The Unforgiven Sin

by R. Twine

  ‘No, I’m not,’ I answered firmly. ‘But I have known that parallel life has existed all along. And I prefer to believe what I see and not what someone tries to impose on somebody else.’

  ‘So you believe in the devil and the creatures he’s supposed to be in command of?’ the detective insisted.

  ‘I believe in the Creator, too,’ I answered back. ‘If you don’t believe in their existence it does not automatically mean they don’t exist. I have to go now, my flight takes off shortly,’ I said, getting up from the armchair. ‘Do you happen to know who will become the new owner of this library?’ I asked once again. ‘I’d like to come back here later on to have a closer look at the books. I’d be grateful to you if you could help me with this.’

  ‘These books will become the property of Phil Brinstein’s son who currently lives in Europe,’ said the investigating officer.

  ‘Can you tell me where exactly he lives?’ I asked him.

  ‘In Paris.’

  ‘In Paris?’ I was much surprised.

  ‘His name is Michael Brinstein. He says it’s been many years since he last saw his father. It seems they didn’t get along with each other. We have yet to find out why. We’ve already informed the heir about the death of his father. He’s coming in by plane tonight.'

  ‘Will you please give me his contact information? I want to be present at Phil Brinstein’s funeral,’ I asked the detective, sensing how the story was sucking me in.

  ‘I see you managed to make friends with the late Phil Brinstein,’ Nino observed. ‘That’s amazing! He never was known to be a friendly person.’

  ‘How did he manage to make friends with influential people then?’ I asked sarcastically.

  ‘Yes, you’re right,’ said the detective, giving up. ‘I’ll tell Michael Brinstein about your request, it’s up to him after all whether to invite you to the funeral or not,’ he assured me and quickly added. ‘Well, you really know how to get what you want, Miss Henderson.’

  We exchanged our cards, and I dashed out of the house. One thought kept on hammering in my temples: “Could Phil possibly have been murdered because of me?” The note he wrote was addressed to me – I had no doubt whatsoever about it: the connection of the text with our talk of the previous day was too evident. But what was the meaning of those words? And where did the secret room and The Book of Shadows go? There was some game going on. Was it Satanail again?

  ‘Miriam, how are you? What happened there? I was so worried! It’s so strange that Mister Brinstein died right after you met with him!’ Sam rattled off while meeting me at the airport.

  ‘It was sheer coincidence, Sam. It’s a great pity we didn’t have time enough to get to know each other better. He was a most interesting man. I’m still in shock over his death, and I do hope the police will see the investigation through.’

  ‘Oh, Miriam, I love you so much and I don’t want you to go anywhere anymore,’ said Sam. ‘Life is full of strange happenings and weird coincidences… How am I supposed to protect you from them? You know, I’d give up everything just to be with you and you alone. I’ve got enough money for us to live on comfortably for the rest of our days…’

  ‘Oh, no, darling. You love your work. And later on you’ll regret giving up everything for my sake. What’s the use of making such sacrifices?’ I said, kissing him on a bristly cheek.

  ‘Was Phil able to help you in some way or other before he died?’ he enquired cautiously.

  ‘Samuel, what Phil told me concerns only me,’ I said firmly.

  Chapter 30

  In the morning my mobile phone suddenly rang. I became afraid of telephones: you never knew what problems were going to burst into your life along with the next call.

  ‘Good morning! Is this Miss Henderson?’ asked a pleasant male voice.

  ‘Speaking!’

  ‘This is Michael Brinstein. The police gave me your contact information. The detective told me you wished to be present at my father’s funeral. Of course, I don’t mind. You may come. The funeral is scheduled for the day after tomorrow in the morning.’

  ‘I will surely come, Mister Brinstein. See you soon!’

  It was for the third time in a week that I stepped over the threshold of Phil’s house.

  ‘How do you do? My name is Michael,’ said the stunningly handsome man, who waited for me at the entrance, and extended his hand to greet me.

