The Gift of Fury

by Richard Jackson

  I make a quick circuit of the building. Despite the lack of work done on the place, it looks quite secure. The wooden boards covering the ground floor windows have been replaced recently. The front, back and basement doors sport brand new padlocks on them. I won’t be going in through one of the doors, picking locks is not one of the skills I have mastered. Kara can’t sense any magic or spirits from outside the building, just the same sense of uneasiness I feel. I still don’t know what I might be facing in there. Is it worth going in there? Anything could happen.

  “You shouldn’t be doing this by yourself,” Kara says. She is probably right. I don’t bother answering her with words. I just try to reassure her with my confidence. This is important, I just know it. I would lose time if I tried to get Hagan or one of my other friends to help me. Time is something I don’t have.

  The left side of the building looks promising. There are no doors but a fire escape ladder is within easy reach. I reach into my bag and pull on my black gloves. They are made for climbing and handling sharp objects. No need to risk cutting myself on a rusty piece of metal or getting a splinter. I have enough problems with my knee. A quick climb and I am through a second floor window. My knee only murmurs in discontent once I am inside.

  The living room is empty of furniture, cleaned out long ago. It is dark and empty except for that cold and humid abandoned building smell. The glow stick I pull out and drop next to the door marks the apartment in case I need to get out of here in a hurry. I check my bag, eyeing the rest of my equipment: a filtered mask, a small crowbar and eleven more glow sticks are all that remain after I pull out the flashlight. Its illumination does little to pierce the gloom as I move deeper into the building.

  It’s slow going. I have to be careful of my footing since I didn’t bring a rope or safety harness. I also left my hard hat behind. Most of the metal has been stripped from the building for scrap. Gaping holes can be seen where radiators and pipes are missing. A misstep might result in a sprained ankle or broken leg, neither of which would be good. Even though I have my cell phone with me, I would rather not have to use it. There would be a lot of questions, questions that aren’t easily answered.

  There are no scavengers, human or rodent. Another oddity is the lack of trash and debris in the hallway. It makes the surroundings even more destitute than they should be. The stairs are an accident waiting to happen. Some of the steps are missing making the descent treacherous in the darkness. The first floor apartments and lobby are just as barren as the ones upstairs. There are no clues as to why this place makes me and Kara feel so uncomfortable.

  The stairs leading down to the basement are particularly dark and uninviting. Even though these stairs have been repaired recently, I descend carefully. This is the kind of place where bad things happen to people. Sometime in the past, part of the basement was walled off. Boxes are stacked up haphazardly against the walls, making the large central room seem cluttered. The smell and humidity aren’t as bad down here. From somewhere in the darkness, I can hear the sound of something humming, a machine of some sort. Maybe it is a heater or a dehumidifier on its last legs. That means the power is still working.

  What used to be the laundry room is exceptionally disturbing. The washers and dryers are long gone but strong ropes have been stung out across the room presumably for hanging laundry. I can see more rope coiled neatly in one gloomy corner of the room before Kara directs my attention to the hooks set in the ceiling at odd intervals. What the hell is this place being used for?

  The crowbar finds its way into my hand. It does little to ease my mind as I continue my exploration. I follow the sound of machinery and find a door through to other side of the walled off area.

  Unlike the rest of the basement, the floor is gone. The foundation and natural stone are exposed. There is a sense of age and something else.

  Kara whispers “People have died here. Some recently…..”

  That was it. Death has a smell all its own. It comes in more flavors than ice cream but it is always unpleasant and never welcome. There is no altar or the usual occult trappings, just a feeling to the place. This is a place of pain and suffering. It is probably Meredith’s work but that isn’t enough to make this building stand out. There is something else, something I can’t place a finger on. Why would Meredith rip up the floor and dig down to the bare stone foundation?

  I kneel down to touch the stone feeling the coldness through my gloves. Kara screams a warning as something makes contact with me through the stone. It takes all of my willpower to jerk my hand away and fight against the mind numbing sensation that grip me. I stumble out of the room, desperate to get away from the stone and whatever is in it.

