by Avell Kro
conscious and vivid dreams of an ancient occultist’s life over six hundred years ago.
The more time he devoted with the tome the sharper this other worldly spirit was within him. He could now comprehend ancient tongues dead for centuries. This knowledge led to unlocking more
secrets and details of the mystic's adventures. Preston became obsessed and roamed the world
solving Azul’s puzzles. Each riddle revealed more of the mystic's code. What remained was the last
of Azul's puzzle requiring Preston to go to Serapeum the daughter library to the great library of
Alexandria there he decoded the final chapter of Azul’s tome. It offered an incantation that Preston
was deceived into thinking would allow him to project astrally like Azul but instead it released
Azul’s spirit from the book and bound it to Preston.“While he deceived me into sharing my body,
he instructed me how to examine other worlds and gave me the awareness of the true nature of
the universe. I found a reasonable arrangement in his educating me while he looks for a way to
free himself. What I cannot endure is the wreckage he has left behind. My entire family thinks I’m
bonkers and when I'm back, my body is left like a used dish towel. I’ve had enough and we can use
this priest to trap him,” said Preston.
“What if you perish and become trapped in his prison?"
“It’s not like that Rose, I am constantly in here a little, he shoves me into his maze. That is how it
works little by little as I draw on our common pool of learning he gets stronger until I feel like I am
in a dream I can't wake up from,”
They both knew the field was weakening. It was time to go back.
" Scarlet Cherub,” said Rose.
"What?" replied Preston.
“If I learn and can conduct the ritual, that will be my cue to you. When I say it you need to be ready
to come back and grab hold of this body.”
“Agreed. You always make me smile Rose, I surmise though that when the best time comes to
extract Azul I will be too far gone to communicate with. Lost in the darkest recesses of the maze
where I dwel during the possessions,"
When the embrace broke both opened their eyes, and they were back in the United Kingdom
standing in a tub of water.
Preston stared at her and held her face gently.
“You two are up to your silly games again,” Preston said in his Arab dialect.
Friday the 10th of June
9:00 PM Albie’s Supper Club
Dolly loved their payday custom. Keene and Williamson would draw their salary and head to the
bathhouse for a proper soaking, then drop off their dirty clothes at the laundry. Freshly bathed
Dolly had on a new twill suit, a blue shirt with a rounded collar and a ribbon cravat that the tailor
told him was the fashionable trend. From there the two continued to supper at Albie’s on chops
and roast veggies with a brown gravy, washed down with a frothy ale and talked about life and
sometimes shop.
They were an odd pair; Williamson a Scot and Protestant, and Keane an Irishman and ardent
Catholic but they were Metropolitan Police Detectives first.
“I received a letter from my brother today” mentioned Keane.
“The one in Minnesota?”
“He is officially now in the United States. Minnesota became a state.”
“and you’re still planning on moving there,”
“Fucking right I am. No little cottage in this wicked city for me. I live light and I’ve been saving for
my stake in a business in America.”
Cul am, you’re a city dweller, mate you can’t live out in the wilderness there’s savages and wolves
out there.
We don’t have those here? It the maths of risk and reward, mate. Here I get paid eight pound a
week as a detective in the most cosmopolitan city in history and all I deal with are thieves and
murderers. Now James is already there and see he’s a geologist and looking through the territory
for iron and copper deposits. You see that ship over at the yard that’s pig iron, mate, or some type
of fancy Iron alloy and there will be more and more of that needed so me and James are going to
buy up land in this Minnesota where he finds the minerals. Because over in America, a fella can
own land and everything on it and under it. So, the risk I see as calculated. Me little brother is smart
as a whip and I have a packet saved up so I’ll go over there and risk wolves and Indians for an iron
mine. That seems a lot easier and less risky than getting eight pound a week to mill through an
endless line of murders.” As drunk, as he was, Keane, made some sense. “I can’t argue with that”
“Take your rich fella who left his big estate in the country to flee back to the City informing nobody.
Then he ends up burnt to a crisp,” said Keane.
“Ahh, but no traces of a fuel to start a fire and nothing burned," replied Dolly, as he polished off his
plate of chops.
"Well, it might be one of those spontaneous combustions I read about?" Keane argued back.
“His clothes were as fresh as yours,” exclaimed Dol y.
“Will you quit fuckin’ interrupting my presentation to the Bailey? -and take off that silly tie. What
are you some plantation owner in America?" replied Keane as he grabbed to untie Dolly’s tie.
"So, I was sayin’. You have the crispy rich dead fella, then twelve hours later you discover two
blokes dead in the very bank vault he owns. Locked up in a Yale combination safe that only six,
wel now five, of the wealthiest men in the Empire have the combination to open." Keane
presented. He slammed his meaty fist down on the table sending plates and silver ware dancing.
