The Last Ritual

by S. A. Sidor

  “Why? Where have you been? We’ve waited for you. You’ve taken your damned time showing up.”

  “What did you do last night?”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. What did you do last night, Alden? At the Sea Captain’s?”

  I took another step.

  “Don’t come any closer, or I’ll go.” The eye blinked again. It was bloodshot, red.

  “We went to a gallery party. Things might’ve gotten a bit out of hand. I can’t remember.” The gong ringing. Pan flutes, vibrating harps. Balthazarr’s arms outstretched.

  The flash of teeth. A smile filled the gap. The husky rasp of a man laughing.

  “A bloodletting. Yes? You gave them your blood to taste?”

  “Calvin, come around and let me see you. Nina and I, we want to talk to you.”

  “Talk, talk. No! No more talk. You must kill her, Alden. Before she kills you.”

  Why did he sound so stilted and strange?

  I threw my cigarette away. I glanced around for Thorn but couldn’t spy him anywhere. “I don’t know what you’re going on about. Is this a joke? Now, you’ve helped us, so I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt here. But if you say anything like you just did again, I don’t know what I’ll do to you.” I marched up to the fence.

  The eye stared. It backed away. A metallic flash glittered in the air above our heads. He threw something over the fence to me. It twirled, landed at my feet. A knife. Nothing fancy, the kind of blade they used to gut fish at the docks.

  “You go on and kill her, Alden. She’s not real.”

  “Why are you saying this?” I picked up the knife. The handle felt dirty. My head hurt. I saw the figure behind the fence shift. A shrug? He’d be lucky if I didn’t cut him first.

  “No reason,” he said. The dry husky laugh again. “I’m telling her the same thing.”

  There was a sound like flags flapping in the wind, like big yellow flames in a bonfire.

  The gargoyle exploded into the air. He flew straight up to the roof and perched there.

  He swiveled his head, looking at me, and then, hanging upside-down from the roof’s edge, he tried to see in the window of Nina’s bedroom. “Bastard, you closed the curtains.” I was too stunned to speak. My feet rooted to the grass.

  Letting go of the roof, he spun and pumped his skin wings, swooping down. I ducked.

  The gargoyle laughed, slicing into the fog over the river.

  The fog boiled behind him.

  Thorn barked from the river’s edge. The thing that was not Calvin had disappeared. I looked up at Nina’s window. Was he there too, like he’d said? Impossible. “I’m telling her the same thing.”

  I called my dog and raced back inside the mansion.

  Skipping stairs and shouting, “Nina! Nina!”

  I threw open the door and ran to the bedroom. The sheets were a tangled mess. She wasn’t there. My God, I thought. They’ve taken her! Thorn dashed past me and into the bathroom. He bumped the door open with his nose and slipped in. A single sharp bark.

  “Thorn! Privacy please, you sly old dog.”

  It was Nina’s voice, muffled but unmistakable. My heart leaped in my chest.

  I crossed the room in two strides and pushed past the door.

  “It’s a party now,” she said. “Shut the door. I feel a draft.” Nina lay up to her chin in steaming hot water. She’d filled the clawfoot tub as high as it would go without overflowing. She’d slicked back her wet hair, and her cigarette holder was clamped between her teeth. There was an ashtray on the floor beside the tub and a snifter of what looked like cognac.

  Thorn rested his head on the rim of the tub.

  “Don’t even think of joining me, Thorn.” Nina petted his snout with her drippy hand. “Darling, do tell me that’s not a knife you’re brandishing.” She looked at me with mild concern.

  I stared at the weapon the gargoyle had tossed over the fence. I was gripping it so tightly my fingers were changing colors. I put it on the sink. The rust-speckled steel, its edge shining like wet silver paint. I ushered Thorn from the room and closed the door.

  “Did anyone visit you?” I asked.

  “Besides Thorny?”

  “I’m not joking. Has someone been up here talking to you?”

