Morris waved Drake and Snow to one side and stood over Kieran. He knelt to his level and placed his hand against his forehead.
Quietly he chanted.
“Hic en spiritum, sed non incorpore, evokare lemures de mortuis, decretum espugnare, De Angelus Balberith, en inferno inremeablis.”
He chanted a second time, and a little louder.
“Hic en spiritum, sed non incorpore, evokare lemures de mortuis, decretum espugnare, De Angelus Balberith, en inferno inremeablis.”
And a third, and louder still.
“Hic en spiritum, sed non incorpore, evokare lemures de mortuis, decretum espugnare, De Angelus Balberith, en inferno inremeablis.”
And a final time.
“Hic en spiritum, sed non incorpore, evokare lemures de mortuis, decretum espugnare, De Angelus Balberith, en inferno inremeablis.”
Then Morris chanted in a voice so loud, it made the flames of the candles flicker as if a breeze had blown over them.
“Wa ta na siam, wa ta na siam, wa ta na siam. wa ta na siam”
“Wa ta na siam, wa ta na siam, wa ta na siam. wa ta na siam”
“Wa ta na siam, wa ta na siam, wa ta na siam. wa ta na siam”
“Wa ta na siam, wa ta na siam, wa ta na siam. wa ta na siam”
Morris took a step back and wiped his brow. Sophie watched in astonishment. A few minutes earlier he had appeared tall and distinguished, now he was a different person. He chanted in what sounded like Latin to a man who used to live across the road from her.
Is this really happening?
Morris looked exhausted. He had beads of perspiration on his brow and his hands were trembling.
He took a step closer to the man in the chair and put his mouth to his ear.
“Albert, can you hear me?”
Morris tried again.
“Albert, it's Joseph Morris, can you hear me?”
The man in the chair stirred.
Morris ran his hand across the man’s forehead and his eyes opened.
“Albert, is that you?”
The man frowned, squinted his eyes and surveyed the room. He looked at the portrait of Drake, and then over to Alexander who stood to his right.
“Albert, is that you?” asked Drake.
He didn’t answer.
He looked at Morris and his lips pursed as a faint smile appeared on his face.
Bartholomew Snow took a step forward.
“Albert, do you know who I am?” asked Snow.
He attempted to stand up, but found it hard. Morris got to him before his legs gave way.
“Take it steady old friend, take it steady.”
“I can do this,” said the man. He placed his hands on the table and struggled to stand for a second time.
He pulled himself to his feet and held onto the side of the chair. He glanced at the women sitting and gagged either side of the basement.
Without speaking, and on unsteady feet, he walked around the room. Again, he looked at the portrait and compared the likeness to Drake. He nodded with approval.
Albert Cromwell took in the tapestries which hung from the wall and ran his fingers over them.
He made his way to the centre of the basement, stopped at the table and admired the patterns on the cloth.
Cromwell turned to Morris and spoke.
“Is this what I think it is? Is it really happening?”
Morris nodded.
“Yes Albert, this is really happening.”
Albert Cromwell walked towards Morris and put his arms around him.
“Thank you Joseph, you’ve worked hard and you’ve done well.”
Morris, Drake and Snow watched in awe as Cromwell continued to walk around the room. His legs became steadier, and he ambled to the bottom of the staircase.
“Are we in the basement of Drake’s house?”
The others nodded in unison.
“What year is it?”
“Two thousand and six,” replied Morris.
“Two thousand and six!” said Cromwell before letting out a whistle signifying his astonishment.
“What’s the date?”
“December the fourteenth,” said Morris.
“So we’re doing it tonight?”
Morris nodded.
Drake, Snow and Morris revered the man as if he were royalty. They almost stood to attention.
“But the children, what about Mathias, William and the girl?”
“They’re dead,” replied Drake.
“But we have the skulls,” interrupted Morris.
“I see,” said Cromwell nodding thoughtfully.
