print1.2- Fast Car
Supporting Cast
Scene 1- Outside Whiteman's Apartment
On the stroke of twelve, and for a scattering of minutes thereafter, Xariel stands outside Whiteman's apartment. Letting the cool air brush past him. Thinking. He listens to distant voices, traffic, the squeal of brakes in the distance.
He feels something moving in the far distance. West. He tries to follow it, but it slips further and further away. I wasn't known as the Wrath of the Relentless pursuit for nothing. So he follows, but still, too far.
Xariel focuses. His perception dilates, the edges of his vision blurring as his sight zooms in on a single, impossibly small point. He can barely see anything at this distance, but... California. The earth's moving in California. But that's not what he's feeling. He's feeling their prayers.
He has an impulse to fly to California. But then he hears sirens in the distance. He follows them, instead.
Scene 2- Accident Scene
Two uniformed police officers and some firefighters are trying to help a kid free of his car, which is crashed into the side of a residential building. Xariel flashes Max's old badge, and gives the officers as much help as he can. They eventually get the kid out of the car and into an ambulance.
One of the officers tell Xariel that the kid saw a flash of light that distracted him. The officer also talks about the news from Los Angeles. Hundreds dead.
Xariel rides in the ambulance with the kid.
Scene 3- The Ambulance
Kid's name turns out to be Mike. He says he was headed home from work at a 7-11. For somebody with lots of bruises and a broken leg, he's doing okay.
"They are such resilient creatures," Xariel comments. One of the nurses looks at him- and Xariel suddenly becomes sharply aware that both the nurse and Mike are black.
"Human beings. It's amazing how much they can take." The nurse shrugs, mollified and too busy to pursue it.
Xariel starts asking the kid questions. Turns out he saw a flash of light- says he thought it was a car, and swerved to avoid it. Xariel takes Mike's hand, and asks him to remember. Asks him what he really saw. And Mike answers. Blue and orange light. Angry eyes. Contempt.
The Dominion, Xariel concludes. He gets out of the ambulance as they reach the hospital. He's got to get back home, plan. There's nothing more he can do tonight. He focuses, tries to assume his true form and fly invisibly home.
He fails. Wings unfurl, but he rises, entirely visible and not under his own control. Ascending, drifting upward. He manages to land on the roof of the hospital, becoming Max again. He sees his hand pale, turn white, begin to softly glow. He feels them again. Prayers. From the west, still, but mostly beneath him. Pale, blue waves drifting over him, trying to change him, wanting him to be what he was.
The hospital. Full of people praying. Some of them are easy to ignore... but the ones who need him. Who need something more than the clinical, automatic whatevers that maintain the universe now. But he's not what he was. He pushes away his angelic aspect, dims the glowing in his hand, and returns to the street.
Xariel flags down a cab, and he and the cabbie ride back to Max's apartment in silence.
Scene 4- Max's Apartment
By two in the morning, Xariel is home and going through the phone book. Max may have been out of the loop, but Xariel can't afford to be. He marks a list of newspapers to subscribe to, chuckling as he notices Labazar's Devil's Own Truth in the phone book.
There's a knock at the door. Looking through the peephole, Xariel sees a man in the hallway. He's pale, brawny, wearing a blue silk shirt, and dead. He's playing in my domain, now. Xariel pulls his gun and opens the door. As the bruiser pushes his way in, Xariel slides back ten feet while keeping his gun trained on the newcomer.
The bruiser gives Xariel a "don't mess with the boss" pep talk, and waves around a knife that Xariel can tell is pretty old.
"The boss?" Xariel asks.
"Sandalphon." This is the first time Xariel's heard the Dominion's celestial name.
"Ah. He didn't tell you who you're dealing with, did he?"
Xariel stands taller, thinner. A soft glow suffuses his skin and trickles through his unfurling wings.
"Shit," says the deadman, and he grows, too, muscles bulging. Xariel can feel the bruiser expanding into the second world.
"I have a message for Sandalphon," Xariel says, and the name echoes on the sudden wind. "Stay away from the dead."
