I can always incinerate him after I have my proper form back. All I have to do is reveal the nature of his recreations and most of the Masters would second my action. Simon Beltaire would not, of course, but he would not second anything I did, even if it was to offer him the wealth of the Indies. Although few, if any, of the Masters would find those recreations in and of themselves reprehensible, since du Mond had up until now confined himself to women of the lowest class and intelligence, they would find his indulgence in them to be foolish and an indication of a fatally flawed personality, one that could never muster the will to properly command the Salamanders.
They already had a perfect example of how such a flawed personality could be detrimental to every Magician. Crowley had been one such-and look what he was doing now! The man was a perambulating disaster wherever he went; he couldn't touch something without destroying or fouling it. And as for his blatant publicity-seeking-he was doing more to discredit the entire world of Magick than the Spanish Inquisition.
His former Master must be spinning in his grave.
Still, he did serve a kind of purpose. Eliphas Levi had said as much in Cameron's first Assembly, when Crowley had been formally cast out and stripped of as much of his power as the Magicians of his Element had deemed he actually possessed. "He does us all a favor, in his twisted way," the old Master had said. "He gathers to him all those fools who believe that the path to power can be found through drugs and self-indulgence rather than study and self-discipline. Thus, he relieves us of the task of having to test and discard them. And in addition, he causes the common folk of the world to believe that all Magicians must be charlatans-which is just as well, for it enables us to do our work in relative peace and quiet!"
Levi had a point. I do wonder ... perhaps I could persuade du Mond to go to Crowley? I would then be rid of him and inflict a treacherous cur on Crowley as well! Now that plan had a real savor to it!
And with that pleasant thought in mind, he began to relax, and his physical exhaustion caught up with him completely. He had just enough time to remind the Salamander to guard him while he slept, before sleep itself overcame him.
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
When Rose reached the haven of her room, she finally collapsed on the sofa, and allowed herself the luxury of feeling again-and of thinking, instead of merely accepting what she saw.
The result was an emotional collapse as well as a physical one. Shaking in every limb, she buried her face in her hands and let the reaction and tension play themselves out. She did not, as she had half expected she would, weep hysterically-though she did shiver until her teeth rattled.
It was a horrible moment, and it felt as if it would last forever. She had to keep reminding herself that Jason Cameron was more to be pitied than feared, and that he probably had no surer friends in the world than herself and Master Pao. I can cope with this. I can deal with becoming his Apprentice. I can cope with his rudeness and his arrogance, and even handle his anger, if I must. He needed her, however ungraciously he might act. She could not desert a fellow man who was in the state that he found himself.
As her shivering subsided, she forced herself to recall, as clearly as possible, every aspect of his face and figure, for there was still fear within her now that she was no longer caught up in the urgency and unreality of the emergency in his rooms. She confronted the monster directly, if only in her mind, contemplating it until it was no stranger than anything else she had witnessed in this strangest of homes. I must make him commonplace to myself, so that I can concentrate on the work and not on him.
The more she recalled, the less there was that seemed outre. Certainly she was able to think about working beside him without a shudder of fear. Paul du Mond is more to be feared than he, I suspect. If the Salamanders do not like him, and if Sunset fears him, there is surely a reason.
When it came right down to it, Cameron looked no worse than any of the animal-headed gods of ancient Egypt, and she had always thought them to be oddly attractive!
Yes. I will think of him as a kind of lesser Anubis.
Somehow that made everything fall into place; she had a "name" for what he was, and a category, and the world fell back into some semblance of order again. Once that happened, her feeling of disorientation vanished, and so did the last of her unease. That was hardly logical-But then, as I am well aware, the emotions are not very responsive to logic.
She took three deep breaths, and ordered the Salamander who tended her rooms to fix her a bath. She certainly needed one! I was sodden with perspiration before the whole incident was over. My clothing will have to be cleaned before it is fit to wear again.
She vaguely heard du Mond returning, heard a faint echo of him talking with Jason through the speaking-tube as she undressed. She was glad she had taken the precaution of locking her door. For some reason he seemed more than usually repellent to her. Could it be because Jason no longer trusts him? I wonder why he was so insistent on helping Jason with his Magickal Working? To do the man justice, he might simply have had the welfare of his Master in mind....
But somehow, she thought, as she stepped into the steaming bathtub, I don't think so. But what could his motive be?
"Thank you for fixing my bath. Now take the clothing I left on the floor and clean it all thoroughly, please," she ordered aloud. She never forgot "please" and "thank you" with the Salamanders, and she had the oddest feeling that they appreciated the small courtesy.
But her mind kept turning back to Paul du Mond, in spite of her determination to enjoy her bath in peace. And a thought occurred to her that made her blood run cold in spite of the hot water she soaked in. He is Jason's secretary, and he has had more than enough time to learn to forge Jason's signature. His reason could be strictly material! He could have been hoping for such an outcome as this one, hoping to catch Jason at a moment of extreme weakness and-
And what? Murder his employer, perhaps? Her hands closed on the side of the bathtub, and it was all she could do to keep from leaping to her feet to run downstairs to warn Jason.
