Ordo Lupus and the Temple Gate - Second Edition: An Ex Secret Agent Paranormal Investigator Thriller (Ordo Lupus and the Blood Moon Prophecy Book 2)

by Lazlo Ferran

  “Ayshea! Are you alright?”

  “Merde! How stupid I am!” Then she laughed the most shrill laugh of all those that I had heard from her. I scooped her up, and helped her onto one of the chairs. “I suppose I am a little bit tired,” she said.

  The branch outside was hammering on the window now, the wind beginning to howl. In pulses between the sound of the wind, I could hear rain lashing down.

  Tired, I was just drifting off when I heard Ayshea’s little voice. “You know you are a wolf-angel?”

  I was alert again and I smiled at her. “I’m not sure about that but it’s time to use that tape-recorder. Will you help me?”

  “Of course.”

  I took the small box out of the carrier-bag and unpacked the mini cassette recorder. It was a dictating cassette recorder with a built in microphone and I had bought batteries and ten microcassette tapes too. I loaded the batteries and one of the tiny cassettes, and did a quick test recording. I played it back and listened to my voice which sounded muffled. I moved closer to the cassette recorder, pressed record and said, “Tape one. Ayshea, I am going to tell the whole tale, as best I can and I want you to stop me if I am unclear and ask questions. Is that okay?”

  “Okay.”

  I recorded for nearly five hours, switching to new tapes at appropriate points in the story, and labeling them. When it was done I had eight recorded tapes. It was close to dawn.

  “Ayshea. Look after these tapes okay? If anything happens to me, I would like the tapes to be given to Rose and published too, if possible. Here is Paul’s number.” I wrote it down on a scrap of paper. “He will get a copy to Rose and might be able to help with publishing.” I loaded a blank cassette into the recorder and put it in my jacket pocket.

  “Okay. I will. Now you need to get some sleep at least.”

  While she lay on the bed, I pushed two chairs together and curled up on them, falling sleep almost immediately.

  I woke up wondering about her comment about me being a wolf-angel. My dreams and waking thoughts had been a sea of doubts, and vague images of things half-forgotten, half-imagined. Could it be that I was some kind of spiritual warrior or something? It seemed too ludicrous and I kept dismissing it with a smile. But the thought would still be there, lingering.

  ***

  I wasn’t uncomfortable on the two chairs but I was restless. I couldn’t get back to sleep after waking hours later and Ayshea’s light but steady breathing seemed to mark out time, so that I was too conscious of its passing. I quietly picked up my bag and went into the bathroom, switched on the light, and closed the door. Unzipping the bag I rummaged for my shaver and took it out. I put in two new batteries I had bought in Paris, but I wasn’t hopeful that it would work. It buzzed into life, bringing a smile to my face.

  At last, some luck.

  I spent a happy half hour washing and generally repairing the damage of the last few days, until I found myself staring intently at my own image in the mirror; my mostly grey hair, outlining a rough, craggy face. I didn’t even notice the difference in colour of my two eyes any more, at least I didn’t notice that it was unusual. Beauvais means ‘handsome face’, I remembered Ayshea telling me. This thought went around and around in my mind, but I could only see the face of a troubled man. I knew what I might have to do that day, as at times during the War; conviction, absolute and utter conviction that I had to do something, made thoughts, fear of death, shrink to almost nothing. Of course I didn’t know exactly what I would have to do that day, but I thought, almost hoped, that it would involve a fight with the Serpent; he or it, who had been stalking me for the last month, and perhaps for years.

  “Are you finished in there Monsieur?” called Ayshea from just outside the door.

  “Almost. Be out in five minutes.”

  Later, she ordered breakfast in her room, enough for what must have seemed like a very large woman. Two rounds of everything and a large plate of bacon, eggs, fried bread, tomatoes and mushrooms.

  “Eat it all,” she said. “I only want a slice of toast. I am not hungry.” She watched me eat my way through just about everything on the tray. “What is the plan today?” she asked.

  “To get into the Cathedral and somehow find this crypt. Then after that, I don’t know. I suspect the Serpent will find me.”

  “And you think it will be difficult to get in?”

