He was in a different place, this time. Still cold and dark, but the wretched stench of bodies no longer permeated the air. In fact, he wasn't even sure he was anywhere. There was nothing but pure black, and the only sound he heard was the faint sound of a woman's voice, humming a slow, unrecognizable tune. Out of the fog of black, she began to appear, fair-skinned with long brown curls. She was dressed in old, tattered, gauzy robes, colored a deep forest green, which matched her eyes. She was incredibly beautiful, and he had known some true beauties before his turn to hunting.
As she reached out to him, he leaned in, taken in by her calm and serene demeanor. She touched his jaw gently, like a gentle breeze. "Hunter of Shadows, banisher of night... You are on a quest of great peril, but one for you alone..." She lead him in close, holding him to her breast as a mother would to a child. He felt calm, at peace, near hypnotized by her grace. "For if the sixth servant of light dies, the veil shall ever be torn, and the Mara shall rule all."
And then, so suddenly, she was pulled away, and the horrible landscape returned with all its stench. She floated above him as he stood on the ground, smeared and dirty as he had been before. He hated being here again, and his stomach began its tumbles once more. Given the chance to look around once more, the familiar landscape became clear. It was Jackson Square, in ruin. He could see the remnants of the shattered and destroyed St. Louis Cathedral past the gnarled hedges. Now, among the bodies, he could see faces he knew from the streets. Musicians, performers, and tourists alike were all there, representing a population from memory. "What is this?!" he finally spoke, "Why am I seeing this?!"
"This shall be reality should the veil be torn!" the woman spoke down to him piously, "This is the vision the Mara seeks to fulfill! Should the sixth servant of light die, She shall do this to all you see, Gabriel Knight!"
"No!" Gabriel said loud enough to wake himself, sitting up stiff in his seat. Grace was holding his shoulder, and a flight attendant behind her looked on in worry. He caught his breath, slowly realizing it had, once again, been a dream. This one felt harder to shake off. It clung to him like his sweaty shirt. He suddenly felt just a little embarrassed when he noticed all the eyes of other passengers on him.
He cleared his throat just as Grace asked him, "Are you okay? We've landed..."
"I'm... I'm fine." He closed his eyes tight and nodded his head. How could he even manage to hide it away? After a moment of thought, he requested, "Coffee... They got coffee on this thing?"
"I'll go get you cup, sir," the attendant said softly before vanishing behind the cabin curtain.
Gabriel steadied his breath with a few deep intakes, and Grace looked on with a knit brow. "This is what you go through? How do you ever get sleep?"
As the other passengers made their ways to the exit, Gabriel refused to lift his head or look their way. He was damn glad he had a window seat. He laughed breathily. "I'll let you know when I do."
***
Mosely was waiting by his unmarked car outside the airport, drinking a cup of coffee when Gabriel and Grace emerged from the front doors. He walked across the street to meet them, tossing his luke warm coffee away in the street-side bin to be able to pull Gabriel into a hug. "Hey, pal. Been a while." His tone was as happy as it could be, given the circumstances. His hug was tight and firm; the way Mosely always hugged.
Gabriel gave a small, short hug back, patting Mosely on the shoulder. He was usually better at this hugging thing, but the nightmare still had him rattled. "'Bout half a year. Guess that's a while. Nice to see ya, Mostly." It was complicated, being back home. There were so many terrible memories tied to this place, along with the good ones. The two parted, and Mosely turned to give Grace a hug, as well. She returned it kindly, more relaxed to see him, now. Gabriel stuffed his free hand into his coat pocket. "Missed this kinda weather. It's all snow and wind in Germany."
"Oh, you're such a baby about the cold," Grace ribbed, fanning her neck to stave off heat. "I'm used to that. This? This feels like an armpit."
"I bet," Mosely said before gesturing to his car. "I know you might wanna get settled, but we've had another victim." They both turned to Mosely, each expressing sadness and stress in their own way. Grace showed it through a knit brow and frown. Gabriel showed it with a look of personal challenge and frustration. Those two were easier to show than the sadness and dread it brought him, in truth.
"You got a lot to fill us in on, anyway." Gabriel shrugged as they walked. Mosely opened the trunk of the car and tossed Gabriel's suitcase in. "Hey!" Gabriel half-seriously protested to the rough handling. He took note that Mosely handled Grace's bags far more gently. He shook his head with a smirk.
Grace smiled at Mosely for being so gentle with her things, then spotted a nice looking car past him once he stood straight. Gabriel followed her eyes to it. It was a blue Chevy Bel-Air, probably from the 60's with those fins. She watched it as it pulled away and onto the road. "I forgot how fancy the cars people drive around here are." In Germany, everything was economic. Tiny, tiny cars.
"Huh?" Mosely questioned, looking around. "You sure as hell can't be talkin' about my P.O.S. Damn FBI pays for all my travel, but damn are they tight about it." Grace shook her head and shrugged it off.
They shuffled into the car, Gabriel and Mosely in front, and Grace alone in the back seat. Mosely's radio chirped and crackled with activity, tuned to listen to the state police channel. He ignored it and pulled out of the airport lot. "Okay have a look," he began, pulling the fat case file from the glove box and handing it to Gabriel so he could leaf through the pages. He did it all while driving, then lit a cigarette with the car-lighter while steering with his knee. Gabriel hated it when he drove like that. He had a hog for this very reason. He tried to ignore it and read, instead.
The beginning of the overall case file was a list of the victims so far. The first was an elderly priest named Arthur Warren. His photo showed him as an aged black man, well styled and warm. He knew the name. He was a priest from New York. Well known in the occult community. He remembered some contacts saying he could preform exorcisms. The second was an older cajun woman, named Bethany Beaumont. She was a palm reader from Acadia Parish, and apparently was known for her accurate readings. She was visiting a friend in the French Quarter, Laura Bow-Dorian. The third victim's photo he recognized as the boy from his dream, and he was named Jeb Capes.
He was an-up-and-coming singer-songwriter from Kentucky, visiting friends and preparing to guest play for their tour, mainly through local bars. His family was worried this was an attempted suicide at first, apparently, as his music and life had always been on the darker side. He found the details of a 'struggling artist drawn to the darker material' too familiar to quite stomach the sight of his death from the nightmare. He flipped the page quickly. The forth victim was another out-of-towner by the name of Margo Crane, coming in from California. She was here as an avid traveler, wanting to take in the New Orleans sights, as well as take notes for her upcoming travel guide. She had no family to contact, as an orphan from one of the catholic churches in San Diego. The most recent victim was a young woman named Celine DeLane, and all that was written down beneath her photo was a family address, phone number, and an added note: 'INTERVIEW ASAP'
"All of the victims are fed a mix of herbs," Mosely began to elaborate, "We've identified them as Egyptian lotus, mugwort, and deadly nightshade."
"That'll do a number..." Gabriel looked out the window at the streets to watch the city activity. "Why the mugwort or lotus, though?"
"We've found powderized Selenite and some sort of jasper in their stomach contents, as well."
