by N. P. Martin
I soon found myself in a hallway that was filled with so much darkness I could barely see two feet in front of me. Raising my right hand, I held it out in front of me as a whitish magical light began to emanate from it, pushing back the darkness just enough for me to see. The walls either side of me soaking with damp, the paintings hanging on them now blacked out completely by mould. Ahead of me, I saw the beginnings of a staircase leading around a corner, but saw no sign of the ghost boy.
"Goddamn it…" I whispered, knowing I would have to see where those stairs led to, knowing that I may not like what I found, but doing it anyway.
As soon as I rounded the corner and went down the stone steps, I felt the temperature drop significantly. It was like walking down into a freezer, and I couldn’t help but shiver as I neared the bottom, emerging into what seemed like a temple of some sort. The only light I had to see by was the light coming from my hand, which I increased in intensity so I could better make out where I was. The room was a large square, with thick columns set against the stone walls at either side. As I held my hand near one of the columns, I was surprised to see that it was covered in Egyptian hieroglyphs. They were carved into all of the columns in fact, seeming to depict some sort of story about an Egyptian serpent god, though I didn’t realize which one until I saw the huge mural painted on the back wall, in front of which was an altar made of stone that had dark patches all over it, a remnant of the blood that had been spilt on it over the years. Holding my hand aloft to cast light upon the mural, I took in the image of the massive serpent with two mouths and three sets of legs that ended in three clawed toes. It was the fiercest looking serpent I had ever seen, and it sent a deep chill through me just looking at it.
Having read quite a bit about ancient Egyptian mythology over the years, I knew the serpent’s name was Apep, known as the evil god of darkness and the archenemy of the sun god, Ra. He was also considered the embodiment of chaos and sought to bring about the end of light and life within the mortal universe and plunge it into darkness, before proceeding to take the throne himself and rule over all gods and worlds. Apep had the distinction as well of being the only Egyptian god who wasn’t prayed to, and indeed temples in his name only existed to keep him away. In short, Apep was so dark and evil that no one dared have anything to do with him ever. Except Amelia’s parents and their crazy cult it seemed.
"My god…" I said as my breath plumed out in front of me. "This is crazy…"
So I was looking at another serpent cult, though this one a bit more extreme and malevolent than the Order Of The Serpent it seemed. At least the O.O.T.P. didn’t make human sacrifices, not as far as I knew anyway.
I suddenly sensed a presence behind me, and I turned around to see the ghost boy standing there, thin arms by his sides as he stared at me. Then a second later, the whole temple became transformed. In the blink of an eye, there was burning torches set into the walls and the temple itself became filled with people in dark robes. "What the fuck?" I said as I looked around me, suddenly worried that everyone in the room could see me. It was only when one of them walked right through me that I realized they weren’t really there and that I was looking at some sort of after image or manifested memory created by the ghost boy, who still stood in the center of the room, staring at me, willing me to see.
As I looked around, I counted about a dozen people in the room, all standing around in a circle as they spoke in an Ancient Egyptian dialect, sounding like they were reciting the lines from a prayer. Once or twice I heard them say Apep’s name in tones of reverence.
When I looked at the ghost boy, he raised an arm and pointed just behind me at the altar. Turning around, I was almost shocked to see the same boy lying naked across the stone top of the altar. He appeared barely conscious, as if he had been drugged to keep him compliant.
Then from the circle, one of the robed figures stepped forward and walked to the foot of the altar, producing a long sacrificial dagger from his robes and holding it aloft above the boy’s chest as he began to recite more evil sounding prayers. At that point, the mural on the wall began to move, and it soon began to feel like I was tripping on LSD as the painted depiction of Apep seemed to come to life and move in a circular motion around the wall. When the robed figure brought the dagger down on the boy, I had to look away.
"Enough," I said to the ghost boy. "I’ve seen enough."
But the ghost boy obviously disagreed, for he proceeded to show me further rituals involving the same dozen or so robed individuals, some of whom I could tell were elves, others human and Touched, and at least one a vampire. I had to witness at least a dozen or more human sacrifices before the ghost boy finally made the visions stop. When he did, I looked at him with a renewed pity. "I’m sorry," I told him.
The ghost boy didn’t seem too perturbed by any of what just transpired, as if his only concern was showing someone what went on here a long time ago, though to what end I still wasn’t sure. Was he expecting me to do something about it all? Was he seeking justice, so he could finally move on perhaps?
Before I could ascertain his intentions, the ghost boy walked to the steps, stopping at the foot of them to turn around and look at me, as if beckoning me to follow him. Needing no further excuse to leave the cold and unsettling confines of the temple, I quickly made my way across the floor and up the steps after him, soon finding myself back in the main entrance hall as the boy proceeded to float up the old staircase like he was on rails.
But he didn’t get very far.
As I was about to follow him, I froze in fright when something huge and black suddenly burst up out of the stairs and consumed the boy in one bite, seeming to swallow him whole in its gaping maw. My eyes bulged from their sockets as I stared at the shapeless now hovering just above the stairs, a mass of dark energy that was as malevolent as anything I had ever come across, even in Hell.
