Catharsis (Book 2): Catalyst (23 page)

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

            Half a mile from Chadwick's warehouse (I really want to call it a "lair", but I don't know if that is appropriate, yet.), I am presented with a gut-wrenching choice that I can tell will have lasting implications.  Ahead of me on the side of the road I can see two inner city youths strolling along the littered and debris-strewn sidewalk without a care in the world as if they own the place.  What are young men like this doing out this late in the scary and rundown part of the city?  Is it providence or fate that has put them here?  Or is it the devil in an attempt to pull me from my path?

            Do I stop and use these two 'gifts' to feed the Hunger and risk possibly being even later in rescuing Leyna, but with a fuller tummy and less mental distraction?  Or do I ignore them and push on towards my goal and hope that I can just forestall the inevitable rushing wave of Blackness beating against my skull?

            In the end it isn’t even a decision.  I can’t in good conscious attempt a confrontation with Chadwick without at least attempting to clear away as many distractions as possible.  Ignoring the Darkness in me any longer would be folly; something tantamount to signing Leyna's death certificate myself.  These two young men have been put in my path so that my sister can be saved.

            Slamming on the monster's brakes and sliding sideways in the empty road, I bring the car to a stop mere feet from the stunned pedestrians who are about to become my dinner.

            Stepping out of the car and ripping off the helmet, their scent wraps around me before I even have a chance to speak.  The delicious aroma of their blood is a siren song that I am powerless to resist.  The Hunger squeezes out the last of my resistance with an almost audible hiss, and I willingly give in to its seduction.  The thrill that shoots through me is both terrifying and refreshing at the same time.  The Hunger is strength.  The Hunger is power.  The Hunger is victory, and it is thrilling.

            But the Hunger doesn't know mercy.  And neither will these two.  The terrible thought is only a small blip in the back of my mind, but the Darkness easily pushes it away and drains it of importance.  It is a worry for someone else.  And that someone is no longer me.

            Smiling at the two open-mouthed men in front of me, I flare my nostrils and let the wonderfulness of what is about to happen envelope me like a warm blanket.

            "Holy crap, chica!"  The one on the left manages to get out.  "Who the hell are you supposed to-"

            And then I leap the dozen feet through the air and land on him knocking him down and preventing him from finishing his thought.  It was a wasted and unimportant thought, anyway.  And now it will be his last one.

            Whirling in place and spinning on the prone man's body, I quickly knock the feet out under his companion and listen to the
whumpf
of his breath getting torn from his lungs.  Before he can even inhale, I am on top of him and the liquid that has powered his life for years quickly flows from him into me.  It is my quickest feeding ever, and it is complete.  The Hunger leaves not a drop behind as it sucks every last bit of nectar from this now deflated flower.  The saggy, exsanguinated remains of what used to be a man mere moments ago are a disturbing enough sight to tickle what's left of my conscious, but once again the Darkness smoothes over the thoughts by telling me it was a necessity for what is to come.  He was a sacrifice to a greater god.  And tonight
I
am that god.

            Without pause, I move back to my first victim and perform the same heinous act on him.  This god has demanded two sacrifices tonight, and these men were kind enough to accept the calling.  The nutrients of the blood flow through my veins with an electric tingle, but the Darkness isn't done.  It is only getting started.  The Hunger is far from satiated, and it can sense my target nearby.  It knows how badly I need Chadwick to die tonight, and it wants to make that happen.  And so help me, I'm willing to give up control so that it can.

            I smile and wipe the few drops of blood away from my mouth that didn't go down my gullet.  I wasn't very wasteful, but no meal can be perfect. 

           
Let's end this
, I think and look down the street and see the warehouse Ren has been guiding me towards.  Chadwick is in there now, and I want to introduce him to my new ally, Death.

            My radio's speaker suddenly bursts into life from my pocket, and I can hear Ren's voice yelling at me, "What did you just do Cat?  What did I just listen to?  Did you just feed on somebody?  Who'd you find out there?  Talk to me."

