Angel of Darkness (29 page)

The night grew still as if the crickets and frogs knew that death was near.

Up ahead, Olivia stood up suddenly. Parker froze. She looked up at the night sky, reluctant to leave it behind. An owl called to her from the direction of the distant front gate. She took a few steps toward it, curious as to where it might live.

No, I thought to myself, no, no, no. Go back into the building. Do not walk down that walkway. Go to the light, Olivia. Go toward the light. And by that, I do not mean go toward
the
light. Go toward the lights of Holloway.
Run.

She turned away from the light. She took a few steps toward the front entrance and stopped to listen once again to the night sounds. Otis Parker took a few steps closer. His breathing quickened as he fought to keep his bloodlust under control.

The owl called again. Olivia stepped toward it.

I was close enough to see Parker smile. He froze, taking in the sight of Olivia posed in the night, her face upturned like a doe that hears an unexpected sound, never realizing it is the rustle of her killer coming closer, never knowing that the end will be swift and violent and sure. It was that pocket of peace that Parker longed to destroy. He lived for that single, overwhelming attack on the innocent, the moment when he annihilated the defenseless before they could react. It re-affirmed his power over what he saw as a clueless world.

I had to do something. I stepped directly in front of him and closed my eyes, willing myself to manifest, not knowing if I could do it. I had seen the shadow of his terrible black wings cast against a wall behind him. Perhaps I had the same vestige of being in me and I could use it as a show of strength. I imagined a hot, silver light in the center of my being and I concentrated on that light. I saw it flaring in my mind, growing in strength, taking hold, feeding on my will to protect Olivia until it became a conflagration.

Heat flashed through me and a dark hole of gravity opened at my core, as if I might tumble inwards on myself and disappear down it forever. Anger flashed through me as I thought of all the young girls who had died by Otis Parker's hands, and of how he had left Vincent D'Amato sprawled obscenely by the fountain, and unleashed Eugene Mullins on Darcy Swan and on his psychiatrist. I thought of how men like Eugene Mullins would always follow men like Otis Parker, admiring their cruelty and coveting their power. But unless I took a stand, it would never end. The evil would live on and live on.

Otis Parker had no right to destroy my world and I would not let him go unchallenged. I stood up straight and felt as if I was being yanked in a thousand directions all at once, as if the center of my being was stretching and stretching outwards, as if I were a great searing light illuminating the world. I was incandescent.

Parker froze and stared at what he saw before him. He faltered and the air behind him trembled. I could not see him anymore. I was blinded by my light.

Parker emitted a sound, little more than a gasp and, yet, it was enough. Olivia heard it.

‘Harold?' Olivia called out into the night. ‘Harold, is that you?' Her voice grew louder as she looked about anxiously.

Run,
I thought to myself.
Run, Olivia, run.

She stood, frozen in the darkness, looking about uncertainly. The heat and light radiating from me faltered and I could not sustain the river of energy flowing out from my core any longer. I felt my essence shrinking until I could not move. Had it been enough?

Parker was looking around him, assessing his need to escape against his desire for Olivia.

And then I saw him, striding up the walkway from the main gate, tall and strong, his white hair gleaming in the night air, his holster and gun outlined against his hip – Morty, the beat cop, still in uniform, holding a bouquet of yellow roses for his lady. He was heading straight for Olivia.

‘What have we here?' Morty called out when he saw Olivia by the fountain. ‘Surely, this is not the place to be at this time of night?' He reached Olivia and smiled at her kindly. She recognized him and smiled back.

‘I just needed to feel free,' she explained. ‘I needed the night air. Besides, they caught the man to be afraid of. Everyone is talking about it.'

‘There's always a man to be afraid of,' Morty said gently. He took her arm and started guiding her toward the long-term unit. ‘I've been out all afternoon and night searching for one.' He glanced at the roses in his arms. ‘After days like this, I need to see her. I need a reminder that something beautiful still exists in this world. Do you ever feel that way?'

Olivia stopped and stared up at him, her eyes full of tears. ‘I do,' she whispered. ‘I do.'

