ButnowRosenbergwasmissingfromthetable.Hiswineglasswasalsogone.
Andtherewasnosettingforhimatthetable.
“Where’dBlakego?”askedWetzel.HelookedatPhilippine,wholookedupfor thefirsttimeintwentyminutes.Sheshruggedhershoulders.Inoticedthatthe SunwasnowalmosttotallygoneoverthehorizonandtheMoonwasvisible behindPhilippine.Althoughitwasnotquitefull,itloomedlargeandseemedto hangdownverylow.
“He’sprobablygonetothetoilet,Iimagine,”answeredCrispin.
“Sowhatarewehavinganyway?”Marciaaskedherson.
“Idon’tknow,”heresponded.“IletBlaketellthekitchenwhattomake.”
“Ohright,Blakeorderingourfamily’sservantsaround,asalways,”shesighed.
Shetookabiteofherbird.Sheswallowedit,butslowly,reluctantly,looking bothdisgustedandsurprised.
“Ohright,nowthisisgross,”shesaid.“WhattheHellisthis?Ittasteslikean arse.”
“Nokidding,”saidWetzel,whohadsampledhisaswellandpusheditawayin disgust.“That’sfoul.”Hesnortedalaughathisownjoke.“Getit?Fowl?”
Iputapieceofitonmyforkandsniffedit.Itsmelledlikespoiledmilkand sulphur.
IlookedatPhilippine.Shewasdutifullyeatingit,butshudderedasshedidso.
ThenIlookedatCrispin.Hewaseatinghistoo,withdislike,inverysmallbites.
Marciaturnedaroundtocomplaintotheservants.Butshefoundnone.Wewere nowaloneinthatvastemptyroom,withnosignoftheguestofhonorwhohad orderedthismysterymeal.
“MaybeRosenbergwenttogotellthestaffthattheyforgotmyplate,”said Chesterfield.“Althoughitdoesn’tlooklikeI’mmissingoutonanythinggood.”I lookedand,sureenough,hehadnoplate.
“No,hemustbeinthelavatory,”saidMarcia,angry.Shestumbleddrunkenly overtotheunisextoiletroomandwalkedrightin,callinghisname.Afew secondslater,shecameout.
“He’snotthereeither,”sheannounced,comingbacktoherseat.
“Youdon’tlikeyourfood?”
Rosenberg’svoicecamefromtheothersideofthetable.Hewasstandingnextto hisdaughter,whosatmotionlessstaringatthebonesonherplate,havingeaten everyscrapofthebird’sbitterflesh.Everyonewasstartled.ThenMarciaand Wetzellaughed.
“Yeah,senditbackandorderapizza,Blake,”answeredMarcia.“Thisisthe worst.”
“I’vealreadyhadapizzatoday,”hesaid.
“Notthatkindofpizza,”saidMarcia,snickeringatwhatappearedtobean insidejoke.
“Don’trejectmyoffering,friends,”saidRosenberg,addressingusall.“True, Crispinkindlyprovidedthechampagne,andletussitatthetableofhisesteemed family’shouse.ButthesebirdsIcaughtmyself,andputmyselfingreatperilto doso.”
“Seriously?”saidMarcia.“Honestly,Ididn’tknowyoulikedtohunt.Ithought youhatedfirearms.”
“No,hehatespeasantshavingfirearms,”whisperedWetzel,oblivioustohow weirdthingsweregetting.
“Ididn’tshootthem!”heresponded.“Ihadtheservantsslaughterthem.”
Heinhaledsharply.
“Pleasenourishyourbodieswiththisflesh,”Rosenbergcontinuedtoimplore.
“Atleastenjoythe sweetlivers.That’sthebestpart.”
Uponhearingthewords“sweetlivers,”Chesterfieldstiffenedupnexttome.I couldfeelhiseyesuponme.ButRosenbergnowstaredatmeaswell.
“Comeon,MissAuger,”hesaid.“Eattheliver.It’sthebestpart.”
