The Devil Rides Out ddr-6

by Dennis Wheatley

  With a bellow of fury, Rex started forward, but the Satanist suddenly raised his left hand. In it he held a small black cigar-shaped thing, which was slightly curved. About it there was a phosphorescent glow, so that, despite the semi-darkness, the very blackness of the thing itself stood out clear and sharp against its surrounding aura of misty light. The ray from it seemed to impinge upon their bodies, instantly checking their advance. They found themselves transfixed—brought to a standstill in a running group—halfway between the central altar and the chapel steps.

  Without uttering a word, Mocata came down the steps and slowly walked round them, carrying the thing which they now guessed to be the Talisman aloft in his left hand. A glowing phosphorescent circle appeared on the damp stone flags in his tracks and, as he completed the circuit, they felt their limbs relax.

  Again they rushed at him, but were brought up with a jerk. It was impossible to break out of that magic circle in which he had confined them.

  With slow steps, the Satanist returned to the chapel and proceeded to light a row of black candles upon the broken altar there. Then, with a little gasp of unutterable fear, Marie Lou saw that Fleur was crouching in a dark corner near the upturned earth from which the Talisman had been recovered.

  ‘Fleur—darling!’ she cried imploringly, stretching out her arms, but the child did not seem to hear. With round eyes she knelt there near the altar, staring out towards the crypt, but apparently seeing nothing.

  Mocata lit some incense in a censer and swung it rhythmically before the broken altar, murmuring strange invocations.

  He moved so smoothly and silently that he might have been a phantom but for the lisping intonation of his low musical voice. Then Fleur began to cry, and the sobbing of the child had an unmistakable reality which tore at the very fibre of their hearts. Again and again they tried to break out of the circle, but at last, forced to give up their frantic attempts, they crouched together straining against the invisible barrier, watching with fear-distended eyes as a gradual materialisation began to form in the clouds of incense above the altar stone.

  At first it seemed to be the face of Mocata’s black familiar that Rex had seen in Simon’s house, so far away in London and such an endless time before, but it changed and lengthened. A pointed beard appeared on the chin and four great curved horns sprouted from its head. Soon it became definite, clear and solid. That monstrous, shaggy beast that had held court on Salisbury Plain, the veritable Goat of Mendes, glared at them with its red, baleful, slanting eyes, and belched foetid, deathly breaths from its cavernous nostrils.

  Mocata raised the Talisman and set it upon the forehead of the Beast, laying it lengthwise upon the flat, bald, bony skull, where it blazed like some magnificent jewel which had a strange black centre. Then he stooped, seized the child and, tearing off her clothes, flung her naked body full length upon the altar beneath the raised fore-hooves of the Goat.

  Sick with apprehension and frantic with distress, the prisoners in the circle heard the sorcerer begin to intone the terrible lines of the Black Mass.

  Horrified but powerless, they watched the swinging of the censer, the chanting of the blasphemous prayers, and the blessing of the dagger by the Goat, knowing that, at the conclusion of the awful ceremony, the perverted maniac playing the part of the devil’s priest would rip the child open from throat to groin while offering her soul to Hell.

  Half crazy with fear, they saw Mocata pick up the knife and raise his arm above the little body, about to strike.

  CHAPTER XXXIII

  DEATH OF A MAN UNKNOWN, FROM NATURAL CAUSES

  Rex stood with the sweat pouring down his face. The muscles of his arms jerked convulsively. His whole will was concentrated in an effort to fling himself forward, up the steps; yet, except for the tremors which ran through his body, the invisible power held him motionless in its grip.

  De Richleau prayed. Silent but unceasing, his soundless words vibrated on the ether. He knew the futility of any attempt at physical intervention, and doubted now if his supplications could avail when pitted against such a terrible manifestation of evil as the Goat of Mendes.

  Richard crouched near him, his face white and bloodless, his eyes staring. His arms were stretched out, as though to snatch Fleur away or in an appeal for mercy, but he could not move them.

  Marie Lou had one hand resting on his shoulder. She was past fear for herself, past all thought of the terrible end which might come to them in a few moments, past even the horror of losing Richard should they all be blotted out in some awful final darkness.

