Chapter 3: The Kiss of Death

Hunger had overtaken him.

Eight long months had passed since he last tasted blood. He would finish her in due time, of that he was certain. But for now, the hunger had to be satisfied, and he couldn't get to Grace. Not yet. He'd held off on killing the stripper. It was a matter of willpower, and he'd resisted.

But now there was a new beauty, and she was on the other side of the bedroom door where Lukas now stood. She was blonde; Lukas could see her through the crack in the door that she'd left ajar, and she was quite beautiful. She'd been shaving her legs when the razor had nicked her, and the aroma of her fresh blood had reached his nostrils and ignited his desperate hunger.

Now, she scurried throughout her bedroom, wrapped in only a bath towel, blissfully unaware of the beast that preyed on her from just beyond her bedroom door.

Lukas didn't want to kill her. He knew it would jeopardize everything he'd planned for Grace, but when the urge to feed struck him, his will was not his own. He sank his teeth into his own index finger, and licked his own blood, knowing it would do nothing to satiate him. But the beauty in the next room? Yes, she would do nicely.

She removed the bath towel, and the sight of her naked body filled Lukas with desire. He watched lustfully as she made her way to her dresser and removed a bra and a fresh pair of panties. He would see to it she would not have time to put either of them on.

The woman had walked into a perfect storm. She was beautiful, alone, and naked.

The perfect victim.

Feeling the darkness overtake his body, Lukas pushed open the bedroom door, and made his presence known to his soon-to-be victim. He paused a second, only a second, to savor the look of terror on her face when she saw him.

When he was certain she was aware that this was not a friendly visit, and that suffering and death were moments away, that was all he needed to be ready. He licked his lips. She screamed.

And then he struck.

"Choo! Choo!"

Kayla Harker ran the toy train across her father's back. He lay quietly on the couch, resting soundly, barely aware of the plastic contraption transporting imaginary friends of his daughter across the landscape of his torso.

"Kayla! Don't run your train over Daddy!" Grace snapped. She watched her daughter from the kitchen, while holding her cell phone under one ear with her left shoulder, while clutching a wooden spoon with her right hand.

"Mommy! I was just playing!" the four-year-old said.

Grace didn't hear her. She hurried back into the kitchen, stirring a pot of boiling noodles with the spoon and crying quietly into the phone.

"He's just getting worse," Grace sobbed. "You have no idea! I'm pregnant and he's sick more than I am! I can't hold this together Nora, I'm falling apart!"

She could hear Ted cough from the living room, a loud, raspy, mucus-filled cough. Kayla quietly ran her toy train across the carpet of the living room floor; having grown accustomed to her father's perpetual illness.

Over the phone, Nora gave her best words of comfort for her emotionally and physically drained sister. Grace rubbed her nine-month pregnant belly and let out a long sob.

"I just hope he gets better soon," Grace said, wiping tears from her eyes. "The doctors think it should pass, but they've been saying that for months!"

The cooking pot hissed, and boiling water spilled over the edge and onto the stovetop. Grace rushed over and removed the lid, and quickly stirred the noodles.

"Thank you, Nora. Anything you can do to help I'd apprecia- wait, I just got a text."

She looked at her phone. The text read "HOMICIDE- 2000 BLACKWATER RD."

2000 Blackwater. Grace knew that address. She put the phone back to her ear.

"I'm gonna have to call you later. Thank you for everything."

Grace ended the call and hurried into the living room.

"Ted, I have to go to work. Can you finish dinner?"

Ted rolled over and groaned loudly.

"The noodles are going to boil over, so you'll want to- OUCH! KAYLA PICK UP YOUR TOYS!"

Grace kicked the plastic train angrily aside, wincing from the pain in her foot. Kayla looked up at her mother in surprise.

"Ted, did you hear what I said?"

"Yes," Ted moaned, but didn't appear to be in any hurry to move.

Grace slipped her shoes on, and without saying another word, she was out the door.

After Catherine Balko's conviction, with no living heirs who weren't subject of a manhunt, the state took possession of 2000 Blackwater Road. With few buyers interested in owning a property where thirty-eight young women had been brutally murdered, the asking price on the house plummeted.

