Burkard leaned back against the wall, taking a deep breath. “You have a connection with The Damned Thing. If you had simply done what I asked of you, I could probably already have it in my possession and you would be a free man.”
“I don’t know where it is. My… connection, as you put it… doesn’t work that way.”
“Then how does it work, Professor Slade?”
“I can sometimes still hear its voice… and I can almost picture it in my mind, staring at me. But I don’t know where it is… I just know it won’t leave me be! It won’t take its hooks out of my soul!”
Burkard sprang forward, crossing the distance between them in several long strides. He knelt in front of Slade, bringing his face close. “Tell me again… what does it look like?”
Slade shivered suddenly, like a naked man slapped by the pounding surf. “It was foul and repellent. The thing it depicted should never have been given life — if life be the term to use for it. Portions of its anatomy looks like a man, it had two arms and two legs and a torso… and it had the genitalia of a man, though of hideous girth. But its face….! A horrible visage, like something from the worst of your nightmares. And its eyes… those deep pits that could catch the light and reflect it back at you in a kaleidoscope of colors…” Slade closed his eyes and swallowed hard. “Oh, and it’s always so cold to the touch. Like it’s packed in a meat freezer. It chills you beyond the bones, its cold goes down into the pit of your soul.”
“And its voice? What is it like?”
Slade looked at Burkard and smiled, though it was the grin of a lunatic. “It sounds like me. It’s my voice.”
Burkard stood up again and turned away from Slade. He looked over at Bane, who was once again twisting the brim of his hat. “I think this has been a waste of time. Mr. Slade’s faculties are too far gone to be of use to us.”
“Should I return him to the hospital?”
Burkard shook his head, moving to retrieve his jacket from its spot on the back of the couch. He reached into an interior pocket and pulled out a Mauser. The gun had belonged to Burkard for many years and was almost a trusted friend. He pointed it at Slade. “No, Lazlo, I think it’s best to wrap up the loose ends ourselves.”
Two shots landed in Slade’s head, hitting with such force that his chair flew backwards. He landed in a bloody heap on his back.
Burkard lowered his weapon and nodded once to Bane. “Clean that up, won’t you? I’m going to get some sleep.”
THE FIRST RAYS of sunlight were shining through Violet’s windows when she heard the sound of furtive footsteps across her floor. She tensed but didn’t open her eyes. For the second time in less than a week, someone had violated the sanctity of her bedroom and, if necessary, she planned to deal with them the same way she had the last ones: with a bullet to their head. She stretched, still feigning sleep, and reached one hand under her pillow. She found her handgun waiting for her and prepared to whip it out.
“Are you awake?”
Violet relaxed slightly, though a frown formed on her lips. She sat up, staring at Abby. The girl was dressed the same as she had been last night, though Violet thought she’d added a bit of makeup. “Now I am. What do you want?”
“I want you to trust me, Violet. I’m scared and I’m alone… what if that Damned Thing is really cursed? I could be in danger, too.”
“You’re safe here.” Violet lay back down, placing one arm over her eyes. She’d slept very soundly but not nearly long enough. She’d been having a very pleasant dream about attending a fancy ball at the Davies House on the outskirts of town, one of those affairs where everyone who was anyone was present. And Violet had been the belle of the ball. She’d even worn something besides her traditional black.
The sound of fabric slipping across skin and landing on the floor made Violet look up. Abby was standing nude next to her bed, looking somehow both lustful and frightened. “Now what are you doing?” Violet asked.
“I can be good to you,” Abby whispered, sliding onto the bed and reaching out to caress Violet’s leg through the sheets. “If you’ve never been with a woman before, I can show you what to do. Or you can just lie back and I’ll do it all.” Abby’s pert young breasts swayed enticingly as she moved and Violet had to admit the girl was quite beautiful… but not beautiful enough to entice Violet to cross a line she’d never stepped over before. It wasn’t that she had anything against lesbianism — some of her best friends were homosexual, after all. She simply preferred the company of men.
“Stop,” Violet said, pulling away. “I appreciate the effort but it’s not working.”
“But—”
“No.” Violet stepped out of bed, pulling the sheet with her. She wrapped it around her own nakedness, which somehow emphasized Abby’s own. “I’m sure you’re used to manipulating people like this but it’s not going to work this time.”
Abby looked down and suddenly burst into tears. She buried her face in her hands, her body shaking. Violet watched her coolly, retrieving her cigarettes and lighting one. She lit a second and approached Abby, offering it to her.
“Thank you,” Abby said, sniffling as she reached to take the cigarette. She took a few puffs on it and seemed to settle down somewhat. “You probably think I’m a harlot… or worse.”
“I don’t judge women for using their sexuality. Sometimes it’s the only weapon that civilization leaves us. But I don’t like women who lie, cheat or steal. And, sister, I bet you do all three.”
Abby stood up, shaking her head and suddenly looking far more dangerous that before. “I don’t like it when you talk to me like that.”
“You’re welcome to get the hell out then. If you stay here, you stay by my rules. If I insult you, you take it and you take it with a smile.”
Abby stuck her cigarette between her full lips and bent down to retrieve her gown. She got dressed in silence, occasionally unleashing a sharp look of anger at Violet. When her body was covered, she blew out a long trail of smoke. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”
“I can imagine.” Violet sat down on the edge of the bed and looked at Abby closely. “So you have anything else worthwhile to tell me? I think it’s pretty clear that you’re really after The Damned Thing, just like everybody else. You’re probably hoping I’ll do the hard work and find it for you, and then you’ll swipe it out from under me. Right?”
Abby paused a moment, enjoying her cigarette before finally giving a shrug of her shoulders. Gone was the vulnerable look from her eyes that she’d presented since first walking into the offices of Knopf and Cambridge… in its place was the steely-eyed gaze of a predator. “You’re not as dumb as you look. Yeah, you’re right… I started this whole thing for kicks but once I realized that people were going to be trying to kill Sidney over that stupid statue, I took off. I wanted to take The Damned Thing with me but Sidney watched it like a hawk. So I figured maybe I could get you to find it for me. I knew Sidney wouldn’t have it for long… he’d either end up dead or in hiding. Can’t blame a girl for trying, can you?”
Violet moved to her closet and picked out her clothes for the day. After selecting her wardrobe, she entered her bathroom and proceeded to start her shower. She heard Abby milling about in the bedroom but didn’t say anything to encourage further conversation. She really wasn’t in the mood to listen to Abby’s continued lies. In fact, after her shower, she planned to show the girl out the front door.
Abby’s voice, now back to its normal tones, came to her from the other side of her shower door. “Miss Cambridge… Violet… I haven’t had an easy time of it. I’ve had to do these things to survive. I know that I’m a liar and… well, there’s no other way to say it. I’ve been a prostitute. But please don’t think that I’m without a hope for redemption. I want to do the right thing, I just don’t know how.”