Doctor Orient

by Frank Lauria

  Bishop Redson nodded his head emphatically.

  “Last night after my second trip into the hyper-space of Malta’s trance I realized something else.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I believe that black magic creates a passive field in hyper- space, drawing vital energies away from our time-space continuum, while white magic creates active fields and feeds energy to our continuum.”

  “Very interesting,” Redson acknowledged. “It even has sexual connotations. But what does this theory mean to you?” _

  “Malta was trapped by a great negative passive field. If I’m correct, that field is being maintained by someone practicing black magic.”

  “But how can you be sure that the girl wasn’t telling you the truth and merely had an adverse reaction to some form of hypnosis?” Redson demanded.

  “I was there, Bishop,” Orient answered softly.

  “Yes.” Redson squinted shrewdly at Orient. “I see.”

  “Bishop,” Orient said after an uncomfortable pause, “do you think exorcism would help Malta?”

  Redson chuckled. “You’ve given me pretty slim evidence, Owen.”

  Orient nodded. “Perhaps.” He stared at his wrinkled palm.

  “At any rate, I’m committed to do everything I can for her.”

  “Ah now, be careful, my young friend.” Redson shook his head gravely. “Science will only take you so far in these matters. Magic goes far beyond space and hyper-space. The fact that you can find concrete evidence of its energy makes it even more dangerous a factor.”

  “I understand, Bishop. That’s why I wanted to brush up on the rituals of protection.” Orient waved a hand at the manuscripts in front of him.

  “You know, of course, that if your friend Malta had been possessed by a demon and not merely strolling by, you and your whole crew would be mummified. You were foolish to go into this before consulting me or someone else about protection.”

  Orient smiled. “You know, Bishop, I studied in Tibet for some time.” He reached into his sweater and pulled out a curiously shaped red stone which hung by a silver chain around his neck. Redson’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Is that a Carnelian stone?”

  “Correct. It has power to protect the wearer from entry by an evil presence.”

  The bishop became grave once more. “You know, Owen,” he said softly, “you were in serious danger. The Carnelian has power only when the moon is in its ascendancy, and last night was the last quarter. You might as well have been wearing a Nixon button.”

  Doctor Orient’s face showed his chagrin. Bishop Redson was right, and he had been a fool. He had exposed all of them to a terrible risk by his oversight.

  Redson rose. His voice was gentle as he spoke. “You did the right thing last night, Owen, but you were impetuous. You must learn to go slowly.” He jabbed Orient’s shoulder. “Remember, your science is telepathy, not magic.”

  “One more thing, Bishop.” Orient’s memory was jogged suddenly and he recalled the sounds that came from Malta’s body when Hap had tried to rouse her. “While she was in trance she spoke in a strange language. A language I’ve never heard before.” Orient’s mind kept wandering to Hap. There was something else he had to remember.

  “Can you remember any of it?” Redson was saying.

  “Huh—oh, yes, a phrase she repeated over and over. It sounded like’oh say.’“

  Redson’s face hardened. He sat down. “My friend, I must admit I was somewhat dubious earlier, but what you’ve just told me is interesting. If your friend was possessed, it was by one of the most powerful Presidents of the Dark Legions. ‘Oh say’ would be Ose, the leopard, the spirit that breeds insanity, the spirit of things secret and hidden.”

  As Orient listened his concentration was interrupted by a light, sudden probe at the base of his brain. It receded almost as it connected. Orient stood up. “I have to go back to the house,” he mumbled. “Something’s happened.”

  “What do you mean, Owen?” Redson was confused.

  “I can’t explain.” Orient began moving to the door. “I just know I’m needed.”

  Redson rose and started out of the library. “Wait while I get some things,” he called over his shoulder. “I want to go with you.”

  Moments later they were in the limousine zigzagging toward the Orient mansion through the heavy afternoon traffic. Redson sat in the front, clutching a black leather bag in his lap.

