‘Come to church.’
Those were the only words Declan uttered when Jalen had placed a call. Luckily, The Black Book had left further clues about where the meeting was to take place. Clues that were a smoldering pile of ashes right now.
Currently, he soared over the nightscape of Hermosville, smack dab in the middle of Oldtown, the historic district of cobblestone streets and Victorian architecture. The many lights of the city below drowned out any landmarks he could use as reference. Fortunately, where he was headed stuck out like a sore thumb.
In the seventeenth century, the parish of The Cathedral of Saint Francis Xavier was established with humble beginnings, starting out as a small wooden structure. As settlers flocked to Oldtown and the town flourished, the parish thrived. Its glory days came in the nineteenth century when the original wooden chapel was replaced by a grand stone cathedral. However, with the arrival of factories, Oldtown was left behind, becoming the historical district it was today.
Nevertheless, the Cathedral still stood strong, hosting masses during the day and harboring members of The Black Book at night. Up ahead, he spotted the cathedral and began descending towards it. The church grounds appeared calm and deserted, but Jalen knew better. His superhuman senses warned him of multiple signatures dwelling below ground level. He could faintly hear their conversations, sense their warmth, and perceive their fear.
To the left of the compound was a burial site with low-cut grass, only slightly littered with dead leaves. The cathedral stood tall, its facade characterized by intricate stonework, pointed arches, and detailed carvings depicting biblical scenes and saints. Soft streams of light emanated from the cathedral, their path partially impeded by the tall stained glass windows lining its walls.
While ascending the stone steps, he transformed back into his human form, straining as the four duffle bags he carried suddenly weighed much heavier. The wooden double doors of the grand entrance were open, slightly ajar, so he slipped in. A nun, engrossed in her book, sat to the right just before the wide central nave. She notched her glasses up, taking him in without uttering a word.
“Nostram defendere ac tueri est Liber Niger,” he said.
The nun nodded, ascending to her feet. She led him through the nave with a high vaulted ceiling supported by rows of massive stone columns. The plush red carpet beneath their feet softened their steps as they passed through the aisle, flanked by rows of pew chairs. The vaulted ceiling curved downward, framing the altar ahead. A large stone crucifix hung on the wall behind the altar, the Jesus’ gaze fixed on them as they ascended the altar steps. He could only wonder if Jesus was real as he met the statue’s gaze.
Nostram defendere ac tueri est Liber Niger meant to defend and protect our own is The Black Book. It was a shame he planned to break that vow today. The Black Book had their use if he was to make the city into his stronghold against the coming times. But his recent stint in his universe had opened his eyes and revealed to him the error of his ways. Before, he had been playing like a mortal. Never again.
The nun bowed before the altar table, where candles burned and incense coated the air. Then she walked behind the table, reached under it, and pushed a lever. A mechanical click was audible. The far wall of the altar, below the Jesus statue, was adorned with red and white curtains. The nun spread a section of the curtains, revealing a metal door, which she pushed open.
He stopped at the doorway, peering into the tunnel below that was sparsely lit by old-fashioned light bulbs. “I expected it to be more hidden.”
“You must be new,” she said. “Well, it is normally a dead end. The switch just revealed a passage below. Now move along. I need to close it up.”
The stairs, made of sturdy stone, had been worn down by centuries of use, giving them a soft appearance as if they had been molded in a kiln. He followed the narrow tunnel to the right, left, and right again. Up against a wall, another metal door stood. There was a vacant space between the tunnel and the door, almost like a slab of stone was supposed to be there. Studying the scuff marks on the walls of the space, he found the giant slab of stone hidden in a recess to the right.
Not bad.
Before he knocked on the door, it swung inward to reveal a man dressed for combat with heavy body armor and a ski mask obscuring his face. They observed each other for a few tense seconds.
At last, the man shuffled to the side. “Come in. I will take you to the boss.”
With a confident gait, he stepped past the man—repositioning a duffle bag that slid down his shoulder—into the narrow corridor. The groan of the metal door swinging close and the clicks of locking mechanisms sounded. Afterward, the man moved ahead and beckoned him to follow.
The hideout was a stark difference to the stone tunnels that descended from the cathedral. Fluorescent bulbs illuminated the long corridors the masked man led him through, its walls exposed concrete with recesses for gunmen to rain fire down the hallways.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
If Jalen could only classify the place with one word, he would call it an ecosystem. The hideout spanned three levels, with meeting rooms, armories, living quarters, gaming rooms, armories, recreational facilities, and armories. Yes, the place was packed to the teeth in weapons, with only a few men to make use of them. Paranoia and fear hung heavy in the air, a palpable tension that resembled the pressure exerted at the bottom of the ocean. The men were never too far from their guns, some staring into the distance at nothing, and flinching at the slightest unfamiliar sound.
