The Legend of Darklore Manor and Other Tales of Terror

by Vargo, Joseph

  I screamed and jumped backward, and as I did, a tall figure threw open the curtains and my eyes were accosted by a blinding light.

  "What the hell is going on here?" a deep voice boomed. The intruder lowered his flashlight beam and I stared into the familiar face of Sheriff Hill.

  Frantically, I blurted, "There was something outside the window! It was there in the fog—a ghost... a woman dressed in black. I think it was the spirit of Belladonna Darklore." I turned back toward the window, but the ghoulish phantom was gone.

  The sheriff squinted as he peered out into the misty night. "There's nothing out there now," he said.

  Theo shone his flashlight on the sheriff and asked, "What are you doing here?"

  "I should be asking you that question, Theo," the sheriff replied, making it clear that the two were no strangers. Sheriff Hill shifted his stern gaze to me and said, "I got a weird phone call from your friend Sandra earlier this evening. She told me that you'd be coming here tonight. She sounded pretty shook up. She made me promise to look into it. To be honest, you two are the just about the last people I would've ever expected to find inside this place. What on earth could ever have possessed you to come back here?"

  After taking a second to compose myself, I calmly answered, "We think we may know what happened to the kids that disappeared three years ago."

  "Is that so?"

  "They're in there," I said, pointing to the bronze door adorned with the shield and runes. "It leads to a crypt below the mansion."

  Sheriff Hill stepped over to the hidden door and tested it to see if it would open, but it didn't budge.

  "How would you know where this door leads?" he asked. "And what makes you think that those missing kids are down there?"

  I shook my head to concede that I had no good answer. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

  "Try me."

  "Don't waste your breath," Theo said, glaring at the sheriff, "he's not going to help us. He doesn't want anyone to know the truth about what happened here. He and the rest of the city officials are in it together. It's a conspiracy to bury the town's horrible secret."

  "That's not true, Theo," the sheriff replied patiently. "I'm not the enemy. Believe it or not, I want to get to the bottom of this just as badly as you do." From his shirt pocket he withdrew a large brass key. "This should lead us to some answers."

  Theo's eyes grew wide. "Where did you get that from?"

  "It belonged to Richard Franklin. It was inside an envelope that was in his pocket when he killed himself. I did a little digging over the years and I found out that all the members of the Brotherhood had their own keys to the ritual chamber. But you already knew that, didn't you, Theo?"

  Theo's expression became less agitated and his tone softened. "I heard rumors that Mr. Franklin left a suicide note, but the facts were covered up."

  "It was the mayor's decision," the sheriff said, "and it wasn't a suicide note. It only had two words, written in Franklin's handwriting."

  "What did it say?" Theo asked.

  "'Forgive me.'"

  "For what?" I asked.

  "I don't know for sure," he said, "but I have my suspicions."

  "Didn't the note say anything else?" Theo asked.

  The sheriff cast a stern look in his direction. "There was one other word, but it wasn't in the note. It was carved into his forehead."

  "What did it say?"

  The sheriff paused as if considering whether or not to reveal the dark secret he had kept for the past decade, then uttered the word: "'Sinner.'"

  After a brief moment of contemplation, I said, "According to Sandra, Belladonna's spirit told her that the sinners had to be punished."

  "Why would Franklin come back here?" Theo asked.

  The sheriff shrugged, looking around at the grim, macabre décor of the library. "No one really knows why he came to the house—maybe to lock the last key inside the vault. He sure as hell didn't come here to hang himself."

  "Something summoned him here," I said. "He had to heed its call. There's something in this house—an evil presence that's been here since before the mansion was built. I think it may have been here for centuries. The spirits of everyone who died here are trapped inside this house. Something is keeping their souls from finding eternal rest."

  "If you've got a theory, I'd like to hear it," the sheriff said.

