“I see,” said Fisher. “And you want to know if there is a real Necronomicon?”
“You’ve done a lot of research on Lovecraft, you’re familiar with the criticism that exists about him. I was just curious if you had any insight that I may not be able to find without some serious digging, or if you could point me in the proper direction.”
“Well, you’re right about the Necronomicon becoming a sort of modern-day myth. A simple web search will turn up dozens, maybe even hundreds, of different versions of the Necronomicon, each one claiming to be the real deal. Back in the days of card catalogues in libraries, pranksters would sneak in phony entries for it. Lovecraft first mentioned the grimoire in ‘The Hound,’ which he wrote in 1922. It was supposedly written by Abdul Alhazred, the Mad Arab, and contains an account of the Old Ones, their history, and the means to summon them onto our plane of existence. Of course, as I said, Lovecraft stated it was all fiction. The name Abdul Alhazred isn’t even a proper Arabic name, and though Lovecraft said Necronomicon translates as Book of the Dead, the etymology is unsound. A more correct translation would be Book Considering The Dead.”
“And you don’t think it’s possible that Lovecraft simply claimed it was a fictional book to hide the truth? Or that he would have altered the names to keep its truth a secret?” asked Max.
Fisher scoffed. “Max, have you ever tried to look up Gotham City on Google Earth?”
Max shook his head. “Of course not.”
“Ever sent a Freedom of Information Request to the government about holding the Ark of the Covenant in some storage facility?”
Max sighed. “No, I see your point.”
Fisher threw up his arms. “It’s fiction! Wonderful fiction, but fiction nonetheless.” Fisher settled back into his chair and rubbed his chin. “Although…”
Max’s ears perked up. “What is it?”
Fisher held out his hand. “Now I want you to know that this isn’t proof of anything. But have you ever heard of Kenneth Grant?”
He had, but he said otherwise. “No, I don’t believe so.”
“Grant was a disciple of Aleister Crowley and the head of a magical order. He wrote a book in the seventies in which he claimed that both Lovecraft and Crowley both drew on the same occult forces. He believed that the Necronomicon was a kind of astral book that could only be accessed through ritual magic or dreams.”
“In other words, Lovecraft could have believed that the Necronomicon was just a creation of his imagination when in reality he was unknowingly communicating with some occult force?” asked Max.
Fisher nodded. “If you believe in that sort of thing, of course. But I for one think it’s a bit preposterous.”
Max grinned. “Of course.”
Fisher sat forward in his chair. “I don’t know much about Grant, but you have reminded me of something else. There was a Lovecraft scholar I read about. He firmly believed in Grant’s theory and delved into it himself. Rumor has it he was fully devoted to proving that the Necronomicon was real.”
“Who is he?”
“Derek Hudson,” said Fisher.
“Do you know where I could find him?” asked Max. “Is he still alive, for that matter?”
Fisher snickered. “Oh yeah, he’s alive. He was committed to a mental hospital about fifteen years ago.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
“So Tahiti?” asked Asami from the driver’s side of the black Corvette convertible. Her fedora was absent from her head for once, the wind whipping through her long, dark hair as she raced down the expressway. From behind her sunglasses, she quickly cast a glance to Elisa in the passenger seat.
“That’s what Stubby said. So I have to go check it out.”
Asami snickered as she shifted gears. “God, forced to go to Tahiti. What a hard-knock life.”
Elisa smiled and patted the dashboard. “Says the girl driving around in a Stingray.”
“So you got this all planned out?” asked Asami.
Elisa nodded. “A room at a beach resort was charged to the fake card Stubby gave Lucas.”
“Who’s to say he’ll still be there when you arrive? Or if it was even him who used the card? Maybe some merc plugged him and decided to use the card to treat himself.”
“Maybe,” said Elisa, looking out over the expressway to the Pacific Ocean. “But it’s as good a lead as we’ve got.”
