by Alex Siegel
Virgil became angry. He jumped up and vaulted the desk. He saw Walton in a prone position in the next room, and he seemed to be alone. The billionaire was holding his gun like a sniper.
Walton pulled the trigger again, but Virgil was moving faster than Walton could aim. The bullet struck a wall. Virgil dashed forward and stomped on the rifle barrel, pinning it to the floor.
Walton let go of his weapon and grabbed a grenade lying nearby. He pulled the pin immediately. Instead of throwing the grenade, he clutched it tight against his chest with both hands.
Virgil realized Walton intended to kill himself. Even if Virgil managed to grab the grenade, he couldn't throw it far enough to save Walton's life. The rooms were smaller than the kill radius.
Virgil decided to let Walton die. He would be interrogated in Hell, and the truth would come out.
A steel hatch was the only escape, but it had a complicated locking mechanism involving cranks and levers. Getting back out through the hole in the ceiling would also take more time than Virgil had.
He had to improvise. Walton was in an armory, and several sets of body armor were on a shelf. Virgil grabbed a Kevlar vest reinforced with hard plates. He threw the vest down onto Walton, covering the grenade. Virgil pushed a desk on top as a little added protection. He ran to the far corner of the room, squatted down, and covered his face with his arms.
The grenade exploded. Hot metal fragments pierced Virgil's body in several places, and the injuries would've killed a normal human. In his case, they were too small to bother him.
He stood up. Walton's remains would need to be cleaned up with a snow shovel and a mop. I need to ask Mammon how the interrogation went, Virgil thought.
Lisa poked her head through the hole in the ceiling. "Are you OK? We heard a bang."
"That was just a grenade," Virgil said. "I'm fine, but Walton is most sincerely dead. He's not our problem anymore. I'm coming out the hatch. Wait in the ballroom for me."
He walked over to the exit. It took him a minute to figure out how to release the intricate locking mechanism, but he finally opened it.
Virgil emerged into the room full of antiques he had visited earlier. He ran to rejoin his teammates upstairs. He found everybody standing around in the ballroom.
As he walked in, Sara said, "Are you OK? You look a little chewed up."
Virgil looked down at his clothes. Rips and black stains marked where the shrapnel had struck him. He could feel the metal bits still inside.
The mercenaries and guards were looking at him with very uneasy expressions. He ignored their stares.
"I'll heal," he said. "We need to find Daniel."
"We already had a discussion about him," Alfred said, nodding towards the guards. "He was staying here, but now he's gone. He drove off an hour ago alone. None of these folks have any idea where he went."
Virgil grunted. "He probably ran off when he heard we were coming. I'm surprised Walton didn't do the same. He seemed to want to die. It's very strange." He glanced at the mercenaries. "Can we have some privacy, guys?"
"Yes," Alfred said, "please. I'll rejoin you in a few minutes."
The mercenaries and guards left the ballroom. As soon as they were gone, Virgil walked over to one of the cracked wall mirrors and smeared his own blood on it.
"Mammon!" he said. "Are you there?"
The mirror darkened. Virgil now had a view onto a frothy black ocean. Tall waves tossed floating debris around. People were desperately trying to swim and keep their heads above water in the violent storm. Mammon was standing on a ship in the middle of the scene. The demon was dressed like a captain and gripping the steering wheel. The boat was running over the poor souls in the water.
"What is it? I'm busy."
"We sent Ken Walton down to you," Virgil said. "Famous billionaire living in Chicago. He was harboring Daniel. I was hoping the interrogation had already begun."
"You did?" Mammon said in a tone of surprise. "Let me check."
The demon vanished, but the empty boat continued to torment the souls in the water.
After a couple of minutes, Mammon reappeared. "He never arrived in Hell."
"He went to Heaven?" Virgil said. "That seems unlikely."
"Very unlikely. According to his record, Ken Walton is guilty of rape and murder among numerous other sins. Are you sure he is dead?"
"Yes. There is nothing left of him but bits and pieces."
