by Joshua Ingle
“Maybe you’re right,” he said. “Regardless, they let us go.”
“What does that mean?”
“I’m not sure. We should get upstairs quickly. Be careful.”
Crystal eased the car through the entryway, and Cole clicked his fob to close the gate behind them. She drove into the fluorescent-lit garage, the car’s wheels crunching dried leaves against the concrete floor. And just as Virgil had claimed, the place was empty. The other residents’ vehicles were gone. Every last one of them. Creepy.
Crystal parked next to the elevator that would take them right up to Cole’s front door. Virgil left the car first, cautiously. “I think we’re safe,” he said. He hit the up button and waited.
Crystal shut her door and walked around to help Cole. He took her right hand in both of his, massaging it warmly as she led him toward the elevator. His touch comforted her in spite of their fighting earlier, but Crystal doubted she’d feel safe in this condo anytime soon.
She disagreed with a lot of her mom’s weird beliefs, but still, she wished she were here. Her mom thought she knew everything, which was annoying, but at least it meant she always had an answer—and though her answers might sound as crazy as Virgil’s ramblings, Crystal could trust her mom more than she could Virgil, or even Cole.
Hmm. Now that she thought about it, she knew exactly what her mom would ask in this situation. Maybe her mom’s superstitions had made Crystal paranoid, but with tonight’s emotional devastation and strange happenings, she thought it might make sense to relay the question to Virgil, if only to see how he’d respond.
“Are we dead?” Crystal asked.
Virgil glanced back toward her as the numbers above the elevator counted down. Five, four, three. “What do you mean?”
“Are we in Hell? We’re dead?”
Virgil chuckled at that. He turned to face her. “On the contrary. You haven’t even been born yet.”
DING. Just before the doors opened, Virgil’s eyes glazed over, and his body went limp. He fell lifelessly onto the pavement. Then the elevator doors parted and beckoned Crystal inside. All was silent except the elevator’s low hum as Crystal and Cole stared at Virgil’s crumpled body.
“What happened?” Cole asked.
Crystal let go of Cole’s hand and stepped cautiously toward the fallen security guard. “Virgil?”
DING. The doors closed. Crystal nudged Virgil’s shoulder. “Virgil? You okay?”
Virgil’s whole body spasmed, his head jerking wildly from side to side. Startled, Crystal jumped back, but Virgil soon calmed. He blinked, then opened his eyes entirely, gazing groggily at Crystal like he’d just woken from a long sleep. “Are you okay?” Crystal asked him again.
Virgil stumbled to his feet and kept watching Crystal with that kooky, faraway look. “Yeah. I’m good. Uh… I don’t think elevator is safe. Let’s take stairs.” Even his voice sounded different. Deeper, with something like a slight drunken drawl. But Virgil had saved her life tonight—certainly from Brandon, and possibly from something else—so she decided to listen to him for now.
Virgil held the door to the stairwell open for her. She took Cole’s hand again, and led him through.
•
Thorn screamed, but of course they couldn’t hear him. He was trapped in the elevator, and they were… where? Still outside in the garage? Taking the stairs? Slaughtered?
The demon’s ambush had been perfect. It hid behind a corner then attacked him just as the elevator doors opened, forcing his spirit out of Virgil’s body. Then when Thorn had fought back, the demon had confined him in this metal prison, where Thorn would be trapped until they came to kill him again. Thorn hadn’t seen it coming, hadn’t expected a threat from inside the otherwise empty garage. When had the demon entered? The gate was the only way inside.
Now Thorn’s attacker would acquire Virgil’s body, and thus have direct access to the physical world. If Crystal and Cole hadn’t been murdered already, they would be in a matter of minutes, maybe seconds. The Judge was still with them, but what would he do? Stand by and watch? Participate? Thorn repeatedly jammed his thumb on the button for floor ten, but it wouldn’t budge. He searched for an exit; he had to escape this elevator, or all was lost.
