Chapter Thirty-One: Father and Son
JARED Haverford jogged through the tamed wilderness of Golden Gate Park in the early morning darkness. It was his favorite run, especially in the wee hours when it was largely deserted. The park's emptiness coupled with the simplicity and purity of his run -- the focus on his breath, on his beating heart, on the pounding of his feet on the pavement -- left room for little else. It helped him put aside the bustle of his life, his worries...his pain and disappointment. For a little while, at least.
Sometimes love just isn't enough, he thought, his sadness and frustration rising. He refocused on his breathing, struggling to push the unwelcome feelings aside.
inhale, pound, pound, pound, exhale, pound, pound
Jared had always liked the predawn stillness. The expectant hush that filled the world as it waited in breathless anticipation of the new day allowed him to feel as though he was part of that rebirth. He sometimes felt as though the silence thinned the barrier between him and whatever was on the Other Side. He didn't exactly believe in God, but his place in the universe always seemed closest to revealing itself while the world stood poised to begin anew.
I could use a little help here, he thought, hoping the thought might reach the Other Side while the barrier was at its thinnest. He shook his head in frustration, pushing his feelings into the background.
inhale, pound, pound, pound, exhale, pound, pound
He checked his watch -- 05:41. He was expected at the firm to help with a deposition by 08:00. He checked his breathing as he ran, turning down a small side path that passed into deeper shadow as it circled Stow Lake. He would do two, maybe three laps before heading back out. He smiled as he met another jogger coming the other way, a perky blonde with a small puffball dog at her side. His smile widening at its enthusiastic, loopy expression. The woman smiled back when their eyes met. She seemed to follow the reverse course he preferred, sometimes crossing paths with him two or three times in a single run.
He briefly considered changing direction for next morning's jog to encourage a meeting, but immediately gave up on the idea; being unfaithful to Penelope -- even in thought -- hurt too much. He had separated from his wife and daughter not two months ago; he still had hope for reconciliation...but if he was being honest, that hope was beginning to fade.
inhale, pound, pound, pound, exhale, pound, pound
The love was still there, he was sure of it, but somehow they just hadn't been able to make things work; their last year together -- their previous year together, he chided himself -- had been one long string of misunderstandings, missed opportunities, and arguments that seemed to grow meaner with every iteration. Their last fight had nearly escalated to physical violence before Marnie's crying had brought them both back to their senses. He suspected that was the reason Penny had decided to move out, to the East Bay, bringing little Marnie with her to the little Oakland house she'd found on Craigslist.
inhale, pound, pound, pound, exhale, pound, pound
He had offered to rent it for her, hoping that perhaps it would force them into contact after a little time apart, had gotten a little distance and perspective, perhaps let some of the poisonous emotion drain. God knows, after the promotion he'd gotten, he could afford it. For a little while, at any rate. She had reluctantly agreed, perhaps feeling the same way. He hoped so -- the emptiness of their dream home in the Sunset was slowly driving him mad.
Sometimes, love just isn't enough, he thought again, struggling with the tide of despair as it reached a new high-water mark.
inhale, pound, pound,
"It rarely is." The voice came from the darkness ahead of him, breaking into his circling thoughts.
He looked up to see a man standing under a tree by the path, watching him, the light reflecting strangely in his eyes. He stumbled to a stop as the man smiled -- something more sensed than seen in the shadows.
Jared frowned as the man stepped forward into the streetlight, his smile widening. Though he looked plain -- a dark pea coat was his only memorable feature -- Jared took an involuntary step backward, his already pounding heart racing with fear.
"Who..."
Jared yelled in surprise as the man abruptly lunged, his fists coming up a second too late. He screamed in horror as he felt teeth in his neck, smelled blood, felt his flesh tearing with ripping red agony accompanied by a series of muted, meaty pops that he felt more than heard.
He's biting me!, he thought through a haze of unreality as he struggled to get the man off, shoving helplessly at his chest. He would have laughed at the absurdity of the situation if the smell of rot and old blood -- and fresh blood -- hadn't been so rank in his nostrils as he felt the man's jaw moving against his chin and throat.
He screamed as the pain abruptly drove deeper, sizzling from his fingertips to the back of his head, as though he'd touched a live wire, his hand jerking spasmodically. He tried to pull away, horrified as the man's teeth embedded in his flesh checked his movement. Jared stumbled, still trying to push the man away as he felt warmth running down his belly, down his thighs. He still couldn't believe this was happening to him! He screamed again as he was knocked roughly onto his back, his head bouncing off the dirt of the path. He saw a flash of white, was momentarily stunned at the blow to the back of his head.
He was dimly aware of being dragged more deeply into the shadows. The canopy of the trees formed a darker blackness against the faint hint of grey in the sky, the darkling pattern spinning and twisting as his head bumped along. A vision of Marlene abruptly filled his sight, Marlene's infectious giggle echoing around him as he lay stunned; the image was so strong he tried to sit up, reaching for her, suddenly wondering if he'd over slept. The pain in his neck and shoulder drove him back down, the darkness of the deeper shadows making him dizzy.
