Dancing With Devils

by Scott Webster

  Michael was stunned. He looked at the wall of images and theories on the board. I started to unpack what he had taken from the station. Every piece of the case brought back memories.

  I felt myself snapping back to the crime scenes, the bloodied hotel room with the lamb head crown. That was just a gory tribute to his testament to kill without thought or feeling. The lamb head, perhaps that was a message in itself. The UV light with the message and the riddle.

  I reached further into the box. Little Sebastian. My God, the scene that started the hunt. I mean, I knew about Arthur from the rape case. The one thing that finally had us catch the bastard, yet the weak jury and piss poor prosecution couldn’t make anything else stick against him. We were reaching though. He was as slippery as he was smug.

  Everyone in this city knew about Arthur. He was feared amongst the criminal underworld. I proudly thought of how Jessica captured him and gave us what we needed.

  I couldn’t forget that scene with his own son though; his own boy, damned by the devil himself. I felt a lump in my throat as I thought about what he could be doing to my beautiful wife. Michael sensed it when he realised I stopped moving and had the photo of that scene in front of me. He didn’t say anything, instead helped unpack more of the box.

  I started to stick things up on the wall, now free of photographs, except the one of me with Arianna on our engagement day. It felt fitting to leave it up there with the crime scenes around us, a constant motivation for what I had to do.

  The phone rang. My heart started racing. Michael urged me to get it out and I placed the phone on the table. I answered and put it on speakerphone.

  His twisted, malicious voice was silenced, behind a laugh. I punched the table and I know he heard.

  He mocked me. “Feeling helpless yet, Detective? Do you feel that sense of impending doom?”

  I shouted back a wealth of obscenities, met by breathing.

  “You are probably looking back at some of my photos. The ones I sent you? I’d be lying if I didn’t say I felt some dark urges when I looked at your wife. I fully intended to hunt you down. I fully intended to inflict pain on you. Then, like a fine-looking angel, your wife walked out the door. I had to have her. Only, every time I got close; your rat colleagues were watching her. She was tough to get a hold of.”

  At least my paranoia wasn’t too unreasonable at the time. My paranoia had ironically kept her safe from harm.

  “Then, one day… she was gone and nowhere to be found. It angered me.”

  The line went dead.

  “No, no, no, no, no,” I screamed. “Fuck!”

  Michael tried to talk me down as I punched the table some more. The phone started to ring again. I answered without hesitation.

  “Just in the event you somehow managed to track me. Now, where were we?” Arthur cockily spouted with his serpent tongue.

  “You were just telling me about how I’m going to fucking kill you if you hurt my wife.”

  “Ah, your wife. Yes… she was suddenly gone one day. The woman I had to have, gone. That angered me. She wasn’t at work, wasn’t at home, and your lackeys didn’t lead me to her. But guess what? You finally did. Oh, the relief, the excitement. Patience paid off, Sebastian.”

  I closed my eyes and held my head in my hands. I brought this on her. She would have been safe without me. I inflicted this fate on Arianna. I felt an incredible amount of shame at the prospect.

  “Why don’t you tell me where you are, and we’ll trade. Me for her.”

  “Don’t you fucking dare try to treat me like an idiot!”

  I started to calm him by saying I was an idiot. I was baiting him, and I had no idea where he was.

  Assessing my silence, he piped up some more, “Sebastian, Sebastian. I will have my way with this beautiful specimen.”

  He was talking in a way as though he was looking at her. I felt relief. She was okay for now, hopefully unharmed, but in danger. I tried to take out the slightest positive given the circumstances.

  “I envy you, detective. One of the seven sins and believe me, I’ll do many more with her. I will desecrate your wife like I did that cunt Jessica.”

  His lips smacked as he spoke seductively about Arianna. I tried to respond but was immediately shot down with Arthur’s retort. “Don’t interrupt me! You want to play silly cat and mouse games with me? You can be a part of the game I play with your wife. You are going to hear every painful second of what I do to her.”

