Crucifax (11 page)

Bainbridge had not understood him at the time, but he did now.

The shower stopped in the bathroom. There was rustling behind the door, then the knob turned. As the door opened the bathroom light went out, and she stepped toward the bed, her body clean and naked, beads of moisture clinging to her round breasts and sparkling in the moonlight. When she reached beneath the covers and touched him, he grew dizzy and began praying silently again, asking for forgiveness over and over as he spoke her name.

"Nikki… oh, Nikki…"

Twelve

So far, the evening had been very unsettling for Mallory.

First of all, something was wrong with Kevin. He'd been silent since he had picked her up; silent and brooding. He was being very secretive about this meeting place, too, and she didn't like that. At Phil's apartment, he didn't tell anyone where they were going, only that they were to follow him.

Before leaving the apartment, she'd quietly asked him what was wrong. He replied only with a silent, vague shake of his head, and she knew not to ask again.

When Kevin drove his bike behind the darkened, empty building on Ventura, Mallory began to regret coming. Surely no one legitimate would agree to meet at such a place.

As he got out of his Toyota Trevor sneered, "Wow, we've really hit the big time now, huh, guys?"

The others laughed at his sarcasm but stopped when they saw the angry glare on Kevin's face.

"Shut the fuck up or leave," Kevin said. "And if you leave, you're out of the band."

The heels of Kevin's boots clicked on the pavement as he walked to the back of the building.

"You're early," someone said as the rear entrance rattled open. When the door was fully open, Mallory saw him.

He was silhouetted against the glow of candlelight, which hid his face, but she was certain his eyes were looking into hers.

He stepped outside and let the door swing half-closed behind him as she and Kevin and the others approached.

"I like people who are early," he said. "It shows ambition."

"I brought the tape," Kevin said, reaching into his coat pocket.

"We'll get to that," the man said. "Come inside."

Mallory tensed and took a step back. Something was wrong; she could feel it like a gust of cold Arctic wind that cut to the marrow. She took Kevin's hand and squeezed it tightly. The conversation around her seemed garbled, as if her ears were stuffed with cotton. She started to tell Kevin she didn't want to stay and she
especially
didn't want to go into that building because she had a prickly feeling at the back of her neck, like when she was a little girl and her father took her to Disneyland, where she chickened out seconds before entering the Haunted Mansion because she knew it was going to be scary inside, scary as hell, and she didn't want to be that scared, but then Kevin snapped, "Shut up!" and she closed her mouth.

A siren howled mournfully in the distance.

"No reason to shout, Kevin," the man said calmly. He stepped forward into the hazy glow cast by a street light and smiled at them. It was a warm and welcoming smile, and Mallory felt some of the tension in her neck melt away. She almost smiled back.

Almost. Not quite.

"You must be Mallory," he said pleasantly, taking her hand.

She smiled; the gracious gesture was so unexpected, she almost laughed.

"I'm Mace. And there's no reason for you to be nervous."

Kevin introduced Trevor, Mark, Perry, and Steve, and Mace greeted each of them warmly.

"Let's go inside," he said, holding the door open as they filed in.

Though more relaxed than a moment before, Mallory was still hesitant. When she paused at the door, Kevin took her arm and pulled her inside.

It was stuffy and dark in the building; candlelight flickered through a couple of the doorways that lined the corridor ahead, and shadows danced like dark ghosts all around them.

"Did you buy this place?" Mark asked.

Mace replied, "I own it," as he closed the door behind them and locked it. He stepped into one of the rooms for a moment, then returned holding a candle. Above the flame, the features of his narrow face seemed to writhe over his skull as if small, restless insects were crawling beneath his pale skin. Mallory's fear returned in an instant, pulling her with an almost tangible force back to the door, but Kevin held her arm until Mace spoke again, and her unease left as quickly as it had returned.

"Let's go downstairs," he said happily. He led them down the corridor and around a corner, the light of his candle squirming through the darkness, to a staircase that seemed to spiral down to nowhere.

