Raga Six (A Doctor Orient Occult Novel)

by Frank Lauria

  Orient watched the boy move leisurely to her side. He was very supple, almost feminine. His oval skull was completely shaved, and the smooth unlined quality of his skin made him look like one of the adolescent monks of ancient Japan. When he spoke, his voice was low and melodic.

  "It’s all right," he said, "it’s over now, baby."

  The girl’s face relaxed. Kali let go of her arms and slowly stepped away from her. When the girl opened her eyes, Orient saw that she was younger than he had first thought, perhaps seventeen.

  "Over now," the boy repeated. "Just relax and go back to the other room."

  The girl hesitated, looked at Kali and Orient wonderingly, then turned and walked stiffly to the curtain. The boy stepped lightly ahead of her and pulled the linen sheet aside. Just before she went past him and the boy let the curtain drop, Orient caught a glimpse of a white table under a seven-pointed star hanging from the ceiling.

  The boy came back to them. "I’m sorry," he said, smiling faintly. "Kali, I don’t know your friend."

  "This is Owen," she said gravely. Her flip, careless manner was subdued, and she addressed the boy with respect. "I wish to present him to the Circle."

  "Why?" The boy’s face became sullen.

  Kali lowered her eyes. "I feel his vibration is strong."

  The boy looked at Orient carefully. "Yes," he said finally, "very good, Kali. You’re becoming more sensitive. I believe you’re right." The pout became a small smile. "Hello, Owen," he said, "my name is Gregory. I’m sorry if my wife disturbed you. She’s under strain. I’m sure you understand."

  "I’m not sure I do completely," Owen said evenly.

  For a moment the sullen look returned to Gregory’s face, then it was replaced by a thoughtful frown. "Isis has been working hard on behalf of those who need her help. I don’t know how much Kali has explained to you."

  "Nothing at all," Orient said. "I was curious and asked Kali to show mc around."

  Gregory nodded and crossed his arms. "Our Circle is dedicated to the higher powers. If you want a demonstration of our scene, come this evening. At eleven. We’re usually closed to newcomers, but Kali was perceptive. Your vibration is strong. Perhaps we can show you how to use it."

  "There’s a girl outside who’s looking for Owen." Orient turned and saw Thor standing at the door.

  Gregory didn’t take his eyes off Orient. "I hope we can see you again," he said. He bowed his head slightly and went back through the linen curtains.

  "I hope Isis didn’t bother you," Kali said as they walked to the front room. "She’s been nervous lately. But Gregory can handle her."

  "I’m sure he can," Orient said, "He seems to be very capable for someone so young."

  "Gregory has no age," Kali said fervently, "He’s the beautiful dancer of the universe."

  At the door she put a hand on his arm. "Try to come tonight," she said. "Gregory saw what I did. You. don’t know what you have inside yourself until Gregory and Isis show you."

  Orient wanted to tell her that she was assuming a great deal, but instead, to make sure that his impression of Gregory and his Circle hadn’t been mistaken, he asked about another possibility. "Almost forgot," he said. "Do you know where I can get some acid or speed?"

  Kali smiled smugly and shook her head. "No one in the Circle takes drugs. Gregory showed us how to go further without anything at all."

  "Thanks anyway," Orient said. "I’ll see you tonight."

  "You won’t regret it," Kali whispered.

  As Orient went out through the littered front room, he saw Thor, crouched on the floor near the mattress, still talking intently to the two teenagers. "Far out," one of the girls intoned reverently to something he was saying as Orient passed. When Orient reached the street, he found Sun Girl waiting for him. "Well," she asked as soon as he came out, "what do you think?"

  "Where’s Julian?" Orient stalled.

  "I took him home. Joker’s with him." She frowned. "I hope he’s not going through some new period. He’s usually so good. Better than a grown-up."

  "He just has his likes and dislikes," Orient suggested. "Like all of us." He put his arm around her shoulder and they started walking home.

  "But Betsy," Sun Girl reminded him. "Is she all right?"

