Alchemist

by Peter James

  At once she turned and raced back to the kitchen, slamming the door shut behind her. She looked up at the drying rack above the Aga, saw a heavy Sabatier chopper which she had used on some garlic a few days ago, and picked it up, gripping it tightly. Then she grabbed the phone, half expecting the line to be dead. To her relief she heard the dial tone, and punched out 999.

  It was answered almost instantly. ‘Emergency, which service please?’

  ‘Police,’ she whispered and then had to endure a silence that seemed as long as history. She began to wonder if she’d been cut off. She stared at the open door to the garden. Make a run for it?

  ‘Police,’ said an abrupt male voice.

  She cradled the phone close to her mouth, clenching the handle of the chopper, and spoke again in a cramped whisper. ‘Please help me,’ she said. ‘I think I have an intruder in my house.’

  56

  North London. 1951

  ‘You can believe me,’ Daniel Judd said in terror as the Magister Templi advanced closer, sword held high as if he were about to cleave him in two. ‘You can!’

  Rooted to the spot by an unseen force, Daniel stared, pleading, at the Priestess, and at the animal masks of each of the naked people standing silently behind them. Light glinted off the blades of their raised athames. His terror deepening every second, he registered the boar’s head on the body of a naked man, an ass’s head, a rooster’s head. His vision becoming more accustomed to the dimness every minute, he looked again at the living altar of the naked young woman who lay spread-eagled on the floor, just inside the north point of the massive pentagram.

  He could see skulls on shelves, the guttering flames of the black candles, the strange occult symbols drawn on the walls, some of which were familiar, others new to him; then he saw for the first time the massive horned half-man and half-goat figure towering over him on the wall beyond the north point of the pentagram. He knew enough to recognize Baphomet, the Goat of Mendez.

  ‘You will give us proof,’ the Magister Templi said, advancing another step. He was clad only in his metal headband with the pentagram at the front. He was not wearing a mask, and his grey hair hung lank from his head; his pot belly drooped like a fleshy pouch and his limp penis dangling between his thighs, an enormous thing, awed Daniel with its size.

  The Priestess, the only other person in the assembly not wearing a mask, stepped forward, carrying something in her hands. It was a crude cross, he could see, about eighteen inches long and made from two strips of black wood held together by a single nail.

  ‘Theutus, the opportunity is offered to you to redeem your past. Do you desire to take it?’

  ‘Yes,’ Daniel said, his voice feeble and choked.

  ‘Are you prepared to serve Our Lord Satan with your whole mind, body and soul, permitting nothing to deter you from the furtherance of His work?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Do you freely undertake to accept without question all orders that may be given to you by those He has placed, or may place, in authority over you?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, his voice bolder now.

  She placed the cross in his hands, and said: ‘As proof that you have purged your mind of all false teaching, you will now break this and throw the pieces to the ground, while declaring: I deny Christ, the deceiver; and abjure the Christian Faith, holding in contempt all its works.’

  Daniel held the cross, struck by a sudden crisis of conscience. For all his hatred of Christianity that the religious intolerance of his parents had instilled in him, he was aware of the historic power and significance of this symbolic object he was now holding. To do what he was bidden meant crossing a Rubicon.

  He stared at the cold eyes of the Priestess, at the stern expression in the Magister Templi’s face, and swallowed. His grip on the cross tightened. He could throw it in their faces and turn and run.

  But why?

  And why was he afraid, he wondered? Afraid of this crummy Magister Templi with his silver chain and his old van and his horrid little house? Afraid of becoming like him and nothing more?

  But this was just one step. One small step. It was a beginning; things would grow from here. He had nothing to be afraid of. Nothing in the world. He held the key between his hands; held the key to the greatest power in the universe.

  He snapped the cross in half and dropped the pieces to the floor. ‘I deny Christ, the deceiver; and abjure the Christian Faith, holding in contempt all its works,’ he said, his voice loud, confident, utterly certain.

  ‘Now spit on the pieces, Theutus,’ the Priestess said.

  He knelt and spat ferociously, then stood again.

  ‘Now urinate on them.’

