The truck idled—its aging engine roaring and sputtering like a dying animal—behind him; the rumbling causing the tall metal gates in front of him to rattle against the chains that held them shut. Despite looking like hell, the truck had survived the trip, though the tires had spent little time on the road, and when the sun had risen after the first night of travel the truck’s wide bed, along with a black mesh cover, had served as a decent enough place to sleep.
Waking up the next night, Xander had taken a moment to find a payphone and give Estella a call. Keeping the discussion brief, he’d assured his friend that everything was alright and that he’d see her later that night. She had let out a happy mew at the news, promising to stay up and leave the light on for him.
He’d frowned as he hung up, feeling a twinge of guilt. Though he’d promised her that he’d see her as soon as he could he did have several places that he had to visit first.
And this was only his first stop.
He stood a bit longer at the gate, staring past the metal bars at the pale stones beyond it that shone under the moon’s rays. It had been a long time since he’d last visited, and, despite everything he’d done and gone through, he found himself hesitant to move forward.
Kyle’s injustice against him years ago had left Xander feeling weak and useless—a feeling that he’d revisited each time he’d walked past the gates. He’d hated that feeling and years ago had decided never to visit there again in an attempt to avoid it. For a long time he’d gotten away with it, exchanging a deep well of sadness for a deeper one of rage. Since being introduced to the world of mythos, however, he found that the despair was overflowing and refusing to be ignored.
He sighed and the exhale stuttered in his throat as he took the pendant of his mother’s necklace once again into his left hand. Finally, unable to find any more reasons not to, he took a step forward and jumped over the cemetery gate.
His pace past the multitude of tombstones was slow-but-steady as he weaved through them, allowing himself to read the names and dates off of some. As he walked, he tightened his grip on the pendant as he drew nearer. Almost too soon, he found himself standing at the stone he sought and a long, bitter silence carried on for several minutes before he finally found the right words:
“I got him for you, Mom,” he whispered, kneeling down beside her grave. He shook his head, feeling the first tear roll from his blood-stained eye, “I got him for us,” he corrected himself.
The tears began to pour down his cheeks as he dug a small hole and buried the necklace he’d worn for so long with her. He didn’t have the patience or the heart to go six feet, so half-a-foot would have to suffice. When he was done he gave the pendant one last look before covering it with earth.
It was a beautiful piece of jewelry, and though he hated to part with it was no longer his.
It was never his to begin with.
And now that the human-Xander was dead it was only fitting that it be put in the ground for both of them.
Patting down the soil, he had one final flash of the event that had taken her and stood up. He wiped away the growing tears and allowed himself to gaze upon the grave in silence for a while longer before looking up at the clear night sky.
“I know you didn’t want this for me,” he spoke softly to the heavens, “But I don’t think there was any other way for me…” he stopped and sighed, “It really is better this way.
“Besides…” his tone turned positive, “… I know Dad’s proud of me.” He stared for several minutes, waiting for some sign of acceptance, though he knew it wouldn’t come. Finally, he offered a weak smile and nodded at the silence.
“I love you, Mom.”
He stayed a bit longer, pondering and letting out the occasional sob before turning and heading back to the truck. The night was drawing on, Estella was waiting, and he still had one more tomb to visit.
The truck sputtered and whined and Xander begged the heap to hold on a moment longer as he took it down the familiar winding path and up a hill. His destination was already visible in the distance but the truck didn’t have the life left in it to make it the rest of the way and sputtered to a sudden stop. Having showed no kindness to Kyle’s old ride, Xander wasn’t surprised that it had died, but nonetheless pounded on the dash before climbing out.
There was no point in trying to carry it the rest of the way with his aura.
“Piece of shit!” he huffed, slamming the door with all of his vampiric strength and watching as it fell off the hinges and clattered to the road.
He retrieved his guns then and took the rest of the trip on foot; walking at a human pace. He let his thoughts distract him until the tall stone wall that surrounded the Odin mansion loomed above him. As he approached, he slowed to a stop, frowning at the front gate.
It was obvious that it had been forced open…
Frowning at the obvious intrusion, he drew Yin and Yang from their case and pressed himself against the wall, reaching out with his aura and scanning what lay beyond. After a moment of scanning the interior he caught “sight” of the intruder and chuckled, smiling at what he “saw.” Relaxing his guns, he set them back in the case and snuck through the open gate.
The intruders stood motionless, staring at the remains of the once proud mansion; unaware of Xander’s approach as he crept closer, masking the sounds of his steps and heartbeat with a simple tweak of the intruder’s mind. When he was finally close enough, he pulled his aura away.
“Didn’t see your car parked out front,” he said, raising his voice to get the desired effect.
The trick worked, and both vampire and beast jumped in surprise.
Xander laughed as the sound of their heartbeats picked up and the two turned towards him.
Marcus took a deep, calming breath as Trepis pounced forward to greet Xander. “Yea,” his voice was cold, though the beginnings of a grin gave his true emotions away, “I like to park in back.” He shook his head, “Attracts less attention that way.”
Xander nodded, petting the tiger and giving the animal’s side a few soft pats.
