To Kill a Sorcerer (37 page)

My clothes were sticky with blood. Small holes peppered my pants, shirt, and jacket. The Maserati’s leather was soaked.

“Twice in three days,” I said, low. “Even Hector is going to be surprised.”

“Sebastian?” Hamilton was peering at me. “Are you really back?”

I risked a quick look at my face in the rearview mirror. My flesh looked normal, suffering from no burns.

“Yes, I’m back.” I twisted the key in the ignition. The clock read 7:43. I couldn’t believe it. It seemed I had been on the astral plane for hours.

“Whoa!” Hamilton said as the engine came to life. “Wait a minute! You can’t drive!”

“If you want to get out, Steve, do it right now. I’m only going to wait five seconds. Four, three, two—”

“Go, dammit! Go!”

I punched it, spinning the car in a tread-burning U-turn. A right and left brought us onto the Boulevard, where I began weaving in and out of slow-moving traffic.

“Well, are you going to tell me what happened?”

“He almost completed the ritual. You can’t believe how close it was.” I hit the brakes, swerved around a car. “But Madame Leoni attacked him and disrupted the ceremony.”

“What? Our Madame Leoni?”

The way he said that brought a lump to my throat. “Yes. She saved us all. When she interrupted him, the Akashic Records and the Key of Akasha exploded right in our faces.”

“Is that when you screamed?”

“You heard me?”

“Fuckin’ A. I nearly dumped in my shorts the first time. Sounded like you were being tortured.”

“That’s how it felt.”

“Jesus. And when those holes opened up on you, a huge wind blew through the car and shook the hell out of it. That’s when I grabbed my man, here,” he said, holding up the garish doll.

I turned off Ventura onto Laurel Canyon and began the trip down the dark, winding road.

“All that blood on your clothes,” he said. “How can you keep going after that kind of blood loss?”

“It’s not real blood,” I said. “It happened while I was in the ether, so that’s where the injuries stayed.”

“I always heard you took that with you. What about Kanga?”

“Same thing.” That was another lie. Kanga, with all his power, was not immortal. His wounds were fatal, and he was going to die when he returned to his body. It was possible he was already dead. But I wouldn’t feel at ease until I saw that for myself. If he had a potion waiting . . .

“Open the glove box and hand me the gun in there,” I told Hamilton.

He gave it to me at a stoplight. I cocked it, slid it into my holster.

“Now listen,” I said, “when we get there, you’re going to have to call this in. We can’t both go into the house until we’re certain he’s no longer a threat.”

“What? Screw that, Sebastian. We go in together.”

“No, it’s too risky. What if he’s ready for us again and kills us this time? Who’s going to report where he is now and make sure he doesn’t get out of there?”

“Fine, you call it in,” he said. “I’ll handle Kanga and get Aliena.”

“No. We don’t have a warrant. Kanga could walk, you know that.”

“You’re an agent of the LAPD. You can’t go in there, either.”

“Reyes removed me from the active rolls the day after I began working for her. We set it up for situations like this.” It was the one condition upon which she had insisted before permitting me access to her homicide investigations.

He remained silent. As we approached Kanga’s drive I slowed, turned onto it, and hit the high beams as we sped through the dark tunnel of trees. In a few moments, we rushed into the open field where the big white house sat.

All I could think of was getting Aliena out of there.

Hamilton called for backup. He gave Gonzales the breakdown, told him to get a warrant, and to bring it to him personally.

“Pronto,” he said. He hung up and dialed another number as I slammed on the brakes, turned the car off, and leaped out.

“Five minutes!” he shouted.

I jumped over the porch steps and pushed into the house, heading for the atrium. A trail of blood spattered the floor. Had he already killed Aliena? I ran through the glass-topped room, the rows of trees on either side of me a blur, and flung open the doors to the dungeon-like chamber.

Aliena still rested under the mosquito net, head up, eyes open.

“Sebastian!”

I ran to her, looking for Kanga. The trail of blood led to his body, which lay slumped in the chair behind his desk. I eyed him warily. He remained unmoving.

When I reached Aliena, I kicked the jujus and artifacts away, got down on hands and knees, and smeared the chalk symbols Kanga had drawn on the floor around her. Ripping the net away, I took her head in my hands.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, I think so.”

