“Everyone who comes into contact with The Damned Thing is in danger. Death follows that thing. If you’re smart, you’ll forget about it. Let it go. Let your husband and your friend stay dead and buried.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because they won’t stay dead and buried.”
A small commotion caused both Violet and Morehouse to look towards the club’s entrance. Flint was standing there, one hand held to his head. With him were two other beefy guys in black jackets. “That’s her,” Flint was saying. “That’s the little bitch who hit me.”
Violet hopped off the stool, drawing her Smith & Wesson Hand Ejector II. When the bouncers saw the weapon, they all stopped their approach. “Mr. Flint was getting a little fresh, that’s all. You can’t look down on me protecting my virtue, can you?”
Morehouse looked at the men and sneered, “Let her go. She came here to talk to me.”
Flint adopted a petulant expression. “She hit me! And she kicked me in the balls!”
“Shut up,” Morehouse said. He looked at Violet. “Get the hell out of here.”
“Anything you want me to say to Abby for you?”
Morehouse grunted and then nodded. “Yeah. Tell her I did love her. My way of loving might be a little different than with most guys, but I did love her.”
“You make it sound like it’s past tense.”
“Nah. Not how I feel about her. But me? Yeah, I’m past tense… or I will be soon.”
Violet considered feeling sorry for him but elected not to. He was a bastard and had hurt so many people over the course of his lifetime… a painful ending was the only fitting way he could go out. She turned away from him and pushed through the wall of man-flesh blocking her path. “Thanks, Flint. It was fun.”
The glare he sent her way should have burned a hole right through her. Once she was outside, away from the smoke and the smell of sweat, Violet’s icy reserve threatened to shatter. She had come here via taxi and had no immediate way of getting back home. It was cold and it was dark — and she had only moments before Flint returned to his position at the door. If she were still within sight, he might decide to act on his fantasies of revenge, regardless of what Morehouse had said.
Violet threw a hand up in front of her face as an approaching car shone its headlights directly in her face. The vehicle came to a stop just a few feet away from her and a familiar form emerged from the passenger side of the front seat. Even though she could barely make out his silhouette, Violet recognized Lazlo Bane and his too-tight pinstriped suit.
“Miss Cambridge? My apologies for not reaching you at home… but I made contact with my employer, Mr. Burkard. He wishes to speak to you.”
Violet moved towards Bane, stepping past the headlights. “And is he in the car?”
“He is.”
Violet looked over her shoulder, where Flint was emerging. His expression was frightening to behold. “Then let’s go,” she said. Bane opened the rear door for her and she slid in, prepared for anything as long as it took her far away from this den of iniquity.
Chapter VI
Johann Burkard was long and lean, with a wolfish quality to him. He looked like der Fuhrer’s dream come true: golden blond hair, piercing blue eyes and finely chiseled features. Violet found him to be a very handsome specimen, though he smelled a bit too strongly of cologne. He wore a black suit, a white shirt and a black tie. His legs were crossed and his well-polished black shoes were so shiny that Violet could see herself reflected in their surface.
“Miss Cambridge,” he said, speaking in a voice so smooth that it reminded her of warm liqueur. He had a slight German accent but it wasn’t entirely without appeal. “It is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance. You made quite an impression on Mr. Bane.”
Violet glanced to the front of the car where Bane sat beside the driver, whose face she had yet to see. “I thought you weren’t going to be in town for another couple of days.”
“I changed my plans.” Burkard placed his hands atop his knee and smiled at her. “I understand that we are after the same thing.”
“Are we?”
“You want to find The Damned Thing. As do I.”
“Our reasons are very different,” she pointed out. She glanced out the window and saw that they were headed back into the heart of the city.
“Perhaps. But expediency sometimes makes strange bedfellows.”
“I thought that was politics.”
Burkard shrugged. “Same thing.”
Violet slowly grinned, finding this mysterious stranger somewhat bewitching. She realized she was nearly running on empty, having slept very little since her partner’s death. How long had it been since he died? Just 24 hours? Was that possible?
“Are you unwell, Miss Cambridge?”
Violet found that Burkard was staring at her. “Just tired.”
“Understandable. I do hope you realize that I feel a measure of guilt over your husband’s demise. He died while in my employ. I would do nearly anything to change the past so that he would still be with you.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“Why?”
“Well, you’re the kind of guy who’s spent years chasing after something you know is cursed, something that people die for all the time… and yet you’re sensitive enough to care about my husband’s death? Doesn’t seem right to me.”
Burkard laughed softly. “You’re very direct. I like that about American women. I find it very appealing.”
“I’m not trying to be appealing. I just want to find that statue and make sure nobody else dies along the way.”
“That could prove difficult.” Burkard reached into a pocket and withdrew a small packet of tobacco and several cigarette papers. He offered one to Violet, who politely declined. She couldn’t stand German tobacco. Even the expensive variety tasted like it was lined with sawdust. Burkard poured out an ample amount of tobacco onto the paper and carefully rolled one. “Can we work together on this?”
“And what happens when we find The Damned Thing? Who gets what they want? I want to see it in pieces and you want it on your shelf.”
Burkard laughed, obviously enjoying Violet’s presence just as much as she was enjoying his. “We can… how do you say? Cross that bridge when we come to it?”
“That works. Morehouse told me that the Eclipse gang is holed up somewhere around the area where Miles was killed. Our best bet is to look there.” Violet leaned back in her seat, letting the back of her head lay on the cushioned headrest. She stifled a yawn. “What do they plan to do with The Damned Thing? What do you plan to do with it?”
“The Followers of the Eclipse believe that they can resurrect the spirit that dwells within the statue. They want to give it physical form. Once it’s loose, they have some prophecy they believe will be fulfilled. Women will be theirs to play with, money will fall into their hands and they will be invulnerable to harm. All the things that good little occultists want.”
“And you?”
“Ah. That’s a little more complex. There are certain things that I want to know… and The Damned Thing is reputed to be aware of almost everything. I plan to make it tell me all the secrets that have been eating away at me.”
“Like what?”
The German’s face tensed and Violet saw a vein in his temple begin to pulse. “I think we’ve reached your apartment building.”
Violet looked out and blinked in surprise. She’d stopped paying attention to where they were going and hadn’t realized she was nearing home. “Aren’t we going after the Followers of the Eclipse?”