That Which Should Not Be (12 page)

It was only then I truly began to comprehend what we were doing.  This was to be a daring escape, despite the ease with which I still believed it would occur.  Even if Vladimir became suspicious, he would be locked securely in his room.  The sisters would never notice our absence or Lily’s.  Yet we were stealing four horses from an Abbey, debasing a novice, and robbing a man of his fiancée.  If we were captured, the consequences could not be imagined.  And if Charles were to murder Vladimir, as he seemed quite willing to do, we might both hang for it. 

I dreaded the coming of midnight as much as I wished its arrival.  But time is inexorable, and come it did.  We waited quietly in our room, the lantern shuttered as if we were asleep.  As the hour arrived, like clockwork, the procession of shadows past our door started.  One after another, they floated silently by.  And then, as quickly as they had begun, they stopped. 

Now we sprang to action.  We tried to stay quiet, but there was no time to lose.  We took very little, dressing quickly and throwing on our warmest traveling cloaks. 

“Daniel, here,” Charles said, pushing a pistol into my hand.  “Use it only if necessary.”

“Of course,” I said, taking it with more than a little unease. 

“Shall we?”

I simply nodded, pulling the key from my pocket and opening the door, as quietly as such a thing would allow.  We stepped out into the corridor.  Nothing moved below, or if it did, it was silent in the moving.  I looked at Charles.  He simply nodded.  We moved along the corridor, tiptoeing past Vladimir’s room and on to Anna’s.  She was to meet us there, ready to travel, and then we would pick up Lily. 

We reached Anna’s room with no trouble.  Vladimir was either asleep or had not noticed us.  I slipped the key into the door and opened it.  The room was empty. 

Charles looked sick.  “Anna!” he whispered, though louder than he should have.  There was nowhere in that small chamber for her to hide.  Her overcoat was laid on her bed, as if she had been ready to leave at a moment’s notice.  Yet she was gone. 

“Where could she be?” Charles asked, desperation sneaking into his voice. 

“Could she be with Vladimir?  Perhaps he grew suspicious.”

“No, Daniel, Batory would never allow it.  And besides, she knew we were coming for her tonight.  If she could have been here, she would have.”

Charles was shaking now, and I put my hand on his shoulder in a vain attempt to comfort him.  “Let’s go get Lily, Charles.  Then we will find her.”

For a second he stood there, and I knew he didn’t want to go.  “Yes,” he said finally.  “Let’s get Lily.”

We exited back into the corridor, closing the door behind us.  We crept on down the hall to the room in which Lily slept.  I knocked gently on the door.  Three quick raps, as I told her I would.  Then I slid the key in the lock and opened the door to her room.  It, too, was empty.  Everything was prepared for her departure.  There was even a letter on her desk, explaining to the Abbess her decision to leave. 

“What devilry is this?”

“God, Charles, what do we do?”

“We go to Vladimir’s room,” Charles said.

“Are you sure?”

“The doors were locked.  The girls are gone.  Something is amiss, something more serious than we imagined.  We go to Vladimir’s room, and we move on from there.  The time for discretion is at an end.  We must be men of action now.  Whatever may come.”

Charles would not be denied, and I was not the man to deny him in any event.  We left Lily’s room behind, not bothering to close and lock the door.  When we reached Vladimir’s room, Charles pulled out his pistol and glanced at me.  The silent command was obvious.  I removed the gun from my coat pocket.  Charles nodded to me once.  I stuck the key in the lock, turning it quickly.  At the click of the tumblers, Charles threw open the door and leapt into the room.  Like the two before it, the room was empty.  

Chapter

18

“Impossible,” I muttered.  “Where could he have gone?”

Charles didn’t answer.  He simply stood there, clutching the grip of his pistol. 

“There’s only one answer,” he finally said.  “How many keys, Daniel?”

“Keys?”

“To these doors?  How many keys?”

“Two, or so Lily said,” I answered. 

