The Untold Tales of Dolly Williamson

by JM Bannon

  That was Emilio, really. I had sent you and your mother away. Chilton contacted him as executor and trustee of my—our father’s estate. Sir Lester had a copy of my father’s intentions and asked Emilio about you. He got him to agree to honor the preceding will and trust, or he and I would contest the will in court and our first order of business would be an injunction to move the trusts to the Rothschilds. He would lose the fees from the trust and our commercial relationships and the respect of his financiers for losing us to another banking house.”

  “Well, brother, we both have bankers that are prepared to bend the rules for their clients. Those papers you just signed will assure that all the Moya fortune flows to my birthright and that is your punishment for how you treated me. For you not honoring my mother, the punishment will be far worse. For subjecting her to the cane fields and whip, your soul will be ripped from your flesh and housed in this perfect glass orb, crafted by the Beaumont Glassworks in Shreveport, Louisiana,”

  “Oh, God help me,” he begged.

  “Too late for that. What I can guarantee you is your immortal soul will not be punished in hell. It will stay right here on earth, in my purse. You will have the existence of a fish in a bowl.” chided Angelica cruelly.

  And then the incantation began. Rose was there as Angelica pressed the siphon against Hernando’s chest and channeled his soul directly into the glass ball. Rose felt the anger, the sadness, the exaltation of the pure power and most importantly for her, the knowledge of the incantation.

  Saturday, the 26th of June, what remains

  10:25 PM, Pilton Road

  When Rose returned to the room, she had the presence to discover the glass orb on top of the mantel, perched on a wooden pedestal. Inside the ball, ochre fumes swirled about. Emilio, Hernando and Sir Francis in spiritual limbo, she surmised. The spirit siphon was also on display above the hearth.

  Rose got up from the chair, walked over to the hearth to examine the fetish wand and peered into the glass orb. “Do they have any sense of their fate?”

  “The Pwen Hanaan. It’s not meant to be pleasant, the ritual or the condition after,” shared the Voodoo queen.

  “I felt sadness but not remorse,” said Rose looking at the fetish. “I mean, you didn’t feel remorse. It was calculated.” Rose could see a faint reflection of herself on the surface of the orb. She looked at and could see the tears running down her face.

  “I have none. My upbringing was unusual. I was born on the Moya plantation; my mother was a house slave, but my father was the plantation owner. He loved my mother very much, and we grew up as his family, not as slaves. When Hernando completed university, he joined us in Haiti and learned he had a little black sister and was utterly disgusted with his father, my mother and me.

  “He told my Papi that he was old and going senile to take up with my mother. He yelled about how the investors would lose confidence in their enterprises if they knew the life he was leading. Papi told him he was happy, and if Hernando did not approve, to leave. Don Ernesto was much older than my mother, and when he became sick, he signed papers that freed my mother and acknowledged me as a Moya and one-third heir. I was thirteen. I did not understand the significance of those papers or the fortune that one-third of his estate was worth, but my father knew his son’s contempt. Should I care more that I killed my own blood? It was my brothers and Chilton that went to the extent they did to take my birthright and erase my existence.”

  “Thank you for sharing the experience,” acknowledged Rose.

  "Sister Rose, I see that you have summoned beings from the highest choir of Angels. You are steeped in the arcana of light. If you choose to apply what you have learned here today, you will break your covenant," Angelica explained.

  “I don’t take that decision lightly,” said Rose as she contemplated the orb and its contents. Rose caught the reflection of a man standing in the archway behind her. She spun around to see a tall gentleman in necronist garb. Judging by his adornment, he was a Guild Master.

  “Please continue, ladies,” said the guild master.

  "Gerard, have you met Sister Rose Caldwell?" asked Angelica.

  Gerard held the stoic stance of a necronist, with both hands tucked into the opposite arms sleeves and his feet placed more than shoulder width apart to set a base of power to conjure from. "We have not met. A pleasure to meet you."

  Rose looked him up and down. She had never met a necronist, let alone one of the six guild masters. "What's your business here?" she demanded.