“Don’tdoit,Pamela,”saidChesterfield.“Youdon’thaveto.Wecanleave.”
“Notuntilyou’veeaten!”shoutedRosenberg.Ashesaidthis,heleanedforward, slammedhisfistonthetable,andstaredangrilyatme,hisfacebecomingred.
Idon’tknowifitwasahallucination,likesomanyofthethingsIwitnessed fromthispointonward.Buttomeitseemedasifhiseyesbegantoglowredas well,ashisstarepiercedmethroughmyskull.Ifeltmyselfswayinginmyseat.
AsifIhadnowillofmyown,Ipickedupmyforkandknife,torethebirdopen, locatedwhatlookedlikealiver,andstuckitinmymouth.Inmyperipheral vision,IsawMarciaandMarkdoingthesame.
Atthatmoment,Chesterfieldgotupandranacrosstheroomtotheelevatorwe hadarrivedin.Hepunchedthe“downbutton.”Everybodywaslookingathim, soItooktheopportunitytospitoutmybiteoftheunknownbirdintomy champagneglass,whichIthencoveredwithanapkin.
“Comeon,followmePamela!”heshouted,beckoningmewithhishand.
Butthenhelookedattheelevatorbutton,andthedigitaldisplaynexttoit,which wassupposedtotellyouwhatfloortheelevatorwascurrentlyonasitmovedup anddown.However,somethingwaswrong.Hepressedthebuttonfrantically severalmoretimes,shouting“Fuck!Fuck!”Thenhestormedovertothetable again.
“Tellmewhytheelevator’slocked,”hedemandedofRosenberg.Themanjust sneeredathim.ThenChesterfieldaddressedtheMartinas.
“Howdowegetoutofhere?”
“Oh,don’toverreact,”saidMarcia.Shewalkedovertotheelevator.
“Itshouldbeworking,”shesaid.Whenshesawthatitwasn’t,shetriedpressing anintercombuttonnexttotheelevator.
“Hello!James?Hello!Teddy?Anybody?”Therewasapparentlynoanswer.
Shewalkedbacktoherdeskandtookherphoneoutofherpurse.Herbag lookedlikeitcostmorethanmymother’shouse.Butshehadthesamemodel smartphoneasIdid.Itdidn’tdoheranygoodthough.
“BloodyHell,Ican’tevengetasignal.What’sgoingon?”sheshoutedto Crispin.Heshrugged,thengaveRosenbergapleadinglook.
“Nobody’sgoinganywhereuntilwe’vealleaten!”Rosenbergshouted.
“Ithinkwe’redone,”saidWetzel.“We’veallhadabite.Wealltriedit.
Thankyou,Blake.Maybewe’rejustnothungry.Let’sdosomethingelsenow.”
Hewastryingtocalmhisfrienddown.
“I’M not DONE!”Rosenbergcountered.
“Where’syourplate?”askedCrispin.“ShouldItelltheservants….”
“I’meatingmine raw!”Rosenberginterrupted.
Hereacheddownandpickedupsomethingonthefloornexttohisfeet,which hadbeenobscuredfrommyviewbythetable.Itwascoveredinablackcloth.
Heplaceditinthecenterofthetable.Iheardcoosandaflutterofwings.
Notagain,Isaidtomyself. Idon’twanttoseeanotheranimaldie.
ButofcourseIcouldn’tstophim.Herippedthecoveroffthebirdcage,revealing araven,whichhetookoutwithhishand,gently,puttingitonthetabletop.It walkedaroundandflappeditswingshelplessly.Theywereclipped.
Ithoughttolookaway,butIwasn’tfastenough.Withsuddenferocity, Rosenberggrabbedthebirdandtoreitsheadoffwithhisbarehands,thentipped thenecktowardshismouthandsuckeddownthebloodasitspurtedout.Atthat moment,Iheardasonicboomandfeltsomethinglikeashockwave.Thiswas followedbythesoundofmetalcrunchingandscrapingtogether.Itdidn’tseem tobecomingfromthesky,whichbecamenoticeablydarkerinthatinstant,asif someonehadputalightfilteroverit.Also,theMoondrewdownlowerinthe sky.
