Demon King

by Erik Henry Vick

  Lewis stood there, shoulders slumped, thumbs hooked in his front pockets, staring at the church. “You say LaBouche came out of there this afternoon?”

  Drew nodded. “Yeah. I’m sorry. I was sitting right over there in my car.” He pointed to where Richards’ cruiser stood. “And he came through the double doors. We were almost face-to-face. No way I confused someone else for him.”

  Lewis grunted.

  “What? I can’t do that, Chaz. The State Police…Yeah, I realize that, but…” Richard’s voice was rising, both in volume and pitch. “Well, fuck, Chaz, I can’t just…”

  Benny stepped closer to Drew. “Uh, Toby? I mean, Drew? Is Mike really Mike?”

  Drew arched an eyebrow at him. Lewis seemed lost in his own thoughts.

  “Well, I mean, he’s not one of them, right?”

  “No. No, Benny. None of these men are demons.”

  “So you can still see them? I mean, really see them?”

  Drew wrapped his arms around his chest and squeezed. “How do you… How can you know what I can see and—”

  “We are best friends, Toby. You told me.” His tone sounded off, and he looked a little hurt. “Don’t you… The amnesia thing isn’t just an act?”

  Drew looked him in the eye, reading the hurt there. “I’m sorry. You are Benny Cartwright, but I don’t remember how I met you, or when.”

  “So you don’t remember Oneka Falls?”

  Drew shrugged. “Before yesterday, I’d never been here.”

  “I get things wrong—sometimes, but I know I’m not wrong about this. You are Toby Burton. You grew up in Oneka Falls.”

  “I don’t remember any of—”

  “Well, until we were eleven, anyway. You wanted a bike. Bad. And your mom…well, I don’t want to speak ill of the dead, but she was a real piece of work. She wouldn’t get you one, and we all had bikes and there was this ad—in the newspaper, not like this internet crap—that was offering bikes for a Jackson, and you wanted it and—”

  “Hold on,” said Lewis and Benny turned to gaze at him, head tilted like a bird. “Did you say Dr. Reid grew up here? In Oneka Falls?”

  Benny shrugged. “Well, of course he did. He grew up on Mill Lane, right around the corner—”

  The world faded to a dull gray, and a weight fell on Drew, pressing him toward the ground. Everything was spinning, and his breath whistled out of him like the air was being sucked right out of his lungs. Lewis grabbed his shoulder, saying something that Drew couldn’t hear.

  Mill Lane—what is it about that road? Why does it feel like someone’s dropped a million volts across my spinal column every time I see or hear about Mill Lane?

  Suddenly, he wanted—no, needed—to puke. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing away the spinning, shrieking maelstrom that had settled around him like a weight around a drowning man. It’s nothing. Nothing! Even with his eyes closed, the world spun and spun. His hands flopped outward, grasping for something solid, something to anchor himself to. “How much is that puppy?” he muttered. “Where’s my little puppy?”

  “What’s he saying?” The voice sounded like it was a million miles away.

  “Why can’t I find my puppy?” he murmured, willing the craziness to subside, willing a sane reality into existence. The spinning slowed, his nausea subsided.

  “Why is he talking nonsense?”

  “It’s a trick he learned in Millvale. It helps him stop thoughts he doesn’t want to think—”

  Just like that, Drew was off again, spinning and spinning. Nausea rolled back in with a vengeance, hitting him like an out-of-control semi-truck.

  Mill Lane. Thousand Acre Drive. The man with the bikes. The man with the claws—

  6

  “No fucking way, Chaz. I can’t just roll out of here and pretend none of this ever happened.”

  Static hissed in his ear for the span of ten heartbeats. “That’s a mistake, Mike.”

  “Maybe so, Chaz, but there’s no way I can go to the Staties and say ‘Oh, sorry. False alarm.’ I mean, they’ve already mobilized, Chaz.”

  “Be that as it may, Mike, I need you to find a way to back out of this.”