  I stepped over to the large painting depicting the war between angels and demons, keeping my flashlight trained on it. Radiant seraphim thrust golden lances down upon winged devils, sending them plummeting into the fires of Hell. "As you may know, Lucifer was once an angel who was said to have been transformed into a loathsome demon after he and his legions were driven out of Heaven. Lesser-known tales describe other fallen angels known as the Grigori and the Nephilim, also known as the Watchers, who walked among men as gods, sharing arcane knowledge that had been forbidden to mankind. It was said that these unearthly creatures spawned children with mortal women and instructed their offspring in the ways of dark magic. After they were banished from the kingdom of Heaven, the Watchers were said to reside deep in the earth, seeking the solace of shadows and darkness.

  "Similar legends have been recorded in every ancient mythology. The Sumerian texts contained within the Ebon Scrolls describe monstrous deities known as the Dark Gods that were said to rule the Earth eons ago. These entities preyed upon mortal lusts and desires, using men's weaknesses and fears against them. According to the legends, the Dark Gods fed on the blood and sorrow of humans and captured the souls of their victims."

  "I'm not sure I follow you," the sheriff said, his brow furrowing. "Are you saying that this place is haunted by an ancient demon, or do you think it's some sort of fallen angel?"

  "I think they're one and the same."

  The sheriff pondered my words for a long moment, then said, "I'm not a superstitious person, Miss Moore. I never used to believe the stories about this place being haunted or cursed, but I've seen the evidence and I can't deny the facts. Over the years I've witnessed things that have changed my opinion and I've come to the conclusion that something unnatural resides here. Some people call it evil. I really don't know what it is. Nobody does."

  The sheriff walked over to the secret door and slid his key into the lock.

  "The way I see it," Sheriff Hill said, glancing back at me with a half smile, "there's only one way to find out." He turned the key and pulled the heavy door toward him. With the groan of rusted hinges, the bronze barrier swung open to reveal a narrow stone staircase leading down into thick, subterranean shadows.

  Theo took a step toward the door, but the sheriff stopped him. "Hold on," he said. The sheriff walked over to the medieval weapons display hanging on the wall behind the desk and removed a broadsword. He stepped back to the secret entrance and wedged the blade between the door and the frame, securely propping the entrance open.

  "I'm not taking any chances," he said. "No one knows where we are and I don't want to get trapped down there."

  Sheriff Hill led the way and Theo and I followed him into the dismal chambers concealed below Darklore Manor. The sour scent of must and mildew filled the air as we descended the winding stairway that twisted deep into the earth. We emerged in a large circular vault that had been quarried from the bedrock far beneath the mansion. The stagnant air was cold and stale, and although there were no apparent signs of life, I could not escape the disturbing feeling that we were not alone in the chamber.

  Macabre mementos of unholy rites filled the hidden sanctum, and as I looked over the scene, I realized that everything was just as Sandra had described it. A sacrificial altar adorned with runic symbols stood in the center of the chamber beside a pedestal supporting a massive tome. The horned skull of a goat hung prominently displayed over the front of the ceremonial shrine and three black candles rested on the floor beside the altar, marking the perimeter of Andrea Mather's ritual circle. The fact that the chamber matched Sandra's description seemed to confirm her visio
n regarding the fate of the missing teens, yet their bodies were nowhere in sight.

  An antique table against the outer wall held several relics that rested undisturbed beneath a layer of cobwebs and dust. Theo stepped closer to examine the concealed items and with a quick swipe of his hand he unveiled stacks of crumbling scrolls, occult books, a row of mortuary urns and an old wooden strongbox. He opened the lid of the chest, revealing several tarnished skeleton keys inside.

  Theo held one up for us to see, announcing, "These must be the keys from the dead Knights of Thule."

  While Theo continued to rummage through the tomes and scrolls, Sheriff Hill surveyed the surrounding walls with his flashlight. The devilish face of a horned greenman relief was chiseled into the dark stone above a Latin inscription that read:

  Facilis descencus Averno.

  Qui non vetat peccare, cum possit, iubet.

  Sine cruce, sine luce, nihil interit.

  Pulvis et umbra sumus.

  As the sheriff studied the engraved words, I began to translate the message aloud.

