9th Circle

by Carolyn McCray; Ben Hopkin

  As the first snake struck, Darc swiped the hook, catching the reptile in midair and flinging it violently off to the side of the room. The next viper took a mallet to its head, its body twitching in its sudden death throes.

  But he was not fast enough to stop the third. It leapt at Darc’s ankle, sinking its fangs deep. Right into Darc’s leather boot. He lifted his leg, shaking off the wriggling mass and stomping down hard on its triangular head.

  Whirling to face the rest of the horde, Darc heard a voice call from the other side of the room.

  “Darc! This way!” It was Trey.

  Darc ripped the girl out from her grisly shield before sprinting off toward the sound of his partner’s voice. The shapes continued to form and settle in his mind, their glowing outlines mapping out his next move. He would get to his partner’s side at almost exactly the same moment the lead snakes would catch up to him and the girl.

  The only variable for which Darc could not account was his partner. His assessment was that Trey had been able to escape once the majority of the reptiles had given chase. That was relatively straightforward. But what state Trey now found himself in, Darc had no way of calculating. Even at his best, Darc’s partner was erratic. And right now Trey could not possibly be at his best. Darc could be headed for escape or an even greater threat.

  “Hurry!”

  Was that Mala’s voice?

  With Trey’s dedication and Mala’s intelligence, the lines swirling around Darc brightened.

  As he neared the location from which he had heard his partner’s call, a light filtered through the forest of corpses. It was real-world light shedding actual illumination on the scene, not the logic lines.

  Emerging from the grisly trappings of the room, Darc had just enough time to take in the sight of Trey holding an exit door propped open. Mala waved them on as if cheering on an Olympic sprinter. Somehow Darc felt his muscles strengthen, his speed increase. Outside light filtering through the clouds above was nonetheless bright compared with what they were leaving behind. Darc raced through the opening and out into the alley that ran along the back of the slaughterhouse, Trey following right behind.

  Whipping around midstride, Trey slammed the door shut just as a serpent launched itself toward them. The door caught the snake right in its center, cutting it off two vertebrae from center. Trey leaned down close to the snake’s upper half, yelling at its head.

  “That’s right, you freak of nature!”

  The viper spasmed in its death throes, the head flipping up close to Trey’s face. Trey threw himself backward, almost running into Mala.

  “Darc, where’s…?” Then Mala caught sight of the girl, still wrapped in Darc’s arms. “Janey!”

  The girl was still covered in blood from the cadaver, and Mala was thoroughly checking her over, apparently trying to ascertain whether or not the blood was hers.

  “She is unharmed.”

  Trey held up his hand, palm out. “Yeah, hey. I’m fine, though. Just got electrocuted and bit by a snake, but I’m good. Don’t need any medical attention or anything.”

  Tears streamed down Mala’s face as she clung to the little girl.

  Darc did not understand the lacrimation. They were safe. Why cry?

  Mala smoothed the girl’s hair, seeming like she wanted to speak, but most of the words came out as a sob. “Janey will not be leaving my custody again,” Mala hiccupped, choking back another sob. “She’ll be in a private room at the hospital.”

  “For now,” Darc agreed. “That will be—”

  “No,” Mala barked, then smoothed Janey’s hair again. “That will be how it is from now on. And any communication—I mean any communication—with her must go through me. And if I think there is even a microscopic chance it could hurt her, I won’t allow it.”

  Darc understood that Mala was more than likely 62 percent responsible for his rescue and that of the girl. However, the loss of life here, which might have been prevented if the child had accompanied them, was also something that could be laid at her feet. Darc had allowed the grey to affect his decision-making tree. That could not happen again.

  Mala must have sensed the direction of his thoughts. “I am posting a guard, Darc. Don’t test me.”

  How could a person so accurately track Darc’s complicated thoughts yet not understand them? It made no sense. He was about to tell her that, when Trey put a hand on his arm.

  “Pick your battles, man. Rule seven.”

