NIGHT IN THE CITY

Part I

By Wesley Overhults

San Francisco, California

People were capable of experiencing a wide range of emotions.  Feelings were complex things, often times bleeding into one another in ways that could be complementary and contradictory.  Rachel Roth knew this better than most people because she struggled with her feelings on a daily basis.  It came with the territory of being half-demon.  Her life was supposed to be devoid of emotion because feelings were a product of humanity and the daughter of Trigon the Terrible couldn’t afford even an ounce of that humanity.  That was what she was supposed to have been taught by the Church of Blood but life, as it always seems to, took some interesting turns for her.

Rachel had been tracking the dealer for the past couple of days.  Given that she was homeless and living on the streets of San Francisco, she had nothing but time to fill.  She had catalogued his comings and goings, making note of his routines and his regular customers.  Rachel never went in for drugs, especially not now when she knew how dangerous it could be for her to lose control of her emotions.  She had always told herself that if people wanted to willingly poison their bodies in order to feel better about themselves or just not feel anything at all then that was their personal choice.  Back then, she certainly respected the desire to numb the emotional pain of life.  Things were different now though.

Rachel never considered herself a hero or a role model.  She always had enough problems taking care of herself and she still didn’t think she was very good at even that task.  Looking out for the well-being of others never really suited her but in a weird way it always did.  That was what human beings were supposed to do, wasn’t it?  Weren’t they supposed to look out for each other, love and support each other?  Rachel grew up in the care of too many foster families but the last one she had took her to Mass on Sundays.  Though she wasn’t religious by any stretch, she believed that people were supposed to take care of each other.  They were not supposed to peddle poison to one another, especially not to people her age.  Rachel decided that if she was going to be human then she was going to help others, even if they sometimes weren’t aware that they needed it in the first place.

Darkness always made the colors on her emotional radar show up more vividly.  She watched from the shadows as the dealer took his client into what she knew was a dead-end alley.  Rachel had spent her time learning the streets of San Francisco very well.  She knew which alleys had the good spots to curl up and get shelter for a night’s sleep.  She knew which of them had coverage that could protect you from the occasional downpour.  She knew what streets connected with one another and how they did so.  This city was fast becoming her home, the only one she had besides her original one of Gotham City.  Nobody dealt drugs to kids while they were in her home.

Rachel flipped up the hood on her purple jacket, the one that had accompanied her during her exodus from Gotham.  The hood helped conceal her face from people.  Though the city was large and nobody really paid attention to homeless people, Rachel didn’t want to risk any of the criminals she accosted seeing her in broad daylight.  She stepped into the alley and stood there for a moment.  The client in question, a girl only barely older than Rachel herself, glowed with the bright yellow aura of fear mixed with the orange light of avarice.  Greed was a tricky emotion.  It wasn’t quite love, more lust or desire than anything else.  Greed and fear were a powerful combination and such a one that it could drive people to do very dangerous things.  The dealer, on the other hand, showed Rachel nothing but greed.  He wanted money and this was simply a business transaction for him.  He gave it no more emotion than she would give going to the ATM to withdraw cash from her bank account.

“He’s closed for the night,” she said as she moved towards the dealer.  “You can write the Better Business Bureau a nasty letter about the customer service.  I’m sure they’ll be interested.”

“The hell are you?” asked the dealer and now Rachel could see the red glow of rage mixing with the orange.  “You wanna be a good girl and wait in line or not?”

“I’m thinking ‘not’ is the appropriate response,” retorted Rachel while in the process of raising her hand and enveloping the man in the black energy of her telekinesis.  “I know you’re a drug-peddling scumbag but you could at least have standards.  This girl is my age and I’ve seen you deal to kids younger than that.  It ends tonight.”

The dealer flew through the air and his spine had an unfortunate meeting with the brick wall behind him.  Rachel kept one eye on him and held him there while she trained her other eye on the client.  The girl was cowering in the corner of the alley, the yellow aura from her so bright that it almost blinded Rachel when she looked at it.

