by Baker, Scott
"Lord God Almighty, all-powerful and ineffable, and who led Thy people from the Land of Egypt, and has enabled them to cross the Red Sea with dry feet! Accord me this, that this water shall purify me of all my sins, so that I may appear innocent before Thee! Amen."
I lay down in the tub, submerged myself completely, then rolled over twice before standing to face the wall and read the Orison aloud a second time.
I stepped from the tub and dried myself with the new white towel hanging on the rack to my right. Even dry I still smelled of the perfume that had been in the water: the smell was faintly sweet, resinous, not unpleasant. When I returned to the first room and dressed myself in the white robe and cap I found they smelled of cloves.
I knelt before the desk and read from the grimoire lying open on it:
"Astachios, Asaach, Ascala, Abdumaabaal, Silat, Anabotas, Felut, Serabilem, Sergen, Gemen, Domol, Dolos: O Lord My God, Thou who art seated higher than the heavens, Thou who seeth even unto the depths, I pray that Thou grant unto me the things which I have in my mind and that I may be successful in them: through Thee, O Most Puissant and Clement of Lords, the Eternal and who reigns for ever and ever. Amen."
For the next three days and nights I alternated kneeling to repeat the prayer with sitting in the chair and studying the grimoire. I was undergoing what was supposedly a purification: I neither ate nor drank and I abstained, as best I could from what the grimoire described as "all sin in thought and deed" while concentrating on my ends: on freeing Dara and taking control of the family away from Michael, on dealing with Uncle Stephen without being deceived, corrupted, enslaved or destroyed.
Much of the material in the grimoire seemed half-familiar: I thought I recognized formulas and procedures from the Clavicule de Salomon, the Lemegeton, the Grimoire Verum, and the Dragon Rouge, among others, but my memory wasn't good enough to tell me how exactly the formulas, procedures and diagrams I thought I recognized corresponded with those given in the grimoires I'd read, nor whether any of the operations in Uncle Stephen's grimoire had been altered or misdescribed so as to conceal the fact that their intended ends were other than those stated. Nonetheless I studied the grimoire intently, both because concentration on the ritual was a necessary part of the preparations and because I wanted to know if, and when, Uncle Stephen deviated from the stated rituals.
Uncle Stephen came for me shortly before noon on the fourth day, wearing a robe, cap and slippers of white silk on which various signs similar to that which Uncle Peter had had tattooed on his chest had been embroidered in red. Around his waist he wore a wide belt of what I knew from the grimoire to be lionskin, and he had a bag of the same material slung over his right shoulder. A white thread was tied around the finger of his left hand.
A man I had never seen before followed him into the room. He was pale but healthy-looking, sharp-featured, dressed as I was in a robe of white linen, but in place of my cap he had a paper crown encircled by signs like those on Uncle Stephen's robe. He was carrying a fresh linen robe and cap for me, and a pair of white sandals. The clothing smelled of aloes wood and musk, burnt amber and incense: sweet scents, which would serve to protect me somewhat in what was to follow.
Uncle Stephen changed the water in the tub and added to it an infusion of cinquefoil, the herb appropriate for magical operations ruled by the planet Mercury—as this operation, which would involve both the deception of Michael and the granting of a familiar would be. I didn't like the fact that the operation would be ruled by Mercury but had no choice in the matter.
I repeated the Preparatory Orison and bathed, then repeated it again and dried myself with a fresh towel.
"Now," Uncle Stephen said after I'd finished drying myself, "repeat after me: Through the symbolism of this garment—"
"Through the symbolism of this garment—"
"I take on the protection of safety—"
"I take on the protection of safety—"
"In the power of the All-Highest, ANOOR, AMACOR, AMIDES, THEODONIAS, ANITOR."
"In the power of the All-Highest, ANOOR, AMACOR, AMIDES, THEODONIAS, ANITOR."
"O, ADONAI, cause that my desire shall be accomplished, by virtue of Thy power."
"O, ADONAI, cause that my desire shall be accomplished, by virtue of Thy power."
