A Light in the Dark (Post Five)

[B][FONT="Book Antiqua"][COLOR="DarkRed"][JUSTIFY]As the group dispersed, obviously lifted by the roadside sermon, Vincent was left to his thoughts. It was only when he felt someone staring at him did he look around. Carter Hall had gotten down from his perch, and was standing in front of him. The man’s eyes, a color Vincent had never seen before, that odd pale blue, prickling, observing, watchful, met Vincent’s gaze.

“I’ve not seen you around for my talks before.” Carter said. “A new face is always welcome.” He offered a hand and a friendly smile.

“And you know the people who listen to you?” Vincent shook the man’s hand, returning the smile, though not as warmly.

“I recognize faces very easily.” Carter said. “Even if I only see them once, it’s easy to recall.”

“I see. Memory like that is a gift.” Vincent looked around. “How long have you been here in the city?”

“Just about four days now. I must say, the people here are very attentive.”

“Yes indeed. They do love a break from the mundane every now and then. Although I have to assume they take an especial liking to you because you are so different in both disposition as well as appearance.”

Carter watched some of the passersby, a placid look on his face. “Yes, I do seem to be the odd one out. But one cannot choose their general appearance, no?” He smiled again. “Still, it’s easier to attract listeners when you look different.”

“I would have to agree.” Vincent nodded. He battled with himself silently. He could simply draw Carter into an alley and ambush him there, extract his soul and get it over with, but Carter’s gaze was intense, as though he were watching Vincent and his mannerisms, observing him. “People do love a new sight in a city of the same.”

“Very apparent. I’m Carter Hall, by the way. Usually I introduce myself at the start of my speeches, but I noticed you arrived a little late.”

“I’m Vincent.”

“Just Vincent?”

“It’s how everyone knows me.” He looked back at Carter. “Where do you come from? I do know you are a traveler.”

“I am indeed. I go from place to place, trying to spread good will and trust, love for mankind.”

“A noble life.”

“I prefer modest. I ask for nothing in return, except that people take what I say to heart and try to live the best they can.”

“Do you really think people will change their lives, or see anything differently, because you gave a few speeches?”

“It’s worth a try.” Carter nodded. “Just because no one else does it hardly means it’s a lost cause.”

Vincent was silent for a moment. He stared at Carter as though he was an alien thing, something he had never seen before. “You hold no ill will toward people?”

“None whatsoever.”

“What if they intentionally harm you or the people you love?”

“People themselves are corrupted, whether in miniscule ways or in very noticeable ways. I will feel sorrow for the ones I lost, but even if the person holds no apology for what they do, I cannot blame them. Their soul is stained, not their hands.”

“You’re very forgiving.”

“I’m only human.”

“Even humans feel hate. Vengeance, desire, a wish to do harm to those who harm them.”

Carter thought about it. He closed his eyes half way, turning his gaze to the ground. “I suppose.” He looked back up. “I suppose I’m not human, then.”

“Then what are you?”

Carter smiled, then laughed, quietly. “That, Vincent, is for both of us to find out.”

Without another word, he turned and was swept away in the river of people moving along the street. Vincent stood still, watching his pale yellow hair vanish in the mist and people. What Louis had said rang in his head, combined with Carter’s voice. The man was certainly not human, and certainly not a soulless. Soulless humans felt nothing that related to emotion, nothing at all. Some drew into themselves, using their skin as a shell, becoming dead-eyed and muttering husks of their former selves. Others simply used their lack of a soul to their advantage. But Carter felt, while other soulless didn’t. He felt for humans and nonhumans alike, and used his vast understanding of life itself to lead them into the light, into a life lead well and happily. He knew the concept of happiness, Carter did. He knew pain, by the look in his eye, he knew sadness, and he knew how to somehow overcome it to be a better person.

Vincent shook his head, starting down the road to shadow Carter Hall’s path. He would not be retiring to the bookshop or his lodgings so soon, after finding Carter so easily. The man did, in fact, look weak, as Louis had said, but Vincent felt he would not be as strong as the old man had said. Perhaps Louis had a hard time fighting the young man, and perhaps he had made up the rest of the story to unnerve Vincent. The demon couldn’t see Carter as a fighter, especially with what he spoke of and how he behaved. He was awkward, if only a bit, and didn’t seem the kind to take to violence so quickly. Not as quickly as Vincent, anyway. If he ambushed the man from the shadows, he could get the upper hand and extract his soul. Whether it would be the pure white it should be was none of Vincent’s concern.

He caught sight of Carter just as he turned right, that odd hair whipping out of sight as Vincent picked up his pace. That small road would lead back to the square, and indeed Carter was moving swiftly into the step of others, avoiding hansoms and horses with what seemed like serpent-like ability. More than once, he slipped out of sight, and Vincent threw caution to the wind as he ran through the square, catching up but keeping a safe distance back. Carter, though odd in appearance, odd in behavior, was like a ghost. He moved toward the clock tower, the street to its right, and among the dark hair and dreary clothes, he moved as though he belonged, as though he had lived in the city all his life.

Carter walked past a clothing store, a library, and paused outside a café. Vincent shielded his eyes, squinting to be sure Carter was opening the door, glancing behind him quickly, slipping inside. Cautious, Vincent walked with the flow, passed by the people in a hurry, cursed at for being so slow. He moved to the dusty window and pressed his nose against the glass. Carter passed the various tables, nodding at some and smiling to others, and got the attention of a young woman. With a quick word, she nodded, her face brightening as though reuniting with a long-lost friend. Quietly, she referred to the closed door near the back, between a wall and counter, and Carter nodded. In a moment, he was there, and through the door.

Vincent backed away from the door, spinning into the alley and running halfway down. A small, rectangular window stood a couple feet over his head. Its glass had been busted out, and he could hear someone speaking inside. A crate, much like the one Carter had used as his stage earlier, was underneath it, and carefully, Vincent used the slightly-sagging wood to gain height. He leaned against the wall to keep balance, and looked into the window. It was dark enough outside to veil the fact that someone was watching the goings-on in the room.

Carter was leaning against the door, illuminated by the fireplace across from Vincent. He was smiling, in an odd way, looking at the figures across from him. A big man, beside a smaller one, both in black. Vincent watched Carter intently, how calm he appeared even in the presence of two much larger than him, and obviously thinking about harming him. But he stepped forward, into the center of the room, crossing his arms loosely, speaking. Vincent couldn’t hear anything above a dull mutter of garbled language. The larger man stepped forward in turn, moving to Carter’s right, circling him slowly. Raising one heavy hand, he set it on Carter’s shoulder, whether in an accepting or reassuring way Vincent couldn’t be sure, but it seemed put-on. Carter himself didn’t react as Vincent would have.[/JUSTIFY][/COLOR][/FONT][/B]