Darkly - Episode #9

The FBI & Dark Magic

Want to start at the beginning? You can find the 1st episode and all episodes HERE.

But the next episode is below and here’s a quick recap: After Ward Six didn’t turn out to be what she expected, since it’s part of the FBI’s Dark Forces Division, Kinley is looking for an out. One comes when Nina texts to meet at a D.C. bar. Of course, Kinley is walking a tight line between being exposed as being on the magical Gray Scale and her dreams of being on the Omega Task Force and catching a serial killer.

Now… onto Darkly Episode #9.

“Buy me a drink, or never kiss me again!”

Nina held court at the far end of a long bar.

By most standards, the D.C. bar was a dive; below street level, low ceilings, dim lights and plenty of space to hide out in public. The mix of acceptance and alcohol naturally attracted businessmen and FBI agents.

I had to give Nina props. She dominated the attention of seven men in expensive suits; whisky neat the drink of choice.

Spotting me, Nina shooed away her admirers. Her lips formed a smile, and she peeled off a stool to hug me. Nina. A hugger. Things must be pretty bad on the Omega Task Force.

“Two White Russians, my way, in the back booth,” she ordered.

“White Russians?” I vaguely knew the ingredients.

“Don’t worry, my way is with crushed ice, so they’re refreshing.” Nina must have lost track of time or was a day drinker. It was too early for me.

“I’m good,” I said, following her to a back booth. We walked by a few familiar faces. They nodded at me, surprised.

We sat across from each other. “Wilkes will be here eventually.”

“Wilkes!” My voice rose in alarm. “I didn’t come to see him.”

Nina pooh-poohed me.

The White Russians arrived in massive goblets. Nina pulled both to her. She blew a kiss at the bartender, hinting she’d repay his kindness later.

“Look, I didn’t come to be used against Wilkes. I’m okay at Ward Six,” I said, regret a sour pill. I needed to slip out before Wilkes arrived.

Nina faked gagging. “Ward Six is a black hole. Gil Swan is the only reason to stay, so I’ll assume that’s happening, huh?”

“You assume wrong,” I corrected her. “It’s a three-man team; it would feel incestuous.”

Nina made a face but let it go. For once, something was more important than gossip.

“Nina, I’ll be honest. Ward Six isn’t what I expected, and if you have a realistic option, I’ll listen.” I tried to cut to the chase. “As far as Wilkes goes, he won, and I’m not ready for round two.”

“So you want the Omega team scrubbed and replaced?” Nina asked. She knew my answer. Neither of us wanted that because it would be a staggering setback for catching the serial killer.

Nina sipped her drink, explaining, “Scuttlebutt is they’ll shut us down and start fresh with a smaller team. It’s a mark on our records and a colossal setback.”

She pulled a face and took another sip of her drink. The tension eased around her eyes.

“What kind of leads came from Amanda Collins?” I’d expected a wealth of information from a surviving victim.

Nina shrugged. “Useless. Practically useless.”

I couldn’t believe it. Omega snatched Amanda, brutalized her, marked her for death, and left her to bleed out. She had to see something, let alone be a source of physical evidence.

“What happened?” I asked, dumbfounded.

Nina shrugged. “Amanda is a very young and traumatized girl. I think she closed her eyes and prayed it would all go away. She got her prayer because she’s alive and remembers nothing. Saw nothing, whatever. I don’t know; she could only recall that her head hurt, and that was before he burned the mark on her forehead. Useless.” Nina lifted her drink, cradling it in both hands. “So, if your only witness saw nothing and your serial killer stops killing, well, your case screeches to a halt.” She shook her head. “We’ve hit a wall.”

“Amanda had to see how she was burned.”

“Nope.”

“Well, at least Omega’s face.” I couldn’t let it go. I knew the FBI had ways to make witnesses remember. Most were extreme, but if any case had a right to push the envelope, it was the Omega case.

“Sure, we learned Omega is average. The kind of guy that blends into a crowd, and you never notice him until it’s too late.” Nina sighed. She looked spent from too many dead ends. “I had the chore of taking down your computer, but what I found… you are way ahead of standard analysis. We need you back. You have to make nice with Wilkes, and before you scream at me, he needs to make nice, too.”

I heard her, of course, and wanted to dissuade her plan. I just couldn’t ignore what she’d told me about Amanda.

Nina’s eyebrows rose. “What are you thinking?”

“Average?” I repeated. “For some reason, I’d always imagined Omega tall. Huge. Menacing. Not average. Of course, it makes much more sense that he is compensating. How average? Does that mean short? Is that a factor? Would it affect his ritual? It always seemed off for a serial killer; that delay between the burning and the kill.”

Nina raised her glass, toasting my words. “That’s when we found Amanda. During that gap.”

“It’s almost like he gave us that chance, which makes no sense.”

