by Nathan Parks
Maria dropped off the dark brew of insomnia as she made her way toward another table. Eve called out to her, “Hey, where is Alfonso tonight?” as it dawned on her that she had not seen her mentor nor had heard his jovial voice.
“Went home early--not feeling good,” Maria stated over her shoulder as she dropped off two dark chocolate mochas for the couple toward the front of the café.
“Alfonso your boyfriend?” It was the “I don’t have a clue” guy from her left again. “He truly must be a lucky guy.”
“And how would you know that?” Eve asked, sarcasm oozing thickly from her lips as the first sip of her espresso poured down the back of her throat. “I mean really? You don’t know anything about me, and I could be the next closest thing to a serial killer; so he actually wouldn’t be very lucky now, would he?”
“I suppose you’re right,” he said, nodding his head as if he was actually giving that some thought. “But let’s just say that I have a knack for reading people, and from what I am reading, you are not a serial killer. Troubled some, true, but no killer.”
Eve was feeling an agitation rising up from somewhere deep within her. Here she needed some quietness and solitude in order to calm the struggles within her; but, instead, she discovered some guy who thought he was a kind of mystical psychic who was learning to expand just past palm reading.
“Listen, . . .” Eve paused slightly, hoping the man would fill in the blank with his name.
“Kadar.”
“Ok, Kadar. I don’t mean to be rude or nasty or even to use your word, ‘troublesome,’ but I really am far from the social type; and right now I have no interest in turning over a new leaf and deciding that it is time for a new friendship. So, if you don’t mind, I would really just enjoy spending time with my espresso, my thoughts, and . . .”
“You mean your demons?”
“My what?”
“Your demons,” Kadar repeated. Of course uninvited, Kadar had now stood up and slid into the opposite side of Eve’s booth. “You came here tonight because you are trying to escape your inner demons. You feel that there is something really missing in your life, and you don’t want to search, because you are scared that if you do, it will require you to regress to your past.”
“What in the world are you talking about?” Eve snapped at him, her brow furrowed. She was far from agitated now, not just because this guy had now totally invaded her haven, but it seemed that with every word he spoke, he was reaching deeper into her soul and pulling out truths that Eve had no idea of how they were escaping.
Kadar was a well-built man, and when he stood up to invade her space, he stood to about six feet tall. He had short, jet-black hair, dark tan skin, and strong facial features. His eyes were a deep blue, but with a spark that seemed to jump out at Eve, and she wasn’t expecting the feeling it brought. It was as if he was able to project into her a desire to get to know him, and no matter how hard she fought against it, at this moment it was as if a supernatural hand had reached out and started pulling her puppet strings.
“Please, I am normally not as bold and forward as this,” Kadar offered.
“Uh huh,” she whispered beneath her breath.
“No, really, I am not. I apologize; and if you will let me start over, I think you will discover I am really not at all that bad.”
“Kadar, I really am not trying to be rude, but . . .”
“I understand. You came here to be alone, not be harassed by some strange guy dressed in jeans, a white t-shirt, and black jacket. I apologize, and I am just going to go. Please let me at least pay for your espresso since your boyfriend isn’t here tonight.”
“He isn’t my boyfriend; he is the owner of this place.”
“Wow, then I guess I really need to go, because I am all wrong tonight. I am sorry.”
Kadar stood up and held out his hand. “I hope that you have a good night.”
Eve took his hand to shake; and as she did, she noticed a cryptic glyph tattoo design upon the man’s hand. “Wow, that has some very strong detail and great ink work. What is it a design of? What’s the story behind it?”
Kadar pulled his hand back and looked down upon the black ink as if to study it himself. He traced the pattern with his forefinger, but whatever crossed his mind went quickly back behind locked doors.
“Umm . . . just a design I chose.”
“A design you chose? I have a hard time believing that. I have been a tattoo artist for about ten years now, and people ‘just choose’ dragons, little demons, or stupid cartoon characters, but when it comes to glyphs, runes, or symbols, there is always a story behind it. So what’s its story? It is a great elemental design.”