  This is an experience I could have done without. I fall to my hands and knees in the super’s apartment and decorate the warped wooden floor with the contents of my stomach. “What the hell?”

  Kara answers with an unending stream of emotional babble. She is thinking and speaking too fast for me to keep up with her. It takes a lot to rattle her this badly. The only word I catch is “Servitor” and a sense that it shouldn’t be here. I wait for her to calm down. It gives me time to get my guts under control. My head is still reeling from the brief moment of contact with whatever that thing was. I spit, trying in vain to clear the sour taste from my mouth when I realize I am not alone.

  I move quietly to the door of the apartment and use the peephole to see what is going. Someone has turned on the lights in the main room. Even so, I can’t see much. I can tell there are at least three people moving around. For a brief moment, I catch a glimpse of two men. They drag a third figure into the room I recently vacated.

  There is the sound of talking, more like orders being given. Like an idiot, I slip out of the apartment and into the light. This is beyond stupid but I have to see, I have to know. I hold my breath not daring to make a sound as I peak into the room.

  There are five men there, one of which I recognize as Meredith. I don’t know who the others are but one of them definitely doesn’t want to be here. He struggles in the grip of two men dressed in what has come to be known as business casual. Another man is lighting candles and incense following Meredith’s orders to the letter.

  A canvas drop cloth, painted with intricate symbols, has been spread across the dark stone floor. I don’t recognize any of the symbols but my eyes hurt just looking at them. They remind me of Sol’s book but worse. Meredith is smart, I’ll give him that. Most sorcerers make their drawings in charcoal or burning oil. This way saved time. There was no risk of accidentally rubbing out a line or drawing the pattern wrong. It also enabled him to transport it wherever he needed to take it. After the last candle is lit, I know what’s coming. It doesn’t stop me from watching. I hope in vain things will turn out differently. As Meredith begins to chant, he reaches into his pocket for something. I don’t understand the words, for that I am grateful especially when he pulls out the length of cord from his pocket. As his chant becomes louder, nearing its inevitable conclusion, his helpers force the victim to his knees. In one deft motion, Meredith wraps the cord around the hapless man’s neck. This sort of thing shouldn’t be happening, not even in a place like New York. You just don’t grab people off the street and drag them off to be sacrificed. I turn away from the sight and sound, trying to shut it out. It doesn’t work. The memory of another time and place assaults me as the smell of death fills the room once more.

  ***

  It was summer time. The sun was shining, the pigeons were scavenging for food and the heat was oppressive. All in all, it was another fun-filled day in the South Bronx. I was only a little boy, no older than ten or eleven. My cousins and I had decided to use the abandoned lot next to our apartment building for our playground.

  Each of us was a hero in our own right but together we were unstoppable. Our adventures were larger than life. It was a good time. The temperature rose and my cousins went to cool off in the spray from a fire hydrant. I sought out adventure on my own. There behind
our apartment building, I saw her. She shouldn’t have been in a neighborhood like this. She looked like a princess and she was in need of a hero. The boy who had punched her was older and bigger than me. That didn’t stop me from racing to the rescue.

  Even back then, I was something of a fighter. I put fear into the neighborhood toughs and bullies who thought me and my cousins were an easy mark. They knew I wasn’t afraid to play rough. This time I was way out of my league. I landed on the boy’s back as he leaned over the girl, catching him off guard. It wasn’t enough. He shook me off and sent me flying.

  When I hit the ground, I couldn’t move. It felt like something was broken. The boy looked down at me and laughed before kicking me hard. The only thing I could do was lie there, curled up in a little ball as I tried to breathe. Satisfied, he turned away from me and back to the girl. I knew he was doing something to her but I didn’t know what. I couldn’t comprehend what he was doing. It scared me out of my wits. I knew when he was done with whatever he was doing; he was going to kill her then me.