“You can’t just come step to me and tell me I’m out,” said the dealer, still trying to fight his way free of Rachel’s telekinesis.

“Ever seen Cool Hand Luke?” asked Rachel.  “My foster parents loved that movie so I’ve seen it a few times.  I ask because what we have here is a failure to communicate.  You do not deal drugs anymore.  You do not carry them and you do not give them to anyone, especially kids.  If I see you dealing again, I’m going to find you and end you.  I will give you nightmares so terrifying that you’ll spend the rest of your life in an insane asylum.  That’s if you’re lucky.  If you’re not, then this is going to happen.”

The dealer screamed as Rachel slowly compressed the telekinetic bubble around his body, attempting to crush his bones in the process.  The light of his rage was replaced by the glow of fear but Rachel could still see red.  It was coming from her, the rage so hot that it burned just as bright as the dealer’s fear.  Anger was meaningless though, not without the willpower to act upon it.  That was the problem with emotions.  They bled into one another and fed off of one another.  You couldn’t just feel one thing at a time.  It was confusing and exciting all at once.  Feeling things made people alive.

“You’re dead, girly,” assured the dealer.  “I get my suppliers on you and then you’re dead.”

“I’ve been dead for a long time,” countered Rachel as the man’s gun and his supply of drugs floated from his pockets.  “Honestly, I’m actually starting to live.  It’s crazy to think that I haven’t felt alive until this point in my life.”

Rachel used her telekinesis to crumple the gun and the bags of pills into one ball and then dropped it in a nearby trash can.  It only took a small shove to crack the man’s head against the brick wall and knock him unconscious.  She was developing more fine control over her powers.  Her teleportations were getting longer and her telekinesis was becoming more fluid.  Rachel couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing, much like everything else in her life.  She looked over at the client and saw that the girl was still scared.  There was something else too though.  It was a faint blue light, the light of hope.  Rachel knew what it was like to feel like you were at the end of your rope, that things were hopeless.  Hope was perhaps the most resilient emotion though.  She had learned that people were never truly hopeless even when they believed they were.  Hope was easy to ruin but it was almost impossible to truly kill.  Like a cockroach, it always survived.

“I needed those pills,” said the girl.

“You need to get some help,” corrected Rachel.  “I’m going to take you to a treatment place and get you cleaned up.  You’re going to be okay.”

“I don’t have the money,” said the girl.

“Me neither,” admitted Rachel with a grin before looking at the unconscious dealer.  “I bet he does though.”

The girl smiled at her and Rachel could see that hope burning brighter.  She could see something else too.  Her rage had now been replaced with something else, the indigo hue of compassion.  Feelings were complicated things but they were what made people human and Rachel would never believe otherwise.  As she helped the girl out of the alley though, Rachel didn’t realize that someone was watching her from across the street.  The watcher disappeared into the alley behind her to avoid detection but Rachel still felt a lingering presence of something bad that she couldn’t quite place.

Foster’s Antiquities, San Francisco

Sebastian Faust, though he preferred “Foster” these days to avoid trouble, looked around at his rather spacious apartment located directly above his antique shop.  There were a few display cases in the main room that contained the treasures from his private collection.  Most of the pieces in question were from medieval times, a period of history that Faust found particularly interesting.  Faust enjoyed the finer things in life.  His shop, though modest in size, had gained a reputation for dealing in all manner of high-end antiquities.  In a strange way, that was what had brought his current, uninvited guests into his apartment.

“Just please tell your thugs not to break anything,” said Faust.  “I have some really valuable pieces here and I don’t want them destroyed.  If you wanted to discuss business then we could’ve met downstairs in the shop.”

The man that was the leader of the group nodded to the others.  Calling him a man was a severe and undeserved compliment.  Faust ran a hand through his black hair and looked at the person he had come to know as Brother Night.  Being a man who knew the value of researching their clientele, Faust knew Night’s real name but never dared to utter it in front of him.  Doing so would only invite death or a lot of pain at the very least.

