The Devil Rides Out ddr-6

by Dennis Wheatley

  ‘What—the old bell and book business! Not much. Why?’

  ‘Because the actual working of a curse is evidence of the supernatural.’

  ‘They’re mostly old wives’ tales of coincidences I think.’

  ‘How about the Mackintosh of Moy?’

  ‘Oh, Scotland is riddled with that sort of thing. But what is supposed to have happened to the Mackintosh?’

  ‘Well, this was in seventeen something,’ Simon replied slowly. ‘The story goes that he was present at a witch burning or jilted one—I forget exactly. Anyhow she put a curse on him and it went like this:

  Mackintosh, Mackintosh, Mackintosh of Moy If you ever have a son he shall never have a boy.’

  Richard smiled. ‘And what happened then?’ ‘Well, whether the story’s true or not I can’t say, but its a fact that the Chieftainship of the Clan has gone all over the shop ever since. Look it up in the records of the Clans if you doubt me.’

  ‘My dear chap, you’ll have to produce something far more concrete than that to convince me.’

  ‘All right,’ Marie Lou gazed at him steadily out of her large blue eyes. ‘You know very little about such things, Richard, but in Russia people are much closer to nature and everyone there still accepts the supernatural and diabolic possession as part of ordinary life. Only about a year before you brought me to England they caught a were-wolf in a village less than fifty miles from where I lived.’

  He moved over to the sofa and, taking her hand, patted it gently. ‘Surely, darling, you don’t really ask me to believe that a man can actually turn into a beast—leave his bed in the middle of the night to go out hunting—then return and go to his work in the morning as a normal man again?’

  ‘Certainly,’ Marie Lou nodded solemnly. ‘Wolves, as you know, nearly always hunt in packs, but that part of the country had been troubled for months by a lone wolf which seemed possessed of far more than normal cunning. It killed sheep and dogs and two young children. Then it killed an old woman. She was found with her throat bitten out, but she had been ravished too, so that’s how they knew that it must be a were-wolf. At last it attacked a woodman and he wounded it in the shoulder with his axe. Next day a wretched half-imbecile creature, a sort of village idiot, died suddenly, and when the women went to prepare his body for burial they found that he had died from loss of blood and that there was a great wound in his right shoulder just where the woodman had struck the wolf. After that there were no other cases of slaughtered sheep or people being done to death. So it was quite clear that he was the were-wolf.’

  Richard looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘Of course,’ he remarked, ‘the man may have done all that, without actually changing his shape at all. If anyone is bitten by a mad dog and gets hydrophobia, they bark, howl, gnash their teeth and behave just as though they were dogs and certainly believe at the time that they are. Lycanthropy, of which this poor devil seems to have been the victim, may be some rare disease of the same kind.’ Marie Lou shrugged lightly and stood up. ‘Well, if you won’t believe me—there it is. I don’t know enough to argue with you, only what I believe myself, so I shall go and order supper.’

  As the door closed behind her the Duke said quietly: ‘That may be a possible explanation, Richard, but there is an enormous mass of evidence in the jurisprudence of every country to suggest that actual shape shifting does occur at times. The form varies of course. In Greece it is often of the were-boar that one hears. In Africa of the were-hyena, and were-leopard. China has the were-fox; India the were-tiger; and Egypt the were-jackal. But even as near home as Surrey I could introduce you to a friend of mine, a doctor who practises among the country people, who will vouch for it that the older cottagers are still unshakable in their belief that certain people are were-hares, and have power to change their shape at particular phases of the moon.’

  ‘If you really believe these fantastic stories,’ Richard smiled a little grimly, ‘perhaps you can give me some reasonable explanation as to what makes such things possible.’

  ‘By all means.’ De Richleau hoisted himself out of his chair and began to pace softly up and down the fine, silk Persian prayer rug before the fireplace while he expounded again the Esoteric doctrine just as he had to Rex two nights before.