“But you could figure it out,” Nina insisted. “You’ve already done what no one else could do.”

I frowned. “What have I done?”

“You broke Omega’s routine. We helped, but saving Amanda stopped Omega from killing.” Nina focused on her drink for a moment, lost in thought.

I couldn’t tell if she was using guilt or praise to make me talk to Wilkes. Whichever one, it wouldn’t work, and the exit sign at the back of the bar silently called for a quick escape.

“Our new profile is all about how Omega is dealing with failure,” Nina said. “His ritual was broken; therefore, what does he do next? I have a feeling that it will make him bold.”

It made sense. I was instantly worried for Amanda. Would he need to find her and complete the ritual?

Nina read my mind. “We moved Amanda out of state. He’ll never find her. We feel strongly that Omega isn’t the type to give up or create a new ritual. More likely, he’ll look for a substitute for Amanda. Perhaps a look-alike, but he’s gotta be desperate to repair what he’s lost.”

A thought struck me. “Omega could come after the Task Force. Killers have played with law enforcement or the media during their rampages. Striking out that way could create a new dimension that saves his ritual.”

Nina traced a finger along a scratch in the wooden tabletop. “Maybe if he were dealing with local law enforcement, but Omega can’t get near the FBI. Of course, if he brought the game to us, that would make everyone happy.”

A ruckus drew our attention toward the front door. Wilkes entered with his entourage of agents. They seemed happier than I’d expected, seeing how they were all on the brink of going down.

I reached over and grabbed the extra White Russian. Vodka, milk and crushed ice. Yum. I downed it, instantly getting a brain freeze.

“It’s not that bad,” Nina whispered.

I squinted, not recognizing all the agents with Wilkes. He’d lost the ones I remembered. The new ones looked clueless, especially the one at the back. For a minute, I wasn’t even sure he was with Wilkes’s team. He instantly had my sympathy, though, and I had to wonder if that was how I looked when I was briefly part of the entourage.

“Who’s that?” I nodded at the clueless one in the group, wondering if he might be a better way to reach out to Wilkes. Not that I wanted any kind of contact.

The clueless one wore the standard suit, but not a designer brand. Brown hair, hooded eyes checked out the room. He was alert, assessing everyone in the bar. His gaze passed over me.

“Who?” Nina asked, but she was fixated on Wilkes.

“The one at the back.” I didn’t want to point. “Did Wilkes have an exodus?”

Nina waved off my question. “Wilkes has been searching far and wide for support. He’s got a whole new group of fools. They tend to leave as fast as they arrive. Are you ready? We need to act before Wilkes settles in.” Nina downed the dregs of her drink.

“Ready for what?” I asked, not ready for anything.

“We’re gonna go over there and talk to him,” Nina giggled, then hiccuped.

Gil was right; coming to D.C. was a terrible idea.

“No, no, no.” I reached for her arm, but she was already out of the booth.

“Just be brilliant.” The alcohol was definitely adding to Nina’s brazen attitude. I wondered how many she’d had before I arrived. They were strong drinks. My tongue felt numb.

“I can’t be brilliant,” I muttered, exasperated. “I was locked out. I need access to everything I missed and time to analyze it.”

Nina made a raspberry sound with her lips. “Oh, just think harder. What’s the first thing that pops into your mind?” Nina’s eyebrows rose.

“Did you consider using a fake Amanda to catch Omega? You know, set a trap?” I asked.

“We could never fool him.” Nina sounded disappointed.

“Well, I know you didn’t read my report.”

That grabbed her attention. “Why didn’t I read your report?”

I glanced over at Wilkes before I answered. The man in question, however, was getting comfy at the bar. He hadn’t even noticed me. “No one ever asked me to write a report.”

Nina gave me a withering look.

“Omega thinks he’s smarter than us,” I said. “And he’s ready for a little payback, definitely. No maybe about it. We did ruin his ritual. In his mind, striking at Amanda is striking at the FBI. He’d follow any lead we gave him. And that’s what I’d want to tell Wilkes. And if he followed my strategy—set a trap—he could save the Task Force and his job.”

Nina turned to consider me. “I love that about you. Badass Kinley! Now, we just have to go tell Wilkes. Stay here. I’ll chum the water.”

Before I could stop her, off Nina went. It might have just been me, but it felt like everyone in the bar spotted her target and flinched. Halfway there, she did a little spin—looking back at me—and touched a finger to her dainty nose, giving it a little tweak. I knew the move. Good thing I liked vintage movies. It was from The Sting with Robert Redford and Paul Newman. It meant the con was on.

But we weren’t conning Wilkes, so I wasn’t certain what the move meant to Nina. She joined Wilkes’s group. The entourage didn’t welcome her, and the clueless agent I’d noticed stepped back, watching Nina nuzzle up to Wilkes and stroke the idiot’s bald head. It worked. Wilkes ignored his male companions. Nina had all his attention.

