“Hopefully, we’ll be finished with our work here quickly and can enjoy the sights. The Governor’s Mansion is just down the road from here.”
Evelyn nodded, refraining from saying anything that would ruin her husband’s enthusiasm. He was an explorer by nature, enjoying nothing so much as finding a new place to wander around in. She shared his appreciation for that, but their tastes in what could be defined as interesting varied wildly. “There’s a man walking towards us,” she whispered. She put on her most dazzling smile as an officious-looking man in a dark suit stopped just short of them. He was sweating profusely, which didn’t surprise her—Milledgeville, like Atlanta, was a hellish place to be in the summer.
“Hello,” the stranger said, his voice dripping with southern charm. “I recognize you, Miss Gould. I’ve watched a number of your films.”
Evelyn blushed on cue, as she always did when she met a fan. “Why, thank you. And you are—?”
“John Oden, Miss Gould.” John took her offered hand and squeezed it warmly. “It’s a real pleasure.”
“You’re the superintendent of the Milledgeville State Hospital, aren’t you?” Max inquired, interrupting the spectacle before Evelyn could get around to asking John what his favorite film of hers was. “Pleasure to meet you.”
“I was surprised when you called me,” Oden admitted, “but not displeased in the least. It’s not often I hear from two such important people.”
“You’re too gracious,” Max responded. He’d picked up on Evelyn’s curious glance. She was slightly annoyed that he hadn’t told her about phoning Dr. Oden. He knew it was wrong of him, but he still enjoyed having the upper hand over her on occasion. “Could we buy you lunch?”
“I’ve never turned down an offer like that, Mr. Davies.” Oden’s eyes twinkled as he looked at Evelyn again. “
The Perils of Gwendolyn
is my favorite.”
“That was one of my most understated roles, I think.” Evelyn turned on the charm, keeping Oden laughing and smiling all the way to the corner café. Max could smell the cheese grits before they’d ever entered the door and it made his stomach rumble.
Oden was apparently well-acquainted with the owners of the establishment for they greeted him by name and escorted him to a table set next to an open window, allowing him the luxury of a soft breeze every now and again. “So, Mr. Davies, you told me you have questions about one of my doctors?”
Max nodded, casting a quick glance at the menu before responding. He ordered for himself and Evelyn, feeling a twinge of amusement when Oden ordered the most expensive dish that was offered for himself. “Dr. Klempt. How long has he worked at the Hospital?”
Oden’s face paled noticeably and he leaned across the table to whisper, “Is he in some sort of trouble with the law?”
Max stared into the other man’s eyes. “That wouldn’t surprise you in the least, would it?”
“He’s an odd one,” Oden admitted. “And he and I don’t see eye to eye on a great many things. But he has connections… when I attempted to reprimand him several weeks ago, I received a number of threats to my office until I finally relented.”
“What was he being reprimanded for?” Evelyn asked.
“Some of his work… is eccentric.” Oden pursed his lips. “To be honest, I don’t like him. Not a bit.”
“What is his specialty?” Max pressed.
“He works with our most severe cases, using shock treatment and other radical therapies to restore a sense of equilibrium in their brains.”
“I’m not sure that electric shocks would restore much of anything,” Evelyn whispered disapprovingly.
“I would tend to agree with you,” Oden replied, “but there are many who profess to have seen its beneficial effects.”
“Does Dr. Klempt live on the grounds of the hospital?”
“Of course. Almost all our doctors do.” Oden swallowed hard. “At first, I was disinclined to meet with you on this matter, Mr. Davies. But the number you gave me to verify your intentions… well, the man on the other end of the phone was most persuasive.”
Max didn’t reply to that, though he was gratified to hear it. He’d made the decision to test Benson’s claims, offering up the man’s number to Oden. Now that he knew that Benson did have sway over people in power, he felt much better about the fact that Benson knew his identity.
“The next few days might seem a bit odd to you, Mr. Oden. You might hear some unusual rumors… but it’s essential that you not let Klempt know that he’s being observed. Do you understand?”
Oden laughed. “If this means that Klempt might end up leaving the staff, I’ll turn a blind eye to almost anything.”
