by Z. M. Wilmot
Chapter Eight
As the professor had expected, Henry Devalier was awake when he returned home, and was none too happy. Reinhouer was beset the instant he stepped inside the door. “You slipped something in my drink last night! What were you trying to accomplish?” The professor waited until after he shut and locked the door before turning to face the furious young man.
“I wanted to find something for myself before coming here, and did not want you to wake before I returned.”
“And what, pray tell, was it that you were researching?”
Reinhouer smiled coldly in response. “Your family history. You have some explaining to do, young man.”
“I told you all that I know about my family history, professor.” Henry spat the last word.
“Do not lie to me, Henry.” Reinhouer walked forward, only to find the way blocked by Devalier, who now looked lost and confused, as well as angry.
The professor pushed Henry forward, surprising the young man with his considerable strength. Devalier fell upon the floor, and Siegfried put his boot upon the younger man’s chest. As Henry struggled to get up, the professor put pressure on Henry, who was forced to surrender his efforts, gasping for breath. Reinhouer removed the boot. “I do not believe you so far gone as to be irredeemable – but you owe me an explanation.” He offered his hand to the downed and shaken young man, who hesitantly accepted it and got to his feet. The professor escorted Henry to the sofa, where he sat him down upon one of the few remaining cushions. Reinhouer remained standing, asserting his superiority over Henry, and making sure that the young man knew who was in charge.
“There is a room in your house, Henry R. Devalier, that I know you have entered – on the far side of your foyer, hidden behind two large mahogany doors.” Siegfried obtained a small amount of satisfaction from watching the man’s face pale. The professor waited a second longer for the anger to come.
And it did, indeed, come. “What were you doing sneaking around my house? What gave you the right? I trusted you!”
“And I did not trust you,” Reinhouer responded softly. “You came to me completely out of the blue, Henry Devalier. I had never heard your name before, and an instant after you introduced yourself you were offering me one and a half million dollars – a gesture which I do appreciate much still. And then you were in my house. I am a cautious man, Devalier, and you did gain more trust from me than I would normally give, as you seemed a respectable man of standing. But I cannot act on first impressions alone, and when I saw those doors, a terrible curiosity compelled me to open them. I recognized your handwriting upon the central desk, copying down mystical formulae. Did you believe that magic would save you?”
“It very well might,” said Henry indignantly. “I need to keep all of my avenues open!”
“Then it would have been better for you to take some of the titles from the archival room instead of those silly bits of nonsense you requested from me. But, it seems, you did not trust me enough to reveal to me what was in that room.” Reinhouer smiled cynically down at Henry. “Perhaps you should look into getting a separate key for that room – one that is not the same as that of the front door.” Henry glowered at the professor.
“But it is the results of my investigation that you have to explain.” Reinhouer leaned forward, staring intently at the young man before him. “Did you know what Charles Henry Devalier was?”
“He was a simple farmer, like most of the men in the village in which he lived,” responded Henry instantly.
“What,” Reinhouer enunciated carefully, “did I tell you about lying to me?”
Henry’s face displayed such a unique mix of emotions; fear, anger, paranoia, sadness, regret, and… relief. “He was an alchemist. A very well-regarded one, and a man high in standing in the village from which he came.”
Reinhouer nodded and relented slightly, giving the man more space. “That is much better. Do you know what he did?” Henry began to shake his head, but stopped himself and instead nodded shortly. “And how much do you know of what he did?”
Devalier took a breath. “He worked primarily as a healer in his village, creating medicines and healing draughts, though he also created weaponry for the citizenry to use – muskets, gunpowder, and other explosive devices... things as would help them keep the Indians out and away. He carried out his own research as well, which you might have found when you went rifling through my family’s private documents.” There was only a hint of accusation in the young man’s voice now.
“But you are not, I think, referring to that. As I am sure you have discovered, he made some kind of deal with a Daemon, which after talking to you, I suspect was in truth a being from the Parallax.” Reinhouer nodded, and Henry continued. “It seems as if there was a one of these ‘bridges’ at Gorey’s Hollow – one of the places that you speak about where ‘supernatural’ events occur – and he saw there his ‘Daemon.’ Some sort of conversation must have ensued – though how the thing knew English is beyond me – and he made a deal with the thing. It was written down and signed on a piece of material that closely resembles-”
“Human flesh,” Reinhouer continued quietly, and drew forth from his pocket the document that he had carried for the past two days. He dropped it onto Henry’s lap, and the young man recoiled from it. “And written in human blood. I take it you found this document yourself, hidden in the archive?”
Henry nodded, eyeing the thing fearfully. “It was in a concealed drawer under the desk. In my great-grandfather’s last written statement, he sent me a message in a family code, telling me to look there for the source of our curse. I found it, though how this deal was the source of our curse I do not understand…”
“I think I do well enough,” Reinhouer said softly. “Answer me honestly, young Devalier; did you ever search the rest of the archives for hidden documents?”
Henry shook his head slowly. “I did not think to… shall I take it that you then did?”
“That I did. And I found, hidden under a false shelf containing a secret compartment, a series of logs written by your ancestor, Charles Henry Devalier.” Henry’s eyes widened, and he immediately enquired as to their contents.
“It was incomplete, and I fear that pages were missing, but what I read was enough for me. The man did not die the die after visiting the Daemon; that part of your inherited family knowledge is false. He lived for much longer after his first meeting with it, using the being from the Parallax to his own selfish ends. He would give the being targets - people he disliked or were being troublesome - and when said target ventured too near a bridge between our worlds, Charles’ daemon would take their life.” Henry grew even more pale.
Reinhouer continued speaking, though now set off in a different direction. “I am sure that you learned the basic nature of the bargain from the document: Charles was to obtain an elixir of eternal life from the being, provided he supplied said being with the materials himself, and gifted him with several other things, primarily gold, diamonds, and platinum.”
Devalier’s face became ashen. “Diamonds and gold… but that means…”
Reinhouer finished the young man's sentence. “That your great ancestor provided the being from the Parallax with the materials necessary to influence our dimension. Gold and diamonds are, in addition to being rather valuable items of luxury, the two materials in the world, in addition to platinum, which have the greatest resonance in both realities; they are the items most attuned to the vibrations and stimuli from the Parallax, as I explained before. They also are best able to provide the beings from the Parallax with the power to step more freely into our reality, and do what they will.”
“My god…” Henry sank back into the sofa, no longer heeding the cursed document in front of him.
“If there is one, we will need all of his help.”
“Why is that?”
“Two reasons, the first being related to an event detailed in the last pages of your ancestor’s log. There was a time when the being was able to massacre
almost half of the town’s populace, and roamed free wreaking havoc, unbound by the location of the bridges.”
Henry sat up straight, causing the document on his lap to fall to the floor. “What?” he asked, pure panic in his eyes.
“There is,” Reinhouer continued, “another material which resonates greatly in the Parallax, though not here. Human blood.” Henry was staring now at Reinhouer, paying him the utmost attention. “If what was described truly happened, then the being obtained a large quantity of human blood that day, and with that blood, may have become strong enough to break through the walls between our dimensions at any time.
“The second reason is that in three days time the waxing crescent will be upon us.”