Ash Return of the Beast

CHAPTER 40: Thirty Minutes later…

The old manor was still cordoned off with yellow tape. Kane drove around to the back and parked in the alley to avoid drawing any undue attention.

Ravenwood stepped out and lowered her sunglasses. “Place looks as miserable from the back as it does from the front.”

Kane came around to join her. “Worse.”

They walked over to the gate of the chain-link fence at the edge of the property. The rusted gate resisted Kane’s attempt to open it.

Ravenwood nudged him aside. “Let me try.”

Kane looked away for a moment so he wouldn’t have to watch her embarrass herself. When he looked back, the gate was open. “Let me guess. Black magick.”

“The latch.”

“What?”

She pointed to a small, spring-loaded object attached to the side of the gate. “You have to pull the latch.”

“I knew that.”

Kane led the way, stomping a path through the waist-high overgrowth that lined the entire length of the fence. Ravenwood followed behind. About three feet into the yard, they stopped and surveyed the property. Kane noticed the deteriorating garden shed just to their right and walked over to it.

“I bet nobody bothered to check this out,” he said.

Ravenwood walked over to join him. “Why would they?”

“Exactly.”

“After you,” Ravenwood said.

Kane pushed the door open, found the light switch and stepped inside.

Ravenwood peeped her head in. “Is it safe?”

“Looks like it. Doesn’t smell so good. There’s a dead rat over in the corner. Watch your step.”

Ravenwood entered the shed. “Cozy. Looks like a bunch of–– Whoa!” The heel of her shoe sank into a crack in the floor between two loose boards. She lost her balance and toppled backward.

Kane swerved around just in time to catch her before she hit the wall. He held her for a moment with one arm firmly wrapped around her waist. “You all right?”

She straightened up and brushed a tangle of hair out of her eyes. “Yeah. Thanks. Damn.” She looked down to see what had caught her heel. “There’s something under there.”

Kane knelt down and pulled the boards away. “An old metal box. Copper, I think. It’s empty. The hasp has been twisted up pretty bad.”

Ravenwood noticed a padlock on the floor next to one of the loose boards. “Look at this. Looks like it was cut with a hacksaw.”

Kane looked around and spied a rusty hacksaw blade. He picked it up and examined it. “This thing wouldn’t cut a block of cheese. If this is what was used to cut that lock then somebody had a hell of a lot of patience.”

“Or was just awfully damned curious to find out what was inside the box.”

“Hey, wait a minute. What’s this?” He picked up one end of a length of rope. The other end was tied to an eyehook screwed into a large square plank on the floor. He tugged on the rope and lifted the edge of the plank.

Ravenwood’s eyebrows lifted along with it. “A trapdoor.”

“Brilliant deduction, Watson.” He opened it all the way, pulled a small flashlight from his pocket and shined it into the void. He turned and looked at Ravenwood. The expression he saw on her face was exactly like that of his daughter when she was five years old and had just witnessed their cat giving birth to three kittens. “You up for a little adventure?”

She gave him a look that said ‘are you kidding?’ There was no way in hell she was passing this up. “After you, Sherlock.”

***

The hooded figure, with arms raised high, called forth the demon.

“Harok uzni hadahs. Harok uzni hadahs. Harok uzni hadahs! Lilit, eighth Offspring of the Old Ones! Demon! Succubus! Thou who dost invade the bodies of men to steal their seed! Come! Carry me to the eighth of nine and light the path for my return! Then we shall be as One! Harok uzni hadahs!”

The eighth candle began vibrating furiously, its flame rising, flaring, flooding the room with a blasphemous blast of light.

***

The petite young nurse Callahan gently wiped Cowl’s forehead with a cool, moist cloth. She had only seen him once before as a frenetic powerhouse of energy in a music video. It wasn’t her type of music but, she had to admit, he was one sexy specimen. Now, if it were not for the nearly imperceptible indications that he was still alive, he could have been mistaken for a corpse. She folded the wet cloth and was about to leave when she thought she heard him speak.

She glanced at the monitor but it registered no change. She leaned in close to him, put her ear next to his mouth and in one sudden swipe he grabbed her arm. His eyes flew open, expressionless, glassy, staring straight at the ceiling. Callahan screamed and struggled to pull away but his grip tightened, squeezing into her flesh. Dr. Halverson heard the screams echoing down the corridor. He grabbed an orderly and they hurried toward the room.

The orderly rushed in and pried Cowl’s fingers from Callahan’s arm and pulled her away from the bed.

Dr. Halverson approached with caution.

Cowl’s arm relaxed and fell to the bed. His eyelids fluttered and slowly closed. In a moment he reverted back into a calm state of unconsciousness.

Halverson checked the patient’s vitals. Everything appeared normal. “Damndest thing I’ve ever seen,” he said. He turned to Nurse Callahan who was still cowering next to the orderly. She was badly shaken but otherwise unharmed. “You say he spoke to you?”

She shook her head. “I––I thought so. Just a whisper, really.”

“What did he say?”

“I’m not sure. Sounded something like… ‘Lilith’.”

***

Ravenwood followed Kane through the trapdoor, down the ladder, into the void and through the first door of the tunnel.

Kane spotted the small light bulbs strung along the wire hanging from the overhead. He found the antiquated light switch with the red and green buttons. He pushed the green one and the old yellowed bulbs flickered and filled the tunnel with a dim, eerie glow.

Ravenwood touched the badly decomposing brick wall. A chunk fell out and landed at her feet. “Creepy place. Wonder where it leads?”

