Night of the Pentagram

by Barrymore Tebbs

  “Oh, come on, it will be fun,” said Jewel rising from the couch, becoming animated as she moved across the room to join them at the table.

  “Chet?”

  “I don’t like the idea. Sounds like an invitation to evil if you ask me.”

  “For somebody so cute you sure are square,” Dakota said.

  “Bryce is right,” Elizabeth said. “What if we pick up the wrong spirit?”

  “You mean like a party line?” asked Bobby.

  Dakota winked. “We’ll just keep them talking till we get the party we’re looking for.”

  Dakota brought an ornate candelabra from the service board at the side of the room and set it in the middle of the table. Jewel hurried about the room switching off the lamps.

  “Are you okay with this?” Bryce said aside to Elizabeth.

  “It’s just a game, right?” she said, knowing full well that was not how she felt. She wanted to turn to Dakota and beg her not to go through with it, but after her insistence at seeing the pentagram in the bathroom she was certain they all thought she was at best a fool and at worst a paranoid case.

  Dakota lit a single candle in the center of the candelabra. Jewel switched off the last remaining lamp and the room plunged into darkness.

  “Now, everyone place your hands on the table like this,” Dakota instructed, splaying her fingers on the table top, “and touch your little finger against the little finger of the person sitting next to you.”

  “This is just like Dark Shadows.”

  “Bobby, shh,” Jewel snapped.

  Elizabeth sat between Chet and Bryce. Bobby sat between Dakota and Jewel on the opposite side of the table. Elizabeth watched Dakota tilt her head back. She closed her eyes and began a slow, relaxed breathing. The white eye shadow on her eyelids glowed like phosphorous in the candle light.

  Bobby giggled. Jewel smacked his hand. This is all just a game, Elizabeth told herself. No one is serious about this.

  After a few deep, dramatic breaths, Dakota began. “We call on thee, oh spirits of the other side,” eliciting another giggle from Bobby, and a slap from Jewel. “If there are any spirits present in this house, we humbly beseech you to come to us now. If there is any among you who was once called by the name of Madeline de Winter, come to us now. Come to us now.”

  Elizabeth was afraid to close her eyes. Through half-shuttered lids she peered at the others seated around the table. Bryce and Chet seemed to be going along with the act. Bobby still wore a trace of a smirk. Good. Perhaps he would break out into a burst of uncontrollable laughter and the whole thing would be ruined. Jewel seemed to be the only one taking it seriously.

  As Dakota continued to beseech the spirits, Elizabeth felt the familiar tension that precipitated her headaches. The invisible wire twisted around the outside of her skull. Now she regretted letting them talk her into participating in this little charade.

  “Madeline de Winter,” Dakota whispered. “Come to us now. Give us a sign.”

  The room was still, Elizabeth was acutely aware of everyone’s breathing. Maybe someone will fall asleep and their snores will be loud enough to wake the dead. Elizabeth tried to laugh out loud at her joke, but she was far too frightened to make a sound.

  “Madeline de Winter, come to us now, give us a sign.”

  Everyone in the room seemed to breathe in unison, and beneath the sound of their breathing she could hear another sound, a long drawn out hushhhhhh-hushhhhhh…slow and gentle. Was it the sound of the ocean again hovering just on the edge of perception?

  “Madeline de Winter, come to us now, give us a sign.” Dakota’s voice grew quieter.

  Time seemed to stand still. The flame on the candle grew tall and straight, then wavered, and then grew small before blossoming once again. The light cast strange illusions onto the faces across the table from Elizabeth. Their faces appeared to change, becoming at once more animalistic, less human, and now somewhat mechanical, as though their faces were made of steel and iron rivets, human faces replaced by metal masks.

  “Madeline…de Winter.” Dakota’s voice was low now, barely more than a whisper, almost imperceptible.

  “Madeline…” Her voice faded away as if Dakota was retreating down a long, stark corridor.

  “Madeline…” Hissing long and slow like the endless ebb of the sea.

  Elizabeth felt trapped in her chair. She couldn’t breathe or move. She wanted to cry out, to beg Dakota to stop this nonsense, but she could form no words. Her vision grew darker, a mask drawn over her eyes, until she could see nothing around her.

  She tried to raise her arms, but they wouldn’t move. It felt as if they were bound. When she looked down she saw that there were tight leather straps drawn across her body. She twisted and writhed, but the straps held her fast. She was no longer in the dining room. She could no longer hear Dakota’s voice. She no longer heard the breathing of the others in the room.

  She was flat on her back on a sort of table. The table seemed to move. She had a vague sense of transportation. With dawning horror she realized she was strapped to a gurney which was being wheeled down a long corridor. Above her, domed lamps with dim bulbs gazed down at her, one after another passing before her eyes.

