Chapter 41
Darlington released a worried sigh as they pulled up to the address Turner had sent.
Alex looked at the small house painted bright yellow, the high fence, the playground in back. A day care. Nothing good was waiting for them in there.
Turner’s Dodge was parked out front and he emerged looking tired but perfectly put together in a fresh suit.
“Is this going to be weird?” Alex asked before she opened the car door. “Last night and … everything.”
“I feel weird,” he admitted.
“You look weird.”
“I do?”
“No, you look criminally perfect, but I wanted to restore the balance of power.”
“I want to be with you as much as I can be. So really nothing has changed.”
Alex felt her cheeks heating. “Works for me,” she said, when what she really wanted to do was peel down her jeans and climb into his lap.
He’d said she could keep him. He’d said he was hers.
But she didn’t need a Yale degree to know she’d find a way to fuck this up.
It’s okay to feel this good, she told herself.
It doesn’t have to last to be worth something.
“The Mercedes is back,” Turner noted as they stamped their way toward him in the cold. “I don’t suppose you brought coffee.”
“Afraid not,” said Darlington. “You didn’t give the impression you wanted us to make time for a pit stop.”
Turner lifted the collar on his coat. “Let’s get this done.”
“What are we looking at?” Alex asked.
Turner led them to the front door. His voice was grim when he said, “Something new.”
“Are we breaking and entering?” asked Darlington.
“It was open when I got here. Notice anything about the street?”
The neighborhood was sleepy, residential, mostly single-family homes, some with big lawns and porches.
“A lot of cars,” Alex said. “Maybe people haven’t left for work yet.”
But she knew that was wishful thinking.
Turner pushed open the door. The hallway was lined with cubbies decorated with construction-paper suns.
They entered a dark, empty room with color-blocked mats on the floor and low tables surrounded by small chairs.
Bins full of toys and games were stacked on the shelves and a mural of a rainbow covered one wall.
Alex could hear the high, happy sounds of children playing in the back of the house.
Maybe for once Detective Abel Turner had made a mistake.
“Outside,” he said. They passed through another door covered in pink and red hearts.
The playground looked ordinary enough—a big plastic and wood structure took up most of the space, full of slides and ladders, a tunnel to scuttle through, swings. There were seesaws and a sandbox and a little whirling merry-go-round. But something was very wrong.
The kids ran and jumped and crawled over the equipment, but most of them were crying, even as they scaled the pegs of the ladder for another trip down the slide or another go at the monkey bars.
One of them lay at the base of the slide, panting.
Another had vomited over his puffy jacket, but he kept swinging back and forth, pumping his legs, trying to go higher.
Parents sat on the benches that lined the playground, gripping the edges, faces caught in rictus smiles, tears running down their cheeks.
A woman in purple corduroy overalls and a cardigan was clapping her hands. “Ten more minutes of recess,” she called.
“She’s been saying that since I arrived. It was still dark. I think she’s been here since yesterday. She got the parents when they came to pick up their kids.”
“It must have started by feeding on their joy,” Darlington said. “But I don’t know what this is.”
“Get the salt box ready,” Alex said, advancing, hellfire leaping over her body. She didn’t know what would happen when they got the final artifact. She didn’t know if she would survive another fight with Golgarot. But this she could do.
Aguas! The word jumped into her thoughts, and she had to give her head a shake. Be careful.
“This looks so fun,” she said to the monster in overalls. “Can I play?”
The demon frowned. “Go away.”
“That’s not very nice. We brought a toy the whole class can play with.”
Darlington tossed the Voynich Coffin in the air.
The demon’s eyes lit, her pretty face distending, her arms growing too long as she reached for the puzzle box. The thing wailed as its clawed hands closed over the sides of the box and all the children and their parents began to wail too.
“Keep me here,” she said to Darlington and felt the warmth of his hand cupping her nape. She threw out one of her hands, pulling on the demon’s essence.
Its eyes widened and Alex felt the sludge of it pour into her. It was worse than last time, heavier. Her knees buckled and she hit the asphalt.
“Alex!”
Darlington’s voice. But it sounded so far away.
The planes of hell appeared, littered with playground equipment this time, slides and swings, a rocking horse.
“Come, soldier,” Golgarot demanded. The yoke shone in his hand, its jewels sparkling. “Your hour is near.”
The weight was too much. The demon had gorged itself and it was thick with strength, filling her, pushing her own soul down, into the ground, into nothing. The children had surrounded her and their eyes were black pits.
“Something’s wrong.” Turner’s voice now, but she could barely hear him.
“Alex,” Darlington said. “Let it go.”
No, she could do this. One more into the box. One more win for her. One more loss for Golgarot.
You’re so sweet. A new voice in her head. I could just eat you up. Does he make you glad? Does he make you happy? I like happy.
“Screw you and your demon boss,” Alex gasped. “Get in the box.”
I don’t think I will. I think I’ll stay. I think I’ll turn you inside out, little piggy.
But this thing couldn’t kill her. Golgarot still needed her blood.
He’s not here, is he? And if he knew how good you taste, he’d understand. A Wheelwalker’s soul is a delicacy. Cry wee, wee, wee, little piggy. All the way back where you belong.
Deja de chingar. Another voice, the same one that had told her to be careful. But how had she even known aguas meant be careful? Get rid of it, hermanita. This isn’t where you die.
Alex took hold of the demon, a dead weight in her arms, a corpse she’d let crawl inside her. She wanted to try again, to drag it into the box. Instead, she shoved.
It poured out of her with an earsplitting shriek, sliding back into the teacher’s form.
The thing in overalls giggled. “Next time, piggy.”
The branches of Turner’s oak snapped toward the monster. Darlington lowered his head and charged, but the demon was already running. It leapt the fence with a single loping jump and it was gone.
Alex rolled over onto her hands and knees and vomited. She heard Turner rounding up the parents and kids.
“Gas leak,” he said. “Get your kids to the ER. Department of Health is shutting this place down.”
Darlington was beside her again, his hand on her back.
“Il Bastone,” she panted. She needed to be behind the wards.
He had her in his arms.
“Get her out of here,” said Turner.
She felt the leather of the back seat beneath her cheek, heard the engine of the Mercedes roar to life, Darlington on the phone to Dawes.
I failed, Alex thought. But it was Golgarot’s voice that chased her into darkness.
Soldier, your hour is near.