Chapter Four: Renaissance Path

CHAPTER FOUR: RENAISSANCE PATH

The rain started as we neared Allegheny General Hospital, fat drops splattering against the Corolla's windshield. I glanced in the rearview mirror for the fifth time in as many minutes. The shadow entity that had followed us from Tom's apartment had kept pace for several blocks before suddenly vanishing near the river crossing. The Allegheny River formed a natural boundary in Pittsburgh's supernatural ecosystem—a threshold of sorts, but on a much larger scale than a home or building. Crossing water often confused or deterred supernatural entities, something Gabriel had taught me years ago.

I hadn't told Sarah about it—no sense adding to her worries when she already had enough on her plate with her brother missing and that mark on her wrist.

Its disappearance concerned me more than its pursuit. These things didn't just give up. It either found what it was looking for, or it was reporting back to something bigger. Or worse, it had found a less visible way to follow us. The thought made me check the mirrors again, but there was nothing but rain-slicked streets behind us. I let my Blood Gift for perception extend briefly, a subtle pulse of Covenant energy that would reveal any supernatural presence nearby. Nothing registered, which was both reassuring and concerning.

"We should split up," I said, pulling into a gas station a few blocks from the hospital. "You go check on David, I'll scout Renaissance Path's headquarters."

Sarah looked conflicted. "But what if that thing follows me into the hospital?"

"These entities rarely act in public spaces with lots of witnesses—the Veil Principle keeps them in check. That's why it just watched your apartment instead of crossing your threshold." I shifted slightly into Watcher Stance, enhancing my perception to better read her reaction. "Besides, hospitals have significant threshold protections—places of healing carry their own kind of spiritual weight, much like churches or cemeteries. The concentration of life and death creates powerful boundaries."

This wasn't just an educated guess. Gabriel had extensively documented how different types of buildings developed threshold magic based on their purpose and history. Hospitals ranked just below churches in terms of protection strength, though their thresholds worked differently. Churches repelled certain entities entirely; hospitals tended to limit supernatural power instead.

"Alright," she said, though worry still lined her face. "What should I ask David about?"

"Find out everything he remembers about where he was kept, what he saw of the other victims, especially Michael. And anything about this 'Collector' or the mark." I fished a small silver charm from my pocket and handed it to her. "Keep this with you. It won't stop them entirely, but it'll make you harder to track."

The charm was one of Gabriel's creations, a simple disk of silver etched with protective sigils that resonated with Covenant energy. As I passed it to her, I focused briefly, channeling a small amount of my own energy into the charm. The sigils glowed faintly with blue-white light before fading again. I always carried a few for emergencies, though their effectiveness varied depending on what you were trying to hide from.

"I'll call when I know something," Sarah said, pocketing the charm. "What about you?"

"I'll observe Renaissance Path's headquarters from a distance, see what kind of security they have, who comes and goes. We need to know what we're dealing with before making any moves."

Sarah nodded, then hesitated before opening the car door. "Be careful, Ezekiel. These people... or whatever they are... they took my brother. Don't underestimate them."

"I never do," I replied, though my bruised ribs from last week's encounter with a particularly nasty spirit suggested otherwise. My Accelerated Healing Blood Gift had taken care of the worst of it, but the deep bruising still remained, a reminder that even Nephilim weren't invulnerable.

After dropping Sarah at the hospital entrance, I headed toward the Strip District. The Renaissance Path membership card we'd found in Tom's apartment had listed their headquarters address, a converted warehouse near the Allegheny River. The proximity to the river wasn't coincidental—water amplifies certain types of supernatural energy, especially transformation magic.

The Strip District was vibrant even on a rainy morning, markets and shops busier than most neighborhoods would be at noon. I found a parking space with a good view of the Renaissance Path building half a block down. The converted warehouse had a sleek modern facade, large windows displaying the broken circle logo rendered in brushed steel.

I settled into a modified Watcher Stance, adjusted for extended surveillance rather than immediate threat detection. My breathing slowed automatically—seven counts in, hold for four, eleven counts out—as I prepared for prolonged observation. The disciplined breathing would help manage the inevitable headache from using the Sight.

