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Sweeny knocked on the door of Vixen's house and listened intently. It was a habit of his. He did not expect anybody to answer since the resident was currently in the morgue. Still, he had his gun ready and his ears perked. If there had been movement inside due to his knock, he would have heard it and come bursting in with his gun drawn. Walking in like he owned the place was not a well advised route when there was a serial killer on the loose.
"I don't think anybody is home." Miles said from behind him.
"Yeah, me neither, but it never hurts to check." Sweeny said. He put his gun back into its holster, but he did not secure the strap. He wanted to be able to draw it again quickly if necessary. The detective reached down and tried the door knob. It was locked. No real surprise. While it would not have been wise for a burglar to break into this particular house while the resident was home, even murderers could not protect their belongings while they were away.
"I guess we have to play the role of burglars today." Miles said, producing a set of lock picks. He was an expert at this sort of thing and Sweeny let him do his thing. This was not the first time that the two of them had stood outside a locked door while Miles worked his magic. In even less time than normal, Miles swung the door open and bowed slightly as he extended his hand in Sweeny's direction.
"After you sir." He said.
"Thank you." Sweeny replied. He thought it odd that Miles was acting so cavalierly, but they were both tired, so he let it go. It was not like he always acted like himself when he was sleep deprived. He stepped past the bowing Miles and into the house. He did not see anything out of the ordinary. The decorations were not too old, but they were not brand new either. Some of the surfaces had a thin layer of dust, but for the most part the house was clean and well kept. He was about to say that he was not sure how fruitful any of this was going to be when he saw the door to the basement.
The door was hanging open slightly as if it had recently been used. For some unknown reason, Sweeny felt a chill run down his spine as he contemplated seeing what was hidden at the bottom of the steps. Voices seemed to call out to him for help, screaming and crying for salvation. Sweeny shuddered. He did not know what had come over him and he did not particularly like it. He scratched at the side of his face and walked toward the open doorway.
"Hey, Miles, I don't think there is much to see up here." He called over his shoulder. "I am going to check out the basement. Maybe we will find something of value down there."
"Okay." Miles called from the kitchen. "I will be there in a minute. Just give me a call if you find something."
Sweeny started down the steps and heard a loud squeak from the first one he put his weight on. His pulse jumped at the sound. Without even thinking about it, he pulled his gun out and kept it at the ready. He had a really bad feeling and he didn't know why. It was almost as if he was afraid that the ghosts of Wraith and Vixen's victims were going to attack him. He told himself that this was stupid. He did not believe in ghosts and he did not even know for certain that anybody had actually been killed in this house.
Maybe this was where Anderson had died. Didn't Wraith say something about that? He couldn't believe himself right now. He could hardly keep his mind focused. He really should have caught a quick nap before coming. Sweeny knew that he really needed to get some rest soon. He was slipping too much and he knew it. It was just that this bastard Wraith was really getting his goat. He could hardly sleep just knowing that the psychopath roamed free. It made it even harder when he knew that Wraith was actively racking up a body count.
He reached the bottom of the steps and found a light switch. When he turned it on, however, he nearly turned it right back off. There was somebody down in the basement, but they were in no position to be a threat to him. In the middle of the floor, there was a table that had a naked body strapped to it. It was a man, but that was really only discernible due to the fact that his penis was the only thing that had not been severely mangled.
Keeping his gun at the ready, Sweeny stepped up to the body and was sickened to realize the person was still alive. The chest moved up and down in shallow breaths and a low moan escaped from the victim's mouth. Sweeny choked down the bile that rose in the back of his throat as he looked at the way that most of the body had been stripped of its outer layer of skin. The face in particular was wretched. All of the skin had been removed. Even the eyelids had been removed and the man looked up at Wraith with pain showing in his intense green eyes.
"Miles get down here!" Sweeny yelled. He was really having a hard time fighting off the revulsion now. The face sputtered and it seemed to try to say something to him. The absence of lips made it difficult to understand, but it sounded like it said 'seeny'.
"What?" Sweeny asked. It was almost as if this pitiful creature knew him.
"Seeny. Luk ot. Srath." The green eyes burned with both pain and determination. There was something about those eyes. Sweeny felt like he should know them somehow. But the only person he knew that had green eyes that intense was…shit. He tried to raise his gun as he heard footsteps on the steps behind him, but as he turned he heard a small cough and his hand exploded in blood. His gun fell uselessly to the ground.
Miles Hook stood at the base of the stairs with a Berretta fitted with a sound suppressor pointed in his direction. Except that it was not Miles Hook. Miles Hook was strapped down to the table in a terrible state. It was Wraith in disguise. Sweeny could not believe how easily he had passed himself off as Miles. If he had not been so damn tired, he would have noticed that he was too tall. He felt like an idiot. He had promised himself that he would not go off half cocked and wind up in the same state as Anderson. Now his hand was useless and Wraith had the drop on him.
"Wraith." Sweeny said, doing his best not to give Wraith the satisfaction of seeing his pain. He did not succeed entirely. His face was contorted into a grimace and his voice sounded strained. Still, for having been shot, he felt he did the best he could.