  “Quiet down. You’re killing my head. Of course no one’s been up here. What’s gotten into you?” She closed her eyes, reclining against the back of the tub. A damp hand removed the cigarette holder; she tapped ashes toward the ashtray on the floor. “Hand me my brandy, would you? Don’t judge. Hair of the dog, as they say.”

  I stepped nearer to the bathtub, starting to bend over for the glass, when I paused.

  “Do you have a knife?”

  “Alden, you just put one on the sink. What do you need a knife for?” She yawned. One of her hands dangled over the tub, a foot above her glass, but the other remained hidden under the murky, milky jade water. I smelled sweet pine bath salts. The bathroom tropical with steam. Wisps floated in the air, mixing with her cigarette smoke. I was sweating.

  The gargoyle’s words echoed in my brain. “I’m telling her the same thing.”

  Had the demon given her a knife? Did he suggest she murder me because I wasn’t real? How did he know about last night? And about Balthazarr’s blood ritual?

  I inched forward, attempting to see through the bathwater. It was impossible.

  Nina’s eyes remained closed. She clenched the cigarette holder between her lips.

  “Quite a party,” she said, smirking. “You certainly enjoyed yourself.”

  “Yes… I’m having trouble recalling how things ended.”

  “What a pity. You were having the time of your life.” She let out a low growl from the back of her throat. “My finger still hurts. Will you kiss it for me?” She extended her middle finger, the one she’d pricked on the nail over the blood bowl. “Pretty please?”

  I moved closer, never taking my eyes off the surface of the jade-colored water. “My memories grow fuzzy after Balthazarr’s rite.”

  “Really? You seemed fine. You were talking to everyone. Balthazarr’s enthusiasm over your paintings boosted your confidence to new heights. He’s quite the character, isn’t he?”

  “What was your impression of the great Surrealist?”

  I leaned against the tub at an angle slightly behind her. If she were going to stab me with a knife secreted in the water, she’d have to twist around to do it. I thought I might be able to back away and defend myself with the ashtray, if need be. Not hurt her but deflect the attack. Would she obey the gargoyle? I hadn’t. I wasn’t sure of anything. Not even Nina.

  “Ummm. He’s handsome and very charismatic. It’s all part of his act, I should imagine. I’ve noticed him buzzing around the Colony but never met him properly.” She shifted in the tub. Her pink skin squeaked against the porcelain-coated cast iron. I startled, but she didn’t notice. Her eyes were heavily lidded. “Though come to think of it, I actually might have seen him before. Much earlier…”

  “You saw Balthazarr before last night’s party? Really? Where?”

  “He was with Court, I think. Maybe coming out of his apartment? Or when I visited South Church. All I remember is a tall man with a black beard split at the bottom. He’s striking, I thought. It might’ve been the day when you and I first met. Isn’t that funny to think about?”

  How could that be? Unless Balthazarr somehow projected himself across the ocean. Or he was lying about his arrival in the country. Or both. I crouched behind the tub, watching.

  “What are you doing back there?” She lifted her head and sat up, craning to look at me over her naked shoulder. “Have you gone batty? Did the champagne do it?”

  “That second round did taste strange,” I said. “A chemical aftertaste, chalkiness.”

  “I’m
kidding. God. Hand me the cognac, will you?”

  “Let me see your hands first. Both hands.” I stood, my back to the tile wall.

  My request amused her, despite her current post-celebratory suffering. She took her hands out of the water. They were steaming, as if she’d crawled fresh from a hell mouth. She flipped her cigarette into the ashtray on the floor. She maneuvered around, so now she was half-kneeling, half curling on her haunches in the bathtub. It was a good position to spring at me. A wave sloshed over the side and doused her cigarette. She smelled like the pine woods. A forest creature I’d encountered in a fable. A wood nymph to enchant me. Her body was gleaming. I could count the nubs of her spine down to the waterline.

  “Here are my hands,” she said. “Now what should I do?”

  “Is anything hidden under the water?”

  “Practically everything.” Her long arm reached for the cognac. She gulped it down.

  “I’m not playing games here.”

  “You are, you silly boy. But I like this game. Keep going.”

  “There was something in my champagne. That’s why I can’t remember anything.”

