It was a multi-armed bitch with the face of an angel, but her eyes glowed with fire and her long red hair whipped about her back in the urging of a tempest that did not exist. Her flaming mouth opened and from it came a banshee keening that ran ice through Nina’s veins; a shriek so foul that it echoed in her ears for long after she had woken with a scream.
The dainty historian was relieved to find herself in the second story study of Wrichtishousis, even if she was alone, save for the security staff. Her cheek ached from the pressure of her head on the open book and she sucked up the wetness from the corner of her mouth, rubbing profusely at the soaked page she spoiled with her dream drool. Even as she sat up, watching the sun set on the other side of the study’s great panoramic window, she still heard the awful shriek of the red haired devil woman.
“Oh thank God,” she muttered under her breath, grateful that it had been only a dream inspired by the material she had been perusing in the banned book Herman found her. She sank back in her chair with a great sigh and looked at the rows of antique books along the north and east walls, wondering what manner of nightmares their contents could inspire if she ever ventured into their yellow stained pages. Some of them were locked with brass and iron, others frail and peeling from their former grandeur. Nina wondered where Purdue had acquired them and why. He was not much of a mystery to her these days, but sometimes his actions, his strange lusts, still had her confounded.
She had kept it from all her friends and colleagues why she had decided to give in to his affections and become his lover, but she was a logical thinker, a woman always in pursuit of knowledge. It had been odd to many who knew her why she would agree to a romantic relationship with a man she always conceded to tolerate at best. Looking around the large room of information, she oiled her gears. Nina had to constantly remind herself why she sacrificed her body and her true feelings, otherwise she would feel like a dirty opportunist. Well, she was an opportunist. There was no denying that, but she had to keep remembering why she was insane enough to pretend to feel any romantic inkling for Dave Purdue.
Still, she dared not reveal to Sam Cleave or his friend Patrick Smith, who had become an amusing almost-friend by now, why she allowed Dave Purdue to know her as a lover.
That very reason was the frustrating seed of her presence here in Purdue’s mansion. Now that he was in Spain for a while longer she finally had the house to herself, and a good chance to snoop around for an artifact he possessed. The relic she most coveted — the Spear of Destiny — was in somewhere in his house, she was certain. After she had discovered the terrible power of the relic on Deep Sea One, and had it unceremoniously ripped from her custody by Dave Purdue for God knows what purpose, she needed to know where it was.
Nina knew the evil that coursed through it and she had discovered Purdue’s involvement with a very nefarious organization of Aryans. These factors did not bode well for mankind, thus she had to intervene, no matter what amount of betrayal, delusion or danger came with it.
It was not as if she wanted the item for herself. She was smart enough to know that it was a piece with such immensely foreign qualities, so powerful that no mere man in pursuit of domination should have possession of it. This was the reason why she consented to step into Dave Purdue’s bedroom, be his deceitful lover of good intentions. It was just that it had such a sick ring to it that she could not bring herself to tell Sam this. No matter how noble her intentions were, it sounded twisted and whorish to Nina and she never wanted him to see her that way. Perhaps he would understand. Then again, maybe it would make her look like a charlatan who should not be trusted, even with genuine objectives. What was to stop Sam Cleave from seeing her as a reckless speculator if she should ever entrust him with her motives?
No, she had to keep her secrets hidden, her vendettas covered. For the time being, she had to find the relic Purdue had spirited away back when those questionable characters from the Order of the Black Sun gathered on his oil rig and left her and Sam to fend for themselves.
It was impossible to locate, though, and she could get no closer to its whereabouts except for just coming out and asking Purdue straight out. That would be catastrophic, she knew. For all his fun-loving pursuits she had learned that Dave Purdue, uncharacteristically, wanted to be part of the hierarchy in this clandestine organization of Nazi. It disturbed her, because they were up to the same thing the Third Reich was in the 1930’s — world domination. A world with power mongering aristocrats was worse than a war torn patch of scorched earth laden with the bodies of the righteous.
Purdue did not understand this. He was blinded by his own wealth and genius, something she could not blame him for. But Nina Gould would be damned if she simply allowed his childish naivety get him into a chaos of devastating peril.
Chapter 6
Gunnar landed an obliterating blow on the tourist’s jaw, sending him sprawling across two tables which folded under his weight and left him unconscious under the splinters of wood and twisted aluminum.
“Fucker! Touch my woman again and I’ll staple your head to Jimmy’s fucking dashboard!” Gunnar screamed. His face had turned a dangerous dark maroon with rage. This was the extent of his malice when he was sober. In the murky light of the road side bar just outside Glasgow, he licked his ripped up knuckles and looked around at the disapproving looks of the patrons, not excluding his own friends.
The Turkish tourist did not move now. Clearly he was out cold from the jab Gunnar delivered. Being Gothenburg’s heavyweight champion four years running, the Swedish Pariah’s talents as a beater of men had clearly not abandoned him in his old age. 47 years of age, he was still a burly, barrel chested brute — only now, he had no responsibilities, a big motorcycle, and a beautiful mate. In fact, she was the only person who could discourage him from enjoying a good brawl every now and then. He knew she hated it even more when it was on account of her that he indulged in his violent drives.
Granted, she was beautiful and beguiling, but she could handle herself around lustful men. Besides, she was not a young girl anymore and it was easy for her to shoot them down of her own accord. She had the right personality for it, too. Many a time she was mistaken for an Irish heritage, thanks to her impervious morality and fiery retorts. Occasionally, like tonight, her comebacks fell on uneducated ears and merely became repellant attempts. Sometimes, with men like this one, there was no reasoning or one-liners that would put him in his place. Sometimes, some men only understood the age old clarification — pain.
Gunnar was about to pounce again on the slowly wakening offender when a large set of fingers grasped him tightly by the neck and pulled him back with such force that he came off his feet. Throughout the establishment, the alarmed shrieks of women resounded and the men all stood still, watching. They were Gunnar’s allies, but the club never reacted to a situation that one of their brothers could handle. It was code.
Gunnar’s huge body landed hard against the bar and the back of his head slammed against the wall of the counter. The impact resounded through his skull, tapping the back of his eyeballs and he could feel his hands and feet erupt in pins and needles. It was a hard shot. Being a man of no modest size, he was shocked to be man-handled so easily. Stretching his eyes to focus from the blur of the damage, he saw his woman standing on the opposite side of the room. Her expression was empty, not in apathy, but because she trusted Gunnar to take care of himself. It was a compliment when she did this, a show of belief in his abilities. Some of the women held tightly onto their partners’ arms, some with their hands over their mouths. The men nodded when he looked at them. They were his Brothers in Arms, but this was his fight.