  "I could ask the same of you, but I’m sure that you, like me, were asked by Detective Williamson to act as a spiritual scent hound to find the murderer of Chilton and the Moyas, am I correct? One of us is the back-up plan.”

  Angelica flipped a new Tarot. "The Hermit, the law-bringer, is here.”

  “I don’t need the power of premonition to tell you that the English detective is coming. She would have given him your location. We need to leave now and return to Paris, where we will have the protection of the Emperor,” retorted Gerard.

  “I have no intention of going to Paris,” said Angelica.

  “I am your way out of this mess you started. They will kill you.”

  “Gerard, that’s the difference between you and I. You’re so restrained and scientific, the son of the age of enlightenment, and I embrace the chaos and natural flow of the aether. How long did it take your city of Paris and solemn brothers to sap you of the primal power you discovered when we were together?”

  His stoic stance melted. “Less than a year, but it wasn’t the city that diluted it. It was no longer being with you. If you came to Paris, we could continue not where we left off. I know that would be too much to ask with what has passed, but we could start anew,” replied Gerard.

  “Gerard, it is your turn to pick a card,” implored Angelica.

  Gerard walked into the parlor and stood before her tarot table. “Angelica, I am not here to play games.” Looking up to meet Angelica's gaze, something caught the seer’s eye. It was the Voodoo King’s staff and it had changed from the last time he swa it. “Is that a fifth skull on the staff? Is that Papa Lafayette?"

  “He passed when France sent the Foreign Legion into the village. We had kept our side of the grand bargain, Gerard. We never left the Village of the Falls.” Angelica touched his hand.

  Rose assumed that Gerard was getting a vignette of the carnage in the village, just as she had experienced Hernando’s death.

  Without sitting down, he touched a card on the table with the hand that held his necronist beads.

  Angelica put her finger on the card. "You broke the bargain."

  Gerard lifted his finger/ "I had no part in that. I never knew until now.”

  Rose observed loss and sadness in the guild master as he spoke. “I left my heart there. it was our sacred place.” He pulled his hand away. "I had no idea, Angelica."

  Angelica flipped the card. "Death, the pale rider, the end of a phase of life that has served its purpose. How do you read the cards, Seer?"

  The Voodoo queen stood up, grasped the Ju-Ju staff and made her way towards Rose, passing Gerard as if he did not exist.

  Angelica stepped up to the hearth and looked at the orb, then at the spot where Rose had taken the siphon from. "Rose, you have played your part, and now you must go. The crossroads you face are of no consequence to what happens here. Please take your leave."

  Rose advanced towards the parlor exit. She had what she needed and had to decide if she was prepared to take the consequences for using the ritual to free Preston. Rose looked back at Angelica and Gerard then turned to exit, only to be startled by the presence of another necronist standing at the front door.

  Rose withdrew a reliquary from her belt sheath and incanted the invitation to Raziel, a guardian angel, protector of Adam and chief of Erilhiem. As the Enochian call rolled off her tongue, she felt in her bones that Angelica’s wards dampened and hindered her summoning call. No supernatural power would intervene to h
elp. She would be on her own.

  "White witch, spare me your summoning,” said Seer Thomas as he grabbed her arm and pulled her into the parlor. “Witness those that truly practice the craft.”

  Angelica turned to Gerard. "How did you see the conclusion, Master Seer?"

  “Angelica, our offer still stands. Come with me to Paris, and we can continue our studies again.”

  “Our offer?” she questioned.

  “My offer. My plead,” Gerard begged, clasping his hands together.

  “There is no going back to those young lovers in the jungle, and you can offer nothing I wish to learn. The best option for you, Master Seer, is to leave with your minions before there is more death by my hand.” Angelica’s tone invoked efficacy and resonated beyond the sound of her voice and into the aether as she began to glow with eldritch energy.

  Rose watched in amazement as Angelica drew deeper upon her power. At the same moment, Lord Oswald phase-shifted through the parlor wall from outside of the house in hopes of surprising and surrounding the Voodoo queen. However, her defensive wards alerted her and slowed his ability to pass into the room. Still, it was a fantastic feat to phase-shift into the room, a sure sign of power and control of the arcane.