It took five months, but the state eventually found a buyer in Paul and Marianne LeClair. The LeClairs were a newlywed couple who were looking to start a home flipping business in the area. Paul, a trained carpenter, and Marianne, an interior decorator, had made a killing selling off properties, and when they saw the asking price on 2000 Blackwater, the price was too good to pass.

When they learned of the property's history, Paul knew the property would be near impossible to sell, but for Marianne, it was love at first sight. She loved the early 1900s architecture and design, and decided that murder house or not, if she couldn't sell it, she would live in it.

Grace's heart sank when she pulled in front of the property, and once again found it surrounded by police cruisers. She exited her car and hurried through the gate. Detective Pratt waited for her on the front porch.

"Of all the places, huh?" Joe asked.

"It can't be a coincidence," Grace said. If Joe agreed with her, he didn't say. He led her inside.

Paul LeClair sat on the couch in the living room, sobbing uncontrollably. He didn't appear to even notice his home was swarmed with police officers. Grace tried to fathom how it must feel to lose one's spouse in such a horrific crime, and realized she didn't even want to.

"The body's upstairs," Joe whispered into her ear.

Grace pulled her eyes away from the grieving husband and slowly ascended the stairs, unable to ignore the fact that Catherine Balko had walked these very stairs on her way to and from her numerous bloodbaths. Grace shuddered with each step she took. She arrived on the second floor to see a long hallway before her, with numerous doors on either side.

"Right this way. In the master bedroom," Joe said.

Grace followed Joe into the bedroom, and found the corpse of Marianne LeClair sprawled face down on the bedspread. The beautiful blonde was naked, with twin holes in her neck and not a drop of blood on her body.

"Balko," Grace said to herself.

"That's what it looks like," Joe said.

A forensic investigator photographed the body.

"How long as she been dead?"

"Between fourteen and eighteen hours by the looks of her," the investigator said.

"Husband came home this afternoon from a weekend outing and found her like this," Joe said.

Marianne lay with her legs spread apart far enough that Grace could see dried semen around her anus and on her labia, as well as on the corner of her mouth. It did not escape her that Ted had very nearly found her in this same state eight months earlier. He still might, someday.

"Raped. Like the others. Why would Balko come here, to his sister's old house of all places, just to rape and kill whoever happened to be living here?" Grace asked.

"Hoping to find his sister here?" Joe mused. "He has been on the run for some time. Maybe he didn't know."

Grace shook her head. She spotted a bandage on the back of Marianne's thigh. Putting on a pair of latex gloves, Grace peeled back the bandage and inspected the wound underneath.

"Razor nick. She cut herself shaving right before the attack," the forensic investigator said. He took a pair of tweezers, inserted the tips into Marianne's anus, and picked off a piece of the dried semen gathered there. He placed the dried DNA into a plastic evidence bag and sealed it shut.

"We need to talk to the husband," Grace said.

Paul LeClair had calmed down enough to speak with the detectives, and invited them to sit across from him in the living room.

"Around one o'clock. I found her right after I got home. I knew something was wrong when I didn't hear her jazz records playing." He paused, as if he expected the detectives to identify with the observation, but they were silent.

"Do you lock your doors at night?" Joe asked.

"Yes. Always. Mari said she found the house spooky, even though she loved it so much. I can't imagine she'd ever forget to lock up. I had to unlock the door when I got home."

Grace and Joe exchanged glances.

"I knew I shouldn't have left her alone here. I tried to talk her out of buying the house, but-"

"Mr. LeClair, there's no need to blame yourself," Grace said, consolingly.

Paul sighed. He looked at Grace's very swollen belly.

"How far along are you?"

"I'm due the 31st," Grace said. Paul smiled.

"Mari and I have been trying. I was hoping they'd take after her, she's just so..." Paul trailed off.

Joe and Grace met outside the house after interviewing Paul, neither of them happy.

"Something's not right about this," Joe said, taking out a cigarette.