It was certainly a possibility. Cameron had been a recluse for long enough that no one remarked on the fact anymore. He communicated with his underlings by means of the telegraph set in his office, or by letters. Anyone could use a telegraph, and as for letters, du Mond already wrote the majority of them. Every secretary she had ever met was an adroit forger of his or her employer's name, and she doubted that du Mond was an exception to that rule.
He need only dispose of Jason, keep up the pretense that Jason is still alive, and enjoy all the fruits of Jason's wealth for as long as he cares to. She began shivering all over again, and hoped that Jason had not exposed his weakened state to du Mond. Would he snatch the opportunity, or would he wait for a surer time ? I fear he is the type to grab for any chance....
It would be all too easy for the secretary to cover his employer's absence. Her imagination carried out the scheme further, until Paul du Mond appeared to her in her mind's eye as a very Moriarty of crime. If anyone suspected, he could purchase a ticket to Tahiti, China, or Australia, hire someone to impersonate Cameron for the trip, and then "Cameron" would either vanish overseas or simply "Send back orders" now and again. The only person who would know that Cameron was no longer among the living would be me-I am the only person he could not fool, for I know Cameron's voice.
That made her grow even colder. Of course, du Mond could always appear with orders for her dismissal, but would he? Why should he let her go? There was no one to miss her if she disappeared. If du Mond balked at killing a woman, he could simply overpower her and put her into the hands of a white slaver...
Or he could imprison me here, at his pleasure. Her throat closed, as fear choked off her breath for a moment; her chest tightened, and she feared that her heart would pound itself into pieces. She clutched the sides of the bathtub as to a lifeline, and willed herself to fight the fear. Logic! Think logically! Du Mond does not know that Jason is indisposed. Nothing has
happened yet, and if I confide my thoughts to Jason, he can be certain to guard himself-
Guard himself! Of course! Suddenly her heart quieted, and her breathing eased. Jason had his Salamanders to protect him; if only half of what she had read thus far was true, in defense of their Master they could incinerate a man in the space of a heartbeat! Du Mond was only an Apprentice, and not a very good one, if Jason was to be believed. It was not likely that he would be able to defend himself against the attack of a Salamander.
The fear evaporated as quickly as fog at noon. She relaxed back into the hot bath, and sighed as a calm exhaustion replaced fear. I will still tell Jason my concerns, but du Mond will not be able to overcome him now that Jason is wary of the man. Du Mond is no threat, not to someone as powerful as and wary as Jason is. I should concentrate on preparing myself to be a Master's Apprentice. I only hope I am as ready for that as I claimed I was.
The mirror showed a face far more pleasant than Jason Cameron's wolf-visage, and Paul du Mond chuckled to his reflection as he prepared for bed. His trip into Pacifica for dinner had been a fruitful one, for he had no sooner settled down to a very satisfactory meal than who should stroll into the tiny inn by the sea but Simon Beltaire!
As if it had been planned ahead of time, the inn was crowded and there were no free tables available. Paul was able to offer the "stranger" a seat at his own without looking like anything other than a polite gentleman. The owner of the restaurant had been relieved and grateful that Paul was so accommodating. They had made mock-introductions to each other with perfectly straight faces, and Beltaire had ordered his own meal as soon as the waiter hurried up to tend to the new arrival.
"I believe that Cameron attempted a Working tonight," Paul had said casually, when he thought they would not be overheard in the general chatter.
"He will not get far with it." Beltaire had chuckled, stroking his goatee with evident satisfaction. "I have reason to believe that I hold the only manuscript with the key to his troubles, and needless to say, I have no intention of allowing him to have it."
Du Mond chuckled to himself at the memory of the cruel glint in Beltaire's dark eyes. The Firemaster intended to make Cameron suffer as long as possible before striking, that much was obvious to even a dullard. Not that du Mond blamed him for such intentions. Watching one's enemies suffer was one of the few totally pure pleasures in the world, and Cameron had been Beltaire's enemy for as long as du Mond had known of the existence of the Firemasters.
It had been a good dinner, and it had not been marred by Jason's surliness on his return. He untied his tie and put it and his collar away, fastidiously hanging the tie on a special rack and curling the collar just so in the wooden collar-box.
Beltaire's appearance was no accident; he had indeed arranged their meeting, for the Firemaster had told him so in as many words. "I have been waiting for you here in the town for some days now. I needed to speak with you urgently. I would like you to do two things for me," he had said. "First, I wish to repeat my request to plant as many doubts in that Hawkins girl's mind about Cameron as you can over the course of the next two weeks. And second, I would like you to find some way to persuade Cameron to lodge you permanently in San Francisco or Oakland before Christmas."
Nothing would have suited Paul better, but he had been both surprised and cautious that Beltaire should bring the second request to him. "Is there a reason?" he asked.
Beltaire had nodded. "I would like to have you available to me for an extended period of time. I wish to probe your memories of Cameron, his methods, and everything to do with his Magickal Work. If I am to defeat him, I need intimate knowledge that only you possess, and it will take time to plumb your memories for that much knowledge."