“I wanted to meet here because I want you to remember that you aren’t safe from my reach,” explained Night, fixing his blood-red eyes on Faust.  “Now, we have some business to discuss.  Lately, my drug-related ventures have been taking a hit from someone.”

“Pardon my rudeness but I don’t see why that’s my problem,” said Faust.

This remark led the only female member of Night’s gang to grow angry.  Ember was a hothead, both in temperament and in abilities.  Faust could see the tiny flames sparking from her mouth and knew that one breath of fire from her could easily turn the entire apartment to ash.  Faust cared little about his own well-being.  It came with having only part of your soul and he knew that there were few things in the world that could kill him.  However, he wasn’t lying when he said he had valuable pieces in the room and watching them get destroyed would be a true crime indeed.

“I intend on making it your problem,” said Night, his gruesome features making his smile even more sinister.  “I want you to find out who’s been accosting my dealers and put an end to them.  However, I have a more urgent matter that needs your attention.”

“Another shipment coming in,” realized Faust.

Night only nodded in reply but it was enough for Faust to know that he was right.  If he had any regrets about his life, which was few and far between, Faust regretted the incident that led him to be in Night’s debt.  Night intended to hold that debt over Faust’s head in an effort to get him to smuggle illegal goods in with the shipments of merchandise that Faust received.  The smuggled goods were mostly drugs, though occasionally a couple of rare artifacts would sometimes need to cross the oceans of the world and arrive in San Francisco.  Most of the artifacts that Night wanted were magical in nature and Faust knew what Night wanted concerning this particular shipment.

“The Ramat Stones,” said Faust.  “An archeological expedition I secretly funded uncovered them and I paid almost a fortune to have them shipped here.”

“Most of the money you spent on that entire venture was mine,” reminded Night.  “You know that I want the stones to help cement my power here in this city.  It’s not enough to control the mundane crime.  I want the supernatural crime too and those stones will help with that.  Make sure they arrive safely and are transported to me as soon as possible.”

“Since I’m still in your debt, I’ll waive the finder’s fee as always,” said Faust.  “I’m beginning to think I’m never going to settle accounts with you, Night.”

“And what would give you that idea?” inquired Night and another cruel grin split his misshapen face.  “I’m sending these three with you to pick up the shipment just in case whoever is cutting into my business decides to show up.  Once I have the stones, you’re to work on the other task I’ve assigned you.”

“Tell Teddy to keep his pet bugs in his box,” warned Faust, glaring at the youngest of the trio.  “It’s always a disgusting sight when he has to kill someone with them.”

“Bugs have to eat too,” said Teddy defensively, holding the ornate box to his chest.  “I have to let them out every so often for a meal, right?”

“I’ll make sure these three behave themselves,” promised Night.  “I think our business here is concluded, Sebastian.  All of you better get going if you want to make it to the docks by the time the ship gets there.”

“Fine,” agreed Faust as he led the way out of his apartment.  “You can see yourself out.”

Night nodded and disappeared while his trio of goons went with Faust.  Faust sighed and realized that calling a cab was going to be murder with his three new friends, possibly literally in fact.  He looked at the other man in the trio, the man known only as Romalthi the Shaper.  Romalthi’s face, assuming he even had one, was covered by a mask that always changed its shape.  Whatever the mask looked like, Romalthi could turn objects or people into it with just one touch.

“We’re taking my car,” decided Faust.  “Teddy, do not open that box of yours so much as a crack.  Ember, do please try not to burn anything.  Romalthi, keep your hands to yourself unless you feel like walking to the docks.  Is everyone clear on this arrangement?”

“I can see why the boss doesn’t like you,” said Teddy.  “You’re just no fun.”

“If you’re all good boys and girl then maybe I’ll let you kill some people at the docks for fun,” decided Faust after unlocking his car and getting inside.