“So… you’re not dead,” Marcus smiled, “I guess that says something.”
Xander smirked, “It’s more than I can say for the other guy.”
“Messed him up that bad?” Marcus lifted an eyebrow.
“Put a bullet in his head and then blew up his house,” Xander beamed.
“You blew up his house?”
Xander nodded, scratching behind Trepis’ ears. “Tore a gas line and left my Zippo to do the rest,” he grinned and laughed. “Almost didn’t make it out in time.”
Marcus stared for a moment and then joined in the laughter.
As their cackles died down they sighed, regaining a serious composure and turning their gazes back towards the building they had both come to visit.
Marcus didn’t turn away as he wetted his lips, “So do you feel any better?”
Xander paused before he shrugged his left shoulder, “I feel better that I got to kill that sadistic son-of-a-bitch. But…” he sighed, trailing off and looking down.
Marcus nodded, “The old cliché: it didn’t bring her back.”
Xander looked over at him. He’d never gone into very much detail concerning what had happened to him and his mother, but he was sure Stan had filled his mentor in. He turned away, fighting back the tears that he thought he’d left back at the cemetery, “I didn’t expect it to.”
Marcus nodded, shifting his eyes as he took in the remains of what had been his life. After a moment he let out a deep sigh, “But you wanted it to.”
Xander scowled, shifting Kyle’s boots in the ashy dirt.
After a long, uncomfortable silence Marcus clucked his tongue, this time turning to look at him, “Well it looks like he gave you quite a workout.”
Xander frowned and nodded, happy that the subject had been changed. Despite this, a new wave of regret washed over him, “He used a lot of human mind-slaves against me,” he confessed.
Marcus nodded, a slight frown creasing his features. “Typical cowardly auric trick,” he said; his voice a slight growl. They stood a while longer before the burning question blossomed: “Did you feed from any of them?”
Xander, reluctant to answer, finally nodded. “A few.”
“Dammit,” Marcus groaned, shaking his head. “Not the smoothest way to enter our world, buddy.” He scratched his head, moving his hand back until it rested on the back of his neck, “But I’m sure if this guy was as bad as you say I can get you a pardon from The Council; maybe even pass the whole thing off as a job that got a little fucked up along the way.”
Xander nodded. Part of him was regretful. After thinking it over, however, he agreed that it had been necessary. He sighed as he came to this conclusion and stuffed his hands into the pockets of the jacket.
Marcus noticed and shook his head, “Y’know, I liked that coat.”
“Sorry,” Xander’s voice was snotty and insincere. “I should’ve called a ‘time out’ and hung it up.”
Marcus narrowed his eyes at the tone as he continued to explore the destroyed garment before looking at Xander’s chest. “Where’s your jewelry?”
Xander touched a hand to his chest where the pendant had once rested, “Yea. I… I gave it back to my mom.”
Marcus studied him a moment and then smirked, “Everyone’s got some ritual after the change.” He smiled and looked down as the tiger licked at Xander’s hand.
Xander smiled as well, looking at the tiger for a moment before looking back up at the building. “How’d you know I’d come here?”
“You think I’m here for you?” Marcus scoffed and shook his head. “The beast and I have been visiting the old stomping grounds the past few nights ever since Stan dropped the big lug off at my place.” He rolled his eyes, “It was like a fucking magic show the way he made fuzz-nuts suddenly appear in my living room.” He shook his head and laughed, “Scared the shit out of him, too! Literally!” he growled, looking back down at Trepis, “All over my floor, no less!”
Xander laughed at that. He thought about what Stan had said to him before he’d left for Maine and he shook his head, “So he’s really gone then?”
Marcus frowned and nodded. “I’m afraid so,” he sighed and laughed, “Guess this means I’d better watch my ass better from now on.”
“What happened back there?” Xander bit his lip for a moment, “I mean, Stan stopped those attackers and saved us; so why’d you take off? Did you know those mythos or something?”
Marcus sighed and looked down. “I don’t want to go into details, kid,” he said, his voice low and even, “But I will say that that woman had every right to attack me. She would’ve had every right to kill me. She was trying to avenge the life of someone very special that I killed.”
Xander looked over at him. “You mean special to her?”
Marcus nodded, but his shifting aura gave away that there was something more that he wasn’t telling.
Xander didn’t push the subject any further. He wasn’t asking Xander to relive his pain, and he felt it only fair to offer the same courtesy. Letting out a heavy sigh, he returned his attention to what remained of the great Odin headquarters. Marcus’ gaze followed, and the two shared a long, peaceful silence.
“You going to be alright?” Marcus asked in a low voice.
Xander nodded, unable to look away, “I suppose.”
“You need a place to stay?”
He looked at Marcus, “Yea. I do…” he smiled. “But I have to go see a friend first.”
Marcus looked him over, taking in every filthy, tattered inch, “Hope they’re a real good friend or else you won’t make it past the door!” He chuckled and shook his head at his own joke, “Take your time. I’ll have a bag of blood and a pack of cigs waiting.”
Xander nodded, smiling, “Thanks, Marcus.”
