Paula saw no further point in arguing. He was adamant, and right now she had more pressing problems.
With a great effort, she said, “We need an exorcist. Urgently.”
“Exorzist? I am sorry, I do not know any…exorcists…but I can ask people.”
“Please, as quickly as you can.”
Paula put the phone down and pushed her coffee to one side. Dee drained her cup.
“He said he would help,” Paula said. “But he denies saying anything to Phil about a burglary. All of a sudden, I need something stronger. Much stronger.” She summoned a waiter and ordered them both a brandy.
* * * *
Paula’s cell rang.
“I have found someone to help you,” Stefan said.
She held her phone closer to her ear.
“Her name is Lena Stein. She speaks excellent English and she is, I don’t know in English, a spiritistische medium.”
“A medium? That sounds right. When can we meet her?”
“She says it is important to meet her at the house. The Villa Dürnstein. She says it must be where things happen.”
“I wish to God I didn’t have to go back to that place.”
“She is most adamant. It must be the house. The repairs are complete now and I restocked the kitchen with everything you should need, apart from fresh food of course.”
“And the door to the basement?”
“It has been replaced. I spoke to the family, told them what had happened and they were most concerned. A new door is now fixed. It is steel, on their instructions.”
Paula breathed an inward sigh of relief. Surely nothing would get through a steel door. So why couldn’t she fully believe it? And right now, that wasn’t the only thing troubling her. What the hell was going on with Dee? And what about all this talk of some ghostly friend from her past? Paula massaged her throbbing head.
* * * *
Dee and Paula arrived at the house and let themselves in through the front door. The smell of spring flowers greeted them and the reason for it soon presented itself. A massive bowl of freesias and an assortment of less familiar but wonderfully scented flowers accompanied them.
“There’s a card,” Dee said, and handed it to her sister.
Paula slipped it out of the envelope. “‘To welcome you back to your home. I trust all will be in order and thank you for your understanding. Stefan Bloch.’”
“That’s very nice of him,” Dee said.
“Yes,” said Paula, tapping her teeth with the card. “And unexpected, too.”
“Maybe his conscience is pricking him.”
“Maybe.” Paula shivered. The doorbell rang.
“That’ll be her,” Dee said.
“I’ll get it.” Paula was already at the door. She opened it and a woman of roughly her own age smiled at her from the doorstep.
“Frau Bancroft? I am Lena. Stefan told you I am coming, yes?”
“Yes, please come in, Frau Stein.”
“Please, call me Lena.”
“I’m Paula, and this is my sister, Dee.”
Dee stepped forward and stuck her hand out. Lena politely declined the contact. “I must not shake hands or touch anyone until after my work is complete.”
Paula and Dee exchanged glances out of her eyeline.
Lena had already started toward the library. “This I think is the right room.”
Paula caught up with her at the door. “Possibly, but the really frightening stuff kicked off in the kitchen and seemed to come from the basement.”
Lena turned her brilliant smile on her. “Later, perhaps. Now I think we start in here. I feel something quite powerful is in this room.”
As soon as Lena stepped into the library and caught sight of the ceiling, she hugged herself. Then she caught sight of the portrait on the wall. She approached it—and recoiled.
“What’s the matter? Is it the painting?”
Lena nodded. “It is powerful.”
“Gustav Klimt painted it,” Dee said. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”
“It is a vile thing. A cursed thing.” Lena crossed herself and backed away. She glanced swiftly up at the ceiling and hurriedly crossed herself again. She whispered under her breath and Paula guessed she was praying.
Lena clutched a plain gold crucifix she wore around her neck.
“Lena, can you help us?” Paula asked, aware of the pleading tone in her voice.
Lena turned frightened eyes toward them. “I… I don’t know. I try. You are right. Not in here. In the kitchen.”
She ran out of the room, still clutching the crucifix. She didn’t need pointing in the right direction, either. She made straight for the kitchen.
“What was that all about?” Paula asked Dee, who shrugged her shoulders.
In the kitchen, Lena poured herself a glass of water. Paula looked around. Stefan had done a good job. The room sparkled once again, and the new steel door didn’t look out of place among the gleaming chrome. It certainly appeared substantial enough. There were no padlocks this time, but a heavy-duty combination lock.
“I am sorry,” Lena said. “The force in that room is too powerful. I feel it pulling me. If I allow it, I think it might kill me. It wants to use me. I don’t know why. I will help you all I can but I must not go into that room and you must not also. My guide has warned me.”
“What sort of force?” Paula asked. “Is it the painting on the ceiling, or the one on the wall?”
“Both I think, but the smaller one. The one on the wall. That is the most powerful of all. It should not be there. It wants to be there, but it must be destroyed. If you can destroy it.”
“But it’s an original Klimt,” Dee said.
Lena flashed her an angry glance. “The painter hated that picture. It is not natural.”
“How do you know?” Paula asked.
“His hate is in every brushstroke. Hate. And fear.”
If she hadn’t been so serious, Paula might have found it absurd. Amusing, even. But Lena was serious. “I found it in the basement,” she said.
“I know,” Lena said. “That is where he is.”
A cloak of ice descended around Paula. Dee said nothing.
