Red Widow (Vivian Xu, Book 1)

by Nathan Wilson

  Nikolai showed little emotion as he stared at the bullet fragment. He didn’t even blink as the morgue assistant’s camera flashed with seizure-like speed. Nikolai found it hard to imagine that this corpse was the same vibrant woman who made love to him only nights ago. How she stripped down his armor and breathed new life into his cold, apathetic heart.

  He stared at the wedding ringer coiled around her finger.

  “Yes, she has a husband,” Jezebel chimed. “Or had, I suppose. And by the sight of those 14-karat diamonds, she caught herself a wealthy one—a business attorney who dabbled in real estate. Not bad at all. We’ve already notified Mr. Pražak about Tatiana’s demise.”

  Nikolai felt as empty and hollow as the young woman’s corpse. So she hadn’t felt anything for him at all. He was merely something to be used and discarded.

  “It’s a shame…” Jezebel piped up. “They had a three-year-old son together.” Nikolai repressed the visceral reaction deep inside. Her son would grow up wondering where the woman was who carried him inside for nine months. Why had she abandoned him to this unforgiving world?

  “So a girl named Vivian Xu did all this?” Jezebel said, tapping the entry wound with the forceps. Nikolai solemnly nodded.

  “Tatiana tried to approach the girl in the downtown alleys and an altercation ensued. Vivian pulled a gun on her and fired a single round. I cornered the girl last night but she fled on foot. A police unit is canvassing the downtown area as we speak.”

  “That’s odd,” Jezebel said, sewing the cavity shut. “Tatiana was supposed to be investigating the abductions and murders. Do you suppose this girl Vivian is somehow involved in the case?” Nikolai bit his lip.

  “I’m not sure.”

  “If only we had the firearm and the rest of the bullet—and Vivian, of course—we could confirm the suspect. In the meanwhile, this fragment will tell me a little more about the bullet our perp used.” Jezebel glided toward the sink to wash her hands free of death. Nikolai approached the corpse raised on this unholy altar of cold steel. Tatiana was little more than a sacrifice to the otherworld now. But which realm would claim her soul? Heaven or Hell?

  He could see the horror crystallized in her amber eyes, crying out for mercy. From Vivian? Did Tatiana beg a drug-addled Vivian not to pull the trigger before the bullet punctured her lungs? Tatiana would never utter the truth now.

  Nikolai stroked her forehead and tenderly closed her eyes.

  * * *

  The alley outside was even colder than the autopsy room. Nikolai slumped on the steps just beyond his office. The wind showed no mercy as it bit through his jacket and tickled his heart. He rolled the syringe between his fingers, the same one Jezebel tested on the lab rats.

  What did he see when he looked at the liquid inside? Despair. Devastation. The lives of six innocent women.

  A glimmer of hope.

  Nikolai began to suspect Syllax played a role in the homicides after the third victim rolled into the morgue with distinctive needle marks on her body.

  The injection site always bore a red rash and a black vein. Nikolai looked down at his own wrist. A nest of black veins snaked along like serpents, broken by the constant injections. He shamefully pulled his sleeve down. So the migraines were linked to the tumor formation. Millions of neurons and star-shaped astrocytes were imploding in the crevices of his brain, laying the groundwork for disaster. How many years remained before this malignant mass took its toll? Maybe “years” was too optimistic.

  “Only months remain,” he murmured as his sweating hands began to shake uncontrollably. He closed his eyes and dropped the syringe down the sewer grates. It rattled through the pipes and siphons to a place far below where Natalie perished. The instant it tumbled away, he longed to plunge the needle into his veins, eliciting a curse from the pits of his soul. He would resist the insidious pull of Syllax for as long as his sanity allowed.

  Vivian was merely a tool to track down the killer and contain the “Syllax outbreak” before the media exposed the truth. He truly meant it when he promised to help her rise above this cesspool of poverty, but the situation had drastically changed. Now she knew too much and placed his life in peril.

  No one could know the truth behind Syllax. No one could know he abused Syllax to cope with Emily’s loss.