  Simon and Richard listened in silence until the Duke spoke of the eternal fight which, hidden from human eyes, has been waged from time immemorial between the Powers of Light and the Powers of Darkness. Then the latter, his serious interest really aroused for the first time, exclaimed:

  ‘Surely you are proclaiming the Manichaean heresy? The Manichees believed in the Two Principals, Light and Darkness, and the Three Moments, Past, Present and Future. They taught that in the Past Light and Darkness had been separate; then that Darkness invaded Light and became mingled with it, creating the Present and this world in which evil is mixed with good. They preached the practice of aestheticism as the means of freeing the light imprisoned in human clay so that in some distant Future Light and Darkness might be completely separated again.’

  The Duke’s lean face lit with a quick smile. ‘Exactly, my friend! The Manichees had a credo to that effect.

  Day by day diminishes

  The number of Soul below

  As they are distilled and mount above.

  The basis of the belief is far, far older of course, pre-Egyptian at the least, but where before it was a jealously guarded mystery the Persian Mani proclaimed it to the world.’

  ‘It became a serious rival to Christianity at one time, didn’t it?’

  ‘Um,’ Simon took up the argument. ‘And it survived despite the most terrible persecution by the Christians. Mani was crucified in the third century after Christ and, by their own creed, his followers were not allowed to enlist converts. Yet somehow it spread in secret. The Albigenses followed it in Southern France in the twelfth century until they were stamped out. Then in the thirteenth, a thousand years after Mani’s death, it swept Bohemia. A form of it was still practised there by certain sects as late as the 1840’s and even today many thinking people scattered all over the world believe that ii holds the core of the only true religion.’

  ‘Yes, I can understand that,’ Richard agreed. ‘Brahminism, Budism, Taoism, all the great philosophies which have passed beyond the ordinary limited religions with a personal God are connected up with the Prana, Light, and the Universal Life Stream, but that is a very different matter to asking me to believe in were-wolves and witches.’

  ‘They only came into the discussion because they illustrate certain manifestations of supernatural Evil,’ De Richleau protested; ‘just as the appearance of wounds similar to those of Christ upon the Cross in the flesh of exceptionally pious people may be taken as evidence for the existence of supernatural Good. Eminent surgeons have testified again and again that stigmata are not due to trickery. It is a changing of the material body by the holy saints in their endeavour to approximate to its highest form, that of Our Lord, so, I contend, base natures, with the assistance of the Power of Darkness, may at times succeed in altering their form to that of were-beasts. Whether they change their shape entirely it is impossible to say because at death they always revert to human form, but the belief is world-wide and the evidence so abundant that it cannot lightly be put aside. In any case what you call madness is actually a very definite form of diabolic possession which seizes upon these miserable people and causes them to act with the same savagery as the animal they believe themselves for the time to be. Of its existence, no one who has read the immense literature upon it, can possibly doubt.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ Richard admitted grudgingly. ‘But apart from Marie Lou’s story, all the evidence is centuries old and mixed up with every sort of superstition and fairy story. In the depths of the Siberian forests or the Indian jungle the belief in such things may perhaps stimulate some poor benighted wretch to act the part now and again and so perpetuate the legend. But you cannot cite me a case in which a number of people have sworn to such happenings in a r
eally civilised country in modern times!’

  ‘Can’t I?’ De Richleau laughed grimly. ‘What about the affair at Utterheim near Strasbourg. The farms in the neighbourhood had been troubled by a lone wolf for weeks. The Garde-Cham-petre was sent out to get it. He tracked it down. It attacked him and he fired—killing it dead. Then he found himself bending over the body of a local youth. That unfortunate rural policeman was tried for murder, but he swore by all that was holy that it was a wolf at which he had shot, and the entire population of the village came forward to give evidence on his behalf —that the dead man had boasted time and again of his power to change his shape.’

  ‘Is that a fifteenth or sixteenth century story?’ murmured Richard.

  ‘Neither. It occurred in November, 1925.’

