by Hopkin, Ben
But the idea that they could build a life together here, as a family, that was pretty important, too. Mala sighed, squeezing Janey’s hand. Whatever they were going to do, they’d figure it out together.
As Carson escorted them inside, he swept his hand around the space like he was one of the models from the Price Is Right. “Take a look around. This one’s got tons of charm. Original crown molding. Updated kitchen and master bath. You’ll have to see that bathroom for sure. It’s got a Jacuzzi tub.” Janey’s head lifted up as he mentioned the hot tub. Maybe they should go look at it now.
But there was so much else to see. The kitchen was gorgeous, all polished granite and copper backsplash. It was updated, but managed to still feel homey.
“It’s pretty sweet, right?” Carson crowed. “And it’s priced to sell. Hey! Why don’t we go upstairs to see the bedrooms? Ladies first.” He once more swept his arm, this time including the staircase within the gesture. Mala and Janey trudged up the stairs, pausing to take a breath at the top. The second story opened up to the vaulted ceiling of the great room below, a railing keeping safe from a long fall.
Mala turned to the left, heading into the first of the bedrooms. She stepped through the doorway and turned to face the wall. It was covered from ceiling to floor with a huge soccer mural. A mural that Mala knew she’d seen before.
Carson stepped up beside her. “Yeah, it’s a bit much. And not really girl friendly. But super easy to paint over. No problem.”
Mala nodded, then remembered where she had seen the mural. “This house is listed as the address of a teenage boy that was killed ten months ago.”
Carson missed his footing and stumbled a bit, but then caught himself. “Yes. You’re right. That’s why the family’s selling. Wanted to get away.” He turned to look at Mala directly. “How did you know that?”
Mala shrugged, embarrassed for some reason. “It’s a case I’m working on. There’s a killer out there who seems to be targeting teens, and James was one of the kids on my list that looked like he might fit the bill.”
“Gotcha,” Carson said, cracking his knuckles against his legs. “So, you’re with the police?” His tone seemed a bit nervous. Mala supposed law enforcement did that to some people.
“No, not really. I’m a consultant.”
“Well, that’s cool,” Carson replied, his grin once more intact.
Carson pointed to the middle of the three bedrooms. “This one has a hook and eye latch on the outside… their other son, the one who didn’t get killed, I guess he started to sleepwalk after his brother died. You can get it removed pretty easily, though. Just a few screws.” He urged Janey ahead. “Why don’t you go look? It’ll probably be your room.” He winked at Mala, turning her into a co-conspirator. Mala was pretty sure she didn’t want to be.
Janey moved through the doorway, and almost quicker than Mala could follow it, Carson jumped across the hall and slammed the door behind her. He threw the hook into place, locking Janey in. Mala could hear Janey’s fists beat a rapid tattoo against the door.
“What the hell are you doing?” Mala yelled at Carson, moving around him to open the door. “That is not funny.”
A flash of something in her peripheral vision made Mala turn to the side, lessening the impact of Carson’s fist against her jaw. Stars sprang up in her vision, making it hard to see what was going on. She lifted up her hands and backed away from where she had last seen Carson.
“Just happen to work for the cops. Just happen to meet my daughter. Just happen to come to this house. You might have no idea what’s going on here, but you know what? I’m not going to take that chance.” It was Carson! How was this possible? Mala couldn’t take it all in. As she reeled from both the blow and the revelations, Carson’s fist landed another blow against her temple, and Mala felt her vision start to tunnel. She continued to back up until she hit the railing for the stairs, then started moving along it. If she could just get back down--
Carson cut her off, kicking her viciously in the kneecap. Mala’s leg buckled.
“Why are you doing this?” she cried out.
“Hey, whatever it takes to sell houses.” Carson’s tone was conversational. Mala watched him, trying to predict where the next blow would come from. There had to be some kind of tell. Some pattern. Carson continued. “Do you understand what an amazing property this is? Do you? All the original features. Enough updating to attract potential buyers, but enough still left to do for the do-it-yourself-ers. I tried to get them to sell for years, then I got the idea. If this was a property to kill for, why not go for it?”
