The Dark Path (5 page)

The police went to Chapel several times looking for the man once known as Henry Thomas, but such were Priest’s skills that they never found him, even though they almost tore the boards from the floor in their search.

Tobias, now one of Priest’s most devoted followers, currently stood before him with a look not dissimilar to fear upon his face.

“What is it Tobias? What troubles you?” Priest had never known the giant man to show such disturbed emotions.

“This man sir, he has such a dark presence about him. I fear you will not be able to convert him to our cause.”

Priest sighed. He knew bringing Vain here had been a risk. The assassin was quite possibly the most evil creature he had ever seen, and his presence had already made itself felt.

Buildings kept memories, Priest knew this. Most people thought buildings were simply made of bricks and mortar and nothing else, but Priest knew that what happened within those walls also affected the structure itself. The building they were now in had once been an asylum. Priest had bought the place almost ten years ago and made it a refuge for the homeless. Many good emotions had seeped into the walls over the years to make Chapel a predominantly harmonious place.

From time to time, Priest would bring in an outsider in trouble, much like Tobias, and help them change their nature. At such times, the emotions in Chapel shifted towards the dark, but never so brutally as in the few hours since they had brought the Dark Man in.  The memories of the old days when Chapel had been an asylum reached out and leached into the souls who now dwelt there. People had been walking on edge all morning, jumping at shadows; arguments had been rife throughout the place. All this, even though only a select few knew of the Dark Man’s presence.

Now Priest had to meet the man himself. He’d been trying to meditate, to clear his thoughts and purify his soul for the encounter, but he now felt poorer than before. Tempted to put off the meeting even longer, he knew the situation would only worsen now that the Dark Man had awakened.

Realizing he had no other choice in the matter, Priest moved to the doorway before being called back by Tobias.

“Would you like me to come with you sir?” the large man offered softly.

Priest toyed with the temptation of Tobias’s support in the encounter, but knew this was something he had to face alone. Any show of weakness could destroy the entire affair.

“Thank you Tobias, but that won’t be necessary.” The look of relief on the giant’s face spoke louder than any words, and Priest moved towards the Dark Man’s cell with even greater trepidation in his heart.

Making his way down the stairs to what had once been a holding cell for the violently insane, Priest felt the emanations from the room swell. The emotions they carried shot through him like pieces of broken glass, but deep within that anger lingered the tiniest spark. Here lurked the ember that Priest had to aim for and hopefully ignite into a blaze. This memory had stopped Vain from killing Sophie in the alleyway, and Priest believed it his only chance of coming out of this entire situation alive.

Steeling himself, Priest unlocked the heavy door and stepped into the room. An inferno of emotions engulfed him, and he fought within himself for control. He gazed at the man on the bed and wondered at the lack of emotion showing on his face. If he weren’t in possession of his unique gifts, Priest would have thought the man calmly awaiting a conversation. Instead, visions ripped through Priest. He saw himself staked out, Vain slowly cutting into his eyes with surgical precision while he screamed in pain. This was the outcome the Dark Man envisioned from the meeting, and it took all of Priest’s resolve simply to remain in the doorway.

He tried to distract the visions by analyzing the man before him. Probably in his late thirties, the Dark Man made an impressive physical specimen. His upper body looked thick with corded muscle, but remained supple and flexible enough not to hamper his movements in any way. Priest had seen men before who could hardly move from all the muscle on their bones, but the Dark Man looked every inch the killing machine of his reputation.

Under his short, jet-black hair, Vain’s face remained devoid of emotion. His features were ruggedly handsome, but marred by the ominous look in his eyes. These eyes, though impassive like the rest of him, spoke of true pain.

A pain so deep it appeared almost unfathomable.

Chills shot through Priest, but he forced himself closer to the bed, trying to strengthen his nerves for the battle of his life. The prize would be the Dark Man’s soul, and with luck, the soul of another.

* * * *

Vain looked up as the steel door opened. A tall black man stepped into the room and paused in the doorway. His face completely emotionless, the man seemed to be studying him for a weakness. This confused Vain, strapped to the table and virtually helpless. The man before him appeared completely devoid of hair: absent eyebrows or even stubble. Of indeterminate age, his face bore no wrinkles, nor any other hallmarks of time. He could have ranged anywhere from thirty to fifty years old.

Finally the man seemed to come to a decision and moved smoothly towards the bed, stopping just out of reach from the Dark Man’s shackled hands. Once there he merely stood, waiting for Vain to speak. The assassin lay on the bed staring up at his captor, allowing the silence to grow. The man showed no sign of discomfort however, and when he finally broke the silence, his voice rang out soft and musical.

“Welcome Martin, to Chapel. I hope your stay here has not proven too uncomfortable.”

Vain’s memory tugged at something long lost.

