Desolation (13 page)

He hesitated. “If I hand you over, I get my deal.”

“You tried to make a deal before this,” she said, “but you weren’t interesting enough, were you?”

“Watch your mouth.”

“Explain it to me, Phil, or I’m not moving.”

“Goddamn you, you little bitch …! You march when I goddamn say you march!”

“Explain.”

Fury danced in his eyes. “I tried to make a deal,” he said. “So what? I tried and it didn’t work. It doesn’t work for everyone. I understood. I didn’t let it stop me. I kept going out, I killed more women – whores and sluts and filthy, filthy creatures, the lot of them – because I knew, I
knew
that if I could just prove myself worthy of his interest, all my dreams would come true. Then the night before last my bedroom was filled with this light, with this incredible
light
… I figured it was a sign. I figured he was calling me. I did the whole circle thing … and it worked, and I was in his castle.”

“And he offered you a deal if you could come in here and drag me out.”

“I jumped in my car immediately. I didn’t think I’d be the first to find you, but hey.” He shrugged, and smiled. “I guess it’s my lucky day.”

Amber frowned. “The first?”

Daggett laughed. “You didn’t think I was the only one, did you? Everyone who’s ever tried to contact him and failed, he summoned. They’re all on their way here. Serial killers of all kinds are closing in on this town as we speak.”

The guy who’d disguised himself as a state trooper. Just another psycho who’d had her in his crosshairs. Now it made sense.

“Since I’ve been here I’ve met others,” Daggett continued. “Two of them even wanted to join forces with me, can you believe that? What, they gonna start a union next? Ridiculous. You can never trust a serial killer, not even if you are one. That’s what I told them, but off they went. I’d have shot them both in the back, but there were too many witnesses – and that just proves my point even more! Serial killers cannot be trusted! Do you get it now? There’s so many of us that it’s over for you. You never stood a chance.”

“But why you?” she asked. “Why not send more like Elias Mauk? They have powers. You’re just a guy.”

“Because we’re the new breed,” said Daggett. “Mauk belongs with Shanks and Utt and that guy in Iowa – relegated to the history books. Me and my brothers and sisters, we’re the new generation of nightmares.”

“New generation of assholes, you mean.”

He raised the gun. “Move.”

“You’re not going to kill me.”

He switched his aim to her leg. “I don’t have to kill you.”

“Do you know how far we are from the edge of town? You going to carry me all that way, are you? I know I’m not one to talk, I’m carrying around some extra baggage, but you? You’re already close to dropping dead from exhaustion.”

“Shut the hell up.”

“You’re not fit, Phil. You’re not going to be able to carry me.”

“No,” said Daggett, “but I can shoot you in the leg, beat you into a coma, then go back and get my car. What do you think now, smartmouth? You gonna start walking now?”

Amber resumed walking.

“Yeah,” said Daggett. “That’s what I figured.”

He kept pace behind her.

After another hour, walking with a gun pointed at her didn’t seem like that big of a deal. She got flashes of panic when she heard him stumble, or trip over something, and the more they walked, the more he stumbled, but he didn’t fall and the gun didn’t accidentally go off.

They approached a carnival site, the rides and attractions covered with tarps and the grass growing wild and long. Sunlight glinted off a mirrored door. In the height of the summer, it probably looked a lot more impressive than it did right now.

They kept going. Her feet were hurting. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d walked this much. Her skin itched. She wanted to shift and spin and tear his head off. Instead, as 10pm passed by and the sun went down, she kept walking. In this crazy twilight, it was still more than bright enough to see.

“How far?” Daggett said eventually.

“Dunno,” she answered.

“I thought you knew where we were going.”

She glanced back. “You pointed me in this direction – you said walk.”

“You’re in front,” said Daggett. “That means you’re leading the way. Jesus Christ, we could’ve been walking in circles, you stupid bitch.”

She stopped and turned.

“Goddammit,” he said, “stop doing that. Keep walking.”

“Not unless you stop with the name-calling.”