“You are a tattoo artist?”
She nodded, but still looked at him inquisitively.
“Where at?”
“I own The Broken Tear a few blocks from here. So what does it mean?” she repeated, nodding at his hand.
She found it unusual that this guy was all talk a few minutes ago, but now he seemed to be closing down as definitely as a lockdown at San Quentin. Why would he clam up so fast about the meaning of a tat?
“It is nothing, really. Actually, it is kind of embarrassing that I have it. It is simply an ‘all access’ stamp to an underground club I go to sometimes here in the city, and I just got tired of getting my hand stamped. So one night in a drunken stupor, I actually got it inked onto my hand.”
Eve wasn’t buying it, but it really didn’t matter. A moment before she hadn’t wanted this guy to be around, and now she was holding him here trying to get information about a symbol on his hand. Maybe she really did need some sleep tonight, and that double espresso, most likely, wasn’t going to allow it to happen.
“Interesting,” is all she could come up with and felt foolish about it, but this conversation was dulling by the second.
“Well, have a great night, and I hope that you will forgive me for the intrusion.”
“Don’t worry about it,” she answered as she waved him off. “I still have some time before the place closes to get my thoughts sorted out.”
“Then have a good night.” With this, he placed some dollar bills on the table and turned and headed toward the door.
Chapter Two
Eve watched Kadar go. He seemed to be a very interesting man, and maybe at a different time she would have spoken a little more with him, but not tonight. He had acted paranoid when she asked the meaning behind his tattoo, and that made her want to do some recreational research.
Maria looked at Eve strangely and just shook her head as she got up to start the closing of the café and move the last few patrons out the door. She watched year after year as Eve seemed to become more lost. The young lady knew nothing about her parents. All she knew was she was brought to an orphanage by a lady who was told to deliver her there, and that she was not a true orphan, but her parents would soon come to get her. They never did, and it was almost worse than having amnesia, being an individual longing to know who she was and where she came from, only to discover nothing but emptiness. After awhile that emptiness became her identity, and it was hard to separate herself from it.
Eve leaned back against the cushion in the booth and allowed her eyes to close. The quiet sounds of the few conversations that were still taking place around her became a drone in her ears. She had to find a moment when she could just breathe, a moment that was hers.
She finished off her dark brew and decided that she might as well head home. This night wasn’t getting any easier. She had really wished she could have talked to Alfonso tonight, but there would be other nights.
She got up and made her way out of the café, saying her goodbyes and well wishes to Maria. The stars were still somewhat visible past the city lights. It was time to get home and crash.
Eve began to make her way back from the direction she had come earlier. She had no idea that from across the street, within the shadows of an alley, two dark and ominous figures were watching her as she turned in th
e direction of her loft. They both were of medium height and build. Their dark clothing kept them hidden well. They eyed her with eagerness, as a dark, enthralling desire that reeked of havoc and intrepidness permeated them.
“She looks harmless,” one stated with a nasal tone to his voice. “What say we go and just beat everything out of her?”
“Can’t do that, Drake.”
“Why not?”
“Bosses don’t want us to. We are supposed to only look for potential Familiars. Let’s face it, that is all we can do; ain’t like we have powers. We ain’t even the real thing.”
Sedit looked down at his hand and touched the rune tattoo upon it. It was a symbol that indicated his bond to his master. He was promised power and strength, but for now he was stuck being a Familiar, a “do-as-I-say” boy. One day, though! One day he would feel the full power of being one of them. Ok, so he could never be fully one of them, but his metamorphosis into a Halfling could take place once he showed his true loyalties.