You might just have to do that
, Max thought to himself.
CHAPTER X
The Devil’s Library
The retarded and the insane worked side-by-side. Klempt stood in the corner of the room, watching them as he sipped an ice-cold glass of tea. He’d hated iced tea when he’d first come to the South, but it had grown on him over time. It was almost impossible to avoid having to drink the stuff, really, so it was all just as well.
Some of the patients moaned while they worked, their heads aching. One of them, an Asian, had begun bleeding from his ears. It spilled down his cheeks, dripping to the workbench that he was hunched over. Klempt didn’t mind, as long as the blood didn’t stain the pages he was working on. Each of them had several pages of the Necronimicon and were busy translating it into languages they were familiar with. Those who spoke only English were merely making more copies of the text in that language.
Klempt set down his glass and moved amongst the patients, examining their work. Here and there, he saw meaningless scribbles alongside the text, but he said nothing in disapproval. The rantings of the mad might actually give the pages added power—and that was crucial to what he had planned. The eventual return of the ancient entities who had ruled this world when man was young would be made easier if chaos and madness became prevalent, for such things weakened the barriers that had trapped the Old Ones in bondage.
A knock at the door made Klempt pause in his examinations. As far as he knew, there should have been no one else in this building at this hour. At seven o’clock each evening, he sent the orderlies to other buildings so that he could engage his patients in ‘group therapy.’ Striding towards the door with an imperious air, Klempt made a mental promise to wreak his revenge on whoever had disturbed his work.
He was thrown for another loop when the face he saw peering through the crack he made in the door was John Oden. “Superintendent… this is quite a surprise.” He forced a smile on his face, well aware that under no circumstances could his employer be allowed into this room… if Oden pressed the issue, Klempt would simply have to kill him and blame the act on one of the patients. “What can I do for you?”
“I was hoping you might come down to my office for a few minutes, Gerhard.” Oden tapped a small notebook he held in his hand. “A few special cases are being brought in—the types you usually do so well with.”
“I’m in the middle of an important session,” Klempt replied, trying to keep his tone neutral. Oden was a nuisance, but it wouldn’t do to tip his hand too early. “Could you leave the reports with me and I could discuss them with you in the morning?”
“Afraid not. These patients come from very wealthy families and will arrive before noon tomorrow. We simply must have plans in place.”
Klempt sighed, seeing that there was no way out of this at the moment… not unless he wanted to do in the superintendent once and for all. “May I have a few minutes to get the patients back to their rooms? Then I’ll join you.”
“Do you need assistance? I could help and there’s always the orderlies…”
“No!” Klempt snapped. Recovering, he lowered his tones and continued, “I can manage on my own. My patients must see me as their primary caregiver if the treatments are to take hold.”
Oden backed away. “Very well. But be quick about it.”
Klempt shut the door and unleashed a small string of curses. He stormed through the patients, gathering up their materials before lining them up to return to their rooms. Each of them was given a small wafer to eat, laced with a powerful drug whose origins in Africa was unknown to most Western scientists. It made their recollections of the night’s events so blurry as to seem indistinguishable from dreams. If they did decide to tell anyone, their rantings would appear appropriately confused and insubstantial. He’d avoided giving any of the drug to Miss Thomas, however, as the substance might harm the delicate life forms growing within her.
After Klempt had placed the pages in several drawers and led the patients out of the room, silence descended upon the building. Small rays of moonlight illuminated the place, but it was just enough to give it an eerie air.
A small scraping sound grew louder and then one of the windows suddenly popped out of the frame, drawn back by feminine hands. A moment later, Evelyn was squeezing through the opening, followed by her husband. Evelyn wore a dark bodysuit that emphasized her trim figure and athletic nature. Her auburn-colored hair was wore up in a tight bun, hidden beneath a wide-brimmed hat. A small domino mask and gloves completed the attire, making her appear no more substantial than a wraith. “It smells,” she whispered.
“Some of these poor souls can’t control their bodily functions,” the Peregrine replied. He and Evelyn had been crouched outside the window for nearly twenty minutes and he now moved directly towards the hidden pages. He pulled them out, holding them gingerly, as if he was afraid they would burn him. Indeed, they pulsed with a power that made him feel faint. “This isn’t the entire book. Only select pages. He must only bring a few sections at a time in here.”