Their feet clattered on the metal stairs as they followed Mace to the room below.

Jeff hated himself as he parked his mother's car on Whitley and killed the engine. When he rolled down the window, he heard laughter echoing from the hidden parking lot behind the abandoned building.

After school that day, Mallory had met Jeff at the car. She said that she wasn't meeting Kevin after all and needed a ride home. In the car, she told Jeff that Kevin had met someone who wanted to give the band exposure, and that she was going to go with him to see the guy that night. Her mood had changed drastically since that morning; she couldn't sit still in the seat as she excitedly talked about what that night's meeting could mean for Kevin's band.

"They might get some club work," she said, "so you could come see them play. You'll love Kevin's music, Jeff, really," she added quickly, touching his arm and bouncing slightly in the seat. "He's incredible on the guitar, and he's never had a lesson! He loves music—I mean, he's
passionate
about it, you know—it means more to him than anything, and this might—God, I hope so—give him the chance to, like, prove it, you know? Prove that there really is something he works hard at and does well."

Her excitement and enthusiasm nibbled at his insides with sharp teeth. Somewhere deep inside himself, Jeff recognized the feeling as jealousy but wouldn't admit it to himself. He never did.

"Where are you meeting this guy?" he asked.

"I don't know. Kevin's picking me up at six. The guy told him to bring his girlfriend," she added with an almost bashful smile.

It didn't occur to Jeff to follow them until a half hour before Kevin was to arrive. Something about this meeting—

The guy told him to bring his girlfriend.

—didn't sound quite right to Jeff. He left the apartment at five-forty and waited in the car until Kevin picked Mallory up, then followed them at a distance, silently chastising himself as he drove.

They'd gone to an apartment just off Chandler first. Jeff parked across the street and several yards down the block. The building was run-down and not very well lighted, and it definitely did not look like a building in which a mover and shaker in the music business would live. Less than ten minutes later, Jeff was ready to go back home and try to forget he'd been so petty as to follow Mallory like some cheap private detective when he'd spotted them leaving. Kevin and Mallory were followed by four guys in a beat-up old Toyota Corolla.

Jeff had started the car, still halfheartedly intending to drive home and study.

But he couldn't.

When they drove into the darkened rear parking lot of the old burnt-out health club, Jeff turned onto Whitley and parked at the curb, almost, but not quite, glad he'd come.

The lot was surrounded by a fence of tall, thick shrubbery, preventing a view of the lot from the street. The only entrance was in the front on Ventura.

The parking lot was a favorite spot to park, drink, smoke some grass, and make out. Jeff wondered if Mallory had lied to him or if Kevin had lied to her. It seemed pretty obvious that there would be no meeting here about getting club work for Kevin's band.

Whatever they're going to do,
he warned himself,
you don't want to see it, do you?

He remembered his dream. All those groping hands and bobbing heads…

Do you
…
?

Jeff got out of the car, quietly closed the door, and headed for the parking lot entrance….

It was difficult to tell how large the room was because of the poor lighting and blackened walls, but it seemed vast. At the foot of the stairs, Mallory looked around, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the shifting glow that came from kerosene lanterns positioned about the room.

"This is the pool room," Mace said. The room's acoustics gave his voice a hollow, empty sound. Pointing with a long index finger, he said, "The pool is over there, and beyond that wall, or what's left of it, is the racquetball court."

Dripping water plinked monotonously.

The still air was cool and damp.

Mace's feet crunched over the littered floor as he led them deeper into the room, saying, "I've got some cushions over here. Let's get comfortable."

As she walked with the others, taking cautious steps, Mallory heard a thick, moist squeak in the darkness and spun around.

Lanterns glowed and shadows oozed over the walls, but she saw nothing more.

Mace led them along the edge of the rectangular swimming pool. Mallory looked into it but couldn't see the bottom; it seemed to drop into a cold darkness so black it might have been tangible. After a moment, she turned away; it frightened her.

