OCCULT Detectives Volume 1

by Joel Jenkins

  One more thing, Sandor: there are other forces at work here, one of them benevolent and the other most infernal. Alas, I can say no more on this for I have not determined the exact nature of either, except to say the former is very well entrenched here and the latter has only recently sent its tendrils into the earth around Mount Airy. We should move carefully and avoid confrontation with any other sects, of course, especially one that exhibits the peculiar strength which I have sensed from this one.

  I will write again soon.

  Your brother in the name of The Eternal Conflagration,

  Rator

  6

  Before I could ask Janus to clarify his bold statement, he took me by the arm and led me through an ornate archway and down a darkened hallway. Dumbfounded, I went along with him without protest, my mind chewing on his allegations of Miriam’s early life.

  Finally, after a lengthy walk through darkened corridors and gloomy rooms, I could make out a small sliver of light coming from under a doorway up ahead of us. The Sergeant stopped in front of that door, held out a hand for me to pause, and then stood silently for a moment. He seemed to be listening for something. I myself heard nothing. Then, somehow satisfied, he turned the knob and opened the door. Light flooded into the hallway and he motioned for me to enter the room beyond.

  I stepped into a space that, had my mood been more cheerful, I might have called charming. It was decorated tastefully, with a fine balance between the male and female sensibilities and with a small, crackling fire in its ornate brick fireplace. There was one window, but its shades and curtains were drawn tight and, interestingly, the only furniture present and of note were two chairs, both of them comfortable-looking and facing each other in roughly the center of the room.

  I turned to look at Janus, unsure of what exactly I was to make of it all.

  “The Room of Visitation welcomes you,” he said plainly and without flourish, and insisted I sit down in one of the chairs, whichever one I chose. He himself swiveled on his heel and made as to exit the room.

  Well, I had no intention of “visiting” long with the man and told him that to be called to his home and then shuffled off into a parlor while he did God Knows What was simply not on my agenda. I demanded to be told what he knew of my wife in resolute fashion.

  Janus’ frowned slightly, shook his head, and then asked me once again to sit down. All would be explained soon, he said. The Lord only knows why, but I did as he asked. A moment later and he had left the room.

  Sitting in one of the chairs, I began to feel foolish. I looked around the damnable room and realized how ridiculous it all was, how it seemed to be a charade of some sort and that I had fallen into the hands of a lunatic. I moved to stand up.

  I heard a door open. I looked up at the only door in the room, but it remained as it was after Janus had left; closed and silent. There was no other door into the room; I was certain of it.

  Then someone stepped around from behind me, behind my chair, and, with a displacement of air and a rustle of cloth, sat down in the chair opposite me.

  It was Miriam.

  6

  The Riddleton Tribune

  Morning Edition – November 1st, 1899

  Child Abducted from Home

  A female child of undetermined age was taken from her family home at approximately midnight on October 31st, in the Bertswa neighborhood. Commissioner of Police Fenton reports that little else is known about the incident and that no clues exist as to her abductors or her current whereabouts. In addition, he was reluctant to release the child’s name until the matter had been settled to his satisfaction.

  Strange figures had been seen in the vicinity of the home by neighbors, though officials deny those reports. An eyewitness that asked to remain anonymous said that “queer-eyed gipsies” crossed his own lawn on the afternoon of October 31st, and that they “smelled of trouble.” The man claimed to have chased the persons from his property with a shotgun, but that he had heard from another neighbor that the mysterious figures returned some hours later at dusk.

  The location of these foreign individuals is not known at this time.

  Commissioner Fenton added to his statement, under duress, that no request for ransom has yet been delivered to either the child’s family or the police.

  6

  This next movement in my story is difficult to contemplate, let alone to put down on paper, but I feel it is important that others know of it, though it is extremely personal, so that they may make up their own minds as to the truth of it…or the lie.

  My lovely, lost Miriam sat before me in that room. Janus had somehow conjured her up, in every last detail, and before my very eyes. I rose out of my chair to approach her, but she raised one pale, slim hand to caution me against doing so.

  “You cannot embrace me, Thomas,” she said, her voice like a whisper. “That is no longer possible.”

  I asked her why that was, though I knew in my heart that the gulf between us was now wide and impossible to cross. She smiled thinly and sadly, as if in answer, and urged me to speak no more on that particular matter. It was as it was; she was beyond mortal comforts.

  “I am lost, Thomas!” she suddenly wailed, and I steeled myself against the emotions flooding through me—it looked, sounded so much like Miriam! As God is my witness, I swear it was truly her! Before I could do or say anything, she continued in a calmer voice.

  “I am plagued here as I was in life – I do not know which way to turn, as there seems to be no true directions here. There is little to distinguish left from right, up from down…even right from wrong. Oh, it is more a nightmare than eternal rest…”

  I wondered what sort of Deity would allow this to happen to someone like Miriam. Was this what we were promised by the clergy, by the Good Book? My wife suffered so in life; was she to be tormented in death, too? I swore out loud, looked around the room for something to break, but, calming myself, asked her what I could do for her.