  "The descent to Hell is effortless.

  He who does not forbid sin, commands it.

  Without the cross, without the light, nothing dies.

  We are but dust and shadows."

  "What does it mean?" the sheriff asked.

  "I'm not quite sure," I answered hesitantly. "It sounds ominous. Maybe it's a warning... or maybe it's just some esoteric mumbo-jumbo."

  The sheriff ran the flashlight beam along the mildewed walls, revealing a dozen human skulls set into niches surrounding the chamber. Upon closer inspection we could see that the word "Sinner" had been crudely carved into the forehead of each of the skulls.

  Across the room, another passageway led deeper into the unexplored regions of the crypt. We followed the tunnel to its end where an ornate doorway was carved into the bedrock. The top of the stone door frame was adorned with the effigy of a weeping woman and other fiendish faces were sculpted into the sides of the entrance. The name "Darklore" was chiseled into the granite above the doorway, while the bottom of the doorframe held the inscription "Ecce Quomodo Moritur."

  The sheriff squinted at the words, then asked, "What does it say?"

  "'Behold the way of death,'" I whispered. "It's the entrance to the Darklore family crypt."

  The doorway stood open, like the gaping maw of a ravenous beast. As we crept toward it, strange whispers seemed to echo from somewhere within. After a moment of hesitation, Sheriff Hill crossed the ominous threshold into the yawning tomb with Theo and I close behind him. Once inside, we were immediately assailed by the foul stench of death and decay. I relit my lantern and hung it from an iron sconce set into the stone wall between two arches.

  To the left of the entrance, the granite door of the tomb leaned against the wall at a crooked angle, as if it had been violently thrown aside by some enormous force. A strange symbol marked the back of the door in what appeared to be dried blood. The surrounding walls were lined with sealed vaults bearing the graven names of those interred within. Morbid faces of stone peered down from archways above each of the graves, adding to the atmosphere of foreboding and suffering that permeated the oppressive chamber.

  The withered corpse of a young woman rested on a black marble altar in the center of the crypt and the skeletal remains of several other bodies lay on the floor.

  The sheriff passed his flashlight over the grisly scene, tallying the mutilated corpses. "Six bodies," he muttered. "They're all here—the missing kids and the three members of the Darklore family that disappeared thirty years ago."

  Theo breathed a sigh of pain and relief as he recognized the bodies of his lost friends among the dead. "We've got to get them out of here. They won't rest in peace until they receive a proper burial."

  Sheriff Hill laid a consoling hand on Theo's shoulder and said, "We will, Theo, but not now. There'll have to be an investigation. We'll get a crew down here to remove the bodies, but we have to figure out what happened to them."

  The sheriff turned his attention to the corpse that lay upon the marble slab in the center of the room. Keeping a safe distance from the altar, he shone his flashlight over the body to examine the lifeless form of Belladonna. Her head was thrown back and her mouth gaped open wide as if she had died screaming in agony. The tattered fabric of her black gown hung over the sides of the marble slab and her skeletal hands clutched an ornate dagger that rested upon her chest. A crusty coat of dried blood covered the ceremonial blade in a dark shade of crimson.

  None of us said a word as we contemplated the horrific sights that surrounded us in the forsaken crypt. Lost in solemn reflection we stood frozen in the hush that had befallen us until the unnerving silence was broken by a distant sound. A haunting refrain echoed through the outer corridor, and though I had not heard the eerie melody since my fateful first visit to Darklore Manor, I recognized it immediately. It was Belladonna's music box—and the sound was coming closer.

  The sheriff aimed his flashlight beam through the doorway and down the gloomy tunnel to reveal an unearthly mist that was steadily creeping toward us. The eerie vapor began to seep into the crypt, filling the chamber with a pale green fog. Theo started to run for the door but stopped in his tracks when he saw that the outer corridor was blocked. A dark figure was slowly advancing down the tunnel, floating through the gossamer mist. As it drew closer we could see that it was a woman, shrouded entirely in black, her ebon hair and gown flowing behind her like a trail of shadows. It was the same dark phantom I had seen outside the library window. It was the undead specter of Belladonna Darklore. Even though her decayed remains lay upon the altar behind us, her restless spirit was eternally cursed to wander the manor and grounds.