  “Well yes. The Gendarmes will probably be there and Pastor Michel.”

  “Pastor Michel? Who is he?”

  “Ah. You haven’t met Pastor Michel yet?”

  “No.”

  “He seems to be the main agent on my case from the Concilium Putus Visum. He chased Georgina and I in Paris. I would only know his face from an old photo.”

  “Oh.”

  “Ayshea. I need to make a quick call. I wrote the number down. Can you get reception and ask to be put through?”

  “Okay.”

  When she was put through, she passed the telephone to me, and I heard my lifelong friend Paul’s familiar voice.

  “Hello.”

  “Paul. It’s only me. Just a quick call.”

  “Where the deviL are you? Rose is going out of her mind!”

  “Oh really? Well. I can’t tell you actually but I am not in Paris.”

  “You really have to hand yourself in old boy. It’s no joke anymore.”

  “Yes.” I knew I sounded vague.

  “Listen. Remember in Sofia during the War when I called and we knew three was a crowd?”

  “Oh yes.” I paused to think. “Lovely girl.”

  “Well I heard from her again just now.”

  “Oh. Well, just before I go, have you heard anything from Cosette?”

  “No. Not a thing.”

  “Oh. Alright. Bye then.”

  “Cheerio.”

  “We have to leave now,” I told Ayshea. “His telephone was bugged. It’s possible the Gendarmes will be on their way here now.”

  It was 8.30 am. I took a few items from the bag, and stuffed them in thE pocket of my jacket, putting it over my shirt to keep me warm. It was quite a cool day for August, with the wind still rustling leaves around the window, as I climbed out. “Meet you near the car in half an hour,” I told her. I had parked the car well away from the hotel, nearer to the Cathedral.

  When I reached the car, I waited on a street corner nearby, for only a minute. Two Gendarmes were guarding the Beetle, and what looked like some plain-clothed police, were casually leaning against walls or smoking or reading magazines at other places along the street. I retraced my steps and waited on a corner of the street I hoped Ayshea would come down, well away from the car.

  “What is wrong?” she asked, when she arrived.

  “Gendarmes watching the car. Let’s go.”

  We soon reached a small open space, smaller than a park, near to the Cathedral. I couldn’t see any plain-clothes, or uniformed police, anywhere. I sat Ayshea on a bench. “Listen Ayshea. Things are getting really hot here. I have the Gendarmes after, me, the Concilium Putus Visum, and a snake. As I told you, I am a suspect for murder, and it’s entirely possible somebody might shoot at me when I get to the Cathedral. I can’t take you with me. It’s just too dangerous.”

  “But that’s not fair!” She stood up suddenly and faced me, with that imperious look I had seen in the library. “You drag me away from Paris, bring me here, and make me stay in a hotel for a night, with a complete stranger, and run away from the Gendarmes, and now you want to just leave me? Huh! No.” The ‘no’ was adamant.

  I had to admit to myself, it was going to be really hard to get in to the Cathedral. “Okay. You can help me get in, but when I say you must go, you must listen to me. Is that a deal?”

  “Hm.” She didn’t sound happy, but I took that as a ‘yes’.

  “Okay. Let’s go.” I glanced up at the sky. Storm clouds were gathering in a weird cyclonic swirl, which seemed centred on Beauvais.

  The Cathedral was in the shape of a cross but ve
ry truncated, with the upper stem very shortened. The choir, or long stem, was very wide, with the apse, the dome shape over the altar at the end of the long stem, also very wide, giving the whole Cathedral more of the plan-shape of a filled-in ‘U’. It had no tower. One had been built, of immense height, but had fallen on Ascension Day in the 16th Century, minutes after the congregation had left. Remarkably, nobody was killed. As a result, work on the Cathedral had been halted, with no tower being rebuilt.

  The main entrance was in the left of the two arms, or transept, of the cross shape, and consisted of two huge, carved wooden doors, atop a flight of stone steps. It had no plaza or wide open spaces around it, and the little houses crowded around the old lady’s skirts, as if listening to a winter’s tale. The contrast of size between the houses and Cathedral made it look even more imposing. It was a web of column upon column of flying buttresses, towers which rose to the roof, supporting its immense weight, pushing outwards.

