The Color of Evil - The Dark Descent V1 (1991)

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The Color of Evil - The Dark Descent V1 (1991) Page 42

by David G. Hartwell (Ed. )


  illegally) fo r a short time one night and was nearly

  caught. Came across reference to the place in collection

  o f seventeenth century letters and papers in a divinity

  school library. Writer denouncing the family as a brood

  o f sorcerers and witches, references to alchemical activities and other less savory rumors—and describes underground stone chambers, megalithic artifacts, etc.

  which are put to “foul usage and diabolic pralctise. ”

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  Karl Edward Wagner

  Just got a quick glimpse but his description was not

  exaggerated. And Colin—in creeping through the woods

  to get to the site, I came across dozens o f your mysterious “sticks”! Brought a small one back and have it here to show you. Recently constructed and exactly like

  your drawings. With luck, I ’ll gain admittance and find

  out their significance—undoubtedly they have significance—though these cultists can be stubborn about sharing their secrets. Will explain my interest is scientific, no exposure to ridicule—and see what they say.

  Will get a closer look one way or another. And so— I ’m

  off! Sincerely, Alexander Stefroi.

  Leverett’s bushy brows rose. Allard had intimated certain

  dark rituals in which the stick lattices figured. But Allard had

  written over thirty years ago, and Leverett assumed the writer

  had stumbled onto something similar to the Mann Brook site.

  Stefroi was writing about something current.

  He rather hoped Stefroi would discover nothing more than

  an inane hoax.

  The nightmares haunted him still—familiar now, for all

  that its scenes and phantasms were visited by him only in

  dream. Familiar. The terror that they evoked was undiminished.

  Now he was walking through forest—a section of hills that

  seemed to be close by. A huge slab of granite had been

  dragged aside, and a pit yawned where it had lain. He entered

  the pit without hesitation, and the rounded steps that led

  downward were known to his tread. A buried stone chamber,

  and leading from it stone-lined burrows. He knew which one

  to crawl into.

  And again the underground room with its sacrificial altar

  and its dark spring beneath, and the gathering circle of poorly

  glimpsed figures. A knot of them clustered about the stone

  table, and as he stepped toward them he saw they pinned a

  frantically writhing man.

  Sticks

  339

  It was a stoutly built man, white hair disheveled, flesh

  gouged and filthy. Recognition seemed to burst over the contorted features, and he wondered if he should know the man.

  But now the lich with the caved-in skull was whispering in

  his ear, and he tried not to think of the unclean things that

  peered from that cloven brow, and instead took the bronze

  knife from the skeletal hand, and raised the knife high, and

  because he could not scream and awaken, did with the knife

  as the tattered priest had whispered . . .

  And when after an interval of unholy madness, he at last

  did awaken, the stickiness that covered him was not cold

  sweat, nor was it nightmare the half-devoured heart he

  clutched in one fist.

  9

  Leverett somehow found sanity enough to dispose of the

  shredded lump of flesh. He stood under the shower all morning, scrubbing his skin raw. He wished he could vomit.

  There was a news item on the radio. The crushed body of

  noted archaeologist, Dr. Alexander Stefroi, had been discovered beneath a fallen granite slab near Whately. Police speculated the gigantic slab had shifted with the scientist’s excavations at its base. Identification was made through personal effects.

  When his hands stopped shaking enough to drive, Leverett

  fled to Petersham—teaching Dana Allard’s old stone house

  about dark. Allard was slow to answer his frantic knock.

  “ Why, good evening, Colin! What a coincidence your

  coming here just now! The books are ready. The bindery just

  delivered them.”

  Leverett brushed past him. “ We’ve got to destroy them!”

  he blurted. He’d thought a lot since morning.

  “ Destroy them?”

  “ There’s something none of us figured on. Those stick

  lattices—there’s a cult, some damnable cult. The lattices have

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  Karl Edward Wagner

  some significance in their rituals. Stefiroi hinted once they

  might be glyphics of some sort, I don’t know. But the cult is

  still alive. They killed Scotty . . . they killed Stefroi. They’re

  onto me—I don’t know what they intend. They’ll kill you to

  stop you from releasing this book!”

  Dana’s frown was worried, but Leverett knew he hadn’t

  impressed him the right way. ‘‘Colin, this sounds insane. You

  really have been overextending yourself, you know. Look,

  I ’ll show you the books. They’re in the cellar.”

  Leverett let his host lead him downstairs. The cellar was

  quite large, flagstoned and dry. A mountain of brown-

  wrapped bundles awaited them.

  ‘‘Put them down here where they wouldn’t knock the floor

  out,” Dana explained. ‘‘They start going out to distributors

  tomorrow. Here, I ’ll sign your copy.”

  Distractedly Leverett opened a copy of Dwellers in the

  Earth. He gazed at his lovingly rendered drawings of rotting

  creatures and buried stone chambers and stained altars—and

  everywhere the enigmatic latticework structures. He shuddered.

  ‘‘Here.” Dana Allard handed Leverett the book he had

  signed. ‘‘And to answer your question, they are elder glyphics.”