“Who is?” Paula asked, already guessing the answer.
Lena blinked steadily. “Emeryk Quintillus. He is alive.”
Chapter 17
“Alive?” Surely Paula had misunderstood. “But that’s impossible.”
Lena shook her head. “For most people, yes. For him, no. Achillas, my spirit guide, tells me. He is not like other men. He has walked in the darkness and shadows for many years. One life ends and another begins. He is alive but not as you or I. Someone helps him. Always there is someone who helps him. For a price.”
“You’ve lost me again,” Paula said. Dee still said nothing. Probably as baffled as she was.
“He has help from one who is to walk the earth. Without end. She searches for revenge. She thinks she gets it, and it slips through her fingers.”
“Who is she?”
“The sister of Cleopatra. Arsinoe.”
“And your spirit guide…Achillas? He’s told you all this?” Paula asked.
Lena nodded, looked up and spread her arms wide. “It is in this house. In the walls. Achillas is warning me to go now. I am not protected. No one is protected in this house. Tomorrow I will come back and I will bring what I can to help me. Until I can—if I can—remove this evil, you must not stay here. It is all I can do to protect you for now. I have great fear that it will not be enough. His evil is so strong and her power is great. She can leave this house. Perhaps he can, too. They can travel. I don’t know. I can only see what is in this house, and what I see is pure evil.”
“What is this price you said Arsinoe demands? Can Achillas tell you that?”
&nb
sp; Lena closed her eyes. She seemed to be listening. A slight nod, and she opened her eyes again. “She seeks revenge against the sister who killed her. Cleopatra’s spirit lies, with her lover, Mark Antony, near her. Close enough so she can feel his presence. It brings her peace. Arsinoe hates that. She wants her sister to suffer as she suffers. To walk endlessly through eternity, alone. Arsinoe… I don’t know the word…trösten.”
“Trust?”
Lena shook her head. “No, no. She feels bad and wants…” Lena mimicked hugging, stroking her face and patting.
“Console. She wants to console herself.”
“I think…maybe…yes. Console herself. Arsinoe takes a human… Goes into someone.”
Dee spoke for the first time. “Possesses? She possesses another person. Another woman’s body.” She looked meaningfully at Paula.
Paula flinched. The evil spirit of a vengeful Arsinoe in her? Wouldn’t she be aware of it?
Lena nodded and fixed Dee with a stare. “Genau. Exactly.” A sudden frown, a moment’s confusion perhaps, creased her forehead. “I must go now. Please also leave with me.”
Paula did not need urging. She locked the door behind them. On the doorstep, Lena took her hand. Ignoring Dee, she said, “Be very careful. I come back tomorrow at the same time.”
Paula nodded and the woman scurried away.
“What do you make of that?” Paula asked Dee.
“Seemed a bit farfetched, but then everything about this house stretches credibility to its outer limits.”
“You’re right there. Come on, let’s get back to the hotel. A glass of wine beckons.”
* * * *
Yet again, Phil’s phone went to voicemail. Paula checked her watch. One a.m. Seven p.m. in New York. Surely he had arrived home by now. This was the third day in a row she hadn’t spoken to him. It hurt all the more because the last time she had, they had parted so acrimoniously. She rang again. Voicemail.
She had given up leaving messages after her fifth. If he didn’t know she was worried by now, he never would. She threw the cell onto the bed. Tears filled her eyes. If only they hadn’t come to Vienna. Everything had been fine before.
* * * *
Paula’s dreams were tortured. Each one brought her back to the Villa Dürnstein. In one she floated there on a night such as the one she now slept through. Clear, chilly with a light breeze that ruffled her hair and nightdress. She tripped on the front step and lost her slipper. She retrieved it and found she had stepped in some mud. It clung to the toweling fabric and she rubbed it off her hands.
The front door stood open. The man she felt sure was Quintillus waited for her in the hallway. Fear coiled through every nerve and sinew in her body. She had to get away from him. She must run. With a crash, the door slammed behind her. The man came closer. But not alone.
A giant figure, part man, part animal towered above her. His head appeared almost to be a dog, but the ears were tall and stood erect on top of its head. He carried a staff in one hand and an ankh in the other. She recognized him immediately. The god Set. He raised his staff and the house shook to its foundations. A screaming wind tore through the building, knocking Paula off her feet and propelling her into the kitchen. The basement door had vanished and the wind flung her through the entrance. Here, complete stillness. In front of her, the steps led down into darkness. Around her, the sickly stench of lilies and death made her retch.
She couldn’t escape. Set barred the entrance. She would have to go down.
Paula took hold of the handrail and felt her way from one step to the next into the unrelieved blackness. At the foot of the stairs, she listened. Nothing. A pinprick of light struck the floor ahead of her, illuminating it enough to enable her to see her way forward. She made her way toward it, straining to hear any sound, but heard none. She crept along, the light maintaining an even distance ahead of her. The wall that had marked the end of the corridor had vanished and, in its place, an old doorway led to a room. The scene rippled in front of her.
