No Place Like Hell

by K. S. Ferguson

  Tad clambered through the window and straightened beside me.

  "Where is everyone?" I asked.

  "I heard the commune members are on a pilgrimage to some ruins in Mexico. I don't know who else is here," Tad said. "How did you know where to look for me?"

  "Sleeth and I followed Colleen Hobert—until he ran into a trap just like the one that killed Dave."

  "Sleeth's here?" Tad's face paled in the dim light from the window.

  "That's right," said a voice from behind me. "I finally have the hellhound."

  I turned around to face Maggie Tisdahl. Her pistol pointed at my chest.

  60

  "You work for Holmes," I said when I'd recovered my voice. "You're helping the Slasher?"

  Maggie's eyes blinked, and a change came over her. Her head tipped forward, a smile curved her lips, and her posture relaxed.

  "I am Holmes." Her voice had deepened and taken on an East Coast accent. "Maggie and I have shared this body since she released me. Lucky for me she found that old book and used its contents as part of her meditation chant."

  A frightening intensity came over the personality who looked at me through Maggie's eyes. "Tomorrow, after I have sacrificed Sleeth to destroy Hell, you and I will get better acquainted. It's been a long time since I've enjoyed the entertainment of a woman."

  She'd had some kind of personality split, or a psychotic break. I had no sympathy for her. I wanted to plant my fist in Maggie's face, scratch out her eyes, make her suffer the way I'd seen Dave suffer.

  "You're the one who killed Dave," I said, my voice flat. My hands clenched at my side.

  "It's your fault he's dead. If you'd done as you were told and stayed away from Sleeth, Dave would still be alive," the voice of the Holmes personality said. "I never wanted to hurt your partner, but I had to have Sleeth. He's the hell mouth. Rupture him to rupture Hell."

  Criminals always blamed others for their actions, but some part of me still cringed with guilt at the accusation that I'd killed Dave. I diverted the guilt into rage and focused it on Maggie.

  I jerked a thumb at Tad. "And will it be Tad's fault when you kill him? What about Chief Greene? What sin did he commit that entitles you to murder him in cold blood?"

  Maggie laughed, a sound that chilled me with its madness despite the warm night. She flicked the gun barrel at Tad. "Go ahead, tell her who you are."

  Tad's brows pulled down, and his hands rubbed his pant legs. "I'm sorry, Nicky. I should have told you sooner, but I didn't think you'd believe me. I didn't think anyone would believe me. They'd say it was because I banged my head in the accident.

  "I'm Bill Decker. Tad Newell died when he was hit by the car, and I stole his body."

  Tad was right; I did think he'd hit his head too hard in the accident.

  "All I wanted was to get out of my contract with Calderon." Tad's eyes filled with sorrow. "When she contacted me, I thought I was buying a new identity, a new life somewhere that Calderon couldn't find me. I didn't know she intended to murder me or anyone else. None of us did."

  My eyes tracked from Tad to Maggie to Greene, who leaned out the window. I waited for Greene to say something, to refute the madness.

  "When you tried to warn me about the Slasher, you said he was a man. But I'd spoken to a woman," Greene said.

  "She won't help you," Maggie said, her voice back in its normal range.

  She who? Maggie and I were the only females present. She couldn't mean—

  "I hadn't intended to take Greene," Maggie said. "He's small potatoes, not the kind of rich and powerful associate I prefer. But Calderon helped the hellhound. That had to stop, and Greene had the authority to do it."

  I stared at Greene. "You ordered the raid at the Luna Azul."

  "She has my heart," Greene said. "If I don't do what she says, she'll kill me."

  "What about the innocent victims caught in the crossfire?" I asked. "You swore to protect them when you took the job."

  "She swore nothing," Maggie said. "Nicky Demasi, meet Deborah Peck."

  My eyes widened, my lips parted, and my breath stuck in my chest. Greene ducked his head. His ruddy face flushed. Was I the only sane person left on the planet?

  "If you'd just shot Sleeth at the freight warehouse, this would all be over," Tad murmured at my shoulder, his voice laden with regret. "She can't hold the ceremony without him."