  Darc read the list in his mind. Number seven…

  If you don’t need something right this second, don’t throw a hissy fit like you need it right this second. Patience, dude. The tortoise wins the race.

  The last part was simply inaccurate conjecture. Darc had researched it. There were no documented cases of a tortoise’s winning any race with a hare. They were slow and cold-blooded. Even on the warmest day, their land speed did not even come close to approaching a lagomorph’s average hopping rate. Even on YouTube there was no evidence. However, Darc did understand the first part. Why engage with Mala, making her even more grey and apt to resist, when he did not need Janey at the moment?

  He had Mala’s parameters. He was intelligent enough to create a work-around.

  “Yes, rule seven,” Darc answered Trey.

  As the doctor moved off, her charge in her arms, the girl reached out her arms toward Darc, her face twisted in apparent pain. Right before they rounded the corner to the side alleyway, Darc spotted tears rolling down her cheeks.

  The tears, combined with the facial expression, led Darc to the conclusion that the girl did not want to leave. But Mala’s reaction made Darc question the validity of that desire. As much as he knew that he would need her help, the grey made him unsettled. A part of him wanted to reach out to the grey and soothe it. Odd.

  Then Trey stumbled and almost fell to the ground. Darc lunged, holding his partner up at an awkward angle.

  “Yeah, I might need that medical attention now,” Trey murmured up at him, before passing out completely.

  *

  Mala nearly ran toward the ambulances. There were so many, she had her pick.

  What just a few minutes ago had been a barren street was now clogged with every type of emergency vehicle imaginable. Their lights strobed, the incoming fire trucks wailed. She knew it was metaphorical, but it sounded like the city was mourning the massacre that lay behind them.

  But her only concern was that of Janey’s well-being.

  The child was covered in blood. Apparently someone else’s, but did that really make it any better?

  Mala never should have allowed them to bring her here. With this madman re-creating the nine circles of hell, how did Mala think that sitting in a police cruiser was safe? Darc was willing to put Janey at such risk. Mala no longer could.

  As EMTs rushed to her side, she brushed them off. “Just get us back to the hospital.” Confused, the EMTs milled. “Now.”

  Not waiting to see their reaction, Mala climbed into the rig, Janey clutched in her arms, although it wasn’t exactly a tender embrace. The girl still tried to wiggle and squirm. Trying to return to her shining knight. You know, the one that had almost gotten them all killed.

  Once the EMTs closed the back door of the ambulance, all the fight left the little girl. She lay like a rag doll in Mala’s arms. Tracks from her tears were carved into her cheeks, making her look far older than she actually was. Relaxing her grip, Mala brushed some bloody strands of hair away from Janey’s face. The girl gripped onto her teddy bear, rocking in Mala’s arms.

  Mala allowed Janey to self-soothe. Hell, she wished she could rock back and forth as the ambulance pulled away from the curb. Anger swelled, though. Now Mala understood the term “see red.” All she could see was Darc’s unexpressive face staring back at her.

  Yet was he to blame? Really? Or was it she? Wasn’t she to blame for everything this precious girl had gone through ever since she had arrived at the hospital? The moment Janey was in her care, Mala was the
one that bore the responsibility. For all of it. It was a tough pill to swallow, but she downed it without flinching.

  Anger. A secondary emotion. One that was a direct result of unprocessed hurt or fear. Why was Mala angry? She was angry because she was afraid. Afraid that she had failed her fragile charge.

  And she was hurt. It hurt her that Darc would prey on her fascination with this case, the puzzle the killer had laid out for them, even the tall detective himself. He had enough self-awareness that he knew of the attraction between them. Mala was certain of it. She had tangible evidence to confirm this thesis. Darc knew.

  He knew, and yet he moved forward anyway. There was a certain stoicism in this that Mala found almost noble, but all it took was another glance down at the bloody tangle of Janey’s hair to turn that admiration into something else.

  Logic was Darc’s god, his mistress, his siren song. Nothing else, no softness of will or heart, would ever come between him and his deductive powers.