It was on the third level he spotted Declan, Finnegan, and Nikolai. They were in what appeared to be a vault with many cabinets filled with stacks of pristine paper money, gold bars, and gems. Finnegan, Nikolai, and a handful of other men were transporting crates of the valuables out of the room, while Declan stood to the side, watching.
“Boss,” the masked man said. “He’s here.”
Declan turned, a neutral expression fixed on Jalen. They locked eyes, no words being exchanged. It was Declan who finally broke eye contact, turning to observe his men once more. He moved beside the underboss of The Black Book.
“You sure took your time,” Declan said.
“It took longer than I thought it would.”
“It always does,” Declan grunted. “Exterminating rats is no small feat. They stare at you like you’ve betrayed them by putting a gun to their head. After all they’ve done. Can you believe the fucking nerve?”
“You were busy this past week, then?” He glanced sidelong at the mobster.
“That is an understatement. Me and the boys put in overtime. It was like the fourth of July in September. The only fucker we didn’t nab was—”
“Antonio Lombardi?”
“So you got Aldo to talk. Good one.” Declan lit a cigar. “The evidence points to Antonio being backed by the law. I’ll get to him, eventually. If I survive Shadow’s cold blade. Mind telling me why you are saddled like an overburdened horse?”
He dropped the bags to the floor. “Aldo’s. His secret stash.”
“Hm. How much?”
“About 3.5 million.”
Declan nodded with approval, savoring the tobacco smoke. “Take about 2 mill. Leave the rest.” Then the underboss placed a hand on his shoulder. “Then you skedaddle. Don’t contact me or any of my men until this shitshow blows over. Consider the money your compensatory reward for freeing me and any troubles we caused you. You have a bright future ahead of you, Jalen. Don’t flush it down the drain with the rest of us.”
Taken aback, his mouth hung open before some words slipped through. “Why the compassion? You don’t strike me as that kind of man.”
“Wow! That hurts.” Declan chuckled. “I’m looking at things from a logical standpoint. I’m at the end of the road now and Shadow’s gunning down toward me in a semi. There’s nowhere else to run for an old dog like me, Jalen. This is it. There is no place in this world devoid of shadows. But It isn’t all gloom. If I somehow survive the impact from that eighteen-wheeler, then I’ve got a proposition to make to you. And this time, I won’t beat around the bush, sending you on pointless errands that insult you.” Privy to his growing perplexity, Declan added, offering him a handshake. “I am a damn good people reader, Jalen. The best there is. I even surpass the Don in that regard. I know not what you are, but I’d be lying if I thought you were human.”
They both held a firm handshake while Jalen tried and failed to glimpse a sliver of the underboss’ heightened perception. The man was just unreadable. Regardless, everything falling into place as he wanted in a roundabout way, he picked two of the full duffle bags which equated to $2 million, gave Declan a brief nod, and turned toward the door.
However, tremors that rocked the entire hideout stopped his advancement. Seconds later, an even larger shockwave reverberated through the walls. The men transporting the money and valuables paused and looked up. Declan shouted at them to pick up the pace before snatching the radio at his belt and speaking through it.
“Status. Status. What the hell is going on up there?”
A rushed, trembling voice replied. “We’ve been compromised! It’s him! It’s Shadow.”
The vault room fell into a frenzy of panicked activity, as the men redoubled their efforts, throwing the stacks of money into garbage bags. It was a messy affair now with some notes flying wayward.
“Shit! Shit! Shit!” Declan stamped his foot with red-hot, fiery rage. “Does this fucker ever give it a rest?”
Nikolai peeled off from the men and drew near, acknowledging Jalen with a nod. The Russian man seemed to be the most level-headed person present now. Besides Jalen, of course. “Boss, what do we do? We don’t have the time to take the rest. Shadow moves quickly.”
Declan shook his head in resignation, then looked each man in the eye. The expressions on their faces practically pleaded with their boss to let them go.
“Boss.” Finnegan stepped forward. “Let me head up. I’ll stall him as long as I can.”
Declan shook his head again, much more frantically this time. “No. He’ll butcher you before you can even think to blink. What’s done is done. We’ll cut our losses. Take what you can into the tunnels. Nikolai, burn the—”
“No need.”
Everyone turned to Jalen, who had his hands in his pockets and the bags slung over his shoulder.
“I’ll hold him off,” he said.
“And you will die,” Finnegan said. “Do you think this is a game?”
Declan patted the large man on the back. “My God, Finn. Just return to your duties and let me do the talking.” Then the underboss walked closer to him. “I will not request for your help again but if you offer it, I would be stupid to refuse.”
“It’s the only option,” he said, shrugging. “I doubt Metal Shadow is willing to let me go. So I’ll have to fight my way out either way.”
“Hm.” Declan’s lips curled into a rare smile. “Then I was worrying too much, it seems. Very well, you all heard Jalen, so get back to work. I don’t wanna light a fire under your arses.”