            But I don't want to talk.  Talking is something that Cat does, and right now I am the Hunger.  And the Darkness.  And I have a mission.

            "Cat," Ren's voice pipes up again, and I believe this time I can hear fear in it.  "Are they dead?  Did you just kill somebody?  What's going on?  Why aren't you talking to me?"

            "I am the Darkness," I tell him simply, and the impact of what that means makes my smile grow even bigger.  "I am the Night, and I will not be stopped by any mere man."  With that declaration, I reach into my pocket and pull out the radio and speaker and toss them over my shoulder.  I don't need Ren now.  I don't need anything.  I am alone.

            Turning my back on the two bodies, my discarded radio and the still running car, I take off sprinting down the street towards my destiny.

THE FINAL CHAPTER

            The half mile between me and Chadwick's warehouse disappears in mere seconds, and as I approach I can tell I have the right place.  He's prepared for me.  He's set up a similar gauntlet to our previous encounter.

            Smells hit me first as I run, and they are dizzying.  There are myriad of them that assault me, but the strongest is blood.  The warehouse is rich with blood.  The thick odor of the red liquid is almost a wall that I have to punch through as I approach, and I realize why it's so strong as I get closer.  Chadwick has chosen a meat processing plant for tonight's confrontation.  And the odiferous aftereffects of years of dying animals clings to it like a thick veil. 

            I don't know if there is still blood in the place or just the scent of it everywhere, but it is certainly distracting.  Especially with my current hunger being what it is.  The Darkness considers the smells and then tells me there is something wrong with them.  Tinging the blood is a 'wrongness' to it that strikes me as dangerous.  I won’t trust anything he has been near.  Tasting any of this blood would be suicide.  And that is not my goal tonight.  There will be death here, but it won't be mine.  The Darkness assures me of that.

            The other smells that wrap around the meat and food scents are equally as strong, but far less appetizing.  I can pick out rotting garbage and feces and waste, and a number of other eye-squenchingly powerful odors that I don't want to identify.  Embracing the Darkness, I let it filter out the distractions and keep me focused.  Chadwick Morrin's tricks will have little effect on me tonight.  I am not human like him.  I am not weak.

            Approaching the building a bit more slowly as I close the distance, I can hear sound coming from inside, but it is muffled and distorted.  It sounds like over-amplified talk radio.  But crazier.  And even more rant-filled than I’m used to.

            But as I get closer to the open side door (It’s more of a garage bay used for deliveries than an official "entranceway", but I'll take what I can get.), I realize the talking head I'm listening to is Chadwick himself.  It's his own voice that he is pumping through the place.  And it's loud and it's furious.

            "...would eventually find me," I pick up on what he's saying partway through a ranting sentence.  "Hiding wasn't going to be an option forever.  So I decided to bring the fight to you, Catarina.  Or should I use your full name?  Catarina Esmeralda Perez.  Daughter of Jose Emmanuel Perez and Valentina Maria Guerra.  Born August twenty-first..."

            I tune out his tirade and focus on the door he has left opened for me.  His words become a dull rumble in the back of my brain, but I don't need to hear him recite my life story to know that he's found a way to rip up every last bit of information about me that exists.  He only knows who I
was
, not who I
am
.  And who I am is the bringer of his death.

            Standing in front of the very well-lit opening of the warehouse (Apparently, he has spent time and money to have the lights in here replaced with UV-emitting ones as I can feel the heat from them tingling my skin, and I haven't even stepped across the threshold.  The energy I gleaned from those sacrifices earlier will be consumed more quickly than I had anticipated.), I study what I can see inside but it isn't much.  There is a large metal wall blocking most of my view about twenty feet back from the doorway.  I have no way of knowing what's waiting for me on the other side of this, aside from feeling fairly sure it isn't good.

            For a few moments, I consider trying to find another way in.  I could try to climb the outside walls and enter through the roof.  Or there are a number of frosted windows a few stories up I could attempt to get access to and use to enter.  Or just walk the perimeter and find another door.

