New York: Allie's War, Early Years

He looked at me, and began speaking louder, his eyes so wide they looked like silver coins punctuated by his irises, black with pupil. He stared at me, not at the cop.

"AND THE END OF TIME WILL COME AFTER THE THIRD RACE HAS BIRTHED..." he said, his voice a near shout, a sing-song chant. "AND THOSE WHO ARE NOT CLEANSED SHALL BE FORCED TO REMAIN BEHIND, IN THE DIRT AND ASH OF THAT BROKEN, FORGOTTEN WORLD, UNTIL SHE COMES FOR THEM..."

"Who?" Jon's cop said. "Until who comes for them?"

The man blinked up at the black-haired man. He looked at him blankly, as if noticing for the first time he was there.

"The Bridge, of course," the man said, his voice almost normal.

The black-haired man frowned, glancing at me.

"Some kind of scripture," he muttered.

"Well, yeah," I said. "I figured." Gripping the log, I managed to stand under my own power, more or less. "Do you know what it means?" I asked the black-haired guy.

"No," he said, staring down at our captive.

He seemed to be scanning the symbols on the man's body, squinting as if trying to identify them. The man on the log apparently hadn't tried to get away even once; he still lay on the very top of the wood, his eyes wide as he stared between our faces.

He was staring mostly at me, though. I could see the fear in his eyes, coupled with a near-reverence, but I still had no idea what it was about.

"Did they say anything to you?" the black-haired man said, still studying the symbols on the man's skin. "Why they were doing this?"

I shrugged. "Standard blood and fire whacko religious crazy shit. Something about an offering. Stopping the end of the world...they said they needed one of each of us."

The man looked at me sharply. "One of each of what?"

"He called me something...first race. He said I was an inter-something..."

"Intermediary," the black-haired man finished. He continued to stare at me, his face unmoving. Finally, after another pause, he said, "Why would they think you were one of those?"

"I have no idea," I said, throwing up my hands. "Because they're crazy? Because I'm a freak magnet? Because New York hates me?"

"I meant, did they give you a reason?" the man growled.

I sighed, in surrender more than anything. "They said something about medical records. The head guy said they found nine of us down here that way." When the black-haired man flinched, I gave a low snort. "Apparently I was convenient," I added sarcastically. "Oh, and I'm doing nothing with my life, so they figured no one would care if I died. And I was supposed to be a Snake god or something...whatever that means..."