His Dark Empire (Tears of Blood)

by Forbes, M. R.

  "Rain," I said out loud. I felt a small touch in my mind, as if I was actually using my brain as a muscle to physically push something. Nothing happened. I concentrated on that feeling, tried to duplicate it. Nothing. I took a deep breath and started over, closing my eyes and slowing my breathing. When I opened them, I was face to face with a vampire.

  Her face was only inches from mine. Her fangs were bared in the scariest, most malicious smile I had ever seen. She had come out of nowhere, and hadn't made the slightest sound. Her skin was a lifeless white, her hair and eyes black. I could feel the animosity pouring off of her. Even if she had been a little girl smiling at me and offering me candy, I would have known her intent.

  "Oh crap," I cried as I leaned to the side and started flailing like a fish, desperate to get off the box and away from the thing.

  The force of her strike put chips in the wall where my chest had just been. The momentum of my flailing sent me off my seat and onto her, shoving her back and onto the floor. I fell on top of her, and by her expression I could tell she was surprised by the maneuver. I guess she had been expecting someone who actually knew how to fight.

  Recovering from her shock, she grabbed my shoulders and literally threw me off of her, sending me slamming against the wall next to the door. I looked at it longingly, but who was I kidding. There was no way I could outrun or outfight this thing. I was done before I had even gotten started.

  She hopped to her feet, not even using her hands to help push up. I got a good look at her now. She looked to be between eighteen and twenty two years old, five and a half feet tall, an athletic build, and a small face with high cheekbones. Her eyes had changed from all black to a more human looking, and quite striking blue. She was wearing a cropped leather jacket over a pink tank, a short black skirt and medium-heeled black boots that cut off just below the knee, accentuating her pale, well-toned legs.

  She stood there and looked at me. If she hadn't been a demon-spawn who was about to kill me, I might have been thinking about asking her on a date. Why wasn't she finishing the job? I was the mouse and she was the cat. It made sense.

  "What are you?" she asked me.

  I hadn't expected her to speak. It caught me off guard. "Wh... what?"

  "You smell like a seraph," she said, "but you fight like a human."

  I didn't know what to say. I figured either way I was about to become a meal, so I went with the truth.

  "Just part, actually," I replied. I inched my way towards the door while I spoke. She just stood there. Why should she be worried? I was pretty sure she could close the gap in half a second or less. "Part angel, part demon, part human. I just found out today."

  "A crossbreed?" she asked. "You?"

  Okay, maybe I wasn't much in a fight, but the way she said it was just insulting. I glanced over and saw I had almost reached the door. As I had thought, she noticed. She was on me in two strides, her long delicate fingers gripping my throat and pulling me to my feet. She put her face right into mine, and then leaned into my neck. I could feel the heat of her breath against my skin, and I prepared to be food.

  Instead, she pulled her head back and looked into my eyes. It was the same look Dante had given me, the one that I had felt deep within my soul.

  "Indeed," she said. She let go of my throat and backed up a few steps. "How did you get here?"

  I was shocked enough by the fact that she hadn't bitten me. Now she was engaging me in conversation? "I was dropped off here," I said. "I haven't been Awake for very long."

  She laughed. "That much is obvious. Today is your lucky day crossbreed. I only hunt pures. Sometimes humans when I need the sustenance, but angel blood tides me over longer, and to be honest it's much more tasty." She looked me over like she was trying to pick out a pastry. "I can't be sure if you'd be more like a chocolate bar or a clove of garlic." She smiled, showing off her fangs. She started to step around me to get out the door.

  "Wait a second," I said. That was one of the oddest and most stomach churning things I'd ever heard anyone say, and she scared the heck out of me, but since I had limited sources of information I had to see what I could get from her. "I was told your kind would rip me apart without a second thought."

  "Most of my kind would," she replied. She gave me that condescending look again that made me feel like I was less than dirt. "You're no good to feed on, and you're no sport at all; maybe in a few months when you've had time to adjust. My name is Rebecca. Perhaps we'll meet again."

