The Adventures of Lazarus Gray (40 page)

Michael forced himself to
stop. He had to get some rest. In the morning, he could go down to
Robeson Avenue and make peace with them. Maybe they’d even agree to
let him assist them in the case.

A smile suddenly blossomed
on his lips. Michael realized he was beginning to feel like a kid
hoping to fall in with the popular crowd at school. He needed to
rest before he did anything reckless – more reckless than putting
on a top hat and mask.

***

Devil Face stared in the
mirror, marveling at the beauty of his visage. This was the true
expression of his inner self, come to life in the form of a wooden
depiction of Satan himself. The leering mouth, the jutting tongue,
the crimson tint… They were everything that he so desperately
wanted to be. They were far truer than the face he wore every day
to the office, where he pretended to be so much less than he truly
was.

It had been years since
he’d moved to Sovereign City, this cesspool of immorality. The
place had called to him and he’d recognized it as home. He had felt
it in his blood and in the dark little corner of his mind where the
Devil resided. At first, he’d tried to be good, tried to silence
the voices that screamed for bloody murder… and he’d almost
succeeded. But then he’d seen those whores, all made up like pretty
dollies – they’d forced him to do what he’d done. He’d punished
them for their sins, for using their breasts and their buttocks to
tantalize and tease. Who knew how many boys they’d corrupted with
their offers of love? He’d killed them and washed them, not to
remove traces of his identity as the police had assumed: but to
cleanse them of their filth.

Claudia had been different
than the rest and she was the cause of all of Devil Face’s current
problems. She’d been so sweet and desirable, nothing like those
tarts he’d killed in the past. Claudia was a good girl. She’d
sobbed to him in the end, begging him to spare her. She claimed she
was a virgin and Devil Face almost believed her – he’d wanted so
badly to believe her. But he knew she’d gone to Max’s apartment and
they’d done
things
… dirty things that caused butterflies to
swim about in his stomach when he imagined them. This made him
realize that even if she wasn’t a whore yet, she was well on her
way. So he’d punished her for the sins she’d yet to
commit.

And then had come the
guilt, so quick that it had surprised him. He’d borrowed Max’s
address book during a brief visit to the other man’s hotel room. At
the time, he’d merely wanted to find out more about Davies, who had
seemed to be more than he claimed to be. Davies had this way of
looking at everyone as if he could see through him or her. It was
almost as if he was looking at Devil’s Face’s real features, which
had been both exciting and infuriating.

After Claudia’s death,
though, the idea of leaving the address book on her body had seemed
the proper way to assuage his guilt. A part of him wanted the world
to know who he really was and this dangerous game of leaving clues
to his identity served his need for self-punishment.

But after her body had been
discovered, the Devil had taken hold and a sense of
self-preservation had emerged. Hansome knew his real identity,
which meant he’d had to die. Hansome’s sexual interests had forced
Devil Face to give him the same treatment he usually reserved for
the whores: after all, Hansome probably would have offered his body
if he’d thought it would have saved him. It was sickening, what
Hansome would have done if given the chance….

Smithson was another
problem. Too smart for his own good, Smithson had discovered Devil
Face’s secret and actually sought to blackmail him. Devil Face
didn’t think that Melvin knew the truth, but he couldn’t be sure.
Smithson and the old man were very close. Since Smithson wasn’t a
sex fiend like Hansome or the girls, Devil Face had killed him like
an animal. It was the first time he’d ever killed without using the
precious ritual – the ceremonial cutting, the washing of the flesh,
reducing the body to chunks of flesh.

Devil Face turned away from
the mirror, reaching up to peel away his mask. He hated to look at
the face he showed the world on a regular basis. It was so ugly,
with every crease and line containing a litany of sins. It was only
when his true face was on display that he felt truly
confident.

After placing the devil
mask in a box under his bed, he headed downstairs to have a drink.
Killing those men hadn’t left him as ecstatic as cleansing the
whores usually did. Normally he would have been humming a song to
himself and feeling like he was on top of the world: instead, he
felt tense and paranoid. How long before Smithson’s body was
discovered? Would they find the gun he’d discarded in the trash bin
outside the hotel? Could it be linked back to him? And what about
Hansome? His body was still in one of Devil Face’s many safe houses
but with Assistance Unlimited on the prowl, who could say that it
wouldn’t be discovered?

He paused as the phone in
the study began to ring. He looked up at the clock and realized
that it was nearly dawn. Where had the night gone?

Walking quickly to pluck up
the receiver, the killer took a moment to make sure he used the
proper voice. His day-to-day voice was deeper than the one he used
when wearing the Devil Face mask. "Hello?"

Theodore Groseclose sounded
on edge. "You need to come over to my house.
Immediately."

"What’s wrong?" he asked,
though he knew what the answer would be. How could he
not?

"Smithson and Hansome…
they’re both dead. Melvin’s already here and I’m about to call Max.
We could all be in danger – what if the killer’s planning to kill
everyone associated with Schuller?"

"Calm down," he soothed. He
caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and paused. His hair and
beard looked unkempt and his eyes were wild. He didn’t look much
like Robert Phillips at the moment: he’d have to clean himself up
before he went over to Groseclose’s. "I’ll be there
soon."

Devil Face hung up the
phone and reached up to smooth his hair. Had Smithson told Melvin
about what he’d learned? If he had, then the old man would have to
die, too… and then there was Groseclose. The man was a journalist
and he might start digging on his own. If he found out that
Phillips had moved to Sovereign and adopted a new identity for
himself with Hansome’s help, then all the dirty secrets might come
out.

