by P. W. Child
The
Library
of
Forbidden Books
Order of the Black Sun - Book 8
by
P.W. Child
© Copyright 2015 Heiken Marketing
Chapter 1
History has delivered many prophets, many leaders, and misinformed messiahs. They all congregated around the philosophies and dogmas of ancient and modern civilization alike, but by eons of translation and world events they all became lost in antique history, the phantoms of old prophecies, the fathers of desolate doctrine. No more prevalent was it than throughout the past two centuries, when fanatical organizations rose to power and fell just as quickly to the rise of others. But some did not fall. They merely went into deliberate obscurity to commit to their practices in, well, not exactly peace, but unperturbed by any interference.
The Order of the Black Sun was once secret, but now it had become involved in so many aspects of modern propaganda for the promotion of those in search of world domination that it was treading dangerously close to discovery. Too many people have had a brush with the contemporary Nazi society and its relentless pursuit of holy relics to serve its occult devices. It was time, the order decided, to disappear from the world of daylight . . . for now.
It had been some time since Nina walked the halls of the University of Edinburgh.
Now, as she strolled along George Square to attend an invitational lecture by a prominent new wave maker, she could not help but reminisce about her miserable past as a fellow in the history department. Her desperate attempts at tenure and the consistent sexist torment of her superior, Professor Matlock, was all too vivid in her mind as she stopped for a quick fag before entering the premises. It was early evening in Edinburgh, on the brink of autumn.
Nina lit her cigarette and sucked in the soothing poison to calm her nerves a little before having to face some of the faculty she had abandoned a few years ago after she was so rudely done in. She did not look forward to seeing them again—the backstabbing academic snobs who only cared about bribing their benefactors for name and status.
With everything she had experienced, everything she had survived in the past few years, she could not help but view herself as a higher contributor to history than any of them would ever be. Dr. Nina Gould had lived through what most of her former peers only read about and argued in speculation as to its validity. How many times had she been captured by people said not to even exist on the radar of the modern establishment? How many times had she escaped certain death in the nick of time or discovered magnificent secrets to be true, yet had to subdue her ambition for the sake of her safety and the safety of those near her.
Her dark eyes combed the grounds of the university where she used to spend most of the hours in her days, only to get ahead in her avenue of history. Not only did she specialize in German history, but she had written countless theses on various aspects of the propaganda and progress of political studies pertaining to the influence of Germany in the Second World War.
All this went unnoticed, apparently, because of the careful and swift action of her academic nemesis, Matlock. Thanks to him she never got the credit that was due to her and now here she stood smoking it up outside the gates where she had been cheated.
It was not a pleasant reunion.
Nina pulled up her collar to avert the cold wind from grazing her neck and sucked up the last of her cigarette before flicking it carelessly into the nearby garden soil. Dressed in a tapered double-breasted coat and heeled leather boots, Nina looked like a pretty Russian border soldier. She pulled her knit hat down over her dark hair and proceeded to the main entrance where the other patrons were arriving.
Nobody recognized her, which was a relief, and she made her way up the stairs toward the main auditorium to find her seat almost last of all the attendants. That way Nina made sure she did not end up sitting next to anyone she did not want to see in her next five lifetimes.
The hall was already full of people when she came in from one of the back entrances. Fortunately the last few rows were void of audience, so she picked her own secluded spot in the shadows.
Nina only came because a friend of hers at the Berlin Institute of Germanic and Romance Studies asked her to attend, but she had no idea what the lecture was about, really. Apart from the presentation being that of one Dr. Richard Philips, a rogue scientist and historian from the United States, her friend said little else about the nature of the lecture or why she thought Nina should attend.
Gretchen Lucas, now known as Professor Gretchen Mueller, was a former roommate of Nina’s. They had attended the University of York together where Nina was working on her bachelor of arts degree in history.
Throughout the first years at the University of Edinburgh, Nina kept in constant contact with Gretchen, but as her life started to plummet into the perilous and clandestine world of the Black Sun, Nina started to distance herself more and more from all those she did not want to get involved. After her last misadventure, courtesy of the Nazi cult, Nina promised herself that she was going to start a new life, a safe and normal life away from all the darkness.
For several months she had been back home in Edinburgh, but her decision to sever all ties with the organization and its accomplices had her chasing after something different. It was time to make a clean break, she figured, and there would be no better place to end up than where she started—Oban.
Her hometown beckoned, and she had engaged several estate agencies in the past three months to find her the perfect property to purchase. Of course, being a passionate historian, Nina selected all the old historically rich homes in the small town she once knew like the back of her hand. Now it had changed somewhat, but there was something to be said for one’s birthplace and initial nests of childhood. The familiarity never left her, even though most of her bearings did, when she briefly visited to establish business with the local estate agents in Oban’s newer sections.
