by Nathan Parks
“Tri, you’re right; you have a right to know, but right now I can’t tell you. All I can say is that if you think you know a little about what is taking place here, then you know the danger she could be in and also the delicate balance of all of this if the Fallen hierarchy discovers her.”
“Leah, all I ask is that if I am going to stick my neck out for something this big, that you don’t leave me in the dark. That not only puts me in danger, but also the person I am guarding.”
“Understood. I don’t know everything yet. Come by the Sanctum later and I will let you in on what I do know. I have a feeling that soon I am going to have to let Troy, Isaiah, and the others know, anyway.”
“Ok.”
“Don’t let anything happen to her! You hear me?”
“Gottcha, Leah.”
“And by the way . . . Alfonso . . .”
“Yes?” Trinita asked, her mouth next to the receiver.
“He is her Watcher.”
*****
His hands may be old, but stubbornness would not allow Alfonso to slow down. He had always been on the go, and he truly felt that when it was his time to cross over, he would find plenty of rest at that point. Even at 75 years old the man could move, sometimes stiffly, for sure, but he could move. His love for people and his attention to detail made his café truly a lunch haven for those who did not want any chain restaurants where the customers were rushed through. Most customers were regulars, and many Alfonso had watched grow up. Megan was one of those. Alfonso and Megan had never been as close as what Alfonso and Eve had become, but he had provided a refuge enough times from her abusive mother and had taken an active role in being there for her as she grew up
Megan slid onto the stool at the counter and leaned her elbows on the countertop, placing her chin on her interlaced fingers. She had awakened not too long prior from a very unrestful sleep when Eve had left her crashed out on her couch. Since she wasn’t ready to be alone while awake right now, she had gone back to the sanctuary for restless souls: Alfonso’s Café.
Alfonso could tell that whatever had been bothering Megan this morning when she had stopped by to get coffee for herself and Eve was still eating at her; and now, it was eating at her soul. He slid one of the sandwiches he had been making for a customer toward Maria, who knew all too well that he was now “off the clock,” even though Alfonso didn’t need to ever really “be on the clock.”
“Ok, what is going on? This morning you rush in here all disheveled with dark circles under your eyes, and now you are not really here. Meg, I have known you all your life, and I know right now whatever is going on is cutting deep. Let’s talk.”
“You will think I am crazy. Maybe I am. I don’t know, I . . . I . . .”
“Let’s go.” He motioned toward the back of the café and to “the booth.” It had become the inner chamber of sorts. She moved.
“What happens, Alfonso, when things that go bump in the night stop bumping and start consuming?”
Alfonso’s eyes didn’t move from her. He had known it from the moment she had walked in this morning that this was something big, but he didn’t know how or what.
“What is it, Megan?” Alfonso’s voice became more stern in alarm.
“Insanity, madness, evil, all of it wrapped up in a wrapping of neon glow and lies.”
“What did you see, Megan?”
“Vampires.”
The old man was a pro at masking any sign of emotion, but nothing could mask his shoulders as they slumped and his eyes as they closed, a heavy sigh escaping his lips.
“You have to believe me.”
“I do.”
“You do?”
“Yes.”
Megan didn’t know why, but she was the one believing him. As her old friend sat across from her, if there ever was a time that age had caught up with him, it was now. She didn’t recall a time where she had seen him look so beaten and worn down.
“Alfonso? Are you all right?”
“Yes. No. Well, actually I don’t know, Megan. Tell me more about what you saw.”
Megan poured her story out as she had hours before to Eve at her apartment, but for some reason as she told Alfonso, it actually made more sense. No, not sense, but it seemed reasonable, as insane as that sounded. It may have been the way he was looking at her, as if he already knew of everything she was telling him--not just knew, but the type of knowledge that a parent would have when a child tells them about how it felt to ride a bike for the first time. It was knowledge based on experience.
When she finished, Megan and Alfonso just sat there. There wasn’t a word spoken for several minutes between them. It was as if the world had kept moving around them, but had abandoned them there. What neither of them could see, but Alfonso was aware of, were several Guardians standing beside the booth, holding back the world and allowing these two to have a moment of peace.
Alfonso finally spoke. “Megan, this is what I want you to do. You don’t need to go back to The Vortex.”
“How am I going to pay my bills? Alfonso, that is the only job I have had for awhile, and there aren’t too many people who want to hire dancers nowadays. I don’t think this café is looking for any new entertainment.”
It was an ill attempt at a joke to lighten the moment, but she was also serious. She had to pay the bills, and The Vortex did just that.
“What if I told you not to worry about your bills? You do what I am about to tell you, and I will make sure that you don’t have to worry about finances right now. Ok?”
“No . . . I can’t.”
Alfonso shook his head. “Megan, you can. You have to! I need you to listen to me. You need to go to this church.” He scribbled down the address.
“Are you serious? You really want the world to come to an end, don’t you? Why don’t I just confess to you? You used to be a priest, right?”
“Not like what you think, Megan, and yes, I am serious. Ask to speak to Isaiah. He is the pastor. Tell him that you are one of the ‘lost ones,’ and he will know how to help you.”
