The room in which Meeks sat was shrouded in darkness, illuminated only by several thick candles that were positioned in each corner. Drapes over the windows kept out all exterior light and emphasized the shadowy surroundings that Meeks preferred.
“Nice place.”
Meeks smiled, lifting the pipe to his mouth. He inhaled deeply and held the smoke in his lungs before releasing it.
With heavy-lidded eyes, he glanced towards a spot near the door. The darkness seemed particularly thick there and as he watched, it coalesced into the form of a swarthy man, dressed all in black. The man looked to be of Middle Eastern descent, with a neatly trimmed beard and dark eyes. As he approached, Arthur couldn’t help but think that the man looked like an ancient Egyptian Pharaoh, so regal was his bearing.
“I’m so glad to see you,” Meeks said with sincerity.
“I appreciate your kindness, Mr. Meeks.”
“Call me Arthur,” he insisted.
“Very well… Arthur.”
Meeks drained the last of his alcohol and tossed the glass to the floor, giggling as it shattered. He looked up at his guest, spittle flying from his lips. “I’m going to treat the world just like that! Boom!”
The dark man lowered his chin, studying Meeks with a malevolent glare. “You would, wouldn’t you? You’d sell out your entire race to my masters.”
“Gladly,” Meeks answered with more than a trace of bitterness. “What has the world ever done for me? Nothing!”
“We need to gather a few more objects of power and then all will be in readiness,” the stranger stated. “I am bound in this matter. I cannot touch them. Only the hands of man can gather them.”
“I’m working on getting them,” Meeks answered. “I found the book, didn’t I?”
“Yes, you did. But the next two items won’t be as easy. You bought the book but these things aren’t for sale.”
Meeks puffed away again on the pipe. “Do you have a name?” he asked. “I need something to call you.”
“I’ve gone by many names. I think Mr. Black will do for now.”
“Mr. Black,” Meeks savored the name. “Will the Old Ones reward me for my service?”
“You will get what has been promised to you: power, wealth and all the slaves you could want.”
Meeks stood up, setting his pipe down. He closed his robe and exhaled, a placid smile on his face. “What are these objects that I need to retrieve?”
“One of them is in the Sovereign Museum of Natural History. It’s an urn that dates back to Roman times.”
“Why would we need an urn?”
“It was used in various dark rituals and retains a substantial amount of power.” Mr. Black continued, the expression on his face warning Meeks not to interrupt again. “The other object belongs to a man named Josef Goldstein. He, too, is here in this city. It’s a stone, set in a ring.” Black’s smile returned. “Strange how things come together, isn’t it?”
Meeks strode towards the door. “Does it matter which one I go after first?”
A strange look passed over Mr. Black’s face but Meeks didn’t see it. “I’d start with Goldstein. I have a feeling the old man might be alone this evening.”
When night fell upon Sovereign City, a harsh rain that battered against the windows of Goldstein’s home accompanied it. He stood in his den, staring out at the street. His face bore a pensive expression and he clutched the head of his cane with ferocious strength.
Mitchell and Charity were gone, leaving him alone in the house. A part of him missed the thrill of the chase, the bloodcurdling thrill of battle… but this was not his time. A new Gravedigger had been named and all he could do was help prepare her for what was to come.
A strange sound reached his ears, making him tense. It was the familiar noise of water dripping onto the floor. Immediately, he knew that he was not alone anymore. There was someone in this room with him and they were watching him, waiting for him to notice their presence.
“I didn’t hear you knock,” he said.
“That’s because I didn’t bother.”
Goldstein turned slowly, coming face to face with Alan Meeks. The unwelcome visitor wore a long trench coat that was soaked, making it a perfect match for the mop of hair on top of his head. Meeks held a knife in his right hand and his left was glowing slightly, a sign that Goldstein recognized: he had charged his fist with some sort of demonic power.
“What do you want, Mr. Meeks?”
Shock registered briefly on Alan’s face. “How do you know my name?”
“I know a lot about you, including the fact that you own the Necronomicon. And from the looks of you, you’ve already used it to summon at least one of the creatures associated with it.” Goldstein took one step forward but stopped when Meeks raised his weapon. “It’s not too late to turn back. Put down your knife and I’ll do all that I can to help you. I give you my word, Mr. Meeks.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“What would you prefer?”
Meeks grinned madly. “Call me Thanatos.”
“The Greek personification of death,” Goldstein said. “Very dramatic.”
Thanatos laughed hoarsely. “Time to die, old man.” He lunged forward, his knife swiping through the air.
Goldstein raised his cane, blocking the blow expertly. Before Thanatos could respond to the sudden speed that the old man was displaying, the cane’s tip had been shoved into his belly, knocking him back a pace.
Goldstein grimaced as his body threatened to betray him. He had a lifetime of experience in battle, however, and he intended to use it. He brandished his cane like a club, slamming it down hard against Thanatos’ shoulders. Once he caught the younger man on the jaw, drawing blood.
Thanatos cursed under his breath, furious at the turn of events. He reached up with his glowing hand and caught the cane, crushing it to splinters with a flex of his fingers.
“No more weapons for you,” he purred. “Lay down and die.”
The former Gravedigger did the exact opposite — he drew back the jagged end of his cane and stabbed at Thanatos, driving the weapon forward with both hands.
The wood dug into the villain’s side, painfully cutting through skin and muscle. He howled like a stuck dog but the agony seemed to drive him to new levels of violence. He struck out at Goldstein’s face with his glowing hand, the demonically powered blow shredding the older man’s lower jaw.
Thanatos pounded again and again, growling with each punch. Goldstein fell back against the window, his features increasingly reduced to a bloodied mess.
The old man slid to the floor when the attack ceased, the air whistling through his shattered nose. Thanatos stood over him, panting heavily. Then he reached down and grabbed Goldstein by the ears. He gave a quick twist, ending the former hero’s life.
With a cackle, Thanatos knelt and found the ruby that he’d been sent to retrieve. It shined so brightly that he couldn’t help but stare at it for a moment.
Sliding it from the dead man’s finger, he dropped it into the pocket of his coat. The glow had faded from his hand, the demonic energy having been expended.
Without even a backwards glance at the man he’d just killed, Thanatos turned and strode from the room.
Gravedigger didn’t mind the rain. Growing up in Sovereign, she was used to it. In fact, some nights, she found it easier to sleep when there was a tempest brewing. It mirrored the stormy nature of her emotions.