"I must investigate further. Souls can't simply go missing. This is profoundly troubling."
The vision of the black ocean faded.
Virgil looked at his teammates. "That's weird. If Hell is good at anything, it's collecting damned souls. Hard to believe they would let a big, juicy one slip away."
"Impossible to believe," Alfred said. "This might explain why Walton was so willing to die."
"How so?"
"Imagine you had committed many grave sins, and you know your afterlife will probably suck. What would you do?"
"Repent," Virgil said. "Reform my ways. Try to redeem myself."
"Not Walton. He is the consummate businessman. He negotiates his way out of trouble."
"You think he made a deal?"
Alfred nodded. "Not with the Devil, obviously, but with somebody who could keep him out of Hell when he died."
"A very special somebody. Maybe the same somebody who rescued Daniel from Hell?"
"Exactly. Our true adversary knows how to bend the rules."
"Mammon will never believe it," Virgil said. "His opinion is nobody can violate the Celestial Contract."
"Maybe it's not a violation of the contract, technically. I hear it's a very complicated document."
Virgil's phone rang. The caller ID showed Detective Haymaker's number, so Virgil answered immediately.
"Hello?"
"I heard through the grapevine that trouble is headed your way," Haymaker said. "Somebody reported a mass murder in the basement of Ken Walton's house. The police will soon be arriving in great numbers. Do you know what happened?"
"I might," Virgil admitted. "Meet us in Chinatown, and I'll give you a full report."
"It's getting late."
"Then wait 'til tomorrow if sleep is so important."
Haymaker paused. "I'll be there."
"Bye." Virgil hung up.
He told his companions what was happening.
"I want to see one thing before we go," Alfred said, "the room where Daniel stayed. The guards can tell us where it is."
The team left the ballroom. They found the mercenaries and guards waiting in an adjacent dining room. A highly polished, antique table was big enough to seat twenty. Crystal chandeliers sparkled with refracted light whenever Virgil moved. Oil paintings on the walls looked old and valuable. They would be somebody's inheritance now.
"Where did Daniel stay?" Alfred said. "I want to see his room."
"That was a secret," a guard replied. "All we know is the entrance is in the hedge maze."
Virgil remembered seeing a hedge maze in the backyard. He didn't like the idea of searching for a secret door at night while the police investigated a mass murder close by.
He heard distant police sirens. There was no choice.
"Let's go to the maze," he said, "quickly."
Alfred had a few final words with the mercenaries and guards. His new friends promised they wouldn't tell the police where Alfred had gone.
Virgil, Lisa, Alfred, and Sara ran out the back door of the house. Virgil took his team straight to the maze. The hedges were too tall to see over easily, so he used his hands as a platform for Lisa. He lifted her high enough to see the whole maze.
"There is something in the center," she said. "Benches and a fountain. I bet the secret door is there."
"Do you see the path through the maze?" Virgil said.
"Sure. It's not hard."
He set Lisa down. She led the team through the maze, and despite it not being hard, she made a couple of wrong turns. They found the fountain quickly
enough though. The maze actually worked to their advantage because it would keep the police out.
The fountain was a beautifully formed rendition of a classical Satan with three faces. The mouths even had the legs of sinners sticking out. The benches were plainly constructed and simply bolted to concrete slabs. Virgil decided the secret door had to be in the fountain. Nowhere else made much sense, and the symbolism was obvious.
The rest of the team clearly reached the same conclusion because everybody started searching the fountain. They used their fingers to feel all around and underneath. Flowing water had chilled the bronze.
Virgil quickly grew frustrated. "We don't have time for this. Let's force it open."
He bent his knees, set his body against the fountain, and pushed with all his strength. Lisa immediately joined him.
"Are you kidding?" Sara said. "That thing is heavy, and it's bolted down."
"Then it's a good thing all four of us are very strong," Virgil said. "Put your backs into it!"
Sara and Alfred assisted. The sound of rending metal encouraged everybody to push even harder. Something broke, and the fountain abruptly flipped onto its side. Water gushed from ruptured copper pipes and sprayed onto the hedges.
