Talon of God

by Wesley Snipes

  “Holy . . . ” he breathed.

  Robbie’s eyes were locked on his sister. His perfectly fine, living sister as she crawled over to the detective—who was also alive—and began to bind his wounds. But even though Lauryn was being even more freakishly perfect than normal, the sight didn’t sting like it usually did. Looking at her, all Robbie felt was relief. Relief and the strong urge to jump out of the car and go hug her until he was certain he hadn’t messed everything up for good.

  It’s never too late.

  The words came back like an echo, running through his head in their father’s voice, and for the first time in a long time, Robbie listened. Maybe it wasn’t too late? Yes, she’d be mad as hell at him, and rightfully so, but despite apparently becoming a sword-swinging badass since she’d gone to med school, Lauryn looked like she could seriously use some help. If he went over and offered, maybe it would repair some of the damage he’d caused being a dumbass?

  Maybe she’d forgive him?

  It was one hell of a long shot, but at this point—still coming down and blackballed by everyone he knew in a city that felt like it was going to explode at any second—any shot felt like a good one. At the very least, he wouldn’t be alone.

  That was more tempting than anything he’d thought of yet, so Robbie got out of his car and started toward her.

  She must have been jumpy as hell, because even when he was trying to be quiet, she spun around at once, sword in hand. The moment their eyes met, Robbie froze, bracing for the dressing-down he knew he deserved, but it never came. Instead, Lauryn grabbed him in a huge bear hug, the giant sword clattering to the ground at their feet as she squeezed him so tight it hurt. Still unsure what was going on, Robbie could only hug her back, dissolving into sobs before he could even take a breath.

  “I’m sorry,” he bawled. “I screwed up so bad, Lauryn, and I’m so, so sorry.”

  He hadn’t planned to say that. He certainly hadn’t planned to cry, but it seemed to be the right thing to do, because his sister hugged him back harder than ever. “I know,” she whispered. “But it’s okay. I forgive you.”

  He didn’t believe her. “You do?”

  “Of course,” she said, giving him a stern look. “You’re my brother.”

  He knew he should shut up and take it, but he couldn’t stop himself. “But why? I’ve done nothing to deserve—”

  “You don’t have to deserve forgiveness,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s given. You just have to ask and mean it, and I think you do.” Her lips curled into a smile. “Besides—you never cry unless you mean it.”

  Robbie couldn’t help it. He smiled back. “Thank you,” he whispered, dropping his eyes.

  “Always,” she whispered back. “It’s never too late to say you’re sorry.”

  He froze, staring at her like a deer in headlights, his father’s words echoing in his head once more, but Lauryn was already hurrying back to the detective. “Give me a hand!”

  Not about to ruin this amazing turn of events, Robbie obeyed immediately, running over to help her lift the detective. “We can use my car,” he said. “It’s the fastest around, and closer.”

  “Thanks,” Lauryn said, getting that look on her face she always got when things were bad. “He’s stopped bleeding, but he still needs help.”

  Robbie nodded. “Hospital, then?”

  She started to nod, and then shook her head instead. “This is going to sound crazy,” she muttered. “But I don’t think I was given this miracle just to save his life. I think there’s something I have to do.”

  Miracle? “You’re right. That does sound pretty crazy.”

  “It’s been a crazy night,” she said with a self-deprecating shrug. “But things are about to get bad, Robbie. You took Z3X—you know what it can do. Now that stuff is all over town, and I think I need to do something to stop it.”

  “How, though?” he asked as they carefully placed Will in the back of Robbie’s precious Charger. He winced a bit when the blood hit the upholstery, but the way he saw it, this was part of his penance . . . and he’d been meaning to change out the factory default cloth in the back seat anyway. “I’ve been pushing for the last twenty-four hours straight. Z3X is a done deal; there’s no stopping it now.”

  Lauryn gave him a sharp look at the mention of pushing, but she didn’t comment. “We can still stop more from going out, right? Kill the supply.”

