by Hopkin, Ben
EPILOGUE
The Master grimaced.
Another soldier in the cause of the cleansing taken down.
It had been inevitable. This one had thought too small, acted too slowly. By the time things began to heat up, the two detectives had been far too close to avoid forever.
But there were others.
There were always others.
It had been a simple plan, really. Find the zealots. The true believers. The ones who would stop at nothing to make, first Seattle, and then the entire world, a better place.
Surprisingly easy, once the process had begun. The markers were clear for any that chose to look for them. A chance phrase here. An overly intense look there.
And then the courting would begin.
That was the real challenge of the endeavor. The courting. It was the riskiest part of the entire process—but also the most fun.
In a very strange way, it was like dating. The thrill of the chase, the flush when the other person began to open up, that red heat when they finally said yes.
And if the answer was no? No matter. There were plenty of soldiers that were willing to take care of the lose ends. And always somewhere else. A sudden “resignation,” a “transfer” or a “long vacation,” and the matter would quietly be dealt with far away from where it could be tracked back here.
It took time, of course, this recruitment process. But that was okay. The cause was just. The workers were willing.
And the Master was nothing if not patient.
CARNAL – The bridge short story between 7th Sin and 5th Pentagram
PROLOGUE
James wasn’t having the best day of his life.
First, his girlfriend had broken up with him. All right. Maybe that wasn’t the worst thing that could happen. It was his senior year, after all, and there was that one blonde girl with the big boobs in Chem that had been flirting with him. But still, it was high school. Getting dumped left like a stain or label or something on the dumpee. It was so not copacetic.
Next, he’d found out from his mom that their dog of fourteen years had cancer and had to be put to sleep. Oh, and she’d gone ahead and scheduled it right in the middle of school, so James couldn’t be there. Maybe he’d just sluff. His mom’d be pissed, but she probably wouldn’t ground him. Probably.
Finally, he was in a band, The Randy Joneses. They’d somehow managed to book a gig this Friday. That should’ve been great, but James knew something the rest of the band apparently didn’t.
They sucked. Ass.
And now everyone in his high school would know. Being the bass player in a band had a certain cachet to it. Being the bass player in a band that could barely play a note? Not so much.
He was on his way over to practice now. They always jammed at the lead singer’s house. Jaxon’s parents were cool… former punk rockers who still occasionally lit up the occasional joint. Not that they let anyone in the band join in, much to the disappointment of the lead guitarist and the drummer.
James didn’t care about that. He’d never tried it and wasn’t really sure he wanted to. Plus, all the members of the band were still minors, and if word got out, that was the end of the band. Not worth it. Although, come to think of it, that would have taken care of their present dilemma. Maybe a pot scandal would’ve been a good thing.
Anyway, Jaxon’s parents had renovated the whole basement level, opening it up, putting soundproofing in, making sure there were the latest and greatest video games hooked up to the biggest, baddest flat screen TV James had ever seen. Oh, and the fridge down there that was constantly filled to bursting with Jones soda, string cheese and weird, exotic fruit. It was a little freaky, to be honest. But it was awesome.
James passed by the house on the end of the street that had been in the middle of being renovated for the past three months, accidentally bumping into the trash can out front. A cat that had been sleeping next to it darted out in between James’ feet, nearly tripping him.
Par for the course today.
As he crossed the street toward the park that lay between his house and Jaxon’s, he thought he heard something behind him. But when he turned around, there was nothing there. Probably just that stupid cat, looking to finish what it’d started.
Cutting through the play area in the park, James clambered up on top of the plastic structure right in the center. It was one of those that had tons of slides coming out in different places, at different levels. Some of them were the straight, fast ones, some twisty, some wavy.
James loved slides. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone else, but part of the reason he always cut through the park on his way to Jaxon’s was so that he could play on them. Sometimes he would spend a full half-hour just goofing around in the park before he got to practice. He always blamed it on his parents assigning him some last minute chore.
But tonight he was only going to slide down one. One slide, and then he was back on his way. If he and the guys weren’t going to make complete and utter fools out of themselves, then they needed all the practice they could get.
Now, which slide to pick? Did he want the super fast one, the twisty one or the one that would get him airborne two or three times before he got down to the sand? Choices, choices. He did a quick eeny-meeny-miney-mo in his head, landing on the bumpy one. Sweet. That was his favorite.
James started over to the slide when he heard another noise behind him. Spinning around, the only thing he saw was one of the swings moving back and forth. That could just be the wind, right? But wouldn’t the wind make all of them move at once?
This was starting to get a little creepy.
Okay, time to go. James perched at the top of the slide, grabbing onto the bar right above him to propel his body down with the highest speed possible. He swung back on his heels once, twice… and then something behind him propelled his head straight into the bar. He fell back, clutching at his forehead, and came into contact with a pair of legs that was attached to the figure standing behind him.
And then there was a length of pipe that came down on his hastily outstretched arm. James felt the bones in his forearm snap with the impact. A hoarse cry escaped his lips as he scrabbled toward the slide, still dizzy from his initial collision with the bar.
