Evil Dark (38 page)

  Acheron walked slowly over to me, intent on righting the chair and starting the torture for real, since he had no choice. Claw the paint
again
. And
again
. And–

  I felt something move
over
me and through the circle, where I must have scratched a tiny break in the paint's continuity. That sliver of a gap was all Acheron needed. The red-headed man, whose body the demon had been using, collapsed limply to the floor. A shrill cry of triumph echoed through the warehouse, although I couldn't see its source.

  "Cease!" the wizard Malachi screamed. "Return to the circle! You must obey my commands!"

  Then the shit really hit the fan. And what a bloody mess it made.

• • • •

I tried to follow Acheron's progress as best I could, lying on the floor with three of my limbs still shackled to the chair. His first stop was Malachi. Smart move. I could hear the wizard scream "Noooo!" as he felt the demon take over, but Acheron didn't linger – he stayed inside Malachi just long enough to force the wizard to pick up his wand and plunge it into – and through – his left eye. Malachi collapsed, blood spurting from the ruined socket.

  There was chaos in the room now. Some of the men were yelling questions, others were trying to issue orders, and a few were running around to no particular purpose. I made a bet with myself about who Acheron's next victim would be – and I won.

  The commando wannabe holding the automatic weapon jerked suddenly, as if touched by an electric current. I watched his face change from surprise to malice as the demon took over. Then he started firing.

  I'll say this for Acheron – he had good fire discipline. He didn't expend all his ammo in five seconds, like an amateur, but instead fired controlled, three-shot bursts.

  His first target was Bishop Navarra, who took three in his lower belly. Acheron really knew how to hurt a guy, but then he would.

  The two commando camera operators then decided to rush their demon-possessed buddy. In my personal dictionary, there's a word for unarmed men who run toward an enemy who's holding a loaded automatic weapon –
morons
. Acheron cut them down like wheat at harvest time.

  I looked around for Patton Wilson, who I assumed would be the next target, for either bullets or possession. But he was gone. The cagey bastard must've run for the door the instant that Acheron was free.
Damn
.

  There were only three humans still alive in the warehouse. Acheron, gun still smoking, ignored Red and me and walked slowly over to Bishop Navarra, who lay moaning in a pool of his own blood. That's what's so bad about being gutshot – you take such a long, painful time to die.

  Acheron put the gun down gently on the concrete floor and began going through his commando host's pockets. I saw a terrible smile on the boyish face as he produced a good-sized jackknife. Guess he forgot about all the torture implements on the table, or maybe he just liked to improvise.

  I don't think I want to describe what happened next. I stopped watching after a few seconds, anyway – although there was nothing I could do to block out the screams, or the wet sounds that Acheron was making with his knife. After a while, I began to envy Red his unconscious state.

  I don't know how long it went on. In real time, it probably lasted ten minutes, but to me it seemed a lot longer – although not nearly as long as it probably seemed to Bishop Navarra.

  Finally, the screams and pleadings were silenced. I heard footsteps approaching, and looked up to see the bloodsplattered commando heading our way, the dripping knife still in his hand. He crossed the circle without difficulty – now that it had been broken, it was just so much red paint on a floor to him. He stood over the redhead's unconscious body for a moment, then bent over. One hand grabbed the red hair and pulled the guy's head back, while the other sliced his throat.

  "Hey!" I cried, "You didn't–"

  I'd been about to say, "You didn't have to do that!" But of course, he did. He was a demon, after all.

  Once Red was well on his way to bleeding out, Acheron walked over to me. He stopped a few feet away from the chair I was tethered to and said, "Your turn, Markowski." He spoke English now – maybe because Demon had been the language of his tormenter.

  "You said you'd spare me," I said, but I didn't say it very loudly. I'd never really thought he would.

  He laughed – it wasn't a pleasant sound. "The One whom I serve is known as the Father of Lies," he said. "Did you think I would stint at one of my own, if it served my purpose?"

