Mark of the Demon

Page 37

The trustees staggered by me with their grotesque burden as they carried the body to a clear area to lay it out. I began to step back to avoid the stench, then froze as a faint sensation of arcane resonance rippled over me. I shifted quickly into full othersight, reluctantly stepping closer to the body. It’s the symbol, I realized. The symbol is arcanely protected. I hadn’t noticed it on any of the Series Two victims because they’d been found relatively quickly and there were still arcane traces all over them. But on these, most of the residual arcane energy had faded to nothing—except for the potency twined into the symbol itself. No wonder the symbol had always been recognizable, even on the badly decomposed bodies. I gave myself a mental head-smack. I should have thought of that earlier. Chalk that one up to inexperience, I thought with a small sigh.
For the next hour, I discovered it was impossible not to breathe in the stench of rot. I didn’t have any trouble with nausea, but one of the trustees was not so fortunate and had to lean over a bush several times to heave. Jill was there, taking pictures of the entire process as the bodies were removed and laid out, face grim and pale as she worked.
I crouched next to the two doctors, making notes and listening to their observations as they examined each body as it was removed from the pile. Six bodies, each with the symbol carved into the flesh and positioned so that the symbol wouldn’t be exposed to air and insects. Make it last longer, even with the arcane protection. It’s important to whatever he’s doing.
Finally the last of the remains were zipped up into body bags and Doc stood up and stripped off his gloves. “Four men and two women,” he said, mouth set in a firm line and a thin beading of sweat on his upper lip. “All with ligature marks around their necks and notches at their elbows and ankles, in addition to various other signs of torture.”
Dr. Vaughn rolled her neck on her shoulders. “For now I’m going to say that there’s nothing older than two months and nothing fresher than three weeks.”
I did some quick mental calculations, then took out my phone and pulled up the calendar. “So that would fall between these dates?” I showed my phone to Dr. Vaughn, pointing out the dates.
The entomologist looked at the screen and nodded. “Yes, that would work.”
“Thanks, both of you.” I turned and jogged back up the slope, slowing as I saw Ryan climbing off the back of an ATV.
“Hey, Kristoff. Check this out.” I showed him my phone.
He looked at the screen, a faintly bemused expression on his face. “You have all the phases of the moon on your calendar?”
“Yeah, like, duh. And now it’s finally useful. Doc and the entomologist think that these victims were killed between the last two full moons.”
He looked at me with a So what? expression.
I gestured to the row of black body bags at the bottom of the ridge. “I think these are last month’s victims.” I took a steadying breath. “I think he attempted the summoning last month and it didn’t work.” I rubbed my palms on my jeans, unnerved. I didn’t want to think about what we’d be facing right now if he’d been successful.
Ryan blew out his breath. “Fucking lucky for us. I wonder what went wrong.”
“I don’t know, but he’s not giving up. He’s trying again this month.”
A sickened expression passed over his face. “And he’s going to keep doing this until he succeeds in this summoning.”
I chewed my lip. “The convergence will begin to taper after this month. It’ll still be enough to summon higher demons, but my bet is that pulling an unwilling Demonic Lord through will be damn near impossible after this next full moon and for about another eighteen months or so.”
“So, we have just this month to catch him,” Ryan said.
I nodded. “And he’s going to throw everything he has into this summoning. He knows it’s his last chance for a while.”
Ryan moved to the top of the slope, looking down at the scene of the body dump, anger and dismay in his eyes. “I guess there’s no doubt that these are Symbol Man murders?”
I shook my head. “They all have the symbol, all have signs of torture, all killed by ligature strangulation.”
He was silent for several heartbeats as he looked at the activity at the bottom of the slope. “I wonder why he’s killing all his victims the same way now. The Series One victims were killed in different ways.”
“Well, I have a theory about that.”
“Share?”
I took a deep breath. “I think that the first murders were practice. It explains why those victims were killed in a variety of ways and had varying amounts of torture and damage done to them. The last two were strangled.”
Ryan scowled. “He was trying to see what kind of death would give him the most zing and found that strangulation worked the best.”
“That’s right. And I think he was probably also figuring out how to store that potency for later use. To build his little Demonic Lord prison.”
“And then he had to stop for three years …”
“Because the sphere that holds the demon world diverged from ours …” I trailed off, looking away from the lake.
“What’s wrong?” Ryan followed the direction of my gaze.
“The victim at the wastewater plant. I think that was from last month’s attempt as well.”
Ryan frowned. “What makes you say that? And what are you looking at?”
“See that fence?” I pointed at a tall wooden fence barely visible through the trees. It was probably about a mile away, and only the fact that we were standing on a slight rise allowed us to see it at all. “That’s the back of the wastewater plant.”
I watched his face as comprehension flashed across it. “The broken bones … She wasn’t dropped from the top of a vat. The demon was flying her body here and dropped her.”
I nodded. “You’re pretty smart for a Fed.”
“I missed a bunch of questions on the entrance exam on purpose so that I could get into the agency,” he retorted, smile flickering at the corners of his mouth.
“So it was an accident that the body was found so quickly.”
“But the others …” His expression grew more serious. “He’s been trying to find out what he can about you. He knows you’re a summoner.”
I nodded, feeling the prickles of cold sweat along my spine. If he knew that, then he knew damn near everything about me.
Meanwhile, I knew his name, and not a damn thing else.
Chapter 25
We headed back to the station in silence. I swiped my ID card at the door and pushed in with Ryan following behind me, but I’d barely stepped through the door before Captain Turnham leaned his head out of his office, looking down the hall at me.
“Chief Morse wants to see you, Gillian.”
I groaned. “Now?”
An expression of regret crossed his face. “Yes, now.”
I hesitated, then glanced at Ryan. “You can wait in my office if you want.”