The bruiser raises his knife to strike. His arm is caught on the wind, though, and it begins to dry, then blacken, then flake away. The exposed bone yellows, browns, and crumbles, and his knife clatters to the floor. After a moment of consternation, he turns and stomps out the door.
"Stay away from the Tombs," are his last words to Xariel.
The angel picks the deadman's knife up from the floor and looks it over. It's heavy with age, and writing on the blade is in an ancient human language... not one Xariel remembers, though.
There's more to do, but Max's body is getting tired. Xariel collapses in the old man's bed... but not before setting the deadbolt and wedging a chair against the door.
Scene 5- Max's Apartment, morning
The lights in the bedroom have been on all night, but the sun has only recently risen. Xariel snaps awake, with none of the weird vagueness he sometimes deals with. Sleep didn't used to be a necessity, and rest didn't used to be filled with dreams.
He knows who I am. I'd better be ready for more visits from dead men.
Xariel smirks to himself. He had a nice shirt, though.
There isn't any silk in Max's closet, but Xariel makes do with a nice blue oxford.
Retrieving the morning's Tribune, Xariel can't even find local news on the front page. All about LA. Power out. Looting. Governor-elect Bustamante unreachable. Actor Brian Dennehy killed in his own home. That's a shame. Xariel has dim memories of Max watching Dennehy on stage with his daughter.
Attention must be paid. Something like that.
The local news starts on page two, and the only interesting bit there is some Missouri televangelist wanting to "bring God back to the people of Chicago."
He's so sure that's a good thing...
Phone calls are made, and subscriptions are purchased to every reputable or interesting newspaper Max and the phone book can provide. Hesitating a moment, Xariel makes one last call.
"'Quint.'"
"Xariel, that you?"
"Are you busy?"
"Morning routine. Looking at my collection of Japanese pornography."
"You can be here in an hour, then?"
"Uh, make it two. I have some stuff for you, anyway."
"Good."
Gathering up the file Mitch gave him, Xariel visits a copy shop down the street. As a younger man, Max might have flirted with the pretty girl who copies the file for him. Neither young nor Max, Xariel hurries through the process.
Xariel needs some perspective. Back at the apartment, he clears off one of the living room walls, and starts tacking up the report, sheet by sheet. He moves pages around, sorts them. Location, date, time. A dozen victims, spaced out a couple of days each. All kids. All runaways or might-as-well-bes. All in the Tombs.
A couple of days apart. He'll be getting ready to do it again.
There's a knock at the door. Wary, Xariel looks through the peephole, but he only sees Whiteman's chubby, balding form. He lets Labazar in, scanning the hallway as he does so.
Labazar flops down on the couch, sets a battered attache case on the coffee table.
"Bastard waxed Torimel last night."
"Who?" Xariel asks.
"The Beautiful Monster. Fought with us at Vejovis."
"...Right. Where?"
Labazar grins the bitter, voyeuristic smile of a good conspiracy theorist. "Apartment on the edge of the Tombs. Nasty scene. Blood and feathers everywhere."
Edge of the Tombs. I was there.
Xariel pulls the deadman's knife from the back of his belt by way of changing the subject. Labazar takes it, whistles. He turns it over in his hands, runs a finger along the edge...
"Now this is interesting," he comments. A red light shines from his fingertip, and the sharp edge of the blade turns translucent. The grooves in the blade deepen, take on the appearance of a feather.
"Somebody's feather. You smell any death on it?"
Xariel focuses momentarily. "No."
"Willingly given, then. Damn, it is old... look at this..."
"What?" Xariel asks, impatient.
"This script. Enochian. Bunch of babble about the first murder, and the city of Nod."
"The feather," Xariel realizes, "it's one of his."
"More than likely," Labazar shrugs. "Where'd you get this?"
"Took it off a corpse. While it was still moving, no less."
"Fine..." Labazar puts up his hands, "But if you've got this, then I can do somethin' for you."
"You said you had news."
"And you said you needed a weapon."