Thecrunchingsoundturnedintoahigh‐pitchedwhine,thenalow,longmoan likeafoghorn.Itsoundedlikeaconcertfromanorchestraof100waterphones.
“Ahhh,”saidRosenberg,wipinghismouthandgaspinglikehehadjusttakena refreshingdrinkonahotsummerday.“That’sthesoundoftheskybeginningto fallinearnest.NowletuscommencewiththeSupremeRite,tobringaboutthe BaptismofWisdom!”Hethrewthedesiccatedraven’sheadlessbodyintothe middleofthetable,anddroppedtheheadwherehestood.
Iwasn’toperatingatfullcapacit
y,soIwasn’treactingasInormallywouldto theseabnormaloccurrences.ButIwasn’tasbadoffasmostoftheotherguests.
Indeed,theyallappearedtobegoingthroughanalmostlycanthropic
transformationbeforemyeyes.
Acrossfromme,Marciahadpushedherseatbackfromthetableandnowsat backinherchair,withherblueeveningdresshikeduptohercrotch,whichshe wasnowrubbinglasciviouslythroughherpanties,fullyvisible.Shewasbiting herliphard,andbloodtrickledoutofthecornerofhermouth.Shecackledlikea witch.
PresentlyCrispinstoodupandkissedRosenbergpassionatelyonthemouth.
Rosenbergreciprocated,thenviolentlywrenchedtheyoungman’sarmbehind hisback.Hebenthimoverthetableandbegandry‐humpinghisass.
Next,Mr.Wetzelstoodup,anevilgleamnowinhisbeadyeyes.Hewalkedover behindPhilippine,grabbedherbythehairbunandjerkedherheadup.Hereyes weresolidwhiteswithoutpupils.I’dneverseenanythinglikeitbefore.
Herjawdroppedopen.Hertonguebegantoflutter.Shestartedtouttersome strangeglossolaliathatIdidn’trecognizeashumanlanguage.ButthenWetzel slammedhisrightfootuponthetableinfrontofher,unzippedhispants,and silencedherwithathrustofhispenis.Herspeechturnedintogaggingand slurping.ThatlastedafewsecondsbeforeRosenbergreachedoutandshoved himawayfromher.
“Don’tshootyourloadjustyet,”headmonished.“You’llneedallyourpotency fortheritual.”
Thenheturnedandaddressedthegroup,bellowing:
“Letusnowdescendtothesacredcaverns!LastweekwastheSpringEquinox, butthisweekendweshallcelebratethetrueEquinoxoftheGods!”
OverhisshoulderIcaughtsightoftheMoonagain.Thenfrombehindit—I swear—Isawfivebrightlightsemerge,eachadifferenthue,andjusthover there.
Theylookedlikestars,buttheybehavedlikeUFOs.Icouldtellthattheywere lookingatme—atus.
Istoodupandstumbledbackward.Chesterfieldgrabbedmefrombehindand steadiedme,immobilizingmewithhisarms.
“Doyouseethestarsmovingoutside?”Iwhisperedinhisear.
“Justpretendyou’repossessedandmakeoutwithme,”hewhisperedback.
Understandinghismeaning,Ikissedhisneckandgrowledlikeadog.Hebegan fondlingmybreasts.
Rosenbergwalkedovertotheelevatornow,withhisfriendsfollowingbehind himlikeaprocessionofscreamingbanshees.Hehittheintercombutton.
“Miles,youcancomeupnow,”hesaid.
Miles? Ithought. HowmanyservantsinEnglandarenamedMiles?That’sso cliché!WhynotJeeves?WhynotMr.Belvedere? Eveninthisinsanecrisis,under theslightinfluenceofwhateverwasintheravenmeatIspitout,mymindwas stillabletocalmitselfbytellingitselfstupidjokes,likeithadsomanytimes before.