  My heart sank at the suggestion. The sick fuck. My desire to kill him grew, as flashes of the statue in the station entered my mind with the proud justice and equality plaque. The image of me walking through the station, echoes in the hallway as my brogues hit the floor were fleeting memories and felt distant now. The game I would play if I caught up to him would be simple: involving one bullet.

  My thoughts were interrupted by his gravelly voice. ”You are going to listen to me have my way with the love of your life, Sebastian. She’s going to tell you how much she loves it too. If you don’t listen, or if you hang up, I’ll kill her. If she doesn’t tell you she loved it, and I don’t hear your pain, I’ll kill her.”

  He laughed. He laughed harder than ever before and must have waved the phone in front of my wife as I heard her crying and whimpering.

  “Do you hear that? That’s the same sound Jessica made as I ran the knife up her son, our son.”

  “You sick fuck,” Michael screamed.

  “Oh, do we have an audience? How fortuitous that we get to share the moment with a crowd. It won’t be our dirty little secret. AH!”

  A sudden crack met with his recoiling in pain made me silently snigger at the escapade down the phone. That’s my girl. She had some fighting spirit in her. I hoped she had snapped his neck, much less broken his nose but I took great pleasure in hearing his bones snap. As my stomach churned at his threat of raping my wife as I listened, it jumped with joy knowing she’d gotten a hit on the bastard.

  “You have a fiery one here. I think the bitch has broken my nose.”

  I heard Arianna’s muffled scream. She’d obviously just been struck. Oddly, through it all, Arthur seemed to find the whole situation amusing. Further maniacal laughter ensued with some strange noises and boasting, he was obviously enjoying the moment of power he had over us both. He was a prize bastard.

  “I’ll let her calm down before the main event. Expect to hear from me soon, Detective Blackwood.”

  The line went dead. At least she was alive, and she had bought us some time. My heart was racing with fear. I felt sick knowing that he wanted me to listen to my wife get raped by him. He was a sadistic bastard, the lowest of the low. If I didn’t find her, I could only hope he would let her live after it. I couldn’t risk hanging up on him, as he’d do it to her anyway, and I’d only risk her life in the process.

  I regretted every single second of the chase, every single second of the game, and every single second of my time protecting, serving, and upholding the law. I regretted life, because every second of it culminated into this horrific moment of helplessness where the most beautiful, caring woman was at risk. Why? It was all because of me.

  I felt horrible. Michael didn’t know what to say. He didn’t say a word, clearly waiting for me to break the silence. I collapsed on the floor, unable to find anywhere else more appropriate.

  “What do I do, Michael? What the fuck can I do?”

  The room was silent. I felt a twisting in my stomach. I felt a pain I’ve never felt before. I continued to set up the display of images, crime scenes, and riddles. I started to write up the latest riddles in sickening silence.

  Formed in an instant, lasting a lifetime; I draw you back to where it began.

  A bare-faced lie; he carried something new, weightless unlike the guilt of the past.

  Deities Apollo and Artemis protect us, he defiles us.

  Chronos mistaken affiliation, despite devouring his own, puts reflection on who the victim may be.

  Michael lo
oked on confused. He didn’t recognise it. I explained I had taken the bus key card from the Xander Hardiman scene and found the clue in the locker.

  I added the second riddle, which I believed I had figured out before anyway.

  Sebastian, Before you doth see, the Head of a Lamb,

  Desecrated and carved is the Middle of a Pig,

  With her Serpent Tongue, remains the Hind and Tail of a Dragon,

  Remember, and brand this bitch the animal that she is? For she does the same.

  A weak, older woman branded a bitch and gutted with an ‘X’ in her stomach to reveal the UV light.

  I started to log the types of flowers found at the scenes:

  Carnations – an array of colours – Jane Doe

  White, Pink, Purple, Yellow

  Chrysanthemums – white – Xander Hardiman

  I noted every shred of detail I could think of from any of the scenes and the possible relevance to Arthur’s motive or where I could find him:

  Satanic symbolism – Jessica/Sebastian

  Belief in greater beings, devils, gods?

