Evil Unearthed: Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

When the knocking started, Stephen was sure that the hotel was on fire and that he would be burned in his bed. Still, for all the natural panic he felt, he thought it would be more pleasant to cook slowly while still remaining asleep than to have to wake up and run for his life. His dreams had been confused and fragmentary, and the knocking seemed to enter into them in a very natural way.

"Alright," he finally said. "Alright! What is it?"

"Sir, I'm sorry to disturb you, but we need a priest. Can you be ready quickly?"

Stephen knew by now what "we need a priest" meant when it was said in that frantic a voice. Someone must have died in the night. He looked at the clock, certain it was morning, and was surprised to find that it was only 3:00 A.M. He dressed quickly in his priestly clothes and retrieved the things he would need to perform this most solemn of offices, and by the time he had opened the door, the maid who had called him was in actual hysterics.

"Look," he said to her. "People die. It's difficult but it happens. Just take me to the room and try to calm down."

"But he's not dead yet! And his face is just, oh!"

Stephen followed her sobs down the hall and to another floor of the hotel where he was ushered into a room even smaller than his own. There he found a man writhing in some kind of internal agony.

"The priest is here, Mr. Temple," said the doctor who was attending him in a soft voice.

"Good," said the man through clenched teeth. "I have to tell you something, Father."

"First," said Stephen, "tell me your name."

"William Patrick Temple," the man replied, pausing between each word as though it took great effort for him to pronounce them.

"Alright then, William. Do you want to make your confession now?"

"No. Later! First, I have to tell you something."

"Keep this brief," the doctor whispered in Stephen's ear. "He's sinking fast."

"William," said Stephen, "are you sorry for having offended God with all the sins of your past life?"

"Yes," said William, "but I don't think that my offending God is what I have to worry about the most. I've offended The Devil, and this is what I get!"

The man grabbed Stephen's hand in a sudden spasm and Stephen was forced to look directly into his face. William Temple's eyes were wide and staring, and it was evident from the contortions of his features that he had been frightened badly and was in great pain. Forgetting the rituals of his calling for a moment, Stephen spoke directly to the man out of fear and disgust.

"How did this happen to you?"

"We think it's a heart attack," came the doctor's ready answer.

"I wasn't talking to you," said Stephen savagely. "I was talking to him!"

"All I can say," said the man, "is that I have a very healthy heart. Please help me, Father. Maljardin! Maljardin is the key, and the portrait. Tell Miss O'Dell that the portrait is evil!"

"Do you know what he's talking about?" The doctor was a small, officious sort of man and Stephen was in no mood for his questions.

"Don't worry," he said, ignoring him. "I'm sorry this is happening to you. You're absolved of all your sins. Be at peace!"

"Promise me you'll tell her about the portrait!"

"I promise. I promise!"

The man's grip on Stephen's hand relaxed and the flailing of his limbs was soon stilled. Stephen found himself shivering despite the warmth of the room, and he felt instinctively that an evil presence was quite satisfied with its night's work. He had rarely encountered a presence like this which he seemed to sense in his very bones, so he did the only thing he could think of, and with more conviction than he had felt in a long time, he traced the sign of the cross in oil on the man's forehead, eyes, lips and chest. As he said the final prayers for the dead, he prayed inwardly for God to cleanse the room of evil and to guide this man to his eternal rest without the burden of sin on his soul.

"Father," said the doctor, adjusting his glasses on his turned up nose, "I have to certify him now."

"Alright," said Stephen. "I'm finished here."

Making his way back to his room, he was overcome by the utter silence of the sleeping hotel. He found himself repeating The Lord's Prayer to himself as he walked down the hall. He still felt the chill clinging to him, and hated himself for being so easily spooked, but seeing that man lying in bed with an expression of total fear on his face had shaken him to the very core. When he entered his own room, he walked around it several times and sprinkled holy water in all the corners, but the chill was still with him.

"This has to stop," he said aloud, and suddenly found himself clutching the small gold cross which had belonged to his uncle.

"It will," said a soft, musical voice from out of the darkness, and when Stephen turned towards it, he found the wavering form of The Conjure Woman standing before him.

"What?"

"Hush," she said quickly. "I have little time. Just know that all this will stop, but know equally that you must have a hand in stopping it."

"A man is dead! He claims that The Devil killed him!"

"I know it well, and I know that he spoke the truth. You'll see me in the flesh soon enough. We will speak more then. In the meantime, that cross you're holding is your connection to me. I will do what I can for you now, but I can do little in this form."

Saying this, she waved her hand in blessing over him and he suddenly felt the room grow warmer.

"He knows you now, Stephen," she said. "Beware and guard yourself as best as you can, but remember that I am here to help you, for he is the enemy of my people as well as of yours. Finish reading your uncle's journal and you'll understand all you need to."

"Uh, thank you," he said.

"Sleep now," she whispered as her form faded from before his eyes, and he suddenly felt himself falling asleep where he stood, so that it took all his effort to lie down on his bed before he became insensible to everything except his dreams, which were on this night very vivid indeed.

He stood in an ancient temple of some kind and he was wearing his priest's robes. There was a brazier in which burned a strange kind of incense which seemed to be drugging the very air he breathed, and through the smoke he saw her: The Conjure Woman he had met in the stone cabin to which Barrett had led him the night before. She sat cross-legged in front of the brazier and gazed intently into it, and suddenly, despite himself, he found himself taking up a drum and tapping out some ancient rhythm which seemed as primal as the secret pulsing of the stars.

"Follow," he heard her voice saying in time with his drumming fingers. "Follow your heart's calling! Follow and do not stop!"

"What is this place? Who are you?"

"That you will know soon enough," was all her reply, and again the urge came to him to drum faster and faster, and suddenly he knew that he was lending her strength to enter a deep state of trance.

