The Dark Man waited until they were all off and climbed from his seat to the exit. The village was a small one, twenty or so buildings, and it seemed many of the residents had never before seen a Westerner. A few stopped and openly stared at Vain while others simply snuck looks from under hooded lids before hurrying away; but all of them noticed him.
Vain had earlier organized a guide to take him into the mountains and heaved the pack he had bought in Beijing onto his shoulder. It contained some provisions for the journey and some of his lesser weapons. His two Glocks were still tucked firmly into the waistband of his pants, while several knives were hidden about his person.
“Phillips?” inquired an accented voice from behind him.
Vain turned to see a strange looking man squinting up at him in anticipation. “Yes,” he answered, “I’m Phillips; you must be my guide.”
“Me Shin-thao. Me take you. Give money.”
Vain handed the little man a roll of bills and watched his eyes go from squinting to bulging as he fingered them. “There is another roll when we get to Paijin temple.”
“Okay, okay. We get clothes first,” babbled Shin-thao excitedly.
“I don’t need more clothes,” protested Vain.
The smaller man looked at him quizzically, but when he realized Vain was serious he chuckled and said, “We go there.”
Shin-thao pointed away behind where Vain stood. His gaze followed the line of the smaller man’s arm to one of the highest peaks in the distance, shrouded in snow and cloud.
“You get cold. We buy clothes. Come.” Shin-thao’s mocking grin quickly disappeared after a dark glance from Vain. The guide turned and scurried toward a little shack while the Dark Man stood staring up at the craggy peak, cursing again at his foolishness. He was being led up a mountain by a short-sighted midget with an attitude. Shaking his head, he reluctantly followed his guide into the shack to buy some dead animals to wear.
* * * *
Vain eventually found himself extremely grateful for the large woolen cloaks and leggings they had lugged up the mountain for the first three days of the journey. Nearing the peaks, the temperatures plummeted, and they saw no sign of other life as they trudged through the knee-deep snow.
The Dark Man was amazed at the small guide’s stamina. He pushed them both through the thick howling winds that struck suddenly and kept a pace that even the assassin had trouble matching. He proved the perfect companion for Vain; he spoke little and asked even less. Questioning him about the temple each night when they made camp, the little man seemed very hesitant to go into detail, often brushing around a subject or simply avoiding it completely. It grew frustrating for the assassin, but he managed to quell his temper on most occasions and began to gain the trust of the little man.
“Paijin temple very old. Very sacred,” Shin-thao offered one night as they huddled around their small cooking fire. “Many secrets there, well guarded. I think you no come back if you mean trouble.”
“No trouble Shin-thao. I just need to ask the Abbot something,” answered Vain.
“Long walk for question. Why not try e-mail?”
Vain looked up shocked before he saw the corners of Shin-thao’s mouth twitching. “That’s right, you little-dick bastard. Laugh it up at the stupid American,” Vain said with amusement. Despite his instincts, he felt himself beginning to like the small guide’s quirky sense of humor.
“Little dick? No.” Shin-thao broke into a wide smile. “Shin-thao have enormous dick. So big that elephant look at him and say, ‘Man! That is big dick.’”
Vain had chuckled and rolled over to sleep, but the guide’s curiosity would not let it go. “What you ask Abbot? Life? Love? No, I think not. You come to ask something important. You no journalist I think. You something else.”
“Why do you say that?” asked Vain rolling back over.
“Journalist shoot with camera, not gun,” observed Shin-thao with an absent shrug toward Vain’s pack. The smaller man had accidentally walked in one morning when Vain had been loading his weapons into the pack, but had claimed to have seen nothing.
Vain looked intently at the guide for a moment, contemplating what to do. Six months ago he would have killed this man without thought, just in case he gave away what he knew when they reached the temple, but now he felt unsure. They were within a day’s walk of the temple, and Vain was certain he could find it on his own. Out here in the snow nobody would find the body until spring, if at all. And yet something still stopped the assassin, and he shrugged before rolling back over to sleep again.