“That’s not my name, black man,” he replied harshly.

“Yes it is. The question is, Martin, why have you forgotten it? What would make you forget your own name Martin?”

Again with that name and again the same result. With effort he pushed it aside once more. He was Vain. This man had no reason to call him Martin unless he hoped to confuse him. Maybe this was the intention. He’d been captured and possibly drugged—perhaps with something like thiopental-sodium–in the hope that they could bring him here, and have this black bastard persuade him he was someone else.

“That is not true Martin. We did not capture or drug you. You were brought here after collapsing in the alley, following your encounter with Sophie, who
was
trying to steal from you in case you were still curious.”

Vain ignored the emotions and half-memories conjured by the accuracy of the man’s statement and wondered again why he had called him Martin. It seemed so familiar.

“Remember your dreams, Martin. That is where you will find the man you once were.”

“You have me mistaken with someone else, black man. There is no Martin here,” Vain replied bitterly.

“I speak to the man who you once were and I say again,
Martin
, remember your dreams.”

“Who are you, black man? What is this place?” retorted Vain, attempting to gain control of the conversation.

The man sighed and his shoulders seemed to slump forward, unwilling to break the momentum of the previous subject. Finally, however, he steeled himself and answered the question.

“I am known as Priest to those who live here, and this place is called Chapel.”

“You mean I’m in a church?” Vain chuckled humorlessly. “Don’t tell me you’re trying to convert me. I don’t like your chances.”

“This is not a church, so to speak. And I am Priest by name only, nothing more. This place is a haven for those in need to come to when they require help,” explained Priest calmly. “That is why you’re here Martin.”

“You can’t help me Priest,” Vain replied venomously. “Better men than you have tried and failed, and upon their failing discovered that what they tried to save lived to destroy them.”

“I know that,” murmured Priest sadly.

“Why are we bothering with this charade? Tell me what you want.”

“I have told you, Martin. I want to help you become what you once were,” said Priest.

“And what is that?” inquired Vain.

“A good man,” Priest offered simply.

Vain cursed softly and envisioned again what this stupid bastard would look like with no eyes. The thought didn’t help him however, and it appeared this man would be able to see into Vain’s heart even without the use of his eyes. The longer this encounter endured, the more uncomfortable Vain felt. The memories were prying at his mind constantly now, trying to break through into his thoughts. Once again he pushed them back, but the longer the black man talked to him, the harder it got.

This fight wasn’t over by a long shot.

* * * *

Priest neared exhaustion. The Dark Man’s emotions were draining his resolve and he thought he would break when he remembered the vision of himself with no eyes. On the other hand, he drew strength from the knowledge that he might be nearing the completion of his task. He had captured fleeting glimpses of conflict from within the Dark Man with his memories raging to be released. Priest knew he was close to accomplishing his task, yet he felt terrified to go any further.

It would take perhaps one final push, but Priest dreaded that push more than anything he had ever faced before.

To get Vain to remember, Priest would have to remind him of what had happened. To remind the assassin would break the veil surrounding his memories and release them in what would be a tidal wave of emotion that Priest worried would destroy him with its energy. The key to the Dark Man’s memory contained the same thing which had originally made him forget. Pain. It had erased everything of Martin Roberts, and had created Vain, effectively killing the person he had once been.

Priest sighed to himself and tried to gather his remaining energy for what he hoped would be the final battle, yet feared it would only be the start of worse things to come.

* * * *

Vain saw Priest sigh again and felt a small sense of victory. He knew the man was frustrated with the questioning, and the assassin hoped he would soon give up and leave him.

The black man turned back to the bed with a look of such sorrow on his face that it almost convinced Vain of the man’s sincerity.

Almost, but not quite.

“Do you remember Angelique, Martin?” Priest probed softly, switching his gaze towards the ground. The mention of the name summoned the vision of the young girl calling out to him for help. The assassin visibly winced as needles of fire pierced his mind.

“What about Catherine, Martin? Do you remember her? Do you remember what happened to them?” Priest’s voice pressed forward, almost hypnotic. Again, the mention of the name broke something inside of the Dark Man and this time he cried out in pain.

“I’m going to make you eat your own liver, you fuck!” screamed Vain, his anguish building, as the wall around his memories started to crumble. “Everyone you’ve ever cared about is going to curse your name right before they join you in Hell!”

“Did your daughter curse you before she died, Martin?”

The Dark Man’s screams cut the air like a reaper’s scythe and his mind exploded.

Martin Roberts had been an officer in the Oklahoma City Police department. He enjoyed a perfect life with his wife Catherine and his beautiful daughter Angelique. They lived in a small, but comfortable house in a quiet suburb and were rarely disturbed by the various elements Martin faced in his day to day work as a beat cop.   

One night however, something happened that changed all their lives forever.