by S E England
While all concept of time had dissipated, it was at the precise moment she realised her clairvoyance had been suppressed while they’d indoctrinated her that day two in the prison became day three.
I could turn this around, I am more powerful, he’s lured me here for…
Footsteps clicked in the corridor outside, cutting off all further thoughts. And on the strike of one minute past midnight, a visitor arrived.
***
Chapter Twenty-Four
The man sat on the opposite side of the cage, observing Lenka through the bars. She screwed up her eyes in the glare of his oil lamp. He had on a black woollen suit, a fedora pulled low over his eyes, was clean shaven and very old, with an ashen, deeply etched complexion. As ancient as one of her grandmother’s crones, there was an odour of decay about him that seemed oddly familiar, although she couldn’t place it.
Evidently, the man did not want her to see his eyes, but there was no disguising the wide set of his nose or the jagged teeth when he spoke.
“Good day, Lenka.”
Her jaw had become rigid with cold, and it felt strange to speak. “Sir.”
“May I say what a pleasure it is to meet you? I knew Baroness Jelinski personally. It was too bad she frightened the priests. But now, look, you are here!”
His voice had an edge of malice, an undertone of amusement.
“I did not know her, sir.”
“Of course not, she died before you were born. However, we are immensely pleased to have tracked you down. Your grandmother, Olga, was a bitter disappointment and unfortunately not of the same calibre as the baroness. She would not comply – not a worthy successor at all. But thanks to your mother, we now have you!”
Lenka frowned. Ah, so it had not been Heinrich alone, had never been a chance connection or a lead followed – her mother had been in league with der Orden der schwarzen Sonne all along.
“I do not wish to continue with this. I want to go.”
The bottom row of spiky teeth, his smile that of a catfish, faded. “Ah, I understand you are nervous, but there is no need. No need at all.”
Shivering, she regarded him more closely now her eyes had adjusted. There was something so strange about this man, the bridge of his nose unusually wide and only the lower teeth showing, the outer ones larger and spikier than the others. The backs of his hands, too, were not simply veined and crinkly but scaly like a lizard. He really was extremely old.
“The transfer ritual was excellent, by the way. I enjoyed participating immensely!” The chuckle arising from his throat was caught in phlegm, and as his mouth cracked open to cough, the spiky lower teeth appeared now to be missing altogether, the mouth an empty cavern.
“Enjoyed participating? Who are you?”
Tell me who he is…show me…work for me!
“You can call me Uncle Toby.”
“Uncle Toby? We are related?”
He laughed, this time the lower teeth reappearing. “No, but you can consider me your uncle, someone to turn to for help and advice. Look at it this way – you can unburden yourself, tell me everything, use me in a similar way to a Catholic confessing to a priest.” Another throaty chuckle bobbed up and down in his throat. “So that is how we will proceed, Lenka. We will have no secrets from each other, and you will come to regard me as your most trusted friend.”
While he talked, the light from the oil lamp dimmed, the yellow flame fading incrementally until there was little more than a wisp of grey emanating from it. He doused all light, the darkness of his aura seeping across the floor, crawling up the walls, spreading like a contagious disease.
“You can pour it all out, my dear – how the people you cared for deceived, disappointed and upset you. And we will write everything down in order to analyse things, help you understand matters better. You can keep a diary, write all you can remember from your home life, going all the way back to your very first memory. You will explain your weaknesses, desires, and the responses of those around you. After that we will move to your experience here in Ingolstadt. In time I will know everything about you and your mind and what your reactions are likely to be in any given situation. In this way we can assign to you the most suitable work. So, you see, it is very important not to deceive us, Lenka. I will know if you hold anything back.”
Tell me who he is…show me!
“And if you do hold back or attempt deceit, be assured the punishment will be of a kind you cannot even conceive. We excel in this particular field.”
She felt the cold trickle of understanding. And recognition. The smell of him…
The goats head, the fire, the rape!
“And most of all, Lenka, you will tell Uncle Toby, who is your friend – the best friend and only friend you will ever have – all that you foresee, receive from Spirit, and discover through mind reading. I understand you have excellent abilities, so nothing less than excellence will be accepted. In return for such loyalty, you will of course be rich beyond your wildest imagination. We look after our people. You will enjoy the fruits of a most privileged and exalted life to be envied the world over. Every success will be yours. You, my beauty, will live in abject luxury with no cap on material wealth. Most of all, you will belong to the most important movement in history and be right at the heart of der Orden der schwarzen Sonne.”
She nodded.
“You must thank me. Say, ‘Thank you, Uncle Toby.’”
“Yes, thank you, Uncle Toby.”
“I will ensure every need is met for the rest of your life. All you have to do is be a loyal member of der Orden der schwarzen Sonne. Loyalty, Lenka. Total, unquestionable loyalty. You understand?”
“Yes, Uncle Toby. Thank you.”
He nodded, stood up, then left without another word, his footsteps echoing dully on the cobbles. He had not revealed his eyes, keeping the hat pulled down at all times. And no wonder, she thought, because if anyone were to look into them, they would know he had no soul, no spirit, not even the tiniest spark of human life.
