by Gavin Green
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.
"What have you noticed so far?" Ragna asked me quietly.
I leaned in and whispered, "About a third of these people are sitting near the front and look fascinated, like they've heard the sermon before. Zapada is taking notes. There's someone on each side of the stage behind the curtains. Back in the shadows on the far side is a man, I'm guessing a bodyguard. On the near side is a woman - I saw a hand on the curtain for a second; it was slender with nail polish. Only one guy got up and left. I also think Elias believes his own bullshit, but he has another agenda."
"Do you know what that agenda is yet?" Ragna asked. I looked at her and shook my head. "Power and blood, Beck," she nearly hissed. "Past all the drama, after all the scheming and lies and ego and fighting, it's always about power and blood."
I thought about what Ragna said, but then started listening to Elias again. He was going into more detail about those Sentinels, what they were capable of and how they sometimes used followers - like Elias - to pass along their wisdom or warnings. Without much detail, he described the intentions of some of the Sentinels in his sermon . . .
". . . And, when I've done wrong, by word or deed," Elias preached with emotion, "I call to Theodoric, he of the wise heart, to ask how I might repent and make amends. And he will answer. Ah, but what if you want to strike out with a righteous hand against your enemies? Who will justify you and guide your hand? The Sentinel called Decimus Pius will strengthen your resolve, and will validate your actions."
Edward kept on with his Sentinel sermon. He mentioned other beings - Octolindis, Rutilia the Red, the Beast of Crete - and their purposes. Because of the weird and fairly ridiculous topic, my brain started to wander. Just as I was thinking about having a drink and getting Tanya to give me another hummer, maybe both at the same time, Edward said:
"And, of course, we've all known someone who has knowingly committed dark deeds. On occasion, those deeds serve a purpose and must be sanctioned by the proper Sentinel. But beware the one prayed to for such wicked ventures. He is called The Veleti, and shadows carry his vengeance."
Okay, that sure as hell got my attention.
ELIAS
Viggo was one of that crackpot's gods. And not a nice god, either. I felt the urge to go beat the shit out of Elias right on that stage, or at least let him know how wrong he was. I felt the surprisingly strong grip of Ragna's hand on my forearm, keeping me seated.
I seethed while Elias went on about other Sentinels. It took me a little while to silently calm down. By the time I started listening to Elias again, he was talking about the small sacrifices and rituals that the Sentinels required. He said he understood that some folks had nothing to give, and that a sacrifice could be a symbolic gift. Elias ended by offering to visit with whoever wanted to know more about the Sentinel prophesies, one-on-one so he could discern their role in the 'grand plan'.
Elias thanked us all and walked offstage toward his bodyguard. The woman behind the curtains came out with a clipboard and pen, and began to speak to those who were interested in speaking with Elias privately. She was pretty damn hot, dressed in a low-cut vest and tight pants. It helped some of the guys sign up faster. Hell, for a chance at some of that action, I would've signed up too.
"So what do you think the grand plan is?" I asked Ragna. She turned her head and just stared at me until I made a guess. "Uh, power and blood?"
"It took you long enough." She looked around the emptying theater; no one was paying attention to us. "In a moment, we'll get up and go backstage. Do not leave my side. Do not speak. Not a sound - no shuffling your feet, no cocking your gun, no coughing, no sneezing, no belching, no farting. Breathe through your nose. In fact, not breathing at all would be better."
"Uh, breathing is kinda mandatory, and why am I supposed to be Mr. Ninja when there's still people hanging around? They kinda defeat the purpose."
"Questions fall under that 'do not speak' rule. Now follow me." We slowly got up and moved at half walking speed past the hot name-taker and group of possible followers. Not one of 'em looked in our direction. Huh, neat trick. I closely followed Ragna up onto the stage and into the back area. We saw the bodyguard down a short hall, standing next to a closed door. Ragna and I walked right by him, and we stood on the other side of the door. I didn't know what kind of Gift she was using, but it was awesome.
Soon enough, a middle-aged woman in threadbare clothes came into view. The bodyguard waved her to him. He asked her name, opened the door, and said into the room, "Elias, this is Janet Kimble." Janet hesitantly stepped in. Ragna suddenly slid past the guard and the woman into the room. Being bigger, I had trouble not touching anyone in the few seconds I had to follow. Ragna and I stayed against a wall of the nearly empty dressing room while the guard shut the door. Elias sat in one of the two chairs in the middle of the room, smiling at Janet as he stood and welcomed her to sit.
Elias talked about some vague prophecies and told Janet she'd do well under the teachings and guidance of the Sentinels. He stared at her with a warm smile for a few seconds, and then his brown eyes seemed to glow, lightening in color
. Janet stared back dumbly, and a smile slowly formed on her wrinkled face. "My poor dear," Elias said softly, putting his hands on her cheeks, "you may think you have nothing to give in order to receive a Sentinel's blessing, but you do. Blood is symbolic of life to them, a giving of yourself that they recognize." He leaned in with elongating teeth and latched onto her neck.
That sneaky bastard was using a Gift - I guessed the enchanting one - to take advantage of a woman who was already down on her luck. The worse thing was that Elias was giving her false hope, the prick.
After a few seconds, Elias pulled back just far enough to lick the puncture wounds, and they immediately closed - pretty damn handy. Janet's eyes, which eased shut during the bite, began to flutter open. With the enchanting Gift still in effect, he told her, "The Sentinels are pleased with you, Janet. Your next bit of good luck will actually be them showing their appreciation. Please come see me when I speak again of this - our - new faith. Just look for the fliers around the area. With your warm heart, I can more easily bring the blessings of the Sentinels upon us." Janet's smile was beaming. "Off you go now, dear."
Janet got up, still dreamily grinning, and left the room. The bodyguard stepped in and asked if Elias was ready for the next follower. As he did, Ragna and I snuck out into the hallway. We heard Elias say, "Give me a minute, Chuck. Go out and tell Trish to make sure she sends me someone who doesn't smell as bad as that first sheep, okay? Oh, and get me some air freshener."
Ragna and I made our way into the lobby before she stepped away from me, so I guessed that the 'ignore me' Gift was gone. I didn't have to see her whole face to tell she was pissed. "I already know you're angry, Beck," she said to me. "And I know why. I took a look at your surface thoughts while we were in there. It's a very human reaction. Now tell me why you think I'm angry."