They reached the door of the long-term unit, and Morty pounded on it loudly. A harried aide opened it soon after, looking relieved when she spotted Olivia. ‘Oh Lord,' the aide said. ‘I just noticed you weren't in bed and it gave me a heart attack.' She looked up at Morty gratefully. ‘You're here mighty late, aren't you?'

‘Better late than never, I always say,' Morty said as he stepped into the hallway.

Truer words were never spoken
,
I thought to myself.

Behind me, Otis Parker stood frozen in the darkness of the lawn. He was looking right through me and I knew that however I had appeared a few moments before, I had been discarded as beneath his notice now. His confidence in his own power had returned. He stared after Olivia and Morty with such resentment and hatred in his heart that I suddenly feared for both should Parker's escape plans change. Otis Parker liked to get even.

Above, a crack of thunder split the air and the heavens exploded in an angry, pelting rain. When I turned back around, Parker was gone. He'd left as quickly as he had appeared. I followed Olivia into the long-term unit. Morty was placing the yellow roses in a vase on the bedside table next to his sleeping lady friend and Olivia had already returned to her room, where she would find the solitude she craved. But Harold Babbitt was still marching up and down the hall, wearing only a pair of pajama bottoms.

He was being scolded by a weary nurse. ‘It is past time for bed now, Harold. I don't have time to look after you all night long,' she said sternly, holding up the other half of his pajamas.

‘Harold Babbitt is a man of the night,' Harold announced as he pushed away her attempts to help him. He began to put the top on himself. He wore real pajamas, light-blue cotton with dark-blue and red stripes, and they triggered a memory of my father. He'd had pajamas like that and wore them every Sunday, pretty much all day, in fact, even when he'd become enraged at me and my brothers for making too much noise and chased us out into the yard, a beer in hand, his face beet red from alcohol and anger.

‘Your father did the best he could,' Harold Babbitt said, staring right at me.

I froze.

‘If you talk to her, to the little one, she will be able to help,' Harold said distinctly. He blinked and examined the buttons on his shirt as he concentrated on fastening them.

‘What are you going on about now?' the nurse said kindly. She brushed imaginary lint off Harold's shoulders. ‘You look very handsome, Harold.'

‘Harold Babbitt is a man of the night,' Harold said matter-of-factly.

‘Yes, you are,' the nurse agreed. ‘You most certainly are.'

THIRTY-SIX

S
tunned that Harold had somehow penetrated my world, I returned to the common room. A few remaining patients still sat aimlessly, lost in their own worlds, following jumbled thoughts to the same private conclusions that had brought them to Holloway in the first place.

Lily had changed into a nightgown and was standing at the window, staring out into the night as if she were waiting for Peter Pan to come by. It was impossible to believe that this was the same child who had burned her little brother with lit cigarettes and killed the family cat with a kitchen knife. She clutched her teddy bear by the neck and her other arm moved up and down as if she were trying to fly. No one paid much notice. The staff did their best to look after Lily, all the while disapproving that she'd been parked here at Holloway among people many times her age. But when she was quiet like this, distracted by her inner world, they often left her to her thoughts and took the opportunity to check on other patients.

I joined Lily at the window. A clap of thunder erupted outside, but she did not flinch. She was staring at a corner of the side yard where the shadows overlapped. She had seen something there. I waited with her, wondering when Parker might reveal himself, wondering if he was standing outside in the darkness, staring back up at us, gauging whether it was worth it to find a way in and finish what he had started with Olivia. I could sense his terrible hunger even from a distance. He had been excited by her frail melancholy and he was finding it hard to leave his chance at one last kill behind.

Lightning flashed and illuminated Parker in a series of silver strobes. He was standing motionless by the fence behind the long-term unit. But when another clap of thunder echoed across the valley and the skies opened up even more, Parker moved toward the shed that protected the opening to his route to freedom. The time had come for him to run.