  When she turned her head to the left she saw Dakota standing in the doorway of her room, waving and smiling. Then she saw Jewel standing in her doorway as well, feeding an apple to a pet goat she held by a leash. She saw Bobby, and Bryce, and Chet, and even Joan, all of them waving from the doorways of their rooms as the table she was on rolled faster and faster through the halls, past more doors, and from behind those doors she heard a babble of voices, insane chatter and weeping, screaming, shouted obscenities. She tried to cry out, but no sound would come from her mouth.

  The gurney lurched to a halt. She was in another room. Mrs. Valdez loomed over her, hands encased in gloves that felt cold and rubbery against Elizabeth’s skin. Something wet washed across her temples. She felt fluid drain down into her hair. She wanted to scream, to break the madness of this spell. When she opened her mouth, Mrs. Valdez wedged something between Elizabeth’s teeth, forcing her to bite into it. Something cold and metallic clamped down on each side of her head.

  Dr. Abernathy’s face hovered over her. He spoke to his assistants in a language Elizabeth couldn’t understand. Her gaze followed their movements to the machine beside her. Her forehead was beaded with sweat. Mrs. Valdez wiped her forehead and spoke to her in a soothing voice, her words drawn out long and low like the slow hissing surge of the ocean waves.

  Icy hot daggers ripped into her skull.

  Her body convulsed as she bit down on the thing wedged in her mouth. The jolts tore through her body, a thousand knives stabbing into her over and over.

  The pain was excruciating. The yellowish bulbs in the ceiling flared to a blinding whiteness that made her think of the mushroom clouds from the atom bombs. A scream ripped itself loose from somewhere deep within the cavern of her soul.

  Elizabeth blinked her eyes against the light, too much light pouring into her eyes. Someone poured something strong across her lips. Whiskey! She choked. The whiskey sputtered from her mouth.

  “She’s okay, she’s still with us.”

  “That was a cheap trick.”

  “You okay, baby?” Dakota’s face peered down at her. “You scared us half to death.”

  She was stretched out on the couch, the light from the table lamp boring into her eyes. Bryce was there, a glass of whiskey in his hand. Dakota knelt beside her, and she was vaguely aware of the presence of the others hovering nearby.

  “What happened?” Elizabeth said.

  “You don’t remember?” Dakota said.

  I remember feeling like I was slipping away, like I was being taken down a long, empty corridor, afraid I would never find my way back.

  Elizabeth shook her head.

  “I say she faked the whole thing.”

  “For God’s sake Jewel, isn’t it obvious Elizabeth’s in a state of shock.�
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  “She’s an actress,” Jewel fired back. “What do you expect?”

  “Did you see Madeline de Winter?” asked Bobby.

  Elizabeth tried hard to remember. She had seen someone…but whom? Someone she knew, or thought she knew, but they weren’t who she thought they were.

  She shook her head again. “I don’t remember anything.”

  “I guess this wasn’t such a good idea after all,” Dakota said.

  “We’d better get this young lady up to bed,” said Bryce.

  Elizabeth tried to stand up from the couch, but her legs refused to cooperate and her knees buckled beneath her.

  Bryce’s arms came up around her. “Give me a hand here will you?”

  Bryce and Chet helped her up the stairs to her room. She was light headed and found it difficult to climb the stairs even with the help of the two men. Dakota turned down the covers on Elizabeth’s bed.

  “Bryce,” Elizabeth said, “Would you put the light on in the bathroom?”

  “Of course,” he said. He switched on the light, made a little show of glancing about the bathroom, then turned and smiled to Elizabeth.

  Dakota hustled the men out of the room. “Now you boys get out of here so I can help Elizabeth undress.”

  “What happened down there, Dakota? What did I do?”

  “Nothing much. You screamed. That’s all. But it was a good one. You pretty much scared everyone around the table. Mrs. Valdez and Dr. Abernathy both came into the room wondering what was going on. Bryce told them someone was playing tricks on you, that’s all. Abernathy would have us all in group and Mrs. Valdez would start quoting scripture if they knew what we were really up to.”

  “I didn’t think it was a good idea, especially so soon after Joan Monaghan’s death.”

  “I guess that was pretty callous of us. Why didn’t you say you were so frightened?”

  “I didn’t want you all to make fun of me. Finding that book on devil worship, and the voodoo doll, and then that book you were reading from, hearing that Roland de Winter was into all that stuff too. It’s all too much. I think something strange is going on here.”

  “Elizabeth, you’re letting your imagination get the better of you.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “Look,” said Dakota, “the kind of thing de Winter was involved in goes on all the time whenever you get a group of powerful men together. They think money and power allows them to do what they want, and they prey on those weaker than themselves. They used to call them Hellfire Clubs. A bunch of rich old geezers would start up a secret club with initiation rites and coded handshakes and passwords even though it was just an excuse to sit around boozing and smoking cigars and watching young girls dance naked for them. Sooner or later that kind of thing always got out of hand. Some poor girl got a bad scare and tells her girlfriends these guys are a bunch of devil worshippers, but that doesn’t mean that’s really what they were doing. Do you believe a man like Roland de Winter who lived in the public eye would be stupid enough to hold human sacrifices right here in this house? If you do, you’ve been watching too many horror movies on the late show.”