  Angelica spun around to face the Lodge occultist, one arm outstretched with a subtle twist of her wrist. Her extended index and middle finger threw a hex that spewed an inky, smoky mass coating the wall with what initially looked like tar but transmuted into multitudes of spiders. Every type and size crawled all over Oswald and the wall he was passing through. It was enough for him to lose concentration and begin to rematerialize amid the cracked wall plaster. Blood splattered, as Oswald’s internal organs were pulverized and intermixed within the parlor wall. Angelica's spider illusion disappeared, leaving a more horrifying vision of the dead Lord trapped in the wall.

  Guild Master Saint-Yves desperately manipulated his beads, muttering an arcane incantation. Slowly, a sigil began to surround and glow on the floor around Angelica. Rose could divine from the arcane writing it was some type of defensive binding spell.

  The Voodooist made a mopping motion with the Ju-Ju staff over the eldritch sigils Gerrard was conjuring. The sigil broke apart into a grey-green cloud of dust. Angelica slammed the staff down while uttering a chant to manifest the spirits of her predecessors. Gerard gazed in awe as the apparition of Papa Lafayette spilled from the eyes of the dead Hougan's skull.

  The phantom of Papa Lafayette moved across the room and grabbed Gerard by the throat. The guild master dropped his beads as his life force was drawn out into the apparition. The ghost let out a hearty laugh, pushed out his chest and stretched his free arm towards the Ju-Ju staff, channeling Gerard's soul into it. Gerard screamed as he began to wrinkle and age.

  Angelica never saw Seer Thomas enter the room as she worked her spell. The Seer plunged a dagger between Angelica’s shoulder blades with both hands assuring full penetration. With the blade buried to the hilt, he twisted the handle to actuate a mechanism. With that twist, a valve opened, releasing the contents of a crystal vial, a potion pressurized with aether. The soul serum was the name the necronists gave it. This potion was designed to inject through the center bore of the blade and into the victim, not a poison but an arcane reactive fluid that initiated the coagulation and collection of the spirit force back into the vial in the weapon’s handle.

  The instant the dagger plunged into Angelica’s flesh, she released her staff, and the spell was broken. Gerard fell to his knees, racked with pain.

  Rose stood frozen in silence. Torn and confused, Angelica had shared her memories with her moments ago and now she lay prone and lifeless on the floor. Seer Thomas hovered over the dead body of Angelica. Gerard arose to his feet with some effort. He was visibly older. He limped to the mantle and put the orb into his coat pocket. The ex-nun watched the guild master as he steadied himself on the mantel. Rose felt a tap on her upper arm. It was Detective Williamson standing behind her in the archway with his pistol drawn.

  * * *

  10:31 PM, Pilton Road

  “Drop the knife,” instructed Dolly, his gun pointed at Seer Thomas, who was still standing over Angelica and holding his dagger. As if in a trance, Thomas let the blade fall to the floor. Dolly quickly surveyed the room. Rose looked worn out but safe at his side, the woman on the ground had a stab wound to the back and there was Saint-Yves and one of his cronies with what had to be the weapon that stabbed the woman.

  "Dear Detective, how timely of you to show up,” said the guild master, who turned to face Dolly. He pointed to the floor. “The murderess you have been seeking. She was attempting to kill me when my colleague stopped her."

  Dolly waved his pistol at the gruesome scene of Lord Oswald. "Christ, what the hell happened to that poor fucker?"

  Rose spoke, “The remains of occultist Lord Oswald, who failed a phase-shift attempt, not a direct attack by Ms. Du Haiti."

  Burton entered the hall from the back of the house with the driver in cuffs and his pistol drawn. “Detective Sergeant, I nabbed this guy going in the back door.”

  "Burton, get outside with that one and blow your police whistle to alert the uniformed constables and request a paddy wagon," barked Dolly, his attention back to the parlor where Gerard had moved from the mantle to the body of the priestess. He was reaching for the Ju-Ju staff.