  But Leverett was staring at the inscription in its unmistakable handwriting: “ For Colin Leverett, Without whom this work could not have seen completion—H. Kenneth Allard.”

  Allard was speaking. Leverett saw places where the hastily applied flesh-toned make-up didn’t quite conceal what lay beneath. ‘‘Glyphics symbolic of alien dimensions—

  inexplicable to the human mind, but essential fragments of

  an evocation so unthinkably vast that the ‘pentagram’ (if

  you will) is miles across. Once before we tried—but your

  iron weapon destroyed part of Althol’s brain. He erred at

  the last instant—almost annihilating us all. Althol had been

  formulating the evocation since he fled the advance of iron

  four millennia past.

  ‘‘Then you reappeared, Colin Leverett—you with your ar­

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  341

  tist’s knowledge and diagrams of Althol’s symbols. And now

  a thousand new minds will read the evocation you have returned to us, unite with our minds as we stand in the Hidden Places. And the Great Old Ones will come forth from the

  earth, and we, the dead who have steadfastly served them,

  shall be masters of the living.”

  Leverett turned to run, but now they were creeping forth

  from the shadows of the cellar, as massive flagstones slid

  back to reveal the tunnels beyond. He began to scream as

  Althol came to lead him away, but he could not awaken,

  could only follow.

  Robert Aickman

  Larger Than Oneself

  Robert Aickman was the great English master of the

  ghost story of the second half of this
century. Editor,

  theoretician and writer, he never attained the recognition

  or popularity his immense contributions deserved, although he did win a World Fantasy Award in the decade before his death. A significant portion of his fiction remained unpublished in the U.S. at the time of his death.

  “ Larger Than Oneself” is an ironic reinterpretation of

  the moral tale for our era. Mrs. Iblis spends the weekend

  at a convention of people interested in the supernatural,

  the metaphysical and the occult, and finds it uniquely

  disturbing. One might compare the story of Joyce Carol

  O ates’ treatment of similar matter in “ Nightside.”

  “ Larger Than Oneself" is an interesting example of the

  blend of all three major streams of horror fiction.

  Upon the death of his father, Vincent Coner got out of

  mine owning, which had always been the family business, and invested heavily in popular journalism with himself as editor in chief. It is hard to believe that in any other place

  or time, past or future, his publications would have found

  many readers; but as it was, the thing most needed by his

  generation seemed to be the recipe he offered: the sweet

  things of life (the more obvious of them) smeared and contaminated with envious guilt.

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  Larger than Oneself

  343

  A typical man of his time, Coner throve exceedingly. While

  at Cambridge, he edited a symposium of modem philosophy,

  which attracted considerable attention; and he soon became

  known for his advocacy of a synthesis between the best of

  this world and the best of the next. Already he was giving

  parties: his thin figure, precociously bald, wove in and out

  pouring gin while others talked. Occasionally he would bring

  the uproar back to the point as he conceived it. He developed

  an exceptional eye for the view which would prevail.

  With increasing popular success, easily acquired, Coner’s

  main business in life became more and more an almost paranoiac pursuit of self-integration. He read Berdyaev, Mari-tain, and C. S. Lewis, and even the first thirty pages of

  Ouspensky. Almost he believed what he read. Kierkegaard

  and Leopardi, rebound by a refugee craftsman, always attended his bedside (he had married a nightclub singer named Eileen); and Pascal he constantly rediscovered with new understanding, gorging on the insane root as he passed classconscious photographs for the press. At the time Mrs. Iblis entered his life, he was greatly interested in several of the

  newer spiritual movements competing to offer a deadbeat

  world metaphysical immunization against its own shadow. He

  had decided to ask the different leaders to Bunhill for the

  weekend in order that they might have the chance to exchange

  views on neutral ground. A symposium for Roundabout might

  emerge, a real chance to give a lead.

  Mrs. Iblis entered Coner’s life in the usual way through

  the front door. While waiting for the bell to be answered,

  she was joined on the large white step by two other visitors,

  who introduced themselves as David Stillman and Ruth. Ruth

  was not Mr. Stillman’s daughter, but Mrs. Iblis was unable

  to catch her other name, nor did she ever learn it. Mr. Stillman appeared to be a prosperous businessman. He arrived in a large car, which, when he had alighted, immediately drove

  away. He was well preserved and had excellent manners, but

  Mrs. Iblis had had little contact with Jews. Ruth was a highly

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  Robert Aickman

  strung voluble creature, little more than a girl in appearance,

  small and thin, with tousled hair, a round face, and restless

  hands. She wore red corduroy trousers, a shapeless jumper,

  and sandals. Mrs. Iblis had been speaking to Mr. Stillman

  when she appeared, presumably from the dense bushes which

  closely lined the drive, but carrying a bulging reticule with

  two handles. Mrs. Iblis had a suitcase; Mr. Stillman a dressing case of a type which Mrs. Iblis had thought obsolete.