  The porch light blazed. Warner banged through the screen door and joined Maggie on the grass. The light revealed dried blood on Maggie's hands. My stomach churned. Was it Sleeth's?

  "Hobert's resting upstairs," Warner said. "Frank Zachary finished his shower, and Bronski gave him his sedative. He'll be out soon."

  "Good. Time's running short. We need to get them back to their ritual locations," Maggie said. She nodded at me. "Put her in the basement."

  The strange shift came over Maggie again, and the deeper Eastern voice spoke. "I want her secure but comfortable. When you're done, you and Bronski go after Judge Innes. Take Peck with you. The judge will open the door if he sees his ol' buddy Chief Greene."

  Maggie looked at me with a sad smile. "Another failure to add to your list, Nicky. If you hadn't let Sleeth take Matthew Shertleff's soul from Judge Richards' body, I wouldn't need a replacement."

  Warner pulled his pistol from his belt and stepped over to me. He grabbed my arm in a grip as tight as a vise and jerked me toward the back door. Inside, we crossed the kitchen to a locked door.

  Warner dug a key ring from his pocket without releasing me. The door yawned open to dark stairs leading down. He flipped a switch, and a bare bulb hanging overhead came on. We headed down.

  We stopped before a second locked door at the bottom. My captor used a different key to unlock this one. It swung open on well-oiled hinges. Warner turned on another light.

  The room encompassed half the footprint of the house. Ceiling-mounted fixtures cast light on a scene that made me stop in my tracks.

  A steel table, the surface of which sloped to a drain at one end, stood in the space closest to the door. Straps hung from the edges. Beside the table, a tray displayed gleaming surgical instruments laid out in neat rows. Beyond the table, chain manacles hung from a ring set in the concrete wall.

  At the far end of the room, a huge brick furnace took up much of the remaining space. It had a small metal door near the floor and a larger door at waist height. A chimney rose in an L to vent the furnace out the side wall.

  No one needed a furnace that size to heat a house in Southern California. It looked more like— My throat closed.

  Warner dragged me to the wall and fastened manacles around my wrist. They bit into my skin. He glanced at the furnace, which had captured all my attention, and then looked at me.

  "Don't worry," he said in a gravelly voice. "By the time you go in there, you won't feel a thing."

  61

  I sat on the cool, hard concrete floor, my arms stretched over my head, my wrists already raw from the rough edges on the cold iron bracelets. I should have jumped Warner before he brought me down here. I'd rather be shot than face my dark future on the dissection table.

  How had I missed Maggie's severe mental illness? How had she sucked so many other people into her delusions? How could I stop her from committing more murders?

  She'd been after Sleeth all along, and I hadn't seen the significance of it. We could have set a trap using Sleeth as the bait. Maggie would have come to us. If we had, we wouldn't both be her prisoners now.

  The door opened, causing me to jump. I discarded my regrets, scrambled to my feet, and faced Warner.

  The hoodlum crossed to me at a brisk pace. He pulled handcuffs from his trouser pocket and fastened them on my wrists before removing the manacles. The gun was tucked in his waistband. I thought about making a grab for it, but he never gave me the opportunity.

  We climbed the stairs, exited the kitchen, and emerged in the yard. Despite my feeling that endless hours passed while I was chained to the wall helple
ss, stars still twinkled overhead. The thinnest line of light lit the eastern horizon.

  We walked to the packing shed, a two-story metal-sided building with two large delivery doors and a smaller door for foot traffic. Inside, a single bulb beside the door did little to light the cavernous, echoing space.

  Slatted wooden crates were stacked in a jumble along the wall to my right. Two refrigerators, a stove, and worktop demarked a kitchen area to my left. I made note of it. Kitchens were usually stocked with knives.

  At the back of the space, pinpricks of light flickered. Warner pushed me across the open expanse of concrete floor.

  When we were closer, the pinpricks resolved into candles, five of them in a circle. A naked body lay spread-eagled in the center of a rune-inscribed spiral. It was the man who'd entered the house earlier and I now knew to be Frank Zachary, the last of the members of Calderon's cult.

