Into the Shadows (20 page)

"Yes sir, I'm on it." I set the bag of corn
on the coffee table next to the guns and went out the front door.
It was a simple but tedious chore of dragging all the bodies to my
backyard, then to move my car and back the van down the driveway
and load 'em up. The two dead hitters in my house were lighter than
I expected, with no signs of injury and very pale, cold skin. I
guessed they were Viggo's dinner.

Transporting the bodies went uneventfully. I
found the building where I was once a prisoner from memory. At
first, I had reservations about going back there, but then I
thought about how fortunate I was that Viggo cared enough to look
after me. I no longer saw the place as a building with a large
cell; it was a gateway to greater things. That didn't mean I was
gonna go hang out in my room again, though.

A couple hours later, Shawn pulled up in his
Camaro to give me a ride home. When I got in, he handed me two
tickets to a rock concert being held sometime in April at a
mid-sized event center out in a suburb. After that, and for the
entire rest of the drive, Shawn played air-guitar on the steering
wheel while Glazefinger's new album blared out of the speakers.
Okay, it wasn't half bad.

MUTT

Nine hours of sleep did me a lot of good.
There were no disturbing dreams involving Viggo, just one about him
being on the ocean in one of those big old boats with billowing
sails. I woke feeling refreshed, and my shoulder felt much better
than I thought it would. I guessed it was another perk for
minions.

A shaggy mess looked back at me in the
bathroom mirror. Damn, I needed a haircut. I trimmed my beard,
cleaned up, and left my house just after noon to go see my barber.
I wasn't even off my porch when Miss Loretta called to me from next
door, inviting me to a lunch of leftovers. I couldn't say no.
Besides, her leftovers were some of the best meals I ever had. Over
a feast of pork ribs and four side dishes, she asked about my long
vacation and caught me up on the neighborhood gossip. Politely
refusing dessert, I thanked her and carried my swollen gut out of
there.

The rest of the afternoon was spent running
errands and stopping by the dojo to work off my huge lunch. Phillip
Aoki was acting strange, so I didn't try to chat with him. There
were a couple guys in there who wanted to spar, so I kept my power
and speed in check when we squared off. I focused on my control and
techniques, and showed the two purple belts a couple Marine moves
that Master Aoki didn't teach in his classes.

Even during my mock fights, Ragna was in the
back of my head. It was easy to say that I wasn't looking forward
to spending more time with the disgusting hag, but something about
her also intrigued me. No, not in a sexual way; that would be
fucking sick. I meant that there was a lot more than met the eye,
that her brain played chess when most everyone else thought in
terms of checkers. Just like with Viggo, I wondered about Ragna's
past. I doubted that asking the grouchy broad about herself was a
good idea.

Not knowing what to expect for the evening, I
had my Luger and Glock on me. I also loaded a boot blade, just in
case. I made it over to Ragna's rundown area before sunset and
parked in front of the Wise Owl Wok. There were a few customers
inside, so, doubting that Ragna would go in with diners present, I
leaned against my Jeep and waited.

About the time the clear sky was fully dark,
a dog came around the corner and padded straight over to me. It was
the huge Rottweiler. He looked at me, turned around, walked a few
paces away, and then looked back at me again. I didn't understand
what big bastard was doing. By the time he finished the process of
movements a second time, though, I figured out that he wanted me to
follow him. I was concerned about leaving my car unattended in the
bad neighborhood, but I didn't want Ragna crawling into my brain
and make me dance the cha-cha naked, either. I followed.

We passed the alleyway and finally stopped a
few blocks later at a vacant lot along the dirty, desolate street.
Near the back of the lot, past the dead weeds and piles of junk,
Ragna knelt on the ground. She was hunched low over something, I
couldn't tell what. From the outside light from a nearby building,
I was just able to make out a few other dogs sitting around her. I
followed the Rott, who went to her side and sat as well. With a
better view a few paces closer, I saw her hand resting on a prone
mutt. It was obvious that one of its back legs was broken, and its
breathing was labored and irregular.

