Deputy White glared at Ike, but then seemed to force a smile to cover his face. “Yeah. You got me. Hate my job. Hate my boss. Sorry, Sheriff, but you’re a total prick.”
Trey surged forward, but Darc caught him by the shoulder. “Do not. He has something in his hand.” The lines of logic whirled about. “Quicklime.”
“That’s right, Detective. And anyone takes comes any closer, this quicklime goes right into this girl’s eyes. Won’t kill her, but she’ll be blind for life.”
Trey groaned in frustration, and Carly cried out. Darc kept his attention centered on the stocky deputy, seeking a weakness. A stream of logic intruded, feeding Darc information. A pathway toward saving Janey.
More distraction was needed.
“You killed the assistants out of anger,” Darc said, trying to attract the man’s gaze, keep the deputy focused on him. “They were the ones who had ruined the deal.”
The man nodded. “Do you know why? They had a meth lab they’d built out there in the forest. Didn’t want any school kids stumbling across it.”
A glimmer of movement. Darc took a step forward.
“No!” White cried out. “Stay back. I’ll rub this in her eyes.” He held up the powder, moving his hand toward Janey’s face.
And then, from around behind the old kiln, an oar crashed down on the deputy’s head, leveling him. From around the stone wall of the oven stepped Mala. She looked at the oar still gripped in her hand.
“Not as good as a sail, but I guess it has its uses.”
EPILOGUE
Mala stood on the dock with Andrew, saying goodbye.
“Come on, Pokie. Sure you can’t stay for a cup of coffee, for old time’s sake?” he asked with a charming grin.
It was tempting. But then she caught sight of Darc, who was teaching Janey and Carly how to rig the sails. That was where her heart was.
“Thanks, Andrew, but I should be getting back.” She started to climb into the ship, but then turned around and looked back. “Oh, and it’s Mala, okay?”
Andrew chuckled, raising his hands. “Okay. Okay. I get it.”
“I hope so.”
Sheriff Jacobs stepped forward. “Thank you for all your help on this. I’d heard about you guys, and I thought it was all horse manure. But you’re the real thing.”
Mala grinned. “How about if you pass that along to Captain Merle, back at the precinct? It might remind him not to get too frustrated with Darc.”
Jacobs nodded and turned to leave. But then he stopped and pinned Mala with a hard look.
“How did you know it was him? You had to have started moving before anyone else figured it out.”
Mala looked back at Janey and Carly, and realized that she had done right by their mother, at least today. She gave Jacobs a shrug.
“Call it mother’s instinct. No one touches my baby without my permission.”
The sheriff nodded, and Mala hopped onto the deck of the ship. It hadn’t been quite the trip she’d been hoping for.
But it had turned out to be just the one she needed.
1st Kill – The countdown to total destruction
PROLOGUE
Breath escapes from the lungs, traveling up through the trachea and out of the mouth in a prolonged hiss of moving air. In and out, the mechanism of pulling oxygen in and expelling carbon dioxide out in order to sustain life.
Breathing.
Such a simple act, upon which hinged all human existence. So fragile, the human mechanism. Such a tiny light, that small flame which could so easily be snuffed out.
And would be, in just a few days.
The Master’s Servant drew in another breath as the blade sliced along the flesh of the forearm. The pain mixed with pleasure, coursing up and down the skin in a silvery trail of sensation.
It was coming. After so long, so many failed attempts, it was now time.
The first had been the closest. The man of God, fervent in his delusions, had almost taken out half of Seattle with his plan to bring Hell on Earth.
He nearly succeeded in his plans. Admittedly, the man had been clinically insane, but his methods had been the most effective to date.
But after a string of disappointments, it was time for the Master Servant to be called into service. When something needed to be done, who better to do it than the one who had been prepared for such a long time?
Looking into the mirror, the Master’s Servant traced the pale lines that writhed like white worms across the canvas of naked skin. Grotesque, yet elegant in their pattern. Air chilled the slight sheen of sweat that covered the entire surface of the Servant’s body.
Memories of the time spent with the Master, learning wisdom through pain. Through suffering.
All necessary.
No half measures. There would be no room for quarter. No escape for the denizens of Seattle. So saith the Master.
The city was infected with the moral equivalent of the insect infestations that could cause entire forests to wither. And there was only one certain cure.
The forest must be purged by fire.
Innocents would suffer. That was true. One innocent in particular. And that fact kept the Servant up at night, sweat and tears mingling to cover the pillow that refused to offer the comfort of sleep.
No rest for the wicked? The Servant had not found that to be true. The wicked slept the sleep of the morally dead, unaffected by the pain that surrounded them. The very suffering they had caused with their depraved actions.
It was the upright for whom the healing balm of rest was denied. Wakeful vigilance against the forces of the dark, combined with restless searching for any small flicker of light in a city overwhelmed by shadow caused slumber to scamper away, mocking the seeker with light laughter.
How could any good person sleep?
In retrospect, the amount of time it had taken for the Master to convince the Servant that this was the only way had been shameful. How was it that the truth had not distilled in an instant upon the soul? How had it been drawn out for so long?