I'm too weak, otherwise.
"Well, I can do better than that. How would you like your weapons?"
The blades. Memories of sharp edges and taken souls glide by. "I'm listening."
"Guess I gotta explain this first. You know how Creation's running without us, now? Well, not quite. Every so often, something out there tries to replace us. Takes a human soul, and stuffs it up with little bits of dead angel. Gives it dominion over some little corner of reality. Think of 'em as witches, or patron saints. Poor bastards.
"Anyway, we got one of 'em that hangs around here. They call her the lost girl. You're missing a sock, a cat, your will to live, she knows where it is. And I'll bet," the Devourer says, leaning forward, "she can tell you where your swords are."
"Just like that?"
"Not exactly. First, you've got to get to her. I'll tell you about that in a minute. And second, you'll need this." Labazar pulls out a black document envelope, tied with a gold tassel, and hands it to Xariel.
"What's this?"
"A secret. One of his, one she'll want."
"And how did you get it?"
"Stole it from the Dominion. He drinks these days."
Xariel's eyes narrow suspiciously.
"What's his drink?"
"Vodka. Anyway, he found out. That's how I lost my claws."
"Now how do I find this... Lost Girl?"
"You need to do a little ritual. You take this candle," he draws a white candle from his attache, "you burn a piece of an innocent's hair, and you cross into the spirit world where I tell you to." He pauses. "Oh, and before you do that, the candle has to be blown out with the breath of a friend. That's the hard part. You got a friend?"
An image of Mitch floats through Xariel's head. "I can find someone."
"Alright, then you're set. Here's the place to cross." He hands Xariel a piece of paper with some scribbled directions, and gets up to leave.
"Wait..." Xariel says, as the other angel reaches the door.
"...put me down for a subscription, will you?"
Scene 5- The Police Station
At high noon, Xariel walks into Max's old precint. The sergeant at the desk is the same one from the last time he was here, and lets him head up to Mitch's office with a minimum of delay.
"Afternoon, Mitch," Xariel says, ducking under one of the beams running across the low ceiling.
Mitch blinks, and looks up from behind stacks of paper.
"Hey, Max. Anything interesting?" he asks, not very hopefully. Xariel asks to see the body again. Mitch sighs, tells him the Frost family wants it for burial. Seems they've brought in Lexington/Branche- a large investigation firm that's been hassling Mitch's office since they got onto the case. Scanning Max's memory, Xariel recalls Lexington/Branche being quite a pain back in '76, on the Katie Ballard case. An old Chicago firm, they've branched out from investigation into security.
Mitch and Xariel chat idly for a while. After telling Xariel that the mayor has gotten off his back a bit, what with all the talk of sympathy and financial support for Los Angeles, Mitch mentions that there was a fairly bizzare murder the night before. Leeza Reyes, an assistant manager at a Jewel-Oscoe, was shot several times in her apartment. The weird part, though, was that when the cops got there, there were feathers all over the place, and the kitchen was packed full of rotting beef. Intrigued, Xariel asks whose case it is. Mitch tells him it's in Detective Hertz's hands, and tells him the office is down the hall.
On his way out the door, Xariel turns and smiles a little. "Mitch... it's been a while since we spent any time together. You feel like getting dinner tonight?"
"Okay... Chinese?"
Xariel agrees, and heads down the hall.
Hertz's office is a little smaller than Mitch's, but the ceiling is at a comfortable height. Hertz himself is a man of about forty, with oily brown hair and a five o'clock shadow. He's a little gruff, but more than willing to talk about his case. It was the same address Labazar gave him. Hertz fills in a few details, but not much Xariel hadn't guessed. He'll have to do more digging himself.
Xariel leaves the station to visit Jill.
Scene 6- Angel Sanctuary
Xariel finds the shelter mostly empty, and Jill cleaning up the kitchen in preparation for the afternoon volunteers. Unsurprisingly, she looks tired, and she's happy to see Max's face again.