I watched for nearly an hour as people came and went. Normal-looking folks, most of them. A middle-aged woman with the tentative body language of someone rebuilding after loss. A young man with military posture, likely a veteran adjusting to civilian life. An elderly gentleman whose careful movements suggested recent recovery from illness.

All of them transforming in some way. All of them potential vessels.

I focused, letting the Sight emerge briefly. The familiar silver-blue overlay washed across my vision, and I could see what ordinary humans couldn't. Each person entering the building carried a faint luminescence around them, an energy signature of change and growth. My Blood Gift for pattern recognition activated, helping me categorize the different types of transformation energy—grief to acceptance, trauma to healing, addiction to sobriety. Different paths but similar energetic signatures.

Around the building itself, nearly invisible to normal sight, frost patterns clung to the corners of windows and door frames, confirming shadow entity presence. The building's threshold seemed unusually weak for a structure its size, almost as if it had been deliberately compromised to allow supernatural entities easier access.

More concerning was what I saw at the roofline: a complex arrangement of sigils worked into the architectural details, visible only through the Sight. Wards, but not protective ones. These were designed to channel and concentrate energy, to gather and focus the transformation power of those inside. The patterns created a circuit of sorts, directing energy flow upward and inward. Gabriel would need to see these; they matched some of the patterns from my father's journal.

I let the Sight fade as the pain behind my eyes intensified, returning to the controlled breathing pattern to manage the discomfort. The price of perception was always paid in pain. I pulled out my phone to text Gabriel about the sigils when it rang. Sarah.

"Find anything on David?" I asked without preamble.

"He's heavily sedated," she replied, her voice low, suggesting she was somewhere private. "But he was conscious enough to tell me one thing before they gave him more medication. He said he was held somewhere with 'walls of metal, floors of ash, and ceilings of fire.'"

"Poetic but not exactly an address," I said, my Blood Gift for pattern recognition trying to connect those descriptive elements to something concrete.

"There's more. He mentioned seeing Michael there, said they were 'prepared together.' And he kept mumbling about rivers converging and something called 'the Iron Cathedral.'"

That rang a bell. Something from Pittsburgh's industrial past. I'd need to ask Gabriel. "Anything else?"

"My supervisor asked me to check his vitals periodically since I know him personally, which is unusual but not against protocol," she said. "And there's another doctor who showed up claiming to be his primary physician, Dr. Ellis Warner. I've never seen him before, but he has hospital privileges."

"Get me his full name and credentials if you can," I said, jotting notes. "What about David's condition?"

"Physically dehydrated and malnourished. The burns on his arm are unusual, almost surgical in their precision. But the strangest thing is his blood work. There are trace elements I've never seen before, and his cellular structure shows..." she paused, clearly choosing her words carefully, "...abnormalities consistent with extreme energy exposure."

"Like radiation?" Judgment Call grew slightly warm in its holster, as if responding to the description.

"No, nothing that would register on standard tests. But at a cellular level, it's like his body was used as a conduit for something powerful." Her voice dropped even lower. "Ezekiel, whatever happened to him wasn't just psychological trauma. Something physically changed him at a fundamental level."

This matched what the Covenant documents described about vessels of transformation. The energy wasn't just metaphorical; it had tangible, physical effects on those marked. According to my father's journals, completed transformations could permanently alter a person's spiritual and physical makeup.

"Sarah, listen carefully. David might still be vulnerable even in the hospital. The threshold protections limit their physical manifestation, but more subtle influences are possible. They might find human agents to do their work, like this Dr. Warner who conveniently appeared."

"I've thought of that," she replied. "I've spoken to my charge nurse about my concerns for the patient's safety. I told her I was worried about his cardiac stability and suggested moving him closer to the nurses' station for better monitoring. She agreed and made the change. I can't control his staff assignments, but I volunteered to check on him regularly during my rounds."

Smart woman. Her medical training had given her an instinctive understanding of how to protect patients, even without knowing the supernatural factors at play.

"Good. I'm going to check in with Gabriel about this Iron Cathedral, then I'll head back your way. Text me if anything changes with David or if Warner returns."

After hanging up, I started the Corolla, which protested with new sounds of mechanical distress, and pulled away from my observation point. As I did, something caught my eye across the street from Renaissance Path: a familiar figure in a dark coat, standing perfectly still despite the rain, watching the building with unnatural focus.

