by L. K. Hill
Half a dozen large boxes were stacked against one wall. No one paid them any heed, so Kyra didn't either.
Kyra’s captors marched her to the back wall and forced her to the ground there. Before they spun her so her back faced the wall, she noticed something small and cylindrical in the shadows beside the baseboards. Her knees hit the floor. She leaned back and pulled them out from under her, so she sat on her backside. The guards didn’t object. Instead they took up positions to either side of her.
No less than a dozen Prowlers entered after them. The killer spoke to them in quiet tones at the front of the room. Kyra strained her ears but couldn’t tell what he said.
Moving her fingers slowly, carefully, she searched the floor for the cylindrical object. She found it. It wasn’t much. A stick of some kind. Only a few inches long and no bigger around than her thumb, it came to a jagged point at one side. She doubted it would break skin. If she used it as a weapon, it might simply snap. Better than nothing, though.
Everyone except Kyra’s two guards, the killer, and one other man who seemed to be keeping watch at the warehouse’s door, filed out. The killer walked toward Kyra.
“What’s going on? Where are they going?” She tried to make her voice confident, unafraid. It quavered slightly.
“Back beyond the seventh layer. Things got out of hand there. We must set them right.”
“Why aren’t we all going?” she asked, though she could guess the answer. He’d kill her here first, no doubt after some torture. He’d brought her to a secluded place so he could take his time.
His sinister smile was all the confirmation she needed. She didn't know how she'd get out of this, or if she could. She needed to keep him talking.
Even as she thought it, he pulled a foot-long knife from his belt.
*******
Shaun squealed the tires as they arrived at the corner of Jackson and Gaap. Gabe’s feet hit the pavement before the car stopped. He recognized the remnants of Kyra’s cell phone, smashed to bits on the ground below the sign.
He felt relief at not seeing any blood. Or bodies. He shuddered and pushed the thought away.
Walking out into the center of the deserted intersection, he peered both ways down Jackson, then swiveled from one direction to another down Gaap. Everything was still and silent.
“We have two options," Shaun said. "Into the city, or out into the desert.”
Gabe fought panic. Kyra had already been with the killer several minutes. Any moment might be her last. If they chose the wrong direction, they would doom her.
“I think we should go into the city,” Cora said.
Gabe turned to her. “Why?”
She swallowed. “Two reasons. The first you won’t want to hear. If he took her into the desert, we’re never gonna find her, Gabe.”
“The desert is wide open,” he argued.
“Yes, and the road we just drove on had a clear view of it. We didn’t see any headlights, dust trails, nothing. It’s dark with no moon. He could take her anywhere and we wouldn’t know or be able to see.”
“What’s the second reason, Cora?” Shaun said steadily.
“The Purple Valentine is in a part of town exactly like this one. It’s obviously a place he knows and is familiar with. I mean, shit,” she ran a hand through her hair and gazed scathingly up at the street signs. “There’s a street here called Gaap. Why didn’t we know that? Why didn’t it come up in our searches?”
“This is Old Abstreuse,” said Shaun. “This part of the city sank into oblivion long before the internet. Long before people would have indexed it for historical reasons. This street doesn’t exist anymore. Not on any map in the world. It’s only…” he trailed off.
“Empty buildings and ghosts,” Gabe finished.
“This guy obviously favors places like these,” Cora nodded. “I think he’ll go to another place like the one Kyra found him in before.”
“We’re miles from the Purple Valentine,” Gabe said, a feeling of hopelessness trying to overwhelm him.
“Yes, but he can’t go back there anyway because there’s still a police presence. If we drive down that way,” she pointed, “it’s similar, but far enough away that maybe he'd feel safe. I think it’s our best bet.”
“Gabe?” Shaun said.
So they were leaving the decision to him. Terror filled Gabe's chest at making any choice. Once made, they wouldn't be able to unmake it. Yet, Cora’s logic made sense, and they were wasting time. One direction was as good as another when they had no damn clue.