“Sometimes people need to be persuaded to smile for the photo, little dick. Now shut up and go to sleep.”
Shin-thao’s laughter echoed through the tent and the storm outside seemed to subside slightly.
* * * *
The following evening the two arrived at the gates to Paijin temple. Blocked by two burly Chinese monks, Shin-thao spoke something rapidly in Mandarin, and they quickly stepped aside.
Shin-thao skipped up the path toward the main temple while Vain stopped and stared at the massive structure in awe. Both sides of the path were lined by statues of vicious-looking lions seeming to guard the stairway. The stairs and sculptures appeared to have been carved straight into the stone of the mountain. Owing to the enormous walls surrounding the place, it had remained invisible on approach, but once inside Vain discovered that it was not simply a temple, but an entire city with the temple at its center. There could have been hundreds, perhaps thousands of people here, all hidden away from the influences and evils of the outside world.
Now, however, that evil had come to them in the form of the Dark Man, and somewhere deep inside himself, Vain felt a small pang of regret that he had tainted the purity of this holy place with his presence.
Shaking the strange thought aside, Vain mounted the stairs and followed Shin-thao up toward massive main doors, cast open like the maws of an enormous animal awaiting its prey. Upon entering, Vain noted the colossal ceilings and the beams that criss-crossed to support them. His gaze was drawn to a giant statue of the Buddha and a throne that lay directly in front of it, facing toward the main entry.
Shin-thao bounded across the floor and sat lightly in the throne.
“Get out of there, you idiot,” hissed Vain. “If the Abbot comes in and sees you in his chair we’ll both get kicked out of here.”
“The Abbot is already here,” Shin-thao stated calmly. His words no longer carried the simplistic tone or accent, nor did he appear the same as when Vain had first met him at the village. The constant squinting and nervous fidgeting his guide had displayed now disappeared; he held the composure of a man at home.
“What do you mean, Shin-thao?” asked Vain cagily.
“My name is not Shin-thao, it is Abbot Dokei. Just as your name is not Jackson Phillips. Why don’t you tell me your real name? I think the time for charades is over.”
“I am Vain,” said the assassin.
“Yes you are, but what is your name?” queried Abbot Dokei.
Vain began to answer, but saw the familiar lines begin to quirk at the corners of his former guide’s mouth and knew he was being played with again.
“You sneaky little bastard,” whispered Vain incredulously. “Not many people can fool me, but you did a hell of a job.”
“Mind your language in this place,” warned Abbot Dokei, his voice once more assuming a tone of authority. “This is a holy temple and you taint it with your words.”
“I am sorry,” Vain apologized with a note of irritation. “But it is true, you fooled me.”
“I never said I was not the Abbot. You did not ask.”
“That’s simply wordplay,” said Vain. “You know what I say is true.”
Abbot Dokei shrugged his shoulders. “Perhaps, but I found it necessary to discover who you were and if you meant this place harm. Besides,” he added with a sly grin, “I don’t get out much.”
Vain chuckled, again catching a glimpse of Shin-thao within
Abbot Dokei and decided to let the matter rest.
“What is it that you have come to inquire of me, Vain?”
The Dark Man paused and gathered his thoughts. He struggled to accept that the diminutive figure before him was actually the Abbot of this entire temple, having spent the last few days joking with him on the journey up the mountain.
“I need the talisman and the weapon,” he finally said.
Abbot Dokei looked at him quizzically. “What talisman? What weapon?” he asked.
Vain’s heart sank. If Abbot Dokei didn’t know of the articles he needed, his quest ended here. He would try to fight his enemies, but knew he stood no chance.
Swallowing his trepidation, Vain began to explain, “I am the guardian of the Avun-Riah. Information led me to believe you knew where the weapons to defeat his enemies are hidden.”
The Abbot’s eyes moved from confusion to comprehension to fear in the space of a few heartbeats.