She looked forward to moving into her new home, away from the city and its rushed life. Besides, she was now a celebrated researcher and freelance consultant and had no need to remain in the larger academic capital of Scotland anymore. Nina longed for peace and quiet and there was no better place for it than Oban. This one last address was to be her final venture into the grounds of the massive structure she used to frequent, at least for the next few years. She obliged Gretchen’s request in what she construed as personal guilt for her sudden and lengthy absence from their friendship.
While the hall was being filled by the last odds and ends of attendees, Nina saw a most peculiar man staring at her from the other side of the aisle, two rows in front of hers. Without reservation he turned his torso to look at her. There was no-one around Nina, so there was no way she could have misinterpreted his glare. The petite brunette narrowed her eyes at him, engaging him in a juvenile staring contest. Fearless as she was, and indifferent to the opinions of others more than ever, Nina tried to unnerve him with her attention.
In no way did it deter him, which in turn unsettled her somewhat.
In the murmur of the waiting audience she noted his features, just in case she would need to tell him apart from the other creeps she would no doubt run into this night. Like a proper Scottish old gentleman he was well dressed in a brown tweed suit and had removed his fedora and placed it on his lap.
He was bald with slitty eyes and a mouth that looked like a knife wound. His nose was large and troll-like over his clean-shaven upper lip, and his ears were equally reminiscent of an age-old imp. Briefly, he turned to look at another man a few rows from him and Nina
perceived a strange thick scar running from the edge of his collar upward onto his head, stopping in a jagged pink tip halfway up his skull’s curvature. The sight of it made her wince inadvertently before she followed the direction of his stare and found that the man he was looking at now also watched her. Then the old gentleman turned to face Nina again, with no indication of a reason why she was the object of their interest. It made her very uncomfortable. For a moment Nina felt that old feeling of foreboding, just as she always did when in the presence of an agent of ill will sent by some rival society.
The lights dimmed and both men turned to face the stage.
A dean she had never seen before appeared in the spotlight and announced the guest.
“Ladies and gentlemen, it is indeed an honor for the University of Edinburgh to host the main lecture of renowned American parapsychologist, historian, and philosopher, Dr. Richard Phillips, gracing our Scottish shores all the way from Connecticut,” the impeccably dressed man said, as his perspiring face glinted in the light. “I am sure we are all very excited to be enlightened this evening, to probe the underlying consciousness of science, still a subject of great debate on the academic front.”
Nina watched the old man and his colleague intently, considering leaving the auditorium to evade them. She did not care if she felt paranoid in thinking thus. It was better to avoid trouble than to brave the unknown intentions of what could be those kind of people again.
Briskly she rose from her seat with such stealth that she seemed no more than a shadow while the applause filled the hall. Keeping her eye on the EXIT sign, Nina crept quickly along the row of seats and made her escape.
Outside the weather was unruly and she had to pull her coat collar up as she stepped out from the main doors of the auditorium. In the reflection of the glass doors she could discern a figure on her trail, but she was not ready to find out if the person was following her or just happened to be there. Nina elected to use the smaller side gate next to the building to hail a taxi, hoping that there was one readily available. The streets were alive with passing traffic and sharp headlights blinded the small brunette as she left the university premises, the wind whipping the lengthy curls of her hair. Now and then she cast a glance back to see if she was being followed, a habit she had cultivated through the last few years.
A big silver SUV stopped in front of her and the door clicked open slightly. From inside she heard a woman’s voice, “Nina! Get in.”
Nina was amazed to see Gretchen’s face, beaming with delight at seeing her. She had no idea how happy Nina was to see her as well.
“What the hell are you doing in Edinburgh?” Nina asked her, astonished at seeing her old friend.
“I came to visit you while taking in Dr. Phillips’ lecture, you idiot. Why else would I come to this hotbed of ancient rot that held no fond memories? The things I do to see you,” she sighed, her playful manner still the same as it was all those years ago.
“Then why aren’t you in the auditorium?” Nina asked.
“I was, but I saw you leave,” Gretchen said. “Fancy a drink?”
Chapter 2
As they drove up Johnston Terrace toward Nina’s suggested pub, there was a network of memories and events exchanged between the two women in the car. Nina listened as Gretchen told her of her fairytale marriage that ended in dire heartbreak at the death of her husband in a construction accident in Italy. She had been teaching at several colleges and universities all over Europe, but the warmth of the Mediterranean countries appealed most to her. It was odd for Nina to hear, since she remembered that Gretchen was a skiing champion and could never wait for the German winter so that she could go hunting with her father and his brothers in the Schwarzwald and gallivant in the snow-flanked rivers of southwest Germany.
Nina was selective about what she shared about her past excursions, but since they were comparing romantic conquests and relationships she had no choice but to introduce Dave Purdue and Sam Cleave.
“Oh, I know them,” Gretchen smiled, and then laughed heartily at Nina’s perplexed frown. “Not like that, silly! It’s not my fault you surround yourself with celebrities.”
Nina realized that both her former lovers were in fact famous in certain circles. Of course, Gretchen being an academic she would have heard of Dave Purdue, the playboy billionaire inventor and explorer who launched many expeditions to find legendary locations that were considered myths.
