chapter ONE
Renaud
An empty, queasy feeling hit me like a kick to the stomach as I stared through the little circular cabin window and saw the sun set over the city skyline. It was like reliving my childhood over again, only this version didn’t possess the childlike enthusiasm that it used to. I hadn't felt this feeling for in so long that it took me a few minutes to realize that it was heartbreak. It was an emotion I hadn't felt for so long that I could hardly believe it still existed within me. Heartbreak, like love and happiness, were human emotions and I wasn’t human anymore. I was well aware that time had made me a monster. My soul was stained with darkness and like a disease, it ate away at my humanity until there was only an empty shell of the man I used to be. Not that I was a truly ever a righteous man or anyone else worth admiring.
It was a bittersweet moment as I stared through the dirt-stained glass, amazed by the beauty of the sunset. Hues of purple and pink were broken by streaks of neon yellow and orange. How many hours had I wasted with Jenny, staring at the blanket of color filling the sky? I had wasted so many moments and heartbeats on her only to be thrown away like used paper, discarded and easily forgotten. My happiest and worst memories were born here. An unforgettable first kiss that one can only share with their first love, the taste of betrayal that turns to hate as one realizes that the fairytale was just an illusion. All of these useless human emotions were brought back to life as I tried to wipe away the dirt to get a clearer view.
I ran my fingers along the short scruff of my beard, letting the scratching sensation dance along my skin as I tried to recall Jenny's image from memory, but I couldn't force it to the surface. I closed my eyes as I slowly pulled the little pieces of my past out of storage, sorting through the good and bad as if they were index cards. Yet, somehow I couldn't find a complete part of Jenny anywhere. The only trace of her that I could remember was the haunting image of those eyes that always screamed I need you more than I could ever explain. They had this sparkle of sadness that always made me want to reach out and hold her. Time had stolen every other part of her away like dust in the wind and yet something inside me longed for her. Even if I couldn't remember her face, those last words spoken between us always lingered on in the back of my mind, taunting me. If I still had a heart, I might even say that the look in her eyes as I blurted out that she was nothing but a common whore was like a ghost that I could never forget, haunting me forever. It was pain and fear that fueled my rage back then, making those few words slip out. I told her that she had choked the love out of my heart and I called it hatred, but even I knew it was a lie. Despite repeating it over and over again, I never believed it and no matter how much I begged for forgiveness, she never forgot it. The last thing she ever said to me was that I was a monster, and no matter how hard I tried, I could never forget those words. I wondered if Jenny would ever know how right she was with that simple statement. If she would one day look inside me and see the taint of darkness that now owned my soul like a slave to do its masters bidding. Something inside me kept whispering that we still had unfinished business. I had left too much unfinished business behind when I ran and now it was time to clean the slate. Tapping the window, I pondered just how much time he had left to clear up all his life debts. How much time would my master give me before he came to claim my soul once more. You never truly appreciate time until every heart beat dancing in your chest is like a stop watch counting down to zero second by second.
I felt the soft touch from Murlin's claws slowly drift across my neck, forcing my whole body to shiver uncontrollably. The endless cycle of torture and torment made the feeling of a gentle touch against my flesh as foreign to me as sleeping in a bed or drinking clean water. Another side effect of my isolation. I went from craving human contact to dreading it like every touch was a personal violation. "Come now master,” Murlin whispered. “We need to get you cleaned up. After more than a decade of being lost, you cannot just return home looking like a vagrant now, can you? You need to get cleaned up so you can play your part."
As she ran her hands across my face, the weathered skin on my palm scraped against the wide scar that ran from my forehead, across my eye, to my chin. I was sure it ran so deep that it cut into my skull, but I hadn’t seen my face for in so long that I didn’t remember what the man I used to be even looked like. My body had hundreds of scars just like it to remind me of my sins, and there were so many of them I had lost count. If only the world truly understood that actions and sins from this life followed into the next, perhaps they would reconsider their sins. My hands, once strong, seemed broken and weak like crooked twigs. So easily broken and forgotten.
"Oh stop feeling sorry for yourself," Murlin muttered. "You did the impossible." Her voice rising until it was almost an ear-piercing squeak. "You broke out of the ultimate prison. You climbed up from the very depths of Sheol." Almost dancing and with a grin from ear to ear, she continued. "I have served a thousand masters and loved them all like a good servant should, but I waited for you.” Giggling, she raised an eye brow, “I knew that you would be the one that returned."