  He managed to repress the loss of his daughter for so long through a decadent cocktail of alcohol, therapy, and meaningless sex—but he regretted turning to Syllax. Now he couldn’t break his addiction to the drug. It allowed him to hear and see Emily, even if she only existed as a figment of his imagination.

  Those hallucinations were almost more precious than the genuine memories.

  If his drug abuse came to light, his judgment would be called into question regarding every case he put together. His career as a homicide detective would go down in flames. Convicts would appeal for release on the grounds of his dubious testimony, and serial killers and rapists would be walking the streets again. Any evidence linking Syllax to hallucinations, tumors, scopolamine, and mental defects had to be eliminated. That included patient records, Dr. Cervenka’s notes about Viktor, the cassette tape in the house, everything. And now he had to eliminate the final liability: Viktor.

  And Vivian.

  How could he have expected Syllax to lie at the crux of the grisly abductions? He looked down at his findings from the last murder. The diagnosis of Renata Ruzicka, burned to a cinder by R-Butylliuthium.

  Syllax Pharmaceuticals was the only clinic to have purchased massive quantities of R-Butyllithium in the past. It seemed he had no choice but to return to the point of origin, where the horrors first began.

  TWENTY

  Something squirmed inside Vivian as she stood in the shadow of Syllax Pharmaceuticals. Its battered exterior was enough to deflect most wayward youths from marauding inside.

  Vivian had no choice but to enter in search of an antidote. The side effects from Syllax were steadily worsening, heightening every sense until her imaginings spilled over into reality.

  She jumped as she felt a hand on her shoulder.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” Camilla said sheepishly.

  “No, it’s fine.” They had barely spoken to each other since they met up in the forest last night. She would hardly call their reunion pleasant. Vivian was running from Prague as if hell was nipping at her heels. The only reason she stopped was because she physically ran into Camilla.

  The look that passed between them was spine-tingling. Camilla opened her mouth to demand where Vivian had gone, but no words came out.

  With empty stomachs and only a few hours of sleep, they departed. The soil shifted and oozed with every step to the north. Autumn’s presence became more acute as they closed in on the facility. The forest gave way to a ginger-brown landscape dotted with the skeletons of trees. Rolling fields of blood-soaked grass bent and creaked in the wind.

  Vivian could smell the poison in the air, in the soil, and deep in the water. It was a world devoid of color that extended as far as the eye could see. The thrushes ceased to sing their attractive songs. Life shriveled as soon as it crossed an invisible line into this realm.

  “What’s wrong?” Camilla asked.

  Vivian shivered.

  “I feel the same way as I did when you left me in the forest. My head is swimming with so many unpleasant thoughts right now. I keep seeing the disgusting things I’ve done… or might have done.”

  Camilla inched closer but Vivian pulled away.

  “When I was alone in the forest, I experienced another vision. You know the woman I’m accused of murdering? I saw her kneeling before me, and I was clutching a gun in my hand. I saw the tears in her eyes as she pleaded for her life. I could feel her blood running down my fingers. I still can’t get the damn smell off my hands, even though I know it isn’t real!”

  “Vivian, you didn’t kill her—”

  “You don’t know what I’m capable of! Maybe I did murder her—just as I almost killed V
iktor! Whatever the case, I couldn’t stay put after what I saw. I had to go back to see my parents… and… and Nikolai found me.”

  “How could you go back there?! Are you trying to die?!”

  “I needed you here, Camilla! You don’t understand what the Syllax was doing to me—the sick things I was thinking!” She shook her head in smug defeat. “I needed to go somewhere safe.”

  “Safety is the last thing you should expect to find at home! You should have known the police would stake out your house!”

  A small part of Vivian blamed herself for ignoring the obvious. It was true, she should have known better. In spite of that, she wanted to see her mother and father before it was too late.

  “Camilla, there’s something else you should know.” Vivian didn’t avoid looking at her this time. “Vesely Manor is gone. Nikolai razed it to the ground.”

  “What…?”

