Mark of Cain

The bear moved through the bare trees on the snow-dusted mountain, its own brown hairs coated with a light tuft of white. Dawn had just broken and the animal was out hunting for its morning prey.

He wasn't the only one.

From a cliff overlooking the bear's position stood a man dressed in furs, the snow shifting off the hairs on his coat and beard as he moved. He wore a hat with a wide brim to keep the sun off his eyes, which held an unusual green hue.

He'd held many names in his unnaturally long life, but the moniker that stuck with him more often than not was the one of his birth...and of his curse.

Cain.

If one believed the legends, he was the world's first murderer. In a fit of jealousy, Cain found the heaviest rock he could lift and used it to bash in his brother's skull. He was cursed by God to be a fugitive for eternity, branded with a mark to identify him to all others.

The legend wasn't quite accurate, though at the time Cain himself didn't even know that. The being he and his brother Abel thought was God was actually just an angel manipulating the pair. It wasn't until centuries later that Cain learned there was no true god, at least none who had ever made its presence known to humanity.

Cain had left his home and in the time since, he'd drifted between many different roles and names. During several instances, he embraced his curse, reveling in murder and mayhem, spilling blood wherever he could, and taking whatever he desired.

But each time Cain traveled down that path, he eventually found it to be a dead end. And that would inevitably lead him to a period of self-exile.

Nothing seemed to change much for him. He'd found community a few times in his life, but it always ended with him leaving. Until recently, he'd accompanied a young witch on her adventures. But as usual, he soon felt himself growing restless and desiring solitude.

There was something else that had gnawed at him. Whenever Cain became too comfortable, the Mark began to itch. It was more than just a simple brand—it had a kind of sentience of its own and a power it held over the immortal.

That was why Cain found himself spying on the bear on this particular morning. He had no need for food--there was more than enough stored at his cabin. Nor was he hunting the bear for sport--Cain never found the killing of any creature to be particularly enjoyable.

He was here because the Mark thirsted.

Cain had been keeping note of this particular bear's movements for the past month, knowing the time would come soon when the Mark would demand an offering. That time had arrived.

He stuck low to the ground, keeping very still and not making a single noise. Cain's ethereal green eyes stayed glued to the bear's movements.

The beast sniffed around the area, clearly aware of something. He raised his head and let out a roar as a signal to anyone that he wasn't to be trifled with. Cain didn't react to the warning, not even a flinch.

The bear raised his leg to relieve himself and then moved down the mountain. Cain jumped from the cliff to a sturdy tree branch and grabbed it with his hands. He swung a few times and released, flying to another tree. His grip almost faltered, but he held tightly.

The tree rustled in response to the added weight and the bear started his attention towards the noise. He gazed at the tree, watching until its slight back-and-forth movement subsided. Nothing of note, it seemed, and so the bear turned away and continued on.

Cain sighed in annoyance. Stupid, over-exuberant moron, he cursed himself. He climbed onto the limb and looked across at the next tree, then down at the bear, who moved gingerly down the mountain. Time was running low and he would have to act quick if he was going to accomplish anything this morning.

The immortal jumped to the next tree, his boots touching the limb and his arm embracing the trunk to keep from falling. Far less noise this time and the bear hadn't even noticed.

Close enough now. Ready for the strike. Cain's hand went beneath his furs and wrapped around a wooden hilt. He drew the machete from its sheath on his belt, the morning sunlight reflecting off its stainless surface.

He jumped, the machete gripped in two hands, its blades pointed at the brown-furred beast below. The machete cleanly slid between the bear's shoulder blades, and the animal's cry of pain shook the branches.

The bear stood on his hind legs and threw Cain off, the machete still lodged in his back. Cain struck the ground on his back and rolled a few times. He stopped and propped himself up on his elbows, quickly melting snow and dead leaves clinging to his coat. His hat had been lost during the fall, displaying his pale, shaved head.

Cain stood, the bear just a few paces away from him. The animal's gold-tinted eyes narrowed, awakened with a fiery rage. He roared, but this time it wasn't in pain--it was a cry of anger.

The immortal was unfazed. Cain had gone up against far deadlier creatures than this. The bear wasn't a threat to him--he was just a morning workout.

The bear rose up and swung his arms out to emphasize his size. He lumbered at Cain, bringing his right arm down first. Thick claws, nearly half a foot in length, threatened to tear open Cain's chest.

