Fade To Midnight (55 page)

She looked into his staring, white-rimmed eyes. Sweat stood out on his brow. She grabbed a paper towel from the kitchen counter and dabbed it tenderly. Stood on her tiptoes. Gave him a light kiss.

“Showtime,” she whispered, and sank in her mental claws.

Surprisingly, after the first shocked resistence, it was an excellent interface. As high as seven, on a scale of one to ten. Granted, she'd given him an enormous dose, but he was also a macho man, probably ex-military, certainly not the usual optimal interface profile. She was pleasantly surprised to find lots of fine muscle control after just a few moments of manipulating him. But with such a high dose, her window of opportunity was tight. She compelled him to pull his gun, staying a few steps behind as he paced back to the security center.

She didn't go inside, having ascertained that there was a security camera in there. Excellent, for her purposes. Very convenient.

Paul turned when he came in, but turned away when he saw who it was, so Ava didn't even have to deal with the iffy proposition of aiming the gun without the X-Cog goggles. She just walked Robert over, compelled him to put the gun to the nape of Paul's neck, and fire.

Paul slumped over the keyboard, a dark hole in the nape of his neck. Blood spewed all over the keyboard and computer monitor.

She forced Robert to shut off the computer that ran the surveillance program on the blood-spattered keyboard. Just in time.

The others came running, having heard the shot. She brought Robert back out into the corridor, and slunk behind the open door of the kitchen to keep eye contact. Surprise and quickness was key, here.

“Robert?” one of them gasped, huffing. “What the fuck was—”

Bam. Bam.
Both men fell. She stepped out, watched the arterial blood spread from death wounds in the forehead, throat. Silence. Just the labored sound of Robert's breathing. Evelyn and Tanya were screaming. She had Robert walk into the room where they huddled on the couch. Dr. Katz cowered there, too, begging incoherently.

No one noticed her lurking in the corner behind the door.

Robert trained the gun on them. Ava tried speaking through him.

“Sit down in the chairs,” Robert said. His voice was thick and hollow, but comprehensible. What a nice, deep voice he had.

A little gun waving got them twittering and squeaking, rushing to obey. She compelled Robert to cuff them to the chair, hands behind them. They let themselves be trussed, without resistance, begging and squawking. Stupid geese. Already dead, and they just didn't know it yet.

Then Robert was done, and a good thing, too. Robert was played out. A short-termer. She could feel the pressure building up in his eyes. Blood was flooding out his nose already. He was drooling, too. Bloody drool. God, how she hated it when they drooled.

He made it to the entrance hall, thudded to his knees, then fell heavily on his face. She rolled him over with her toe, grimacing as she plucked the slave crown off. She'd make Edie shoot him in the face, to cover up the mess. X-Cog metabolized quickly, but the broken blood vessels would look suspicious to an attentive coroner.

Though she doubted it would occur to anyone to ask questions.

So far, it had gone beautifully. Relatives trussed and sniveling, awaiting their doom. Des and Edie should be arriving right about now.

A chime announced someone at the gate. She giggled as she realized that it fell to her to open the place up. Oops! Of course! Everyone else was dead, dying, or handcuffed to a chair! She found the button to open the gate, and a flash of movement on the stairs caught her eye. The girl's eyes were wide with shock and terror. Fucking brat.

Ava smiled, and aimed. “Don't move, Ronnie.”

 

The constant scream of the motor had eased off. Some ten minutes ago, Edie felt the highway off-ramp, and now, city streets. Traffic lights. An unnatural calm settled into her. She was past the worst. She was trying to keep a clear sense on how much time had passed, the velocities they were going, but she kept zoning out.

We have other plans for you.
She shuddered, longing for the Ruger at her ankle, but it was lying on top of Aaro's dresser. Des would have found it when he frisked her anyhow. No tricks up her sleeve now.

The car slowed, idled. Another traffic light? A lurch, and the engine stopped. Her calm evaporated.

She heard the door pop open. Des, walking away. Time passed, interminable, impossible to measure. She counted her heartbeats.

