First Sight: A d20 Modern Story Hour (Updated 01-03-2008)
- Thread starter Jodo Kast
- Start date
Car alarm won't let you back to sleep
you're kept awake dreaming some else's dream
coffee is cold, but it will get you through
compromise, that's nothing new to you
let's see colors that have never been seen
let's go to places no one else has been.
You're in my mind all of the time
I know that's not enough
if the sky can crack
there must be some way back
to love and only love.
-U2, Electrical Storm
Standing in the doorway of the abandoned warehouse, Gabe Ansgar watched in stunned horror as Mary plummeted to the road in a smoldering heap. His body weak, he leaned against the doorway and saw Mary's attacker extend its arms in triumph. It was gloating in a low, rumbling voice.
"Looks like I've got the place all to myself now. I just hope this husk serves me better than the last." The figure surveyed the barren street, its back turned to Gabe. A yellow strip of crime scene tape fluttered by, catching the figure's attention. As it tracked the tape, its head turned and Gabe saw its face for the first time. The face was his own.
"No!" The scream erupted from Gabe's throat. Without conscious thought he charged the attacker, his hands clenched into tight fists. The figure turned to regard him, too late. Gabe was upon it. He tackled his foe and landed atop it. Face to face with his own likeness, Gabe roared in rage. He rained a flurry of blows upon the figure, pounding away until its face, his face, was a bloody pulp. When the figure stopped struggling beneath him, Gabe leapt up and rushed to Mary's side.
"Mary!" Gabe's fingers traced the girl's neck, frantically seeking a pulse. Just as it occurred to Gabe that the girl Mary was already dead, that she in fact inhabited his head, a long shadow fell over his stooped form. A guttural growl shook the air and raised all the hairs on Gabe's body.
"Don't turn your back on me, Ansgar. I was just getting warmed up."
Gabe looked over his shoulder to see Mary's attacker standing behind him. The figure was much larger now, its muscular form stretching clothes to the point of ripping away. Above each temple a curling horn sprouted as Gabe watched. Where Gabe's fists had broken the skin, the face cracked in jagged lines that revealed a burning glow within the creature. It leered at Gabe, its face a crumbling, scorched effigy of his own. Its eyes blazed yellow, not the languid hue of Jack Casey's or Abram's possessed eyes, but a fierce molten fire. From the creature emanated the intense heat of a blast furnace. Jack's mind seized upon the gruesome vision he had in Abram's house, a figure masked in flame, its eyes burning brighter than the firestorm around it. He was seeing the demon revert to its true form.
The demon swung a basketball-sized fist at Gabe in a wide arc, trailing flame as it roared through space. The blow connected and Gabe flew from his feet. His dazed form shot above the street and through the soaped-over window of an abandoned storefront. He hurtled on through first one brick wall, then another. He finally smacked into a broad column, snapping it in two with the force of the impact. He heard a pained groan above him and looked up just in time to witness the building collapse upon him in a torrent of bricks and debris.
The demon threw back its head and roared laughter, the last of Gabe's face sloughing away to reveal a wholly inhuman visage. Now that it reigned over Gabriel Ansgar's being, its thoughts turned to the havoc it would wreak in the mortal world with its new form. It closed its eyes and concentrated, establishing the link that would allow it to see through Ansgar's eyes, act with his limbs.
The street shook beneath the demon, disrupting its contemplation. Its eyes opened slowly and its burning gaze fell upon the crumbled building across the way. A cloud of gray dust hung in the air above it. The debris shifted. Bricks fell from the top of the rubble heap and the ground trembled. With a deep rumble, the heap collapsed upon itself again, and ash again billowed out in a blinding cloud.
A figure emerged from the debris and strode toward the demon, a dark silhouette outlined in the dust cloud. The demon's brow furrowed, its eyes narrowed to blazing points of light.
"You know," a voice emerged from the veil of ashen powder. "I was dead for a second there. Sure I was. I mean, a demon hurled me through a building, which then fell on top of me. Squish. I believed I was dead, and so I was. But then the dead man had a thought. Look up and down this street. Other than me, you and Mary, there's not a soul in sight. Not a car, truck, bus, not even a parked vehicle.
"And speaking of Mary, how is it that I can see her? She's dead, the paramedics hauled her body off hours ago. She only exists inside my head. So if I'm seeing her, I must be inside my head too."
Gabe Ansgar emerged from the dust and faced the demon. "I know, I know, it sounds pretty crazy, right? But it would explain a lot. You wearing my face, for example. Or how about the fact that a three-story building just took a dump on me and I walked away without a scratch?"
Gabe tapped his finger on his head. "My head. My home court. My rules."
Gabe's hands moved in front of him, awkwardly tracing invisible designs in the air. "Mumbo jumbo, hocus pocus, waterfalls and monkey balls, SHAZAM!"
The demon bent its head, regarding Gabe quizzically. Then a small, glistening green ball of energy appeared in front of the investigator. With a slight gesture, Gabe sent the orb hurtling at the demon. The demon's eyes widened as the sphere raced toward it. It grew in size as it traveled, and when it found its mark it was the size of a grand piano. The impact tossed the demon through space like a rag doll, its blazing body crashing into and through a warehouse.
Gabe wiped his hands together with a smug look of self-satisfaction. His grin vanished, however, when his eyes fell upon Mary's crumpled form in the road. He had just started towards her when he heard an odd whistling sound. It was quiet at first, but grew into a screeching roar. A circular shadow engulfed him, rapidly growing larger. Gabe looked up to see a colossal ball of molten slag hurtling toward him.
"Oh...."
The flaming sphere struck Gabe with an earth-shattering impact, leaving a steaming crater the size of an Olympic swimming pool. Deep, jagged cracks raced away from the impact crater, engulfing sections of roadway and toppling derelict buildings. One such fissure coursed toward Mary's prone form, splitting the asphalt beneath her, and she was gone, swallowed by shadow.
The sky was unbroken gray above the smoldering depression. Through whorls of smoky haze, a staggering figure appeared on the crater's rim. It was the demon. Staring down into the pit, the demon saw a man-shaped impression at the bottom. Shaking his head clear, Gabe Ansgar peeled himself from the fuming earth. Gabe clawed his way up the side of the crater, a scowl of fierce determination on his face. The demon staggered back as Gabe climbed over the lip, not believing its eyes.
"Is that ... <cough> ... the best ... <hack> ... you've got?"
Gabe began moving his hands randomly through the air and muttered some nonsensical words. Before he could complete his "spell," the demon howled in fury and lowered its head. It charged Gabe, ramming him in the chest with its fiery, curling horns. The blow sent Gabe tumbling end over end down the crater wall. Before he tumbled to a stop, the demon leapt after him, its clawed fingers slicing through the steaming air. It landed on him and lashed out, claws carving deep gashes along Gabe's cheek. Gabe rolled onto his back and kicked his leg, catching the demon in its stomach. The force of the blow carried the demon up and over Gabe, and it crashed down to the crater's bottom. Gabe scrabbled out of the depression, the demon following closely behind.
Gabe faced the demon on the edge of the crater. Both were bruised and bloodied. Gabe's momentary cockiness was gone. The combatants circled one another, each sizing the other up for any opening that might be used for an attack. The demon seemed to hold the upper hand, and it advanced slowly toward Gabe, forcing him back toward the rim of the depression.
Behind the demon, a hand grasped the edge of a serrated fissure that ran down the street. Another hand appeared, followed by snowy white hair. The girl Mary dragged herself out of the crevasse and onto the street. She saw the demon, its back to her, saw Gabe backing away. She caught his eye and began tracing runes in the air, quietly sounding an incantation. Her hands glowed with arcane energy.
Gabe lowered his head and concentrated. Seizing the opportunity, the demon charged, just as a glowing white longspear materialized in Gabe's grasp. Gabe nodded at Mary, and mouthed the word, "Now!"
Gabe dropped to one knee, burying the haft of his spear in the street. With a fluid throwing motion, Mary tossed three bolts of mystic energy that darted unerringly to strike the demon's back. It lurched forward, falling onto the point of Gabe's set spear. The conjured weapon's point burst from the demon's back. The demon shrieked in pain and rage as it slid down the weapon's shaft. Its body shuddered with great convulsions, and a flailing arm caught Gabe in the head, sending him reeling back. When Gabe lost his grip on the longspear, the weapon instantly dissolved. Gabe could see Mary preparing another spell through the gaping hole the spear left in the demon.
The demon howled and swiped a clawed fist at Gabe, but he was able to duck beneath the blow. Mary closed in so that they flanked the demon, carefully circling it as wolves might a wounded bear. Time and again Gabe darted in to land a powerful blow on the demon, and Mary struck with spell after spell. The demon was staggered, yet with every fall it steadfastly rose again. Gabe was tiring. Mary's arcane reserves seemed depleted. And still the demon fought on.
Just as Gabe was about to abandon hope, a cold wind swept with gale force down the road, carrying on it a rising chant.
Naaltsoos anasazi diyogi be'iina nil-chi-tso.
Thunder rumbled, and the combatants paused and looked up to the heavens. Dark clouds swirled overhead, sundered by blinding flashes of lightning. The wind blew harder, sweeping up ash, dust and debris that washed over them in a stinging torrent.
Naaltsoos anasazi diyogi be'iina nil-chi-tso. Louder, stronger.