“And you have one, and Batory has one, correct?”

“Yes, correct.”

“Well, all the doors were locked.  Anna’s, Lily’s, and now Vladimir’s.  You didn’t lock them, and you didn’t take them.  Batory must have.”

“Batory?” I asked, still confused.

“Don’t you see?” Charles said, taking a step towards me.  “Vladimir talks to her every morning.  What do you think they discussed?  Vladimir saw this coming.  He knew what we would do.  She is in league with him.  We must find them now and take Lily and Anna.  I’m sorry, Daniel.  I know you didn’t want it to come to this.  But we have no other choice.”

“No,” I said, still trying to comprehend it all.  “No, we must act.  We have no other choice.”

“No other choice,” Charles said.  “Come, it’s time we went to Mass.”

For a moment, that old smile returned.  But there was little time for such sentiment.  Charles led the way.  We rushed into the corridor and down the steps, no longer attempting to disguise our movements.  We ran to the chapel and threw open the doors.  I suppose we should have expected it.  The chapel was empty.  Charles was dumbfounded. 

“Impossible,” he said.  “Impossible!” he repeated this time in a yell.  “Where could they be?”

We stood there in silence.  They were not in the dining hall; we could see it from the chapel doorway.  None of the other rooms could hold them all; none we had seen, at least.  A thought began to creep into my mind — a terrible thought, an impossible thought.  But there was no other real possibility, none we knew about. 

“Charles,” I began softly.  “What about the Scholomance?”

Charles looked at me as if I had gone mad.  “The Scholomance?” he whispered.  But then I saw him work it out in his mind, saw him consider the other options and realize there were none.  “Daniel, what have we done?” he asked, looking up at me.

“I don’t know, Charles.  But we are in it now.  We might as well see it through.”

“Yes,” he said slowly.  And then more surely: “Let’s go.”

We walked now, down to the corridor that led to the Scholomance.  I allowed myself a moment to realize the storage room we had found ourselves in only a night before sat beside that door.  It was clear to me where the shadows came from while we were locked inside. 

We walked down the hallway to the winding staircase, and in no time at all we had reached the portal to the Scholomance.  We pulled out our pistols once again and braced ourselves for combat.  I slipped the key inside and threw the door open.  We rushed into the corridor beyond, leaping into the high vaulted chamber of the Scholomance.  As I had expected somewhere deep in the recesses of my mind, it was empty. 

Charles slumped against the outer wall, uttering the most pathetic sounding “no” I had ever heard.  I stood in the middle.  Somehow, I wasn’t concerned.  Something was working in the back of my mind, something that had been there since the first moment I had entered this room. 

“All is lost!” Charles wailed.

“Shh!” I spat violently.  “Hush your whining, Charles.”

For a moment I regretted the tone, but then my mind went back to work, and Charles’s silence was a blessing.  I looked around the chamber.  I looked at the unholy etchings on the wall, at the indentations in the stone where unnamable books had once sat.  My eyes scanned the room, finally resting on the massive mural of Lucifer on the far wall.  Then, I saw it. 

“Charles,” I said. 

“What?” he asked tersely. 

“Have you seen a crucifix?  Anywhere?  In this whole place?”

“No,” he responded, obviously surprised.  “Why?”

“I see one now.”

He stood up and walked over to me.  “What do you mean?”

I pointed, and his eyes followed.  It was something that had stuck with me, subconsciously, an incongruity that made no sense but wasn’t so obvious as to invoke my conscious mind.  There, in Lucifer’s left claw, was a cross. 

“Why would you put a cross here, of all places?”

Charles simply shook his head.  I walked up to the mural, running my hand over the wall.  The cross was not painted; it was raised ever so slightly.  I grasped it with my fingertips and, as I suspected, it began to turn.  I spun it clockwise.  And then, when it was fully inverted, it clicked into place.  I heard a rumble beside me.  The stone slab on which the image of Lucifer had been etched slid aside, revealing another winding staircase leading further down into the heart of the mountain.  From somewhere far below, the faint sound of chanting could be heard.  I looked at Charles and him at me.  The fire was back in his eyes.  Without a word, we began our descent. 