"You got that right. Lukas has to have known Catherine wouldn't be here. He came here for some other reason." Grace stared up at the ornate house in wonder.

"Sentimental attachment to this house?"

"No," Grace said. "Something else."

She knew it might be a mistake, but Grace decided to visit someone she hadn't seen in a while. It occurred to her she hadn't paid a visit to the Havenswood Psychiatric Facility since her rediscovery of the mysterious skull key in her daughter's closet, and decided to bring it with her. She stuffed the key into her purse and made her way inside the building.

Daniel Becket was in the rec room when she arrived, seated alone at a table reading. Grace took a seat across from him. She noticed he was looking healthy. His hair and beard looked neatly trimmed, and he looked as though he'd been exercising frequently.

"You're coming along, I see," Daniel said, glancing up at her before reverting his eyes back to his book.

Grace patted her stomach.

"Just a few weeks left, then some much needed maternity leave," she said.

Daniel set his book down.

"What did you come for?" His tone was sharp; Grace detected a trace of bitterness.

"Balko killed again. A woman. She was living in Catherine's old house."

"I guess there's no stopping him," Daniel said, dryly.

"We're doing everything we can!" Grace proclaimed, clearly hurt by Daniel's editorial comment. "I'm going to find him, Mr. Becket. I promise. I'll find him or I'll die trying. You have my word."

Daniel looked at Grace. He wanted to believe her. She wanted him to believe her even more.

"Is there anything you can tell me? Any way you can help? You hunted Balko for two years."

"And then I got locked up here for being crazy," Daniel said. "And now you think I can help?"

Grace went silent. She had to admit, the more wrapped up in her investigation she got, the more she reminded herself of Mr. Becket. That fact frightened her.

"You say you don't belong here," Grace said. "Prove it. Tell me something solid."

"Like what?"

"Like why did Balko kill a woman in his sister's old house? She'd been dead for months. He had no reason to return there."

Daniel shrugged.

"He killed because he was hungry. Same reason as always."

Grace tapped her fingernails on the table, considering that thought, and dismissing it.

"Everyone he's killed in the last six years has gotten in his way in some form or another. Even your wife. She came to him, he didn't come to her."

Grace opened up her purse and removed a notepad. As she did, Daniel noticed something else that was in Grace's purse.

"I have here, a list of known associates of Lukas Balko. I've contacted all of them, and none of them-"

"Where did you get this?" Daniel asked, reaching into Grace's purse and grabbing the skull key.

"I found it," Grace said.

"This belonged to my wife," Daniel said. "It was a wedding present from her aunt. It's a skeleton key. It's supposed to be able to open any lock."

Grace considered disregarding him. She opened her mouth to tell him he could keep his tall tales to himself, but instead, she asked, "does it work?"

"Gabby was advised- not to use it. It does more than open doors, from what she was told."

Grace snorted.

"So it's spooky mumbo-jumbo. Great."

Grace took the key from Daniel's hands and stuffed it back into her purse. Daniel glared at her.

"I'm sorry if I come across as some wild-eyed, prophet of doom, Grace. But I have SEEN things. Things that would drive you to the edges of your sanity."

"What? Your wife coming back to life?"

A patient seated nearby shot Grace a glance. Grace ignored him.

"Yes. Gabby came home, one year after her death; she took me by the hand, and took me through a gate to Hell. I SAW Hell, with my own eyes. I felt the fire. I made it back out, but not all of me!"

"Yes, Mr. Becket. Your succubus wife. Tell me, how did you manage to escape from Hell, the worst of all places?"

Dan stared Grace in the eye, and responded: "I resisted her. She tried to reconnect with me. She tried to kiss me. I knew better. One kiss from a succubus, you don't just die. She owns your soul forever. You're damned. She did a lot of things to me, but we didn't kiss. That was how I got away."

"What things? What did she do?"

Daniel lowered his head.

"We made love. She was my wife, after all. She came to me, more than once, and every time she did I felt a little weaker each time. She very slowly destroyed my body, and later my mind. If I'd known I'd end up here, I think I would have let her finish the job."