Ragna didn't look up. She kept her gaze on
the broken, scruffy-haired mutt. "Nearer, Beck," she said solemnly.
"There is a lesson to be learned."

I stepped closer and squatted. I felt bad for
that dog; I wanted to just shoot it in the head to stop its
suffering. I watched as Ragna gently cradled the dog's head in her
hands and turned it to face her. She stared intently at it and made
whispered crooning sounds. One of the dog's ears perked up, and its
tail began to feebly wag. I looked from it to her, hoping that if
she could communicate with it, maybe she could also take away its
pain. You've heard to be careful of what you wish for?

Ragna pulled down her scarf. Her ruined face
was just as gruesome in profile, especially when I saw that jaw
jutting out. This time, though, I noticed her upper canine teeth.
They were distended and gleaming, like a matching pair of curved,
two-inch blades. I don't know what thought or image she put in the
dog's mind, but it stayed calm and content while she leaned lower
and sunk those teeth into its neck. There was an obscene slurping
noise, and then Ragna raised her head a few seconds later.

Pulling her scarf back up, she turned her
head to me and said, "Tell me what you took from this."

"My guess is that the poor mutt got hit by a
car and dragged himself back here. It was only a matter of time for
him anyway, so you made him happy and then finished him off."

"That is the basics of it," Ragna said with a
nod, "but the details are important. I showed this animal mercy
because animals are my focus. In their way, they reciprocate
emotion. The focus of most
strigoi
does not offer that,
which makes them selfish and egocentric. When one of us has no
focus, no deep concern or fixation to occupy their long existence .
. . madness comes. My point is that I
can
be a monster, but
I still retain the choice not to be. Some do not. Over time, they
distance themselves from their human origins and emotions. Those
without empathy are the true monsters."

"Okay, so most hemos - uh, strigoi, daemons,
vampires, numen, whatever - they're conceited pricks, so they
wouldn't have eased this dog's mind before they, uh, finished him.
Some would have just ignored him altogether and let the poor mutt
die in fear and pain, right? That's pretty fucking cold."

Ragna regarded me for a second, and then
said, "Maybe you're not so bad after all, Beck. But, you'll notice,
I was selfish, too. I could have snapped the animal's neck.
Instead, I drank him dry. I stopped his heart within a few seconds,
but it wasn't as quick. Blood is life, power, and my kind's great
passion. Combine your favorite drinks, your unhealthy vices, and
your carnal pleasures all in one - then you would have an idea of
what it means to us. There's less sustenance in an animal's blood
than a human's, but my main purpose wasn't to feed. Then again, I
wasn't going to pass up the opportunity, either."

Right then, I thought that my term
'hemoholic'
was a good fit. Blood was their addiction, and
for some, their purpose. But whereas most normal addicts don't gain
anything beneficial from their drug of choice, blood wass the
source of a hemo's power. I could see calling them that would be an
insult, so I'd just be careful with whom I used it.

My thoughts were interrupted when Ragna said,
"Go get your car. I have a thing or two to show you."

PREACHING

The Rottweiler's name was Gungnir. I only
asked what it was because he was sitting in the small back seat of
my Jeep. Every time I checked my rearview mirror, his giant head
blocked my view. I didn't think he was very happy back there,
either - he glared at me for the entire fifteen minute drive into
midtown. I was told that Gungnir was the name of Odin's spear.
Ragna may have been the only person in town who was a true believer
of the Norse gods. That gave me a clue to at least a part of her
history.

A modest, three-story brick building was
pointed out to me. The sign over the double doors and the posters
in the front windows told me the place was a community theater for
stage plays. My house was less than a mile away, but I never knew a
theater was so close. That was probably because I didn't give a
shit. Plays and musicals are not my thing.

I found a parking spot nearby. "Tonight is an
open invitation," Ragna told me as I opened her door and helped her
out, "for any and all to come hear the teachings and prophesies of
a man who calls himself Elias. He's a pagan with a curious
philosophy who has slowly begun to cause a stir in certain
circles."

Gungnir stayed in the car and watched us
intently as we walked toward the theater. "He sounds like a cult
leader," I commented as we moved slowly along.

