7th Sin: The Sequel to the #1 Hard Boiled Mystery, 9th Circle (Book 2 of the Darc Murders Series)

by Carolyn McCray

  Bill would need their help immediately, or else he would likely die within minutes. Pushing Mala behind him, Darc pulled out his gun and fired three shots in quick succession, point-blank, at the window.

  The material turned out to be bulletproof. The first two bullets lodged in the plastic before Darc could react enough to stop firing, while the third ricocheted off and struck the ceiling. A small cry came from a duct in the ceiling.

  “What the…?” Mala burst out, peering up into the darkness. A small hand pushed against the opposite side of the metal vent cover, hinging it to the side. Out of the open square popped Janey’s stuffed bear, which apparently had taken the bullet in the ear, from the amount of stuffing that was hanging out of the side of its head.

  Darc took a hold of Janey’s wrist, pulling her out of the ventilation shaft and setting her on the ground. Almost before her feet had touched the ground, Janey rushed toward Mala and buried her face in the doctor’s waist.

  The interweaving strands of logic registered that this behavior was a change from the norm. Darc could also acknowledge that this was a positive change, as Mala was a much better caregiver than he. But there was a slight gray tingling along the edges of this glowing information that Darc could not quite identify. Something that made him inexplicably dejected.

  The brief reverie was splintered by the screams that began on the other side of the door. The screams were so high and intense, they sounded almost more like a wounded beast than something that would come out of a human throat.

  “That’s Bill,” Mala gasped.

  The trailing wisps of light concurred. That sound had come from Bill Harris. And the only thing that could create that type of scream was an intense amount of pain. But even as the pathways of light confirmed physical pain in extremis, the screams became muffled and quickly turned to a kind of moan.

  Turning to the window, Darc looked around the warping caused by the two bullets imbedded in the plastic to see what was occurring on the other side of the door. Mala held Janey close, keeping her face away from the window as much as possible.

  She need not have bothered, at least not at this point. The white-garbed figure blocked most of the view of what was transpiring. The man was hunched over the prostrate form of the private investigator, doing something up close to Bill’s head or face.

  Darc rapped his closed fist along the doorframe. “It is metal,” he informed Mala. “And a deadbolt has been thrown. The only way back is to remove the hinges.” He slid his pistol’s safety on and began using the handle as a hammer, pounding out the pin of the top hinge.

  As he worked, there was the sound of the chainsaw starting up, the mechanical grind of the motor and the revolving of the metal chain rattling along Darc’s spine. He exerted himself even further, but the hinge would only move so far with each blow.

  At his side, Mala pulled a metal file out of her purse and worked on the lower hinge—after making Janey sit down on the far side, away from the door, with its window opening out onto a wonderland of horrors. The file was not as effective as the gun, but Mala was at least able to maneuver the head out so that when Darc finished with the first hinge, he was able to pop the second pin out in much quicker order. He pulled the door away from the frame and threw it to the side, rushing into the open space at the back of the warehouse.

  And stopped, holding up a hand to keep Mala behind him. Mala scooped Janey up into her arms, pressing the girl’s face against her shoulder as the doctor pushed around Darc’s outstretched limb, then gasped in shock as she beheld what had stopped the bald detective.

  It was Bill Harris’s severed head, a Babylonian symbol etched on the forehead. The wound was raw and fresh and still bleeding. Three Ys with a bar across the top, stacked on top of another set of three. Six. The eyes were open and staring.

  And his lips had been sewn together.

  CHAPTER 27

  “Time to take a trip, Detective Keane.”

  Trey started awake. You would think that being on the brink of death would keep you from taking catnaps, but Trey had discovered that being chained to a bed by a madman was quite draining. Had to keep your strength up, you know?

  His captor was dressed in a white coverall, which covered his head, and the entire suit was covered in blood. That didn’t bode well for whoever his sixth victim was. He’d probably kept the suit on for dramatic effect, so Trey decided to ignore it.

