Demonic, page 8
“Well, I wasn’t. I did the job that we came here to do, and I did it very well, thank you very much.”
“Put down the axe.”
“Okay.” I set the axe on the floor.
“Vic, I’m going to need you to work with us,” said Quinn. “Corey has a close friend who works at a crematorium. If you don’t cooperate, we’re going to burn you to ashes.”
“Corey’s a liar,” said Vic.
“Let me say this again so it sinks in. If you don’t cooperate, we’re going to burn you to ashes. You may be hard to kill, but even you can’t survive a crematorium oven.”
“Those things go up to a thousand degrees,” I said. This was inaccurate. They actually go up to 1800 degrees Fahrenheit. It didn’t matter.
“Throw me in the oven, then,” said Vic. “I don’t want to live like this.”
“Really?” asked Quinn. “You want to burn to death? You want to feel every molecule in your body catching fire?”
“I’ll get over it,” said Vic.
“Fine,” I said. “I was lying about having a friend who works at a crematorium. I don’t know anybody who’d just let me burn a living torso. Do you know what that means?”
Vic didn’t answer.
“It means that we’ll have to bury you. How does that sound, Vic? Being buried alive? How long will you last? Forever? Will you be in the cold, dark ground forever, in excruciating pain, unable to breathe, unable to even move? That sounds pretty damn awful to me. That’s your future. Or, you can work with us, and we’ll make your life as pleasant as possible, all things considered.”
“Lean down,” Vic told me.
“Why?”
“I want to tell you something.”
“No.”
“I want to whisper something in your ear.”
“Hard pass.”
“C’mon. You’ll like it.”
“Are you sure I can’t chop his head off?” I asked Quinn.
“No. But you can stack his arms and legs and hand against the wall. We’ve got a lot to clean up.”
She was right. Vic had mostly stopped bleeding, so the mess wasn’t getting worse, but we were really going to put a shop-vac through its paces.
“Don’t you want to know what I was going to say?” Vic asked.
“Were you going to tell me to go fuck myself?”
“Yes.”
There was a knock at the door.
Quinn and I looked at each other.
The knocking grew in intensity. “Hello?” somebody called out from outside.
“You get it,” I said. “You’ve got less blood on you.”
Quinn walked over to the front door. “Who is it?” she asked.
“My name’s Herschell.”
Chapter Ten
“I don’t know anybody named Herschell,” said Quinn.
“Can you just open the door and talk to me for a minute?” asked the man. “It’s really important.”
“I’m dealing with an emergency right now.”
“I really don’t want to have to say this through a closed door. Just give me ten seconds of your time.”
“No.”
“Your husband was sleeping with my wife.”
“I know that,” said Quinn. “That’s the emergency I’m dealing with. I need you to go away. My husband and I have a lot to work out.”
“I’m worried about Darla. She was only supposed to be gone for an hour, and she’s not answering my calls.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“I’m not here to cause any problems, I swear to God. I’m not going to do anything. I just need to talk to him and find out if he knows where she might have gone.”
“I’m really sorry your wife is missing,” said Quinn, who, to her credit, did sound genuinely sorry. “But we can’t help you, and I’d like you to leave.”
“She had a ‘Find My Phone’ feature installed on her laptop. I know that her phone is in your house.”
Quinn squeezed her eyes shut and lowered her head, like this was one more complication she absolutely did not need. I glanced down at Vic, thinking he might be amused, but he still looked like he was feeling horror and misery.
“Yes,” said Quinn. “She forgot her phone here. Things were crazy. Wait there while I get it.”
She walked over to Vic. “Where’s her phone?” she whispered.
Vic didn’t have arms, but he had shoulders and was able to shrug.
“Tell me, or I’ll have Corey bash your teeth out.”
“I guess it’s in her pocket.”
“Why didn’t you smash it? This isn’t the first time you’ve made somebody disappear! What the hell is the matter with you, Vic?”
“Extenuating circumstances.”
“Where’s her body?”
Vic shrugged again.
“Corey, use the tip of the axe to shatter his front teeth.”
I picked up the axe. If she wasn’t bluffing, I was ready and willing to execute her command.
“She’s in the trunk of my car,” said Vic.
“Shit,” said Quinn.
“Maybe just ask him to close his eyes while you dig around in there. There are six garbage bags. I’m not sure which one her back pocket is in. Just shove your hands in the muck until you find it.”
“You’re an idiot,” said Quinn. “I don’t know how you’ve gone all this time without getting caught.”
“I didn’t have my wife betraying me.”
Herschell knocked at the door again. “Hello?”
“Do you want me to call out to him?” asked Vic. “Shout for help?”
“Try it and see how well that works out for you,” said Quinn. She walked over to the door. “I can’t find it. It’s in here somewhere, but I don’t know where, and we honestly don’t have time to look for a phone. I’ll use it to call you when we find it.”
“Are you being serious right now?”
“We’re going through a lot of shit.”
“Listen to me,” said Herschell. “I’m not just going to drive away knowing that my wife didn’t come home, and her phone is in your house. You can let me in, or I can wait here until the police show up. Your choice.”