  As they drove, Orient reached for the transmitter on the dash. Something was wrong. He had gotten that much from the incomplete message. He berated himself for not taking more precautions. He banged the mike and swore as he tried vainly to get a response from Sordi Over the auto-com.

  He brought the car to a sliding stop outside the garage. He led the way inside, ducking his head under the slowly rising garage door. Redson was just behind him, his beefy face scarlet with exertion. The elevator seemed to take an agonizingly long time to travel the two floors to where Malta was recuperating.

  Orient ran to the room. The door was open. He stopped short at the threshold. Sordi was lying face down near the entrance. All around were signs of a tremendous struggle.

  There was no sign of Malta.

  “We’re too late,” Orient muttered as he knelt to examine his secretary.

  “Dead?” Redson knelt beside him.

  Sordi’s neck was severely bruised. He appeared to have been strangled.

  IV

  When Addison finally woke up she was still lying on the round suede couch. Sunlight filtered through the heavy white draperies at the far end of the room. She sat up quickly and looked around. She was quite alone. She yawned once, then swung her feet to the carpet and began looking for the bathroom.

  She took a long, hot shower. When she had finished she dried herself in front of the mirrored wall, inspecting her body carefully for any sign of change, as she did each morning. Still naked, she wandered out of the bathroom, brushing her hair, and walked slowly about the silent apartment. She went from object to object, examining everything as if she were in a museum. Seth had an important collection; there were two Nevelsons, the Giacometti, a Marisol, a Samaras and a small Calder among the sculpture; and paintings by Gill and Lindner hung on the walls. Eventually she came to the bowl in which she had seen the strange images the night before. It was an irregularly shaped piece made of reddish clay. Crude child-like scribbles were etched into the rough outside surface.

  The dark liquid was still in the bowl.

  She dipped a tentative finger into it and stirred as she had seen Seth do. The liquid was thick and oily. She withdrew her finger and held it close to her face. It was dry. There was no moisture clinging to her skin. It was as if she had put her finger in air.

  She shuddered slightly, then stirred the liquid again. She peered into the bowl, but she could see nothing. Again she disturbed the oily mixture. This time, as she gazed closely, she was able to make out the faint outlines of a face. The image became stronger for a moment, then receded back into the dark waters of the bowl. She made a small sound of impatience as the form faded.

  “Don’t worry, little bird, you’ll get the hang of it.” Seth’s soft voice startled her.

  “Where were you, lover?” she said coolly, unwilling to show surprise.

  “I was making arrangements for this evening.” He casually threw the packages he was carrying onto the couch.

  “This evening?” Addison came over to him.

  He ran his hands over her bare shoulders. “Tonight you’re going to take your first step, remember? You’re going to be initiated into the sisterhood of the Clear One.”

  “Sounds somewhat sophomoric, doesn’t it?” Her fingers stroked the back of his neck.

  “Perhaps now, but after you’ve met the Clear One and Susej you won’t feel that way.” He twisted away from her and opened the packages. “We have lots of work to do now. I’m responsible for your instruction.”

  “No application? No interview? Just like that?”<
br />
  “Everything’s been taken care of.” His face was serious. “You’ve been observed, heard and found acceptable. Up until now.”

  “I’m not sure I want to get involved in this kind of weird setup,” she teased.

  “Any way you want it, little bird,” he said impassively.

  Her mood changed. “You know I’ll do anything you ask me to,” she said quietly.

  “Good, then we can begin right away.” Seth took a white robe out of one of the boxes and held it out to her.

  Addison felt a twinge of disappointment at Seth’s casual dismissal of her answer. She had never had this kind of feeling for a man before. The word love had long since been deleted from her emotional vocabulary, but she had substituted for it the word submission. She felt submissive to Seth. She would do anything necessary to stay with him. She took the robe and held it at arm’s length.

  “What’s this?”

  “That’s what you wear; and this.”