I knew that she wasn't lying or trying to build me up to boost my ego. Even if I didn't want a lifelong servant Murlin would always be by my side and never leave me, no matter what horrors might be hunting me. It was in her DNA. She was born to serve me and those like me. She'd stay until the very end as she had done for generations.
"Don't call me master!" I snapped. One thought lingered though. I did not crawl out like she imagined. No, I woke up free from torment and lost like a child in the wilderness until she found me. Whether she was waiting or searching for me, I would never know, but either way she was there when I needed her the most. She was always there for me when I needed her.
Smiling a crooked, sexy grin she leaned in and said, "I promised not to call you master outside in public, but we aren't outside and you are my master." Raising an eyebrow, she patted my ass and added, "As much as I was born to serve you; you were born to be my master." Twisting her hands together, she said, "It's our destiny to walk the world together until your last breath, then I will be drawn to a new master and the cycle will continue again." With that she started to run her fingers along the top of my eyes like a mother cleaning up her child before Sunday church services. With an adoring look in her eyes she added, “I can’t remove all your scars. I don’t have enough magic in me for that, but I can cover most of them up.” After a slight pause she giggled, “Well most of the ones people can see, master, unless somebody sees you naked and then you are on your own.”
My eyes started to water and burn as Murlin ran her hands across my face. The burning slowly made its way down my neck pushing its wait upwards until it cburned my heart and soul. “I don’t need all the scars removed, just the ones people can see,” I said through clenched teeth. The thought be being naked made my stomach curl. I thought that I could handle any pain, but magic was a much different. I knew magic this powerful hurt to use it as well as it did to receive. Stories and legends throughout the ages had distorted it into black or white, but it was much more primitive than that. Magic was a flame and the bluer it was, the hotter it burned. As of this I moment, I was enduring the full effects of it. My whole body twitched and tightened as I tried not to scream out.
“Oh stop, you big baby. You were born to use magic so I know you can handle it. We are almost done, anyway.” She stared into my eyes with a confused look on her face. “I think I made your face too young.”
“Too young?” I didn’t think I would hear such a thing come from a woman’s lips ever again, yet there it was.
“I think I will make you look twenty-something again. Nobody will wonder how it is possible you still look so young and handsome after all these years.”
I tried not to smile, but I couldn’t help myself. Murlin had this way of making me grin, even on my worst days. Well, most of them anyway.
“Let’s just stick with thirty-something.” I would prefer magic
to keep the illusion and hide my true face until I could take a new one. It wasn’t exactly the moral way of doing things, but life wasn’t always going to let you be the knight in shining armor.
“As you wish, master,” she said as she rolled her eyes.
Even the softest tapping on the metal door of the cabin boomed like thunder. As it broke through the silence it snatched me back to reality. It made Murlin howl as she returned to her savage form, back arched and hair standing on end. She was like a small cougar with her claws out, ready to pounce as the hinges made a screeching sound as it opened. She didn't trust smugglers and hadn't truly been calm throughout the whole trip. It had been an uneasy journey back from Romania back to Canada. There was something about being smuggled back to one’s own homeland that made her suspect everyone onboard was out to get us. I had assumed it was the fact that she had lived so long and seen all the evils in men, leading to her only see the worst parts. The trip hadn’t been as bad as I had thought it would be, so far. Of course, the cargo ship’s crew either stared at me or ran away, treating me like I was an attraction at a freak show. I couldn’t blame them. Hell, sometimes I caught Murlin trying to hide that she was staring at me. It was part of my life now. Nobody pointed, but they definitely stared straight at me, always trying to hide their horror.
I turned around to find the captain smiling at me through the doorway. His name was Forrest Pillay, and he glanced down at his feet holding his hat in his hands.
“Excuse me, Mister Barthélémy sir,” he swayed from side to side, refusing to make eye contact. “We are about thirty minutes from your drop off point.” He was a short, stout man with thick ape-like arms covered in prison made tattoos. He reminded me of a big church bell with his constant rocking back and forth. “If you recall, Mister Barthélémy sir, our deal was four thousand down and ten thousand when we arrived.”
Digging into my pocket, I fumbled around until I grabbed a small envelope. I had already counted it out and had even added an extra thousand dollars for hush money. It wasn’t much, but it was all I could spare until I got back home. I tossed the envelope towards him and he snatched it up, holding it in his hand like he could count it just by the weight. Smiling, he whispered in his thick South African accent, “Thank you, Mister Barthélémy.”
“Aren’t you going to count it?”
