Disclaimer: The characters within are used without permission for the sheer non profit enjoyment of fans of the Gabriel Knight genre. Part 1
Burning... Flames reaching higher and higher devouring lifeless wood ravenously, flaming tongues brushing tender flesh-- Screams. Popping cells of skin, melting off of sinew and muscle-- cartilage and bone. A hoarse throat continues agonized cries, muddled by the jeers of a raging crowd. Legs first, consumed by fire... Her body was engulfed in the conflagration. As the flames exposed the tender throat, even the rough gasps ceased, though she lived on for several moments more to experience every ounce of misery... The devil's whore.
Kail turned away from the scene and shook his head, black hair falling in tumbles across his young face. He was drawn, obviously disturbed... Complexion pale and eyes downcast with more than a hint of remorse. Reinhold turned and clapped him on the back.
"What's wrong with ye lad?" His gruff voice billowed into the night, rising above the mob that was still in its state of gang frenzy. His gray main was tossed back by the wind, haggard face smiling. "We've done the Lord well this evening. Now her soul will find the damnation that it deserves."
Kail cast his uncle an angry glance. "If ye thinks that in thy heart, then thou art no better than those fiends we hunt."
Nonplussed, his uncle shrugged. "Purity by fire lad. It's been done fer generations. We won't change the methods now."
"But uncle, the methods are antiquated. A new age is upon us and certainly the crimes and punishments must be seen as they are-- brutal sadism for something barely able to be proven."
"Watch your tongue, Lad." Reinhold took a dangerous tone. "That's blasphemy yer talkin."
"But uncle, how can you call an educated and proven observation blasphemous?" Kail sighed. "Me thinks that blasphemy is a frightened man's label for progress."
"I'll have no more o' this talk." His uncle turned away. "Come along. We must be off to Schloss Ritter." Kail followed albeit slow, his scowl enough to drop a grown man dead.
"Damnit Grace!" Gabriel cursed, leaning against the wall as he looked at what had been his studio. "What the hell did you do?"
"Gabriel, you told me to do whatever was necessary for the store. If it needed anything, just do it." She crossed her arms. "Well, the store was growing and it was moving toward your studio. You don't stay there anymore anyway."
"That's not the point. There was a certain... aesthetic value to it. It was mine."
"It still is yours and you're welcome to sleep there anytime you want."
He scowled at her and turned away, walking over to where his bed had stood. "Oh man..." He muttered, shaking his head. The phone rang out in the office and Grace turned away from the moping Gabriel to answer it.
"Saint George's Rare Books." She answered, taking a seat in her chair.
"Hello?" A man's voice, thick with a hint of an accent. "Is there a Gabriel Knight there?"
"Hold on just a moment." Grace set the phone down and turned to Gabriel. "Paging Mr. Knight to the front desk please. You have a call on line one."
Gabriel frowned and joined her at the desk. "Are you trying to make this place seem like a K Mart?" He took the phone. "Hello?" He had a hard time keeping the irritation from his voice.
"Herr Knight?" The voice asked, frantic... tense.
"Yeah, I'm Knight. What can I do for you?"
"I need to see you immediately. It's of the utmost importance."
"I see." Gabriel looked at Grace oddly. "And uh... who are you again?"
"No time to explain. Meet me at the Napoleon House, tonight. Seven O' Clock. Don't be late..." Gabriel looked at the phone oddly a moment and dropped it back on the hook.
"That was strange." He commented, squinting in thought.
"What was it?" Grace looked up at him, her eyes betraying the curiosity that her voice capably hid.
"I've no idea. Some fan I reckon. Wants to see me at Napoleon's tonight at seven."
"Are you going to go?"
He shrugged. "Actually, I had been thinking about it anyway. Figure I could take advantage of his new happy hour..."
"If you're going to meet someone you've never seen, don't you think it would be best to be clear headed?"
Gabriel chuckled. "Grace, my head is always clear."
"Now if you could just say the same about your conscience."
"Well, I could if you'd quit tellin everyone about all those nasty things we did together."