When the thing made an ear-splitting screeching sound, it shook me out of my fear stance, and I turned and bolted for the front door, not even waiting to see if it would open by hand, but instead blasting it with my magic before I got near it, succeeding in blowing it off its hinges, the door landing on the front steps. As I continued to run, I felt the close presence of the ghost or whatever it was behind me, still screeching as it came after me. It was only when I reached the doorway did I feel its freezing cold touch on the back of my neck, and I screamed in shock as I practically threw myself through the doorway, almost falling down the steps outside in my bid to escape the monster in the house.
Once I was outside, I continued to run for another few seconds before daring to stop and turn around. When I did, I saw the shapeless form hovering just inside the house by the doorway. And when it finally drew back into the gloomy confines of the house again, I swore I heard it laugh.
Chapter 11
My hands shook on the steering wheel as I recklessly drove the car through the gates of the house and down the narrow lane. When I got to the junction I drove straight out onto the main road without even looking to see if any other cars were coming, consequently almost hitting a tractor as it veered to avoid me. I slammed on the brakes as the farmer driving the tractor looked behind him and scowled at me, shaking his head in anger. Barely acknowledging him, I sped off in the opposite direction, my heart still pounding, my breathing erratic. The only thing I wanted to do was put as much distance between myself and the Tasar house as possible. I drove furiously for three miles before I finally pulled over by the side of the road to pause for breath and try and get a grip of myself.
Whatever that thing was inside the house, it had scared the shit out of me to say the least. Nothing I had ever encountered before had had such a penetrating effect on me as that black, shapeless form. Whatever it was, it was pure evil, and more than just a ghost. Speaking of which, I began to wonder about the boy. That thing appeared to have eaten him somehow. What would the effect of that be when the boy was already dead? Had that thing consumed the boy’s remaining spirit or was that little perform
ance just for show, to scare me? For all I knew, the boy had been in on it.
"Fuck it," I said. "I need a friggin’ drink…and a new line of work."
Pulling out onto the road again, I headed for Kilkenny town.
Despite Kilkenny being labelled as a city, it is in fact a town, the seventh largest in Ireland. The town itself has a very medieval feel to it, and if I’m not mistaken it was at one time the capital city of Ireland for a short period. It also has the distinction of once being the home to Dame Alice Kyteler, who in 1323 or thereabouts became the first person in Ireland to be condemned as a witch. She never stood trial, however, and used her wealth to flee the country, leaving behind her servant, Petronilla de Meath, to be flogged and then burned to death at the stake. These days, Kilkenny is known more for its hurling exploits than its history of witchcraft, and like nearly all towns and cities on the island, has succumbed to the lure of commerce and tourism, drawing in people to visit the likes of Kilkenny Castle or one of the many cathedrals in the area. With all the old granite architecture and round towers, there is no doubt that Kilkenny is a pretty cool place.
But as I drove into the town center, I didn’t much care about how pretty the place was. The only thing I cared about was hitting the hotel bar so I could order a whiskey or three to calm my nerves. What with Delaney kidnapping Margaret, my visit to Hell and now getting chased out of a haunted house by god knows what, my nerves were beginning to fray a little. So much had happened over a short space of time since my mother died that I’d hardly had a chance to catch my breath. The least I could do was take five minutes in the hotel bar before going out and seeking my next dicey encounter.
Having parked the car in the carpark across from the Hibernian hotel, I headed inside and got myself checked in, not even bothering to go to my room first, but instead heading straight for the Hibernian Bar. The place had a traditional sort of style to it, all dark wood and deep red plaster. It felt almost homely as I walked in, clearly designed to be a welcoming, relaxing sort of place, which is exactly what I needed.
After ordering a whiskey at the bar, I took my drink and went and sat down at one of the corner tables, leaning back against the leather seat as I released a long sigh. For the next ten minutes, I drank two whiskeys as I stared out onto the street, watching the people go by, reflecting on the fact that most of them had no idea what dark things existed in the world. In a way, I envied them because their mind and soul weren’t at risk from the hidden evil and knowledge of the world, at least not in the way my kind are. My kind—those who are Touched or non-human—are always at risk from something. Of course, it helps if you don’t poke the darkness with a big stick, which is what I seemed to be doing a lot lately. And I was discovering to my detriment that if you poked the darkness, it damn well poked you right back.
Speaking of poking, I took out my phone and called Amelia. "Did you know your old house was bloody haunted?" I asked her when she picked up.
"Hello, Corvin," she said. "Nice to hear from you too."
"Don’t," I said as I signaled to the barmaid for another whiskey. "I’m in a bar here trying to calm my damn nerves."
"Why, what happened?"
I snorted slightly as I shook my head. "What happened was I met a ghost boy inside the house, who proceeded to show me visions of what went on there years ago, visions involving death magic rituals and child sacrifice. And then—" I stopped to smile at the pretty red-headed barmaid as she brought my drink down to me. When she left I carried on. "And then, ghost boy gets eaten by some dark spirit or demon or whatever the hell it was, something that seems to be living in the house. It scared the shit out of me. I couldn’t get away from the place quick enough." When Amelia remained silent, I said, "Are you smiling to yourself? You think this is funny, don’t you?"