A hand grabbed his collar, yanking him back, almost lifting him to his feet. James felt the pipe land squarely on his head. Once. The pain was excruciating. Twice. He felt a wetness seep down his cheek. Three times.
There was no more pain.
He should have passed out. Maybe he had. Because what happened next defied even his overly vivid imagination.
The figure pulled off James’ shoes and socks, gripped the ankle firmly, then bit into the flesh of the calf. James could feel the ripping of the muscle, the pop of the tendon, the gush of the warm blood pouring out.
James’ killer was eating his leg. While he was still alive.
CHAPTER 1
This was such a bad idea.
Detective Trey Keane knew before his partner even opened his mouth that it was a terrible idea. Sadly, knowing it was the worst idea ever wasn’t about to make Trey step in to stop his partner. Robi Darcmel was brutal when he got like this; he’d go for the emotional jugular. And Trey was feeling really fragile right now. He’d been through a lot in the past month or so. Falling corpses landing on him in an underground cathedral of horrors, being dropped from the Space Needle, getting bitten by a snake.
Okay, the snake hadn’t had any venom left, but still. It had been a rough period. On top of all the other indignities, Trey getting his collarbone shattered by a homicidal maniac had just been the icing on the cake. Trey was sporting a sling, and Darc had a cast from where the killer had broken his arm. And right at the moment, it didn’t look like it was going to get better any time soon.
Trey loved his partner, but Darc’s Asperger’s didn’t really allow for a whole lot of emotional care and consideration. He was blunt at the best of times. And Darc right in the middle of a tough case was pr
etty far removed from the best of times.
“Mala,” Darc spoke into his cell phone. “Come to the station. Bring Janey.”
There it was. That was it. It was out there now and couldn’t be retracted. Mala would come, Darc would talk to her and then… well, all hell would break loose. And Trey had absolutely no desire to be here when it all went down.
It was the new case they’d been assigned. The media had already dubbed him the Pentagram Killer. One killing, and the guy had a nickname.
Fantastic.
Trey couldn’t say as how he blamed anyone, either. It had been a nasty but fascinating murder, and it seemed plain enough that there would end up being more.
The first victim so far had been found naked, spread-eagled within a pentagram. His throat had been slit and his tongue torn out. The crime photos looked like some grisly version of the Vitruvian Man. The arms and legs stretched out, touching the rim of the circle, with the head and each of the limbs contained inside a different point of the pentagram’s star.
The whole thing was pretty brutal.
But the worst part of it was what they had found written inside the pentagram. A conglomeration of Latin, Aramaic, Greek, Incan and Babylonian symbols and letters.
Trey had been ready to chalk the whole thing up to some guy’s craziness, but Darc had gone all glassy-eyed savant. Within moments he’d translated the entire thing.
Apparently it was some sort of a manifesto about how Seattle was going down the spiritual tubes and needed to be cleansed, blah blah blah. Trey had heard it all before.
Which was exactly the point. He had heard it all before. They both had.
Twice.
That bizarre rant, combined with the freaky letters and symbols, made it pretty clear that this killer was somehow linked with the last two. Two of the worst serial killers Seattle had seen. Ever. And this guy was a part of it.
Strange things were afoot at the Circle K.
So, now Darc wanted to bring Janey in on the whole thing. And hey, Trey was all for that. He loved that kid. But he also knew Dr. Mala Charan, Janey’s adoptive mother and child psychologist, was going to go all mother bear on Darc… and anyone else unlucky enough to be in the near vicinity. Didn’t even matter that Darc and Mala were finally dating… sort of. In fact, that might just make the whole thing worse.
Okay, he had to say something. “Darc, dude…” Trey began. Darc turned to face him, his face a flat mask of focused intensity. Yeah, no. Wasn’t going to happen. Trey was too much of a chicken. “I’m gonna go grab something from the machine. Want anything?”
Darc shook his head, and Trey retreated down the hall to the break room. Now he just had to figure out how long he could stay there. Maybe if he snacked long enough, he could avoid the whole damn thing.
Somehow, he doubted it.
* * *
The patterns were clear. The symbols from the pentagram were falling into place. The problem Darc had was that they were telling him nothing.
It was almost as if the symbols were a diversion, a bizarre sidetrack into a hall of mirrors, where each additional piece of information made it harder and harder to exit. Knowing that this killer was connected to Father John and Deputy Attorney Bryce Van Owen was vital data. But it did not seem to be yielding anything additional.
He tried to scratch at an itch that lay under his cast on his arm, just below where he could reach it. Another irritant that seemed to be keeping the patterns from giving him useful information.
As always, the information from the case translated itself into streams and threads of multicolored lights that traced their way through Darc’s mind. Glowing symbols turned and shifted, gyrating and hovering, landing and merging with other symbols, creating new pathways of light that radiated outward. Road marks that would lead Darc on to the next vital piece of data.
Except that they were not leading him anywhere.
This was the very reason he had called Mala and Janey in. Janey could provide insight on each of the two previous killers, as she had been in contact with both. The little girl also showed some indicators that she might have savant abilities also. Mala could shed light on the psychological profile of the individual they sought.
His reasons for wanting Mala and Janey on the case were logical. There was nothing else. No other extraneous agendas were present in this request.
