The Dark Storm (19 page)

“Muthafucka, how you just gonna walk through my
block and not acknowledge me?” the kid who had called Gabriel out said, stepping between him and the train station. The kid was a brown-skinned youth with broad shoulders and a protruding belly. He wasn’t fat just yet, but if he kept hitting the bottle he would be soon enough. Gabriel tried to step around him only to find his path blocked by a second youth. This one was thinner, but his glassy eyes said that he would be just as much trouble as the heavy one.

“I don’t think my homeboy was finished talking to you,” the thin kid said. He was opening and closing his fist like he was spoiling for a fight. It was then that Gabriel felt his tattoo stir.

“Look, he got hair like a bitch. You some kinda faggot or something?” the heavier kid taunted Gabriel.

“He looks like a fag to me and you know homos are always holding,” the thinner one added.

“Listen, I don’t want any trouble.” Gabriel tried to step between them and someone shoved him roughly from behind. He tripped over the front steps of a building and landed hard on his hands. He tried to block the sound out, but there was no mistaking the roll of thunder in his ears.

“We don’t give a shit what you want, but we sure know what you got and you’re gonna give it to us,” the heavier kid said. He was standing over Gabriel holding a small gun. “Run it, pussy,” he demanded.

“And let the cleansing begin. My will be done,” the Bishop whispered.

Gabriel got to his feet slowly so as not to spook the kid with the gun. It took all of Gabriel’s concentration to keep his voice from booming when he spoke. “I don’t have any money; I’m just trying to get to the train station.” Gabriel raised his hand. The ink from the tattoo seemed to spill from beneath his sleeve, leaving the rough shape of a fork on the back of his right hand.

“If you ain’t got no money, then how in the hell are you gonna get on the train?” The heavier kid moved closer. His grip on the gun seemed to tighten.

“I think this cat is trying to play us,” a third kid spoke up. He was fat and wearing a dingy baseball cap, pulled over his eyes.

The heavy kid raised the gun and pointed it at Gabriel’s face. “You trying to play us, faggot?” The kid never even saw Gabriel move. There was the brief sound of steel against steel and the next thing the kid knew, the barrel of his gun was falling to the ground. He looked at Gabriel and backpedaled when he saw the flashing of lightning dancing in his eyes.

Having been oblivious to what his friend had just witnessed, the thin kid rushed Gabriel, swinging a wild punch. Gabriel caught his fist in his left hand and held it. The kid watched as Gabriel raised his hand, which was now outlined in a crisp silver glow. Gabriel touched his finger to the kid’s chest, sending a jolt of electricity into his heart. The kid fell to the ground, twitching and foaming at the mouth. The third kid was long gone, but the heavy one hadn’t managed to move from the spot where fear had him rooted.

Gabriel grabbed him about the jaws, burning the flesh of his face where his fingers touched. For a minute the heavy kid could see the brown in Gabriel’s eyes and a look similar to regret cross his face. “You don’t know how lucky you just got.” Gabriel tossed the frightened and burned man to the ground. The kid didn’t even check to see if his partner was still alive, just took off running. The Nimrod was again still, but Gabriel could hear the Bishop’s voice in his head.

“My will be done.”

“So you’ve said.” Gabriel pulled the sleeve of his jacket down and descended the train station stairs.

Gabriel breathed a sigh of relief when he stepped onto the downtown A train. Of course there were no seats, but he was happy to be away from the mess that was going on in the world above. A few hours ago he was a college student whom no one ever noticed and now it seemed like the whole world was after him. His life and the natural law of things as science dictated were both being dashed to hell in front of his eyes, and there didn’t seem to be much he could do about it but ride the wave and hope he didn’t drown.

Gabriel tried to busy himself by reading the advertisements that lined the subway car, but the tingle in his arm wouldn’t let him be. It was as if being underground in the midst of all the random power fluxes disturbed the Nimrod.

Deciding it was best to keep moving, Gabriel picked his way through the subway car. He was stepping around a woman who was riding with her young son and their hands accidentally brushed. Gabriel was immediately assaulted with flashes of her life. He knew her from the aspiring dancer she had been before getting pregnant and the battered housewife she had become. The feeling of sadness in her heart was so great that it staggered him.

Trying to avoid the battered wife, he bumped into a girl who was standing behind him and her boyfriend. Gabriel immediately saw him working double shifts at his security job to pay for the engagement ring he had presented her with a few hours prior. He had proposed to her in the middle of a crowded street. She had gladly accepted, but now she had to figure out how to tell him that she had stepped out on their relationship and had just found out that she was HIV positive.

Gabriel stumbled clumsily through the car and with each person he touched came their stories and their pains. By the time he leapt off the train at West 4th Street he
was almost blinded by tears. Never in his life had he felt such intense hurt. He wanted to reach out to each of the people he had touched on the train and right whatever was wrong in their lives. He wanted to give them a release.

“
And when you strike, show them no mercy. Let the Storm wash away their sins and remake the world anew
,” the Bishop said compassionately.

“I’m not a murderer,” Gabriel whispered.

“
Cain risked the wrath of God and slew his brother so that history could play out as it was written
,” the Bishop offered.

Gabriel ran his hands through his hair and tugged at the roots. “Get it together, man; you’re talking to your arm,” he said more to himself than anyone else. When Gabriel got up to the street level he inhaled, happy to be free of the tunnels. Something familiar tickled the tip of his nose, but he paid it no mind. He had to get his bearings and find the Triple Six.

