MalContents

by Wilbanks, David T. ; Norris, Gregory L. ; Thomas, Ryan C. ; Chandler, Randy

  But finding Violet was why Malcolm had returned. It was why he had quit his job overseas: to be with her again, or at least to witness in person as she refused his renewed advances. She had grown larger than life in his heart; he loved her and missed her. If she was in danger, he’d find a way to help her. With or without Heinrich Dunkle’s help.

  “That’s not an option.”

  Heinrich shrugged again. All this shrugging was getting on Malcolm’s nerves.

  “Well,” the cellist said. “Whatever you decide to do, please leave me out of it. I have warned you about them and have thus carried out the duty of my conscience. I want nothing further to do with this and would thank you to tell me where I can drop you off.”

  Malcolm resisted the urge to strangle the man. “How can your conscience be clear if you still know Violet is out there and in danger? Not only that, but think about this: You are sitting in her chair in the orchestra. If I were to think the worst of you, I would think you helped get rid of her so that you could take her place.”

  Heinrich scowled at Malcolm, nearly steering the car off the street. “I assure you that is not the case! I arrived in town just as she was leaving the orchestra. I was to be an additional cellist, not her replacement. Herr Kuball himself had summoned me.”

  Malcolm believed him. He sank back in his seat and stared miserably out at the buildings and cars as they flashed by. The mundane cityscape almost made their pursuer seem like a recent nightmare and nothing more.

  “Heinrich, my friend, I need to learn much more from you. Please come to my hotel room and tell me everything you know about this Outsider Trio.”

  “It’s not much, I assure you. I have told you enough already to get me into serious trouble—if not dead.”

  “So, you’ve gone this far. Why not go all the way and clear your conscience completely? I’ve seen something tonight I may never understand. I need to know more about what I’m dealing with.”

  “Very well. But after that, I don’t even know who you are.”

  Back in his room at the Merster Hotel, Malcolm poured out a couple of scotches and handed one to Heinrich who was perched on the edge of the king-sized bed.

  “Don’t look so fidgety. We’re safe here,” Malcolm said.

  “How are we safe? That thing knows what we look like and perhaps our names as well. All they have to do is check which room you’re in and it’s over.”

  “Yes, but there are lots of people in this hotel. They can’t just march in here and whisk us away.”

  “Oh, you’d be surprised what they can do,” Heinrich said. He sipped his drink. “I can only compare them to sorcerers. Perhaps that gives you more of an idea. Are you afraid yet?”

  Malcolm sat down in a red-cushioned, high-backed chair. “You mean like real magic? You’re saying they have the power to crawl along walls like a spider, and do things of that nature?”

  Heinrich blew a raspberry. “That thing was not a member of the trio. It wasn’t even from here. It was from somewhere else entirely.”

  Somewhere else entirely.

  “You don’t mean ‘somewhere else’ like Chicago or London, do you?”

  Heinrich didn’t respond right away but he sneered, as if entertaining a moment of insanity. He shook his head.

  Malcolm wished he had a cigarette but he’d quit them a decade before. He considered calling room service for a pack but remembered this was a smoke-free hotel. He sipped his drink instead.

  “I am to believe Violet was enchanted by sorcerers and is now under their power?”

  Heinrich nodded. “Indeed. I’m rather pleased that tall chap appeared. I doubt you’d have believed me otherwise.”

  Malcolm was almost afraid to ask, but he did anyway: “Where are they and what are they doing with her?”

  Heinrich shrugged.

  Malcolm rolled his eyes.

  “I do not know where she is,” Heinrich said. “But there are ways of finding out.”

  “Okay, how do I find out?”

  “Tea.”

  “Tea?”

  “Yes. I have an exotic blend at my apartment which allows the imbiber to see beyond the natural realm. I bought it from an old Hindu woman in London. How she obtained it, she would not say.”

  “This tea will help me find this Outsider Trio?”

  “It couldn’t hurt. Without it, you may never find them.”