Asami honked at the van in front of her that was driving at the speed limit. “You see this asshole?” She pounded the horn a few more times. “People in this country, I swear… No respect.” Asami swerved into the next lane and sped up. She cut in front of the van and the driver honked at her. Asami stuck her middle finger in the air and grinned when she saw the annoyed expression of the middle-aged WASP behind the wheel.
“You can be a real bitch sometimes, Asami.”
“‘Sometimes’?”
Elisa smirked. “Anyway, Max spoke to the Lovecraft scholar.”
“Anything worth knowing?”
She nodded. “There’s a scholar who believed the Necronomicon was real and drove himself insane trying to prove it. He’s been institutionalized for over a decade.”
“So I get to visit an asylum? Fun!”
“Psychiatric hospital,” said Elisa. “Lunatic asylums don’t exist any more.”
“Whatever,” said Asami. “So who is this guy and where is he?”
“His name’s Derek Hudson. He’s been committed to a hospital in Rhode Island. Max is waiting to give you the details.”
“And I assume Maxie isn’t coming with?”
Elisa shook her head. “He’s still a bit pissed that I’m investigating this at all. Plus he’s running interference with the Dean.”
Asami took the off-ramp with the sign pointing to Lester International Airport. “You really gonna go to that kangaroo court?”
“What choice do I have? Either I do it or I lose my job.”
“So what?”
Elisa took off her sunglasses and glared at Asami. “So I kind of need my job.”
Asami gave a dismissive wave. “Oh please. How much money do you have stashed away from your mercenary days?”
“Yeah well, with my extracurricular activities, I need some money coming in.”
“So take some odd jobs, the kind that pay well but don’t require you to compromise your morals. And there’s also your boyfriend’s job offer.”
Elisa groaned and hit her head against the seat rest. “For the last time, Shroud is not my boyfriend. Besides, you hate the Freemasons. Why would you want me working with them?”
Asami shrugged. “Maybe I misjudged them. All you ever do is bitch about that university job. So stop doing it. It’s not what you’re meant to do any way.”
“Are you through?” asked Elisa.
“Give it some thought, all I’m saying.”
Asami pulled up to the curb in front of the terminal for international departures and popped the trunk. Elisa got out of the car and raised the trunk. She took the backpack first, sliding her arms through each strap. The next item was her larger, hard suitcase on wheels, which carried some of her weapons. She had forged documentation in case anyone tried to search them at customs, something she’d been through in the past. Asami climbed out of the driver’s side and approached as Elisa closed the trunk.
“I’ll call you when I land,” she said. “Hopefully you’ll have something on Hudson by then.”
“Shouldn’t be a problem,” said Asami. “I’ll head straight to Max’s house from here. What about you, sure you’re okay doing this without back-up?”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” said Elisa. “Trust me, I can handle Lucas Davalos on my own.”
“No doubt in my mind. But if he is in danger, be nice to know that you’ve got someone watching your back.”
Elisa’s hand went to the necklace she wore, with a single white orb hanging from it. The orb matched the ones that lined the bracelet on Asami’s wrist. “I’ve got this, right? You’ll be with me.�
��
“Basically that’ll tell me if you get yourself killed,” said Asami. “Seriously, why not call in Shroud?”
Elisa shook her head. “There’s more than a good chance Lucas crossed the Freemasons at some point in his career. Call in Shroud and he might arrest Lucas, or maybe even shoot him.”
“He does tend to inspire that reaction in people.” Asami looked down at her feet. “Just be careful.”
“Aw, you’re concerned, that’s cute.”
“Go to hell.”
Elisa smiled and placed a hand on Asami’s shoulder. “I’ll be in touch. Good luck with Hudson.” She took her suitcase by the extending handle and pulled it behind her, walking towards the automatic doors. Asami watched her walk in, then jumped over the trunk and landed in the driver’s seat.
Once Asami’s Stingray departed, Roland Palmer stepped out of the taxi a few cars back. He walked inside the airport and saw Elisa in the check-in line. Roland read off the information on the board overhead and saw the destination for that check-in counter. He turned his back to Elisa and took out his phone.