  He looked the Priestess and then the Magister Templi in the eye. He held his penis, pointed it downwards and concentrated hard, trying to will himself to perform. It took him some moments before he succeeded in spraying a short burst on to the pieces, then he had to fight to control his bladder to prevent himself from urinating further. He looked back for approval, first at the Magister Templi, then at the Priestess, but saw no expression at all in their faces.

  Three naked men stepped forward, one wearing a rat’s head, one a raven’s head and one a serpent’s. The rat was carrying his athame in one hand, and a tape measure and a reel of cotton in the other; the raven held a brass vessel with a hinged lid on which was a thick rubber seal; the serpent brandished a pair of scissors and a sheet of what looked like white blotting paper.

  The rat bowed in acknowledgement to the Magister Templi then turned to Daniel. ‘Stand upright, Theutus,’ he said in a voice as weaselly as his mask.

  He measured Daniel with the tape, then unspooled the cotton, placed one end beneath Daniel’s foot, stretched it tight up to the top of his head, and cut off the length with his athame. Carefully, he pulled the end out from under Daniel’s foot, coiled the length and placed it in the brass vessel the raven held out. Then he turned back to Daniel.

  ‘We have your measure now, Theutus, for your coffin. Remember, won’t you, that we have your measure.’

  There was no reply to that and Daniel could only nod. Then the man in the serpent’s mask came forward, nodded his respects to the Magister Templi, silently took Daniel’s right hand and cut each of the nails in turn, careful to let the parings fall into the palm of his own hand. He then emptied these into the raven’s brass vessel. Next he cut several small locks of Daniel’s hair, placed them in the vessel also, and stepped back.

  The Magister Templi now approached. He took one hand off the hilt of his sword, which was still raised above his head, and gripped the edge of Daniel’s left ear, pulling it outwards as far as it would go. Then slowly, in silence, he lowered the sword, hilt first, down towards Daniel’s face.

  Daniel stood, afraid again but unflinching. The blade slid past his nose and became a blur in the corner of his eye. He saw a sudden movement followed instantly by an excruciating burning sensation in his ear and let out a stifled cry of pain.

  The Magister Templi stepped back and held the blade out to the man in the rat mask; Daniel could see blood on it. The rat dabbed it with a small square of the white blotting paper, which he then folded and placed in the vessel.

  The raven mask raised the vessel up high, and a gong rang, once. The Magister Templi said something in a language Daniel did not understand, and the rest of the assembly responded in unison.

  ‘Hail Satan!’

  At this, the rat closed the lid of the vessel and carried it across to the far side of the temple.

  His ear hurt badly, and Daniel could feel warm blood trickling down his neck and chest, but the force that had paralysed him earlier was gripping him again now. Anyway he didn’t even want to try to touch his ear, for fear of showing weakness.

  Three naked women in animal masks were now stepping towards him from different directions, in a ritualized march, as if to some silent drumbeat. One wore a horse’s head, one an ass’s and one a rooster’s, and each of them carried a length of red co
rd. Daniel watched them, distracted by the pain in his ear, his terror replaced now by a feeling of submission.

  A deep, echoing BONG rang out. His eyes swivelled and he saw the huge brass gong suspended from the rafters. A man in the head of a goat stood beside it holding a baton.

  Each of the three women bowed in turn to the Magister Templi. Using one cord, they tied Daniel’s hands behind his back, firmly but not roughly, then they looped the remaining two cords over his neck so they hung in folds down to the top of his thighs. One tucked the folds beneath his scrotum, then another took up the slack behind his neck. To his shame, Daniel found himself becoming aroused, and was aware that his face was burning fiercely with embarrassment.

  The Magister Templi, holding the sword pointing upwards, hilt resting against his shaving-brush beard, stepped to the edge of the circle. He stopped, swept his sword in an arc to open it, and went in, closed it with his sword, then continued into the centre and up to the feet of the naked girl on the floor. He lifted his sword up in front of him and raised the point towards the ceiling.

  The strident clang of a hand-bell rang out. As its echoes died away, the Magister Templi, in a powerful voice quite different from his normal speech, called out: ‘In nomine Dei Nostri Satanas Luciferi exelsi!’