Not for the first time tonight, Thorn wondered why the Enemy above never interceded when a Sanctuary was invaded by demons. Even the name “Sanctuary,” coined by the angels, implied that demonic assaults like this one should be impossible. If You ever intervene in Sanctuaries, Thorn prayed, though prayer was foreign to him and felt sour on his tongue, I could use that intervention now.
Thorn suspected, however, that they were all alone. Just like always.
11
Crystal wanted answers, but Virgil just shrugged or grunted at any question she asked him as they climbed the ten flights of stairs, so at some point around the fifth floor she simply stopped asking questions. Besides, she was still a little scared of him. The trio slogged up the rest of the steps in silence, leaving Crystal to worry about being cooped up here with Brandon all night, and how the police would fit into Virgil’s crazy plans, and about the young life inside her. Crystal was only twelve weeks along, so she hoped that the baby would be okay in spite of this wild night.
Her thoughts wandered to Heather, and how she couldn’t wrap her mind around her friend’s passing. Heather was still so alive and vivid in her memory that Crystal had a hard time grieving, even though she knew Heather’s death was a fact. And what would happen to Heather’s son, Benjamin? If Crystal could get her own life straight, maybe she could take care of him. She’d figure the money part out later.
A door from the stairs led into Cole’s service hallway. From there they took a shortcut through the laundry room. Crystal grew tense as she approached the door into the condo unit’s kitchen.
Arms crossed, face impassive, Brandon waited by the sink, blocking their passage to the expansive living room. His face was still bruised, but he looked like he’d cleaned himself up while they were gone. Virgil took in the condo’s chandelier, the room’s elaborate lighting scheme, and its plush furniture with the same wide eyes Crystal had had when she first saw it, back when such extravagance was new to her. Why is he acting so weird?
“Brandon?” Cole asked.
“Here, boss.”
Cole nodded anxiously as Crystal led him in behind Virgil. She would let the security guard pass Brandon first.
“Are the three of you all there is?” Virgil asked.
Huh? Does he think the cops might be here?
Brandon responded before Crystal could. “Four. If you count the baby.”
Virgil seemed surprised by this. He turned to Crystal. “A child? You’re expecting?”
Doesn’t he already know that? “Yes.”
“Yeah she is.” Brandon drew out his words and sauntered toward Crystal. “And you know what else, Cole?”
A blur of motion. By the time Brandon’s sudden movement registered with Crystal, he was already clutching her arm. Then the cold floor pressed against her cheek and pain tore through her shoulder. A hand on the back of her head held her face against the ground, and when she tried to push away with her feet, a knee fell on her backside and kept her down.
“Whoa, what’s going on?” Cole’s voice sounded muffled, since both of Crystal’s ears were blocked: one by Brandon’s hand and the other by the floor.
“Stay back or she’s fucking dead,” Brandon said. Crystal could barely move her head, but she managed to look up and glimpse Virgil, who kept his distance from the struggle. Was that a smirk on his face?
“Brandon, we have other things to worry about,” Cole said, his voice distant. He’d probably heeded Brandon and moved away. “We don’t have time for personal bullshit right now.”
Crystal tried again to squirm out of Brandon’s grasp. He freed her head and restrained her arms more tightly.
“No, it’s okay, man,” Brandon said. “Problem solved.”
“Crystal, are you hu
rt?”
Brandon gripped a handful of Crystal’s hair and yanked her face up beside his. “You want to tell him, Crystal? You wanna tell the truth for once?”
“Virgil,” Crystal pleaded. “Cole. Help me.”
All at once, Brandon released his grip and stood. Suddenly free, Crystal moved to stand, but just as her hands found purchase, Brandon kicked her in the stomach.
Hard.
She clutched her belly and groaned as pain pierced her midsection. No, not the baby. You can’t take my baby. Then her hair stretched taut and the floor slid beneath her. She found herself veering toward the far side of the kitchen, being dragged away from Cole and Virgil. When Brandon finally stopped pulling and raised his hand away from her, his fingers ripped out a few tufts of her hair. As she grappled with the blinding pain, he left her for a moment to address Cole. “It seems that your girlfriend is actually a gold digger,” he said.
