Red Widow (Vivian Xu, Book 1) (19 page)

“
Yes, my body parts are
still attached, if that’s what you’re asking. But I barely escaped
from his basement. He strapped me to a gurney and started playing
doctor. He asked me questions about my mental health.”

“
Role-playing,” Nikolai
muttered scornfully.

“
Yes.”

“
And you’re sure you’re all
right? Do you need any medical treatment?”

“
After my little doctor
experience, the last thing I want is to spend more time in a
hospital.”

“
I can hardly blame you.
What else? Was he keeping anyone alive?”

“
I didn’t see anyone else.
I don’t even know what the killer looks like.”

“
What do you
mean?”

“
He was wearing a gas
mask.” Nikolai was ominously silent.

“
A gas mask? Was this a
part of his role-playing?”

“
I don’t know. He has a
very interesting wardrobe… I’m sure you’ll understand once you see
him in the flesh.”

“
I can hardly wait to make
his acquaintance. Now where is this house in the
outskirts?”

“
It’s… it’s on the corner
of Kastanova and…”
She sighed. “I’m sorry, I don’t know the name of the other street.
Anyway, the house is painted gray and there’s an orange notice on
the front door. You can’t miss it.”

“
Very well. I’ll assemble a
team and storm the residence tonight. Stay away from it. Anything
else?”

Vivian rolled down her sleeve past the
glowing needle mark. Maybe if she couldn’t see it, time would erase
it forever.

“
No.”

“
I’ll leave another down
payment for you in the Basilica of St. Eurosia. Check for a Bible
in the third row of pews. Open to Mark 5:21. Good work,
Vivian.”

“
Thanks.”

“
Now get some rest. And
stay the hell away from the outskirts.”

The line died.

TEN

Sirens cut through the murky ghetto as
wreaths of fog descended.

Men adorned in riot gear tumbled out
of the armored SWAT van in front of the eerie residence. Armor
rattled loudly on their bodies. Most perturbing of all, their gas
masks bore a jarring resemblance to the killer they were tasked to
subdue.

The abandoned neighborhood could
easily be mistaken for a massacred village in a third-world
country. The addition of armed men toting military grade weaponry
only lent credence to this haunting impression.

Nikolai shouldered his way out of the
police car. He glanced backward at the sound of clapping boots to
see a pair of snipers hole up across the street. He could vividly
remember the horrors he witnessed over a decade ago when racial
riots ignited this district.

Those sights would not be so easily
forgotten.

Nikolai’s heart raced from the
anticipation of confronting the homicidal maniac supposedly
wallowing inside. The assault team fell into position at the remote
corner of the street, waiting to pounce at any moment.

He felt a surge of egotistical triumph
when he saw the assault rifles cradled in their hands. Nikolai
paused outside the arched doorway, looking into the empty sockets
of the Victorian residence. His heart beat out a staccato against
his bulletproof vest as he reached for his firearm.

He wouldn’t lament the death of this
killer if he elected to defend himself. If circumstances dictated
his death, he would gladly oblige. However, Nikolai preferred to
take him alive. He wanted to look into this murderer’s eyes and see
what kind of hell motivated him to deprive five innocents of their
lives.

He disengaged the safety on his
semi-automatic pistol. Just in case the killer was feeling
particularly motivated tonight.

He curtly nodded.

“
Police! Search warrant!”
the point man yelled through his mask. Only the hoarse wind
shrieked in reply. Several anguished seconds slipped by, and the
anxiety tightened like nooses around their necks. The door imploded
as a metal battering ram plowed through.

“
Move!”
SWAT agents funneled into the torture den.

Tactical lasers swept across the dark
rooms, illuminating the details in a scarlet, ghostly pall. Nine
assault rifles swiveled through the shadows, ready to salivate
bullets at a moment’s notice. Nikolai followed in their wake with
his fingers welded to his pistol. Rapid footsteps murmured in the
silence as the response team swept through the grime. They moved as
a singular unit designed to subdue and eliminate any aggressor.
Nikolai plodded his own course, not so eager to follow in the
footsteps of others. He would explore this deformed hell for his
own eyes and make a judgment call.

The house was not nearly as decrepit
as the exterior suggested. A perverse elegance haunted this shell
of a home.

He craned his neck to peer inside an
austere dining room. Past lacy curtains he glided, studying the
china assembled on the table. Although the silverware and
candelabras had been meticulously arranged, no trace of food could
be found. He immediately lurched to a halt when he saw the serrated
knife on the table. It gleamed seductively in the dark, waiting for
someone’s gentle touch. He scanned the room, hoping no one was
lurking within reaching distance.

Too many times he had seen what a
well-placed blade could do to someone’s face, especially when the
culprit was violently unhinged and apathetic. It didn’t take much
to tunnel through the eye and rupture the—

A shape sent him barreling to his
left.

His eyes fixed on the stuffed vulture
on the cabinets, leering down at him from its perch. He sighed and
kicked the black feathers scattered on the carpet.

Cursing under his breath, he moved on
to catch up with the tactical team. The moment he crested the
stairs, he froze.

The point man had paused in front of a
door at the end of the hall. He flashed hand signals to his
companions and braced himself. His armored boot sent splinters
lancing across the room as the door tore off the hinges. SWAT
agents swooped inside like ravens with disorienting yells, each man
pointing his gun in a different direction.

“
What the fuck!”

Screams lit up the room and Nikolai
waded forward with his finger pulsing on the trigger. A gunshot
erupted within feet of him, screaming into his skull.

He saw the blood splashed across the
walls, and he catapulted forward, frantically trying to determine
if the killer had been shot.