“Okay. Let’s go.”
They hopped into the bronco again and Shaun turned it toward the dilapidated buildings of Old Abstreuse.
*******
Keep him talking. Keep him talking. Find something—anything—to ask. The killer stood at the front of the warehouse, gazing out the window and running his index finger over the flat side of his knife. Kyra turned the stick in her palms, getting used to the feel of it.
“Why are you killing the working girls? What do you have against them?” she blurted.
“Because they are chaos personified,” he snapped.
Kyra nearly gasped. She hadn’t expected such a willing response.
“No purity. No order. They are not beings like you with self-awareness. They willfully surrender the higher reasoning they were born with.”
Kyra frowned. “They don’t…deserve to die.”
“Ah,” he turned from the window to look at her. “But they do. They are an oozing sore on the heel of humanity. Sin must be cleansed if order is to be restored.”
Cleansed. He sprayed liquid soap over the bodies. One mystery solved.
Kyra didn’t know how to answer. How did one argue with a mentality like that? “And you plan to cleanse the Mire of every prostitute?”
"Prostitutes, junkies, dealers. The dregs of society. First the city must be purified. Then I will cleanse the world."
Kyra swallowed. "Through murder?"
He smiled his terrible smile again and walked slowly toward her. “I am Gaap. I transform them, make them invisible, carry them between kingdoms, and render them infertile.”
Kyra frowned. “They aren’t invisible. Their bodies were found.”
“Only when I wanted them to be.”
Kyra turned the rest of his words over in her mind. Something else stuck out to her. She already knew the answer, but asked anyway. “How do you…render them infertile?”
The man stared at her.
“You somehow figure out which ones have children, and kill them too, don’t you?”
Still no answer.
Tears formed in her eyes as she thought of Mallory’s baby, who’d died the same night as she did of inexplicable causes. She thought of Sadie, who had Annie. He didn't only pose a threat to the women, but to their innocent children as well.
“That doesn't bring infertility,” she snarled at him. “You can’t un-fertilize a human. Those children are innocent.”
“They’re the product of a sin that should never have been.”
“Their own births are not their fault.”
“Fault has nothing to do with it,” he turned slowly back toward the window. “Transformation is not a respecter of persons.”
*******
As the minutes ticked by and Shaun drove through the deserted streets, Gabe’s heart sank lower and lower. No sign of her. He’d rolled down his window in the hopes that maybe he would hear something to point in him the right direction. Nothing. Silence. No breeze. The lightning overhead, which became more occasional by the minute, had no accompanying thunder.
Shaun and Cora peered out from their windows, studying the structures around them, as Gabe did. No one spoke.
*******
“What about Detective Nichols?” Kyra said. “Did you leave the box on his doorstep? The coin said Gaap.”
He gazed out the window again. “I did.”
“Why? You’re too young to have kidnapped his brother twenty-five years
ago. You can’t be more than a handful of years older than me. So who are you? Did you know Dillon?”
“That’s between myself and Detective Nichols. You do not enter into it.”
Kyra wracked her brain for more questions. Why the waiting? He didn’t seem to be in any hurry to kill her. Yet he’d seen the cell phone and must know people were looking for her.
Fear seized her chest as another thought flashed in her mind. Was he counting on that? Could he be setting some kind of trap for Gabe?
“What about the warehouse in the Mire four weeks ago? The dead woman behind the back hoe? I saw a black bag in the loft and then it disappeared. Also you?”
“Yes. I needed to identify you and know where you went when you left the Mire. I watched the detective walk you out dressed as a pig cop and followed to your hotel. Since then, it’s been easy to track you, even when you changed hotels.”
“You installed the camera and saw where I kept my key. You stuffed it into another woman’s throat.”
He chuckled, of all things. A chilling sound. “You make it sound like I cheated on you.” He turned from the window. “Are we having a love affair?”
She ignored the remark. “Why make her look like me? Why give her my scar and mutilate her face."
