MalContents
Page 18
The room was nine feet on a side and empty except for a broken folding chair which sat in a corner. Besides the one they had entered, they counted two other doors. One to the right and one straight ahead.
Malcolm said: “The one to the right is at the top of those stairs inside. Whoever was spying on us must have escaped through the third door because we didn’t see anyone outside.”
“Or he could have run down the street before we spotted him.”
Malcolm shook his head. “I don’t think he had enough time. We would have seen or heard something out there.”
“Let’s try the other door then. It looks like it’s closed tight and I’ll wager it’s locked.”
They crossed the room together but before Heinrich had time to grasp the door knob, the door swung wide open.
As did the one to their right, simultaneously.
Lowering its head so it could fit into the room, the black monster squeezed its bulk through the doorway.
Heinrich stepped back from the door in front of him as a well-dressed, gaunt man with a black and silver goatee entered the now-crowded room. In his hand he held a .38 revolver.
Malcolm turned to run back outside but the green-eyed demon now blocked his path. He glanced up into those glowing, blank eyes and his legs turned to rubber. He fell to his hands and knees, the silver dagger clanging against the concrete floor. He stared at the ground to avoid looking at the horrible creature towering over him. But even out of sight, the beast’s presence radiated menace—and worse.
Heinrich stood his ground, holding the silver dagger before him, his bag of magic clutched in the other hand.
“To what do I owe this pleasure?” the gaunt man said. He had a foreign accent but Malcolm couldn’t place it.
“Cyrus Venice. What have you done with Violet DuFresne?”
As Heinrich spoke the man’s name, Malcolm’s head lifted. He glared at their captor who, in turn, was sneering back at them.
“So, Mr. Dunkle. You brought a friend along with you this time, the same someone who was asking too many questions back at Henning Hall I presume. Look there; the poor man seems to have lost his footing.”
Malcolm gritted his teeth and got to his feet even though his mind was rebelling against the whole situation. A sudden wave of dizziness swept over him, but he focused and somehow remained conscious. Leaning a shoulder against the wall, he continued glaring at Cyrus Venice. “Take us to her,” he muttered.
“I don’t think you’re in any position to make demands, Mr. Ehrlich.”
“What are you going to do with us?” Heinrich said, backing up nearer to Malcolm.
“Do with you? You make me sound like some b-movie villain. What did you think? I would have the star-golem over there tear you apart? Yet now that I think about it, maybe that’s an idea worthy of contemplation.”
“A star-golem?” Heinrich said in horror, turning to gaze at the beast hunched beneath the room’s ceiling.
“He serves me as a guardian. You two put him through his paces today. I’ll grant you that.”
“But how are you able to control such a thing?” Heinrich said, his voice barely above an awed whisper. “It requires unthinkable power!”
“Unthinkable to you, maybe. But to me, there will never be enough power.” Venice stood away from the door through which he had entered. “Enough small talk. Go through here and don’t try anything funny because my friend and I will be right behind you. By the way, did you know that if the golem so much as taps you with its finger, it would instantly drive you mad? Or perhaps you’d even drop dead from fear?”
Malcolm shuddered. The black beast was a product of nightmares he couldn’t possibly conceive of. As they walked down another hallway, panic threatened to push Malcolm over the edge but he resisted it again, conjuring Violet into his thoughts; the memory of her was the only thing keeping him sane for the moment.
“Go through that door up ahead and all your questions will be answered. Not that you’ll like the answers very much.” Cyrus Venice said and laughed.
Despite his fear of the star-golem, Malcolm felt the urge to strangle Venice.
Heinrich opened the specified door and they entered into a long room.
Luxurious scarlet carpeting and oak paneling covered the space. Expensive leather furniture was distributed throughout beneath glowing, crystal chandeliers. All the walls were bare save for a door far across the room and a purple velvet curtain in the middle of one wall.
“Why don’t you set those useless daggers on the table, and your little bag too, Mr. Dunkle.”
They did as they were told.
Now Malcolm felt entirely defenseless and any hope he entertained of escaping had drained away.
“Now sit on the sofa across from the curtain. My friend here will stand at your backs to ensure neither one of you try anything stupid.”
“You claim not to be a cheap villain,” Heinrich said as he sat. “Yet you sound like one to me, Venice.”
“Remember what I told you about the star-golem, Dunkle? I’d keep it in mind before making any more smart comments.”
Malcolm kept his eyes on Venice, relieved he didn’t have to look at the star-beast but still scared as hell with it standing right behind them. Its looming presence made him want to scream but he’d not allow Venice to see him squirm anymore; he’d die first.
“Are you comfortable?”
Neither one replied.
“For people who are gathering information, you two aren’t being very cooperative.”
Venice tucked the revolver in his pants and walked over to a small table against the wall. On the table sat a violin case. The occultist snapped opened the case, which was lined with red velvet, and removed a black violin and its matching bow. Beneath the case was a small stack of sheet music which he pulled free. Then he approached the purple curtain.
“Bring me the music stand,” commanded Venice.