“You speak of the Glimloche,” he whispered in awe. “It is no mere amulet or weapon. It is a creation more dangerous than Sordarrah himself. If it were to fall into the wrong hands it would mean the end of all existence.”
“Yeah, well, if I don’t stop them from killing the boy, apparently it will mean the same thing,” stated Vain blandly.
“You mean they have the boy already?” gasped the Abbot. “This is terrible. You must save him.”
“To do that I need this thing to overcome the people who hold him.”
Abbot Dokei pondered the predicament for a long moment before finally coming to a decision. “The Glimloche is not attainable for you anyway,” he pronounced finally. “It was dismissed from this world into the fourth level of Hell where no mortal can go. Even Sordarrah’s minions cannot reach it, for it lies deep within the realm of Lucifer himself. Only a being of pure evil can go there and hope to return.”
“Can you get me there?” asked Vain.
The Abbot balked at the request. “Possibly, but you cannot do it. Have you heard nothing I have just said? Only pure evil can exist in Hell.”
“I am Vain,” the assassin growled, a hint of his old rage rising. “The Dark Man who hunts people both for profit and my own satisfaction. I almost killed you coming up the mountain on a whim. If I can’t go there, then nobody can, so just shut up and send me so that I can retrieve the Glimloche and kill those bastards.”
Abbot Dokei visibly paled at the Dark Man’s words. He calmed himself with difficulty, gazing into the Dark Man’s eyes with dread, but also a touch of pity.
“It will be done,” he said softly, “but it saddens me to see this change in you. On the trip here I perceived you to be a good man, despite your anger inside. Now I see I was not the only one masking my identity.”
Abbot Dokei rose and walked slowly from the temple.
* * * *
The Dark Man lay on the cold stones of the temple floor, seven monks sitting in a rough circle around him. Their chanting had continued for hours, and the overwhelming scent of incense almost made him gag, but he forced himself to remain still as the Abbot had instructed him.
Before they began, Abbot Dokei had pleaded with Vain to reconsider, but the assassin remained unmoved by the appeal and demanded they continue.
“Just one thing,” he’d said as the ceremony got underway. “How will I find this Glimloche?”
“If you are what you say, you will be drawn to its power,” Abbot Dokei murmured sadly. “Evil created the Glimloche and the darkness in your soul will pull you toward it. Be careful. When you find it, it will try to overpower you and use you for its own purpose. That is how Empeth succumbed to evil. Originally a Guardian of the first Avun-Riah almost two thousand years ago, he succeeded in saving the child from the first attempt on his soul, but was unaware that a second chance would present itself to his enemies twenty six years later.
“They succeeded in catching the Avun-Riah and tortured him horribly before nailing him to a cross. Though it destroyed him to do so, Empeth disguised himself as a soldier and plunged a spear into the Holy One’s side, ending his life before the resurrection of Sordarrah.
“In the years that followed, Empeth’s failure began to gnaw at him from inside, and gradually the Glimloche began to overpower him. What you see today is the end result. He is now the most powerful of Sordarrah’s servants, even more-so than The Four. This could be the fate that awaits you.”
Vain had nodded grimly at the advice, but still insisted on continuing with the ceremony that would send him to Hell. They’d placed him on the floor within the circle and begun the chanting. If he could obtain the Glimloche, its power would return his soul to his body.
The chanting seemed to increase in strength, and Vain began to feel a light tugging in his chest. The tugging became stronger, more insistent, like his entire body was being wrenched from the floor by some giant hand, yet he still sensed the cold dampness of the stone beneath him.
Finally, with a sudden, unexpected shout from the monks, Vain felt a tearing sensation and shrieked a noiseless cry. His soul ripped agonizingly from his body and flew into a darkness so deep that all others paled beside it.
* * * *
Vain awoke on a grassy hill beneath a cloudless sky. Initially disorientated and unsure of his whereabouts, Vain gradually remembered the ceremony and looked about him in wonder.