Sedit found it ironic how the comic books and dark graphic novels that he read as a boy about vampires and monsters had it all wrong, but yet so right. He would never forget the look upon his pervert uncle’s face when his uncle walked in for their “secret” time and found his “weak victim of a nephew” protected by a shadow of a figure. With a beast-like scream, the figure had projected his shadow upon his uncle, tearing at his body. His uncle never came close to Sedit again, and that was the night an abused boy realized that darkness embraced could become power beyond mortal understanding. He was introduced to his master and brought into “the Family.” Vampires may not be real, but the truth was so much better than myth.
A noise behind him brought him quickly out of his trance of thought, and he turned quickly to see what or who might be coming up behind the two. He didn’t see anything right away. Drake let out something that sounded like a hiss as the culprit of the interruption took shape before them.
“What do we have here?” the female figure questioned with a cool, calm collectiveness. “If it isn’t two wanna-bes, two Familiars.”
“You have no right to us, Guardian,” Sedit vehemently responded.
“You may be right, but where there are Familiars, there usually is a Fallen somewhere nearby,” she answered while casually looking around.
Drake had never actually run into a Guardian before, so he stood transfixed, not sure what to do. He wasn’t even sure what power the Guardian was able to use against the followers of a Fallen. “Our masters have sent us out on a scouting trip tonight,” Drake attempted an explanation.
This brought a hard slap across the back of his head from Sedit.
“Shut up, you stupid idiot!” yelled Sedit. “You don’t give information to a Guardian, especially to her!”
Drake rubbed the back of his head as he turned to his counterpart.
“I don’t care what I do or don’t do. Don’t you ever hit me like that again. You are not above me, and as for her,” pointing toward the stunning, but dangerous-looking, Guardian in front of them, “who is she?”
“This is Leah,” Sedit said, not taking his eyes off this warrior of the Alliance. “She is not only a Guardian, but also a leader in the Alliance.”
The Alliance had been created as a force with which to reckon in regards to the continual growth of the Fallen and its break-off families of darkness. It consisted of angels of several categories and of humans who had been granted by Jah special strengths and visions. Since its creation, the Alliance had grown in number and had become a strong, supernatural force within the spiritual battle.
“Sedit, how is your master these days? How close are you to your metamorphosis into an avatar, or has he promised you full Halfling status?”
“Arioch is strong, Guardian, and what he has promised me is none of your concern. His vengeance is strong, and my day will come.”
“Uh huh,” she spoke, knowing all too well that this human was nothing but a pawn to his master.
Leah was of average height with shoulder-length, blond hair and vibrant, green eyes. Her cheek bones were defined enough to present firm facial features, but her skin had a soft glow, thus accenting her strong, feminine appeal. She was dressed in her typical sleeveless, black shirt with black pants that had several pockets built in to hold anything she may need in order to fight a Fallen. Tonight she had also put on her long black coat. Unknown to the Familiars, her katana was in its sheath hanging across her back. Many Alliance members had weapons that were invisible to mortal eyes unless in use.
Leah had been a member of the Alliance since the War of the Serpents, even turning down a position within the Arch Council so that she could continue to stay at the grassroots of it all. She had been told that there were several Watcher volumes of records of her deeds going back from the institution of the Watchers. Of course, she only had to rely on word of mouth because the Alliance was forbidden to have knowledge of what was written. There was no room for any of the Alliance or any of the other direct lines of angels to gloat and allow any pride. Pride was what caused the Morning Star to fall. It was not for glory that they did their job, but instead for the will of the One who had brought them into existence. True, the Fallen could not see it that way; but, then again, the Fallen had their own way of doing everything.
“Sedit, I am in no mood to see you around tonight. Get back to your hole or whatever it is that you crawl out of each day. If I see you anymore tonight, know that I just won’t have patience.”
Sedit made an obscene jester toward Leah and motioned for Drake to follow him. They disappeared into the shadows without another word, and Leah found herself standing alone with a smile on her face. She looked up toward the tops of the buildings she was standing between and saw a figure’s silhouette.
“Everything is clear down here, Ki. I will meet you later. Troy should be in his usual place tonight.”