“But you ate him.” Mala put all the disgust she could muster into the sentence.
Carson just shrugged. “What can I tell you? It’s a dog-eat-dog world.” He lashed out with his foot again, catching Mala in the kidney. Pain spiked through her entire body. There had been no “tell”. Nothing that Mala could discern, anyway.
This man was a complete sociopath.
And what was worse, Mala could see no way out of it. “So you’re going to eat me, too?” she asked, trying to keep the conversation going while she figured out what she might be able to do.
“Naw. You’re too old. Tough. The little one, now…” He got a gleam in his eye. “She’s a bit young for my tastes, but I’m betting she’ll be all the more tender for it.”
Mala didn’t make a conscious decision to rush at Carson. She just found herself doing it. She reached out and clawed at the real estate agent’s eyes, feeling the flesh under her fingernails tear as Carson screeched and fell back.
Starting to press her advantage, Mala raised her hand to strike again, only to have Carson land another blow, this time to her mouth. She felt her head snap back and tasted the hot copper of blood.
She couldn’t win. Carson was too big, too strong… and he was calm and collected, where Mala was rattled and angry.
Out of the corner of her eye, Mala caught a flicker of movement. Was that--? She moved away from the railing, and rather than try to move back toward the staircase, she circled toward the bedrooms on the other side.
“Oh, nice,” Carson crooned. “Given up on going downstairs? Probably best. This way I can kill you in one of the bathrooms. Less mess that way, don’t you think?” He circled around until his back was facing the railing.
As he circled, he looked past Mala at the room where he had locked Janey. The door was open.
“What the--?” He yelled, looking all around.
But it was too late. Janey swung both of her arms at the back of Carson’s knees, taking his legs out from under him. It was the moment Mala had been waiting for since the moment she’d seen Janey leave the bedroom. She ran at Carson, spearing him in the gut with her shoulder. She hit him hard, lifting him up and over the railing, sending him crashing down to the tile floor below.
It was a tackle that would have made her rugby-playing father proud.
Mala scooped up Janey in her arms, feeling the little girl press against her. Then she pulled back for a moment. “How did--?” Mala started.
Janey held up Carson’s business card, which was now mangled and torn. She’d managed to slide it through the crack of the old doorjamb and lift the hook using the killer’s own marketing tool. Mala had never been more proud. Janey looked down at the card in her hand and then gave Mala a significant look.
“Okay, okay…” Mala held up her hands in defeat. “No more keeping you away from crime scenes. Since we can’t seem to avoid them, anyway.”
Janey grinned and threw herself back into Mala’s arms. Mala picked her up and moved toward the railing, looking down on the twisted figure below on the floor of the entryway hall. Carson was attempting to crawl toward the door, but it appeared that both of his legs were broken.
Mala set Janey down. “Stay here, okay? Just for a little bit. No matter what you hear. Promise?” Janey looked like she was going to argue for a moment, but she must have seen something in Mala’s face. After a moment, she nodded.
&n
bsp; Moving downstairs, Mala watched as Carson continued his efforts. She walked around him, standing directly in his path.
“So… You here to kill me? Or maybe eat me?” Carson asked.
“Oh, no. You’re far too old and tough. But I think I might just hurt you a little.” She moved to his legs and placed her foot against the break, pressing down as hard as she could. Carson screamed as the bones of his legs ground against each other. “You can punch me, kick me, kill me and even eat me,” Mala rasped. “But don’t you ever, ever lay a hand on my baby girl.” She pushed down once more before letting up. “Now, stay there like a good boy and don’t you move a muscle until the help gets here.”
She wasn’t sure how she did it, but Mala managed to keep from bursting into tears until Darc and Trey arrived.