  Orient decided to conceal his feelings until he knew more about the storefront group. For all he knew, it was just an esoteric version of a social fraternity. "I don’t think you have to worry about Betsy," he said. "She isn’t taking any hard drugs, and except for her appearance, she seems healthy enough." As he spoke, he recalled Gregory’s wife grimacing mutely and decided that it was urgent that he attend the meeting that night.

  "That’s a relief," Sun Girl said. She looked up at Orient and smiled. "Now that you mention it, Betsy did seem to show a very healthy interest in you!"

  Orient shrugged. "She’s probably a sucker for gambling men," he said. But he was somehow pleased that Sun Girl had noticed.

  When they reached the apartment, Orient was still thinking about what he had seen. Thor. Kali. Isis. Slavies. The whole thing was suggesting an incredible pattern to him. He was sure that Kali had told him the truth about the Circle being off drugs. But if the reason for Isis’s strange behavior wasn’t drugs, it was either plain schizoid paranoid delusions, or... Orient decided to wait and see what kind of meetings the Circle held, and opened the door.

  "Look at that," Sun Girl exclaimed. "Joker. What do you think you’re doing?" She rushed into the room. Orient looked up and saw Joker kneeling on the rug with Julian, showing the boy how to throw a pair of dice.

  Sun Girl swooped down on them and picked Julian up from thc floor. "I’m not so sure I approve of dirty old cowboys teaching my son how to gamble," she admonished.

  Joker looked up at her grinned. "Hell, Sun Girl, I was just fillin’ Julian in on the inside stuff. No sense letting him get taken if he can learn right."

  "He’s got plenty of time for that." Sun Girl carried Julian into the other room. "Right now it’s time for his bath."

  "I made three passes and Joker crapped out twice," Julian proudly told Orient on his way out.

  Joker got up from the floor and carefully adjusted the cuff of his gray pigskin jeans over his boot. "Well, Doc," he said amiably, "how’d we tally?"

  "Our bank is at plus 6,074 dollars as of today." Orient took a slip of paper from his pocket and handed it to Joker. "And we’re carrying 11,900 in bets through Sunday. If everything works out, you should make a good profit over the weekend."

  Joker stared at the paper. "Eleven grand?" he muttered. "How come so much?"

  "Your friend Basil called in seven thousand on the basketball game."

  "Basil?" Joker’s usually laconic manner became tense. "You shouldn’t have taken it, Doc."

  "Why not? He took it at the spread. Six points."

  Joker shook his head. "You couldn’t have known, Doc, but the only time that tinhorn Basil lays down more than a grand, he’s got an edge. He must know somethin’." He began pacing the floor.

  Orient waited for him to make up his mind. Finally Joker looked up. "Nothin’ else to do except lay it off. We got about three hours. Let’s get on the horn, and I’ll show you how smart money protects itself."

  Orient tried to be attentive as Joker showed him his system for protecting the bank, but he was distracted by the memory of the naked girl at the storefront. He waited patiently while the cowboy placed small portions of Basil’s seven thousand with small bookies in New Jersey and Brooklyn. He listened as Joker explained how to get the best point advantage, but through the entire process his mind kept drifting over to what he’d seen that afternoon. And it always came back with the same conclusions.

  "Well, that’s that," Joker said after a solid hour and a half on the phone. "We’re clear. But it slowed me down plenty. I got a date with a private proposition uptown I don’t want to blow."

  Orient was relieved. He didn’t want to be late for Gregory’s meeting. He wanted to make sure of the Circ
le’s exact function.

  The phone rang again and, as Joker turned to answer, Orient went into the other room. Julian was asleep on his bed in the corner and Sun Girl was sitting next to him on the floor, reading a script. She looked up and smiled. "You execs work late."

  Orient nodded. "The price of inexperience. I still have some things to see about. Maybe you shouldn’t wait up."

  "All right," she yawned. "I have an early audition anyway, and want to look alert. Don’t forget to get yourself something to eat."

  Joker whooped from the bedroom, then strode inside and beamed triumphantly at Orient. "That was a pal on the phone. The word’s out. No more action on the basketball game. We just got in under the wire."

  "Nice work," Orient said, trying to sound interested. He was still wondering what he could expect to find at Gregory’s meeting.

