I should have pulled one of the thugs into the car with me so that I could have used him to sustain me and put off my impending loss of control, but I wasn't thinking about that when I left. I just had to get to my sister.
Looking down at my blood splattered clothes while I drive, I consider pulling off the helmet and sucking the nutrients out of the liquid that has been absorbed into the fabric. Not a bad idea, but what if it isn't enough? What if it is only enough to get the Hunger started, and then it takes over and I don't make it to Leyna in time? That's not something I can risk.
Through sheer painful exertion of my willpower, I push the dark spots away from my vision and ask Ren for clarification one more time on what he's learned so far. I know he has already told me once, but my fight to remain in control of my consciousness has proven to be more than a little distracting.
"Are you alright, Cat?" He asks with genuine concern in his voice. It's more emotion than he normally shows me. "I never repeat information with you. What's going on?"
"Ren," I say deliberately and slowly. "I am way past when I should have fed, and I'm doing all I can to stay in control of my body and not give up who’s running the show in here. But I don't know how much longer I can do it." I swallow and breathe deeply in an attempt to calm myself before continuing. "Where is she? What can you tell me?"
His response is just silence for a moment, and I don't know if that is because he's verifying information or trying to digest what I've just told him. "Ren?" I finally get up the nerve to ask after letting the silence stretch further than I thought my sanity could handle. "Speak to me."
"We'll find her Cat," he says in a subdued voice. "Chadwick never powered off her phone so I've been able to track it. I was waiting to see where they were going," he says and pauses. "Turn right at the next major light and go west. They're in the industrial district not too far from here. I thought he was bringing her here at first, but apparently he’s headed to a different warehouse." He stops talking for a moment, and I can hear the soft clacking of keys in the background. "I'll see what I can find out about it. You should be there in about ten minutes." Another pause, but this one doesn't bring with it the gentle rat-a-tat of keyboard clicks. "At least as long as you don't get in an accident or pulled over before then. How fast are you going, Cat?"
Glancing down at my speedometer for only a moment, and then wrenching the wheel to one side to avoid a slower moving truck in the left lane, I tell him, "Somewhere north of eighty, but that's only because traffic is a bit heavy here. I'll make up time in a moment."
"Geezus, Cat," he whistles at me. "Don't get yourself killed getting to her. That won't help anybody."
Laughing against the pain, I tell him, "I'm not dying tonight, Ren. That's not in the cards. Somebody might die at the warehouse, but it sure as hell won't be me. I can promise you that (And I'm sorry madre for my language. It's the Darkness. It's eating at my mind with every moment I don't feed it.)."
"Ok, I believe you," he says in a quiet voice. "But let's still be safe, ok?"
"Fine," I growl at him. "I'll be safe. Thanks for thinking of me. Now how did you find out it was Chadwick?" I say changing the subject. "How are you so sure?"
"He wanted us to find out, Cat," he begins. "He didn't even hide his footprints. You told me earlier to find your sister, so I immediately started tracking her phone and located her. Wasn't hard at all. I just kept my eye on it, and I figured I'd watch to see where she went and relay the information after your confrontation with the cartel hoods. You know, the confrontation that you seemed so suicidally intent on pursuing. Regardless of what wiser heads might have been saying to you."
"Not now, Ren," I hiss at him. "Time and place, buddy. Time and place."
"I know," he tells me. "But if you'd left immediately like I'd said, then you wouldn't be having the hunger issue and you'd be closer to him. That's all I'm saying."
"Christ, Ren!" I holler at him. "You really think now is the appropriate time for an 'I told you so' moment?" The exertion of yelling causes the black spots to become swirls that twist in and out of my vision, and I have to concentrate on just breathing for a moment. "Think about it. If I had run earlier, then they would have chased me. Maybe I get away or maybe I don't. But I couldn't risk leading them to Leyna when I thought she was just out with some older creep. I was trying to save her, Ren, not bring down a horde of death with me. Stopping them at the time seemed like the most logical option."
