To The Devil A Daughter mf-1

by Dennis Wheatley

  Feeling that some remark was called for, and knowing that in no circumstances must he show surprise or disgust, C. B. said, `You have splendid quarters here. I don't think that I've ever seen better.'

  `I was lucky to find them,' replied the Canon. `It is extremely difficult to acquire a comfortable house which has adjacent to it an altar that was consecrated for many centuries; and, of course, the use of it enormously increases the potency of my operations. I chanced to hear of it shortly after the First World War. For many years it had been lived in only by a succession of caretakers. As it was the abode of quite a number of elementals, I got it for a song.'

  While he was speaking he turned to the furnace and began to make it up. It was similar to those used by old fashioned blacksmiths a great open bed of coke in an iron trough nearly five feet square. By a few puffs from the bellows the lower layers of fuel could soon be made white hot, but now they gave out only a reddish glow that shone here and there through cracks in the layers of still black fuel above them. The Canon spread a new layer of coke on top, blotting out the glow entirely, then damped it down for the night by spraying cold water on it.

  As soon as he had finished, he led the way over to one of the big tables. Pinned out upon it were what amounted to a number of blue prints, each showing in the greatest detail the structure of various portions of the human body. Beyond them were rows of glass stoppered jars containing pieces of skins, muscles, ligaments, arteries, kidneys, livers and other viscera pickled in spirit. The sight of them told C. B. that whatever element of magic there might be in this horrible process it must be basically, at least, scientific; and a moment later Copely Syle confirmed his thoughts by saying

  `To you, as a Magister Templi, I need hardly refer to the fact that magic is no more than the application of natural laws as yet unrecognized by all but a very limited number of people, such as ourselves. In the initial stages of my work I do nothing of which a moderately intelligent biologist is not capable, given the necessary materials and a considerable degree of patience. Even in the more advanced stages there is little that a fully trained scientist would find difficult to follow and imitate. In fact, were I prepared to give my secrets to the world and the masses could be prevented from sabotaging such work on account of their childish prejudices, there is no reason whatever why an unlimited number of homunculi should not be manufactured.'

  C. B. suppressed a shudder at the idea of a world in which even a limited proportion of the population were soulless robots, liable at any moment to behave like homicidal maniacs should they escape from the control of their creators. In an attempt to counteract the horror he felt, he remarked lightly

  `Wouldn't that lead to virgins of twenty one soon becoming in short supply that is, if the assistance of one is needed for the creation of each homunculus?'

  Taking his observation quite seriously, the Canon replied, `To begin with, yes; for, like mules, the early types of homunculi would prove incapable of breeding. But that is a deficiency which science could undoubtedly find a way to make good in due course. In the meantime, a government such as that of Soviet Russia, which is not hampered by the scruples and inhibitions of its people, might consider it well worth its while to segregate for several years large numbers of female children, in order to ensure their retaining their virginity until they reached an age when they could be used for the production of homunculi. You see, for any country bent on making war the process offers a new weapon of inestimable value. As suicide troops these fabricated beings would prove enormously superior to the most patriotic humans, because they would require no food other than the blood from the bodies of their enemies, and under the hypnotic direction of their masters they would carry out their allotted tasks with the same ruthless efficiency as machines.'

  The hair on the back of C.B.’s neck prickled as he listened to this ghastly conception. Judged by all standards, moral or divine, he considered Copely Syle to be a criminal lunatic, who should be shot with even less scruple than a mad dog; but that did not alter the fact that he displayed none of the sympathies which made a man certifiable. On the contrary, his conscientious research and logical reasoning showed him to be possessed of an unquestionable, if perverted, sanity. All C. B. could think of to mutter was

  `The Atlanteans did as you suggest, didn't they? And to people like ourselves it is common knowledge that it was their magicians producing large numbers of homunculi which led the White Powers to destroy the whole continent of Atlantis by fire and flood.'

  `True; but the human race was much younger in those days. In the past century, working through Communism, which openly denies all manifestations of God, Prince Lucifer has secured a far firmer grip upon it than he had then. With the minds of nearly half the population of the world attuned in opposition to the so called Light, I do not think the Brethren of the Right Hand Path would now prove strong enough to bring about another deluge.'

  The plump little black clad man paused for a second, then shrugged and went on, `However, it is for the Lord of this World himself to decide when and how we should give battle. For us, it is sufficient that we are working towards His ends, and that our reward will be great. Come now and see my contribution to our Master's business.'

  As he spoke he led the way across to the row of huge, conical tea cosies. Each of them stood about four feet high, and as he removed one at the end of the line, C. B. saw that its thick padded material had concealed a great glass jar over two feet in diameter.

  Again C.B.’s hackles rose, and, in spite of all that had gone before, he could hardly believe his eyes. In the clear liquid that filled the giant bottle was a naked female monster. She was about the height of a child of eight, yet far broader, having big breasts and thick thighs; but from the crutch downwards her legs were tied, and ended in tiny tapering feet, so that she resembled a squat and hideous mermaid. Her flesh was pink. There were no hairs on any part of her body and she was entirely bald. As he stared at her she slowly opened a pair of red rimmed lash less eyes and blinked at him.