  “Let’s go get the tea. You can drive me back to my car; it’s parked in front of Henning Hall. Then I’ll follow you back to your place.”

  “By now, my apartment is surely under surveillance. I would feel safer if you rode with me in my car; I think we should stay together for a while. We can always get your vehicle later.”

  “I appreciate this, Heinrich.”

  Heinrich sighed. “In for a penny, in for a pound.”

  Back in the Audi, Malcolm asked, “How did she meet this . . . what was his name again?”

  “Cyrus Venice.”

  “Such an odd name.”

  “I had not arrived in town yet, but I later heard he had attended an orchestra rehearsal. When the rehearsal ended, he approached the cellists as they were leaving the stage, as you had done this evening. He asked if any of them would be interested in trying out for a new ensemble. He said he would pay double what they were making with the orchestra—if they passed the audition.”

  “Were any of them interested?”

  “No. None of them trusted the man. Something was odd about him. They said they didn’t like him.”

  “So how did Violet—?”

  “No one knows. She began missing rehearsals and when Herr Kuball was about to fire her, she announced she was leaving the orchestra to join a chamber group.”

  “What happened next?”

  “By that time, I was a member of the orchestra. I had heard the story about Cyrus Venice and became curious about this group he had formed. After Violet announced she was leaving, I approached her and asked her about this change in her career. She agreed to have coffee with me and told me all about how wonderful Cyrus Venice was and how he had commissioned the strangest, yet most beautiful music she had ever heard. When I asked her where this ensemble met for rehearsals, she told me she was sworn to secrecy. I left it at that, not wanting to be rude, but it only made me more curious.”

  “So . . .?”

  “One day, I followed her.”

  “You do know where she is!”

  “No, I do not. I had been parked outside her building when she came out the front entrance and got into a black Cadillac. When they pulled away, I followed the car. All was going fine, I thought, until I began feeling dizzy. I had felt quite well up until then, I assure you. But then everything started spinning.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Nothing could be done. I had to pull over before I caused an accident.”

  “Do you think they used magic on you?”

  “Not at the time I didn’t. I didn’t know any of this was tied to the occult. I thought I was coming down with something or hadn’t eaten enough that morning.”

  “What happened next?”

  “I tried staking out her building again, but I never saw her after that. I tried this for a week. After that, I asked some questions of the building’s superintendent, and he said she’d moved out but never said where she was going. I must have missed her.”

  “You never saw her again?” It hurt Malcolm to ask.

  “That’s right. Instead, I began to investigate the mysterious Cyrus Venice. It turned out, I could find nothing. That’s when I fell back on my knowledge of the occult.”

  Malcolm felt as though he were living a nightmare. Never in his life did he have the slightest interest in the occult or the paranormal or whatever you called it, but now he was up to his neck in it.

  “Did you ever find him?”

  “In a way.”

  “Oh, stop being so mysterious.”

  “Sorry. It comes with the territory. We occult types are secreti
ve by nature. It’s a necessity in our hobby. You know what the word ‘occult’ means, don’t you?”

  “Yes. Go on.”

  It was late now and the pubs and clubs of the town were closing. Malcolm stared at the dashboard lights and listened while Heinrich continued.

  “I used a few different scrying techniques to locate him and eventually I had a hit.” Heinrich pulled a handkerchief from his coat and wiped his forehead.

  “And?”

  “Please forgive me but recalling this event still upsets me.” Heinrich turned into an underground ramp. He pulled a plastic card from his coat and inserted it into a reader. The striped gate in their path lifted and they drove into the garage. Heinrich’s parking space was on the second level. They got out of the car.

  “Did you just hear something?” Heinrich said.

  “The car doors slamming.”

  Heinrich held up a hand for silence.

  Malcolm listened.

  The ramp was concrete gray with caged halogen lights lining the ceiling. The lot was about half full. At the far end, something ducked behind the bed of a pick-up truck. Malcolm nudged Heinrich and pointed.