  “Well,” Trey drawled as he stretched, at least as far as his chains would allow. “It’s great that we’ve finally gotten to a place where you can take me out in public.”

  There was no response from his kidnapper, and Trey mentally kicked himself. What was wrong with him? Was he trying to get himself killed?

  But then, thinking about it, Trey realized that whatever this guy had planned for him was going to be far worse than any death he could whip up at a moment’s notice. Trey’s best bet for an easy death was right here, right now.

  As Trey was busy thinking through his death options, his kidnapper moved around behind him. Trey whipped his head back and forth, trying to see what the jerk was doing back there.

  “Hey there, Sparky. No need to go all ninja on me. Whatcha got going back—?”

  Trey’s nervous stream of conversation was cut off by a pricking sensation in his neck. A numbness swept down his body, leaving his limbs lifeless. He went to taunt his captor once again, but found that his mouth wouldn’t respond to his brain’s commands.

  “Yes,” his kidnapper drawled as he moved back into Trey’s line of vision. “That’s much better. Oh, I’m sorry. Did you have something else that you wanted to say to me?” He paused, his tone polite. “No? Ah, well. I’m sure something will come to you.”

  The man pulled a gun out of his waistband, then went to each of the four bedposts, unlocking the chains that bound Trey to the bed. If Trey’s limbs hadn’t been completely without feeling, he wouldn’t have been able to contain a sigh of relief.

  There was a furtive movement, and all of a sudden a fire leapt up next to the wall of the bedroom. The flame had an intensity that felt familiar to Trey. What the hell was that stuff called? Gringo Fire? That couldn’t be right. Something ancient. Greek.

  And then Trey found himself tossed like a sack of potatoes over his kidnapper’s shoulder. Man, this guy was strong. Something to keep in mind if he ever got free. Well, and if whatever this drug was wore off. If it was something that would actually wear off.

  His attacker set off at a brisk pace, especially considering that he was carrying a grown man. The light from the fire created flickering shadows that made the rest of the mock apartment look like something straight out of a horror movie.

  Trey found himself hoping that he wasn’t the token comedic relief that got killed in some hideous way before the end of the film.

  *

  Mala backed away from the head in horror, shielding Janey behind her as Darc searched the room around the head and body. The pool of blood continued to grow as Mala watched in fascinated disbelief the red tendrils creeping forward, ever forward. The blood seemed to be infinite as it poured out of Bill Harris’s headless corpse.

  “There is another exit off to the side here.” Darc moved across the room, pointing out the black hole where before there had only seemed to be wall. “This must have been where the killer entered.”

  It was not a framed-in door, but rather a hole that had been cut directly in the drywall. The “door” that had made the exit appear to be solid wall was propped against the backside of the drywall, in a space that appeared to be used for storage. The space followed the contour of the room, a three-foot area between the solid brick of the outer wall and the false wall made with drywall.

  As Mala moved toward the hole, she felt a tugging on her sleeve. Janey was pointing toward the other door, the one with the window. Her face was set in a way that Mala had come to recognize as her stubborn expression. There was something important the little girl wanted to show them.

  “Darc
, come back. Janey wants us to follow her.”

  The little girl wriggled out of Mala’s grasp, darting ahead, only stopping to make sure that both Darc and Mala were following behind. She glanced up at the vent where she had emerged earlier, stopped for a second as if she was getting her bearings, and then scurried off down the hallway. She took the first left, then a quick right, which took them to another long hallway that seemed to extend down the length of the building.

  At the far end of that corridor, a flickering light greeted them. The smoke that began billowing down the walkway gave meaning to that variable light source.

  Fire.

  The bastard had set the building on fire.

  Janey saw the fire and took a moment, her gaze moving all around. She grabbed Mala’s hand and pulled her back toward the last intersection and this time went to the left. They had gone only about twenty yards when they came across a huddled form on the side of the hallway. As they came close, Mala pulled Janey behind her once more.

