“What's this society called?” asks Tony.
“The Order of Eschaton,” Bill replies.
Tony furrows his brow for a moment.
“If I recall my schoolboy Greek, eschaton means 'the end', as in 'the end times'?”
“Quite right,” nods Bill. “Our aim is to avert the end of the world as we know it, and so far, we're not doing as well as our founders had hoped. That's all I can tell you, which is far more than I should have. Again, feel free to laugh. Anyone?”
Not after what I've seen, thinks Rachel. Not after Duncaster and the Sentinels or the Nazi plot to overthrow this country by supernatural means.
Rachel looks around at the little group. Archie seems most baffled of the five, his gaze switching from Bill to Tony as if seeking assurance that this isn't some genteel parlor game. Charlotte looks unhappy, but not doubtful of Bill. Tony is impassive, but must be thinking that, if Bill is telling the truth, it would explain why his 'war work' is top secret.
As if he's reading her mind, Bill looks Rachel in the eye and says, “I'm sure you're aware that dark forces have been at work in the world since the beginning of time. That's one thing all religions, all mythologies even, agree upon. Thus, there are forces of light that oppose them. Isaac Braid, at the command of the first Lord Furniss, raised dark forces here. For centuries, we, of the Order, have tried to contain them. We've managed to limit the damage Braid can do, trapping him within his domain, keeping him inactive for long periods. Until now, that is. This is the showdown; the make or break moment.”
Plausible, thinks Rachel. Except for one obvious point.
“Darling, why did you not simply tell us all of this at the start?” asks Charlotte before Rachel can speak.
“I know I've lied to you, Charlie,” replies Bill, “and I can only ask you to forgive me. I was sworn to secrecy until I was sure I could safely reveal the truth. I think everyone here can be trusted. If I'm wrong, of course, all bets are off.” He shrugs.
“You were afraid that if you told your journalist girlfriend she'd blab straight away?” asks Charlotte.
“If you can't forgive me, at least believe me,” says Bill. “It hurt me to keep a secret from you, and to use you to get close to Madam Castanos and to Rachel. But we knew that when Tony inherited the title, things were moving towards a climax. After all, Rachel is a ghost-seer; she has extraordinary powers. You, Charlie, were the one who urged her to go to Duncaster where her powers were awakened by the Sentinels. Was that really all a co-incidence? No, there are beings working behind the scenes to bring about a clash of good and evil, here, this very night.”
“He's right,” says Rachel, looking up at Tony. “It can't all be down to chance. I don't like the idea of being destiny's puppet, but here we are.”
“If you ladies and gents don't mind me asking,” says Archie, timidly, “What's all this about seeing ghosts and powers? Where's Duncaster?”
“I can see ghosts. I help them pass on to the next stage, to a better place, or heaven if you like. I'm still not clear about that,” Rachel explains. “But since I've been here, my second sight hasn't been working most of the time. Except for one terrible moment when I saw something truly horrific.”
She describes the great swirling frenzy of spirits that she saw surrounding the house.
Archie falls into stunned silence while Bill nods again, unsurprised.
“This place is a sort of magnet for spiritual energy,” Bill says. “Braid, in his Tower, set up a kind of energy field that drains power from others, before and after their deaths. That's his secret of immortality. A way of cheating death, if you will.”
“But if he's immortal,” says Charlotte, “surely he could have pretty much taken over the world by now? I mean, why bother staying here?”
“Unless he's stuck here? Is that it?” asks Rachel.
Bill nods.
“Yes, he cheated death. But in doing so, he trapped himself in his own infernal machine like a spider in the heart of its web. That's what the house and the gardens of Furniss are; a kind of occult engine that runs on spiritual power. And without it, Braid would die, living out all of his stolen centuries in a matter of seconds.”
Bill moves to the desk and picks up the journal that Tony examined earlier.
“You were right about the connection with the planets, Tony. We think it is astrological. Anyone got a pencil?”
Charlotte produces one from a pocket and Bill starts writing next to the symbols on the diagram of the garden. Rachel begins to protest at the defacement of the book, then reflects that it's the work of an evil man and hardly qualifies as a precious heirloom.