"You're impossible." She turned away annoyed and he smiled before wandering over to sit on the leather sofa-- another new addition. "Is there anything here that's the same?"
"Well, the smell from that mini freezer you had has been lingering if you want nostalgia." Grace was examining books as she spoke and barely spared him a glance.
"Man, I hate change." He pushed himself to his feet and grabbed his coat. "I'm going out for a bit, Grace."
"Have fun, Gabriel." Her tone flat.
He walked outside and frowned at the neighborhood around him. There was hardly a structure still standing that he remembered. He figured that things wouldn't possibly change so much on him... Getting older? Hell with that! It takes more than just renovations to make Gabriel Knight feel old...
Clacking of glasses, the low murmur of conversation-- the occasional laugh. Gabriel leaned back in his chair with his foot propped on the table, sipping a beer. It was a stale brew, certainly not up to his now refined European tastes but the best they served at the Napoleon. Schloss Ritter was inundated by the local brewery and he had to admit feeling somewhat important in the fact that they would take any suggestion he had to make. Flattering to say the least. The life of a Shattenjager wasn't all bad.
Seven O' clock came and went and he consumed five beers before deciding that his admirer wasn't going to show up. Probably either wanted his autograph or to assault him for what some considered trash writing. Hard to consider it too trashy... getting on the New York Time's List wasn't that easy. He had half a dozen failed books to prove it.
Gabriel pushed himself up from the table and wandered toward the door, deftly avoiding other more inebriated patrons. It was chilly outside and he pulled his coat about him, tying it off to provide any extra warmth he could squeeze from it. The air had a rancid stench to it like rotten cabbage and he wrinkled his nose as he climbed on his bike to depart.
Two slaps on his shoulders made him jump and as he turned around he heard a haggard, familiar voice yell in his ear as someone climbed on behind him. "Go you! Go!" Gabriel began to protest but insistence compelled him to ask questions later. He kicked the bike to roaring life and peeled out away from the curb, speeding away from the Napoleon off throughout the quarter.
"What the hell?" Gabriel called behind him, wondering if it was safe to stop.
"Thank you, son... You've saved us both." The voice was tired and broken, a faint touch of illness edged it out.
"Care to tell me what the hell's going on?"
"In time, Gabriel. In time." The knowing tone irritated Gabriel and he halted the bike at a street corner and turned to face the man.
Long gray hair tied back in a ponytail escaped in tiny wisps. His hazel eyes were exhausted with tremendous purple bags resting below them. Blood caked his bristled chin and his clothes were worn and ragged. He smelled of musty sweat and earth, a combination that made Gabriel sneer.
"You'd best talk now, buddy or you can walk from here."
"We don't have time!" The old man cried. "They'll be upon us soon!"
"Who? The cops? What'd you steal?"
"I have stolen nothing... We are in danger because of who you are and the fact that I attempted to warn you."
"Oh yeah?" Gabriel looked at him through half closed eyes. "And uh... who is it that we're in danger of again? Cause of how I wrote the last book perhaps?"
"Don't be an idiot, Gabriel!" The man scolded. "You know well what I mean. Your bloodline is very strong and you can't pretend for a minute that no one knows but who you bother to tell. Stop being so naïve."
Gabriel blinked at him a moment and sighed. "Alright, what the hell?"
"I've been running a long time Gabriel. Is there anywhere we can go that's more conducive than this drab night air?" Gabriel could see that the man was shivering, perhaps it was by will alone that he was still sitting up. He nodded and pulled away from the curb, driving for the hotel that he had secured since Grace told him before he came that the studio was gone.
Parking in the garage, Gabriel waited for the man to dismount before hopping off and dropping the kickstand. "Alright old man," He began turning to face him. "I'll facilitate you but--" A sharp pain exploded on the back of his neck, dropping him to the ground heavily.
Red flooded over his eyes-- darkness. A trembling hand reached out, head lifted, eyes opened painfully slow. Blurred vision revealed a large gray block... Movement. Nothing.