The trunk popped open. Trees towered overhead. Des grinned down at her. He grabbed her by the armpits, yanked her out of the car. She realized where she was. Fear multiplied, tenfold. The Parrish home.
Ronnie.
Oh, God. They still had the power to crush her heart. Even now.

She sagged. Des grabbed her by the hair, dragging her after himself. “None of that,” he growled. “On your feet.”

The pistol barrel pressed under the point of her jaw. She'd almost be relieved if he pulled the trigger. Where was everyone?

A woman stood in the front doorway. Small and delicate. Asian. A velvet cap hid her hair. The first impression, from a distance, was that she was beautiful, but as Edie approached, the illusion of beauty faded.

She stared at Edie, black eyes hot with predatory hunger.

“You're Ava Cheung?” Edie asked.

“So happy to meet you at last, Edie,” the woman said. “Do you remember me from the Haven?”

Edie shook her head. Ava's lips drew back. “Of course you don't. Why would the lofty princess notice one of the lab rats?”

Edie didn't have any answer to that. “Kev told me about you.”

“Did he? By the way, my condolences. I heard he got blown up.”

Edie couldn't hide the flinch. “Where is the security staff?”

“Oh. Them.” Ava's smile thinned. “You'll see. Come take a look.”

Des forced her forward, jabbing with the pistol. She jerked back with a gasp when she saw Robert's long body stretched out on the marble floor. Blood pooled under his head. “Oh, God. Is he…”

“Dead? Not quite, maybe, but he will be soon. We'll just leave him to it. Come on to the dining room, and I'll show you what we've—”

Edie dug in her heels. “I don't want to see.”

Smack.
Ava slapped her face, hard. “I don't give a shit what you want!” the woman shrieked. “Do as you're told, you stupid bitch!”

“Ava!” Des scolded. “No marks! She's the aggressor, remember?”

Ava waved that away with a hand that was covered with a latex glove. “We can do whatever we want,” she said airily. “They'll attribute all that to Larsen. Rough sex, punishment. Maybe they'll think Larsen found out about her dirty affair with Robert, do you suppose?”

“Affair…?” Edie looked back at Robert. “My
what
with Robert?”

Ava giggled. “Or maybe Larsen himself forced her to seduce Robert. Oh, that's even dirtier. I love it.” Edie stared at her, confused. “To persuade him to be your accomplice, of course,” Ava explained, impatiently. “To take out the security staff, the cameras and all that.”

“No.” Edie shook her head, frantically. “No one will believe that.”

“You'd be surprised,” Ava said. “People are foul and filthy, you know. There's nothing they love more than thinking that other people are even filthier and fouler. Oh, look! Your favorite people! Say hello!”

Edie struggled to focus her eyes in the dim room. The sounds clued her in. Mewling, muffled weeping, squeaks. Aunt Evelyn, Tanya, and Dr. Katz, in bathrobes, pajamas. Cuffed to the dining room chairs.

“Why?” She turned to Des. “They have nothing to do with this!”

Ava's giggle was shrill. “I gagged them with panties that I found in your drawers. It's those depraved details that make the story work. Oh, while I'm thinking of it.” She grabbed Edie's hair, and yanked. Edie gasped. Ava dropped Edie's hairs on the carpet, on Aunt Evelyn's lap, Tanya's slipper, over Dr. Katz's arm. He flinched at her touch.

“Where's Ronnie?” Fear strangled Edie's voice into a squeak.

“All in good time,” Ava chided. “First, the costume. You can't slaughter your entire family dressed in that. You look awful, Edie.”

Faintness welled up, threatening to pull her down. Ava slapped her face, and bent her double. “No way, bitch. Get your head down. You can't faint. That's not in the script.” Ava hauled her back up by the hair, and smacked her again. “Try that again, and you'll be sorry.”

A senseless desire to laugh seized her. “I'm already sorry.”

Smack
. “Sorrier, then. Come on, Des. Get her up the stairs.”

“There's no time for costumes,” Des groused. “Don't be childish.”

“Why not? It's only five forty-six. The next shift of security guys won't be here until eight. We can take a few minutes to dress her. And I'm not being childish. It's called ‘attention to detail.' Idiot.”

Des sighed, and prodded Edie with the gun. “Whatever.”