It wasn't following us. It was watching Renaissance Path itself. Interesting. I briefly shifted into Watcher Stance again, enhancing my perception to study the entity. Its shadow stretched too far behind it, undulating slightly despite the lack of movement. Whatever it was, it wasn't allied with Renaissance Path—it was observing them, just as I was. The supernatural ecosystem of Pittsburgh was more complex than I'd initially thought.

The drive to Sullivan's Rare Books took fifteen minutes in the rain-slowed traffic. I found Gabriel in the back room, surrounded by open books and his laptop, a half-eaten sandwich forgotten at his elbow. The room hummed with the familiar energy of accumulated knowledge, the books themselves creating a kind of localized threshold that amplified certain perceptions.

"Ezekiel," he said without looking up. "I was just about to call you."

"What's the Iron Cathedral?" I asked, shaking rain from my coat.

That got his attention. He looked up, removing his glasses. "Where did you hear that name?"

"David Miller mentioned it. Said Michael Matthews was being held there."

Gabriel stood, moving to a filing cabinet in the corner. "The Iron Cathedral isn't a building in the conventional sense. It's what locals called the blast furnace complex at Homestead Steel Works during its operating years."

He pulled out a folder containing old newspaper clippings and photographs. "The complex was partially demolished in the late 1980s, but significant portions remain as an industrial heritage site."

The photos showed a massive industrial structure, cathedral-like in its scale and design, with towering furnaces and a complex of pipes and walkways. My Blood Gift for pattern recognition activated strongly—the architectural design created natural energy channels, almost like a massive circuit board for supernatural power.

"During the 1919 steel strike, there were rumors of strange rituals performed in the furnace areas," Gabriel continued, showing me yellowed newspaper clippings. "Workers reported seeing 'men of shadow' moving through the complex at night. Your father investigated similar reports during the religious revival of the 1920s."

"And Homestead is near the rivers," I said, remembering David's words about 'rivers converging.' "The Monongahela meets the Allegheny not far from there to form the Ohio."

"Exactly." Gabriel pulled out a map of Pittsburgh, pointing to the confluence. "The Three Rivers area has always been a place of power. Native tribes considered it sacred ground long before European settlement. The convergence of waters creates a natural energy focal point. In Covenant terms, it's a major Power Node."

I shifted briefly into Watcher Stance, my perception expanding to better process the information. The map revealed patterns I hadn't noticed before—ley lines crossing at key points, the rivers forming natural boundaries between supernatural territories.

"Perfect place for a ritual involving transformation energy," I mused. "But why would Renaissance Path be connected to an abandoned steel mill?"

"Not just any steel mill." Gabriel tapped another photograph showing the broken circle symbol carved into one of the steel beams. "Homestead was built on the site of an earlier iron works that was known for incorporating symbolic elements into its construction. The original owner was deeply involved in certain esoteric practices."

"So Renaissance Path is using a site that's already prepared," I said, the pieces starting to fit together. "They're not starting from scratch; they're activating something that's been dormant."

"And if the blast furnace complex is their ritual site, they're planning something substantial." Gabriel looked troubled. "The energy required to activate such a large space would need multiple vessels, not just one or two."

"They have at least six that we know of," I said grimly, sharing what we'd learned about the missing persons and their connections to Renaissance Path.

Gabriel listened intently, making notes. When I described the sigils I'd seen on the Renaissance Path building using the Sight, he pulled out several reference books, comparing my description to ancient symbols.

"These are harvesting sigils," he confirmed, showing me similar patterns in a text that looked older than the building we stood in. "Designed to collect and focus transformation energy. But they're also connected to something called 'the Broken Covenant.'"

"What's that?" Judgment Call grew warm in its holster, as if responding to the name.

"An ancient agreement between celestial and infernal forces regarding human potential," Gabriel explained. "The texts are fragmentary, but they suggest a pact that was broken, allowing certain entities to harvest human transformation energy that was supposed to be protected."

I thought of my own heritage—half human, half celestial—and wondered how I fit into this ancient agreement. Had my father known more about it? Was that why he'd disappeared?

"And the Collector is one of these entities?"

"I believe so. The texts refer to a being that collects vessels of transformation to repair or restore something." He closed the book carefully. "Your father's notes mention the Collector briefly, but he never fully explained what it was or what it wanted."