“She’s at the airport, boarding a plane to Tahiti,” said Roland once Sebastian answered. “So either she’s planning an impromptu vacation or you were right and she’s still going after Davalos even after refusing the job.”
“Judging from their reputations, I knew she couldn’t resist,” said Sebastian. “What about the Necronomicon?”
“I’ve got someone tailing her little changeling friend.”
“Make sure they keep their distance. If she realizes they’re following her, we could lose our shot at finding the book.”
“Understood. And Hill?”
“There’s not enough time to prepare my plane, so I need you on that flight. But be discrete. If you’re spotted, she’ll know we’re onto her,” said Sebastian. “I’ll put together a team and have them meet you on the ground in Tahiti.”
“Yessir.” Roland turned off the phone and waited for Elisa to leave the line and head to security. Once he was confident he was clear, he went to the ticketing agent to purchase his seat on the same flight.
CHAPTER NINE
Elisa first landed at Faa’a International Airport in Pape’ete, Tahiti, and then it was an additional fifty-minute flight from there to Bora Bora. Representatives from the Four Seasons Bora Bora were waiting to meet her at the airport. They provided her with a fifteen-minute cruise to the resort. Before Elisa left Stubby’s, she had him arrange for a room at the same resort where Lucas had checked in, or supposedly checked in. The staff were very friendly and personable, and Elisa smiled and played the part of a tourist. Once they arrived at the resort, she was taken to the lounge and checked in.
The place was expensive, close to a thousand dollars a night for the smallest bungalow. All the bungalows were over-water and the villas were beachfront, some with their own private pool. Elisa entered the room and looked around. The door opened to a spacious living room and that connected to a large bathroom. Past that was the bedroom with a king-size bed. All rooms opened out to a deck. Elisa showered quickly after the long trip and changed into a one-piece bathing suit and a pair of shorts. She went back to her suitcase and took out her kukri daggers and the belt affixed to the holsters. Elisa dropped this in a beach bag and left her bungalow, locking the door behind her. She donned a pair of round sunglasses and made her way to the beachfront bar.
The resort’s Faré Hoa Beach Bar was beside the main pool. Palm trees surrounded it and a straw hut provided shade from the hot sun. Elisa took a seat at the bar and a young bartender came up to her. He was a handsome Polynesian with long hair pulled into a ponytail and nicely tanned skin.
“Bonjour,”
Elisa smiled at him. “Bonjour.”
He smiled. “Your accent…American?”
She gave him an impressed nod. “Very good.”
“Many Americans come here. You like a drink?”
“Margarita.”
The bartender went about preparing her drink. Once finished, he placed the glass in front of her. “Pretty girl like you alone?”
“Actually…” Elisa removed her sunglasses. “I’m looking for someone.”
The bartender grinned. “Oh?”
“He’s staying at this resort. Shaggy, light-brown hair and green eyes.”
“American?”
Elisa scoffed. “Well, he’s certainly arrogant enough. But no, Greek.” She reached inside her bag and handed the bartender a small photograph of Lucas. “His name is Alan Andrews.”
“Alan Andrews?” The bartender raised an eyebrow. “Doesn’t sound Greek.”
“Have you seen him?”
The bartender held up the photograph and examined it. He gave Elisa a suspicious look. “Why do you ask? You’re stunning, could do much better than him.”
She smirked, trying to hide her annoyance. “I just need to know if you’ve seen him. He’s…he’s my husband. Just disappeared one day. I called the credit card company and they said he booked a room here.”
The bartender cast a quick glance to the left and right, then leaned in close to Elisa. “Listen, your husband? Better you go home and call a lawyer. He’s no good.”
Elisa sipped her margarita. “What makes you say that?”
“He’s been here a week, maybe. Every night he comes to this bar. Every night, he comes alone. But he doesn’t leave that way.”
“Don’t suppose you know which bungalow he’s in?”
“They didn’t tell you?” asked the bartender. “He’s not in a bungalow, he’s in the Otemanu.”
“What’s that?”