They didn't stop at Ronnie's room, but pushed right on past to her own. It was topsy-turvy, the drawers tugged out, clothes dangling. Shoes were scattered over the floor, dresses lying everywhere in bright pools of color. Ava picked up one of them. It was pale peach, strapless, with whimsical lacy ties up the front of a tight, fitted bodice, and a full skirt. She swung the thing around, humming. “I like this one,” she said, almost dreamily. “A princess dress. Take off your clothes.”

Edie froze solid with disgust, at the thought of being naked in front of that pair. It took the bruising force of Des's gun, prodding beneath her chin to get her moving. High-tops, first. The muddy laces were impossible to undo, so she just wrenched them off. She peeled off jeans, shirt, and that was it. Her underwear was long gone. Abandoned in Aaro's cabin, along with her life, her heart, her hopes. Her future.

Ava and Des stared at her body, horribly interested in it.

“Dessie,” Ava said softly. “Look at those tits. Lovely, hmm?”

Des cleared his throat, his face flushed. “We don't have time to—”

“To do anything about your erection? Awww. So sad.”

“Put on the fucking dress, Edie,” Des rapped out harshly. “Now.”

Ava tossed it to her, and Edie stared down at her filthy, scratched hands holding the delicate fabric. Leaving smudges, mud, bloodstains.

She unzipped it, and struggled for a few minutes before managing to fasten the zipper up the side. It was tight. She'd been a few pounds thinner back when her mother had gotten her this dress.

Memories floated back. This dress. Her parents thirtieth wedding anniversary dinner. A black tie affair. Two hundred guests. She'd done something that made her mother furious. Some ill-timed, prophetic blurt, to some extremely important guy. A politician, maybe. It seemed so trivial, now. Her mind was racing around like a headless chicken, trying to flee the reality of her immediate future. Still a mystery. But not really. Not so much. Some variation on pain, horror, and then death.

“Pretty as a princess,” Ava said softly. “Now. Out the door. Move.”

“Aren't you going to crown her?” Des asked.

“I'll wait til we get to Ronnie's room,” Ava said. “If she's a dud, I don't want to have to move the body. Saves on mess.”

Des wound his hand into Edie's hair and yanked her head back as he prodded her with the gun. The lights in the corridor made her eyes water as she stumbled, barefoot over the carpet runner. She saw the frame of Ronnie's door. Des let her head drop, shoved her through.

A thin sound escaped her when she saw Ronnie, gagged and tied to her four-poster. Her eyes met Edie's, wide with terrified entreaty.

Edie's heart thudded. Sickening hammer blows. The big box that held the rest of Ronnie's firecrackers sat next to the bed, with puffs of red tissue paper sticking out.

“Behold, your murder weapon.” Ava Cheung held out the gleaming letter opener, nestled in another silk scarf. “You'll stab everyone to death, but you won't know about me being here, because I came here after you left last night. I'll be the one witness, hiding behind a curtain. Terrified for my life.” Ava was purring with satisfaction. “Des will be gone before the cops come. The security shift will find you dead, and me, catatonic with shock. I'm not quite sure how you'll kill yourself yet. But I'm taking suggestions, if anything juicy occurs to you.”

Edie looked into Ava's glittering eyes. The question rose up from deep within her, from beyond even fear. “You don't even know me,” she said. “Why do you hate me so much?”

Ava lifted the syringe. “Because you are what you are,” she said. “You have what you have. And still, you dare to feel sorry for yourself.”

Reactions fought inside her. Indignation. The hot desire to defend her right to be miserable, too. And then, the clear, almost crystalline realization of how strange, how stupid, how silly it all was.

“I regret that,” she said quietly. And strangely, she meant it.

For what it was worth. She knew that it would change nothing.

“Don't be,” Ava hissed. “I don't need your regret. I need…
this.
”

Ava stabbed the needle in.

B
runo drove, which was good, because Kev would have driven them right off the road. Fortunately, the highway was empty at this hour. Sean had been on the phone nonstop with the guy named Nick up in the San Juans who was following Davy's signal on the satellite map. The signal was still moving, but they were a good twenty-five minutes behind it, and they weren't gaining. Marr's Jag only had two people in it, and did a hundred and ten without breaking a sweat.

