The Blood Dahlia (The Dark Angel Mysteries Book 1) Read online

  “That is another example of where I failed. I never bothered to ask,” Devon explained with a nervous chuckle. “It is as simple, and tragic, as that.”

  “Just that simple.”

  “Yes, Mr. Lynch. That simple. There isn’t anything more to it, nothing to look into, and if you don’t mind, I do have a busy schedule today, with another meeting waiting.”

  “Oh, yeah, of course.” Lynch stood up from the chair. Devon didn’t move a muscle beyond his neck, which turned to watch Gina stand. His eyes tilted down to trace her form from her legs to her ample bosom, and never went above.

  Lynch motioned with his arm for Gina to lead the way. This was polite and, once again, necessary. He remembered what it was like entering. It wouldn’t be any different on the way out. He followed closely, and when they reached the nothing, Lynch reached forward for her arm and held her back for a moment.

  “If you remember anything else, feel free to call me. Anyone that can drain the blood out of a body, like what happened to your daughter, is dangerous, and needs to be stopped.” There was no response. No outburst. Not even a defeated or mortified sigh. His hand tapped Gina’s forearm, and her heels clicked on the floor as she led him out.

  20

  The elevator ride was long enough to allow Lynch to pull himself together. Going back through the path was harder the second time around. He felt the first shot had weakened him, and the second gave him another body blow he wasn’t prepared for. The shot nearly doubled him over. Gina didn’t look that strong from the outside, but she did a great job supporting him as he pulled down on her arm all the way to the elevator. When Lynch let go, he collapsed against the back wall. Gina rubbed her forearm and stretched the fingers in her hand. Lynch was sure he had bruised her, something he would apologize for later, or just add to the list he owed her.

  Gina was the first to break their silence when they hit the sidewalk and headed toward the carpark. “Well, that was interesting. Care to explain?”

  “Not yet.” Lynch grabbed her by the other arm and yanked her sideways. His car was parked across the street, which is where they had started toward, but now Lynch was dragging Gina along the sidewalk. She went unwillingly at first, but then she caught up with him and tried to regain her composure.

  “Where are we going?”

  Lynch kept his silence as he took large strides along the front of the building and past its glass lobby full of people coming and going. Mostly going, as it was late in the afternoon, which created a crowd on the sidewalk outside. Not something he wanted for what he needed to do. He was a man on a mission, and those that walked past knew it. They didn’t wait for him to move out of their way, but parted as he and Gina walked through at a faster pace. The sound of Gina’s heels clopped away on the concrete at a frantic and irregular pace.

  At the edge of the building, he found a service alley and ducked in, yanking Gina with him without a word. He kept walking as he scanned the tall silver and glass exterior of the building. They both passed a service loading dock, which was empty, which should have made Lynch happy, if he felt such emotions. He led her past it to a place a little less savory, the line of dumpsters fed by a chute. The odor was anything but pleasant. Take the pungent smell of rotting flesh from the rats that had been crushed in the bottom of the containers, mix in some acidic chemicals that made your eyes water, a few gallons of mildew and black mold covered in water that was just a few years from evolving into a new intelligent life-form, and add in the discarded leftovers from today’s special in the café that serviced the building. Something Italian was his guess, based on the sickening smell of tomato sauce over the top of every other sense assaulting fragrance.

  “Figures his office would be close to the garbage.” Lynch looked up the building to where, on the twenty-third floor, the large windows of Devon Hines’ office were.

  “What the hell are we doing here?” Gina asked, her voice muffled with her right hand pinching her nose shut.

  “I need to do something, and I need you to cover for me.”

  “What? You need me to what?”

  “When I grabbed your arm up in the office, it was because I crossed the path of something else, that had been there. I don’t know what or how long ago, but I think I can find out. I just need to do it here. The further away I am, the harder it is for me to maneuver through places to find the spot.” That was the best way Lynch knew how to explain it to Gina. What was rather easy to perceive in the world she was used to, was not where he was going. Simple things such as going two blocks over and then up the elevator, which was what he would need to do if he waited until they reached his car, made no sense where he was going. Things lost their “spatial” relevance. Anything more than a few yards away could be the other side of the world, or on the moon, as far as he was concerned. Lynch had learned a trick. If he knew what the thing he was trying to find felt like, he could use that to hone in on it, but even that was limited.

