Brenda looked at the slip of paper, which contained the names of The Followers of the Eclipse and The Sovereign Military Order of the Temple of Jerusalem. “This sounds like one heck of a strange case, Chief.”
“You have no idea.” Will handed her another piece of paper. “Have someone on the lookout for Johann Burkard and Lazlo Bane. This is a description of the car I saw them in earlier today, including the license plate. If they’re found, you know what to do — call me.”
“Okay.” Brenda suddenly lowered her voice and looked so concerned that McKenzie almost felt his heart break a little. “Are you going to be okay, Will? This Cambridge woman hasn’t done you wrong, has she? I’ve heard about her around town.”
“Violet’s a good friend of mine,” Will said, emphasizing the word ‘good.’ “I’d trust her with my life. She’s in a lot of danger right now. So, please, don’t forget how important this is to me.”
Brenda looked as if she’d never do that for the world. Will walked away from her, grateful to have someone whose word was as good as gold. Despite what he’d just said to Brenda, he wasn’t sure how much he could trust Violet… not at the moment, anyway. She was veering into dangerous territory and was increasingly looking like a loose cannon. He thought about calling his best friend, the philanthropist Max Davies, and asking him if he’d give an assist. Max was a good man and something of an expert when it came to things concerning demons and the supernatural. He knew that Max was wrapped up in his own problems at present, though, and so he decided to put that off for now.
As he exited the police station, he looked up to the sky. Dark clouds were moving in from the west. The paper had said a massive storm was heading in, bringing with it powerful winds and several inches of rain. Just as he was thinking about the forecast, a gust of wind sent a department store cutout of Santa Claus tumbling down the street.
Christmas was coming.
VIOLET CAMBRIDGE ALWAYS loved libraries. As a young girl, she had sometimes run away from home, spending hours getting lost in the stacks of the largest library in Atlanta. She loved being around so many old books, each one containing the knowledge of the ages. She had sometimes escaped into faraway lands or into places that could never exist in reality. Arthur Conan Doyle, Jules Verne and H.G. Welles were her friends and allies. When puberty came and she developed a bit more quickly than the other girls, she had temporarily abandoned her relationship with the dusty old shelves and the white-haired custodians of knowledge. But as an adult, especially since the death of Walter, she’d begun retreating to the library again. And now, when all seemed set against her, that’s where she found some peace and quiet.
It was nearly closing time for the library, which wouldn’t reopen again until the day after Christmas. Violet had staked out her spot in a shadowy corner of the library, several books arranged in front of her. They were all on occult subjects but none of them went into very much detail. Specifics on how to destroy cursed objects simply weren’t present, she had to admit with a grin.
“Miss Cambridge. We’ll be shutting the doors soon.”
Violet looked up to see kindly old Sinclair Watson, who had run the library for nearly twenty years. He was a thin man with stooping shoulders and wispy hair that tended to curl over the tops of his ears. “I’ll start getting ready to leave. Thank you.”
Watson’s eyes drifted over the stack of books in front of her. “Odd reading for Christmas time,” he commented. He didn’t sound disapproving, just curious.
“It’s for a case.”
“Ah.” Watson hesitated before doing something that he’d never done before, not in all the years that Violet had been coming there. He sat down across from her. “I’m so dreadfully sorry about what happened to Mr. Knopf.”
“So am I.” Violet smiled gratefully and sighed. “He was a good man.”
“That he was. And a good friend to The Order.”
Violet’s expression hardened and she looked up at Watson with new eyes, as if seeing him for the first time. “You know about The Damned Thing?”
“I do. And I know where you need to take it if you want to destroy it.”
Violet glanced around, hope swelling her heart and making her feel positive for the first time all day. “Mr. Watson, please tell me this isn’t some new game or bundle of lies. I’ve had my fill of those.”
“No, nothing like that. Most of us are in hiding right now. The attack on our base has made it clear that we can’t afford to mass together. We’re just ordinary men for the most part and many of us are old. Your friend Miles… he was a godsend: A vital young man with the knowledge of how to track the movements of our enemies. That was his gift. But mine…” Watson tapped the side of his head with a finger and grinned. “Mine is that I know where the secret truths are kept.”
Violet suddenly felt like kissing this old man. “Don’t keep me waiting in anticipation,” she teased.
Mr. Watson stood up and for a brief second, Violet felt disappointed. “Let me lock up and then we can talk in private.” A roll of thunder outside made him pause. “It’s going to be a dangerous night,” he said, moving away. Violet wondered if he meant those words because of more than just the weather.
A few minutes later he returned, this time carrying with him a large tome that he set on the table in front of Violet. The leather-bound book had an embossed title: Curios of The Macabre and Damned.
“I don’t recall seeing this one on the shelf,” she commented.
“It was in the archives.” Flipping through the pages with a sure hand, Watson finally came to what he was looking for. It was a page showing several representations of ancient Anglo-Saxon art. All of the images showed variations of a fiery doorway into the abyss, all of them shaped somewhat like the mouth of a roaring creature. “This is called a Hellmouth. It is an entrance to Hell. Images like this spread throughout Europe until the end of the Middle Ages. But it persists in later works, as well… and in our collective unconsciousness. This is not mere fancy, you see. Hellmouths are real. There are probably two-dozen scattered across the globe. Sites located near them are usually mystical focal points, with higher than normal sightings of ghosts and other foul beasts.”
“Earlier today, someone told me that Atlanta was a hotbed of occult energy,” Violet said, staring at the images. They were undeniably creepy. The sound of the raging thunderstorm outside only accentuated the evil that emanated from the pictures.
“That’s because we are close to a Hellmouth. There’s one just off the coast of Atlanta and there is an invisible line — a ley line — that goes straight from the Hellmouth to the heart of this city. You can destroy The Damned Thing by throwing it into the Hellmouth. Once back in hell, the statue will shatter and the demon within will be freed. But he will be in his natural element, not here on Earth.”
Violet looked up at him, for a second trying to reconcile this occult master with the pleasant old man who used to help her find the collected works of Poe and Doyle. “Tell me where.”
“Wolf Island. You know it?”
“There’s a Wilderness Area, isn’t there?”
“Yes. It was established only a few years ago—1930, I think. The island is mostly saltwater marsh but there is a long, fairly narrow strip of oceanfront beach. This goes on for about four miles, I believe. Atop the highest point of this beach is an asylum, a hospital for the mentally ill.”
Violet looked thoughtful. She snapped her fingers in sudden realization. “The Main Institute! I remember reading about that. Caters to the rich and famous. Very exclusive… people check in and out, without the press ever getting wind of it.”