  “Again, how?” Robbie said. “This factory’s just one of twelve, and those are just the ones I know about.”

  She scowled, thinking, and then her eyes lit up. “What if we went for the head? The order to make all this Z3X didn’t come out of nowhere. Someone has to be running all of this, and I bet they know how to shut it down, or at least mitigate the damage.”

  She finished with a hopeful look at Robbie, clearly counting on him to give her a name. It wasn’t a bad guess—he had been working here—but unfortunately, he had none to give. Even Angelo didn’t know who the Big Boss actually was. All the orders came through Lincoln Black, and he sure as hell wasn’t talking. But just as Robbie was opening his mouth to tell her he couldn’t help, he realized he did have something.

  “I don’t know who’s running things,” he said. “But I think I know where he lives. One time, my boss let me run a load of coke to a house uptown, no payment needed, and when I was delivering the stuff, I saw Lincoln Black at the party.” Buried under models, which was straight pimpin’, but that isn’t the sort of detail you tell your sister. “I think that’s the boss’s house, or at least someone who knows him.”

  “That’s good enough for me,” Lauryn said, hopping into the passenger seat. “Let’s go.”

  Robbie gawked at her. “Really?”

  She shrugged. “Again, I know it sounds crazy, but I’ve learned to just take this stuff on faith. Now let’s get moving.” She leaned out the window. “I don’t like the look of that sky.”

  Confused, Robbie looked up as well, but he didn’t see anything unusual. Just a dark, overcast winter night sky in the city. The only thing notable was that there seemed to be a ton of birds, big black bastards that cawed when they saw him.

  After his bad trip, that was creepy as hell, and Robbie didn’t waste any more time. He ran around and jumped into the driver’s seat, barely taking the time to buckle in before he hit the gas, peeling his tires in his rush to get on the road. They made it out just in time, too. The moment they were through the gates, a whole fleet of trucks started turning in to go pick up the next shipment . . . hiding the man who was just now crawling out from under an avalanche of spilled Z3X, his eyes shining like blood in the glare of the floodlights overhead.

  14

  Offer the Other Cheek

  But I say to you who hear, love your enemies, do good to those who hate you,

  bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. To one who strikes

  you on the cheek, offer the other also, and from one who takes away your cloak

  do not withhold your tunic either. Give to everyone who begs from you, and

  from one who takes away your goods do not demand them back.

  And as you wish that others would do to you, do so to them.

  —Luke 6:27–31

  For as long as there’d been an operation here, the southern half of the upper floor of the old meatpacking warehouse turned drug factory belonged to Lincoln Black. From up here, he could look down through the metal grating and observe the work below, but no one ever looked up. They knew better—he’d taught them better with his knife and fear, his two favorite weapons. Weapons he intended to put to good use tonight as he gazed down at his prey, still on his knees.

  “Comfy?” he asked in a singsong voice, strolling over to grab a beer from the fridge in the corner. “I’d offer you a drink, but I wouldn’t want to be accused of tempting you.”

  As ever, the SEE warrior said nothing. He simply knelt there with his back straight and his eyes level like he was trying to lose himself in
holy meditation, which wouldn’t do at all.

  “How long have we been doing this, Talon?” Lincoln asked, walking back over to crouch in front of him so they were eye to eye. “Can you even remember anymore?” When he remained silent, Black’s voice turned mocking. “Does that little honey of a doctor even realize how old you are, old man? ’Cause, damn, man, you’re older than me, and I’m old.” He brushed his fingers over his youthful face with a smile. “But you know what they say: do what you love and you’ll never work a day in your life.”

  “And is this what you love?” Talon asked flatly, looking pointedly down through the grates at the sulfurous vats where St. Luke’s drug was being processed for the masses.

