by J. M. Bannon
“They were covering for the Priest?’ asked Burton.
“That's what I thought. I can't get any further access to church records, but I did have a list of his postings at several boy's homes, obvious thing to do then was go to the local stations and see if there were similar murders. I saw a pattern of dead boy's showing up strangled around the times and places he had been posted. Circumstantial but a clear pattern.
So, I go back to St. Antony’s rectory where Milton lives to interview him. See if I can get him to crack. It's in the evening so I give the door a knock figuring the Padre should be home. No answer. I decide to have a look around and I notice that nun prowling around. Now this is suspicious, a sister in her habit skulking around the rectory and I see her go down into this cellar in the back of the house. I follow her down and there is Father Milton in the process of strangling a boy. I called out to him but he doesn't even acknowledge I am in the room. I drew my pistol, in those days I carried a Weiss brothers over and under. I took aim and gave the priest another chance to let go of the boy, but he kept choking him," Dolly rubbed his own throat now knowing how painful that that was for the boy, to be choked by powerful hands.
I let loose a shot that hit him square in the chest with a fifty-caliber ball and he didn't even turn to look at me, he was focused on the Nun who was carrying on with some mumbo jumbo talk. The shot should have dropped a bull. I could see the hole in his chest and the wall behind him sprayed with blood from the exit wound.
I have no idea what these two are up to but Milton won't stop so I take two more steps closer and put a second shot point blank into his head. Bam! The shot is true and the back of his head opens, brains and gore all over the floor but the bastard is still grinning at the sister.
With no shot left, the priest with two bullets in him and half his head missing, I go into shock. Paralyzed, just standing there like the village idiot. The nun proceeds to conduct an exorcism. Only then does Milton finally release the boy, and descend into a fit swinging and fighting at something in the room until he bursts into flames. At least that is what I thought I saw, like I said I was dumbstruck when my shots did not drop him.
Next thing I know, Sister Rose is pulling me out of the cellar, we both got out and the rectory was consumed in the flames along with Father Milton," finished the senior detective.
Burton gaped at him. "If you were there how come the story is that Sister Rose started the fire that killed Father Milton?"
"That is just how the gossip mongering has changed the story over time,” replied Dolly.
"But they excommunicated her,” replied Burton.
“From what I know she caused too much of a stir during the Papal Inquisition. Those cowards booted her out to get distance from her, but she was fine with the outcome, it allowed her to focus on her war against the wicked. Adam, I’m only recounting this story so you’re totally prepared for what you might see tonight. Rose Caldwell has shown me that far more exists in this world beyond what we can see and hear and that there are forces at work on and off Earth intending to do harm.”
Dolly continued, "Do you want to know what Rose told me went on in that cellar?"
"Hell yes. You can't tell someone something like that and not finish the tale," whispered Burton, his wool cap bunched in his hands.
“Rose Caldwell told me that Father Joseph Milton was possessed by the fallen angel Rabdos, now a demon that has the power to stop and alter the paths of the stars. He receives power from strangling humans. There is only one angel with the power to prevent him from succeeding, a seraphim called Brieus.
What I witnessed was Rabdos enacting his plan to change the heavens and Rose summoning Brieus to aid her. The two fought, and Milton's corrupted body was consumed in the holy flames the seraphim used to triumph over his enemy. The sickening part is the demon’s power is amplified by making an unwilling agent act against their own morality and nature.” Dolly wondered if Milton was a good man infected and turned against his better nature. If it all began with one moment where he didn’t do something overtly bad but rather a sin of omission. Could any of us end up suffering the fate of Milton because we weren’t vigilant?
"Bollocks!" cried Burton.
"Maybe. I could be mad as a hatter or perhaps some time in the future you will be required to call on the services of Rose Caldwell because your intellect and a fifty-caliber shot are not enough to bring justice to the realm.” finished the Detective.
"Well, what do we have here?" said Burton.
A steam carriage pulled up and parked in front of 412 Pilton Road. Several men exited the back of the carriage along with the driver and approached the flat. Three stood for a moment at the front of the house before entering the garden gate as the driver began walking up the street.
"Two of those blokes are Necronists" announced Dolly. “That fella there is Guild Master Saint-Yves, one of the leaders of the Necronist Guild. I met with him earlier this week on this case and he offered to help catch Chilton’s killer. I agreed on the condition he inform me of her whereabouts and that I be on hand to arrest her.” The senior Detective paused. Dolly checked his pistol making sure all the caps were in place on the cylinder then placed the pistol back in his shoulder holster. He had made his decision at that cafe table that as much as he felt Angelica deserved to die for what she did to Keane his purpose was to bring her to justice.
"Looks like tonight the scales will be removed from your eyes, Adam. Let's check in and make sure that everything in there remains civil between this cast of characters. You go around the block and find the fella who went off on his own then meet me back inside the house.”