So far there had been no deviations from the ritual laid out in the grimoire. "From now on," Uncle Stephen said as I was putting on the robe, "say and do nothing whatsoever unless and until I tell you to do so, and then do exactly what I say and only what I say. Your life will depend on following these and subsequent instructions without error. Now, follow me."
His assistant opened the door for us. A narrow strip of white carpet had been laid from the door down the hall and staircase, on through the kitchen and then down a second set of stairs into what must once have been a fairly typical basement recreation room, complete with acoustical-tile ceiling, fluorescent lights, knotty pine walls and parquet floor. There were no windows and the fluorescents were unlit: what light there was in the room came from the coals glowing red in two braziers, one in the far right comer, the other in front of the black-draped altar that had been erected against the far wall.
On the altar were the instruments of Uncle Stephen's art, burning silver in the semidarkness: a sheet of parchment, a quill pen, and an inkhorn, small bottles of stone and glass, folded pieces of heavy canvas, batons of blond hazelwood with squiggly characters running their length, an asperger like those used to sprinkle holy water in church services, and knives ranging in size from small letter openers to broadswords, some straight- bladed, some sickle-shaped, one with a blade of corroded bronze and another with both blade and handle of polished wood. . Uncle Stephen chanted some words I couldn't make out over three of the stone bottles on the altar, then handed them to his assistant, who began feeding the powdered contents of one of them to first one, then the other, of the braziers. The braziers began giving off a thick, resinous, overly sweet smoke with something astringent to it but I had no way of knowing if it was, in fact, the perfume the grimoire had specified for operations ruled by the planet Mercury: a mixture of mastic, frankincense, cinquefoil, achates, and the dried and powdered brains of a fox.
Uncle Stephen took the three folded pieces of canvas from the altar and laid them out flat on the floor the pentacles in which we were to stand while the demon was being invoked. They were round, each rimmed with a thick red circle, with a second circle painted inside the first. Between the concentric circles were painted four six-pointed stars embellished with more squiggly characters and the letters A, L, and G. Each six-pointed star was surrounded by four smaller five-pointed stars. As far as I could tell the three pentacles were identical.
Uncle Stephen motioned me into the pentacle he'd placed to the left of the altar. His assistant had already taken up his place in the pentacle to the far right, from which he continued to feed the brazier in the corner. I hesitated an instant, then stepped into the pentacle.
Once I was standing within the inner circle Uncle Stephen took a small sickle-shaped knife from the altar and, kneeling, carefully cut the outline of the outer circle into the floor, then walked back to the pentacle he'd laid out in front of the altar, by the second brazier, and put the knife down in its center.
He took the asperger from the altar and carefully sprinkled me and the pentacle in which I was standing. I had no more way of knowing whether or not the water had contained the mint, marjoram and rosemary that it was supposed to than I'd had of knowing if the smoke was as the grimoire had specified. If it did, and if everything had been prepared beforehand as it was supposed to be prepared, and assuming that the grimoire itself could be trusted, I would be safe as long as I remained in the pentacle.
Which meant that there was no way I could leave until the ritual had been concluded.
Uncle Stephen picked up the sickle-shaped knife and carefully cut a circle around his assistant's pentacle, then a second circle around the brazier the assistant had been feeding,
and connected the two circles with a straight line. He asperged the assistant with water from the same asperger he'd used for me.
He carefully set the asperger and knife down in the center of his pentacle, then, turning to the altar, took the lancet from it and slashed his little finger, the one with the thread tied to it, with one quick motion, so that the blood spurted freely. He caught the blood in the inkhorn, spilling none of it; when the inkhorn was full he dipped the quill into it and began writing in blood on the parchment. I could see that he was drawing as well as writing, but from where I was standing could make out no details beyond the fact that the main design was diamond-shaped, with words and characters in each of the four corners, and that there was a lens-shaped form in the center.
The instant the quill touched the parchment the room was full of shouts and cries which grew louder as he continued drawing, were joined by the sounds of what might have been some sort of bizarrely distorted military marches.