Her team was on the move tonight, and no matter what the Fallen thought they were going to do tonight, they would have a hard time doing anything without some conflict with the Alliance. She was thankful those two small annoying problems had not been foolish.
She was tired of Familiars. There was a growing number these days of humans who, for each their own reasons, were looking for escape, power, or family. It really didn’t matter what it was, but it seemed somewhere they would become prey to the demonic lineage of the Fallen. Throughout centuries, stories and legends had grown out of it all, and this had even driven people to see if these stories were true--stories of bloodsuckers and clans of darkness with immortality to fuel their every move, even creatures in the dark that were part man and part wolf. All of this had been wrapped in hardbound books and created to be a fantasy that could be lived out in the dreams of unwanted teenagers and torn up souls. The truth to it was so much scarier than anything any mortal could imagine, other than the few who had become witness to it.
There were clans, and there were immortals and even a war that was raging. And, yes, the darkness welcomed any who would follow and promised so many empty promises to the humans who desired to be drawn in, the Familiars, each one of them allowing their soul to become a loan to the Fallen, who brought them into the “Family” or clan. Once any human went that far, there rarely was ever a turning back.
Leah sighed as she leaned against the damp brick wall at her back and watched the mortals walking the street and going about their lives. There was so much they didn’t know, but it was for the best. There was so much to all of this. She didn’t feel sorry for them, because even if she could be an angel and not know half of what she did, maybe she would have more to look forward to. What was that saying?
“Ignorance is bliss,” she whispered.
She straightened herself, stretched, and headed into the night.
Chapter Three
The music’s beat reached out from the shadows and had the power to grab the listener. Somewhere from deep within the structure of the bass, a melody entranced and threw its talons into the he
art of it all and pulled each soul into a captivating, ebbing tide of bodies and minds. The Vortex was not just a club that reached out across cultures and drew in those who longed to just escape, but it seemed to have an identity all its own. It was as if it was a spiritual entity in and of itself that poured out of its gothic design, crushed velvet curtains, and occult symbolisms the power to pull patrons onto the dance floor. Surrounding the elevated stage, the dancing patrons were looked down upon by pale skinned beauties writhing within cages suspended from pulley systems cleverly hidden among the décor. This was the epitome of darkness; this was a gateway.
A gateway was a supernatural marker that allowed free access between the world of mortals and the realm of the immortals. Some were temporary, and then there were permanent ones. Homes and covens like The Vortex were usually guarded by a clan or at least a strong clan presence.
Sedit and Drake pulled back their sleeves, revealing the symbols tattooed on the backs of their hands, and waltzed right past the bouncers at the front. Sedit snickered and bared his fangs, as a drunken couple got upset at the bouncer for allowing Sedit and Drake to breeze by when they were not allowed in yet.
The house band, In My Darkest Hour, was playing something that was being measured in the waves of the bodies packed upon the dance floor, moving in a twisting disharmony. Sedit remembered when he used to come here to escape, but that was before he was brought into the Family and saw what this place was really about. It was almost like one of those funny 3D pictures one might look at. At first, just a lot of geometric designs and colors can be seen, but the harder one stares, the more a shape or picture begins to materialize. This club was truly a happening place, and every night there were lines of people waiting to come in. The VIP list was almost a book, but if one was searching just the right way, looking at just the right angle, then a completely new picture took shape.
A formidable and strong man approached the duo from their left. He was dressed sharply with a short-sleeved shirt that revealed large biceps and a branding of a snake with its mouth open under a blazing sun. None of this stood out as much as his eyes, for they were as white as his skin was black. It seemed that even in the black light of the club, they glowed. Many thought he wore cosmetic contacts, but to those within the Family, they were the eyes of a “Possessor,” a Fallen who had fully embodied his avatar, linking himself with the human soul. There were only two clans of the Family from which a Possessor could come: Hecate and Adremalech. The Vortex was a gateway and safe house for Clan Adremalech, the largest clan within the Family.
