The Secrets of Life and Death

by Rebecca Alexander

  ‘Mac? We’re on nickname terms with McNamara now?’

  ‘He’s OK, if you like that buttoned up, starched sort.’ Charley slid off the table. ‘Anyway, he’s got a lot more contacts than we have; he has records of these rituals going back centuries. He thinks they would be looking for a church or graveyard on consecrated ground.’

  ‘So you believe that the original Countess Elizabeth Báthory is on the loose?’

  ‘I’ve seen some pretty convincing evidence. You need to find this church.’

  ‘People believe all that hallowed ground stuff, even now?’ Jack swivelled to face her.

  Charley smiled. ‘Well, they think she does. The previous exsanguinations all took place in derelict or unused churches.’

  ‘So Sadie could already be dead.’ Jack let the thought that had been chilling her hang in the air.

  ‘It takes time to set up the ritual. Felix thinks she will wait until tonight. We need you on board.’

  Charley walked over and hugged her. She smelled like some sort of exotic flower, and looked like a fifteen-year-old, but she could be as forceful as her mother.

  Jack held her, shutting her eyes for a moment. ‘I’m there. I’m just worried sick.’

  ‘Well, let Felix and Mac help you.’ Charley grabbed her coat and waved as she walked out into the hall. ‘See you later.’

  Jack took a deep breath before finding the men.

  ‘What have you found out?’ She addressed herself to Felix, still suspicious of McNamara and his crazy claims.

  ‘I’ve got the police files of the last two women who died in this blood ritual,’ he answered, ‘and details of the ceremonial sites. Both old churches, one almost derelict, one used for occasional funerals.’ He waved at the other man, who hadn’t looked up. ‘Mac is looking at similar unused churches and chapels in our area.’

  The man tapped a piece of paper and looked at her. ‘These are the sigils drawn at my sister’s death-site. I thought, as a witch, you could offer us your thoughts.’

  She took the paper, but looked at Felix. ‘I’m not really a witch.’

  McNamara frowned at her. ‘But you created a revenant, one of the hardest magics to perform.’

  ‘Yes, but I had Maggie’s help.’

  Jack and Felix bent their heads over the paper.

  ‘What are these?’ Jack felt uneasy at the sight of the circles of figures, but couldn’t work out why. They weren’t familiar.

  Felix clicked a button on his laptop. ‘I’ve studied ritual symbols and arrangements,’ he said, then added, ‘especially by Dee.’ He opened one file after another, stacking them up on the screen. ‘These are summoning circles. You can see the similarity.’

  ‘Summoning what?’

  ‘Angels, demons, spirits.’

  She sat back, looking at the bent head of the inquisitor, but he appeared absorbed in his laptop. ‘Do you believe all this religious stuff?’ she murmured to Felix.

  ‘How about thinking of it in a slightly different way? All matter is made of atoms, in turn made of sub-atomic particles, right?’

  She shrugged. ‘I suppose so. Electrons and so on.’

  ‘Well, electrons and protons are all made of energy. The whole universe boils down to energy fields all reacting to each other.’

  ‘O … K.’ Jack felt a bit out of her depth, but was prepared to go a little further.

  ‘And your actions are all composed of energy transferred and moved around. So are your thoughts.’

  She stretched back in the seat, looking at his profile as he lectured. ‘Go on.’

  ‘Well, suppose a million people all think the same thing at the same time. Don’t you feel on some level that’s going to leave an impression on an energy field?’

  She hadn’t thought of it before, but it seemed reasonable. ‘So … the belief of millions of people can what … create God?’

  ‘That’s one way of looking at it. And if millions of people have created that kind of construct, maybe it’s possible for someone to summon that up, or at least, a tiny part of it.’

  She thought about it. ‘So, what you are saying is, since millions of people have believed in angels and demons for thousands of years, they must exist somewhere?’

  ‘Might exist somewhere. Dee thought they did, but not because people believed. Because God believed. I suspect that’s how magic works, if it does.’

  ‘I’ve always thought of it as maths.’

  He lifted an eyebrow and smiled. ‘Maths?’

  ‘Well, how likely is it that a draught will sneak in and shut that door?’