Rachel had one more stop to make before she turned in for the night at the homeless shelter she was currently using.  The coffee house was only a few blocks away from the shelter, a convenience that had factored into her decision to choose said shelter in the first place.  Reaching out to people and helping them was nice but there were few people that Rachel actually felt connected with.  Saving lives didn’t allow for personal attachments to those same lives.  She had taken the girl from earlier to a treatment facility and had used the money stolen from the dealer to pay for it.  Rachel assumed that the girl would clean herself up but there was just as good a chance that she didn’t.  It was the best that Rachel could do though.

“The usual,” she told the barista and then made her way to one of the empty computer terminals.

Like any teenage girl of the twenty-first century, Rachel practically lived on the internet.  She knew that it was a terrible thing to do when you were on the run from an evil cult that likely wanted you dead but she couldn’t help it.  Message boards and blogs helped her connect with people without actually taking the time to talk to them.  She could lurk on them for hours at a time and get to know people without leaving her comfort zone.  Rachel wasn’t quite sure if she enjoyed this idea, this faux connection that wasn’t real but felt like it was.  It helped ease the loneliness in her heart though.

As she clicked through her usual sites, Rachel’s mind drifted back to happier days when the world was young and her life held so much promise.  She remembered Megan, the best friend she had lost through the machinations of the Church of Blood that had ultimately claimed the girl’s life.  It had been a very long time since Rachel had anyone she could call a friend.  For most of that time, she preferred to be alone.  Now that she found herself forcibly isolated from the rest of the world, all Rachel wanted to do was connect with others.

“Thanks,” she told the barista as the girl handed her the coffee.  Rachel absently sipped the drink with one hand and surfed the internet with the other.

Checking the usual sites didn’t take as much time as it normally did.  Since she was afraid of someone from the Church of Blood tracing any posts back to her, Rachel was only a lurker and never said anything to any of the people whose blogs and posts she read.  It mirrored her life well though she chose not to reflect on it.  She had more immediate concerns on her mind.  She knew that someone was consolidating most of the drug dealers in the city.  A couple of the ones she had shaken down had spilled this information to her.  Given that she continued to meddle in this person’s efforts to control San Francisco’s drug market, Rachel expected reprisals to occur.  She was prepared to defend herself though if that was what it came to.  She knew that eventually someone would get a good look at her face and give her description to whoever called the shots.  Once that happened, enforcers would be dispatched to take care of her but she didn’t fear them.  After all, it was most likely that the person in charge was merely human and any goons they sent after her were just the same.  Rachel wasn’t worried about what normal humans might be capable of doing to her.

After finishing her coffee and logging off the terminal, Rachel came out of the cafe and pulled her jacket tighter around her.  It was then that she got that same feeling she had earlier after busting the dealer.  It wasn’t an emotional cry for help but it wasn’t quite the same emotional reading a normal human being would give off.  Aside from her dealings with the Church of Blood, Rachel had never encountered any other magic-users.  She assumed they existed but hadn’t made an effort to become a part of whatever community they might have belonged to much the same way she never made an effort to belong to any community.  Still, whatever this presence was it was clearly malevolent and it seemed to be focused on her.  It also felt somehow familiar in a way.

“So where are you coming from then?” wondered Rachel under her breath as she scanned the people she passed on the street and tried to feel them out.

The presence was growing closer.  She could feel it and she was starting to get a handle on tracking it.  Rachel’s eyes finally rested on a twenty-something blond girl, the kind who looked like she was still in college.  The blond definitely had evil intentions because once Rachel set eyes on her, she darted down the street.  Rachel swore under her breath and tried to give chase, knowing that a teleportation would attract too much attention on a crowded sidewalk.  The blond turned down an alley and once Rachel was safe inside its confines, she teleported in front of the girl and blocked her escape.

“I’m sorry I ran,” said the girl, backing up a little as Rachel strode towards her.  “I’ve been watching you for a while and when you saw me I panicked and . . .”

“You better tell me who you are and what’s up with you,” suggested Rachel.  “You’re giving off a bad vibe.  It feels human and not human all at the same time.”