* * *
Darc felt helpless.
It was an unusual feeling for him to experience, and one that he did not want to ever repeat. The lines of logic glowed with fervent light, promising him that would never happen. But the gray landscape mocked him with its impenetrable façade.
This might just be the beginning.
Mala and Janey had managed to fend for themselves without any outside assistance from either Darc or Trey or anyone else from the Seattle Police Department. There was a part of Darc that felt like it was growing… a large balloon inside his chest that was filling up with… pride? Perhaps.
However, the other part sank into the pit of his stomach, even as the sensation of growth continued unabated. Darc was emotionally unavailable. He knew that to be true. His one role was to be the protector. What could his role in Janey’s life be now? His role in Mala’s? There were no answers. Not from the glowing strands, nor from the gray.
But when Janey caught sight of him, she rushed over and threw her arms around his waist. Darc patted her shoulder awkwardly with the hand that was not in a cast.
“I am satisfied…” Darc started, but then stopped himself. “I am happy… that you are safe, Janey.” The little girl looked up into his eyes, her face solemn. Then she broke out into a smile. The swelling in Darc’s chest increased, while the sinking sensation diminished.
But only for a moment. For he then looked up at Mala, whose face was an empty canvas on which no discernable emotion was painted. She moved toward Darc, circumventing Carson, who was being handcuffed by the uniformed officers Darc had called in as backup. She stood directly in front of him.
Mala punched him in the arm that was not in a cast. “That was for not getting here sooner.” She then moved in closer, standing on her tiptoes, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “That was for getting here at all.” She stepped back, finally letting a smile creep onto her face. Darc felt the balloon expand to the point that it might burst.
She might not need him to protect her. But she wanted him to.
And, for the moment, that was enough for Darc.
5th Pentagram – The sequel to 7th Sin
PROLOGUE
Seattle City Councilman Kenneth Hughes yawned and stretched out his legs under his chair. It was late, much later than he wanted it to be. His wife Sandy had called three times since five o’clock that afternoon, and he was waiting for the fourth. It should come any time now.
If he could manage to get out of here before it came, there was still a chance that he might get some tonight. Not that the “some” he was getting was what it used to be. Let’s just say that there was more of the woman to love now, not only in added poundage but also in sagging flesh and deepening wrinkles.
There had been a time that Ken had possessed other… options. But ever since Sandy had caught him with that yappy little tart of an intern, Ken had been forced to keep his playing online. Thank the Gods of adult entertainment for Google incognito windows. No nasty history searches to trip him up any longer. Plenty of free porn to get him revved up and then adult chat rooms to get him off. Especially now that webcams came standard in most laptops.
Problem was, it was getting harder and harder to snag the young hotties on those sites. Ken kept himself fit… mostly. More than his nag of a wife, that’s for sure. But Daddy issues only went so far, it seemed. When competing with the bulging biceps and washboard stomachs of the younger generation, his own not-quite-so-firm appendages were becoming less and less appealing by the day.
Besides, even with pert breasts and navel rings galore to choose from, every once in a while he needed the real thing. And if he wanted to keep the freedom that Sandy’s bank account afforded him, he wasn’t about to risk a real-world affair.
Well, not again.
He exited out of the document he was perusing. This was the reason for his later-than-usual stay at the office. There was a vote coming up on a rezoning issue.
His vote, of course, had been purchased. Ken suspected that such was the case for all of the rest of the members of the council. Or at least the majority. It wouldn’t make sense to buy off one or two of them.
There was no way of knowing for sure which of the other members were on the take, but to be honest, Ken didn’t care. He cared that his own payments arrived in an anonymous and discrete fashion. It didn’t even matter to him from whom they originated. Money meant freedom from the cloying trap of his wife’s inheritance.
Money also meant more power. More power meant more money. It was a beautiful spiral staircase pointing up to the sky, and once you were on it, there was no getting off. Barring death or disgrace, of course.