“Is there anything we can do for you Albert, is there anything you need?” asked Drake.
“I don’t think so.”
Cromwell looked at a clock on the shelf below the portrait of Drake.
“Gentlemen, it’s time to get things underway.”
Chapter 82
Linda cursed as she attempted to lift the head from the pillow. It had always emitted a little warmth, but lately it had become much hotter and now it was too hot to touch. It was as searing as a saucepan on a hob.
She opened a drawer and rustled through it looking for something in which she could wrap the head and protect her hands from being burnt. She pulled out a double electric blanket. She rolled the head onto the blanket and picked it up.
She carried it downstairs to the kitchen where she found a grocery bag which was large enough to accommodate the head and the electric blanket. Linda pulled on a coat, grabbed the keys to the Porsche and disappeared into the night with the head.
Chapter 83
Sophie and Heather watched in astonishment as the four men adorned themselves in the most ridiculous attire. Morris, Drake and Snow wore identical blue and silver cloaks which had a gold pentagram embroidered on the back. Cromwell’s cloak was different. His was gold, and unlike the other three, it bore no pentagram. Sophie couldn’t believe it was happening. It was so stereotypical of the classic depiction of Devil worshipping she’d seen in cheap films it seemed almost comical. It wouldn't surprise her if Christopher Lee entered the basement and took charge of the ceremony.
Snow positioned the three ornately carved wooden boxes on the table. He measured and checked the distance between each box was the same. He placed them in such a way that all three internal angles were sixty degrees, so the boxes formed an equilateral triangle.
On each of the boxes he placed a blue cushion embroidered with a pentagram.
Heather was helpless to intervene. She'd never been religious, but if there was a time to pray that time was now. With the gag over her mouth she said the only prayer she could remember from start to finish. The Lord’s Prayer.
“Our Father, who art in heaven, Hallowed be thy Name. Thy Kingdom come. Thy will be done in Earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our trespasses,…………….”
Although she was gagged, the four men heard her mumbling beneath the scarf. They stopped what they were doing, looked at her and listened. Even though the words were barely audible, Cromwell knew what she was saying. He marched over to her and struck her across the face. Heather let out a muffled scream as he slapped the side of her cheek.
“Don’t you ever say those words in my presence.”
Her face throbbed and she tasted blood in her mouth.
“Okay gentlemen, let’s continue,” said Cromwell.
“Mr. Snow, align the first two skulls and Mr. Morris, I would be indebted to you if you could bring me the third skull.”
Morris nodded, bowed to Cromwell and left the basement to get Nash’s skull from the study.
“Mr. Drake, please make sure that all doors and windows in this house are open, and when you return please make sure you leave the door to this basement wide open.”
Drake looked at Cromwell quizzically and Cromwell rolled his eyes.
“The house needs to be open to allow Azazel to enter.”
Drake nodded and darted up the stairs, dashed to eve
ry room opening every window letting in the icy chill of the night. He opened the two doors at the rear of the house and finally unlocked the large front door and wedged it open with the coat stand from which Kieran’s coat hung. He stared up at the cloudless sky and saw the form of the raven silhouetted against the backdrop of stars as it soared beyond the roof.
In the basement the candles flickered as a cold breeze blew.
Until recently Heather assumed that Alexander Drake gave the orders and commanded the situation. The visions she’d seen of him demanding Alice Donaldson to reveal where the children were and ultimately ordering Joseph Morris to kill her gave her the impression he was the leader. But since she’d seen Morris with his sadistic and heartlessly aggressive attitude towards everyone, including at times even with Snow and Drake, she felt it was he who was in charge. But now she’d seen Albert Cromwell ordering Snow, Drake and Morris and how they did exactly as he instructed, she now understood that it was he who ran the show.
Snow had placed the infants’ skulls on the cushions on top of two of the wooden boxes. He had made sure they followed the same sixty-degree angle as the boxes. The skulls partially faced each other.