The clueless agent couldn’t watch. He turned away, and our eyes locked.

For a minute, I thought about going over and asking his name, but a buzzing whine ripped through my head—from the left ear to the right, searing brain tissue along the way—then a spasm rocked my chest like a hand twisting my heart. I tried to stand but slid out of the booth, legs unsteady and knees buckling. I found myself on all fours, head taking the final dive to the floor.

“Is she dead?” a woman wondered.

No, I said. No one heard me.

“She clutched her chest…”

“She’s drunk,” a harsh male voice decided.

Suddenly, my limp body did not seem so odd. Was I drunk? How strong was the White Russian? I was pretty sure one drink would not cause a total body collapse. But it was a ridiculously large glass.

“Someone better call an ambulance,” a man with bad breath said.

Oh, good, I could still smell. He was that close to my nose.

I was beginning to draw a crowd, but the sense of being surrounded by curious strangers faded away, and the bar’s hard-rocking music morphed into a low buzz. I wanted to move, call out, blink, scream, cry, anything to escape the paralyzed state. It held me like a vice until my surroundings evaporated. A flash of red encircled me, and I was no longer in the bar.

The location—a long, gray hallway. Concrete, blah walls. And doors spaced twenty feet apart. Back doors for businesses. Like ones in a mall. They’d made a comeback in recent years. Malls, not doors. I’d been to one and loved the idea of actually going into shops and trying on clothes.

I sensed a sound more than heard it, so I got up, the paralysis gone, and headed down the stark hallway toward the gurgle of noise. I picked up a smell… sickly sweet. And the light brightened. I could see more. A door was half open. A pulsing red light within. It reflected off the cement floor as if it were smooth water.

The light illuminated a female body.

She was sprawled across the hall’s hard concrete. Alive. Barely. A dark stain pooled around her as a hand moved. It reached out, weak. Useless. She’d fallen into an awkward position.

The hand jerked again, begging for help. I leaned down, trying to get a look at her face. A groan escaped swollen lips, and blue eyes faded to black. They looked straight through me. One word, the effort of speech almost too much… “Omega.”

I jumped back as a door slammed shut. A scream echoed behind me.

“Omega!” Another voice, this time, strong and loud. My voice.

A blinding jolt pushed through my body, and I was back in my own world, although not the bar. It was the swaying, siren-wailing world of an ambulance speeding to the closest hospital.

A paramedic jerked back when I grabbed his wrist to stop him from tagging my arm.

“Easy, easy,” the paramedic said, carefully trying to unwrap my fingers from his bony wrist.

“Get me out of here,” I said, not easing my grip. Who knew what he’d done to me while I was out of it.

The paramedic cleared his throat. “Miss, the monitor says you’ve probably had a heart attack. We’re transporting you to the hospital. You’ve been unconscious for eleven minutes.”

“Did you shock me?” I asked.

“Uh, no, you had a heartbeat, although dangerously shallow. The AI doctor recommended a tag.”

Tags could be anything from adrenaline to psychedelics. They were popular and common, but would get me suspended.

It seemed that I’d interrupted him from administering anything. “Stop the ambulance.”

“Take it easy, miss; we’re almost at the hospital.”

“Where’s my purse?” I sat up, pulling off two monitor dots stuck to my skin. One at my neck. The other at my temple.

The paramedic handed over a leather shoulder bag. I opened it and pulled out a tiny stun gun. Ten pulses. 3-D printed. Very effective. I’d been given it as a joke gift.

Eyes opening wider than attractive, the paramedic yelled for the AI driver to stop. He had to override it, but the ambulance screeched to a halt. I opened the back doors and fell out. My knees gave as I hit the pavement, but my hands came up in time and saved me from another face-plant.

Horns honked.

Oh, good, I was putting on a show. We’d stopped right in the middle of an intersection. Sweet. Even after midnight, we held up traffic.

“What are you thinking?” The paramedic could only watch in dismay.

A line of vehicles had been using our siren as an express route across town. I couldn’t blame them; it was a smart car setting. An unoccupied Smarty Rider was among them. I picked up my purse and stun gun from the street and managed to stumble to the passenger door. It opened to admit me just as I lurched forward. None too gracefully, I landed in the backseat and barked at the AI driver to take me back to the bar. The door automatically closed, and we were off.

I had to get to Gil’s car and back to Ward Six. Maybe then, this whole nightmare would end. Although I doubted it. I’d lost a few moments, so who knows what gossip I’d generated?

“Your destination is ten minutes away,” the AI driver announced. “Are you well? Our passenger health monitor detects elevated levels indicating bodily injury.”

“I’m on the job.”

The AI didn’t utter another word.

Now, I don’t want anyone to think avoiding a smart car interrogation is easy. It’s the Gray in me and my connection with computers. I often told technology to butt out, and it did. If only it worked on humans.