"Plus, you wanted to," he says quietly, but I don't dignify the remark with an answer. It's not worth the energy.
"Chadwick?" I prompt.
"Yeah, him," he continues. "While I was waiting for you and tracking her, I decided to see what I could find out about this creeper guy she had been going out with. Accessing her phone records, I was able to figure out what number had been used to contact her, and from there I started digging to see what I could come up with. And I found out that the guy she had been talking to all this time is our Chadwick.
"What?" I ask a bit skeptically. "You mean he had registered the phone in his own name? How come it didn't show up before when we searched for him?"
"Well, no. He didn't make it that easy. He's still too smart for that."
"So, help me out here, Ren. I don't have enough mental processing power left to play mind games. How'd you figure out it was him?"
"The address he was using for the phone account, Cat. The name was registered to a Jacob Joodis, but it was his address that got my attention. Jacob lived at 187 Chadwick Way in some fictional place called Morrinton. He put his name right there for us to find, but I never would have thought to search for him like that. He wants us to know he's involved, but he wasn't going to reveal himself until the right time." I can hear Ren pause to consider his own words before he continues. "He's a bastard, Cat, but he's a brilliant one. Oh, and there's more."
"More than that? What else is there? What more can there possibly be?"
"He set up this account the day after he disappeared. And after going through your sister's computer logs, or at least what I can get into from here, it appears he made contact with her for the first time less than a week after that."
"What?" I mumble. "What does that mean?"
"It means he's been planning out whatever's going to happen tonight for a long time. He's way ahead of us on this one. I'm sorry."
"Don't be," I tell him. "I don't care how much time he's had to prepare. There is no preparation for what I'm bringing with me. This ends tonight."
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Half a mile from Chadwick's warehouse (I really want to call it a "lair", but I don't know if that is appropriate, yet.), I am presented with a gut-wrenching choice that I can tell will have lasting implications. Ahead of me on the side of the road I can see two inner city youths strolling along the littered and debris-strewn sidewalk without a care in the world as if they own the place. What are young men like this doing out this late in the scary and rundown part of the city? Is it providence or fate that has put them here? Or is it the devil in an attempt to pull me from my path?
Do I stop and use these two 'gifts' to feed the Hunger and risk possibly being even later in rescuing Leyna, but with a fuller tummy and less mental distraction? Or do I ignore them and push on towards my goal and hope that I can just forestall the inevitable rushing wave of Blackness beating against my skull?
In the end it isn’t even a decision. I can’t in good conscious attempt a confrontation with Chadwick without at least attempting to clear away as many distractions as possible. Ignoring the Darkness in me any longer would be folly; something tantamount to signing Leyna's death certificate myself. These two young men have been put in my path so that my sister can be saved.
Slamming on the monster's brakes and sliding sideways in the empty road, I bring the car to a stop mere feet from the stunned pedestrians who are about to become my dinner.
Stepping out of the car and ripping off the helmet, their scent wraps around me before I even h
ave a chance to speak. The delicious aroma of their blood is a siren song that I am powerless to resist. The Hunger squeezes out the last of my resistance with an almost audible hiss, and I willingly give in to its seduction. The thrill that shoots through me is both terrifying and refreshing at the same time. The Hunger is strength. The Hunger is power. The Hunger is victory, and it is thrilling.
But the Hunger doesn't know mercy. And neither will these two. The terrible thought is only a small blip in the back of my mind, but the Darkness easily pushes it away and drains it of importance. It is a worry for someone else. And that someone is no longer me.
Smiling at the two open-mouthed men in front of me, I flare my nostrils and let the wonderfulness of what is about to happen envelope me like a warm blanket.
"Holy crap, chica!" The one on the left manages to get out. "Who the hell are you supposed to-"
And then I leap the dozen feet through the air and land on him knocking him down and preventing him from finishing his thought. It was a wasted and unimportant thought, anyway. And now it will be his last one.