  She did not pray or strive to dash towards her child. The pulsing of her heart seemed to be temporarily suspended. Her brain was working with that strange clarity which only comes upon those rare occasions when danger appears to be so overwhelming that there is no possible escape. Into her mind there came a clear-cut picture of herself as she had been in her dream, holding what De Richleau said was the great Red Book of Appin. Her fingers could feel the very cover again with its soft hairy skin.

  Simon dropped to his knees between the Duke and Rex. He made an effort to cast himself forward but rocked very slightly from side to side, stricken with an agony of misery and remorse. It was his folly which had led his friends into this terrible pass and now he did the only thing he could to make atonement. His brain no longer clouded, but with full knowledge of the enormity of the thing, he offered himself silently to the Power of Darkness if Fleur might be spared.

  Mocata paused for a moment, the knife still poised above the body of the child, to turn and look at him. The thought vibration had been so strong that he had caught it, but he had already drawn all that he needed out of Simon. Slowly his pale lips crumpled in a cruel smile. He shook his head in rejection of the offer and raised the knife again.

  The Duke’s hand jerked up in a frantic effort to stay the blow by the sign of the cross, but it was struck down to his side by one of the rays from the Talisman, just as though some powerful physical force had hit it.

  Richard’s jaws opened as though about to shout but no sound issued from them.

  With a supreme effort Rex lowered his head to charge, but the invisible weight of twenty men seemed to force back his shoulders.

  Before the mental eyes of Marie Lou the Red Book of Appin lay open. Again she saw the stained vellum page and the faded writing in strange characters upon it. And now once more as in her dream she could understand the one sentence : They only who Love without Desire shall have power granted to them in the Darkest Hour.

  Then her lips opened. With no knowledge of its meaning, and a certainty that she had never seen it written or heard it pronounced before, she spoke a strange word—having five syllables.

  The effect was instantaneous. The whole chamber rocked as though shaken by an earthquake. The walls receded, the floor began to spin. The crypt gyrated with such terrifying speed that the occupants of the circle clutched frantically at each other to save themselves from falling. The altar candles swayed and danced before their distended eyes. The Talisman of Set was swept from between the horns of the monstrous Goat, and bouncing down the steps of the chapel, came to rest on the stone flags at De Richleau’s feet.

  Mocata staggered back. The Goat reared up on its hind legs above him. A terrible neighing sound came from its nostrils and the slanting eyes swivelled in their sockets; their baleful light flashing round the chamber. The Beast seemed to grow and expand until it was towering above them all as they crouched petrified with fear. The stench of its foetid breath poured from between the bared teeth until they were retching with nausea. Mocata’s knife clattered upon the stones as he raised his arms in frantic terror to defend himself. The awful thing which he had called out of the Pit gave a final screaming neigh and struck him with one of its great fore-hooves. He was thrown with frightful force to the floor, where he lay sprawled head downmost on the chapel steps.

  There was a thunderous crash as though the heavens were opening. The crypt ceased to rock and spin. The Satani
c figure dissolved in upon itself. For a fraction of time the watchers in the circle saw the black human face of the Malagasy, distorted with pain and rage, where that of the Goat had been before. Then that too disappeared behind a veil of curling smoke.

  The black candles on the altar flickered and went out. The chamber remained lit only by the phosphorescent glow from the Talisman. De Richleau had snatched it from the floor and held it in his open hand. By its faint light they saw Fleur sit up. She gave a little wail and slid from the low altar stone to the ground; then she stood gazing towards her mother, yet her eyes were round and sightless like those of one who walks in her sleep.

  Suddenly an utter silence beyond human understanding descended like a cloak and closed in from the shadows that were all about them.

  Almost imperceptibly a faint unearthly music, coming from some immense distance, reached their ears. At first it sounded like the splashing of spring water in a rock-bound cave, but gradually it grew in volume, and swelled into a strange chant rendered by boys’ voices of unimaginable purity. All fear had gone from them as, one by one, they fell upon their knees and listened entranced to the wonder and the beauty of that litany of praise. Yet all their eyes were riveted on Fleur.