  “Honestly?” Black grinned. “This is the best damn day of my life. Like I said, this isn’t something we cooked up on the fly. This city was doomed months before you even rode into town, and now, at last, we’ve reached the main event. All that down there—” he tapped the heel of his boot on the grate “—that’s the dregs. The rest is already gone, pumped out into the city like cheap beer into a frat boy. Tonight, it’ll all come to a head, and the whole damn world’s going to get one hell of a wake-up call. We’re talking legit Armageddon, and I’ve got a front-row seat right next to my favorite Jesus freak, who’s bound by his own word not to fight back, no matter what I do.” He sucked in a deep, satisfied breath. “Doesn’t get better than that.”

  “It won’t work,” Talon said firmly, staring him in the face.

  “It is working,” Black countered.

  “You will be stopped.”

  “By who?” Black demanded. “God? He’s not here. He ain’t doing shit. Or maybe you mean your tag team of Doctor Girl Wonder and Detective Boy Genius?”

  He paused, waiting for the hope to flash in Talon’s eyes. As ever, though, the warrior showed nothing, so Black decided to push. “They’re done, you know. That’s why I let them go. You see, kid detective forgot that his department-issued car was LoJacked, and since he pretty much told Korigan to his face that he suspected him, Korigan’s been keeping an eye on him. Of course, I didn’t expect you to make yourself a present like this, but in case you still think your sacrifice means something, I just wanted you to know that Korigan and his C-Company goons are waiting outside for your little buddies as we speak.” He sighed. “Such a shame. That girl was damn good at putting you in your place. I almost think I’ll miss her.”

  “Lauryn’s not dead,” he said firmly. “God doesn’t set tasks we cannot manage. He will preserve her.”

  “Would you care to bet money on that?” Black asked with a chuckle. “Oh, that’s right, gambling is forbidden to you, just like all other forms of fun.” He shook his head. “So let me guess, then. Your plan is to cross your fingers and wait for a miracle?”

  Talon’s jaw clenched for a moment before he visibly forced himself to relax. “Through God, all things are possible.”

  “So you claim,” Black said, his voice smooth and cutting as he honed in on the weakness. “But that didn’t do your last apprentice any good, did it? What was her name again?” He tapped his finger against his chin, making a show of thinking it over. “It was something deeply ironic. Faith? Chastity?”

  He paused to let that hang, and Talon rewarded him with a shuddering breath.

  “Hope!” Black cried, snapping his fingers. “That was it. Now, she was a fighter. Strong, fast, clever, hell on wheels with a sword. Nearly gave me a run for my money . . . but not quite.” He leaned down, hovering closer until his nose was practically touching Talon’s. “You remember when I killed her, don’t you?” he whispered. “How she screamed for God to save her? Kind soul that I am, I played along. I kept her alive for two days like that. Gave God plennnnnty of time to come do his thing. But he never did.”

  He tilted his head. “Why was that, you think? She was one of you. A faithful Soldier of El Elyon, one of God’s supposed chosen. She called and called, but he didn’t lift a finger to stop me or end her suffering. And if God didn’t save her, what makes you think he’ll do anything for your little Lauryn? She doesn’t even believe.”

  By the time he finished, Talon’s breathing was ragged. The sound made Black smile. Closer and closer.

  “I still like to savor the memories,” he said, straightening up again. “I especially liked it when she would scream for you. She gave up on God well before the end, but she never gave up on you. She just kept telling me over and over how her teacher was coming to save her, but you never did. I tried to keep her alive, but there’s only so much a human body can take. By the time you finally decided to pop in, hers had given up the ghost. Hell, I had to pack her in salt to keep the smell from—”

  Talon lurched forward with a roar, hands flying up to grab Lincoln’s neck. For a moment, it looked like they were about to have a proper tussle, but then, less than an inch away, Talon stopped and collapsed back on his knees, his chest heaving.

  “That’s right,” Black said with a satisfied smile. “You promised not to fight back, and you’ve always been a man of your word. A real paragon of virtue. Sometimes, I don’t even think you’re human.”

  He reached down to pat Talon’s scruffy cheek as he finished, and the warrior rewarded him with a look of fury. “I could say the same for you,” he growled, glaring up with the closest thing to hate Black had ever seen on his face. “What do you think you’ll gain from this, Lincoln? What did I ever do to you to deserve this obsession?”