“Each planet corresponds to a particular characteristic. To make the infernal machine work, sacrifices must be made. Hence, the seventy-year cycle of disappearances and deaths.”
Bill finishes writing and they all gather round the ancient book to see what he's added to Braid's design,
Earth – Tower – Braid's Location?
Moon – Diana, Virgin Goddess of the Hunt – Maisie W., adolescent girl
Mercury – Messenger, Trickster, Thief – Traven, burglar
Venus – Goddess of Love, Beauty – Madam Castanos?
Sol/Sun – 'Chapel' – giver of life –?
Mars – War, Courage, Decision –?
Jupiter – Father, Authority –?
Saturn – Time, Restraint, Old Age – Mr. & Mrs. Marlow?
“I don't mean to sound unchivalrous,” says Tony, “but Madam Castanos isn't my idea of the Goddess of Love.”
“No, but Charlotte is,” says Rachel. “That was why Braid tried to take her, isn't it?”
Bill nods, adding, “I think Madam Castanos was taken simply because the Haunter was frustrated and needed a victim quickly. There's a schedule of sacrifice, sort of like a deadline. And for all we know, love, or at least passion, is very much a part of the lady's nature.”
Archie, looking even more confused, asks, “Excuse me, ladies and gents, but what's all this about?”
Bill replies, “Isaac Braid believed that, when the planets are lined up in a particular way, a form of what we might call ‘spiritual cannibalism’, would allow him to cheat death for a certain period of time. Seventy years, until the whole cosmic cycle can round again and he needed more victims.”
“That's insane!”
“Yes, but occult ideas often are, by everyday standards.”
“And why take both Marlows when the other planets require just the one victim?” asks Rachel.
“I think,” replies Bill, “that it might simply be because the elderly are weaker than the young.”
“Can we be sure the other sacrifices haven't already been made, though?” asks Tony. “After all, this Traven fellow wasn't found for weeks. Nobody knew he was here.”
“Good point,” says Bill, “but there must be at least one sacrifice left, otherwise Braid would have escaped the bounds of his domain and I think we'd know about that. Rachel certainly would sense a major change,” he adds, looking over at her.
“You said something about the Haunter, sir. Isn't that the same as this Isaac Braid fella?” asks Archie.
Bill shakes his head.
“You're right, I have kept one more thing from you, and it's a very unpleasant fact. It's not Braid that abducts and kills people. It's his slave, a vile being that he raised to serve his needs back when the garden was constructed.”
“That stench,” says Charlotte, clutching Bill's arm. “The size of the thing! It wasn't human! I knew it straight away.”
“No,” says Bill. “The Haunter is in no way human. It's a demon.”
***
The snowplow is struggling to make headway on the road from Newcastle to Furniss Village. Once outside the city, the going got tough very quickly. Jimmy is cajoling the diesel just in case it overheats. This has slowed their progress to a crawl.
“Another car coming up!” warns Armstrong.
“Can we get round it?” demands Bryce.
“If not, I'll just push the bugger off the road, sir,” replies Jimmy.
“We’d best check and see if there's someone inside,” says Croft.
Bryce looks as if he's about to object, but Croft is already shoving the passenger door open and jumps down before the huge vehicle stops. Armstrong follows his boss and Bryce reluctantly tags along while Jimmy keeps the motor idling.
The abandoned car lies tilted at an angle of about thirty degrees, two wheels in the snow-filled roadside ditch. It's covered with about three inches of snow so Croft can't see inside. The detective manages to pull open the driver-side door and sees a man slumped over the wheel. He's dressed in warm clothes but the interior of the car is freezing.
“Dead?” asks Bryce as the detective examines the man. Frost has formed on the man's face and Croft can find no trace of a pulse.
“We don't have the means to help him even if he is still alive,” Bryce goes on, and turns back to the snowplow.
Croft finds some ID on the body, pockets it, and stands up.
I can at least tell his relatives when this is over. Assuming I survive, of course.