Still following the ritual as it had been laid out in the grimoire, he pinned the finished design to the left side of his robe. He took two- of the hazelwood batons and a small stone bottle and stepped into his pentacle. Kneeling carefully, he put the batons and bottle on the cloth beside him, then took up the sickle-shaped knife and cut the outline of his circle into the floor. He picked up the asperger and asperged himself and his circle, then put it down again and stuck the two batons in his sash and picked up the stone bottle.
In the corner his assistant was still feeding powder to his brazier; now, moving in such a way that only the neck of his bottle protruded beyond the confines of the circle he'd cut into the wood, Uncle Stephen poured the contents of his bottle into his own brazier. Thick smoke, sweet like rotting meat, poured from it, hid the room for an instant. When it thinned I could see Uncle Stephen tracing patterns in the air with one of his batons while he chanted Latin Psalms.
Finally he held the baton steady while he half-sang what I recognized from the grimoire as the invocation to Scrilin, the messenger who would carry his summons to SUSTUGRIEL, the demon he was invoking: "Helon-tal-varf-pan-heon-mon-onoreum-slemailh-sergeath-clemialh-Agla-Tetragramma-tor-Casolay!"
The voices and music were gone, replaced by a silent presence. The fluorescent lights flickered on, burned a violet red. Between Uncle Stephen and the altar an iron ring perhaps five feet across had appeared.
Uncle Stephen tossed the baton he had been holding into the center of the ring and, taking the second baton from his sash and holding it pointing straight out in front of him chanted the invocation to SUSTUGRIEL: "Osumry-delmusan-atalsoy-lum-lamintho-colehon-madoin-merloy-domedo-eploym-ibasil crisolay baneil-vermias-slevor-neolma-dorsamot-ilhalva-omor-frangam-beldor-dragin. VENITE, VENITE SUSTUGRIEL!"
Nothing happened. Uncle Stephen took a thick seal of white wax from his sash and jabbed the pointed end of his baton through it. Holding it high over the brazier he shouted, "I invoke and command thee, O SUSTUGRIEL, by the resplendent and potent Names of your Masters Satanicia and Satanachia, and by the Name of their Master Lucifer, and by the Great and Unparalleled Name of JEHOVAM SABAOTH, our Lord, to come here to this place instanter! Come, from whichever place in the world thou art and give me that which I desire of thee. Come, then, in visible form, come and speak to me pleasantly and without deception, that I may understand thy words!
"I have thy Name and thy Seal, SUSTUGRIEL, and I hold them posed on this wand on which are written the Most Holy and Efficacious Names ADONAI, SABAOTH, and AMIORAM, and this wand I hold over this Fire in which I will destroy thy Name and thy Seal, and thus curse thee to the lowest depths of the Bottomless Pit, to the Circle of Everlasting Burning, unless thou appear to me immediately and in friendship, obedient of my every demand!
"Come, SUSTUGRIEL, through the virtue of the Most Holy and Efficacious Names ADONAI, SABAOTH, AMIORAM!
"Come, SUSTUGRIEL, and appear to me in this Circle of Iron! Come, I invoke and conjure thee in the name of ADONAI!"
He flicked the baton with the wax seal spitted on its tip through the fire and the room screamed, long and horrible.
A headless angel with black velvet-tipped golden wings was standing in the center of the iron ring. Blood and lymph dripped from its severed neck to stain its white robe, pooled on the floor below.
"What do you want from me, Magician?" the figure asked in a sweet, throaty voice that seemed to come from where its head should have been.
"A familiar spirit to do my bidding, SUSTUGRIEL. I bind thee to my services by thy Name and by the power of the All-Living God, ADONAI, TETRAGRAMMATON, PRIMEMATON, ANEXHETON."
"And what do you offer me for my service this time, Stephen Bathory?"
From the bag slung over his shoulder Uncle Stephen brought out a small brown puppy that could have been only a few days from its mother's womb. Its eyes were not yet open and it whimpered sleepily.
Uncle Stephen threw it to SUSTUGRIEL. The demon twisted around and caught it on its severed neck like a circus seal catching a ball on its nose. The puppy sank slowly into the red and yellow wetness. I could still hear it screaming after it had vanished from sight and the flesh had closed over it.