Cain grabbed the arm, holding the claws at bay. The bear swung with his left arm, but Cain ducked around to the right, leaving the arm in the spot he just stood. The animal's claws tore into his own flesh, eliciting another loud roar.

The Mark provided Cain with more than just immortality--it also gifted him with uncanny strength far greater than even his large frame suggested. Cain had never tested the limits of his power, but it was certainly enough to fistfight a bear.

Cain grabbed a tuft of the animal's fur and pulled himself up. The fingers of his free hand curled into a fist and he punched the bear in the side of the face. The sound of superhuman knuckles striking hard bone sent a loud noise reverberating through the forest.

The bear reeled, clearly stunned by just how powerful his opponent was. This was an intelligent animal and even he knew when he was in a tough fight. The bear rolled onto his legs and attempted to try to flee the scene.

But Cain wasn't finished. He gave chase, easily catching up to the bear and jumping on his back. The machete was still lodged between the bear's shoulder blades. Cain gripped it tightly and pulled it free from the mass of muscle and fur. Blood spurted out and the bear winced and flailed.

Machete in one hand, Cain grabbed the animal's fur with the other and dug his heels into the bear's hide, holding to the beast. His emerald eyes burned with murderous intent and Cain slashed the bear's arm, disabling one of his weapons.

He rolled off the bear, standing face-to-face with his enemy. The bear rose on his hind legs again and that provided Cain with the opening he needed. He moved closer to the bear and thrust the machete up, right into the beast's throat. The bear tried to roar, but his voice was cut off and blood instead dribbled past his razor-sharp teeth.

Cain pulled the machete out and the bear collapsed at his feet. The immortal stood over the beast and stabbed him again to ensure death. And then he stabbed again. And again.

The strikes continued raining down on the bear's corpse. Cain's face was a mask of homicidal fury that bordered on glee. Life had long left the bear, but the blows continued. For Cain, he saw nothing but white-hot rage, completely lost in the moment. Everything was just a blur of red, the screams of the past echoing in Cain's mind.

And then, it just stopped.

Cain dropped to his knees in the puddle of gore that he'd turned the bear into. Blood dripped from his machete and stained his furs and face. The moment was gone and he felt a tingle come from the Mark. It was satiated, at least for now.

Once Cain had pulled himself out of his state, he found his hat and began his trek back through the forest to his home. But he paused and glanced around the area. He felt a distinct impression that he wasn't completely alone here. Cain waited, watching for some sign of other activity in the forest.

Nothing came. Though Cain wasn't completely satisfied with what his senses were telling him, he accepted it and continued on his path.

* * *

Cain's suspicions were more than simple paranoia--he was being watched. Once he'd departed, one of the trees seemed to come to life. Something split off from the rest of the tree, stepping into the forest. It was a man of sorts, or at least it had the appearance of one. Tall, broad, and with pale skin that held a wooden texture, with hair like that of leaves. His eyes were round and dark with a reflective surface.

The strange being walked over to the remains of the bear and knelt down by the side of the corpse. He laid a hand on the bear's lifeless head, long, branch-like fingers gently touching it. The plant-like man closed his eyes sensing the lack of life within the bear. It was no surprise, of course, but there was still a feeling of a kind of loss in the creature's passing.

There was a rustle of leaves, but the tree-man wasn't concerned. He soon felt a lithe hand fall on his shoulder.

"You okay, Dex?" asked a soft voice.

The being called Dex raised his hand and touched the soft, human fingers on his shoulder. He sighed and stared at the bear's remains.

"He did nothing. He was no danger. Why?"

The young woman with her hand on Dex's shoulder looked down at her friend. "It's the curse he's walked with all his long life. It's why he's out here on his own."

"Why are we here, Maya?" asked Dex.

"You know why," she replied. "Cain is too dangerous to be left unattended to. Even after all these centuries, no one has been willing to address his situation. We're the ones who are going to change that, once and for all. Before he causes any further damage."

Nestled on the banks of the Cape Fear River, Southport exuded a tranquil coastal charm. The town's streets wound past well-preserved colonial buildings. The waterfront sported a marina filled with boats swaying in the harbor. Seagulls glided overhead in the early morning rays of the sun as shops and cafés were welcoming visitors either on vacation or on their way to work.