  “Release me,” she whispered, her eyes searching mine. “Release me…”

  I felt as lost then as Miriam. Untold frustrations bubbled up, and an utter feeling of helplessness took hold of me with an iron grip. I opened my mouth to speak.

  “Someone is coming!” said Miriam abruptly, the same look of madness in her eyes I came to fear while she lived.

  “Thomas, Thomas! Help me! He is coming for me!”

  6

  The Fortescu Times

  February 1993 – Vol. 1, No. 142

  Janus Speaks!

  The Sergeant in his Own Words

  By J. Reynolds

  Recently, the former Mount Airy Eagle building was purchased by Trans-Global Media Partners and cleared for demolition. Documents dating back to the mid-1800s were discovered in the basement of the building and among them this curious document. It appears to be a transcription of an interview by an Eagle staff writer and Sgt. Roman Janus, the infamous Spirit-Breaker of the early 20th century, conducted on an unknown date.

  The Eagle ran a regular column called “The Professional Corner,” in which it published interviews with various people of different professions in an effort to illuminate business concerns and other related interests—the column featured two writers, Cortland Smith and Norman Prapp, but I’ve been unable to determine which of the men conducted the following interview. I have been able to confirm that it was never published, though we don’t know why, and I assume it would have been edited into prose fashion rather than the question-and-answer format you see here.

  The interview offers a rare and somewhat candid viewpoint on the enigmatic Roman Janus, especially on the subject of why a Supreme Being would oversee a spirits and hauntings. The Fortescu Times is very happy to be able to present it to you.

  “Someone is coming!”

  Interviewer: Please state your name and profession.

  Janus: I am Sgt. Roman E. Janus, Spirit-Breaker.

  Interviewer: Could you be more precise, sir, in your profession?

 
; Janus: Certainly. I aid those who are troubled by the supernatural.

  Interviewer: Quite. And in what sorts of forms may the ‘supernatural’ assume to trouble people?

  Janus: Oh, well, far too many, to be sure. I generally weigh in on matters of hauntings and other such spectral or near-spectral visitations, but I also have been known to consult and take a more direct hand in possessions, both of humans and of inanimate objects. I rarely turn anyone away who comes to me with a worrisome problem of a psychical nature.

  Interviewer: Would you say that there are many people you meet in your trade who do not believe in the supernatural or ghosts?

  Janus: Yes, and I very much sympathize with them. The etheric world has yet to fully capture the attention and belief of the general populace, and, if I might say so, I almost envy them that ignorance. It is not an easy life, that of a Spirit-Breaker, and there are days when I would just as soon pick up a good book and a nice brandy than banish another arduous spirit.

  Interviewer: You say ‘has yet to fully capture’ – do you mean, sir that…well, that seems to indicate something rather ominous on the horizon for mankind.

  Janus: I humbly apologize if I alarmed you. What I mean to say is that the connection between the waking world and the spirit plane has grown closer over the past several hundred years and will continue to do so, but it will be several more centuries before any possibility of full juxtaposition. You and I shall be long into dust by then. Have no fear.

  Interview: Well, then, how do you ‘break’ these spirits? Do you utilize more than one way of interjecting yourself into these…these ‘situations’?

  Janus: Generally, it’s a matter of spotting the connection point and analyzing its nature. From there I choose from several different, ah, surgical strikes to sever the ties between the spirits and the living. And not all of them are of a violent bent. Sometimes, the kid glove is just as effective as the saber. The intention is to send the dead on their proper way, along the path that was always meant for them. For the most part, the spirits are not entirely responsible for their earthly imprisonment or the pain and suffering that often comes along with it. Such souls need to be shown the door with dignity and decorum.

  Interviewer: But there are those spirits that have been, shall we say, reluctant to heed your direction?

  Janus: Yes. Rather a lot, really. Those cases I must approach more forcefully, and, yes, even violently. It is a strange business sometimes.

  Interviewer: I should say so. It boggles the mind. Why would such an injustice exist? It seems a poor way to run a universe, if the Almighty will forgive me for saying so.

  Janus: More than a few people have remarked upon that to me throughout my career, and I tell them all the same thing—I cannot speak for the Deity and His purposes and His reasoning. I am but His humble servant and operate as I see fit to set the system right when it goes wrong.

  Interviewer: Then you are a religious man, sir?

  Janus: Well, what is religion, exactly? A system, like many others, of course, beset by rules and regulations, but with the object of bringing peace and happiness under Our Lord here on Earth. I do not subscribe to any organized church or services, but practice a religion of one: myself. Some may not see it as a religion, but again I ask you: what is religion?

  Interviewer: We would not presume to debate you on that score, so let us move on. You have published several books on the subject of the supernatural and spiritualism, each one of them entirely unlike any other authors’ volumes on the like. Are you working on anything at the moment? Will we be seeing your memoirs before long?

  Janus: Memoirs are for the dead, or the near-dead. If I should ever be moved to write such a book or set of books, I will wait until after I am long departed. For the here and now, I am currently toiling on a volume I shall title “The Ghost of Sumatra,” which will detail a most fascinating case, one of the most unique of my career to date. When it will be finished, I cannot say, for there are certain aspects of the case that continue to this day.