“
What the fuck happened?!”
The SWAT agents parted before him like a sea to reveal the victim,
and he saw a woman’s face.

Dozens of them, nailed to the walls.
Their faces were eternalized in frayed photographs, flecked with
blood. Explosions of scarlet were splattered across the room,
collecting on the floor in a cesspool. The only thing missing were
the bodies.

Nikolai gazed at the walls decorated
with arterial spray like a deranged artist on an inspirational
rampage.

“
Shit,” he
whispered.

“
Check the basement!” one
of the men bellowed. Nikolai staggered away from the wall as the
assault team retraced its route. All of the women in the
photographs looked exactly the same. The same pronounced
cheekbones, creamy flesh, green eyes, and silky, blonde
hair.

Had the murderer killed them, too? Or
were they merely his fantasy victims?

Nikolai stopped just short of the red
ooze, gazing at those smiling faces. With a final shudder, he fled
the chamber and charged downstairs. The assault team was already
scouring the cellar. Their gun-mounted lights danced across the
medical gurney and signs of struggle strewn across the basement;
scalpels, trays, and clamps littered the floor with spite for any
semblance of order.

Nikolai inched toward the gurney for a
closer look, and he realized at once the straps had been sawed
apart. The thought of Vivian strapped to such a device made him
cringe.

In the throng of shadows, something
gleamed under the gurney. He donned a rubber glove and crouched
low. Nearly pressing his cheek against the floor, he caught sight
of a syringe.

He managed to retrieve it as he
stretched under the bed. Nikolai rolled the syringe between his
fingers, studying the needle as though it might spill it decadent
secrets. Twenty milliliters of fluid remained. Where did the other
ten milliliters go?

“
Nikolai, you might want to
take a look at this.”

He tucked the syringe into a plastic
bag and approached the solemn gathering. Nikolai shouldered his way
past onlookers and was instantly thwarted by a red light glaring in
his eyes. A passage beckoned him into the bowels of the
dark.

The longer he stared he
felt the veins in his eyes growing more engorged.
Perhaps the shadows were thinning, slicing across
his vision like fine razor blades.

“
Where the hell does it
lead?” one of the men asked.

“
Precisely,” Nikolai
answered. “Hell.”

ELEVEN

Vivian collapsed onto her bed in
relief. Her cheek nestled against the pillow and she gazed out the
window at the clouds passing by.

“
It’s over,” she breathed.
Her rosy lips curled in a triumphant smile. “It’s finally over.” No
one could compel her to marauder through tunnels or apartments in
search of grisly answers anymore.
After a
year of scavenging from the bottom of society’s cesspool, she could
return to a “normal” existence. Scholarship opportunities and
classes surely awaited her as she rose to the occasion.

The prospect of re-enrolling in
college sent a spark to her heart. She would immediately retake
anatomy and physiology and put last year’s grades to shame. It
would be nothing but high marks from this point on.

The first thing on her long list of
to-dos was to volunteer at the University Hospital and purchase
school books. Maybe she would even stop by the shopping mall and
trade in her soiled clothes for a fresh wardrobe. She couldn’t
remember the last time she slipped into a pair of Kenvelo
jeans.

Her cell phone rang. She was instantly
wrenched from the soothing shore of sleep and jolted wide awake.
Tossing aside her pillow, she fumbled for the humming
device.

“
Nikolai?”

“
I hope I didn’t wake
you.”

“
Not at all,” she yawned.
“I was just lying in bed, thinking about the investigation. I feel
much better now that I’m free of that hospital.”

“
I see. I’m glad to hear
you’re feeling better.”

“
Much better. So have you
called to congratulate me?” she teased. A gaping pause
followed.

“
Well, this isn’t easy for
me to say.” Vivian leaned up from bed, suddenly wracked with
concern. He should be reveling in the capture of the killer, not
brooding like an insipid child pushed on the playground. Did
something go wrong?

“
What happened?”

“
Vivian, I have some bad
news… Things didn’t go quite as I imagined. I need you to continue
the investigation.”

“
What?!
” Vivian descended into panic. “Didn’t you arrest
him?”

“
The raid went down about
an hour ago. He wasn’t there.”

“
Did you search the attic?
Maybe he’s hiding in the attic!” Vivian said, grappling for
anything to sever her ties to Nikolai. “What about the
basement?”

“
We searched every level of
the house. He’s gone, Vivian.” Like a mannequin snipped from her
strings, she collapsed onto the bed.

“
But what am I supposed to
do now?”

“
I don’t know—”

“
Well, neither do I!
Who was the house registered to? That should lead
you to your killer!”

“
The house was registered
to a woman named Lenka Petrova. She died over ten years ago.
Apparently, no one bothered to check up on her. She was still
decomposing in bed.”

“
But I’m not going back
there!
”

“
Regardless of how you
feel, there’s something in the house I need you to investigate.
Only you can do it. We aren’t finished yet.”

“
What do you mean
only I
can do it? What if
I don’t want to help you anymore?” She knew the words were a
mistake when she was met with silence.

“
Then I cannot guarantee my
promises.” The fire died in her chest as reality collided. She was
indentured to Nikolai until her contract was fulfilled. In some
ways, this relationship was worse than any transaction she had
conducted as a prostitute. Her life now belonged to Nikolai to toy
with as he pleased.

“
What do you want me to
look at it in the house?”

“
There’s a tunnel in the
basement. It’s too narrow for any of us to fit through. I thought
maybe you could see what lies on the other side.” Vivian looked at
the bedroom door as though she could already picture the tunnel
beckoning her into oblivion. She had nearly perished in that
basement and now Nikolai was forcing her to return.