"Here," Mace said, putting the candle on a crate beside one of the lanterns. Several fat pillows and cushions were set up in a half circle facing the light. Mace settled on one of the cushions with his back to the crate.

Mallory, Kevin, and the others stood by the cushions uncertainly.

"Go ahead," Mace said genially with a short gesture of his hand, "make yourselves comfortable."

They shuffled around one another until each had found a seat.

Mace held a small pipe to his lips, lit a butane lighter, and held the flame over the bowl. Mallory hadn't seen him take the pipe from a pocket and wondered if he'd held it all along. He inhaled deeply, held it, then blew the smoke out slowly. Its odor was similar to that of marijuana, but sweeter, almost syrupy. He passed the pipe to Mark, who seemed hesitant.

"You've never had shit like this before," Mace said, still exhaling puffs of smoke with his words.

The pipe made its way around the half circle. When Steve handed it to Mallory, she shook her head and passed it on to Kevin.

"No, no, try some," Mace insisted gently.

Mallory wanted to remain alert; she was too uncomfortable in the building to get high and relax.

"I don't think so," she said.

Kevin put his mouth to her ear and whispered, "Do some, dammit."

Usually grass made her cough, but this went down smoothly, massaging her throat like honey. By the time Kevin took the pipe from her, Mallory was feeling its effects. She'd only taken in a little, just to please Kevin, but even that little bit was too much. The darkness began to seem pleasant, almost comforting; the glow of candlelight became a balm to her eyes, and the shadows it cast became a visual sound—

I
didn't take much,
she thought.

—that filled her with a soothing, imperceptible, bone-deep thrum.

Just a little drag, not as much as the others.

When she looked at Mace, she thought he was glowing, but soon she realized it was only the light from the candle and lantern behind him. It framed his dark shape with a soft aura.

"Urn, here's the…" Kevin mumbled, offering the cassette to Mace.

Through the pleasant haze that clung to the inside of her skull, Mallory realized she'd never seen Kevin so ill at ease, so unsure of himself.

Mace took the tape, then watched them for a moment, silently, as if he were waiting for something.

"Oh, yeah," Trevor whispered, half to himself, "I almost forgot." He took a hand-sized tape player from one coat pocket and a small set of headphones from the other, handing them to Mace.

As Mace put on the headphones, Kevin said, "Uh, the songs on that tape were—"

"Let it speak for itself," Mace said, starting the tape.

Mallory could vaguely hear the music, like the whine of a mosquito flying around her ear.

"Hey," Mark whispered, "isn't he gonna tell us what he wants to—"

"Quiet," Kevin snapped.

Even in the darkness, Kevin's glare was strong enough to shut Mark up.

Mace leaned back a bit as he listened.

The others were silent, waiting.

The room was still.

Until Mallory heard another wet, sticky squeak and the gentle whisper of movement in the darkness….

When Jeff got to the parking lot, they were gone.

He stood at the corner of the building and stared at the motorcycle and Toyota parked side by side facing the wall of bushes. Turning to the building, Jeff squinted to see through the night.

They couldn't have gone inside; there were boards over all the windows and chains and locks on all the doors.

All but one.

The main rear entrance was unboarded and unchained. He approached slowly, setting his feet down softly, trying to be quiet, although he wasn't quite sure why; it was pretty obvious there was no one around to hear him.

When he tried the door, gently tugging on it, he found it securely locked.

He looked around again, turning a complete circle to see if he might have missed them the first time.

"Mallory?" His voice was little more than a breath.

He stood in the lot a few moments longer, then headed back the way he'd come, thinking it was none of his damned business what Mallory did anyway….

Just the grass,
Mallory thought again. Sometimes marijuana made her ears ring.
That's all it is.

But there was more movement in the darkness, closer than before.

"Kevin…"

"Shh."

Again. The squeak was louder, closer, but there was another that seemed farther away, and a third that came from behind her.

"Kevin, did you hear—"

"I said shut up!" he hissed.

Mallory closed her eyes tight. Rubbing them hard with her knuckles, she took a deep breath, trying to rise above the effect of the grass.