The Satanist mf-2

by Dennis Wheatley

  Into her wildly agitated brain there came the terrible thought that this must be the end of the road that Ratnadatta had all the time destined for her. He was Abaddon's creature and must be employed by him to lure girls to the Temple so that in this beautiful bed the evil High Priest could strangle them.

  Suddenly, through the buzzing in her ears, she heard the voice of Honorius, sharp, imperative, 'Master! Enough! She is needed for Our Lord Satan's work. Later, if you must, but not tonight.'

  Ignoring her cry Abaddon, smiling a twisted smile, his now seemingly sightless eyes fixed on Mary's, tightened his grip on her throat. But the High Priestess had evidently had previous experience of his murderous fits, and knew how to deal with them. Her classic features set, like those of an outraged Athene, and her white nun's garments swirling about her, she struck Abaddon with the flat of her hand again and again across the face.

  He took his hands from Mary's neck, shook himself, blinked and, after a moment, his eyes regained their normally benevolent expression. Looking down at her again he muttered:

  'You . . . you must forgive me. Occasionally I am subject to these little compulsions to ... to, er, indulge myself, and at the same time send some young woman more swiftly on the way to a new incarnation. But now that I am older I rarely feel so ... so strongly about the matter as to forget myself with a friend. That I did so in your case you must please regard as a very special tribute to your beauty.'

  Honorius having come running in at Mary's half-strangled cry, the pressure on her throat had lasted no more than a minute; but she was still shaking from fright and panting slightly. To Abaddon's courteous apology and horrifying admission, there seemed no adequate reply. She could only pray that never again would she be left alone with him; meanwhile the Priestess wiped away the perspiration that had started out on her forehead and asked her if she would like something to drink to steady her nerves.

  She shook her head, and murmured, 'No; I'll be all right in a few minutes.'

  Abaddon smiled. 'You are a brave girl as well as a beautiful one. Many would have given way to hysterics and I would have had myself to blame for having rendered you incapable of performing the task that has been set you. Since you are still prepared to carry it out I will reward you later with a special favour.'

  Both of them then left her, and went back into the sitting-room. Her relief at knowing that she was not to die there between the soft lawn sheets was only momentary. Fresh fears beset her that, after Mr. X's visit. Abaddon might return and give free reign to his murderous perversion. Yet escape seemed impossible.

  Suddenly the thought of the crucifix came into her mind. It was still in her hand-bag and that she had put into the wardrobe with her other things. If she held it up in front of her they might be afraid to attack her. But she could not force her way past them and out into the street still naked. She would first have to dress, and they had left the door of the sitting-room ajar so, if she got out of bed, it was certain that they would hear her. Before she could open the wardrobe and get the crucifix from her bag, they would be upon her. Again she recalled the High Priestess's threats should she prove disobedient. Abaddon might cause all her hair to fall out or, infinitely worse, give her to the Zombies.

  She dared not risk that. Perhaps, after all, if she did what was required of her with Mr. X, they would let her go, counting on her apparent willingness to return another night for her initiation. On two previous occasions Ratnadatta had kept his word; why should he not again? If she could only keep her head there was still a chance that she might be out of this gateway to hell soon after nine o'clock and free to bring about its complete destruction.

  The frantic twistings of her mind, first this way then that, were brought to an abrupt cessation by the sound of voices in the next room. Although she strained her ears, she could not catch what they were saying. Quickly she pulled the sheets up to her chin and stretched her arms below them down along her sides. She had hardly done so, when the door opened. Then she shut her eyes as she had been directed.

  Abaddon's melodious tones came to her as he addressed Mr. X. 'I cannot stress too strongly, Sir, that this is no pretended magical hocus-pocus, but a matter of advanced science. Or, it would be more correct to say, a revival of the application of scientific laws known to the ancients. They discovered that young women, while still pure, could be trained to prophesy correctly. But the medical profession still refuses to accept that as a fact; so we are under the necessity of keeping secret our valuable work in this clinic'

  'Yes, I quite understand,' a deep, slightly rough, voice replied. 'It's good of you to let me come here. I must say I congratulate you on your, er ... prophetess. She's quite a Beauty Queen, isn't she?'