  “You need to do that here?” Gina gave their surroundings a look of mortal disgust.

  “Yes, and if anyone comes by you need to...” Just then, Lynch’s Scroll went off in his pocket. At first, he wanted to ignore it, then wondered if it was Lucas. Maybe the little pissant he’d just finished talking to didn’t like the last comment Lynch made as he walked out the door and had called to complain. So, he pulled it out and answered, “Lynch.”

  The voice on the other side exploded, and the thought “not now” ran through his mind.

  “Another couple hundred, huh?”

  “Just in the last week? Interesting.”

  “Over a thousand credits total in the last three months? Yes, I agree that is a large amount, Mr. Yan. I am still investigating a few avenues, but here, let me give you to my assistant and she will arrange a time for me to come fill you in on what I have found. I do need to run to an appointment.” Lynch put the call on hold and handed his Scroll to Gina. “Okay. If anyone comes back here. I need you to stop them. Talk to them. Whatever you can think of. They just can’t see me. Okay?”

  With eyes like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car, she nodded. Her left hand was still held up by her head with Lynch’s Scroll when she asked, “What do you want me to do with this?”

  “Make me an appointment. It’s Mr. Yan. He runs a small grocery over on the south side. He contracted me to look into what he thought was an employee stealing from the cash register.” Lynch turned to walk to the wall of the building. This would put him right between two of the trash dumpsters. Not his choice, but the best place for it.

  “Did you look into it?”

  He rolled his eyes, but with his back to Gina he knew she wouldn’t see them. “Sure did.” Then he took his position.

  “Did you find anything?”

  This time Lynch turned to make sure she could see his expression. Her head was cocked toward the Scroll, but she still hadn’t placed it anywhere near her ear. Both eyes begged for an answer. He gave in, as he often did when it came to her.

  “Yep. It was his wife. She has been taking money to take one of the bag boys to a local hotel for some special deliveries. I just haven’t had the heart to tell him. What do you expect when you are in your sixties and marry someone in their mid-twenties? Now, make the appointment and let me get to this.”

  Lynch turned back around toward the wall. Behind him, he heard the sound of heels walking away and then heard Gina’s voice say, “Mr. Yan.”

  Without wasting any more time, Lynch braced his body for the pain, closed his eyes, and imagined the office that was two hundred feet or more above him. He felt his essence slip from this world into the folds between everything else. What had been around him ceased, but existed, all at the same time. There were no smells, no temperature, no anything except one thing. It was above him, and he felt it. It was strong. He looked toward it and his body followed. There was no mistaking that his eyes had found their target, even in this confusing place. IT was a large hole in everything. Just a large bla
ck smear in the fabric of the world itself. Nothing else compared to it. Though Lynch did note the number of grey and dark images he saw as he floated through the building. Probably a byproduct of their business, he rationalized, but let it go. That was not his reason for being here.

  He stopped short of the smear. It radiated a frigid cold that made his body pause before he got too close. The smear stretched from where Lynch had to assume the desk was, through the lobby, and out a window. The path in the lobby was small, nothing more than a thread of string, but from the door of the office and in, it was huge and deep. Like looking up in the vastness of the night sky.

  There was no doubt whatever had made this was an evil unlike anything Lynch had seen before. Now it was time to see what had made it. He squeezed his fist, and the world began to play backwards. He saw Gina and himself leave and walk in. He watched Devon go through his morning and found him an interesting shade of gray. Several clear consciences walked in and out, as well as a few with various other tints. No spirits, which wasn’t too surprising, even though he might have expected to see his daughter around. If he had to guess, she would be at the house.