  Fighting down his disgust, C. B. uttered the sort of exclamations of astonishment and interest that he knew were expected of him, then he asked, `Will her legs always be tied, or can you perform some operation, magical or otherwise, to separate them?'

  The Canon shook his silvery head. `No; about that there is nothing I can do. As you will see, most of the others are also imperfect. I assemble the basic ingredients for the creation of flesh, muscle, bone, blood and glands, but it is impossible to forecast how they will develop. All I can do is to improve my blends by experience, and thus endeavour to control unnatural or extraneous growths. These I keep only in order to record changes in their development and to ascertain how long they will live.' Replacing the cover, he removed those of the other jars in turn.

  One male had only stumps where its arms should have been; another was much smaller than the rest, but had an enormous organ of generation. Among them were an hermaphrodite, a female with two heads and another whose head rose grotesquely straight out of her shoulders without the least trace of a neck. Only one other was bald and the males all had sparse beards. The faces of all of them were hideous and their gaze held a stony malevolence. Only the last had no obvious deformity.

  Like the first, she was a squat and repulsive looking female. Unlike several of the others, she had grown both hair and nails, but the latter, which protruded from thick, stubby fingers, looked more like talons. Her mouth was very large and she kept opening and shutting it slowly in the same manner as a fish. When the cover was removed from her jar she appeared to be asleep, but almost instantly she woke and became imbued with horrid life, grimacing at them and clawing furiously at the glass as though she would rend and devour them if she could.

  Copely Syle stood there smiling at her, obviously immensely proud at having produced this evil travesty of a human being, and after a moment he murmured, `Behold the child of my creation, who is to be the first of our new race. Another forty odd hours and the final mystic rite
will render her capable of breathing air as easily as we do; then she will be able to come forth into the world. Although her womb will never bear fruit, she is destined to be the forerunner of many of her kind; so is the Lord Satan's answer to Eve.'

  `I count it a great privilege to have seen her still, as it were, in a state of gestation,' replied C. B. `But if she continues in her present mood, aren't you afraid that she will give you great trouble when once she is out of her bottle ?'

  `No. In this stage she is still an animal, so it is quite natural that she should display an animal's resentment of confinement; but when she emerges she will be a different creature. You will recall that God blew into the nostrils of Adam to give him Life, but He did not blow into the nostrils of the animals He had made,: so Life in that sense was something quite other than the capacity to move in obedience to instincts. The rite that I shall perform on the 6th is analogous to that final act of creation which differentiated man from beasts, so it will bring about a fundamental change in her. Besides, in Ellen Beddows we are fortunate in having a young woman of mild and pleasant disposition.'

  `I see; you are, then, assuming that her personality will exert an influence on the formation of a personality in this creature?'

  `I think it is bound to have some effect, as the homunculus will be infused with her spirit.'

  C. B. swallowed hard. He had thought it certain that the Canon intended to perform a Black Mass on Christina's body, and that probably she would be subjected to certain physical obscenities afterwards. Unless she was hypnotized and rendered unconscious first, the shock would be appalling and perhaps even result in temporarily unbalancing her mind. That would have been bad enough, but what the Black Magician actually implied was infinitely worse. It was nothing less than the drawing forth of her spirit from her body, and, while it was absent, there was the awful possibility that some elemental might take possession of her permanently, by day as well as by night, turning her into a lunatic. After a moment he asked

  `How long will the ceremony take?'

  `No great while,' replied the other placidly. `I shall, of course, first celebrate Mass, with the girl's body lying on the altar. After that come the recitation of the formula of the Holy Grail, and that of the Temple of Solomon the King, for the achievement of Unity with the Cosmos and as signifying the completion of the Great Work. The jar containing the homunculus will be placed on the floor on the left of the altar, close up to it, and the young woman's body will be so arranged that her head dangles down off the end of the altar over the open top of the jar. Having uttered the Gnostic Name of the Seven Vowels of Babylon as my witness, it will remain only for me to slit the girl's throat with the sacrificial knife and ensure that her life blood, which will carry her spirit with it, shall flow into the jar.'

  Few men had such a wide knowledge of unorthodox crime as C. B. In the course of his work he had broken up secret societies, freed a Cabinet Minister from blackmail, supervised the execution of a spy in the Tower of London, unraveled plots involving a dozen political murders, and, on occasion, when convinced that it was in the best interests of his country to do so, taken life himself without legal warrant. But never had he come across anything so utterly heinous as this project .for the cold blooded murder of an innocent girl. For him it was a new experience to feel faint; yet he did so now as he visualised Christina with her head half severed from her body, and the blood pouring from her neck to feed this loathsome, fiendish monstrosity that, barely a yard away, was still glaring at him with a hatred beyond any of which even the most savage animal was capable.