  A second man struggled against the ropes that held him to an old army cot placed at the outer edge of the spiral. Even with the tape over his mouth and the poor light, I recognized Judge Innes. His eyes rolled my direction, filled with terror and pleading wordlessly for help.

  They'd ripped open Innes' shirt to bare his chest. A glass bottle of clear fluid hung upside down from a stand, and a tube trailed from it to his arm.

  Bronski waited next to Innes. An overturned crate beside them held a rubber tourniquet, an Ambu bag, and a filled syringe. A defibrillator stood beside the crate.

  Maggie stepped from a dark corner to meet me. Her face glowed with excitement, and her eyes shone too bright. She wore a long black robe that smelled of blood, and she carried a white-handled knife, the quintessential lunatic executioner.

  "Welcome to the Temple of Enlightenment," she said. "It's unfortunate that I'll have to use the same site twice. It drains the power. But Lt. Mack seems to have listened to you after all when you told him about your map. He's staked out the site I intended to use for Mr. Zachary's transfer. Unfortunate, but our five damned souls should be sufficient to overcome any difficulties."

  Maggie swept an arm over the tableau before us. "You'll be my witness. You'll see the mighty Judge Innes cut down to size."

  I blinked. As a man, Innes wasn't well-liked. He came across as crusty and opinionated, and he didn't look favorably on career women. But he'd always been fair on the bench. If you made a solid case, your perp went down.

  "Why him?"

  Maggie's demeanor changed, and the deeper voice replied. "It's good to have friends in the criminal courts."

  So Holmes was lining up people who could protect him from the consequences of what he intended to do in his basement torture chamber. I'd be his first customer, but no one would ever find my remains. It turned my stomach.

  Warner handed me to Bronski and picked up the syringe on the crate. He inserted the tip into the catheter on Innes' arm. Maggie walked to the rune spiral and knelt at Zachary's head. Her eyes closed, and she began to chant strange, unintelligible sounds. Bronski shifted his feet.

  The rune closest to Zachary glowed red. In a few seconds, a second rune colored. One by one, the runes lit up. When half of them glowed softly, they began to pulse in a heartbeat-like rhythm, each beat sparking another in the chain.

  Fear blocked my throat and steeled my muscles. I took an involuntary step forward. Bronski jerked me back with a grip sure to leave a bruise.

  When the last rune closed the circle, Warner pressed the plunger on the syringe. Innes recoiled in pain and stopped breathing. Maggie swept the dagger down and ripped Zachary from sternum to groin.

  Blood fountained from Zachary's chest. Maggie plunged her hands in, and after a moment, came away with his heart. She held it aloft with a grim smile. Then she stabbed the dagger into Zachary's throat and rose.

  Sweat ran from Warner's brow, and worry lines formed at the corners of his eyes. The IV line no longer drip-dripped but ran wide open. He'd removed the tape from Innes' mouth and replaced it with the Ambu bag, which he squeezed twice. Then he dropped the resuscitator and picked up the paddles of the defibrillator.

  The device whined and beeped. Warner punched the buttons to release their charge into the judge's chest. Innes jerked and fell back, still. Warner swore, set the defibrillator to recharge, and tried again.

  After the second shock, Innes' chest heaved up, stuttered, and settled into an erratic breathing pattern. Warner checked for a pulse in Innes' neck. Satisfied with what he discovered, he rocked back on his heels and worked to untie the knots in the ropes.

  Maggie walked over to stand beside Warner. She held the dripping heart in her hand.

  "How is he?" she asked.

  Warner glanced up at her face, then at the heart. His gaze returned to Judge Innes.

  "He's good to go."

  A triumphant look settled on her features. "Bronski, take Ms. Demasi back to the basement. When she's secured, help Warner get the judge to a bedroom. Then clean up this mess."

  Bronski jerked me away towards the door. He seemed in a hurry to get out of the shed. Drops of sweat beaded on his upper lip. He stared at the ground, paying little attention to me.

  This was probably my only chance of escape. I waited to see if anyone followed us to the house. When no one emerged from the shed behind us, I clenched my fists and swung at Bronski's face.

  Bronski flinched, and my fist connected with his cheek instead of his nose as I'd intended. He shoved me forward and down. His fist came like a freight train. Pain shot through my head, and the lights went out.