In other moments, the mission itself felt impossible. The eyes of the necessary victim haunted every waking moment.
Stepping to the window, the Servant looked out at the lights of the city that sprawled as far as the eye could behold. False lights, promising the death of the darkness, but delivering nothing but a way to continue the acts of depravity throughout the night.
All of it was under condemnation. None within its borders could claim themselves worthy of redemption.
Retrieving clothes from the closet, the Servant began to dress.
Soon, Seattle would burn.
But right now, it was time to attend a wedding.
CHAPTER 1
Detective Robi Darcmel raced through the narrow alleyway behind the luxury condo building. The colored streams of logic flowed around him, accompanied by the white light of the silver links that tied them to his emotional life. Data flowed into Darc’s consciousness, water into a pool. Filling him up, lending him strength.
A complaint had come in from a neighbor… screams from the condominium next door. Upon their arrival the ribbons of light had picked up on an anomaly. A figure in the night, moving in a way that was meant to be casual but on a deeper level spoke of something much darker.
In the past, Darc would not have seen it. The figure would have rushed off into the dying light of the day, seen but not noticed. And they would not now be in pursuit of a suspect.
The form in front of Darc put on a burst of speed and Darc adjusted his speed accordingly. The precise balance of speed to keep the maximum psychological pressure on the suspect presented itself to Darc’s mind. His body responded, part of a larger system that worked with precision.
The figure reached into an inner pocket. Without pausing in his forward movement, Darc leapt to the side, anticipating the shot that rang out in the misty air of the Seattle dusk. The bullet ricocheted off the wall right where he had been a moment before.
The suspect po
ssessed a keen accuracy in marksmanship. The information poured into the network of colored pathways and silver links, becoming part of the backdrop of the chase.
Fifty more meters. That was all that was needed. There could be no more than one additional shot fired in that space of time. The ribbons of light calculated the odds, and risk came up as acceptable. Even considering the appointment Darc had to keep in fifty-two minutes’ time.
The suspect’s arm holding the weapon snaked backward again, and Darc ducked this time, using the angle of the pistol as a calculating point to determine the best course of action.
Once more, the bullet passed through the space that Darc had recently occupied. That level of precision in the midst of a chase became a cipher that formed inside of Darc’s mind, adding itself to all the other data collected here.
The symbol slotted itself in, turning to an iridescent blue. Near certainty.
This suspect was no ordinary man.
And this was no ordinary case.
Then a vehicle screeched to a halt in front of the fleeing figure, and a door opened up. Out of that door stepped Darc’s partner, Trey Keane, his weapon trained at the suspect, who stopped running and thrust hands in the air.
“Hey, dude,” Trey said. “Where you headed?”
Darc felt the movement before he saw it. One moment the suspect was stationary, hands in the air. The next, there was a dodge and a slashing out with the arms, and Trey’s gun was skittering across the asphalt.
In addition, Darc’s partner clutched at his abdomen, his breathing stopped. The attacker had struck him near the solar plexus, causing a spasm in the diaphragm.
Using common parlance, Trey had gotten the wind knocked out of him.
The time taken to assess Trey’s safety had been miniscule, but long enough for the suspect to dart away, sprinting off down another side alley. The speed and reaction time demonstrated by this individual were prodigious.
Darc leapt into pursuit, but by the time he reached the mouth of the alleyway, there was no one to be seen. A quick scan of the area revealed five separate directions in which the figure could had escaped, with no indicators of which might have been used.
With Trey momentarily incapacitated and backup still minutes away, the threads of logic fluttered in acquiescence. Logic and empathy gave Darc strength. But they could not bend reality to match with his will.
There would be no capture this evening.
* * *
Trey rubbed at his belly, pissed that their guy had gotten the jump on him. At least he could breathe now. For a minute there, he’d felt like he had as a kid, on that one day he’d tried out the sport of football. One tackle to the chest and Trey had been down for the count, gaping like a fish flopping around on dry land.
The plan had been pretty solid. Darc rushing after the dude, Trey there to cut him off and stuff. That had worked out pretty well for them in the past.
Then again, Trey didn’t usually come up against guys that were that skilled in martial arts, or whatever it was that jerkface had used on him. Stuff like that should be illegal or something.
They moved toward the apartment building that had been the point of this whole expedition. It had seemed like a pretty routine call at first, and Trey had been sure that they’d knock it out in minutes, like most of the stuff that came across their desks.
They kind of had to, considering the fact that Darc and he had a date with a church in like forty-five minutes.
But now that he’d seen that suspect in action, Trey had a sinking feeling in his gut. And he was pretty sure it wasn’t just the lingering results of the hit he’d taken.
The door to the condo was cracked open. Never a good sign. Trey braced himself for what they would find inside.
But no amount of mental fortification could have prepared him for what he saw as he walked inside.
Two mangled figures that might have once been human rested in the middle of the large open space that greeted them. Blood and gobbets of flesh dripped from the walls, interspersed with the symbols that now haunted most of Trey’s nightmares. That alone wouldn’t have been enough to make him even cringe anymore. Trey chose not to think about what that meant with regards to the life he was leading.
