I leaned back, thinking. I knew the answer to one of my questions already. Morrison went after Jeremy because he wanted revenge. He wanted to punish Maude Prichard and I, as her closest relative, was the perfect pawn. Taking my fiancé and fooling me would give him great pleasure.
I picked up my wine glass and took a sip, wondering what other rules Ian had broken. I continued to read…
The Viper will live a life that is circumspect. He will respect those humans with whom he shares space and interacts. He must never reveal the true nature of his being to any but the one chosen to be his successor.
The Viper will not indulge in excesses of any kind that could call attention to his nature. He shall, on the contrary, lead a blameless life.
The Viper shall not engage in gluttony or sexual depravity. To those humans around him, he should appear to be a righteous man, truthful and faithful in all of his endeavors.
I had to stop here again. Had that old man led a blameless life? I doubted it. He lived by his own rules, not by this code. I wondered if these statements had any teeth? Was there someone out there watching these so-called vipers, ready to pounce if they transgressed? And, if so, what punishment would be meted out? And, if there was someone all-knowing out there, why hadn’t Morrison been called to task for what he tried to do?
Again, more questions than answers. I took another drink and continued…
The Viper, in his majesty, will be given the gift of five full lives, which he will use judiciously. When he has completed his fifth cycle, he will select an heir – one to whom he will pass on his gift. This will, thus, ensure that the reign of the Viper will continue unto eternity.
The Viper will select his heir from those humans whose lives are already wretched. He will choose one who is sickly in body or in mind. Never will the Viper choose a human who is healthy and prospers in his daily endeavors.
After the Viper has determined that his chosen heir is worthy, there will be an exchange of blood. Once this ritual is complete, the Viper will counsel the neophyte on the use of the gift of five lives and advise him to live quietly, arousing no undue attention. The neophyte Viper will, like his predecessor, not indulge in excesses, but shall lead a blameless life. He shall not engage in gluttony or sexual depravity. He will pose in society as an upstanding member of his community and, by his good works, will be considered by the human population to be an example of a truly good and righteous man.
The book went on to list more do’s and don’ts. I found it a bit repetitive and really not that helpful. I scanned a page or two ahead, until I came to a section that seemed much more relevant to what I had experienced.
The Viper, when enacting a transformation to a new life, will be judicious so as not to alarm those around him. He will perform this duty in secret for the body he inhabits, upon his departure, will cease to live. At the moment of the transformation, the discarded body will once again become human and, having no life force left, will die.
This passage interested me. The body a Viper inhabited would die when he left it. That didn’t happen with Ian Morrison. He didn’t die on his own. Mary Morrison killed him. That was, if I were to belief all this crap, solid evidence that Ian didn’t finish his transformation and that Jeremy was still Jeremy. Right?
I read on…
And, when the exulted one reaches his fifth and final life, he will, after having made the transformation, pass on his knowledge and blood, to one he deems to be his successor. Once this has been accomplished, he will become, once again, human and will live out his last life span accordingly and eventually cease to exist.
Again, it all comes down to the blood. Thinking about this, I wondered what an analysis of Jeremy’s blood would look like now. I’d tried to get him to give me a sample, but he kept putting me off. Would it still be crazy – mimicking that of a snake or viper? Or would it have gone back to normal? I knew I needed to find out. But how? If he wasn’t willing to give me a sample, there was no way I could force him.
I got up and poured myself another glass of wine, then returned to the couch. This stuff was all so insane. Still, there must be a reason someone or something left this book for me to find. There must be something in it that I could find relevant to my situation.
Sighing, I continued reading. The book went on to describe in more detail the process the Viper would use in passing on his knowledge and power. The power described was great. Apparently, these super-human beings could command the elements – earth, wind, rain, and fire – and could bend humans to their will with ease. But, by the end of the fifth life, the power that was once so strong would begin to dissipate and weaken.
I nodded, understanding. The old man, when he’d faced me, was in that stage, or possibly beyond. I remembered the beads of sweat on his forehead and the look of anger in his eyes. He wanted to smite me – tear me limb from limb. But all he could do was glower at me and curse. How frustrating that must have been for him. Had he been, once again, breaking the rules – trying to take on a sixth life? According to this credo, that act was forbidden.
The book ended as it began with more exultations about the omnipotent Viper.
At the bottom of the final page was a handwritten note from Tabitha.
Dr. Pomeroy,
Pretty spooky stuff! The book stops here, but I don’t believe this was the end. If you look closely at the binding beyond this page, you’ll see where additional pages – I’d guess five or six - have been torn out. I wonder what they held.
Thank you again for the opportunity to read and translate this curious work.
Tabitha
I returned the translation to its envelope, got up, and walked to the entryway where I’d left my backpack. I removed the book and walked to the kitchen where the light was better. Opening it to the end, I noted that Tabitha was right. Someone had torn out the final pages.
Why? What did they contain? And, who would have done that?