  Bodies disembowelled

  Ceremonial dagger – warehouse attack on me

  Vines/Ivy on dagger – symbolism? Flowers?

  ‘X’ marks the spot

  Removal of identifiable marks, teeth, and fingerprints – Jane Doe

  Faceless man – Hardiman

  Both victims, removal of identity, playing God?

  Lamb head – the lamb of God?

  Victims watching – Jessica/Sebastian McColm case – Power play

  Victims listening – Me/Arianna – Power play

  Feelings of grandeur – the ’right’ to kill his own son.

  Why take my wife? Why take Arianna? I’ll save you.

  I underlined those last three words numerous times. I then drew some of the notable symbols that had been littered over various crime scenes and what they could mean. Somehow, if I could piece together the motive, or the link behind the killings, could I get ahead of him? Could I figure out his next move?

  Time passed quickly, and before long it was getting into the late hours of the evening. Michael had left hours before, promising he would be back shortly, he just wanted to see his daughter and kiss her goodnight.

  I think the photos of the Sebastian crime scene were enough to make him miss her more. He didn’t want to leave me, but it was important, so I didn’t try to stop him. The fact he was there for me and had brought all the files meant a lot. If the Chief knew Arthur had taken my wife, he’d have likely removed me from the case, as it would have been too close to me. At least Michael understood; he had the balls to help. He did suggest I involve the force, but I swore him to silence. For now.

  I scanned every shred, every clue again and again. I couldn’t make it fit. My mind was wandering and in the wrong places. Feelings of hopelessness and dread filled my mind. I was waiting for the phone to ring every few minutes. Sharp pains ran up my arm, a knock-on effect of me emotionally reacting to the situation and punching the table and the walls. What was I doing?

  I started to doodle on a piece of paper, with a slight tremble in my hand from punching the table. I had, in my rage, pictured Arthur’s face and how much I wanted to, no, needed to beat the shit out of him. Then, I thought about her smile… I scratched her name into the paper with a pen before ejecting it across the room and filling the room with my screams. Tears were running down my face. I couldn’t remember the last time I had cried. I always promised myself I’d never get this weak.

  I had to snap out of it, I had to calm down or she’d never be saved. Then, out the corner of my eye, in the dark night sky, a silhouette. I was being watched. The tears stopped and my mind began to focus. I wasn’t armed right now. I didn’t have what I needed. Was it him? Taunting me?

  I slowly started to turn my head towards the window, and then there was movement. The shadow was running. I fought myself out of the slump I was in, banging my legs against the table in the process. Fighting through the pain, grimacing at the sharpness jolting up my leg, I ran. Every second felt like slow motion as I ran to the door. The rage, the excitement, knowing I would catch him. You are mine, you fucking bastard.

  I swung the door open and started to chase the shadow, not thinking about my safety whatsoever. He could have been armed. He could have been holding another knife. The shadow was quick; it already managed to separate itself from me. The sound of hurried footsteps banging in the night echoed down the street. Then suddenly, the storm that had been overshadowing the town for the last few weeks crashed an almighty crash.

  The night sky lit up with lightning, raindrops pouring. The sound of thunder resonated in my soul as I pictured Arianna’s face and my pace quickened. The lightning began to illuminate the shadow’s figure. A black beanie hat and hooded top concealed him. Adrenaline pumping through my veins, I focussed on the slippery bastard with the tunnelled vision of a lion hunting a gazelle. It was the quickest I had ever run, and I wasn’t about to let up.

  The assailant turned to a nearby house and started to scale the fence. I was closing in on him, mere seconds away and he jumped quickly, hurriedly, appreciating he was close to being in my grasp. Without even thinking about the ramifications, fuelled with adrenaline, I didn’t even steady my pace to leap the fence, I ran through it. The rotted wood crumbled as I steamrollered my way through it.