Grace sighed. She shook her head, unable to hide her ever-growing mountain of disbelief.

"And where is she, Mr. Becket? Where is your succubus wife? Why can't I meet this woman who somehow came back from the dead only to torment the man she loved most? I'd really like to meet her!"

Daniel stared at Grace coldly.

"You just might get your wish."

Grace rose from her seat and slung her purse over her shoulder.

"Well, I've had a wonderful visit, Mr. Becket, but I won't keep you from your book any longer."

She glanced at the title of the book. It read, "The Kiss of Death: Twenty-One True Accounts of Succubus Seductions."

"What do you want from me, Grace?"

Grace stared at the ten nearby patients, all looking back at her, curiously. One of them spat out a piece of a jigsaw puzzle, where it stuck, sticky with saliva, to his chin. Grace chuckled to herself.

"I guess, I was hoping I was talking to someone who wasn't crazy."

She walked out. She felt the hateful stares of every patient in the room on her as she went, and hurried out of the room.

"Why the hell did you come here, Grace?" she whispered to herself. At that moment, she was fairly certain she would never visit Daniel Becket again. When she found Balko, she would simply let Joe inform him.

When she was past the security checkpoint, Grace burst into tears, and found herself wondering how long it would be before she was a patient at this facility. The thought of that pushed her to walk a bit faster out of the building.

On her way towards the exit, she passed a door with the words "MAINTENANCE ACCESS" painted on it in stenciled letters, with the words "THIS DOOR MUST REMAIN LOCKED AT ALL TIMES" printed below.

She almost kept walking. She couldn't. She had to try it, just to be sure. Grace removed the skeleton key from her purse, and slipped it into the door lock. She took a deep breath, and turned the key.

The door opened.

A solid minute passed before Grace took another breath.

She shut the door and turned the key in the other direction, until she heard a click. She removed the key and turned the doorknob. It didn't budge.

Feeling the hair on the back of her neck stand on end, Grace dropped the skeleton key back in her purse and hurried toward the exit. The laughing of the deranged inmates rang in her ears until she finally made it out of the facility.

Grace lay awake that night, unable to get to sleep. She turned to her side, but Ted was missing. She was pleased he'd been feeling well enough to hit the gym again, but now Grace had become concerned once again with how much time he'd been spending there.

It seemed Ted was sick more than he was well, and every time he was well, he was off to the gym, often late at night. For the first time, Grace began to wonder if Ted had become interested in someone else.

Their sex life had reached the point of being practically non-existent. Grace knew that was mostly her fault, but lately, Ted hadn't even responded to Grace's initiations of affection. She'd tried giving him a blow job just the other night, and he hadn't even been able to get a hard on. She knew his constant illness had taken a toll on his body. So why did he have the energy to go to the gym?

Grace tossed and turned, trying to put the thought out of her mind. In four years of marriage he'd never given her reason to be suspicious of him.

She heard the sound of footsteps, and Grace shot up in bed. Carefully, she grabbed her Glock and tiptoed out of the bedroom. Ted hadn't been gone long; it was unlikely he had returned already. Grace quietly opened the bedroom door and peered out into the hall.

Kayla stood in the hallway, staring out into the darkness.

"Kayla?" Grace called, placing her Glock onto her dresser. Kayla didn't respond. She stood in the hallway for nearly a minute before returning to her bedroom. Grace watched as Kayla climbed back into her bed. Grace waited, and returned to bed herself.

As she lay awake, it occurred to her Kayla's sleepwalking began just around the onset of Ted's illness. Grace felt a knot tighten in her stomach and feared her husband's illness might be putting undo stress on the youngster.

She thought about Paul LeClair instead, and how he was now spending his first night a widower. Realizing that would also prevent her from getting a sound night's sleep, Grace tried to put that out of her mind as well.

"Why did he come back to Catherine's house?" Grace asked, aloud. There was no getting that question out of her mind. She thought about the bandage on Marianne's thigh. How she'd cut herself shaving her legs. How the blood must have excited Balko as soon as he'd smelled it.

