The 8th Circle

by Sarah Cain

  “Feisty, aren’t we?” Mason picked up a filleting knife. A glitter of light danced off the thin blade as he motioned to someone. “Secure his legs.”

  Metal clamped around Danny’s ankles. He wasn’t feisty. He was lost.

  Mason gave him a feral smile and gestured to the table. “So many shiny instruments. I wonder what they all do.”

  65

  Novell lived in a puke-green wood condo that backed up to the 202 Expressway in Malvern. When he got to the door, Kevin heard the blaring television from inside and hoped Novell wasn’t drunk.

  The door cracked open, and Novell peered out. He didn’t look too far gone, but he didn’t look good either. He needed a shave, and his bloodshot eyes sunk into sagging purple flesh. He put up his hand like he was fending Kevin off and then dropped it. His head bowed as if he were resigned.

  In that moment, Kevin thought of Danny cringing away from Junior and him like a whipped dog because they’d smacked him one too many times, and he felt ashamed.

  “What do you want?” Novell said.

  “I need your help.”

  “My help?” Novell gave him a bitter smile. “My help isn’t good for much. I’m on suspension, Ryan.”

  “Danny’s disappeared, Novell. I think they grabbed him today. I told him to go home and wait for me, but he wasn’t at home.”

  “Doesn’t mean he was grabbed.”

  “I can’t raise him on his phone, and Stan Witkowski’s dead.”

  Novell blinked and wiped his mouth. “I thought you had him.”

  “I did, but I sent him home. I need your help.”

  Novell’s face was working, and Kevin knew he was fighting something inside himself.

  “Novell, you know what they’ll do to him.” Kevin almost choked on his desperation. Every minute he stood here, he was wasting time. “You’ve got to have some idea where they’d take him. Please.”

  “You’ll probably get suspended yourself, Ryan.”

  “He’s my brother.”

  Novell nodded. “I know where we have to start.”

  66

  Kate didn’t say anything when she opened the door and saw Novell with the big man she recognized as Kevin Ryan. She let them in and watched Novell do a double take when he saw her hair. She had dyed it sable brown, cut it shoulder length, and blown it straight just that afternoon.

  “That color is all wrong for you,” the stylist said. “And why would you want to get rid of all those beautiful curls? It makes you look older. Not like yourself.”

  And wasn’t that just the point? She wouldn’t be herself. Maybe she’d call herself Beth and lose herself in a dead woman’s identity. She’d pretend she was a princess and say once someone was ridiculously in love with her.

  Of course Novell would show up tonight. She had forty-five minutes to get to Thirtieth Street station and then she was out of here. A new identity in a new place. It was her only hope. She’d always be damaged goods to Danny. No matter what he said, he’d never love her, not the way she wanted or needed.

  She’d thought about it all day. She could go to the club—that gold card would grant her access to every room—and she could look for Mason. Or she could leave. Just disappear. This time she’d go west. She’d always wanted to see California.

  Goddamn Novell.

  She glanced at Kevin Ryan. He had his father’s face, though it was less harsh, and he was bigger than Danny, not so much in height, but in weight and build. Kate wouldn’t have pegged them for brothers except for their eyes. Not the color. Danny’s were cobalt while Kevin’s were almost gray, but the shape—the wide set and slight downward cast—was similar. It gave both of them the look of lost boys. What horseshit. She wanted to shake herself. “What do you want, Novell?”

  “We need your help, Kate. It’s important.” Novell sounded tired. He hadn’t come making threats, and he hadn’t come alone. That was a surprise.

  “Oh?”

  “They got Danny. They’ll probably kill him if they haven’t already, so we need to move fast. Where do you think they’d take him?”

  The air rushed out of her lungs. She looked at Kevin Ryan once more and waited for him to say something, but he didn’t speak. His face betrayed nothing. He was a cop all right, and if he was anything like his father, probably a good one.

  Dear Christ. Nothing made sense anymore.

  This was her last chance, and she knew she didn’t have a choice. She’d help them because she owed Thomas, because she loved Danny, even though she was ready to disappear and never see him again. Maybe that’s what love did. It took you outside yourself, opened you to some bigger world, even if you knew in your heart it could never be yours.

