Slenderman, Slenderman, Take this Child

by McGeorge, Lee

  Helen laid it on the table as Herbert Raphael began scrutinising it with his magnifying glass.

  “Yes,” he said. “Yes. I think it is. But which is it? Which of the children do you belong to?” He carefully rotated the knife, following the contours of its ridges and inscriptions.

  “There’s a phrase on the handle,” Helen said. “I think its Latin and it says something like, The Beast whose eyes reflect in a mirror.”

  “That is exactly what it says, Miss Mayhew.” Raphael suddenly gasped. “There it is… It’s Jacob. This is Jacob’s knife… Good God, I never thought I would ever see one of these… My God, protect me.”

  Helen coughed slightly to clear her throat. “Mr. Raphael, what is it? What is this knife?”

  Herbert Raphael rested the blade on his table and set the magnifying glass aside. “This is a knife belonging to a set of twelve. They are called the Eyes of Satan and they play a very important role in demonology… They say the Vatican has three. The Freemasons vault in Covent Garden is said to hold one with the rest scattered throughout Africa and South America.”

  Helen opened her notebook. “When you say they’re important in demonology, does that mean worshiping demons?”

  “Can I ask where the knife came from?” Raphael asked, answering her question with a question. “How did it come to be in the possession of the police?”

  “It was used in a crime.”

  “Was it a murder or a suicide?”

  Helen pondered the question for a moment. “For the moment, all I can say is it was used in a crime. I asked about demonology?”

  “The Eyes of Satan is a legend. The story is that during the time of the Reformation, when the Catholic church was in a state of turmoil, the one true Lord, Satan, forged these knives and sent them to this realm that we could bridge to his dominion as a crossing for his minion.”

  Helen held the pen over her notepad. “Excuse me?”

  “They’re keys. They’re the keys to the doors of hell.”

  “Oh… for a moment, I thought you were going to say they were the devil’s eyes and he could see through them.”

  Raphael kept a straight face. “Don’t be fooled by their name. The Eyes of Satan are not literally Satan’s eyes. The Eye of the title refers to the eyes of twelve human children who were blinded to give these knives their dark blessing… We’re talking many hundreds of years ago, but the story is Satan made these knives in hell, then passed them to our realm, the human world. Once here they were ‘blessed’ by cutting out the eyes of twelve children. These children are referred to as the Twelve of Darkness… Each knife is inscribed with the name of a child; and your knife is inscribed with the name Jacob.”

  Helen held her hand up for a moment whilst she wrote… and took a breath.

  She looked up from her notepad and glanced around the room. The pentagram painted on the floor. The animal skull on an occult altar. The three high chairs that must be for some ritual use. Here, in this room. Herbert Raphael was telling a story of how Satan made knives and blessed them by plucking out the eyes of children.

  It was like she was in a horror film.

  “What were these knives used for,” Helen asked. “They must have some special significance, or purpose.”

  “They do,” Raphael said. “They’re a conduit that allows demons to cross from their realm into ours. The knives are used for either murder, or suicide. Suicide is the main purpose. If a person wanted to gain the power of a demon, they can kill themselves with an Eye. There is a ritual that would allow them to merge with a demon. They kill their self by first cutting into their belly, here, from their sternum to navel.” Raphael drew a line down his stomach with his finger. “Then placing the tip of the knife inside the wound and driving it hard and fast up under the rib-cage and into the heart. The entire knife must be entirely inside the body with the tip inside the heart and the handle inside the abdomen at the moment of death… If this happens, the demon of Jacob would then merge with the host and grant them power within this realm.”

  Helen was writing it, but she wasn’t sure what she was writing.

  This was Crazy Town.

  “What if this knife was used in a murder,” she asked.

