A Magician In Gotham - FromDusk Til Dawn p.6
Who Gives A Fuck What Time it Is?!
It's not really a surprise, but I've lived a rather sheltered life. It's telling that in 36 years, the first time I recall ever feeling true fear was when I found myself in an unfamiliar alleyway with nothing but the clothes on my back and the contents of my pockets. An experience that would be topped only minutes later when I saw a familiar spotlight in the sky above the rooftops, and began to piece together exactly where I was. And even that paled in comparison to what I saw in the mass grave beneath the ruins of Gotham's World Fair almost exactly a month ago now...
"We all float down here, Flagg. You'll float too..."
I can almost swear I hear that same horrible voice again, too sharp and clear to be a memory, it's really the only thing I can hear over the sound of my own thundering heartbeat in my ears. There's a sensation like falling, as if the ground beneath me suddenly opened up and dropped me into the black abyss beneath. Only the screaming of my lungs reminds me to keep breathing.
Kurt Barlow isn't real. He can't be real. Not here. He's not supposed to be here.
But then again... neither am I...
Could it be a coincidence? I just picked a name that happened to pop into my head, could the same- no, no, that makes even less sense, I only chose Randall Flagg because I'd been thinking about the fact that there's no Stephen King in this world, so none of his books exist either, and there shouldn't be anyone knowing these names except me. Unless this Barlow is someone in the same situation as me, dropped here by whatever brought me here, and converted into a vampire, then chose the name... Jesus fucking christ, I wish that was the explanation, it'd certainly tie things up nicely. But I don't think it is.
Because that wouldn't explain the things I saw. I thought maybe it was just the stress and fear of the situation getting to me, but now...Shit, I think I was just deluding myself...
Names have power, after all. It's one of the first things I learned about magic. And I'm afraid. Because the name Randall Flagg some very unpleasant things attached to it. And by choosing it... what if I opened up doors that really should have been left locked and forgotten?
Did I do this? Am I the reason Barlow is here? For god's sake, all I did was pick a fake name!
"......."
...is someone talking?
"Farnham? ....Farnham?"
Wait, no, that's not right. It's...
"...agg? Flagg!! Snap out of it!"
And just like that, the dream ends. I'm back in the World Of Real Things, standing on the same rooftop, staring into a pair of glaring, white eyes. Batman is standing right in front of me, looking like he's half a second from decking me across the face to get me to snap out of it. I blink, trying to focus back on the world around me.
"What... what happened?"
"You tell me, Flagg. When I mentioned Barlows name, you froze up like you saw a ghost. You know him."
It's not a question, he says the last part as if it was indisputable fact. Which I suppose it is, you don't exactly need to be Sherlock Holmes to figure that out. What do I even tell him? He MIGHT believe the truth, but then again, this is a younger Batman, who's experiences revolve around mobsters and corrupt politicians, not the supervillains and alien warlords he'll be dealing with in the coming years. For all the training he did, I don't think it included any in-depth studies on multiverse theory. And frankly, I'm not even sure I know what the actual truth is here. I have no idea what's actually going on.
But I don't need to lie either. I can just tell him the truth of what I do know, limited as it is.
"I know him, yeah. Well, I know OF him..." I say, trying to keep my voice steady "And ghost is a pretty accurate description. Kurt Barlow is supposed to be dead. DEAD dead, not undead dead. Fuck it, you get my point." I take a deep breath, trying to remember the details. It's been a while since I read Salem's Lot, I think the last time was that BBC radio adaptation, which might have left some stuff out. I don't think I've read the actual book since college. "Barlow is old, REALLY old. Predating the Middle Ages at the very least. I've heard rumors he claims to predate Christianity, but I have no idea if that's true."
"How do you know this?"
I shrug "Rumors. Stories. People who've met people who survived his killings. He's powerful, but he's not omniscient. Sometimes, would-be victims get away. About ten years ago, he supposedly tried to wipe out a small town in Maine, I don't remember the name, but a group of survivors managed to corner him and kill him." I laugh hollowly "Guess they weren't as thourough as they thought, huh?"
That's another thing. If this is the Barlow I know, how is he still alive? Did the stuff in the book just not happen? Is he the Barlow from this dimension? Or, if there's some multiverse shit going on... is he the Kurt Barlow from a world where he WON?