"It is enough, this time. You may have your spirit." SUSTUGREEL held out its right palm. There was a swelling in the smooth ivory of the palm and something like a segmented gray worm encased in a membrane full of flabby pink jelly burst forth, inched its way out of the sheltering flesh. It lay on the demon's white palm six inches long, glistening, the pink jelly quivering. I could smell it, like a tiny gangrened limb.
SUSTUGRIEL dropped it to the floor, where it twisted and curled helplessly within its flabby sack.
"May I depart now, Magician?" the demon asked in its sweet voice.
Uncle Stephen described a circle in the air with his baton. "Go in peace, SUSTUGRIEL, without harm to man or beast. Leave, then, and be at my disposal whenever I shall call thee again. Leave now, I adjure thee! May there be peace between thee and me forever. Amen."
The demon was gone, and with it the iron ring that had held it contained. The parchment pinned to Uncle Stephen's robe caught fire and burned to ashes without singeing the white silk to which it was pinned.
"You can leave the circle now, David," Uncle Stephen said. "There's no more danger."
His assistant was already climbing the stairs. I hesitated a moment, then stepped out of the circle and walked over to where the demon had been, stooped down to examine the familiar.
The worm inside the quivering jelly looked hard and dry, more like some kind of root than like any sort of animal. At each end it had a tiny cruel half-human, half-reptilian face, the features blurred by the membrane and the never-still jelly but still clear enough for me to know that the thing was a parody of some sort of the Naga that had first taken me to the cavern.
The stench was unbearable. I stood up, backed away.
The thing lay there writhing, quivering, more terrifying than the demon itself had been.
"That's—it?" I demanded. "I thought familiars were black cats and toads, things like that, not—"
"They are." Uncle Stephen's voice was exhausted, wavering. He looked older than Uncle Peter now, feeble, half-dead. "This one just happens to be a worm. But keep away from it for the moment. I'll have to bind it to me before you can make use of it."
He stepped forward, stumbled, caught himself, took a deep breath and said loudly, "Spirit! In the Name of SUSTUGRIEL your Master and by the power of the Compact he has made with me I demand of thee thy Name!"
A deep bass rumbling, impossible to associate with something so small and soft-looking, came from the thing, became speech. "I am Monteleur."
"Monteleur! By the power invested in me by SUSTUGRIEL and by the power of thy Name I bind thee to my service and command thee to obey me at all times and to do no harm to me or mine, either through action or through inaction. I further command thee to cause no harm or unnecessary pain or suffering to David Bathory, he who stands here before thee, and to obey his comman
ds except when they conflict with mine. Do you bind yourself to honor and obey this compact, Monteleur?"
"I bind myself, Master."
"Pick it up, David," Uncle Stephen said. "It can't hurt you now. Hold it against your belly, just above your navel. Disregard the pain. It will be over in a moment."
The rituals outlined in the grimoire had been followed to the letter, the instructions Uncle Stephen had given the familiar had been those upon which we'd agreed. I picked the thing up, held it against my flesh, gritted my teeth to keep from crying out as it burrowed into me. Moments later there was only a fading red mark on my skin to betray the worm's presence within me.
But I knew it was there. The pain had ceased when the flesh closed back over the wound it had made entering me but I could feel it moving around within me and I felt defiled.
* * *
Chapter Twenty-six
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We were both dressed in black: heavy, blunt-toed black boots, black denim jeans, thick black wool sweaters, though the day was already hot. A two-seated sports car, dark purple and Italian-looking though of no make I recognized, had been left in the driveway the night before. I followed Uncle Stephen out to it, trying to ignore the worm squirming in my belly while he climbed in, reached over and unlocked the other door for me.
There was a wooden box the size and shape of a large shoebox on the passenger's seat. He handed it to me to hold while he drove.
"What's in this?" It smelled of cinnamon and cloves, with a faint mustiness to it that the stronger odors of the spices almost masked.
"A hand of glory, a very special one. The only one of its kind in the world. It'll put Michael to sleep for as long as you'll need to rescue Dara. I made it from the hand of one of the last vampires we hunted down in Wallachia.