They were supposed to send me to Hell, not Iowa, he thought absently. Pretty similar, I guess. An easy mistake.
Standing up, the ground beneath his feet suddenly lurched and he stumbled before catching himself on a tree stump. To his horror, his fingers ended in six-inch claws and were covered in bleeding sores that broke and hissed. Looking down at himself, his entire body was naked and covered in the same leprous growths.
The land tilted again and this time Vain fell. The earth a few yards away burst and erupted with scores of grossly malformed creatures of all descriptions. Scorpions with the faces of children beamed up at Vain, smiling sweetly. A pack of bloodied ravens swooped down to stab and peck at them, their wickedly sharp beaks formed of charred bone.
Across the hill another hole ripped open, spewing its contents out onto the grass. Time and again this happened until the entire landscape appeared covered in misshapen parodies of earthbound life.
A small rabbit hopped toward an enormous wolf, its belly torn open and dumping everything it devoured. The rabbit gazed innocently at the wolf. Vain felt certain its time had come. Instead, when the wolf lunged, the rabbit’s jaws opened impossibly wide, revealing row upon row of razor-sharp fangs. With a single bite it severed the wolf’s head and swallowed it without pause, quickly turning and hopping away. The wolf’s body stood motionless for a heartbeat before slowly tipping to the side and falling to the now blood-smeared grass.
With a tremendous crack, the blue sky split from horizon to horizon, shattering outward like an enormous pane of glass smashed by a hammer. A red swirling cloud rapidly filled the void, eddying before bursting with thick drops of blood that fell heavily onto the creatures below.
Vain rose from the ground and made his way down the hill toward the only visible road. The creatures parted before him as he moved and he passed untouched and unhindered all the way to the dark path.
The road cracked and splintered, oozing a thick black liquid that ran off to the sides, leaving the center untouched. Vain easily made his way down the broken road, eventually spotting the glimmer of an enormous tower in the distance. He hurried toward the structure, soon finding himself before two enormous doors.
Around the perimeter of the tower lay the scattered bones and decomposing bodies of obscene creatures. Some boasted three heads and six legs, others consisting of tiny bodies and monstrous craniums that seemed merely mouths filled with foot-long daggers for teeth. The black tower stretched high into the bloodied sky, crumbling in parts, and carrying a deep sense of wrongness.
Vain felt somehow drawn to the wrongness and searched the doors for a way to enter. Eventually he found
a small button to the side of the frame and cautiously pressed it, expecting some sort of trap to engage.
Ding Dong.
Vain shook his head at the absurdity of this place and stepped back to await a response. He heard deep thudding footsteps from within and absently reached for his pistols. Finding nothing there, he looked again at his clawed fingers and tested them by slashing his hand toward one of the bleached bones nearby. The claws passed through the thick bone without pause and the two parts fell to the ground with a heavy clatter. Vain smiled grimly at his new weapons and readied himself for whatever opened the door.
The footsteps drew closer and Vain could feel the ground beneath his feet begin to shake. Quelling the urge to flee, he stood ready to pounce, determined to at least make a good account of himself before he died.
But if he was already in Hell, how could he die?
The footsteps thudded to just inside the doorway and stopped. Vain braced himself. The towering twenty-foot doors began to open inward. His gaze dropped down when he saw the figure standing inside the entrance.
A little girl.
But not just any girl; it was Angelique.
Vain choked back a sob and, ignoring his instincts, rushed toward the figure. Scooping her up and holding her in his grossly deformed arms, he tried to contain the anguish attempting to tear through his chest.
“Time to burn, Dark Man,” whispered Angelique.
Vain tried to pull away, but the child’s strength seemed to grow along with her body. Her back bulged and writhed and finally exploded outward to reveal huge, corded muscles beneath. Her skin became scaled and reptilian while Vain struggled uselessly and felt his breath being crushed from him. Lifted high into the air, he gritted his teeth and raked his claws down the creature’s back.
9 More Killer Thrillers Page 111