  Heinrich pulled Malcolm down by the lapel so he could whisper in his ear. “You see that door over there? The blue one with a 2 on it?”

  Malcolm nodded.

  “Run for it.”

  They both set off at once. As they wove through the rows of parked vehicles, Malcolm could hear the familiar hissing sound from earlier that night.

  The tall man.

  They neared the door and Malcolm glanced to the side.

  It was the tall man, and he was coming at them on all fours, his movements so unnatural.

  Heinrich held the door open. “Quick. In here.”

  Malcolm bolted past Heinrich through the doorway.

  They were in a small vestibule with an elevator and a second door which led into the apartment building proper. Heinrich slipped a plastic card into a slot near the other door and pulled it open. They both rushed through and Malcolm closed the door.

  Through the door’s vertical, reinforced window, the tall man appeared in the ramp doorway and slid into the elevator lobby, electric sparks sputtering from his gloves and shoes.

  “Down here!” Heinrich shouted as he twisted a key in a door partway down the carpeted hallway.

  The tall man pounded on the locked door and it sounded like he had fists of iron.

  Malcolm ran to Heinrich and they both slipped inside the apartment. The smaller man threw the bolt and slid the chain into place.

  Malcolm reckoned the door would not stand long against the monster chasing them.

  On a stand next to the door was an urn. Heinrich reached into it and drew out a handful of salt. He sprinkled a thick line of the stuff along the base of the door. Then he grabbed a golden bell which had been sitting next to the urn and began ringing it. At the same time, he chanted in an unfamiliar tongue; it was similar to Latin but far stranger.

  Despite the clanging bell and the chanting, Malcolm heard a scream in the hallway outside. He had never heard a human being scream like that before—with so much terror. He stepped toward the door but Heinrich shook his head and glared at him—and continued to chant.

  The screaming outside the door stopped cold.

  At the door came a fierce pounding. Malcolm thought the door would burst from its hinges as he watched it shake in its frame. But for the time being, it held firm.

  Heinrich paced back and forth before the door, sweat glistening on his brow, never pausing once in his bell-ringing and chanting. In fact, he increased the tempo of both activities.

  The pounding grew weaker until finally it stopped. And the familiar hiss, which sounded like some gigantic feline’s, faded away to silence.

  Heinrich Dunkle stopped ringing and chanting. He pulled his handkerchief from his jacket and wiped the sweat from his brow. “It should not come back for a while.”

  “How long is ‘a while?’”

  “Oh, a few hours at least. The ritual I performed was potent. Demons can’t stand it. It’s like fingernails on a chalkboard to them.”

  “I’ll have that tea now.”

  Heinrich shook his head. “You look tired, my friend. Why don’t you wait until after a good night’s sleep when you’re refreshed? Besides, the daylight will work in our favor against these types.”

  Malcolm dropped onto a cushioned bench near the door. He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. “How can I sleep knowing Violet is in the hands of someone who can summon demons?”

  Heinrich had opened the door a crack and was peeking out. “Oh my God.” He scurried out of the apartment without another word.

  Malcolm sprang up and looked out into the hallway.

  In the hallway, Heinrich was hunched over a woman’s prone body.

  Malcolm rushed down the hall and stood over them.

  Heinrich stood. “My God.”

  Malcolm shook his head and backed away.

  Above the neck, the woman faced the carpeted floor, but the rest of her body faced the ceiling.

  A Chihuahua sniffed at her unmoving foot and whined, its small body all aquiver.

  “Are you still going to let me do this alone, Heinrich?”

  “No. I must help you. I can’t let this happen. Even if it means I die or go mad. Personally, I’d prefer death.”

  “Go mad?”

  “When you are dealing with the unnatural—with things that do not fit into your earthly paradigm—there is a chance your mind will revolt and become unhinged. It has happened to many in the past. It will happen to us as well, if we are reckless.”

  “What do we do about this poor woman?”

