The Diabolist (Dominic Grey 3) (25 page)

Read The Diabolist (Dominic Grey 3) Online

Authors: Layton Green

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Genre Fiction, #Horror, #Occult, #United States, #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Mystery, #Thrillers, #Suspense, #Private Investigators

BOOK: The Diabolist (Dominic Grey 3)
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Grey stared at her. “You mean he has the three powers of the Devil? What are they, the powers to charm, seduce, and move about the world, or something like that?”

“Yes.”

He continued examining her face for signs of deceit. Her liquid eyes were unblinking, without a shred of subterfuge or forced calm. Which meant either she was a very good actress, or she believed what she had just said.

“Forgive me if I’m not a believer,” he said. “Though for the sake of argument, why wouldn’t I think that you can do the same thing, given our last few meetings?”

Her face morphed so rapidly, shrinking as if she had been slapped, that Grey knew it wasn’t faked.
“Never.”

He put his hands up. “Okay.”

She looked out the window, then back at him. “I understand your confusion. And you’re right that trust is earned.” She took a deep breath, as if what she was about to say pained her. “I was raised in a Romanian orphanage in Brasov. When I was sixteen, my… ability… manifested.”

“Ability?”

“Astral projection.”

Grey gave her a frank, disbelieving stare. She flinched. “I’ve been facing that look my entire life.”

“So you’re telling me that on the plane, and in the catacombs, you were only there in spirit?”

“Not just in spirit,” she said, “but not fully there.”

“You seemed fully there to me.”

“It’s hard to explain,” she said. “There’re plenty of documented cases in the world, though mine is an extreme case. I can’t control it. It usually happens when I’m under great duress, and on rare occasions when someone I know is.”

“But how’d you know I’d be on the plane?” Grey said.

“I didn’t. I’ve been so afraid lately, and after a particularly frightening visit from him, I passed out. When I woke… I was on the plane beside you, and he was on the monitor. I knew I’d been sent to you for some reason.”

Grey shook his head and looked away.

“I know it’s hard to believe,” she said. “Astral projection, psychic powers—they work on a level or in a place we don’t understand. Science has shown us that distance is irrelevant at the quantum level, that we’re all interconnected in ways no one understands. I have to believe our subconscious somehow brought us together.”

“And Paris?” Grey said.

“He tells me things sometimes, to torture me. He told me about you and Viktor, and I knew what was waiting for you in Paris. That time I was able to appear and help. It’s not easy, you know. It takes great concentration and it almost never works when I want it to.”

“How’d you know about the passage?”

She tugged at the collar of her jacket. “I have a different sort of vision when I’m… there. I can’t explain it.”

“So you’re telling me you saw through the walls?” Grey saw the hurt in her eyes at the sarcasm he knew was dripping from his voice, so he said, “Let’s set this aside for now,” he said. “How’d you get hooked up with Simon, or Darius, or whoever he is?”

She seemed relieved to be switching topics. “I was thrown out of the orphanage when my abilities first manifested, because in Romania the Devil is given credit for such a thing. I lived on the streets of Bucharest, selling trinkets to tourists, but that’s a dangerous life and there was only one other choice of employment. I made my way to a remote village and started a new life, as a librarian of all things, doing everything in my power to suppress my abilities. But one night I manifested in the village square, scaring a group of old men half to death. I was called a witch and thrown out of the house where I was staying. Word spread to the other villages, and I was forced to live outside like a dog. Not even the gypsies would have me.” She looked Grey in the eye, any emotion at her past long since spent. “One day Simon found me and took me in.”

Grey couldn’t imagine this beautiful creature forced to live on the streets of anywhere. Romanian superstitions must be strong indeed. “How’d he find you?”

“He heard about me, I’m not sure how. I thought he was being kind, so of course I went with him. Winter was coming. But I later learned he just wanted to use me, find out why I was able to do what I did. He, too, believed it was a power of the Devil, though he had a different agenda than my countrymen.”