  He considered the still door, partly open. ‘I don’t know, unlikely but possible?’

  Jack concentrated, running through the intention in her mind, building, building, then … there, the right mindset. A shiver ran down her spine and something snapped in her head.

  The door slammed with enough force to lift the edges of papers on the desk.

  ‘How … ?’ Felix looked around at the room. ‘When we have Sadie back, you are going to have to explain that to me.’

  Jack smiled at his confusion, and widened the smile at the inquisitor’s frown. ‘Easier than angels and demons, anyway.’

  Jack turned back to the laptop and tapped the screen with one finger. ‘And these circles were used to try and summon them.’

  ‘So, what do our circles summon?’ She rubbed her aching chest.

  He tightened his lips, flicking a glance at McNamara. ‘They seem to be similar to the ones Dee used in necromancy, to bind the soul back to its body.’

  ‘That’s what Maggie said. She used that booklet of Dee’s.’

  ‘Except that it was really a diary, by Kelley. He was much more willing to share the darker aspects of sorcery than Dee.’

  ‘Sorcery.’ She looked at her hands, sadness settling on her like dust. ‘Something murky and unnatural.’ My whole existence. ‘What did McNamara called it?’ She glanced over at the inquisitor and dropped her voice. ‘An abomination.’

  Felix put his hand over hers, warmed her fingers. ‘I’m not religious, Jack. But I believe there’s something out there. Maybe God is the totality of all human belief. And I’m sure borrowed timers’ souls are as valid as anyone else’s.’

  ‘And you’re going along with his belief that this is Elizabeth Báthory – the actual four-hundred-year-old serial killer?’

  ‘He’s told me things about these people, plural, Jack. Women who drink the blood of dozens, maybe hundreds, of young girls to stay healthy, and every few years create a borrowed timer so they can exsanguinate them.’

  ‘So, how come we haven’t heard of them before?’

  Felix rubbed her hand between his. ‘You’re still cold.’

  Her eyes warned him that McNamara was in earshot. ‘How many of these things are there?’

  The inquisitor answered from behind her. ‘We know of sixteen. Most are less than a hundred years old, but several are much older.’

  ‘Name one,’ Jack scoffed.

  ‘Catalina de los Rios y Lisperguer.’ McNamara drew a line in his notes. ‘Born at the beginning of the seventeenth century. She was turned into a revenant as a child. She was last heard of running a children’s orphanage in Romania in 1989. She got away, that time, but we have a team tracking her.’

  ‘What?’ Jack looked at Felix. ‘Really?’

  Felix smiled sadly. ‘Mac showed me some of the files, some of the photographs. They called her La Quintrala; she murdered her tenants, as much from her sadistic sexual needs as the blood.’

  McNamara spoke in his quiet voice. ‘There was also de Borgomanero, back in the thirteen hundreds, in Italy. She was finally killed by the leader of my order, Father Konrad von Schönborn, two hundred years later. There was a Russian who tortured young servant girls, like Báthory. They called her Saltychikha. Another, a male, was created during the Second World War in Algeria—’

  ‘OK, I get it.’ She turned to Felix. ‘And you believe all this, just because he to
ld you? He’s the enemy, the fucking Inquisition!’

  McNamara coughed to get their attention and Felix dropped her hand.

  ‘I’ve found two churches that stand out,’ the inquisitor said. ‘One is being restored and is vacant at weekends. The other is part of an old mental hospital called St Francis’s, which is being converted into flats. It, too, will be vacant today. I think it is the more likely of the two.’

  Jack turned, trying not to stagger, her whole body heavy with cold. ‘Let’s go, then.’

  McNamara also stood, and stepped close enough for her to have to tilt her head back to look up at him. ‘You should stay here. You will slow us down.’ He turned to Felix. ‘Your knowledge of Dee may be helpful. But the fiend is powerful and deadly, we cannot be distracted.’

  Jack looked at Felix, seeing uncertainty there.

  ‘You are tired,’ he said. ‘You could leave us to check them out. She may not be at either location.’ Then he half smiled, as if he knew what she was going to say.

  She took a deep breath. ‘You need me because I know more about borrowed time than either of you. I may not be a witch, but I’m your secret weapon.’