  The child walked very slowly forward, but as she advanced, some extraordinary change was taking place about her. The little body, naked a moment before, became clothed in a golden mist. Her shoulders broadened and she grew in height. Her features became partially obscured, then they lost their infant roundness and took on the bony structure of an adult. The diaphanous cloud of light gradually materialised into the graceful folds of a long, yellow, silken robe. The dark curls on the head disappeared leaving a high, beautifully proportioned skull.

  As the chant ceased on a great note of exultation all semblance to the child had vanished. In her place a full-grown man stood before them. From his dress he had the appearance of a Tibetan Lama, but his aesthetic face was as much Aryan as Mongolian, blending the highest characteristics of the two; and just as it seemed that he had passed the barriers of race, so he also appeared to have cast off the shackles of worldly time. His countenance showed all the health and vigour of a man in the great years when he has come to full physical development, and yet it had the added beauty which is only seen in that of a frail, scholarly divine who has devoted his whole lifetime to the search for wisdom. The grave eyes which were bent upon them held Strength, Knowledge, and Power, together with an infinite tenderness and angelic compassion unknown to mortal man.

  The apparition did not speak by word of mouth. Yet each one of the kneeling group heard the low, silver, bell-like voice with perfect clearness.

  ‘I am a Lord of Light nearing perfection after many lives. It is wrong that you should draw me from my meditations in the Hidden Valley—yet I pardon you because your need was great. One here has imperilled the flame of Life by seeking to use hidden mysteries for an evil purpose; another also, who lies beyond the waters, has been stricken in her earthly body for that same reason. The love you bear each other has been a barrier and protection, yet would it have availed you nothing had it not been for She who is the Mother. The Preserver harkens ever to the prayer which goes forth innocent of all self-desire and so, for a moment, I am permitted to appear to you through the medium of this child whose thoughts know no impurity. The Adversary has been driven back to the dark Halls of Shaitan and shall trouble you no more. Live out the days of your allotted span. Peace be upon you and about you. Sleep and Return.’

  For a moment it seemed that they had been ripped right out of the crypt and were looking down into it. The circle had become a flaming sun. Their bodies were dark shadows grouped in its centre. The peace and silence of death surged over them in great saturating waves. They were above the monastery. The great ruin became a black speck in the distance. Then everything faded.

  Time ceased, and it seemed that for a thousand thousand years they floated, atoms of radiant matter in an immense immeasurable void—circling, for ever in the soundless stratosphere —beings shut off from every feeling and sensation, as though travelling with effortless impulse five hundred fathoms deep, below the current levels of some uncharted sea.

  Then, after a passage of eons in human time they saw Cardinals Folly again infinitely far beneath them, their bodies lying in the pentacle—and that darkened room. In an utter eerie silence the dust of centuries was falling … falling. Softly, impalpably, like infinitely tiny particles of swansdown it seemed to cover them, the room, and all that was in it, with a fine grey powder.

  De Richleau raised his head. It seemed to him that he had been on a long journey and then slept for many days. He passed his hand across his eyes and saw the familiar bookshelves in the semi-darkened library. The bulbs above the cornice flickered and the lights came full on.

  He saw that Simon’s eyes were free now from that terrible maniacal glare, but that he still lay bound in the centre of the pentacle.

  As he bent forward and hastily began to untie Simon’s hands Marie Lou came round out of her faint. Richard was fondling her and murmuring: ‘We’re safe, darling—safe.’

  ‘She—she’s not dead—is she?’ It was Rex’s voice, and turning they saw him. Tall—haggard—distraught—a dark silhouette against the early morning light which filtered in through the french windows—bearing Tanith’s body in his arms.

  Marie Lou sprang up with a little wailing cry. With Richard behind her she raced across the room and through the door in the wall which concealed the staircase to the nursery.

  The Duke hurried over to Rex. Simon kicked his feet free and stood up, exclaiming: ‘I’ve had a most extraordinary dream.

  ‘About all of us going to Paris?’ asked De Richleau, as the three of them lowered Tanith’s body to the floor, ‘and then on to a ruined monastery in northern Greece?’