FRIDAY THE 16TH OF APRIL
8 PM The Moya Plantation, Haiti
Rose was no longer in London she was channeled to a time in the past in a place she had never been. She felt the immense power of Angelica coursing through her. Rose was the Voodoo priestess. She was Angelica yet not in control, a passenger to see the scene play out yet feeling what Angelica felt and remembered.
She was sitting at the Moya Plantation in the office of Don Hernando. It was hot and humid with the frogs croaking and cicada droning in the trees outside. The windows were open but no breeze to provided relief from the humidity, above her head a belt drive ceiling fan churned the air with no affect.
Hernando Moya finished signing the papers and he handed them back to the solicitor.
The Solicitor notarized the papers. “Don Hernando, that is the last of the documents you wanted drawn up.” Said the Lawyer. He kept looking at Angelica, coveting her beauty. He likely assumed she was the house help for Don Hernando. Angelica met his gaze then looked back to her needlepoint.
“Please keep a copy and send the original notarized and witnessed last will and testament to the London and New York office of Chilton, Chilton, Owens and Strathmore.” said Don Hernando without emotion.
“Very well,” said the solicitor collecting the documents putting them in a folio, then into his briefcase.
“Watson will show you out” Don Hernando rang a bell and the house man came into the office.
“Yes, Don Hernando” said the Butler.
“Show Mr. Foubert out, Watson”
“Yes, Don Hernando” Watson looked in Angelica’s direction and gave a slight bow, not too much to be noticed by Moya or Foubert but he wanted to be certain Angelica to know the respect he had for her. Watson had been with the house since it was under Don Ernesto and Angelica used to play here as a little girl. Watson was now a free man, liberated by the French Government’s decree and Angelica had returned to her home as the Witch Queen of Haiti.
The two men left. Only Angelica and Don Hernando were in the room. She dropped her needlepoint to the floor and underneath the fabric was the voodoo fetish of Don Hernando she was using to control him. She walked over to him pricked, his index finger with a pin and used the blood to draw a mouth on the doll. He had control of his mouth again. “You won’t get away with this, the trustee will see through tho
se forgeries.”
Hernando, those documents are originals with your signature. They are now your last will and testament and precede these.” She gloated while taking the old will off his desk. At that moment, she took a match from his cigar box, struck it and lit the papers on fire, throwing them at the foot of the curtains.
“The die is cast my brother. You chose to go against our father’s wishes, you chose to treat me and my mother as slaves. I am resetting the scales.”
“You don’t understand, you savage witch. There is a legal system to be contended with, the institutions handling these affairs will see right through this farce”
“Hernando, it is that very legal system that I plan to wield against you far more easily than the magic I just used to draft up those papers.” It felt to Rose as if it was her saying the words, but it was indeed Angelica. This had already happened.
“Come brother, come out from behind your big desk and kneel before me.” The curtains began to smolder and flame from the burning document.
Hernando gave every effort to resist, he was sweating and physically struggling against himself. His feet moved as if he wore shoes of lead. Hernando whelped in pain, but slowly moved closer to Angelica as she re-arranged pins in the cloth doll.
Rose felt the satisfaction of wielding power over this man who had started a string of horrors. First, when her brother showed up for the funeral she and her mother were locked away in their rooms, she never was given the chance for a proper goodbye. When the doors opened days later, slavers came and took her and her mother away as slaves. Rose was plunged into the fear and pain of Angelica’s two years as a slave; cutting sugar cane in the mosquito infested fields, living in endless fear and abuse. The mix of her memories Angelica’s memories and the experience of the events she was witnessing gave Rose a sick feeling of uncertainty and anxiety, unsure what was her what was Angelica what was now and what was then. She wondered if this was how Preston felt during his possessions.
“Unbutton your shirt. Take it off,” ordered Angelica.
Don Hernando unbuttoned his vest, shirt cuffs and shirt as commanded. He threw the clothing to the side, his eyes filled with fear and shock as he watched his body do unthinkable things no matter how hard he resisted.
“You know Hernando this is all your doing. If you hadn’t disowned me as your sister and sold me off to that plantation I would have grown up here as a privileged catholic girl, with the guilt of being half black and profiting from the work of slaves. Instead, my fate was to live as a slave and a savage in the jungle and yours will be worse than damnation.
She walked over to her needle point bag and pulled out a spirit siphon like those Rose had found in Moya and Chilton and a clear glass ball. “Do you have any idea what I am about to do, Hernando?” as she held up the perfect glass orb and the primitive spirit siphon. At that moment, Rose realized she could tap into Angelicas feelings and memories as well as her senses.
“No, please don’t hurt me. You just said that it was your fate to go to the Jungle … to become so powerful. I beg your forgiveness and pity” whimpered Hernando.
Angelica moved in front of the overweight hairy man soaked in the sweat of fear no longer the picture of a haughty Portuguese sugar magnate, “Hernando, do you know where you went wrong?
“I did not honor our fathers wishes,
I did not honor our family…
you were family” said the Don.