  “Dolly, don’t let him touch that,” yelled Rose.

  “Guild Master, you just stop moving right now,” ordered Dolly, realizing Burton had not left the hall yet. He looked to the young detective and saw him standing dumbstruck. At first, he chalked it up to the gruesome scene, but then he heard the murmuring of the two necronists.

  He turned to see them both chanting then he felt something warm on his left-hand side. It was the amulet that Rose had given him. He could see it glowing through his pocket. He then saw Rose’s necklace charm glow.

  "You two shut your traps now."

  They continued with the mesmerism.

  “Rose, they are trying to hex us. Do something to protect Burton,” yelled Dolly. She and Dolly were safe at the moment with the wards she had made to defend them, at least he thought they were since he felt like he was thinking clearly.

  Rose turned, pulling off her coat. “This will afford him some protection,” said Rose as she threw the coat over Burton, diving on him like he was a man on fire.

  No way will I become a mind slave under someone’s control or be made to fight Rose or Burton. “Alright, let's give this a try," he shouted.

  He placed a bullet into Seer Thomas's thigh. Blood and gristle flew, and the necronist went down with a howl.

  The report of the pistol broke Gerard's concentration. He bellowed, "You can't shoot him. We are diplomats, guests of your government!"

  Dolly squared his gunsight on Gerard's head. “One more move from your lips, and I'll let this next chamber go.” As Dolly stared at his head through the sight, he realized how ill and haggard the guild master looked. “Now, Guild Master, you look like you need a lie down. Why don't you just have a seat and keep your arms in the air and palms facing me. Don't say a word.”

  The detective lowered his pistol and looked at the other necronist. He was passed out and losing blood fast. “Looks like I may lose my badge ,but your mate's going to lose that leg. Burton, get outside and start blowing your whistle to get some uniforms in here.”

  Burton snapped out of his haze as he collected himself after Rose’s body tackle.

  “Rose, come here.” He handed her the pistol. “You get close to the guild master and point this at his head. If he tries to summon anything, pull that trigger and conjure a hole in his head.”

  Rose took the pistol in both hands and stepped next to Gerard.

  Dolly took off his belt and grabbed a candlestick to fashion a tourniquet. Thomas would certainly lose the leg. Staving off the loss of blood would be his only chance at living through the night. While he worked on the leg, he considered Saint-Yves seated in the
chair, "I know what you’re up to. You were trying to mesmerize me and Burton. You two are under arrest for the murder of Angelica du Haiti.”

  “So that's how the Metropolitan Police work? We do your dirty work, and now you arrest us?” retorted Saint-Yves.

  “What's he talking about?” asked Rose.

  "Never you mind, Rose. If he opens his mouth up one more time, you just pull that trigger. And point it a little more to the left. If you do shoot him, his brains won't be enough to stop that ball and you could hit me."

  "Dolly, were you working with them?"

  “In a manner of speaking, my boss requested I collaborate.”

  “The detective authorized me to hunt her down,” replied the guild master.

  “And I also told you to make sure I was on hand. Funny thing is that you weren't the one that tipped me off to Angelica's whereabouts. It was Sister Rose here that sent me a wire-type of the address.” Dolly was struggling to get the bleeding to slow on the seer. It started to sink in that bullet might end his career. “So I'm prepared to bring you in and let the Crown decide if you were defending yourself or here to commit murder,” said Dolly as he gave Gerard a smile while he twisted the tourniquet tighter.

  Burton came back in with a constable. "Jesus Christ, has that guy been blasted through the wall? Bloody hell," the constable exclaimed.

  "Constable, put some irons on the guild master."

  Monday, the 28th of June

  9:20 AM, Königsberg, Prussia

  “Deiter, are the plans complete?” inquired Duke Gorber.

  “Yes, Your Grace, as best as I can tell,” the chief engineer replied.

  “Excellent. When do you expect to get started on the construction?”

  The engineer looked as if he wanted to speak but lost his words.

  “When can I tell Prince von Bismarck that Prussia will have its first air dreadnought?”