Lily saw him, too. She clutched her teddy bear tightly as the dark forest in her mind flared to life. The monsters who lived in her imagination were keen to get to know the monster who lived in her world. I willed myself to enter her mind. It was not the same as when I shared in someone's memories, it was a brutal, disjointed sensation that left me feeling as if I were chasing something in the wind and could not quite grab its tail. I saw dark trees arrayed starkly against a permanent twilight and sensed dark shadows slipping from tree to tree. The grinning cartoon cat was there, confident in its ability to control what Lily did. But, suddenly, her mind focused outward and I followed.

Parker had reached the edge of the shed. Seeing that the manhole to the first drainage pipe was slightly askew from when he had exited from it earlier, he pushed it into place. If anyone chose to check the drains, they would not know it had ever been opened.

I thought of Otis Parker descending the ladder down into the second section of that pipe. I knew that Eugene Mullins would be at the other end, ready to free him. I indulged in a fantasy of trapping Parker by locking the second manhole cover shut once he was in the pipe system and then frightening Mullins away with a fiery manifestation.

I did not have the power to do either.

I felt a chill and when I looked around, I realized I was still standing in the dark forest of Lily's mind. I willed myself back to the room. All of the patients had given up on the day and headed to their beds. Only Lily remained – and she looked as if she did not intend to budge.

‘You are a stalwart warrior,' I said to her as I left her to her solitary vigil.

It was time to follow Otis Parker.

The rain was coming down harder now, the deluge so profound it felt as if a waterfall was pouring from the sky, unearthing the smell of rich loam and new grass all around me. I could not bear the thought of leaving that smell behind and descending again into a claustrophobic pipe filled with Otis Parker's evil. I did not fully understand what I was up against and I feared his power. Instead, I made my way to the other side of the rear fence and down the steep incline that marked the back of Holloway. I spotted a shape huddled beneath an overhang in the slope, seeking refuge from the rain.

I had found Eugene Mullins.

He was wearing a dark windbreaker and crouched over the opening to the massive drainage pipe that wound underneath the grounds of Holloway. I knew Parker was making his way toward that very same opening from the other end of the pipe. Mullins was already at work, his toolbox spread open on a lip of concrete that protruded beneath the pipe to create a narrow work area protected by the overhang from the rain above. I could smell his sweat from yards away. He had been running from the police all day and his adrenaline was stuck on high. I wondered if he had also been drinking.

He held a strange-looking tool resembling a cross between a large pair of pliers and a bicycle chain. He looped the chain around one of the heavy metal bars blocking the pipe's exit, ratcheted it into place and pumped the handle. Once he had made a crude cut in the bar, he used a hacksaw to try to cut through the iron more quickly. It was hard work but he had no other alternative: the bars were firmly embedded in concrete above and below the pipe.

I didn't know how long Mullins had been working on the pipes, but he had already removed one of the bars, creating an opening half the size of a file cabinet. It would not be enough for Otis Parker to squeeze through. Mullins had at least two more bars to go.

I watched Eugene Mullins work, wondering what motivated him to help a monster like Otis Parker. Did it make him feel more important? Had the rest of the world overlooked him so thoroughly that Parker's attention had overwhelmed his morality? Or had he simply discovered a kindred spirit in Parker, someone who shared his dark interests and was quick to assure him that what they were doing was nothing more than their due?

Mullins lay the strange cutting tool down and stretched out both of his hands, interlocking his fingers to work out the cramps in them. He was weary from exertion and, judging by the way he kept turning and surveying the valley below, also worried about being caught.

‘What the hell are you doing just standing around?' Parker's angry voice cut through the sound of the rain. He emerged from the inky darkness of the tunnel and crouched on the other side of the bars, his eyes narrowed as he stared at Mullins.

Mullins was tired and the remark made him angry. ‘I've been at it for almost two hours,' he snapped back.

‘Hurry up,' Parker ordered.

I wondered how long Mullins would be willing to play the submissive in their relationship. If the murder of Parker's psychiatrist had been any indication, Mullins was determined to surpass his master and intended to leave Parker's finesse behind.