by John Glasby
‘Here, hold this steady while I take a look at him,’ muttered Nayland harshly.
‘Is he — dead?’
‘No. I don’t think so. But he’s in a pretty bad way. The sooner we get him away from here, the better.’ He straightened his back and threw a swift glance around him Less than two feet from the unconscious man’s outstretched fingers lay the feathered headdress and mask which had earlier been worn by that creature on the stairs.
‘Do you believe in Black Magic now, Richard?’ he asked grimly.
‘I believe in what I see,’ said the other tonelessly, ‘and what I hear and what I can touch.’
‘Still a materialist,’ said Stephen. ‘Then how do you explain what we saw back there?’
‘I can’t. But there has to be some rational explanation for it. There’s no sign here of that creature we saw. Only Simon and it couldn’t have been him.’
‘No, it couldn’t have been Simon. He’s dressed in his usual manner. There would have been no time for him to have changed. There’s no telling how long he’s been unconscious. But why go to the trouble of leaving that headdress here?’
‘Maybe it’s Caltro’s way of trying to scare us off,’ suggested the other.
‘I doubt it.’ Nayland shook his head. ‘There are plenty of other, more potent methods he could have used to do that. He wouldn’t have to resort to trickery. No, there’s something more to this than meets the eye.’
As he looked down at the feathered headdress and mask, Nayland began to feel uneasy. For one thing, a kind of cloudlike darkness seemed to hover around it; for another, there had been a similar cloud of darkness around that creature which had passed them at the top of the stairs.
At the same time, he was aware of an aura of evil that seemed to emanate from the mask. It was uncanny and profoundly disturbing. He was as conscious of it as he was of the fact that Blake was standing over him, looking down over his shoulder.
‘Let’s get him out of here,’ said Nayland harshly. The mad panic was leaving him, but his heart was still hammering away madly inside his chest. ‘If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes I’d never have believed it.’
Together, they lifted the unconscious man and carried him to the outer door.
Carefully, they carried Simon Merrivale to the car at the end of the short street and placed him in the back.
‘You’d better ride with him just in case he comes round on the way,’ said Nayland thickly. ‘We’ll take him to my place. He’ll be safer there than anywhere else in London. Just in case Caltro finds that we’ve taken him and decides to come after him.’
‘But what do you think is wrong with him?’
Nayland turned the key in the ignition and the engine started immediately. ‘That’s hard to tell at the moment,’ he said wearily. ‘They may have given him some kind of drug, that’s their usual way of dealing with people if they give any trouble. On the other hand, it may be some kind of trance, it’s difficult to say without having a good look at him.’
‘Do you think you can help him?’
‘I can have a damned good try,’ Nayland said. ‘If it’s a drug he may need hospital treatment. If it’s a trance, then we may be able to shock him out of it, but that will depend on how deep a trance it is.’
‘What do you think happened to him?’ Blake sounded puzzled.
‘That’s not easy to say. We can only make a guess at what occurred there after we left. For some reason they can’t have carried out their ritual completely, otherwise they would have waited until midnight. Something must have happened to stop their plans. If only we knew what it was.’
‘Maybe you were wrong about them from the very beginning. It could be that you were mistaken. I didn’t see anything really evil about that man, Caltro.’
‘Don’t let his appearance or his mannerisms fool you, Richard. That man is a devil in human shape. In true Black Magic there are a number of levels that can be attained by those who participate in it, rather like those in the Catholic Church. Once a member crosses the Abyss — as it’s called — he becomes an Ipsissimus and take my word for it, such people wield powers you would never believe. I’ve met these people before and I know just what they can do.’
‘So all right,’ said Blake, watching Simon’s unconscious body closely as though expecting to find the answer there, ‘it’s a case of Caltro either drugging Simon or hypnotizing him. What I want to know is, how long is he likely to be under their power, even assuming that we manage to keep him locked away from them at your place?’
‘These things are not very easy to explain,’ Nayland said. ‘There’s an old occult theory now generally being reaccepted by some, that thoughts themselves are as tangible as physical forces, that a thought of evil and hate can be a powerful enough force to act over a distance and affect anyone sensitive enough to receive it.’
‘So that’s all there is to it. All of the mumbo-jumbo which these people use, it’s got nothing to do with devil-worship at all.’
‘By no means. I said a thought of evil, remember? This is only one side to it all. There’s the other, more deadly side to this horror. Devils, or demons, or whatever you like to call them are real entities that can be conjured up by people possessing the right knowledge. It isn’t an easy thing to do, but it’s as well to remember that people like Caltro control forces which are almost unknown to us.’
He concentrated on driving for several minutes before speaking again. ‘That headdress and mask. It intrigues me. You say he bought it in London and your opinion is that it’s the real thing.’
‘The mask?’ Blake sounded surprised. ‘Do you think that has something to do with this?’
‘I’m almost certain that it’s central to everything that’s happening. If Simon hadn’t been in this state I’d have brought it with us, just to prevent it falling into Caltro’s hands. Right now, I think we have to make sure it’s as far away from Simon. These things have been known to bring curses with them, anything which belonged to these superstitious people and associated with their kings or religion.’
