Dancing With Devils

by Scott Webster

  I remember how strong my dad was when he sat through my therapy when I was younger. When I talked about what I witnessed when I was in the cage, and escaped, he himself lost control and shouted at my therapist, ‘How could bloody animals like this walk the earth.’ That made my mum cry, but they both stood by me, helping me come to terms with what I suffered, what I survived.

  I felt mildly empowered, mildly stronger just thinking about them. The very thought of my foster parents and the penny dropping about the clues seemed to remove the cloud of anxiety raining over me. That spark of hope rejuvenated in me.

  Minutes later, the phone rang. My heart started racing, thumping through my chest as I read that the caller was Arianna.

  I answered without saying a word.

  “Now, detective, that was very rude. Most people greet their caller, especially if it is their beloved,” Arthur taunted down the line.

  Assuming the worst, I thought I heard the muffling of my desperate wife down the phone.

  “I told you, if you hurt her…”

  “Detective, this is no call for empty threats. I was interrupted on my last call. In fact, I called to say how much I admire your wife. How very brave. The bitch actually broke my nose with a head butt.”

  My heart stopped as he laughed at it, and very suddenly, as much as I was proud of her and wanted to laugh in his face, I chose not to follow suit. As much as I was proud of my gorgeous woman breaking one of his bones, I didn’t want to laugh with the prick that had her. I’d wait and laugh as I broke the rest of them.

  The most profane of words fought to exit my mouth but subconsciously, I suppressed them so as to not aggravate him. Strange really, being so subdued and restricted with everything. As much as I wanted to scream, curse, and threaten him, I couldn’t get a single word out. So much so that Arthur must have expected my retort instead of silence.

  “Are you still there, Sebastian?”

  I grunted in response. I couldn’t tell if this was him trying to assert his power over me. Was this Arthur trying to get one over me, to frighten me into submission? It seemed to annoy him not responding, so I felt as though I’d keep my vow of silence. The ground was beginning to crack beneath my feet, ready to swallow me whole as I made the conscious decision to stay silent and taunt him back.

  “I have to admire her. I truly do. I’d tell you the full story about how it happened, but I feel pressed for time, you know, in the event you are tracing this call. Instead, I’ll give you the short version. I set up a video camera and was ready to have my way with her when she cried. You see detective, I had her tied down, spread-eagled across the bed, barely able to move. She was a little bruised around the ankles because she’d been fighting so hard to escape.” The bastard laughed at his final comment.

  Fuck you. I responded in my head, instead of through my mouth, still choosing to keep my vow of silence. I clutched the phone, desperate to hear her. Desperate to know she was okay.

  “Fucking answer, Sebastian,” Arthur spat, clearly annoyed I wasn’t giving in to his power trip. He began to lose control of his own emotions and I laughed down the phone at him. I was laughing maniacally to let him know I wouldn’t be intimidated.

  In his final ploy to get one over me, he spoke. “She gave me that same fire when I started to undress. I wanted what you had. I was going to rape your pretty flower and make her my own. I was going to fuck her brains out until she begged me to continue. That fine specimen was mine to taint.”

  I finally chose to speak, deciding to fuck with his head at the same time.

  “Then, she cracked you on the nose and made you bleed. Poor, little Arthur. You are so fucking soft that a woman tied up managed to get one over you,” I continued with a laugh.

  “Laugh now whilst you can, detective fucking clown. You won’t be soon,” Arthur responded, clearly angry with the way the conversation went.

  The call was cut abruptly, seemingly out of anger and then mine buzzed. A picture message of her spread out on the bed was eerily reminiscent of old memories of the basement near the cage that I felt sick thinking about it. However, I felt mildly okay given she wasn’t harmed and hadn’t been defiled. Stay strong, Arianna.

  Refocussed with thoughts of her being okay, the memories of my foster parents, and the penny dropping about Atlas, I was ready to tackle some of the riddles to find the hidden message.

  I knew Arthur would regret leaving me hints soon enough, because I was on his tail. He’d be the one begging me not to hurt him by the time I caught up to him.

  Formed in an instant, lasting a lifetime; I draw you back to where it began.

  A bare-faced lie; he carried something new, weightless unlike the guilt of the past.

  Deities Apollo and Artemis protect us, he defiles us.

  Chronos mistaken affiliation, despite devouring his own, puts reflection on who the victim may be.

  I read it, then read it again and again. I wasn’t seeing the answer, so I dusted off an old book I had on mythology. I scrambled through the pages to find excerpts on the named Gods. Apollo, Artemis, and Chronos. I knew Chronos was the God of time, but what was being alluded to, I didn’t know.

  I flicked through the pages and highlighted anything remotely related to Apollo and started to read, focussing my efforts in what the solution could be. I read through the Apollo sections for hours, trying to make something fit. That’s when I began to write everything down.

  Apollo – Olympian Deity, Greek.

  God of music, prophecy, truth, healing, medicine sun, light, poetry, archery, and plague?

  Complexities, contradictory. Healing and plague?

  Son of Zeus and Leto, sister Artemis.

  Viewed as the most handsome God.

  Archery – target, ‘X’ marks the spot?

