Jon Merz - Vicarious

Curran sighed, wondering what was worse: being found out or being trapped down in the cellar with a potential demon worshipper.

He stepped down lower, at last feeling like he could make out some of the shapes in the basement. His feet touched the stone floor. Down here the air seemed cold and dry, just the way a cellar ought to feel.

Curran frowned. Where the hell was the light switch?

A noise to his left made him jump and almost yank his gun out until he realized it was the oil burner coming on to heat water. It stayed on and loud for a few minutes before mercifully turning off, plunging the cellar back into silence.

Curran held his hands above his head, looking for any strings dangling down from the ceiling that might be connected to a light bulb. His feet kicked something small over and there was a soft tinkle of broken glass.

Great, that was probably priceless, thought Curran.

He moved away from the staircase and tried keeping his back to the wall. There seemed to be too many cardboard boxes stacked against the wall for Curran to stay flush with it, but he tried anyway, still hoping to find a light.

After ten feet, he stopped, suddenly aware that he’d begun sweating profusely. Curran knew the effort of moving carefully and quietly was taking its toll on him.

Where was the light switch?

He paused, sucking in a deep breath of cool air, feeling some measure of strength come back to him. A thin sliver of light penetrated the darkness further to his left.

Curran guessed Darius must have been using dark cloth to shield the window. Curran would have loved pulling it all down so he could see what the hell he was doing, but that would be noticeable from outside in case Darius came home suddenly.

Not that Curran really expected Darius to show up unannounced. That’s why Kwon was sitting on him.

He moved further left. His goal was to make a complete circuit of the cellar, until he found the light switch. Barring that, he’d go back upstairs, open the door to the kitchen and maybe try to find a flashlight up there as well so he could come back and see what was what.

Given that the windows were blocked up, maybe there was something worth looking at down here.

Or at least he hoped there was.

He hit a corner, shifting suddenly again to the left and feeling his way with one hand low and one hand high looking for the light. More cardboard boxes barred his way and Curran had to mold his body to contour around them.

He kept moving.

His foot kicked what felt like a pile of stone dust, sending it flying up everywhere. Curran caught a whiff and sneezed hard and loud.

He froze.

Did he hear something?

Did someone hear him?

He waited almost five minutes before moving again. The stone dust had settled.

He reached another corner and began moving along the wall opposite the staircase. More boxes. More boxes.

Curran frowned. This guy must be living out of these things, he thought.

Another corner and Curran began to get worried. There was still no sign of a light switch anywhere. Obviously, Darius had chosen to position the stupid thing where he alone would know where to find it.

Curran reached the last corner and found himself back by the staircase. He slumped down to a sitting position, letting his hands slide down with him.

And scarcely believed it when his left hand found what felt like a switch by the foot of the stairs.

He shook his head. The switch seemed to jut out from the stair tread itself, close to the wall. No wonder he’d missed it the first time.

Curran took a breath, closed his eyes and switched it on.

Harsh light made the black of his eyelids go yellow. Curran turned to the wall and blinked a few times.

He grinned.

He could see at last.

He glanced down and saw the stairs themselves were painted black. The walls were painted black, too. In fact, everything was painted black.

No wonder his eyes hadn’t been able to make out all that much, even after adjusting to the darkness.

Curran turned and faced the middle of the room.

And froze.

Kwon hummed another bar of the Phil Collins song and then sighed. Some kind of morning. He wasn’t even trained in surveillance and here he was watching some goon who just might turn out to be a very bad demon dude.

There’d be a stack of bodies waiting for him when he finally got back to the lab. He smacked his lips and opened the bottle of water he’d bought earlier. It still tasted cool, helped by the fact that the floor of Kwon’s car was cooler than up at chest level. He switched the vents and threw some heat toward his feet.

Curran owes me big for this, he decided.

Crap, Curran already owed him huge.

Kwon smiled. Truth was, he would have done it for Steve regardless. Strange uptight straight-laced cop, but a good friend anyway. He just hoped his friend knew what he was doing. Kwon knew he was over at Darius’ pad right now, breaking and entering.

If someone found out, it would spell the end of Curran’s career, that was certain. He didn’t deserve another bad break.

He deserved some measure of happiness.

Like Lauren.

Kwon grinned. The way they looked at each other it was like two scared teenagers at their first dance. Each terrified of asking the other to head out on the floor. But they were both adults. He sighed. Who would have guessed they’d be brought together by the machinations of evil?

Strange the way the world worked some times.

God’s plans never were for mortal comprehension, he decided.

The song switched and he flipped the channel over to the news. For the tenth time since he’d arrived. Nothing had changed. He checked the clock. Almost nine. Sooner or later, he was going to need to take a leak.

But what about Darius?

Kwon glanced at the water bottle.

And frowned.

Well, he was almost through with it. He looked around. Crowds of people swarmed past his car. Sure, that’d look good. The chief medical examiner for the city of Boston gets a ticket for lewd and lascivious behavior for taking a piss into a water bottle during an unsanctioned stakeout.

So much for my career, too.

He popped a breath mint into his mouth. Something about sitting in a car always made him feel like road grunge had settled all over his body. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine how long he’d stay in the hot shower later on.

He snapped his eyes open.

Whoops. Almost fell asleep.

He’d have to be careful about that.

Well, he couldn’t be blamed. He wasn’t cut out for this stuff. Still, this was serious, he reminded himself. Keep it together.

He leaned back into the seat, pressing his spine outward until he heard the muffled pops that told him he’d cracked it nicely. He sighed and leaned forward, arching it in the other direction the way that hot yoga teacher had instructed him.

He grinned. They’d certainly created some new and exciting postures after that class.

He took another gulp of water and felt his bladder size increase.

Ugh.

Soon was coming sooner than later he thought.

Curran wasn’t quite sure what to make of the scene before him.

A huge red pentagram had been painted on the floor. He stooped and examined the red. Was it paint? It looked too red to be blood. If it had been, the dried blood would have been darker — probably almost brown.

He stood, almost refusing to enter the pentagram itself.

And standing in the center of it was the most unusual sight of all.

Some kind of huge vat.

Another sense of deja vu rolled over him. Somehow this all seemed vaguely familiar. From the dream the other night? Had he seen it beforehand?

The weird markings covering it suggested a jar of great age. Curran chewed his lower lip. So much for Darius not being involved in Satanism. He sighed. Still, whether any of this had any real effect still had yet to be seen.