Clouds raced together, forming a vortex above. A funnel extended from the clouds, corkscrewing toward the earth, toward Gabe, Mary, and the demon.
Naaltsoos anasazi diyogi be'iina nil-chi-tso. The words reverberated with power.
The funnel hovered above them, and heavy debris whipped through the air, threatening to decapitate them. Like a coiled snake the swirling vortex struck, the funnel swallowing the demon.
Mary was swept from her feet by the force of the gale. Gabe lunged for her desperately and caught her forearm as she soared past. He held fast, struggling to pull her back to earth. A clawed hand reached out of the funnel and grasped Mary by the ankle.
NAALTSOOS ANASAZI DIYOGI BE'IINA NIL-CHI-TSO.
Even as the storm gathered intensity, the demon clawed its way up Mary's leg until it was able to wrap both arms around her waist. It favored Gabe with a toothy grin.
The demon roared above the deafening wind and chanting. "If I am to be banished, I shall not go alone! Come girl, the Hells await."
"Tharae curoon taranis!" cried Mary. A lightning bolt leapt from her free hand to strike the demon in its face. Electricity arced through the demon's eyes and mouth, and outlined its horns in crackling energy. The demon bellowed mightily as it loosed its grip and tumbled up into the vortex.
Mary gasped as Gabe lost his grip around her forearm and she slipped away after the demon. At the last instant, Gabe's fingers grasped Mary's hand and caught her fast. As the maelstrom threatened to sweep Gabe off of his feet, a street sign appeared where there had been none. Gabe grasped the signpost with his free hand and held tight. Gabe wrapped his legs around the street sign and pulled Mary into him hand over hand. When he had finally reeled her in, Gabe wrapped his arms about her and the post.
As suddenly as it had begun, the chanting ceased and the funnel retreated into the vortex. The wind died down, and the inky clouds broke to reveal a crimson sky. Gabe held Mary protectively until the two collapsed in exhaustion.
Gabe awoke on the hard floor of a warehouse, ringed by a circle of candles. Outside of the circle of light all was pitch black, save for a pair of red eyes piercing the darkness.
(c) 2003 Austin Hale
DM's Note: I've written up the last two posts. Lamprolign (Gabe) will resume writing up posts from his session notes, with my editing assistance. He should post the next installment by this weekend. If anyone is curious about the mechanics and wild spell effects of the last two posts, keep in mind that these battles occurred inside of Gabe's head. I decided that physics (and d20 rules) do not apply there, and let Gabe and the NPCs run wild. Made for some fun fighting, the kind of stuff only high level characters typically get to engage in. New characters are introduced soon.
you're kept awake dreaming some else's dream
coffee is cold, but it will get you through
compromise, that's nothing new to you
let's see colors that have never been seen
let's go to places no one else has been.
You're in my mind all of the time
I know that's not enough
if the sky can crack
there must be some way back
to love and only love.
-U2, Electrical Storm
Standing in the doorway of the abandoned warehouse, Gabe Ansgar watched in stunned horror as Mary plummeted to the road in a smoldering heap. His body weak, he leaned against the doorway and saw Mary's attacker extend its arms in triumph. It was gloating in a low, rumbling voice.
"Looks like I've got the place all to myself now. I just hope this husk serves me better than the last." The figure surveyed the barren street, its back turned to Gabe. A yellow strip of crime scene tape fluttered by, catching the figure's attention. As it tracked the tape, its head turned and Gabe saw its face for the first time. The face was his own.
"No!" The scream erupted from Gabe's throat. Without conscious thought he charged the attacker, his hands clenched into tight fists. The figure turned to regard him, too late. Gabe was upon it. He tackled his foe and landed atop it. Face to face with his own likeness, Gabe roared in rage. He rained a flurry of blows upon the figure, pounding away until its face, his face, was a bloody pulp. When the figure stopped struggling beneath him, Gabe leapt up and rushed to Mary's side.
"Mary!" Gabe's fingers traced the girl's neck, frantically seeking a pulse. Just as it occurred to Gabe that the girl Mary was already dead, that she in fact inhabited his head, a long shadow fell over his stooped form. A guttural growl shook the air and raised all the hairs on Gabe's body.
"Don't turn your back on me, Ansgar. I was just getting warmed up."
Gabe looked over his shoulder to see Mary's attacker standing behind him. The figure was much larger now, its muscular form stretching clothes to the point of ripping away. Above each temple a curling horn sprouted as Gabe watched. Where Gabe's fists had broken the skin, the face cracked in jagged lines that revealed a burning glow within the creature. It leered at Gabe, its face a crumbling, scorched effigy of his own. Its eyes blazed yellow, not the languid hue of Jack Casey's or Abram's possessed eyes, but a fierce molten fire. From the creature emanated the intense heat of a blast furnace. Jack's mind seized upon the gruesome vision he had in Abram's house, a figure masked in flame, its eyes burning brighter than the firestorm around it. He was seeing the demon revert to its true form.
The demon swung a basketball-sized fist at Gabe in a wide arc, trailing flame as it roared through space. The blow connected and Gabe flew from his feet. His dazed form shot above the street and through the soaped-over window of an abandoned storefront. He hurtled on through first one brick wall, then another. He finally smacked into a broad column, snapping it in two with the force of the impact. He heard a pained groan above him and looked up just in time to witness the building collapse upon him in a torrent of bricks and debris.
The demon threw back its head and roared laughter, the last of Gabe's face sloughing away to reveal a wholly inhuman visage. Now that it reigned over Gabriel Ansgar's being, its thoughts turned to the havoc it would wreak in the mortal world with its new form. It closed its eyes and concentrated, establishing the link that would allow it to see through Ansgar's eyes, act with his limbs.
The street shook beneath the demon, disrupting its contemplation. Its eyes opened slowly and its burning gaze fell upon the crumbled building across the way. A cloud of gray dust hung in the air above it. The debris shifted. Bricks fell from the top of the rubble heap and the ground trembled. With a deep rumble, the heap collapsed upon itself again, and ash again billowed out in a blinding cloud.
A figure emerged from the debris and strode toward the demon, a dark silhouette outlined in the dust cloud. The demon's brow furrowed, its eyes narrowed to blazing points of light.
"You know," a voice emerged from the veil of ashen powder. "I was dead for a second there. Sure I was. I mean, a demon hurled me through a building, which then fell on top of me. Squish. I believed I was dead, and so I was. But then the dead man had a thought. Look up and down this street. Other than me, you and Mary, there's not a soul in sight. Not a car, truck, bus, not even a parked vehicle.
"And speaking of Mary, how is it that I can see her? She's dead, the paramedics hauled her body off hours ago. She only exists inside my head. So if I'm seeing her, I must be inside my head too."
Gabe Ansgar emerged from the dust and faced the demon. "I know, I know, it sounds pretty crazy, right? But it would explain a lot. You wearing my face, for example. Or how about the fact that a three-story building just took a dump on me and I walked away without a scratch?"
Gabe tapped his finger on his head. "My head. My home court. My rules."
Gabe's hands moved in front of him, awkwardly tracing invisible designs in the air. "Mumbo jumbo, hocus pocus, waterfalls and monkey balls, SHAZAM!"
The demon bent its head, regarding Gabe quizzically. Then a small, glistening green ball of energy appeared in front of the investigator. With a slight gesture, Gabe sent the orb hurtling at the demon. The demon's eyes widened as the sphere raced toward it. It grew in size as it traveled, and when it found its mark it was the size of a grand piano. The impact tossed the demon through space like a rag doll, its blazing body crashing into and through a warehouse.
Gabe wiped his hands together with a smug look of self-satisfaction. His grin vanished, however, when his eyes fell upon Mary's crumpled form in the road. He had just started towards her when he heard an odd whistling sound. It was quiet at first, but grew into a screeching roar. A circular shadow engulfed him, rapidly growing larger. Gabe looked up to see a colossal ball of molten slag hurtling toward him.
"Oh...."
The flaming sphere struck Gabe with an earth-shattering impact, leaving a steaming crater the size of an Olympic swimming pool. Deep, jagged cracks raced away from the impact crater, engulfing sections of roadway and toppling derelict buildings. One such fissure coursed toward Mary's prone form, splitting the asphalt beneath her, and she was gone, swallowed by shadow.
The sky was unbroken gray above the smoldering depression. Through whorls of smoky haze, a staggering figure appeared on the crater's rim. It was the demon. Staring down into the pit, the demon saw a man-shaped impression at the bottom. Shaking his head clear, Gabe Ansgar peeled himself from the fuming earth. Gabe clawed his way up the side of the crater, a scowl of fierce determination on his face. The demon staggered back as Gabe climbed over the lip, not believing its eyes.
"Is that ... <cough> ... the best ... <hack> ... you've got?"
Gabe began moving his hands randomly through the air and muttered some nonsensical words. Before he could complete his "spell," the demon howled in fury and lowered its head. It charged Gabe, ramming him in the chest with its fiery, curling horns. The blow sent Gabe tumbling end over end down the crater wall. Before he tumbled to a stop, the demon leapt after him, its clawed fingers slicing through the steaming air. It landed on him and lashed out, claws carving deep gashes along Gabe's cheek. Gabe rolled onto his back and kicked his leg, catching the demon in its stomach. The force of the blow carried the demon up and over Gabe, and it crashed down to the crater's bottom. Gabe scrabbled out of the depression, the demon following closely behind.
