Talon of God

by Wesley Snipes

  “I will,” Talon gasped, the joyful words jumping from his lips. “Always.”

  Then rise, the angel commanded. And take back what the enemy would steal.

  As the words faded, the fire went with them, but not before leaving a familiar weight in Talon’s hand. When he looked down, he was clutching his sword, but not as it usually looked. His sword had always been a simple cross blade, brightly polished through care and wear, but still mundane metal. This weapon glowed with the reflection of angel fire, and everywhere the shadowless light fell, his wounds vanished, leaving him whole.

  “The hell?”

  Talon lifted his head to see Lincoln Black staring at him in disbelief, and then the assassin bared his teeth. “Oh, hell no!” he shouted, drawing his own crooked black sword with a scrape of metal on bone. “You ain’t going nowhere. You’re mine!”

  “I can never be yours,” Talon said, standing up. “I am already claimed body and soul by he who made me best, as are you.”

  “I hate when you talk that Godspeak!” Black spat, lifting his blade. “This won’t be like last time, old man. That’s our castle in the sky, not yours. Power’s in our court now.”

  Talon shook his head sadly. “If that’s what you call power, I pity you.”

  “Save your pity for yourself, asshole!” Black roared, swinging at him, but the blow stopped cold, the black sword striking Talon’s bright white blade like a hammer against an anvil. For a moment, Black just stood and stared, and then he jumped back with a string of curses so foul, Talon had to shake his head. It was already clear any words he spoke would fall on deaf ears. After burying himself so deep, violence was the only language Black still respected. If Talon wanted to reach him, he would have to answer in kind. He just wished he felt worse about that as he turned and joyfully raised his own sword to meet Black’s attack.

  Father forgive me . . .

  17

  This Present Darkness

  Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the schemes of the devil. For we do not

  wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers

  over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places.

  —Ephesians 6:11–12

  In his long years of wandering, Talon had learned many ways of using his body as a weapon. He considered it a soldier’s duty to master as many forms of fighting as possible, even if he hoped never to use them. But while all the skills he’d learned were useful in their own ways, his favorite style was the Japanese art of Aikido, and not just because it was beautiful. He loved it because of all the martial arts, Aikido was the only style he’d encountered that stressed the safety of both the attacker as well as the defender. At the heart of its philosophy was a longing for harmony and a deep respect for all living things—using your opponent’s own momentum, aggression, and strength against them to nullify violence with stillness. Learning it had been a humbling, enlightening, joyful experience, and it was that hopefulness Talon held dear now, using his favorite style to flip Lincoln Black’s attacks back on him.

  “Screw you and your fancy Judo moves!” Black bellowed, narrowly escaping Talon’s grab to try and put him into a submission hold. “This is a sword fight, asshole.”

  “I’ll fight back when you give me something to swing against,” Talon said, smiling. “So far, all you’ve done is flail around like a mad dog.”

  “I’ll show you mad,” Black yelled, swinging wildly, his black sword flying so fast it vanished into the dim light. “I’ll show you death!”

  Normally so cool and collected, Black’s anger was consuming him, and his sword crashed into Talon’s, hitting so fast, all Talon could see were the sparks as it struck. Black lashed out again and again, wailing with all his might, but to no avail. No matter how hard he struck, how fast he went, Talon’s stance did not falter. He simply stood and took it, standing steady and implacable as a mountain until, at last, Black stepped back.

  “You stubborn bastard,” he panted, chest heaving as he tossed his black sword away. “Fine—I’ll play your game.” He walked over to the bar and grabbed a bottle of whiskey, taking a long swig. “You want to play defense?” he said when he was done, wiping his mouth on the back of his gloved hand. “Dodge this.”

  The words were barely out of his mouth before his other hand, the one he’d slipped behind the bar while his free hand grabbed the whiskey bottle, came up holding something long and pipe-shaped with a string sticking off one end. It wasn’t until Talon saw the tiny flicker of fire on the string’s end, though, that he realized the thing wasn’t just pipe-shaped. It was a pipe bomb, and it had just landed at his feet.

  Talon dodged only through the grace of God. He lurched to the left, gripping his blazing sword tight as he rolled behind one of the warehouse’s metal support beams. It was poor protection, but in the split second before the bomb went off, it was all he had. He’d barely covered his head before the bomb exploded with a deafening boom, sending the metal shrapnel that had been packed inside shooting like bullets in all directions. Several pieces whizzed right by his head and shoulders, passing so close he could feel the heat of them on his skin, but between the iron and the angel’s protection, he managed to avoid actually being struck. Even so, he was still in a protective crouch when the explosion finally ended, the ringing boom giving way to Lincoln Black’s echoing laughter.

  “And that’s how we do it downtown,” he said, his voice mocking. “Plenty more where that came from, old man, so why don’t you come out? We’ll play catch.”

  The final word was accompanied by the sound of something being thrown, but Talon knew what he was up against now, and he did not hesitate. Black’s voice was still ringing when he rolled to his feet, sliding around the pole he’d been using for cover to slice the second pipe bomb—which Black had indeed just tossed at him—out of the air.