  As the sound faded, it was replaced with a loud chant from everyone in the temple, in unison: ‘Hail Satan!’

  The gong was struck and the Magister waited for the echo to fade before chanting, ‘In the name of Satan, the Ruler of the earth, the King of the world, I command the forces of Darkness to bestow their Infernal power upon me! Open wide the gates of Hell and come forth from the abyss to greet me as Your brother and friend! Grant me the favour of which I speak! I have taken Thy name as part of myself! I live as the beasts of the field, rejoicing in the fleshly life! I favour the just and curse the rotten! By all the Gods of the Pit, I command that these things of which I speak shall come to pass! Come forth and answer to Your names by manifesting my desires! Diabolus! Thamuz! Samamael! Abbadon! Hecate! Astaroth! Sekhmet! Rimmon! Ishtar!’

  The Magister Templi paused, then in unison everyone again chanted: ‘Hail Satan!’

  The gong was struck once more. And the Magister then prayed in Latin, pausing at the end of each sentence whilst everyone present echoed him.

  ‘Nema. Olam a son arebil des

  Menoitatnet ni sacudni son en te.

  Sirtson subirotibed

  Sumittimid son te tucis

  Artson atibed sibon ettimid te

  Eidoh sibon ad

  Munaiditouq murtson menap

  Arret ni te oleac ni

  Tucis aut satnulov taif

  Muut munger tainevda

  Muut nemon rutecifitcnas

  Sileac ni se iuq

  Retson retap.’

  Daniel felt a sudden frisson of real excitement. It was the Lord’s Prayer backwards, he realized, recognizing it from his studies.

  Then the Magister Templi intoned again: ‘Come forth, o great spawn of the abyss and make Thy presence manifest. Come forth and receive into Thy circle Thy new servant, Theutus.’

  Daniel suddenly found himself being pushed forward. He stumbled and regained his balance as unseen hands grabbed each of his shoulders. The cord pulled painfully on his scrotum, sending twinges of pain shooting up his stomach from his testicles. He was propelled to the north-east point of the circle.

  The Magister Templi opened the circle with another sweep of his sword, and Daniel was then pushed into the centre, to the feet of the naked young woman. The Magister Templi imperiously rotated the sword horizontally, sealing the circle once more.

  There was a sudden silence. The hand-bell was rung again, by a woman in a rat’s head. As the peals faded, Daniel heard what he thought was the sound of a baby crying. Aware of the motionless figures all around him, he swivelled his eyes, scanning the darkness, not daring to move his head, but could see no sign of a baby. Then he stared ahead uncomfortably, embarrassed by the sight of the naked woman and the view he had straight up between her spread-eagled legs, but too scared by the Goat of Mendez on the wall above her to look higher.

  After more intoning and more choruses, slowly the Magister Templi sank to his knees between the legs of the outstretched girl. He kissed her mouth lightly, almost symbolically, then each of her breasts in a theatrical, symbolic gesture; then her navel; then her vagina.

  As he stood again, the hand-bell rang out. When the peals had faded, the Magister intoned: ‘Come forth, o great spawn of the abyss and make Thy presence manifest. I have set my thoughts upon the blazing pinnacle which glows with the chosen lust of the moments of increase and grows fervent in the turgid swell. Send forth that messenger of voluptuous delights, and let these obscene vistas of my dark desires take form in future deeds and doings.’

  He threw his head back so that he was staring directly upwards, then continued. ‘From the sixth tower of Satan there shall come a sign which joineth with those saltes within, and as such will move the body of the flesh of my summoning. I have gathered forth my symbols and prepare my garnishings, and the image of my creation lurketh as a seething basilisk awaiting His release. The vision shall become as reality and through the nourishment that my sacrifice giveth, the angles of the first dimension shall become the substance of the third. Go out into the void of night and pierce that mind that respondeth with thoughts which leadeth to paths of lewd abandon.’

  The bell rang again.