  ‘That’s it—but how—how did you know?’

  ‘Because I had the same myself—if it was a dream!’

  An hysterical laugh came from the stairway and next moment Marie Lou was beside them, great tears streaming down her face, but Fleur clutched safely in her arms.

  The child, freshly woken from her sleep, gazed at them with wide, blue eyes, and then she said: ‘Fleur want to go to Simon.’

  The Duke was examining Tanith. Simon rose from beside him. His eyes held all the love that surged in the great heart which beat between his narrow shoulders. He covered his short-sighted eyes with his hands for a second then backed away. ‘No, Fleur, darling—I’ve been—I’m still ill you know.’

  ‘Nonsense—that’s all over,’ Richard cried quickly, ‘go on— for God’s sake take her—Marie Lou’s going to faint.’

  ‘Oh, Richard! Richard!’ As Simon grabbed the child, Marie Lou swayed towards her husband, and leaning on him drew her fingers softly down his face. ‘I will be all right in a moment—but it was a dream—wasn’t it?’

  ‘She’s alive!’ exclaimed the Duke suddenly, his hand pressed below Tanith’s heart. ‘Quick, Rex—some brandy.’

  ‘Of course, dearest,’ Richard was comforting Marie Lou. ‘We’ve never been out of this room—look, except Rex, we are still in pyjamas.’

  ‘Why, yes—I thought––Oh, but look at this poor girl.’ She slipped from his arms and knelt beside Tanith.

  Rex came crashing back with a decanter and a glass. De Richleau snatched the brandy from him. Marie Lou pillowed Tanith’s head upon her knees and Richard held her chin. Between them they succeeded in getting a little of the spirit down her throat; a spasm crossed her face then her eyes opened.

  ‘Thank God!’ breathed Rex. Thank God.’

  She smiled and whispered his name, as the natural colour flooded back into her face.

  ‘Never—never have I had such a terrible nightmare!’ exclaimed Marie Lou. ‘We were in a crypt—and that awful man was there. He… .’

  ‘So you dreamed it too!’ Simon interrupted. ‘About you finding me at that warehouse in Asnieres and the Paris police?’

  ‘That’s it,’ sai
d Richard. ‘It’s amazing that we should all have dreamed the same thing but there’s no other explanation for it. None of us can possibly have left this house since we settled down in the pentacle––Yes, last night!’

  ‘Then I’ve certainly been dreaming too,’ Rex lifted his eyes for a moment from Tanith’s face. ‘It must have started with me when I fell asleep at the inn—or earlier, for I’d have sworn De Richleau and I were but all the night before careering around half England to stop some devilry.’

  ‘We were,’ said the Duke slowly. ‘Tanith’s presence here proves that, but she was never dead except in our dream, and that started when you arrived here with her in your arms. The Satanist at Simon’s house, our visit there afterwards, and the Sabbat were all facts. It was only last night, while our bodies slept, that our subconscious selves were drawn out of them to continue the struggle with Mocata on another plane.’

  ‘Mocata!’ Simon echoed. ‘But—but if we’ve been dreaming he is still alive.’

  ‘No, he is dead.’ The quiet, sure statement came from Tanith as she sat up, and taking Rex’s hand scrambled to her feet.

  ‘How is it you’re so certain?’ he asked huskily.

  ‘I can see him. He is not far from here—lying head downwards on some steps.’

  ‘That’s how we saw him in the dream,’ said Richard, but she shook her head.

  ‘No, I had no dream. I remember nothing after Mocata entered my room at the inn and forced me to sleep—but you will find him—somewhere quite near the house—out there.’

  ‘The age-old law,’ De Richleau murmured. ‘A life for a life and a soul for a soul. Yes, since you have been restored to us I am quite certain that he will have paid the penalty.’

  Simon nodded. ‘Then we’re really free of this nightmare at last?’

  ‘Yes. Dream or no dream, the Lord of Light who appeared to us drove back the Power of Darkness, and promised that we should all live unmolested by it to the end of our allotted span. Come, Richard,’ the Duke took his host’s arm, ‘let us find our coats and take a look round the garden—then we shall have done with this horrible business.’