Dolly had to lunge forward to catch his pint.
"Crime solved! Your rich fella was kidnapped to get into the safe. The blokes that grabbed him ran
into the guards, blasted them and took off. Did I miss anything?" Keane said grinning and droopy
eyed from drink but certain in his inebriated state he had just solved the crime.
"How is it you have resolved more cases than me?" asked Dol y, then he leaned forward to offer
what Keane had missed. "The strong boxes had been opened and two of the three emptied before
they were slain. Blood spatter inside the boxes shows the course of those events. The guards were
in the safe when they were killed. The direction of the shot came from outside the safe not from
inside as you would expect if you surprised robbers then, the weapon was dropped inside the
without further disruption of other strong boxes…”
“You also missed the part where a voodoo priest removed the soul from the rich fella.,” it was Rose
Caldwell and she had been listening to the small talk.
Keane looked up. “Jesus Mary and Joseph - Dolly, could you show respect for my everlasting soul
and not bring that witch around me? Her soul is already damned,”
Rose took a chair from another table and twirled it backwards and sat down resting her arms on
the back of the chair. “My researcher identified the totem as a spirit siphon. The object functions
as a conduit for the spiritual ritual called Pwen Hanan where the soul is transferred to another
vessel. My guess is that Chilton crossed a Voodoo Priest and now revenge has been exacted.”
"Let me ask you something Sister when you burned down that rectory, did a voodoo priest make
you do that?” asked Keane.
"If you would like, I could exorcise the mongoloid demon that
controls your mouth?" retorted Sister
Rose.
Keane put on his serious face and reached across the table grabbing Dolly’s wrists “Mate, we’ve
known each other a long time. You're the smart one here, you have the chance to move up the
ranks but you got to get rid of this heretic. You make us all look bad Fredrick."
Dol y knew Keane was saying what he felt. He embraced Keane's wrists. “Callum, you have seen
what people do to each other. Do you believe all that evil is manmade? I don’t and neither does
Rose. Just as you and I have seen horrors together I have seen worse with her.”
“Well, you both can fucking burn in hell I am sure there is room for one more heretic and
protestant but there will be no guilt by association of Detective Callum Keene.” Keene pushed
back from the table and walked out of the pub.
D
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out what Rose had learned.
“Could this be fabricated to cover up for a heist?” asked Dol y.
“You mean the soul stealing? No. Your fat drunk colleague may have it right, but Chilton was under
the direction of another through Pwen Hanan not a kidnapping.”
Dolly shot her a baffled look.
She continued “I am just learning about this arcana. It is primordial and works along the courses
of Necronist seance and spirt manipulation. From the condition of the body I think Chilton was
tortured spiritually until he succumbed to the wishes of the persecutor. Maybe he was tortured to
get the combination or he could have been enslaved and made to open the safe himself to only
later be killed”
Rose reached into her handbag and pulled something out. Without showing it to him she shifted
it across the dinner table and into his hand. “Fredrick, place that charm on your watch fob.
“What is it?” He studied the weird talisman of silver. In its center was a glass vial with a brilliant
blue gas circulating about. He slid it on to the ring that held a small pen knife at the end of his
silver watch chain then stuffed it into his waistcoat pocket.
“That is something I crafted. An apotropaic amulet” she pointed to the stone on the choker she
wore around her neck that had a comparable stone. “It’s a ward. If we are hunting for a voodooist
that can control life force that trinket will provide a defense. If a Mumbo were to beguile you, the
enchantment will be limited as it confuses the ward for your spirit energy,” said Rose.
“A decoy for my soul?”
Rose continued “Yes, the voodoo call the spirit energy Ju Ju, the manipulation of Ju Ju is where the
power of the Mumbo lies. They have a primal knowledge and have learned to tap into and exploit
this spiritual energy. There are descriptions of the capability to direct the living and the dead.
While you still seek the motive and the identity of the fugitive, what I know is that this individual
understands and controls the necromantic arts differently than how the Necronists tap into the
spirit worlds. If this person could control Chilton while alive or dead they are a dangerous
adversary. I don’t want you or I to get close and become enthralled. That eldritch talisman is my
best attempt at a shield.”
Sunday the 12th June
8:00 AM The Carlton Hotel
Dolly was called to the Carlton Hotel, A request for a Sergeant in the Detective branch meant
either a serious crime or a matter of discretion with someone in high social circles. In the past, his
superiors requested his skillful touch to deal with the affairs of the rich and powerful, always
considerate of station and reputation while making certain that the Crown’s law applied to all. Too
bad it wasn’t something simple like a lord getting held up by a tramp and her pimp, instead it was
another homicide and from the sound of it Dolly now had a repeat murderer to capture. While
never one to jump to conclusions when summoned by the constable he mentioned on the ride
over, it was another burned up person with no sign of fire.
