Back in the house, Violet found Bill where she’d left him. He was holding a hand over his stomach wound, blood flowing freely between his fingers. His skin was now a ghastly shade of white. “Help’s on the way,” she said, pulling his hand away so she could examine the wound.
“The gunman,” Bill hissed, “where is he?”
“Outside. Dead.”
“Did he have an image of an eclipse on his hand?”
Violet blinked in surprise. “You know him?”
“I know men like him. You have to get back out there and watch over him.”
“He’s dead.”
Sinclair gripped her wrist tightly, his bloodstained fingers biting into her flesh. “No. He’s not.”
Violet pulled away, ignoring the red stains that were on her flesh. She moved away from Bill, returning to the front door. True enough, the spot where the gunman’s body had lain was now empty. She quickly reloaded her gun, slipping the last of the bullets into the chamber.
Stepping out onto the porch, Violet looked down the street and saw that the sedan was still parked in the same place. But where had the dead man gone? Surely she hadn’t made a mistake… he’d been riddled with holes and there had been no trace of a pulse.
She walked cautiously down the steps and heard a rustle of grass to her left. She had just started to turn when a heavy weight slammed against her, knocking her painfully to the ground. Her eyes fixed on the still bleeding form of the mysterious gunman, who was now crouched on top of her, pinning her down. He drew back his fist, obviously intending to strike her in the face. Violet struggled to adjust her position and pulled the trigger of her gun. Because of the angle, she wasn’t sure exactly where her bullet would strike her target.
The shot tore through his thigh, the bullet passing onwards until it embedded itself in his cheek. He grunted and rolled off of her, reaching up to paw at his injured face. Violet moved as quickly as she could, pain lancing through her entire body. She got to her knees, took careful aim, and blew the man’s head into a splatter of crimson mist and gray matter.
Violet’s shoulder slumped and she found herself panting from the exertion. She wiped her forehead with the back of her arm and for a moment was afraid she was bleeding… before realizing that it was Sinclair’s blood, not hers.
A police car skidded to a stop in front of the house and two uniformed officers sprang out, guns drawn. They approached Violet and one of them recognized her. He waved his partner to go inside the house, the shattered door having caught his eye.
“Miss Cambridge? You okay?”
Violet looked up and tried to remember the officer’s name. Henry? Howard? No… Hank. That was it. “Hank, help me up, would you?”
Hank allowed Violet to take his arm, putting most of her weight on him as she struggled to her feet. She felt like the entire side of her body where she’d struck the ground was bruised and throbbing.
“What happened here?” Hank asked.
Violet was about to attempt an explanation when Hank uttered a four-letter word, the sort that gentleman rarely said in front of a woman. She looked down to see that the dead man, the one whose head she’d turned into pile of mush, was undergoing a profound physical change. His body seemed to shrink within itself, becoming brittle and aged, like one of those Egyptian mummies that used to be all the rage. The rapid decomposition continued, until the flesh and bones broke apart, becoming tiny black spiders, which scurried away into the grass.
“What the hell?” Hank whispered. He suddenly swayed on his feet, his eyes rolling up into his skull, and he tipped over, nearly carrying Violet with him.
Violet was left standing there, dumbfounded. She wasn’t sure which was more shocking: that a man’s body had dissolved into a bunch of insects or that a strapping police officer had just fainted dead away.
Hank’s partner had reappeared, just as an ambulance arrived on the scene. The cop was carrying Sinclair in his arms and Violet immediately knew that Bill was near death. His eyes were small slits and his mouth was moving soundlessly.
Violet rushed over to them. She walked alongside as the officer moved the injured man towards the ambulance workers. “Bill… please. Tell me what’s going on. Who was that man? What’s so important about The Damned Thing?”
Bill opened his eyes but his gaze seemed unfocused. “It has to be destroyed,” he said between clenched teeth. “Don’t let it fall into their hands.”
Violet was pushed aside by the emergency personnel, who were quick to load Sinclair in the back of the ambulance. She stayed where she was for a moment before turning to leave. She found herself staring into Will McKenzie’s frowning face.
“You told me you weren’t going to go and do something stupid.”
“I didn’t,” she answered.
“Hank’s coming over there, telling me that some corpse turned into a bunch of baby spiders. The neighbors are telling me you killed a man — twice. And that fella in the ambulance looks like he’s going to an early grave himself. So I think this whole thing qualifies as stupid.”
Violet unleashed the pent-up fury she’d been carrying inside her since this affair began. She poked a finger in Will’s face, making him take a step back. “I’m trying to solve this case! My husband and my friend are both dead because of this and I want to know why! All I keep finding are lies and more damned lies! So don’t stand there and tell me I’m being stupid! There was a man who tried to kill me — and after I killed him first, he got up and started coming after me again. So I shot him in the head and then you know what? It’s like Hank said: he turned into a bunch of spiders. And now I need to go back home and check on Abby — the girl whose lies started off this entire thing? She’s in my home, Will, doing God knows what!”
“Violet, I’m sorry. I’m just worried about you.”
“Yeah, well worry about yourself. Life’s nothing but a series of kicks to the head and the sooner you get numb to the pain, the better off you’ll be.” Violet turned away and lit another cigarette. Her hands were shaking with emotion.
“Want me to take you home?”
Violet looked thoughtful for a moment. “Hell, no. Not yet.” She moved past Will, hurrying back into the house. Will followed after. “I came here to get some answers about Miles. Turns out he joined up with a group that’s related to the Knights Templar. He suited up right after Walter died. This is where the group’s based.”
“The Knights Templar…?” Will murmured in disbelief.
Violet hurriedly opened every door, finding nothing out of the ordinary. She knew that any moment McKenzie would point out that they had no right to be looking through someone’s property like this but she didn’t plan to give up just yet. When she finally found a locked door, she grinned. “I bet this is it.”
“This is what?”
“Somewhere in this place has got be a meeting room, where they do whatever the hell it is they do. This has got to be it.”
Will looked dubiously at the door. “Looks like it leads to the basement. Listen, Violet, what kind of group did you say this was?”
“They think they’re the modern heirs to the Templars or something. Miles was assigned to find occult artifacts.”
“Like The Damned Thing?”
“Just like that.”
Violet knelt in front of the door, picking the lock in less than a minute. She pushed inside, feeling for a light switch on the wall. A spiral staircase came into view, leading downstairs. With Will at her heels, she descended, finally stepping into a chamber that looked straight out of a movie serial. A large Christian cross was hung on the wall, carved from ivory. A huge wooden table dominated the floor, a dozen or so chairs arranged around it. The table’s surface was lined with carved symbols that awakened something inside Violet. She wasn’t sure how or why but she seemed to recognize these unusual things, as if they’d lain untouched in the back of her consciousness until now.