Dark Sanctuary

by H. B. Gregory

  “Pardon the intrusion, sir,” he said, “but I’ve been trying to speak to you all day, and this is the first chance I’ve had to see you alone.”

  Hamilton stared at him. What on earth did the fellow want?

  “I’m very glad you’re here, sir,” the other continued; “Sir Anthony is quite a different man since you came. You got my note all right, sir?”

  “What note? What are you talking about, man?”

  Lorrimer was amazed.

  “The note about Sir Anthony, sir, and his friends that you asked me to write when you came over to find out what was going on. You agreed with me at the time, sir, that he was not keeping good company.”

  “I’m not in the habit of discussing my friend’s affairs with their servants, Lorrimer,” said Hamilton indignantly. “That will be all, thank you.”

  The old man stared at him, hurt astonishment written large upon his face. He bowed, saying:

  “I’m very sorry, sir, if I’ve spoken out of place. Good night, sir.”

  After he had gone Hamilton lit his pipe and smoked awhile, deep in thought. What had the man been driving at? Did he mean Gaunt and Vaughan? Surely not; they were charming fellows, both. He remembered his first visit to the island, and why he had left, well enough; but the second visit, and all that he had learnt from the rector, were completely forgotten. He supposed that Tony was still going on with his new studies, and hoped that he was progressing favourably. Certainly he looked very well, and his face had acquired far more character than it had had in the old days. Still puzzling over Lorrimer’s ambiguity, he fell asleep.

  In a room not very far away Lorrimer was talking to his wife.

  “Stared at me quite blank, he did, as if I was a piece of dirt, and then ordered me out.”

  “Don’t take it to heart, James,” she consoled him. “He may be acting a part. Or else . . .”

  “What?”

  “They have been getting at him too.”

  “God help us if they have!”

  “He will, James, never fear.”

  Valerie had a strange dream that night: she dreamed she was in an endless winding passage, cut out of the solid rock, whose walls dripped with slime and were rotten with luminous fungi. She dreamed, moreover, that something abominable was pursuing her, some nightmare creature that slithered along the rocky floor at lightning speed. She tried to run, but her feet were like lead; she could only drag them painfully, a few inches at a time. She opened her mouth to scream, but her throat dried up, and her tongue refused its office. Half crazed with terror, she looked behind her to see the horror assume the form and features of Simon Vaughan. The sensual lips leered wickedly at her, the podgy hands outstretched to clutch. Then Anthony Lovell caught her in his arms, and the pursuer vanished. She clung to her rescuer, sobbing incoherently, while he stroked her hair and whispered endearments to her. Presently she became calm; he kissed her lips, and she found his kisses strangely sweet.

  When she woke the narrow windows of her room still framed only darkness, but the dying fire lit the room with a warm glow. The impression that Tony was still near her was so strong that she sat up, staring round, but the room was empty save for herself. Smiling sleepily at her own foolishness, she lay down and slept dreamlessly till dawn.

  But in his distant room Tony lay on his back, staring wide-eyed into the darkness. Using the powers which he now possessed, he had deliberately projected himself into her dreams, but the vision had been brief and unsatisfying.

  Ever since he had dragged her back from the jaws of death two nights ago, he had known that there was no other woman in the world for him, and he was greatly troubled. He could see quite plainly that Hamilton loved her, but whether she returned his friend’s love he could not tell. He wanted her desperately, and for the first time since he had begun this new life of his he began to wonder whether it were everything that he had imagined.

  He possessed the power, he knew, to subject her to his will and to bring her, even now, to him; but his soul revolted from the thought of making her an unwilling victim to his desire. She must come willingly, or not at all. But the temptation was great, and he lay wrestling with it until the first grey light of dawn, when at last he fell asleep, worn out by his struggle, but so far victorious.

  The next day passed very much like its predecessor. The storm had abated somewhat, but the sea was still far too rough to attempt the crossing.