  Somehow, I managed to find the strength to throw myself at his knees. I was too weak and too late. I wasn’t a hero. I couldn’t save her or myself. She was dead, a length of extension cord wrapped around her neck. I screamed long and loud. It and my struggling didn’t stop him from putting his hands around my throat.

  ***

  I’m back in the basement, standing there unable to move. When I was a child, I remember being put in the hospital. I could never remember how I got there. Was this what happened to me? Was it Meredith? Did he try to kill me when I was a boy? This is a nightmare. The crowbar drops from my nerveless fingers. Kara snaps me out of it.

  “Run!!” she screams.

  All eyes look in my direction. They don’t have a clear view of me but they know someone is here. I turn to run. I make it to the stairs as the first man runs out into the main room. My hand slaps the light switch plunging the basement into darkness then I am taking the steps two at a time, fleeing this insanity.

  They stumble behind me in the dark as I emerge onto the first floor. I am not alone. There is a man in the lobby guarding the now open front door. He doesn’t see me yet but he has heard the commotion. His flashlight begins to traverse in my direction as he yells for me to stop. Yeah right, no chance of that happening especially after what I’ve seen. If I do that, I’ll end up just like the rest of Meredith’s victims. I bolt for the next set of stairs.

  I opt for speed instead of caution. I have an edge. Kara is here to warn me when I am about to make a misstep. She saves me from a broken leg. Behind me, one of my pursuers isn’t so lucky. Unfortunately, the rest don’t waste time to help their friend out. They continue the chase. I was an idiot to come here. Not only did I come alone. I also brought the Bloodstone with me. In my haste, I almost miss the glow stick marking my exit.

  I duck into the apartment then out the living room window. The fire escape shifts with my weight. I half fall and jump from the thing before it gives way. My knee pays the price when I land. I don’t know how I do it but I manage to rise and limp away before anyone appears in the window.

  I’ve brought myself some time. Maybe it’s enough to get out of here. The subway isn’t that close and at this time of night it will be the first place they will look for me. Catching a cab isn’t an option and the buses don’t run frequently this time of night. I have to get away on foot or far enough away so I can call for a cab or catch a train. I might have escaped but I’m still in big trouble.

  Chapter Nine

  I walk, I don’t run. Running down the street in the middle of the night in a bad neighborhood is the worst thing you can do. It screams out to any opportunist “Mug me!! I’m scared and not afraid to show it,” Even if I wanted to run, I’m not sure my knee would cooperate. It’s been hurting a lot after my little gymnastics routine, taking every opportunity to remind me of its displeasure. I pause to catch my breath in the shadow of a building that has been renovated recently.

  “I didn’t know,” Kara says and I believe her. I know she doesn’t tell me everything. If she knew about this, she would have shared that bit of knowledge with me. She knows what it means to me. It’s a hell of a thing to be without a chunk of your memory especially when it concerns an event that changed your life. With the bad, there was a lot of good. Whoever hurt me is responsible for me meeting Kara. That doesn’t mean I’m going to forgive them for it.

  “I know. I’ll be fine,” I say and she knows I’m lying. It’s not going to be anything close to okay or fine till I deal with whoever killed that girl and tried to kill me. They taught me I’m not a hero. Heroes aren’t about revenge.

  ***

  I’ve made it. My goal is in sight. The train station is less than a block away. This close to the station there are bars, restaurants and convenience stores that are still open. There aren’t a lot of people on the street, too few for me to blend in with if someone was on the lookout for me. I decide to take it slow and easy.

  With the cutbacks in service, there is only one entrance to the station open at this time of night. As usual, there are a couple of people hanging around probably waiting for someone or looking for the best time to hop the turnstile. I detour into a coffee shop when they are joined by a fourth person. Even though I didn’t get a good look at him, I remember him from the basement. He’s one of Meredith’s men.

  I get a booth in the back of the coffee shop, one that gives me a view of the door. This night keeps getting better and better. I walked the extra distance to avoid this sort of thing and now I’m stuck. I could probably hang out here and call for a cab but something tells me I would end up in a limo with Meredith instead of in a car heading for home. I pull out my cell phone and turn it on.