Gabe faced the demon on the edge of the crater. Both were bruised and bloodied. Gabe's momentary cockiness was gone. The combatants circled one another, each sizing the other up for any opening that might be used for an attack. The demon seemed to hold the upper hand, and it advanced slowly toward Gabe, forcing him back toward the rim of the depression.
Behind the demon, a hand grasped the edge of a serrated fissure that ran down the street. Another hand appeared, followed by snowy white hair. The girl Mary dragged herself out of the crevasse and onto the street. She saw the demon, its back to her, saw Gabe backing away. She caught his eye and began tracing runes in the air, quietly sounding an incantation. Her hands glowed with arcane energy.
Gabe lowered his head and concentrated. Seizing the opportunity, the demon charged, just as a glowing white longspear materialized in Gabe's grasp. Gabe nodded at Mary, and mouthed the word, "Now!"
Gabe dropped to one knee, burying the haft of his spear in the street. With a fluid throwing motion, Mary tossed three bolts of mystic energy that darted unerringly to strike the demon's back. It lurched forward, falling onto the point of Gabe's set spear. The conjured weapon's point burst from the demon's back. The demon shrieked in pain and rage as it slid down the weapon's shaft. Its body shuddered with great convulsions, and a flailing arm caught Gabe in the head, sending him reeling back. When Gabe lost his grip on the longspear, the weapon instantly dissolved. Gabe could see Mary preparing another spell through the gaping hole the spear left in the demon.
The demon howled and swiped a clawed fist at Gabe, but he was able to duck beneath the blow. Mary closed in so that they flanked the demon, carefully circling it as wolves might a wounded bear. Time and again Gabe darted in to land a powerful blow on the demon, and Mary struck with spell after spell. The demon was staggered, yet with every fall it steadfastly rose again. Gabe was tiring. Mary's arcane reserves seemed depleted. And still the demon fought on.
Just as Gabe was about to abandon hope, a cold wind swept with gale force down the road, carrying on it a rising chant.
Naaltsoos anasazi diyogi be'iina nil-chi-tso.
Thunder rumbled, and the combatants paused and looked up to the heavens. Dark clouds swirled overhead, sundered by blinding flashes of lightning. The wind blew harder, sweeping up ash, dust and debris that washed over them in a stinging torrent.
Naaltsoos anasazi diyogi be'iina nil-chi-tso. Louder, stronger.
Clouds raced together, forming a vortex above. A funnel extended from the clouds, corkscrewing toward the earth, toward Gabe, Mary, and the demon.
Naaltsoos anasazi diyogi be'iina nil-chi-tso. The words reverberated with power.
The funnel hovered above them, and heavy debris whipped through the air, threatening to decapitate them. Like a coiled snake the swirling vortex struck, the funnel swallowing the demon.
Mary was swept from her feet by the force of the gale. Gabe lunged for her desperately and caught her forearm as she soared past. He held fast, struggling to pull her back to earth. A clawed hand reached out of the funnel and grasped Mary by the ankle.
NAALTSOOS ANASAZI DIYOGI BE'IINA NIL-CHI-TSO.
Even as the storm gathered intensity, the demon clawed its way up Mary's leg until it was able to wrap both arms around her waist. It favored Gabe with a toothy grin.
The demon roared above the deafening wind and chanting. "If I am to be banished, I shall not go alone! Come girl, the Hells await."
"Tharae curoon taranis!" cried Mary. A lightning bolt leapt from her free hand to strike the demon in its face. Electricity arced through the demon's eyes and mouth, and outlined its horns in crackling energy. The demon bellowed mightily as it loosed its grip and tumbled up into the vortex.
Mary gasped as Gabe lost his grip around her forearm and she slipped away after the demon. At the last instant, Gabe's fingers grasped Mary's hand and caught her fast. As the maelstrom threatened to sweep Gabe off of his feet, a street sign appeared where there had been none. Gabe grasped the signpost with his free hand and held tight. Gabe wrapped his legs around the street sign and pulled Mary into him hand over hand. When he had finally reeled her in, Gabe wrapped his arms about her and the post.
As suddenly as it had begun, the chanting ceased and the funnel retreated into the vortex. The wind died down, and the inky clouds broke to reveal a crimson sky. Gabe held Mary protectively until the two collapsed in exhaustion.
Gabe awoke on the hard floor of a warehouse, ringed by a circle of candles. Outside of the circle of light all was pitch black, save for a pair of red eyes piercing the darkness.
(c) 2003 Austin Hale
DM's Note: I've written up the last two posts. Lamprolign (Gabe) will resume writing up posts from his session notes, with my editing assistance. He should post the next installment by this weekend. If anyone is curious about the mechanics and wild spell effects of the last two posts, keep in mind that these battles occurred inside of Gabe's head. I decided that physics (and d20 rules) do not apply there, and let Gabe and the NPCs run wild. Made for some fun fighting, the kind of stuff only high level characters typically get to engage in. New characters are introduced soon.
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The Sister
First Post
The tension has continued to build with challenges going from bad to worse in a good story writing style. If you keep this up…and come up with a satisfactory end…it would be worth your efforts to submit this to a publisher.
Lamprolign
First Post
I'll tell you something
I am a wolf but
I like to wear sheep's clothing
I am a bonfire
I am a vampire
I'm waiting for my moment.
- Garbage, Temptation Waits
Gabe awoke on the hard floor of the warehouse, ringed by candles. Outside of the circle of light all was pitch black, save for a pair of red eyes piercing the darkness.
The eyes blinked and tilted to one side. Their owner sprang from the shadows to land astride Gabe's prone body, a dark form looming above him. A small hand gripped his throat, lifting him from the floor with surprising strength and pinning him against the wall.
"What have you done with Mary?" demanded a woman's voice, edged with steel.
"Ach uurgh aach," was all Gabe could manage through the constriction of his windpipe.
"I know that voice!" Mary said.
That's nice, you know who's about to kill me. Gabe thought
"Us."
You're already dead.
"Answer me!" The woman's voice was even more threatening. "I haven't had a good feed in weeks. You'll be dinner if you don't answer me!"
"You had better respond," Mary began. "She's not known for her patience."
"How can he answer if he can't breathe, Poe?" From outside the ring of candles came another woman's voice. This one sounded older, filled with a quiet power much like the silent flow of deep water. And it was strangely familiar.
"Grrrrr."
"Release him, Poe." The second woman said sternly. "You've haven't killed anyone in months now, let's continue that trend shall we?"
The grip on Gabe's throat eased, but did not release entirely. A broken light bulb dangling from frayed wires in the center of the ceiling began glowing, intensifying until the room was filled with light. Gabe blinked his eyes, trying to adjust. He saw a tall, wiry girl, her thin hand clamped firmly about his neck. She was attired in a long black coat, open to reveal a black leather vest, fastened with numerous straps and heavy buckles. On her exposed neck Gabe glimpsed the trailing end of a reptilian tattoo, whether snake or dragon he could not discern. Black fatigue trousers neatly stuffed into military style boots completed the ensemble. Her height belied the stereotype associated with her obviously Asian features. Thin black brows arched above elliptical dark red eyes. Hair like a shimmering shadow, broken by random tresses of copper, cascaded to her waist. Her smile revealed four interlocking canines, each nearly an inch long. Gabe's eyes widened, causing her smile to broaden..
"Okay you can breathe... now." Poe brought Gabe's face nearer till their noses almost touched. "Where is Mary?"
"Um ... why do you have fangs?" Gabe stammered.
"She's a vampire, you twit," said Mary.
Oh, thought Gabe. She's a vamp...what!? "There are no vampires!"
"And I suppose there are no demons that go about possessing people and chasing timid crime scene investigators through dark alleys?" Mary responded in a voice dripping with feigned sweetness.
"Crap," Gabe replied, resigned. "She really is a vampire."
Poe's mouth softened and her brow furrowed. "Who are you talking to, you sick freak?"
"Mary." Gabe said. "I guess you two know each other."
"You disgust me, you psychotic bastard. Start talking straight or start bleeding." Poe's grip tightened on Gabe's windpipe again.
Gabe's eye's bulged out of his head and he made small gurgling noises.
"Poe. Put him down NOW!" the other woman's voice commanded. The sound of wood striking concrete accompanied the end of her sentence. A wind sprang to life inside the small room as the light from the dangling broken bulb flared to painful intensity.
The vampire dumped Gabe unceremoniously to the floor. He sat there blinking against the incredibly intense glare. The light dimmed and the other woman stepped into view. She was not overly tall, yet she was not slight of stature. Her face and build spoke of northern European ancestry. Brown hair, streaked with gray, was gathered into a single braid. It looped over one shoulder to reach the leather belt that supported all manner of pouches and artifacts, including a very large bowie knife. She wore a plain brown dress, the hem of which swept the floor when she moved. A shawl of reds, browns, and orange yarns, woven in a way that Gabe had never seen before, clung loosely about her shoulders. She was favoring Poe with a glare that would have pierced steel. Poe looked like a small child, chastised for sneaking a handful of cookies. The woman turned to face Gabriel, her expression softened.
"You may call me Sister," she said. "Now, you were speaking to our Mary?"
