Past the reservoir on their left-hand side, Darius and Kwon streaked down route 9. At this part of the road, it was almost flat out. Darius’ Saab drew out the distance between them even further.
Kwon jumped lanes, narrowly missing a Toyota with a very pissed off looking driver. Kwon shoved the gas pedal to the floor and felt the engine complain.
“Come on bitch!”
The car eased forward, slowly gnawing down the distance.
If he could just reach Darius’ car.
He had to try!
It was harder getting the lid back into place.
Curran had to take tiny breaths and each time he did, he felt like gagging, puking, and passing out.
He got the lid on.
Clasped one side of it.
Then the other.
He took another breath.
Gagged.
Fought back the rising tide of vomit.
Turned toward the cellar stairs and headed back up, careful to switch off the light first as he did so.
At the top of the stairs, he left the kitchen and headed back toward the door he’d come in through.
He stepped outside and into the cooler air.
He stumbled across the street, finally puking once into the gutter by his car, leaning there for a second, gulping air as sweat poured down his face.
He looked back at the house.
What had he just seen?
Lauren — she must be right, he thought finally.
Everything was true.
It had to be!
Numbly, he reached for his car door, slid inside and started the engine.
Kwon peeled off route 9.
He was just three cars away from Darius.
He tried the cell phone again.
Curran grabbed the phone. His head swam in disgust.
“Yeah?”
“Jesus Christ, where the hell are you?”
Kwon. He sounded terrified. “What’s the matter?”
“Where are you?”
“In my car. Outside Darius’ house.”
“Well shrink down because he just turned onto the street!”
Curran dove for the floor of his car. A second later he heard the Saab roll past, its engine still revving at high speed.
“What the hell happened?” Curran noticed he’d actually whispered.
“He came out and closed up the store. I tried to call you for the past twenty minutes. I kept getting that damned ‘out of range’ message. Where the hell were you?”
Curran sighed. “In his basement.”
“Figures. Signal must not have been able to penetrate.”
“Guess I got out of there just in time, huh?”
Kwon’s voice sounded strained. “Steve?”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t think I like this aspect of police work very much.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
“But what was it?”
Curran frowned, the memory of heaving his guts out still tasted fresh. “I don’t know. All I do know is that it smelled like all the sewers of earth had run together and sat in that jar for years. I mean, it stunk like nothing I’ve ever smelled before.”
Lauren folded her hands. “We know that the Soul Eater’s purpose is to resurrect Satan. And he’s apparently been killing evil people for the last five years. Each of his victims has had no obvious sign of death. No physical things have been taken from them.”
“Nothing physical aside from green brains,” said Curran. “But what about something else?”
“What do you mean?”
“Suppose Darius is living up to his namesake. Suppose he really is eating the souls of his victims.”
“And then doing what with them?”
Curran shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe…he’s crapping them out?”
“God,” said Lauren. “Do you really think so?”
“All I can tell you is what I smelled. I wanted to puke my guts out as soon as the first whiff hit me.”
“Maybe that’s what it is, then,” said Lauren. “Or maybe he vomits the souls into the vat.”
“Is that possible?”
Lauren shrugged. “Is any of this possible, Steve? I don’t know. All I do know is that it seems to be happening regardless of whether we think it ought to be or not. Darius is working hard to complete his objective.”
“He can’t be finished yet, though,” said Curran.
“What makes you say that?”
“If he was finished, Satan would already be back. Wouldn’t he?”
“Good point.” Lauren steepled her fingers. “That means he’s got another victim on the back burner.”
“Maybe more than one,” said Curran. “We don’t know what the formula is, remember?”
“Right,” said Lauren. “I’ve got a question for you.”
“Shoot.”
“Do you think Darius knows you were at his house?”
Curran took a swig of water. “I tried to leave it exactly as I found it. But I can’t be sure I did given how I was feeling when I left. He’s lucky I didn’t lose my lunch all over some of his precious antiques.” Curran frowned, remembering. “Crap.”
“What?”
“The door. The damned door.” Curran shook his head. “I left it unlocked.”
“Why’d you do that?”
“Because I was trying to keep from yakking my guts out all over his house.” Curran sighed. “Couldn’t be helped. Maybe he’ll just write it off.”
“You don’t believe that.”
“No. I don’t. He’ll know.”
“And if he does know…” Lauren’s voice trailed off.
Curran nodded. “He’ll try to accelerate his schedule.”
“If he can.”
“Are you thinking he might not have any control over who he kills and when he does it?”
“Perhaps,” said Lauren. “Maybe Satan himself speaks to Darius and lets him know when to kill again.”
“Great,” said Curran. “I’ve heard of a lot of killers claiming the Devil made them do it. This is the first time I’ve actually been inclined to believe it.”