  “If they know you’re coming, they’ll kill him. You know that, Novell.” She nodded at Kevin. “I can get him inside. Maybe. Not you.”

  “Where, Kate?”

  She looked away.

  67

  Cold water hit Danny like liquid nails. He shook so hard he thought his bones would break. They loosened the chain behind him and yanked off the metal collar. He flopped onto the wet concrete floor and let his eyes drift shut.

  Arms wrapped around him and dragged him across the floor to flip him onto a mattress that stank of blood, piss, and death. His head banged against the edge of something, but the pain barely registered.

  Someone wrenched his arms above his head, and he heard the sound of tape ripping. The tape slapped down on his wrists and bound them to the metal frame of the bed.

  “Tape don’t stick too good,” someone said in disgust. “He ain’t got much skin left. You think Mason’d think ’bout shit like that.”

  “Mason don’t think about nothin’ but pain,” the second voice said.

  These were new voices. Danny didn’t recognize them. How many people worked down here in this hellhole? He wanted to open his eyes, but it was too much effort.

  “Think we need to tape his ankles?”

  “What for? You think he’s gonna go for a stroll? He don’t know where the hell he is. Anyways, Bruce wants him rested up. He don’t want him dyin’ like that other guy.”

  “I’m surprised he ain’t dead already. He didn’t scream as much as most of ’em. That’s weird, ain’t it?”

  “He’ll scream. Mason’s just getting started.”

  They laughed, threw a blanket over him, and then walked out of the room and closed the door. A second later, the lock turned.

  Danny didn’t open his eyes. He was sinking below the water. The deeper he went, the less it hurt. The relentless bass grew fainter, and he could hear the wind hiss through the sea grass and the tide crash against the shore. If he were to reach out through the rippling darkness, he would be able to touch her, to die inside her the way he always had, and she would love him again. She seemed to pull him down, smiling, her eyes glittering black.

  But he shifted, winced. He was no longer sinking. He could see Kate’s long auburn hair tangled against the pillow, feel her shadow and substance, and he longed to trace the scar beneath her right breast with his mouth, to smell the scent of lavender that clung to her.

  “Don’t leave me.”

  There was no answer, and the room came back into horrible focus.

  I have to get out.

  When Danny pulled himself closer to the edge of the bed, the tape slid a little on his arms, and he was able to catch it in his teeth, just like an animal. He didn’t know how long it took him to gnaw through it to free his right arm. He used his teeth and numb fingers to pry loose his left arm.

  The feeling was coming back into his hands now, and the rush of blood crackled acid hot through his veins. His hands looked like purple balloons; the fingers so stiff, he could barely bend them. He understood why the tape didn’t stick: the outer layer of skin was shredded. He didn’t think there was a part of his body that wasn’t shredded in some way.

  Don’t pass out. Don’t pass out.

  He had lost all track of time. He might have been here a day or a
week. All he knew was that fucking bass line and Mason’s voice. “Talk to me, Danny. Tell me about the package.” And pain. He knew a lot about pain. Mason was right. He was an artist.

  But not a professional. How did he know that?

  The fuzz began to clear from Danny’s head. Mason got off on the pain. He didn’t care about the package. Danny took a breath. He could hear his ragged, wheezing breath and feel the stabbing agony that meant something was broken. Ribs, maybe. Or his heart.

  Danny Ryan died of a broken heart. Christ. Focus.

  Mason. What about Mason? Mason liked pain. A professional would have known after an hour that he didn’t have a clue about the package, but Mason didn’t care.

  The next round would be worse. He couldn’t just lie here and wait.

  Danny pushed himself up, and the room tilted. He shuddered with the effort, but he levered himself off the bed onto the floor. Cold seeped into him, and he tried to summon the strength to go on. Every muscle protested when he began to crawl along the floor like an insect. He had to get to Mason’s table of instruments.

  When it finally loomed above him, he pulled himself up on his knees to stare at the array of toys Mason had laid out. A curved knife drew his eye, and he reached for it, careful not to disturb the rest of the tools.