Those Occupy Wall Street bastards had it right. There was a system, the system was corrupt and only a small percentage of people benefitted from it.
Where they got it wrong was in trying to tear it down. You break the structure and all that happens is that a new structure takes its place. The brutal First French Republic to replace the stagnating French monarchy. The opulent Roman Catholic Church to replace the flagging Roman Empire. They wanted a level playing field? A level playing field was just another way for a different select few to take advantage.
No, the fight against Wall Street just demonstrated stupidity. Stupidity and jealousy. Don’t change the system. Enter it. Embrace it. Benefit from it.
Morons. All of them.
Speaking of morons…
When it came to his wife, well, screw her. Not literally, of course. Chances were, she’d just make up some excuse anyway. I’ve got a headache. Or I’m too tired tonight. Anything to keep her from pleasuring her husband. At least she couldn’t use the I’m having my monthly visitor excuse any more. That river had dried up some time ago.
Whatever. She didn’t like sex? Better to just take care of himself, anyway. Take off some pressure before he got home. He could always pop a Viagra if it turned out she was in the mood. He chuckled. Pharmaceuticals. Saving his ass, one tiny blue pill at a time.
Ken clicked on the most promising thumbnail in the search. It was a clip that appeared to be more than twenty minutes long. There would be some build to the inevitable screaming climax. Sometimes he liked the wham, bam, thank you ma’am approach to porn, but tonight he was feeling sexy.
As the video loaded up, Ken heard a noise out in the hall. Shit. Just his luck that some janitor would be lurking around, ruining a perfectly good bit of adult fun.
“Hello?” he called out, listening for a response. Maybe it was his secretary, coming back in for some reason. “Olivia? Is that you?”
Nothing.
Maybe it had just been his imagination. Getting caught was a real threat in today’s straight-to-the-internet era of reporting news. It was also part of the thrill. Nothing quite matched that rush of adrenaline that came from doing something he wasn’t supposed to. There had been so little of that since his affair had ended.
There was also the fantasy of getting caught by someone young, beautiful and feminine, who just happened to have a thing for older men watching porn. But Ken was realistic enough to understand that never happened in real life. Well, almost never.
He groaned and hid the browser before standing up and moving ou
t into the hallway. All of the office lights were off except for his, but the hallway was still illuminated. Glancing left and right, Ken could see that there was no one there. Unless there actually was a janitor around. But if that was the case, there would be lights on in one of the offices.
Must’ve just been the building settling. Or even his overactive imagination. Nothing like stirring up some fear to get the juices flowing, right?
Speaking of juices…
Ken scurried back to his desk, the anticipation of the moment heightened by his recent fear of discovery. He pulled back up the browser, noting with pleasure that the clip was almost fully loaded now. There would be no stopping this train once it pulled out of the station.
He felt a stirring below and a flush of blood to his face. Loosening his tie, Ken settled in, leaning back in his chair. Every once in a while, some religious nut group tried to get the council riled up about the evils of pornography. Ken would bet his left ball that they’d never tried it, or even more accurately, that they were just putting up a good front for their prudish wives.
Sliding his hand down his chest, Ken teased himself a bit. He would make this one last for longer than the minute and a half that his wife seemed to prefer.
As his hand reached his waistband, he stopped for a moment, trying to decide how to proceed. The noise from before had left him justifiably spooked.
The decision was taken from him as a flash of metal moved before his eyes and a band of liquid heat slashed across his throat. His cry of surprise came out as a gurgle of blood and air that hissed through the new hole created in his esophagus.
He clutched at his throat, the blood welling up through his fingers. Panic surged up from his gut, replacing the lust that had occupied a site just lower only moments before. His vision doubled as the puddle of his life’s blood pooled in front of him.
The phone rang, a strident clarion call that echoed in his ears. A possible way out of the destruction that stalked him from behind. He grabbed for the receiver with hands slicked with red.