The movement abruptly stopped, the cold lethargy in his extremities painful -- but nothing compared to his throat. He tried to close his mouth, suddenly terrified bugs from the overhanging foliage might drop into it, but the muscles didn't respond, tearing pain racing up down the side of his face and neck. A face appeared over his, smeared with blood. For one instant, his vision cleared as though some dark fog was briefly blown apart, the man's features rippling in a smoky heat-haze.
Jared screamed in horror at the rotting, grinning visage, the surge of adrenaline clearing the shock-induced cobwebs from his mind. He screamed again when the man bared his bloody fangs, Jared's eyes falling on the ragged bits of flesh -- his flesh -- stuck between the man's teeth. He kept on screaming as the man leaned over him, his vision filling with white serrated edges...
Tobias stood back from the trail amongst the trees, wrapping the shadows tightly about himself; it was a Talent discovered shortly after his Return, Glamour borne of instinct and need, granted indirectly from his Father...his creator.
Worry briefly scuttled across the surface of his thoughts as he felt the strengthening pull of his Father's will. Movement down the trail drew his attention, distracting him. His allowed his worry to be submerged by his hunger, his need giving strength to his resistance.
Father can wait until after I feed, he thought distractedly. Dimly, through the haze of his hunger, he knew this line of thinking was fallacious, but the thought was quickly buried when the jogger rounded the bend, her ponytail swaying as she ran. He watched as the petite blonde jogged past, her little white dog looking apprehensively at him. Animals sometimes pierced the shadows he pulled around himself, perhaps intuitively sensing his predatory malice, reacting to instincts that had become atavistic in his preferred prey. He released the shadows just enough to meet the pathetic little dog's eyes, amused at its ensuing panic as it scrambled to escape, imprisoned by the leash. He gloated at the prospect of holding it in his hands, unable to escape, feeling its heart racing with fear...twisting it until it squealed, breaking its bones one by one until it expired.
Run! Run little doggie!, he thought, struggling not to laugh as its terror.
His gaze transferred to the g
irl as she stopped by the trees, watching as she bent over, hands on her thighs. His gaze slid over her legs and hips, the black leggings she wore emphasizing her curves. Seemingly of its own volition, his hand crept down, sliding behind the waistband of his sweats. A slow rhythmic movement began as he listened to her reassuring murmuring, his unsuspected proximity and her vulnerability adding to his hunger, his need.
He began salivating when she knelt, admonishing the little dog as it yipped, helplessly prisoned by its leash; soon he would feed. He hesitated a moment longer, teasing himself, basking in anticipation as he delayed his gratification, knowing it would be that much sweeter when he finally took her. He began stroking more quickly, his gaze fixating on the pulsing in her throat, his arousal and hunger eliding into a single predatory instinct.
Any second now!, he thought, wrapping the shadows more tightly about himself as he moved forward. He debated briefly whether he would feed first or play first; though he preferred to play first (his stroking became more insistent) lately it seemed so hard to stop feeding once he started. The smell of her sweat began hazing his thoughts, her heartbeat beneath her rasping breath making it difficult to think. He bared his fangs as he realized he was close to climaxing, his eyes flaring orange in the shadows. The little dog screamed in terror.
He stepped forward, intent on his prey.
No.
The thought came into his mind, cutting through his arousal and hunger, bringing him up short as though he'd run to the end of a steel leash.
Archangel...Father!, he thought, the recognition sending a wave of terror through him, his arousal wilting in his hand -- though his hunger raged unabated. His muscles quivered as he strained against the imperative, a cold hand on his shoulder giving the imperative strength, No, my son. Not this one.
Tobias watched as the girl straightened, throwing one last uneasy glance toward the shadows under the tree where he stood -- right at him without seeing him -- before turning away, the little dog pulling its leash taut as she eased back into her jog. He made an inarticulate frustrated noise in his throat as his intended prey escaped. The scent of old blood, stale and cold filled the air as his creator whispered in his ear, "I have been seeking you, Tobias. You've been resisting my call; you've forced me to come to you."
Tobias shuddered at the sad reproof he heard in his creator's voice, the cold flesh of Archangel's hand on the side of his neck eliciting an involuntary flinch.
"Father," he started, hating the whimper he heard in his voice. He felt the cold, rough skin of Archangel's hand slide up the side of his neck as his front pressing intimately against Tobias' back. Tobias whimpered as Archangel's finger rested lightly on the lobe of his right ear, his nail tracing a circle around the opening.
"Wayward children must be punished, else they don't mind their elders," he hissed, the smell of old blood strengthening as the breath from his cold lungs caressed Tobias' ear.