  Interviewer: Sgt. Janus, you run your operation with no partners, no employees, and, if I am not mistaken, you are not a married man. Is there anyone in your life at this time, a special someone, someone who perhaps understands your profession and could possibly even aid you in it?

  Janus: Ah, look at the time. I’m afraid this has taken a bit longer than I expected. Thank you very much for having me and please send me a note when the article will be published. I will look forward to it. Good day, sir.

  Interviewer: And to you, sir, a very good day. Thank you.

  6

  My poor wife’s desperate plea shocked me, horrified me. I didn’t know what to do, helpless as I was to affect the spirit world, but before I could speak and somehow assuage her anxiety, the door to the room was suddenly flung open. There in the doorway stood Sgt. Janus.

  “Thomas,” he said tersely, “I seem to have uninvited guests. Please come with me.”

  My only thought was for Miriam, but when I looked from the Sergeant back to her, she was gone. Completely gone, as if she was never there. My heart instantly ached for her, to see her face again.

  Shaking it off, I rose from my chair and followed Janus out of the room and down the darkened hallway beyond. I asked him what was the matter, who he spoke of. He urged me to stay quiet and soon we approached the foyer to his home, where I had entered Janus House seemingly hours before. We came upon the area through a door that opened up beside his grand staircase and immediately I heard loud banging at his front door. Janus motioned for me to stop with a quick snap of his hand. The pounding increased and we heard a man’s loud bellowing, demanding to be let in.

  “You have something that belongs to our employer,” the man outside growled. Incredibly, the voice was familiar to me.

  Wordlessly, the Sergeant attracted my attention and pointed off to the right; a clear sign that he wanted me to vacate to a side room. Something in his silent command led me to obey and I slipped though the doorway he indicated and hid myself behind some drapery near the entrance. This afforded me some view of the foyer. Looking over to Janus, I found he had vanished, but his departing words still hung in the air around me.

  “Wait—and watch.”

  The front door burst open with a resounding explosion. The glass in its windows shattered and splinters of wood flew across the foyer to impact the doorframe opposite it. Loathsome, dark figures occupied the open doorway, silhouetted in the remaining sunlight of the day. With calm bravado, they entered Janus House, their shoes crunching bits of glass as they did. The first man stopped abruptly when he reached the foyer, pointing.

  I followed his finger to the staircase and was amazed at what I saw there.

  A large transparent form was floating down the grand staircase, silent and unearthly. As it neared the mid-point, I thought it took on a more…human design; fantastic, but chilling. Beyond that I cannot say more other than noting a soft wailing that issued from it.

  I tore my eyes from the ghastly thing and looked back to the intruders; they had paused, Oriental eyes wide, mouths hanging open on otherwise-cruel faces. Surely they would bolt, I thought; I myself was fighting the urge to rabbit away from the scene. But, they held their ground and the lead man slipped a pistol from his jacket, pointed it at the apparition, and pulled the trigger.

  The others with him followed suit.

  They were hardened men. Precious little in Heaven and on Earth could cause fear in them for more than a moment. I knew this because I knew them, all too well.

  6

  Official Report of Deputy James A. McPeek

  Badge #4, Mount Airy Police Department

  On July 3rd of this year I was Ordered to begin to Surveil the Activities of an individual believed to be part of a Larger Criminal Group. This group has been known to hold rites of a diabolic nature and to be heavily Involved in the illicit narcotic trade as well as perhaps white slavery.

  The individual, called Rator, though I Discovered his Re
al Name to be Robert Roth, has taken a room at the Burgess Inn on Gregg Street and uses it as a base of Operations. At least once a week Roth writes a letter to an assumed compatriot in another town and mails it at the Gregg Street station. I have failed to this date to intercept any of these letters.

  Roth has made at least seven trips to the cemetery of St. Barnabas Church Since his arrival in Mount Airy. One these occasions he has removed both soil and pieces of masonry from the premises, which he stores in his room at the inn. He is careful and meticulous with them, though I do not yet know for what purpose he does this.

  On at least three occasions he has spoken with Father Harold of St. Barnabas, and on the latest of these meetings sat down for tea with the priest. At that meeting, I witnessed Roth pour out his tea while the Father was not looking.

  On July 13th, I was able to search Roth’s room while he was away at the cemetery. This was done with the full permission of the inn’s owner and manager. Among Roth’s possessions I discovered books and pamphlets on the subject of diabolism, human sacrifice, narcotic production, and one volume with pictures of a sensitive nature involving children. I removed nothing from the room, but left it exactly as I found it.

  Roth has also entertained prostitutes in his room on at least seven occasions, each of which roughly Corresponds to his trips to the cemetery. One such woman has filed a complaint on the man at our precinct building for his overly-rough treatment of her during their tryst.

  In summation, I submit that Robert Roth is planning a larger criminal campaign in Mount Airy, most likely concerning his group of diabolists and the cemetery at St. Barnabas. He is about this at his leisure; therefore I can only surmise that this supposed event will not take place until the fall.