But for Cain, none of this mattered. He stood on the docks of the marina with a wide-brimmed hat and sunglasses shielding his face from the sun’s summer rays. He’d spent weeks running down leads only to hit dead end after dead end. The latest one led him to this coastal town in North Carolina. Despite the heat, he still wore a light jacket. The temperature didn't affect him, but a jacket hid his weapons.

“Anything yet?”

The voice of Maya Thacker came through the Bluetooth earpiece he wore. Although she couldn’t see him, Cain still shook his head reflexively. “Goose egg. This better not be another bust.”

“This is the job, Cain. We wait, we watch, we investigate. Once we get the intel we need, then we move.”

“I’m more partial to the ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ approach.”

“Yeah, and you ended up in a morgue drawer, or have you forgotten?”

“For the record, I woke up before they put me in the icebox.”

“Details. Point is, your approach didn’t work, and you agreed to follow my lead on this.”

Cain bristled when confronted with his own admission. Their current situation resulted from his refusal to obey orders in Seattle. It resulted in a failure to recover Kelryn, the missing pixie they had sought to rescue. Dexane’s capture made the situation even worse, causing Maya to become more angered as he was her partner.

A zealot named Robert Lynch now had both of them. As far as the public was concerned, Lynch was just the charismatic, media-friendly leader of Purefire Ministries. But Cain and Maya’s investigation found he was also involved in Humanity Front, an extremist militia that sought to eliminate all supernatural beings. They were the ones that took both Dex and Kel captive. The reasons were still a mystery.

Cain reached into his pocket for the phone and checked the image again. They were after Richard Sturbridge. A figure who’d grown to some prominence in Humanity Front and had been photographed in Lynch’s presence in the past. He likely had knowledge of where Dex and Kel were taken. Tracking him had proven difficult, though, and had taken them to half a dozen cities across the country before ending up here in Southport. Cain couldn't forget the image of the blond man with a goatee and bright blue eyes, having checked the photo repeatedly.

Cain had been observing a small office building registered to a shell company associated with Purefire. Despite the uncertainty, it remained their most promising option. Cain's watch paid off when three individuals emerged.

“I think I’ve got eyes on Sturbridge,” Cain said into the earpiece.

“Stay back, don’t engage yet,” said Maya. “They know you, they know your face.”

“But I’m wearing sunglasses and a hat.”

A pause filled the air, and Cain detected a sigh through the earpiece. Then finally, “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that. Stay back, stay out of sight. Follow them, but keep your distance. I don’t want a repeat of last time.”

Cain wanted to object, but he held his tongue. “You’re the boss.”

“Good, now tell me what else you see.”

“There are two people with him, guy and a girl. The guy looks young, maybe mid-twenties. White as can be, with brown hair and one of those stupid soul patch things.”

“Ugh, I thought that trend had died a well-deserved death. Clearly, he’s evil incarnate, so he dies first,” said Maya. “What about the girl?”

“Short, dark hair. Hispanic features. Probably about the same age as Soul Patch.”

“Send some photos, I’ll see if the Black Lodge has any info on them.”

Cain reached for his sunglasses. To any passersby, it seemed he was just adjusting them. But there was a camera built into the sunglasses and linked to his phone. He took pictures of what he saw. He double-checked the images on the phone and then sent them to Maya.

“Got it, thanks. Now watch them while I try to see what we’ve got.”

The trio started walking down the street from the office. Cain left the marina and discreetly followed them across the street, maintaining a safe distance. With their backs turned, he safely crossed to their side of the street. They stopped in front of a small coffee shop and Sturbridge’s followers stood outside as Sturbridge himself went in.

“Cain, I’ve got some info on them,” said Maya. “They’re both known members of Humanity Front. The guy is Lucas Blackwood. He’s got his own show streaming on one of those YouTube knock-offs. He’s about as unpleasant as you imagine. The girl looks like she might be Isabel Sanchez, another online influencer.”

“They’re not from Southport, are they?” asked Cain.

“Nope, they’re out-of-towners, just like Sturbridge. Which means they must be here for some other reason and we have to find out what.”

Cain looked back at them and he saw Lucas staring right in his direction. Cain abruptly turned away and set off walking in the other direction. “Shit.”

“What?” asked Maya.

“I think Blackwood spotted me.”