  I was overwhelmed: I had never met such an attractive man before, never before had I experienced such a sudden, powerful and all-consuming desire. Everything seethed inside me; my blood rushed to the bottom of my belly.

  ‘My name’s Miriam,’ I murmured, trying not to show my feelings. ‘Glad to meet you. I offer you my condolences.’

  We entered the house already filled with people wearing mourning attire. They came and went, stopping by the casket and wiping their tears, shaking Michael’s hand and whispering something in his ear, patting him encouragingly on the shoulder…

  By eleven o’clock only about thirty mourners were remaining. Sitting opposite the coffin were six men and a woman whose face was hidden behind a black veil. It seemed to me I’d seen this lady before. The rest were standing some distance away, their heads lowered. No one talked; everybody was thinking his or her own thoughts. Phil Brinstein was lying in his casket looking as though he were still alive; it seemed as if he were just fast asleep.

  I was stealthily scrutinizing the mourners, trying to memorize every one of them. Michael came to the casket, stood near it for a while as if trying to find the right words, but apparently failed to do so and just said: “Good-bye, Father” – and quickly left the hall. The silence became even more oppressive; it was only after several minutes that people started flowing again in a narrow stream towards the deceased to say a few words of farewell to the man who was about to set off on his final journey.

  Seizing the opportunity, I slipped out of the hall following Michael and found him in the kitchen. He was sitting in the corner, slowly stirring sugar into a cup of coffee.

  ‘Michael, I’m sorry to trouble you, but in the current circumstances it’s difficult to find an appropriate moment to talk,’ I started in a quiet tone of voice.

  ‘Don’t worry, Miriam, everything’s all right. I’m eager to hear what you have to say,’ Michael replied.

  ‘Have you made up your mind about what to do with your inheritance?’ I asked him outright. 'If you want to sell your father’s library, I’d gladly buy several books – you only have to tell me the price. I need them very much, Michael… Please.’

  He gave me an intent stare, and the velvet look of his eyes gave me the shivers.

  ‘I don’t know yet what to do with my inheritance,’ he replied. ‘One of my father’s friends wants to buy the entire collection but I haven’t given him my consent yet. Let’s return to this conversation after the funeral service, Miriam. All the more so, because I’d like to ask you some questions about my father: you were the last person who saw him alive.’

  I agreed. ‘All right, Michael.’

  After the funeral was over we returned to Phil’s giant house. Now it had become empty and quiet. Michael invited me to the sitting room, settled me on an ancient ottoman and brought some wine and glasses from the kitchen.

  ‘I think we should relax a little bit,’ Michael explained, pouring Bordeaux into the glasses. ‘We are in for a long talk, Miriam. By the way, in this house even the walls are capable of seeing and hearing. Don’t you sense anything of the kind?’

  I shook my head and took a sip of wine from my glass.

  ‘By the way, Michael, where are your father’s Dobermans now?’ I enquired.

  His answer was short. ‘They are with my friends.’

  I paused a little and then said,

  ‘Tell me about him – about your father.’

  ‘There were disagreements and misunderstandings between us,’ Michael replied. ‘We’ve seen very little of each other over the last few years. I didn’t approve
of his maniacal interest in the occult. I got sick every time I heard about the world of shadows, demons and spirits. It annoyed the hell out of my father: he certainly wanted to pass on his knowledge to me, but I’ve never been interested in any of this. To be frank, sometimes it seemed to me that he was possessed: mad eyes, convulsions, incoherent speeches – this was how many of our conversations ended. Besides, I was totally opposed to his being a member of a satanic sect.’

  ‘How did you find this out, Michael?’ I asked him.