  Raphael shrugged. “I’m not entirely sure. I believe murder could be used to strengthen an existing demon in this realm, but demons themselves cannot wield an Eye. They would need a human servant to use an Eye of Satan.” Raphael got out of his chair and crossed the room to a bookcase. “The real expert,” he said, “is a German writer called Tomaz Karner. He has written about this across several of his books.” He pulled three hardback books from the shelf and brought them to Helen. “They’re written in German, I’m afraid. But you should read Karner if you want to know about the Eyes of Satan. He has histories for the Twelve of Darkness and the demons they represent… Karner is the expert.”

  ----- X -----

  Helen arrived back at the station and went straight for Donovan’s office. “I think we need techs to go over my home,” she said shallowly. As she spoke she realised that it would have been prudent to check the home herself first.

  “What’s wrong?” Donovan asked.

  “I met Jemima Collins. She freely admits to the murder of her father but a lot of what she says doesn’t make sense. She’s talking about a man named Max. We’ve never heard of this man before, but she said… she claimed… that Max was watching me last night and was in my home… she was able to describe my private moments… she described them with accuracy and I’m thinking, like Hugh Wilfred with his hidden cameras, is there some way that I have been spied on?”

  “We can check on that, but why you? Why spy on you?”

  Helen shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  Donovan looked away for a moment, thinking on something, then said, “Yes, we can check your home… Did you make any progress on the murder weapon?”

  Helen laughed slightly. “Yes, but it’s just screwed up and crazy. I went to see an expert of the occult who gave me some literature on it. I can’t even parse this into anything sensible. I need to write it down, but it’s used in a ritualised suicide. The knife is called an Eye of Satan and used for summoning demons.”

  Donovan rubbed his eyes between thumb and finger. “Oh, Jesus.”

  “I know,” Helen said. She reached into her bag and pulled out one of the books she’d been given. “Apparently this guy is the expert and these books explain what it’s all about but they’re written in German.”

  Donovan’s eyes widened as he saw the cover. “Tomaz Karner!” He yelled. He turned the book over to look at the photograph of the author on the back cover. “Tomaz Karner wrote this?”

  “Do you know him?”

  Donovan stared at Helen for a moment as though waiting for her to catch up; “Tomaz Karner is Jemima Collins Great Uncle. He was the other man murdered in Highgate Wood last night along with her father.” He paced the room whilst holding the book then headed for the door. “We need to show this to the team.”

  Helen followed behind Donovan as he paced the hallway. He opened the door to eight people making phone calls and checking computer records. “Can I have everybody’s attention, please?” They waited a moment as phone calls ended.

  John Henry stood close to Helen. “You have something?” he whispered.

  “Maybe… but God only knows what it is.”

  “Gather round, people,” Donovan said. Then to Helen directly, “Show the knife, please. This was the murder weapon used on Steven Collins last night.”

  Helen opened the envelope and put the knife on the table, still in the plastic bag. “This is a knife used in occult rituals. It’s called an Eye of Satan and is one of a set of twelve. Very rare. The legend says they were forged by Satan and used in ritual suicide and murder. It’s dated around the time of the Reformation, which was… back in the sixteenth century if my history is right… so it’s about five hundred years old.”

  Donovan put the book on the table. “Now lo
ok at who was the world expert on these things.” He tapped the book cover. “Tomaz Karner.” There was an audible moment where people hummed or whistled. “Our dead man in the woods is the Great Uncle of Jemima Collins. She murdered her father by cutting out his heart with this knife. A knife that is very rare, I would imagine immensely valuable and that holds special significance to some people.”

  Helen put the other two books on the table.

  “How valuable is the knife?” someone asked. “In cost terms, how much would it cost to buy?”

  Helen shrugged. “I didn’t ask, but my guess is it’s priceless. I was told there are twelve pieces with some held by the Vatican and one by the Freemasons here in London. My guess is they’re not for sale.”

  “Could the knife be a motivating factor?” somebody asked. “If this is so valuable, could that be the real motivation underlying what’s happened?”

  John Henry shrugged. “Nothing is off the table, but that doesn’t fit. We’ve got three missing girls, three missing boys and three dead men… Jemima Collins killed her own father with this knife then handed it to a constable. Hardly the behaviour of someone wanting it for financial worth.”