“If we take these, is it enough to make the rest of the book worthless?”
“Hardly. Every one of these has enough power to cause harm, even if it’s as little as driving a single person mad.” The Peregrine carefully folded them in half, not fearing that he would damage the ancient manuscript. These pages had survived fires, water damage and numerous attempts to destroy them. “We need to go to his house.”
“That’s what I said,” Evelyn pointed out, keeping her voice low. “I said we should split up so one of us could come here and the other would check out his home.”
“Too dangerous,” the Peregrine answered. “We shouldn’t split up on something like this. You don’t have enough experience.” Max touched his temples, massaging them. A pressure was building behind his eyes…
“Oh. So that’s what this comes down to, is it? You think the poor little actress is safe enough with you, but not on her own?”
“Evelyn, please.” The Peregrine pushed past her, scanning the room. “I think he left behind a watch dog.”
“Where?” she asked, glancing about. “I haven’t seen or heard anything.”
“There,” the Peregrine replied, drawing forth his mystic dagger. His guns were specially made and rarely ran out of bullets, but against foes like this one, it was best to fight back with enchanted weapons.
Evelyn followed his gaze, holding back a small gasp when she spotted the source of Max’s concern. Huddled against the wall was something that resembled a large, oversized maggot. At one end a hungry maw gaped open, dripping saliva onto the floor. It was about the same size as a small housecat and was moving towards them with surprising speed, leaving behind a trail of slime. “What in the name of God?” Evelyn whispered.
“That has nothing to do with God, Evelyn. At least not one with which we’re acquainted.” The Peregrine moved forward, keeping himself in a crouch. He swung the blade in the moonlight, letting the rays play across the blade’s length. The worm seemed to sense its power but its unnatural hunger propelled it forward despite the danger.
The worm struck first, clenching up its body and then springing up towards the Peregrine’s body. Max caught it in one hand, feeling the soft rubbery flesh give a bit beneath his fingers. The head twisted this way and that, seeking some flesh upon which to purchase. Max felt a sense of relief that this was obviously an immature version of the creature. He drove his dagger into the thing’s side, twisting cruelly. The worm howled in pain, disturbing anyone who might have heard its death cries.
The Peregrine tossed the carcass aside as it suddenly began to smoke and then flame. “Klempt might be heading home as soon as his meeting is over, Evelyn. We have to make haste.”
Evelyn stared at the smoking worm for a moment, revulsion filling her soul. When she finally found her voice, all trace of her earlier anger had been burned away. “Yes, dear.”
CHAPTER XI
The House on the Hill
Reed stifled a shiver, reaching inside his dark coat to retrieve a silver flask. He unscrewed the lid with shaking fingertips and hurriedly took a hit of the burning liquid, scowling as it sizzled its way down his gullet. He was not normally prone to drinking, but in recent months he had found himself turning to the spirits more and more often. It seemed that something inside of him was dying a little more each day, even as his affection for Camilla turned into something bordering on obsession.
Reed crept from his dark-tinted car, moving up the cobblestone pathway leading to the small house belonging to Dr. Klempt. Less than a mile from the main campus of the asylum, the house was a sterling example of the Federal style of architecture, which was common enough in this city. But there was definitely something more sinister about the place; something that made the shadows cling to its walls just a little bit more than was natural.
Reed moved to the front door, having placed the flask in his hip pocket and exchanging it with a small pistol. He rapped on the door, heart hammering in his chest. If the doctor had the misfortune of being home, a swiftly delivered bullet to the head would clear the way for Reed’s entry. Though he’d become more comfortable with death over the course of his association with Camilla, he still hoped that he would be able to get in and out of this house without killing anyone.
He relaxed slightly when no one stirred within the home. Camilla was out feeding, having given him strict warnings to wait for her assistance. Reed had disobeyed her, however, fearing for her safety. It was sure to bring about her wrath later on, but he would rather face that than have this Klempt harm her. If half the stories he’d heard about Klempt were true…