Whirling in place and spinning on the prone man's body, I quickly knock the feet out under his companion and listen to the whumpf of his breath getting torn from his lungs. Before he can even inhale, I am on top of him and the liquid that has powered his life for years quickly flows from him into me. It is my quickest feeding ever, and it is complete. The Hunger leaves not a drop behind as it sucks every last bit of nectar from this now deflated flower. The saggy, exsanguinated remains of what used to be a man mere moments ago are a disturbing enough sight to tickle what's left of my conscious, but once again the Darkness smoothes over the thoughts by telling me it was a necessity for what is to come. He was a sacrifice to a greater god. And tonight I am that god.
Without pause, I move back to my first victim and perform the same heinous act on him. This god has demanded two sacrifices tonight, and these men were kind enough to accept the calling. The nutrients of the blood flow through my veins with an electric tingle, but the Darkness isn't done. It is only getting started. The Hunger is far from satiated, and it can sense my target nearby. It knows how badly I need Chadwick to die tonight, and it wants to make that happen. And so help me, I'm willing to give up control so that it can.
I smile and wipe the few drops of blood away from my mouth that didn't go down my gullet. I wasn't very wasteful, but no meal can be perfect.
Let's end this, I think and look down the street and see the warehouse Ren has been guiding me towards. Chadwick is in there now, and I want to introduce him to my new ally, Death.
My radio's speaker suddenly bursts into life from my pocket, and I can hear Ren's voice yelling at me, "What did you just do Cat? What did I just listen to? Did you just feed on somebody? Who'd you find out there? Talk to me."
But I don't want to talk. Talking is something that Cat does, and right now I am the Hunger. And the Darkness. And I have a mission.
"Cat," Ren's voice pipes up again, and I believe this time I can hear fear in it. "Are they dead? Did you just kill somebody? What's going on? Why aren't you talking to me?"
"I am the Darkness," I tell him simply, and the impact of what that means makes my smile grow even bigger. "I am the Night, and I will not be stopped by any mere man." With that declaration, I reach into my pocket and pull out the radio and speaker and toss them over my shoulder. I don't need Ren now. I don't need anything. I am alone.
Turning my back on the two bodies, my discarded radio and the still running car, I take off sprinting down the street towards my destiny.
THE FINAL CHAPTER
The half mile between me and Chadwick's warehouse disappears in mere seconds, and as I approach I can tell I have the right place. He's prepared for me. He's set up a similar gauntlet to our previous encounter.
Smells hit me first as I run, and they are dizzying. There are myriad of them that assault me, but the strongest is blood. The warehouse is rich with blood. The thick odor of the red liquid is almost a wall that I have to punch through as I approach, and I realize why it's so strong as I get closer. Chadwick has chosen a meat processing plant for tonight's confrontation. And the odiferous aftereffects of years of dying animals clings to it like a thick veil.
I don't know if there is still blood in the place or just the scent of it everywhere, but it is certainly distracting. Especially with my current hunger being what it is. The Darkness considers the smells and then tells me there is something wrong with them. Tinging the blood is a 'wrongness' to it that strikes me as dangerous. I won’t trust anything he has been near. Tasting any of this blood would be suicide. And that is not my goal tonight. There will be death here, but it won't be mine. The Darkness assures me of that.
The other smells that wrap around the meat and food scents are equally as strong, but far less appetizing. I can pick out rotting garbage and feces and waste, and a number of other eye-squenchingly powerful odors that I don't want to identify. Embracing the Darkness, I let it filter out the distractions and keep me focused. Chadwick Morrin's tricks will have little effect on me tonight. I am not human like him. I am not weak.
Approaching the building a bit more slowly as I close the distance, I can hear sound coming from inside, but it is muffled and distorted. It sounds like over-amplified talk radio. But crazier. And even more rant-filled than I’m used to.