  God of foreigners, hosts dominion over colonists.

  Protector of fugitives, refugees, and young boys, nurture to adulthood.

  Giver and interpreter of law.

  Patron of herdsmen and cattle, flocks and fertility.

  Wards off evil, averter of plague, but giver of it?

  I was trying to understand why Arthur would refer to Greek Gods but continued the task and moved on to the next God in the riddle.

  Artemis – Olympian deity, Greek.

  God of wilderness, hunting, wild animals, the moon, and fertility.

  Helper of midwives, and Goddess of birth.

  Daughter of Zeus and Leto, twin to Artemis.

  Patron and protector of young girls, able to inflict disease upon women, and relieve.

  Contradictory again, healing and plague?

  Gods of healing, and plague? Could it be a suggestion he has the power to take and prevent himself inflicting harm? The complexities and contradictory natures of the Gods. Was there something in it I wasn’t seeing? Of course! The second crime scene in the hotel, with the lamb head. Was that linked?

  I thought about every possible Greek monster. The chimera, was that it? Flicking through, it wasn’t. Damn it! I wasn’t thinking clearly enough, it wasn’t fitting. Knowing the stakes, I was getting impatient and frustrated. Terrified the phone might ring again and it could be him with another taunt, or perhaps I had angered him enough to do something stupid. Fuck!

  Stop Sebastian. Think. The riddle. Stay on course. I had to breathe, I had to take it slow. What am I being told? Artemis and Apollo protected us. Who is us? Protectors of boys and girls, men and women. The riddle read they protect us, but ‘he defiles us.’

  I thought about it in terms of the riddle, and the theme of mythology. Someone powerful enough to overthrow the Gods? It could only realistically be Zeus. Of course, Arthur feels as though he has power and dominion over boys and girls, referencing little Sebastian and his mother at his first heinous murder. So, Arthur views himself as the God with power over the protectors?

  I struggled to find what the sudden fascination with Greek mythology was. Arthur was specific in his previous crime with Jessica, where he viewed himself a
s the devil, capable of snuffing out his own son. Was he the proverbial Hades, not Zeus? I felt like I only had one part of the riddle and not enough for a eureka moment, so pressed on and continued with the task at hand.

  Chronos – God of time.

  Three-headed serpent: a man’s head, bull’s head, and a lion’s head.

  Daughter Ananke, Goddess of inevitability.

  Revolves around primordial world ‘egg,’ split with daughter to form planet Earth.

  Gave birth to Chaos.

  Often infuriated and not to be mistaken with Titan Cronus.

  That’s the mistaken affliction? I flicked some more pages and dug up what I could on the Titans, specifically Cronus.

  Cronus – Titan, leader of the first generation of Titans.

  Youngest son of Uranus and Gaea.

  Ruler of all Gods and men for a brief period.

  Rebelled against his father, grew tyrannical.

  Imprisoned the cyclops and hecatoncheires.

  Viewed as Father and Lord of Time.

  Swallowed and ate all of his children except one, Zeus.

  That had to be it, it seemed to fit the riddle. Artemis and Apollo, despite later being offspring of Cronus’ surviving son Zeus. He was the almighty that gave birth to the almighty Zeus. That felt more like Arthur. Devourer, destroyer of families. It seemed to fit. The excitement of finally starting to break through and get to the hidden messages within.

  That was just two lines of the riddle though, and oddly, working backwards – I seemed to be making more headway with the final two lines. I mulled over the others.

  Formed in an instant, lasting a lifetime; I draw you back to where it began.

  A bare-faced lie; he carried something new, weightless unlike the guilt of the past.

  Formed in an instant, lasting a lifetime, I draw you back to where it began. I read that over and over, trying to break it. Formed in an instant, lasting a lifetime. A thought? A memory? Drawing me back to where it began. The night he killed Sebastian? That’s when I started my hunt for him, to hunt, like Artemis? It all seemed to connect.

  A bare-faced lie, he carried something new, weightless unlike the guilt of the past. That’s where I hit the proverbial brick wall. No matter how much I pondered that line, I couldn’t make anything fit. He wanted to draw me back to where it began, so I was going to the Jessica and Sebastian McColm residence. Nothing seemed immediately visible in the photos of the crime scene.

  The phone rang, breaking my concentration. I couldn’t bring myself to look at it. The ringing continued. My entire soul crashed, thinking I may have spurred Arthur into doing something stupid to my wife. I looked over and it was Michael. I let it ring off. I’m sure he meant well but I didn’t feel like talking to anyone. If Michael did back off to protect himself and his family, which was just sheer conjecture on my part, I was doing him a favour not hindering him with the news about Arianna.

  I ran out the door and something inside me decided not to lock the door, ever hopeful that Arthur would be stupid enough to come to me. If I left it unlocked, it gave me an excuse to be more cautious going back into my house as well. I shrugged it off as borderline insanity, perhaps borderline ingenuity.

  I had other places to be, namely – going back to the beginning to try and find some clues. It was a fairly uneventful drive, as I could only focus on the clues I had been left up to that point.