  In the afternoon Hamilton, Valerie, and Tony went for a scramble across the island, laughing breathlessly as they struggled over the uneven ground in the teeth of the gale.

  While they were gone Gaunt and Vaughan held a council of war.

  “I am greatly troubled, Simon,” announced the doctor. “There is but a week to go before the anniversary, and he has not yet assisted at the Mass.”

  “The girl, Doctor.”

  “Precisely. She is affecting his whole outlook on the situation. From being his whole life, it has become quite secondary. He has fallen in love with her.”

  “She must be removed.”

  “Yes, and not only from this island, but from his life altogether. Since she will stay at Pentock with her uncle when she leaves us, she must be destroyed utterly.”

  “How?” Vaughan leaned forward, his coarse face ablaze with eagerness.

  Gaunt placed his fingertips carefully together and replied in measured tones:

  “I propose to work upon her expressed desire to visit the caves beneath the crypt, and to send her down there, tonight, alone. The monstrosity will make short work of her, and no one will be the wiser.”

  “Could I not have her first, Doctor?” Vaughan passed the tip of his tongue over his thick red lips. “Her naked body would be a most suitable adornment for the altar.”

  “No!” said Gaunt curtly. “We have no time for such frivolities. It must be done quickly.”

  A shade of disappointment passed over the other’s face.

  “Very well, Doctor,” he sighed. “At what hour?”

  “At 1 a.m. tomorrow. You will be ready?”

  “Yes, Doctor, I will be ready.”

  And so it came about that, when Valerie had been in bed and asleep for a couple of hours, she awoke with one consuming idea in her mind: to see for herself what lay beneath the altar in the crypt.

  She got up and slipped on the heavy woolen dressing-gown which Mrs. Lorrimer had lent her, thrusting her feet into a pair of slippers. Lighting the oil-lamp which stood by her bed, she took it up and went silently out, down the staircase to the warm kitchen and along the cold passage to the great hall. The fact that the stone trap which gave access to the crypt stood open did not appear to surprise her unduly, and she made her way down the spiral stairs. There was no fear in her heart, no foreboding of the frightful danger she was walking into, but only that one burning desire which dominated her whole being and must be fulfilled.

  With unerring steps she went straight to the altar. The seals were broken, and the upper slab stood on end. She went up the low steps, set her lamp on the broad edge of the altar-side, and climbed lithely over. Taking up the lamp once more, she fearlessly descended the steps within.

  When the last faint reflection of her lamp was gone Gaunt and his colleague emerged from their hiding-place behind one of the near-by pillars, lowered the altar-stone into place, and, without a word, returned to the doctor’s room. There on the table Gaunt’s crystal stood ready, and they sat down, one on either side. Gazing into its opalescent depths, they followed Valerie’s progress through the caves.

  The girl was walking cautiously along, holding the lamp in her left hand and with her right drawing her gown close about her, for the air was bitterly cold. Her eyes were fixed on the uneven floor. She did not hesitate at the division of the tunnel, but turned to the left and went boldly on. As she penetrated deeper, so the cold grew more intense, and the peculiar odour which she had noticed from the first grew stronger; but still she went on, driven by the will behind those glittering eyes which sta
red unwinkingly into the crystal as they watched her fatal progress.

  She was approaching the bend which came before the opening into the great cavern when she encountered a wave of cold so intense that she stopped involuntarily, gasping for breath. So violent was the shock that her numbed fingers loosed their hold upon the lamp and it fell to the ground, smashing into fragments and plunging her into total darkness.

  As this catastrophe occurred the spell which had held her was broken, and she regained full possession of her faculties. She realized at once where she was, for she could remember her journey thither with perfect clarity, though what had made her undertake such a foolhardy expedition she was at a loss to understand. Even then she was not particularly frightened, for her upbringing had left her singularly free from superstitious fears. And, merely wondering if she would ever be able to find her way back in the dark, she began to retrace her steps, feeling her way along the slippery wall.

  The watchers looked at each other.