  Chapter 53

  ‘Being sound of body and mind, I bequeath all my English goods to my sister-in-law for the sustenance of her sons, my nephews. I leave my best doublet to her eldest son, Rychard Kelley, and the French boots in my luggage to her son Robert Kelley. Any monies and belongings I hold in foreign lands, I leave to my wife Jane Kelley, that she might educate and care for her children, Eliza and John. My personal jewellery I leave to Mistress Jane Dee in brotherly love, and if he should survive, my books and journals to Doctor John Dee, my friend and master. If he does not, I pray that his end, as mine, is swift and that God smiles upon us with forgiveness.’

  The will of Edward Kelley

  Dated 16 or 17 December 1585

  Csejte Castle, Transylvania

  We waited until the count had left the dungeon, before Konrad spoke.

  ‘Tell me you have not done it,’ he asked urgently. ‘The sorcery.’

  ‘We have not, yet.’ I answered. ‘But we have little choice but to help the countess, unless we seek our own deaths.’

  ‘You condemn her soul, and yours, to endless damnation if you help her.’

  Dee looked at me, speaking fast before anyone came within earshot. ‘We believe that we have been brought here to save the countess, for some reason we cannot divine but believe to be innocent. We have been visited by angels, indeed, they brought us here.’

  Konrad turned to me. ‘I beg you, Master Kelley, as one I know in his heart to be a good Catholic. Stop your master being persuaded by these delusions. This is the work of demons.’

  I stared at him. He had the authority of a prince, as well as a papal emissary. ‘My lord, I am sure we are guided by creatures of God.’ Even as I said the word, my doubts must have shaped my brow.

  ‘Angels?’ He did not mock, nor scoff, but a look of grief came over his features. ‘I should have told you before, I know …’ He paused, as if gathering his authority around himself, and beckoned us closer.

  Dee leaned in, and dropped his voice. ‘We are gravely afflicted by doubts and concerns, my lord. If you can advise us, without prejudice nor agenda …’

  ‘Have you ever heard of the Contessa de Borgomanero?’ He hunched his shoulders against the cold and looked at the guards, who were straining to listen.

  We looked at each other, as he spoke again. ‘She, Lady Adeliza, was born sickly, but she was her mother’s only child, and they coddled her. They tried every remedy they knew to strengthen her.’

  Konrad stared into my eyes, his own almost black in the low light, as if trying to divine my response. ‘What did they do, Father?’ I whispered.

  ‘They owned a villa in Velletri, near Rome, where an old stone tablet was carved over the entrance to the atrium. This described a ritual, which was used to save a dying landowner who was struck by falling masonry during an earthquake.’ He looked at the guards, who were muttering to each other. ‘The ritual included symbols, and these were inscribed within each room. They realised the child prospered within these chambers, but sickened when she left them. They had jewellery made that covered the child in the sigils, and she began to thrive and grow.’

  ‘Do we have any record of these shapes?’ I said.

  ‘We do not, as the villa was destroyed by the local people. The plaques were crushed to rubble, and thrown in the river.’

  ‘Why?’ I noticed the guards’ arguments growing stronger, and saw hands caressing sword hilts.

  ‘When she grew to womanhood, she inherited her parents’ lands, and young men went to court her. She welcomed in the youngest lovers, took them to her bed, and they were never seen again.’

  We looked at each other. ‘What happened to them?’ Dee asked.

  ‘For years, no one knew. When dozens of young men had disappeared, the body of a youth washed up on the shore of the lake. His body was completely white, drained of blood, and his arms and neck were cut, as if he’d been bled by a butcher. That is when the locals raised a force against the strega, the witch, as they called her. They stormed her lakeside retreat, but she was already gone.’

  ‘How is this relevant to us?’ asked Dee, his mouth tight with impatience.