  Addison’s eyes widened as she saw the tiara Seth held in his hand. She was used to artifacts of wealth, but the intricately worked twist of gold seemed just right for an empress.

  “This is the symbol of your high position, little bird.” Seth read her reaction. “But its value is nothing compared to the gift you’re going to receive tonight. As a sister of the Clear One you’ll receive the power to perform certain phases of deep magic. When you meet Susej you’ll know that the bowl of observance is just a trick compared with what he can do.”

  “Are there any rules I have to follow?”

  “The first and only rule of being is to do exactly as you Wish.”

  “That’s it?” she said, unbelievingly.

  “There are procedures and rituals you must follow to get power, but these are just rules of function.”

  “Will I take part in a ritual tonight?” Addison asked. “Sure. This robe you’ll wear is made of plain virgin cotton and when you put it on you’ll be taking the first ritual step toward your new baptism. You’ll be given a new name and you’ll be consecrated to the Clear One.

  “Tonight you won’t take part in the first part of the ritual, you’ll just observe. There’ll be many things which may surprise you, but you must not show any emotion.” Seth looked at her intently. “You understand?”

  Addison nodded.

  “After the brothers and sisters have asked Susej to intercede for them with the Clear One, the mass will begin. IH bring you forward and introduce you to the high priest. Then the rites will proceed. You will enter into these rites completely, holding nothing back. At the apex of the mass the Clear One will appear. If he finds you suitable he will take you physically. Do you understand that part of the ritual?”

  An orgy cult, Addison noted. Nothing new, but interesting enough. Again she nodded.

  “The rites will continue and I will give you a command. You will do as I ask and the mass will be concluded. And,” Seth’s voice dropped, “you’ll be more than just a member. You’re going to have as much power as your talented little body desires. That’s why you’ll wear the tiara.”

  As the bright afternoon sun mellowed to a lazy red Seth explained the history of the cult of Satan to Addison. He told her of the cult’s existence since the beginning of system. Through Moses, David, Absalom and Solomon. In Babylon, in Rome, in Byzantium. The medieval Satanists in Spain, France and England. The covens in early America, the Sects of Kali in India, the devil worshippers in Russia under Rasputin, and the cult of Crowley which had penetrated modern America through Hollywood. He went into detail about the occult experiments of Hitler.

  Seth explained to her how Susej would soon change the world with his immense power and bring all of civilization under a Great Order, the First Order of Satan. Human beings would be taught to worship the Clear One as supreme master of the universe. His high priests and priestesses would rule.

  Addison was fascinated. She’d often day dreamed of being an empress. Again Seth read her reaction accurately.

  “With the power you’ll have you’ll be able to communicate with the dead. Imagine talking to Theodora, Josephine or Catherine of Russia. Think of the knowledge you’ll have… little queen.”

  He left her alone with her thoughts then. She lay on the carpet for a long while, listening to Seth whispering strange words as he bent over the bowl of observance.

  When Seth woke her it was night.

  “Is there anything to eat?” She yawned. “I haven’t had anything since yesterday.”

  “It’s better that you don’t eat before the ceremony.” He handed her the white robe. “Put this on. We’ll be going soon.” When she had slipped into the robe he adjusted the tiara on her head. Addison ran to the mirror to look at the effect. She was pleased. She did look like an empress, or a priestess. “Is the ceremony going to be held, here?” she called out, her eyes still on her reflection.

  “No,” he answered from the other room. “And hurry, we have a lot to do.”

  She left the mirror reluctantly. “I’m ready,” she said.

  They left immediately. “Wait here,” Seth told her when they reached the sidewalk. He disappeared swiftly and silently around a corner. Addison, cold and suddenly alone, pressed against the wall in an effort to find some protection against the high, sharp wind which cut through the thin cotton of her robe. A sense of unreality passed over her. What was she doing wearing this costume, freezing in a doorway? She wondered if Seth were coming back at all. Or would she have to try and flag a cab dressed like that?