At first Malcolm wasn’t sure who their captor was speaking to, but then he heard sounds from behind him. As the beast circled the sofa to obey its master’s command, Malcolm averted his gaze, staring off at the room’s far wall, wishing he could reach the door—which now seemed far, far away—and be gone from this place. But he knew he would not depart as long as Violet was in this madman’s clutches.
“You can open your eyes now, Mr. Ehrlich. The star-golem has returned to his former position. I’m sorry that he makes you nervous but I can assure you he won’t harm a hair on your head—unless I instruct him to. Perhaps if you behave, you might leave in one piece and with sanity intact.”
“Get on with it,” Heinrich said, anger coloring his voice. “Where’s the woman?”
“A fine question, Mr. Dunkle. Where is the woman?” Venice placed the sheet music on the stand. Holding the violin and bow in one hand, he fished out a thin rope from behind the purple drapes with the other. “She’s behind this curtain.”
Venice pulled down on the rope and the heavy curtain slid aside. Behind it was a large, rectangular black frame surrounding an opaque, black surface. The occultist lifted the violin to his cheek and played a quick succession of notes.
The men on the sofa drew in their breaths as the black surface vanished and they were suddenly gazing through the frame into another room. It was a circular room with a plain stone wall, its design entirely different from the rest of the warehouse. Everything about the scene within the black frame seemed dull, the room there containing no paintings or decorations whatsoever, yet in the wall was a single window. And through the window, far in the distance, could be seen a dilapidated house which stood alone on a gray and barren hilltop.
Violet wasn’t there.
“Where is she?” Malcolm said, bewildered.
Venice looked through the frame. “Well, what do you know? She’s missing. Perhaps she decided to take a walk. Though I doubt that, since it would be dangerous to leave the tower and she has been instructed not to do so.”
“Tower?” Malcolm said.
“Malcolm,” Heinrich said. “What you are seeing through the frame is not of this Earth. He has Violet trapped in another dimension. For what purpose, perhaps he will let us know if he ever gets to the point.”
“Another . . .?”
“Dunkle is correct in his crude way. You are looking at a place that exists beyond this reality, a place which also happens to be a conduit of unimaginable power. A station between here and a third place, which is the ultimate source of this great power. Great power that shall soon be mine.”
“What are you planning?” Heinrich said, gripping the arm of the leather couch. “What madness is this?”
“The search for power is madness? This is news to me. Mankind has sought the like since its humble origins.”
Malcolm felt numb. Here he sat, in a room with a sorcerer, a monster from who-knows-where and a cellist, waiting to discover the fate of a woman he hasn’t seen in years. It seemed the nearer to Violet he got, the more surreal the situation became. He wondered if he would ever return to his nice, normal life.
“Perhaps you do not understand yet, Dunkle, so let me explain it to you: I am to become a god.”
“You are out of your mind,” Heinrich said, standing. “Give us the girl this instant, and let us leave this asylum, and you to your outrageous scheme.”
“I’m afraid it cannot be done, Dunkle. You see, she plays an important part in my ‘scheme.’ I need her to remain right where she is—in that tower. But don’t worry; she is being well cared for by the tall fellow you met yesterday. By the way, he is very angry with you two. If he ever meets you or Mr. Ehrlich again, I’m not sure I could stop him from harming you.”
Without forethought, Malcolm launched himself from the couch and found himself running toward the room on the other side of the frame.
Cyrus Venice’s eyes widened. He raised the violin to his shoulder and readied the bow.
Malcolm heard the violin begin to sound as he dove through the opening into another world.
Great pain shot up his leg as he fell onto the stone floor of the tower room, his momentum sending him across the room until he struck the opposite wall. He cried out and stared down at his left leg in horror.
His foot was gone—sheared off at the ankle. The stump oozed blood, its color vibrant against the dull stone floor.
He glanced back at the magical frame he’d just passed through and gasped.
He could no longer see the room which held Heinrich and Cyrus Venice because opacity filled the black frame once again. Venice had closed the doorway with his otherworldly music just as Malcolm had passed through, slicing off Malcolm’s foot in the process. Even though the closing frame had somehow cauterized the damage to some extent, he was losing blood.
Malcolm sat up and tore off his jacket, his head feeling lighter by the second. He removed his shirt, popping the buttons as he yanked it open. A chill crept along his exposed flesh and he wasn’t sure if it was from the temperature in this strange place, or from the shock of his amputated foot. He ripped his shirt into two pieces, winding one half over and around the stump and tying the other half above the ankle to hold the bandage in place as a tourniquet. The pale shirt darkened in spots but for now it sufficed.
He lay beneath the window through which he could glimpse the dreary sky. Across the room sat a cushioned chair, a cello case and a music stand, all positioned so that he had not seen them from the other side of the frame.
Darkness welled in his mind. He wrapped his jacket around his bare torso and slid down upon the stone floor. Shivering, teeth chattering, he closed his eyes and could do no more before consciousness made its escape.
“Oh, Malcolm!”
Malcolm Ehrlich’s eyelids fluttered and lifted.
Hunched over him was the one person for whom he’d been searching: Violet DuFresne. She looked tired and her clothes were wrinkled and soiled, but it was her all the same.