I kissed her, tears rolling down my face. “Oh, my darling, I was so scared. Can you do your vampire stuff now?”

Her arms were still chained behind her back. She flexed her shoulders and broke out of the shackles easily.

I pulled her to me and kissed her until she pushed me away.

“Hand me my clothes, you cad,” she said. I reached over and grabbed the little pile. She took it. I ran my hand through her hair and kissed her forehead.

I stood and crossed the room to Kanga.

The Sorcerer Who Would Rule the World definitely inhabited his earthbound body. Not that it was doing him any good. He had become a human sieve, with blood oozing from hundreds of punctures. I stepped to his side of the desk, sat on the edge. He scrabbled at the wood. His bloody hand rested next to my thigh. He was attempting to pull himself forward. His mouth worked, and he was staring at something.

The only thing sitting on the desk was an inhaler. I picked it up. His eyes followed my hand as I lifted it to my lips and took a shot. My body tingled in a familiar manner.

“Ah,” I said. “A pick-me-up. Feels like it could rejuvenate anyone, no matter how bad the injuries. How nice.” I pocketed the atomizer. “You won’t be needing that.”

He collapsed back into the chair.

Aliena came up, holding Kanga’s ceremonial knife. I hunted around in his desk until I found a stick of black chalk, then knelt on the floor and drew twisted pentagrams on either side of his chair, like the ones he had carved into the wood when he slaughtered Madame Leoni. I was careful to replicate them exactly.

Kanga tried to pitch himself out of the chair. Aliena planted her boot on his chest and pushed. He fell back sluggishly, his head listing to one side.

I held out my hand, and she gave me the knife.

“You promised me the kill,” she said.

“Together?”

She gave a short nod.

I showed Kanga the knife. He stared at it dully.

“And now we begin the mystical ceremony where I send you to hell,” I said. His eyes grew wide as he realized what I was about to do. He shook his head. I raised the dagger and leaned over him.

“No,” he moaned, a bubble of blood bursting from his lips.

I ripped him open, jerking the knife down, spilling his guts into his lap. Aliena reached into his rib cage and tore out his heart. Kanga’s mouth opened in a soundless scream of mortal agony. Aliena tilted her head and squeezed the bloody organ over her mouth, catching the dripping protein on her tongue. When she had wrung out the last drops, she tossed it aside.

I peered into Kanga’s eyes, watched them glaze. Blood leaked from his mouth. His body slumped, and his head tipped.

Aliena glanced at the pentagrams. “He’s where he belongs.”

We had sent Kanga to Nowhere, a small, tight world of white nothingness. His soul would reside there for eternity. Only Aliena or I could release him.

“You realize we control his spirit now?” I asked.

“Yes. If he wasn’t dead, I would order him to kill himself.”

Friday, December 24, 8:22 p.m.

I wiped the ceremonial dagger carefully with my tattered handkerchief, pressed the fingers and palm of Kanga’s right hand to the carved grip, then dropped it on the floor next to the chair. I would have preferred to take it with me, but it was the murder weapon in four homicides.

“Let’s go, Sebastian,” Aliena said.

“One moment more.”

Taking her hand, I led her to the side of the fireplace where that odd cylindrical object stood. The circular pad on the front glowed orange. Behind the glass, shadows swirled.

“What is it?” Aliena asked.

“I think I know.”

The control panel was a combination lock with a keypad of ten numbers. Figuring out the code would be time-consuming.

“Come on.” After we moved back a few steps, I pulled the Walther, sighted at the pad, and fired twice. The panel shattered. The sound of escaping gas filled the room. The thick silver band around the top slid down.

Three entities swirled out of the opening. They cruised along the ceiling, stopped, and hovered above us. They began to descend.

“Sebastian . . .” Aliena said.

I pulled her close. “It’s okay.”

The three spirits entered our bodies. As I suspected, they were the murdered girls, Sherri, Jessica, and Amanda. When they “spoke” to me, one message rose joyfully above the rest.

Thank you.

The freed souls slowly departed, sliding out and floating away. All of them were going home and had loved ones waiting for them.

Aliena hugged me. “Oh, Sebastian, they were so happy. Thank God you knew. If we had left them there . . . that would have been awful.”

Pounding footsteps approached. Hamilton came running in, gun drawn.

“What the hell?” he shouted. “Who’s firing?”