  “Look, Chaz, you have a…a liberal bent toward law enforcement. I get that, and I can’t always say you are wrong, but how in the blue fuck can you want a place like Play Time operating in Oneka Falls? Even if no one died in the cellar, even if it’s all consensual as you say, even if it’s all in good fun. I mean, the stuff down there in the basement…branding irons and hot coals. That’s grievous bodily harm, even with consent. I can’t condone the sort of behavior that leads to…to…to branding and…and—”

  “Listen, Mike, let me—”

  “—and crazy shit like that. Anyway, there has to be an investigation. Even if I didn’t want one, now the State Police are involved, and that means there will be an investigation. Their forensics people are already—”

  “You leave all that to me.”

  “Chaz, I—”

  “Tell you what, Mike, I’m on my way down to the scene right now. I’ll talk to the Staties and then meet you for a beer. Say down to Lumber Jack’s?”

  “Chaz…”

  “Let me help, Mike,” Chaz crooned. “I’ll handle everything. It’s your day off unless I’ve got my wires crossed. It is, right?”

  Mike turned back toward Trooper Lewis. Reid was down on his knees, and both Lewis and Tobias crouched next to him. “Yes,” he said.

  “Well, okay, then. I’ll be right there to relieve you. I’m coming up Mill Lane, now. Talk to you in two shakes.”

  “Chaz, I…listen to me a—” The call ended.

  With a grimace, Mike shoved the phone into his pocket. He walked back over to the trooper. “Listen, Trooper Lewis. My boss is on his way here right now. He wants to put the kibosh on this whole investigation.”

  Lewis snapped his head around and his gaze bored into Mike’s eyes. “No.”

  “Yeah, I know. In so many words, he told me to go get drunk and relieved me of duty. He’s a bit of a—”

  “I don’t care what he is. This investigation will not be—”

  “Take it from me,” Mike said, leaning toward Lewis and staring him in the eye. “Take jurisdiction. Take the case. He can’t sweep it under the rug if it’s a state case.”

  The headlights from Chaz Welsh’s fancy blue BMW washed across them. Lewis’ eyes strayed to the car and then back to Mike’s. He dropped his chin once and pushed Reid toward Tobias. “Give me a minute,” he muttered.

  He stood and faced Mike, waiting for Chaz to get out of the car. The BMW’s door swung open, he said, “No, you listen to me, Chief. It’s obvious that at least one serious crime occurred inside that building.” He crooked his thumb toward Play Time. “That is a crime scene, plain and simple. I’m taking over this case. As of right fucking now.”

  Chaz sprang out of the car, all smiles and twinkling teeth. “Now, Trooper, that’s not very friendly, is it?”

  “Not here to make friends, sir, and don’t you dare take one step inside the crime scene tape. It’s there for a reason.”

  “I’m the town manager of Oneka Falls, and this place is inside my town. I go where I like.”

  “One step,” said Lewis, holding up a finger. “One step past that tape and you can tell it to a judge.”

  “Mike, tell this guy—”

  “It’s my night off, remember?”

  Chaz glared, first at Lewis, then at Mike. “You two are making a mistake. I have…friends who will be quite upset at your behavior. You are—”

  “Shove it up your ass, Town Manager,” said Lewis. “You want a collar for threatening a law enforcement officer?”

  Chaz glowered at him.

  “Careful,” hissed Reid from behind them. Mike glanced back. Both Tobias and Reid were staring at Chaz Welsh like he was the devil himself.

  “I think you’ve just ended your career, Trooper,” snarled Chaz. He turned and slid into his car, slamming the door. He rev
ved the engine and then threw it into reverse, leaving two long, smoky black tracks up the block.

  “That went well,” said Lewis.

  “You should call in the troops,” said Mike.

  “Yeah. Let me get on the horn.” He stepped away and started making phone calls.

  Mike squatted next to Tobias and Reid. “What was that all about?”

  “He’s one of them,” said Tobias.

  “The town manager?”

  “Yeah. He’s a demon,” said Reid.

  “I picked the wrong weekend to quit drinking,” muttered Mike.

  7

  Jack stirred cream into a steaming cup of brown water, grimacing in anticipation of the flavor of the swill. He had no idea where Shannon was, but he knew where she wasn’t: not at home, not at the store, not here. He’d expected to find her at home, warm and safe. Maybe she’d gone somewhere for a late dinner, but her car still sat in its space below her apartment. He thought it was possible she’d gone out with friends, but the probability was low. Everyone knew she carried a torch for Mike Richards. She followed him around when he went drinking. It didn’t sit right that she would have gone off somewhere while Mike stewed over at Play Time. She would want to keep him company. Jack had a bad feeling about the whole thing, but neither he nor the chief believed in all that hocus pocus.