  I started to form another question, but before I could get it out she was through the door without a sound. I sat there motionless for a few minutes, trying to absorb all of the signals being rushed to my brain. Vampires were real!

  It was a hopeless endeavor, and I stumbled over to the corner just in time to dry heave. Once that was over, I started shivering, the adrenaline withdrawing and leaving me to pick up the pieces. I sat down on the floor. I didn't care anymore if someone found me here, as long as they were human.

  I reached into my pocket to retrieve the phone, and then groaned in dismay. What I pulled out of my pocket didn't resemble a cellphone at all. It was just a mess of wires, circuit boards, and glass. As if things couldn't get any worse. I leaned back against the door so I wouldn't be surprised again, and went to sleep.

  Chapter 4

  I woke up to someone shoving at the door behind me. Still groggy, I was ready to let whatever it was come right in and eat my soul. I groaned and rolled out of the way, putting my hand on the floor so I could climb to my feet.

  "What the hell?" The janitor looked down at me, hands on his hips and a sour expression on his face.

  "Sorry," I said. "Drank a little too much yesterday, I must have passed out in here."

  He glared at me, and then looked up at the rear of the room. I hadn't noticed, but one of the shelves had been knocked askew during the fight.

  "You wait right here," he said. "I'm going to get the guard."

  Like I was going to wait right here. I jumped to my feet and went out the door. It was still early, but the island was open for business. There were some tourists wandering around, but more importantly, the alarm was off and the doors were open. I looked across the area to where the janitor stood with a guard, pointing in my direction. They both started walking over.

  I hoped they didn't see me, but I couldn't imagine how they wouldn't. There weren't enough other people here for me to blend in, and I wasn't exactly inconspicuous at six feet tall, brown hair, leather blazer and blue jeans. I was going to have to either accept getting caught, or somehow fight my way out.

  I tensed as they approached, still undecided on which play I should make. They were still talking to each other, the janitor motioning like he was describing the damage to the wall. They looked over at me.

  "Good morning sir," the guard said. Then they walked right by.

  I turned around to watch them. I saw them go into the closet. A second later the guard came out, shouting into his radio and running for the door. I knew I should leave, but I had to know for sure. I walked back over and peeked into the closet. The janitor was standing by the damaged shelves, staring at what I assumed was the chipped wall.

  "Looks like someone made a mess," I said to him.

  "You can say that again," the janitor replied. "Some drunk asshole busted the door and barfed in that corner over there. Not to mention he knocked over all this crap."

  I was curious about something. "Hey buddy," I said. "I just got my hair dyed to cover up some grey. What color does it look like to you?"

  He gave me a funny look. "Black," he said. That was just what I wanted to hear.

  "Thanks man," I said. I took one last look back at the closet and beat a path out of there. I was on the ferry within the hour.

  I sat all the way in the back, not that it mattered. It was early enough that the majority of people were still headed towards Liberty Island, not away from it. We were pretty well spread out, and I appreciated the opportunity to relax a little bit. Eve
n if I couldn't consciously exert my will on anything, at least my subconscious was helping me out. It seemed like as good a time as any to practice the Rain exercise.

  I fixed my focus on a small spot below the seat in front of me, and tried to force the rain. The first few efforts were as effective as my attempts in the bathroom stall. Retrain my mind. That was what Dante had said. There is no spoon.

  For some reason, my mind wandered back to my encounter with the vampire. Rebecca, she had said her name was. It was strange to think of a blood-sucking creature of the Devil and put a human name to it. It was stranger still to be thinking about the way she looked in that outfit. According to Dante, this was the face of my enemy. Well, one of them anyway. After all, she lived to feast on my kind. In fact, she couldn't live without feasting on my kind. Or angels, I remembered. She said she preferred to drink the blood of angels. That was really creepy.

  I looked out at the water breaking off the back of the ferry. I had smashed the phone, and in doing so lost any hope of getting more information about what exactly I should be doing. Would Dante even be able to find me now? Maybe he couldn't, but I had a feeling Mr. Ross could. I had a feeling Mr. Ross could find anyone, anywhere.