Turning to leave, he heard his mentor’s voice and looked back to see him talking at the hollowed building, his left hand lazily rubbing the tiger’s head. He frowned at the sight, wondering if he should say something encouraging to his mentor but unable to think of what he could possibly offer. Eventually, he turned away from the grieving vampire and stepped out through the gate.
He sighed as he walked around the wall to face the limited lights of the town at the base of the hill. A short distance away Marcus’ car was parked, the hood cold from a while of misuse, and he wondered how long his mentor had been there. He sighed, looking back towards town and focused his energy. A wind-rustled bush a short distance away slowed to a near-stop as his muscles went into high-gear and his eyes refocused on the new time-stream and he shot off in overdrive.
As the time-frozen world passed him by, Xander questioned where he’d take his life. Though he’d proven—if to nobody but himself—that he had what it took, he wondered what it was he was supposed to do next. It was a frightening realization that he would live for hundreds of years, maybe a thousand, and a shiver threatened his concentration and he stuttered for a moment in-and-out of overdrive.
As the gloomy views of his existence and the foreboding speculations towards his future threatened to plunge him into an all-too-familiar state of mind and his thoughts shifted towards the contents of the case in his hands he noticed the attic light in the distance. Sure it was safe to do so he dropped out of overdrive, taking the rest of the distance at a human pace.
The rest of the lights in the house were long since out and a restless shadow scurried across the ceiling of Estella’s room, giving her away. Xander couldn’t help but smile and he cast away the depressed and scared thoughts as he jumped onto the roof and made his way towards the window.
Knowing that his friend was waiting was all that he needed to live for at that moment.
EPILOGUE
Exorcism Gone Awry
Father Tennesen was by no means a bad man.
All who knew him knew a kind, old man who would go to great lengths to do what was necessary to make people happy. Each Sunday, the entire town would flock to church and sit quietly just to hear him speak. Even those who were “weak of faith” were present each week just to hear the man talk.
Indeed, father Tennesen was a brilliant and bold speaker. The wisdom and power of age and faith flowed through his voice and carried what could only be described as poetry to the ears of his listeners. After each sermon, people would circle around him outside the church doors and discuss events of the week and, for those who dared to be so bold, philosophies into deeper questions of faith and being.
Being a good man was all that Tennesen knew, and it pained him to see people suffer. He had lived for many years, more then he cared to admit to those who so inclined to ask, and he had seen much. The concentrated power of faith grew within Tennesen and he found a calling in using his power. A strong faith drove him to eradicate all that was unclean and, above all, invasive.
“There are creatures that would steal your body and make it their own,” Father Tennesen would say to those who would listen, “such beings are our enemy, and faith and love will destroy them.”
The practice of exorcisms was unheard of. The concept of demonic possession had long since become legend even to those even of the highest faith. It was, tragically, becoming harder and harder to find those who could successfully perform the act, and even harder to get permission. Knowing this, Father Tennesen went forth of his own accord and freed trapped souls from the creatures that had stolen their bodies.
Underground support groups lent their aide when Tennesen required it. If a case arose where Tennesen had to travel, there were those who were eager to take him where he was needed. Those who helped were taken on as apprentices and were blessed by Tennesen as a “Holy Army”.
He saw possessions as an unholy and ugly thing; the entities had odd ways of warping their stolen homes. Most of the time, the process of re-shaping the body put too much strain on the system and often it would become broken and useless to the person it rightfully belonged to. The minds of th
ose freed were rarely of any use, being heavily damaged by the control of the entity, and most were officially brain-dead when the exorcism was completed.
Assuming it was completed.
Tennesen’s newest case was sent via email to Skunk, who was often recognizable by his long black hair with the twin bleached stripes running down the length and a laptop carrier slung over his shoulder. Despite his hair, it was the smoking that gave Skunk his name, everyone else in the group despised the habit and it left him smelling like something that was belched from a sewer. He’d explain that the smokes came from Poland as if it was supposed to explain it all. Despite Tennesen’s distaste for fast food, he had agreed when his “soldiers” had wanted to stop at a Burger King on the way back from a false alarm.
The group had been disappointed when the possession in question turned out to be a collie that had gotten rabies and was foaming and twitching out in the back yard. Christopher had been the one to finally get his shotgun and nod sympathetically to the owner before putting the animal out of its misery. The group consisted of four others: Robert Johanson—RJ—a 17 year old half-Mexican who had constantly supported Father Tennesen’s work and was the first to volunteer for his army; Gweneth, a 27 year old woman who decided to follow Tennesen after he successfully removed an entity from her—one of the few to make it out with an intact mind; Shift, a manic-depressive young man somewhere in his mid twenties who had a deep knowledge of magic and possessions; and finally, Courtney, an auric vampire who used her abilities to calm their subjects while they worked. The computer chimed and all looked at Skunk momentarily before they turned back to their burgers. Skunk, ignoring the glares, shook a loose strand of bleach-blonde hair out of his face and opened the laptop, cursing under his breath that his connection was acting up again. Tennesen couldn’t help but smile as he ate his side salad and watched Skunk scan the message before turning the computer screen so that the others could see it:
Noir: A Crimson Shadow Novel Page 33