  'We have found,' Abaddon returned, smoothly, 'that a definite link exists between beauty coupled with purity and the higher intelligences that exist outside the earthly plane. It is on that account that so few young women can be found who are suitable subjects for training. For the moment this girl is the only one here fully qualified, and it is most regrettable that she should have been taken ill yesterday. But, as Mr. Bierabaum told us that the matter upon which you desired guidance was both urgent and important, I agreed that you should be allowed to consult her.'

  'She looks as if she is asleep,' came the other voice. 'Seems a shame to disturb her. Wouldn't it be best to wait until she wakes up?'

  'No; she is in a semi-trance, so her state could hardly be better for your purpose. All you need do is to place the finger-tips of your left hand on her forehead and concentrate to the utmost on conveying your thoughts to her.'

  Abaddon's voice came more faintly as, while moving away, he added: 'I will leave you now. When you have done, I shall be waiting for you in the next room.'

  Mary just caught the sound of his receding footsteps on the soft carpet, then she felt Mr. X's finger-tips on her forehead and heard him say, 'I'm sorry you've been ill, Miss; but they say you're well enough to tell me what my prospects are, and the sort of trouble I ought to look out for. This thing means a lot to me, and I'd be very grateful if you could.'

  In accordance with her instructions, Mary silently counted two hundred then she fluttered her eyes open and looked up at Mr. X. He was a well-made, broad shouldered man, and she judged him to be about fifty-five. His hair was short, grey and wiry, his jowls were heavy and his reddish complexion suggested that he was a fairly heavy drinker; but his mouth was good and firm, and his brown eyes looked down into hers with compelling directness.

  Keeping her voice very low, she said: 'All will be well, if you act with caution.'

  'That's a good start,' he said, a smile spreading over his face. 'But I'd like a few practical details.'

  She counted fifty, then spoke again. 'Take no step of importance on Tuesdays. For the next...'

  'What's that?' He leaned forward over her. 'Speak a bit louder if you can, please. I can hardly hear you.'

  Without raising her voice, she repeated the warning about Tuesdays, and went on: 'For the next twelve days eat no meat, drink no alcohol and know no woman, so that greater power to influence others may flow into you.'

  'Twelve days,' he muttered. 'Yes, you've hit it. If I get through them I'll be all right. But what's this special danger I've to guard against that Emily Purbess couldn't quite make out?'

  Mary counted another hundred, as she had been told, then replied in a whisper. 'Beware of the man with the thick-rimmed glasses. Do not trust him. In secret he is working against you.'

  'What; Sir Hamish?' Mr. X burst out. 'You can't mean him! He's spent thousands pushing the boat in the right direction.'

  'I see clearly the man who menaces your success,' Mary went on. 'He has thick, dark hair, and dresses untidily. He is still under thirty but has a forceful, abrupt manner.'

  'By God, it is Sir Hamish!'

  'Be warned by me. I am the vehicle of power beyond your understanding.'

  'Yes; yes.' Mr. X appeared greatly agitated. 'I don't get it; but I'll watch out.'<
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  His face was still within a foot of Mary's. Suddenly she threw the bedclothes from her, sat up, smiled at him, quickly put out her right hand, curling it round his neck, and said in a much stronger voice, 'In you the Lion finds a champion against the Bear. Heed my warning and a great future will be yours. Go now, and good fortune be with you.'

  For a moment his eyes showed amazement at her unexpected display of vigour. Then they dropped from her face to her body.

  He drew a deep breath, jerked his head away, stood upright and said, a trifle thickly:

  'Get back under the bedclothes.'

  She had carried out Abaddon's instructions to the letter and Mr. X's reaction to her prophesy had been just as expected. But how he would react when she exposed herself to him was the question that had been agitating her on and off for the past hour. The display of control with which he coupled his admonition brought her instant relief. Gladly she obeyed him, flopping back and grasping quickly with both hands at the sheets. As she pulled them up to her chin, he asked her in a puzzled voice:

  'Why haven't you got a night-dress on? If I hadn't been told that this was a sort of scientific clinic, and you a kind of vestal virgin, I'd think I'd got into a slap-up brothel.'