"Why did he come back to Catherine's house?" Grace repeated. Something drew him there, and it wasn't the memories. Something else. Grace's eyes went wide, and she sat upright in bed.

"Because he never left," she said.

The phone rang while Grace was in the shower. She didn't bother turning the water off, or getting dressed. She didn't even grab a towel. Grace was out of the tub on the phone by the second ring.

"What did you find?" she asked.

"There were eleven coffins in Catherine's basement. The state cleared them all out after her conviction," Joe said.

"Eleven? Does that include the one they found the kid in? Dylan Becket?" Grace asked.

She opened the bathroom door and hurried out. Ted looked on from the kitchen, bemused upon seeing his very wet, very naked, and very pregnant wife scurry down the hall. She then sat her bare butt in front of her computer, which was now set up in the living room as her office has now been cleared out for the baby's room.

"Uh, no. Counting that one, that makes twelve. Twelve coffins recovered," Joe said.

"Twelve," Grace said. She sorted through the mountain of papers in her file cabinet, frantically searching for the one she needed.

Ted approached, holding a plate of eggs and bacon.

"Breakfast?" he asked, amused.

Grace grabbed a handful of bacon and took a bite, leaving the rest on the plate.

"That's right, twelve," Joe said over the phone, unsure what Grace was getting at. She pulled a folder from her cabinet and slapped it on her desk.

"I have here an invoice, dated December 5, 2009, listing the transport of thirteen coffins to Catherine's house. Thirteen! It looks like we're one short."

"I don't see how this helps us," Joe said.

"It means there's something in Catherine's house we haven't found yet. We find it, maybe we find what brought Lukas back there."

"Grace..."

"I'll see you there." Grace hung up. She looked up at her husband, who stared back at her. For the first time, she was suddenly aware she was naked.

"Shut up," Grace said.

"We never actually went down into the basement," Paul LeClair said. "We were too disturbed by what happened down there. Now I kind of wish we'd taken a closer look."

He seemed to be stalling for time. Grace could tell Paul really did not want to go down into the basement. Her heart ached for the poor widower.

"We don't know for sure if anything's there, Mr. LeClair," Joe said. "My partner's acting on a hunch, that's all."

"Well, anything that might help you find the son of a bitch who killed my wife," Paul said. His face sank when he realized he couldn't delay the inevitable. He led Grace and Joe down into the basement, and was shaking as he went.

"You don't have to come down with us if it makes you uncomfortable, Mr. LeClair," Grace said.

"I'll be all right," he said. The house was eerily silent except for their footsteps. Paul was grateful for the company of the two detectives, as he hadn't had any visitors all day.

He flicked on a light switch, and illuminated the dim cellar. The wine shelf concealing the hidden passage had been removed, giving the detectives a clear view down the corridor.

"Let's go have a look," Grace said. She took the lead; Joe followed, while Paul remained a safe distance behind. She made her way to the end of the wall, and opened the large metal door leading to Catherine's washroom.

After turning a switch, the lights flickered and illuminated the large dank washroom. The sturdy chain still hung over the empty bathtub, which sat ominously in the center of the room, stained with the blood of thirty-eight virgins.

Paul gasped.

"I have to get out of here," he said, cupping his hand to his mouth. He hurried out of the basement and rushed upstairs.

Grace and Joe searched the room, examining every corner. The screams of Sarah Wainwright echoed in Grace's head, and she said a silent prayer for all of the other girls who'd met their end in this room.

"We're not finding what we need here, Grace," Joe said. Grace glared back at him.

"There's something here. We just have to find it."

"Where?" Joe threw up his arms. "We searched this place inside and out after the arrest."

"Where were the other coffins?"

"In the storage room back there. It's empty now."

Grace proceeded to the washroom exit and Joe reluctantly followed. She stopped outside the first door on the left and pointed. Joe nodded.

The storage room was empty as Joe assured her. Grace shined a flashlight around the room, inspecting every corner. Only cobwebs and footprints in the dust remained. Still, Grace could not get over the feeling she and Joe were not alone in this room.

"Evidence took all of them out. There's nothing left in here," Joe said.