  Watching the waves became hypnotic, and brought me to a state of mind that I hadn't experienced before. Here I was, sitting on a ferry in the middle of New York Harbor, I had one set of clothes and four grand in my pocket, the bloodlines of angels and demons, both sides itching to put an end to me, and for the first time I felt like I was actually coming to life, or maybe waking up.

  I turned my head back to my spot under the chair and willed it to rain. Not with a huge push, an overexertion. I willed it gently, fitting the force of my will to the strength of my desire. I felt the tug in my mind. I felt it grab on like a hook and pull towards me. Water vapor condensed and began to fall in droplets onto my boots. I had told the universe to make it rain, and it had acquiesced. It wouldn't save me from hungry vampires, but it was a start.

  By the time I had arrived at Battery Park, I was able to reproduce the raindrops on at least half of my attempts. It was becoming easier to recognize the mental focus that signaled success, and more familiar to feel the pull on my energy. Dante had been right about limits. The few successes I had made had left me feeling a bit drowsy, and super hungry.

  As I walked, I kept a watchful eye on all of the people around me. I had no idea who might be playing for one of the other teams, and who thought I was just another average guy going about his business. It would have helped if I could have at least known if they would react, or if they would run off to tell their superiors that they had spotted a diuscrucis wandering around.

  Catching the delectable scent of coffee, I diverted myself across the street and into "Gino's Diner" in search of something to stop the rumbling in my stomach and the growing fatigue caused by bending the universe. The place was pretty empty, but I paid close attention to its inhabitants as I entered. Nobody even bothered to look up at me. I love New York!

  Susan led me to a table and handed me a menu. I waved it away. "Two western omelets, a cup of coffee, and a slice of cherry pie if you have it. Whatever pie you do have if not cherry."

  She looked down to check the size of my stomach. "You one of those competitive eaters?" she asked me.

  "Nah, just hungry," I said. "I feel like I haven't eaten in months."

  She didn't say anything, heading off to put in the order. She returned a minute later with the coffee. As she put it down, she looked me in the eyes.

  "Can I help you?" I asked.

  She looked away. "You just have really pretty eyes," she said. "You need anything else?"

  "I'm fine, thanks," I said.

  It was weird, but she hadn't been lying, and I didn't get that feeling from her that I'd gotten from Rebecca. I figured I needed to be cautious but not paranoid, or I'd destroy myself without any intervention necessary from the powers that be.

  "Actually," I said. "Do you have a newspaper?"

  The date was November 19th. I had been in Purgatory for nearly five months. How many had I spent curled into a ball 'suffering my Regrets', as Dante had called it? I thought about my mother for the first time since I had been killed. I wondered if there were any rules about going to see her. Would she recognize me? Did she know our history? Which side of this war would she be on? I knew the answer to that one; she was a devout Catholic. That raised a more important question. If she could see me, would she see me as her son, or as an enemy? Maybe I was being a coward, but I wasn't willing to risk knowing the answer to that. Better to let dead sons stay dead.

  Susan dropped off my two omelets and a peach cobbler. I guess it was the closest thing they had to pie. I downed the eggs in record time, polished off the cobbler, and still felt hungry for more. I decided to satiate myself further somewhere else, in order not to arouse any kind of suspicion. I left forty dollars on the table and walked out while Susan was occupied with another table.

  As soon as I got outside, I found the nearest street corner and hailed a cab. I had lost Dante's 'Guide to Being Awake', so I needed to start educating myself.

  "5th Avenue Apple Store" I said, climbing in.

  I would pick up an iPad so I could get online, then take it to a cheap hotel room somewhere and hole up until I heard from Dante. Combing the dark corners of the Internet was one of my specialties after all, and if there was any mortal information about the workings of the Divine I was sure I would be able to find it there. It might not amount to much compared to what I had lost on the smartphone, but it was better than what I had right now.