  Presumably the din inside the house made it difficult for

  the servant to hear the bell, so, at Mr. Stillman’s suggestion,

  Mrs. Iblis rang again. Ruth maintained an intermittent flow

  of observations about the difficulty of reaching Bunhill (or

  indeed anywhere) by train and her own trials with the timetable.

  “ I do hope you’ve not been kept waiting.” The door had

  been opened by Mrs. Coner, wearing a long tight dress of

  blue-bottle green and smoking a cigarette from which the ash

  needed removing. ‘‘My husband’s sent all the servants to a

  Domestic Science Congress at Littlehampton, and we’re entirely in the hands of the caterers this weekend. Do come in .”

  Immediately inside stood a large figure in evening dress,

  with drink written all over him.

  ‘‘Your names, please.” He prepared to tick them off on a

  list with an indelible pencil.

  ‘‘Mrs. Iblis.”

  He crawled slowly through the list, stopping at each name

  with the pencil. Three raw youths in dinner jackets had seized

  the visitors’ luggage and were standing at the ready.

  “ Could you spell it?”

  “ i - B - L - I - S . ”

  He repeated the search, then turned with irritation to Mrs.

  Coner.

  In the meantime, the masterful figure of Coner had appeared from the crowd within. “ Ruth, my darling. How lovely to see you.” He kissed her mouth violently but dis­

  Larger than Oneself

  345

  passionately. “ Did we ask you this weekend, or have you

  just dropped from heaven?”

  “ Surely you asked me, Vincent.”

  ‘ ‘It’s wonderful to see you anyhow. Do come and join in

  right away. It will be really valuable to have the orthodox

  point of view. ’ ’

  “ Could I have a sandwich first?”

  “ Have everything there is. Haven’t you lunched?”

  “ I left London at half past ten.”

  “ If we’d known, we’d have sent a car. It only takes half

  an hour by road. But come on and eat.” Gripping her round

  the waist, he dragged her towards the hubbub.

  “ Vincent.” His wife had clutched him by the other sleeve

  of his beautifully made gray suit. He stopped.

  “ What is it, Eileen?”

  “ Why do we have to have that damned list?”

  “ I ’ve told you more than once. The people we’ve asked

  this weekend have all been carefully picked by me for the

  contribution they can make. As I ’ve hardly met any of them

  before, we must have a list and keep to it. What’s gone

  wrong?”

  “ Two people have arrived. They are not on the list. They

  both say they were told to arrive at three. I can hardly send

  them away.”

  “ All the people this weekend were told to arrive for breakfast if they could. Who are they?”

  “ Mrs. Iblis and Mr. Stillman. They don’t seem like the

  others.” The suspect guests could be seen in the still open

  door miserably awaiting their fate.

  “ Mavis!” Coner bawled at the top of his voice. “ Forgive

  me a moment, Ruth.” With a violent squeeze, he released

  her.

  A tall, bony, off-blonde, ageless woman strode forward.

  Coner succin
ctly outlined the crisis.

  “ I ’ll have a look in the invitations book, Mr. Coner. ” She

  departed.

  Coner addressed his wife. “ I leave it to you, my dear. But

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  Robert Aickman

  whoever they are, we don’t want them unless they harmonize.

  Come on, Ruth.” Resuming his python hold round Ruth’s

  narrow waist, he propelled her forward.

  Mavis returned with a huge folio volume of the minute

  book type. It must have contained five hundred pages. It was

  ruled into dates and packed with thousands of names in Mavis’s small clear writing.

  Almost at once Mavis had the answer. ‘‘They’re left over

  from the lot we asked before Mr. Coner decided on the Forum. Haven’t they had their postponement letters? ’ ’

  “ I ’d better let them in. They’ll have to share rooms with

  someone. ’ ’

  “ Everyone’s doing that this weekend, Mrs. Coner.”

  “ Can you take over, Mavis?”

  Explaining the situation about the rooms in a few courteous but emotionless words, Mavis was simultaneously scanning the hired butler’s list of guests and their accommodation.

  “ So I do hope you don’t mind sharing,” she concluded.

  “ This weekend is rather a special occasion.”

  Mr. Stillman smiled acquiescence, though he did not look

  too happy. Mrs. Iblis said: “ Please do not go to any trouble

  about me. ’ ’

  “ No trouble at all.” Then Mavis decided. “ Mr. Stillman

  can have the Louise Room. I doubt Rabbi Morocco will come

  at all now. And perhaps Mrs. Iblis won’t mind sleeping with

  Sister Nuper? Our House Sister, you know.”

  “ Is part of the house used as a hospital?”

  “ Oh no. It’s just in case of sudden or serious illness. And

  Sister Nuper advises us on our diet and on questions of personal hygiene as well. You’ll find her a delightful person.

  Really, you couldn’t find anyone better to room with.”

  The youth who had seized Ruth’s piece of luggage had long

  ago departed with it, presumably to her room. Now the other

  two youths constituted themselves escorts to Mr. Stillman

  and Mrs. Iblis.

  “ The lift’s through ’ere.” They held back heavy, dark

  brown velvet curtains.

  Larger than Oneself

  347

 

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