An iron spiral staircase was underneath the fountain. Virgil used his phone as a flashlight, and he proceeded downwards.
The air was hot and getting hotter as he went down. He entered a room at the bottom of the stairs, found a light switch, and turned it on.
A ceramic crucible filled with gray metal was hanging over large gas burners, and Virgil guessed the metal was lead. Judging by the scorching heat, the burners had been turned off very recently. He walked over and stuck his hand into the crucible. The lead was still soft and hot enough to burn his sleeve. He tried to wipe off the molten metal on the edge of the crucible.
"What was going on down here?" Virgil said. He spotted footprints made from puddles of lead. "Was Daniel bathing in hot lead?"
"Probably part of his penance ceremony," Alfred said. "He punished himself after every killing."
"Sounds a lot like being back in Hell."
"Exactly."
"But I don't get it," Lisa said. "He just escaped from Hell. Why would he want to be reminded of the place?"
Alfred looked at her. "He didn't escape for himself. He escaped so he could release more souls to Heaven."
"Oh."
A doorway led to a connecting room where the air was cooler. A simple wooden table held items Virgil recognized from Mackay's scrapbook. There were white candles, talismans, and silver bells. A chalice matched the description from the scrapbook perfectly. The purification ceremony had been real even if the scrapbook was fake.
"We were close to catching Daniel," Virgil said, "but not close enough."
Lisa picked up a Prosphora. "I don't see a clue about where he went."
"He won't go too far," Alfred said. "Daniel is a man of habits. He'll continue to prey on young victims in the suburbs of Chicago."
Virgil knew Alfred was right. The killing wouldn't end until Daniel was destroyed.
"But the game is tilted in our favor now," Virgil said. "Daniel is working alone. He doesn't have Walton to provide intelligence and pick perfect victims. Daniel is much more likely to make a mistake."
"Being alone didn't slow him down too much when he was alive," Lisa said.
"But he was eventually caught. I have a good feeling it will happen again. Let's sneak out of here quietly so the police don't see us. Haymaker will expect us in Chinatown soon."
Chapter Twenty
Virgil walked into his basement headquarters. The dusty, dingy place was starting to feel comforting. The central table surrounded by chairs was his conference room and office. Other furniture provided nice places to relax. Equipment and supplies filled shelves. Footlockers with padlocks held the weapons in case the owner of the antique shop wandered down. Compared to Limbo, the basement was a luxury condo.
Everybody else followed Virgil in. Haymaker had been waiting in his car, so he was already part of the group.
"So what happened out there?" Haymaker said.
Virgil gave his report. He neglected to mention the massacre in the basement, but Haymaker brought it up immediately after Virgil finished.
"What about the dead bodies?" Haymaker said. "I talked to a colleague in that suburb. He told me twenty-seven people were murdered with a sharp implement. They were all part of Walton's private security."
"They attacked Lisa and me," Virgil said. "Bad things happened...."
"Wait. You two knifed them all?"
"I admit we got a little carried away."
Haymaker's eyes widened. "One or two fatalities during a violent confrontation could be excused as 'getting carried away'. Twenty-seven is a different matter. I'm having a hard time picturing how it is even possible. I assume they fought back."
"They tried. We probably could've handled it differently, but they intended to kill us. It was an 'us or them' situation."
"Twenty-seven of them?" Haymaker raised his eyebrows.
"I was created in Hell," Virgil said, "and I really felt it in the moment. Violent rage consumed me. If we did something wrong, we will get punished for an eternity. That's how the system works, so you don't need to worry about it. Let's focus on the mission, OK?"
Haymaker made a disgusted face. "I suppose I'm in too deep to start having second thoughts. Calling Internal Affairs isn't an option." He sighed. "We need a plan."
"Daniel could be anywhere in or around Chicago. If he's like us, he doesn't need to eat, drink, breathe, or sleep. He can tolerate extreme physical conditions. Any hole in the ground would work as a hiding spot, or the bottom of a muddy river, or even a furnace. We'll never find him by searching. We need to draw him out."
