William Bernhardt - Dark Eye

“Blowflies like to lay their eggs in dead people two days after they die. Eight days later, these bugs are third instar. So she died ten days ago. Right?”

The things that emerged from that wild gallimaufry brain of his. I wondered if maybe he was just talking through his hat, trying to impress me. But I really didn’t think he possessed the slightest instinct for deceit.

“He’s right.”

I turned and found Jodie Nida, the coroner’s assistant, standing behind me. “You know the five stages of decomposition?”

“Um, gross, grosser, more grosser…”

“No. Initial decay, putrefaction, black putrefaction, butyric putrefaction, and dry decay. Each is associated with a different type of insect infestation. Your young associate was describing the putrefaction stage-that’s when blowflies like to join the party. The gas formed by bodily organisms causes the body to swell. And smell. Blowflies groove on that. Which is why the body has those larvae crawling in and out of every available orifice.”

“Except her mouth,” Darcy said, not looking up.

Jodie examined the body. Bugs all over the nose, the eyes, the ears, the cavity in the middle of her chest. But not the mouth. “You’re right, kid. Guess they didn’t like her lipstick.”

Darcy tilted his head to one side. “Which do you think would be grosser-her lipstick or that big hole in the middle of her chest?”

Jodie chuckled. “Blowflies have different tastes than you and me.”

“I had this teacher once, Miss Overton, who tried to kiss me on the forehead every day. She wore lots of lipstick. I thought it was yucky.”

We all laughed, which was pretty amazing, given the circumstances and surroundings. Here we were, standing in a field of corpses. And what does Darcy think is gross? Lipstick smooches.

And you know what? He’s right.

“Twenty-two corpses, total,” Patrick announced.

My eyes closed. “Jesus God. All young girls?”

He nodded. “Brace yourself. You’re about to be inundated with white shirts.” So he knew how respectfully we locals spoke about his brethren. “No question now but that this case is federal. And major.”

Just as well, much as I hated to admit it. It wasn’t as if we were closing in on him. “Anything new from forensics?”

“No. But they have instructions to copy us on all reports. And there will be a lot of them.” He looked at me, and his eyes seemed to soften. “I’m thinking we need to spend the night together.”

Could he possibly mean what he was saying? After what happened to me? “Are you saying-”

“Pull an all-nighter. Like we were in college. Rework the profile from top to bottom, incorporating all this new information.”

I stared at him. “That won’t take all night.”

He looked back at me. “Then we’ll have to think of something else to do.”

My cell phone rang. I opened it up, not even thinking.

“Hello, my dear. Glad you made it home all right.”

I tensed up, my back rigid. Bugs were crawling all over my skin, sending prickles of fear coursing through me. I could never mistake, never forget, that voice.

I mouthed to Patrick, “It’s him.”

“I made it, all right. No thanks to you.”

“Susan, you wound me. Did I hurt you?”

“Damn straight.” I realized this probably wasn’t the psychologically soundest technique for extracting information, but I couldn’t help myself. I hated the bastard. I hated him. I could never forgive what he did to me.

“I caused you no physical injury. And I gave them a fair clue so they could find you.”

“So what do you want? A medal?”

“You.”

My heart stopped. I almost couldn’t speak. “You-had me.”

“Not your body. Your mind. I want you to see what I see. I want you to join the enlightened. The name Pulaski is etched on the rolls of Dream-Land. You are to be the Vessel.”

“What about the other girls? The twenty-two we found in your basement. Were their names etched, too?”

“I haven’t given up on you, Susan. You’re very special to me.” He paused. “I slept with you, Susan. Did you know that?”

“I-I-” The gorge rose in my throat. I felt physically ill.

“While you were sleeping. I held you close, pressed up tight, your naked body against mine.”

“You-”

“It was meant to be, Susan. I knew that. Every time I touched you. Our destinies are intertwined.”

I screamed into the phone. “You had no right to-”

“I did what had to be done. Just as I do now. You will come to understand this, Susan. Soon. The Day of Ascension is almost upon us.”

“What’s going to happen? What are you planning?”

He sounded rapturous. “Something immense. Something spectacular.”

“Could you be a little more specific?”

“It starts tonight. The new offerings will be chosen. And it ends as the prophet would’ve wanted it.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“The end of the world, Susan. The end of this world. The start of the world to come.”

And on that note, he hung up.

“We have to put our plans on hold,” I told Patrick. “I mean, for the-the-you know.” I stuttered like a stupid schoolgirl. “We should go on patrol. Even if it’s hopeless and futile. We should try. Tell Granger to get every man he has out on the street.”

“You think Edgar is going to do something tonight.”

I felt a chill spread through my entire body. “I’m certain of it. I don’t know what. But he’s starting something. Something new, something horrible. Something worse than anything he’s done before.”

Judy and JJ and Tiffany waited until they were sure no one was watching, then tiptoed past the PARDON THE INCONVENIENCE cones and slipped behind the door.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this!” JJ squealed.

“Me neither,” Tiffany said breathlessly. “Wait till we tell the rest of the squad. They’ll die!”

The three girls clung to the shadows draping the walls, then crept through the cobwebs and pumpkins and papier-mâché ghosts.

“Do you think he’s been here?” Judy whispered.

“You know he has,” JJ replied. “I mean, how could he not? That’s where they found the first one. It’s probably why they’ve shut it down.”

“Shhhh,” Tiffany said. “We can’t stay long. Mrs. Cross will miss us. I just wanted a little souvenir. Maybe get my picture taken in the graveyard.”

They were wearing matching uniforms, V-neck sweaters and short pleated skirts, both in orange and black. They were all three teenagers, all three blond, all decked out in makeup and sports bras.

“All right,” Tiffany said, passing a palm-size metallic object to JJ. “Here’s my Advantix. Take me on the porch with the graveyard in the background. I’m going to try to look scared. Does this look scared?”

“More like you’re having an orgasm.”

Tiffany knocked her on the shoulder. “You whoredog.”

“I’m not a whoredog.”

“Are.”

Not much of the haunted house façade was left. The hotel appeared to be in the process of creating a new decorating scheme.

“Stop!” she hissed. “Did you hear something?”

They sneaked back into the shadows, stopped, listened intently. JJ wished she had thought to bring a flashlight as well as a camera. The atmospheric darkness, while useful for avoiding detection, became oppressive when she suspected someone else was in the room.

Suddenly, just at the edge of her peripheral vision, Tiffany saw a flicker of movement.

“Over there!” she hissed.

The others turned just in time to see the approach of a slight dark figure, hair wild, arms waving, running toward them. “Nevermore!” he bellowed.