  “A bare-faced lie, carrying something new, weightless,” I said out loud. The final part of that riddle was spinning around my head. Weightless. Knowledge? Power? Desire? Emotion?

  There were so many options that it distracted me enough until I got to the McColm residence. I parked at the side of the road and stared at the door. It was still covered with ‘do not cross’ tape and the front garden had become mildly uncontrollable, seemingly only tended briefly by neighbours when it started to intrude on their side of the adjoining gardens.

  I exited my car. Walking up the pathway to the door was disturbing. I didn’t know if I could expect to find anything, if at all. Maybe I was miles off and searching in the wrong area. If so, all I was going to do was to re-open old wounds. The feel of that room when I walked in to it still stuck with me; and very few situations in my time did, most of which stemmed back to Fort Rose.

  My mind teased me by flashing back to the night I walked up here after getting the call. Mental images of the blue lights flashing against the walls, the sounds of colleagues in despair; crying and cursing the bastard that inflicted the torment he did on that poor child.

  I knew devils existed from my childhood and Arthur was the first one I had encountered in decades. My hand reached out to the door, and almost as if I was living that moment in the past, I broke through the tape as if it wasn’t there. The sound of people still ringing in my ears got louder, notably, one of the paramedics tasked with taking little Sebastian’s body away. I remembered how loudly she was crying, having caught a glimpse of the scene, decorated with tags and numbers, bloodied and brutal. She took one look and couldn’t even face zipping up the body bag, leaving it to her hardened colleague. I watched it all from the hallway after assessing the original scene.

  It came flooding back. Knowing the clue was leading me back to here, if I was right, was harrowing. I didn’t know what else I could possibly find. We went over the place with a fine-toothed comb and came out pretty empty handed. Guided by disgust for the man that had inflicted the pain and committed the murder was all any of us came away with.

  I felt sick thinking back to that night and how I almost admired the evil nature of the man I chased. The excitement of always being up close to evil was like an aphrodisiac to me, albeit, without the sexual implications. My heart raced in a different way, reminiscent of meandering through the Fort Rose basement looking for the metal rebar. It truly was the excitement of dancing with devils that got my heart racing.

  This time was different. This time, it had become personal. I’d matured and grown from my experiences and all of a sudden, the person I cared most for in the world was in danger. My mind flashed back to that room one final time as I looked around and then I snapped back to reality, realising just how vacant and empty the place was.

  Some items were still left in position. Some sad fanatics for Arthur had followed the news and broken in and tagged the walls with gang signs, leaving some of the personal belongings in upheaval. Smashed photo frames, upturned bookcases, general dirt, and mess had left the house in a state of disrepair. My heart truly sank for Jessica, as she’d clearly opted to wash her hands of any of her old belongings, perhaps not wanting any reminder of what happened to her son.

  I wished I could have said I understood what she was going through, but alas, I’d be doing them both a disservice if I put any such words to the gesture.

  As if the place was cursed, the rest of the house had strangely been left untouched, other than the tags in the room where it happened. The riddle ran through my head: go back where it began. What was it trying to tell me? Why was he trying to tell me this? Was it a clue to his whereabouts, or a clue as to the motive? Perhaps understanding the riddle fully, I could harbour a guess as to his next step.

  A lone wolf doesn’t just stop hunting for its own perseverance, it does it to survive; and something in him needed to inflict pain and torment. I truly felt as though I was humanity’s last hope at stopping him. Armed with a personal vendetta, it was clear the chase was entering darker territories, and I would have to make a decision as to what my moral code was when I faced him. Right now, I wasn’t going to battle with my own internal thoughts, as I would have only stagnated and stopped myself from pressing forward and finding the solution.

  I started to observe the untouched parts of the house. I couldn’t understand why no one who had the gall to break in and set up a graffiti epitaph to Arthur would decide it suddenly wasn’t okay to see the rest of the house. Valuables still lay out in Jessica’s bedroom, gathering dust as though they had been lost to time. Photo frames sat
with a thick layer of it, almost blocking the sun and the smiles of the happy mother and son.

  It depressed me looking at it as I was in the position where I would have killed to be with my wife, and to start a family. I had always dreamt of starting a family, but the job got in the way, and despite numerous attempts to try for one, it fell flat.

  If I could rewind the clock and control time, I would change a lot of things. Perhaps I would change the day I decided to take on the Henderson case, and let this fate befall someone else. Perhaps I would have stayed in Fort Rose and tried to save my brothers and sisters. Perhaps I would have found the lighter to stop the fire being lit. Perhaps I would have stopped my parents leaving that day, feigning an illness. My life could have taken a multitude of different paths, yet I was on this one, committed.

  I searched that house high and low, scanning for clues, scanning for a hint or suggestion as to where the riddle was taking me, and found nothing.

  I moved on to the next crime scene, the hotel where I found Jane Doe; the woman who had not been identified. What a tremendous waste of time that was. The room had been deep cleaned and bleached beyond any possible forensic capturing. The proprietor of the establishment, extremely embarrassed by the happenings in that room had obviously gone to tremendous lengths to hide what happened there, so I ceased my search upon entering the room, accepting it was pointless.