  “One other thing,” Helen said. “I spoke with Collins and she mentioned a man called Max. What Collins says needs to be treated with scepticism, but I believe this Max is a real person. She mentioned to me that Max knew Wilfred was photographing girls and she made a claim that Max sent Slenderman to kill Wilfred. This didn’t make a lot of sense, but what it shows is Jemima Collins was fully aware of what Wilfred was doing with his cameras.”

  “How’s it going with the deep analysis of children’s backgrounds?” Donovan asked.

  Henry shook his head. “Fruitless so far. People remember Hugh Wilfred and thought he was a bit strange, but nobody seems to have put two and two together.”

  “Okay. Going through Wilfred’s past students for the murderer needs to be put on hold. I want everyone to refocus on this occult angle. We need to turn our attention to the Collins family and identify who is Max. We need to go back and look at the mother’s recent death. We need to know the background of Tomaz Karner. We know he was an expert on the occult and we now have two, five hundred year old occult artefacts attached to the crime scene.”

  “Two?” Helen asked. “Two artefacts? What else don’t I know?”

  ----- X -----

  “It’s quite a beautiful thing,” John Henry said as he checked the dial out of the evidence room. “It’s called a Nuremberg dial and it was made around the same time as the knife; it’s about five hundred years old. Identification Services think it’s made from whalebone.”

  “Scrimshaw,” Helen said. “When whalebone is etched like this it’s called scrimshaw. It’s what the knife handle is made from.” She opened the clear bag and took the dial out. Carefully she opened the two halves to look at the compass inside.

  “Apparently it’s a combination sundial, moondial and compass.” Henry added. “At the time it was made it would have been state of the art. The sort of thing a gentleman of the sixteenth century aristocracy would have owned. We found it in the pocket of Tomaz Karner.”

  Helen turned the dial around to look at the markings. Lines and numbers as though offering some kind of calculation to the angle of the sun. Around the compass was etched little asterisks to perhaps represent stars, or perhaps they were children; but at the top of the dial was an etching of a thin figure with long arms. The moment she saw it there was a sense that it was important. She even felt the name forming in her mouth. Slenderman.

  “I’m going back to Westwood,” she said. “They’re going to try and hypnotise Jemima Collins to see if she will talk about the missing children.”

  “That’s interesting,” Henry said.

  “Yeah… I’d like to take this with me,” she said referring to the dial. “I’d like to show it to her. See if she knows what it is.”

  ----- X -----

  “Hello, Helen,” Doctor Balfour greeted her on arrival. “I’m glad you came back. Jemima has dropped a lot of her armour since this morning. She’s had a few quiet hours alone, then a few hours doing a jigsaw with a nurse and she’s become quite chatty.”

  “Has she said anything that would help?” Helen asked.

  “Unfortunately not. She’s talking about how she would like to be a vet and how she cares for her pet rabbits, but she’s talkative and in a good mood.”

  Balfour led Helen to a room with a window that looked into a second room. “That’s a one way glass,” Balfour said. You can see out but you can’t be seen.” He motioned to a computer. “You can use this to communicate with me when I’m in the session. We use a messenger type application. When you type in here the message appears on my phone screen. I’ll have it within sight of me but it will be silent. As far as Jemima is concerned, she won’t know you’re here.”

  “I need to give you this,” Helen handed the Nuremberg dial over. “Be careful with it. It’s evidence and about five hundred years old… Oh, by the way. The other man killed beside her father was her Great Uncle, a man called Tomaz Karner.”

  “Her Great Uncle… interesting that she never said.”

  ----- X -----

  Jemima Collins was brought into the room by the same black-haired nurse as earlier. “Hello, Jemima,” Balfour said. His voice came through into Helen’s room from speakers beside the computer. “I wonder if I can play a game with you for just a moment. Let me stand behind you…” Balfour walked around Jemima. “I’m going to put my hands here, do you feel that? Just under your arms?”