"Yes," Gabe responded, feeling oddly like he was back in grade school and being questioned by his teacher.
"And where is Mary?" the Sister asked.
Gabe tapped his temple opposite the gunshot wound. "That is a long story. You see...." Gabe paused. "Uh, pardon me for asking, but just who are you people?"
"They're the closest thing I have to family."
"I imagine that you have many questions, Mister Ansgar," the Sister responded. "This is no place for extended conversation and I am weary from this day's work. Nightfall is upon us again and we can safely make our way home. Won't you accompany us to more comfortable surroundings?"
Gabe was fairly certain the invitation was not a request, but a polite order.
"You can trust her," Mary said.
"Onee-san," Poe began. "I don't like this."
"Trust must begin somewhere," the Sister replied. "Wouldn't you agree, Mister Ansgar?"
The unlikely trio emerged from the abandoned warehouse. Gabe half expected to see the devastation wrought on the street from his dream, but the scene was deceptively tranquil, the ugliness of the city masked by a pristine blanket of snow. Gabe was slightly surprised by the brisk pace that The Sister kept. Her apparent age and physical condition did not correlate with rapid movement. Poe walked with a predatory grace, sometimes in front by several paces, sometimes behind. It unnerved Gabe. He felt as though he walked with a leopard, and he was in no way at ease with her intentions.
They walked through one of the roughest areas along the Orange Line. Gabe cast his eyes about nervously. He had been called out to many murder scenes in this neighborhood, mostly gang related killings, and after recent events he really didn't want any more excitement. Through the window of one of the few storefronts that was not boarded up Gabe caught a glance of the evening edition of the Chicago Tribune. He stopped, staring at the headlines.
63 Found Dead as Police
Continue Search for Victims,
Clues - Questions Linger
Regarding Death,
Disappearance of Chicago
Detectives
The death toll continues to rise as
police search the underground lair
of the most prolific serial killer to
haunt the Greater Chicago area
since John Wayne Gacy. Sixty-
three bodies have been excavated
from beneath the home of prime
suspect Hugh Abrams.
Abrams, 41, is described by
neighbors as a shy, quiet man
who kept to himself. Abrams
remains missing. Also missing
is crime scene investigator
Gabriel Ansgar, 34. Ansgar
was examining the crime scene
for clues when he mysteriously
disappeared.
The body of Chicago Police
Detective Jack Casey was found
near the Kedzie Station of the
Orange Line. Casey was also
last seen alive at Abrams' home.
Police have not determined
whether Casey's death is related
to the investigation, or to the
disappearance of Ansgar. Casey
was hit by the Orange Line train
early Wednesday morning.
Gabe's thoughts were pulled from the story by Mary's insistent voice.
"I told you to look under the stairs. I didn't expect so many though."
"Move it."
Gabe's reverie was broken by Poe's voice directly behind him. He moved on, trying not to think. Too much had happened.
They walked for nearly a half hour before arriving in front of a two-story building made entirely of quarried stone. Even in the scant lighting Gabe could tell that it was originally a church. The steeply sloped roof peaked at a height over four stories. Two sets of double doors opened onto the street. Above these was a neatly boarded over opening that probably was once a stained glass window. A small sign above the door announced that this was the "New Haven Coalition for the Homeless." The Sister led them around the north side to a door about halfway down the length of the building. The door swung open at their approach, spilling light onto the snow.
It was warm in the narrow hallway, a pleasant change from the frigid temperatures on the street. The walls were paneled with polished hardwood that appeared freshly varnished. A very slight musty odor hung in the air, mixing with the smell of baking bread. Gabe's stomach growled noisily, reminding him that he'd not eaten in twenty-four hours. They turned a corner. Gabe thought that they must be near the rear of the building. Doors broke the continuity of the walls on either side here. The Sister paused at the third door and opened it. They stepped into a room paneled much like the hallway. Two lead framed windows with arching tops framed the fireplace on the center of the far wall. Four overstuffed chairs were arranged in a loose semi-circle before the hearth.
Bookshelves filled most of the wallspace. The Sister seated herself in the chair furthest to the left of the hearth. She looked at the logs placed carefully in the fireplace and they ignited beneath her gaze.
"Please take a seat, Gabriel." The Sister gestured toward the vacant chairs. "Poe, why don't you be a dear and bring down some hot tea?"
Poe glared at Gabe before turning on her heel and leaving the room with a growl.
Gabe grumbled in response. He'd recovered his wits enough to be more than a little irate. After a night and day of being shot, beaten, and choked, his patience was wearing thin.
"I'd appreciate some answers. No obscure language or veiled references, just plain English please. How did you find us?"
The Sister regarded Gabe for a moment before speaking. "Interesting that you are using the plural pronoun." A small grin played across her face. "In 'plain English,' I followed Mary's aura like a beacon. I expected to find her, but instead found you.
"Poe and I were on our way to Abrams' home when I felt Mary's spirit cry out. Unfortunately we were... delayed. I must assume that Abrams did something very foolish before we could arrive."
"You could say that," Gabe began.
"Yeah. He tried to exorcise the demon himself!" Mary interrupted
A look of consternation crossed Gabe's face. "Excuse me, I believe I'm telling the story. The biggest remaining piece of your Abrams is a tooth embedded in a door jam."
The Sister wrinkled her nose. "Ew. He should have waited. You probably already know that you were possessed by a demon. The same demon, of course, that possessed Mister Abrams."
"Oh yeah. Mary told me that Abrams botched an exorcism spell and turned it loose." Gabe paused for a moment. "In the house, when I arrived. I had some kind of a ... vision? Watched Abrams blow himself to smithereens, like I was there when it happened. I saw something in the fire after that. I think it was the demon." Gabe shivered. He scarcely believed that he had stood against the demon in his dream.
"What about young Mary. How is it that she ended up in you?" asked the Sister as Poe stepped back into the room.
Gabe sighed and stared at the patch of wood flooring between his feet. "Abrams killed her."
Poe growled and lunged for Gabe's throat. A small wave of the Sister's hand cut her off as if she had struck a stone wall.
"Poe! Behave yourself. Please, Gabriel, go on."
"Poor Poe," Mary said
"Poor Poe my ass! She's been trying to kill me all night!" Gabe exclaimed.
"Hmmm..." The Sister furrowed her brows in deep reflection. "Ahhh. This will do nicely: Abarach meanma biadh."
A pale shimmering light engulfed Gabe. He leapt to his feet.
"Do not fear, Gabriel. This is merely a seeing spell," the Sister said disarmingly.
Poe gasped. The shimmering likeness of Mary appeared, obscuring Gabe's form.
"Well, that confirms that," the Sister stated in a matter of fact tone as Mary's spectral image faded.
"Mary," exclaimed Poe in a very small voice. "Baka! Why did you have to go ahead of us!?"
"Well, I can't say it was the smartest thing I ever did." Mary spoke in Gabe's head. "I thought I could help him, or at least keep him there until the Sister arrived."
Gabe repeated Mary's words.
"This mode of communication is far too awkward," the Sister stated. "Cluinim tua tagradh bruidheann."
Gabe looked around, expecting something to happen. "What was that all about?"
"Something about ghost speech, I think," Mary said. "I can't remember all my Gaelic..."
"Indeed Mary, you were never as studious as one might have hoped."
"You heard me!"
"Yes, Mary. Poe and I will be able to hear you now." The Sister looked toward the vampire. Poe's expression was at once puzzled and hopeful. "Poe?"
"I can hear her, inside my head!" Poe replied, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth.
"Wait a minute, can you both hear ME now, too!? As if it wasn't invasive enough having a sixteen year old girl monitor my every thought...."
"And let me tell you, there's lots of dirty laundry in here. Half of your mind seems to be a database devoted to girls you went to high school and college with, female co-workers, babes on cheesy TV shows, and oh yes, that woman you passed on the street on the way to work last week ... an awful lot of memory devoted to a lady you only saw for about six seconds. She's not even that cute, if you ask me. Believe me, Sister, you don't want to know this stuff."
Gabe, blushing spectacularly, buried his forehead in his hands. "Argh! Get out of my head! I have rights, constitutional rights, or something."
The Sister chuckled evilly at Gabe's discomfiture. "Be at ease Gabriel, we can only hear Mary, and then only when she intends to project her thoughts as speech."
"At least I'm not the only one stuck with your inane teenaged chatter now," Gabe said.
"Humph! You'd never of gotten away from the demon if it weren't for me, fingerprint boy!"
Gabe closed his eyes. Twenty-four hours ago he was sitting in his small house in Rosemont, eating a plate of General Tso's Chicken from the Chinese restaurant down the street, contemplating nothing more disturbing than the small patch of peeling paint on his living room ceiling. He had been blissfully ignorant of such things as demons, vampires, sorcery, and dead girls abiding in his head. What else do I not know that I really don't want to find out?
"Oh there's much more, Gabe. Much more."
© 2003 Austin Hale
I am a wolf but
I like to wear sheep's clothing
I am a bonfire
I am a vampire
I'm waiting for my moment.
- Garbage, Temptation Waits
Gabe awoke on the hard floor of the warehouse, ringed by candles. Outside of the circle of light all was pitch black, save for a pair of red eyes piercing the darkness.