  Devon left his office. Then he watched the smear shrink a little. Which in reality was growing, but in reverse. Standing in the office alone was the dark shadow, the IT, whatever it was that he had seen at Cheryl’s murder, but IT was different. IT had a shape, almost human, almost female. Devon, ran back into his office in reverse and knelt before IT. They were talking. Lynch released his grip slightly to slow things down. He wanted to hear what was being said, even though he knew he wouldn’t be able to. No matter what he tried, it never happened. Reading lips was another thing. He just couldn’t do it in reverse.

  IT didn’t have any lips to read, but Devon did, and they weren’t quivering. That told Lynch he was used to, or comfortable with, this thing’s presence. A slide of Lynch’s hand let time progress forward, moment by moment. He watched as Devon mouthed, “I will make them stop. They wouldn’t find you anyway. How could they?”

  Devon rushed out of his office, leaving the shadow behind. Lynch clenched his fist to send time screaming backwards, but it didn’t. Instead, the searing pain behind his eyes grew in intensity. He released his hands and tried again. The pain doubled him over, almost forcing him back to the world he came from. He glanced over at the large black smear. Seeing it grow by only a bit told Lynch this was a path that was used often. He had every intention to find out how often and for what, but there was something that life had taught Lynch. Life usually had a different plan for him.

  When he stood back up, he found himself face to void with the shadow. Its icy presence consumed him and ripped at his being, both physical and meta-physical. It tore at him from the inside out. Parts inside him were no longer there, or that was how it felt. His hands searched for the gaping blood-gushing holes that should be there, but he found none. That didn’t stop the feeling he was getting weaker. The feeling he was dying. Then it shoved him through what should have been walls and windows. He floated, frozen, and could only watch as an appendage emerged out of the shadow and gored him straight through the sternum. He stumbled backwards and fell ass-first into a puddle in the service alley.

  “Well, it took you long enough,” started Gina, but her admonishment changed to a tone of concern. “Lynch, are you okay?”

  Okay, he was not. He still felt like his insides had been put in a blender on puree before being skewered, it was night, and now his ass was wet. Worst of all, he was afraid. “Fine, just fine.”

  “You don’t look it. You look like you saw something dead. What happened?”

  “I need a drink, then I will explain.”

  21

  “What is this for?”

  “I seen your ass when you walked by. You ain’t sitting on one of my benches soaked. Now ‘ere.”

  Paulie, the nighttime barkeep at Stiffies, handed Lynch a dishtowel before placing his usual scotch on the table. He then placed Gina’s wine spritzer in front of her. “I always knew you could take care of yourself if he got out of line. Next time, pop him on the jaw. Might fix some things.” He added a pop from his mouth with a fake punch to his jaw for added effect and humor. The only ones that smiled were Paulie and Gina. Lynch wasn’t in the mood to smile, or even to give his normal fake, half-amused laugh. Instead, he let the silence speak for him.

  Lynch took a sip, and then looked at his Scroll. Ignoring the multiple messages from Lucas, he made a note of the time, and said, “Sorry.”

  “For what?” Gina asked.

  “I had no idea I was gone for that long. There is no sense of time in the, you know.”

  “I will admit, I was getting worried, but didn’t know if I should check on you or something. Might be traumatic, like waking someone who is sleepwalking, and in this instance, I mean traumatic to me.”

  Lynch didn’t know what would happen if he was interrupted. It had never happened. A question he would add to the list of the many mysteries around his gift.

  “So, what happened? Something scared the shit out of you. I could tell that.”

  “Remember that thing I told you and Lucas I saw that night we found Cheryl? It was there, and it looks like it came there often.”

  Lynch would add this moment to the lessons he learned about tact. One should never tell someone something surprising or frightening when they are taking a drink. Worst yet when they are drinking alcohol. Choking on water that went down the windpipe is one thing. Choking on alcohol that was now burning your airway and lungs was something different.

  Gina choked, gagged, and coughed from the sip she took when Lynch gave her his preliminary report. He slid out of the bench and attempted to come over to comfort her, but she held up a hand and croaked, “I’m fine.” That didn’t stop him from taking a seat next to her and rubbing her back. Which she seemed to appreciate. Not that there was any medical purpose in doing so. It didn’t help her regain her breath. Lynch knew that, too, he just felt it was the proper thing to do. To both, it was just the thought.

