Darkness of the Soul (45 page)

Then came the final scene, and Parker’s eyes were opened. He saw not only what the Beast had done, but what it was planning to do, and he tried to pull himself out of the mindscape, to start running before it was too late. Woods stopped him and shook his head. “It’s too late to stop this part. You can only change the ending.”

Then Woods had leaned over to him and had whispered the final piece, the thing he had learned just before he had killed himself; he whispered the truth about what he was, what they all were in a way.

Just as suddenly as he had come, Woods was gone. The static and the sense of something else in his mind departed, and Parker opened his eyes and bolted from the room. Now he lay against the door, shaking his head in an eternal gesture of negation, whispering, “No,” to himself repeatedly.

As a man of action, Parker didn’t take long to realize that doing something like that was only going to make sure the future Damien had given him would be made true.

Fuck,
for
all
I
know,
that’s
what
he
was
put
there
to
do.
Can’t
trust
any
of
them,
not
anymore.

With that thought in mind, he dragged himself to his feet and started down the hall toward the stairs.

I’m
sorry,
Mikey.
But
this
shit
has
to
end.
Tonight.

Chapter
41
 

12:00 pm, December 24, 1999

Michael Drakanis, husband of Gina, father of Joey, and well-respected detective of the Reno Police Department, opened his eyes and took in his surroundings with a slight feeling of surprise. A feeling of dislocation followed that, the sense of wrongness that one had when he woke up in an unexpected place or at an unexpected time.

He rolled to the side, hoping to at least find the comforting warmth of Gina beside him, but all he found was cold metal. The other side of the bed was empty except for his service pistol. How it had gotten there, he didn’t know. Part of his mind argued that he had turned it in six months ago, placing it into Captain Morrigan’s waiting hand with a feeling of relief, a sense of “thank God that’s over.” Another part argued that it had always been with him, but that it belonged on the top shelf of the closet, somewhere where it would be safe from accidental discovery by Joey. Both were certain it didn’t belong on the pillow of this unfamiliar bed in this unfamiliar room.

He picked up the pistol, weighing it in his hand even as his jaws cracked in a yawn. There was no doubt it was his; the slash of silver running across the otherwise black grip was there, looking back at him. He still remembered how it had gotten that mark.

He had been just a rookie then and had made a rookie mistake. Reporting to a domestic disturbance, he’d thrown open a door and had his gun out because the perp had supposedly been threatening his wife with the family’s shotgun. The perp had been on the other side and had slammed the door shut on Drakanis’s hand. The gun had caught in the jamb, scoring the grip on one side and the barrel on the other. He’d left it that way since, a reminder against making further mistakes.

Not quite believing it, he turned the .38 over and checked the barrel on the other side for the corresponding mark. There it was, gleaming in the light cast by the ugly yellow lamp next to the bed. Deciding concerns of how it had gotten there could wait, he raised his head and took stock of the room.

He didn’t recognize anything, but it wasn’t hard to guess he was in a hotel room somewhere. The overdone floor pattern, the pink and yellow walls, and the air-conditioning unit under the window that sounded like it was about to murder a fresh set of bearings while it put out air that would only make a polar bear comfortable were all familiar styles for seasoned travelers and the cops who occasionally had to bust them. The where of it didn’t matter, he supposed. The why of it seemed a lot more important to him.

Because
you
have
to
finish
something.
We
have
a
deal,
you
and
I.
You’ll
get
what
you
want
when
you
do
what
I
want.

He rose from the bed, wavering a little. He looked for a moment to his left, where a door that could only lead to a bathroom lay. He could have sworn he heard voices coming from that direction, and some internal radar claimed there was someone in there, but it didn’t seem too important. Whoever he had made his bargain with and whatever it wanted, it didn’t have anything to do with what was going on in the bathroom, he was sure. What it wanted was in the living room.

He pushed through the swinging door into the living room—
Wouldn’t
exactly
keep
the
kids
from
spying
on
Mom
and
Dad,
he found himself thinking—and saw what was waiting for him.

The living room had been emptied of furniture. An unsightly pile had been created in the small kitchenette, the chairs and the couch and television stacked on one another. Skid marks on the floor marked where the furniture had scored it when it had been shoved over. Only one chair remained in the living room.

“Ah. Detective Drakanis. Did you rest well, my friend?”

Karim—or Karesh, as the thing within the
talu`shar
had called him—was sitting in the chair, looking like a substitute host for
Masterpiece
Theatre
. Drakanis took a long look, as though he was really seeing Karim for the first time; in a sense, he was. It was just a sad fact of the twentieth century that you didn’t usually pay a lot of attention to the people who cleaned your toilets and dumped your trash. Drakanis supposed that the almost innate invisibility that came with a job like that was probably one of the main reasons that Karim had taken it.

Karim was smiling pleasantly, his dark eyes and coffee-colored skin blending almost into a camouflage pattern with the shadows cast by the jaundiced yellow overhead lights. He was dressed in what looked to be an old smoking jacket, complete with the still-burning pipe resting on the chair by his left hand. Drakanis wondered why the smoke alarms hadn’t gone off yet but supposed little details like mundane security were probably on vacation for the moment.