"Sweeny." Wraith said, dropping his impersonation of Miles' voice. "How good of you to drop by to see your friend. You know, I was almost certain that you would see through my disguise. I could match your boy's face and voice, but the height was not easy. I had to hunch all the time and hope you wouldn't notice. Also, the contacts should have been recognizable to a man with an eye for detail. I guess it was good for me that you were so exhausted."
"You son of a bitch, just get it over with will you?" Sweeny spat. He did not want to give this bastard the chance to gloat over his victory. Wraith had him dead to rights, but he wasn't pulling the trigger. If he could make it to his ankle holster…well, he just might have a chance. Not much of one, but a small chance.
"No." Wraith said. "You might find this hard to believe, but I am not going to kill you. Not yet anyway. At least not directly. I am going to put you in a position to save yourself. If you get out, then I will continue to have fun with you. If not, well then I hope the next detective is going to be good enough to give me a run for my money. I rather doubt it, so I do hope you survive."
"What are you talking about? Just pull the damn trigger. If you don't, I swear to god I will kill you." Sweeny said as he doubled over while holding his ruined hand close into his body. He was close now. All he had to do was drop his hand down and grab his revolver.
"I do not take orders, I give them." Wraith said. "You won't kill me. You are too much of a good guy. If our roles were reversed, you would be reading me my Miranda rights. You don't have what it takes to pull the trigger. You are weak and that is why you will lose. In the mean time, you will be fun to play with. Unfortunately, I will eventually kill you. No toy is fun for forever."
Sweeny decided to act. He reached for his ankle and heard three more coughs. His remaining good hand was not injured, but his revolver was destroyed by the first shot. The next two went right into his shin just above the holster. Sweeny yelled out and fell over. He was near the gun that he had dropped and he thought about reaching out for it. Before he could do so, however, Wraith stepped over and booted it far away from him. Then he delivered another kick to his ribs. The blow was quite fierce and Sweeny gasped for air.
"Stupid. Really stupid." Wraith said. "You just made survival that much more difficult for yourself. I was only going to hit you hard enough to stun you for a bit. You might have been able to get both yourself and your unfortunate friend out of here before I burn the house down. Now you will have a hard enough time just dragging your own sorry self out of here. However, knowing you, you will probably try to save him anyway and just end up dying with him. I don't like that idea."
Wraith walked over to Miles and shot him in the head. He walked back over to where Sweeny was awkwardly clutching at his ankle and glaring at him. He crouched down near the enraged detective and smiled. This was great. The man was really starting to hate him. He probably already hated him, but now his hatred must have really reached a whole new level.
"Now you don't need to worry about him. It serves him right for coming around yesterday afternoon on his own. I was just stopping in to see how Vixen had done with her attempt at killing Jennifer. See that was before I found out that Link interfered. He had just finished picking the lock and had let himself in. I greeted him with the best hospitality that I could muster. You can see what a great host I am." Wraith said, pointing at the table where Miles lay dead. "Now I think it is time to see how well you can move."
He walked back to the stairs and picked up an object that Sweeny hadn't noticed when he had first looked back. It was a gas can. Wraith picked it up and poured it on the steps as he ascended the stairs. He did not bother to pour any gas in the basement. The floor was concrete so it would not have done much good. It didn't matter though. Once the house was in flames, the basement would fill with enough smoke to asphyxiate anybody that was in it. Provided that they were alive to breathe in the smoke.
"You had better get a move on. I already soaked everything up here while you were discovering your buddy." Wraith called from the top of the steps as he tossed a lit match to the bottom step. Flames instantly ignited and Sweeny could hear Wraith laughing madly. He struggled to his good leg and hopped to the steps as fast as he could. He did not like the idea of being barbecued alive.
The stairs were raging with flames that bit at him as he struggled upward. He could hardly stand the pain, but he knew what stopping would mean. His clothes were on fire and his hair was burning but he kept going. The whole house was a raging inferno and the smoke was already thick by the time he reached the top of the stairs. Sweeny already felt burned and broken, but he would not give up. He was determined to make it out alive so that he could hunt Wraith down and make him suffer.
He crawled low on the ground to keep from inhaling too much smoke as he made his way to the front door. It hurt so badly for him to put any weight on his bad hand or leg, but he forced himself to grit his teeth and do it in order to move quicker. At the rate the house was burning around him, he might not make it if he only used his one good hand and leg.
Sweeny's eyes watered and his throat burned when he finally reached the front door. He felt his strength waning from the combined efforts of the smoke inhalation, gunshot wounds, and his own overwhelming exhaustion, but he was able to lift himself up to open the door. Once the door swung inward, he fell out onto the front step and rolled out until he was on the lawn. Sweeny coughed and choked and even threw up, but he was alive.
He rolled over onto his back and tried to breathe as steadily as he could. He wanted to call for help, but he couldn't even find it in himself to reach into his pocket and grab his cell phone. He had never felt so weak, so broken. Rage filled his heart, but even that was not enough to keep him from slipping under. In his last thought before darkness consumed him, he thought he heard the sound of sirens in the distance. Good. Somebody had called the fire department.