MalContents (21 page)

Heinrich glanced at the pub’s door again. “Tell me your name.”

“Malcolm Ehrlich.”

“Heinrich Dunkle. Thank you. Tell me, Malcolm. Do you pay any credence to practices in the occult?”

“What the hell are you talking about? I thought we were discussing a musical trio.”

“We are. But they’re unlike anything I’ve ever dealt with before, their name only spoken in whispers. They are a myth for all anyone knows.”

“Then how do
you
know, Heinrich?”

The drinks came. Heinrich sipped his and leaned back. The alcohol was calming his nerves, loosening his tongue.

“I had dabbled in mysticism ever since I was a rebellious teenager back in Germany. But then I met occultists like the ones in The Outsider Trio—disturbing people. After that, I wanted nothing more to do with it. A quiet musician playing Bach and Mozart: that’s what I am now.”

“Violet had nothing to do with the occult. She was normal.”

“She was enchanted by Cyrus Venice.”

“What is “cyrus venice”?

“Not a what; a who.”

“Venice has something to do with this mess?”

“He is the trio’s leader and the only member known to me. The trio consists of Venice, Violet and some mystery musician.”

Before Malcolm could ask Heinrich anymore, he was distracted by a tall, thin man who had just entered the pub. The newcomer ducked his head so he wouldn’t hit it on the door frame. Once he was inside he stood at full height. Malcolm saw that he was wrapped head to toe in clothing: fedora, dark glasses, a black scarf over his face, a long coat that reached his ankles, black leather gloves and shoes.

Heinrich had seen the man too. “We have to get out of here.” He began rising from the booth.

Malcolm grabbed the smaller man’s wrist. “But we aren’t finished yet.”

“We’ll both be finished if you don’t follow me,” Heinrich spat, snapping his wrist free. He scurried across the room and down a short hallway, which Malcolm knew led to the restrooms.

Malcolm threw a couple twenties on the table and chased after.

A sconce lit the empty hallway. Malcolm passed by the rooms marked “men” and “women,” figuring Heinrich was smart enough not to hide in a bathroom. An exit sign glowed above the door at the far end of the hallway. When he reached the door, he pushed his way outside.

Chill breeze snapped his coat. After the warmth of the pub, it was a rude surprise, but at least the rain had stopped.

Malcolm stood in an alleyway. To his right, a ways down, Heinrich was running as fast as his stubby legs could move. Malcolm took off after the cellist, his shoes slapping the wet cement.

He looked over his shoulder.

Bursting forth from the rear door of the pub was the tall man who, upon seeing Malcolm, began running after him with long, loping strides.

Malcolm chased after Heinrich, pumping his legs like he hadn’t in years, trying to catch up to the cellist and put more distance between himself and the tall man. He realized where Heinrich was going: back to his car parked behind Henning Hall. The cellist was near the lot now and Malcolm was only a few yards behind him.

He glanced over his shoulder again.

The tall man was gone.

But no . . .

Something moved across the walls of the buildings in the alley, like a nightmare spider with four legs. It was high in the shadows and difficult to see, but Malcolm was able to spot it because of the flashes of electric blue sparks—like raw electricity—where its hands and feet made contact with the brick.

Malcolm began to slow to ensure he wasn’t dreaming, but some primal instinct propelled him forward and soon he had entered the lot where Heinrich was now opening the door to his green Audi.

“Wait!” he shouted to the cellist. “Something’s after me. It’s walking on the walls!”

Hissing rose from behind him like the sound of butter hitting a hot griddle. He neared the car which Heinrich had already started. He glanced back again and saw, peering around a building, twenty feet above the ground, the tall man.

Malcolm dove for the passenger door of the Audi and flung it open. The car rolled backward out of its space. Malcolm swung himself into the seat and slammed the door closed.

The car sped out of the lot and into the street, almost clipping a taxi that had been barreling past.

“My God!” Malcolm said. “What was that thing?”

“What happened exactly?” Heinrich said.

“You’re not going to believe this, but that tall guy who entered the pub chased after us, only he did it by crawling along the walls of the alley like Count Dracula or Spider-Man.”

Heinrich nodded as if this were an everyday occurrence. “We are in trouble. They suspect us.”

“Suspect us? Of what? Talking in a pub?”

Heinrich shook his head as he ran a red light. “They must now know you’ve been looking for Violet. They know that
I
know of their nefarious dealings. That . . . man saw me in the pub talking to you and put two and two together, I’m sure.”

“I just got into town. I just met you. How do they know all this stuff already?”

Heinrich took a hard right. The tires of his car screeched in protest. “They have their ways. Someone in the orchestra might be a spy.”

Malcolm turned and looked out the back window, expecting to see the tall man loping down the street after them, sparks squirting from beneath his shoes. But there were only other cars moving beneath the street lights and neon signs.

“What the hell was that thing?”

Heinrich shrugged. “Who knows? But this proves what we’re dealing with. Like I said before, it’s best you forget about Violet.”

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.”