The gray landscape that was Darc’s emotional life heaved up in violent response to this assertion. Even the colored threads of logic tied themselves into knots, uniting with the gray landscape in their disapproval. Darc felt something akin to betrayal.
Always before, his emotional life and logical abilities had remained separate. Due to circumstances from the last case, they had now begun working in tandem, to Darc’s amazement… and horror. The gray landscape was uncomfortable territory for Darc.
He began exploring this emotional and logical co-response further when he heard the click of heels on the tile as well as the squeak of rubber from sneakers. The gleaming lines of logic wrapped themselves around the sounds that entered Darc’s mind as distinct symbols. Even before he turned to look, Darc knew it was Mala and Janey.
The tiny blonde girl separated herself from Mala and rushed forward, giving Darc a big hug. She then pulled back and presented her stuffed bear. Darc reached out with solemnity and shook the bear’s paw. Janey grinned and gave him another hug.
This type of physical interaction had always been excruciating for Darc, and yet with Janey he found his reaction to be much more positive. Uncomfortable, certainly, but positive nonetheless. He found that he enjoyed Janey’s presence far more than he could account for by her continued usefulness on the cases that Darc had been working.
That must have been what the gray topography and logic patterns had been uniting to communicate to Darc. He wanted Janey here. He would want her here even if she could not help in any way with the case. That was a disconcerting conclusion at which to arrive, and Darc was not certain what he would do with the information.
Looking up at Mala, Darc observed an unfamiliar expression on her face. Emotional markers were always a challenge for him, but this was one with which he had never been confronted. Her eyes were… soft. Her mouth was closed but relaxed. The rest of her face showed very little muscular tension. Did this indicate some sort of stroke?
But then Mala saw him observing her and the expression disappeared behind a smile. She came forward and sat on the corner of Darc’s desk. Her movements were efficient, as Darc’s were, but there was a graceful flow to the way she moved through space that Darc could not break down into its mathematical components. It was as if her body defied logic and reason.
She was wearing a bright purple dress that offset her dusky skin and dark hair. Her hair was pulled back into a loose bun, with strands that had escaped and framed her narrow face and the graceful curve of her full lips. The lips that continued to smile at him as she peered at Darc, seemingly waiting for something.
Another shift of the emotional terrain within, and Darc realized that he wanted Mala here, as much if not more than Janey. He also realized that she was waiting for him to speak. More than likely for him to explain her presence here in the station with Janey.
Darc shook his head to clear it of the emotional gray mists that threatened his ability to communicate. Mala shifted back with a slight frown as he did so. Discomfort? She was sitting on the corner of a desk. That did not seem like a comfortable perch.
Unsure of what to do next, Darc mentally consulted the list of social niceties that Trey had written out for him on what had become a whole series of laminated cards. This was a moment that seemed to call for Rule 14. Offer the lady a seat, dude.
“Would you like to sit down?” Darc asked Mala, indicating a chair that sat opposite the desk. Mala’s eyebrows lifted at that. Surprise? Disbelief? Darc could not tell.
“What do you need, Darc? I was just about to take Janey out for the day.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Darc c
aught sight of Trey rounding the corner, a cup of vending machine coffee in his hand. He took one look at Mala and Janey and started to turn himself around.
“Trey,” Darc called out. He was not sure why he wanted Trey here, but the grey fog and landscape within him was roiling in desperation to keep his partner in the room. Trey glared at Darc, heaved a huge sigh and came farther into the room.
“Hey, Mala. Hey, munchkin.” He reached out and ruffled Janey’s hair. She giggled and smiled up Trey, holding up her bear. Trey gave the stuffed animal a high-five, and Janey snuggled back up to Mala, seemingly satisfied. “How’s it going, you two?”
“Fine, thanks,” Mala responded. “But I’d like to find out what we’re doing here. Any ideas?” Trey held up his hands as if he were being arrested and then pointed at Darc. There were times when Darc despaired of ever understanding interpersonal interactions.
“We need your help on a case,” Darc answered, stepping in for Trey. Since Darc was the one who had called, it seemed strange that she was asking Trey. Perhaps this was another gray area of human communication that was still beyond Darc’s awakening perceptions.
“Okaaaaaay,” Mala drawled out the word. “That’s fine, but then why did you want Janey here as well?”
Once again, Trey raised his hand over his head, shrugging and pointing at Darc. Was he indicating that he had no understanding of why they were here? If that were an accurate assessment, it meant that Trey was deliberately deceiving Mala, as he knew precisely why Darc had asked them both here.
“There is a new murder with evidence that leads me to suspect that it is linked with both Father John and Bryce Van Owen,” Darc explained.
Mala winced upon hearing Van Owen’s name. Pain? Surprise? Or had she merely had detritus land in her eye? So challenging to decipher the gray sameness of emotional responses. The intricacies of those expressions eluded Darc’s processing capabilities.
“So you want Janey to help you by… what? Going to the crime scenes and looking at the dead bodies?” Mala’s nose had flared and her mouth was turned down. She might be suffering from allergies, but the lines of logic pointed in another direction. Anger. That seemed odd. Why would Janey helping to solve a murder make Mala angry?