  The front door slammed open and heavy footsteps pounded through the lobby. Jack froze without knowing why. He turned the light off in the closet that served as the police department break room. It might be one of the night guys, but he didn’t think so. It wasn’t Mike—the chief would neither slam through the door nor stomp across the lobby like a spoiled child…at least not while sober, which he had been not long before—miracle of miracles.

  “I did what I could. Don’t be angry with me.” The voice sounded familiar and yet strange, like whoever spoke usually pretended at an accent or different pitch.

  “Shut up, you worthless bitch!” bellowed Chaz Welsh.

  In the darkness, Jack’s eyebrows shot skyward.

  The sound of a heavy blow reverberated through the town hall, followed by a whining cry. “One job!” shouted Chaz. “You had one, simple little, motherfucking teeny, goddamn thing to do, and you fucked…it…up!” The sound of a heavy blow underscored each of the last three words.

  “No, Chaz! I’m sorry!”

  That voice. Jack had the sense he heard a voice like that every day. Someone’s mother? Someone’s daughter?

  “No, Chaz! I’m sorry, Chaz!” mocked the town manager. “That’s all I get from you, you worthless hen! I should send you back. I should send you back and leave you there to starve! This place is for can-doers, not for apologizers!”

  “Chaz, I—” The sentence turned into another yowling cry.

  “Sally Fuck-it-up McBride! That’s what we’ll call you from now on.”

  Of course! But that meant Chaz sent Sally to that damn church… Fuck. Chaz is behind whatever is going on at Play Time.

  “Sally, is there someone here with you?” Chaz asked in conversational tones. “I smell something.”

  “Coffee? It’s just the pot for the PD night shift. It’s always burning away in that closet of theirs.”

  “Hmm,” said Chaz, sounding anything but convinced. “Well, no matter, Fuck-it-up. Tell me, did Bortha do his part of it at least? Did he grab that mouse Bertram?”

  “I don’t know, Chaz. I came here after Mike—” Again, the sentence stopped, cut off with a whingeing cry. “Please don’t hit me anymore, m’lord,” she whimpered.

  M’lord? What the fuck?

  “Herlequin will be most displeased if you allowed the woman to get away. Most displeased. If you think I’m hard on you, Fuck-it-up, well, you are in for one rude awakening.”

  Sally’s only reply was a mewling moan.

  Chaz didn’t bother to respond, beyond muttering while he punched a number into the phone at reception. “Red? Chaz. Do you… Ah, great news. Yes, I’m sure Herlequin will be pleased. Expect him soon. I don’t need mention she’d better remain untouched, do I, Red?” Chaz grunted and hung up the phone with a clatter. Sally yawped like Chaz had yanked her up by the hair.

  “Now, then. Where were we, Fuck-it-up?”

  Jack’s stomach ached like he’d swallowed a hot coal. They’ve got her! They have Shannon. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and called Mike.

  “Richards.”

  “Mike, listen and don’t interrupt. I’m at the PD. Chaz is out in the lobby, beating the piss out of Sally McBride. He’s in on it, behind it. They have Shannon, or Red Bortha does. Said they are holding her for someone named Herlequin.”

  “Why, Jack,” crooned Chaz. He stood so close that his breath tickled Jack’s ear. “I’m so disappointed.”

  “Chaz! Shit, you scared me, boss!”

  “You haven’t seen anything yet. Look at me, Jack.”

  Jack turned and screamed. Chaz took his phone out of his numb fingers and crushed it with one huge, scaly hand.

  Chapter 3

  1979

  1

  “I’m sorry,” said the doctor dressed in scrubs and a lab coat. “Mr. Thorndike succumbed. We did all we could, but our efforts were not enough.”

  “Well, shit,” said Matt.

  “Did Mr. Thorndike have a family? Anyone we can contact? Or will you be doing that?” His expression and tone of voice left no question he wanted Matt to do the notification.