  The form was a dead policeman, his eyes open and staring, a bullet hole in the center of his forehead. Apparently, their backup had decided to come in without an expressed invitation.

  Mala glanced at Darc, seeing the crease in between his eyebrows. Once again, if they had only listened to the bald detective, this officer would still be alive.

  As they rushed past the fallen cop, once more they were confronted with a hall filled with garishly lit smoke. More fire.

  Back again, this time to the first intersection, where Janey turned to the right, instead of the left. They passed two more lifeless forms before Mala could do anything to protect the little girl. But Janey continued forward, even though the set of her mouth showed that the sight of the dead policemen was taking its toll on her.

  And once more, the fire stopped them. Janey coughed as she tried to get closer to the blaze, but Mala reached out to pull her back. The little girl pointed to whatever was beyond the flames, her face beseeching.

  “Janey, there’s no way to get through. We have to get out of here.” Mala turned to look at Darc, who nodded his head and began leading them back the way they had come.

  Three more bodies created obstacles for their escape as they rushed toward the back of the warehouse. As they swept by the last of the forms, Mala thought she recognized the face of Officer Daniels, the young cop who had been so helpful with the investigation up to this point. It tugged at her heart, even as she hurried to get out of what was quickly turning into a death trap.

  They had rounded the corner leading to the door with the bulletproof window, Darc leading the way, when an explosion rocked the building. Through the window, Mala could see the wave of heat and light fill the empty room that led out toward the back of the building and freedom.

  There was no way out. They were trapped.

  *

  Sacks of potatoes had been treated with more dignity than Trey had been in the last five minutes. He had unceremoniously been tossed into the trunk of a car by his abductor, without so much as a villain-y quip. It was like the guy wasn’t even trying.

  Now he was bouncing along, feeling every bump in the road. Every bump. And there were lots of them. Which led Trey to believe that they were still down in SoDo. Fantastic. It was one of Trey’s favorite areas of Seattle.

  Not.

  Each time the car rounded a corner, Trey felt himself slam up against the side of the trunk. At least the right turns just pushed his feet into the side. The lefts? It was a pounding Trey was pretty sure his meager portion of brains was not up to.

  After a couple of quick turns, a left and two rights, it felt like they were going straight for quite a while. The original lack of other traffic sounds gradually gave way to quite a bit more.

  They must be traveling north, up toward the Sound. At least, as far as Trey could tell from back here in the trunk.

  His instincts were proven correct as the seaweed swampy smell of the Puget Sound began mixing with the odors of gasoline, old tires, and mold that had been Trey’s companions since he was thrown into the trunk. The frequency of the car’s stops and starts grew as Trey figured they were headed into Seattle’s downtown area.

  Trey’s sides were starting to feel like ground meat as they stopped once more and he slammed into the front of the trunk space. This kidnapper guy was going to have a lot to answer for if Trey had anything to say about it. You know, besides for all the killings and stuff.

  A right and then a left that smashed Trey’s head into the side of the car again, and then there was another straight section of road where the only change in movement was the starting and stopping of the car. Trey was starting to wonder if the kidnapper was just messing with him, adding in the stops just to make the ride less comfortable. And then the smell changed again.

  Fish.

  Trey knew exactly where they were. Pike Place. One of his favorite places in the city. Not only was Trey a huge fan of fresh fish, but somehow the smell of that place had been burned into the childhood memory part of his brain. There were days when he would go hang out at the open fish market just to breathe it in. Maggie always made him shower before he came to bed on those days.

  Orienting himself to the city, Trey began to pay even more attention to the movements of the car. No one knew Seattle like Trey. He knew its ins and outs, the main thoroughfares as well as the shady back alleys. He might be locked in a trunk, but damned if he wasn’t going to know exactly where he was coming out.