"And what do I receive in return?" Du Mond had not been at all shy in demanding that answer immediately. If he was going to be at Beltaire's beck and call, it had damned well better be worth his time!
The answer had been very satisfactory, and Paul smiled whitely at his reflection. Beltaire promised, with vows that no Firemaster would break, that he would initiate Paul into the paths that the noted magician Aleister Crowley had pioneered; he described the methods of Crowley's followers in detail, and Paul had been very impressed. These were paths that Paul found more to his liking, and along the same line as the book Beltaire had given him-the acquisition of Magickal Power by means of Sex Magick and the use of drugs to probe directly into the realms of the occult, rather than the tedious means that Cameron insisted upon. There would be no more memorizations or thumbing through half-legible manuscripts; this was the shortcut to Power that Paul had known instinctively existed, but that Cameron had denied him. There was no reason, in this modem day and age, to confine oneself to methods used by the ancients for no better reason than "tradition!" After all, it was "traditional" to light the night with candles rather than electricity, "traditional" to cross country by horseback rather than the railroad. Why should modem means be excluded from the pursuit of Magick? He had never been able to understand why a man like Cameron, so modem in every other way, was so stubborn when it came to modernizing Magick.
Beltaire had even hinted that use of such Magick did not confine one to the Mastery of only one of the Elements, but allowed the control of all four!
"I was able to subdue that Chinaman's Sylphs when he tried to hide the slave I had purchased," Beltaire had said. I drove them away long enough to give him proper punishment for his impertinence. Cameron could not have done that. "I will be a greater Master than Cameron ever dreamed of becoming! he exulted in his mind. There will be no limit to what I can do!
But while he worked out the means to that end, he must somehow persuade that skittish Hawkins female to listen to him.
I can't imagine what possible reason Beltaire has for wanting her to desert Cameron, but he must have one. Well, I don't particularly care, either. That's his business, not mine.
He would do his best; but that was not his primary concern. The most important thing for him was to find a reason for Cameron to send him into the city for an extended stay.
"Find some reason to take an apartment of your own-and don't worry, I will arrange one that will be precisely to your liking," Beltaire had also urged him. "That way you'll have a place where Cameron's Salamanders cannot overlook you. I can make sure of that, in a way that will not make him suspicious." He had chuckled. "There are many things that Salamanders do not care for; I can arrange for your new dwelling to be in a haunt of Undines and they will not venture near it."
That had been altogether to his liking. If I can have my own apartment, I will have a place I can bring a woman without that supercilious Snyder gazing down his nose at me. Paul had not been at all loath to agree to this arrangement, especially since he and Beltaire shared many of the same interests. He would be able to indulge himself in his long-cherished fantasy of having a girl to himself, for as long as he wished A Chinese, I think. They're cheaper for one thing; for another, if she's damaged or dies on me, I can dump her somewhere without anyone bothering to investigate. No one is going to bother about another Chinese whore turning up in an alley - they might fuss a bit about a Mexican or a colored girl, and if anyone found a white girl in the same position, it would force a policeman to look around. He felt a familiar tightening in his groin at the very idea of having his own little slave to do what he liked with. The only drawback to breaking girls for someone else was the need to keep them relatively undamaged. At last he would be free to indulge every fantasy. For that matter, if Beltaire was to be believed, he would be able to use a great deal of what he did with his women as a road to further Magickal Power. Beltaire was going to get him some texts and fiction by Crowley soon, so that he could see for himself what the potentials were.
Those will make better reading than Cameron's old fossils, by a damn sight!
He undressed carefully, as always; got into bed and turned off the light, and composed himself as if for sleep, but his mind was going at full speed. What can possi
bly require my presence in the city for an indefinite length of time? It will have to be business matters. I must look through all the recent correspondence and try to find something appropriate, then blow it up out of proportion.
Planting doubts into the Hawkins girl's mind would not be at all difficult. The circumstances under which she had been brought here were duplicitous; she should be ready to believe that Cameron had told her further lies. She was a scholar, and they were notoriously unworldly. And anyone who prided himself on being clever, the way she did, was an easy target for deception. People who considered themselves to be clever, to be more intelligent than those around them, simply would not believe that they could be fooled. A large lie will be better than a small one. The best thing I can do is to hint that I have found things in Cameron's correspondence that indicate he is a party to the white slave trade. I can point to the nearness of his townhouse to the Barbary Coast as circumstantial evidence-also to his friendships with Chinese of dubious repute, and the presence of a man with connections to India in his very service. Did Beltaire only wish her to flee, so as to remove the only potential witness to Cameron's destruction, or did he have some further goal in mind? Did he plan to offer himself as the girl's protector, in the most innocent sense? If she were frightened enough of Cameron-and if Beltaire presented himself in the guise of someone to be trusted, say a clergyman, he just might be able to pull it off. Perhaps it would not do any harm to mention again that Jason is not mentally stable, hint at an addiction to opium. That would give further connections, for the white slavers were also the men who supplied opium to the dope dens. Before he left, the wench would be terrified at the very thought of encountering Cameron in the flesh!
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