"It’s not like you to be so easily spooked," she said, sounding like she was indeed smiling.
"You haven’t seen this thing, it’s pure bloody evil…or maybe you have seen it and that’s why you wouldn’t go into the house."
"Actually, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I figured the place might be haunted by the victims, but as for any…what did you say it was?"
"I didn’t really. It’s a dark—a very dark—spirit or something. Some sort of manifestation, brought about by the evil that went on in the house." I shook my head. "I mean, Jesus Amelia, this cult your parents belonged to, they worshipped an Egyptian god called Apep, who is probably the darkest, most evil motherfucker there is. This guy would put any demon you care to mention to shame. I can’t believe you grew up around that shit."
"Neither can I," she said. "And I know about Apep. I’ve been in the temple. It was built a few years before my parents were killed."
"What were they like before that? Your parents I mean. Were they always into bad shit?"
"I don’t know. Maybe. As I said before, I was young, and whatever they did they pretty much hid it from me."
"So they basically hid the fact that they were killing children…from their own child."
"Yes, thank you, Corvin," she snapped. "I’m aware of how messed up it all is."
"It’s a little more than messed up. It’s sick, Amelia."
"Which is why I’m trying to do something about it now. Are you trying to make me feel bad or something? If you are, you’re doing a good job of it."
I sighed. "I’m sorry, I’m still a bit shook up, that’s all. The whole thing is disturbing beyond words."
"I know it is, and I appreciate you helping me put an end to it all."
"What about the fantastic Mr. Fox?" I asked her. "Any word from him?"
"Not yet. He said he’d let us know the second the cult got in contact again."
A frown came over my face as I thought of something. "So we’re going to allow Fox to kidnap another innocent kid just so he can stage a meeting with a representative of the cult?"
"I know it sounds bad, but it’s the only way."
"So what happens after the meeting? Are you planning on snatching whoever is there or following them?"
"I’m not sure. What do you think?"
"Do you think you can make them talk?"
"Probably."
"Then we snatch the fucker, or fuckers, whatever the case may be. At least that way we can save the kid. And what about Fox, are you just going to let him go on his way again?"
Amelia sighed slightly. "You seem to have got it into your head that I’m some sort of crusader, or that I’m obliged to take the moral high-ground, when I’m not."
I wasn’t sure what to say to that. My philosophy was to help whenever I could, and to bring about justice whenever circumstances allowed. Was I wrong for wanting to do that? Was it my place to do it? And if not mine, then whose place was it? The Council’s? The police? Don’t make me laugh. "I’m going to go," I said eventually. "I need to decide what my next move is going to be. I don’t really have any leads yet, so I need to find one."
"Okay," she said somewhat awkwardly. "Call me if you learn anything new."
"Sure. Bye Amelia."
I don’t know why, but I felt annoyed and a little angry at my situation, or rather at Amelia for putting me in the situation in the first place. I understood why she was doing what she was doing, and I supported her doing it, if only to prevent further innocent lives being lost. But the way she was going about it felt a little too manipulative, as if I was just another member of her organization, which I wasn’t, not by a long shot. Her willingness to turn a blind eye, and to put others at risk in order to reach her goals, also made me a little uncomfortable. She was happy enough to let Fox procure another kid if it meant she got the information she needed, which is something I wouldn’t do myself. I’d find another way, rather than risk another innocent kid’s life.
"You look like you’re having a rough day."
I looked up to see some guy standing there in front of the table. He seemed overdressed in an expensive dark suit and long overcoat, ridiculously good-looking, perfectly
groomed with short, light brown hair that glistened with whatever he had in it. I put him somewhere around his late thirties, though he had a boyish sort of appearance that made him seem younger. His hazel eyes shone as he smiled at me.
"Listen mate," I said. "Whatever you happen to be selling, I’m not interested. I’m just here for a quiet drink, so if you don’t mind…"
The man’s smile never faltered. "You have me wrong," he said, his accent southern, but I couldn’t tell where from. "I didn’t come over here to sell you anything."
I frowned. "So what do you want?"
He smiled again as he edged toward the chair opposite me. "May I?"
He was sitting before I could even protest. "I do, actually."
"Don’t worry, this won’t take long."
"What won’t?" My suspicion had been aroused now, especially when I looked past him to see another man at the bar who was standing staring at me. This man was older, his suit shabbier, his face grizzled and hard, his stare intense. Who the hell are these two clowns? I wondered.
"I’m just here to give you some advice, Mr. Chance," the man in front of me said.
I stared at him. "How do you know my name?"
He smiled as if this was all just a friendly encounter, which I knew it wasn’t. "It doesn’t matter how I know your name, Corvin. Can I call you Corvin? First names are always better, I think. Our fathers are called Mister, isn’t that right?"
I glanced at the man at the bar again, who was still staring intently at me as though he were waiting just to come over and wring my neck. "What is this?" I asked. "Who are you with? And why does your friend over there look like he wants to kill me?"