This time we moved carefully, slowly, down the winding staircase.  I found my eyes drawn to the walls.  There, written in crimson, were words.  Some I recognized, some I didn’t.  Dark words they were, names of demons and whispered works some would say were written by their hands.  I remember some of them:
Saducismus Triumphatus
,
De Praestigiis Daemonum, Clavicula Salomonis. 
Apollyon, Semiazas, Moloch, Belial.  

There were many more, but they have escaped my memory now.  One step at a time we went, the sounds from below growing stronger as we descended.  I would tell you what they said, but it was in a language I didn’t understand, an old language, an ancient tongue.  Then the stairway turned sharply to the right, and the scene was unveiled before us.

*   *   *

I will describe the scene as I saw it, but even now I think it must have been something out of a dream, nay, a nightmare.  The stairway opened into yet another cavern, this one larger than the one above.  It lacked the other’s decoration, but there was something about it, the smell, the look, the feel, that was sinister, evil.  It was ancient, eldritch.  There was a gaping hole in its center, a deep pit that, judging from the darkness that seemed to emanate from it, ran on to the very center of the Earth.   But it wasn’t the chamber that struck me the most.  No, it was the semi-circle of women who surrounded that gaping maw. 

It was, I suppose, the entire sisterhood.  But you wouldn’t know it.  They were locked in some sort of demonic ecstasy, swaying and jerking in time to the rhythm of their own chanting.  They were led by Abbess Batory who stood before them, leading them as a conductor might an orchestra.  And they were all, to a woman, naked, save for long black cloaks that hung from their shoulders.

But that was not the worst of it.  Were it so!  Anna and Lily were there as well.  Both women were tied to thick stakes that had been driven into the ground before the pit, their eyes covered by blindfolds.  At least their clothes had been left to them.  The same could not be said for Vladimir, whose fate was so horrific I hesitate to describe it.  He had been crucified, but the cross on which he had been nailed leaned over the mouth of the pit, held back from the plunge by a single thick rope tied to the rock behind it.  Vladimir’s skin had been slashed, and the blood flowed in torrents from his body down into the void below him. 

For minutes we stood there, shocked into silence at what we saw.  The ritual continued before us.  Finally, Charles pulled out his pistol and fired a shot.  The roar of the gun rent the air, and the rhythmic chants screeched to a halt.  All eyes were suddenly on us, all that is, except Abbess Batory’s.  She stood, back turned to us, before slowly turning to face where we waited.  She looked at us, her cold, dead stare boring a hole in me.  Then, she smiled. 

“Daniel!” Lily screamed.

“What in God’s name!” Charles yelled.

“God?” Batory said with a sinister grin.  “There is no god here.  Not yet.”

“Free them,” Charles commanded, leveling his pistol at Batory.  “Free them now!”

Batory jerked her head to the right, and two of the women advanced.  They did not release the girls, but they did remove their blindfolds. 

“Look upon your lovers.  Look upon them before they die.”

“I said to free them,” Charles spat. 

“Ah, Lord Charles.  So used to command.  So used to getting exactly what you want.  Not tonight, not tonight.  Tonight is Walpurgis, and they are my guests.  You may not have them.”

Charles cocked his pistol.  At that moment, the sisters who had removed the blindfolds of the two women pulled sharp, curved blades from their cloaks, pressing them tightly against the girls’ throats.  I shuddered as the point of one drew a drop of blood from Lily’s neck.

“No!” Charles screamed.

“It appears we’re at an impasse.  But it is no matter.  Stay, and witness the rebirth of he who walks in shadow.”

“You are insane,” Charles spat. 