            But is he expecting me to do that?  Have all those other entry methods already been prepared for my arrival?  Is everything in this place booby-trapped?  And if it is, then which is the least likely of routes for him to expect?

            I can feel the Hunger pulling at me as I stare at the doorway contemplating my options.  The Darkness doesn't like indecision and analysis.  It wants actions.  It wants results.  It's all I can do to hold it at bay and try to rationalize my way through what I'm seeing.

            And then Chadwick plays a trump card.  A card that lets the Darkness win any further arguments for the rest of the night.

            The speakers inside the place switch from his voice to my sister's.  But she isn't ranting like he was.  She's screaming.  And not screams of terror or fear.  I know what those screams sound like.  Her screams are laced with pain.  Pain, misery and desolation.  The sound of her voice causes me to want to curl up in the fetal position and wish for this all to be over.  The most important person in my life is suffering because of me.

            And that is all the motivation the Darkness needs to usurp my control.  Mentally I cower into a ball and let the Evil that I've been doing my best to contain have its way with my body.  I don't want to know what happens next, and I don't care how it gets done.  From here on out I'm just along for the ride.

            "Do you hear that you crazy, little Hispanic witch?"  His voice supersedes her screams for a moment, but I can still hear her underneath his words.  "I don't care if you make it to me or not.  She dies tonight.  Because of you!  You forced yourself into my life and ruined it.  No one could touch me!  They tried and failed.  And then you came along.  You took my world from me, so I am going to do the same with you.  I'm taking away what's important to you, and you're going to listen to every moment of it."

            His voice is again replaced by my sister's screams, and I get the impression that he has gone crazy.  Somehow I've managed to push him over the edge, and I'm listening to a man on the brink of insanity.  I wish I could take the time to cherish what I've done to him, but his power over me is nearly as complete.  He may already be insane, but I'm thinking I'm not far behind.  And if he manages to kill Leyna before I can get to her...well, then I have no need to even try to stop the Darkness's consumption of me.

           
I'm coming, Leyna
, I think from the dark hole in my mind I've crawled into. 
Just hold on a bit longer
.

            The Darkness doesn't believe in indirect routes or subtlety.  It embraces confrontation and struggle, and that means we're going into this place using the most easily accessible way possible (I am no longer a single entity.  I am just a guest in my own body.  The Darkness has become a living force that propels me forward; it controls me.  I’m now just a guest watching what unfolds.).  Pushing the tingle through my veins, we feel the strength it gives us and the world comes to a gentle standstill.  Deranged evil genius or not, he can't kill what he can't catch.

            The warehouse opening rushes past us as we enter it moving faster than any living creature has ever moved.  If there were traps around the doorway, we are moving too fast for me to notice them or care.  Turning left as I approach the metal wall, I see that Chadwick has constructed a massive labyrinth inside the warehouse.  A rat's maze that he is expecting me to have to fight through in order to get to him.  It's rather ingenious, and I'm sure on any other night it would have proven formidable.  But this is not any other night.  Tonight we bring Death with us, and he is in a hurry to make a new friend.

            Running through the tight passageways he has created, I let the Darkness make the decisions on which paths to take and which to avoid.  Time never speeds up around us, and I don't want to even think about how much energy is being used up by this level of exertion.  Or maybe the Darkness doesn't consume much energy, and it was just my resistance to it that wore me out.  I don't know.

            As we travel the corridors, I can hear the slight
clicks
of catches being released and traps being sprung, but they all happen behind us.  Way behind us.  Too far behind us to worry about.  And the Darkness never falters in its path.  It never backtracks.  It has a singular purpose, and it knows how to get there.  The Darkness operates on a level that is even beyond my understanding, and I have to respect its power.  I can't help but think about what I could have accomplished if I had chosen to embrace the Hunger as opposed to quelling it.  I could have been capable of so much more.

            After what feels like an hour of running through the maze's many paths (But I realize couldn't have been more than thirty seconds of real time.), we come to a long well-lit hallway with thick glass along the sides and top.  And at the end of the long hallway I recognize the form of Chadwick Morrin standing behind my sister.  A very scared and visibly shaken, and also most definitely alive, Leyna Perez.  She also appears to be unhurt which relieves me.

