Authors: Dennis Wheatley
Mary gave the head one glance, then looked quickly
away. It was unquestionably a wonderful work of art, for she could almost have sworn that it was alive; and it was smiling. But the thick, sensual lips, pointed, cynically laughing eyes, and bushy brows beneath the laurel crowned curls from which little horns curved up were those of a satyr, and she had never seen anything inanimate that seemed imbued with so much evil.
They returned to the terrace and sat down at an iron table to which a tray of drinks had been brought out for them by one of the Negro footmen. Ratnadatta offered Mary a glass of the dark wine that she had had before, and she accepted without hesitation. Her one glance into the eyes of the sculptured Pan head, which should have been blank but had seemed alive with cruel mirth, had made her feel that she badly needed a drink. Moreover, she could not free her mind from dread that the test she must soon take would require of her some act shameful or obscene and knowing already the subtle properties of the herb-scented wine, she hoped that, as before, it would temporarily blunt her sense of decency.
In an effort to divert her thoughts, she asked Ratnadatta, ‘What do you do about the servants here? This garden is beautifully kept, and there are the footmen and, I suppose, others to prepare the food for your feasts. I can hardly imagine you would make them all initiates, yet they must know a lot about what goes on. How do you ensure that they are to be trusted?’
He smiled. ‘Do you know what ees called Zombie?’
‘I … I think so,’ she stammered, appalled at the picture the word conjured up for her. ‘They are dead people who have been brought to life again, aren’t they? I once read a book about the West Indies, and it described how Voodoo witch-doctors took corpses from graves the night after they had been buried, then did something to them which restored enough life to them to work afterwards in the fields as slaves.’
Ratnadatta nodded. ‘You are right nearly, but not quite. Such haf not died but been given drug. It makes victim fall
into coma and seem dead. Burial ees very soon in hot countries, so it ees not difficult to restore animation after trance off only a few hours. But this drug also destroys many cells of victim’s brain. He loses memory, so becomes dumb and no longer knows who he ees; so unable to go home or make trouble. He ees human animal. Fit for work and with understanding enough to obey simple order, but no more.’
‘And the servants here are…’ Mary suppressed a shudder, ‘are Zombies?’
‘As nearly as making no difference. They are all Negro but haf not been buried. They are given drug to destroy memory, but not so much as to make them animal. In this way they remain capable off more useful service.’
‘If they have some intelligence left, I should have thought they would try to escape.’
‘Oddwhiles one has urge to, but always he betray it by restless manner. He ees then hypnotised by Abaddon and feels Impulse no more. But they haf women; Negresses for work in kitchen and to clean, who haf been drugged same as men. They haf drink, good food, and the work ees light. Life here for them ees good, very good; and for one to become wishing to see what ees outside so pleasant prison happens very seldom.’
Mary almost found herself subscribing to the idea that these servants were better off where they were than they would have been if free and struggling in some slum for a meagre living. But the thought that they had been robbed of their identities and, no doubt, in many cases separated for ever from their loved ones far outweighed the fact of their material well-being.
It then occurred to her that, if she slipped up, the soul-destroying drug might be administered to her. With a fresh surge of inward terror she recalled Ratnadatta’s telling her barely half-an-hour before that should she fail in her test he would hypnotise her into forgetting where the Temple was situated. Supposing she not only failed the test but, during it, gave away the fact that she had come there as a
spy? There would then be no question of allowing her to attempt a second test in a week or a fortnight’s time. For their own protection they would have to eliminate from her mind every memory of her connection with the Brotherhood.
During her induction as a neophyte she had feared that if she refused to deny Christ they would murder her. They might still do so if she gave herself away. The drug provided an alternative means of silencing her, but one almost as terrible, for the results it would have did not bear contemplating.
She wondered now how she had managed to get so far without putting a foot wrong. Abaddon had read the fears and doubts in her mind but accepted them as not unusual in a young woman. That he and Ratnadatta had not used their psychic powers to probe deeper into her mentality could only be because they had no reason to suspect that she was deceiving them. Fervently she prayed that she might be given the wit and courage to keep up the deception during her coming trial. Reaching out for her glass she swiftly drank the rest of her wine.