  His tongue clove to the roof of his mouth. He could no longer think of anything to say. Yet he knew that if he allowed the Canon to sense the horror he felt it would immediately expose him as an impostor. In vain he strove to get a hold over himself so that he might cope with the situation. His brain refused to work. Suitable words of understanding and approval simply would not come. Then, at the very moment that he thought his sick repulsion of the whole frightful business must become obvious, he was given an unexpected chance to conceal it.

  A heavy knocking sounded on the iron door. The Canon stepped forward and quickly replaced the cover over the homunculus, turned on his heel, and hurried across to the steps. C. B. took a deep breath and, whipping out his handkerchief, swiftly wiped away the tell tale perspiration that had broken out on his forehead. As Copely Syle opened the door the flutter of a white robe disclosed the presence of his Egyptian servant on the far side of it. The two of them exchanged a few low voiced sentences in Arabic, then the Canon glanced over his shoulder and said, `Excuse me, please. I shall be back quite soon.' Stepping through the door, he locked it behind him, leaving C. B. alone in that chamber of horrors.

  Within a few moments he had fully regained his composure and his mind was once more working with its accustomed lucidity. A glance at his wrist watch showed him that it was close on half past ten, so he had been in the house for an hour and a quarter. The time, he felt, had been remarkably well spent, as he had achieved far more than he had hoped to do when he had, on the spur of the moment, decided to make this reconnaissance. He had found out not only that even in prison was no certain sanctuary for Christina, but also the steps the Canon would take to get her out, and by offering himself as their investigator had now ensured that they would not be taken. By the time Copely Syle discovered that his visitor had been an impostor it would be too late for him to make the arrangements necessary to secure Christina's release from prison during the night of the 5th, and if she remained there until the 6th it would then be too late for him to get her back to England on her birthday. More, by his skilful winning of the Black Magician's confidence, C. B. had become privy to the foul and terrible operations in which he was engaged, and had a good prospect of being able to render them abortive.

  As he looked again at the row of huge tea cosies he was tempted to smash the jars, and so end the horrid,, unnatural life that squirmed and grimaced within them. But to have done so would have jeopardized his chances of saving Christina, and, by disclosing to their evil creator that he had been discovered, enable him to escape retribution. Feeling that he had the situation well in hand, and now had only to maintain his imposture a little longer in order to clean up the whole revolting business in a satisfactory manner, C. B. quickly decided against precipitate action, and once more began to glance about him.

  Now that he was alone his attention was again caught by the shuffling, squeaks and low whining that came from the other side of the crypt. Walking round the big tables, he crossed to the aisle in which stood the row of coops and cages. Behind the pillars the light was dim, but when he got to within a few feet of them he could see that each contained an animal, bird or reptile. There were black cocks and white hens, bats, toads and doves, evidently for use as sacrifices. Then he suddenly became conscious of a new horror.

  The birds and reptiles were free, but the animals were not. All of them were crouching or lying in unnatural positions with their limbs pinioned. There were dogs, cats, rabbits, a badger, a mongoose and four monkeys: all were alive, but all had had some operation performed upon them. Many had had their genitals removed, some had had legs amputated, others lacked eyes or had had their claws cut out. From the bandages of several of them small bottles and test tubes protruded, into which was draining the fluid from their wounds.

  At this heart rending and nauseating sight C. B. was filled with a furious rage. Again the impulse came to him to take immediate action and put these miserable little creatures out of their agony. But again he fought down his personal feelings from the realisation of how much was at stake and must be forfeited if he disclosed his hand prematurely.

  How many minutes he stood staring with a sick feeling at these small martyrs to Evil he could not have said, but a slight sound behind him caused him to swing round. Unheard and unseen by him, the Canon had re entered the crypt and was standing in his rear beside the nearest pillar.

  Still the picture of a benign er
udite prelate of another

  age, Copely Syle was smiling as he said, `I see that you are interested in my pets?'

  In spite of his age and silver hair, C. B. itched to pound his smooth face into a jelly; but he stuffed his hands deep into his trousers pockets, and twisted his lips into a semblance of a grin, as the Canon went on blandly

  `They are indispensable to my work. Ample quantities of gland secretions are an essential in the production of homunculi. It is regrettable that I should have had to make do with animals, and it is that, of course, which accounts for the ill proportioned lumpishness of my creations. Had I had human beings at my disposal I could have produced men and women fair of face and shapely in form. But the day will come. Oh yes, the day will come when having seen my prototype the people for whom it has been designed will readily supply me with more suitable materials.'

  Carefully controlling his voice, C. B. said, `I take it you refer to the people in the Kremlin?'

  The Canon nodded. `Who else? For is it not into their hands that the Lord Satan has placed the greatest power to serve him? I have no doubt whatever that they will be most interested when I submit my masterpiece to them.'

  For a moment he stood there, his pale eyes glowing with a fanatic light. Then they dimmed a little and he said with a swift change of manner, `But now that I have shown you my great secret we have no more to do here for the moment. It is still pouring with rain, and I do not know what arrangements you have made. If you prefer not to face the elements, I should be happy to offer you a bed here for the night.'