“It’s okay, Steve, it was me.” I gestured at the cylinder. “Kanga was keeping the girls’ souls in that. I had to shoot the lock off to release them.”

He put his gun away and rubbed his face. “I guess that’s okay.” He looked at Kanga’s inert, bloody form. “Jesus. Dead?”

“Yes.”

“How are you feeling?” he asked Aliena.

“I’m fine now,” she said, holding on to my arm.

“You’ll need to be checked out medically and—”

“No!” Aliena said.

“You’re a kidnap victim, and a witness to the death of the Voodoo Killer. I can’t just let you go, Aliena, you know that.”

“You don’t have to,” I told him. “I’m taking her. Now, before anyone else gets here.” Aliena and I hustled across the room and out the doors.

Hamilton chased us, shouting.

“You can’t just leave the scene! Sebastian! Hey, listen to me! You guys can’t just walk out of here!”

Aliena and I were already outside and sprinting to the car, she maintaining a normal human speed. Sirens wailed in the distance. Ten meters from the Maserati, I chirped the doors open, and Aliena jumped in. I opened my door. Hamilton stopped on the passenger side of the car, glaring at Aliena through the window. I leaned on the top.

“No one would believe our version of what happened tonight, you know that,” I told him. “In a couple of weeks,
you
may not even believe it happened.”

“I doubt that.” He put his hands on his hips. “What the hell am I supposed to do then?”

“Tell them what they want to hear. And look on the bright side. You’re a hero. A case like this comes two or three times a century.” I shook my keys at him. “We’ll watch you on TV tonight.”

I jumped in and sped out of there.

I turned onto Latigo Canyon less than an hour later. The dark night had grown December cold, with a slow but sharp wind. Once Aliena and I were inside, I went to the fireplace and built up the logs. A long match got the pile burning in several places before I put the grate back in place.

“There we go.”

Aliena stood in the middle of the living room. Her arms were wound tightly across her chest, hands gripping her elbows. She shook uncontrollably. I went to her.

“Oh, God,” she said. “Oh, God, Sebastian, he had me. He could do anything he wanted. I’ve never been so scared in my life, oh, God!” She pulled me close, shivers wracking her body.

“It’s okay.” I stroked her beautiful golden hair. “He’s gone. Forever. We saw to that ourselves.”

She sobbed quietly. I held her for a long time while the logs sizzled and popped.

11:59 p.m.

We reclined on the couch, both of us smelling of soap and shampoo. Aliena leaned against me, her head on my shoulder.

I pointed the remote at the big screen and switched to Eyewitness News. The top feature was the death of the Voodoo Killer.

“In a breaking story this Christmas Eve, police have found the man known as the Voodoo Killer dead in his home. We go to the scene now, and Virginia Sanchez.”

The camera cut to an exterior shot of the white Spanish colonial. Aliena scrunched against me, trembling. Sanchez stood in a sea of police cars and official city vehicles.

“Thank you, Connie,” she said. “Amid the chaos of the crime scene surrounding the death of the most notorious murderer in decades, some facts have emerged already.”

The video cut to the ME’s technicians rolling out a gurney.

“The man’s name was Karnall Kanga, a scientist working for a small pharmaceutical company. Tonight, he alerted detectives to his whereabouts, saying he wanted to give himself up. Before police could arrive, he took his own life.”

The video cut to her standing with Hamilton.

“Detective Hamilton, you have been the lead on this investigation since the beginning. Who did the Voodoo Killer call tonight?”

“Me,” Hamilton said.

“Can you tell us what he said to you?”

“Mr. Kanga indicated that he wished to surrender to us and provided me with this address.”

“And when you got here . . .”

“There was nothing we could do. We attempted resuscitation, but he was gone.”

“How did he kill himself?” Sanchez asked.

“I’m sorry, I am not at liberty to say,” Hamilton replied.

The reporter turned to the camera, which zoomed in on her.

“Detective Hamilton and the men and women of the LAPD have given all of us Angelenos a reason to celebrate this holiday season. In West Hollywood, I’m Virginia Sanchez, Eyewitness News.”

I turned the set off, stood, held my hand out to Aliena. “Come. Let’s sit on the patio.” She unwound off the couch. I plugged in the lights on the Christmas tree, plucked a long, thin box out from under the branches, and slid it in my pocket.