*
Amanda sped up the stairwell, taking three, four steps at a time. With every footstep she felt power surge through her body, a giddy, all knowing confidence coursed through her veins, driven by the pump of her heart.
She rounded the corner at the top floor and slowed. The double doors were flung open and an acrid, sweet-sour stench rolled from the room.
A soft glow at the far end illuminated the sole figure of Papa Doc Duvalier.
Amanda tread carefully, wary of the deep shadows created by the backlit illumination. She flexed her fingers. Raw strength sparking down her limbs.
When she had stood in this place in the Umbra earlier that day, dark creatures flitted throughout. The Tonton Macoute gathered together, their inner creatures in a frenzy and the whole place was draped in grey.
The room now, in contrast, was full of colour. Professor Anderson's body lay in a bloody circle, scarlet splashes decorating the outskirts. Bright blue computer screens illuminated the room from the far wall. A grey and green and yellow monolith standing to one side, surrounded by white and brown feathers and streaks of red blood. Poultry carcasses lay in a sodden pile at the base.
Papa Doc Duvalier sat with his back to the terminal screens, his white robe open, the smile on his face wide and deep and slow.
'Welcome back, Police Officer Morgan,' Duvalier said.
Amanda halted in her tracks. What was she going to do? What was she prepared to do to stop this man? She had no idea.
Duvalier raised his arms and looked upwards towards the bank of screens on the wall above him. Strange words appeared on the screens, some letters looked vaguely familiar, others were completely alien.
'Do you know how to create a Zombie?' Duvalier asked. 'One of my infamous Tonton Macoute?'
Amanda remained still but her eyes flitted upwards, looking at the words appearing on the screen, some for only a moment, others for longer.
'After all the ritual, the dancing, the ju-ju powder, the incantations?' Duvalier said. 'In that final moment of the potential's life, the sound carried on their very last breath, is the name of their soul. Their "true name" given to them at the moment of their birth.
'There is great power in a name, Detective. Great power indeed. And once I know the true name of a person's soul - why - I have control over them.'
Amanda stared at the words that blinked on the screens. Long strings of strange letters that glowed white on the blue background.
'Written in the oldest of languages,' Duvalier said. 'I am able to read the name of the soul of anyone who dies from this moment on. Actually, from about 30 minutes ago. I am accruing my army within Hell. They pass on, I read, I know, I convert, they take on the rank and file. Most simple.'
Amanda didn't understand what Duvalier was referring to. She hadn't understood anything that had happened to her that day. But she did know that Duvalier was the source of the problems and that he was directly responsible for the death of Professor Anderson. There was only one thing she could do.
'Papa Doc Duvalier, you are under arrest,' Amanda strode toward Duvalier. 'You do not have to say anything, but anything you do say will be taken down and may be used in evidence against you.'
Duvalier's laugh boomed out long and loud. 'Are you serious? Are you really expecting to arrest me?'
Amanda stood in front of Duvalier, who hesitated and wrinkled his aging brow, as if seeing the policewoman for the first time.
'So,' he said. 'You have power within you. Something has awoken. But do not think you are strong enough to stop me, little girl.'
'Did you really not expect someone to fight back?' Amanda said. She made to grab Duvalier's wrist, but he pulled it away quicker than she could follow.
'You?' Duvalier spat the words out, 'You are cattle to be fed on, preyed on and finally used for the purpose of extending my eternal life.'
'You are wrong, Papa Doc Duvalier,' Amanda said. 'For every abuse you have taken there has been a revolt. Every innocent life that you have expunged to take as a Macoute, they have left their cry to echo. And that cry has been heard. I am here to bring you to justice.'
She reached out to grab Duvalier's arm again. He drew it back before she could grasp him and struck out, whipping his fist against her jaw and standing up, all in one fluid movement.
Amanda sailed back across the room, landing heavily against the floor. She lay on the cold surface a moment, dabbed a knuckle to her bloody lip, then sat up. Duvalier's easy smile faded as he caught sight of the darkness flickering around Amanda. His gaze slipped to her left, then her right, then followed the darkness around the room.
For the first time since Amanda had met him, Duvalier looked scared.
'My Macoute, they will protect me.'
'Your Macoute on this earth are dead. And I am here to stop your Macoute wherever else they may occur.'
Duvalier flinched as a shadow flickered in his peripheral vision. He turned quickly, batting out at the air before him, then whipped to the other side and flayed his hand around his head.
'My . . .' Duvalier faltered, 'My Macoute will protect me.'
'No,' Amanda said. 'They won't.'
The air around Duvalier whined, black motes circling his head. He removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose.
'My Macoute . . .'
'No they will not,' Amanda approached Duvalier. 'You are all alone and you are going to pay for your crimes.'
'They're coming for me,' he whispered. He replaced his glasses, his eyes wide and lips trembled. 'I can see them gathering. Feel their hunger.'
'It's not too late,' Amanda said, suddenly feeling for the old man's fear. 'Come with me into custody and we will -'
'Nooooo,' Duvalier screamed and launched himself at Amanda. She blocked his first blow, but his second was too quick and his fist glanced off her shoulder. He leapt forward, his age no hindrance, and grabbed at her throat.
She smashed her arms downwards, breaking Duvalier's grip before it could properly take hold. She brought her elbow up sharply and caught him squarely under the chin, knocking him backwards. A chip of tooth spat from Duvalier's mouth and pinged against the stone tiles.
He looked shocked, his pink tongue running along the edge of his teeth, stopping at the broken hole where a central incisor should have been.