  ‘I was about twelve years old then. I remember lying for a long time awake in my bed that night unable to fall asleep. It was after midnight when I heard someone slam the front door: It was either my father returning home or somebody going out. I became curious; I went silently downstairs into the hall and saw the light filtering through from the library. I came to the door and stood there for a while, listening in – there was a female voice coming from behind the door. It seemed very strange to me: my mother died soon after I was born; my father never married again; I’d never seen any women near him. I held my breath trying to make out what they were talking about and peered through the keyhole, to take a good look at our feminine night time visitor. They were talking about the black mass they just had, about Satanail and his servants, discussing the details of an orgy. The woman called herself “the devil’s wife” – I thought back then that she was one of my father’s female patients who for some reason left the psychiatric clinic. In fact, my father looked like a man suffering from a brain disorder, too. It came as a shock to me back then. But, as you know, children tend to get used very quickly to new circumstances. As time went by, I was gradually becoming aware of other details of Father’s secret life. He shared his bed with this woman…’ Michael took the bottle and, having asked if I didn’t mind, poured some more wine into my glass and then into his. ‘He always treated her rather brutally; I’d never known this facet of his personality before. My father gave her his seed which she demanded from him over and over again. I’m sure she – in exchange for this – helped him buy some valuable manuscripts. Father was proud of his book collection – he loved them more than anything in the world, even more than me. He knew the content of his paper treasures almost by heart. This was a life where there was no place left for me. I faced the choice: either to become like him or to run away. I left this place when the first opportunity cropped up. Miriam, I’d rather you didn’t buy these books, they are dangerous. They’ll kill you just the way they killed my father and those who had anything to do with him…’ Michael said, warning me, and then finished his glass of wine in one gulp.

  ‘Your story is very impressive!’ I said in reply, thinking Michael had been right in running away from all this as far as he could. Then I asked him. ‘What did the woman who visited your house look like?’

  Michael smiled and said, ‘Say, Miriam, can we call each other by our first names?’

  I got confused, and my face reddened a little. His voice sounded simply miraculous. And everything else about him was making an unforgettable impression on me… Something strange was happening to me.

  ‘That woman was very beautiful. She was astonishingly gorgeous. I don’t even know how to describe her…’ said Michael, bringing me back to reality. ‘There was a glistening ring with a huge ruby in it on her finger.’

  Somehow I wasn’t surprised at all.

  ‘Michael, I’m sorry for asking all these questions but I can’t keep my curiosity at bay. ‘Tell me, please, do you happen to know anything about The Book of Shadows Phil had in his collection?’

  ‘He once told me The Book of Shadows contained the details of every human life and was very dangerous. I also know that few are those to whom it reveals its secrets. That’s about all I know.’

  ‘Phil showed me the secret room where he kept The Book of Shadows,’ I confessed. ‘But when he died, the detective and I failed to find it. There wasn’t anything in the wall but the strongbox. So the detective and the insurance agent thought I was crazy.’

  ‘My father didn’t want anybody to know about this room. It isn’t even shown in the layout of the house. It’s rather strange that he should have shown it to you – a person he was seeing for the first time in his life. It’s very much unlike my dad! Even I had never been there. Before my departure Father told me – as I was the only inheritor – about the secret room and showed me how to unlock it in case of emergency.’

  ‘But there’s nothing there at the moment!’ I exclaimed, unable to hold in my emotions.

  ‘There are double walls there, Miriam. You simply didn’t know the secret – fortunately. I don’t think Father would be happy to know the police were there… If he showed you the things he’d been hiding from everyone else, it means he had good reasons to do so. Perhaps,’ Michael gave me a suspicious look, ‘you are somehow involved with the devil’s world, otherwise he wouldn’t even think of letting you see his treasure…’

  ‘It is this world that has something to do with me, not the other way round,’ I replied and then asked him, ‘Would you mind opening the room? I’d like to have another look at The Book of Shadows.’

  Michael scrutinized me for a long moment, clearly mulling over my request. After a long pause he replied.