“How is it that you speak English so well?” Grey said.

“You don’t trust me at all, do you? The nuns in my orphanage were English. It’s quite common in Romania. Only outsiders help the street children.”

“And did Simon learn your secrets?”

“Once I arrived in London,” she said, “we studied day and night, but there’s no rhyme or reason to psychic powers. I have no idea how it works, and neither does science.”

“And Simon? Assuming for the sake of conversation he can just show up whenever he wants, what will he do when he gets here?”

“He’ll burn you,” she said simply.

Grey again searched her face for signs of pretense. Not only did he fail to find any, but her lack of emotion lent an eerie ring of truth to her words.

“So you tried to leave,” Grey said, “but he wouldn’t let you?”

“He’s in love with me.”

“And you’re not with him?”

She hesitated. “Do you really want to hear all of this? Or are you just humoring me?”

He glanced around the train, opening his palms. “I’m kind of trapped here.” She laughed lightly, and he said, “I very much want to hear your story.”

“You’re a good listener,” she said.

She relaxed in her seat, laying her hand on the armrest next to his. The light touch sent a tingle of warmth arcing up his arm.

She faced the seat in front of her as she spoke, curled into her seat. “When he found me he took me to the nicest hotel in Bucharest and gave me my own suite. We discussed literature and history for hours. He was very charming and, yes, even handsome. I was never in love with him, but he was my savior.”

She turned her head towards him again. “You must understand, in the beginning he kept who he really was from me. When he asked me to come to London I had to tell him I wasn’t interested in him romantically, but he demurred and said he would help me find a job and start a new life, that there were no strings attached. I agreed. I know it was foolish. I’ve always wanted to be a doctor, and in Romania I had no money, no family, and no future. I was an outcast, penniless,
homeless
. Sometimes we hear what we want to hear, and believe what we want to believe.”

“That we do,” Grey said.

“This was more than a year ago. Of course I knew about the Order of New Enlightenment, and that was fine. I’m not religious—or at least I wasn’t then—but I didn’t mind that he was. It was quite thrilling to be with someone so admired. But then I saw… some terrible things.”

“Such as?”

“A month ago we had a wonderful day of shopping and dining in the West End. I felt like a princess, felt that perhaps one day I might even develop real feelings for him. That night when he left my apartment I looked out the window and saw him talking on the street to a man with a terrible tattoo on
his head. Even from that distance there was something about his face that frightened me, an absence of humanity. They walked down the street and in that moment I asked myself why I trusted Simon so much, when I really knew nothing about him. I know on some level I never trusted him, but didn’t care. I followed them to a townhome and waited outside until they exited with an older man. All three left in a black sedan. I followed them again, in a taxi, to a mansion in North London.”

One thing apparent to Grey was that Anka was relaying her story in a very fluid, natural manner. Either it was true, or she had practiced it over and over. He said, “Weren’t you afraid he’d see you?”

“My curiosity overpowered my fear, and I was a street orphan—a survivor. Besides, he would never harm me.”

“Then why’re you so worried about him coming here?” Grey said.

“I’m afraid for
you
.”

“You don’t need to worry about me.”

“You don’t understand,” she said. “You can’t fight him.”

Grey gave her a tight-lipped smile. “So what happened when you followed him? Do you know where you were?”

“I wish I’d paid better attention to the street names. Somewhere in North London.” Her eyes slipped downward. “They disappeared inside the house, but there was a huge walled cemetery behind the grounds, and I slipped over the wall. It was late, the cemetery was deserted. I could hear strange sounds coming from the grounds of the mansion, some kind of chanting. There was a huge oak twenty feet behind the wall, and I climbed until I had a good vantage point. I was terrified someone would see me, but it was dark, and the tree provided good cover.”

She wrapped herself in her arms. “A rock waterfall drowned most of the noise. Everyone was dressed in black cassocks and wearing some type of animal mask. There were people chanting, and in the middle of the property, right on the grass, there were at least ten people… copulating.” Her face twisted in disgust. “Everyone else was watching.”