Gabriel had an idea where the club was but couldn’t say for sure, as he had never been there. To his surprise, it didn’t take him very long to get pointed in the right direction. As it turned out, everyone except him knew about the exclusive Triple Six nightclub. As soon as Gabriel set foot on the block where the club was located the Nimrod went crazy. The tattoo had almost completely flared to life before Gabriel was able to force it back onto his arm. That he could make it cooperate if he tried was something that would come in handy in the future. From the way the Nimrod had reacted there was obviously someone or something that it recognized inside the club. If he could find Carter and answers to the Nimrod inside the Triple Six, then he was definitely in the right spot.

The line to get inside the club was nearly a block long and growing when Gabriel approached the entrance. The
brutish bouncers at the front were turning people away left and right for not being dressed properly or cool enough for the exclusive spot. He was wondering how he was going to go about getting in when the bouncer suddenly gave him a very bold idea.

“Yo, we ain’t letting anything but couples in for the next hour. If you ain’t with somebody you’re gonna have to wait,” the brute addressed the crowd.

Gabriel watched himself on the giant screen of his mind as he approached the two disappointed-looking girls. They were two leggy shades of chocolate with faces that were cute but not defined enough to be considered beautiful. But on their worst days they were out of Gabriel’s league, so it surprised him more than it did them when he looped his arm in theirs and escorted the ladies to the entrance. The bouncer gave him a funny look about his windbreaker but stepped aside and allowed the trio to enter.

“That was interesting,” the thicker of the two girls told Gabriel with a smile.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you guys, but I thought … ,” Gabriel stammered.

“It’s cool.” The leggier girl took his hand. She flipped his palm over and pressed a business card in his hand. “I’m meeting somebody in here tonight, but give me a call sometime.” She walked off.

“Well, I’m not meeting anybody, so if you wanna get a drink we’ll be over by the bar. Thanks for helping us get in.” The thicker one winked and went to catch up with her friend.

Gabriel stood there momentarily baffled. He looked down at the business card in his hand and saw the tattoo’s ink swirling about his wrists. “I guess you do have some uses.” He tucked the card in his pocket and went to find Carter.

Rogue felt better when they stepped out the fire door and into a side alley. Granted the air was rank from all the garbage, but at least it didn’t reek of magic. He knew he’d been taking a chance coming to the Triple Six, but bumping into Dutch hadn’t been something he counted on. There was no doubt in his mind how it would’ve played out, and he was thankful that he’d been able to get out without incident. His companion wasn’t so appreciative.

“You’ve got a lot of balls dragging me out here like this,” the girl said in a not-too-happy tone.

“If that isn’t the pot.” Rogue raised an eyebrow.

“Anyway, what is it that you want, man?” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Rogue could tell that she was nervous. Good.

“First of all, you can drop the face, Marty. I’m starting to feel kind of weird about this.” He peered over his shades at her.

Marty sighed. She closed her eyes and her form began to waver. Magic crackled in the air around her as her features became distorted. Her hips and breasts seemed to deflate while her fingers almost doubled in length. The smooth white skin had taken on a bluish tint, similar to
that of a drowning victim. The skin on her forehead stretched until Rogue could make out the small horns beneath. No matter how many times he saw it, the trick still fascinated him. Marty went from an unassuming witch to something that was not of this world.

Marty was a shape-shifter, one of the lesser demons who had escaped during the first Dark Storm. They were akin to Weres but had no real power to speak of. Not that they needed it with their unique abilities. Marty’s lot could morph into any living thing, making them almost impossible to find when they didn’t want to be found, unless you had an edge, and Rogue did.

“Happy now?” Marty said, adjusting his tattered denim jacket.

“Now that’s the Marty I know.” Rogue slapped him on the back.

“Fuck you, Rogue. Tell me what you want so I can get out of here.” Marty swatted at Rogue’s hand.

“I need to know about the magical disturbance that hit the city today. It had the stink of hell all over it and I need to know its source.”

Marty shrugged. “This is New York City, one of the places of power. Black magic comes through here all the time; it’s not unusual.”

“It’s unusual when it brings Stalkers out in full force,” Rogue told him.

“Rogue, I don’t know anything.” Marty tried to hide the fear that had just crept over him, but it was hard for demons to hide anything from Rogue’s eyes, even their true natures.

“Bullshit.” Rogue shoved him against the wall. “You shifters slink in and out of more private meetings than I get death threats. Marty, your people see shit before it even happens, so I know you’ve got something to tell me.”

“Listen, I said I don’t know anything. Now if you’ll excuse me.” Marty tried to step past Rogue, but the mage grabbed his arm.

“Marty, you’re gonna tell me something or we’re gonna have a situation out here,” Rogue said seriously.

Marty seemed as if he was weighing it when he suddenly jerked away. Rogue tried to tighten his grip, but Marty’s limb had become as thin as a pipe. By the time Rogue realized what was going on, Marty was sprinting down the alley.

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be, Marty,” Rogue called after him. As soon as Rogue started the summoning, he could feel the owner of his eyes stirring in the back of his mind. He liked to tap into his demonic bond as little as possible because of the lingering effects it sometimes left, but there was no way he was going to catch Marty in a footrace. The shadows lining the alley answered his summons and descended on the fleeing Marty. He tried to leap out of the way, but the first strands had already snaked around his ankles, tripping him up. Marty fought like a caged animal as the tentacles wrapped him from foot to chin. He tried to shrink his body, but the tentacles only tightened to match his decreasing girth.