  She made no reply and, as though exhausted by the effort of prophesying, closed her eyes again. After a moment, he went on: 'I suppose when you prophesy you're not properly conscious of your surroundings, and sat up on a sudden impulse?�

  As she continued to ignore him, he shrugged and said: 'Well, it's not for me to complain, as you were good enough to see me while ill in bed. Your prophesy was a queer one, but I'll certainly heed the warning and keep away from the man you described to me.'

  He was still speaking when she heard footsteps, then Abaddon's voice. 'I trust, Sir, that you are satisfied?�

  'Yes,' Mr. X replied. 'She was aware of the date that is important to me, and has told me the quarter from which I can expect trouble. I must say it surprised me, but forewarned is forearmed.'

  The voices faded as the two men left the room. Mary opened her eyes and lay still for a few minutes, then Honorius came in to her. The Priestess now had her coif drawn forward hiding her pale gold hair. Evidently she had adjusted it for Mr. X's visit, to give the impression that she was nursing Mary, as from her flowing white robes anyone would have taken her for a nun. Readjusting the coif on the back of her head, she said:

  'Abaddon tells me that you played your part excellently. He is very pleased with you.'

  With a pale smile, Mary sat up. 'I'm glad about that. I can dress now, then, and get ready to go home.'

  'No, not yet.' Honorius checked her with a gesture as she was about to get out of bed. 'Abaddon is seeing our visitor downstairs; but he will be back in a moment and wants to talk to you again.'

  Fear leapt into Mary's blue eyes, but the Priestess saw it and quickly sought to dispel her terror by saying: 'There is no need to be alarmed, my dear. He is not often subject to such fits, and you may be certain that he will not be seized by another tonight.'

  At that moment Abaddon appeared in the doorway. Quickly Mary lay back and covered herself again up to the chin. Holding the door open for Honorius, he said quietly, 'You may leave us now,' and, when she had walked past him, he closed it behind her.

  Her statement had done little to reassure Mary. With his bald head, smiling eyes, smooth cheeks, and dressed in his neat dark grey suit, the High Priest still looked like a benevolent Bishop yet, less than half an hour before, he had calmly admitted to her that he was a strangler. And he was the Master in this den of murderers. His word was law there and Honorius, like the rest of them, was sworn to obey him. He might have told her to still his intended victim's fears and keep her in bed till his return, so that she would be less able to defend herself. Now that she had served her purpose, even if she screamed Honorius might not come to her rescue again, but leave her at the mercy of this elderly maniac.

  Mary's heart was beating like a sledge hammer. Perspiration again broke out on her forehead. Her throat had suddenly gone dry and her tongue felt like thick leather in her mouth. As Abaddon moved away from the door, her eyes fixed themselves on his beautiful hands. In another few moments those strong, slender fingers might be choking the life out of her body. Half sitting up, she thrust out an arm as if to fend him off, and gasped:

  'Stay where you are! Stay where you are! Don't... don't come any nearer!'

  His smile became sad, and he said: 'My child, I understand how you must be feeling. Naturally you are afraid that I may give way to another of my little lapses; but you have no need to be.'

  As he continued to approach the bed, she did not believe him. Cowering back among the pillows, she repeated hoarsely: 'Don't come any nearer! I'll claw your eyes out if you touch me!'

  He halted then and shook his head. 'Calm yourself, I beg. My having so unfortunately, er . . . forgotten myself, must have been a great shock to you. After having your nerve so badly shaken it does you all the more credit that you should have passed your test with flying colours. I come only to tell you of the special favour I intend to grant you as a reward for going through with the task set you in spite of what had gone before.'

  She continued to regard him with nervous doubt, but his eyes showed no sign of abnormality. With an effort, she stopped the trembling of her hands, and asked in a low voice, 'What is it?'

  'That's better,' he nodded. 'Lie back, my child, and relax. I give you my word that I will not lay a finger on you.'