Drake hurriedly returned to the basement, taking two steps at time with his blue cloak trailing.
“Thank you Mr Drake and thank you Mr. Snow. When Joseph returns with the third skull and it's correctly aligned we will begin the ritual to raise Azazel.”
Whilst Cromwell waited for Morris he took the time to inspect William and Louisa’s skulls. He bent forward as close as he could get without touching them and marvelled at the intricate patterns.
“It’s really happening this time isn’t it Albert?” said Snow whilst watching his old friend study the detail of the archetypon.
“Yes Bartholomew, everything's in place, we're all together and today would have been the triplet’s birthday.”
Snow smiled.
Morris returned to the basement carrying Charles Nash’s skull under one arm and holding a large and ancient book under the other.
“I almost forgot this,” said Morris, placing the book on the table. Next to the book he placed the skull.
“You disappoint me Mr. Morris, I thought you would have the entire contents of that book embedded in your memory,” said Cromwell with a faint hint of a smile.
“I’m sorry, but the last time I needed to read from this was over two hundred years ago. Even my memory isn’t that good.”
“No matter,” said Cromwell. “When you are ready, and in your own time I would like you to align the third skull."
Morris nodded.
“Gentlemen, after Mr. Morris has aligned the skull, and the ceremony has begun, there will be no turning back. I am required by Azazel, the King of Devils, to ask that those who are responsible for his renaissance are willing to proceed.”
One by one, Snow, Morris and Drake confirmed that they were happy for the ceremony to go ahead.
Sophie struggled to free herself from the rope, but the knot was tied so she could barely move her wrists. Cromwell watched as she squirmed against the chair. Briefly their eyes met and just for a second she thought she saw a look of recognition in his eye. Maybe there was just a little part of Kieran Tempest to which she could appeal to stop this from happening. Cromwell looked the other way.
Morris opened the antiquated book and thumbed through until he’d found the page he needed. He laid it open to the page he required and placed a heavy leather book mark to stop the pages from rustling in the breeze which blew through the open basement door. He studied the words on the page and memorised them.
He closed his eyes, recited the words in his mind and then turned to Cromwell.
“Albert, I am going to align Mathias’ skull, after which everything will be complete and we will be ready to summon Azazel,” said Morris.
Cromwell nodded.
“Albert, please sit.”
Cromwell lowered himself on to the chair by the circular table. In front of him was one of the three carved wooden boxes on which lay the blue embroidered cushion. The other two cushioned boxes each had an infant’s skull placed upon them.
Morris picked up the skull and placed it on the cushion in front of Cromwell with the back of the cranium facing him. He aligned each skull to an angle of sixty-degrees so they partially faced each other.
He slowly walked around to the other side of the table and faced Cromwell.
The room was deadly still, and all eyes were on Morris as he stood at the table between William and Louisa’s skulls. He raised his arms, took in a large breath of air and began the spell to summon Azazel.
“Bagabi laccia bachabe Lamca cahi achababe Karrelyios Lamaci lameci Bachalyas Cabaheagy sabalyos Baryolas Lagoz athia cabyolas Samahaic et famiyolas Harrahya.”
Chapter 84
Linda drove like a fool. Adrenaline pumped through her and her fear of being behind the wheel of the Porsche subsided. On the seat beside her lay the stone head wrapped in the electric blanket. The head generated so much heat she could smell the fabric of the blanket slowly scorching.
She hadn’t been to Gabriel Butler’s house in years and found it difficult to remember where he lived. The streets were dark, and she wasn’t familiar with the neighbourhood, even though it was less than a mile from where she used to live in Whitcombe Fields Road.
She spent fifteen minutes driving in and out of cul de sacs and coming to dead ends.
Eventually she found Butler’s road and recognised his huge house surrounded by tall hedges and a large electric gate across the driveway. She spotted Kieran’s car.
Linda stepped out of the car and tugged at the locked gates. She considered buzzing the intercom, but decided against it. She needed to find another way in.