“Are you fucking serious?”

“I’m moving away.”

“You didn’t move too quickly, did you?”

“Yeah, I turned right around and started walking away.”

“Goddammit, Cain!”

“What?”

“That makes you look even more suspicious!”

Cain groaned. “So, what do you want me to do?” He glanced back over his shoulder. Blackwood and Sanchez seamlessly picked up their conversation. “It’s fine, he’s not looking at me anymore.”

“Just…just go around the corner or something. Stay out of sight, don’t be conspicuous.”

Cain turned and waited around a corner briefly. He took the sunglasses off and held them down by his side, the lenses pointed toward the coffee shop. In his other hand, he held his phone to monitor the camera feed. Sturbridge emerged from the coffee shop with a small tray and three cups. Sanchez took one cup.

“Wait, where’s Blackwood?” Cain muttered to himself.

His supernatural senses snapped into action, and Cain felt a presence. But he was too slow to move before he felt a knife slide between his ribs. Cain looked up and saw Blackwood smiling at him.

“Thought you were so clever, huh?” asked Blackwood as he twisted the knife. “Let’s see how clever you are when you’re bleeding out.”

Cain grabbed Blackwood’s hand and gazed into the young man’s dark eyes. He squeezed Blackwood’s fingers as he pulled the knife out of his body. Blackwood’s sneer turned to panic as he felt the pain of his hand being crushed.

“Joke’s on you, kid.” Cain’s fingers gripped Blackwood’s hair and then slammed his head into the side of the building. “I don’t bleed out.”

Cain slammed Blackwood’s head again and then thrust him back. The knife clattered on the ground and Cain picked it up. He held it up so Blackwood could watch as Cain snapped the blade off, then tossed the two pieces over his shoulders. He reached under his jacket and drew his own blade, with runes and sigils set into the metal.

“This here’s what a real knife looks like. And I’m gonna show you how it works.”

Blackwood backed away from Cain, his body sliding into the shadows cast by the building. Cain lunged for him, but Blackwood vanished completely, disappearing into the shadows. Cain hit the building and steadied himself, glancing around.

“What’s going on?” asked Maya over the earpiece.

“Thanks for letting me know that Blackwood’s a shadow walker,” said Cain.

“What?”

“He just disappeared into the shadows.”

“That’s…” Maya paused as Cain assumed she double-checked her files. “We’ve got nothing on him having any powers.”

“Some intelligence…” Cain muttered.

He took a deep breath and centered himself, focusing his senses. Cain couldn’t allow his anger to get the better of him. The background noise of Southport faded into the background. His attention was now limited to supernatural entities, including Maya and a few others nearby.

“Maya, keep an eye on Sanchez. I’m getting some readings off her,” said Cain.

“What the hell? We’ve got nothing about that.”

“You also had nothing about Blackwood.”

Cain detected a surge of supernatural energy, unexpectedly coming from behind him. He waited until the last possible instant and then spun on his heel. His hand reached out and gripped Blackwood’s throat as he materialized from the shadows. Cain suddenly threw him from the shadows into the street.

Horns blared and cars swerved and skidded to stops to avoid hitting the young man that had just entered their paths. Cain strolled into the street, ignoring the honks and the screams. Grasping Blackwood's collar, he dragged him to the opposite side of the street, still under the sun.

“Can’t shadow walk if there aren’t any shadows for you to use,” said Cain. “Maybe you should’ve stuck to a more gloomy city, you fucking idiot.”

Cain felt an intense heat surrounding him. Beads of sweat were forming on his brow and falling into his eyes. His clothes dampened. And the smile on Blackwood’s face told him it wasn’t natural.

“Thought you got the drop on us, didn’t you?” he asked with a sneer.

Cain glanced over his shoulder and saw Sanchez approaching. Her eyes were burning like red-hot coals and her fingers were outstretched, pointing in his direction. And then, Cain’s jacket suddenly burst into flames.

Cain jerked away from Blackwood, tearing the coat from his body. He locked eyes with Sanchez, who spread out her fingers as she gestured her hand towards him.

“Burn, motherfucker!”

Under his jacket, Cain had dressed in a simple T-shirt and jeans, both of which had now spontaneously combusted. He ignored the flames and walked towards Sanchez. She seemed surprised by his continued approach.

“I said burn!”