“Violet?”
“You’re so pale. I thought I might have lost you there for a few moments but at least the bleeding has stopped. As soon as you’re able, you should sit up and drink some water.”
Malcolm moved his tongue through his cottony mouth and over his dry lips. He smiled at her. “I’ve found you at last.”
“You were looking for me?”
He nodded.
She placed his head in her lap and stroked his hair with gentle fingers.
It felt wonderful.
“I—I came back to find you. I quit my job and came back here. Well, not here, but—”
“Shh. I know what you mean,” she said, her fingers running over his scalp, there soft touch calming him. “Well, now you have found me and I am glad, but also upset. This place is terrifying and awful and now we’re both trapped here. All my fault, I think.”
“No, not your fault.”
“Do you think you can sit up and drink some water? I’m worried about all that blood you’ve lost.”
He nodded and she helped lift him higher onto her lap. She reached to the side and retrieved a thermos bottle, which she opened, pouring water from the container into the lid. Holding the cup against Malcolm’s lips, she eased it back until, after a while, he had drunk it all. She gave him more until he told her he’d had enough.
“Where are we, Violet?”
She looked around as if seeing the place for the first time. “I don’t know. What I do know is that it’s nowhere on Earth.”
Malcolm nodded. He still had a hard time grasping this concept. Everything looked sturdy enough to him for such a dream-like place. The blood had been cleaned up but faint spots could still be seen. The music stand, cello case and chair were still there and the infernal frame which led back home, if they could figure out how to open it without Venice’s violin.
“What are you doing here? How did this happen to your leg?”
Before Malcolm could answer, an awful hissing sound arose from outside the window. It sounded all too familiar.
Malcolm sat up. “The tall demon! He’s here.”
Violet frowned. “You mean the awful beast that guards me? I’m afraid so. Cyrus switched guardians several hours ago but I liked the old one better; it was terrible and awful to comprehend but at least it was silent, unlike this horrid creature outside. It does nothing but circle my tower, hissing and climbing the walls and peeking in the window.”
She began crying and now it was Malcolm’s turn to provide comfort. He pressed her head against his shoulder and stroked her golden hair.
The creature outside spat and hissed as if it were having a fit.
Based on her description, Malcolm assumed the star-golem had been guarding her previously. He didn’t think the tall demon was much of an improvement, yet for some reason it bothered him less than if it had been that green-eyed brute back in the warehouse.
“Tell me how you got here, Violet. How did you ever fall into that maniac’s hands?”
“It’s all a horrible blur.”
“Nothing could be more horrible than the situation we find ourselves in.”
She attempted a smile and began her story:
“I hadn’t received a letter or call from you in some time and I had become despondent—though I want you to know that it doesn’t mean for one second that any of this is your fault. I’m not trying to hurt you; I’m just telling you what happened.”
Malcolm interrupted. “I thought it was you who’d stopped sending letters, but I guess I’m not surprised to discover it had been me; I got lost in that accursed job, sometimes for months on end. It’s part of the reason I quit. When I’d realized what I’d become, I couldn’t take being a workaholic any longer—I couldn’t take the strange people in that strange country. I had to return home and make a new life—with you.”
The hissing outside grew fainter. Malcolm wanted to stand and look outside, but he didn’t think he was ready to rise just yet.
He kept one eye on the magic frame in case the room at the warehouse should appear again. If it di
d, he was going to drag Violet through it regardless of how many feet he had or who or what was waiting for them on the other side.
He thought of Heinrich and hoped the little fellow was okay. The man had helped Malcolm a great deal and in the end was quite heroic.
“It was a misunderstanding,” Violet said, chasing Malcolm’s thoughts away. “I should have known better but you had been absent for so long that I was losing hope of ever seeing you again. And that’s when Cyrus Venice stepped into the picture.”
“How did you get involved with that madman?”
“I felt confused and alone. In the beginning I ignored his advances but he was too persistent; he wanted me to complete his trio. Eventually, because I tired of turning him away, I allowed him to take me out for an evening. One thing led to another and then one night he took me back to his place—the warehouse—and played me the most interesting music I had ever heard. He had composed it himself and said he wanted me so that we could play the music the way it was meant to be played. I asked him who the third member of the threesome was. He said it was going to be a surprise, and it’s still going to be a surprise because he has not yet revealed this mysterious person.”
“But why does he keep you here in this bleak tower?”
“After I agreed to join him, he told me to step through the frame and wait in the room beyond—this one. That’s when he pulled out a gun, telling me I would remain here and practice until he had finished his greatest composition. He was ranting and raving something about ultimate power and old gods and other nonsense. I believed he had gone mad—until that black monster appeared. After that, I doubted my own sanity.”
“How awful.”
She nodded. “I’ve been here ever since. He keeps sending sheet music for me to practice and says he won’t release me until his composition is completed and the ‘Outsider Trio’ has played the whole piece all the way through without error. He said he would no longer need me afterwards and that I’d be free.”
“Do you believe him?”
“I can’t even think about it.”
Malcolm pointed. “Where do those stairs lead?”