.

Damn rent-a-cops
, thought Vain. Too dumb to get into the police, they tried to push what little authority they had onto seemingly innocent citizens. Not that he
was
innocent, but chances were they didn’t really believe Vain was the suspect they were looking for; otherwise they would probably have been pissing their pants while trying to dial 911.

At another time, Vain would have probably humored them and complied with their request, talked them down and left in short order. But he already felt pressed for time and he couldn’t take the chance these two geniuses would discover his identity.

Vain dropped his bag gently to the ground and placed his hands onto the top of his baseball cap.

“I no illegal,” he pleaded in his fake Lebanese accent. “Please don’ lock me up policeman.”

Both guards relaxed at his display, and the one to his left moved his hand away from his pistol and laughed softly. “Hey don’t worry buddy,” said the second guard, “we’re not the police, we just have to go through some stuff with you.”

“Not policeman?” asked Vain. Both guards shook their heads and chuckled again. “Well in that case.... No!” He finished in his own cold voice, and the guards’ faces changed from amusement to shock.

Vain’s right hand shot forward, catching the first guard full in the throat, dropping him to the ground, gasping for breath. The second guard reached for his revolver as Vain spun on his heel and whipped off the baseball cap from his head. Swinging in a wide arc, Vain sliced through the tendons at the back of the second guard’s right hand with the brim of the cap. The thin blades of razor sharp ceramic Vain had painstakingly sewn into the edging the night before leaving Beijing cut through skin and sinew like a surgeon’s scalpel.

Blood sprayed from the back of the guard’s hand and he fell to his knees beside his partner. Vain casually stepped over the pair, delivering a kick to the first guard’s head, dropping him to the cold tiles. The second guard fought frantically to release his sidearm from its holster whilst clutching his mangled right hand to his chest.

“That’s why you should always keep your gun in a cross holster,” said Vain, casually collecting the gun from the unconscious guard. “Too many of you idiots want to be John Wayne, and look where you end up. Kneeling on the floor with a full gun you can’t even reach. On another day I would have killed you by now but, luckily for you, I’m not that man today.”

The guard looked imploringly at the assassin; Vain cracked him in the skull with the butt of the gun. “But I’m not a nice man either.”

Collecting the second weapon and placing both into his bag, Vain casually strolled away thinking it would have probably been easier if he had just killed them both.

Somehow though, he didn’t regret his decision. Originally he’d thought to do it simply to avoid unwanted attention, but now he wasn’t so sure. An image of Sebastian flickered in his mind and, once again vanishing into the crowd, his soul felt somehow lighter, the scrabbling from the
Glimloche
a little less intense.

Vain strode out of the airport and climbed into a waiting cab just as the grey light of dawn broached the horizon.

* * * *

Sebastian awoke disoriented and still drowsy. His last few attempts to escape from his white jail had severely taxed him. Physically, his exhaustion left him weak as a day-old calf, but mentally he had at least trebled in power. If only his body were strong enough, he could have torn this bleached cube to shreds. Unfortunately, Empeth had learned from his previous mistake and placed some sort of leaching spell into the cell. Whenever Sebastian awoke he seemed completely devoid of energy.

He’d made numerous attempts to re-enact his previous escape, only to fail each time, collapsing lifeless to the floor of the cube. Empeth had punished him severely when he discovered Sebastian’s actions, attempting to break his spirit. Once he had spent several hours draining the cube of oxygen, leaving Sebastian gasping for air until he almost suffocated, finally granting him the merest breath to fill his lungs. He took great pleasure in Sebastian’s suffering, and used several spells to ensure the Avun-Riah didn’t lose consciousness or die during the torture. The boy had wept for hours after the torment, and felt himself ready to give up.

Nearing his breaking point, suddenly a great cooling wave washed over him, easing his senses and refreshing his soul.

Be at peace, Avun-Riah
, a golden voice pulsed in his mind.
The one you call Vain will come for you soon.

Who are you?
asked Sebastian mentally.

I
am Gabriel, The Messenger
, pulsed the voice.

What is your message?
asked Sebastian.

It is not for you, Gifted One. You must keep trying to breach your cell. When the one called Vain arrives, you must have escaped your bonds; or else he will need to expend himself grievously in order to release you.

I can’t go on
, pleaded Sebastian.
I’m too weak and too scared of what will happen if I am caught again. Please help me.

I cannot help you
, pulsed Gabriel.
Already I have risked too much in order to speak to you. If I were to interfere further, it could destroy everything we have worked for.

What do you mean?
pleaded the boy.
Who is this
we
you’re talking about? And how did you breach the spells around the cell? For God’s sake who are you?

It is for God’s sake that I cannot tell you. I must go now, but remember what I have said. You must be free from your cell when the Dark Man arrives. Farewell Avun-Riah, I know you will prevail.

Sebastian had once again found himself alone in the cell. Gabriel possessed enormous power; Sebastian had sensed it even along the tenuous thread they had communicated through. He wondered how Empeth had not felt the power also.

Sebastian had continuously endured the intensifying pain every time he attempted to escape, and he knew no matter what happened he would continue his efforts until he either broke free or died.

Sitting on the floor of the cell he pondered Gabriel’s words
. It is for God’s sake that I cannot tell you
. What did God have to do with all of this? It all seemed overwhelming. Crumbling within himself again, he felt he had nothing left to give. Everyone wanted something from him.