The bartender chuckled. “It’s our largest villa. Can hold six people. He has it all to himself…during the day, at least.”
“Tell me where it is.”
***
Elisa arrived at the front of the Otemanu villa and she immediately rolled her eyes upon setting sight on it. It was every bit as extravagant as the bartender had described, with steps leading up to the front door. She walked up to the door and knocked, but heard no answer. Elisa circled around the side of the villa, but a wall blocked access to the grounds. She easily scaled the barrier and hopped over between the palm trees. As she approached the wooden deck, she heard splashing and a man grunting.
Was she too late? Elisa reached inside her bag, drawing the kukri from the sheathes. She set her bag down on the ground and climbed onto the deck. The sounds grew louder and it was no mistaking Lucas’ voice. Elisa stood up against an alcove, trying to peer around to get a good view, but she couldn’t see a thing. She decided to take a chance and she rushed out, holding the kukri at the ready.
The next sound that came was a woman’s scream. Elisa’s jaw nearly dropped and the kukri fell from her fingertips, clattering to the wooden deck. The young Polynesian woman scrambled from the pool, grabbing her towel and clothes from one of the lounge chairs. She covered herself and pointed at Elisa, staring at her companion while shouting in French.
Elisa’s eyes were still fixed on the man who sat naked in the pool, stretching his arms out along the edge. His head fell back and he shut his green eyes, groaning as the woman shouted. Elisa finally looked at the girl after hearing her repeated shouts.
“I am so sorry…” she said.
The Polynesian woman was apparently having none of it, though. She stormed back inside the villa and a moment later, the sound of the door slamming was heard. Elisa picked up the kukri and walked over to the pool, setting the daggers by the ledge. The man reached for a silver case and Zippo lighter that rested by the side of the pool. He produced a thin cigarillo and lit it, sucking on the tip and allowing the smoke to fill his lungs. When he exhaled, he fixed his eyes on hers.
“Elisa Hill.” He spat the name.
“Lucas Davalos,” said Elisa with a smile.
CHAPTER TEN
Lucas held up his hands, the cigarillo clamped between his fingers. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Elisa looked over h
er shoulder at the villa. “Really, Davalos? This place is bigger than most people’s homes.”
Lucas shrugged. “Most people don’t have my sense of style.”
Elisa kicked off her sandals and sat at the edge of the pool, sliding her legs into the cool water.
“Not that I’m not excited to see you…” he began. “Wait, actually that’s wrong. I’m not at all excited to see you. Especially considering what happened the last time we met.”
“Never got a chance to thank you for letting me go.”
“Yeah, thank me.” Lucas sucked on the tip of his cigarillo. “You get away scot-free, I get a secret society of blood-thirsty assassins breathing down my goddamn neck.”
“Seems you’re doing okay for yourself,” said Elisa.
“How’d you find me anyway?”
“I had help.”
Lucas smirked as he shook his head. “Talked to Stubby, did you?”
“He gave me the name you were traveling under,” said Elisa. “Believe it or not, I’m here to help. I came here because I thought you were in trouble, and then I find you banging some local girl in a private pool.”
“I was celebrating,” said Lucas. “Managed a big score that will hold me over for a bit. Not as good as what the Order would have paid… But enough considering my luck.”
“I know.”
Lucas flicked the ash off the end of the cigarillo. “What do you mean?”
“I know about Sebastian Clarke. He hired you to find the Necronomicon, didn’t he?”
Lucas straightened his back and sat up more. “I never told Stubby about Clarke. Just how in the hell could you know about that?”
“Because when you went missing, Clarke tried to hire me to find you.”
Lucas’ eyes widened. “What the hell, Elsie? You’re working for that old freak?”
“Calm down,” said Elisa, holding out her hand. “I’m not working for anyone. I turned him down. But I still thought I should look into your whereabouts. That’s when I got in touch with Stubby.”
Lucas settled back into the pool and took another drag. His trademark smug grin was back. “So you were worried about me, huh?”
Curse of the Necronomicon (The Myth Hunter Book 3) Page 4