The eyes blinked and tilted to one side. Their owner sprang from the shadows to land astride Gabe's prone body, a dark form looming above him. A small hand gripped his throat, lifting him from the floor with surprising strength and pinning him against the wall.
"What have you done with Mary?" demanded a woman's voice, edged with steel.
"Ach uurgh aach," was all Gabe could manage through the constriction of his windpipe.
"I know that voice!" Mary said.
That's nice, you know who's about to kill me. Gabe thought
"Us."
You're already dead.
"Answer me!" The woman's voice was even more threatening. "I haven't had a good feed in weeks. You'll be dinner if you don't answer me!"
"You had better respond," Mary began. "She's not known for her patience."
"How can he answer if he can't breathe, Poe?" From outside the ring of candles came another woman's voice. This one sounded older, filled with a quiet power much like the silent flow of deep water. And it was strangely familiar.
"Grrrrr."
"Release him, Poe." The second woman said sternly. "You've haven't killed anyone in months now, let's continue that trend shall we?"
The grip on Gabe's throat eased, but did not release entirely. A broken light bulb dangling from frayed wires in the center of the ceiling began glowing, intensifying until the room was filled with light. Gabe blinked his eyes, trying to adjust. He saw a tall, wiry girl, her thin hand clamped firmly about his neck. She was attired in a long black coat, open to reveal a black leather vest, fastened with numerous straps and heavy buckles. On her exposed neck Gabe glimpsed the trailing end of a reptilian tattoo, whether snake or dragon he could not discern. Black fatigue trousers neatly stuffed into military style boots completed the ensemble. Her height belied the stereotype associated with her obviously Asian features. Thin black brows arched above elliptical dark red eyes. Hair like a shimmering shadow, broken by random tresses of copper, cascaded to her waist. Her smile revealed four interlocking canines, each nearly an inch long. Gabe's eyes widened, causing her smile to broaden..
"Okay you can breathe... now." Poe brought Gabe's face nearer till their noses almost touched. "Where is Mary?"
"Um ... why do you have fangs?" Gabe stammered.
"She's a vampire, you twit," said Mary.
Oh, thought Gabe. She's a vamp...what!? "There are no vampires!"
"And I suppose there are no demons that go about possessing people and chasing timid crime scene investigators through dark alleys?" Mary responded in a voice dripping with feigned sweetness.
"Crap," Gabe replied, resigned. "She really is a vampire."
Poe's mouth softened and her brow furrowed. "Who are you talking to, you sick freak?"
"Mary." Gabe said. "I guess you two know each other."
"You disgust me, you psychotic bastard. Start talking straight or start bleeding." Poe's grip tightened on Gabe's windpipe again.
Gabe's eye's bulged out of his head and he made small gurgling noises.
"Poe. Put him down NOW!" the other woman's voice commanded. The sound of wood striking concrete accompanied the end of her sentence. A wind sprang to life inside the small room as the light from the dangling broken bulb flared to painful intensity.
The vampire dumped Gabe unceremoniously to the floor. He sat there blinking against the incredibly intense glare. The light dimmed and the other woman stepped into view. She was not overly tall, yet she was not slight of stature. Her face and build spoke of northern European ancestry. Brown hair, streaked with gray, was gathered into a single braid. It looped over one shoulder to reach the leather belt that supported all manner of pouches and artifacts, including a very large bowie knife. She wore a plain brown dress, the hem of which swept the floor when she moved. A shawl of reds, browns, and orange yarns, woven in a way that Gabe had never seen before, clung loosely about her shoulders. She was favoring Poe with a glare that would have pierced steel. Poe looked like a small child, chastised for sneaking a handful of cookies. The woman turned to face Gabriel, her expression softened.
"You may call me Sister," she said. "Now, you were speaking to our Mary?"
"Yes," Gabe responded, feeling oddly like he was back in grade school and being questioned by his teacher.
"And where is Mary?" the Sister asked.
Gabe tapped his temple opposite the gunshot wound. "That is a long story. You see...." Gabe paused. "Uh, pardon me for asking, but just who are you people?"
"They're the closest thing I have to family."
"I imagine that you have many questions, Mister Ansgar," the Sister responded. "This is no place for extended conversation and I am weary from this day's work. Nightfall is upon us again and we can safely make our way home. Won't you accompany us to more comfortable surroundings?"
Gabe was fairly certain the invitation was not a request, but a polite order.
"You can trust her," Mary said.
"Onee-san," Poe began. "I don't like this."
"Trust must begin somewhere," the Sister replied. "Wouldn't you agree, Mister Ansgar?"
The unlikely trio emerged from the abandoned warehouse. Gabe half expected to see the devastation wrought on the street from his dream, but the scene was deceptively tranquil, the ugliness of the city masked by a pristine blanket of snow. Gabe was slightly surprised by the brisk pace that The Sister kept. Her apparent age and physical condition did not correlate with rapid movement. Poe walked with a predatory grace, sometimes in front by several paces, sometimes behind. It unnerved Gabe. He felt as though he walked with a leopard, and he was in no way at ease with her intentions.
They walked through one of the roughest areas along the Orange Line. Gabe cast his eyes about nervously. He had been called out to many murder scenes in this neighborhood, mostly gang related killings, and after recent events he really didn't want any more excitement. Through the window of one of the few storefronts that was not boarded up Gabe caught a glance of the evening edition of the Chicago Tribune. He stopped, staring at the headlines.
63 Found Dead as Police
Continue Search for Victims,
Clues - Questions Linger
Regarding Death,
Disappearance of Chicago
Detectives
The death toll continues to rise as
police search the underground lair
of the most prolific serial killer to
haunt the Greater Chicago area
since John Wayne Gacy. Sixty-
three bodies have been excavated
from beneath the home of prime
suspect Hugh Abrams.
Abrams, 41, is described by
neighbors as a shy, quiet man
who kept to himself. Abrams
remains missing. Also missing
is crime scene investigator
Gabriel Ansgar, 34. Ansgar
was examining the crime scene
for clues when he mysteriously
disappeared.
The body of Chicago Police
Detective Jack Casey was found
near the Kedzie Station of the
Orange Line. Casey was also
last seen alive at Abrams' home.
Police have not determined
whether Casey's death is related
to the investigation, or to the
disappearance of Ansgar. Casey
was hit by the Orange Line train
early Wednesday morning.
Gabe's thoughts were pulled from the story by Mary's insistent voice.
"I told you to look under the stairs. I didn't expect so many though."
"Move it."
Gabe's reverie was broken by Poe's voice directly behind him. He moved on, trying not to think. Too much had happened.
They walked for nearly a half hour before arriving in front of a two-story building made entirely of quarried stone. Even in the scant lighting Gabe could tell that it was originally a church. The steeply sloped roof peaked at a height over four stories. Two sets of double doors opened onto the street. Above these was a neatly boarded over opening that probably was once a stained glass window. A small sign above the door announced that this was the "New Haven Coalition for the Homeless." The Sister led them around the north side to a door about halfway down the length of the building. The door swung open at their approach, spilling light onto the snow.
It was warm in the narrow hallway, a pleasant change from the frigid temperatures on the street. The walls were paneled with polished hardwood that appeared freshly varnished. A very slight musty odor hung in the air, mixing with the smell of baking bread. Gabe's stomach growled noisily, reminding him that he'd not eaten in twenty-four hours. They turned a corner. Gabe thought that they must be near the rear of the building. Doors broke the continuity of the walls on either side here. The Sister paused at the third door and opened it. They stepped into a room paneled much like the hallway. Two lead framed windows with arching tops framed the fireplace on the center of the far wall. Four overstuffed chairs were arranged in a loose semi-circle before the hearth.
Bookshelves filled most of the wallspace. The Sister seated herself in the chair furthest to the left of the hearth. She looked at the logs placed carefully in the fireplace and they ignited beneath her gaze.
"Please take a seat, Gabriel." The Sister gestured toward the vacant chairs. "Poe, why don't you be a dear and bring down some hot tea?"
Poe glared at Gabe before turning on her heel and leaving the room with a growl.
Gabe grumbled in response. He'd recovered his wits enough to be more than a little irate. After a night and day of being shot, beaten, and choked, his patience was wearing thin.
"I'd appreciate some answers. No obscure language or veiled references, just plain English please. How did you find us?"
The Sister regarded Gabe for a moment before speaking. "Interesting that you are using the plural pronoun." A small grin played across her face. "In 'plain English,' I followed Mary's aura like a beacon. I expected to find her, but instead found you.
"Poe and I were on our way to Abrams' home when I felt Mary's spirit cry out. Unfortunately we were... delayed. I must assume that Abrams did something very foolish before we could arrive."
"You could say that," Gabe began.
"Yeah. He tried to exorcise the demon himself!" Mary interrupted
A look of consternation crossed Gabe's face. "Excuse me, I believe I'm telling the story. The biggest remaining piece of your Abrams is a tooth embedded in a door jam."
The Sister wrinkled her nose. "Ew. He should have waited. You probably already know that you were possessed by a demon. The same demon, of course, that possessed Mister Abrams."
"Oh yeah. Mary told me that Abrams botched an exorcism spell and turned it loose." Gabe paused for a moment. "In the house, when I arrived. I had some kind of a ... vision? Watched Abrams blow himself to smithereens, like I was there when it happened. I saw something in the fire after that. I think it was the demon." Gabe shivered. He scarcely believed that he had stood against the demon in his dream.
