Jon Merz - Vicarious

“You.”

“Me.”

Lauren nodded. “You can stop him.”

“I take it you’re not talking about putting him in jail.”

“No.”

“I didn’t know the Church sanctioned killing.”

“It doesn’t. And I don’t.”

“But you’ll make an exception in this case.”

“Considering how many innocent lives will be lost if the resurrection comes to pass, yes. I think anyone would be able to justify killing Darius.”

“Sure, They might. Only problem is that convincing people that Satan is really coming back might prove a little difficult.”

“Well, we can either not worry about it and deal with him, or we can let Darius continue with his scheme and people will see soon enough what kind of hell can be unleashed here on earth.”

Curran smirked. “You make a convincing argument.”

“I wish I didn’t have to.”

“Makes two of us,” said Curran.

“You’re worried though.”

“Damn straight. It’s my gun going bang at Darius, not yours. And even if that theory about me not really liking the FBI holds true, the same can’t be said about the Boston Police Department. I do like working there.”

“I understand.”

“I don’t think you do, Lauren. Believe me, I want Darius put away as bad as you do, but there are things that have got to be played down correctly, not by going off on some badly played out shoot ‘em up.”

“And if it comes down to putting a bullet into him?”

“I’ll shoot him if I have to, “said Curran. “Although I’m not sure how much good it’ll do. After all, he’s one of the Devil’s servants. Some sort of demon, right? You said he could only be hurt while in human form.”

“According to what we read in Westerly’s book, he can be.”

“What happens if we run into him as a demon?” An image he thought he’d seen before floated through his mind. Another fragment of the bad dream from the other night. He pushed it away.

“I’d rather not think about that right now.” She smiled. “So, we’ll destroy the vat?”

“Yeah,” said Curran. “I’m not crazy about pouring that gunk down the drain but I can’t think of anything else to do with it. Can you?”

“No.”

“Then it seems settled. We bust the vat up, smash the pottery or whatever it is, maybe grind up the pieces so it can’t be repaired, and then dump the goo.”

“How big was the vat?”

“Big. About five feet tall.”

“And wide?”

“Maybe two, three feet.”

“It will be heavy,” said Lauren.

“Yeah.”

“Will we be able to move it?”

Curran frowned. “I hadn’t thought of that. We’ll have to do it somehow. We can’t very well leave all that crap down in his cellar. He could still do the ceremony or whatever to bring back Satan.”

“Would it be too weird to suggest a wet/dry vacuum cleaner?”

“Weird? Yes. You might have something there, though. Depends on how much gunk is in the vat itself and how much the vacuum can hold.”

“We’ll have to find out.”

“You really think they’re the souls of all the evil people Darius has killed over the years in that vat?”

Lauren nodded. “Very likely.”

“And you’ve got no ideas how to stop this guy if he turns into a demon?”

Lauren frowned. “I’m still researching it.”

“Don’t take too long,” said Curran. “We’ll have to stop him. And soon.”

Curran contacted Kwon shortly after four that afternoon. At about the same time as the sun started tracking west toward the horizon. The forecast called for more rain tonight.

Kwon’s assistant answered on the third ring and told Curran he was doing an autopsy. Curran frowned. “Tell him it’s important.”

The assistant sighed. “There’s a corpse on the gurney, sir. Is this really important?”

“Just get him.”

Kwon came on the line a minute later, breathing heavily. “You’re making my people upset, you know that?”

“Tired of wading through the dead yet?”

“It’s my damned job. Why?”

“No reason. Just wondering if you were busy tonight.”

“Why, your hand turn you down for a date again?”

Always the card, Kwon was. Curran smiled anyway. “I need your help. Again.”

“My help.” There was a pause on the phone. “I thought I made it clear I wasn’t really cut out for that kind of thing.”

“You’re the only one who can help me, pal.”

“Can’t you take this to headquarters?”

Curran laughed. “You’re kidding, right? I can’t waltz into HQ and tell everyone I need help subduing a demon who’s trying to resurrect Satan.”

“Suppose not.”

“I’d be whisked away in a little white ambulance, locked up in a padded cell. It’s up to us now. You know it.”

Kwon sighed. “Yeah.”

“You in, then?”

“I’m in.”

“I’ll swing by in an hour.”

“Meet you downstairs.”

Curran ended the call and looked over at the passenger’s seat. Lauren sat staring out the window. “Kwon says hi.”

“Is he coming?”

“Reluctantly. But yeah.” Curran frowned. “Wish it wasn’t necessary to have him along.”

“You don’t trust him?”

“Trust’s got nothing to do with it. He’s a friend of mine. I don’t want the bastard getting hurt is all.”

“You think he might get hurt?”

Curran considered it. Given what Darius appeared to be, the danger seemed evident. “I don’t think Darius is going to be an easy mark to put down, let’s put it that way.”

“Then having Kwon along will probably help make it easier to tackle Darius, no?”

Curran shook his head. “Tell me something: does every single one of your ideas always make so much damned sense?”

“Not at all. I’m on a lucky streak is all,” said Lauren with a smile.

Curran nodded. “We’ve got an hour. You want something to eat?”

“What are our choices?”

“Fast food and less fast food.”

“You know anywhere we can sit down around here?”

“Not really. Burger King’s up the street. Wendy’s a block further on from there. Got some good cheeseburgers.”

Lauren frowned. “I’ll go there this once on one condition.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“You take me out to a real dinner when this is all through.”

Curran smiled at her. “I’d love to take you out to a real dinner. I was afraid I only got one shot at that and I’d already blown it.”

Lauren shook her head. “You didn’t blow it, Steve. Maybe you just wanted things a little too soon.”

Curran smiled and drove the car further down Beacon Street. “Wendy’s or Burger King?”

They met Kwon an hour later down near the entrance to Government Center. His bluish greenish scrubs and white lab coat had vanished. He stood almost blending into the cement pillars holding up the courthouse wearing a gray windbreaker, a dark open-necked shirt and dark jeans with black sneakers.

He strolled down the steps toward them when he recognized the wave from Lauren. Curran watched him with a smile. Kwon knew how to move quickly without attracting attention.

Interesting.

He slid into the backseat and smiled at Lauren. “Good evening, Ms. Fields.”

“Kwon, please call me Lauren, okay.”

“Okay.” He turned to Curran. “What’s shakin’ muchacho?”

“We’re going to strike a blow for good, how does that sound to you?”

“I love a good blow,” said Kwon. He caught himself and slapped his forehead. “Oh, jeez, Lauren I’m sorry. I got a mouth like a sewer rat. Sometimes things just slip out.”

She laughed. “It’s okay, Kwon. I’m used to it. Besides, your joke was pretty funny.”