No, what put this scene of horror over the top wasn’t the carnage. It was something else entirely.
The sound of rushing water echoed through the entire space. The open floor plan of the luxury apartment allowed Trey to see into the kitchen, as well as into the bathroom off to the side, where the door had been ripped off its hinges.
It appeared that every faucet in the place had been turned on.
And they all flowed with blood.
* * *
Dr. Mala Charan paced back and forth in the bridal room of the church, trying not to look at the clock. Darc would arrive on time. Of course he would.
A year ago, she wouldn’t have been so confident. In fact, she probably would have been out combing the streets of Seattle, looking for the tall detective with his distinctive shaved head.
But Darc’s obsessive autism-induced trances had diminished to the point that they almost no longer existed. Not that he didn’t still exhibit the traits of someone with Asperger’s. That expectation would be unrealistic.
And, Mala found to her surprise, heartbreaking. Part of her attraction to the man had to do with the way he processed information. Without his autistic tendencies, Darc would cease to be Darc.
She loved him, not in spite of his challenges, but in part because of them.
Tonight, however, was not the time for him to slide back into old patterns. She picked up her cell phone, her fingers hovering over the keys. Then she placed it back down on the chair.
He would be here.
Janey moved to Mala’s side, sliding her small hand into Mala’s larger one. Then she lifted her bear up for Mala to hug.
Releasing a small chuckle, Mala embraced the stuffed animal, knowing how much that gesture from Janey truly meant. The one constant in that girl’s life had been her teddy bear. No matter how ragged that thing became, it was a tie to her former life.
And a link to this new one. Mala peered down into Janey’s eyes, seeing the confidence there. Janey still might be silent, but she was happy, and she showed in a hundred small ways every day they spent together.
“He’ll be here, Mala,” came a voice from behind her.
Maggie. Darc’s ex-wife and one of Mala’s best friends. If anyone knew Darc’s patterns, it was this woman.
Mala stopped and looked around the room. Carly, Janey’s half-sister, sat on the opposite side of the space, texting on her phone. Maggie, looking like she was going to give birth any second, was sitting right next to Cat.
The latter had come into Mala’s life courtesy of Janey’s friendship with Cat’s daughter Jessalyn. And was now in the small inner circle of Mala’s life.
These women were there for Mala. Would do just about anything for her. They all knew her saga with Darc, understood and supported her in the relationship.
And none of them were worried.
Darc would arrive soon, they would get married, and they would begin their lives together. Everything was going to be… not perfect, but wonderful.
She just knew it.
* * *
Janey could see Mala’s stress rising. Like, actually see it. The strands of logic curled around her, pointing out the tension in her neck and shoulders, the muscles tensed right beside her mouth. It was kind of funny, because with the colored lines, it almost made her adoptive mom look like she was in a cartoon.
Popeye made a rude noise and said that was dumb. Then he said that only crazy people saw lines in their heads.
But Janey knew different. Darc saw them, too. And there might be a lot of other things you could call Darc, but crazy wasn’t one of them.
Besides, Popeye was just grouchy. He’d had a crush on Mala right from the first, and now she was getting married. That was enough to make any bear turn into a c
rab.
She had a sudden image of Popeye as a character out of Spongebob Squarepants and just about lost it. Mala turned and stared at her, and Janey had to start a coughing fit to cover up her laughter. It wouldn’t be a good thing to have Mala thinking that Darc not being here yet was funny.
Really, it wasn’t funny so much as it was just like Darc. Janey knew that her favorite detective was out right now with her other favorite detective, Trey, and that they were finding bad people and making sure those bad people couldn’t hurt anyone else.
If that made them a little bit late to a wedding, that wasn’t that big of a deal, right?
Popeye said that it might be a big deal when they were actually in the wedding. Janey had to admit that her bear might have a point, there.
But Janey knew something that Popeye didn’t. Or at least if he knew it, he wouldn’t admit it. No one loved Mala more than Darc. And while before he might have gotten lost in a case and forgotten about everything else, there was no way he was going to do that tonight.
Not Darc.
* * *
Trey watched as Dr. Kelly studied what was left of the dead couple. It never ceased to amaze Trey that this young doctor got so fascinated by the macabre. The gorier the scene, the more Kelly got into it.
“So, you knew the fluid from the taps wasn’t blood, right?” the doctor said over his shoulder. “Because that would be impossible.”
“Um. Yeah. Course,” Trey responded.
No need for the new M.E. to know just how influenced by Hollywood movies Trey really was. Seriously, for a while there, Trey had felt like he’d stepped into The Exorcist or The Shining or something.
Not that this scene was far off, even with the water turning out to be colored by dye packs that had been shoved up inside the spigots. Nice bit of theater, that. Seemed as if their suspect had a flair for the dramatic.
Although why he felt like he had to embellish what was already here with gore festooning the walls, Trey had no idea. Some guys were just sick.
The 2nd Cycle of the Darc Murders Omnibus (the acclaimed series from #1 Police Procedural and Hard Boiled authors Carolyn McCray and Ben Hopkin) Page 53