"Father!," he repeated, desperation making his throat tight as a small trickle of blood ran over his earlobe, "I'm sorry--"
He was interrupted by the slow, deliberate movement of Archangel's finger into his ear, hissing in pain as the finger forced its way deeper, the nail tearing sensitive flesh until it pressed against his eardrum, the pressure sending a flash of sparkles across his vision. Tobias' every muscle strained against his father's prisoning will, but he was bound as firmly as the little dog had been.
"Father! I'm sorry! I--"
His back arched as the nail began sawing gently against his eardrum, the percussive friction sounding like a cottony jackhammer, the pressure excruciating over the rasping tearing sound that filled his mind.
"Go on," Archangel said, his voice filled with patient reproof.
"I didn't resist! I was going to answer it after--"
He felt his eardrum shred with a series of percussive pops, his back arching as a high pitched whistle of agony escaped the locked muscles of his throat. The trickle of blood increased, slicking his ear canal, every lost drop feeling as though he was being pulled inside out, the terrible void of loss felt all the way to his toes, the loss only serving to add to his hunger even as the agony made him want to scream.
"After?" Archangel prompted.
"I fed! Just this one feed!" Tobias panted.
He heard -- felt! -- the crackle of bones as his father's finger deliberately crushed the bones in his middle ear as he tried to squirm his head away, his high pitched, agonized squeal disturbing something in the undergrowth nearby, the brush rustling as it fled. He tried to shriek an apology, begged him to stop as he squirmed to escape his creator's will. His vision went white with pain, his hands spasmodically drumming against his thighs. If he had still been human, he likely would have passed out.
He squealed in red agony as the finger hooked into his ear jerked his head down and to the side. He dropped to his knees, feeling the finger squirming painfully in his skull.
He felt Archangel's breath against the side of his neck, as his other hand crept around the side of Tobias' head, his cold, papery skin sliding against his cheek until he felt a finger resting roughly against his eyelid, a trickle of blood running like a tear streak down his cheek.
"Please!" he squealed as the pressure increased, a red and white kaleidoscope blossoming across his vision.
Archangel's voice was strangely muted, "Will you disobey my call again, my son?"
Tobias squirmed against the grinding agony in his ear as the finger mercilessly augured deeper, against the tearing pressure against his eye as his father's hands held his head in place.
"NO! NO! NO I NEVER!" he bawled incoherently, his agonized whimper almost a scream, tears running freely down his cheeks.
Abruptly Archangel withdrew, the steel cage of his will vanishing. Tobias collapsed to the damp soil underfoot, both hands clapping against his injured ear as he wept. Archangel stood over his favorite son, gently sucking on his bloodied fingertip, studying his get contemplatively.
Spare the rod, spoil the child, he thought sadly, listening to Tobias' bubbling agony.
He knelt, sadness filling his face. Tobias flinched as he gently cupped his child's cheek, "Come my son, we have work to do."
Tobias scrambled frantically to his knees as Archangel pulled something from his jacket pocket. The smell of warm blood filled the air, inducing Tobias to salivate despite his fear and agony. Archangel held out a wallet which Tobias reluctantly took, drawn by the scent of fresh blood. Archangel smiled at him encouragingly, like a parent reassuring a frightened child.
Tobias flipped open the expensive leather billfold, studying the drivers license, seeing a man with dark brown hair and dark eyes staring back him. Opposite the driver's license, he saw a dark haired woman smiling, her dark grey eyes captivating, his suffering momentarily forgotten as studied the picture. He flipped through the photos in the plastic insert, his breath hitching as he paused over a photo of a deliriously smiling girl. She was perhaps four years old, dressed in a bright green Ninja Turtle onesie, sitting amidst the wrack and ruin of opened presents, a Christmas tree twinkling merrily in the background. He lightly touched the photograph, eyes wide, his shaking finger leaving a faint film of blood as he gently traced her features. His eyes drifted upward as he flipped back to the woman's photo in its clear plastic fold, noting a small slip of paper behind the photo, a faint hint of blood soaking into the exposed edge. He pulled the slip of paper loose, noting the spidery black writing: Penny, 431 Tinsel Drive.
He looked up at Archangel questioningly, flinching slightly at his creator's luminous yellow eyes as a small smile played about the corners of his mouth, "Yes, my son -- a gift from me. Keep the wallet, it might help you. Feed! Satisfy your need! Then seek me out."
A brief expectant silence passed between them as Tobias stared at his master. Even as the jagged agony in his head began to reassert itself, he noted tension in his creator's shoulders, a barely contained glee surging beneath his surface calm. Abruptly Tobias' eyes widened as underst
anding penetrated the haze of hunger and pain clouding his thoughts.
"You've found her!" he said, wonder filling his voice.
Archangel smiled, his expression becoming predatory, Tobias' hunger reflected in his eyes, "Yes," he said simply. "Dispose of the bodies when you're done, then burn the house."
"Yes, Father," Tobias breathed.
Archangel smiled, licking his fangs, tasting his own blood, "But first, we must dine together, my son. We must hold back the beast a little longer."
His smile widened at Tobias' surprised expression, "There should still be a little meat left on the bone..."
The Tower