"It was the only way to convince the detective that it might be you."
"But you knew he'd figure it out sooner or later. Through DNA or dental records."
The man inclined his head. "Inevitably."
"So why do it at all? Why would you want Gabe to think I'd died?”
“Because you soon will. I did it to give him a preview of his life. All things in it will die as the whores in the alleys have.”
"So you did it just to torment him."
The man merely looked at her.
“Why do you hate him?”
“He ruined my life.”
“How?”
“Don’t you see? Some things must be locked away. Others roam free. Some can be unburied, if only you have the key.”
“What does that mean?”
He glanced out the window, obviously not planning to answer the question. A moment later he murmured, "He protects them."
Kyra frowned. "Who?"
"The ones I'm cleansing. Your detective tries to keep me from cleansing them. Blasphemy."
Kyra didn't know how to answer. Of course Gabe tried to protect the working girls from a killer.
The man stared at her another moment and then paced slowly across the room in front of her. “I never wanted to kill you, Chameleon. You are my equal—”
"You said that before," Kyra interrupted, watching him closely. "How am I your equal? We're opposites. I don't kill people. I don't live with the Prowlers. How are we at all alike?"
"Because we can both live in both worlds. You move smoothly from darkness to light, Chameleon. You are self-aware enough to be a creature of all terrains, as I am. Not many can do so. I would have preferred to be your comrade. You chose to make an enemy of me. Brought in the pigs to take away my sacred treasures."
Kyra could only assume he meant the mass grave inside The Purple Valentine.
"Now I will break you," he grated, his eyes flashing menacingly.
Kyra blinked at him warily. “You mean you’ll kill me? As you did the girls in the Mire?”
“No. Not yet. First, I’ll break you. There’s a difference. We’re going back to my kingdom. What awaits you there will be worse than death. You think you’re invincible, Chameleon, but you have enemies."
She assumed by his kingdom he meant Prowlers’ lair. “What enemies? What do you mean?” Plenty of danger stalked the Mire, but the only personal enemy she’d had was Josie, and Dellaire killed him days ago.
“Damage breaks a person. Damage that cannot be undone.” He didn’t appear to have heard her last question. “Death is not damage. It is only transition. Damage is what shatters the soul.”
Outside, something lit up the street. The killer and his lookout crouched beneath the window. Kyra’s guards squatted on either side of her, holding her down by the arms. One of them clamped a hand over her mouth.
The street brightened by degrees. A car came into view. It felt so odd to see a car in this part of town, Kyra gaped. Not Gabe’s car, yet that hardly mattered. She thought it might be a police SUV of some kind. It had to be him. He was searching for her.
She strained against her captors, mostly out of instinct. Their grips tightened on her and she forced herself to relax. No use fighting a futile battle. It would have to be later. She needed to wait for her moment and make a break for it.
Yet, Kyra could hardly stand to watch the car pass by. She kept hold of her panic only by a thread. The light faded slowly. Soon only the lingering light from the taillights remained. Then even that disappeared. Gabe might be far away by the time she found an opportunity to run. A full minute after the car passed, the killer and the lookout stood.
The man with his hand across her mouth turned her face to his and laid an index finger over his lips.
She nodded, and he released his hand from her mouth.
The two guards stood again, and Kyra forced herself to be calm. Best if they thought her compliant.
The warehouse door opened and a Prowler—a woman she thought—walked in. She whispered something in the lookout’s ear, and he turned to the killer and nodded.
Ah, so that’s why the waiting. He been waiting for some message or cue from this courier.
“Time to go, Chameleon.”
He crossed to the right side of the room to a box and began pulling things out of it. She couldn’t tell what. Nothing more than dark objects to her eyes. He motioned for the lookout to come help him, which he did. Apparently the courier and the lookout were not enough. The killer motioned to the guard on Kyra’s right to come help as well. Whatever they took from the box, they'd be carrying a lot of it.