  62

  I burned in Hell. That's how it felt. Sweat drenched my face. The air was too hot to breathe. My jaw ached, and my head throbbed.

  When I opened my eyes, I was in the basement chained to the wall. Murmuring voices and a metallic rattle drew my attention to the far end of the room.

  Warner and Bronski wrestled a blanket-wrapped form through the upper furnace door. The glow of hot flames flickered beneath it. I sucked in a breath and stared.

  When they'd finished, Warner mopped his face with his forearm. Bronski shifted from foot to foot and watched the furnace, nervous energy overcoming the heat-induced lethargy he should have felt.

  Warner walked down the room to me, pulled a ring of keys from his pocket, and removed the single manacle bracelet fastened around the center of the handcuffs. He hauled me up.

  A new wave of pain swept over me, accompanied by nausea. I swayed, and the light in the room dimmed. Then the blackness receded, and Warner pulled me to the door.

  "Where are we going?" I asked.

  "You're to watch, so you understand who's boss," Warner said. He didn't look happy about it.

  Bronski led the way out of the basement and into the cooler air of the kitchen. We traipsed through a dim hallway and onto the front porch.

  Blistering light blinded me. I squinted at the sky. The sun stood directly overhead. We'd reached the solstice.

  Bronski hesitated, eyes shifting between Warner and the packing shed.

  "I don't like it," Bronski said. "There's something about that Sleeth guy. We should have done him in, not brought him here."

  Sleeth was alive. One more person I should rescue. If only I could rescue myself.

  "You want to get paid," Warner said, "you'll do what she says."

  Warner didn't wait for Bronski to respond. He dragged me across the lawn and dusty yard at a brisk pace. Too soon, we reached the packing shed.

  "Don't do this," I pleaded. "Help me stop her. I'll put in a good word with the DA."

  Warner grunted and opened the shed door.

  Inside, light shone through skylights in the roof, giving the space a large, airy feel. Warner marched on while Bronski's footsteps slowed behind us. If I could talk to him alone, maybe I could convince him to turn on Maggie and help me escape.

  As we approached the rear of the space, the body on the floor caught my eye. Sleeth lay spread-eagled over smears of blood and charcoal dust, on top of a freshly-drawn pentagram. His eyes were closed. Unde
r his tanned skin, shadows roiled and writhed.

  Black candles flickered at each point of the star, and just beyond them, runes formed a closed circle. Outside the circle, one at each candle, Maggie's kidnap victims waited.

  When Tad saw me, he took an involuntary step my direction. His hand lifted toward me, and his eyes were haunted with worry. Then both his hand and face fell. He turned away.

  Maggie crawled on hands and knees, scrawling a second circle of runes six feet beyond the first circle. No spiral here, just the enclosing scribbling of a mad woman.

  "Hurry up," she said and gestured us inside the outer circle.

  When we moved through the gap, she drew shapes to close the circle. She pulled a dagger from under her black robe, pricked her finger, dropped blood on the final rune, and muttered something under her breath. The second rune circle pulsed to ruby life.

  Maggie faced us all and pointed to the outer circle. "Step over that and you die."

  Stunned silence greeted her proclamation. Bronski licked his lips and raised a hand to rub his chest. Warner looked grim and tightened his grip on my arm.

  Maggie distributed scraps of paper to each of the people gathered around the circle: Tad, Chief Greene, and Judge Innes. George White, a rich businessman and supporter of Mayor Newell's, stood at the fourth point of the star. He must be the man sacrificed so Colleen Hobert could be free of her contract with Calderon.

  "When we begin, you will repeat what's on the paper until I tell you to stop," Maggie said in that eerie voice I associated with her Holmes personality. "If you don't cooperate and I succeed, you leave me no choice but to destroy your heart for your disloyalty and lack of gratitude. I saved you from a fate so horrible you can't imagine it. I will save all Mankind from ever facing the fires of Hades again.

  "If you don't cooperate and I fail, the hellhound will be set loose. It will take all our souls to Hell. You would condemn those standing with you to eternal torture. To prevent its escape while I destroy it, you must chant until the ceremony is complete."