Ryan’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll wait,” he said with a nod. He turned and headed to my office as I continued down the hall to the chief’s. I didn’t have a good feeling about this. The captain looked like he’d been handing me a death sentence.
The chief’s secretary was gone, so I knocked on the inner office door.
“Detective Gillian!” I heard the chief snap from inside. “Get in here.”
Yeah. That didn’t sound good. I took a settling breath as I entered. “Sir? Captain Turnham said you wanted to see me?”
Chief Eddie Morse stood behind his desk, scowl blackening his expression. Fuck him, he’s only my boss, I tried to tell myself in an effort to keep some semblance of composure, but it wasn’t working too well.
“Detective Gillian,” he said, voice tight and clipped, “since you have shown yourself to be clearly incapable of handling this investigation, I have informed Captain Turnham that you are to be reassigned and replaced with someone who knows what the fuck they’re doing.”
I stared at him in utter shock for a heartbeat, then I struggled to recover. “Sir, you can’t do that!” I blurted out.
He glared at me. “Ten more bodies have been found since you were assigned to the case. It was a gross mistake to put you on as the lead. I don’t see any progress being made, and all I do see is you spending a great deal of time with Agent Kristoff.”
I felt hot and cold all at the same time. I drew a shaking breath, fighting the urge that screamed at me to respond with an outraged denial of the barely veiled accusations of misconduct. It was one thing to get ribbed by coworkers. This was completely different. “Agent Kristoff and I are merely assigned to the same task force,” I said, struggling for calm though I could hear the tremor in my voice. “And a great deal of progress has been made,” I continued as the chief glowered at me. “We have a strong lead on who the killer is, and now we’re working on locating him.”
The chief leaned forward, placing his fists on the desk. “I think you’re full of shit, Detective Gillian. Crawford and Pellini will replace you on the case.”
“Sir, wait. We’re really close. I know it! Give me twenty-four hours and I’ll have something to show.” Twenty-four hours? I bit back the urge to groan. What on earth had possessed me to spout that tired cliché? On the other hand, twenty-four hours was all I really needed.
Chief Morse narrowed his eyes at me, flat gaze piercing me like an eagle sighting on its prey. Then he straightened. “Fine. You have twenty-four hours”—he sneered the words—“to show me some goddamn results, or not only will you be off the case but you’ll be back in Patrol.”
I willed calm with everything I had to keep my anger and dismay in check. “Yes, sir.” I didn’t dare say anything more. I had no idea how I was supposed to explain my conviction that the murders were all for the purpose of gathering arcane power, but in twenty-four hours the Symbol Man would be starting his ritual, so it was probably a moot point anyway. I would either stop the summoning or I wouldn’t. And if I didn’t, losing my job would be the least of my worries.
Chief Morse sat down, glowering. “You’re still in way over your head.” When I didn’t respond, he waved a hand at me. “Get out. Twenty-four hours or you’re through. Remember that.”
I nodded again, then pivoted and exited as quickly as I could. I slunk back to my own office and shut the door behind me, then sat heavily in my chair and dropped my head to the desk.
“Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck,” I moaned.
Ryan cleared his throat. “I take it you were on the receiving end of an ass-chewing?”
“I think I dropped two sizes. Does my ass look smaller? It feels smaller.”
He snorted and I lifted my head, sighing. “I am apparently completely incompetent, and I am to be removed from the case. However, I successfully begged for twenty-four hours to prove that I deserve to remain a detective.”
“In twenty-four hours it’s not going to matter,” he pointed out.
“Yeah, no shit.” I opened my notebook to pull out the picture of Greg and Peter Cerise. “Here,” I said, handing the picture to him. “Here’s the killer. Go wild.”
“Great. Case solved. Go home.” He took the picture from me and examined it closely, then looked up at me and shrugged. “It could be anyone. I’ll scan it and send it to my ‘peeps,’ as you refer to them.”
“Well, there’s one piece of good news I can give you,” I said. “One of the Narcotics guys recognized his arrestee as one of our potential victims. Michelle Cleland.”
His eyes widened. “That’s fantastic. So she’s in jail?”
“Yep, and I told her not to bond out. Jail is the safest place for her.”
“No kidding. How did she feel about staying in jail?”
I gave him a mirthless smile. “Well, once I explained the possible alternative, she reluctantly agreed to it. Of course, it helps that she can’t afford the bond.”
“Good. That’s very good.” He stood up. “Well, at least we know that one of them is safe.” He rubbed the back of his neck, grimacing. “Your company is scintillating, but I need a shower. I’m going to scan and send the picture to Quantico and then go crash for a bit.”
“The full is tomorrow night.”
Ryan looked pained. “I know. I’ll tell the imaging guys to put a big rush on the age progression. We’ll find a way to stop him.”
I couldn’t even find it in me to nod. Would we? Just over a day left, and we still didn’t have much to go on. “Go shower. Get some rest.”
“You need to sleep too,” Ryan reminded me.
“I will,” I lied. “I just want to go over a few more things before I head home.”
“I’ll call you in the morning.”
“Do that.”
He turned and left the office, and I lowered my head to the desk again, groaning under my breath. It was going to happen tomorrow night. Would he succeed this time? Judging by the estimated times of death of the pile of bodies, he most certainly had made an attempt on the last full. He was probably summoning at the exact same time that I was summoning. Too bad there wasn’t some way for me to find out where he was by tracking the portal he was opening….
I lifted my head and turned my pencil end over end, musing on that. Perhaps someone who had far far greater skills in the arcane than I could do that sort of thing. It would probably be well beyond the ability of any human. Would a Demonic Lord even be able to track a portal? If they were actually being summoned, yes, of course, but by then it would be too late. But what if the portal could be—