"What about young Mary. How is it that she ended up in you?" asked the Sister as Poe stepped back into the room.
Gabe sighed and stared at the patch of wood flooring between his feet. "Abrams killed her."
Poe growled and lunged for Gabe's throat. A small wave of the Sister's hand cut her off as if she had struck a stone wall.
"Poe! Behave yourself. Please, Gabriel, go on."
"Poor Poe," Mary said
"Poor Poe my ass! She's been trying to kill me all night!" Gabe exclaimed.
"Hmmm..." The Sister furrowed her brows in deep reflection. "Ahhh. This will do nicely: Abarach meanma biadh."
A pale shimmering light engulfed Gabe. He leapt to his feet.
"Do not fear, Gabriel. This is merely a seeing spell," the Sister said disarmingly.
Poe gasped. The shimmering likeness of Mary appeared, obscuring Gabe's form.
"Well, that confirms that," the Sister stated in a matter of fact tone as Mary's spectral image faded.
"Mary," exclaimed Poe in a very small voice. "Baka! Why did you have to go ahead of us!?"
"Well, I can't say it was the smartest thing I ever did." Mary spoke in Gabe's head. "I thought I could help him, or at least keep him there until the Sister arrived."
Gabe repeated Mary's words.
"This mode of communication is far too awkward," the Sister stated. "Cluinim tua tagradh bruidheann."
Gabe looked around, expecting something to happen. "What was that all about?"
"Something about ghost speech, I think," Mary said. "I can't remember all my Gaelic..."
"Indeed Mary, you were never as studious as one might have hoped."
"You heard me!"
"Yes, Mary. Poe and I will be able to hear you now." The Sister looked toward the vampire. Poe's expression was at once puzzled and hopeful. "Poe?"
"I can hear her, inside my head!" Poe replied, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth.
"Wait a minute, can you both hear ME now, too!? As if it wasn't invasive enough having a sixteen year old girl monitor my every thought...."
"And let me tell you, there's lots of dirty laundry in here. Half of your mind seems to be a database devoted to girls you went to high school and college with, female co-workers, babes on cheesy TV shows, and oh yes, that woman you passed on the street on the way to work last week ... an awful lot of memory devoted to a lady you only saw for about six seconds. She's not even that cute, if you ask me. Believe me, Sister, you don't want to know this stuff."
Gabe, blushing spectacularly, buried his forehead in his hands. "Argh! Get out of my head! I have rights, constitutional rights, or something."
The Sister chuckled evilly at Gabe's discomfiture. "Be at ease Gabriel, we can only hear Mary, and then only when she intends to project her thoughts as speech."
"At least I'm not the only one stuck with your inane teenaged chatter now," Gabe said.
"Humph! You'd never of gotten away from the demon if it weren't for me, fingerprint boy!"
Gabe closed his eyes. Twenty-four hours ago he was sitting in his small house in Rosemont, eating a plate of General Tso's Chicken from the Chinese restaurant down the street, contemplating nothing more disturbing than the small patch of peeling paint on his living room ceiling. He had been blissfully ignorant of such things as demons, vampires, sorcery, and dead girls abiding in his head. What else do I not know that I really don't want to find out?
"Oh there's much more, Gabe. Much more."
© 2003 Austin Hale
Nice update, Lamprolign. You're doing a good job setting up the larger story arc. Since we're about to start Chapter 2, I figured I would give the thread a gratuitous bump and give readers a chance to jump in while we're still in the early stages of the story arc before your next post. Comments and criticism are welcome.
Last edited:
Lamprolign
First Post
new installment 03/19/03
I dreamed about killing you again last night
And it felt alright to me
Dying on the banks of Embarcadero skies
I sat and watched you bleed
Buried you alive in a fireworks display
Raining down on me
Your cold, hot blood ran away from me
To the sea.
- Wilco, Via Chicago
The sound of keys jingling echoed down the stairwell of the dilapidated tenement building. A young woman, hardly more than a teenager, sprinted up the stairs. She stopped at the fourth floor landing and listened carefully. Living alone in the city had taught her never to rush into anywhere that she couldn't see. She pushed her shoulder length brown hair away from her ear and listened for several moments. Silence. She slowly opened the door to find the corridor empty. She moved quickly through the dimly lit hall to her door, the old floor creaking with every step. Jenny Matthews was home.
She slipped through the door and closed it swiftly behind her, locking the deadbolt and clicking the door chain in place. A small sigh escaped her lips. The place was a rat's nest, but it offered far more security than some shadowy corner in Union Station or one of the few other indoor train stations downtown. Libraries had offered occasional refuge, but wherever she went the police were obliged to move her and any other homeless people along. For months she had wandered from place to place after running away from her parent's home in Antioch, a small town about a three hour drive north of the city. The streets were terrifying, but her father had been worse. Jenny finally ended up in a shelter that asked no questions nor required any conversion to their faith of choice. They simply helped. The former church building which housed the shelter was her home for two months. They helped her find a full time job. Jenny had felt a small triumph moving into her own apartment. For the first time in years, she was beginning to believe that things were going to be all right.
The single lamp lighting the room went dark.
"Crap!" Jenny exclaimed.
Power out again? That's like, what, the third time this month? Fourth? After a moment her eyes began to adjust and dim outlines became visible. Jenny kept candles on the kitchen counter for the frequent power outages. It usually took hours before power was returned to the ancient building. A noise scarcely heard caused her to gasp aloud. Jumpy, she thought, laughing nervously. Just the rats in the walls. That, or the roaches are getting really big. Then she heard a sound that froze her in place, raising the fine hairs on her neck and goose bumps on her arms. Breathing. Someone else was in the apartment.
! She heard it again, behind her. Jenny reached into her pocket and pulled out the small can of mace they had given her when she left the shelter. The sound reached her ears again, and she felt warmth on her neck. Her hands shaking, she whirled around, raising the mace. A heavy weight slammed into her. The can of mace flew from her hand. She never had time to scream.
Sal Colletti sat in front of the television in his third floor apartment. Final Jeopardy was just about to start. Dancing cats appeared on the screen, singing about their new and improved litter. Who comes up with this crap? What's a friggin' cat care where it takes a crap? Sal drained the last of his beer and the apartment went dark.
"Perfect." He crushed the aluminum can, tossed it aside, and felt around the floor beside his chair for the flashlight that he kept for just such occasions. A loud thump above him gave him start. He looked up into the dark in time for falling flakes of ceiling paint to land in his eyes.
"Godammit!" he cursed, rubbing his eyes with both hands. He had seen the girl who moved into the apartment above him a few times around the building. She looked bookish, but she had legs that wouldn't quit. He had tried to start a conversation with her, invited her for a beer at his place, but she wouldn't give him the time of day. When he brushed up against her "accidentally" in the stairwell, the girl recoiled, like he was some kind of pervert.ing bitch. Probably screwing some dumb punk!
The noise died abrubtly. That was quick, Romeo, he thought with a snort. He stood in the dark for several minutes, wondering how long the lights would be out this time. He followed the beam of his flashlight to the refrigerator and returned to his chair with another beer. He flopped down in the chair, switched the flashlight off and took a long pull from the can of MGD. Maybe he would pay the little slut upstairs a visit later on, show her what it's like to be with a real man. A drop of liquid splashed on his furrowed forehead.
"Dammit! Now what the is leaking?" He muttered.
Another drip splashed on his forehead. He stood, switched the flashlight back on, and wiped the wetness from his brow. He glimpsed his hand as it passed on its way to be wiped on his pants. Bright red liquid was smeared across his fingers.
"What the?!"
Sal looked up at his ceiling. Liquid the unmistakable color of fresh blood oozed from the myriad cracks in the plaster.
"!"
I dreamed about killing you again last night
And it felt alright to me
Dying on the banks of Embarcadero skies
I sat and watched you bleed
Buried you alive in a fireworks display
Raining down on me
Your cold, hot blood ran away from me
To the sea.
- Wilco, Via Chicago
The sound of keys jingling echoed down the stairwell of the dilapidated tenement building. A young woman, hardly more than a teenager, sprinted up the stairs. She stopped at the fourth floor landing and listened carefully. Living alone in the city had taught her never to rush into anywhere that she couldn't see. She pushed her shoulder length brown hair away from her ear and listened for several moments. Silence. She slowly opened the door to find the corridor empty. She moved quickly through the dimly lit hall to her door, the old floor creaking with every step. Jenny Matthews was home.
She slipped through the door and closed it swiftly behind her, locking the deadbolt and clicking the door chain in place. A small sigh escaped her lips. The place was a rat's nest, but it offered far more security than some shadowy corner in Union Station or one of the few other indoor train stations downtown. Libraries had offered occasional refuge, but wherever she went the police were obliged to move her and any other homeless people along. For months she had wandered from place to place after running away from her parent's home in Antioch, a small town about a three hour drive north of the city. The streets were terrifying, but her father had been worse. Jenny finally ended up in a shelter that asked no questions nor required any conversion to their faith of choice. They simply helped. The former church building which housed the shelter was her home for two months. They helped her find a full time job. Jenny had felt a small triumph moving into her own apartment. For the first time in years, she was beginning to believe that things were going to be all right.