  Heinrich looked up and down the hall, spying no one else present. “I suggest we place an anonymous phone call to the local police department on our way back to the hotel.”

  “What about the tea?”

  “I’ll grab it. Then we must go.”

  Malcolm stayed in the hallway, looking everywhere but at the dead woman. Something touched his foot. He looked down and saw the dog looking back up at him and whining, one small paw placed gently on Malcolm’s shoe. He lifted the shivering dog, holding it and stroking it, trying to calm it. But he didn’t know which one of them was more nervous and scared.

  Heinrich came out of the apartment carrying a vintage leather medical bag. The occultist closed and locked his door and approached Malcolm. He didn’t even glance at the dog. “Let’s go.”

  Malcolm thought he should set the dog down, but he didn’t. Right now it seemed they both needed each other for comfort.

  “I hope you have your bell and salt in there,” Malcolm said as they entered the elevator lobby and crossed to the ramp door.

  “I wouldn’t worry about that. The demon is far away by now, plugging its ears with its fingers.”

  They crossed to the car, got in and left the ramp, heading back to Malcolm’s hotel.

  “Shouldn’t we try to find Violet this instant? You saw what that thing did back there; it was vicious and horrible. Who knows what else this Venice character is capable of?”

  “He has a purpose for Violet so I am thinking she is still alive. He requires her musical skills for some reason—for this strange trio of his.”

  “A classical musician who sends out demons when he feels people are getting too nosy. It doesn’t make sense.”

  The streets were empty now. The Chihuahua was still whining and shaking, leaning against Malcolm for comfort and protection.

  “You have a new friend I see.”

  “Yes. I couldn’t leave it back there all alone with its owner dead.”

  Heinrich did one of his shrugs. After the little man placed an anonymous call to the police using the pay phone outside a convenience store along the way, they finally reached the hotel and went up to Malcolm’s room.

  Once in the room, Malcolm set the dog on the floor.

  “What do we do now?” he asked.

 
“We sleep. I will take the sofa. In the morning: tea.”

  Malcolm protested, but kept yawning throughout his argument. In time, he admitted it would be better if they set out after some rest. His body heavy from the exhausting, stressful day, he didn’t think he could sleep. However, once he was under the covers, with the dog curled next to him, it wasn’t long before he had drifted off.

  “Rise and shine,” called a voice.

  Malcolm’s eyes opened, but he closed them again because the sunlight coming through the windows was too bright.

  “We must get moving and end this terrible business.” Heinrich said. “We will eat breakfast, get something for the doggy too, and then we will drink the Hindu tea.”

  Malcolm ordered room service even though he didn’t feel much like eating. But once it arrived, he devoured his scrambled eggs, bacon, toast and coffee like a starving wolf. Heinrich ate the same meal and the Chihuahua had two strips of bacon all to itself along with a coffee cup filled with cold water from the bathroom sink.

  After they finished eating, Heinrich brewed his magic tea with some hot water he had ordered with the breakfast.

  “What do we do with it?” Malcolm said.

  “Drink it and wait.”

  Heinrich poured out two cups of the bright green liquid. He handed one to Malcolm and then held his own up. “Here’s to us. Good luck to my new friend—and myself—and I pray that the Powers watch over us and aid us in our quest.”

  “Cheers to that,” Malcolm said and clinked glasses with the smaller man.

  It tasted similar to teas Malcolm had enjoyed before, holding only a small hint of the exotic. He downed the whole cup in seconds. “Not bad at all.”

  “No, it tastes good but you wouldn’t want to drink it unless it was absolutely necessary. Remember, if you start to think you are hallucinating, you are not. You’re merely seeing things that the normal eye cannot. Many gurus can see into other dimensions and other planes of existence with ease, but most of us require some assistance.”

  Malcolm looked down at the dog, expecting to see something bizarre, but it still looked like a dog.

  Heinrich got his bag. “I think we should be going. Do you have any weapons handy?”

  “Weapons? No, sorry. I don’t carry an arsenal around with me.”