The chill of his presence lingered.
The next part, what was it? Trust or obedience? Which was true? What about failing it? If she failed, would they cast her onto the street and refuse to let her join? Because that would be preferable. This whole thing had been an illusion, a gilded trap she’d fallen right into. Already, the heartache of Heinrich’s duplicity had faded, knowing now that he was nothing more than a seductive conjuror with a black heart.
You knew…you knew…
She quashed the voice. Yes, she had known, deep down. Yet the longing for pretty dresses and the admiration of a handsome man had won out. Stupid, stupid… She gazed into the blackness. What would happen next? Was it possible to escape? Once out of this dungeon, up the steps to the light…yes…
Her stomach growled. And it was freezing. When Asp came back, she’d ask if it was possible to leave and not complete the process. Yes, that’s what she’d do. Take her chances with the demons – after all, at least she now had more knowledge of the occult and how to manage the dark ones.
Shivering violently, she talked herself through it. The essence of Uncle Toby still crawled all over her skin, the memory of his violation repellent and despicable. It had definitely been him – the stink of that scaly skin was unforgettable.
Fortunately, it wasn’t long before Asp’s footsteps sounded in the corridor outside and the bolts shot back.
She stood up, hands gripping the bars.
The door was opened, the cage unlocked, and he yanked her upright. For a second or two, she wobbled and held on to his arm. “Asp, I need to ask—”
He shook her off as if she were a leper. This wasn’t Asp. He was thinner, wiry, the voice a snap. “Stand up straight! Come with me. Hurry up.”
“Where are we going?”
“Third gate – Gate of Death.”
Confused, she stumbled along. They were not going to kill her or that would defeat the object of the process.
“I don’t want to do this, t
o carry on.”
The man’s thoughts were impenetrable. There would be no help forthcoming.
Show me what’s happening, demons. I’m giving you work – inform me!
All she had wanted was to be young and pretty and flirtatious, to have fun, to have a better life. She had to get out of here. Her feet dragged.
“I have changed my mind. I don’t want to continue.”
“Hurry up!”
Look where her ego had brought her – being rushed headlong to a fate from which there was no escape. They had all seen her weaknesses, from her mother to Heinrich. Stupid, stupid, stupid…and now it was too late. What had she done?
The final door loomed ahead.
The Gate of Death, he’d said. Death? No one had mentioned death. This did not make sense, not at all.
“No! Listen to me, please—”
“Quiet!”
After three knocks, the door was opened to reveal a vast tank of water. At which point a sheet was thrown over her head, her arms were bound with rope, and she was thrown in.
There had been no warning and no time to hold her breath. Flailing around wildly, she gulped down water, kicked and bucked, but to no avail. She sank to the bottom in seconds.
Pain ripped through her chest, and her mind blacked.
And when she came to, it was to find someone untying the sheet and another banging hard on her back. Gasping, coughing and ejecting water all at the same time, she only vaguely heard the command “Get her ready now. Take her to the hall.”
A masked woman stepped forward with an armful of towels and a white robe for her to wear. “Now you are dead from your old life. You have passed successfully through the Gate of Death and, like a serpent shedding its skin, can begin anew. With us. You will have a new name, a new identity and a new code of conduct. Congratulations, Lenka. Follow me and we will take you to the hall. I am very excited for you. Are you not excited?”
Numb, shivering, she could only stare back at the woman and shake her head.
“Ah, don’t be afraid. The final part of the initiation is always the worst, but once you have crossed that line, it will become easier.”
Crossed that line?
A vague notion she could still leave floated in her mind, even as they were hurrying up the staircase, this one well-lit and wide, to the hall. At the top was a large, ornate arched door. At least the end was here. It was nearly over… Then she would go back to the house and collect her things. Whatever the Order wanted her to do, she would not do it but instead flee and take her chances. They would never find her. She would cross oceans.
After three knocks, a door a foot thick and studded with iron was opened from within. A waft of air escaped from the great hall, and even before she stepped inside, she knew it would have a high vaulted ceiling, that there would be tiers like a theatre gallery for onlookers to survey the scene below, and that she would be the only one on stage.
She stepped inside.
Entirely unexpected was the sheer number of silent observers – at least a hundred, maybe more – filling every candlelit tier along the galleries. All were dressed in white robes like herself, except they wore animal heads, the scene disturbingly macabre as they stared down into the pit where she stood alone in the dark.
Behind, the door to the staircase clunked heavily shut.
Swallowing hard, a light sweat broke onto the surface of her skin.
“Stand in the circle, in the centre, Fräulein Heller.”
Still damp and shivering, she jumped at the sound of the disembodied voice from behind, or was it to the left or the right? Disorientated, she looked down at her bare feet. A large circle had been marked on the floor, two large X’s inscribed inside.
The Order has been at the root of everything, right from the start; it was them at the satanic ritual, everything…all pre-planned…
Frantically she looked around the hall, at the circular opera house–style building with its walls of mirrors. Not a single door. No way out.
“Fräulein Heller! Into the circle, please.”