“No, my ignorant child.  The insane live in a world that is not.  We see the world as it will be.  You will see it, too.”

“Free her!” he commanded, once again. 

Batory merely smiled.  “Certainly,” she said.  “She is not needed.  Vladimir will suffice.  Place your weapon on the ground and come for her.  Daniel, you do the same.  Leave your weapon behind, and free the one you love.  You have my word I will not harm you.”

“No,” I whispered.

“Alright,” Charles yelled to Batory, ignoring me.  “Alright,” he repeated, as he knelt down to place his pistol on the ground. 

“No!” I said, grabbing Charles by the arm.  He turned and looked at me, his eyes determined, yet resigned, to whatever fate would come.  “I must, Daniel,” he whispered pitifully.  “I will either save her or I won’t.  I’ll either live, or I won’t.  But without her, there is no point in escaping.”

He was irrational, but at that moment, argument was useless.  I released his arm.  He nodded once to me, giving the best half-smile he could muster in that moment.  And then he was gone, walking gingerly around the pit in the center of the chamber.  I reached down and grabbed the pistol he had left on the ground.

Batory watched Charles as he walked, but none of the other women moved.  As he approached the pole to which Anna was tied, the woman who stood behind her removed the knife from her throat, stepping back into the group surrounding them. 

Charles ran to her, ripping the bonds that held her to the stake, speaking to her as he did, but in words I could not hear.  Then, she was free.  I saw them embrace.  For one golden moment, I felt the love between them.  But then I saw one of Anna’s hands fall to her side.  When it rose again it wasn’t empty.  There was a flash of light as fire glinted off steel.  Then it was gone as her hand fell again, this time with purpose. 

I saw Charles jerk backward, saw the look of shock in his face, watched as Anna seemed to drag her hand along his back, and finally felt myself sicken as the blood poured from the gash she had carved to the stone floor below.  Charles collapsed to the ground.

Batory’s cackle echoed throughout the chamber. 

“Foolish,” she said, looking from Charles's writhing body to me.  “We tried before, you know.  A year ago today.  We read the ancient rights, made the sacrifice as it was prescribed.  But, you know, the storybooks are wrong.  The darkness does not call for the blood of a virgin; it does not seek the life of an innocent.  So when we sacrificed Father Kramer, our offering was rejected.  No, the darkest magic calls for the darkest soul.  But how to attain that?  How to harvest one such as this?” she said, gesturing toward Vladimir who still moaned and bled from his perch above the pit. 

“Do not mourn for him,” she said, seeing my eyes drawn to Vladimir’s dying body.  “How many lives has he snuffed out?  How many have given their blood so he could have his fortune?  You will never know, but believe this — there are few souls as dark as his.  Anna was our hunter,” she said turning to the girl, “and she did well to bag her quarry.” 

“And what of us?” I asked.  “Why are we here?”

Batory turned back to me and arched one eyebrow.  “Well, Mr. Lincoln, I don’t know.  Why are you here?  We did nothing to draw you.  You came of your own accord.  Fate alone brought you.”

“What now?”

“Yes, what now,” she repeated, as she walked over to where Charles lay.  “Your friend,” she almost moaned, “his was always to die.  Too noble, this one.  His breed is too single-minded, too unbending.  Death was always his muse, and death has come for him.  But you,” she said, looking up at me, “you, Daniel, are different.  I sense in you a desire to seek the truth, whether it be in the light or the darkness.”

“What is the truth?” I asked, tightening my grip on my pistol as I spoke. 

“The truth?” she asked.  “The Christian age has ended.  When John wrote Revelation, he did not see a vision of the end of the world.  Not the physical one, at least.  No, his was a story of rebirth.  Long have they slept, Daniel, the ancient lords of this world.  Too long.  But their return is upon us.  Accept that now, and stand with us.  She can be yours, Daniel,” she said, pointing to Lily.  “I can make it so.  He can make it so.”