“I don’t know,” Kane said as they moved along. “But, if my internal compass is right, I’d say we’re heading straight for the house.”

“You’re packing, of course.”

“Of course. You?”

“Never leave home without it.”

“American Express?”

“Glock-23.”

“That’ll work.”

They came to another door, stepped across the threshold and found themselves in the small enclosure at the end of the tunnel.

***

The Doppelganger administered the final, horrendous act upon his helpless victim and recited the closing words of the ritual.

Alashem-barah-alashem! Lilit, eighth Offspring of the Old Ones! Demon! Succubus! Thou who dost invade the bodies of men to steal their seed!––I give this soul to you! Aum-ha!

The hooded figure rolled the lifeless body over onto its back. The man’s shirt was ripped open, his trousers crumpled into a wad at his ankles. The red welts of the branded symbols, seared into his flesh, were a work of art. The hooded figure took a moment to admire his handiwork and then simply vanished from the scene and reappeared inside the Inner Sanctum.

***

Kane spotted the ladder and looked up.

“Another trapdoor,” Ravenwood said. “We must be directly under the house.”

“One way to find out,” Kane said. He started up the ladder but Ravenwood grabbed him by the sleeve and pulled him back.

He tugged his arm away. “What the hell are you doing?”

She raised a finger to her lips and pulled out her gun. “I thought I heard something,” she whispered. “Sounded like the floor creaked. Like someone’s moving around up there.”

“You’re imagining things.”

“Am I?”

Kane decided to trust her instincts and drew his gun. They waited in silence for several minutes, listening.

Nothing.

Ravenwood holstered her gun and shrugged. “Okay, so I have a vivid imagination.”

Kane groaned and moved up the ladder. When he reached the top he turned and looked down at Ravenwood. The anxiety on her face made him grin. She didn’t grin back. He reached up, pressed a hand against the trapdoor and pushed it open just a crack but it was too dark to see much of anything. He shined his light through the opening and glanced back at Ravenwood. He pushed the trapdoor open enough to pull himself through and scanned the room. “Clear,” he said.

Ravenwood climbed up after him.

Kane sniffed the air. “Smell something?”

Ravenwood moved over beside him. “Yeah. Smells like…” She paused for a moment. “…like burnt candles.”

Kane moved the flashlight around and noticed something odd near one corner of the room. A large portion of the carpet was rolled back. They walked toward it and stopped in their tracks. The beam from the flashlight illuminated the large Lucifer Seal painted on the floor. It was surrounded by nine brass candleholders, minus the candles. Eight were covered with drippings of white wax and one was still clean and untarnished.

“Well, well,” Kane said. “What have we here?”

Ravenwood knelt down and inspected the candleholders. She looked up at Kane. “The wax drippings are still soft. I was right. Someone was here.”

Kane raised his gun. “Maybe still is here.”

He wielded the flashlight around for another quick scan of the room and spotted the big oak desk and the lamp. He moved quickly to the lamp and switched it on.

Now that they could see their surroundings, they were even less sure about what sort of room they were in.

“Weird,” Kane said. “No windows, no doors. There must be some way to get in and out of here besides that tunnel. Someone was definitely in here just minutes ago. Where the hell could they go? And who the hell was it?”

“And what the hell is that?” Ravenwood said.

“What’s what?”

She joined him in front of the desk and picked up the urn. “This.” She held it under the light of the desk lamp. The light glinted off the faceted edges of the strange ruby-like gem. She read the inscription below it. She turned to Kane, her narrowed eyes expressing something between disbelief and utter amazement. “Do you know what this is?”

“I’m guessing it’s a cinerary urn.”

“Not just any cinerary urn,” she said, handing it to him.

He moved it around in the dim light until he could read the inscription. “Aleister Alexander Crowley. No way. Let’s see if he’s still in there.” He lifted the lid and peered inside, then tipped it and tapped it against his hand. “Nada. Empty.”

“This has got to be the legendary long lost urn of Crowley’s ashes.”

“Looks to me like they’re still lost.”

“I’m betting they were here, in the urn, in this room.”

“So, where’d they go?”

“Probably used in a ceremonial ritual.”

She explained the bizarre ritual to Kane.

He rolled his eyes. “Christ. Just when I think I’ve heard it all. So what do you mean the urn was lost? What legend?”

She gave him a Cliff-Notes version of the story behind the mysterious disappearance of the urn.

“You mean it was just gone?”

“Yes. According to the story, Germer dug all around the tree but the urn was gone. Vanished without a trace. No one ever knew what became of it.”

“And you really think this is it?”

“Recognize the design cut into that gemstone?”

He took a closer look. “Jesus. It’s the same as the symbol branded onto the foreheads of the dead preachers. That complex version of the Lucifer Seal. Same thing that’s…” he swung the flashlight around “… painted on the floor over there.”

Ravenwood was only half listening. Her full attention was focused on another item on the desk. She picked it up.

Kane set the urn down and moved closer to her. “What is it?”

“Incredible.”

He moved around behind her and looked over her shoulder.

“It’s a diary,” she said, thumbing through the pages. “It seems to be the diary of Michael Moorehouse, the son of the man who built this place. Looks like the young Mr. Moorehouse was another Crowley fanatic.”

“No wonder this place gives me the creeps.” He grabbed the urn off the desk. “I say we confiscate this stuff and get the hell out of here.”

She closed the diary and tucked it inside her jacket. “To the Bat Cave.”

“Funny.”

“I thought so.”