Again, questions without answers. I sat back down. There was something bothering me – something to do with what I’d read in that book.
I pulled out the translation again and searched for the passage that spoke about the transformation, how it was performed, and what happened after it was completed.
At the moment of the transformation, the discarded body will once again become human and, having no life force left, will die.
If this were true, then as soon as the Viper leaves his old body, it dies.
I thought about this for a moment – there was something about that passage nagging at my brain. Something from the night at the Morrison mansion. Mary Morrison had killed Ian before he could inhabit Jeremy, hadn’t she?
I put the translation down on the table, leaned back, and closed my eyes, trying to recall that evening as if it were a movie.
I began my film in the moments before Vlad shot me. I saw myself try to get out of the path of the bullet and, at the same time, heard the creaking of old man Morrison’s wheelchair. Then the gun went off and I saw myself spin around and fall to the floor. I was facing the entryway from the kitchen where Vlad was standing. After the shot, I saw him walk toward me, his one remaining eye focused on my face. He was oblivious to everything around him and was moving as if he and I were the only ones in the room.
I saw myself glance around, looking for help. Mary and Terrance were huddled on the floor in front of the hearth. Jeremy was still seated in the wing chair, eyes vacant. The old man seemed to have disappeared.
I stopped my movie there. Where had he gone? He had to still be in the room.
I hit the “start” button in my mind and began to play the film again. This time, however, I changed the speed – I put it in slow motion.
Vlad, when he reached me, was smiling. He said some words, then began slowly walking around my body. I saw his lips move as he walked and knew he was taunting me. He finally stopped behind me and aimed the gun at my head.
At that moment, Jeremy came to life and leapt from the chair and tackled him.<
br />
I rewound the film again, back to the moment Jeremy left the chair. There was something in the background – something next to the chair he had been sitting in.
My vision was blurry, probably because of the blood loss I’d sustained. I tried with all my might to sharpen it.
Then I saw it – behind Jeremy’s leaping body. I put the film on “hold.”
The ancient wheelchair.
And, in it, the old man. But something was wrong. He wasn’t sitting up, watching Vlad prepare to kill me.
No, Ian Morrison’s arms were draped over the arms of the chair, hanging loosely, lifeless. And his head was bowed, chin touching his chest.
He looked dead.
I gasped as I recalled those words again from The Way of the Viper.
At the moment of the transformation, the discarded body will once again become human and, having no life force left, will die.
Had that old man been dead when Mary shot him? And, if he were dead, did that mean he’d completed the transformation? But if this were so, why did Mary bother shooting the old bastard?
I thought about this for a moment. The Viper was supposed to pick a successor. Had Morrison promised to pass on his “gifts” to Terrance? And, if so, by shooting the old man, had Mary been trying to cover up the fact that Ian had completed his task?
And, if he’d done so, did that mean that Jeremy was no longer Jeremy?
This thought shocked me to the core. It was all too unbelievable to be true. I knew Jeremy and, sure, there were some changes I’d noticed recently – little things – but we’d all been through trauma and trauma changes you.
I slammed my wine glass down on the table, spilling it. I got up and began to pace. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t.
I glanced at the little leather-bound book and cursed whoever or whatever left it for me. My life had been getting back on track, but now?
I took a deep breath, grabbed a dish towel, and wiped up the wine I’d spilled.
Logic, I thought. Go over everything logically.
Little things.
Coffee now taken black. Easily explained – he just wants to be healthier.
Newfound friendship with Terrance. Again, easy explanation – trauma can bind people together or tear them apart. This is an incidence of binding.
Sleeping – now on his left side. He’d always curled to the right. This change is probably in deference to me. My shoulder wound can be painful and he’s just trying to give me more space on the bed.
Lovemaking – it’s always been intense, but after that night, it’s become more so. Not that I’m complaining, but I have to admit, it’s different. Trauma, again – having almost lost each other, we’re holding on now for dear life.
His desire for us to visit/live at the old man’s house in South Carolina. I know Jeremy loves Maine. He wouldn’t leave it, so this thing with the barrier islands is weird. But, I have to be honest, he’s come into new wealth and that’s a whole new ballgame for him. He’s enamored of it right now. Over time, he’ll adjust and remember what’s really important.
Little things.
All easily explained.
But there was one other thing that defied explanation. I’d known Jeremy since I was a kid visiting this island. He’s a couple years older than me and used to tease me back then. He called me katydid – like the grasshopper. Since we met again last summer, he’s always called me Katy and I can count on one hand the times he’s called me Kate. At least I could until that night at the Morrisons’. Now, he always calls me Kate with an occasional Katherine thrown in when he’s pissed off. Where did Katy go?
I mulled this over in my mind.
Little things.
I went over them all again and again as I paced the room, trying to come to some concrete conclusion.
I gazed out the window, watching the night sky, trying to escape the torment in my mind. Undecided, I turned around and stared at the little leather-bound book sitting on the coffee table. Such a small thing, yet it has caused me to question everything in life I hold dear.