‘Like those things which were brought out of the tomb of Tutankhamen, you mean?’
‘Something like that, only in this case even more so. I’ve had dealings with these witchdoctors before and although some of their spells and incantations may be ascribed to self-induced hypnosis on the part of the victim, I saw enough to convince me that there’s a lot more to it than we realize.’
‘Simon never spoke of it when I visited him last. I only knew about it when he mentioned it in his letter. Either he didn’t have it when I came or, for some reason, he didn’t want me to examine it.’
‘So you’ve never seen it before?’
‘Not before tonight.’
‘That’s strange. We’d better question him as soon as he’s in a condition to talk. I think there are quite a lot of things Simon will have to explain in the very near future if we’re to help him at all.’
‘What do we do if Caltro decides to come after him? He’s bound to find out sooner or later what we’ve done and if Simon is as important to him as you seem to think he is, won’t he try to get him back?’
‘I’m quite sure he will. We’ll have to be on our guard night and day. We mustn’t let Simon out of our sight for a single instant.’
Nayland drove carefully through the chill darkness. There were more clouds now, pressing in from the horizon, blotting out the white face of the moon for long moments at a time, making it difficult to see the road.
There were a hundred burning questions running through his mind, demanding answers. What if Caltro already knew what they had done and already had his own flat under observation? From past experience, he knew that the people had their own means of obtaining information and some of these methods were, at the moment, beyond the explanations of science.
He had the distinct impression that Caltro wanted that mask for his own purposes.
He cut a corner dangerously close and forced his mind back to the p
resent. The questions would have to remain unanswered for a little while. Maybe, he thought, Simon knew most of the answers, but he wouldn’t be in any condition to talk for some time yet.
A few moments later, he guided the car in to the side. The house was in darkness, but it was obvious that Sims, the manservant, had heard them arrive, for within seconds a light flashed on in one of the lower windows and the door opened as he got out of the car and stood stretching himself for an instant.
‘Mr. Nayland, sir. Is anything wrong?’
Sims, stockily-built, balding a little with a fringe of grey hair around his temples, came hurrying towards them.
‘Nothing to worry about, Sims,’ said Nayland quietly.
The manservant glanced down at the still body in the back of the car.
‘Why, it’s Mr. Merrivale. Has he met with an accident, sir?’
‘Yes, in a way. I want you to bring some warm blankets and some hot water. Quickly.’
‘Very good, sir.’ Sims recovered his composure almost immediately and hurried off into the house, leaving the door wide open for them to carry the inert body of Simon Merrivale inside.
‘Put him on the couch over there,’ muttered Nayland, breathing heavily. ‘I’ll be able to tell how bad he is once I examine him in the light.’
Blake stood up and shrugged his powerful shoulders. ‘He still seems to be unconscious. No sign of him coming round at all.’
‘Sometimes they remain like this for days. If they really did go through with the Black Mass, then we may never rouse him. Caltro will be the only man who could do that.’
For a moment, the two men stared at each other in silence, then back down again at the still body on the couch. Simon Merrivale’s eyes were half-closed and there was an expression on his face such as neither of them had ever seen before.
A look in which fear and terror and something more were all blended into something that was unutterably horrible.
Sims came hurrying in at that moment with blankets and a jug of hot water. He stood by with a helpless look on his features as Nayland wrapped the blankets carefully around Merrivale’s body. Finally, he stood up.
‘Better get us both a drink, Sims,’ he said tersely, ‘We need one after what we’ve been through.’
‘Very good, sir.’ The manservant went out of the room without asking any further questions.
‘You’ve got a damned good man there,’ remarked Blake.
The other nodded. ‘He’s one of the best. Never asks questions no matter what time of the morning I arrive or how peculiar things may seem.’
Sims came back a moment later with the drinks. ‘Straight bourbon, sir,’ he said quietly. Nayland took his and sipped it appreciatively. The raw spirit went down into his stomach and stayed there, bringing some of the warmth and feeling back into his body.
Now that the nightmare in his mind had receded a little and they were away from that place with its crude altar and weird cabalistic designs inlaid in the floor, he was feeling a little better, a little more able to think clearly again.
He still wasn’t sure exactly how they were going to go about getting Simon out of Caltro’s clutches and bring him back to normal. So far, it seemed, the victory lay with them. They might have difficulty in rousing the other from his trance-like state, but so long as they managed to keep him where Caltro couldn’t reach him, he felt that half the battle had been won.
He was suddenly aware that Sims was standing hesitantly in the background, looking down at him uncertainly.
‘Yes, Sims?’
‘I was just wondering, sir. Did you wish me to do anything with this?’
‘What is it, Sims?’
The other brought something out into the light and Nayland felt a little thrill of horror run through him. He realized what it was. The feathered headdress and mask that, as far as he remembered, they had left behind them in Merrivale’s hallway.
‘Where the devil did you get that?’ he demanded.
Sims looked momentarily surprised at his tone, then said evenly: ‘I found it in the back of the car, sir. I thought it was something important; one of Mr. Merrivale’s trophies, perhaps, which you’d brought back with you.’