They talk a little bit about the state of the shelter. Jill tells Xariel that Sanctuary is likely to lose its lease, as part of an urban renewal project. Her landlord, Branche Facilities, is looking to turn the entire block over to "that bastard Simon Holmes." Holmes is a developer with a lot of influence on the project. The shelter management committee doesn't have much pull anymore, not since the chairman, Sandy Ballard, died. He left money to continue operating the shelter, but not enough to deal with Branche's demands, even if the legal issues with his heirs get sorted out.
Xariel offers what encouragement he can, and makes a mental note to see what help he can provide behind the scenes. Jill turns to throw out a plate of cookies, and he asks what they're for.
Jill chuckles. "Cookies for Wendy."
"What?"
"Didn't you ever read Peter Pan?" She smiles at him expectantly, but Xariel doesn't quite make the connection.
"The kids tell stories to each other- mostly the older ones to the younger ones. Fairy tales, Disney, stuff like that. Wendy is from Peter Pan. The little kids have sort of run with the idea of her as a mother figure... so they leave milk and cookies out at night."
"You ever take any for yourself?"
Jill grins, a little sheepishly. "Sometimes."
Xariel smiles warmly. "You deserve them."
Jill looks at the old man a moment, considering. "You know, people say a lot of things about cops, but you're alright."
Xariel smiles and thanks her. As if on impulse, he reaches out and takes a loose piece of her hair. She looks at him a moment, and he adds "Piece of hair on your shoulder." She smiles and nods, smoothing her hair out with one hand.
Xariel excuses himself, reminding her to call him if any more kids start having unusual nightmares.
Scene 7- Reyes's Apartment
Late afternoon is well underway as Xariel climbs the stairs to Leeza Reyes's apartment. He's fairly sure, now, that she was also Torimel, though he'll be damned if he can remember anything about the latter. Damned again, that is. There's a police line, but no one watching. Max knew a few things about sneaking around, so it isn't hard for Xariel to get inside.
Mentally subtracting the blood and the smell, the main area of the apartment looks pretty normal. Xariel finds bullet damage and signs of struggle, but the interesting details are a little more subtle. In the bedroom, there are piles upon piles of religious and theological texts. They span more religions than Max has ever heard of, but the bulk of them cover ancient Judaism and religions of the Fertile Crescent.
Also in the bedroom, Xariel notices scratches in the moulding. Looking closer, he realizes that they are two-dimensional representations of angelic script, the kind which humans first learned to write. The awkward medium would make it hard to read, but the text is so basic as to be unmistakable. It is the language's core symbol, the Name of God, scrawled in repetition around the entire perimeter of the apartment. In a few places, human words with approximately the same meaning are scribbled in above. Xariel guesses that it might be a prayer, or some kind of a protective ritual.
While following the moulding, Xariel finds something under the couch- a single black feather the forensics kids somehow missed. Lifting it up to the light, he suddenly remembers.
The war. A battle in the black seas above the moon. So far, it's been going pretty well- no serious injuries, and the loyalists in retreat to the moon's surface.
Suddenly, Scorbriel? shouts a warning- an unusual intersection in the paths of fate. Sandalphon orders his troops to assume a defensive formation. Xariel grips his blade- at the moment, a stream of jagged black ice floating in the sea of stars- just in time to catch the first sign. The void ripples, first an abstract pattern, and then a face that turns the stars cold. A massive hand reaches out, grabbing and crushing Eihotep?.
As its body ripples into view, the creature lets out a shout that throws the moon from its orbit. Sandalphon pulls Torimel from the path of the silver sphere as they both look on in terror.
As the attacker turns Xariel's blade aside, he catches its gaze.
The eyes of the Malhim were a terrible thing.
The memory is helpful, but it just raises more questions. Sandalphon was almost tender as he pulled Torimel away from the Malhim. It's difficult to reconcile that with the brutality spattered across the walls of her apartment.
Xariel's mind turns to another unanswered question. All of the dream-killings have been near here. Why? He reaches his senses into the shadow lands. It takes him a moment, but he finds what he's looking for. Beyond the human buildings, weaving in and out of them, setting their patterns, a faint blue glow streams downwards, its currents revealing a massive structure surrounding the entire area.