  “Yeah, I’ll handle it,” groused Matt. “What about the kids?”

  The doctor narrowed his eyes, lips pressed into a tight white slash. “They are not my patients. I’m sure I don’t know their status. Ask one of the nurses.”

  Matt angled his head away from the pedantic little man and cracked his knuckles. “No, wouldn’t want to put you out. I mean, you’re important.”

  “Now, see—”

  Matt spun on his heels and walked away from the man, leaving him grumbling. The nurse’s station crackled with the clamor of Emergency Rooms everywhere. Matt caught the eye of a pretty, red-headed young nurse. “Excuse me,” he said. “Can you help me?”

  She nodded and came toward him. “Yes?”

  “I brought two children in several hours ago. Boy by the name of Benny Cartwright and a young girl named Shannon Bertram. Can you give me their status?”

  The nurse glanced down at his badge, then his gun, and back to his face. “Sure, Chief.” She turned her back and fished the charts out of their slots. “Hmm. The Bertram girl is rehydrating, and her parents are on the way. The Cartwright boy…well, we have two issues.”

  Matt nodded.

  “We can’t contact his parents, that’s the first thing. Add to that—”

  “His mother is away, but his father is right upstairs. He’s a patient. Room 409.”

  The nurse smiled and jotted something in the chart. “Good. That will make things easier. The second problem is the boy. He’s suffering from hysterical catatonia, and—”

  “Oh, good Christ, not again,” Matt mumbled.

  The nurse’s eyebrows arched, and she tilted her head to the side.

  “Nothing,” said Matt. “He’s the second kid to come from my town with that in the past few days.”

  She glanced down at his badge again. “Oneka Falls? Oh! Because of the shootings?”

  Matt shook his head. “No, because of the shooter. He also kidnapped these children.”

  “Oh, my lands,” she said. “That’s terrible!”

  “The first kid’s already up here—over to the psychiatric center.”

  The nurse nodded. “That’s where little Benny will be headed when he’s done with his IV and we get his father’s permission.”

  “Well, shit,” Matt muttered. “No chance he can talk to me? I’ve known him all his life.”

  “I don’t see why not. Tell you what, let’s get his IV finished, and then you and I can take him up to visit his father.”

  “Deal,” said Matt. “Is there a payphone I
can use? I need to get in touch with my dispatcher.”

  “Sure,” she smiled at Matt. “There’s a convenience room for law enforcement off the lobby. I’ll take you there.”

  2

  Owen smiled at the women in the lobby, allowing his true self to shine through. That was enough to make them look away. Both he and Brigitta were dirty and bare-foot. He’d left the rifle in the car, so he had to do something to keep people from throwing him out.

  He walked up to the information desk. “I need a friend’s room number, please.”

  The portly woman behind the desk raised her eyebrows. “Name?”

  “Randy Fergusson.”

  The woman turned to a rolodex and flipped through it. When she got to the end, she looked up at Owen, loosing an exaggerated sigh.

  “Sorry, I thought you wanted my name.”

  Her face pinched up like an old prune and she looked at him over her cat-eye glasses. “What’s your friend’s name?”

  “Sorry.” Owen smiled at her, though he wanted to punch her in her fat face. “His name is…Joe, uh… No, it’s Jim.”

  The woman huffed another sigh. “His last name?”

  “Oh, uh…” Owen looked at Brigitta and raised his eye brows.

  “If you don’t know, my love, neither do I,” she whispered.

  “Uh… His last name is… Okay, this is embarrassing.” Owen plastered his best sheepish grin on his face. “I’ve forgotten his last name for the moment. He’s the town manager in Oneka Falls, so if you could—”

  “This is Rochester, sir, not Oneka Falls. You can’t expect me to follow your town’s leadership.”

  “Yeah, no. I don’t, I mean. I was wondering if you could—”

  “Sir, if you don’t know your friend’s name, I can’t help you.” She turned in her squeaky chair and looked out the window.

  Owen wanted to jump right across the desk and teach the fat bitch a lesson, but Brigitta’s cool palm rested on his forearm. “Do we have it in the car, my love?” She winked at him.

  “Yeah,” Owen seethed. “In the car. Yeah, in the trunk.” He turned and stomped away from the information desk.