  “You think I slipped you a mickey?” She pantomimed dropping something in her glass. Acting on the assumption that I was being playful. None of this was to be taken seriously.

  Lovers’ games.

  That’s what we were doing. Or she was pretending to think so.

  I wouldn’t have objected, except I’d met a monster outside at this very hour, in broad daylight, and he’d told me to kill my lover. I was dizzy. My head hurt where the night watchman had bashed me. The fog on the river that swallowed the gargoyle – I felt like I had some of it trapped inside my skull, like smoke blown inside a bottle and corked. Hazy, I was hazy.

  “What happened after the lights went out? You remember, don’t you?” I said.

  She nodded. “Balthazarr must’ve had someone switch the power off to the house. It was a performance. Surely you realize that.” I could see her playfulness ebbing. She wondered if I was serious. “He tried out a bit of hocus pocus. For mood. To bring the Colony closer together. No different than fraternity initiations. Secret handshakes. Clubby foolishness.”

  Nina pulsed her fingers at me like the fronds of a sea anemone. Trying to recapture the mischievous mood she’d felt before. She refused to acknowledge anything real had happened last night. I wished I could believe that too. But I couldn’t. Everything can’t be imaginary.

  “My tuxedo stinks from incense. Tell me it doesn’t. When did they burn incense?”

  “I will not sniff your tuxedo. C’mon, my Oak Tree. Let’s take a bath and get clean.”

  She shifted and another wave slopped noisily over the tub.

  I jumped back, snatching the knife from the sink.

  “Stay away!” I shouted.

  Her jaw fell open. Her anger arrived in a rush. “Don’t you pull a knife on me! Are you crazy? Look at yourself!” She pointed to the mirror.

  I turned to witness my frightened face. Eyes bulging. Me, in the fogged-over lookingglass, clutching a brutal blade. In horror, I threw the knife away.

  “What am I doing?” My lungs were heaving, my throat constricted as I struggled for a breath. “Why can’t I remember anything after Balthazarr drank the blood? It’s a void in my mind.”

  Nina rose from the bathtub. No weapon. She reached for a towel and wrapped it around her torso.

  She put her arms around my chest. “Poor baby, you are scared. Of me?” She laughed, astonished at that. “Easy now, easy…”

  “I love you, Nina.”

  “I love you too.” She hugged me.

  I shivered in the overheated bathroom.

  “Maybe you’ve come down with something.” She put her lips to my forehead. “You’re burning.”

  We walked into the bedroom.

  I lay on the bed, my head in Nina’s lap. “Tell me what you remember of last night. After Balthazarr drank the bowl of blood.”

  “Someone turned the lights out. It was only for effect. Like a magic show. We all knew it wasn’t real. A minute or two later, the lights switched on again. People clapped. Balthazarr took a bow. He’d done some trick with the floor, too. I don’t know, it was like charcoal outlines of his shoes. They’d been burned into the wood. If he was hoping people would be shocked at that, it didn’t work. They hardly paid any attention. You noticed them. The burn marks, or whatever he’d done to fake them. You said you saw him do the same thing in Spain.”

  I had seen them in Spain. But last night was still lost. “Did he say anything to me?”

  “He called you a clever man.” Nina combed her fingers through my hair.

  “I think I was drugged. I didn’t drink enough booze to knock me out.”

  Nina considered what I had said. “You were drinking quite a lot after the second round of champagne. But I suppose you might’ve been given something against your will. There are cacti that grow in Mexico, and vines from the Amazon in Peru, that cause hallucinations. Or opium might do it. It’s possible…”

  “When I went to take Thorn out this morning, I saw the gargoyle. He was behind a fence in the yard. And he gave me that knife. He told me to kill you.” I made a fist. I was trembling with rage. “That you weren’t real. He said he told you the same thing. To kill me…”

  “You saw the gargoyle again?” She was shocked. “I’d almost convinced myself that never happened. That we dreamed it. No one told me to do anything, Alden.”