  “After I escaped my house, I saw the fire on the horizon. Nikolai must have known I would run there.”

  Camilla clenched her trembling fists.

  “He just erased my family history? Like that?”

  “I’m sorry, Camilla. I didn’t think he would—” The journalist turned away, staring across the fields of desolation. She didn’t move or speak for what seemed like ages.

  “Camilla, I’m sorry!”

  When Camilla spun around, tears streamed down her face.

  “I don’t blame you, Vivian. I’ve been meaning to tell you I’m sorry, too. It must feel like I’m always missing when you need me. You needed me by your side when I was in the city.”

  Vivian’s anger melted and she quietly pulled her into a hug.

  “It’s okay, Camilla. I’m glad you’re here on the last leg of the journey. This is how it all ends, isn’t it?”

  “I certainly hope so. Have you given any thought to what you’ll do after you find the antidote to Syllax? What’s left for us?”

  “We’re both refugees with a bleak future. I won’t drag you into another mess. We should probably go our separate ways once this is over. I don’t know what I’ll do now, but I’ll have to forge a new life somewhere else.”

  Just as one chapter in her life closed, she felt a fresh chapter begin—starting with the moment she opened the door to Syllax Pharmaceuticals.

  The front lobby was rotting into the earth. The walls were once bright and inviting, but now the paint peeled away to expose the delicate innards.

  Damaged furniture had been stacked in the far corners or against shattered windows. Vivian could imagine the unsuspecting men and women waiting in the lounge as they combed through magazines, enticed with promises of a drug that would change countless lives. She wondered how much they were paid to participate in the clinical trials. At what cost did they sacrifice their humanity?

  A deathly cold seeped into her toes, and she looked down. Rancid, black chemicals flowed outward from a corridor.

  Vivian plodded down the hall, sending ripples into the dark. The air was thick and reeked of deterioration. Beneath the intoxicating smells, she caught the scent of something artificial. Unnatural.

  A hard pressure took root in her chest as she approached the stairwell.

  “I can’t breathe…” she whispered. She almost took a dive down the stairs as dizziness set in.

  “Here, we need these.” Camilla pulled something off the wall and handed it to Vivian. A gas mask. She shuddered with instinctive revulsion. Looking into the empty sockets reminded her so much of… him. “Put it on. This facility was abandoned due to chemical spills and poisonous fumes.”

  “I suppose I have no choice.”

  They waded through the waterlogged facility until they came upon a laboratory. Though it had escaped the flooding, the state of decay was omnipresent, like a foul deity that claimed this place as its temple. The walls were frosted with the hue of rusted iron, an unsettling backdrop for large cages with metal tethers.

  “What the heck is this?”

  “I did some digging on Syllax Pharmaceuticals before we headed over here,” Camilla said. “They repeatedly tested the drug on animals, especially primates. The restraint chairs were used to immobilize the monkeys while scientists intravenously injected them with Syllax.”

  Vivian eyed a set of clamps and rails perfectly suited for restraining a small-sized head.

  “Scientists isolated the monkeys from each other and subjected them to hourly injections. Sometimes the researchers would bang on their cages to intimidate them into being quiet.”

  Vivian couldn’t find words to express her disgust.

  Somewhere, a door squealed in the shadows, resounding like a primate begging to be left alone. Crying out for mercy.

  “I don’t want to be here anymore,” Camilla said, thought her voice was barely audible through the respirator.

  “I’m not leaving without the goddamned antidote.” Vivian squeezed her wrist, where the vein was hardening like rope under her skin.

  “Let’s find it quick then.”

  They crept into another laboratory lost to the annals of time. Vivian saw the tomb-like freezers and immediately threw them open. She scattered the vials and ampules on the shelves.

  “I can’t fucking tell what it is,” she said, holding the faded labels up to her eyes.

  “Let me see.” Camilla squinted at the container but she couldn’t see clearly. After a pause, she undid the straps on her gas mask. Vivian followed her example, anxious to rid herself of the device.

  “What does it say?”

  “Tetramethyl… tetra… I have no idea how to pronounce this.”