Xariel crosses over, pushing himself away from the wreckage of paradise, towards the strange and incomplete echoes of things long gone. He wanders among a forest of columns, tracing his way back to the place Kelly Frost died. He finds the spot, a still-glowing path towards whatever God prepared for human souls. He tries to follow, beating his wings and pushing down along the lighted path. But ultimately, the lights dim, and the path itself simply ceases to be. The only thing that goes on is that faint, streaming glow.
Oddly, momentarily, the glow reminds reminds Max of his father's aftershave. A moment later, Xariel realizes what it is. The breath of God, draining away from Creation along with the souls of Man.
Xariel walks away from the path, into a great, vaulted hall among the columns. This place is familiar. By the light of God's fading breath, he brushes dead leaves from the floor. There's an inscription there, in graceful characters:
"Here lie the human soldiers of the Vejovis assault. In their faith and their sacrifice, they light a lamp for their race. We shall never forget their faith in us, and we shall honor them by continuing to fight their war."
It was never their war, Xariel muses bitterly, but he continues down the inscription. Beneath more pretentious elegy, there is a list of names. Hasmed. Sabriel. Xariel. Avitu. Labazar. The list goes on...
...and Sandalphon isn't on it. Xariel wants to rage about that. Why didn't he care? But the rage won't come. Instead, he falls to his knees. They suffered for our war. They gave us their faith... and what did it get them?
Gradually, he becomes aware that he is not alone. From between the columns of the tomb, ghosts watch him. They watch an angel cry.
On the cold Chicago street, a hand closes on Max's shoulder. Looking up suddenly, Xariel shifts himself back into the world of Man.
"Max, are you okay?" Mitch asks. Xariel looks up at the younger man, and blinks his wet eyes. He stammers something as Mitch helps him up, steadying himself against the dumpster where they found Kelly Frost's body.
Mitch explains briefly that he came to talk to Jill, as they wait for a cab. They ride back to Max's apartment beneath streetlights and silence.
Scene 8- Max's Apartment
Mitch helps Xariel up the stairs- elevator's out, and the doorman's desk is as empty as it has been for years. Xariel rests on Max's couch, rubbing his eyes, as Mitch goes to make some coffee.
"I think your daughter's been here," he says from the kitchen.
"How can you tell?"
"There's a bunch of food in your fridge, and some prescription bags on your counter."
"She leave a note?"
Mitch doesn't see one. Xariel asks him to play back the answering machine. There's a message from the building superintendent about roach spraying, and one from Mitch, asking Max to call him back. Deleting it, Mitch explains that he called before he went to talk to Jill. He asks if Xariel still wants dinner.
"Sure. I don't think I'm up to Chinese, though."
Mitch smiles, brushing his hair back in a gesture oddly reminiscent of Jill. "Pizza, then?"
"Sounds good."
Mitch starts looking for paper plates. Thinking about Max's daughter, Xariel thinks back further, to the wedding. Hopes and dreams. A handsome young policemen (he thought so, anyway), a blushing bride... everyone thought it would last forever. It didn't. There was some nice china, though. Xariel stops Mitch's rummaging and finds it. White, with little blue flowers. As the pizza arrives, he sets it out on the table, sets the candle Labazar gave him in the middle, and lights it.
The two of them sit down, talk about nothing much at all; weather and cases and old friends. Before they know it, they've finished off dinner. Xariel takes the china to the sink, and asks Mitch to blow out the candle.
As Mitch heads out the door, Xariel says it was nice to see him again. Mitch smiles, and apologizes for not having come around more often- work, you know. Xariel tells him he understands.
After the door shuts, Xariel walks over and looks at the candle. The wax at the top is still liquid, but tiny ice crystals are beginning to form around the sides. There's a troublesome relationship between using humans and protecting them. The tomb is proof enough of that. But Sandalphon needs to be stopped.
Xariel walks towards the bedroom.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow I find my blades.
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