He stared at her. “What?”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Are you … are you serious?”

“I don’t like it. From the very start you’ve been, like, totally misogynistic. You may have a problem with women, fine, whatever – but I don’t need to hear about it.”

“I’m holding a gun on you.”

“And that’s bad enough without listening to your hatred.”

“Are you shittin’ me right now?”

“I’m not shitting you, no. Are you going to quit it with the misogyny?”

He scowled. “What’s … what’s misogyny mean?”

“It’s the hatred of women.”

“And if I quit hating women, will you keep walking?”

“Yes.”

“Then okay, I’ll stop being … whatever it’s called.”

“Misogynistic,” Amber said, and started walking again.

“How do you know we’re not walking in circles?” he asked from behind.

“I don’t,” she said. “You’re the one with the map.”

“It’s a map of Vancouver.”

“I have no way of knowing where we are, Phil, all right? No idea.”

“Call me the Yukon Strangler.”

“I have no idea where we are, Yukon Strangler.”

They walked on in silence for a few moments.

“Just call me Phil,” Daggett muttered.

Night had fallen – real night, with darkness and everything – by the time they heard the motorcycles. By this stage, they were surrounded by trees that appeared as solid blacks in a darkening haze. Yellow headlights came at them in shifting strips.

“There,” said Daggett, giving her a shove. “Hurry. Go faster.”

Amber picked up the pace. Puffing now, he hurried after her, barging through a last tangle of branches and leaves. He caught up with her just as she reached the Charger.

Daggett froze. “Hey,” he said. “This is—”

Milo appeared behind him, gun pressed to the side of Daggett’s sweaty head. “Drop it.”

Daggett froze. Then, slowly, he held out his arm, and dropped the gun.

Milo pushed him up against the car, started to frisk him.

Daggett glared at Amber. “You tricked me.”

She ignored him, and spoke instead to Milo. “His name’s Phil Daggett. He wasn’t interesting enough for the Shining Demon to make a deal with, but he’ll get what he wants if he hands me over. He says he’s not the only one who’s been offered this.”

Finished with the search and finding nothing, Milo stepped back and considered their options.

“We could put him in the trunk,” Amber suggested.

“I don’t like small spaces,” Daggett said immediately.

“No point,” said Milo. “The car would kill him slow, and we wouldn’t be able to use the trunk for a week or two. Better to just kill him now, get it over with. He wouldn’t hesitate to kill you.”

“But I
did
hesitate,” said Daggett. “Please, Mr Ghost, if you let me go, you’ll never see me again.”

“Don’t call me that,” said Milo.

“Sorry,” said Daggett. “But I’m a big fan. A huge fan. I thought you were a legend, a myth, until a few days ago. When I was told you were with her, I … I have to admit, I cried with happiness. I’m just a huge,
huge
admirer of your work.”

Milo grunted, holstered his gun, and picked up Daggett’s. He examined it, inspected the silencer, shrugged and threw it in the back seat.

“Are you gonna let me go?” Daggett asked.

“No,” said Milo. “You’d just come back in, try your luck again.” He looked at Amber. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but—”

“We should kill him,” said Amber.

Milo stopped talking.

“It’s safer, isn’t it?” she asked. “We’ve got nowhere to keep him, we can’t release him … Killing him is the smart thing to do.”

“Please don’t kill me,” said Daggett.

“He’s murdered people,” she said. “He’s the Yukon Strangler. We’d be doing the world a favour. It’s his own fault, too. He came after me, so I’m not going to feel too bad about it.”

“It’s not my fault,” said Daggett. “I had a terrible home life.”

“I don’t
want
to kill him,” Amber said, “obviously I don’t. I’d prefer if we didn’t have to. But we do. It’s the only practical …”

Her voice faded as she became aware of the man standing in the shadows behind Milo.

“I knew you people would be trouble,” said Chief Novak. He had his hand on the butt of his holstered gun. “Turn slowly, Mr Sebastian,” he said. “Keep your hands in full view, if you please.”

Milo did as he was told, until the two men were looking at each other.