  She saw his eyes first, gleaming catlike in the dark, coming toward her.

  Then he was close to her. She moved against him, trying to get some protection from the raw wind. He reached into his pocket and produced a black blindfold. “Put this on, little bird,” he murmured, his eyes searching her face, “and no questions at all from now on.”

  He took her arm and gently led her forward along the sidewalk. They stopped, and she heard wood scrape against concrete. Then he was guiding her up some stairs. At the top of the stairs he picked her up in his arms. “Fm glad you’re here, little bird,” he whispered in her ear. He opened a door and moved inside. She heard the door close behind them. He set her down and removed her blindfold.

  It took a few minutes for her eyes to get used to even minimum light.

  They were standing on a small balcony partitioned with glass on three sides. There was a thin door, also glass, which opened onto a stairway. The stairs ran down along the wall of a large, softly lit room. In the room below them were standing a group of about fifty men and women, dressed identically in black robes.

  At one end of the room was a simple arrangement consisting of an altar made from black wood, and two large thick candles which stood on the floor on either side of the shrine. Directly behind the altar a white cross hung upside down on the black wall. The floor was covered with a black carpet which had a white pentagram woven into its center. Addison noticed that the people took care to step around the design as they moved about the room.

  “You’d better take some of this,” Seth said, offering her a silver flask.

  She took the flask and drank. The liquid was bitter and burned her throat. She made a face.

  “It’s good for you,” he said. “Take some more.”

  She took another mouthful then thrust the flask at him.

  They stood watching through the glass. From time to time one of the robed figures would look up toward them but gave no indication of having seen anyone. A two-way glass, she decided.

  As Addison waited for the ritual to begin, a pleasant tingle rippled through her stomach. She clenched and unclenched her teeth rhythmically. Addison had had enough experience with drugs to realize that Seth had given her some kind of amphetamine mixture. That would account for the bitter taste.

  As her eyes became accustomed to the flickering candle-light she began to take note of the types gathered below. Except for the robes, most of them looked like ordinary businessmen attending a cocktail party w
ith their wives. A few of the men were particularly striking; A skeletal, effete- looking Negro wearing an eye patch, a blond surfer type with a deep tan and huge shoulders, a tall Germanic-looking individual carrying a jagged scar on one cheek.

  None of them was as unusual as Seth, Addison thought with mild satisfaction.

  For the most part the women seemed well kept and almost elegant. Addison sensed something familiar about one of them—a tall athletic redhead, who was standing with her back to the balcony, deep in conversation with the thin Negro. As she watched, the woman turned suddenly, her angular face contorted with laughter.

  Addison drew a sharp breath. “Mona,” she whispered unbelievingly.

  “What’s that?” Seth’s voice was in her ear. “You know that woman?”

  Addison looked up at him. “That’s my mother. Did you… ?”

  “Your mother.” Seth smiled. “Well that’s a kick.”

  “Did she put you up to all this?” Addison demanded angrily.

  Seth stopped smiling. “No, little bird. No one here is known by his outside name except for Susej himself. It seems that talent abounds in your family.”

  Addison stared through the glass, unable to take her eyes from her mother, who was now talking animatedly to another woman, who had rushed up to share the joke.

  The drink was taking effect quickly on her empty stomach. The pleasant tingle had increased to sensual waves. She felt alert and supremely confident. Her visual sense heightened. She saw everything in minute detail. The subtle gradations between light and shade, the color within color. The blood throbbed caressingly through her body.

  “What else did you give me besides amphetamine?” she asked, without turning her head from the glass.

  “Belladonna,” Seth answered. His voice seemed to be inside her skull.

  It suddenly amused Addison that her mother was part of this cult. She conjectured as to the amount of power Mona had acquired.

  No matter how much her mother had gained, her daughter would have more, Addison promised herself.

  The people in the room went down on their knees.