  The first person I try is Hagan. The phone rings for an eternity before I am shunted to his voice mail. I know he always keeps his phone on so he must either be distracted or someplace where it is too noisy for him to hear the phone ringing. I try Nerva next and as expected, her phone is off. I go right to voice mail. I don’t bother leaving a message. It won’t do me any good unless she checks her messages in the next five minutes and my luck isn’t that good. Nerva checks her voice mail once a year if at all. I take a deep breath and dial Scott’s number.

  He picks up after the second ring. I knew he would be up, Scott keeps the same sort of hours I do but there is no hello or customary greeting.

  “Count, I hope you aren’t calling my home from a cell phone.”

  I wince at the tone remembering his quirks about phones and cell phones in particular. One day when I’m not afraid for my life, I will have to ask him about that. I’m sure it will be one hell of a story.

  “Scott, I’m in trouble here.”

  That gets his attention. I’m about to tell him what’s going on without going into the details. He doesn’t want to hear it. After all I am talking on a cell phone in a public place.

  “Wait there. I’ll come get you.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate this.”

  “Oh and Count.”

  “Yes?”

  “This wouldn’t be happening if you just learned how to drive.”

  Scott doesn’t give me a chance to reply with a snappy comeback. He hangs up the phone. Yeah, I don’t drive, not because I can’t. I just don’t like being behind the wheel. You don’t really need to drive or own a vehicle when you live in a place like New York. It usually doesn’t cause me any problems but when it does, the problems are big.

  I put it out of my head and signal the waitress. Dorward will be here in twenty or thirty minutes tops. That gives me enough time to grab some food.

  Kara gives me the bad news after I place my order.

  “Someone just cast a tracking spell.”

  I almost laugh out loud. Meredith must have forgotten his earlier attempt to use magic on me or he’s getting desperate.

  “And I should be worried?”

  “It’s been cast on the ring, not you.”

  Oh, c
rap.

  ***

  I don’t bother standing up or trying to make it to the door. From here, I can see three of Meredith’s men position themselves just outside the door. The fourth is probably around back covering the kitchen exit. Thankfully, they don’t come in. It gives me a chance to enjoy the scrambled eggs and bacon I ordered. In retrospect, maybe I should have chosen the steak. This might actually be my last meal.

  All things considered, I’m not in that bad of a position. They don’t seem willing to drag me out of here in front of witnesses. If they wait too long, Scott will be here to get me out of this. I try to relax. Eating gives me something to do. The food is good, not the best but far from the worst. The eggs aren’t too runny and the bacon is just right. The meal is ruined by Meredith’s arrival.

  Kara gives me enough warning so I can look up at him as he enters the coffee shop with one of his men. I’m not surprised he would come here in person. They walk straight towards my booth. I have no quips or jokes ready when Meredith slides in across from me. I am not in a joking mood, not after what I’ve seen tonight. His friend slides into the booth next me.

  “I confess, I didn’t think we would meet again so soon,” Meredith smiles at me. In his mind, this is all a forgone conclusion. I’ve already lost. He might be right. “You must know far more than I realized. You will have to tell me how you found out about my little hobby.”

  The man calls ritual sacrifice a hobby. He’s the one behind all the bodies that have been turning up in Alphabet City. How many has he killed? I don’t say a word as the waitress comes over and takes away the dishes. Meredith takes the liberty to order a cup of tea. If there is any justice in the world, he’ll choke on it. With the way my luck is going, I will probably end up picking up the tab. I debate lunging across the table when I hear the click and hum of a stun gun. His new bodyguard must have heard about what I did to Meredith. All three of us know there’s no place for me to dodge or avoid its touch in the booth. It’s only a matter of time before Meredith asks me to hand him the Bloodstone and step outside. They’ll be a car waiting to drive us back to his building. We’ll head downstairs and no one will know whatever happened to Count Albritton. I’m in no rush to take that trip. I remain silent and let Meredith speak while Kara points out what I already know.