Will, too, was studying them. “I know it’s going to sound crazy but… those things do something to me.”
Violet nodded. “They’re wards, I think. Occult symbols that carry great power.”
While Will reached out to trace one of the symbols with his fingers, Violet moved around the room, studying it in greater detail. There were several locked filing cases against the wall, with strips of tape identifying each one by a series of dates. A book bound in leather lay atop a reading table and Violet stared at it for a moment before looking away, shuddering. She was sure that the book’s cover had been formed from human flesh… there was no rational way to know that, but she was positive nonetheless.
A plaque on the wall next caught her eye and the words seemed to further chill her blood: That is not dead which can eternal lie; And with strange eons even death may die.
Violet jumped when one of Will’s men yelled down the stairs. “Chief? You better come up here.”
McKenzie bounded up the stairs, taking them two at a time, leaving Violet alone. She continued to examine the room, taking note of every odd scrap of paper or unusual tome. It was hard to picture Miles being associated with something like this. He had been such a pragmatic man, not given to bouts of fancy or mysticism.
Or so she’d thought.
Maybe, when all was said and done, you never really knew another person. Unless you were inside their head, you never knew what they were really thinking or what they truly believed.
In the end, she mused, maybe we’re all just a private bundle of thoughts and lies, forever orbiting around others who are the same, but never truly connecting.
“I’m sorry, Violet.”
The words, spoken with such gravity, rooted Violet in her spot. She didn’t want to turn her head but she felt she had to. Yes, standing there not more than five feet from her, was Miles Knopf.
But it was not the Miles she liked to remember, nor was it the Miles she had seen at the cinema. This Miles was wearing the suit she’d last seen him in but his face was a ruined mess. The skin had been cut away, revealing slick red meat. His eyes and teeth seemed so white against this horrific crimson landscape.
“Are you really here?” she asked, her voice sounding low and more than a little scared.
Miles reached out for her, his hand a painful blue-and-white color. She shrank back from the apparition of her former friend, feeling guilty for doing so. “Have you found Morehouse?”
“No. Not yet.”
“You should be looking for him. You shouldn’t be here. The threat doesn’t lie here.”
“But maybe they can help—”
“No.” Miles suddenly looked pained, as if he were suffering some tremendous crisis of faith. “I should have told you but I wanted to keep you safe. I blamed myself for Walter’s death and couldn’t bear to think of you dying the same way.”
“You should have told me.”
“I know. I paid the coroner to keep the details of Walter’s death a secret. He didn’t die from a gunshot wound, Violet. It was so much worse. That’s why it had to be a closed casket funeral. So you wouldn’t see the truth.”
“How did it happen?”
“He was flayed alive… just as you see me. They took his face and treated him like a piece of cattle. Left him to bleed out in a rain-soaked alley. But that wasn’t the worst of it. They did the same thing to him that they did to me… they trapped his soul on this plane, to wander aimlessly until the energy that powered it finally faded away.” Miles looked up towards the ceiling. “I can hear the voices on the other side, loved ones I’ve lost. They want me to join them. But I can’t. I’m trapped here, as in life.”
“Are you telling me you’re a ghost? And that Walter is one, too?”
“He was one… but his spirit finally dissipated last summer. He watched over you, Violet. He told me so, often.”
“Why didn’t he ever appear to me… like you’re doing?”
“He wanted you to move on with your life. If you’d known he was there, you wouldn’t have done that.”
“I haven’t done it! I still love him! I would have wanted to have seen him!”
Miles moved closer and a disturbing odor began to come from him. It was the smell of death. “You’re repulsed by me. Imagine how you would have felt if you’d seen him like this…”
Violet took a deep breath and looked away. “We don’t have time for this. Tell me something I can use, Miles. You want me to go find Morehouse?”
“Morehouse and his girl are full of lies… but they have useful information, too. You need to get hold of The Damned Thing and drop it into a long, dark hole. Please do this, Violet. Please.”
“I’ll try, Miles, you know that. But what about that man out there — the one whose body turned into spiders? Can you tell me anything about him?”
Miles frowned, his eyes closing. He opened his mouth and a dozen tiny butterflies flew out, flapping about the room in a dazzling display of colors. Their wings came in various shades: orange, yellow, white, black and green.
Even as the butterflies seized control of Violet’s attention, a strange sound began to emanate from Miles Knopf’s form. It sounded like the droning of a bee but grew louder and louder until Violet was forced to cover her ears with the palms of her hands. Miles’ form began to grow indistinct, finally fading from view.
Violet let her arms fall down by her sides, trying to regain a sense of equilibrium. Ever since she’d woken up to learn that Miles was dead, things had gotten progressively weirder. Having sex with Will had momentarily given her back a sense of control but that was long gone by now.
An agnostic, Violet had never been quite sure what the truth of life and death really was. But, if pressed, she would have told you that she believed that you were born, you lived and then you died. Anything beyond that was a desperate attempt by humanity to impose a sense of importance on their dreary existence.
But now she’d been confronted by proof of life beyond death. She’d talked to Miles twice… and she’d seen a dead man get up off the ground and attack her. Obviously, her worldview was going to have to change.
She moved back upstairs, where she found McKenzie was exchanging harsh words with a couple of reporters from the competing Atlanta Journal and Atlanta Constitution. They were wanting to get inside and take pictures, which McKenzie was dead set against, at least until the crime scene had been secured and all witnesses had been interviewed.
There were now nearly a dozen police officers around but Violet found it easy to slip past them unnoticed. She hurried down the street, her heels clicking on the pavement. Taking a turn around the corner, she hailed down a passing cab and slipped into the backseat.
“Where to, lady?”
Violet looked at the sky, which was growing dark with approaching dusk. “The Topaz Club.”
The driver looked back at her over his shoulder. “You sure? That ain’t such a nice place.”
Violet smiled at him. “Well, I’m not a very nice girl, so I should fit right in.” She leaned forward and pressed a hundred dollar bill into his hand. “Before we get there, I need to pick up some bullets. Most of the legit shops are closed by now. You know where I could pick up some without any questions being asked?”
The cabbie smiled, taking the money. “Sure do, doll. You just sit back and I’ll have you there in a jiffy.”
THE DRIVER WAS as good as his word. After purchasing a box of shells from a man named Buster, Violet was locked and loaded. She was soon deposited outside The Topaz Club, which was a retrofitted warehouse on the outskirts of town. The dirt roads and high grasses that surrounded the place did not make it look like a hub of activity but there were nearly a dozen cars parked outside and it was still early in the evening.