  As he walked to the meeting, Orient told himself he was probably overestimating Gregory’s Circle. Still, the signs were there. Thor the god of thunder, Isis the goddess of light, Kali the goddess of destruction. All ritual names. And the seven-pointed star hanging behind the curtain. The Star of Babylon. All of it indicated the same thing: some sort of occult experimentation.

  The possibility had him worried. He had concentrated most of his research on having telepathy recognized as a formal scientific technique. But while in Tibet, he had learned the leverage of the occult sciences as well. Enough to understand that psychic energy should be used with caution. He shook his head. He was going out on a limb. The most likely probability was that Gregory and his friends were indulging in some harmless playacting.

  He remembered Gregory’s wife trembling and trying to speak, and a small knot of anxiety pulled around his thoughts.

  The street where the storefront was located was deserted, but Orient noted the two chauffeured limousines parked in front. They looked immaculate and out of place in the shabby, tenement neighborhood. He crossed the street and tried to open the door. It was locked. He knocked. No answer. He knocked louder. Thor opened the door. He was still wearing his short robe.

  "Yeah?" He squinted unpleasantly at Orient.

  "Gregory asked me to come."

  Thor stepped aside to let Orient in. "Okay," he grunted.

  When Orient entered, he saw, or, rather, heard the reason no one had heard him knock the first time. The front room was swarming with teenaged girls, sitting or standing in groups, talking excitedly. The high noise level was punctuated by sudden squeals of enthusiasm. They all wore long hair, were dressed in the same brand of jeans, and had identical expressions of reverent wonder on their faces. Exactly like the two Slavies he’d seen that afternoon.

  "Inside," Thor raised his voice above the din and pointed to the curtain.

  Orient made his way through the tangle of rounded, interchangeable bodies and opened the door.

  The inside room was less crowded and the men and women gathered there were older and more subdued. There were ten or fifteen of them, very few under thirty, and any of them could have been the owners of the limousines outside. They had the flushed, sated look of affluent collectors. Whatever their choice—art, jewels, experience, people—it was all in their pockets somewhere. They were sitting on the pillows or standing in knots talking calmly, but Orient could sense a feeling of barely repressed excitement running through their muted tones.

  "I discovered Gregory and Isis during the phase last month," a sharp-featured woman was telling someone. "The boy’s a prodigy. I wouldn’t make a move without his advice."

  Orient looked at her. She was a sleek woman, fiftyish, and the cultivated tan on her hands set off the diamonds on her fingers to advantage. As Orient wondered what Gregory had done to earn her adulation, he spotted a girl dressed in a clinging white gown coming toward him. She was almost at his side before he recognized her, Kali had undergone a complete transformation. Her stringy, unkempt hair was brushed and shining, and the dirt smudges on her face had been washed away. She looked radiantly happy. When she came near, Orient caught the scent of perfume on her skin.

  "Oh, I’m so glad you came," she said, slipping her arm through his. "Tonight’s a glorious night for me."

  "You look glorious," Orient observed.

  Kali smiled. "For three months I’ve had to purify myself, but tonight I’m ready."

  "Ready for what?"

  "Tonight I’m admitted to the Circle."

  "Better explain," Orient said, shaking his head. "I still don’t get it."

  "Of course you don’t," Kali laughed. "But I’ll tell you as much as I can. The last week of every month is the meeting phase. When we help people. If Gregory chooses, you’re allowed to attend three phases, that’s nine meetings. After that you’re considered for the Circle."

  "What about the Slavies?"

  "They want to join, but they’re not even ready to attend meetings. They serve the Circle until the time when they’re mature enough for purification. But if Gregory thinks someone has strong vibrations, like you, they’re invited to observe. If Gregory agrees after that, you can begin purification right away."

  Orient smiled. "What happens when you join the Circle?" He still couldn’t accept the fact that they were serious. It had all the stratifications of a high school secret club.

  "You’ll see for yourself tonight," Kali said.

  "Are all these people here to join?"

  "Some. Most are here to get a favor from Gregory and Isis. And their blessing."