            Stopping at the entrance of the hallway, I stare down the hundred or so yards towards the man who has caused me such pain and heartache tonight.  The man that we have brought Death to.  The man I am intent on killing.

            But seeing Leyna standing in front of me unharmed after what I had been listening to is disconcerting and confusing.  It shakes me, and it almost hits me like a physical slap.  Is he messing with my mind again?  How could I have been listening to her being tortured if I can see that she is fine with my own eyes?  It doesn't make sense.

            And the Darkness begins to pull at us again.  Getting here has used up almost everything we had stored up, and I need to feed soon.  It isn't something I can ignore much longer.  But the end of the labyrinth couldn't have come any sooner.  With barely anything left in our tanks, I couldn't even sprint down this hallway if I wanted to.  I'm going to get to him; I have no doubt about that.  But it's going to be at normal speed.  And after tonight's journey, what are a few more moments of waiting.  It's nothing.

            Looking down the hallway at Chadwick's distorted image, I have to smile.  The entire length of the hall between us has thick glass partitions sticking out of the sides in an alternating pattern.  It means I couldn't sprint straight towards him even if I had wanted to.  Or thrown anything at him.  I can see him and it may be a blurry image, but it is most definitely him.  The glass might slightly obfuscate my sight of him, but it can't mask his smell.  And his smell is rich.  His final little obstacle might slow me down, but it is far from able to stop me.

            "Well that was slightly disappointing," I hear him calmly say over the speakers, and I immediately notice it doesn't have even a tinge of the crazy I had heard earlier.  "I spent a lot of time building that obstacle course for you, and you barely took any time at all with it.  That was almost rude," he continues and laughs.

            Doing my best to ignore his voice as we move, we begin weaving our way past the partitions and towards him.  It's a slow process as he's given us barely a foot of clearance in places between a partition's edge and the opposite wall, and the glass is thick.  As much as it would be nice to just punch our way through these walls and make a straight path towards him, we don't have the strength to muster that kind of attack.  Our retribution will just have to wait a few moments longer.

            "I did my best to try and motivate you, Cat.  I had more plans I wanted to put into place for this meeting, but your sister kind of accelerated the time table with her fit tonight.  I hadn't planned on us getting together for months yet, but it is what it is.  You understand, don't you?"

            Continuing to ignore him, we move forward partition by partition.

            "Catarina, dear, I don't believe I have your full attention.  And that's just rude.  Do I need to find a way to get you to focus?"

            His sudden change of tone from placating to slightly aggravated does get us to finally look up at him (Only about fifty yards away now.), and we can see that he has brought out a long shiny object and is pushing it into Leyna's side.  Even with the distance separating us, we can tell it's a knife that he is using to slowly perforate my beloved younger sister.

            We don't have the energy to answer out loud, but we do stare at him for a moment and do our best to make eye contact through the plethora of glass walls.  The shiny object withdraws slightly and Leyna's frantic squirming subsides.

            "Thank you, dear.  I appreciate that," he coos at us in an obnoxiously superior voice.  His tone tells us he still thinks he is going to win.  "Even without the extra time to finish my project, I still think I was pretty ingenious with what I set up.  But you barely took any time at all to appreciate it.  And I doubt after tonight you'll take the time to go back and give it its due, either," he says and then gives out a hearty, fake sigh.  "What a waste."

            Doing our best to maintain the eye contact, we continue to move and close the distance to the end of the hall.  He can talk all he wants.  It isn't going to change anything.  If these are what he wants as his final words, then so be it.

            The closer we get to Chadwick and my sister, the more overwhelming the scent of their blood becomes.  The Hunger is bucking in my stomach, and the desire to satiate it nearly staggers me.  Each step I take is one closer to the sweet relief that drinking will bring me.  It doesn't matter what words leave Chadwick's mouth now, he cannot prevent his own destruction.  It is coming for him one glass wall at a time.