  After a healthy drink of his scotch, he waited until Gina finished her sip and put the goblet down on the table. He wanted to avoid a repeat. “Our buddy, Mr. Devon Hines, wasn’t bothered by it. He seemed comfortable around it, and even spoke to it.”

  “He could see it? I thought only you could.”

  “Only I could see it that night in the warehouse because I had to go back in time. It had already left by the time we went there. Whatever it is, it is a creature of this world, or can exist here. I knew that before. If it couldn’t, there was no way it could have done what it did to Cheryl.”

  “Oh, that makes sense. I guess.”

  “Now I am no expert, but one of the few things Paul told me is nothing from one of the other places can hurt anyone here without first coming to our side. I haven’t seen anything to prove that wrong, but I am not yet ready to call that an absolute. Most of what I have encountered are what you think of as ghosts. This wasn’t that, and I have only run across anything that wasn’t a ghost a few times.” Lynch took another drink and then put the empty glass down with a thud to get Lloyd’s attention. It worked, and from across the room, Lynch could see him preparing another. He held up his head to try to get his attention and mouthed, ”Double, with ice”.

  “Wait,” Gina screamed before she realized where she was. Half a dozen sets of eyes, from the tables closest to their booth, swung around to look at them. She appeared embarrassed as a single hand waved them away. “Ghosts exist?” she asked, just above a whisper.

  “Yes, that is primarily what I see over there, but there are other things. I don’t see much of them though.”

  “So, ghosts stay wherever that is?” she asked with the curiosity of a child asking their parent about the universe.

  Lynch’s answer sent her sitting straight against the back of the booth, instead of leaning over the table. “No, they come here, too.”

  Gina jerked back again. Lynch felt every muscle in her body ten
se up against him, but luckily this time she kept her voice down. “Here?”

  “Well, not here, now. I don’t see any here in Stiffies, but yeah. I see them out and around.” Lynch stopped, but saw the next question in her eyes and headed it off. “And, yes, some are dangerous and do harm, and I have had to save a few from them. The majority that roam around aren’t.”

  Lynch watched as she did the same blank stare at the table that Lucas did several years ago, when he explained things to him. The look was understandable. Lynch imagined he might do the same if someone he knew and trusted sat there and, as calmly as he just did, tell them the dangers that he faced weren’t isolated to that place he went. Lynch figured it was something magical about “that place” that helped isolate the shock that went along with what he told everyone. Something akin to “not in my backyard”. It happened and existed, but as long as it wasn’t around them it wasn’t quite as shocking. Once they realized it was in their backyard, too, everything changed. The only difference between when he told Lucas and now was, they were two booths to the left.

  “If it isn’t a ghost, what is that thing?”

  “I don’t know. I really don’t, but I have a hunch about what it is doing here.”

  “Okay, what does your hunch tell you?”

  Paulie placed the scotch on the table and removed the empty glass. Lynch’s hands immediately reached for it, but instead of delivering it to his lips, he brought the glass to his forehead and pressed it against his skin. Then he moved it back and forth from temple to temple, allowing the coolness of the ice and condensation on the outside of the glass to attempt to soothe the wrenching headache he had. The contents of the glass he hoped would put his insides back together. At worst, it would dull the sensations. At that moment he reconsidered his normal choice of libation. Ice wasn’t bad.

  “This is something not of this world that travels back and forth, to do what, I don’t know, but it is evil and does bad things with beings in our world. Devon talked to it and appeared comfortable. That tells me he has regular dealings with it. Possibly some kind of mutually beneficial agreement. I think that agreement has something to do with Cheryl’s death. Whether she was a target or just got in the way, I don’t know for sure, but I am leaning toward she was the target. There was something about that guy, he sure was a dark shade of grey to me and, the whole time I talked to him, I didn’t pick up any sense of a mourning father.”