  The haunting chimes grew louder, and a ghostly, child-like voice joined in the melody. The sickly sweet fragrance of lavender replaced the rancid smell of mildew as the shrouded spirit entered the crypt. Her black eyes glistened in stark contrast to the pallor of her bone-white flesh and her alabaster hands clutched a crimson bundle to her chest. The dark phantom hung suspended in the air just inside the doorway and as the ghostly mist began to settle around her, we could see that she was holding the porcelain doll cradled in her arms.

  The sheriff withdrew his revolver and trained it on the apparition, and the doll's head slowly turned to cast a menacing stare in his direction. As Belladonna continued her hypnotic song, her voice had a mesmerizing effect, like the mythical sirens of ancient Greece. My mind began to grow numb and I found myself losing my will to resist. The doll extended its hands in our direction and we watched in horror as the sheriff ambled listlessly toward it, like a slave in thrall to his master's commands. Unable to fight the impulse to comply, he holstered his pistol then reached out to embrace the sinister toy. The doll's lips drew back in a wicked smile, exposing its jagged fangs.

  A split second before the sheriff took hold of the diabolic doll, another shape emerged from the mist behind Belladonna. In the blink of an eye, the mysterious figure lashed out violently with a large blade, slicing through Belladonna's ethereal form and slashing the doll in two, severing it in half at the waist. As the remnants of Belladonna's spectral form dissolved into the fog, the doll's torso fell to the ground hissing and screeching.

  The shadowy figure stepped into the lantern's light and we gazed upon the face of our mysterious savior with awe and dismay. There in the doorway stood Sandra, clutching a sword in her hand like an avenging angel. As the dismembered doll scampered to crawl away, Sandra stepped on it and held it beneath her boot. She swung the sword downward, delivering one final blow, landing the blade between the doll's burning red eyes and shattering its porcelain head to pieces.

  Breathing heavily, she asked, "Is everyone okay?"

  "I think so," I whispered, still somewhat in shock. "What in God's name are you doing here?"

  "It's a long story—but trust me, God's got nothing to do with it."

  I looked to Theo and realized an introduction was in
order. "Theo Thompson, this is Sandra Faraday."

  "You just saved our lives," he stammered.

  "Don't be too quick to thank me, kid. We're not out of the woods yet." Sandra turned her attention to Sheriff Hill who was rubbing his eyes and forehead. "How about you, Sheriff?"

  "I'm fine," he replied, "just a little dazed." The sheriff took notice of Sandra's weapon and a look of concern swept over his face. "Where'd you get the sword from?"

  Sandra slung the medieval blade over her shoulder and declared, "I took it out of the door upstairs, right before I sealed it shut behind me."

  "What?" Theo exclaimed, aghast and enraged by her bold confession. "We're locked inside this tomb? No one knows we're down here."

  "Don't worry," Sandra assured him, "I grabbed the key. We can open the door from this side if we survive long enough to make it back there. If not, no one will ever open that door again."

  "What are you saying?" I asked.

  "I'm sorry, Pam, but you didn't listen when I tried to stop you. Now it's too late to turn back. If we don't succeed down here, we have to make sure that this thing is contained. We can't let it loose and we can't allow anyone else to find their way down here."

  "Are you insane?" The sheriff's voice boomed with anger, echoing throughout the stone crypt. "There's some kind of demonic spirit loose in this house and you just trapped us in its lair?"

  "Maybe that was her plan." Theo nodded his head toward Sandra. "Think about it. She could have been lying all along. What if she's part of this black magic cult? Maybe she arranged for the accident that killed those two investigators. What if she came back here when my friends were in the house? She's the one who told you the stories about Belladonna and what happened to my friends. Maybe she's responsible for all of this."