The fat dead guy's Mercedes G-Class had a powerful engine, but it was carrying five big men, and Bruno wasn't getting more than ninety.

Bruno's eyes and nose were still streaming, but he just wiped them on his sleeve and drove grimly on.

“Hey,” Sean announced to the vehicle at large. “He's turning off onto Highway 26. Must be heading back to the Parrish place.”

Kev felt a sick horror clutch his innards. “He's taking her to Ava,” he said dully. “Like a dog taking a dead rabbit to its master.”

The others exchanged looks. “Hey, come on,” Sean encouraged. “It might not be that bad. The Parrish house is a fortress, full of security and domestic staff, and her family. He can't possibly—”

“Ava Cheung has been in that house for six hours,” Kev said. “She has an X-Cog crown. They could all be dead by now. Easily. Do you know what someone with a fucking crown can do?”

Sean stared at him coldly for a second. “Yeah, brother,” he said. “I remember what a crown can do. I almost murdered my wife with a blow torch the last time I wore one. So watch your fucking tone of voice.”

Kev muttered an apology, remembering oblique references to Sean's own adventures with Osterman and X-Cog. One of the many stories that there was no time to tell. Who knew if there ever would be.

Minutes ticked by as Bruno coaxed speed out of the Mercedes. Sean's phone rang again. He listened. “Marr's car has turned off 26. It's going south on Cedar,” he said. “Six minutes to the Parrish house.”

And they still had so far to go. “Goddamnit, Bruno!” Kev roared. “Can't you kick some more speed out of this thing?”

The motor roared as they sped through the pale gray dawn.

 

The sting. Like a spider bite. Edie's mind freewheeled as the cold numbness spread, and in its wake, a tension that pulled her tighter and tighter. Every muscle was contracted, tearing at all the others, stretched to the screaming limit. She was arched, grimacing. She'd snap if she made a move. Her bones would break, her tendons pop. Her lungs struggled to expand. Oh, God. Air.
Please.

Ava came closer, bracing her against the wall as she attached a device to Edie's head. Sticking the dangling metal sensors against her skull. The frantic need for air built and built. She was smothering.

The room was going dark. Blessed unconsciousness.

“Need to breathe?” Ava asked. “Want some help?”

The woman slammed into her mind, and Edie reeled under the onslaught. Like corrosive gas. No way to block it out.

Ava expanded Edie's lungs for her. Her chest jerked and shuddered. The air hurt, forced into her tense, locked lungs.

Kev had told her how the X-Cog crown worked. But she'd had no idea. She felt death around her. A wasteland of foul, poisonous hatred. The pressure in her eyes, in her brain. Her heart, laboring frantically.

Des lunged for the window. “Car, outside the wall,” he said.

Ava looked startled. “It's too early for the new security shift.”

“I'll go take a look.” A gun appeared in Des's hand. “Can you handle this alone? Remember what happened today. Don't get cocky.”

“Are you kidding?” Ava tittered. “She's no McCloud. She's just a poor little dumb rich girl. I'll just diddle around with her for a while, get a feel for her. Be quick, Dessie. I wouldn't want you to miss the show.”

Des chuckled. “No way.” He disappeared out the door.

Ava leaned closer to Edie's face. Her laughter echoed, strangely metallic, in Edie's ears. Ava's eyes were white rimmed, like a mad horse. Splotches of makeup on her sallow skin.

Something cold and hard touched Edie's palm. Her fingers closed around it. The letter opener. Her rigid arm rose up, stabbed violently down.
Yes, that's a good girl…walk over here now…that's good…

That mocking voice was getting farther away, her ears roared, her heart galloped. She tasted blood. Her body convulsed—

She took a step forward. Another. And another, more smoothly.

She floated back from herself, watching it like a movie. Reflecting with detached irony, what a shame it was that she hadn't realized the true wealth she'd had. Not until it was being torn away.

She'd had Ronnie. Kev. She'd seen beautiful things. She'd spent so much time in that timeless, blissful place where she went when she made art. Drawing, painting. Utterly happy and at peace. That was wealth. She only saw it now, when it was all being destroyed.