But as I get closer to the open side door (It’s more of a garage bay used for deliveries than an official "entranceway", but I'll take what I can get.), I realize the talking head I'm listening to is Chadwick himself. It's his own voice that he is pumping through the place. And it's loud and it's furious.
"...would eventually find me," I pick up on what he's saying partway through a ranting sentence. "Hiding wasn't going to be an option forever. So I decided to bring the fight to you, Catarina. Or should I use your full name? Catarina Esmeralda Perez. Daughter of Jose Emmanuel Perez and Valentina Maria Guerra. Born August twenty-first..."
I tune out his tirade and focus on the door he has left opened for me. His words become a dull rumble in the back of my brain, but I don't need to hear him recite my life story to know that he's found a way to rip up every last bit of information about me that exists. He only knows who I was, not who I am. And who I am is the bringer of his death.
Standing in front of the very well-lit opening of the warehouse (Apparently, he has spent time and money to have the lights in here replaced with UV-emitting ones as I can feel the heat from them tingling my skin, and I haven't even stepped across the threshold. The energy I gleaned from those sacrifices earlier will be consumed more quickly than I had anticipated.), I study what I can see inside but it isn't much. There is a large metal wall blocking most of my view about twenty feet back from the doorway. I have no way of knowing what's waiting for me on the other side of this, aside from feeling fairly sure it isn't good.
For a few moments, I consider trying to find another way in. I could try to climb the outside walls and enter through the roof. Or there are a number of frosted windows a few stories up I could attempt to get access to and use to enter. Or just walk the perimeter and find another door.
But is he expecting me to do that? Have all those other entry methods already been prepared for my arrival? Is everything in this place booby-trapped? And if it is, then which is the least likely of routes for him to expect?
I can feel the Hunger pulling at me as I stare at the doorway contemplating my options. The Darkness doesn't like indecision and analysis. It wants actions. It wants results. It's all I can do to hold it at bay and try to rationalize my way through what I'm seeing.
And then Chadwick plays a trump card. A card that lets the Darkness win any further arguments for the rest of the night.
The speakers inside the place switch from his voice to my sister's. But she isn't ranting like he was. She's screaming. And not screams of terror or fear. I know what those screams sound like. Her screams are laced with pain. Pain, misery and desolation. The sound of her voi
ce causes me to want to curl up in the fetal position and wish for this all to be over. The most important person in my life is suffering because of me.
And that is all the motivation the Darkness needs to usurp my control. Mentally I cower into a ball and let the Evil that I've been doing my best to contain have its way with my body. I don't want to know what happens next, and I don't care how it gets done. From here on out I'm just along for the ride.
"Do you hear that you crazy, little Hispanic witch?" His voice supersedes her screams for a moment, but I can still hear her underneath his words. "I don't care if you make it to me or not. She dies tonight. Because of you! You forced yourself into my life and ruined it. No one could touch me! They tried and failed. And then you came along. You took my world from me, so I am going to do the same with you. I'm taking away what's important to you, and you're going to listen to every moment of it."
His voice is again replaced by my sister's screams, and I get the impression that he has gone crazy. Somehow I've managed to push him over the edge, and I'm listening to a man on the brink of insanity. I wish I could take the time to cherish what I've done to him, but his power over me is nearly as complete. He may already be insane, but I'm thinking I'm not far behind. And if he manages to kill Leyna before I can get to her...well, then I have no need to even try to stop the Darkness's consumption of me.
I'm coming, Leyna, I think from the dark hole in my mind I've crawled into. Just hold on a bit longer.
The Darkness doesn't believe in indirect routes or subtlety. It embraces confrontation and struggle, and that means we're going into this place using the most easily accessible way possible (I am no longer a single entity. I am just a guest in my own body. The Darkness has become a living force that propels me forward; it controls me. I’m now just a guest watching what unfolds.). Pushing the tingle through my veins, we feel the strength it gives us and the world comes to a gentle standstill. Deranged evil genius or not, he can't kill what he can't catch.
Catharsis (Book 2): Catalyst Page 21