Indeed, the room was empty. But she had to be certain. Grace shined her flashlight across the floor, and stopped.

"Does that look like a bloodstain to you?" she asked.

Joe knelt down and examined the dark spot on the concrete floor, near the edge of the wall.

"Yeah." he said. "Looks like it leaked out from the wall."

Grace knelt next to Joe and examined the concrete wall. She ran her fingers between each brick, and realized they were not held together with mortar.

"It's a false wall," Grace said.

"You got to be kidding me."

Grace pulled the wall apart, brick by brick until she uncovered a secret compartment behind it. She shined her flashlight inside.

"Take a look," Grace said.

Joe ducked his head and peered inside the hidden room. There was a wooden coffin.

"Shit. You were right."

Grace shot Joe a defiant stare and attempted to crawl into the small compartment. She stopped.

"I can't," she said, clutching her belly. "Get it out for me?"

Joe crawled on his hands and knees into the compartment and pushed the wooden coffin. He grunted. It was heavy, definitely not empty. Joe grabbed the coffin by the edge with one hand and the side with the other and yanked it hard, sliding the heavy casket across the concrete floor and out through the false wall. It took three hard pulls, but he finally slid it out into the storage room. He stopped, panting.

"Something's inside, that's for sure."

Grace wasted no time opening the lid. She pulled the coffin open and peered inside, and gasped.

Joe looked into the coffin and felt a pit form in his stomach.

"It's him," he said.

There, in the coffin, was Lukas Balko. His hair was snow white, his skin dark gray. He did not breathe or twitch as Grace shined her light across his face. Still, Joe was compelled to take his pulse.

"Nothing," he said. "He's dead. You found him, Grace."

Grace was greeted with applause the next time she walked into the station. Everyone, from every department, had gathered around and clapped loudly the moment she stepped inside.

Captain Pillar stepped forward, and extended his hand.

"Fine work, Harker," he said, shaking her hand. "You're a credit to the force."

Grace reluctantly shook his hand back.

"We, uh, still have a lot of work to do," Grace said. She looked at the crowd of faces; coworkers, friends, acquaintances, all happy for her.

"Of course," Pillar said. "But you found your man. A six-year-long manhunt ends today. That's commendable."

Grace blushed and thanked the captain.

"Now you can take your maternity leave without this hanging over you," Joe said, chuckling.

An officer held up her hand, and Grace high-fived her.

"Go Grace!" another officer shouted.

"Excuse me," Grace said.

To everyone's surprise, Grace hurried away to a walk-in storage room, and slammed the door. She let out a long breath, and cried silently to herself.

They were going to close the case. She knew they would. They would close the case, and Lukas was still going to be out there, because he wasn't just dead. He was undead. She couldn't prove it, but she knew it was true.

She took out her phone and dialed her husband. The phone rang seven times before he answered.

"Hello?" Ted said, panting.

"I just want you to know, I won't be coming home tonight," Grace said. "We had a breakthrough on a big case, so there's a lot of work to do. I'll be here all night."

"Okay, I'll take Kayla out for burgers when I get home."

"You at the gym?"

There was a pause.

"Yeah. Just got a set done. About to hit the showers," Ted said, still sounding a touch out of breath.

"Don't push yourself too hard. How are you feeling?"

"Great. I think I might be beating this thing."

"Good. I'll see you in the morning."

"See you, too. I love you."

Grace hung up her phone. There was something off about Ted's voice. Grace couldn't place it, but his voice seemed higher pitched than normal. She could tell there was something he wasn't telling her. Most likely he wasn't being upfront on the real status if his health. He'd been assuring her for months he was getting better, and was instead growing gradually worse.

Grace decided she'd have a talk with him when she got home, in the morning.

She was thumbing through a copy of her newly purchased book, The Kiss of Death: Twenty-One True Accounts of Succubus Seductions, when Joe Pratt stopped by her desk carrying a bag of takeout Chinese.

"Nothing like a little light reading after a long workday?" Joe smirked.

"You might find it enjoyable if you ever tried it," Grace shot back, then smiled. Joe held up the bag.