The two men stood up and moved away from the Hellmouth. “Not planning to dump me into the pit any longer?” Crowley asked, panting a bit.
“You would just give whatever is down there indigestion,” Burkard replied. “I don’t trust you, Crowley…. And I meant what I said. It makes more sense to be rid of you than it does to keep you around.”
“But?”
“But this entire affair has featured more twists and turns than I care to keep track of. You might still be useful to—”
A green-tinged tentacle rose up from the Hellmouth, dancing teasingly in the air before slowly retreating. Burkard cast a glance at Crowley, whose eyes were open wide. The older man looked like a sailor given his first look at prime female flesh in several years. Burkard half believed that Crowley was going to jump into the Hellmouth of his own accord, so obviously entranced was he. Then the lustful look faded and Crowley cleared his throat, once more in control of himself.
“The Damned Thing,” he said in a husky voice. “We must retrieve it.”
Burkard nodded. It was time to end this long, strange chase.
“IT’S NOT HERE.”
Armitage stared at the black-garbed Violet, his eyes narrowed. The girl was holding an empty box, staring at its open interior with an expression of disbelief. “What the fuck do you mean?”
“I meant what I said. I’ve been carrying it in this box and now it’s not here.” Violet threw the box down and looked around her room. Nothing else had been disturbed but that meant little. Anyone who had come looking for The Damned Thing would have found it easily enough. The statue wanted to be found, after all, and would have gladly snaked its voice into the mind of almost anyone.
“Maybe your friends took it for safekeeping.”
Violet nodded, hurrying towards McKenzie’s room. She didn’t think that Will would have done that but she couldn’t be sure. He might have thought he was protecting her. After several loud knocks, the police chief opened the door, his eyes widening as he saw Armitage standing behind Violet. “The Damned Thing… do you have it?” Violet asked, pushing past him into his room.
“Of course not. You were keeping it. What’s he doing here?”
“I’m on your side, officer.” Armitage showed his teeth as he smiled. “Ask your girl.”
“I’m not his girl,” Violet muttered under her breath. She put a hand to her forehead, rubbing it to try and soothe away the headache that was building. “Will, they’re here. Crowley and Burkard. Armitage and I just killed Bane and hid his body. And now The Damned Thing is missing. If they’ve already gotten it…”
Will looked thoughtful. “What about Clint? Have you asked him yet? He was interested in looking at it.”
“He wouldn’t have done that,” Violet said, but her words lacked conviction. She was out the door again in a flash, the two men at her heels. “Besides, he was locked in his room. The patients can’t get out from the inside.”
“We were the last ones to see him,” Will pointed out. “Did you lock his room when we left?”
“No. But I assumed they locked automatically.”
“Shouldn’t make assumptions, girlie.” When Armitage received a withering stare from Violet, he shut up.
Violet opened the door to Clint’s room without knocking. What she found left her even more disturbed. The room was empty: no Clint Jacobs, no Damned Thing. His bags were left on the floor and a small ledger that belonged to him lay open on the nightstand. Otherwise, there was no sign of him. Violet moved to the ledger and noticed that several sentences were scrawled there in Clint’s precise script: It sounds so much like my own voice. I can’t fathom how she can just lock it up like that. It knows so much… it says it can tell me not just what investments to make, but also all my lover’s secrets. She’s so much stronger willed than I am. Temptation has always been my weakness. I give in too easily. I don’t see how one look could be so bad… Damn my soul? My soul was damned a long time ago! Hah!
“What’s it say?” Will asked, though from the tone in his voice, it was obvious that he knew what had happened.
“He took it,” Violet confirmed. “Damn it!”
“It’s going to be okay,” Will said.
“Stop trying to coddle me,” Violet snapped. “Clint’s cursed by that thing now. And if Burkard or Crowley find him before we do, he’s going to be killed.”
“Where do you think the fruit would have gone?” Armitage lit a cigar as he spoke.
“I don’t know.” The sound of rainfall outside grew louder and the lights flickered off for a second before the generator kicked in. “The gates are probably locked on the fence outside. That means he’s got to be the on the grounds somewhere. The way the storm’s raging, I can’t imagine he’d be outside… so we just need to look for him in the hospital itself. Let’s split up and meet back here.”
McKenzie nodded. “I’ll head to the orderly station first. I met a guy named Jasper Williams. He says this hospital is tainted by the supernatural. A girl named Eloise Green is here and she had some dealings with The Damned Thing before. He’d be willing to help, I’m sure of it.”
“I ain’t going nowhere by myself. Not in this madhouse.” Armitage chomped on his cigar, looking very much afraid.
“Then stay here,” Violet said dismissively. “If Clint comes back or if Main comes looking for us, you think of something to say and make sure nothing gets out of control.”
“Can we trust him?” McKenzie asked, gesturing towards Armitage.
“No. But what choice do we have?”
Will impulsively kissed her and Violet allowed him to, though she’d didn’t return it with much ardor. He didn’t seem to notice, or perhaps he simply attributed it to the stress she was under. They parted in the hallway, striding away in different directions. Though she hadn’t told him so, she recognized the name Eloise Green. She’d seen it on the nameplate of a door on the second floor during her wanderings. It had been one of a dozen or so names that had stuck out in her head for seemingly no reason. Now she wondered if something in the back of her mind hadn’t been called to her name.
Violet smiled at an orderly who passed her on the stairs. The man eyed her crudely, his gaze traveling from her breasts down to her hips. He never once glanced at her face. As soon as he was out of sight, Violet’s expression changed. She was growing to hate this place. The men who worked here, the medicinal smells that mingled with human waste, and the general ambience of the dimly lit hallways all combined to make it seem like something from a Gothic horror novel.
The second floor looked much like the first, though a pair of locked steel doors at the end of the hall was very unsettling. A small plaque next to the doors read “Electro-Shock Therapy” and Violet could easily conjure images of the sort of torture that went on in there. She slowly moved down the hall, ignoring the whisperings and moans that came from each of the doors. When she finally found the one marked Eloise Green, she paused for a moment, examining the lock. It wasn’t a particularly difficult one. Kneeling in the hallway, she pulled a lockpick from her purse and set to work. In less than thirty seconds, she heard the tumbler slide into position and the door swung open with a creak.
The interior of the room was very dark and Violet noticed that the only light came from a small lamp set on a nightstand next to the bed. The room stank of unwashed flesh. The girl who sat up on the bed, staring at her with wide, fearful eyes, might have once been considered beautiful but that would have been long ago. She was thin to the point of emaciation and her eyes were sunken hollows in the gaunt skeleton of her face. She wore only oversized brown trousers and a loose-fitting button-down shirt. She had on no shoes or socks. Her hair was matted with tangles and Violet saw tiny black flies buzzing around the room.