  ‘All right, but I’m not going to enter the room.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘This book is dangerous. Whoever sees it even once will remain tied to the devil by invisible threads forever. Personally, I am not enthusiastic about such a prospect at all. You have to know one thing, Miriam: your life may be the price for your curiosity.’

  ‘Do you mean to say that once I’ve seen the book I will remain vulnerable?’ I asked, hesitant.

  ‘Of course you are,’ Michael confirmed. ‘Otherwise you wouldn’t return here again. This book is calling you. I bet you’d gladly give everything to own it without thinking twice about what you are doing! And if you were flipping through its pages, there are now your fingerprints in the book, the traces of your “self”. Being aware of my reluctance to undergo initiation, my father never let me into the secrets of The Book of Shadows. But I guessed a lot of things on my own. I saw how much my father changed. He died, but first he made me his heir intentionally and then told you about the room. He wanted me to enter the room anyway – out of sheer interest or greed – and touch the Book… He told me oftentimes that there had always been only the initiated ones in our family; he predicted also that blood running in my veins would have its final say all the same. But he was wrong: this will never happen! I will never step over the threshold of this room!’ Michael was clearly agitated.

  ‘You may be right, Michael,’ I agreed and then managed a joke. ‘But as for me, I have nothing to lose now. May I enter the room?’

  ‘All right – if you insist,’ answered Michael helplessly and led me to the library.

  He came to the bookshelves and pressed a secret button hidden behind one of the tomes. A passage opened.

  ‘I’ll be waiting for you in the hall,’ he said, looking away. ‘And take care. Be aware of the simple fact that I will not be able to help you in case something happens. I’m not going to enter the room,’ he warned me.

  ‘I see, Michael,’ I said and went inside.

  The book was lying where it had been lying before. I stood for a while watching the shimmering of dark jewels and then touched reverently the metal binding – it felt warm, almost alive. I had to suppress my inner fear before opening the book. Sitting on the front page was a scaly creature with a staff in its claws. The beast winked at me and stretched its mug in a contented smile. I felt an instant urge to slap the book shut and dash outside as far as I could but some force kept me from doing this – I couldn’t get my feet off the floor. My eyes were fixed on the beast, but it no longer moved. I plucked up my courage and began turning the pages again. The pictures were becoming alive under the touch of my fingers: the characters took off from the pages and started to fly about. The dark world awakened. And I was ready to li
sten to its story.

  The Heavenly Father was the creator of Good, Evil and all things in the world. Evil already existed in the Universe from the moment man was expelled from Heaven. The solidly balanced structure of the world was based upon the parity between Good and Evil. It couldn’t be otherwise: the former cannot exist without the latter. After his expulsion Satanail set up his own Kingdom and became its sovereign ruler. His dominance was based on his opposition to the Almighty, on his constant confrontation with the Heavenly Kingdom. Evil subjugated and ruled, it conquered and destroyed… Satanail himself would create Evil and destroy what he didn’t like.

  Satanail seduced Eve, thus distancing her from the Creator. Man came to know Evil and has been doomed to cope with it on his own ever since. Will it be possible to defeat and destroy Evil and the gene of destruction man himself harbors? Because it’s only after carrying out this mission that mankind will be able to atone its unforgiven sin.

  One has to turn back time and reestablish the initial spiritual innocence in order to save oneself from the Flaming Abyss. The Universe is filled with Good and the guardians of Good, it is also filled with Evil and the guardians of Evil. Good and Evil are interconnected; their paths always cross… but they can be both true and false… Alleged Good may carry Evil within itself while alleged Evil may hold Good…

  Everything has its rules and regulations. Everything is predetermined. Everybody and everything are under someone’s control and always will be. Even air has a higher force that keeps it under control. Everything is moving, breathing, living. Everybody and everything has their own degree of an inner force. Somebody is predestined to be the first, and someone is doomed to be the last. One will get plenty, while the other one will get plenty of nothing. This is the way it was and always will be.