Linda returned to the car, sat on the bonnet and considered her options.
A shadow moved across the road against the orange glow cast by a streetlight. She looked up and noticed a huge black bird fly over Butler’s gates. The bird circled the drive and landed on the roof of his Rolls Royce.
“The raven,” muttered Linda beneath her breath.
She recalled her husband’s words the day they’d hurriedly left their last home, when the raven circled Finn Maynard’s house.
‘It’s the bird, its Drake’s raven, it’s gonna happen sooner than I thought.’
Something about the bird had scared her husband, and here it was again, but this time it hung around Butler’s house. She’d only seen a raven once, which was at the Tower of London. She’d never seen one near her home in Bristol before and she was sure it was the same bird that had worried Kieran.
The bird took off, flew towards the end of the Butler’s road, turned and headed straight for her. She ducked just as it flew above her head. It turned when it reached the far end of the road and headed back towards her. This time the bird flew lower and Linda slammed herself onto the tarmac to avoid it crashing into her. It squawked as it flew over her and made another turn. Linda jumped to her feet, unlocked the car and got in just as the raven flew over the Porsche.
She watched from the car as the bird settled again on Butler’s gates. She trembled as the bird stared at her.
“What do you want from me you little shit?”
The raven flew from the gate and landed for a second time on the Rolls Royce. It appeared to be agitated and strutting along the top of the car. Its talons didn't grip the shiny metal roof, and it slipped and tottered.
Linda wondered what the hell was up with the bird. The thing was acting crazy.
The bird flew into the darkness. Linda lowered the window and strained her eyes to see where it had gone. In the distance she heard a faint cawing which became louder quickly. She wound up the window as the bird passed above her car at an incredible speed. She gawped in astonishment as it headed for the house without slowing.
“My god, that thing will kill itself,” she said to herself as it sped towards the front of the house.
The bird showed no sign o
f slowing as it approached. It picked up speed the closer it came to the house.
And then it disappeared.
There was no noise. She’d expected a thud or a squawk as it rammed into the house.
Linda jumped out of the Porsche and ran to the gates.
She strained her eyes and saw that the front door was wide open.
The bird had soared through the doorway of the house.
“What the hell?”
She didn’t know why, but she had a hunch the bird was significant. The bird had bothered Kieran the day they’d seen it in Whitcombe Fields Road and here it was again acting strangely.
She looked at the hedges which surrounded the house. They were twelve feet high, topped with barbed wire with no way of getting over. The place was like a fortress.
She knew her husband was in grave danger and she needed to get to him.
She paced along the road and scoured the perimeter of the house for a way in.
Linda noticed something from the corner of her eye. She stopped in her tracks and was rooted to the ground. Something ran in front of her and disappeared into the hedge. She took two steps closer and then yelped as a fox bolted from a small hole in the hedge. After she’d taken a few seconds to compose herself, she got on her knees and saw the damage to the bottom of the hedge. Linda assumed a family of foxes had caused it. She was a petite lady and could squeeze her head and shoulders into the hedge. Sharp twigs and sticks scratched her face as she forced her way through to the centre of the hedge which was around four feet thick. She pushed against the twigs and leaves and followed the route made by the foxes. At last she fought her way through and pushed her head to other side of the hedge into Butler’s garden. She'd broken her fingernails and was covered in cuts. Linda was about to haul herself into Butler's garden when she heard the voice of the elderly lady.
“Linda, go back and get the head.”
Chapter 85
“Bagabi laccia bachabe Lamca cahi achababe Karrelyios Lamaci lameci Bachalyas Cabaheagy sabalyos Baryolas Lagoz athia cabyolas Samahaic et famiyolas Harrahya,” chanted Joseph Morris with his eyes closed and his arms raised in front of him.
The Third Skull (Book Two - The Revelation): A Paranormal Mystery Thriller Page 15
