Ash Return Of The Beast Part 10

Cowl sat straight up. "What? You gotta be s.h.i.ttin' me." He shook his head, trying to absorb the shocking revelation. "But, wait a minute. If all this is true, then why did you first pick Michael Moorehouse as the Chosen One?"

"It was all a game, a ruse perpetrated upon Michael by the spirit of Crowley. Crowley despised Michael and Michael had to be eliminated anyway, so you could take your rightful place as the owner of the Manor. Because you, Rye Cowl, are the true Chosen One."

Cowl slumped back into the chair and stared at the Messenger. "This is a h.e.l.l of a lot to take in, I hope you know."

"Oh, but there is even more to learn about your new home here and about your great-great-grandfather."

Cowl was overwhelmed but fascinated at the same time. "Okay. Lay it on me."

The Messenger explained that by the time William Bentley Moorehouse had designed and built the manor, he had long abandoned the Druid practices of his earlier years and had joined something called the Mystic Order of the Old Ones.

"The Old Ones?"

"A mystical order that followed the teachings of the Necronomicon."

Cowl's face lit up. "The book I found in the shed."

"Indeed."

"But why hide it in the garden shed, of all places?"

"Under the circ.u.mstances," the Messenger explained, "it was a good place to keep it hidden and yet make it accessible for use during the ceremonies and rituals that were held right here in this roomthe Inner Sanctum."

"Here? Right here? What kind of?"

The Messenger moved ghost-like across the room. "This way," he said, beckoning Cowl.

Cowl got up and followed until the Messenger stopped directly in front of a tall bookcase.

"Okay, I give up," Cowl said with a puzzled look. "What're we doing here?"

"Grab hold of the right edge of the bookcase and swing it toward you."

"What, another secret room?"

The Messenger's reply was a simple nod toward the bookcase.

Cowl swung the heavy bookcase outward. A slight musty smell followed.

Behind the bookcase was a large walk-in wardrobe. On one side of the s.p.a.ce was a row of hooded robeseleven white and one blackall neatly draped over crimson, velvet-covered hangers. On the opposite side were shelves containing a variety of strange objects: red gla.s.s goblets encased in ornate metal holders; candles of various shapes and sizes; a silver dagger; a string of beads; a wooden flute; some copper bowls; something that looked like a very old clock but with odd symbols in place of numbers; three small, leather-bound books and other paraphernalia the likes of which Cowl had never seen in his life.

"These," the Messenger said, "belonged to William, your great-great grandfather. He had become an adept of the highest order, a master of the magickal arts. The Inner Sanctum was built to serve as a secret room for the rituals he performed, sometimes alone and sometimes with the members of his branch of the Order of the Old Ones. That was the reason for the tunnel. The tunnel was how the members of his group could come and go in the middle of the night without being observed by the neighbors. William's remarkable success as a trial lawyer was due as much to his use of magickal workings as it was to his innate abilities and knowledge of the lawperhaps even more so."

"No s.h.i.t? Did his son, Michael, know about any of this?"

"Only toward the end of his father's life. William didn't trust his own son. In fact, he blackmailed Michael into silence once Michael became aware of his father's secret. He told Michael he would not bequeath to him the house or even a penny of his fortune unless he swore to keep the secret. Michael did keep the secret, of coursenot so much for the house, obviously, but mostly for the money."

"And Mrs. Moorehouse, Michael's mother. What happened to her?"

"Ah, yes, Mrs. Moorehouse. Poor thing. She died a year before her husband, William, pa.s.sed away."

"Died? How?"

"She knew what her husband was into and she didn't like it. Loathed it, actually. She threatened to expose him. But of course that couldn't be allowed to happen."

"So what did happen?"

"Mrs. Moorehouse had an unfortunate accident. Tumbled down the stairs right here in her own home. Broke her neck. Very sad."

"Pretty convenient accident."

"Indeed."

"Hmm... So, all this stuff... It's all mine now, is that right?"

"It belongs to you now, yes."

Cowl brushed his hands across the row of hooded robes. He grinned and reached for the black one. "Well, then, let's see how this baby fits, shall we?"

He slipped into the robe and turned to the Messenger. "So, how do I look?"

"Like it was meant to be, of course."

Cowl laughed and brought the hood up over his head. Instantly, his body convulsed with a spasmodic shudder as if he'd stuck his finger into a high voltage socket. Mercifully, it was over in a split second. He ripped the hood off his head and stumbled backward, his eyes wild with terror. Spittle was dripping from his lips and drizzling down his chin. He wiped his face with his sleeve and cursed. "Jesus Christ! What the h.e.l.l was that?"

An amused chuckle issued from the Messenger. "Call it a confirmation."

"A confirmation! Of what, for Christ's sake?"

"The Old Ones are pleased. Your initiation has begun."

CHAPTER 14.

Three Months Later...

Before Kane even had a chance to finish his first cup of morning coffee, Ravenwood flew into his office unannounced and flung herself into the chair in front of his desk. From the look on her face he could tell she was all jacked up about something.

