“Not tonight. You are exhausted. Go inside and get some sleep. I shall come to pick you up for lunch and we can plan our actions.”
Violet felt her anger rising. “But they have the statue. They might skip town with it! We can’t waste any time!”
Burkard’s intense gaze held her in check. “Violet. These people will not leave this city. Atlanta is a nexus for mystical energies. In the Southeastern United States, there is no better place to attempt a dark ritual.”
“What makes Atlanta so special?”
“There is a confluence of energy here… but I couldn’t tell you why. Sometimes places are just like that, Fraulein. The walls between worlds are thin in some places.”
Violet slid out of the car and sighed. She couldn’t really deny that she was running on empty. “I hope you’re right about this. If they escape while I’m taking a nap, I’m going to be extremely angry.”
Burkard chuckled. “Hell hath no fury…” he said. “Good night.”
Violet watched his car drive away. With a sad heart and a weary head, she entered her apartment building. When she stepped into her home, she found Abby lying on the couch, a bound volume of Sherlock Holmes clutched against her chest. The girl sat up when she heard the door close, fear evident in her eyes. She relaxed upon seeing Violet, who walked past her without speaking, entering the kitchen and pouring herself a glass of scotch.
“Oh thank goodness, it’s you,” Abby said. She set down her book and smoothed out her hair. She was wearing a sheer nightgown and Violet could tell that the woman wore nothing underneath. Poor Miles, she mused. I’m sure you would have loved to have seen this. “I expected you back hours ago.”
“Why is that? I didn’t tell you what time I was coming home.”
“I just assumed…” Abby took a deep breath and smiled in that vulnerable way of hers. “Did you get any closer to solving your friend’s murder? Did you talk to Sidney?”
“I did talk to him. He mostly confirmed your story.”
“I’ve been completely honest with you. Today, anyway.”
“Hopefully that’s the way it’ll stay. Your boyfriend said to tell you that he loves you. He also seems to think he’s not long for this world.”
“What do you mean?”
“He thinks someone’s going to kill him. So if you want to spend any time with him at the end, you might want to hightail it over to The Topaz.”
Abby looked conflicted but finally shook her pretty head. “No. That’s over with. I’m not going back to him.”
“Suit yourself.” Violet downed her scotch and set the empty glass aside. “I’m going to bed.”
“Do you know where it is?”
Violet pretended to be stupid. “Where what is?”
“The Damned Thing. I thought you might have found it.”
“What makes you think your boyfriend doesn’t have it?”
“He doesn’t, does he?”
“No.”
Abby came forward in a rush, taking Violet’s hands in hers. “That thing scares me, Miss Cambridge. So many people have suffered because of it. I want to help you destroy it. Please?”
Violet searched the girl’s eyes but could find no signs of deception. “You’re good, sister, I’ll give you that.” She pulled her hands free and started heading towards her bedroom door.
“What do you mean?” Abby said to Violet’s back.
Violet paused in the doorway to her room. She gave Abby a coldly amused smile. “I don’t trust you any farther than I could throw you. You’re welcome to stay here… but don’t fool yourself into thinking I’m going to share any information with you. If that’s your game, you might as well pack up and hit the street. Good night.”
And she shut the door.
JOHANN BURKARD EMERGED from his car, nodding briefly at Lazlo Bane, who held the door open for him. Burkard’s driver remained behind the wheel, his eyes kept straight ahead. Burkard paid him handsomely to always be on call and to never voice an opinion about anything he saw or heard.
“What did you think of Miss Cambridge, sir?” Bane asked, following a step behind his employer as they walked towards a plus two-story house situated just outside the city proper. It was an old home, dating to just after Sherman’s burning of Atlanta, and it retained a lot of the old antebellum charm.
“She is beautiful… and very, very dangerous. She could either be a tremendous boon to our activities or a very painful thorn.”
Bane nodded, being in perfect agreement. In fact, he’d argued that Burkard should simply have the woman killed rather than risk her interference. He’d been ignored, unfortunately.
The two men entered the house and turned on the lights. The furnishings in the living room were not exactly to Burkard’s taste but he was only renting the place, so it was of little consequence. He preferred European tapestries over oil paintings of the Old South, a fine wine to the garish ‘moonshine’ found throughout Georgia, and sheets of Egyptian cotton over the scratchy linen that he always found in Atlanta.
Burkard pulled off his coat and gloves, tossing both carelessly over the back of the couch. “Go and fetch our guest, won’t you? I am curious to see if some time in the cellar has loosened his tongue.”
Bane moved to do as he was commanded though there was some hesitation in his walk. He was not a brave man and some of the things he was asked to do in service to the German tested his mettle. The pay was quite good, however, and Burkard had proven quite adept at finding the kinds of “rewards” that a man liked Bane craved. Smooth, hairless young men of Greek descent were not always easy to come by… but Burkard had found a bevy of such beauties to slake Bane’s lusts.
Burkard clasped his hands behind his back while he waited for Bane to return. He could feel his quest nearing its end… for so many years, he’d hunted The Damned Thing and now he was in the same city as it was, only days — perhaps hours! — away from claiming it for his own. He knew that the mere sight of it was enough to drive some men mad but he was not afraid of gazing upon it. He was made of sterner stuff than most men and considered himself capable of almost anything.
And with The Damned Thing, he’d have access to all the great knowledge; all the things that were not meant for mere mortals to know. He’d ask it about the meaning of life; what awaited all men in the afterlife and what was the true definition of the soul. And those would just be the beginning.
Bane returned, interrupting Burkard’s reverie. The man with him was pale and wiry, with several days’ worth of beard. In another setting, with better nutrition and care, Burkard’s guest might have been considered handsome. But he had aged considerably over the last few years and now seemed far older than he actually was.
“Ah, Professor Slade. So nice of you to join us. Won’t you have a seat?”
Carter Slade stared at Burkard with the weary expression of a man who had nothing left to live for. He staggered towards a chair and collapsed into it. He stank but seemed to take no notice of it. It had been quite some time since he’d cared about things like hygiene. “Let me go,” he murmured, slurring the words. “You don’t want this.”
“But I do.” Burkard motioned for Bane to fetch a glass of water. The smaller man did so, pressing the drink into Slade’s hand. Slade looked at it for a moment before raising it to his lips. His fingers shook so badly that he spilled most of the liquid into his beard. Burkard waited until the archeologist had drained the glass dry before continuing. “I rescued you from that mental institution because you and I both know that you’re not crazy. Not like those mental defectives. You’ve just had problems adapting to all that you’ve learned.”
“You’re a fool to want that thing. It’s dangerous.”