“You’re a lot smaller than I would have expected.” It was the first thing that came to mind. It was true enough; he had always pictured, for good or ill, that the person who had killed his family would have been a larger man. Now that they were face to face, Drakanis figured Karim was no more than five and a half feet tall and almost too thin for his height. How someone that slight had managed to overpower Gina—who was more than capable of kicking Drakanis’s ass when he got out of line—he wasn’t sure, though he guessed the gifts the Beast gave figured in, one way or another.

Karesh shook his head, laughing. “Appearances can be deceiving, my good detective. But the time for the coming is almost here, and we waste it with small talk. Have you made your choice?”

Drakanis could feel something dark and angry pulsing inside of him, a reservoir of poisoned water that he hadn’t even known existed prior to this moment. It didn’t feel like his own feelings, but something that was projected on him instead, though the distinction was so fine that he wasn’t sure the difference mattered much. His hand, buried in the pocket of his coat—apparently they hadn’t felt any need to undress him before leaving him on the bed, the part of his mind that insisted Gina and Joey were dead noted—tightened around the grip of his pistol.

He nodded, feeling mental sludge begin to leak from him, clouding the air and hopefully making it impossible for Karesh to know what was coming before it hit him. He supposed it wasn’t going to make a difference, since he could feel the same miasma leaking from Karesh himself, but a little extra caution never hurt anyone.

“Excellent. So you’ll be joining our team, then? Good. We should get ready then; so much to do, and so little time.”

Karesh pulled himself up and started to walk toward him, but Drakanis held up his free hand, shaking his head. “A couple of questions first.”

Karesh angled his head and raised a brow. He swept one arm toward Drakanis. “As you wish it. Make it quick, Detective.”

“Where are the others?”

Karesh shook his head. “Damien has chosen to end his own life. He was offered a chance to redeem himself in the glory of the Beast but refused. Your friend Parker is also no longer with us. I’m afraid Officer Taeda grew slightly overzealous in subduing him. Officer Brokov, on the other hand, remains alive and well. We are merely waiting for this unpleasantness to be behind us before allowing her to return to her life. Whatever part of it remains once this matter is resolved, anyway.”

Drakanis nodded, trying not to let the pain show on his face. Vince had been his near-constant companion since childhood and hearing that these shitheads had killed him, just like that, and for no better reason than that he had been in the way was a knife that struck deep in his heart. The part of him that swore his family was alive and waiting for him claimed that it wasn’t going to matter; once this was resolved, Parker would be fine. All of them would be fine. That was what he told himself anyway.

“Anything further, Detective?”

Drakanis broke out in a cold sweat; his heart was beginning to throb painfully in his chest, and his lungs screamed for air even when he tried to fill them to the maximum.
Here
it
is.
The
turning
point.
Lady
or
the
tiger,
bud?
Take
a
spin
and
lose
it
all.

“One last thing. A message, more than a question.”

Karesh rolled his hand impatiently, brows still arched.

Drakanis moved quickly and without much thought. He pulled the gun out of his pocket, leveled it at Karesh, and squeezed the trigger before he could allow himself to think about what he was doing.

Karesh didn’t even blink, didn’t move before it was too late; the only thing that indicated he realized what was happening at all was a slight widening of his eyes. Before he could do anything further, the bullet tore into the center of his face, tearing flesh away from the bone and giving his head the look of a rotted pumpkin. Blood and brains flew from the hole, with a bigger splash of gore flying out the back and hitting the wall, leaving a smear on the wallpaper that reminded Drakanis of the
talu`shar
itself. Karesh’s body slumped; his mouth caved in on itself, and the last of the tainted fluid in his skull leaked out through his imploded nostrils.

Drakanis took a deep shuddering breath, trying to clear his head as he tossed the gun to the side. He wasn’t going to need it anymore. The smell of blood and gunpowder filled his lungs, trying to intoxicate him with the scent of death and carnage while the echoes of the shot drifted through the air as they faded. Then he hunkered by the remains of his family’s killer and delivered the message Joey had given him.

“You’re fired.”

Chapter
42
 

12:15 pm, December 24, 1999

Sheila’s eyes cracked open a fraction of an inch, and vision came back in blurry at first but sharpened rapidly. She realized her perspective didn’t match what it should have been, and it took a moment and some painful turning of her neck to realize why. Manderly was standing at the door with his ear pressed up against it. He must have moved her to get at the door.

What
the
hell
happened?
It felt like even
thinking
hurt. As she coughed, she felt blood run out of the corner of her mouth, dribbling onto the floor. Manderly’s attention was apparently focused on whatever was on the other side of the door, and he ignored her.

He’s
not
paying
any
attention
to
you,
she thought, as she dropped her eyes down to his belt, noticing that he was wearing his service revolver. The holster strap was undone, like he had been getting ready to use it, but both of his hands were on the door, pressing against it. She tried to take stock of her own condition, to determine if the ribs would stop her if she made a grab for it. She figured that it would hurt, probably a hell of a lot, but at least trying seemed to make a hell of a lot more sense than just lying there and waiting for whatever was going to happen to her.

You
can
handle
it.
Get
the
gun,
shove
it
up
against
the
back
of
his
head.
It
won’t
matter
by
that
point.
Just
get
moving.
Good advice, but she had always found it most difficult to find the best advice, even when it came from her own mind. Still, this was looking more and more like a life-or-death situation and even if it wasn’t that bad, part of her wanted to kick his ass just because of the bullshit explanations he had given her.