Megan looked at Alfonso for a second. She took the piece of paper, shoved it into her pocket, leaned over and kissed him on the forehead, and quickly left. The Guardians watched as she left and then, turning, they covered the old warrior with their wings. His time was not over, but he was very weary.
“Does he need a Healer?” one asked.
“No, not yet.”
Wings unfurled from the Guardians’ backs, curving around and over them to join as an invisible canopy over Alfonso. Nearby, only visible to them, a symbol glowed blue upon the doorpost leading to the backroom, a hand within a circle.
*****
He sat by himself near the door, watching Megan rush out of the café, and he watched as the Guardians hid the old proprietor from his view. He took in everything that played out before him and wondered what to make of it. The Watcher’s glyph glowed on the back door, and this changed the whole picture! If there was a Watcher glyph, then that meant there was a Watcher--and that meant somewhere along the way, someone messed up. The Watchers were supposed to have been long gone. It also left an even larger question: if there was still at least one Watcher, did that mean there was still . . .?
“Sir, can I get you something now?” It was Maria asking him if he was going to order anything for lunch.
“No, thank you, Ma’am. I actually was waiting for someone, and I just found out that they are not going to be able to make it.”
“I don’t mean to pry, but weren’t you in here the other evening? You were in here talking to Eve, right?”
Kadar looked up at her with a smile. “Actually, I was. You have a really good memory.”
Maria did her best not to blush, but this guy truly was captivating, and it seemed he could just reach in and play the soul strings.
“I hadn’t seen you around here, except the other night. Are you new to the area?”
“You can say that. I am actually here temporarily for some business.”<
br />
“Well, I am sorry that your lunch meeting didn’t work out, but we do look forward to seeing you in here while you are around. If there is anything we can do, please let us know.”
Kadar flashed a big smile and reached out and touched her hand.
“Thank you. One thing, I love small historical facts that most people wouldn’t know. Could you tell me how long this café has been here and what did the proprietor do before he opened this café?”
Maria sat down for a second across from him.
“Well, the café has been here for about 20 years or a little more. As for Alfonso, I really don’t know what he did before this.” She stopped for a moment trying to recall to memory if she had ever heard anything. “I know he has traveled a lot, like to Italy,” Maria answered as she swept her hand toward the framed photographs on the walls, “but I really don’t know much about what he did. I overheard someone once say something about him being a priest, or a preacher, or something like that. I don’t know for sure.”
“A priest? Hmm.”
“Well, I’ve got to get to some of the other customers.”
She smiled once again at him and wondered why Eve got so bugged out over him the other night. He nodded at her as she left, and he shifted back in his seat. He was certain of one thing now: what it was that Alfonso did before, and maybe even while, he was running a café.
“Now, I wonder who else knows about this, and does Arioch know?” he thought to himself.
The Assassin stood up, put a tip on the table even though he hadn’t ordered anything, and made his way out onto the busy sidewalk. There was more out there to figure out, and he needed to make sure he wasn’t surprised by anything else.
Chapter Nine
“Down, down, down with the devil and his minions. I’d give it all up for just one night of power to make it all mine.”
The words growled out from the vocal cords of the lead singer, and once again the wave of bodies moved in an infusion of hopelessness and apathy as The Vortex once more served up its patrons upon the altar of mental escape. Tonight seemed more seething than ever as Soul Slayers seemed to be the shadows instead of coming out of the shadows tonight. It was a feast of spiritual gluttony, and if anything could create an even deeper forbiddance, it would be the presence of more than a dozen Darkins. These were the inner guards of a Clan Overlord and were handpicked for their skills, strength, and lack of emotions. They would do whatever it took to complete the job; and, wherever they were, it meant only one thing: an Overlord of a clan was not too far away.
Arioch was incensed at his ranks. They knew that Adremalech was near or even on his way. He had enough who were loyal to him that he should have known in advance about his master’s visit, but, here he was, having to grovel in the presence of his superior. Arioch never groveled well.
“The club is doing well, I see.” Adremalech spoke with strong, smooth authority.
The millenniums had truly instilled in the affiliates of the Adremalech Clan a respect and a respectful fear for this master in the art of vibrant evil.
“Yes, Master, we have done quite well, and the clan is growing strong here. There are several of the city officials, as well as national figures, who bear the mark of our clan.”
Adremalech sat back and took in the scene from the one-way window that allowed anyone within the office to see out over the club. Truly one of the stronger cells of the clan was here, and how he would draw pleasure from it if he could--but he couldn’t . . . not tonight.
“Why is there a Watcher here within your province?” Adremalech queried.
The question struck Arioch with such a silent, albeit forceful, blow that his master might as well have cast him personally into the abyss. A Watcher? They were all dead. There was no way.
“Adremalech, there is no way . . .”
He knew as he let the words out that it was the wrong path to take. He had just feasted upon Sedit the night before for such questioning.
“I mean . . .”