  His jeans and shirt lay on the metal chair, and he managed to grab them. He used them to wipe his blood trail from the floor when he crawled back to the cot. It took him a long time to pull on the jeans. The fabric felt like sandpaper against his tortured skin, and blood soaked through the knees. Danny hoisted himself back onto the cot. He pulled the blanket around him and gripped the knife against his side.

  Could he pry open the drain? No. It was too narrow to fit into. No strength to try to scale the walls, and even if he could, there was no place to go. Maybe pick the lock? Vic taught him how to pick locks, but he wasn’t up to it now. No, he had to think.

  He sat with his back against the wall, trembling with cold, even while sweat ran down his body. The salt burned and stung, but he didn’t care. It proved he was still alive.

  The room drifted out of focus, and he pressed his hands against his forehead. Pinwheels of light spun around the room and shattered off the walls. Orange. Yellow. Red. Shards of pain sliced into his right eye. Danny wanted to curl his body into a tight ball, but he couldn’t surrender. Not now. He clenched his teeth together when tears filled his eyes.

  If they killed him, they’d win. He wasn’t going to let them win. Not without a fight.

  68

  “That’s it, Novell,” Kate stared out of the car window at the purple neon sign that glowed above Club Midnight.

  The club stood alone on the edge of the Northern Liberties business development district in a four-story renovated factory surrounded by deserted warehouses. No neighbors to complain about the music that pulsed like a heartbeat or the nasty business that went on inside.

  Even in the old days, Kate only came here when she felt especially self-destructive.

  Kate knew that certain membership cards bought entry to special rooms, and in those rooms, you could get special services. All she ever found was sex in its most basic animal form, enhanced by leather and whips and pain. There was a rumor that things went on downstairs in the dungeon. They called it Tophet, though she wasn’t sure why. She never went there. As far as she knew, no one who did ever talked about it.

  If Danny was anywhere, he was in the dungeon.

  “We’ll go in the front way,” Kate said. “Try to find Delhomme. He likes to come late, so he’s probably here. When we find him, we’ll call you, Novell.”

  Novell nodded. “I’ll go around back. See if there’s another way in.”

  Kate glanced at Kevin Ryan. So far he’d said nothing to her. Only grunted.

  “I’m sorry if it pains you to be with me,” she said to Kevin when they were walking toward the club. She tugged on her leather skirt. It felt too short, too tight.

  “It doesn’t.” He gave her a sidelong glance, and she could feel him assess her. “You a fed?”

  “I’m a friend of your brother’s.”

  “I can see you with Danny. You look a little like . . .” He paused, and his eyes swept over her again. It made her feel naked. “He always went for classy women.”

  She fumbled in her purse to hide her discomfort. “I’m not so classy now, am I?” They stood near the door. She couldn’t break down.

  “You either are or you aren’t. Don’t matter what you wear.”

  Kate pulled out the gold card she’d stolen from Danny. She didn’t know why she’d taken it. Maybe she believed if she had it, he couldn’t get into too much trouble. Then she could run with a clean conscience. Or maybe she hoped he’d follow her. She made him promise to find Mason, but she didn’t expect him to do it. She wished she’d lied about Thomas. She wished she’d run away with him when he asked her. Now he was going to get killed, and it was her fault. She gave Kevin a weak smile. Classy wasn’t the word she’d use to describe herself.

  He put his hand on her arm. “Delhomme knows me too. I questioned him, Kate.”

  “We’ll have to move fast then.”

  Kate looked at his hand. It was big and solid like his father’s. She swallowed. “You know, Danny’s probably dead.”

  Kevin’s fingers tightened on her arm. “You were leaving tonight. I saw your suitcases. Why were you leaving?”

  “We’d better get moving.”

  But Kevin didn’t move. “Why did you change your mind?”

  Kate stared down at the asphalt.

  “Kate.” She heard the tremor just under the calm surface of his voice, a tiny crack in his armor. “Holy God. You’re the witness.”

  “Danny told you about me?”

  “He told me about Mason, but he wouldn’t tell me who you were. Kate, you’ve got to get out of here. He’d never want you to be involved.”