Rachel studied the girl in the dim illumination of the night.  It took her a few seconds but then the girl’s face clicked into focus and Rachel remembered.  The blond was the same girl she had saved from committing suicide a few weeks ago.  At the time, Rachel thought the girl was completely normal but maybe that wasn’t the case.  Maybe she was a client of one of the dealers that Rachel had busted and maybe she was here to get some payback.  At this point, Rachel couldn’t exactly be sure of who to trust.  She was a stranger in town and still didn’t know the whole score.

“I just wanted to thank you for saving my life,” explained the girl.  “I . . . I’m only alive because of what you did but I’m afraid that now I need your help with something else.”

“Let’s start with your name and go from there,” decided Rachel.

“It’s June,” said the girl.  “My name’s June Moone.”

Port of San Francisco

Sebastian Faust didn’t enjoy working in the company of people like Brother Night’s associates.  Faust didn’t honestly enjoy working with anyone.  Sure there were the sparse employees that he used to keep his shop functioning when he had to perform certain excursions like his current one but really he didn’t enjoy working with anyone.  It was inevitable that if you worked with someone then at some point you would owe them something.  Faust never enjoyed owing anyone anything but he found himself in that position with Night and so he was forced to carry out gruesome tasks when required.

“Let me do the talking,” he told the three thugs.  “If things go bad, step in and do what you do.  We’re getting those stones one way or the other, your boss made that very clear.  Ramalthi, you stay out of sight so you don’t scare people.”

“You just run your mouth like always, Faust,” ordered Ember.  “We’ll be the muscle when you need it.”

“I’ll be the charming personality too,” cracked Faust as he moved towards the port authorities that were gathered on the dock.  “Evening to you fine gentlemen.  I have a ship that just came in with some very valuable cargo on it and I’d like the chance to have my associates here retrieve it.”

“Right, the one with the old crap on it,” said one of the men after checking a clipboard.  “It’s down at Pier 66.  You need a crane or something to help haul it?”

“Well, there’s only one item that I need in my possession immediately,” explained Faust.  “The rest of the stuff can be shipped to the address I provided but my boss wants me to take extra care with one item.  He’s very particular about his ‘old crap’ as you put it.  Thank you for your time, gentlemen.  I trust you’ll have a pleasant evening.”

Faust turned and began walking towards Pier 66 with Ember and Teddy in tow.  He knew that Ramalthi was around somewhere but he also knew that the shrouded man liked to stay in the shadows.  Faust preferred this whole operation to occur with as little abnormality as possible so it was a given that Ramalthi would have to hang back.  Ember and Teddy could pass for human but Ramalthi couldn’t.

“I could have burnt that insolent man to a crisp,” reminded Ember.

“And you would have to have done the same to the rest of his friends,” said Faust as he finally spotted the ship he wanted.

“What’s your point?” inquired Ember, clearly not seeing the need for tact in this situation.

“A fine evening to you,” said Faust as he hailed the ship’s crew.  “I know you’re very busy unloading but I have immediate need of one of the items on that ship.  We’d like to retrieve it and then we’ll be on our way.”

“Let them come aboard,” said a redheaded woman, adjusting her glasses and motioning for Faust and the others to come up.

“Dr. Cates,” said Faust as he greeted the archaeologist in charge of the dig that had uncovered the ship’s cargo.  “It’s nice to see you.  I was very pleased to hear the results of your dig.  I’ll have you know that I plan on taking very good care of these pieces.  Some of them will be going in my private collection and I’ll see that the others find good, reputable homes.”

“I would much prefer to see them in a museum somewhere,” noted Dr. Cates as Faust motioned for Ember and Teddy to remain on deck while he went below with her.  “What item were you looking for tonight?”

“The Ramat Stones,” answered Faust.  “I have a buyer lined up for them but he’s very insistent that I send them immediately.  Normally I would be more patient about these things but he’s paid a very large sum for them.”

“That’s an interesting item,” noted Dr. Cates.  “A set of seven stones, all with the same markings on them.  We were lucky to acquire the whole set all at once.  I have reason to believe that they were not left grouped together by chance.”