“You’re still begging even in your answer.” Rose heard Angelica speak to him. “No, your mistake was that you only saw my mother in me never father. You were blind to the half of me that is Moya and more than name, I have the Moya patience, intellect, and determination, maybe more than you and that is why father wanted me to have my birthright. I imagine it took you some time to plan. How long did it take you?
Hernando just looked up at her gulping short breaths.
“How long? I asked,” she repeated.
“The decision to send you away was a rash one, I did it, and consulted with no one. Later when Chilton asked about you, then it was a few months to cover up the evidence of my transgression,” answered Hernando.
“and your brothers part?” asked Angelica.
The situation was surreal for Rose. Her point of view was that of Angelica’s and she could feel her feeling sense what she sensed but at the same time experienced her own feelings as an observer and she felt terrified for Hernando.
“It…It was easy to convince Emilio he’s so lazy and greedy. He was all for me doing what I could to grow and protect his inheritance,” shared Hernando.
“Your selfish choice, took two years of my life as a slave, then a month of running through the jungle to find the Village at the Falls, I did not know if the village was real or just a slave myth but I decided I would rather die in the jungle looking for it then spend one more day cutting sugar cane,” replied the Queen.
“I’m so sorry for what I see you are a Moya you have our father’s determination”
“Never mind your simpering. How did you convince the English Bankers?” asked Angelica.
That was Emilio, -really. I had sent you and your mother away. Chilton contacted him as executor and trustee of my… our father’s estate. Sir Lester had a copy of my father’s intentions and asked Emilio about you. He got him to agree to honor the preceding will and trust or he and I would contest the will in court and our first order of business would be an injunction to move the trusts to the Rothschilds. He would lose the fees from the trust and our commercial relationships and respect of his financiers losing us to another banking house.
Well brother, we both have bankers that are prepared to bend the rules for their clients, those papers you just signed will assure that all the Moya fortune flows to my birth right and that is your punishment for how you treated me.
For you not honoring my mother the punishment will be far worse. For subjecting her to the cane fields and whip, your soul will be ripped from your flesh and housed in this perfect glass orb, crafted by the Beaumont Glass Works in Shreveport, Louisiana,”
“Oh, God help me,” he begged.
“Too late for that, what I can guarantee you is your immortal soul will not be punished in Hell. It will stay right here on earth in my purse, you will have the existence of a fish in a bowl.” chided Angelica cruelly.
And then the incantation began. Rose was there as Angelica pressed the siphon against Hernando’s chest and channeled his soul directly into the glass ball. Rose felt the anger, the sadness, the exaltation of the pure power and most importantly for her, the knowledge of the incantation.
SATURDAY THE 25TH OF JUNE WHAT REMAINS
10:25 PM Pilton Road
When Rose returned to the room she had the presence to discover the glass orb on top of the mantel, perched on a wooden pedestal. Inside the ball; ochre fumes swirled about, Emilio, Hernando, and Sir Francis in spiritual limbo, she surmised. The spirit siphon was also on display above the hearth.
Rose got up from the chair walked over to the hearth to examined the fetish wand and peered into the glass orb, “Do they have any sense of their fate?”
“The Pwen Hanaan. It’s not meant to be pleasant; the ritual or the condition after” shared the Voodoo Queen.
“I felt sadness but not remorse” said Rose looking at the fetish, “I mean you didn’t feel remorse, it was calculated.” Rose could see a faint reflection of herself on the surface of the orb she looked at and could see the tears running down her face.
“I have none. My upbringing was unusual. I was born on the Moya Plantation; my mother was a house slave but my father was the plantation owner. He loved my mother very much and we grew up as his family not as slaves. When Hernando completed university, he joined us in Haiti and learned he had a little black sister and was utterly disgusted with his father, my mother and me.
He told my Papi that he was old and going senile to take up with my mother, he yelled about how the investors would lose confidence in their enterpris
es if they knew the life he was leading. Papi told him he was happy and if Hernando did not approve to leave. Don Ernesto was much older than my mother and when he became sick he signed papers that freed my mother and acknowledged me as a Moya and one third heir. I was thirteen I did not understand the significance of those papers or the fortune that one third of his estate was worth, but my father knew his son’s contempt. Should I care more that I killed my own blood? It was my brothers and Chilton that went to the extent they did to take my birth right and erase my existence.
“Thank you for sharing the experience,” acknowledged Rose.
"Sister Rose, I see that you have summoned beings from the highest choir of Angels, you are steeped in the arcana of light. If you choose to apply what you have learned here today you will break your covenant," Angelica explained.
“I don’t take that decision lightly,” said Rose as she contemplated the orb and its contents. Rose caught the reflection of a man standing in the archway behind her. She spun around to see a tall gentlemen in Necronist garb, judging by his adornment, a Guild Master.
“Please continue ladies,” said the Guild Master.
"Gerrard, have you met Sister Rose Caldwell?" asked Angelica.
Gerrard held the stoic stance of a Necronist with both hands tucked into the opposite arms sleeves and his feet placed more than shoulder width apart to set a base of power to conjure from. "We have not met. A pleasure to meet you."