With her.
She meant enough to him that he would make sure he had all the information he could possibly want in regards to how he should behave. That was remarkable.
A warmth grew in her belly that extended up and out of her core, warming her extremities, her chest, her face. But it wasn’t the warmth of embarrassment, or even the heat of desire, although there might be a bit of that in there somewhere.
She was proud of him.
More than that, she wanted to be nearer to him. To touch him, hold him.
Well, why not?
Lifting herself out of her chair, Mala moved around the table, took Darc’s face in her hands and pressed her lips against his. At first, Darc stiffened, almost pulling back from her. Okay, Mala should have known better than to have surprised an autistic man with an act of physical affection.
However, to Darc’s credit, the stiffness only lasted for a moment. He then released into the kiss, his lips lingering against hers. She shivered, a thread of pleasure running down her spine that was both energizing and somehow comforting.
She pulled back, not wanting to push this any further at the moment. Darc lingered for a moment, clearly not wanting the kiss to end, but released her without any pressure. Another notch on the positive column for the tall detective.
Actually, this moment was a win on so many levels, Mala wasn’t sure where to begin. She had imagined their first kiss would have been a train wreck.
“That… that was nice,” she breathed.
“Yes,” Darc agreed. “I have been studying.”
Mala did a double take. And not just a figurative one. She quite literally looked at Darc, looked away and then looked back. If she had still been drinking her tea, it would have been a spit-take.
“What?”
Darc seemed unruffled by her shocked response. He took another sip of tea and then turned his attention back to her.
“Yes. I knew that at some point, if our relationship continued, we would need to kiss. I had been informed multiple times by Maggie that I was not a good kisser, therefore…”
“You decided to take a course on it?” Mala asked.
“No. I bought a book. It is called The Art of Kissing.” He paused for a moment. “I also watched several films. Some Kind of Wonderful has a particularly good scene.”
Mala knew the one. The movie had been one of her favorites as a young woman.
Shaking her head, she tried to frame her next question appropriately. “So… did you… experiment?”
“Yes. I practiced shaping my mouth and lips in various positions.”
That wasn’t exactly what she’d meant. “Um… no. I mean, on what or whom did you practice?”
“I purchased a fake mouth. It was remarkably realistic.”
Okay, she definitely didn’t want more information about that. No, no, no. But there was something so sweet about the fact that Darc had thought this through ahead of time, that she felt prompted to go back in for another round.
She leaned forward again with her eyes closed, seeking out his lips. But there was no response. Opening up her eyes, she saw that Darc was just staring at her.
“What are you doing?” he asked. “Is there something wrong with your mouth?”
It was clear that there was more studying to be done on this subject.
* * *
Schnell. Quickly.
The stage was set.
These next Tiere had been under observation for quite some time. Savage to the point of being feral, they had been an obvious choice. No one, not even these things’ own mothers, could claim any sort of humanity resided within them.
When dealing with a wilde Biest, a feral beast, it was important to exercise caution. The creature was the apex of its kind in ferocity and strength.
And while there was a vestige of cunning, brutal and quick as it was, these Tiere did as all did, finally. They submitted to the humans.
A side step, a lashing out with the blade that was now an extension of the hand. The artery severed, the blood flowed.
Angry Spanish rang out on all sides, but this was a dance with death. And dancing was a human activity, not one for die Hunde. The dogs.
There had been details to work out, as there always were. Help that had been necessary to complete the task to perfection.
Assistance was difficult. When another accompanied, there was die unausgesprochene Pakt, the implied pact, that working outside the parameters of the law necessitated. But working outside those confines often brought one into contact with the very kinds of vermin that needed exterminating.
A step to the side, a wash of blood covering the face, splashing into the mouth. It was hot and salty, its taste of copper exhilarating. More angry Spanish.
Strength flowed in the limbs that worked in concert. This was not tierisch. Not animal-like. This was menschliche Kraft. Human strength. In action.
Another slash with the blade and a yelp sounded out. Taking the lives of die Tiere that looked like Tiere was always the hardest. But die Arbeit, the Work, was necessary.
The world had grown corrupt and was beginning to decay.
Nothing would change if change was not effected.
And so they worked together, the members of this human connection that had been called upon. Sharing information, resources, occasionally even manual labor. Together they would cleanse Seattle. They might not all share exactly the same Vision, but they were all united in die Arbeit. The Work.
They would be needed tonight.
The soft beat of a heart sounded inside this member’s head. Deepen the breaths. Slow the pulse. Control the body’s responses.
That was what humans did.
Was there excitement? Certainly. But that was not the primary goal or focus. What was important was the purging of the human family. And another step would be taken along that path tonight.
Anticipation? Yes. But not a loss of control.
Kontrolle was all-important. Control was the key.
Without deliberate control, the self drifted into the realm of the subconscious, the unconscious, the lizard brain. And that would not happen. Not here. Not to this one.
There was a higher task here, a greater good to which this one aspired.
And no animal would be allowed to steal it away.
Not ever.