“I’ve read the legends on those stones,” said Faust.  “Rumor has it they possess great magical power if one believes in such things.  I confess I’m not one to put stock in that sort of thing.”

“No, you believe in the power of money,” countered Cates as she led Faust into an office and took hold of a piece of paper and a pen.  “Sign this and then I’ll take you to them, Mr. Foster.”

“I never make a deal without knowing all the terms,” said Faust as he carefully read the entire contents of the sheet of paper.  “Contracts are binding, Dr. Cates.  You always have to be very mindful of what you attach your name to.”

“Such as smuggling contraband into the country?” asked Cates.  “I know all about your checkered history, Foster.  Your business is dubious at best and I don’t have any intention of letting you take anything off this boat so you can peddle it to some black market dealer for a small fortune.”

“That’s some very slanderous accusations,” noted Faust even as Cates pulled a gun out of the desk drawer and pointed it at him.  “I’m sure you really don’t mean that.”

Cates blinked as her mind became fuzzy.  Sebastian Faust was born with a little more than just charm and a silver tongue.  He rarely had to use such magically persuasive powers as he now displayed but they came in handy for a variety of instances.

“I happen to believe in the stones,” said Cates, trying to steady her hand so she could get proper aim with her gun.

“If you believe in magic then you know what I’m doing to you right now,” said Faust.  “Let’s make a deal, Dr. Cates.  I promise to let you leave this ship alive as long as you give me those stones and then forget this rather unfortunate business with the gun and threatening me.  That sounds like a fair deal, doesn’t it?”

“It does,” she admitted.

“Of course it does,” agreed Faust as he continued to work his verbal magic.  “It’s such an easy bargain to keep too.  Just take me to the Ramat Stones and you live.  You can do that.”

“I can do that,” said Cates, absently putting the gun on the desk and then pulling a box from the bottom drawer.  “They’re in here.”

“Perfect,” said Faust as he opened the box and saw the seven stones arranged inside, snuggled cozily in its velvet lining.  “Now come with me and we’ll complete the deal.”

Faust took the woman’s hand and led her back to the upper deck but not before taking one of the Ramat Stones out of its case and putting it in his pocket.  Ember and Teddy looked to him as he came up from below deck with the dazed archaeologist in tow.

“I’m getting restless,” whined Teddy.

“What Night wants is all in here,” said Faust as he handed the box to Ember.  “We’re done here so you two can take Ramalthi and run along to your boss.”

“Don’t take that tone with me,” ordered Ember.  “What’s she up here for?”

“I have some personal business to discuss with her,” said Faust as he led Dr. Cates down the gangplank to the pier.  “Stay here and amuse yourselves or go report to Night, whichever you want.  Just remember that he wants the rest of this ship’s contents so don’t sink it if you end up having fun.”

“Teddy, you mentioned that your bugs were hungry,” reminded Ember as she turned her attention to the crew.  “I think they deserve a midnight snack.”

“Oh yeah,” agreed Teddy with a wicked grin as he realized that Faust had left the crew to slaughter.

“There, bargain done,” said Faust as he let Cates leave the ship alive.

“The crew,” said Cates as she tried to come out of her stupor.  “You never said . . .”

“I said you could leave the ship alive and you did,” reminded Faust before his eyes glowed green and emerald-colored energy leapt from his hand.  “As I said before, you really should be careful what you attach your name to.”

The energy struck Cates in the chest and something was yanked from her body.  She crumpled to the ground as her soul was forcibly removed from her body through the use of Faust’s magic.  Sebastian Faust was born with missing pieces of his soul and so he was cursed with the power to steal the souls from others.  It was his vain hope that some day he would accumulate enough stolen souls to regain the part of his that he wasn’t born with but that day hadn’t come yet.  Still, having only part of a soul did have its advantages.  It left him without remorse for the people he hurt as a result of his actions.

“I think this is going to come in rather handy,” said Faust as his hand clutched around the missing Ramat Stone in his pocket and he sauntered off into the night.

Next Issue: Rachel learns more about June and then June crosses paths with Sebastian Faust.