  She could take some comfort in that. Danny wouldn’t want her to be involved. He cared for her in his way. “You’ll never get in on your own. You need me. I can do this.”

  “I can’t ask you—”

  “You didn’t ask.” She wanted to tell Kevin her choice wasn’t a choice at all. She was bound to Danny, to all of them, the day Thomas pulled her from the flames. She had to help because maybe then Thomas would rest in peace. Maybe then she could forgive herself. But she didn’t say that to Kevin. Instead, she leaned close and kissed his cheek. “I have to do it. Here. Unbutton your shirt. Try to look less like a cop.” She deftly undid the buttons on his maroon shirt. Thank God it wasn’t starched white.

  “I won’t forget this, Kate.” Kevin put his arm around her, and they approached the door.

  *

  The heavy beat of electronic music slammed Kate as soon as they entered the purple-and-black interior of Midnight.

  Every table was filled. The massive ebony bar with its electric-grape neon trim had a large crowd, and every imaginable combination of half-naked men and women were grinding together on the dance floor. Their bodies adorned with glow-in-the-dark body paint gleamed in the eerie black-and-purple lights.

  Kate didn’t need to go upstairs to smell the sex. The odor wafted down the halls from the bathrooms, from the balcony, from the dance floor itself. The strobe lights alternated with the black lights, and the purple walls lit with glitter. But it was vast and disorienting and throbbing with sexual energy. The stars stamped on their hands gave them access to the more extreme rooms upstairs, but Kate knew it was the lower levels they needed to reach.

  Glow sticks, leather, and strange electronic music were big here. They passed a couple—an overmuscled guy in leather chaps and a skeletal blonde in a leather dress shorter than her own—with their tongues jammed so far down each other’s throats that Kate thought they’d choke. She realized they were fucking against the wall and turned away.

  Kate glanced around the room, trying see through the crowd. She pushed Kevin into a corner and went to the bar to order two
drinks, scanning the room. Then she saw the circular booth tucked into an alcove across the room. It sat on a small platform, sheltered by semidarkness. A group sat there, and three large men stood in front of it. Guards. They’d never let Kevin get close.

  Kate took a hard look at Bruce Delhomme and his women, who draped over him like human scarves. He sat drinking, a nervous smirk on his face. A thin, blond man sat to Delhomme’s right, his arms spread across the back of the seat—Mason. He lay back, a look of contentment spread across his face. So pleased with himself. Lord of the manor, even more so than Delhomme. It took Kate a second to realize that the woman—or maybe it was a boy—hunched over him was in the process of giving him a blow job. She swallowed both drinks and went back to Kevin, stepping into the shadows so Kevin didn’t see the fury she knew contorted her face. Her skin itched and stung.

  Hinky dinky corny cup, how many fingers do I have up?

  Goddamn Novell. He had to know Mason was still alive and in the city. He had to know. Kate pressed her hands against her stomach. She hoped they shot Novell at the back door. Oh Christ, she had to stay calm.

  Da said that last walk was the loneliest one of all. You met the Lord alone. She’d do that, or maybe it wasn’t the Lord she’d meet at all but the devil, because no matter what she told herself, this one last thing she had to do was surely a sin. And she would surely pay. She wondered if Danny understood her deep-sworn vow. If he cared. Maybe she’d just be another story. But that was all right. She’d be one hell of a story. His very best.

  “Kate? Are you all right?” Kevin’s voice was filled with concern.

  “I’m grand,” she said and gave him a tight smile.

  If Mason was here, Danny must be in the dungeon. Why else would Mason be sitting in the open? Kate could almost feel Thomas whisper in her ear, telling her not to be afraid.

  She opened her purse and palmed the two-shot Derringer she always carried.

  “That’s Delhomme’s table.” Kate pushed Kevin back into the shadows, slid off her jacket, and wiggled against him. “Put your hands on my ass.” She laughed when he hesitated. “Jesus Christ, you won’t get cooties. Do what I tell you. It’s a goddamn sex club.” His hands touched her, and she moved closer. “Listen to me, Kevin. I know Danny’s here. Don’t ask how, but I do. If you walk over there, maybe they panic. I can get close. Maybe I can get Delhomme to leave the table.”