  Uneasily, she wriggled down a little, and again covered herself up to the shoulders, as he asked, 'Have you yet decided on your Satanic name? Is it to be Circe, or some other?'

  She was about to reply that to her it was a matter of complete indifference, but remembered in time that to him she was a neophyte who, having successfully passed her test, should now be looking forward eagerly to her initiation as a Sister of the Ram. His question suggested that the favour he meant to do her was in connection with it - perhaps the fixing of an early date - and that he was about to tell her of certain things she must do to prepare herself for the ceremony. She was still in their power and, if she was to get out of it in the next half-hour, she must continue to avoid arousing their suspicions by showing delight at her prospect of becoming one of them. Seeking now to please him, she said in a steadier voice:

  'I like the name, but you are the Master here. If there is one you prefer for me I will willingly take it.'

  He beamed at her. 'I like it too; so Circe let it be. Now, tell me: what do you know of our Satanic festivals?�

  'Mr. Ratnadatta told me that your weekly meetings on Saturdays are called Esbats, and that four times a year you hold a Sabat - a great feast at which you sacrifice a ram.'

  'That is so; and it is through the blood of the ram that we receive our first degree of power. The central act in an initiation ceremony is the baptism of the neophyte with it. Only so can one become a member of the Brotherhood.'

  'I see,' she said, pretending keen interest. 'And as there are only four Sabats a year, that is why a neophyte sometimes has to wait quite a long time before receiving initiation. Mr. Ratnadatta warned me that I should have to be patient.'

  'Yes, usually we arrange matters so that three weeks or a month elapse between each stage. You were fortunate that an occasion happened to arise for us to give you your test after only a fortnight.'

  Mary was now feeling enough at ease with him again to play her part convincingly. With just a suggestion of peevishness, she murmured, 'And now I suppose it will be the other way. I'll have to wait weeks and weeks before I can enjoy the power that initiation will give me.'

  'No, my child.' His smile was seraphic. 'As resident Master of this Lodge, I have authority to ignore normal procedure when I wish, and I intend to treat your case as an exception. That is the way in which I propose to make amends for giving you such a fright.'

  'Do you mean that there is a Sabat quite soon, and that you'll let me come to it? If so, that's
very kind.'

  He looked at her in surprise. 'Do you not know what today is?�

  Puzzled, she thought a moment, then replied, 'Yes, it's the 30th April.'

  'And Walpurgis Night,' he added quickly, 'the greatest Satanic feast in the whole year.'

  Starting up, she stared at him. 'You don't mean ...'

  'I mean that, normally, your initiation would not take place until the end of July. But I am granting you a dispensation which will spare you that long wait and enable you to be received as an initiate tonight.'

  'Tonight!' she gasped, her face a picture of dismay.

  'Yes. You will be one of five who are to be initiated; two other women and two men. But what has come over you?' he frowned. 'Instead of being delighted, you appear distressed.'

  She knew herself to be walking a razor's edge. Desperately she strove to compose her features. Then she faltered: 'It's only . . . only that I've had no chance to prepare myself for it. And I'm tired. Tired out by what I've been through this evening already.'

  'You feel so now, perhaps. But it will pass. You have the best part of an hour in which to rest. By then, and after another glass of our Delphic wine, you will feel quite restored and be eager to take your place among us.'

  'No! No!' she cried, panic getting the better of her. 'I couldn't face it tonight. Even if I have to wait three months, I'd rather. Let me go home! Let me go home!'

  'Now you are being foolish,' he admonished her. 'Of course you are tired and a little overwrought. But tomorrow you would bitterly regret having allowed a temporary weakness to deprive you of this chance to achieve your desires without further delay.'

  'I've not the strength to go through with this tonight. I really haven't. I swear I haven't. I'll bungle everything and disgrace you.'

  'I am confident that you will not. You took your oaths and made your profession of faith when you were accepted as a neophyte. No further demands of that kind will be made upon you. The ceremony consists only of a little blood being drawn from your arm so that you may sign a pact in it with our Lord Satan, then your baptism with the blood of the sacrificed ram and the tying of the black garter below your knee.'