  That was it. Nothing to be afraid of any longer. She had made a mistake that was a direct result of overcompensating for past errors. Overcompensating for Baasim. “The patient knows best?” No. Not always. She had been looking for some kind of rule she could turn to whenever she wasn’t sure of what to do. But that wasn’t realistic. She needed to weigh things in the balance for every single case. No “one size fits all” rule.

  And she had no cause to be hurt by Darc. She might as well be upset that the rain was starting up again and would muss up her hair. Darc was what he was. A force of nature more than a caring, feeling human being.

  She would do better now. She knew what she was up against. No words from Darc, no compelling traps of logic, no appeals from a brokenhearted girl would change her mind.

  From here on out, she trusted no one but herself.

  *

  Trey’s left sleeve and right pant leg were both pulled up as far as they would go. The EMT had just finished bandaging the bite on Trey’s forearm and was about to move on to his leg. Darc had grabbed a clipboard and was scribbling furiously all over some paper towels he’d stolen out of the ambulance.

  “Looks like the snake had already emptied its venom sac,” the EMT said, slapping Trey on his good arm. Trey jumped nearly three feet, causing the EMT’s eyebrows to rise. Trey settled back onto his butt. He had come out of the fun house of terrors. He didn’t have to explain to anyone why he was a little jumpy. Although he was curious about something else.

  “So, if there wasn’t any venom, why did I pass out?”

  “Ummm.” The medic wouldn’t look him straight in the eye. “Extreme fear can sometimes stimulate a rapid change in blood pressure. That can cause the victim to, uh, lose consciousness.”

  Great. Translation: you are a complete wuss who fainted due to extreme scaredy-pants syndrome. Awesome. One more story he would have to live down in the bullpen.

  The EMT continued, “But seriously, you were lucky.”

  “Yeah, lucky,” Trey said rubbing his arm. “That’s what I’d call it.”

  A booming bass voice came from behind Trey. “As would I.” It was Captain Merle.

  Trey spun around, causing the newly attached bandage on his leg to rip off, pulling leg hairs with it. He clamped down on a yelp. Wouldn’t do to let your boss see you cry from a light leg waxing. And where had the guy come from all of a sudden?

  “Animal Control says there were fourteen different poisonous snakes in there,” the captain continued.

  “Where the eff did he get them all?”

  The captain removed his hat and ran his fingers through his thinning hair. “I’d love to ask him, but he’s gone.”

  Wait. What? That couldn’t be right.

  “What do you mean, gone?” Trey shifted, warping the bandage again. The EMT sighed and went to grab another. This couldn’t be happening. Either someone had screwed up or there was something seriously wrong here. He looked up at his captain again, a question forming in his mind.

  The captain sounded genuinely puzzled. “We have searched every square inch of the—”

  “The Great Fire.” Darc spoke from where he sat on the curb, his hand still sketching out random symbols and rough figures. Honestly, did his partner know how to speak without non sequiturs?

  “Excuse me?” the captain queried.

  Without looking up from what he was doing, Darc continued, “This structure was built over the original slaughterhouse lost in the fire of 1889.”

  And then Trey knew what Darc was talking about. “Holy Hannah. There must be access to the Underground in there.”

  “Like I said,” Merle stated, “he’s gone. There’s miles of abandoned tunnels under the city.” For someone who could not seem to stay away from the crime scenes lately, the captain sure seemed willing to throw in the towel. Trey opened his mouth to voice his concerns, but stopped when he saw a uniformed cop approaching.

  “Hey, Cap!” the officer announced. “Got an employee from the slaughterhouse here.”

  Yeah, Trey had seen more than his fair share of employees today. “An alive one, I hope.”

  A young girl, her movements timid, followed on the uni’s heels. The employee was covered in tattoos and had more piercings than Trey could count. She was also more skittish than an A student skipping school for the first time. Darc stood up, blocking her way forward.

  “Who did this?” he asked.