“Virgil, you gonna do something?” Cole asked. Crystal glanced over at the guard, her eyes begging him to help her again, but he just stared at Cole, confusion racking his face, and stayed put.
“Cole, the baby’s not actually yours,” Brandon said.
It took a moment for Cole to understand. “It’s… yours?”
The reveal strangely meant nothing to Crystal. She didn’t care how Brandon had found out, and she didn’t care how Cole would react. Her body was in panic mode, was telling her to fight or flee, so she prepared to make a mad dash back to the elevator.
That was when she saw the gun tucked into Brandon’s back pocket.
“So there you go,” Brandon said, tapping a chipper little rhythm on the countertop with his fingers. “Problem solved. It’s mine, and I want it dead, one way or another. Then we keep on doing what we’ve always done.”
“What’s that?”
“Whatever the fuck we want!”
“Brandon, do you really want to do this now? In front of the security guard? Let’s just talk this through.”
“Aw, come on, take my side for once, you pussy. You always want to talk about it, but you don’t have the balls to take action. You never have. We—”
Crystal sprang to her feet and snatched the gun from Brandon’s back pocket. Her stomach seized with the effort and she almost threw up, but she kept her footing and checked to make sure the safety was off. Brandon reached a hand around and felt his back pocket. By the time he realized what was happening, she had the weapon aimed at his head.
He raised his arms and tried to play it cool. “Whoa, hey now. Chill out, little girl.” He ambled toward her.
“Don’t you fucking move!”
“You don’t know how to use—”
She fired a warning shot into the wall behind him. He stopped his approach.
“Get on your knees.”
“Crystal, you have a gun?” Cole asked, alarm soaking his voice.
Brandon held eye contact with Crystal as he reluctantly eased down onto his knees. “Yeah, she has the gun.”
Now that Crystal held all the power for a change, her adrenaline only grew stronger. Here was the man who had terrorized her for months, and he was completely at her mercy. What had Brandon hoped to get out of this attack? Did he think that Cole would suddenly come to his senses when he saw how “weak” Crystal was? Did he think the cops would ignore this violence? Crystal had never understood his fucked-up philosophy.
“Did you have something to do with all this?” she asked him. She motioned to the balcony, where the screens quivered violently in the wind. “That shitstorm outside? Did you bring that here?”
“Actually, Thorn did.” Virgil’s voice startled her; she’d forgotten he stood behind her in the living room. He was still a safe distance away, and she didn’t have the time or temperament for his crazy talk right now. When she turned back to Brandon, she caught him eyeing Virgil, as if pleading for help, just like she’d done moments ago.
“Crystal, put it down,” Cole said.
Crystal ignored him and took a step toward Brandon. “Beg.”
But Brandon only laughed, like this was all a big joke and his life wasn’t hanging on the edge of a trigger.
Crystal stepped even closer. “Beg, you piece of shit.”
“For what? For my life?”
“Both of you, stop!” Cole yelled. “Let’s just forget about this and go back to the way things were. This is ridiculous.”
“Oh, but it’s happening, man.” Now Brandon was smiling—actually smiling, like a maniac—and inching toward Crystal on his knees. His eyes fixated on her as he spoke to Cole. “You’ve got to deal with it, Cole. What are you gonna do about it? Oh, that’s right. You’re gonna do nothing. Just like always.”
“Crystal, please put the gun down.”
She wanted to listen to Cole, to believe him that he’d make everything all right. But she’d believed that lie every other time he’d told it. It was time she took her safety into her own hands.
“Or, okay, keep the gun,” Cole said. “Just back off and cool down. Nobody needs to get hurt. Back off. Cool down.”
No. Not until… Until what? Until Brandon knew he was wrong? Will he ever know he’s wrong?
Brandon practically read her mind. “She can’t back off. She wants me to beg for my life. As if it matters. Crystal, everything burns. Even me.”
“Especially you.”