Quinn looked over at me. “Take out your gun.”
I pulled the Ruger out of the waistband of my jeans.
“Don’t shoot him unless you absolutely have to,” she said.
I nodded. I’d been on an adrenaline high, yet Vic objectively deserved the punishment he received—far worse, actually. I hoped he suffered a lot more before we finally disposed of his body. But Herschell didn’t deserve to have anything bad happen to him. He was worried about his wife. He was hurting. And we had no choice but to let him through the front door into a nightmare.
I wasn’t going to shoot him. I was going to do everything I could to try to resolve this matter without things turning to complete shit.
Quinn beckoned for me to get closer to the door.
She placed her hand on the doorknob.
Then, changing her mind, she let go of it and hurried over to Vic. “You damn well better play dead,” she told him. “One twitch and we’ll spend the next few hours taking you apart with fingernail clippers. Do you understand?”
“Sure.”
I couldn’t decide if fingernail clippers were a sinister enough threat or not. It would hurt, obviously, and the basic concept was that it would take a really long time. But, I don’t know, it’s not the threat I would’ve personally gone with. Though I didn’t contradict her in front of her dismembered husband.
Quinn returned to the door. “I’m letting you in,” she said.
“Thank you,” said Herschell. “I know I came at a bad time, but I’m really worried about her.”
She turned to me and made her hand look like a gun, indicating that I should have the gun ready to point at poor Herschell as soon as she opened the door. I came up behind her.
She opened the door just a bit.
I pointed the gun over Quinn’s shoulder at the man standing outside.
Herschell looked like a nice enough guy. Darla was a little out of his league, sure, but he had the bland good looks of the dude in a romantic comedy who’s engaged to the heroine at the beginning and sheepishly takes the ring back at the end, because he knows she’d be better off with the more exciting hero. There was genuine worry on his face when the door swung open, though that was replaced with shock as he saw the gun.
“Don’t scream,” Quinn told him. “Don’t make a sound. Close your eyes.”
“I—I—I didn’t—”
“I told you not to make a sound, and I told you to close your eyes. Don’t make him shoot you.”
Herschell closed his eyes.
Quinn opened the door all the way, grabbed Herschell’s hand, and quickly pulled him inside. She closed the door behind him.
“Don’t you dare open your eyes until I tell you,” she said. “Not a peek, do you understand? Nod your head if you understand.”
Herschell nodded.
“We’re not going to hurt you,” I assured him. “As long as you do exactly what we say, I promise nothing is going to happen.” Was I lying? I hoped I wasn’t lying.
“Please don’t kill me,” he said.
“I just told you we’re not going to hurt you,” I said. “We’re going to ask a small favor of you. That favor is to stay calm. Don’t scream. Just stay calm. Can you do that for me?”
Herschell nodded.
“When you open your eyes, you’re going to want to scream. But we need you not to scream. We need you to do everything you can not to—”
“We’re not going to have him open his eyes out here,” said Quinn, in a tone of voice that implied that I was the single dumbest human being currently walking the earth. She took Herschell by the arm. “Come with me,” she said. “Try not to slip.”
She led Herschell, who was quietly weeping, down the hallway and into a room. Was I supposed to follow? I wasn’t sure. I decided to follow.
Okay, yes, to give all due credit to Quinn, it was much smarter to take Herschell into another room instead of having him open his eyes in the gore-drenched hallway. I never claimed to be a mastermind about these things. My plan to assassinate Vic—which I maintain would’ve gone fine if he hadn’t been immortal—was the work of careful planning. I wasn’t good at the spur-of-the-moment stuff.
I walked into the bedroom, which was a lot...pinker than I would’ve expected Vic to tolerate. The feminine touch was all over this room. Quinn sat Herschell down on the bed.
“You can open your eyes,” Quinn told him.
Herschell kept his eyes closed, as if when he opened them he’d be greeted by the sight of some unimaginable horror.
“Open them,” Quinn said.
Herschell very slowly opened his eyes. He let out a sigh of relief at the realization that he was in a very normal, but very pink, bedroom.
“I won’t say anything,” he insisted. “I don’t know anything.”
Quinn shook her head. “Don’t. Don’t do that. We both know that you’ll say something.”
“No, I won’t.”
“Of course you will. I would.”
“What happened to Darla?”
“I don’t know,” said Quinn. “I caught them in the act, and she ran off. I was nice enough to let her put her clothes back on instead of making her run outside butt-naked, but I guess she left her phone behind. And I’ll be completely honest with you: I don’t particularly care where that whore went. You get it, right?”
“Yes,” said Herschell.
“As you might expect, things between my husband and I got very tense. And that’s what you interrupted. If you’d left when I very politely asked you to, you wouldn’t be sitting here now, but you refused to leave, so now you’re a problem that we have to deal with.”
“Please don’t kill me.”
“You already asked. We’re going to try to avoid that.”
