It had just been after two in the afternoon, when a knock arrived at the door to my home office. I had turned, recognizing my friend, and welcomed him with a smile, “Raymond—nice to see you again, please come in!”
He had appeared solemn, though offered a smile as he took the seat beside my desk. There was something unsettling in the way his eyes darted about the room before resting upon me. “I would’ve liked to have said that this was just a social call—,” He began, “But sadly, it isn’t.”
“Oh—what’s on your mind?”
“There was another incident--.” He produced a file from an inner pocket of his gray trench coat and dropped it on my desk, “A situation in a town called Midvale, which involved several mysterious deaths and an unexplained fire. I noticed that your name and Rich’s were listed among the several individuals involved. After looking into the matter, I noticed that Rich also bought the property after the house burned down.”
“That might take a little bit of explaining to clarify--,” I swallowed hard, and reaching for my tea, paused, “Can I offer you coffee, maybe some late lunch?”
“No, but thank you--,” He was aggravated by something and rubbed at his eyes, “The problem here isn’t that I need an explanation from you. Because, I already know the type of research and field work that you do. And, I’m with you on all of that... The trouble now—is that my Captain noticed that the body count keeps going up whenever your name gets mentioned somewhere. And, I was informed just this morning that they’ll be assigning me a partner on this case. There’s even a rumor going around the office that they might be putting together a task force to investigate you. One that they’ll be expecting me to head….”
Placing down my tea cup, I looked to my friend in sincere apology, “I’m sorry for involving you in this whole mess. I really didn’t mean to jeopardize your career or life in any way.”
“I’m not blaming you for anything.” He leaned forward and gently patting my shoulder, said, “I don’t regret being involved, because I believe in what you’re doing, or I wouldn’t even be here now. But, I’m afraid that head office and my Captain would never understand.”
“So, what would you suggest that we do now?”
Shrugging, he seemed at a complete and utter loss, “I honestly have no idea. I already know that you can’t just give up what you do. No more than I could stop being a Detective. But somewhere down the center of this thing, no matter how hard I try, they will catch up to you….”
“Honestly, I have been expecting something like this for a long time now--,” I looked to him while attempting to hold back the emotions, though obviously distraught, “It was inevitable. I suppose that you just can’t hide some things from society—or the law, forever.”
“I’m so sorry, but after this visit they’ll even be monitoring every move that I make.” His eyes revealed an utter disappointment and regret that words could never have expressed. It was the parting of friends due to unfortunate circumstances beyond either of our control.
“I completely understand—and wouldn’t want to jeopardize you any more than we already have.” It saddened me deeply, as extending a hand in parting, he took it firmly and said, “I just want you to know that I believe in the same things as you, and if it wasn’t for my legal position in this situation, I’d be out there with you.”
“I know that—and completely understand.” I took hold of his hand and shook it, “I can’t even begin to thank you enough for everything that you have already done. I also realize that a lot of what I have been involved with will have serious legal ramifications at some point. Raymond--,” I looked into my friend’s dismayed eyes, “I just want you to know that no matter what may come of this—that I will always consider you to be one of my dearest friends.”
He had just looked down, an emotional storm raging as seemingly unable to look back at me, he quietly said, “None of this seems fair—we’re both on the same side. I wish that there was some way that I could make others understand.”
“Sometimes I think it’s best that they don’t--,” I looked to the raven and contemplated briefly before saying, “Not all that we see or seems evil is our enemy, but some explanations exceed human understanding or rational thought. So, maybe it’s better, safer for all, simply not knowing…?”
He had moved from the chair, walking to one of my shelves, and somberly gazed upon the books and figures, “Do you have any concept or idea of how many strange calls and unexplained homicides I have attended?”
Slowly shaking my head, I watched him removing a figure of a gargoyle from my shelf for closer examination, as he quietly said, “Spontaneous human combustion. That’s where a person for no apparent reason, living or just recently deceased, just bursts into flames without any explanation whatsoever!” I could only sit and silently watch as his frustration built, and looking to me, he angrily pointed toward the window, “Murders happen out there continually, some without even a single shred of evidence. They just become cold-case files that never get solved. You would assume that someone out there might have the intelligence to suspect that something unnatural happened to those victims, and that someone would form a special task force to investigate further into those matters. And not just keep shoving them under the proverbial god-damn rug!”
I knew that it was something that he had been retaining for many years, emotions that had finally peaked as we were confronted with an inevitable ending.
“There is a balance in all things—even among people and in office.” I had quietly watched as my friend turned to face me, and I said, “There are just as many bad people trying to conceal evidence and destroy society—as there are good ones such as yourself, trying to defend it.”
“How do we change things?” He appeared desperate, pleading.
“We already are, my friend.” I moved from my seat and as we stood before each other in parting, said, “And now that the subject has come up. I have to warn you about something.”