  We stayed in bed, silent. I wasn’t asleep. When I turned my face to look at Nina, she was awake too, smiling down at me like the statue of a goddess. Serene, yet powerful.

  “Did you see Balthazarr before last night? Are you sure of it?”

  She shook her head. “No, not sure. But you saying you felt like you were drugged has me thinking. I wonder if they all were. The Galinka sisters. Udo Ganz. Dr Silva. That drifter in the boxcar with his throat cut, and even Clark Abernathy. If the killer, or killers, drugged them first, then it might’ve been easier to manipulate them like they did. I wonder if someone was trying some drug out on you. To see what would happen.”

  “A test?”

  “Yes. A test. Or a preparation. I didn’t tell you before. But I found out new facts about the murder victims. They all came from wealthy, aristocratic families. Oh, they didn’t necessarily have mountains of cash now. For some it was in their lineage. The Galinka sisters were the granddaughters of a Russian princess. Dr Silva’s family is one of the wealthiest in Rio de Janeiro. Udo Ganz’s father owns an emerald mine in South Africa. The drifter was the one who didn’t fit the pattern. That’s because the police didn’t know who he was. Well, his relatives showed up at the county morgue last week to claim his body. They’re royal blood from Luxembourg, of all places. Clark’s family is new American money. Rich people like us, Alden. We’re the ones getting murdered.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The next day Nina decided we needed a car. My father owned three Rolls-Royce automobiles. His favorite was a Silver Ghost, the only car he ever drove himself. Asking him for it was laughably out of the question. He also had a Phantom, reserved for special trips, and a smaller Twenty that Roland used to chauffer Mother around to appointments.

  I paid my father an early morning visit. It was best to catch him at the end of his breakfast. His mood slid downhill as the day progressed, from irritation to aggravation.

  “May I borrow the Twenty?” I asked.

  My father’s eyebrows lifted. A dramatic display for him. “What for?”

  “I have a new girlfriend. I’d like to show her around town.”

  The corner of his mouth twitched. This was a smile.

  “Mother said she won’t be needing Roland to take her anywhere.”

  Father sat at his enormous desk, tapping his fingers on the mahogany. Deciding. />
  “It had better come back the way it leaves,” he said, finally.

  “Thank you.”

  Father put on his spectacles and rustled his newspaper.

  I was dismissed.

  •••

  Nina practically ran to the curb. A handful of curious bystanders gathered outside the Colony to gawk when I pulled up. I got out to meet her on the sidewalk. Nina bypassed me, walked around to the driver’s side, climbing behind the wheel. She patted the other seat. “Get in.”

  “I cannot allow you to drive Wilfred’s car.”

  “He’ll never know. Will he?” She dared me to deny her.

  “Fine.” I got in. “Let’s not have a wreck. If we do, make sure I die.”

  Nina drove fast. The roads were slick from a recent dusting of snow. I felt the Twenty lose traction a few times, but Nina always corrected the car. She had no patience, I was learning. Rush into everything. Catch up on the details as you go. Don’t talk yourself out of risk. Find the limits, race up to the line, see if you might be able to push things out a little farther, or in deeper.

  I won’t lie and tell you she didn’t excite me.

  Life since Nina had more color. Bigger ups and downs. It was a thrill ride, to be sure.

  Speaking of thrills, I reached into my pocket and removed an item wrapped in a rag.

  I opened the cloth.

  A gun.

  Nina glanced down at it. Then looked back at the road. The car accelerated.

  After the gargoyle’s second appearance, Nina managed to wear me down about visiting the Black Cave to search for more clues. Not hearing from Calvin sealed the deal. I insisted we didn’t have enough protection to go near the bootleggers’ camp by ourselves. Nina disagreed but didn’t argue. One night, she went out for a walk while I was asleep and came home with a pistol. She’d bought it at the Clover Club. “It’s a Colt 1903 Pocket Hammerless. Compact. Holds seven rounds.” She was quite proud of herself for having procured it.

  “Are you serious?” I asked, sitting up in bed. I’d awakened at the sound of the door.

  “You said we needed protection. Here it is.”

  “Who sold it to you?”