  The moment his flaming sword hit, he worried he’d made a mistake. It was clear from the hand-filing marks on the pipe’s surface that these were homemade explosives, not purchased ones. He had no idea how they’d react to being cut, which was a problem given that he’d sliced this one directly in front of his face. From his grin, Black clearly expected it to explode, but Talon’s sword passed through like a fish through water, carving the flying bomb neatly into two halves that flew harmlessly past, clattering to the ground behind him.

  “You and your miracle bullshit,” Black snarled, tossing the third bomb, which he’d been ready to throw at Talon, back into the box full of explosives hidden behind the bar. “That should have been your head, you goddamn cheater!”

  After a whole night of talking to Lincoln Black, Talon didn’t feel the need to dignify that with a reply. He simply raised his sword again, stepping to the side to avoid the gaping hole the first bomb had left in the wooden floor.

  “That’s how you want to play, huh?” Black said, vaulting over the bar. “Okay, fucker, let’s play.”

  He turned to the weapons displayed so carefully on the brick wall behind him and grabbed the largest item—a huge weighted chain with a wicked-looking hook on the end. He’d barely gotten the thing off its hanger before he swung it, aiming to sink the barbed hook deep into Talon’s leg.

  As ever, Black was astonishingly fast. But he was also the enemy Talon had trained all these years to face, and he dodged the hook with time to spare.

  The chain, however, was another matter.

  He was still spinning out of the way when it wrapped around his legs, binding them together and sending him to the floor. He was trying to kick back up when Black appeared above him.

  “What’s the matter, holy man?” he taunted, yanking the chain tight. “All tied up and nowhere to—”

  His words were cut off, leaving him gasping, as Talon struck upward, slamming him with the flat of his shining blade. The impact sent him flying into the wall behind the bar, breaking the bottles in an explosion of
glass. He fell to the floor next, gasping and sputtering as thousands of dollars’ worth of top-shelf liquor landed on his head. He’d just made it to his knees when Talon’s sword appeared at his throat.

  “It’s over.”

  “The hell it is,” Black gasped, glaring up at him. “You don’t have the balls. You’ve never had the balls to kill me, and that’s where you fail, Talon, because I ain’t ever going to rest until I take you to hell with me.”

  “But you’re already there,” Talon said sadly, looking around at the lonely room full of vice and pain. “You blame me and God and everyone else, but the truth is you’ve built your own hell here, Black. You could leave at any time, let go of your bitterness and live a better life. But you would rather stay miserable in a world where your problems are someone else’s fault than accept that the real enemy here isn’t me or God. It’s you.”

  “Then end it,” Black said, chest heaving. “You’ve already written me off. Finish the job.” He lifted his head to press his neck against the blade of Talon’s sword. “Do it.”

  For a moment, it seemed like Talon would. He edged closer, pressing his sword along his enemy’s neck, and then he relaxed.

  “No.”

  Lincoln Black’s eyes flashed with fury. “What?”

  “No,” Talon said again, lowering his weapon. “I’m not going to kill you.”

  For a moment, Black just stared at him in disbelief, and then he lurched forward. “What is wrong with you?” he screamed. “How many times is it going to take before you learn I don’t stop? Do you really think that if you keep letting me go, I’m going to come around? See the light and go to Jesus? Is that what you think is going to happen?”

  “It’s what I hope,” Talon said. “There is always hope.”

  “If you believe that, then you’re stupider than I thought,” Black spat. “’Cause I ain’t ever gonna stop. If you don’t kill me, I’ll—”

  His words cut off as Talon’s sword returned to his neck. “I’ve heard it all before,” Talon said calmly. “But no matter how hard you try, you can’t pin your sins on me. Everything you do, you choose, and that’s on you, not me. But I will not kill you, Lincoln.”

  “Why not?” Black demanded.

  “Because I’m not like you,” Talon said softly. “God doesn’t give up on people, and neither do I. There is always a way out. You can still—”

  “What?” Black sneered. “Repent? Fucker, please. You really think your God would take me? After all this?”

  “Yes,” Talon said. When Lincoln rolled his eyes, he crouched down in the broken glass to look him in the face. “This is why God’s mercy is infinite. Because when there are no limits, there can be no sin so great that it can’t be forgiven. Salvation is always possible. Always, for anyone. Even you. You just have to want it.”

  “Then we’re at an impasse,” Black said. “’Cause I’m never going to want what you’re selling, and I’m never going to stop coming after you.”

  “And I’ll never stop offering you an out,” Talon said, grabbing the weighted chain Black had dropped when he’d hit the ground. “But the ball’s in your court now. You’re a smart man, Lincoln. When you’re tired of being on the losing side, let me know. I’ll always be waiting to lift you up.”

  “I don’t want your pity!” Lincoln roared, struggling as Talon wrapped the chain around him, pinning his arms and legs to his body until he was trussed up like a roast. “Let me go, you damn—”

  But Talon was already walking away, leaving the defeated assassin screaming impotently at the top of his lungs. It was a temporary solution. Black was nothing if not resourceful. Even a chain wouldn’t hold him for long. He would be a problem again soon enough—he always was. Tonight, though, he was out, and Talon had bigger problems, starting with the Z3X factory beneath him.