  “What does it do? Will it counteract the Syllax?”

  “I don’t know, but it smells disgusting. I wouldn’t recommend it. We need to find where they stored the records. Maybe that will tell us how to reverse the effects.”

  The most crucial detail of all escaped their attention as they ransacked the freezers. Not once did they notice the noxious fumes hissing through the vents above.

  The vapors soaked into their lungs and pores, leaving no trace until they fell pitifully under its spell. Vivian thought nothing of it at first when her fingers felt numb to the bone. The lab was cold enough to rob her of any sensation. Even when her vision blurred, she pinned it on a brutal night’s lack of sleep. It wasn’t until she saw Camilla convulsing on the floor did she feel a pang of terror. By then, she blacked out in a delicious wave of pain.

  When Vivian reopened her eyes, she felt wet and feverish. She was still trapped in Syllax Pharmaceuticals, but she didn’t recognize her immediate surroundings. More importantly, she was alone.

  “Camilla? Camilla?” A chill pulsed through the halls. In that moment she knew Camilla’s absence could only portend one outcome. The last heartbeats were likely pouring out of her right now in a sea of red.

  “Oh God... Fuck!” she screamed. “Camilla!” Vivian staggered down the hall, where scraps of paper ripped from a reporter’s notebook were strewn across the floor. She followed the trail of destruction down the stairs, picking up several scraps. Each one was marred with a different word: THE. HURT. ME. STAIRS. THROUGH.

  She began to arrange them on the floor, trying to make sense of them. Maybe there was a hidden message.

  “Come on,” she begged, clawing at the notes. Suddenly, she understood. She furiously arranged them.

  down the stairs and through the door, you cannot hurt me anymore.

  She regarded the murky stairs wallowing in the shadows. Did they lead to a realm even more perverse than hell? She swallowed her fear. She had no choice but to plunge waist deep into it.

  As she descended the stairs, a single scrap fluttered on a nail on the wall: MOMMY, LOVE ME

  * * *

  Jezebel walked into her office with a bundle of mail tucked under her arm. Her desk was already buried under a growing wave of subpoenas and inquiries. What difference would it make if she added a little more to the mix?

  “What is this?” Jezebel said, holding up a parcel. �
��From Camilla Vesely?” The name resounded with familiarity, but from where? She was accustomed to receiving all sorts of requests from families concerned about wrongful deaths, but rarely did she recognize the names. With a shrug, she tore open the package.

  Hollow point bullets and syringes deluged onto her desk.

  At first, she could only stare in awe of the chaos that invaded her quiet office.

  “Shit!”

  She sprang into action before someone happened across the unwholesome scene. Jezebel began to stuff the drug paraphernalia into a drawer, anything to remove it from existence. She stopped when a peculiar sight caught her eye. She daintily picked up one of the syringes, mesmerized by its contents. It contained the same substance she used on the lab rats.

  She winced as something else tumbled to the floor. It was followed by a shrill beep that left her hairs standing on end. She peered over the desk, expecting to see a timer ticking down on a detonating device.

  It was only a journalist’s recorder. Her relief was short-lived as a swelling tide of static filled the room.

  “Martin, I know you’re there.” It was Nikolai’s voice. “I’m waiting in the house right now. I hope you’re on your way. You can’t afford to miss this meeting and the truth behind the vanishings.”

  “What the hell is this?” Jezebel murmured.

  “Remember what we agreed to, Martin. No more interviews, nothing. I’ve already taken care of that bitch from the newspaper… You would do well to show up soon before matters escalate. I can only do so much to help you understand.”

  Jezebel scooped up the recorder. It flared to life as Nikolai’s voice throbbed with fire and vitriol.

  “I’m calling to issue an arrest warrant for Vivian Xu. She is responsible for the murder of an innocent bystander. I need several units to canvass the downtown area. Consider Xu armed and extremely dangerous. Lethal force is hereby authorized.”

  Jezebel remembered the agent she sliced open on the autopsy table. Nikolai had named Vivian Xu as the woman responsible for the killing.