He had just moved closer as we spoke, realizing that I had not desired to have been over-heard. “We were recently informed by reliable sources, that we might all be in serious danger. It’s something very much like what we encountered at Woodlands.” Turning toward my desk, I withdrew a small gift-wrapped box and handed it to my friend, “This is a Christmas gift. It’s a symbol of protection against this threat that we are all now facing. Please, wear it always, and promise me, promise that you will never take it off.”
“You have my word--,” He swallowed back the emotions with the parting sentiment, and looking to me, said, “I just want you to remember that no matter what happens—I’ll always be your friend.”
“Always--,” I had shaken his hand, “Keep fighting for what’s right, Raymond. You really are doing the right thing. God Bless and keep you always—till then…”
He had looked down sorrowfully and said nothing more, hesitating briefly before turning and slowly moving from out of the door. I had stood there and listened, as he had gone down the stairs, and gleefully wishing everyone a Merry Christmas, swiftly departed the house.
It seemed that Nightrealm was growing in infamy, had an appetite for chaos and destroyed all within its path. Given the choice, I would have simply dropped everything at that very point! But with the hound of hell upon our heels and no hope of escape, the only chance now was to pray that somehow we might succeed before it was too late….
Slumping back down into my chair, I placed a hand before my eyes. It was now beginning, the final chapter in the nightmare that might spell disaster for all involved….
Friday, December 20, 1974.
The construction of the guest house was moving far faster than anticipated. As incorporating several teams to do the work of a single crew, everything seemed to happen almost over-night. It was like watching a building simply grow right before our own eyes! I had kept looking out the office window, amazed as things rapidly advanced and appeared from out of nowhere.
The weather had remained wi
th us as the surrounding veranda had been added to the red brick structure. And workers had remained late while nailing down boards, as others followed with paper, and laid wooden shingles upon the roof. Any parts that had required painting had been completed in a shop, and were then delivered and assembled on site. Many of the contractors were personal friends of Rich, and he had orchestrated every aspect of the entire affair.
They had kept as close to the original architectural design as possible and the results were simply astounding! It appeared as though it had always been there. So much in fact, that had I not known different, I would have thought someone insane to argue the fact.
I had taken my tea into the bedroom and stood before the window, quietly observing as the workers busily cleared the remaining materials and equipment. There were several trucks and a flurry of movement, as electricians and plumbers finalized inspections. The heavens had darkened by late afternoon, and from the appearance of the clouds, something big was coming. It had been bitter cold that day. Judging from how quickly the workmen were now moving, no one was willing to wait around to find out.
Caitlin had taken Eva and Norman out earlier to do some final Christmas gift shopping. They had spent the last week decorating the house and property, and everything was shimmering in an array of rainbow-bulbs, even the old black iron gates.
The gazebo now housed a Santa Claus, a sleigh and seven electrified and shining reindeer. Rich had happily helped them with the lighting. They had even assembled a full sized Nativity scene among the trees near the front gates. There was a special feeling, a kind of loving magic that came with all of these efforts. It was the true seasonal heart of sharing that brought Christmas into our home,
The house smelled of ginger snaps, short bread cookies and plum cake. And though I was not permitted to over-indulge, I was promised nibbles. Eva had used my mother’s recipe book to create all of these wonderful things. And when closing my eyes and breathing slow and deeply, I would have sworn that she had still been there….
The afternoon had darkened considerably as I stood at my office window in silent thought. It had been very cold, something generally unusual for the West Coast. We had always enjoyed mild winters, though endured endless rain in the spring and fall seasons.
If one traveled north, you would encounter more extreme conditions. But, along the coast-line it was rarely anything more than a light dusting of snow. And that was usually expected and welcome during the Christmas holidays. There had been certain years that had been worse than others, but definitely nothing like this….
The telephone had startled me while standing there, and I had almost spilled my tea. Hurrying to the desk and placing it down, I answered with the usual, seasonal cheer! “Schreiber residence, Merry Christmas, and how may I help you?”
“Michael—it’s Tim—did I get you at a bad time?”
There was a considerable amount of static on the line and I had hardly recognized my friend. As slumping into the chair and leaning back thoughtfully, I said, “No, I was just having my afternoon tea—are you doing alright out there?”
“Well—that’s why I was calling you--,” He sounded utterly dismayed, “We’ve had a blizzard out here for the past few days. And from what they’re saying on the news—it’s here to stay. I feel awful about this—but there’s just no way in heck that anyone is getting in or out of Hedley for quite a while.”
“I’m very sorry to hear that. We were really looking forward to having you boys out here for the holidays—I don’t even know what to say?”
“Tell me about it--,” His voice crackled and became distant as I strained to listen, “Harry asked me to wish you all a very Merry Christmas, and to tell you that we will try to call if the lines don’t go down in this storm.”
“I’m surprised that you still have service now--,” I carried the telephone back to the window with me to peer out, cautious not to trip over the cord, “It looks terrible even out here on the coast, I can just imagine what you must be dealing with up there.”