Batman doesn't answer, instead glancing back down on the file in his hand "This proxy buyer, Warren White, do you have any information on him? Any connection to Barlow?"
Now there's a name I recognize for the right reasons, and also one I can't tell the truth about, since there's no reason for me to know who White is. Good thing is, this early on, he hasn't had his stint in Arkham yet, so I'm guessing he's still just a greedy, cheating jackass. What did he work with in Living Hell again? An investment banker or something? Cheated people out of their savings anyway. And somehow managed to convince a jury he wasn't guilty of reasons of insanity.
Yeah, that was a bad idea.
"No idea, but he must be human, right? I'm guessing most real estate deals don't take place in the middle of the night" I guess it makes sense, in the book Barlow had that Straker guy serving as his assistant, serving as a middle-man with the town, and kidnapping his first victims. Knowing White, he'd have no problem signing up with an undead abomination like Barlow if it paid well. Or just to save his own skin. "Maybe he's Barlow's Renfield? Like in Dracula?"
"Not an exact match, but close enough." Batman says, quietly stashing the dossier back beneath his cape. "I've located Warren White's adress, it's in a small neighborhood out in Gotham Village. Based on the information you have, would Barlow be there?"
"I mean... maybe? He probably hid there at first, but if they already bought a new building, I doubt he'd stay there. Barlow is much stronger than his spawn, but he still needs to sleep between sunrise and sunset, so the darker and more protected it is, the better. What building did they buy, anyway?"
Batman pauses, looking out over the city "The Monarch Theater. In Park Row."
Shit. Crime Alley. That's gotta be a sore spot for Bruce Wayne.
"You said you couldn't scry for Barlow's location without a name. You have it now. Can you find him?"
"Yeah, but he won't be in his lair, wherever it is. Not at this time of night, he could be anywhere in the city by now. If I do track him, he'll probably be gone again by the time we get there. And from what I've heard, going up against him at night is almost suicidal. He's not like the vampires he creates himself, a bullet isn't even going to phase him! The holy water should still at least hurt him, but I don't know if it's enough to actually slow him down much. As for the crosses..." I shake my head "Too risky. An ancient vampire won't be turned by the cross alone. It would need to be backed up by someone who's faith is virtually unshakable, even in the face of the Devil himself..."
And I'm unpleasantly reminded to what happened to the priest from Salem's Lot. His faith wasn't strong enough to just throw away the cross, and that was all that was needed for it to not work at all. I can't think of anyone who could muster that kind of faith, especially not in Gotham. Except, wasn't there one guy..? Yeah, it was in that Spectre series, the one with Jim Corrig-
And for the second time tonight, there's an unexpected recognition, except this one is hell of a lot more pleasant. Because suddenly I remember just where I'd seen Father Richard Craemer before!
"Batman, I'm assuming you'll want to try tracking down Warren White first?"
"Correct."
"Well, once we're done with him, I have another stop for you. We're going to need some muscle on our side, the spiritual kind. And I think I got just the guy..."
.....
Warren White is sleeping the peaceful sleep of the contented scoundrel. It's the peace of mind of a man who's never once felt guilt for anything he's done, because he doesn't think he's done anything wrong. After all, he didn't kill anyone, he didn't force anyone to make a deal with him, all he's done is lie a little bit, which in his mind practically makes him a saint. No one is at as much peace with himself as a man who thinks that just because he's not the worst he can imagine, he's blameless.
He's not the Worst Man I've Ever Met, but I'd still like to beat him to death with his own shoes. Kurt Barlow might be an inhuman monster, but at least he owns up to that. The man with the oily hair and douchy moustache sleeping contededly in front of us basically sold out his own species. And it hasn't cost him a moment of rest.
Well, until now.
There's a kind of startled squawking noise as Warren White is pulled from his bed by Batman, followed by a whimpering shout of pain as he's slammed into the bedside table, knocking over the alarm clock and water glass resting on it, spilling liquid across the carpet.
"Wuh-what?! What's going- who are y-" He blinks, eyes widening as he takes in the shape looming over him "Oh-oh holy fucking christ, no! Look, I haven't done anything, let me go! Do you know who-"
"SHUT UP!!" White flinches, cowering like a beaten dog at the sudden shot, as Batman hoists him up, pressing him against the wall "Where is Kurt Barlow?!"