I thought about the mark on Sarah's wrist, growing stronger by the hour. "How do we stop it?"

"I'm still researching that," Gabriel admitted. "But I did find something about the marks." He pulled out another book, this one bound in what looked disturbingly like human skin. "The broken circle isn't just a brand; it's a conduit. As it forms, it creates a connection between the vessel and the Collector, allowing energy to flow between them."

"Can it be removed?" I shifted into a more focused stance, my breathing automatically adjusting to the Seven-Eleven pattern Gabriel had taught me years ago—seven counts in, hold for four, eleven counts out.

"Potentially, but it would require breaking the connection at precisely the right moment in the ritual cycle. Too early, and the backlash could kill the vessel. Too late..." He let the implication hang.

My phone buzzed with a text from Sarah: "Warner came back. Asked about you. Said you could 'join the transformation' tonight. Group session at RP headquarters, 8 PM."

I showed Gabriel the message. "They're inviting me in."

"It's a trap," he said immediately.

"Obviously," I agreed. "But it might be our only chance to see what they're planning and find the others."

"Ezekiel, you're not just a hunter to them. You're Nephilim. Your transformation energy would be exponentially more valuable than an ordinary human's." Gabriel's expression was grave. "If they mark you, the consequences would be far worse. Your celestial blood would amplify the connection, potentially strengthening the Collector beyond anything we've seen before."

I knew he was right, but what choice did we have? "I need to meet with Sarah and figure out our next move," I said, gathering the information about Homestead. "Can I borrow these?"

Gabriel nodded, then reached into a drawer and pulled out a small wooden box. "Take this too," he said, opening it to reveal a small crystal vial containing what looked like liquid silver. "Celestial essence. When applied to Judgment Call's chamber, it will enhance its Revelation mode, allowing you to see the true form of the entities even without using your Sight. Might save you some headaches, literally."

I accepted the vial, carefully applying a few drops to Judgment Call's cylinder. The weapon absorbed the liquid instantly, the ancient engravings along its barrel glowing briefly with blue-white light. The gun seemed to hum with increased energy, responding to the enhancement. I felt the Covenant Resonance between us strengthen, the weapon becoming an even more natural extension of my will.

"This will help Judgment Call reveal what's hidden," Gabriel explained. "The Truth mode will still work for combat, but now the Revelation function should be stronger. You won't need to strain with the Sight as much."

As I prepared to leave, Gabriel placed a hand on my shoulder. "Ezekiel, be careful. Renaissance Path isn't just dealing with supernatural forces; they have human agents too. Dr. Warner and others like him serve the Collector willingly, believing they'll benefit from the transformation energy it harvests."

"Why would anyone serve something that feeds on human transformation?"

"Power. Immortality. The usual temptations." Gabriel's expression darkened. "Or they might be former vessels whose marks were completed, leaving them bound to the Collector's will."

A disturbing thought. If Michael and the others had their marks completed, would they become agents of the Collector too? I thought of the burn mark on David Miller's arm—the broken circle made whole. What did that signify?

I left Sullivan's Rare Books with more questions than answers, but at least we had a potential location for the missing victims. As I drove back toward the hospital to meet Sarah, I couldn't shake the feeling that we were missing something important. My Blood Gift for precognition flickered briefly—a warning of danger ahead, but too vague to interpret clearly.

The rain had intensified, water pooling on Pittsburgh's streets. As I waited at a traffic light, I noticed a dark figure on the corner, standing motionless as pedestrians hurried past with umbrellas and raincoats. It turned slowly to track my car, its face a blank shadow even under the bright street lights.

My hand moved instinctively to Judgment Call, and the weapon grew warm in response. The entity wasn't hiding anymore, not even making an effort to blend in. The Veil Principle seemed less important to it than whatever it was tracking. I shifted briefly into Watcher Stance, enhancing my perception. The entity's aura pulsed with an unnatural rhythm, its form blurring at the edges—a shadow entity, but different from the ones I'd encountered before. More focused. More purposeful.

The shadow entities were getting bolder, showing themselves in public without concern for who might notice. The Collector's timetable was accelerating.

And Sarah's mark was growing stronger by the hour, creating a beacon that would only become more visible to those who knew how to look.