The way this woman had been destroyed.

With that insight, her inner eye opened up. Lights, going on everywhere. She didn't want it to, she hadn't asked it to. She didn't want to see what was behind that woman's tormented eyes.

But she saw it anyway. With an awful sense of recognition, as if she were looking in the mirror. Rage, shame, self-hate. Crushing her.

Grief. She dragged in air, willed it away, fighting for breath—

Ava's eyes widened. They realized at the same instant that Ava had not initiated that breath.

Edie's arm dropped. The knife fell to the carpet. Terrified joy warred with disbelief. Ava was screaming at her. Edie felt drops of hot spittle hitting her face. A thin thread of blood trickled out of Ava's nose.

Edie tried to move. Her euphoria was quickly deflated. She was still immobilized. Pulled so tight, her body was about to snap. But her will to move was out of Ava's reach, as long as that inner eye stayed open. The part of her mind that Osterman had stimulated, or eliminated, or whatever the hell he'd done…had created a blind spot.

The only catch was that in this state, she was connected to everyone. The barriers were gone. That was why she knew things about people when she drew them. She didn't want to know Ava, to fuse with Ava, but she had no choice. She was one with Ava's torment. She saw it all, felt it, owned it. She'd have screamed, if she could. This made the X-Cog rictus seem like nothing. This was pure, burning hell on earth.

Ava was wailing, screeching. Blood streamed from her nose. Mascara dripped. Mouth stretched wide. Hitting Edie's face, swatting, punching. She knocked her back against the wall.

Ava's mind was shaking apart, and Edie's along with her. A screaming hurricane inside them both, destroying everything.

Edie drew in another shuddering breath…and embraced the storm. Getting bigger, softer, wider. Expanding. Like ripples spreading, until the disturbance was just a small, frantic movement in one part of her consciousness. She regarded it while the rest of her expanded into a serene vastness. She could just keep going. Expand into infinite space.

Maybe she'd even find Kev out there. The thought made her heart clutch with hopeful joy…

And she saw Ronnie, far below her. Curled up like a little, huddled comma on the bed. All alone, terrified. In hell.

Ronnie.
She couldn't float away. Ronnie needed her. Kev would have to wait. Grief cut deep, again. She had to leave this peace now, and claw her way back down into that hell-hole of violence and fear.

Thwack, thwack
. The pain came back into focus. A front hand whack, then a backhand one. Hard, jaw rattling slaps. “Goddamn you! Goddamn you!” Ava shrieked. “Don't you dare die, bitch!”

Oh, I wish
, Edie thought, almost wistfully.

A spate of gunfire thundered below.

 

No one had challenged them at the gate, which turned Kev's stomach with fear. His brothers and Miles yelled at him, wait, stop, hang on, but he crawled up onto the top of the Mercedes G-Class, catching the top of the wall, scrambling up. A brief moment to take stock of the ominously dark, quiet house, and he leaped, thudding onto soft grass. He pushed through some rosebushes. Thuds sounded behind him. The rest of them crept up behind him, cat silent and wary.

The front door was unlocked. It swung silently open to his gentle push. They stared at the long body of the man who lay there, face down, a pool of blood forming under his face on the gleaming marble floor.

Kev slid inside, sidling by the wall. Miles and Sean drifted like shadows toward the wing that opened off to the right. Bruno gestured silently in the direction of the stairway. Kev slunk through the arch to the left, Davy following him.

A bizarre tableau. Three people, gagged, tied to chairs, all in a row. Staring, their purple faces mad with terror. But still alive.

Kev recognized the older one as he darted closer. The aunt from the hospital. The cousin. The butthead doctor. He plucked away the gag from the older woman's mouth, which appeared to be a filmy lace bra, and yanked a wad of cloth from her mouth, which proved to be a pair of matching thong panties. “Where's Edie?” he demanded.

The woman coughed, hacked, and began to scream.

“Oh, shit,” Kev muttered, and shoved the panties back into the woman's mouth. “Not now, lady.”