  Another scent memory, and again, Trey could place himself exactly. Tully’s Coffee, on the corner of Virginia and First. It was the combination of freshly baked pastries and coffee beans that hadn’t been burnt that was the tipoff. Man, he loved Tully’s.

  A series of stops and starts, and another smell. House-smoked wild boar ribs from the Black Bottle. Trey could feel his stomach rumbling. What was it with him and food? Maybe at another point, he’d delve into the questionable psychology of a guy whose entire existence revolved around what went into his stomach. For now, he was just glad he knew where he was.

  Another block or so and then a right turn. Suddenly Trey knew where they were headed on this lovely gastronomic tour of Seattle.

  But he couldn’t say he was at all happy about it.

  *

  Popeye was beyond mad.

  First, he’d been stuffed into a vent. Then he’d been shot. And now he was going to die in a fire.

  And the silly bear thought that it was all Janey’s fault.

  Well, she had taken them into the vent—that was true. But she hadn’t been the one who had shot Popeye. She kept telling him that Darc didn’t do it on purpose, but there was no talking to that bear when he got an idea in his head.

  And she definitely wasn’t the one who had started the fire.

  But one thing Janey knew for sure. Darc was going to get them out of here. She kept saying that to Popeye, over and over and over and over. Popeye just kept complaining about his stupid ear.

  She told him to shush. Once they got out of here, he could get his ear stitched back together, no problem. Janey started to cough from the smoke in the room.

  Darc had picked Janey up in his arms. Janey loved it when he did that, because even though it always meant that something bad was happening, it made her feel super warm and safe inside. He grabbed Mala’s arm with his other hand and pulled her toward the side of the big empty room, away from where the fire was burning next to the door.

  There in the side of the wall was a big blank opening. Janey didn’t know why it was there, but it was just like someone had cut out a big rectangle with scissors. She wasn’t allowed to use scissors because of that one time that she had decided to give herself bangs. That had been the end of the scissors for Janey.

  But when Darc dragged Mala through the opening and set Janey down inside the smaller space that was there between the sort-of wall and the real wall, Janey looked around. It didn’t look like there was any way out of here. And from the light that was getting brighter and brigh
ter back in the big space, things were kind of scary.

  Popeye said, I told you so. Janey shook him just a little until he promised to stop.

  Darc turned to Mala and Janey and said, “Wait.” Then he ran out into the fire and smoke, covering his mouth with part of his jacket.

  When he came back, his jacket was smoking in two places and he was carrying a big tool, like the one that Daddy had used to cut down the tree in the backyard at their old house. It was like that, but bigger. Janey remembered the noise and gas-smelling smoke that had come from that tool.

  She remembered, and decided it was time to get out of the way.

  *

  It had been fortunate that the chainsaw was one designed to cut through concrete and brick. The lines of logic had predicted a 67 percent chance, as there was little need for the cutting of wood in most warehouses. However, there had been the chance that the chainsaw had simply been a tool that the killer had brought in with him.

  Now it only remained to discover if the blood left behind by Bill’s decapitation had forever ruined the instrument. Darc pulled on the chain, and the saw sputtered to life, catching briefly on a bit of bone. Squinting his eyes against the smoke that was rapidly filling the small area between the drywall and the brick, Darc attempted to breathe shallowly to avoid too much inhalation of the toxic fumes.

  Moving to keep Mala and Janey on the other side of the cutting to avoid any debris striking them, Darc brought the saw into contact with the brick of the outer wall. Sparks flew, and a smell of burnt sand permeated the small space. Darc did what he could to shield his face from the flying detritus, but felt several sharp stings as pieces of brick sliced into the skin of his cheeks and forehead.

  Cutting through the mortar wherever possible, Darc was able to carve his way through the wall in a matter of minutes. As the brick toppled out into the alleyway, fresh air poured into the space, allowing them all to fill their lungs with oxygen. They coughed and gagged as their bodies attempted to rid themselves of the thick smoke from inside.