Then, just for the briefest instant, Croft thinks he sees an odd bluish glow leave the man's frozen body and rise swiftly into the night. Before he can focus on it, the light, if it isn't simply an optical illusion, rushes away.
In the direction of Furniss Manor. What the hell is that about?
“You coming, sir?” shouts Armstrong, dangling from the snowplow's cab.
“Right, okay,” replies Croft.
When they're back in the cab and the snowplow is under way again, he mentions what he thought he saw to Bryce.
“Yes,” replies the Colonel, “the pull is growing stronger. If we had a halfway decent seer, they'd be able to see the dead being sucked in.”
“But why?” demands Croft.
“Fuel,” says Bryce. “In the same way an engine needs diesel, the thing that we call ‘Furniss Manor’ needs human souls. It's our job to cut the fuel line or simply smash the engine.”
He makes it sound nice and simple, thinks Croft. Armstrong and Jimmy both act as if they haven't heard the exchange.
Chapter 11: What Lies Beneath
“A demon?”
Archie's face goes pale, his eyes wide with what might be astonishment or panic.
Bet you wish you hadn't asked, thinks Rachel. She turns to Bill, “Are you sure, Bill? Isn't it possible that Braid has simply evolved into some kind of monster down the centuries? Deformity, a foul stink, could that be what black magic does to someone over time?”
“I might have agreed with you,” replies Bill, “but we of the Order have identified two distinct beings here. One is mortal, but somehow shielded from the normal aging process, the other is not human. We believe it is a demon called Baalphegor; it’s very strong and very powerful.”
“And free to roam everywhere on this estate, apparently,” adds Tony. “And you brought us here, in a snowstorm, which means we can't get away.”
Rachel hears the restrained anger in Tony's voice and instinctively clutches his arm.
“I'm sure he had a good reason,” says Charlotte, moving closer to Bill.
“If this Order of yours is so powerful, where the hell are they? Why send you alone to bring us here?” demanded Tony.
Good question, thinks Rachel. I hope it's not because I'm the good guys' secret weapon.
“First, we needed you here, Rachel,” says Bill. “Your talents, while not cultivated by proper training, are far greater than mine and could prove decisive.”
Oh crap, thinks Rachel. It's no fun being right all the time.
“Second,” Bill goes on, “the order has great knowledge but is a small group that is struggling to contain threats from all sides. As you'll have noticed, evil is at work on a grand scale these days and our resources are stretched out very thin. I know it's not the answer any of you want to hear, but this scratch outfit is all we've got to beat Braid and his demon.”
“How in the hell are we supposed to do that?” she asks, sharing some of Tony's anger. “We can't just beat up a demon and a black magician who have lived for nearly four hundred years.”
Bill raises his hands in a placatory gesture. “Remember, Isaac Braid is still mortal, albeit very clever and powerful. But we can still kill him. Brutal, I know, and it might feel like murder, but we can hardly put him on trial, can we? The order chose this moment because Braid's at the end of his seventy-year life-cycle, the extra life he stole from his victims back in 1875. He's at his weakest, most vulnerable state.”
“But what about this demon?” asks Tony. “I'm assuming we can't just blow its head off as well?”
“No, he can't be killed. But he can be neutralized, so I'll deal with it,” says Bill. “I have had enough training as an occult expert to keep him at bay, with Rachel's help, that is.”
Oh crap, Rachel thinks. She says, “I'm no demon-fighter! I wouldn't know where to start!”
“But, I do,” replies Bill, “and I'll guide you. My skills combined with your natural talent should be enough to hold Baalphegor in check while Tony and Archie hunt down Braid. Once Braid's dead, the demon will go back to where it came from, no longer Braid's slave.”
Something about that word “slave,” thinks Rachel. Why does it seem so important?
“Back to hell,” whispers Archie.
“If you like,” says Bill. “Let's say Baalphegor is from a lower place.”
“It seems we have no choice in the matter,” says Tony after a pause. “Well, Bill, what's the plan? Because I have to say, we'd be insane to go running around a system of tunnels with a demon in them.”