  She stared at Darc without comprehension. “What? I don’t even know what happened. I just came by to pick up my paycheck, when—”

  “Don’t think. Don’t reflect.” Darc was pulling his full-on apocalyptic crap. “Who at this plant would have massacred your entire staff?”

  The girl’s mouth formed a trembling O of shock. “They’ve been…? What do you mean?”

  Time to mediate here. Trey stepped forward gingerly. “Hey, Darc. Dude. Flies. Honey. Remember? Rule fourteen.” He tugged on his partner’s sleeve. “Why don’t we come over—”

  But Darc was relentless. “The first person your mind flashed to.”

  “Uh, listen, I don’t want to—” the girl hesitated.

  “Who is he?” Darc demanded.

  “Henry.” The name seemed to almost burst out of her. She calmed a bit, then continued. “Henry Malvich.”

  The captain wrote down the name as Darc walked away. Trey pushed the hovering EMT away, trying to get his partner’s attention. “Wait, Darc!”

  The captain sighed. “Go. I’ll send unis to Henry’s apartment.”

  Trey grabbed his jacket and started to pull it back on. He spoke to the medic. “Hey, man. Looks like we’re done here, yeah?” He started trotting off in the direction Darc had gone.

  The EMT called after him. “You don’t want your pain injection?”

  Trey looked at the medic, then at Darc’s retreating form, then back at the medic. He ran back over and pulled up his sleeve really, really fast.

  “Yeah. Do it. Just hurry it up.”

  Pain meds were just a good precaution. Trey had a feeling things were just going to get a lot worse from here on out. He felt the stick of the hypodermic needle and the warm rush of the drug.

  “Okay, thanks. Hey…how about one of these suckers to go?” Seeing the look on the EMT’s face, Trey figured it was a big fat no. “Forget it.” Trey hightailed it out of there, chasing off after his partner and almost colliding with his back. Darc had stopped in front of the Rover.

  “Cap’s sending backup to the apartment,” Trey mentioned as he climbed into the driver’s seat.

  “Why?”

  “Um…standard police procedure? Logic? Following up on your lead? You know, the things detectives do and stuff?”

  Darc looked forward through the windshield. “They will find nothing there.”

  “But, um, you just grilled that poor woman for the guy’s identity.” Trey felt like he was more than the normal two steps behind. This was more like five or six.

  “The man who did this will leave no evidence.”
r />   “Then why…? You know what? Forget it.” Trey pulled up to the nearest intersection. “Where are we going?”

  Darc turned and gave him that look. The one that said, You know where we are going, and I am not going to say it because you will not be happy about it. And, sure enough, the look was right.

  “Yeah, I figured.”

  Trey pointed the vehicle toward the hospital.

  *

  He rushed down the steep stairway that led to the Seattle Underground. The clatter of his boots echoed back at him from the walls, the ceiling, the ground. He stopped and listened.

  There.

  There were sounds above him. Voices talking back and forth. Footsteps moving closer, then away. The chatter died away with the sound of the feet.

  He had made it out. He hadn’t been sure he’d be able to. That tall detective was fast. And smart. Even slowed down by the girl and the other guy, he’d almost caught up to him too many times to count.

  That was okay. The detective still had no idea what was going on. He didn’t know the Plan. The Plan was big. The Plan was good. It was almost too much for he himself to understand it fully.

  But they would see. They would all see. When It came, they would all of them see and then they would beg him for forgiveness. They would beg him for mercy. They would beg and beg and beg.

  And his answer would be no. No, no, no, no, no.

  He chuckled to himself, hearing the sound bounce back, wrapping him in his own mirth. It was kind of funny. To him, at least. He was pretty sure that no one else was going to be laughing.

  The air smelled of earth and mold and urine. Looking around, he saw the darkness stretch out in front of him and behind as well. Old shops on either side glowered in the near dark, amber light from the glass skylights offering only dim glimpses of the scenery around him.

  It was the perfect place to carry out the Plan. Perfect. Darkness, with patches of light. It was like the pictures he was finding in the Book. It had taken time and help for him to see the beauty, but now he couldn’t look away.