'Look what you have done,' he said. 'I can't be harmed. That's impossible.' He reached up and probed his mouth, staring at the bloody tip of his finger.
Amanda took the opportunity of Duvalier's distraction to grab his arm, twisting it into an armlock, preparing to pin him to the desk.
'You are under arrest and are going to pay for your crimes.'
Duvalier shrugged and flung Amanda back against the bank of computers.
'I will pay for my crimes. Suffer at the hands of those I have wronged, and those I have bent to my will. But not in your courts. They gather, those peers of mine, they gather.'
Amanda rose from where she fell, but Duvalier was on her in an instant. His hands clawed at her throat and settled into an iron grip on her neck. She gasped as the flow of air to her lungs was cut off and fingers like a steel choker circled her throat.
Her nails raked at Duvalier's hands, desperately willing the grip on her throat to slacken. She kicked around and jerked her body, bucking like a bronco bull, violently thrashing around as her lungs ached for air.
'If I've lost every other Macoute, then I'm going to take you. You would be a mighty guardian. And it looks as if I'm going to have to zombie you the old fashion way. You hear me, detective? I am going to listen to the name of your soul with your very last breath.'
Duvalier loomed over Amanda so that he was all she could see. His blunt yellow teeth and trimmed nostrils. Lack of oxygen drained the strength from her limbs, dark speckles clouding the edge of her vision. Blood was thumping in her temples and she fought to keep consciousness.
An image floated beneath her eyelids. Danielle. She was reaching to
her. Amanda was surrounded by tall shadows that pecked at her. The sound of their taunts were faint, but the meaning was clear.
Amanda reached out to Danielle. Instead of fingers her right hand grasped at the slippery mess of cables beneath a table. She reached around the wires and, more in frustration than anything, pulled with the last vestiges of might left in her body.
The screens on the wall flickered and went blank.
'No,' Duvalier screamed. He dragged Amanda away from the consoles and flung her against the monolith. Duvalier ducked under the table and inspected the damage. He quickly replaced the cables and the screens blinked back to life. Names continued to appear on the screens.
Amanda coughed and rolled to her side, willing herself to rise, her arms trembling.
'Looks like I am going to have to do this the Haitian way.' Duvalier chuckled and knelt at a chest next to his chair.
Amanda stood up, legs wobbling, panting for breath. She leaned against the table for support and watched Duvalier scrabbling at a wooden chest. She had to act fast.
'You are going to taste the devil dust. May make you sneeze, but it will all be over in - - ' Duvalier whipped around from the chest, a sachet of powder unfolded on the palm of his hand.
Amanda slammed the laptop into Duvalier's face. He was hurled backwards, his hands clasping to the pain. Immediately, he jolted upright, his eyes wide in terror, his mouth and nose dusted with powder that was on his palms. He spluttered, hacking into his sleeve.
'What have you done?' he whispered, his voice already coarse from the inhaled poisons from his own hand. Amanda noticed the empty sachet of paper floating to the floor and looked into Duvalier's eyes.
His gaze told her everything. In the few precious moments before he was dead, his eyes were defiant, murderous and contemptuous. Also pleading and scared and, perhaps, sorry. He sat against a desk, drawing in a desperate lungful of air, his stare fixed on Amanda. His hand grabbed out in front of him, as if he were reaching for something, or someone, And then he went still.
A gasp rattled from his throat and air seeped through his dead lips. His head lolled to one side and he stared away with blank white eyes.
Starlight filtered through the windows and into the gloom. Amanda pulled at Duvalier's arm, but it flopped, and she paused. Pulling him back into the chair she called out his name. No response. She checked his wrist. The cold skin was lifeless. No pulse.
A familiar looking sigil appeared on the screens. Amanda squinted at the word and recognised the name of Francois Duvalier.
She hit the delete button.
Sirens sounded in the distance. Amanda searched around the room and flicked the main room lights so that the whole glass dome lit up. Send them a beacon to aim for, she laughed to herself, then winced as her neck shot through with pain. She was afraid to imagine what colour the bruising would turn out.
Amanda closed the doors behind her and made her way downstairs.
There was no sign of Harvey, or the body of the scarred man. But there were blood stains on the carpet and faint footprints and a rail-track score in the blood. Someone had dragged a body through the hallway. She followed the two lines to an open doorway.
Inside the room Harvey hung spread-eagle from a metal frame, draped across the rails with hands and feet bound. His head hung low on his chest. He was alive, his breath drawn in ragged gasps, but his injuries were horrendous.
His left arm was red raw, a white sheaf of skin hanging from his shoulder. Someone had flayed the flesh from his hand and arm, and the tendons and muscle clung desperately to the bones of his arm.
A naked figure stood in front of Harvey. Amanda recognised him immediately. Impossibly scarred, like a patchwork doll owned by a malicious child, the white scar lines criss-crossed his back and arms. He turned to face Amanda. His torso splashed casually with blood that was unable to mask the scars that mapped his body. He smiled, his lips a zig-zag grin.
'Duvalier is dead. The Police are on their way,' Amanda said.
'Is there still time for me to steal the assassin's identity?' Finn held a knife up and played with the light.
'That's not going to happen.'
'Then what now?' Finn asked.
Amanda heard voices call out below. The thunderous noise of two dozen Territorial Support Group officers pounding up the levels of the law firm, batons in hand, shields ready. Amanda was filled with the euphoria of knowing that support was only moments away. She levelled her gaze at the scarred man.
'We can do this one of two ways . . .'
The end
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