Despite the intensifying flames, Cain remained undeterred. He revealed the concealed holster under his jacket as he reached for it. In a quick-draw motion, Cain pulled the enchanted pistol from the holster and aimed it at Sanchez. He squeezed the trigger, firing off several rounds. Despite the flames, Cain's sudden movement caught Sanchez off guard, leaving her unable to react to the gun. Each bullet struck its mark, and she collapsed, lifelessly on the sidewalk.

“You fucking monster!” Blackwood screamed before charging at Cain. He jumped onto Cain’s back, pounding his fists against the back of Cain’s head.

“What is this, a temper tantrum?”

Cain reached behind his back and grabbed Blackwood, then slammed him onto the sidewalk. He put his foot on Blackwood’s chest, but then realized that the bastard was still sneering.

“What’s so funny? I just killed your girlfriend and now I’ve got you dead to rights,” said Cain.

“Aren’t you forgetting someone?” asked Blackwood.

Shit, Cain thought to himself. In all the chaos of fighting Blackwood and Sanchez, Sturbridge slipped his mind.

“Maya, you copy?” he asked.

* * *

“This is why I told you to stay back,” said Maya.

“Gimme a break. They attacked me,” came Cain’s reply over Maya’s earpiece.

“They wouldn’t have even noticed you if you’d just kept your fucking distance.” Maya groaned and then took a beat. “Okay, just forget it. I’ve still got eyes on Sturbridge. You just keep Blackwood incapacitated.”

Maya never lost sight of Sturbridge. She scrutinized him, aware that he was the big fish. So while Sanchez and Blackwood were dealing with Cain, Maya followed as Sturbridge left the area and tried to move in secrecy.

Sturbridge climbed into a car and drove off. Keeping up with him on-foot wasn’t possible, but Maya figured she could throw up some mystical blockades to slow him down. Her mastery over magic was far from being as solid as she’d hoped, but some simple probability spells could impede his escape. She focused on the flow of traffic, using probability magic to increase the likelihood of Sturbridge catching red lights. As long as he was trying to keep from drawing attention, that left him vulnerable to traffic laws.

Stoplights enabled Maya to keep pace, though she still trailed behind by a good distance. Too much magic would reveal their presence, and Sturbridge would summon reinforcements. They already had enough to worry about after Lynch had exposed Cain on a live broadcast.

For weeks, Sturbridge had the advantage. They’d never gotten this close, and Maya refused to let him escape again. Drastic action was called for. And so, Maya used probability fields again to increase the likelihood of the car suffering a blowout.

The rear left tire burst, and the car careened across the lanes of traffic. Sturbridge swerved and slammed on the brakes, the car sliding to a stop right in the middle of an intersection and causing irate drivers to slam on their horns and skid and swerve to stops.

Maya moved towards the car, quickening her pace. Sturbridge stepped out of the vehicle and spotted her coming towards him. Swiftly, he broke into a run, leaving the car behind.

“Shit!”

Maya ran after him, charging into the street. Many cars had stopped thanks to the blowout, and she climbed over the vehicles blocking her path, earning several curses and horn-honks from the drivers. Maya reached the street's end and saw Sturbridge turning a corner.

She charged down the sidewalk, running as fast as her legs could carry her. Maya took a sudden, sharp turn around the same corner Sturbridge had turned. But he was out of sight.

Undeterred, Maya ran down the street. He couldn’t have gotten far was what she reasoned. He didn’t have any supernatural abilities, but the Black Lodge’s files also said nothing about Blackwood or Sanchez. Therefore, determining the accuracy of their information was impossible.

Maya rushed up the street, peering down each turn, alley, and crevice. His whereabouts were crucial; finding Dex and Kel's location depended on Sturbridge.

Eventually, Maya peered around a corner and there she saw Sturbridge lying unconscious. She ran over to him and kneeled down beside his body. She only hoped he hadn’t had a sudden heart attack or some other calamity.

“Relax, he’ll be fine.”

The voice that echoed down the alley had a deep baritone cadence. Maya looked to the source, though she’d already recognized it. Emerging from the shadows was an older man in a trench coat, his long, silver hair and beard each styled into single plaits.

“Qarhan?” asked Maya, surprised to see the old wizard here.

“My friend’s still missing. I was getting impatient,” said Qarhan. “So consider me part of this game starting now.”