CHAPTER 7
“We’ve got another one. It’s bad.”
The voice on the phone drilled into Trey’s head. He shouldn’t feel like he was hung over. No alcohol had touched his lips in… He thought about it and couldn’t remember. Well, for a long time, anyway.
No, he remembered now. He’d gone off drinking after that night in the bar with Van Owen. The one when Darc had gotten roaring drunk and helped start a fistfight.
That was it.
“I’m sorry, Captain,” Trey responded after fighting back the yawn that was threatening to make another appearance. “What was that?”
“Are you not awake?” Merle demanded. “It’s already nine o’clock!”
Oh. Guess no one had told the captain. “Um… my apartment got torched last night. You know, by Seattle’s newest serialist?”
The captain made some kind of noise in the back of his throat. Something between a growl and a huff. “You think I don’t know what’s going on in my precinct?”
Trey sat up, fully awake now. “No, of course not, your captain-ness.”
He cringed, hoping the captain would let the comment slide. Merle hated it when he said stuff like that.
“Then how about you get your ass out to the crime scene, all right?” the captain snipped. “We’ve got dead bodies piling up.”
“Right. Right. On it.”
Captain Merle sighed into the phone. “Look, I get that it’s tough to lose your place. But you and I both know that Darc is solving this thing or no one is. And I can’t have him work it on his own.”
And there it was. The story of Trey’s life.
“Yep. I get it, sir.” He scoot
ed to the edge of the bed. “I’ll go get Darc and be there in fifteen.”
“No need. He’s getting a ride with Dr. Charan. Get there in five.”
Darc was headed over with Mala? There was a story in that, but Trey wasn’t positive that he wanted to hear it.
“Fine. On my way.” Looked like he was going to miss out on breakfast meats this morning. Damn it all to hell.
“Oh, and Keane?” the captain added.
“Yes, sir?”
“You ever call me ‘your captain-ness’ again, I string you up by your short hairs.”
That sounded totally fair to Trey.
* * *
The alley behind the carnicería was awash in blood.
Figures lay on the concrete, forms that were unnatural in their origins and surreal in their presentation. There was the body of a man. There, the body of a dog.
But neither one possessed its own head.
The men all appeared to be of Hispanic descent, their swarthy skin made darker by the staining of the blood. The dogs were pit bulls, their rectangular jaws jutting out from atop the human necks where they had been sewn. Canine bodies stared at the crime scene investigators with human eyes, unclosed by the rigors of the death that must have claimed them quickly.
The patterns were there for the colored lines to trace, but Darc allowed that process to continue in the back of his mind. There were other things to consider here.
Mala had driven him to the crime scene. Right now, she was off parking the car, with both Janey and the sibling riding along in the backseat.
They could not be allowed to see this.
The thought had burst forth from the grey sea that churned and broke against the lines of color still swirling about in assessment. It was not logical. Nor was it something that Darc had allowed himself to consider when it came to working a crime scene.
In the past, if someone had nothing to contribute, they became a nonentity for the period of their uselessness. And yet…
Mala would be disturbed by this sight. A whispered voice from out of the grey void murmured that Darc should be too. He pushed the figurative sounds back into the mists of emotion, trying to force them to stay there.
In addition to Mala’s reaction, there was Janey to consider. This was reminiscent of the crimes surrounding the death of her parents. The amount of blood, the strangeness of the scene, all could lead to emotional damage to the little girl.
The voice this time was not some whispered vestige of an incomprehensible emotional response that Darc was having. This time, the voice echoing in his subconscious was clearly Mala’s.
So many times, she had urged caution in the use of Janey at crime scenes. And far too often, her fears had proven to be founded. Janey had been put in real danger.
Here, even the logical structures within seemed ambivalent. There was a recognition of Janey’s talents, her uncanny ability to complement Darc’s process with one that was similar, but observed from a different, more socially based, perspective.
Yet the times that Janey had been put at risk were far too many. The demonstrated odds did not bear out the idea that she would remain safe indefinitely.
Adding the older sibling to the scenario further complicated the matter.
Darc pulled out his cell phone, swiping the screen to open it. His finger hovered over her speed dial number when he heard a retching behind him. He spun around, taking in the three figures who had just rounded the corner. Mala, Janey and Carly.
Carly was the one vomiting.
“What the hell…?” Mala murmured, staring around the alleyway in horror. “This… This is sick.”
She pulled Janey in to her side, trying to shield the girl’s eyes from the sight. But Darc could see that Janey was processing the scene, taking in the symbols that were painted in blood. There was nothing here that she had not already seen.
“What… I… Who would do something like this?” The question came from Carly.
Her voice was unsteady, either a result of her recent spate of vomiting or an emotional response. Considering the tears standing out in her eyes, the latter was more likely, although expelling the contents of one’s stomach could result in the eyes watering.
“That is what we are attempting to ascertain,” he answered the girl, who was still on her knees. She retched once more, but not before she gave a look to Mala and Janey that stirred the grey inside Darc and for some reason chilled him to his core.