  “She is not afraid,” Vaughan whispered, incredulous wonder in his heart. “It cannot feel her presence if she is not afraid . . . She will escape.”

  “No!” Gaunt fairly spat out the monosyllable and bent his gaze once more on the crystal.

  Instantly Valerie’s eyes were opened and she remembered all that she had forgotten about Kestrel, all that Gaunt had made her forget and which he now willed her to remember. She realized that she and Hamilton were in the very stronghold of the Satanists; sleeping under the same roof, breaking bread, laughing and talking with the forgotten of God, the Devil-worshipers, the accursed. She remembered that this island was under interdict, bereft of grace; that for four centuries the sacraments had been absent from this soil; and that in the bowels of the Abbey rock, where she now stood, a horror of great darkness dwelt. With a little broken cry she sank to the ground and huddled against the wall, praying frantically for help.

  But no help came. Instead the solid rock began to quake, and a faint greenish glow lit up the tunnel. Through her closed eyelids she saw the hellish radiance, and twisting her head beheld with starting eyes the monstrous Thing which was crawling up behind her. Lit with its own horrid light it came, a living stream of putrefaction, a tidal wave of darkness, filling the tunnel from wall to wall, writhing and quivering with abominable purpose.

  Had she stayed and faced it, calling upon God for help, it is impossible to say what the outcome would have been, but it was more than mortal flesh could bear. With one shriek of pure terror she was on her feet and flying headlong up the passage. It was her dream come true.

  Twice she caught her foot on the boulder-strewn floor and fell headlong, but each time she struggled up, numb with fear and regardless of her bruises.

  When she reached the foot of the steps leading up to the crypt she was on the verge of collapse, her breath sobbing in her throat and her heart pounding chokingly, but with renewed hope she dragged herself up towards safety.

  The altar-stone was down. She was trapped!

  At the foot of the steps the horror was surging, swelling and crawling up. As it came, so the awful Personality which dwelt in the veil of darkness which was its substance mocked at her helplessness.

  Frantically she beat upon the cruel, unyielding stone above her, until her little hands were bleeding. Then at last her strength failed utterly and she fell senseless on the upper step.

  Nicholas Gaunt rose from his chair and flung a velvet cloth over the crystal.

  “That, I think, is that, my friend,” he said calmly, but his voice exulted despite himself.

  Simon Vaughan sat huddled up, his hands locked together, his features rigid. A thin stream of saliva ran down his chin. When he raised his great head there was horror in his eyes.

  “She was so beautiful,” he said dully.

  Gaunt laughed harshly, flinging himself upon the bed, and drew out his cigarette-case.

  Chapter XV

  When Tony went to bed that night his spirit was in a turmoil. He thought that once or twice during the day Valerie had looked at him with something more than mere friendship in her lovely eyes. He scarcely dared to hope, but the thought that she might conceivably return his love well-nigh intoxicated him.

  She filled his mind utterly now. Everything else took second place: the great work he was engaged upon, the new philosophy of life he had accepted — all became dream-like and unreal. Was it indeed he, he asked himself incredulously, who had stood in that secret temple in far-off London, vowing to serve none other than the powers of darkness? It could not be. A slender, grey-eyed girl had come into his life, and at one touch had dispelled the murky shadows which clouded it. Her, and her only, would he serve . . . and she was light, not darkness.

  Before going to sleep he toyed for a moment with the idea of visiting her in dream as he had done before, but he dismissed the thought as unworthy. Rigidly composing his mind, he fell into a troubled slumber.

  Some hours later he awoke suddenly and sat bolt upright, staring into the darkness. Was it imagination, born of his anxious love, or had he indeed heard Valerie’s voice calling for help in accents of desperate terror?

  His heart beat thunderously in his ears, and he trembled in every limb, but, steeling his will, he thrust his mind out from him into the night, feeling for her whereabouts. Her room was empty. Where was she? Desperately he cast around, using every trick he had learnt from Gaunt. Then he saw.