  Elizabeth didn’t know whether to feel foolish and embarrassed or to be angry at Dakota for trivializing her fears. “I don’t know what to believe anymore. My husband was killed by some sort of satanic cult. I have every right to be upset.”

  “Oh baby, of course you do. Not many people could have gone through what you’ve been through and maintained anywhere near the semblance of sanity that you have. I mean that as a compliment. But I also don’t want to see you get carried away with this nonsense. I have a feeling that you are trying to create links where there aren’t any. When they finally catch this guy who killed your husband I guarantee you it will turn out to be some psycho who is using all this demonic paraphernalia to throw the police off his trail. And as far as that book you found, and the voodoo doll, it’s just someone’s sick sense of humor. I think you need to confront Abernathy about it, make him put an end to it. You’re here to get better, not to get worse.”

  “You’re right.”

  “I am sorry I made you go through with the séance. But there is one thing I want to know. What made you scream like that? Did you see something, sense something?”

  A rush of images flooded Elizabeth’s mind. The candle flame. Fire. Burning. Heat surging through her skin. Sharp pain like stabbing needles.

  As quickly as they came the flashes of imagery were gone again.

  “I don’t know. I feel there was something…something important. But for the life of me I can’t remember.”

  Dakota looked at her as though she were a child caught in a pathetic lie.

  “Okay. Well, good night. If you need anything, remember, I’m right in the room on the other side of the bathroom. Shall I leave the light on?”

  “No, I’ll be fine. Dakota?”

  “Yes?”

  “Thank you, for everything. You’re very sweet.”

  Dakota smiled down at her, then turned off the lamp beside the bed, crossed the room and with a final whisper, goodnight, slipped out of the room.

  Chapter Eight

  Elizabeth’s sleep was restless. She woke frequently, disoriented about where she was. Each time she woke she knew she had been dreaming and had the uneasy feeling that it was something important. She tried to recall the fragmented images, but just as it seemed they might come to the surface she would slip again into slumber.

  Very distinctly, she heard her father’s voice say, “Wake up, little Betty.”

  Her eyes shot open. She strained to make out a shape hovering in the darkness. There was someone in her room.

  She lay as still as she could, trying to silence the hammering sound of her heart, listening for the tell-tale creek of a floor board or the sudden exhalation of breath. She was certain that someone hovered over her bed, certain that if she reached out her hand she would touch a face. She held her breath, not daring to make a sound. Her heart pounded in her ears. Then, as before, she heard the almost subliminal sound of waves rushing steadily against the shore. Shapes in the room began to take form, gray and undefined, the cupboard in the corner, the chair near the bed, the doorways to the hall and to the bathroom. There was no one lurking in her room, no one at all. She began to relax, floating down again, deep down into peaceful sleep.

  Betty, wake up, it’s time to go see Mommy.

  No, Daddy, I don’t want to go. Mommy is in the bad place. That place frightens me.

  Wake up. Betty, it’s time to wake up.

  Daddy?

  Elizabeth opened her eyes. The room was filled with the hazy half-light of another overcast morning and the vestiges of fog which wrapped its wraith-like fingers around the old house on the cliffs.

  She felt exhausted, as if she hadn’t slept at all. She felt as though she had been up half the night, gone places, done things. She tried to make sense out of what was nothing more than a feeling, a glimmer of a memory.

  She opened the bathroom door with caution, though there was little chance she would find another bathtub filled with blood. The shower did little to shake the cobwebs of sleep from her brain. The water was tepid, the pressure sluggish. After the shower, she moved about her room in a half daze as she dressed for breakfast.

  As she sat on the edge of her bed a crystal clear vision appeared before her eyes. It seemed as if a movie screen had opened up before her, and she saw Jewel St. John in a billowing black robe leading a goat through the hall just outside her door. She smelled the beast’s fur, heard its bleat and the muted clank of a bell tied to the collar around its neck.

  And just as quickly as the vision appeared, it was gone. Elizabeth shook her head to clear the puzzling image, and then darted to the door and looked out into the hall. Of course, it was empty.

  Of course.

  She shut the door and looked about her room. What was this strange feeling, this fragmentary imagery? Was it a dream? A vision? She tried to summon some other
fragment that might connect to the bizarre image of Jewel St. John and a goat.

  Other than the smell, there was nothing.

  That was it…the smell. Like burning. Like a campfire. Like burning logs in a fireplace. Like….

  Once when she was a girl she had leaned too close to the burner on the kitchen stove and the ends of her hair drifted into the flame and caught fire. That’s what this burning smelled like, the smell of singed human hair.

  She was on her feet again in a flash, crossing to the door to the hall and yanking it open.

  Bryce punching Chet savagely in the face.