Ratnadatta had, for the past few minutes, been telling her more about Zombies, but she had not taken in his words. Now, as he refilled her glass, she made an effort to concentrate on what he was saying. He went on to describe certain Voodoo ceremonies. Twilight was falling and it was becoming a shade colder, but they sat on there for another quarter of an hour. Then one of the footmen came out on to the terrace. He did not speak but simply bowed to Ratnadatta.
Mary gave the man a sidelong glance. His face looked like a mask and his eyes had a glazed appearance. Now she knew the reason for his complete lack of expression, the idea that he was little more than a walking corpse filled her with horror. But Ratnadatta was saying, ‘Come, plees; Abaddon ees ready for us,’ so she accompanied him into the house.
The benign-looking High Priest was in his library. As on
the previous occasion that Mary had been taken to him there he was wearing a dark grey suit. He came forward to welcome her, led her to a chair and said:
‘My child, you are looking more beautiful than ever. You will serve most admirably the purpose I have in mind.’
This reference to her good looks did nothing to lessen Mary’s apprehension about what they might mean to do with her, but she managed to smile at him as he went on: ‘You will no doubt know that in many ancient Temples there were Priestesses who at times were called on to prophesy. That is the case here; and it is our custom to choose the most beautiful among our Sisters for such work. Tonight, in a little over an hour’s time, a prophecy has been promised to a certain person, and it must be made. Unhappily our Sister Catherine de Medici, who was to make it, was suddenly taken ill last night. Among us there are, of course, a number of other lovely women on whom I could have called; but this morning the thought of you, my dear Circe, crossed my mind. It seemed an admirable opportunity to test your worthiness for advancement; so I sent for you to take Catherine’s place.’
‘Thank you,’ Mary replied a little uncertainly. If to play the part of a Priestess was all that was required to her, that was a great relief after the kind of ordeals her imagination had conjured up; but as she was no true Satanist, she thought it unlikely that the Devil would inspire her, so she hurried on. ‘But I’ve never attempted to prophesy. Perhaps I wouldn’t be able to, however hard I try.’
Abaddon held up a slim-fingered, beautifully kept hand. ‘My child, you have no need to concern yourself on that score. It is I who do the prophesying here. You have only to learn by heart the words I shall give you, and at the right time let them emerge from your lovely mouth.’
With a silent sigh of relief, Mary nodded. The plump pink face opposite her smiled and the melodious voice went on. ‘We will refer to him who has been promised a prophesy as Mr. X. As poor Catherine is ill, we will tell him that but add that her sense of duty is so strong that she will
still prophesy for him, although weak and in bed.
‘Why…’ Mary began, but he cut her short with a frown.
‘It is not for you, child, to question the way in which I think it best to conduct Our Lord Satan’s business. You will take her place, be put to bed, and you will pretend extreme weakness. When you speak, your voice must be so low that Mr. X will have to bend right over you to catch your words. You understand?’
‘Yes,’ Mary now assented at once, although she was greatly puzzled in trying to deduce a reason for this curious and, apparently, unnecessary procedure.
‘Now listen carefully.’ Abaddon leaned over his desk towards her. ‘When Mr. X comes into the room you will be in bed, lying on your back, with the sheets up to your chin, and your eyes closed. He will place his finger tips on your forehead and probably say a few words of greeting. You will not reply, but slowly and in silence count up to two hundred. Should he ask you any question during that time you will make no answer to it. When you have counted two hundred you will flutter your eyes open and whisper the following words.’
Abaddon then gave her some half-dozen sentences which she was to speak at intervals in such a low voice that Mr. X would have to bring his face down close to hers to hear what she said. But there was also a final stage to the prophecy. Before pronouncing the last sentence, she was suddenly to throw the bed clothes right back, sit up, smile at Mr. X, exclaim the words in a much stronger voice and, as she did so, cast her right arm round his neck.
More puzzled than ever, Mary nodded again. Obviously, some sinister deception lay behind the orders she was being given; but she felt that it was ‘hers not to reason why’, and that if no more than this was required of her to pass her test she would be getting off extremely lightly.