Yes, I told myself. There are a whole lot of little things … small changes – and, with the exception of my name, they can all be easily explained.
But Katy – where did she go?
I walked over to my desk and sat down, opening my laptop, staring at the screensaver, hot tears running down my cheeks. It was a picture taken the night of the clinic party – Jeremy and me, his arm draped casually around my shoulders, both of us grinning from ear to ear. We were so happy.
Where did all that happiness go? Now, all I have left are doubts.
Katy – when was the last time he called me Katy?
I closed my eyes remembering – I was lying on the floor, wounded, and I heard him whisper my name just before … before what? Before that bastard took over his mind? Is my Jeremy still alive somewhere in there? Or is he gone, never to return?
I stopped that thought right there. That was something I couldn’t believe – something I wouldn’t let myself believe.
No, I told myself. He’s still there waiting for someone or something to release him. But do I have the courage to do that?
I slammed the laptop shut and picked up that little leather-bound book. I wanted to hurl it across the room, but I didn’t. Instead, I turned to the end where the pages are missing.
What was written on those pages? I asked. And why did someone tear them out? They must have been important. Could they provide an explanation? Could they tell me how to get my Jeremy back? Or, if not that, at least, how to destroy that old bastard – how to punish him like he’s punishing me? And, if there is a cult alive out there somewhere, perhaps the missing pages described how to find them. How to report a viper who has broken the cardinal rule. How to make sure he is punished.
Exhausted, I sat on the couch, leaning forward staring at the fire blazing in the woodstove. There was no more time for doubts. My mind was made up.
“Jeremy,” I whispered to the flames. “I promise I’ll find you and, when I do, I’ll get you back or die trying.”
73
Kate
Making Plans
THE NEXT MORNING, I read the notes I’d made the night before on my tablet.
Sweet Jesus! I thought. Do I really believe all this?
I sipped my coffee, going over everything again in my mind. Emotionally, yes, I did believe it, but the scientist in me wanted more proof.
I put my cup in the sink and got ready for work. On the way, I formulated the skeleton of a plan.
When I had a break between patients, I told Steve I would be in my office should anyone need me. Sitting down at my desk, I pulled a card from my card file and quickly dialed.
“Hello?”
“Tabitha?” I asked. “This is Dr. Pomeroy.”
“Oh, Dr. Pomeroy. How nice to hear from you.”
We exchanged pleasantries, then I got down to business.
“I was wondering, Tabitha, if you knew anyone who might be able to shed more light on the Tao. Perhaps someone who might know what was in those missing pages.”
The phone went silent for a moment.
“I think I might. Before my accident and all, I was a student at Harvard. There’s a professor there – an expert in ancient languages – who might be able to help you. His name is John Semple and he always had a fascination with the occult and ancient texts that dealt with it.”
“That sounds great. Could you provide me with an introduction?”
“Well, I can’t say for sure that he’ll remember me, but, sure, use my name. Hang on a moment. I’ll get you his office number and email.”
Later that day, I placed a call to Semple’s office. I spoke with his assistant, explaining why I needed to meet with the professor.
“He’s teaching a class right now,” she said. “He should be back to the office around five. I’ll leave him your message. If he’s interested in this Tao Viperae, he’ll be in touch.”
I thanked
her and hung up. Now, all I had to do was wait.
I finished up my last patient, spent some time on chart notes, then said “goodnight” to Steve and headed home.
I had barely gotten in the door when my cell chimed.
“Dr. Pomeroy,” I answered.
“Yes, Dr. Pomeroy. This is Dr. John Semple. I believe you called today?”
“Yes, sir, Professor. I found this ancient text in my attic and Tabitha Grimes, a former student of yours, suggested I speak to you about it.”
“Yes, yes,” he replied impatiently. “The Tao Viperae, a very rare manuscript. And, you say you believe what you have is an original version – not a copy?”
“As far as I know, yes. Tabitha translated it for me, but there are pages missing. Three or four at the end of the book.”
“Hmmmm. That’s interesting. The Tao Viperae was written back in the first century A.D. It was considered to be blasphemous and there was a concerted effort to wipe it out of existence. But it endured. There are reported to be copies – one in the vault at the British Museum and another squirrelled away at the State Hermitage Museum in Russia. But, originals? None have ever been found, until, perhaps, now. Describe the book for me – not what’s inside it – but what it looks like and is made of.”
I went on to give him details about the book and its cover. When I finished, there was silence on the line.
“Professor?”
“Sorry, Doctor, just thinking. When can you come to Boston? I’d very much like to examine your find.”
Relieved, I smiled. “Hang on. Let me check my calendar.”
I pulled up my patient schedules for the next week. I was booked solid until Friday. On that day, I had only two patients and they were routine.
The Tao of the Viper: A Kate Pomeroy Mystery (The Kate Pomeroy Gothic Mystery Series Book 2) Page 28