  ***

  Author’s note: This marks the end of the story which was taken from the tapes. The rest of this tale is gleaned from several sources including an extensive interview with woman who is here represented by Ayshea Aikborne, a woman who has only recently come forward, making this story possible.

  Chapter Nine

  5:1, 1:2, lonely, time, alternatively, ventilated

  “Alone in the roof-space I am thinking about Rose’s note once again. I can tell too, that there is still, burning in her, a spark for me. What Paul had said to me the last time we spoke on the phone, comes back to me. “Rose is going out of her mind!” That doesn’t sound like a woman who has lost all feelings for me. That thought gives me strength. Perhaps there is hope for us after all, Perhaps, if I could find the Sword, prove that the beast had killed Annie, Rose, would believe me at last. I will look again for the Sword.”

  We crossed the wide open road in front of the cathedral, and walked around the side to the main entrance, which was opposite a narrow approach road. As we crossed the space, I felt something looking at me from high up on the Cathedral, perhaps on the roof. Instinctively I looked up. “Do you see anything, on the roof? Something is watching us. I think it’s the Serpent.”

  “I can’t see anything.”

  I looked up again and noticed something move near the top of the flying-buttress on the southern end of the Cathedral. I concentrated on the spot but my eyes wouldn’t focus. That area seemed blurred somehow. “Look near the top of the buttress.”

  “No. I can’t see anything.”

  We reached the steps and started up towards the doors. It was immediately apparent to me that the place was swarming with plain-clothed police. Every other person was single, male and looked completely disinterested in the building above them. I grabbed Ayshea’s elbow and steered her back down the stairs and across the road to the open space. “You have to go Ayshea. It’s no good. You could get shot. I have to get in there.”

  Her shoulders sank and she let out a little sigh. “Be careful then. Give me just one little kiss.” She reached up and gave me a chaste peck on the cheek.

  “Wait for me at the restaurant we went to last night.” At that point, she seemed very reluctant to leave, so I had to be firm. I gave her a little wave. “Bye.” I turned and headed back towards the edge of the open space. I looked behind me and Ayshea was just disappearing from view, around the corner of a building.

  I let out a sigh of relief and stopped to consider what to do next. I had no idea how I was going to get into Beauvais Cathedral. After about ten minutes, watching the movements of the plain-clothes I could see, the only thing I could think of was to pretend to be a guide, and attach myself to a group as they approached the steps. I saw a likely-looking group and made my way across the road, trying to look very formal. I wished I had a clipboard in my hands.

  “Bonjour mesdames et messieurs. Si vous visitez notre belle cathédrale aujourd’hui, vous aiment un guide? Pour un prix raisonnable je peux vous dire tout au sujet de l’histoire de cette cathédrale gothique du 13ème siècle.” I laid it on thick about value for money and my expert knowledge, in my poor French, but they weren’t impressed. Apart from one matriarch with a blue rinse who eyed me appreciatively, they all looked at me as if I was a cheap vacuum-cleaner salesman. They turned and continued up the steps leaving me alone. In a crowd of clusters of people and single men, I was the only single man who wasn’t a Gendarmes. A bead of sweat formed on my forehead, as I looked for any other groups that I could try. There were none. I felt my throat tightening when a young, well-dressed, but formal looking guy approached me.

  This is it.

  “Don’t turn around. Just follow me,” spoke a familiar voice behind me. I felt a hand on my shoulder and I followed her up the stairs, trying to look as relaxed as possible, and ignoring the man who had stopped, and was looking at us both suspiciously.

  Ayshea led me back around the corner of the building to the side we had approached from, and I noticed she had a straw-hat on.

  “I’m glad you are here. That was getting a little hairy. What’s is the hat for?” I said.

  “Disguise. Here try this.”

  From, a carrier-bag, she handed me a long curly, brown wig, and I didn’t hesitate. Nobody appeared to be looking, so I turned towards the wall and put it on.

  “Try these too.” She handed me a pair of thick, black-rimmed glasses, and I willingly put them on. “Where did you find them?”