  CHAPTER XXV

  THE TALISMAN OF SET

  For a while longer De Richleau strode up and down, patiently answering Richard’s questions and ramming home his arguments for a belief in the power of the supernatural to affect mankind until, when Marie Lou rejoined them, Richard’s brown eyes no longer held the half-mocking humour which had twinkled in them an hour before.

  The Duke’s explanation had been so clear and lucid, his earnestness so compelling that the younger man was at least forced to suspend judgment, and even found himself toying with the idea that Simon might really be threatened by some very dangerous and potent force which it would need all their courage to resist during the dark hours that lay ahead.

  It was eight o’clock now. Twilight had fallen and the trees at the bottom of the garden were already merged in shadow. Yet with the coming of darkness they were not filled with any fresh access of fear. It seemed that their long talk had elucidated the position and even strengthened the bond between them. Like men who are about to go into physical battle, they were alert and expectant but a little subdued, and realised that their strongest hope lay in putting their absolute trust in each other.

  At Marie Lou’s suggestion they went into the dining-room and sat down to cold supper which had already been laid out Having eaten so lightly during the day, their natural inclination was to make a heavy meal but, without any further caution from De Richleau, they all appreciated now that the situation was sufficiently serious to make restraint imperative. Even Richard denied himself a second helping of his favourite Morecombe Bay shrimps which had arrived that morning.

  When they had finished the Duke leant over to him. ‘I think the library would be the best place to conduct my experiments, and I shall require the largest jug you have full of fresh water, some glasses, and it would be best to leave the fruit.’

  ‘By all means,’ Richard agreed, glancing towards his butler. ‘See to that please, Malin—will you.’ He then went on to give clear and definite instructions that they were not to be disturbed on any pretext until the morning, and concluded with an order that the table should be cleared right away.

  With a bland unruffled countenance the man signified his understanding and motioned to his footman to begin clearing the table. So bland in fact was his expression that it would have been difficult for them to visualise him half an hour later in the privacy of the housekeeper’s room declaring with a knowing wink:

  ‘In my opinion it’s spooks they’re after—the old chap’s got no television set. And behaving like a lot of heathens with not a drop of drink to their dinner. Think of that with young Simon there who’s so mighty particular about his hock. But spiritualists always is that way. I only hope it doesn’t get ‘em bad or what’s going to happen to the wine bill I’d like to know?’

  When Richard had very pointedly wished his henchman ‘good night,’ they moved into the library and De Richleau, who knew the room well, surveyed it with fresh interest.

  Comfortable sofas and large armchairs stood about the uneven polished oak of the floor. A pair of globes occupied two angles of the book-lined walls, and a great oval mahogany writing-table of Chippendale design stood before the wide french window. Owing to its sunken position in the old wing of the house the lighting of the room was dim even on a summer’s day. Yet its atmosphere was by no means gloomy. A log fire upon a twelve-inch pile of ashes was kept burning in the wide fireplace all through the year, and at night, when the curtains were drawn and the room lit with the soft radiance of the concealed ceiling lights, which Richard had installed, it was a friendly, restful place well suited for quiet work or idle conversation.

  ‘We must strip the room—furniture, curtains, everything!’ said the Duke. ‘And I shall need brooms and a mop to polish the floor.’

  The three men then began moving the furniture out into the hall while Marie Lou fetched a selection of implements from the house-maid’s closet.

  For a quarter of an hour they worked in silence until nothing remained in the big library except the serried rows of gilt-tooled books.

  ‘My apologies for even doubting the efficiency of your staff!’ the Duke smiled at Marie Lou. ‘But I would like the room gone over thoroughly, particularly the floor, since evil emanations can fasten on the least trace of dust to assist their materialisation.

  Would you see to it, Princess, while I telephone the inn again to find out if Rex has returned.’

  ‘Of course, Greyeyes, dear,’ said Marie Lou and, with Richard’s and Simon’s help, she set about dusting, sweeping and polishing until, when De Richleau rejoined them, the boards were so scrupulously clean that they could have eaten from them.

  ‘No news of Rex, worse luck,’ he announced with a frown. ‘And I’ve had to disconnect the telephone now in case a call makes Malin think it necessary to disregard his instructions. We had better go upstairs and change next.’