She didn’t anticipate the sudden light that scythed through the blackness. She shielded her eyes. Candles flickered, casting eerie shadows on the wall, illuminating the hieroglyphics. A large cat stood proudly, its unblinking stare appearing to weigh Paula up. It stood so still she wasn’t sure it was real until it blinked its astonishing eyes.
Quintillus had made it there ahead of her. He directed whatever sight he was capable of at her. A woman joined him. She stood, bathed in shadow so that Paula could not distinguish her features.
Paula’s bare feet felt numb with cold as she stood on the dirty stone floor. The sickening stench invaded every pore of her body and her stomach heaved.
“What am I doing here?” she asked.
No one answered.
“I have a right to know why you are doing this to me. To my sister.”
The woman slowly moved out of the shadows and toward Paula. When she saw her, Paula let out a gasp.
“Dee.”
Paula awoke, bathed in sweat. Like the others, this nightmare felt so real. She grabbed a tissue from the box by the bed and mopped her brow. When she had finished, she caught sight of her slippers on the floor and let out a gasp.
They were caked in mud. And her hand was streaked with it.
* * * *
Dee looked up from her coffee and frowned. “You look pale. Didn’t you sleep well?”
“Nightmare. But it was so strange. I dreamed I walked through mud, and this morning my slippers and my hand were caked with it.”
“What? How did that happen?”
Paula shook her head. “You were there. In my nightmare.”
“I don’t know whether I should be flattered or insulted.” Dee let out a light laugh. “I hope I wasn’t the villain of the piece.”
Paula didn’t reply. Her head throbbed and she left Dee to get some fresh orange juice and strong coffee from the buffet. The thought of eating anything turned her stomach. None of her thoughts made sense today. Maybe they would after they met up with Lena at the house, but the thought of going back there filled her with dread. She rejoined Dee, who was finishing off a croissant.
“Is that all you’re having? You’ll be starved later.”
“I’ll be fine. Maybe when I’ve drunk this coffee I’ll feel like something more substantial.”
But she didn’t.
Lena had already arrived and stood on the doorstep. This time she carried a small suitcase. She greeted Paula with a half smile that failed to include Dee. “I hope I have everything I need. I spend all night praying we shall succeed today.”
Paula let them in. The house smelled different than yesterday. She wrinkled her nose. “It’s like rotting vegetables.”
“The flowers,” Dee exclaimed. “They’ve all died. How is that possible since yesterday?”
Lena addressed her reply to Paula. “It is the evil in this house,” she said, hugging herself. “It wants nothing to live. Only itself.”
Paula wanted nothing more than to run as far away as she could from this house. “I’ll clear the mess up later,” she said, eyeing the withered leaves, the fallen blooms and scattered brown petals. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”
Lena nodded. “We go to the kitchen.”
She motioned Paula and Dee to sit with her around the small kitchen table. From her suitcase, she produced a small bottle. “Holy water,” she said. Then she reached in and took out a Bible, small black book, sagebrush, matches and a pentacle on a gold chain. “Now we hold hands, please.”
“Isn’t this a bit Hollywood?” Dee asked.
Lena glared at her.
“It’s only that yesterday you said you mustn’t touch anyone until your work was done and today you’re holding our hands.”
“I know more today than yesterday.” Her tone had turned snappy. She closed her eyes.<
br />
Dee raised her eyebrows at Paula, who motioned her to keep quiet.
Paula winced as Lena’s grip tightened. She saw Dee do the same. Once again, her skin began to prickle.
Lena mouthed something inaudible.
A hollow groan echoed through the house. Timbers creaked.
Lena dropped their hands and opened her eyes. Paula massaged some life back into her cramped fingers.
“Do not speak,” Lena said to Dee, who looked as if she might. “It is near to us.”
A loud ripping sound came from beyond the hall.
A crash.
The foul smell of excrement swept into the kitchen. Paula and Lena retched, but Dee seemed oblivious.
To Paula’s horror, a shape formed in the doorway. The more it manifested itself, the darker the kitchen became.
“Dr. Quintillus,” Lena said.
Paula gasped as the figure moved. He seemed to be walking, but his boots made no sound on the tiled floor. Paula recognized him instantly. Emeryk Quintillus, his expressionless face gray and withered, stood in front of them. So the nightmares had been real. Somehow. She flinched from his sightless gaze.
Lena stood, picked up her Bible, opened it and began to read in rapid German.
Quintillus laughed. His mouth, full of rotten teeth, opened as he roared with joyless, echoing laughter that chilled Paula.
The Bible flew out of Lena’s hands and thumped against the wall.
Lena picked up the sagebrush and reached for the matches. They skittered across the table and landed on the floor. The box opened and scattered the contents far and wide.
Lena hadn’t finished yet. She picked up the holy water but she had to fight for control of it. The black holes in Quintillus’s face blazed with red fire. The water began to bubble. With a cry of pain, Lena dropped it. It smashed on the table and boiling water spread in a pool.
Dee moaned and pointed to the door into the hallway.
A tall young woman in a flowing red gown held a gold dagger in her hand. Arsinoe. Horrified, Paula cried out as she raised her arm and pointed the weapon at Dee.
Dee cried out. “No, I won’t.”
Waking the Ancients Page 20