  “Yes?”

  “Okay. Then I want you to fall backwards and let me catch you.”

  “Fall backwards?” Jemima repeated.

  “Yes, that’s right. It’s a game about trust.” Jemima complied and started to fall but the moment she moved Balfour gripped her firmly and moved her back upright. “That’s perfect. Thank you, Jemima… Do you think you could do that again?”

  “Yes, of course,” she replied.

  Balfour positioned himself. “Okay, but this time, close your eyes first, then fall backwards.” Jemima closed her eyes and fell. Again, she fell only a few inches before Balfour caught her and stood her upright. “That’s wonderful, Jemima. Like I said, this is a game we use to learn how to trust people and I’m very thankful that you did that with me.” He held his hand out to shake. “Let’s shake hands on it.”

  “Okay,” she reached out her hand to shake.

  Balfour took Jemima’s hand in his, then quickly turned her palm to face her and pointed a finger into her palm with the other hand. “Look at that!” he said. The moment Jemima looked he pulled her hand quickly to her face and covered her eyes with her palm. “Sleep!” he said.

  Jemima went limp and began to fall backwards into the chair, her body supported by Balfour and the nurse. She was under hypnosis in the time it took to perform a handshake.

  “Jesus,” Helen mumbled to herself. “Remind me not to shake your hand again.”

  “Enjoy this rest, Jemima,” Balfour was saying. “Feel how wonderful it is to rest and be at ease.” Balfour stood his mobile phone on the table. He gave a nod to the window, an acknowledgement to Helen that they were ready to begin.

  “Okay, Miss Collins,” Helen whispered. “Let’s see what you really know.”

  ----- X -----

  The nurse placed a tray on Jemima’s lap. The base of the tray was a bean bag that made the work surface steady. Onto the tray she placed sheets of paper whilst Balfour positioned a pen in Jemima’s hand and moved it to touch the paper.

  “Jemima, I want you to slowly start making circles on the paper; and relax even deeper with every circle you draw. The more you draw and write the more relaxed you feel.” From where Helen was viewing it looked as though Jemima had passed out completely, but on the computer monitor, a camera aimed at her face showed her eyes were open slightly. “I’m speaking now to Jemima’s hand holding the pen. This is her strong and wonderfu
l hand that only writes the truth… Can you write how old Jemima is?”

  There was stirring as the pen scratched away from its gentle circles and made two numerals. Jemima breathed deeply as though roused by the action, but as she exhaled it seemed as though she was falling into an even more unconscious state.

  “Twelve,” Balfour said. He slipped the piece of paper away allowing Jemima to continue drawing slow circles on the page underneath. “Earlier you mentioned a man called Max. Do you know who Max is?”

  Jemima’s hand broke from the circles to scratch something. Helen sat forward in anticipation of some greater detail but was disappointed when Balfour read her answer as, “Yes.”

  “Can you tell us who he is? Do you know his full name?”

  Jemima’s hand broke the flow again to begin writing. It wrote… and wrote… longer as though writing a sentence.

  Balfour took the page away to read closer as Jemima went back to circling. “Maximilian Adalbert. Is that correct?”

  Jemima’s hand wrote the word, ‘Yes’.

  “Where is Max, now?”

  Jemima’s swirling suddenly jarred as she wrote, scratching the letters of her response.

  Balfour read it out. “Dead… Are you saying that Max is dead?” Jemima’s hand jarred again but Helen could already guess the answer before Balfour read it out. “Yes,” he said.

  Helen typed a message and noticed Balfour look to his phone.

  “Jemima. We’re still trying to find the missing girls from your school. Sabina, Kerry and Danesha. Where are they?”

  Jemima’s hand wrote and Balfour read it out. “Forest.” He glanced up to the window then asked, “Do you know how to find this forest?” Her hand worked again. “Go… With...” the doctor watched carefully as she wrote the next word. “Slenderman.”