“Yes, please, tell me what you mean, because I do believe it was your coven that presented to me the report that all Watchers had been killed or turned, as in the case of Rasputin. Now, I receive word that there is one here within your province, and not only in your province, but also a few blocks from here. And that is not all!”
Arioch felt all strength and power drain from him. There was more?
“He is active. My sources say that there is a safe house where he works.”
“How?” Arioch paused. “I don’t question you, Adremalech; but if I may, I would question the source of your information. If--and that is a big if--there were any Watchers still alive, why would one be here? And that isn’t the only question I would have. Such as, is the Watcher a real threat since the threat was eliminated along with the other Watchers?”
Adremalech turned his attention fully upon Arioch and stared at him with piercing, black marbles of glistening vileness.
“What if what you say was eliminated was never eliminated? I trusted you and your coven enough that I never followed up on what you told me. What I do know is that what you told me, I reported to the Morning Star, and now I am being told by a reliable source that it may not be accurate. If that is the case, then the Alliance and Jah might have something taking place right underneath my nose and all because one of my own did not do what I entrusted him with.”
Adremalech looked up at the others in the room and motioned with a wave of his hand for them to leave. Soon Arioch found himself alone with his master, and he had never felt so abandoned. There was no way that any of this could be true. This was a test. That’s it! He didn’t understand it, but this had to be some kind of test. Maybe Adremalech had caught wind of the treason that Arioch had been forming behind the scenes, and he was trying to trip him up. If this was the case, how much did he know? If it wasn’t, then what was happening?
Adremalech sat looking at and studying this underling of his. There was a storm on Arioch’s face, and Adremalech reached into Arioch’s mind in an attempt to read it without
Arioch’s knowing, but realized that right now the direct approach may produce more.
“Explain yourself, Arioch.”
Arioch stood up and ran his hand over his smooth head. His skin felt like leather, and there was a metallic taste within his mouth. He needed to feast. He needed an escape. He didn’t like being the one not in control.
“I don’t know what to explain. I was there when Rasputin told the others the secrets of the Watchers; and you know, Adremalech, that I personally was overseeing the mission of making sure that all of the Watchers were killed or driven into mental madness. I personally killed the last of the Jerusalem Breed with my own hands. The only Nephelium that would be left would be the Outcasts, and you know as well as I do that they were not from the Jerusalem bloodline. Where are you getting your information?”
“From me.” A voice spoke over the soul-crushing beats of the music that were coming from the dance floor on the other side of the window. “I saw it with my own eyes, and I was sure that it would be information that Adremalech would want to know.”
Arioch, leaning against the small bar in the club office, hissed as he bore his fangs at the figure that materialized.
“You!” Arioch spun around to look at Adremalech. “You trust this renegade, this Outcast, over me? How do you know that what he says is true? He and his kind have been banished for centuries now; and you know as well as I do, Adremalech, that none of the clans are supposed to have anything to do with the Outcasts!”
Adremalech was calm and cool. He looked back and forth between the two men before him as he brought his drink to his lips. He wore white pants with a white cotton, button-up shirt with no collar. He wasn’t flashy, but was truly dressed well. He knew how to project himself without having to go over the top.
“Arioch, first you question my discernment of information, and now you proceed to ‘re-educate’ me on the Family rules? Am I to believe that you are un
der the impression that you know things better than I?”
“That isn’t what I said, and you know it!” Arioch snapped.
Arioch stopped short, realizing that he was playing right into Adremalech’s waiting retaliation.
“I am not questioning your judgment or that you would go around the rules of the clan,” Arioch continued, “but here I am having to defend what I have done or not done to you, My Lord, and why? Because this . . . this Halfling . . . this tainted blood . . . comes out of nowhere with stories to tell?”
“You know, though, that usually what any of them have to say is deceitful,” Adremalech answered. “You also know, Arioch, that even though they have been outcast, the Clan of Marduk has always been the eyes and ears of the Family, even in exile.”
Arioch threw his hands up as if to say “I am not going to win anyway” and turned toward the bar to mix another drink.
“So, what is the story, then?” Arioch questioned. “That the Watchers weren’t totally wiped out and that we have an active one on our hands? I can almost believe that, but I can’t believe that there would be any of the Jerusalem descendants alive, especially right under my nose. Any movement from them would be on the radar of the clan.”
Adremalech raised one eyebrow. “He is right. It isn’t as though any work that one of the Jerusalem Breed would do with the Alliance wouldn’t be picked up somewhere by a Familiar, an informant, or part of the clan. What if this Watcher has taken on a different mission, and the safe haven is simply just for the Alliance?”
The other figure stood straight, never letting his eyes leave Arioch. “Call it a hunch.”
“A hunch?” Arioch spat. “I have heard enough of this.”
“Don’t play around with me, Demon. To you, I may be an Outcast and just a Halfling, but my clan ties run just as deep, if not deeper, than yours; and there are many of my abilities that you do not know.”
With this, the man exposed a rune tattoo, a design that Arioch had only seen one or two other times. Arioch didn’t let his face expose his surprise, and he tried not to reveal anything with his voice when he spoke.