"Am I a priest of my God or of yours?"

"You are a true priest," she replied slowly. "That is what is needed in this place."

"But where is this place? Why am I needed?"

"All I can tell you is that it has been ordained. You must help to finish what was started by your kinsman. It is time for you to face your destiny."

These words echoed in his mind as he awoke, and again there was a knocking on his door.

"Yes," he said as he hurriedly dressed in his street clothes again.

"It's Kathleen. May I come in?"

"Yes, of course," he said and opened the door.

"Here's the journal," she said. "If you want me to read more of it, I will, but I feel very strongly that I shouldn't be involved in your family's business."

"You shouldn't be doing my dirty work for me. It's true."

"I will report my findings to you," said Kathleen, "but can we go to breakfast first?"

"Yes. I feel the need of sustenance myself."

"Have a rough night?"

"The roughest possible," he said. "One of the guests here died last night."

"Oh no! How horrible! Were you present in an official capacity?"

Yes, and I have a message for you from him."

"Him? Him? You don't mean--Bill Temple?"

"I'm sorry to be so blunt about it, but yes. Bill Temple."

"Oh God! Oh God! He was going to have fun here before he went home. He seemed freed from all the worry and fear on Maljardin, and now to suddenly die?"

"They say it was a heart attack."

"They say? Do you believe them?"

"I believe he had a heart attack, yes, but I saw his face as he was dying, and I think that he was frightened to death, and, well, I felt something."

"Felt something? Speak plainly, can't you?"

Stephen could see that Kathleen was barely able to keep her emotions in check.

"I will," he said, "but let's go to the cafe."

"Yes. I'm sorry. Let's go."

As they ate their breakfast, Stephen watched the staff coming and going, and he fancied that he saw something shifty in the looks which passed between them.

"What's going on with them?" He said as he finished his eggs.

"With who? What do you mean?"

"The staff here. There's something strange happening here."

"Why do you care about them so much?"

"It's like I was trying to tell you before. When Bill Temple was dying, I felt something strange. I felt a deep chill in my bones even though the room was warm, and I knew somehow that there was a malicious presence in that room that mocked Bill's fears."

"That reminds me of a passage in the journal," said Kathleen, her face suddenly brightening rather than brooding. "Your uncle met a waitress who worked here and she told him that she was psychic, and he quotes her as describing the feeling in the air then as chilling to her very nerve-ends. In fact, I wasn't going to tell you about her. I didn't want to frighten you unnecessarily, but now that Bill's dead, well, I feel differently."

"This waitress," said Stephen. "Did he describe her?"

"No," said Kathleen, "not physically. He only spoke about the signs and portents she seemed to feel about Maljardin and those connected with it."

"And what were those?"

"Well, she read Tarot cards, and the card she was most concerned about was the King of Wands, and you know, at 3:00 A.M. I was playing with the Tarot cards we found in the mansion ruins."

"You found Tarot cards?"

"Yes," she said, and took them out of the briefcase which she always had near her. "Well, as I said, I was shuffling them absently when one fell out on the desk. It was the King of Wands, and it was reversed. Vangie Abbott (that was the waitress's name) said that that this was the traditional card of ill omen, and she specifically linked it with the name of Jacques Eloi des Mondes."

"Bill spoke of him too, of the portrait. He wanted me to tell you that the portrait was the key. I believe that he thought he had been murdered by the spirit of that man."

"You have to read the journal, Stephen. You just have to! Maybe we can learn how to fight this evil from your uncle!"

"Is it really evil? Could it be some kind of contagious hysteria?"

"That was my first thought as well, but Julia has been acting so oddly lately, and now you say that Bill Temple seems to have been frightened to death, and I can't help but make the connection between my conversation with him yesterday and his sudden loss of life last night. Oh, by the way, when were you called?"

"As it happens," said Stephen with a shiver, "at 3:00 A.M."

"Maybe Vangie was trying to tell me something, though she was among the missing on Maljardin after the fire. Still, if we can believe in evil spirits, why not in good ones?"

"Well, I don't believe in anything definitively just yet, but I know you're right about one thing. I have to finish the journal, and I don't think there's any time to lose. Look again at those waiters! They're planning something. I can see it."

"He's right, you know, Miss O'Dell." A young, tanned waiter had come over while they were talking.

"This is Chris, Stephen."

"Hello, Chris. What were you saying?"

"They are planning something. It's a real kick, actually. They believe that a death in the hotel brings bad mojo or juju or karma or something, so they bring in one of their local witches or wizards or something to do a little spell-casting. You just watch! Pretty soon they'll come to everyone's room and tell them that there's going to be a moonlight sailing tour of the neighbouring islands, and as soon as everyone's gone, they'll start the fun."

"It sounds interesting," said Stephen.

"Ever the anthropologist, eh?" He was surprised by the appearance of Dr. Barrett.

"I never had a chance to invite you to breakfast, Dr. B., but since you're here, are you hungry?"

"I'm only here with a message for you," he said. "There will be a moonlight sailing tour planned for all the guests here tonight. It would be best if you both attended. Is that clear?"

"Clear as mud," said Stephen, "but I'm afraid I'll have to pass. I get seasick far too easily."

"And there's only one place I'm going," said Kathleen, "whenever I'm invited, that is. That's Maljardin! Till then, I'm staying put."

"Well then, keep hidden in your rooms," said Barrett. "If you ask not to be disturbed, the staff will respect your wishes and will not force you out of the hotel, but neither will they let outsiders observe their ritual."

"Alright then," said Stephen. "I have a lot of work to do anyway."

"I think two heads will be better than one for that," said Kathleen. "Can I join you in your researches?"

"Of course," said Stephen. "Let's begin now!"