Iwatchedthenumbersonthedisplaychangeastheelevatorclimbeduptoour floorfromthebottom.Whenitgotthere,thedoorsopened,andtherewasMiles, LeopoldBlack’schauffer,withaguninhishandagain,pointedouttowardsus.
“Hello,Miles,”saidRosenberg.“Wherearetheothers?”
“They’rewaitingforyouinthetemple,sir,”hereplied.
Rosenberggesturedtowardsus,andweallpiledintotheelevator.Milespunched acodeonakeypadnexttotheelevator’smainsetofbuttons,andwestarted goingdown.Theotherswereshriekingloudly,stillbusymolestingeachother.
TherewasenoughnoisethatIcouldsafelywhispersomethingtoMiles,who wasstandingrightnexttome.
“SoyouandLeopoldandtherestofthebutcherswereinittogetherallalong!”I said.“Nosurprise,Iguess.Nowwhatareyouguysgoingtodous?”
ButhejuststaredaheadlikeaBeefeateronduty,holdinghisgunwiththebarrel pointedouttowardstheelevatordoor.Meanwhile,theelevatorcontinuedto descend,down,down,down.WewentpastB1andB2,thetwobasement levelslistedonthemainsetofbuttons.Thenwekeptgoing,intowhatseemed
likeabottomlesspit.
Chapter21:Taurobolium
Accordingtooneaccountdatingfromthe1830s,theRothschildsowedtheir fortunetothepossessionofamysterious‘Hebrewtalisman’thatenabledNathan Rothschild,thefounderoftheLondonhouse,tobecome
‘theLeviathanofthemoneymarkersofEurope.’
—NigelFerguson, TheAscentofMoney
Whentheelevatoropened,wewalkedoutintoahallwaywithstonefloorsand walls.Thewallswerelinedwithtorcheslightingtheway.Attheendofthe corridorwasanopeningleadingofftotheleft,andastatueofHarpocrates,the Egyptiangodofsilence,asanakedyoungboy.Heheldhisindexfingertohis lipsinhissignaturepose,withhisotherhandcoveringhiscrotch.Iknewhewas equatedwithErosinHellenisticsyncretism,andwasboundbyanoathtokeep thesecretsofhismotherAphrodite’smanysexcrimes.Icouldonlyimagine whathispresenceinthishallwaypresaged.Butmyimaginationwasnotextreme enoughtopredictwhatactuallydidhappen.
Allofuscameoutoftheelevatorexceptforoneperson:Chesterfield.Hetried, butRosenbergpushedhimbackinthere,andtheninstructedMilestoshoothim inthehead.Milespointedthegun,andChesterfieldcringed,bracinghimself.
ButthenRosenbergchangedhismind,sayingthatChesterfield“mightcomein handylater.”Theelevatordoorwasshut,andthenRosenbergpunchedinacode thatlockeditinplace.PoorChesterfieldwasstuckinthere.
IwasblindfoldedbyMilesagain,justlikelasttimeIwasinatunnelwithhim.
Butwasledbyhimarm‐in‐armdownthehall,insteadofbeingforcedtolead.
Aswewalked,Rosenbergandhisfriendswerehooting,holleringandwhooping likeanimals.Thenwestoppedabruptly.Someone,RosenbergIpresume, grabbedmyarmandputmylefthanduponadoorhandle.ThenRosenberg spoketome.
“Pamela,myCryphius:tellme:Canyouseeitinyourmind’seyeyet?Whatwill wefindinherewhenweopenthisdoor?”
Irecognizedtheword“Cryphius”frommyonlinereadingaboutMithras.It literallymeant“occultist,”anditwasnamedbyFranzCumontasthetitleofthe firstdegreeoftheMithraicbrotherhood.However,thiswasbasedonasingle archeologicalfind.Allotherevidenceshowedthatthenameofthefirstdegree was Corax,meaning“raven.”Allegedly,aravenhadplayedtheroleofdivine messenger,Mercury’sjob.ItwassentbythesungodtoMithras,instructinghim tohavethebullslayed.