  "Sure thing pal," he said.

  He had a strong accent. Polish maybe? He was definitely European, with a black peach fuzz and a chiseled face. I could see him look me over through the rear-view mirror. I thought I saw his eye twinge as he looked at me, but didn't make much of it.

  I sat back on the rear bench seat and took a deep breath. I was still hungry, but the headache had gone away, and I was more eager to start learning than I was to continue eating. I was going to start by finding out everything I could about vampires, werewolves, and any other demonic creatures I could branch off to from there. My feeling was that the evil team was bound to be more dangerous, and there was also something in my gut telling me that they were winning this war.

  A war I could never win. Everything had happened so fast, I hadn't stopped to think about that simple truth. I was joining the fight for the continued existence of mankind. My goal was to keep things from becoming too evil, or too good. I couldn't snuff one out, or the other would triumph. Would I be spending the rest of eternity like this, or was there a limit to my Awakened life force? The thought was depressing.

  When I looked out the window and saw that the cabbie had pulled us off into an abandoned housing project, I realized that I had broken rule number four. I had lost track of my surroundings, and now I was in a place where nobody would hear me scream. I looked up at the driver, who was turning his head back and forth, looking for something himself.

  I saw him at the same time the driver did, a lone man in a fine pinstriped suit, sitting on the steps of one of the condemned buildings. When he saw the cab he stood and reached behind his back, retrieving a sword that even from the distance looked similar to the one the dark angel in Purgatory had almost halved me with.

  "I don't suppose I can talk you out of dropping me here?" I asked.

  "Go to Hell," he said. He stopped the cab at the sidewalk in front of the building. The door opened of its own accord. I wasn't about to get out.

  "No sense in making this difficult," the man in the suit said. "My associate has already marked you as a demon."

  A demon? Dante had said that they would be able to recognize me. That only seemed to be half-true, as both Rebecca and now this guy had seen me only as their direct opposite. I wasn't going to escape, so I slid over and got out of the cab. As soon as I was clear the door slammed shut, and the driver took off.

  "That's be
tter," the man said. He looked at me curiously. "You took quite a risk being out during the day. You must have some pretty important information to deliver."

  Information? He had taken a look at me and judged me to be no more than a messenger. I did my best to play the part.

  "Like I would tell you, asshole," I said.

  His eyes narrowed. "Mind your tongue, worm. You can tell me what you know, or I can spit you like a pig."

  The eyes. They were brown, simple, human. He wasn't an angel. This had to be what Dante had referred to as the Touched. I decided to change tactics.

  "Do you take me for some kind of minor spawn," I shouted. "You have no idea who you are dealing with. The light means nothing to me."

  I forced my will, just enough to make my eyes flash red like they do in horror movies. I didn't know if it would work or not, but the tug told me I had been successful. The Touched man's eyes widened and he held the sword up to defend himself. I could tell he felt overmatched, now all I could do was hope he wouldn't call for backup.

  He did the other thing I had hoped he wouldn't. Fight or flight, he decided to fight. He came at me in a rush, committing himself and all his power to a single downward cut. Even as unskilled as I was, the desire to not be cut in half was more than enough for my brain to move my body out of the way. I danced to the side as the blade slammed into the cement, throwing up chips of concrete.

  He surprised me by adjusting and getting back into a defensive posture. The trouble was, I hadn't even considered attacking him back. His maneuver left him a good four feet away, out of sword reach. It was my turn for fight or flight. I turned and ran.

  I had six steps on him before he overcame his surprise and started giving chase. I dashed up the stairs and into the abandoned building, catapulting up the inner stairwell at a speed that I didn't know I had. I could hear his shoes landing on the steps below me, getting fainter and fainter as I rose at a pace he couldn't match. I was winning the footrace, but where was I going to go? The building was a bad decision, because I was going to run out of up, and I couldn't get back down without passing Samurai Joe. All too soon, I pushed open the door at the top of steps and found myself out on the roof, fifteen stories up.