  The workers must have fled during his fight with Black, because by the time Talon reached the floor of the warehouse where the vats were churning, all the control stations had been abandoned, the machines left pumping and churning on their own.

  With no one in his way, it took only a few minutes for Talon to shut down the whole operation. When he’d rendered all the machine control consoles into metal slag with his sword, Talon turned his attention to the foreman’s office, and poked through the scattered papers and spilled beers until he spotted what he was looking for: a brand-new cell phone sitting in its charger, its screen bright and unlocked, ready to be used.

  “God provides,” Talon said, wiping his bloody hand on the scattered papers before picking up the phone to tap in Lauryn’s number.

  By the time Lauryn finally made it out of St. Luke’s hellhole of a house, she’d never been happier to breathe fresh air. That was, until she saw what was floating in it.

  “Damn,” she whispered, almost dropping her new sword as she craned her head back to stare at the massive shadow hanging low in the smoky sky.

  It wasn’t complete, not yet, but what Lauryn could see left no doubt in her mind that this was the same castle she’d seen on death’s threshold. It got clearer as she watched, the lines of the horrible towers emerging from the black smoke like a ghosts through the fog.

  “Damn,” she whispered again, darting down the mansion steps. “Damn, damn, damn.”

  In the rush since she’d woken from death with a sword in her hand, Lauryn hadn’t had a chance to stop and sort things out. She still wasn’t precisely sure what was happening, but one look at the sky was enough for her to know they were running out of time. But even though the rest of the world seemed to be sliding into chaos, there was one good thing waiting for Lauryn when she stumbled out the mansion doors, and he was standing next to her brother.

  “Will!”

  Will was leaning on the door of Robbie’s car clutching his wound, his face taut and angry. Beside him, Robbie was pacing nervously, biting his nails as he’d done when he was a kid. They both looked enormously relieved to see her, which was only fair since Lauryn had never been happier to see two people in her life.

  “I’m sorry, L,” Robbie said as she ran toward them. “I tried to keep him in the car, but—”

  “It’s okay,” she said, running to hug them both. “I’m just glad you’re alive.” She pulled back to have a look at Will’s wound. “How are you feeling?”

  “Not bad considering I got shanked,” Will said, glaring at Robbie, who winced. “But, Lauryn, what the hell were you thinking going in there alone? You could have been—”

  “I know,” Lauryn said, cutting him off before she had to lie about the fact that she had been through every bad thing Will was clearly about to say, including death. Because none of that mattered anymore. They had bigger problems to deal with.

  “Come on,” she said, tossing her sword into the car. “We need to go.”

  “Nice sword, sis.”

  “Thanks,” she said with a tight grin.

  “Go where?” Will demanded. “Lauryn, what happened to you in there?”

  She sighed. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  “Try me,” Will said, glancing up at the shadow of the castle in the sky. “My suspension of disbelief is pretty high right now. I mean, last thing I knew, I was dead from a gut wound, and then I wake up feeling pretty decent only to find Robbie shooting what looked like zombies off the car with my gun.”

  “You should just be happy I got them before they got you,” Robbie said, his eyes wild and shaken. “This apocalypse crap is nothing like the video games.”

  “I’m afraid it’s about to get worse,” Lauryn said grimly. “That thing in the sky? It isn’t going to stay a shadow much longer. We have to stop it before that happens.”

  “How the hell do we do that?” Robbie cried.

  Lauryn’s shoulders slumped. She had no idea. She hadn’t known what to do when she’d asked to come back, and she still had no clue. All she knew was that if she was, in fact, chosen for this task, then there had to be a specific reason God had picked her out of eve
ryone else. Whatever the answer was, it had to be something only she could do, a solution only she could find. Maybe she was meant to find a cure or—

  “Damn,” Will said, glancing over his shoulder. “They’ve spotted us.”

  Before Lauryn could ask what he was talking about, she saw it. Outside the mansion’s walls, figures were moving down the street, their bloody eyes glistening in the light of the street lamps as they peered through the gate Robbie had plowed down when he’d driven them in.

  “You just had to break the gate,” Will said, checking his gun. “And you used up all my ammo.”

  “Hey, I was just trying to survive,” Robbie said, jumping into his car as fast as he could. “Let’s go!”

  Will got in more slowly, wincing as he bent over to squeeze himself back into the car’s rear seat. “Too bad we don’t have a fire hose full of that holy water stuff you used on Robbie,” he grumbled. “Couple thousand gallons of that and we could just wash all this away.”

  Lauryn froze, her eyes going wide, and then she lurched down to grab Will. “What did you say?”

  “That you could wash it all away,” he repeated, giving her a funny look. A deserved one, because from the way her cheeks ached, Lauryn knew she had to be grinning like a maniac.

  “That’s it!” she cried.

  Will looked more confused than ever. “What’s it?”

  Lauryn couldn’t answer; she was too busy working things through. It was all snapping together in her head—what she’d learned from Talon, St. Luke’s explanation, what she’d seen on the other side—and as the pieces connected, a plan began to form in her head.

  “I got it,” she whispered, clenching her fists in triumph before she leaped into the car.