“Oh no, Mister Barthélémy sir. I have this gift you know. I can tell it’s all there plus a little extra. I got this gift from my mother, you know, Mister Barthélémy sir. Yes, I have the gift.” Slipping the envelope into his jacket pocket he continued. “One thing though,” He shook his head and squeezed his hands together, “You see, Mister Barthélémy sir, the crew and I were talking and we feel that the risk we are taking is worth more than a lousy fourteen thousand dollars. We figure you must be wanted by the police or running from someone really bad, and that kind of risk should be worth more.”
I should have figured that they were going to squeeze me for more money. This was a stupid, amateur mistake and I should have known better. I was desperate though, so desperate to sneak my way home undetected and unseen. These sorts of people are not the kind you trust and evidently they had gauged me as a punk ass bitch. Reaching into my pocket I pulled out a small stack of twenty’s, but before I even counted them, I knew that it wasn’t going to be enough. With men like this, it was never enough. Counting the bills one by one I finally got to five hundred and sixty dollars.
“This is all I have, I’m afraid.”
Shaking his head regretfully he said, “Oh I am sorry Mister Barthélémy sir, but we were thinking more like five thousand at least.” Raising an eye brow and tilting his head he added, “I am afraid that we must insist.” This was followed by the sound of cracking knuckles as he opened and closed his fist. It was quite apparent that he was a seasoned professional at intimidation.
“You can insist all you want, but I only have five hundred and sixty dollars left to my name and that’s all I can give you. What do you want me to do?” I was getting nervous watching the little troll scan the room, his eyes lit up with greed. I saw the shadows moving just beyond the doorway, explaining the captain’s sudden courage. He had his crew ready to back up his demands.
The bastard was scanning the room with a scowl on his face. “Now Mister Barthélémy sir, if it was up to me I would say we should finish our business and go our separate ways, but the crew thinks you might have some number of valuables stashed away in here somewhere.” Rubbing his fingers together, he continued, “Let’s start with that fancy gold necklace hanging there around your neck. What’s it worth? A thousand dollars, maybe a little more?”
Covering the amulet, I lied through my teeth.
"What, this old thing? It's not even real gold, it's just gold plated." The gold it was made from wasn't what made it priceless. It wasn't even the symbol it represented, despite what most people believed. It was the soul stone mounted inside its unicursal hexagram that made it both priceless and powerful. Any fool could twist triangles to make a fancy design and fools have been buying such trinkets since the beginning of time. However, once the right prayer was said and a powerful soul added, it became a powerful weapon. Too powerful to lose at the hands of common riffraff.
As he stepped further into the cabin, the captain continued to rub his grimy fingers together. “Now Mister Barthélémy sir, if it's such a useless little thing you won't mind sharing it with us, will you?"
"Captain Pillay, this little trinket has great sentimental value to me. It belonged to my father and he gave it to me just before he passed away."
Still smiling, he made his threat. "Unless you have something else to trade, the boys and I are going to have to insist you hand over the necklace and anything else we may want." Staring at Murlin he muttered, "You can keep the ugly black cat though." Looking to his lackeys behind him, he said "That's not exactly the kind of pussy cat we like, if you know what I mean, Mister Barthélémy," followed by laughter.
Murlin didn’t hiss like most cats, she growled and went for the jugular. Her growls amused the captain even more and despite the glare I shot at her as I shook my head, she stood with her back arched, ready to pounce. She started to slowly pad towards them.
"Now I’ve seen everything! Mister Barthélémy has himself a guard cat! I never thought that I would see such a thing." Murlin's ears shot back and her howls grew deeper as she made her way towards him. Even after all these years, it still amazed me just how animalistic and savage she could be in that form. Of course, her other form was even more terrifying, and I hoped for the crew’s sake that they never met that version of her. The captain laughed it off like it was nothing, but he couldn't be more wrong. He was seconds away from being mauled like a toy and yet all he could do was point and laugh. He wouldn't be laughing much longer though. Nobody laughed after Murlin was finished with them. Well, at least not until the wounds healed and she was miles away.
Pointing towards the door, he said "Now look here, sir. I don't want this to get ugly and I think that you know damn well there is a lot more of us then you, so just hand over the goods. After that, we can let you off the ship. Then you get to leave the past behind and start a new life in Canada. It’s that easy."
I thought that even amongst thieves there must a code of honor. Hell, even crossroad demons, essentially the telemarketers of the underworld, had rules to follow. It was an unspoken thing, but it was still there.
"We struck a bargain and agreed to a price, but now you are telling me that your word has no meaning. The value of a man is in his word." I wanted to warn him to choose his next words carefully, but it wouldn’t have made any difference. Murlin was already halfway through the air heading, with claws extended, right for the captain’s throat before he finished his next threat.