  With a smothered cry he leapt out of bed, snatched up his torch, tore open the door, and rushed headlong towards the staircase. Down the stairs he flew, his bare feet padding on the stones. A moment’s struggle with the trap and he was winding down the spiral into the crypt. Darting between the squat pillars, his torch throwing a brilliant splash of light before him, he reached the altar. Precious seconds were wasted struggling with the hidden catch that secured the top, but soon he swung it upwards on its balanced pivot and flashed his lamp within.

  There she lay, a pitiful little figure, one bare arm flung over her face, while one step below her the tide of annihilation writhed and crawled.

  Too late to reach her. For perhaps one second his mind balked and his heart stopped beating. Let that dark horror but touch her for an instant and she was lost for ever.

  In that dreadful moment his mind turned instinctively to the only god he knew — the Lord of Darkness — and as the wordless prayer was uttered power surged through his body, hanging limp over the altar-side. This monstrosity which threatened the very soul of the girl he loved was his, bound to his family by ties centuries old; his to command.

  His lips parted and from them flowed the words of power — phrases he had not known he knew, rising from some forgotten ancestral memory. The very air throbbed as the mighty syllables crashed through it.

  The tide was stayed. Slowly, reluctantly, the loathsome thing sank back, step by step, quivering with baffled rage.

  Instantly Tony was over the altar-side, had gathered Valerie in his arms, and was back again in safety. He laid her gently down and lowered the altar-stone. As the catch clicked into place, so the tension which had upheld him during those awful moments was released, and he sank down beside the girl, trembling violently, and gripped by a dreadful nausea.

  When he had recovered somewhat he turned to the girl and gently raised her head. She opened her eyes, dark with terror, and looked up at him. His torch, still burning, lay near by, and she could see his troubled face plainly in the dim light. As she recognized him, so the horror in her eyes faded, and tears came in its stead. Her arms crept about his neck and he bent his head and kissed her gently on the lips. She clung to him, crying softly like a child that has been badly frightened and finds refuge in its mother’s arms.

  At last she grew quiet, and, holding his torch with difficulty, he picked her up and carried her back to the great hall. All was still — there seemed to be no one else awake in the building — so he took her to her own room and laid her on the bed. Then he fetched water and bathed her bruised hands.

>   Neither spoke a word. The terrible experience she had undergone had all but broken Valerie’s spirit, and Tony, with deep understanding, refrained from uttering the questions which crowded to his lips.

  Day was breaking when he left her, kissing her gently on the brow, his reward a little smile so tender that, in spite of the gloomy circumstances, his heart burst into song within his breast. But as he made his way quietly to his own room the light died from his face and his brows drew together in a frown of dreadful fury, for he knew instinctively who was responsible for the night of terror which she had been through.

  Valerie did not appear at the breakfast-table, and Hamilton was the first to comment on her absence. As he did so Gaunt looked across at his colleague and their eyes met. In an even voice the doctor said:

  “Perhaps she is unwell.”

  Tony, who had scarcely spoken until then, answered him.

  “Yes,” said he, “she is having breakfast in her room, poor child. She had a ghastly experience last night.”

  “Why, Tony, what on earth do you mean?” Hamilton’s anxious query fell into the gulf of silence which had opened in their midst. Vaughan looked as if his collar were about to suffocate him, and Gaunt turned deadly pale, clenching his hands beneath the table until the nails drew blood.

  Tony went on, calmly:

  “She was apparently seized with a sudden and overwhelming desire to see for herself what was in the passages beneath the crypt altar.”

  “Good God!” Hamilton said in a shocked tone. “Do you mean to say she went down there by herself, in the dark?”

  “She took a lamp, John, but dropped it, apparently. Fortunately I woke, for some unaccountable reason, and went down to see if everything was all right. Finding the way to the crypt open, I investigated, and was, fortunately, just in time.”

  “In time for what, Tony?”

  “In time to save her from the curse.”