  “A second-hand stall in the market.”

  “Let’s go.”

  I followed her and we breezed past all the Gendarmes, and into the Cathedral as if we were any normal couple going into a Cathedral. A Gendarme in the doorway even smiled at us.

  “We’re in!” I resisted the urge to laugh at our success.

  “Yes. Thanks to me!”

  “I know. Thanks baby.” I squeezed her arm.

  “Baby?”

  I didn’t reply. A service was in progress, and the great organ pipes boomed in the vast space that stretched out before, and above us. We turned right into the great nave of the Cathedral. The black and white, checkered tiles, seemed to make the vast hall shimmer, in and out of focus, in a way that accentuated the height and made me dizzy.

  “Wow! Look at that.” Ayshea looked up at the vaulted ceiling way above us and laughed. “Did you know it’s the highest vaulted ceiling of any Cathedral anywhere in Europe?”

  “Yes. You told me. It’s pretty impressive.”

  “Oh, you Engleesh. You are so... so... controlled!” Her French accent showed when she was excited or amused.

  I had to admit, the vaulted ceiling was more than impressive. It was mind-boggling, and stomach-churning.

  “Let’s find the crypt,” I said.

  “Umm. Over there I think,” said Ayshea pointing to where a set of wide, well-worn stone steps led down. There were other people following their curiosity down to the basement, along with the usual plain-clothes, and Ayshea said we looked inconspicuous, although I felt that I must stick out like a sore thumb, with the long curly brown hair.

  “Relax. Nobody is looking at you.” We hunted around, not really quite knowing what we were looking for. I even lifted a few of the long, heavy red drapes aside in some of the alcoves but there was only bare 13th Century stonework behind. Then I found myself tapping one of the masonry blocks. “Mad,” I said to myself. It was solid stone.

  Then we found ourselves circling around a large bronze tomb near the very back of the crypt.

  It must be from the very earliest years of the Cathedral.

  Gradually we both realised the significance of it. As if out of a trance and suddenly awake, we both exclaimed at once.

  “Look!” Ayshea said.

  “Wolves!” I said.

  Around the corners of the base of the large bronze tomb, which was itself about ten feet high, perhaps twelve long, and four wide, were four wolf-men statues. Like satyrs and at first, you would have mistaken them for such, it was only when you looked closely t
hat you could see, behind the horn drinking cups which they held to their lips, that they were wolf-men. Not only that, but they were attached to the tomb itself by what I could then see were highly stylised wings. At their tips, these became part of the decoration of the tomb. We eagerly sought the name of whoever was interred. A Knight perhaps? Finally we found a name but it was not one either of us was familiar with. ‘Guillaume de Grez, died 1293’. We looked all around the tomb, but nothing more was said of him.

  “Hm. Well I wonder who he was” I said. I noticed a face out of the corner of my eye in the crowd. It was strangely familiar. At first I couldn’t place it and then I guessed who it must be. Yes, older, but undoubtedly that face from the old grainy photo was staring at me. It was Pastor Michel. He was looking at me. For the briefest of moments our eyes locked and then he looked away. I didn’t say anything to Ayshea.

  “I don’t know. We could ask.” she said.

  “What? Oh, let’s look some more.” We continued our search, and I found myself trying the handle of a door, hidden in an alcove, but it was locked. Slightly frustrated, we decided to find somebody to ask about the tomb. It seemed that nobody who worked in the Cathedral was in the crypt, so we ascended back up to the ground floor and walked through the great nave itself where the service was just concluding. A verger was standing dutifully at the end of the aisle, waiting to accept donations from the worshippers so we asked him about Guillaume de Grez.

  “Yes. He is a very important Bishop of Beauvais. A local man, he actually added nearly five metres to the height of the great vault,” he said reverentially, pointing to the space above us. Again we peered up to the mighty cream-coloured scallops of the vault, 48 metres above us.

  “Interesting,” I whispered to Ayshea as we walked away. “What do you think?”

  “Well yes. Interesting but where is the Crypt that we are looking for?”

  “I don’t know. It’s here somewhere. I can’t think.”

  “Let’s get a coffee.”