The Dark Path Read online

  Vain adjusted his grip, and laid the blade against the young girl’s throat, preparing for the killing thrust. The girl ceased her struggles, and stared up into his eyes with a fear so intense he could almost taste it. He’d seen the look a thousand times before, but this time it seemed to trigger a memory buried deep within him. Another girl from another time, that same look on her face, but calling him for help. The recollection stung something deep within Vain, and he paused before looking at the girl a second time. For just a second the faces of the two girls blended together in his mind’s eye, becoming one and the same.

  Vain released the girl, and turned away.

  “If I see you again, you will die.” The memory that burned in his mind gradually faded.

  The girl stood her ground for a moment.

  “GO!!!” roared Vain, and whirled back around at her. The waif quickly turned and sprinted down the alley and back out into the street.

  Vain stood shuddering in the darkness. The force of his emotions shook him to his very foundations. A man accustomed to feeling nothing, the memories erupting from within him hit twice as hard, and eventually he had to sit on the alley’s cold cement to contain himself. Something was very, very wrong with the Dark Man and he fought to maintain his hold on what he perceived as reality.

  Voices shot like arrows through Vain’s memory. A woman, calling out to him to save her. The child crying in pain. And through it all, blood—crimson and hot.

  The assassin crumpled into oblivion.

  Chapter Four: Chapel

  The Dark Man awoke to an unpleasantly bright world.

  Attempting to sit up, he found his wrists and ankles bound to the posts of an old hospital bed. Glancing around, he discovered he was no longer in the alley, but in a white room bare of anything besides the bed he lay on. Checking himself, Vain realized his clothes, boots and the weapons they had concealed were missing. Instead, he found himself dressed in what appeared to be blue flannel pajamas.

  Pajamas? What the hell?

  Vain brushed aside the issue and focused on escaping. Straps bound him, made of leather and securely fastened with chrome buckles. Boasting minimal padding, Vain dismissed his chances of breaking loose without some sort of tool. The room itself had only one entry point, secured with a heavy steel door.

  There were no windows, and the walls looked to be made of solid concrete. In the corner of the ceiling, he spied a surveillance camera within a small cage, trained on the bed. Whoever had captured him had known what they were doing.

  If his captors were enemies intent on torturing and killing him, why did they dress him in pajamas and place him on a bed? In Vain’s experience, dead men weren’t afforded such luxury. Even the straps binding him, although secure, were not painful or even uncomfortable.

  The barred entry of the room opened and a large, dangerous-looking man entered, moving slowly across the room to stand beside the bed. Glaring up at his captor, Vain realized just how enormous the man actually was. Standing an inch or two below seven feet, he occupied easily twice the width of any ordinary man. His hands were like shovels and his face appeared to have been demolished with a bulldozer. Everything about the giant screamed of violence.

  “Welcome, sir,” rumbled a surprisingly gentle voice, “Do you require anything? Some refreshments perhaps?”

  Vain sought to retain his composure. Just what I need, the Jolly Queer Giant. Maybe I’m in Hell.

  “Where am I?” Vain asked coldly.

  “All your questions will be answered soon, sir. In the meantime, can I get you something?” Still the same gentle tone, as though correcting a misbehaving child and not a cold-blooded assassin.

  “Water.” The giant bowed and moved from the room, returning a short time later with a plastic bottle of chilled water with a straw attached. Vain cursed inwardly. He’d hoped for a glass that he might break, using the shards to cut his bonds, but it seemed his captors had done this sort of thing before.

  Taking a long sip from the straw, Vain allowed the cool water to trickle down his parched throat. Once he had finished, the giant again bowed, moving from the room without another word. The entire situation felt very confusing. The point of capturing and imprisoning a man like him would either be to obtain information or to kill him. This set-up contradicted the assassin’s instincts; he couldn’t fathom why his captors were treating him so well. Upon his release however, not one of them would die easily for this insult, and for the next few hours, Vain formulated a plan that he would bring into effect the moment his hands were loose.

  Death would reign in this white prison before the Dark Man left its walls, of that they could be certain.

  * * * *

  Priest stood and shook his head softly. His meditation had been disturbed by the Dark Man’s thoughts, seeping through the walls of Chapel and corrupting its harmony. Most people thought the Dark Man existed devoid of emotion, but Priest knew almost exactly the opposite was true. The pain within the man had sucked his emotions down to a place where no light could touch them, where they barely clung to life. No man could live in a vacuum however, and the Dark Man’s rage had filled the spaces the pain left empty; the man who remained now existed cold and without fear.

  This controlled fury made the Dark Man an elite killer. His other emotions dwarfed by rage, he did not feel fear in the same way most men did. Nor did he face the distractions a working conscience could bring. His rage sucked everything else away, including his memories. Vain thrived on his craving for the next kill. Nothing else mattered. This subconscious drive came from a time in his life when he had been unable to kill, unable even to defend himself, and he was determined to never let that happen again.

  Trying to contain his own fears, Priest looked up into the eyes of the giant named Tobias. Seven years ago this enormous man had come to Priest, still covered with dried blood, and begging for his help. Tobias had killed his wife and her lover with his bare hands, catching them together one afternoon when he had come home early.

  His wife had laughed mockingly at the giant, telling him that hundreds of other men had occupied the bed they once shared. The memory of her face still haunted him.

  Tobias had gone insane with rage. After bludgeoning the lovers to death, he continued through his neighbor, his landlady, and her cat. He disappeared for several days before finally heeding the call of Priest, and coming to Chapel for the help he so desperately needed.

  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 edg
e 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.

  Chapter Five: Entering the Path

  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.