Guns and ammo, perhaps? Kyra thought she caught sight of a cylindrical object with coiled rope. Explosives?
The guard on Kyra’s left—the man whose hand had silenced her—took her by the arm and pulled her to her feet.
Then she saw it.
Only one guard held her. The rest of the group stood near the right wall. The door stood to the left. A clear path.
Without thinking, Kyra moved the stick in her palm so the jagged side stuck out by three inches. With lightning speed, she swung her hand up and thrust the jagged stick into the guard’s neck. He cried out and staggered backward, letting go of her.
Kyra bolted.
*******
They moved down the long, interminable streets, and Gabe prayed for something, some sign. He gripped the headrest of Shaun’s seat so hard, his knuckles glowed white in the darkness.
From the front seat, Shaun gasped and slammed on his breaks.
“What? What is it?” Gabe shouted, looking frantically out his window. He saw nothing and shifted his eyes to Shaun.
At first, he thought Shaun stared at him. Then realized his boss peered into his rear view mirror. “She’s behind us," Shaun said.
Before Gabe could react, the car slammed into reverse and backed up at a higher speed than they’d gone since entering this part of the city.
Gabe twisted around to peer out the back window. At first he saw nothing. Then movement, coming toward them. As they neared it, Kyra’s figure solidified. He’d know it anywhere. Something moved behind her. Indistinct, but not hard to guess: people chasing her.
Shaun stopped the car with enough space to make sure he wouldn’t hit her. Gabe leapt from the car and ran toward Kyra. They slammed together six feet behind the bronco. Gabe swung her around in a circle to absorb the momentum. They came to a stop nearly flush with the bronco’s bumper.
“Kyra, are you okay? Are you hurt?”
She nodded, gasping for breath. Bruises and scrapes—which might have been road rash—decorated one side of her face. She trembled violently. Otherwise, she didn’t appear to be hurt.
Ga
be threaded his arms underneath Kyra’s and crushed her against his chest. She hugged him back, shuddering against him. “Are you sure?”
“I’m fine,” she gasped, chest heaving. “Fine. Still behind me, though.”
Shaun and Cora had emerged from the car with guns drawn. They stood on either side of Kyra and Gabe and two paces in front of them.
Kyra turned her head against his chest to look back the way she’d come. He did the same. Though he’d been sure there were more, now he saw only one man in the distance. His silhouette stood a quarter mile down the street, staring toward them.
The sky had been dark for ten minutes now. Suddenly the lightning lit it up again, illuminating the man’s figure for a second and a half. Gabe couldn’t make out his features from so far away. He wore no shirt and only a pair shorts. He stood with shoulders hunched forward and his arms hanging down in front of him, like a gorilla about to charge.
Gabe stepped in front of Kyra, pushing her behind him, as much to protect her as to step closer to this man. This was him. Gabe felt it. The killer in the Mire. The key to Dillon’s disappearance.
Another jagged lance of lightning lit the sky, and the man turned and fled.
Gabe stepped forward.
Shaun’s iron grip on his bicep stopped him. “No, Gabe. He could lead you into the ambush.”
“He’s the killer. He’s Dillon’s kidnapper.”
“No,” Kyra’s voice came from behind him. “Gabe, he’s not.”
He spun to look down at her. Her chest still heaved and she looked disturbed. She turned to Shaun. “We have to go help Tyke. He," she nodded toward where the killer had stood, "told me he'd take me back to their lair to finish what they started. Tyke and the others must still be alive. But they won’t be if we don’t go get them. They’re outnumbered ten to one down there.”
“Can you take us there?”
“Yes.”
Shaun nodded. “Everyone get in the car. Now,” he added when Gabe didn’t move.
Gabe turned and pushed Kyra ahead of him, helping her into the bronco. The tires spit gravel as they peeled out. Kyra gave Shaun instructions and Shaun turned on his lights and sirens, explaining that most of the city's police force would meet them there.