  The assailant, unexpectantly recovering from the drop of the climb was inches in front of me. My pace didn’t even waver and I ran into him as quickly as I ran down the street and forced him into a tackle. Without thinking, in a blackened haze, I started throwing my fists into the back of his head, to hear weakened screams. The assailant’s hands rushed to protect his head and his body retreated into the foetal position as best it could with me on top. My fists, renewed with energy kept flailing at the shadow, rotted wood chippings from my altercation with the fence dropping off me.

  “Stop, stop, please!”

  My fists started to slow; it wasn’t him. I spun him round to look in his face, and a frightened young man, probably no more than eighteen years old was looking back at me. I lifted his head up to mine, the heavens opening on us, rain hitting our slumped bodies.

  “Who the fuck are you and why were you spying on me?”

  He responded weakly, whimpering from the pain of the beating I had laid upon him.

  “Speak!” I shouted, alarming the resident of the property whose fence I had just ruined. A porch light lit up and the resident wandered around to see what the commotion was. A curvaceous lady, scantily dressed in eveningwear and slip on shoes emerged from the light, brandishing an umbrella.

  “Hey, get off my property you two! You!” She pointed at me. “Get off him!”

  “I’m a police officer.”

  “I don’t care who you are, you shouldn’t be doing that to him,” she chastised, recognising the position I was in and that I’d obviously inflicted harm on the teenager.

  “Who are you?” I demanded from the boy.

  Weakened by my flurry of punches, he replied he was no one and was just curious what the screams were from the property.

  I shouted at him, calling him a liar, not believing the story.

  He pleaded his innocence, advising he was genuinely curious what the commotion was.

  I punched him again, not accepting his tall tale.

  “You! What is your badge number?” The woman hurried towards me. “Are you even a police officer?” she questioned, worriedly.

  I admired her willingness to challenge me, having broken her fence and beating on a young man in her presence.

  The realisation of my actions suddenly dawned on me. I had just committed a felony. I’d committed assault, in front of a witness, committing property damage at the same time. I was losing my mind.

  “My name is Sebastian Blackwood. Detective Sebastian Blackwood,” I uttered in shame, recognising the weakness in my voice. “My wife was just kidnapped by the man I have been hunting, th
is young man was spying on me, looking in my window and I thought it was him. The man I was chasing.”

  The woman offered me her two cents on the matter, citing that it didn’t make my actions permissible. I felt ashamed. I acted without thinking.

  “So, that’s why you were screaming?” the boy interjected with a hint of empathy. I could feel how terrified he was. I’d chased him down the street, rammed through a fence and started beating on him, largely unprovoked. I climbed off the boy and started to weep.

  I stumbled to the woman’s house, leaning up against the wall in the garden, rain snapping on my face. The boy I had been chasing acknowledged he genuinely had nothing to do with what I was crying about, threatened to report me, and ran off into the night through the new gap in the fence.

  If not for how I felt, I’d have been quite proud about how I had bowled through the thing. Maybe I could tell Arianna one day. Gloriously show off how macho I was in my quest to save her. Or maybe I’d look back on how I’d lost control. My anxiety was starting to flare up. I felt my heart sting.

  My head fell into my soaking wet hands, shaking from rage and fear, my whole body was left soaking in the elements. Nature truly was beautiful, and I was its joke tonight. I was useless. I’d beaten a young man, out of frustration. I had lost control of myself, my emotions. I never acted without thinking, yet this evening, my own beast was unleashed. Eyes closed and feeling the rain on the back of my neck as I held my head up, suddenly, I could hear the rain, but the drops weren’t hitting me.

  The woman who had chastised me had sheltered me, trying to console me in my desperation. She offered basic verbal nods to try and reassure me, but I wasn’t hearing her. Then she lifted my head out of my hands and smiled. She had a smile like my mother. The stranger’s smile eased me slightly, putting a stop to the panic attack building up inside of me.