“I don’t care about you. I don’t care about what you might have done to your husband. I knew Darla was cheating on me. I’ve known it for a long time. This would’ve been the first place I looked even if I didn’t know that her phone was here. But that doesn’t mean I don’t still love her. It doesn’t mean I’m not worried sick. All I want is to go find her and bring her back home. None of what’s happening here matters to me.”
“You sound like you believe that,” said Quinn.
“I do.”
“What if I said that I got so mad that I smashed a lamp over Vic’s head?”
“He deserved it.”
“What if I said that he’s bleeding in the hallway right now, and I don’t feel like calling an ambulance?”
“How bad is he hurt?”
“Bad. He needs stitches. He’s losing a lot of blood. But I don’t give a shit.”
“Is he going to die?”
“I don’t think so.”
“I’m a doctor,” said Herschell. “I could take a look at him.”
“You’re a doctor?” I asked. Quinn glared at me.
“Yeah. A pediatrician, so it’s not like I’m stitching up head wounds all day, but I could tell you how serious it is. No judgment. You do whatever you want with the information. But I’d let you know if he needs to go to the emergency room or if he’ll...you know...”
“I know...?”
“Die.”
“He’s not going to die. I didn’t hit him that hard.”
“You said you broke a lamp over his head,” said Herschell. “It could be bad. Or it might not. I’m just saying that I could ease your mind, and say, ‘Yes, he’s going to be okay.’ I’m sure you want to teach him a lesson, but you don’t want to kill him.”
“I appreciate the offer,” said Quinn. “We’ve got things under control.”
Herschell gave her a nervous smile. “Good,” he said. “That’s good.”
“Why are you so worried about her anyway?” Quinn asked. “How long has she been gone?”
“Not very long. She works from home doing customer service. Every Monday morning your husband picks her up and drops her off about an hour later. A neighbor saw it the first time. They were all over each other. After that, I set up a camera. It’s been going on for months. I just...I just let it happen.”
“It would’ve been nice if you’d done something,” said Quinn. “I had no idea.”
“She was happier. I don’t know what to say. But she always came home around the same time, so when she didn’t, I texted her. Then I called. Then I came over here.”
“And then we shoved a gun in your face.”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll be honest with you. I don’t know how we can fix this. As soon as you’re safe, you’ll call 911.”
“I won’t. All I care about is Darla.”
“The police will want to know where you think she is. They’ll trace her phone. And then they’ll show up here.”
“Then let’s sort things out with your husband. Get him bandaged up. Get everybody’s story straight.”
Quinn just stared at Herschell for a moment. I was glad that I had the gun, because I felt like she might have gone ahead and shot him in the face.
“Can I talk to you in private?” I asked her.
“Sure.”
I pointed the gun at Herschell. “Stay here. Don’t leave this room. If I so much as see you try to peek out, I’ll shoot you. Got it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And hand over your cell phone.”
Herschell gave it to me without protest.
Quinn and I stepped out of the bedroom. I didn’t close the door, because I didn’t want Herschell to think that he had enough privacy to grab a makeshift weapon or set a trap. I kept a close eye on the doorway as we walked over to Vic.
“We have to kill him,” said Quinn.
“No, we don’t.”
“Do you trust him? You think he’ll really just waltz out of here and not tell anybody?”
“No, but that doesn’t mean we have to kill him. We can, I don’t know, take him hostage or something.”
“I don’t want to deal with a hostage.”
“I don’t either,” I said. “We still shouldn’t jump right to committing cold-blooded murder.”
“This wouldn’t be cold-blooded murder. We’re trying to protect ourselves.”
“It still counts as cold-blooded.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Quinn insisted. “It doesn’t fit the definition.”
I almost started to look up the definition of cold-blooded murder on Herschell’s cell phone, but sanity prevailed. “It doesn’t matter. All I’m saying is that we can’t decide we’re going to murder him before we’ve brainstormed other options.”
“And what I’m saying is that we don’t have time to just stand here and discuss it.”
“You should definitely kill him,” Vic said.
I told Vic to shut the fuck up.
“We’re rushing too quickly to the idea that we have no choice,” I said to Quinn. “Maybe you’re desensitized because of all the murders you’ve been part of, but I’d like to figure out a better way to handle this.”
“That’s not fair,” said Quinn.
“You told him about us?” asked Vic.
“It is fair,” I told Quinn, ignoring Vic. “Ten women were slaughtered, and you were there. I know that you were forced to do it, but when you’re taking bites out of corpses, you’re probably more inclined to think that murder is the way to solve a problem.”
“You’re an asshole.”
“No. I’m the one trying to keep Herschell alive. The person who is pushing for his death is the asshole.”
“You’re lucky you have the gun,” Quinn told me.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.”
“Was that a threat?”
“I said, it didn’t mean anything.”
It was looking less and less likely that Quinn and I would emerge from this as boyfriend and girlfriend. I decided to ignore her threat for now.
“This is a democracy,” I said. “We’ll make sure we both agree on a plan of action. I’m not refusing to kill him. I’m just refusing to commit to that before we’re sure there’s no other way.”
“All right.”
“You don’t sound convinced.”