  He weighed the bloody knife in his hand. "I will, however, spare you the kind of death just suffered by His Excellency the Bishop over there, as well as the far worse one you would have had at my hands, had I been forced to remain inside this circle – but do not expect similar mercy, should I encounter you in Hell. Now, lie still."

  As he stepped toward me, there came a loud, insistent banging from behind him. He twisted his body to look, which allowed me to see past him.

  Two figures were clinging impossibly to the big windows set high in the back wall – well, it would have been impossible for humans. Vampires do that kind of thing very well.

  One of the vampires was Christine. The other one – I had to squint, to make sure my eyes weren't combining with wishful thinking to fool me – was
Karl Renfer.

  An instant later, I realized why they were still outside. I snatched in a breath and yelled, as loudly as I could, "
Come on in
!"

  At once, the glass in both windows shattered. I saw a pair of blurred images moving in our direction, and then Christine and Karl were crouched between me and the demon-possessed commando, their fangs bared.

  "Careful," I said. "He's got a demon inside him."

  Acheron looked from Christine to Karl and took a couple of steps back. "You two seem to have some affection for that fool on the floor," he said. "Perhaps I should use one of your bodies to cut his heart out."

  "Won't work, asshole," Karl growled.

  "Yeah," Christine said. "We're already dead."

  Acheron nodded slowly. "That does pose an interesting problem."

  "Don't ponder it too long, hellspawn," Karl said. "Cops are on the way. Hear that?"

  Now that I was listening for it, I could hear the sound of sirens – a
lot
of sirens.

  The commando's face produced half a smile as Acheron looked down at me. "We will continue this discussion another time, Markowski." Then, looking at Karl and Christine, he said, "And perhaps I shall have a few words with each of you, as well."

  Then he turned, folded the knife, and walked rapidly toward the nearest exit.

  Christine said to me, "Should we stop him?"

  "No, let him go," I said. "Otherwise he'd just abandon the commando's body, and God only knows where he'd end up."

  The sirens were very close now. "Karl," I said, "maybe you should go out there and show your badge, before SWAT comes in shooting."

  He nodded, and started toward the main doors. Christine knelt beside me and began breaking the shackles that still held me to the chair.

  "Hey, Karl," I called after him.

  He turned. "What?"

  "It's good to see you, man. I thought you were dead."

  He gave me his sharp-toothed grin. "Yeah, I get that a lot."

• • • •

I had a bad burn on my wrist from when Acheron used the blowtorch to melt the chain. That meant I was due for a long spell in the waiting room of Mercy Hospital's ER. They do triage in that place strictly based on what kind of condition you're in, not how important you think you are. So, if you're not actually bleeding or suffering a heart attack, you can expect a long wait, even if you're a cop.

  Before I left for the hospital I had a few words with McGuire, who had arrived with the SWAT team and about six other cops, including two more detectives from the squad.

  I gave him the quick version of what had happened to me in the last thirty-six hours or so, with special emphasis on the fact that the warehouse on Stansfield Avenue was not only empty but had a dangerous spell on it.

  McGuire had been making notes. He looked up from his pad and said, "I'll get Rachel in on that. Maybe she can also call on a few of the other local witches to help disperse it."

  "No hurry — the guy who was supposed to activate the spell won't be showing up," I said. "I'm hoping that right about now he's making the acquaintance of several of Acheron's friends."

  I also mentioned that Patton Wilson was still at large, and recommended that an arrest warrant be issued ASAP.

  "I'll take care of it," McGuire said, "for all the good it's likely to do. A guy with his money is probably halfway to Australia by now."

  "Could be," I said. "Although I have a feeling he won't stay hidden very long. Mister Wilson's determined to start Helter Skelter, and he can't do that while hiding out at a sheep ranch in the outback."

  I also made a point of reminding him that Thorwald was a double agent, or whatever you'd call what she was doing. "Yeah, that one's going to be tricky," he said.

  "We can't just let this slide, boss," I said. "The bitch tried to have me killed – and for all we know, she could've hired Duffy the Vampire Slayer to get Karl, too."