"I-I don't know who you're talking about! I know my rights, you can't just barge in here and-" White's voice dies with a pathetic squeak as Batman slams one fist against the wall right by his face. "I DON'T KNOW!! LEAVE ME ALONE!!"
This isn't going to work. As intimidating as Batman is, I can't imagine that Barlow isn't far worse. For a moment, I'm reminded of that part in The League Of Extraordinary Gentlemen where Mr. Hyde figures out that Mina doesn't hate him because she's met someone who's worse than he is. Batman is scary, but he's not going to successfully threaten someone who's working for an elder vampire. Anything either of us could possibly do to him would pale to what Barlow would do if he found out White betrayed him.
Which means it's time for plan B.
"You know, Mr. White, I can't help but notice you've got an odd taste in interior decoration" I say, drawing White's attention to myself for the first time. Unless I'm Shading myself, I can't exactly match Batman in stealth, but he tends to draw the attention when he's not trying to hide. I gesture around the room, towards the walls, which are covered in crosses and crucifixes of all kinds "You don't strike me as the religious type. And even if you were, this seems like overkill. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were trying to protect yourself from something. Or someone."
"No law against excessive piety, is there?" White answers, wincing as Batman pushes him harder against the wall "I told you, I don't know any Barlow! Go away!"
"I don't have time for your games, White" Batman snarls "I have files proving that you've served as a proxy for Kurt Barlow, which at the very least makes you an accessory to several counts of murder by now! If you start co-operating, then maybe you won't share the blame along with your boss!"
White seems to sag in Batmans grip, closing his eyes as he sighs tiredly "...fuck. Alright, alright, yes, I do know him, but I swear, I haven't killed anyone! All I've done is file some paperwork for the guy! And if I talk, you have to guarantee my safety! I mean it, Barlow is a goddamned monster! I'm dead meat if you don't protect me!"
"If you're of any use to me, I might consider it. Now TALK! WHERE IS BARLOW!"
"I- I don't know where he is, exactly! But he's up to something tonight, I know that much. Something big. He's fucking furious, man! Was going on about "meat that doesn't know when to lie down and die" or something like that!"
"Sounds like Barlow doesn't like it when his prey fights back" I say, and White glances back over to me, blinking as he does a double take, a look of recognition flashing across his face.
"NOW I recognize you! You're one of the guys Barlow was ranting about! He called you, uh... something like wizard, or warlock or something!"
....okay, this sounds extraordinarily bad.
"Magician?"
"Yeah, that's it! I don't know what he meant, but he said "what you have taken from him, he would also take from you!" You must've really pissed him off!"
What the fuck?! "Batman, keep Gordon Gecko over there quiet, looks like I'll need to scry after all. I need to focus!"
As Batman wrestles a protesting White onto the ground face first, pulling a pair of handcuffs from his belt, I walk out into the hall, and begin to pull on my magic. Not exactly ideal, I only got a name to focus on, and we're in the middle of a high-stress situation, so the image won't be perfect, but it's better than nothing. Slowly, the energy climbs along my skin, and I feel my mind begin to leave my body...
Those aren't stars glowing in the darkness. They're eyes. Awful, yellow eyes, glowing like sickly embers in the shadows. Twisted, inhuman shapes move in the gloom, like rats writhing on top of each other in some ancient, forgotten basement. And in the middle of this repulsive hoard stands a figure, tall and disgustingly gaunt, the skin clammy and white like a corpse on an autopsy table. The head is hairless, the ears pointed, like a boogeyman from a child's nightmare...
"What you have taken from me, I shall also take from thee..." the inhuman things hisses out from between fanged teeth, as it stares through the opening to the alley, across the street to the building on the other side. Despite the lateness of the night, it's still lit up, shadows of it's occupants moving across the windows. And there's a sign right above the door....
I'm moving before I even realize it, the last image of the vision still burned into my mind as I stumble back into the living room, where Batman is just finished securing White. He looks up at my frantic entrance.
"I got the location, he's right over in Park Row, and he's got a whole fucking swarm of vampires with him!" I half-yell, trying to catch my breath "He's almost at the free clinic! He's going after Doctor Thompkins!!"858