2 years later
The first grade students of East Seattle Elementary stood up from their desks and recited the opening line of Come Leviathan, the Order of Darkness’ official children’s prayer:
“Every time an angel sings, the devil takes his wings.”
Across the city, in North Seattle Elementary, the second grade students stood up from their desks and sang the Song of Balberith, The Order of the Fly’s official children’s song:
“Balberith sits atop a throne of human bones and wears the skin of dogs and men. He is carried by demons, young and old, and every metal that he touches turns to gold.”
When both classes were finished, the teachers asked the students if they remembered to bring ear-plugs, for the field trip to the South Seattle Crucifarm.
For a moment Jahn thought the house was flying. The wind battered the wooden shutters and the rain slashed the window glass. A blue burst of lightning flashed and the white 115th street sign was outlined against the darkness. A sheet of tar paper peeled off the roof and tumbled down the flooded street, like a black swan running.
Then the South Seattle police car pulled to the curb and parked in front of a three-story apartment. The driver, Detective Waldo Jochler, 31, a skeletal alcoholic with thinning black hair, cut the engine. The blue 666 on the back of his right hand shone in the dashboard light.
“Fucking rain never stops.”
Jahn gently rubbed the bruised knuckles of her left hand across her close-cropped skull. Her fingers brushed the spider-web of bruises and scars and dried blood. The red 666 on the back of her right hand was circled by a deep black bruise.
“This the house, Waldo?” Jahn wiped the passenger side window and saw a black steel 11 nailed to the front-porch support beams.
“Yeah…maybe.”
She rolled down the window and the wind and rain sprayed inside the car. “You think maybe we should be sure?”
“It has to be.”
“How do you want to play it?”
“We play it safe. I don’t think he was the only one in the car.”
“Whatever you say, detective.”
“There may be more than one person. We have to be careful.”
“Your call.” Jahn pulled her service weapon and checked the clip.
“I’m serious, Jahn. None of your cowboy shit.”
“You seem grim and determined.” Jahn smiled and rolled up the window. She watched as the house seemed to sink under the sheet of water that streamed across the glass…
Jahn helped Waldo stay on his feet through the muddy, swirling swamp of garbage in front of #11 and up the rotten front steps to the porch. A single yellow light flickered overhead. A giant silver-eyed spider clung to its web as it twisted in the wind.
“You ready? I can go alone.”
“Yeah. Are you? Maybe you should sit this out. This is my case, Jahn.”
She smiled and suddenly kicked open the front door. The rotten wood splintered. “Boynell? You home? We need to talk, my son!”
*
The front room had a piss-stained mattress propped up against a soggy wall covered with black mold. Waldo gagged at the stench of blood and rotten meat. Jahn pulled her service weapon and dragged him inside. Rain rattled the tar paper roof.
She pulled the chain on the overhead light and the bulb was full of dead bugs. Waldo saw a gray-paper wasp nest high up in the corner of the water-stained ceiling.
He stared at it, transfixed. “I hope it was just him.”
Jahn grabbed him by the shirt and dragged him into the next room. It was swarming with blue-bottle flies and had a cracked white porcelain basin, a hot plate and an icebox dripping green water. She pointed to the basin when Waldo stumbled into the room. The basin was full of blood-soaked knives.
“Looks like he already had a little talk, Wally.”
Then a sudden bang and crawl in the back room startled them, like something heavy was trying to move. Waldo pulled his service weapon as they left the kitchen. The rain beat a steady rhythm on the roof and the rotten floorboards sagged under their feet as they moved quietly down a dark hall that smelled like bleach, urine and vomit.
“I’ve never shot anyone,” Waldo whispered.
“Put your gun away. I don’t want you to shoot me in the back.” Jahn kicked open the flimsy, rotten bedroom door and slowly lowered her service weapon. “This him, Waldo?”
Waldo vomited as he watched Boynell try to crawl to the door. His arms had been hacked off at the elbows and his lower legs were just bloody stumps. His eyes were black holes.
Waldo dropped to the floor and watched the light get sucked out of the room…
*
Boynell was laid out on his back on the front room mattress. His breathing came rapid and shallow. Jahn held up Waldo as they stood over him.
“Boynell, it’s Detective Joc, your friend. Did you run down that whore at the Pacific?”
Boynell shook his head no, spraying blood from his mouth and shivering from the pain.
“I need to hear you say it, Boynell. It was your car.”
Boynell whispered through broken teeth. His tongue was black and swollen. “I was in the car, Joc. But I never hurt her. I was asleep in the back seat.”
Jahn let go of Waldo’s arm and backed up to the south wall. Waldo suddenly felt like he was floating. The walls seemed to bend and sway.
“He’s lying.” Jahn said.
Waldo dropped to one knee on the concrete floor next to Boynell’s head. He heard a loud, high-pitched buzzing in his ears. He wanted to vomit. “Witnesses put you there, Boynell. They saw you run. Just tell me what you did.”
Boynell started giggling.
“What about the others, Boynell? Did you kill the others?”
“This is a waste of time, Waldo. He killed them all.”
Boynell whispered something that Waldo didn’t hear. He put his left hand on the soggy mattress and leaned in.
“It wasn’t me, Joc.”
Jahn tried to pull Waldo away, but he shook her off.
“Who was it? Was someone else in the car tonight? Give me a name, Boynell. Make right with the world. Give me a name!”
Jahn got hold of Waldo’s arm and dragged him across the room. They struggled as she slammed him into the wall. Flakes of asbestos and plaster rained down on them.
“Does it matter?” She screamed in his face. “He’s a dead man. It was his car. We can put it all on him.”
“This is my case. Get your hands off me.”
“We’re leaving.” Jahn drove her left forearm into Waldo’s throat.
Then Boynell called out to them from the mattress. “I asked her to stop. But she said you would be proud of her.”
Jahn suddenly released Waldo and turned to Boynell. “What the fuck did you say?” She stepped on the mattress and planted her boot on his bare chest. “What the fuck did you say?”
Boynell started laughing as Jahn dug her boot in deeper. Then Waldo slammed into her and they flew across the room, crashing into a particle-board cabinet full of empty liquor bottles and bowls full of used, blood-encrusted needles.
“What are you doing, Jahn? Let him talk!”
Jahn lashed out with her left elbow and caught Waldo in the chest. She flipped him and punched him in the throat.
She was on her knees when she turned back to Boynell. “Are you trying to put this on me?”
“She told me to put my faith in the Great Princes. She said you taught her that to live now is to kill now. She offered me to the Eurynomae. I was going to be ash and smoke…”
Waldo cut his hands on broken glass as he pushed himself into a sitting position against the north wall. “Don’t do it, Jahn.”
Jahn stood up and walked back to the mattress.
Boynell turned in her direction and smiled. He licked the blood off his lips. “I know you, Jahn Dilley. She carries your picture with her always. You are a God to her. You taught her how to kill…”
Waldo lunged at her again and tackled her around the knees, knocking her down. They fought in a puddle of rainwater and crushed cockroaches on the rotten carpet.
Boynell started to scream. “She loves you. I’ve known her ever since she was a little girl. I was friends with her father. She was so pretty. She has so much faith now.”
Jahn punched Waldo in the face and broke his grip. She scrambled back to the mattress.
“She deserves to live in the new world, Mother…”
Jahn jumped up and placed her boot across the back of Boynell’s head, driving it deep into the mattress. Waldo tried to crawl to her. His hands seemed to disappear and he hit the floor face first. His words came out in a muffled whisper. “Please, Jahn. This is against the law.”
Jahn stomped on Boynell’s head until his skull cracked…