  Orient didn’t answer. He knew that in every city, in every country on earth, there were people experimenting with some form of occult science. Most of them were deluded. But these kids didn’t give off the haphazard air of stumbling experimentation. And the men and women gathered in the storefront salon didn’t seem like the sort of people who were given to wasting time playing high school games with impressionable children.

  "For two months I couldn’t take a bath, brush my teeth, anything," Kali was saying. "That was my form of purification. Gregory said I was too vain."

  The jingling sound of a bell cut off Orient’s question. A hush fell over the room. "I’ll see you later," Kali whispered. She walked over to the end of the room to join Thor and a black youth in white trousers and T-shirt who were standing near the curtain. The other people in the room waited in silence.

  Kali lifted her hand and pulled a cord hanging next to the curtain. The linen drapes parted and slid back.

  Gregory was standing behind a white table, the black seven-pointed star suspended directly over his high, shaven skull. A metallic object gleamed against the black leather covering his chest. It was a silver cross dangling upside down from a chain around his neck.

  "Hello," he said shyly. As he spoke, Orient realized that Kali was right; Gregory appeared to be ageless. The clear, unlined skin and slender body could belong to a boy of sixteen, or an adept of a hundred and sixty. His melodic voice rang soft with compassion, but his round, amber eyes had the flat glint of timeless wisdom. "We meet tonight in celebration of the great and secret power of the universe,"

  Gregory said, "a celebration of beauty and adoration." He looked around the room. "Please make yourselves comfortable."

  There was a shuffled rustling as the men and women in the room

  sat down on the pillows scattered about. Orient sat cross-legged on the floor.

  "Those of you who have specific requests, please come forward,"

  Gregory said.

  Two women and one man rose, went up to the table and placed envelopes on the floor. Orient noticed that they placed the envelopes on the edge of a black circle that had been drawn around the table. He also saw that Gregory was standing in the exact center of the circle, and he became apprehensive. There was no doubt in his mind any longer. Gregory was attempting to perform some occult rite. He wondered what would happen if they boy could actually pull it off.

  Gregory raised his arms above his head. "Isis," he called out, "come forth."

  Gregory’s wife walked slowly into the room
. She was dressed in a white cloak that she held wrapped around her. She appeared to be fresh and composed, totally unlike the grimacing, frightened creature

  Orient had seen that afternoon. When she reached the circle, she let the cloak fall away, revealing her naked body underneath, and sat down on the table. She looked around and smiled. "Isis is ready to serve you," she said softly.

  Kali approached the table holding a fluttering white dove in her hands. She held it out to Gregory, then backed away.

  As Gregory held the bird against his chest, stroking its feathers, he began to intone a prayer. "In the power and the words of God, the God of power, Jesus the Christ of Nazareth, I conjure thee by the Angel Gabriel the unknown..."

  His words rose and fell against Orient’s thoughts as he watched Isis close her eyes and slump over on the table. "Astaroth, Astaroth, I adjure thee by the sacred words Eloim, Sabaoth and Ya—" Gregory’s soft voice was clear in the stillness of the room. He held the dove over Isis’s head. "Astaroth, come then and accomplish our desires by the name of the Holy God." With a quick, careless motion of his fingers, he wrung the dove’s neck. The bird’s legs jerked and then stiffened. It died without making a sound. "Astaroth, come forward," Gregory whispered.

  Isis suddenly sat up and went rigid. Her arms shot forward straight out in front of her body, her fists tightly clenched. A hoarse, almost masculine growl came from somewhere deep inside her belly and escaped through her contorted lips. "I come," she said.

  Kali, Thor, and the black boy began to moan and sway from side to side.

  "Will you grant our requests?" Gregory asked.

  For a moment Isis was silent. Then she began to speak very slowly, her voice guttural and indistinct. "Mrs. Berry," she grunted. One of the women who had put an envelope in front of the circle raised her hand. "Here," she called out timidly.

  "You must sign—contract you asked—about—will bring wealth."

  "Thank you, Isis," the woman said.

  "Thank Astaroth." The voice was deeper, almost menacing.

  The woman hesitated. "Yes. Thank you—Astaroth," she said.