“I hope you’re not thinking of pulling that gun,” the Chief said. “I don’t like your chances, to be honest with you. Unless you’re some kind of quick-draw artist, I mean. Are you? You look like you might be. Me, I’m quick, but I wouldn’t call myself an artist. Always, at the back of my mind, there’s a little voice that reminds me that no matter how fast you are,” and here he drew, his gun clearing the holster faster than Amber could register it happening, “there’s always someone faster. Would you agree?”

Milo kept his hands well away from his own gun. “Always someone.”

Novak nodded. “Yes, there is. Reach across with your other hand now, if you please. Take the holster off. Throw it in the car.”

“Sure thing, Chief,” Milo said slowly, and did as Novak said.

“That’s what I want to hear,” Novak said. “‘Sure thing, Chief.’ That’s exactly what you should be saying to me. What about you, Miss Lamont? Want to accompany me to the station?”

Amber didn’t see any other choice. “Sure thing, Chief,” she said.

T
HE BAR WAS CALLED
S
ALLY’S
, and when they walked in they were greeted by two guys who could not dance.

There was no dance floor, but they had two girls up with them. The girls danced without enthusiasm, and the guys sang along to the music and jerked their bodies in search of a rhythm that remained amusingly elusive. Kelly didn’t think they minded, though. They were way too drunk.

The bar was loud, but it was a weekday, and there weren’t a whole lot of people there. Wait, was it a weekday? Kelly frowned. She really didn’t know.

“Ooh, a redhead,” said the guy propping up the near end of the bar. “I do like redheads.” He was in his early twenties, good-looking. She didn’t know how many beers he’d had, but it was probably too many. “Is it true what they say about them,” he continued, “about how fiery they are? I heard redheads are animals in the sack. Are you an animal in the sack?”

He grinned. She looked at him, chewed her lip, and said, “You wouldn’t happen to know a Ricky, would you?”

He slapped his own chest. “That’d be me.”

“Yeah, I kinda knew it would be.”

He leered. “What can I do for you, baby?”

“My friends and I were hoping to talk to you for a while,” she said, “if you’re not too busy. We’ll buy you a drink.”

“You don’t look old enough to be buying drinks, miss,” said the bartender, looking up. “I’m gonna have to card you.”

She smiled politely. “I’m not drinking, and I’m not buying, but my friend Warrick here is
way
over twenty-one.”

“And I demand a beer!” Warrick said, pounding his fist on the bar.

“Do not hit my countertop,” said the bartender.

“Then I request a beer, please,” Warrick said quietly, and stroked the bar. “Whatever Ricky here is drinking.”

“I don’t want a beer from you,” said Ricky, “I want a beer from Red, here. What you wanna talk to me about, beautiful? If you like, we could go somewhere a little more private. I would gladly sing like a bird for you.”

“Not interested in singing, Ricky. Just talking.”

Ricky shrugged, and the two dancers came over. They had somehow lost their dancing partners. The first guy was huge. “Party-Monster!” he roared.

“Oh yeah,” said Ricky, “introductions. Red, this is the Party-Monster. He likes to stir things up, go a little wild, and generally party like a madman. And that’s Dave.”

“Hello,” said Dave.

“Hi, Dave,” said Ronnie. “Hi, Party-Monster. We won’t take up much of your time, Ricky, but if you’d be willing to talk to us, that’d be great.”

Ricky peered at him. “Did it get dark in here all of a sudden?”

Dave and the Party-Monster burst out laughing.

Ronnie smiled, and nodded. “It’s because of my skin, right?”

The laughter stopped. Ricky paled. “What?”

“The joke,” said Ronnie. “It’s because I’m black, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ricky said. “I was just asking about the … the lights … they … I was just …”

“It’s okay,” said Ronnie. “It’s fine. We all have our prejudices.”

“I’m not prejud—” He frowned, tried again. “Prejudiced.”

“You can make jokes about whatever you want to,” said Ronnie. “It’s a free country, isn’t it?”