"He needs materials for his ceremonies," Alfred said.
"True," Virgil said, "but if he's smart, he'll have a secret hoard built up for emergencies. He had to anticipate a day like this might come. He knows we're after him, so he'll expect us to try to trap him. We'll need to be very smart to get him."
Alfred looked at the concrete floor with a troubled expression.
"Cheer up. We'll figure something out."
"I already have."
"You have an idea?" Virgil said. "What?"
Alfred shook his head. "It's repugnant. I'm not going to tell unless I can't think of any possible alternative."
"But it will work?"
"Almost certainly."
Virgil was dying of curiosity, but he wouldn't press the issue. "OK. I'm sure you'll share when you're ready. Let's get an update from Mammon. Maybe Ken Walton's soul was found." Virgil walked over to the cracked, dirty mirror on the table. "Mammon? Are you there?"
Mammon's face appeared against a dark, smoky background. Blue jets of flame were shooting from the demon's eyes and ears. It was furious.
"Any news?" Virgil said.
"No!" Mammon roared. "The soul is still missing. We even have our counterparts in Heaven searching for it."
Have you checked under the couch cushions? Virgil thought.
"Has something like this ever happened before?" Sara said.
"No," Mammon said. "When the Celestial Contract was written, God created all the human souls that will ever be. The spares are kept in the Guff. Every single soul is accounted for, and none were ever lost... until now."
"Maybe it was just misplaced."
"Impossible. We'll find it. Bye." The demon faded away.
Virgil frowned. He faced his team and said, "Does anybody else have something to add? Alfred, are you ready to talk about your idea?"
"Not yet. I'm going to take a walk." Alfred abruptly turned around and left the basement.
Virgil heard his footsteps going up the stairs outside.
"And I'm going home," Haymaker said. "See you in the morning. Maybe we'll all have good ideas by then." He also left.
After the detective was safely gone, Virgil asked Lisa, "Do you think kil
ling all those guards was out of line?"
Lisa shrugged. "When bad guys start pointing guns in my direction, I stop being nice. I'm not sure what else we could've done." She looked down. "And it was fun."
"You're sick," Sara said. "Both of you."
* * *
Daniel was lying on the roof of a building, staring at the night sky. In the morning, he would resume his vital work of releasing souls to Heaven. He would show everybody he didn't need help. He was perfectly capable of working alone and happy to do so.
All his worldly possessions were in suitcases beside him. He had enough ceremonial supplies to carry him for weeks. He had spare clothing and several sets of fake ID. He even had a few modern gadgets like a cell phone and a computer tablet. He didn't trust advanced technology, but he had to admit it was occasionally useful. The internet was a good source of information about children.
Gravel and tar covered the roof, and normal people would've found it a very uncomfortable place to lie, but Daniel didn't care about that. His thoughts and memories were a far greater torment. In quiet moments, he always remembered his dead mother. He also thought about how his father had always filled him with shame. Daniel had never been the "right" kind of son no matter how hard he had tried. His habits, his attitudes, his faith, and his sexuality had all been wrong. He had been broken since birth. Daniel was confident his father was finally happy now. Both his parents were together again in Heaven.
A firefly flew past Daniel's face. He was surprised because the building was ten stories tall. Fireflies usually stayed close to the ground. More fireflies appeared, and soon an entire swarm had gathered above him. He realized what was happening.
The glowing insects formed a face. "Hello, Daniel." The voice sounded like a whisper echoing down a long tube.
"Hello," Daniel replied to his secretive benefactor. "What happened to Ken Walton?"
"He fulfilled the terms of our arrangement."
"And his soul?"
"Hidden away," the face said. "The minions of Heaven and Hell are searching all the plains of existence without success."
Daniel smiled. "Good. I will continue working alone."
"Take care. Your enemies carry Furies' Bane, and even without that weapon, they might destroy you. They are determined and powerful, a perfect combination of diverse talents. Their work is marvelous."