The Awakening

She heard no denouncement from him, only curiosity.

'When I'm in the zone, I can't control it. I do what feels right, what I can do, and sometimes it's so bad that the body isn't recognizable.'

'You're talking about when that strange thing happens to you?'

When her features contort. The reality of that struck another blow, but Gaby fended it off. So she wasn't as different from the bane of immorality as she'd thought. She'd deal with that as she'd dealt with everything else—the best way she knew how. 'I thought that I'd removed the evil, but that was just a creature made by the evil. This isn't something I've dealt with before. I don't know where the next one might be —'

'You're sure there'll be more?'

Gaby nodded. 'I don't know where they originate, and that's the key. But there are more.'

Though she didn't know how to reassure him, she could feel Mort's fear. 'I have to find the maker. I have to find the core of the degeneration.'

Mort sidled closer to her, so close she could feel his nervous breath on her nape. 'Do you know how to do that? How to hunt it?'

'Not really. I've never had to before. Usually I'm sent to the evil. I don't understand why I'm not being sent now.'

Mort fell silent, but not for long. 'Maybe the person doing all this is confused, and if he doesn't know what he's going to do, how could you know?'

She said only, 'God would know.' The raw edge of an exposed, broken pipe gouged the tender flesh above her elbow. Her skin tore; warm blood spilled.

The injury burned, but not enough to distract her. 'Careful.' She guided Mort around the obstruction, then used her sleeve to mop away the blood.

'Thanks.' Mort bumped into her twice before they found another companionable rhythm. 'Gaby? Is it at all possible that the people you killed aren't evil? I mean, they were messed up for sure. But maybe they weren't as evil as you're talking about.'

'They were.' Her thoughts wandered back through time. 'Once, when I was younger—'

'You're young now.'

If you went by experience, she was older than anybody should ever be. 'I was in my late teens, I think, living in this rundown apartment. A woman next door to me killed her husband, and I didn't know it.'

'But I thought…'

'I know. You think I'm some superhero or some such crazy shit. But I'm not, Mort, so don't get yourself confused. That woman? She shot her husband for cheating on her. I overheard her telling the police that he'd come home drunk, and he told her she was looking old, that she turned him off. He told her he'd been fooling around with a younger woman. So she got their old thirty-eight pistol and she shot him in the head.'

'A woman scorned, huh?'

'I stood there, stunned because I hadn't realized anything was happening. There'd been no pain, no calling. Later I realized it was because what happened was normal.'

'You think so?'

'She wasn't evil incarnate. She was just a woman in love who had her pride hurt bad enough that she showed poor judgment. Before the cops took her away, she was already crying for her loss, wishing she hadn't done it.'

'So…' He trailed off, then regrouped. 'If what you're saying is that you only get that awful way when something truly evil is happening, then that means…'

Gaby glanced back at him.

He swallowed audibly. 'Whatever that was after Luther was—'

'The basest of evils. A true depravity.'

'Like…' Eyes wide, he whispered, 'The devil or something?'

'Worse. A demonic being here on earth.' Thanks to the broken pipe, Gaby's arm started a steady ache.

'Then Luther is in real trouble.'

'Yeah, I think so. But I'll look out for him.'

'How?' Mort practically screeched. 'You can't be with him every minute. You can't stand guard over him. Luther isn't the type of man who'd ever allow it, but he's also not a man to believe in—'

'Bogeymen? He's learning.'

'He's my friend, Gaby,' Mort said with grave depression. 'I don't want anything to happen to him.'

'Nothing will,' Gaby vowed, both to Mort and to herself. 'Like I told you, if something really bad comes after him, I'll know and I'll… go to him. Wherever he is. And no, don't ask me how. That's just how it works.'

'You instinctively know where to go?'

'Sort of. Somehow, I just get there.'

Given the silence, Gaby knew Mort didn't understand, and was starting to ponder her sanity again.

'Look. It's like this. Information gets channeled through me. My body is just a conduit for the purpose. I end up where I need to be, and I do what needs to be done, and then I'm me again. End of story.'

'I trust you.'

He was such a dupe. 'Great. Now take a deep breath. We'll be home soon,' she reassured Mort, because she didn't dare reassure herself. 'You'll be able to relax then.'

'After tonight, I don't think I'll ever relax again.'

His voice no sooner faded than they heard an odd but human sound. Flattening back against the wall, her hand already over Mort's mouth, Gaby waited.

A whimper.

Slurping. Silent tears.

Rank commands and foul enjoyment.

She heard it all, and she understood.

Rage, not God's command, stirred her blood. Her eyes narrowed, and she stared through the abyss. 'Stay here, Mort.'

'Gaby, no, please.' Mort's hands grasped at her shirt. 'You don't know who it is, if it might be the cops or another of those crazy people—'

'Get a grip,' she hissed at Mort, impatient to intercede. 'I'll be right back.' She brushed him off and crept away, her knife in her hand, the injury in her arm forgotten. Up ahead, a dim glow shone from one building.

The end of the alley.

They'd be close to home, but she had work to do yet. No, God hadn't called her for this one.

But damn it, He should have.

As Gaby stepped into the light, she saw a couple at the edge of the alley, in the shadows, but not really hidden. The woman knelt on the rough ground, her blouse mostly torn off, her face and upper arms red, scratched, and bruised.

She was held captive close to the man's body, her face shoved against his belly. Her cheeks hollowed out, her head bobbed.

She sobbed again.

As Gaby took in the scene, the man closed his eyes in release.

Moaning in what Gaby interpreted as harsh pleasure, his body jerked obscenely. The woman tried to pull back, but he cruelly twisted his hand in her ponytail, using the hold like a leash, forcing her to perform on him.

To swallow.

The sight of it all, her comprehension, froze Gaby to the spot.

The man slumped against the wall, his body lax. Released, the woman quickly scampered back.

Tears tracked her cheeks. Her nose bled.

Torn from her stupor, Gaby didn't even stop to think about it; she allowed herself to react.

In an instant, her knife whistled through the air—and sank with satisfying accuracy into the bastard's shoulder.

He contorted on a yelp of surprise, followed by a shout of outrage. He looked at the girl on her knees first, and seeing she wasn't a threat, his gaze swung around until he found Gaby striding toward him. She wasn't done