The single lamp lighting the room went dark.
"Crap!" Jenny exclaimed.
Power out again? That's like, what, the third time this month? Fourth? After a moment her eyes began to adjust and dim outlines became visible. Jenny kept candles on the kitchen counter for the frequent power outages. It usually took hours before power was returned to the ancient building. A noise scarcely heard caused her to gasp aloud. Jumpy, she thought, laughing nervously. Just the rats in the walls. That, or the roaches are getting really big. Then she heard a sound that froze her in place, raising the fine hairs on her neck and goose bumps on her arms. Breathing. Someone else was in the apartment.
! She heard it again, behind her. Jenny reached into her pocket and pulled out the small can of mace they had given her when she left the shelter. The sound reached her ears again, and she felt warmth on her neck. Her hands shaking, she whirled around, raising the mace. A heavy weight slammed into her. The can of mace flew from her hand. She never had time to scream.Sal Colletti sat in front of the television in his third floor apartment. Final Jeopardy was just about to start. Dancing cats appeared on the screen, singing about their new and improved litter. Who comes up with this crap? What's a friggin' cat care where it takes a crap? Sal drained the last of his beer and the apartment went dark.
"Perfect." He crushed the aluminum can, tossed it aside, and felt around the floor beside his chair for the flashlight that he kept for just such occasions. A loud thump above him gave him start. He looked up into the dark in time for falling flakes of ceiling paint to land in his eyes.
"Godammit!" he cursed, rubbing his eyes with both hands. He had seen the girl who moved into the apartment above him a few times around the building. She looked bookish, but she had legs that wouldn't quit. He had tried to start a conversation with her, invited her for a beer at his place, but she wouldn't give him the time of day. When he brushed up against her "accidentally" in the stairwell, the girl recoiled, like he was some kind of pervert.
ing bitch. Probably screwing some dumb punk! The noise died abrubtly. That was quick, Romeo, he thought with a snort. He stood in the dark for several minutes, wondering how long the lights would be out this time. He followed the beam of his flashlight to the refrigerator and returned to his chair with another beer. He flopped down in the chair, switched the flashlight off and took a long pull from the can of MGD. Maybe he would pay the little slut upstairs a visit later on, show her what it's like to be with a real man. A drop of liquid splashed on his furrowed forehead.
"Dammit! Now what the
is leaking?" He muttered.Another drip splashed on his forehead. He stood, switched the flashlight back on, and wiped the wetness from his brow. He glimpsed his hand as it passed on its way to be wiped on his pants. Bright red liquid was smeared across his fingers.
"What the?!"
Sal looked up at his ceiling. Liquid the unmistakable color of fresh blood oozed from the myriad cracks in the plaster.
"
!"
cthuluftaghn
First Post
Still going great. Glad to see the posts start up again. Still waiting for the big "dwarf in hole" scene.
Lamprolign
First Post
Six and three is nine
Nine and nine is eighteen
Look there brother baby and you'll see what I've seen
Hida-hey, baby don't you want to go
Back to that same old place
Sweet home Chicago
- Robert Johnson, Sweet Home Chicago
"This is too weird," Mary said.
"We're way beyond weird here, Mar," Poe responded.
"Yep," Gabe muttered. You know things are getting funky when even the vampire is freaked out. Gabe and Poe stood over a bed in the intensive care unit of Northwestern Memorial Hospital, in downtown Chicago. On the bed lay the motionless body of Mary Johansson.
"At least you're not connected to a respirator," Gabe said.
"Small miracles, right? I notice no one bothered to send flowers."
"I don't think your friends are the flowery type," Gabe mumbled, stealing a sideways glance at Poe. "A dead rat maybe."
"I heard that." Poe bared her teeth and emitted a low growl.
"I really thought I was dead."
"You were," Gabe answered. "For about sixty seconds."
The door behind them opened. "Who are you people?" asked a heavyset woman garbed in light green scrubs.
"It's all right, ma'am, I'm with Chicago P.D." Gabe offered the I.D. badge that hung from his neck. "We're just following up on this case."
"Oh," the woman said as she peered at Gabe's identification. Her gaze fell upon Poe. Something's wrong with that girl, she thought. Needs some Vitamin D or sunlight or something. And if she's a cop, I'm Oprah. "Have you figured out who this girl is yet?"
"Unfortunately not, ma'am. I don't hold out much hope either. I'm sure you know how many Jane Does we have in the city every year."
"Laying it on a little thick aren't we?" Mary said.
"Just let me handle this," Gabe muttered beneath his breath.
"Excuse me?"
"Oh nothing, we were just finishing up here," Gabe said as he exited the room.
"I want back in my own head."
"Not half as much as I want you out of mine," Gabe grumbled and crinkled his nose. "What smells like dirt? Oh yeah, it's you. Just why are you always tagging along after dark?"
"It's patchouli oil. And it doesn't smell like dirt, it's dark and exotic," snorted Poe. "I just want to hang out with Mary, she is my best friend you know. And I don't trust you to keep her safe. If you check out, so does she."
Gabe had the distinct feeling that if it weren't for Mary, Poe wouldn't lose much sleep over the thought of his "checking out." If she even sleeps, that is, he thought. He could scarcely believe that it had been only four days since this whole mess started. After the battle with the demon, Gabe had given some grudging respect to the voice in his head and resigned himself to the permanency of the arrangement. Then he found out that Mary's body was still alive, comatose. His first thought had been, Great! Mary can go back to her body and I can get my privacy back. But, like everything in his new life, Gabe had learned things were not quite that simple.
* * * *
"I still don't understand." Gabe was standing again in the Sister's study. "If she's not dead, then why is she stuck in my head?"
The Sister sat for a moment, contemplating the crackling fire. "Abrams was trying to exorcise the demon himself." She paused. "This was far beyond his ability and his spell was miscast."
"Like I said, he screwed the pooch, " Mary said.
"Yes, I suppose that's one rather crude way to put it," the Sister responded, casting a stern look at Gabe/Mary. "I can only surmise that his exorcism spell loosened the bonds that hold spirit to body. Unfortunately, Mary was too near the casting. The article said that the paramedics revived Mary several times on the trip to the hospital. One of the times that she died her spirit came adrift." The Sister took a sip from the steaming mug of tea which she cradled.
"I still don't get it," Gabe said. "How did she end up in my head?"
"After hearing your description of the visions you experienced, I have to believe it is because of latent powers that were awakened within you that night." The Sister took another sip of tea before continuing. "Time is not always as linear as we think. I believe that in a sense you were there when the events you witnessed took place. A bond was forged between you and Mary at that time."
"Ok, so just cast another spell and put her back."
"I wish."
"I am afraid that it shall not be so simple." The Sister looked once again into the fire. "The necessary magics have been long buried." Her voice dropped. "And for good reason...."
* * * *
The ring of his cell phone snapped Gabe back to the present. He looked at the display. The office. He hit the answer button on the phone and brought it to his ear.
"Hello."
"Hi Gabe," the ever-energetic voice of Chris Ebbing bounded from the earpiece. "Duty calls, bro, they tell me we've got a really messy murder scene to process."
"You know I'm supposed to be off duty." Gabe grumbled.
"Yeah, but you know they want the best for the really juicy ones. Time to do the nasty."
Gabe could imagine Chris's grin on the other end of the line. Sometimes the kid scared him. "All right, where's it at? I'll meet you there."
He opted to ride the L train to the scene, a wise choice since he observed that the crime scene van hadn't made it through the snarl of Chicago traffic. Poe insisted on tailing him from the hospital. He looked over his shoulder to tell her to make herself scarce, and when he glanced back a second later she was gone. She gives me the creeps.
"She's one of my best friends," Mary said. "Watch what you think about her."
Riiight.
The scene was much like any other. Black and white squad cars, lights still flashing, gathered around the main entrance to a run-down tenement building. Curious onlookers stood in small groups talking. Gabe showed his I.D. to the young flatfoot monitoring the front entrance.
"Where?" He asked.
"Fourth floor." The young man paused. "There's some on the third floor, too."
Gabe raised an eyebrow at this, but moved on looking for a stairwell. Nobody in their right mind would use an elevator in a building such as this one. Once he located the stairs it was easy to find the scene. Uniformed officers were milling around in the hallway, a plain clothes cop was standing a short way down the hall. He grunted acknowledgment of Gabe's approach.
"I didn't expect to see you back to work so soon, Gabe." Senior Detective Jake Brewer lit a cigarette, pressed the match out between thick, stubby fingers, and dropped it to the floor. The big man wore a crumpled tan overcoat and a center dent, leather banded hat with a turndown brim. Brewer looked like he walked out of some cheap crime noir paperback.
"Better to stay busy." Gabe answered, "Chris said this one was real messy?"
"I've seen worse. But not much worse." Brewer gave a mock bow, bending at his ample waist, and waved his arm in a broad sweep toward the open door. "After you."
Gabe ducked under the yellow crime scene tape and entered the room. After years on the job Gabe should have been a real hard case, desensitized to the sights and smells of death. But it was never easy, not really. No matter how many bodies, each new victim was another person with a story to tell.
Between the couch in the middle of the room and the door lay what was left of a body. From Gabe's perspective he could discern shoulders and a head. Most of the torso from the collarbones down was missing. One arm was largely intact. The other terminated just above the elbow. Gabe stopped at the edge of the sea of blood surrounding the remains.