Ponderingthis,IthenrealizedthatRosenbergwantedmetousemyinnate clairvoyantabilitiestoplaytheroleofmessengerforhim.Iwastheretodo divinationoncommand,justlikewhatLeopoldandtheButcher’sSocietyhad kidnappedmefor.Thatwasprobablywhyhehadinvitedmetohisparty,and whyhewaskeepingmealive.
SoIhadbetterfindawaytoperform,Ithought.
Icouldn’tseeanythinginmy“mind’seye,”butIdidhearamalebutinhuman eldritch‐soundingvoiceinmyhead,anditgavemeamessage.
TheLion,theWitch,andtheWardrobes.
IrepeatedthistoRosenberg,andhelaughed.
“Good,good,you’lldo,”hesaid,takingoffmyblindfold.
Heopenedthedoor,revealingadimly‐litroomwitholdlightfixtures,andthree wardrobessittingnexttoeachotheronthefarwall.Twowereclosed,andthe oneontherightwasopen.Insidetherewerewhatappearedtobetheater costumes.Andinfrontofthewardrobesstoodtwopeoplealreadyincostume.
Oneofthesepeoplewaswearingablackrobeandamaskofalion’sface.
TheotherwasanoldCaucasianwomanwearingawhitegown,aredcape,anda largewhitehatthatresembledachampagnecork.Shehadwhitefoundation cakedonherfacelikeaclown,withthickblackeyemake‐upandbrightred lipstick.Shesmiled.
“Paternoster!”shesaidtoRosenbergassheheldoutherarmsforhim.
“Hello MatriDeum,Consivia,planterofthegarden!”he
saidbacktoher.
Hekissedheronthehand,smilingbackather.
SothisisConsivia,Isaidtomyself. Andshe’shereasapriestesstonight,but not fortheAnglicanchurch.
Rosenbergthenturnedtothemaninthelion’smask.
“IseverythingreadywiththebullandtheButchers?”heasked.
“Absolutely,Father,”hesaid.Irecognizedthevoice.ItwasLeopold.
SoeventhepretensethatLeopoldandtheButcherswereworkingagainst Rosenbergwasaruse,justlikeeverythingelseabouthim,Ithought. They’reall in leaguetogether,andthisentirethinghasbeenaset‐upagainstmefromthe beginning.
Weallgotsuiteduptoo.Eachoneofushadafacecoveringandablackrobe tiedthatopenedinthefront,tiedwithasilvercord.Everybodydressedhimself exceptforme.IgothelpfromConsiviaandMiles.Theygavemeablackbird’s maskliketheoneswehadseenonthe EasterSundayfilm.Crispinworea goldenheadbandthatsuspendedawhitelinenveiloverhisface.MarciaMartina putonRomansoldier’splumedhelmetandaplainwhitemask.Wetzelworea goldensunface.Mostputtheirrobesonovertheirclothes,butPhilippine,her pupilsnowreturnedtothefrontofhereyeballs,somberlystrippedoffher clothesfirst,havingobviouslybeengiveninstructionsaheadoftime.Insteadofa mask,sheworeablacklaceveil.
RosenbergdonnedhisPhrygianSmurfhatandamaskthatresembledthebustof MithrasfoundattheLondon mithraeum.Healsotookafoot‐longiron harpe(an ancienttypeofsickle)thatwashangingonahookonthebackwallofoneofthe wardrobes.Heholstereditwithhisbelt.ThenMilesopenedthedoortothe hallwayagain,andeveryonefiledout,withRosenbergleadingtheway.
Justtotherightofthedoorofthewardroberoom,thehallwayended.Thelong darkcorridorwehadcomefromstretchedoutintodarknessonourleftand ended.Righttherewasastonespiralstaircaseleadingup.Rosenbergtooka torchoffthewallwithhisfreehandandstartedgoingup.Everyonefollowed.
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