Within the circle was an inverted pentagram, and outside of it four triangles had been drawn. At each of the four ‘watchtowers’, a large black pillar candle burned, and every segment of the pentagram contained a different symbol.
She stepped into the eye of the circle onto a symbol of the black sun at the very centre. Immediately a power-wave of alarm bolted through her.
This came from the depths of hell.
The disembodied voice, one from behind a mask, one she recognised, spoke into the silent hall.
“Listen to the instructions. You will now take the life of another human being.”
The words slowly filtered through.
“Immediately afterwards, you will drink the adrenalin-filled blood from the chalice given to you. After you have completed this, the ultimate test of obedience, you will become a member of der Orden der schwarzen Sonne. Hand her the sword.”
So it was obedience after all, not trust…blind, forced obedience! She had lost her will, her autocracy, her freedom as a human spirit. Sold, in other words.
Are you rich now, Mutter? Were you paid for this?
And you, Heinrich, you lying, cheating bastard pig!
A thrashing, screaming innocent was dragged across the floor in a sackcloth, the odour of stale alcohol and street filth assailing Lenka’s nostrils.
Rage blinded her, and her hands shook as she took the gleaming sword. Only, however, for a second. As soon as she had hold of it, every scar, every infliction of pain, every lie, betrayal, trick and violation replayed. Hate surged through her veins. And as if it were someone else’s hand, not her own, she watched as it rose in the air, then plunged with a passion over and over and over into the living, breathing flesh of another human being.
That was for Heinrich.
And that was for Sophia.
And that was for Uncle Toby the rapist.
And that was for her mother.
After a dozen or more stabs, someone came forward to retrieve the sword, but the grip of fury had not left her yet. Repeatedly she stabbed the now silent, inert victim until a pool of ruby-red froth ebbed across the floor.
“Enough now!”
A chalice was thrust into her hands. Blood-spattered, she finally dropped the sword, took the cup and drank from it before raising the chalice to the galleries.
Removing their masks one by one, they began to clap.
Now she understood why none of them had a soul or a heart or a readable mind. They had all crossed the line, and there was no way back. Every single one of them was bound to the Order, and in time she would know them all, their faces made infamous in newspapers across the globe.
“Hail the Dark Lord!”
“Hail the Dark Lord!”
“Hail the Dark Lord!”
***
Part Three: Eva Hart
‘The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new lands, but seeing with new eyes.’
Widely attributed to Marcel Proust.
‘If you know the truth, the truth will make you free. Ignorance is a slave, knowledge is freedom.’
The Gospel of Philip. The Nag Hammadi Scriptures.
Chapter Twenty-Five
1978
Lenka’s story cut off as abruptly as a power cut two days before my sixteenth birthday. I woke up with a hammering heart, shocked and breathing hard, having known the enormity of extinguishing someone else’s life.
For eight years I had lived every detail of her existence as if it were my own – felt the passion, crushing disappointments, horror and betrayals. But after the murder and initiation into the Order, there was nothing more. A lifeline severed. What happened to Heinrich? Had he really been married to Sophia all along? Believe me, Lenka had shown me everything – and that man had loved her, had held her in his arms so tenderly and desired her so intensely, it was unbelievably difficult to believe it hadn’t been real. I endured the heartbreak every bit as much as
she did, the pain of illusion stripped away, and the desolation of abandonment. There were so many questions.
Perhaps the most pressing of those questions was - how come I hadn’t fallen ill on receipt of the poppet eight years ago?
But of course, at that point I hadn’t known we must turn sixteen.
From beyond the grave, Baba Lenka waited, I believe, until I was no longer a child before she lifted the veil of protection and handed over the full force of the demonic alliance. Until then her presence had been a constant in my dreams and thoughts, as if we were one and the same person. But on the day I turned sixteen she cut the cord, leaving only sporadic memories. I was, it seemed, now on my own.
She had been a thorough teacher, though, illuminating the path ahead with a depth of emotions and experience now deeply enmeshed. It was not a fairy tale. It had happened. And she had been right about hiding from the world who we really are. Psychiatrists, it seemed, were not in the main to be trusted, nor doctors, church officials, anyone paid by the government, or members of the aristocracy. They would, and did, have people like us locked inside institutions, labelled as nuts and consigned to history. Snapshots of German and Austrian psychiatric hospitals, where barbaric punishments awaited should she not comply with what the Order wanted, were frequently flashed into my mind lest I forgot – a Belisha beacon of warning whenever I came close to revealing the level of dark knowledge a girl my age shouldn’t have.
My path was mirroring hers, although I was almost to lose sight of that. And just as it had for Lenka, my family betrayed me, too. Heartachingly so.
For eight years I’d continued living with Gran and Grandad Hart. Not a few weeks but eight long years! After arriving back in Eldersgate at the tail end of 1970, I’d been expecting to return home in the New Year. The nightmares had ceased, and the wardrobe door and haunted house no longer seemed daunting, because I had Lenka with me. In fact, the prospect of going home was so exciting I couldn’t wait for Christmas Day.