  Black dropped his hand with a bitter smile. “You exist.”

  Talon didn’t seem to know what to make of that, but then, he wouldn’t. That was part of why Black hated him so much, because he didn’t—couldn’t—understand what life was like when you weren’t blessed. But he decided, once more, to try to explain.

  “It’s the way you act,” he elaborated, taking another swig from the beer dangling all but forgotten in his fingers. “You and the rest of your little God warriors run around telling people what to do like a bunch of holy hall monitors, but who gave you the right? You don’t know any more about what’s real or good than anyone else. You act like right and wrong are concrete objects you can see, labels on a sheep’s ear saying if it gets to be a pet or go to the slaughterhouse, but you don’t know a damned thing. Right, wrong, moral, immoral; it’s all just arbitrary. Someone else’s made-up fairy tale to tell other people how to live their lives.”

  “That’s not true,” Talon said. “There is a line—”

  “Is there?” Black demanded. “Kill a poor man and no one cares. Kill a rich one and you get the chair. Kill one on the battlefield and you get a medal. Where’s the line? They’re all dead. It’s all murder. The only difference is who’s in charge.” His lips curled in a sneer. “That’s the line, holy man. That’s what actually matters: who’s on top making the rules. The only reason things get labeled as sins is because your God decided that’s how it was, but even he can’t make up his damn mind half the time. One day he’s making commandments that Thou Shalt Not Kill, the next he’s throwing a temper tantrum and flooding the whole world. And we’re supposed to be made in this asshole’s image!” He shook his head. “What does that say about him?”

  “I think it says more about you,” Talon said, tilting his head. “We’ve done this for a long time, Black. Long enough for me to know some of your history. What happened to your mother—”

  Black was back on him in a second, grabbing him around the throat. “You leave my mother out of this,” he snarled.

  “Why?” Talon choked out. “She’s where all this started. Your mother was lynched for a crime she didn’t commit, and rather than blame the men who did it, you blamed everything else.”

  “You don’t know jack,” Black said, shoving him backwards. “I blame everyone for her death ’cause everyone’s to blame! You claim your God can do anything? Well, he didn’t do squat when a woman whose only crime was being in the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong skin color swung for a robbery she didn’t even know ab
out before the sheriff rode up to her house.”

  He could still remember it clear as day: the dust, the hot sun, the horse’s sharp hooves falling on him as he tried to stop the men from taking his mother away. As always, the memory made him want to hurt things. That was fine. Talon was right here, and no one deserved it more.

  “The only truth in this world is that we’re all guilty,” he said, tightening his grip on the bigger man’s throat. “When a crime happened in a small town, the people demanded justice, so twelve godly men put their heads together and decided my mother was guilty. There was no evidence, but what did that matter? The moment those men spoke it, the lie became the truth. If there was any real justice in this world, God would have punished them right then, right there, but he didn’t. And those men swore on the Bible! But no—no one punished them until I came, years later. Then, they regretted it.”

  Then they had screamed.

  “They were just men,” Talon said between labored breaths. “Men are fallible. They can be wrong. That doesn’t mean God is.”

  “That’s what I’m trying to get through your skull,” Black said, shaking his head. “Your God’s no different. Like them, he says what’s right and what’s wrong and that’s how it is. There’s no argument, no logic, no mitigating circumstances on sin. He’s a judgmental prick, not to mention a giant hypocrite. That’s the worst part for me. I mean, the very first thing your Jesus says is to have mercy, and I could almost get behind that until I realized that every time I looked around God’s world, all I saw were people suffering. We’re all up to our necks in injustice and violence and war and disease and have been since the dawn of time, and here you come saying ‘through God, all things are possible.’ Like what? If that’s true, then why doesn’t God follow his own advice and come down here and be merciful? If he’s so all-powerful, why does he tolerate all this? Why doesn’t he fix it? Why does he let me do this?”