  Then the Magister stood, held his sword straight out in front of him, and began to turn towards each cardinal point of the pentagram, saying in turn: ‘Hail Belial from the north! Hail Lucifer from the east! Hail Leviathan from the west! Hail Satan from the south!’ After each compass point, the gong was struck once.

  As he turned to face Daniel, the boy saw to his shock that the Magister’s massive penis was erect.

  Then the Magister intoned: ‘My rod is athrust! The penetrating force of my venom shall shatter the sanctity of that mind which is barren of lust; and as the seed falleth, so shall its vapours be spread within that reeling brain benumbing it to helplessness according to my will! In the name of the great god Pan, may my secret thoughts be marshalled into the movements of the flesh of that which I desire! Shemhamforash!’

  The reply resounded: ‘Hail Satan!’

  The gong was struck. Then the woman in the rat’s mask began to walk slowly towards the Magister, holding the bell. In her left hand she held a crucifix. As she walked, she intoned: ‘My loins are aflame! The dripping of the nectar from my eager cleft shall act as pollen to that slumbering brain and the mind that feels not lust shall on a sudden reel with crazed impulse. And when my mighty surge is spent, new wanderings shall begin; and that flesh which I desire shall come to me. In the names of the great harlot of Babylon, and of Lilith and of Hecate, may my lust be fulfilled. Shemhamforash!’

  She stood still as the rest of the assembly, including the Magister, cried: ‘Hail Satan.’ The gong resounded again.

  Then she knelt behind the Magister and kissed his anus. He made a half-rotation, and she kissed the end of his penis. After that she herself turned, inserted the crucifix several inches into the vagina of the spread-eagled young woman, then withdrew it and, still kneeling, held it aloft.

  Another woman came forward, intoned the same words, again kissed the Magister in the two places, then took the crucifix, and once more inserted it into the prone female. Daniel watched, agog, as each woman in turn did the same.

  Finally the Magister knelt once more between the legs of the young woman on the floor. He gripped his penis with both hands, as if offering it up to a deity, then in a single movement he thrust forward and penetrated her. She let out a single short gasp. He closed his body over her and began to thrust vigorously, his flat bottom pumping like a hammer.

  Everyone stood watching. The thrusting increased until the Magister’s body tightened and began juddering. He seemed to seize, suddenly, let out a long wail, then lay motionless, spent, on t
op of his female partner. It was as if they had become fused into one eight-limbed sculpture.

  The bell rang again.

  ‘Hail Satan!’ the assembly intoned.

  The gong sounded.

  The Magister withdrew and slowly stood upright, his penis limp again now. The young woman lay staring upwards, expressionless. Daniel heard the cry of a baby again, and saw a female serpent’s head holding a naked boy in her outstretched arms.

  Daniel felt his hands being untied, and the cords were allowed to fall to the ground.

  The Magister began to intone once more, his head raised towards the black ceiling: ‘Behold! saith Satan, I am a circle on whose hands stand the Twelve Kingdoms. Six are the seats of living breath, the rest are as sharp sickles, or the Horns of Death. Therein the creatures of Earth are and are not, except in mine own hands which sleep and shall rise!’

  Someone held out an athame to Daniel. It was his own, he realized, which had been taken from him when he had been put in the van. The woman bearing the baby came forward into the circle, followed by another in a wolf’s head who was carrying a silver chalice, and the Magister closed the circle with his sword behind them. Then all stood still.

  The bell rang three times in rapid succession.

  The female in the serpent mask held the baby out to Daniel. He stared into the mask, could see the eyes behind the slits, but could read nothing in their expression. The baby had blue eyes, a light fluff of hair, and was quiet now. Daniel could not tell its age – a few weeks, perhaps older.

  He jumped, startled, as a firm hand took his wrist. It was the Magister. Slowly the Magister brought the point of the athame down towards the baby’s chest.

  Going to cut it, Daniel thought, horrified. The wolf-headed woman held the chalice beneath the baby, as if to catch the blood.

  He tried to resist, but the Magister’s grip was firm and steady, pushing determinedly, closer and closer. The baby remained placid, even when the tip of the athame’s blade dented the skin on the right-hand side of its chest.