Phillips hurriedly bathed
and dressed in fresh clothing, creeping down the stairs to the
locked basement door before leaving for Groseclose’s. He entered
the finished basement, the coppery smell of blood filling his
nostrils as he opened the door. Inside were 13 canisters filled
with the blood of the women he’d killed over the years, dating back
to before he’d come to Sovereign and adopted his current identity.
He needed to kill only one more and then he’d be ready to leave
this prison of flesh behind.

"Something troubles you, my
love?"

The soft, purring voice of
Lady Death echoed in his head. The temperature seemed to drop
twenty degrees or more and his breath suddenly became visible in
tiny cloudbursts that escaped his mouth. He turned to face the
woman of his dreams, the only one who was pure in all things. He
was the only one who could see her, the only one who heard her
voice.

She was a few inches over
five feet in height, her lush curves shifting beneath a hooded
black robe. Her skin was a milky white that always reminded him of
moonlight on water. Her ruby red lips and the lower half of her
face was all that could be seen beneath the darkness of her hood,
but he had seen her naked beauty before. The upper half of her
skull was exposed, her eyes nothing more than two deep sockets of
shadow that seemed to suck him right into their depths.

"My enemies are closing in
on us," Devil Face answered, using the higher-pitched voice he
normally saved for when he was masked. "I’m worried that they might
stop me before I’ve accomplished my goal."

Lady Death reached out and
touched his face, her icy grip making him shiver. "I am proud of
you. You have done so much in my name… and now you only have to
find one more whore, one more woman who needs to have her sins
washed away. And then you’ll be mine, in body and soul."

Devil Face leaned into her
hand, his face lighting up like an excited puppy’s. "I can go find
another girl tonight!"

"No. You’ll know her when
you see her. There are only certain ones who fit our
needs."

Lady Death pulled away,
vanishing into the dark shadows of the basement. Devil Face reached
after her, desperate to touch her skin once more but there was
nothing there any longer.

Chapter V

But For the Grace of
God

Max Davies woke up at six
in the morning and immediately indulged in his daily ritual. He had
a cup of warm tea followed by an hour-long session of yoga and Tai
chi chuan. When he was done with his exercises, he dressed in a
casual suit and placed the beak-like mask of The Rook over the
bridge of his nose. He’d spent the night in the headquarters of
Assistance Unlimited, enjoying the comforts that the former hotel
offered. He felt a bit silly continuing to hide his identity –
Lazarus knew who he was and he trusted the man implicitly. The fact
that Lazarus in turn trusted his aides should have meant that Max
did as well… but it wasn’t quite that simple. The dark stares The
Rook continued to receive from Eun were evidence that he wasn’t
fully accepted by all.

The Rook wandered
downstairs to the team’s meeting room and found that everyone else
was already there. Morgan and Samantha were seated beside each
other, their voices lowered to mere whispers. Morgan said something
that Samantha found funny and she coyly covered her mouth as she
laughed. Eun was leaning against the wall, looking as surly as
ever. Lazarus himself was standing with his hands clasped behind
his mask. His impassive face was pointed toward the window and the
ray of sunlight that fell upon it accentuated his strong
chin.

"Any breaks in the case?"
The Rook asked, ignoring the way Eun muttered under his breath in
response.

Lazarus looked toward him
and gave a brief nod. "Perhaps. Groseclose is holding a private
meeting at this hour with Phillips and Melvin. I understand they
attempted to get in contact with Max Davies, but he’s not at his
hotel."

The Rook paused, a smile on
his lips. "I might be able to reach Max and convince him to go to
this little party. It would help us to know what was going
on."

"That would be quite
useful," Lazarus admitted. "We’ll be waiting to hear back from
you."

***

Michael Groseclose was
pulling out of the driveway just as the taxicab carrying Max Davies
was coming to a stop in front of the house. Michael and Max locked
eyes for a brief second before their travels carried them away from
each other and Max was struck once more by how intelligent the
young man seemed. They’d only met briefly at the party thrown by
the elder Groseclose, but Max had felt a kinship to the
youth.

Max was led into the house
by a taciturn butler who looked almost as harried as Max felt. He
wore on his lapel a miniscule listening device that would allow
Lazarus to overhear every word that was said. Max was more
impressed with Assistance Unlimited at every turn. The various
skills of the aides were impressive enough, but combined with the
various inventions and designs of their leader, they had become one
of the most formidable organizations on earth.

Max found Groseclose in the
sitting room, seated with his head hanging between his knees.
Phillips, looking like an angry bear that had been roused from his
winter’s nap, was pacing in front of the fireplace. Melvin, looking
older and frailer than Max could ever remember, sat pensively on a
small couch, his eyes staring off into unfocused space.

Phillips stopped and
stared, his mouth clamped into a thin line beneath his beard.
"Davies. We were beginning to wonder if Devil Face had gotten to
you."

"Devil Face?" Max asked,
allowing a smile to appear on his face. He looked over at
Groseclose, who had leaned back in his chair.

"According to a statement
released by Assistance Unlimited, that’s the name of the lunatic
who’s committing the murders," Groseclose said.

Max noticed that Melvin
looked up sharply, his gaze shifting from Max to Phillips and back
again. "You know about Smithson, don’t you?" he asked. "They say
Devil Face killed him, too, but he didn’t mutilate him like he did
the others."

Max knelt in front of
Melvin and took the old man’s hands. "I did hear and I’m sorry. I
know he was like a son to you."

"He was. I don’t know how
I’m going to continue on without him. I’m not as young as I used to
be."

Phillips growled like the
animal he resembled. "I’m surprised the police don’t have us all
under protection. Two of the men whose names were on that dead
girl’s body have been murdered! We’re important people, damn
it!"

"Smithson’s name wasn’t in
the packet," Max pointed out, drawing another dangerous stare from
Phillips.