  ‘What into?’ Richard inquired.

  ‘Pyjamas. I hope you .have a good supply. You see none of us tonight must wear any garment which has been even slightly soiled. Human impurities are bound to linger in one’s clothes even if they have only been worn for a few hours, and it is just upon such things that elementals fasten most readily.’

  ‘Shan’t we be awfully cold ?’ hazarded Simon with an unhappy look.

  ‘I’ll fit you out with shooting stockings and an overcoat,’ Richard volunteered.

  ‘Stockings if you like, provided that they are fresh from the wash—but no overcoats, dressing-gowns or shoes,’ said the Duke. ‘However, there is no reason why we should not wear a couple of suits apiece of Richard’s underclothes, beneath the pyjamas, to keep us warm. The essential point is that everything must be absolutely clean.’

  The whole party then migrated upstairs, the men congregating in Richard’s dressing-room where they ransacked his wardrobe for suitable attire. Marie Lou joined them a little later looking divinely pretty in peach silk pyjamas and silk stockings into the tops of which, above the knee, the bottoms of her pyjamas were neatly tucked.

  ‘Now for a raid on the linen cupboard,’ said De Richleau. ‘Cushions, being soiled already, are useless to us, but I am dreading that hard floor so we will take down as many sheets as we can carry, clean bath towels and blankets too. Then we shall have some sort of couch to sit on.’

  In the library once more, they set down their bundles and De Richleau produced his suitcase, taking from it a piece of chalk, a length of string, and a foot-rule. Marking a spot in the centre of the room, he asked Marie Lou to hold the end of the string to it, measuring off exactly seven feet and then, using her as a pivot, he drew a large circle in chalk upon the floor.

  Next, the string was lengthened and an outer circle drawn. Then the most difficult part of the operation began. A five-rayed star had to be made with its points touching the outer circle and its valleys resting upon the inner. But, as the Duke explained, while such a defence can be highly potent if it is constructed with geometrical accuracy, should the angles vary to any marked degree or the distance of the apexes from the central point differ more than a fraction, the pentacle would prove not only useless but even dangerous.

  For half an hour they measured and checked with string and r
ule and marking chalk; but Richard proved useful here, for all his life he had been an expert with maps and plans and was even something of an amateur architect. At last the broad chalk lines were drawn to the Duke’s satisfaction, forming the magical five-pointed star, in which it was his intention that they should remain while darkness lasted.

  He then chalked in, with careful spacing round the rim of the inner circle, the powerful excorcism:

  In nomina Pa ?tris et Fi ? lii et Spiritus ? Sanecti! ? El Elohym ? Sother ? Emmanuel ? Sabaoth ? Agia ? Tetragammaton ? Agyos ? Otheos ? Ischiros ? —and, after reference to an old book which he had brought with him, drew certain curious and ancient symbols in the valleys and the mounts of the microcosmic star.

  Simon, whose recent experiences had taught him something of pentacles, recognised ten of them, as Cabbalistic signs taken from the Sephirotic Tree; Kether, Binah, Ceburah, Hod, Malchut and the rest. But others, like the Eye of Horus, were of Egyptian origin, and others again in some ancient Aryan script which he did not understand.

  When the skeleton of this astral fortress was completed, the clean bedding was laid out beside it for them to rest upon, and De Richleau produced further impedimenta from his case.

  With lengths of asafoetida grass and blue wax he sealed the windows, the door leading to the hall, and that concealed in the bookshelves which led to the nursery above, each at both sides and at the tops and at the bottoms, making the sign of the Cross in holy water over every seal as he completed it.

  Then he ordered the others inside the pentacle, examined the switches by the door to assure himself that every possible light in the room was on, made up the fire with a great pile of logs so that it would last well through the night and there be no question of their having to leave the circle to replenish it and, joining them where they had squatted down on the thick mat of blankets, produced five little silver cups, which he proceeded to fill two-thirds full with Holy water. These he placed, one in each valley of the pentacle.