The High Priest now went over the whole proceeding again from start to finish, then he made her repeat twice every word she had to say, and yet a third time run through the whole without any prompting. Apparently satisfied, he
looked across at Ratnadatta and said:
‘Go, Sásín, fetch Pope Honorius to us.’
Ratnadatta left the room and, a few minutes later, when the door opened again, Mary expected to see him return with another man. Instead, he was accompanied by a tall thin woman of middle age, dressed all in white. Her garments gave her the appearance of a nun, except that she wore her coif far back on her head, so that her ash-blonde hair, parted Madonna style, showed in front. She was not wearing a mask and her features were of striking classical beauty. Abaddon said to Mary:
‘Our sister, Pope Honorius, is the High Priestess of this Lodge. She instructs our younger Priestesses in their work, and will give you further coaching in the way you must behave tonight.’ To the tall woman he said: ‘This is the neophyte, Circe. I trust you agree with me that she is well fitted for our purpose?’
Having seen the newcomer in the distance during her first visit to the Temple Mary had, after a moment, recognised her. She gave Mary a cold appraising glance, then replied:
‘You were right, Abaddon. With those eyes, that mouth and such a figure, she could seduce a saint. She should prove very useful to us.’
Her words were spoken with such complete detachment that they constituted a high compliment, but to Mary they spelt only a renewal of anxious foreboding. She wondered if the woman had in mind only making use of her for the Devil’s work after she had become an initiate, or if their as yet undisclosed intention was to order her to attempt the seduction of Mr. X that night.
Abaddon turned his pale blue eyes on Mary, gave her a long searching glance, and asked: ‘Do you feel confident that you can do that which is required of you? If not, you must say so now. I will excuse you from it, have an experienced Priestess perform the work, and give you some other test. This is an important matter and should you fail in it you will incur my anger. Answer me frankly, and without fear.’
Mary had a good memory, so she was not troubled by qualms that she might forget her lines. If there was no more behind the test than had so far been revealed, it should prove easy of accomplishment, and the alternative to it might be the performance of some act of the kind she had dreaded. In consequence, she replied firmly:
‘I shall find no difficulty in doing as you wish, and am grateful to you for this opportunity you have given me to prove that I am worthy of advancement.’
Both Abaddon and Ratnadatta nodded their pleased appreciation of her apparent keenness to play the part designed for her; and even the High Priestess’s hard but beautiful mouth curved into a faint smile, as she said:
‘Come with me then, Circe, and I will prepare you for your first appearance as the mouthpiece of our Master.’
Mary followed her out and accompanied her upstairs to the second floor. There they entered a sitting-room beyond which were a bedroom and a bathroom. The whole suite was furnished in a style seen only in the houses of the very rich or a hotel of the first rank. Beautiful Aubusson carpets covered the floors, and the walls were panelled with
toile de jouie.
In the sitting-room the chairs, settee and escritoire were of
Louis Quinze
satin wood; two Buhl cabinets containing fine pieces of Sevres and Dresden flanked a marble mantelpiece, and in each of the panels hung a coloured print after Fragonard. The bedroom furniture had a ground of pale blue on which were painted garlands of flowers, and all its carved edges were pricked out in gold; the sheets on the bed were of the finest lawn and, from a coronet supported by two gilded cupids, drapes of muslin spangled with gold stars curved down to either side of its head. By contrast the bathroom was entirely modern, with tiled walls and a large low porcelain bath, and was equipped with a great variety of sprays, towels, powders and perfumes.
Mary knew that a small number of people were fortunate enough to live in such surroundings, but she had never before been in so luxurious a suite herself; and, as her eyes
roved over its delights, her companion said: ‘I can guess what you are thinking, my dear. “What fun it would be to spend a night here with a lover of your choice.” Well, if you play your part this evening without bungling it, you shall. We have several other suites similar to this for those who prefer to take their pleasure in private rather than join in our Saturnalias. Would you like a bath? There is plenty of time, and if you have been out all day it will refresh you.’