Davy crouched behind the old woman's chair, sawing through her cuffs. The younger one's rolling eyes and terror sweat didn't bode well for time-sensitive information gathering, so he left her for Davy's tender mercies too, and tried the older guy. He got to work on the gag. Pink tap pants. A matching satin bra. “Where's Edie?” he demanded.

The man coughed, sobbed. “She…she…ah…Des Marr—”

“I know about Des Marr. Tell me where Edie is!” he roared.

“Drop your gun, Kev.” A familiar soft, hateful voice from behind him. “And you, too, whoever the fuck you are. I never did learn to tell you McCloud assholes apart. You all look alike to me.”

Kev spun. Bruno's reddened eyes stared up at him from a hammerlock against Marr's chest, in mute apology. His chest jerked, trying to get air. Marr's gun was shoved up under his chin.

“Drop it,” Marr said. “Now. Or his head explodes.”

Kev's gun dropped. Davy's thudded down soon after.

“You bastards were supposed to be dead.” Marr sounded piqued.

“Yeah, well,” Kev muttered. “We're funny that way.”

“Take a look at my gun, Kev,” Marr said. “Recognize it?”

Kev took a look. It was a SIG 220, like the one he'd taken with him yesterday, to go to Helix. “That's my gun?”

“Registered to you. Covered with your prints. Inside and out.” Marr sounded complacent. “I'm wearing a latex glove, of course. Edie will hold it when she blows her brains out, after killing all of you. And you still take the fall. From the grave.”

In the silence that followed, they heard the whining of police sirens. Alarm flashed in Des's eyes. He looked at Kev, at the weeping women huddled on the floor, the doctor curled into the fetal position.

“I don't think you have time for that scenario,” Kev said slowly. “I think there are too many people to kill, Marr. And too little time.”

“Oh, yeah?” Marr laughed, harshly. “You think?” He yanked Bruno's head back. The gun barrel whipped around to point at Kev.

Kev dove to the side. Bruno convulsed, like a huge fish flopping—

Four guns thundered, all at once. Des jittered, suspended against the wall. He slid down, his face a pulpy red mess, and thudded on top of Bruno, sagging forward. The screaming from the ladies got louder. The doctor joined lustily in. Bruno crawled from under Marr's corpse, spattered with blood, looking pale and shaken.

Miles and Sean rose up from their positions crouched at the door, but Kev raced past without looking or hearing.

Edie.

 

More gunshots rocked the house. Ava looked almost frightened. Edie could smell the stench of the other woman's fear sweat.

“OK,” Ava panted. “We have to do things a little differently now. See this? Watch.” She grabbed an orange candle from Ronnie's shelf, and grabbed the book of matches beside it. She lit it.

She leaned close to Edie, holding the lit candle close enough to Edie's face so that the burning sensation became uncomfortable, then painful. Awful pain. But she could not flinch. She was frozen stiff.

“I'd like to do to your face what Gordon did to your boyfriend's,” Ava said. “But I guess I really should do Ronnie's. After all, she's the one you're jealous of, right? Daddy's little favorite?” She lifted the candle. “I'll make a deal with you. You stop blocking me…and I'll have you slit her throat, nice and quick. It'll be all over in twenty seconds. If you don't stop blocking me, I will burn her face for a long, long time, while you watch. And then, I slit her throat. You decide.”

“Edie?” A voice shouted from downstairs.

Kev.
Oh, dear God, that was Kev's voice. He wasn't dead!

Excitement, disbelief, shattered her detachment, her mind-mode wavered, and Ava's control slammed into her again. Ava laughed triumphantly, and forced Edie's arms to raise, her hands to flex. She placed the burning candle in one of Edie's shaking hands, the knife in the other. “Now we're talking,” she said. “Party-time, Edie. Walk.”

And she did, toes clenching on the thick carpet. Her mind raced. She was paralyzed. The only way to move or walk at all was to have Ava move her. And so…and so. She padded toward Ronnie's bed. Focused on the candle flame in the foreground, Ronnie's flailing body in the background.

Eyes wide, Ronnie watched her big sister lurching toward her like the living dead, with a blade and an open flame.

All Edie could do was hope that the trajectory Ava chose would take her right over to the box by Ronnie's bed. And time it just right, or else the candle would ignite the bedclothes.