“Did you see Simon?” Grey said.

“Everyone had a mask on, even the people on the ground. But there’s more, Grey. The people chanting were all holding a black book they were reading from, and there were large crosses lying on the ground. People were urinating on the crosses.” She shuddered, her eyes downcast. “There were also animals. A large dog and a goat.”

“Sacrifices?”

“They were… they were using them,” she said.

“Jesus.”

“I don’t know for sure,” she said, “but I think I witnessed a Black Mass. Whatever it was, it was barbaric, evil, and Simon was part of it.”

“So why didn’t you leave him?”

She looked up. “I raced home that very second, flung my clothes into a bag, and took a train to Exeter. I didn’t have the money to leave England. The next night he knocked on my door at the hotel. I didn’t open it. I was shocked he’d found me so quickly, and I told him I never wanted to see him again. Then he was… standing in the room with me.”

“As in, he didn’t use the door.”

“He claimed he was the most powerful magician in the world,” she said. “It was as if he was this new person, this thing full of ego and power. He told me he knew I’d watched the ceremony and that I didn’t understand yet. That he wanted to tell me everything but was waiting on the right time, was sorry for lying but wanted to ease me into the truth. He also said the people in that ceremony were misguided, and he was helping them change their ways.”

“I bet he was. What I saw in Paris was worse.”

She took a deep breath. “I told him I was going back to Romania. He told me that wasn’t possible. He said he couldn’t make me love him but that I could never leave him.”

Grey balled his fists, his temper boiling to the surface. Despite the incredible nature of her story, he could see the fear of Simon smothering her.

“Did you try to leave again?” he said.

“Of course. Each time he appeared and took me back. He can find me whenever he wants.” She took Grey’s hand and squeezed it, her lissome body shifting into his, eyes pleading. “I’m so afraid, Grey. I just want to be away from him.”

“Why haven’t you gone to the police?”

“Because I haven’t a single piece of proof. And because I know what he can do. The police can’t help me.”

“Did he murder the cult leaders?”

“I think so,” she said. “Him or Dante—the man with the tattoo.”

“Do you know what Simon’s plans are, his ultimate goal?”

“I’ve no idea.”

“Why did you choose to help me?” he said.

“I don’t know. You’re strong.” She put a hand against her forehead. “I know it’s selfish of me to involve you.”

“Let me worry about that,” he said.

Grey saw the spires of Cambridge approaching in the distance, piercing the sky above a lingering morning fog. Grey was not a trusting person to begin with, and he didn’t know what to believe. True honesty was a myth anyway, he mused. No one revealed the entirety of self.

“So what now?” he said.

“I have to return to London.”

“You’re free to do as you please, within reason?”

“He knows there’s nowhere I can go. But they’re looking for you, I overheard them talking. You’re investigating him, aren’t you?”

“It looks that way,” he said.

She squeezed her eyes shut, searching for his when she opened them. “Please be careful.”

The train pulled into the station, the Gothic backdrop of the town a fitting setting for the story Grey had just heard. The passengers rose, and Grey walked Anka to the next track over for her return trip. “Stay,” he said.

She gave the spires a longing glance, then lowered her gaze. “I can’t.”

“Then meet me later. Tell him you need to get out of London and you’re coming here for the afternoon, for the night if possible.”

“I’ll try,” she whispered.

“Do more than try.”

She squeezed his hand, and he made her repeat his cell number until she memorized it.

WHITBY, ENGLAND

V
iktor hired a black cab to take him through the Yorkshire Moors to Whitby. They drove north through the craggy countryside, past a line of villages hunched together in tight stone clusters, turned inward against the forbidding weather. An hour later they entered the coastal town of Whitby on the cusp of an approaching storm, the skies gunmetal gray, the howling winds from the moors a horde of barbarians flailing at the gates.

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