And naturally, a wider spectrum of people knew Sam Cleave, the Pulitzer-winning investigative journalist who lost his fiancée to a well-placed bullet when the two of them exposed a dangerous international arms ring that Nina’s own fiancé at the time was involved in.
“But now you are alone?” Gretchen asked, once they both sat down in the rowdy pub for some dinner and drinks.
“Blissfully,” Nina said indifferently, looking around the establishment, driven by that same habit of surveying her environment.
“How so? We all want to be with someone,” Gretchen said sincerely, reading through the menu. Nina noticed that she had aged quite a bit, but still retained her soft features. Her slightly kinky hair flopped over her shoulders and in the yellow light from the ceiling it went from gold to its natural reddish copper color. She still had that mousy face, pointy chin, and those freckles that she so carefully concealed with plastered base that just made her look plastic.
But Nina could never tell her that she looked painted, even though Gretchen was perfectly beautiful without any make-up. The lines on her face attested to a harsh emotional blow or two in her past, but her age did not show as unkindly as she might have thought.
“I thought I wanted to be with someone,” Nina admitted. “And at times I was greedy and wanted them both, but now that I am not that emotionally dependent, now that I am exhausted by the dangers of what we do, I just want to be alone for a while.”
“Geez, what did they do to you? I mean, Nina Gould was never Miss Romantic or anything, but you seem downright cynical now,” her friend observed honestly.
Nina smiled warmly. It was so good to have female company again, something she never thought she would crave, and Gretchen was the best kind of female. She was dead honest without being insulting or judgmental and she was a truly wise old soul who always applied her knowledge to her emotions to get an even result to act from.
“I’ll thaw again,” Nina winked, “just not soon. I bought a house in Oban!”
Gretchen was surprised at the sudden jump in subject and mood, but the news was very interesting and uplifting so she entertained it instantly.
“No way! In your old stomping grounds!” she exclaimed excitedly. When the two women were roommates she always wanted to see Nina’s hometown. From the pictures on her walls it looked like postcard-picture perfection, Gretchen recalled.
“Aye,” Nina nodded.
“When are you moving in?” she asked with a beaming grin as she received her steak dinner from the waiter.
“Next week,” Nina answered. “I just have to go and sign the transfer papers at the agency office.”
“Is it a cottage on the shoreline? You know, I’ve heard some fishermen in small towns are quite fetching,” Gretchen jested.
“Nope. It’s in a normal street with other normal houses, but it is an older home. Apparently it is much older than the others in the neighborhood. But that is what I want, Gretch. I want to . . . ” Nina sighed at her own absurdity, “go back in time. I want to hide in a space that comes from the old times. Being a historian, loving the past, I feel it to be an honor to live in a structure that lived then, that saw the events I can only read about and study in books. Imagine being in the same space as . . . as . . . Julius Caesar, as Attila the Hun, to walk where Christ walked. That is why I wanted this house.”
“Is it that old?” Gretchen frowned. She seemed intrigued and abandoned her food to Nina’s words.
“No,” Nina sighed and smiled, “of course not that old, but when I was a little girl it was already there.
I remember being in awe of the old place and now I get to live in it!”
“I think that is very cool. I’d love to see the place,” Gretchen said. “To see you in a house would be odd, though. You are such a typical posh-apartment-for-young-professionals type.”
“Take a good look, honey,” Nina replied. “There is not much young or professional left in me.”
“Oh, bollocks!” her friend retorted. “Your beauty only matured. Let’s just say your looks now match that mean fucking temper of yours.”
Again, Gretchen’s honesty was refreshing after all the lies Purdue and Cleave had fed her so many times. Nina was finally happy.
Chapter 3
“I’m very unhappy!” Sam shouted. “Is there nothing you can do to save him?”
Bruichladdich looked terrible. He was not young anymore, Sam knew that, but he was nowhere near his expiry date.
“Bruich, I’m going to do whatever I can to save you,” Sam promised his beloved pet, waiting for that know-it-all meow Bruich always answered him with. But Sam waited in vain. Bruich had no energy and could barely lift his head at Sam’s affectionate fingertips. “When will you get the test results back?” Sam asked the veterinary nurse.
“By tomorrow afternoon, Mr. Cleave,” she replied. “I promise we’ll call you as soon as we get the results. Don’t worry; we’ll take good care of him here tonight. And once we know the nature of the infection, we’ll be able correctly handle the problem.”
Sam shook his head in disappointment and concern.
“Go on,” she said reassuringly. “Go home and relax. Let us take care of it, all right?”
“Aye,” he said finally. “Thanks.”
Outside his hands were shaking so much Sam could not pull the cigarette from the packet quick enough. Like a desperate addict he lit the tobacco and sucked hard, breathing it in deeply. He felt the wonderful venom fill his lungs as his dark brown eyes stared out into space. If he had to lose Bruich it would devastate him.