"That's true enough," she agreed. "I'm not
sure of Elias's core beliefs, but there are some things I know for
certain. His real name is Edward Galloway. He is a lab technician
at a hospital. He is a failed artist and a poor musician, although
I've heard he's quite persuasive. And, he's a member of the Adept
faction."

I wasn't expecting that last bit, even though
not much should have surprised me anymore. "So, are we here to
learn about his philosophy, or to see what he's really up to?"

"Both, and more," Ragna answered. Before I
pulled open one of the doors, she added, "Pay attention to
everything you see, and don't draw attention to us."

I nodded, and we stepped into the simple but
clean lobby. There was a refreshment table off to one side, where a
handful of grubby-looking people took advantage of the muffins and
punch. Through the second set of doors and into the dim seating
area, Ragna had us sit further to the back. The place looked like a
wide movie theater, except for a low stage instead of a screen.
There were thirty or so other people seated, either by themselves
or in small groups. Most of them had that bleak, homeless look. A
few other individuals were dressed casually and well-groomed.

One of those latter few noticed Ragna and
nodded to her. When she nodded back, he made his way over to us.
Wearing slacks and a thick sweater for the cool weather, he looked
to be in good shape. With wavy black hair and dark eyes, I guessed
he had some Spanish or Italian blood. He stopped in the aisle next
to us a respectful pace away, yet close enough not to be overheard.
"Good evening, elder Ragna," he said in a smooth, even tone. "I
can't say I'm surprised to see you here."

"You shouldn't be, Mr. Zapada," she replied
quietly. "These are more my people than Elias's, as most of us
know. I'm here to see what he has in mind for them. Why are
you
here?"

Zapada glanced at me; his eyes traveled down
to my talon necklace. He gave me a barely perceptible nod and then
turned his attention back to Ragna. "Call it religious curiosity.
I've only lately heard of Elias, and that he has fresh deific
views. Perhaps he is simply yet another new age pantheist. Or he
may have uncovered an ancient truth. Two hours out of an evening is
a small price to find out, don't you think?"

"We'll see." Just then, a spotlight came on
over the center of the stage.

"Ah, I should return to my seat," Zapada
said. "Good evening to you, elder." She nodded. He left.

I leaned over to ask about him, but Ragna
spoke before I could. "Vincent Zapada - Outsider, brought to the
night in the 1880's, I think. He owns an antique book store up near
the river. A learned man, he is, and knows a few secrets of daemon
lore. In his spare time, he's a gigolo."

Ragna mentioned that last part like she was
telling me the time. I couldn't dwell on it for long; Elias walked
out onto the stage a few seconds later. He was tall and lean, with
straight brown shoulder-length hair. He kept his thin jawline beard
trimmed, and was dressed down in jeans and an untucked dress shirt.
I'm comfortable enough with my own masculinity to say he was a
handsome guy. He started his show, introducing himself, warming to
the crowd. He was a pretty smooth talker, too.

Elias started off with stories of losses and
gains of life that everyone could relate to, and then took his
sermon to a place I didn't expect. He outlined basic beliefs of a
few Christian denominations, and then used some of the bible's own
words to poke gaping holes in those beliefs. Likewise, he did the
same thing with Satanists. I gotta admit, Elias knew his shit, and
if he started ripping apart atheists like he did the other two then
I'd have been pretty damn impressed. I mean, how do you knock a
non-religion?

Ragna whispered to me, "You'll notice he
wisely left the Norse pantheon out of it." I had no comment.

Instead of atheists, Elias started talking
about deific beings that were closer to man than the "fictional God
of Heaven or King of Hell". The beings were more in touch with us
mortals, more accessible through prayer and simple offerings. He
called them Sentinels. Elias preached that unenlightened people
would call them angels or demons. He said that just as we had both
good and bad in our hearts, so these Sentinels had dark and light
purposes. It made those Sentinels sympathetic to mankind, and
willing to at least listen to our prayers and appreciate our
offerings. I wasn't buying it, but he made it sound cool.