"Oh, G.o.d," he grumbled. "Whatever it is, it better be good."

Ravenwood opened her briefcase and pulled out some papers. "Oh, it's good all right. Wait'll you see this."

"What is it?"

"Last night I had a h.e.l.l of a nightmare."

"I'm having one right now."

"No, seriously."

"I am serious."

Ignoring him, she laid the papers on his desk and gave a brief synopsis of the bizarre dream.

Kane looked at her. "Fallen angels, spooky labyrinths and glowing symbols that turn into little creepy crawlers?" He shook his head. "I know a good psychiatrist if you"

Ravenwood snapped at him. "Look. I've been up all night. You want to know what I figured out or don't you?"

Kane backed off but couldn't suppress a grin. "Yeah, sure. What is it?"

She shuffled through the papers and pulled one to the front. "See anything familiar?"

Kane studied the strange images. "Yeah. The first five are the same weird squiggles that were burned into the chests of the dead preachers. What are the others? What are these words?"

"Ever hear of the Necronomicon?"

"The Neker...what?"

"You'll probably want to brew another pot of coffee. If you thought what we've been dealing with up to this point has been hard to wrap your mind around, this is really going to strain your brain."

Ravenwood gave Kane the Cliff Notes version of the Necronomicon and the murky, often confusing, history of its origins. She explained that it was often thought to be a work of fiction attributed to H. P. Lovecraft, the early 20th century author of bizarre horror stories. Others, she told him, claim to have traced its origins back into the mists of time and linked it to the G.o.ds and G.o.ddesses of the ancient Sumerians.

Kane was lost, already. "Sumerians?"

"Pre-biblical. We're talking really old. Even the origin of their culture is a bit of a mystery. It seems some of the Old Testament stories in the Bible were even borrowed from the earlier Sumerian tales. So, right away we're into controversial territory here. But that's nothing compared to this book."

"The Necker...Necker..."

"Necronomicon. Literally translated, the book of dead names."

"Dead names."

"Or names of the dead, if you prefer."

"Names of what dead? What dead people are we talking about here?"

"Not people, exactly. G.o.ds. Or demons. Both, actually. And not dead exactly, either. More like... sleeping."

"Sleeping."

"Yes. Waiting to be awakened."

Kane shifted uncomfortably in his chair. The details of this case were beginning to stir his own sleeping demons... memories... his dad... I should tell her. No you shouldn't. Not now.

Ravenwood studied his face for a moment. "Are you still with me?"

"What?"

"Looked like I lost you for a minute."

Kane straightened himself in the chair and loosened his tie. "Yeah. I'm with you. Sleeping demons...yada, yada...."

"Your enthusiasm is overwhelming."

"Sorry. Go on."

"Okay. Well, look, I won't bore you with all the details. But, whether you believe any of this or not, we're talking about some seriously strange and potentially dangerous stuff here."

"Dangerous? C'mon."

"Uh... five dead preachers?"

Kane pursed his lips and conceded her point with a reluctant nod.

Ravenwood sucked up her exasperation and continued. "Remember what I said about the sleeping demons? Well, the Necronomicon isamong other thingsa book of calls."

"Calls."

"Right. Calls. In ritual magick, calls are incantations to be recited in a particular sequence. These calls are intended to awaken the sleeping demons and raise them up from the Underworld, the dark Abyss, to do the bidding of the magician."

Kane chuckled. "And you're telling me this is actually supposed to work."

"Well, here's the thing. There are two versions of the Necronomicon." She paused, pulled a paperback book from her briefcase and handed it to Kane. "One of them looks like this. You can buy it at just about any good metaphysical bookstore."

Kane took the book and examined it. The cover was black with a strange symbol printed in red in the center. The word Necronomicon was printed in bold white letters above the symbol in a font that had an intentionally sinister look about it. He flipped through the pages as Ravenwood continued to talk.

"Open it to the page with the bookmark. Look at the ill.u.s.trations."

Kane turned to the marked page and recognized the ill.u.s.trations as the same symbols Ravenwood had sketched on the sheet of paper.

"Look closely at those symbols," she said. "You were only partly right about the first five symbols being the same ones that are on the bodies of the victims. Symbols one, two, four and five were used but symbol number three didn't appear on any of them. Symbol number nine was used in place of number three."

"Does it matter?"

"Oh, it matters all right. It means our perp is no ordinary, run-of-the-mill, self-proclaimed black arts magician."

"And you know this, how?"

"Those symbols are the signs or seals representing each of the nine offspring of the group of G.o.ds or ent.i.ties known throughout the ages as the Ancient Ones or the Great Old Ones. These Old Ones and their offspring have one goal: to somehow, by any means, find a way through the gate of the Abyss and enter into the land of the living. If they can accomplish that then they will destroy every last remnant of the human race and take possession of the world that they claim was theirs in the first place."

"Don't tell me. Let me guess. There was a war between the good G.o.ds and the bad G.o.ds. The bad G.o.ds lost and they're just waiting to get their revenge."