He sent the policeman to fetch Sister Rose to the crime scene after he dropped Dolly at the
fashionable hotel. He was greeted by the hotel Manager, a portly Frenchman nervously moving
around the hotel lobby, agitated by the law enforcement presence. A lobby and hallways with cops
drew unwanted attention. He brought Dolly to the suites on the eighth floor via the verticulator.
Dol y doubted the chubby Franc ever took the stairs. At the double doors of the apartment stood a
patrolman. Standard practice for protecting crime scenes until a detective attended to the scene.
The spacious saloon included a sitting area, a work desk and a large table for dining. The table
unused for dining, instead was buried in packages and bags from the emporiums of Saville Row.
Adjoining was the bedchamber and the scene of the crime.
The body lay near the center of the disheveled bed. The man’s dressing gown was open exposing
his bare body, the back arched, pelvis thrust upward and arms sprawled out. What was stranger
than the agonized contortion his shape was frozen in, was the state of the body? It was another
desiccated, gray and wrinkled corpse looking like it was stolen from a crypt. While shocking to the
others Dol y was less shocked by the dead man’s condition and far more concerned that his occult
killer was on a spree of murder.
The Manager stood to the right of Dolly and stared at the scene as he spoke. “The accommodations
are rented by Señor Emilio Moya he has leased this suite for the last four months.”
Detective Williamson began his investigation. While inspecting the room he asked questions of the
manager.
“Who discovered the body?”
“The Valet” replied the Manager.
“I will need to speak with him.” said Dolly
“Of course, he is down the hall in the staff room.” replied the manager
“What can you tell me about your guest?” asked Dolly. He assumed the body was Moya but still
had drawn no conclusions.
The French Manager spoke in a pompous tone about the patron as if it were an advertisement of
his hotel. “Señor Emilio Moya can trace his lineage to the most serene house of Braganza, a distant
cousin to the King of Portugal. He was not involved in affairs of state but rather was living here in
London as a gentleman.”
“Is he a man of means or inheritance?” asked Dolly. Any guest of this hotel had access to a fortune,
it was where it came from that might help shed light on the case.
“His family had shipping interests then moved into land and sugar cane in the colonies.” replied
the Manager, with hands folded. Dolly thought, I wager you have more to tell.
“Was he seen returning last night with any other persons?” asked Dolly.
“I wouldn’t know I came in at eight in the morning. The night staff had left.” responded the
Manager.
“Can you get me a list of the staff on duty?” asked the detective as he continued surveying the
bedroom before stepping in. He paid attention to the floor to ensure there was no evidence he
could disturb by entering the chamber. “Yes,” the Manager replied. Dolly stepped in and moved
towards the body. “I will need to interview them
, when do they start shift?” The Manager did not
fol ow Dol y into the bed room, he stood outside as if he would be infected by whatever killed the
man, “The night staff starts at eleven p.m. and finishes at seven the next morning.”
At closer scrutiny of the body the right fist of the corpse was distorted and clenched as if it had
suffered a hundred years of debilitating arthritis, on the ring finger was the signet ring of the Moya
Family, Dolly assumed the body was Señor Moya but would need further confirmation.
The suite had no signs of a struggle, no blood stains or any of the common signs of foul play.
Although Williamson knew the item was occult he used his handkerchief to shield from residual
poison or magic, that may have laced the totem, Dolly pulled slowly to ascertain the depth it
penetrated the body. It held fast and required effort to dislodge. Dolly and the manager were given
a shock as the corpse expired a moan and lost all rigor when the object was removed from the
wound, it startled the detective so much he dropped the spirit siphon. After Dolly gained his
composure, he pulled out a small mirror and held it over the mouth of the deceased to confirm
that the subject was expired.
Putting the mirror away the detective walked to the writing desk to get an envelope for the totem.
On the blotter was a note on the hotel stationary it was a man’s hand writing.
Those that profited have paid.
E.M.
He retrieved an envelope from the center drawer in the writing desk and placed the totem in the
envelope.
At that moment, Rose entered the room with her arms full of equipment. Her skin glowed with
exertion “Thank the heavens this place has a verticulator. I can’t imagine huffing all this gear up a
stairwell,” behind her was a constable carrying more cases.
“My experiment is ready for debut,” She presented the large black box fixed to a wooden tripod
with a flourish and taking a bow. “What you see here is a camera obscura I modified with my
scrying lenses. These plates are treated with my tinctures, I bake them into the gelatin. Now step
back as I need to vapor the room.” She began to set up the equipment. “You might want to get the