"Damn." Gabe spoke quietly. This wasn't his first slasher scene, but it was definitely among the worst.
He walked around the perimeter of the blood pool, examining the floor. The room went dark. "Hey!?"
Gabe blinked his eyes, trying to adjust to the sudden darkness. Someone bumped into his arm. He turned to see the light of the full moon filtering in through the window to glint off of platinum hair. "Mary?"
The girl looked at him. Gabe's puzzled expression was mirrored in her face.
Another sound in the room drew their attention. A young woman with dark hair and fair skin stood between the couch and the door to the hallway. She clutched something tightly in one hand. She was inching her way toward the door. Then they heard another sound, breathing. The woman whirled toward the sound, toward the corner of the room nearest the window. A shadow detached from the wall in a blur of movement. It struck the woman hard, sending her glasses to fly across the room and shatter against a wall. Both forms crashed to the floor. The object she held in her hand clattered across the floor, stopping at Gabe's feet. It was a small can of mace.
Gabe once again stood on the shore of the blood ocean. The lights were on. Gabe's chest heaved with rapid breath.
"Gabe! Gabe!" It was Chris Ebbing's voice. "Wake up, man! You're zoning on me again."
Gabe looked at the crime scene photographer, then turned his head to the side, half expecting to see Mary. Not again, Gabe thought....
© 2002 Austin Hale
Nine and nine is eighteen
Look there brother baby and you'll see what I've seen
Hida-hey, baby don't you want to go
Back to that same old place
Sweet home Chicago
- Robert Johnson, Sweet Home Chicago
"This is too weird," Mary said.
"We're way beyond weird here, Mar," Poe responded.
"Yep," Gabe muttered. You know things are getting funky when even the vampire is freaked out. Gabe and Poe stood over a bed in the intensive care unit of Northwestern Memorial Hospital, in downtown Chicago. On the bed lay the motionless body of Mary Johansson.
"At least you're not connected to a respirator," Gabe said.
"Small miracles, right? I notice no one bothered to send flowers."
"I don't think your friends are the flowery type," Gabe mumbled, stealing a sideways glance at Poe. "A dead rat maybe."
"I heard that." Poe bared her teeth and emitted a low growl.
"I really thought I was dead."
"You were," Gabe answered. "For about sixty seconds."
The door behind them opened. "Who are you people?" asked a heavyset woman garbed in light green scrubs.
"It's all right, ma'am, I'm with Chicago P.D." Gabe offered the I.D. badge that hung from his neck. "We're just following up on this case."
"Oh," the woman said as she peered at Gabe's identification. Her gaze fell upon Poe. Something's wrong with that girl, she thought. Needs some Vitamin D or sunlight or something. And if she's a cop, I'm Oprah. "Have you figured out who this girl is yet?"
"Unfortunately not, ma'am. I don't hold out much hope either. I'm sure you know how many Jane Does we have in the city every year."
"Laying it on a little thick aren't we?" Mary said.
"Just let me handle this," Gabe muttered beneath his breath.
"Excuse me?"
"Oh nothing, we were just finishing up here," Gabe said as he exited the room.
"I want back in my own head."
"Not half as much as I want you out of mine," Gabe grumbled and crinkled his nose. "What smells like dirt? Oh yeah, it's you. Just why are you always tagging along after dark?"
"It's patchouli oil. And it doesn't smell like dirt, it's dark and exotic," snorted Poe. "I just want to hang out with Mary, she is my best friend you know. And I don't trust you to keep her safe. If you check out, so does she."
Gabe had the distinct feeling that if it weren't for Mary, Poe wouldn't lose much sleep over the thought of his "checking out." If she even sleeps, that is, he thought. He could scarcely believe that it had been only four days since this whole mess started. After the battle with the demon, Gabe had given some grudging respect to the voice in his head and resigned himself to the permanency of the arrangement. Then he found out that Mary's body was still alive, comatose. His first thought had been, Great! Mary can go back to her body and I can get my privacy back. But, like everything in his new life, Gabe had learned things were not quite that simple.
* * * *
"I still don't understand." Gabe was standing again in the Sister's study. "If she's not dead, then why is she stuck in my head?"
The Sister sat for a moment, contemplating the crackling fire. "Abrams was trying to exorcise the demon himself." She paused. "This was far beyond his ability and his spell was miscast."
"Like I said, he screwed the pooch, " Mary said.
"Yes, I suppose that's one rather crude way to put it," the Sister responded, casting a stern look at Gabe/Mary. "I can only surmise that his exorcism spell loosened the bonds that hold spirit to body. Unfortunately, Mary was too near the casting. The article said that the paramedics revived Mary several times on the trip to the hospital. One of the times that she died her spirit came adrift." The Sister took a sip from the steaming mug of tea which she cradled.
"I still don't get it," Gabe said. "How did she end up in my head?"
"After hearing your description of the visions you experienced, I have to believe it is because of latent powers that were awakened within you that night." The Sister took another sip of tea before continuing. "Time is not always as linear as we think. I believe that in a sense you were there when the events you witnessed took place. A bond was forged between you and Mary at that time."
"Ok, so just cast another spell and put her back."
"I wish."
"I am afraid that it shall not be so simple." The Sister looked once again into the fire. "The necessary magics have been long buried." Her voice dropped. "And for good reason...."
* * * *
The ring of his cell phone snapped Gabe back to the present. He looked at the display. The office. He hit the answer button on the phone and brought it to his ear.
"Hello."
"Hi Gabe," the ever-energetic voice of Chris Ebbing bounded from the earpiece. "Duty calls, bro, they tell me we've got a really messy murder scene to process."
"You know I'm supposed to be off duty." Gabe grumbled.
"Yeah, but you know they want the best for the really juicy ones. Time to do the nasty."
Gabe could imagine Chris's grin on the other end of the line. Sometimes the kid scared him. "All right, where's it at? I'll meet you there."
He opted to ride the L train to the scene, a wise choice since he observed that the crime scene van hadn't made it through the snarl of Chicago traffic. Poe insisted on tailing him from the hospital. He looked over his shoulder to tell her to make herself scarce, and when he glanced back a second later she was gone. She gives me the creeps.
"She's one of my best friends," Mary said. "Watch what you think about her."
Riiight.
The scene was much like any other. Black and white squad cars, lights still flashing, gathered around the main entrance to a run-down tenement building. Curious onlookers stood in small groups talking. Gabe showed his I.D. to the young flatfoot monitoring the front entrance.
"Where?" He asked.
"Fourth floor." The young man paused. "There's some on the third floor, too."
Gabe raised an eyebrow at this, but moved on looking for a stairwell. Nobody in their right mind would use an elevator in a building such as this one. Once he located the stairs it was easy to find the scene. Uniformed officers were milling around in the hallway, a plain clothes cop was standing a short way down the hall. He grunted acknowledgment of Gabe's approach.
"I didn't expect to see you back to work so soon, Gabe." Senior Detective Jake Brewer lit a cigarette, pressed the match out between thick, stubby fingers, and dropped it to the floor. The big man wore a crumpled tan overcoat and a center dent, leather banded hat with a turndown brim. Brewer looked like he walked out of some cheap crime noir paperback.
"Better to stay busy." Gabe answered, "Chris said this one was real messy?"
"I've seen worse. But not much worse." Brewer gave a mock bow, bending at his ample waist, and waved his arm in a broad sweep toward the open door. "After you."
Gabe ducked under the yellow crime scene tape and entered the room. After years on the job Gabe should have been a real hard case, desensitized to the sights and smells of death. But it was never easy, not really. No matter how many bodies, each new victim was another person with a story to tell.
Between the couch in the middle of the room and the door lay what was left of a body. From Gabe's perspective he could discern shoulders and a head. Most of the torso from the collarbones down was missing. One arm was largely intact. The other terminated just above the elbow. Gabe stopped at the edge of the sea of blood surrounding the remains.
"Damn." Gabe spoke quietly. This wasn't his first slasher scene, but it was definitely among the worst.
He walked around the perimeter of the blood pool, examining the floor. The room went dark. "Hey!?"
Gabe blinked his eyes, trying to adjust to the sudden darkness. Someone bumped into his arm. He turned to see the light of the full moon filtering in through the window to glint off of platinum hair. "Mary?"
The girl looked at him. Gabe's puzzled expression was mirrored in her face.
Another sound in the room drew their attention. A young woman with dark hair and fair skin stood between the couch and the door to the hallway. She clutched something tightly in one hand. She was inching her way toward the door. Then they heard another sound, breathing. The woman whirled toward the sound, toward the corner of the room nearest the window. A shadow detached from the wall in a blur of movement. It struck the woman hard, sending her glasses to fly across the room and shatter against a wall. Both forms crashed to the floor. The object she held in her hand clattered across the floor, stopping at Gabe's feet. It was a small can of mace.
Gabe once again stood on the shore of the blood ocean. The lights were on. Gabe's chest heaved with rapid breath.
"Gabe! Gabe!" It was Chris Ebbing's voice. "Wake up, man! You're zoning on me again."
Gabe looked at the crime scene photographer, then turned his head to the side, half expecting to see Mary. Not again, Gabe thought....
© 2002 Austin Hale
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