Nayland felt his gaze drawn hypnotically towards the thing in the other’s hands.
Beside him, Blake got to his feet, his chair clattering to the floor behind him.
‘How in God’s name did that thing get there? I’ll swear that it wasn’t in the car a few moments ago when I got out. We’d have noticed it if it had been.’
Nayland tried to think, to remember. Strange disconnected images were running through his mind and it was difficult to relate them properly.
‘There has to be some explanation for it,’ he said eventually. ‘The thing didn’t just get in there by itself.’ He turned to the manservant. ‘Just leave it there, Sims. We’ll put it away in a safe place until Mr. Merrivale is well enough to take it back with him.’
‘Yes, sir.’
When the manservant had withdrawn. Nayland turned to his companion. ‘I don’t want to frighten you by telling you this, Richard,’ he said slowly, choosing his words carefully, ‘but I think you ought to know the position as far as I’ve been able to ascertain it.
‘I’m quite sure I was right when I suggested they intended performing the ceremony of the Black Mass, with Simon as the central figure. The fact that yesterday was his birthday was more than a mere coincidence. There are times when all events are favourable to their diabolical plans, when the evil ones take a human form for themselves, control it completely, so that they may use it to compete with the good.’
‘And you think that Simon is —’
‘No, not completely, thank God.’ The other shook his head. ‘Although I’ve a strong suspicion that if we hadn’t burst in on them earlier in the evening, they would have gone through with their plans and we would have been unable to save him.’
‘Then this —’ Blake hesitated before inclining his head towards Merrivale’s body on the couch.
‘This, I think, is some state of shock brought on by some experience he’s been through. I’m fairly certain of that now. Whatever they did to him, it doesn’t seem likely they forced him to cross the abyss. He isn’t one of them yet, if that’s what you mean.’
‘But he’s dabbled in this sorcery?’
Nayland nodded. ‘I’m afraid that’s true. They have some kind of hold over him. Blackmail, perhaps. They usually succeed in finding out something about their victims. After all, none of us is perfect and they can use whatever knowledge they have to force people into their circle.
‘Then they promise them all the power under the sun, riches beyond all their dreams, everything they can wish. And that’s usually a sufficiently good inducement for their victims to remain in the circle, particularly after they’ve seen a little of what these people can do.’
‘They won’t like it then once they discover we’ve taken Simon from them.’ Blake uttered a harsh laugh but there was no mirth in it.
‘Exactly. One of us must remain with Simon every single minute. That’s vitally important. We’ll take turns through the night. I’ll take the first two hours and you the next. If anything happens while either of us is watching we must wake the other without delay. There’s another couch here, so we’ll sleep on that so as to be within easy call.’
Blake nodded. Getting to his feet, Nayland rang for the servant.
‘Yes, sir?’ Sims stood in the doorway, his face expressionless.
‘We’ve decided to take turns sleeping down here, Sims. Bring a couple of blankets for us, will you?’
‘Certainly, sir.’
‘I don’t think they’ll try anything tonight,’ Nayland said after the other had gone, trying to force conviction and evenness into his tone. ‘But if they do, we’ve got to be ready for them. My only fear is that they know Simon’s here and they decide to hit us before we can prepare ourselves.’
‘What sort of thing do you expect?’
Nayland bit his lip. ‘That depends on how much they want him back. They may try to break in and take him by force, but from what I’ve learned about Caltro, I think he’ll try something more subtle than that. He may try to call Simon away. He’ll snap out of the trance quite suddenly, unexpectedly, before we’re aware of it and try to get away. If that happens, we may have to strap him to the couch.’
He saw Blake’s eyes widen in surprise. Evidently this was all new to him and strangely fantastic. He could see that the other only half-believed what he was hearing. Strong-arm men breaking in by force, he could imagine, but intangible forces acting in strange ways across distance, was almost beyond Blake’s comprehension.
‘There’s one other thing I don’t quite understand. Is it Simon Caltro really wants or this mask?’
Rubbing his chin, Nayland considered the other’s question for a few moments before replying. ‘I think he wants both. He clearly believes the mask is a highly potent force for evil and it’s almost certain he’s made a comprehensive study of the ancient African tribes, their religions, and the powers the witchdoctors possessed. It’s equally likely he’s been looking for this relic for some considerable time but unfortunately Merrivale got his hands on it first.’
Blake looked puzzled. ‘Then why doesn’t he just take it, especially now that Merrivale is clearly under his influence?’
Nayland gave a grim smile. ‘The fact is that with these ancient evil objects, he can’t just take it or force Merrivale to give it to him. Merrivale must give it to him of his own free will.’
‘I think I understand what you’re saying but he still wants our friend back. Just how will he do that? Bring some of his friends and break down the door?’
‘Those are the usual things,’ Nayland explained. ‘If they fail, believe me, they have some more terrible and frightening things in store for us. They may send a messenger to fetch him. What form this messenger will take, I don’t know. But if that happens, then there may be nothing we can do, seeing that we’ve had no opportunity to prepare ourselves.’