This was bad, whispered the tide of grey.
Darc’s normal pattern was not to answer questions that seemed rhetorical, but he could rarely tell for certain. Additionally, the pathways had drawn conclusions about Carly and her involvement here. With the appearance of an unknown older sister, the patterns indicated that she would remain here for some time.
Darc’s continued relationships with Mala and with Janey might become intertwined with this young woman. Speaking with her might increase the likelihood of a positive response. The ideas seemed to have come from a rare moment of interaction between the seething emotional seascape and the bright pathways of information. A brief glint of something silver-hued shone within him.
It was troubling.
These thoughts were ones that would never have occurred to Darc even a year previous. And yet, in that time, he had plumbed depths of himself that he had never imagined existed.
The fact that there was still a dark corner that refused to be illuminated was all the more vexing because of that fact. With all the progress he had made, it was still possible for him to self-sabotage.
Behind Darc, the sounds of footsteps approaching at a run sounded. Turning to face the new arrival, Darc saw the moment that Trey rounded the corner and took in the sight of the crime scene.
“Oh Mary Mother of…” Trey groaned, holding a hand up to his mouth. “Sonofa…!” he cried out, spitting on the ground. “I can’t deal with this… Oh, wow. Oh, man.”
The crime scene unit skirted the edges of the scene, taking pictures, bagging evidence, making their observations. The lines of light trailed each of them, working without conscious impetus from Darc. A symbol surfaced, bringing the information gathered into a focused conclusion.
The techs were speaking in lowered tones. Faces were paler than normal. Movements were slower.
This scene had affected them all.
Mala moved over to Darc. “I have to get Carly away from this. And Janey…” She trailed off. “I’m just not sure this can work right now.”
Darc opened his mouth to respond, but Trey cut him off. “Go. Don’t ask. Don’t think about it. Just get them out of here. No one should have to see something like this.” Trey glared around the scene.
Mala nodded and grabbed Janey in one arm and Carly in the other, turning them around so their backs were to the alleyway. Janey looked back over her shoulder at Darc. Her hand that was not holding her stuffed bear reached out to him.
Darc did nothing. He wanted her there. Perhaps even needed her assistance. But the desire to protect her was strong, superseding any other desire.
Mala. He watched her form as she retreated from the crime scene. The kiss earlier that morning had been unexpected, but Darc had found that he enjoyed the experience far more than the practicing he had been doing up to that point. Strange how the addition of a real person made some sort of difference, as the physical act had been almost identical.
The kisses had ended with him asking her out on another date. This request had not felt like the others. As he had discussed it with her, Mala’s attention had continued to drift to Darc’s chest and arms. Whether that had been from the strangeness of him wearing her attire or some other reaction, Darc could not tell.
Her eyes had also dilated. That could be an indicator of sexual attraction, a change in lighting, or a possible medical condition.
Perhaps it was something they should talk through at some point.
“Darc,” came his partner’s voice, causing Darc to come back to an awareness of the crime scen
e. “Come over here. You’re going to want to see this.”
Darc turned and moved over next to Trey, who was kneeling down beside one of the bodies. Darc’s eyes once more scanned the scene for additional information. The bodies were arranged in concentric circles radiating out from the center.
The center circle was composed of human bodies with the heads of dogs. The next, dog bodies attached to human heads. Right in the middle, where there were three bodies attached to each other hand and foot. The scene mimicked the placement that Darc and Trey had found back at the farm out in the countryside.
As Darc reached Trey’s side and crouched down beside him, his partner gestured to one of the human bodies topped by the head of a dog. The man’s arm was stretched out, grasping onto the ankle of the next victim in the circle.
On the man’s forearm was a tattoo. SSL XIII.
“It’s the South Side Locos 13,” Trey said. “One of the gangs that operates in Seattle. Specifically South Park. I used to bump up against these guys all the time when I worked vice. They run a dogfighting ring out here. Real bastards, all of them.”
Directly in the center of the inner circle, the blood that covered most of the alleyway was concentrated into specific symbols. Ciphers that removed themselves from the pavement, spinning and turning about as they entered Darc’s awareness.
The usual warnings of the coming apocalypse. The world must be cleansed. And one other section.
Part of the pack. Written in a combination of symbols from Aramaic, Hebrew and Greek. The ciphers flowed around each other, slotting themselves into the negative spaces that appeared in Darc’s mind. Producing the meaning as a final shape, rather than words to be read.
“Anything?” Trey asked.
“The messages appear to all be references to animalistic behavior,” Darc replied. “Herd beasts for the teenagers, stud animal for you, animals that run in a pack for them.” He indicated toward the mangled bodies on the ground.
“So…” Trey said, drawing out the word. “Dumb followers for the first guys and a group mentality for these, but I don’t get mine…” He stopped, then glanced over at Darc and then away, a strange look coming over his face. “Oh…”
3rd Body: Just try to keep your head (Book 1 in the 2nd Darc Murders Collection) Page 11