“Um, Michael—there was something that I wanted to ask you.” He sounded apprehensive, his voice fading and crackling, “There was an avalanche here that buried the highway on the west side of town. It also covered the old service road that led up to the mine. You didn’t know anything about that—did you?”
“Listen Tim--,” I called louder into the receiver while tapping it upon my desk, “I can barely hear you? I think that we’re losing our connection? Please wish Harry all the best—and we’ll talk in the New Year, I promise! Merry Christmas, old buddy—talk soon!”
No sooner had I said this than did the line truly go dead in my hands. Without any doubt in my mind, I knew that the telephone service in Hedley had certainly just gone down. It was nothing unusual for the winters in those parts, but had always bothered me, and especially now….
Merlin had wandered into my office and purred while rubbing up against my leg. Although Marlowe and the demon’s presence were obvious to the old feline, it now seemed to bother him little. He no longer suffered the nervous tension that he had previously and so vividly displayed. There hadn’t been a single episode of him hissing, and then rushing madly from out of the room. I suspected that our subsequent trinity and unity might have toned down that dark presence, that unfamiliar and unsettling edge.
“How are you doing, old man?” I leaned down and scratched behind his ears and under his chin, “I hope that you weren’t looting the trash can or playing in the Christmas tree. Eva would have you stuffed and mounted, and use you for a decoration on next year’s tree.”
The wide-eyed expression that he now offered had left me chuckling. As with ears drawn back in some kind of nervous contemplation, it almost appeared as though he had understood me.
“I would never let her do that—no matter what you might’ve done.”
His attention now moved to where the raven perched and peered down from my desk. To all others it appeared as some hideous mount created by a sincerely disturbed taxidermist. It was enormous by any standards of the species, but fit perfectly on the ledge of my desk, between the hutch and outer edge.
Merlin looked to the thing in idle fancy, jumping suddenly as the old iron clock chimed, gonging three times as he glared upon the golden wolf heads.
We had looked to one another as though ashamed to have been taken by surprise! Both of us listening to the clock’s steady rhythm, gently ticking, it was the heartbeat of my house and home.
The old iron clock sat to the far right of the long desktop. Then there was the first of the labradorite spheres, the golden orb, the second labradorite and finally the raven to the far end. It was not cluttered, but appeared comfortably busy. I reached up and retrieved my “owl stone” from a central “pigeon-hole” shelf, of which there were many in the old desk. It was the Tiger’s Eye -globe Rich had given me the previous year, another cherished gift that I held dear and kept close. Taking the cold object into my left palm, I gently rolled it while leaning back in silent contemplation, while the soft and rhythmic ticking of the clock began blending, fading into the wind’s mournful calls from beyond the window.
Merlin had hopped up and onto the window ledge, settling slowly down as he peeked between the sheers and gazed out. I could see the flurries in contrast to his pitch black fur as the storm had finally arrived. I could only be thankful that the guest house had been completed earlier that day.
Looking to where the double-doors of my closet had been left partially drawn, I moved from the chair and, making my way across the room, opened them to look within. Everything had been in perfect order and exactly as I had previously left it. My attention falling to where the large model of the Starship Enterprise that Caitlin had bought still rested upon its own shelf, my thoughts took me back to the afternoon that we had spent shopping together. It really had been one of the most wonderful days we had spent together in a long time. I wished for nothing more than to experience that same fulfilling happiness with her for the rest of our
days. But darkness and despair had been swift to follow in those thoughts.
Closing the closet doors and moving back across the room, I dropped back into my chair, looking to where the little metal basket and partially completed manuscript rested upon my desk. There was a certain loathing that had begun to grow for the research and all that I had ever done. It had all started as guilt for abandoning Caitlin, and then risking those I loved for the sake of my work. How long had I actually sat there as though chained to that typewriter? Working through the nights alone, wasting the years as life faded and all things had passed me by? And now, in the autumn of my life and while being caught within a nightmare that began as a dream, I hated, regretted all of it. But there would never be any return to what was already long lost. Only the chance, opportunity to salvage what remained….
Placing the “owl-stone” back into its shelf and base, I moved from the chair to the window and peered out into the night. The furnace had awakened and begun breathing. Casting its warm breath from the vents at my feet and beneath the draperies, it caused me to close my eyes. In the warmth and subtle shadows behind my gaze the world swam. The gentle golden hues of the lamp-light behind my lids blending with the wine colored draperies of my mind.
In those most quiet of moments, I contemplated all things in the stillness of the night. There were no whispers or shadows, not a single evil came to mind. But, as I slowly opened my eyes and looked from out the window, I saw the Nativity scene at the side of our front gates. It was so much more than just a symbol of faith and hope. It was magic and love in the frozen darkness where once there had been none. Moving from the window, I bid the raven a good night, and switching out the lamp-lights, went to join my beloved wife….
Sanctum Arcanum Page 47