“I agree,” says Bill. “We need a plan that has a chance of working, and what I have in mind will require very precise timing.”
A few minutes later, “Okay, Rachel, let's give this a try,” says Bill. He sits opposite her at the kitchen table, while the others stand around looking on. “Okay, Rachel, let's give this a try,” says Bill.
“Are you sure about this, darling?” asks Tony.
Rachel nods. The discussion had been brief and efficient. Bill's idea — the Tower is where Braid must presumably be during the regeneration process, and the kitchen is the closet room — makes sense. From here, Tony and Charlotte, experienced with firearms, can attack Braid physically. At the same time, Bill and Rachel can combine their powers to distract and hopefully neutralize the demon Baalphegor.
Assuming, Rachel thinks, that I'm up to the job.
Now comes the test to see if she and Bill can indeed work in psychic symbiosis and reach out to strike at the demon. Rachel tries not think about their very limited options if the plan fails.
She reaches out and Bill clasps her hands in his. His fingers are cool and surprisingly rough, almost like a laborer's hands. Rachel tries to shake off such distractions, closes her eyes as she's been told.
“Now,” says Bill, “try to empty your mind of all immediate sensation, all mundane thoughts. Feel my mind reaching out to yours, and let me guide you.”
I'm too tense, this isn't going to work, thinks Rachel. But then, in the reddish world behind her closed eyelids, she sees a faint spot of blue. The blue glow expands until she sees Bill's face, smiling in encouragement.
“Let me guide you,” he says. “Just let go, and I'll take you with me.”
His voice is in her head, not her ears. Rachel tries to relax, and finds it as difficult as ever. But gradually, Bill's gentle, persuasive voice fills her mind and she drifts along with the blue light, which lifts her out of the kitchen and into the stormy night. She looks down on Furniss Manor, and suddenly she's surrounded by the whirling vortex of spirits she saw earlier. Faces rush past, old and young, but all are wide-mouthed with misery and despair.
“Ignore them, Rachel, you can't help them. Remember our purpose,” says Bill. “Look down, see the garden of the stars.”
Yes, yes, I can see it!
The pattern is j
ust like the one in Braid's journal, lines of glowing energy linking the Tower of the Sorcerer to each statue and the circular chapel. Most of the statues are marked by small dots of light, and Rachel realizes that these must be trapped souls of the latest victims. There are a few dark spots where victims have yet to be found for the vast occult mechanism.
“Rachel!”
The voice is faint but Rachel feels a twinge of recognition.
Could that possibly be Madam Castanos? she thinks.
Rachel tries to move, descending towards the glow that is the Venus statue, but then feels herself stopped.
“Don't listen to any voices, even if they seem friendly.” warns Bill. “Baalphegor is a cunning deceiver, like all his kind! See? Where he moves underground like a rat?”
Rachel does see it, a blot of yellow light passing along one of the glowing lines. There's something frightening and repellent about the light, and as she focuses, she feels a consciousness becoming aware of her. For a second, she touches a mind utterly alien, devoid of all human qualities apart from cruelty and cunning.
“Ah, the beautiful seer of ghosts! Soon, we will be better acquainted.”
Even the demon's gurgling voice seems dirty. Its words like gobbets of filth hurled into her mind. She feels the psychic equivalent of the stench of Baalphegor; a mental vileness that threatens to overpower her.
“Resist the demon, Rachel!” urges Bill. “Together, we're strong enough to block him.”
She tries, and feels Bill directing her energy against the demon's foul aura. She senses anger and resentment from the Haunter, and feels excitement.
We're winning, we're actually doing it!
Baalphegor sounds furious.
“You defy me now, mortal, but that will merely make the final reckoning all the more exquisite for me.”
The taunt doesn't interfere with her concentration, but then, she is again distracted by the familiar voice.
“Rachel! When the time comes, reach up, and call on them!”
The two voices are quite distinct. Can they both emanate from the demon? Rachel thinks.
The Haunter (The Sentinels Series Book 2) Page 12