Crystal couldn’t tell if this was all a pompous bluff, or if Brandon truly didn’t care about anything, including his own life. He kept his eyes locked with hers as he leaned forward to rest his forehead against the gun’s barrel. He was still smiling like an overconfident ass. Even now, with Crystal holding a gun to his head, he looked like he thought he controlled her. Crystal couldn’t stand another moment with him.
If she killed him now, her mother would disown her and her life with Cole would be over. She might go to prison, but at least in prison she wouldn’t have to worry about finding money for food from week to week, or depending wholly on an unstable romance for her own wellbeing. Given what Brandon had done to her, a jury might even be sympathetic with its sentence. She had so little to lose that extinguishing the life of this man—one of the most vile men she’d ever known—seemed worth it.
She braced herself to pull the trigger. He deserved it, and she might even be able to partially get away with it.
Is this how he thinks? The thought came out of nowhere. Does he only think in terms of how much he can get away with? Crystal had been forced into dark rationalizations for violence in a moment of extreme anger. How horrible would it be to think like this all the time? She looked into the eyes of the man she was about to kill, and for the first time, she saw just a small glimmer of what could create a person like him.
Just as she was about to lower the gun, Virgil grabbed it from her hands. Flustered at the sudden removal of the only thing that was keeping her safe, Crystal backed toward the rear of the kitchen, where Cole stood under the small archway that led to the back halls.
Brandon breathed a huge sigh of relief and stood boldly. He turned to address Virgil, his voice thick with arrogance. “Thank you!”
Virgil turned the gun on Brandon.
Brandon’s arrogance evaporated. He held up his hand for Virgil to stop. “No, wait.”
Virgil shot Brandon point blank through the eye. Blood and brains splattered across the fridge. Brandon’s body collapsed in a heap on the ground.
Crystal only had a second to process what had happened before Virgil aimed the gun at her. She ducked just as he fired. Cole was already running down the hallway, apparently abandoning his role as the hero. Crystal scrambled to her feet as another shot hit the wall beside her.
She charged through the door into the back hallway and slammed it behind her, its wood splintering from another two shots. She reached for the lock only to find that none existed, so she sprinted further down the hallway, past the guest rooms, then finally arrived in her own room at the very end. Virgil pursued her with inhuman speed. Inside her
bedroom, she reached to shut her door, and blood spattered against the oak.
Her own blood.
The pain from her hand hit her at the exact moment she noticed the bloody hole in it, but she had no time to dwell on the bullet wound. Leaving the door, she ran for her bathroom.
The hinges on her bedroom door creaked. Crystal dived into the bathroom. Virgil fired.
Cole slammed the bathroom door behind her and locked it.
•
Crystal tried to catch her breath and quickly checked herself for wounds. Her hand burned, her stomach ached badly, and she was worried to death about the baby. She’d never forgive herself—or Cole—if she lost it.
Outside the door, three clicks. Virgil was out of ammo. Thunderous pounding echoed through the bathroom as the security guard pummeled the door.
Crystal’s wounded hand was getting blood everywhere. She ransacked a few drawers until she found some alcohol and gauze, then cringed as she disinfected the wound. Her hand looked like the bullet had torn through the tendon between her thumb and her pointer finger—not pretty, but fortunately not serious, at least as far as Crystal knew. She cursed at it. Half an inch to the left and it would have missed her entirely.
As she dressed the wound, she noticed a tiny hole in her dress next to her lower leg. Then she was thankful that her hand had been hit instead of something more important.
“Is that Brandon chasing us?” Cole’s soft voice was difficult to hear above the pounding at the door.
“It’s Virgil.” One maniac replaced by another. What a fun night.
“How’d he get the gun?”
“He took it.”
A few moments, then, “Brandon?”
That’s right. He’s dead. Just like Heather’s death, Brandon’s would take a while to register. As much as she hated him, the violence in the kitchen had been too much. She couldn’t remember quite what had happened, only that Virgil had killed Brandon. So to Cole she simply said, “No.”