  ‘I have seen her.’ Konrad sighed, his hands resting on the bars. ‘I was a young man, travelling with my father and elder brother to Venice, when we stopped at an inn for wine, and to shelter from the heat of the afternoon. My companions stopped to talk to other travellers, but I was curious about the sound of singing from the back of the inn. A beautiful woman was resting in a courtyard with a young minstrel. The woman spoke to me, and plied me with wine. After a while, I realised we were no longer attended by her servants, and after that, we were in her room, although I had no memory of how we came there. We passed the afternoon in the tryst, and I found myself growing languid and weak after my labours. When she caressed me with a dagger, I found I could not resist, nor stop her cutting into my arm and lapping at the blood like a cat. Indeed,’ he said, looking away for a moment, ‘never have I felt such erotic pleasure.’ He shook himself, as if throwing off the spell his words were weaving. ‘My father and brother beat down the door, and found me dazed and bleeding. They staunched my wound.’ He pulled up his wide, velvet sleeve, to show a linen bandage around his forearm, the marks of old blood brown upon it. ‘It has never healed.’

  ‘What happened to her?’

  ‘We questioned the innkeeper, and he knew her only as Lady Adeliza who visited the place once or twice a year on her way from Venice. He said servants, who were at the inn before he was, recall her visiting for many years, as long as they could remember, although she remained youthful-looking.’ He pulled his sleeve down, wincing a little. ‘The wound festers. It has been touched by death.’

  Dee nudged me, and I looked to see Lord Miklós stepping off the lowest stair and barking an order that rang through the dungeon.

  ‘It is time,’ he snapped at us.

  Dee turned to Konrad, his voice urgent. ‘My lord, what was the nature of this fiend, this witch?’

  ‘The sorcery had turned her into a morturi masticantes. She is no longer subject to mortal death through age, but sustains her life with the blood of others.’ He grasped Dee’s coat through the iron bars that confined him. ‘Master Dee, you must not perform this sorcery. You do not know what you will create, a monster that cannot die but will prey upon children. Her dying body will be animated by a demonic being.’

  A guard pulled me away, and I staggered. Konrad called after us, as we were manhandled onto the stairs. ‘You will create a creature without a soul, without remorse. I have hunted the contessa all my adult life, and still she lives.’

  Dee called back to Konrad, even as he was bundled up the stairs. ‘No one is immortal.’

  Only I caught Konrad’s shouted response. ‘When I met her, Adeliza de Borgomanero was more than two hundred ye
ars old.’

  Chapter 54

  Sadie woke feeling cold and weak, cramped into a huddle on the floor. The chapel was now lit by candles, the windows black. The woman looked younger.

  ‘Can I have some more of that water?’ Sadie’s voice was croaky.

  The woman lifted her head from the trance she was in, and carried a bottle over. Sadie took it in her good hand, cradling the purpled bite against her. It took some fumbling to get the top off, but a long drink refreshed her a little.

  ‘Who are you?’ She looked at the woman, now walking between the various circles.

  ‘I am a countess. In this century there is no respect for that. But once I had a name of great honour and antiquity.’

  ‘Why did you bring me here?’ She tried to keep her voice level.

  ‘You are here to rejuvenate me. And you are here to be released.’

  Sadie stood, dizziness making her sway. She inched to the edge of the circle, but even half a foot over the edge started the retching. She spat a mouthful of watery bile onto the floor.

  ‘People will come and stop you,’ she managed to say, choking. ‘Jack will come for me.’

  ‘The witch?’ The countess laughed, her voice warmer than it had been. ‘Zsuzsanna, Zsófia, all that tribe can do is serve us, they cannot destroy us.’

  ‘And the Inquisition? Can’t they kill you?’ Sadie perched on the edge of her chair and wrapped her arms around herself for warmth.

  ‘They are just human, weak.’ She turned to Sadie. ‘It is time. We must begin the ritual.’

  She reached into her bag, unzipped a pocket, and brought out a long shape wrapped in what looked like a silk scarf. Unrolling it reverently, she placed it on a folding table she had set up. When she moved aside, Sadie could see the outline of a handle, maybe the length of her palm, and what looked like a shiny blade twice as long. The countess brought out a gleaming gold cup, and set it down with a clink. She lifted the dagger from the scarf and kissed the blade, for a moment lost in her thoughts, then turned to Sadie with a smile. The upward twitch of her lips wasn’t reassuring, and as she advanced towards Sadie she held out her other hand.