  "I have no intention of letting it slide," McGuire said. "I'll be having a word with a couple of people at FBI headquarters, as well as her boss at Quantico. And if she ever shows her face in Scranton again, I'll have her brought in for questioning on a material witness warrant. I have a feeling the questions could take quite a long time."

  Christine and Karl both insisted on accompanying me to the ER, in case Acheron decided to try again.

  "I'll be glad of the company," I said, "especially because there's a lot of stuff I wanna know. But I'm not too worried about Acheron – it isn't anything personal with him. He was just going to kill me because I was here. If anything, he owes me a favor for setting him free."

  "Maybe," Christine said, "But I wouldn't hold my breath waiting for him to send flowers."

  "And if he does," Karl said, "I'd call the bomb squad, and then run like hell – so to speak."

  Once the folks at Mercy established that I wasn't going to die on them anytime soon, they sent me out to the waiting room for what figured to be a long stay. Karl, Christine, and I sat down on a couch, as far away from the other patients as we could get.

  "All right, Karl," I said. "This is where you explain to me how you were able to avoid getting a stake pounded into your chest – not that I'm complaining, you understand."

  "Not much of a trick," Karl said. "I wasn't home during the day yesterday."

  "Why not?"

  "It took us longer than I'd planned to get our commando buddy processed into the Pike County jail. By the time we were done, it was almost dawn, so Lacey let me spend the day in the trunk of her car."

  "Nice of her," I said.

  "More than nice," he said. "When I woke up, I found that she'd pressed my jacket . Even let me take a shower at her place."

  "Let you shower, huh?" Christine said with a smile. "Sounds like she's hot for you, Karl."

  "Lacey? Nah, not me – she's your dad's girlfriend."

  "Give it a rest, Karl," I said. "So, you haven't been home at all?"

  "Nope – Lacey drove me right to work. She dropped me off, then said she was going to go keep an eye on Thorwald, like you asked her to."

  "Then she got my message. Good."

  "If Thorwald blew the hinges off my bedroom door," Karl said, "I'm gonna be fuckin' pissed."

  "Just make sure she didn't leave you any little surprises while she was there," I said.

  "Booby traps, you mean?" He shrugged. "Not too many of them can harm us bloodsucking undead."

  "No?" I said. "How about a thermite bomb under your bed, with the timer set for noon tomorrow?"

  "Fire," Christine said, and shuddered.

  "You make a good point there, Stan," Karl said. "I'll check the place over before I crash."

  "Why would Thorwald bother with Karl now, Daddy?" Christine asked. "I mean, the Church is history, right? Navarra's dead, Wilson's in hiding, and any commandos still alive probably ran back to Kansas, or wherever they came from."

  "Maybe," I said. "But if Thorwald's been working for the Church, it's because of idealism, not money. And some fanatics just don't know when to quit."

  "Fuckin' A," Karl said.

  From time to time, a nurse would come to the door of the waiting area and call somebody's name. I kept hoping to hear mine.

  "You two don't know how glad I was to see you banging on the windows of that warehouse," I said. "But how'd you know to go there? The only address we had was for the decoy, over on Stansfield Avenue."

  "We have Louise to thank for that," he said. "For some of it, anyway."

  "Louise the Tease?" I said. "Our PA?"

  "That's her. I guess she doesn't want to keep doing that job the rest of her life – can't blame her for that."

  "Louise," I said. "Damn. What'd she do that got you to the right place?"

  "I guess you gave her a message for the Feebies a while back," Karl said. "Something about finding out who owns the
People's Voice?"

  "Yeah, but we found out later that it's the Church, just like I figured. Commando boy told Lacey, remember?"

  "Louise didn't know that. She tried to give your message to the Feebies when they came through, but she said they went right by her, like she hadn't said anything. The way she put it to me was, 'Guess the bimbo in the tight dress wasn't worth their attention.' So she got mad."

  "Guess that makes it unanimous," I said. "Everybody's pissed at the FBI these days. So, what did she do?"