Tales From the Black Chamber (29 page)

“It trapped the monster within it. Then he basically made a magic circle of some sort all around the perimeter and cast this exorcism-type spell that ‘banished it whence it came.' Do you think that'd work?”

“Do you have the banishment spell?”

“No. It's not in the text. I'm thinking I might be able to improvise something along the lines of a magic circle that would be inhospitable to a creature like that. There's a
ton
on magic circles. The trick is figuring out what's real and what's just made up.”

“Wow, that'd be great, if you could pull it off. And I really like the trap idea,” said John, picking up her phone. “Hey, Joe, take Mike and head to Home Depot. We're going to need some posts. How many?” He looked at Anne.

“Five would do.”

“We need five, but get ten just in case.… At least four-by-four. Bigger if they have 'em. And bring some of your wood-shop tools in with you. Anne's got some decorative carving for you to do. And tell Mike we're going to need a priest with some discretion to bless the finished product and not ask questions.” John hung up. “Excellent work, Anne. Can I help you look through some books? I've kind of run out of parts of the History to look through, and even the Library of Congress is a little short on practical demonology.”

“On one condition,” Anne said.

“Sure, what?”

She held up her empty cup. “Bring us down some strong, black coffee.”

By the next morning, they had five eight-by-eight-inch posts, each carved with a different combination of Hebrew, Greek, Slavonic, and occult sigils sitting amidst a pile of wood shavings in the middle of Rafe and Lily's lab. Anne ran her fingers across the smoothly cut letters and signs as she checked them against the old Russian book. “Very nice work, Joe,” she told McManus, who was standing nearby looking on proudly.

He said, “Hey, bring 'em back with you and I'll make you a nice pergola for your backyard.”

“Thanks. I would, of course, need to buy a house first.”

“Good point. How do you like Kensington?”

“Very nice. Quiet. Homey.”

“Yeah, we love it too. We're on the other side of Connecticut Avenue.”

“What are you going to do when we go?”

“Take my wife and kids up to West Virginia. Mike and I are both set up with safe houses up there. Lily and Wilhelmina are headed down into the Blue Ridge. I'm hoping to make it a fun surprise vacation for the kids, so that no matter what happens, we'll all be together and happy. My wife's going to suspect something bad is up, and I'm going to be a nervous wreck, but we're masters at hiding stuff from our kids. It's a basic parental skill. Do me a favor, though. If it all goes wrong and you're still alive, call me and let me know that it's going down. I want to hug my kids.”

“Will do. You'll hear from us either way. God willing.”

“I'll be praying for you all. I know Mike and Wilhelmina will, too. And Lily, too, I suspect.”

“Thanks. Do you know when our plane is leaving? I've got a bunch of books I've got to pack with various rituals and spells and stuff that might or might not work. I keep feeling like I've got to pick a card out of a deck, and if it's not the eight of diamonds, the world ends.”

Joe put his hand on her shoulder reassuringly. “It's ok. Just do your best. I have faith in you.”

“Thanks. I do wonder if my best is good enough.”

“I think it will be. I think the plane's leaving around noon. You packed?”

“Yeah, Steve said we'd probably camp there briefly before pickup, so I really only need one change of clothes, if all goes well. I'm bringing extra underwear, though, in case we're trapped in the Mongolian wilderness with no way out.”

“Always prepared. The Boy Scouts and Coast Guard would be proud.”

“Thanks. But I am so not an outdoorsman,” Anne said. “I camped a bit as a kid, but you know, at campgrounds. So when does the thing hit Russia?”

Joe looked at his watch. “About two this afternoon, our time. Two in the morning there, I think.”

“How much time will we have once we land?” Anne asked.

“If everything goes right, about three hours.”

Anne worried her fingers through her hair. “Jesus, that's cutting it close, isn't it?”

“Oh yeah. Unfortunately the Destroyer is setting the schedule, not us.”

“Are you guys going to stay here for a while, or just leave when we do?”

“We'll be here for a while, but I think we all want to get going first thing tomorrow, so we're sure to be out of Ground Zero.”

“Well, if I don't get the chance to tell you before we go, good luck. I can't imagine having children to worry about at this point.”

Joe smiled, pain in his eyes. “Kids are the best, but,” his voice caught and he looked fiercely at his shoes, “the thought of them … you know.” He cleared his throat and picked up a pen to fidget with. “We'll be ok, Anne. You just go and kick Aba-dabba-doo in the ass for us.”

“I'll wear my biggest boots.”

Later that morning, Steve called to ask Anne what sort of gun she'd like to carry.

“Does it matter? We can't shoot this thing.”

“No, more in case we have to shoot it out with Russian or Chinese border guards.”

“Oh. I dunno, that submachine gun was fine.”

“Okay. See you soon.” Steve hung up.

John tidied his office. Anne packed up a case with books, then sat in a chair, absently drinking coffee. Claire paced like a panther on Benzedrine, ostensibly looking for something but not knowing what. Steve cleaned and packed weapons with intense concentration. Rafe continued his work on an experiment, just walking away as if for a cup of coffee when the call came.

Late that morning, they said their goodbyes. Steve handed Mike and Joe ominous black cases. Anne thought of them sliding them into the backs of minivans next to their children's toys, and tears stung at her eyes. The strain of holding back emotion showed on Wilhelmina's, Joe's, and Mike's faces, and Lily, outwardly calm, picked at her cuticles unconsciously. One bled.

Their goodbyes were mostly restrained. Wilhelmina took Anne's face in her hands and whispered, “You're so
young
. Pray to Our Lord and come back to us safe, little girl.” Lily told her, “Good luck. Stay safe.” Joe just smiled and hugged her. Mike said, “Get back soon. I need someone to show me the dirty books in the Library. Mildred never would.”

16

On the CIA plane—a jet appointed with desks, Internet-connected computers, a large galley, a head with a shower, and a room with six large, curtained bunks, three on each side—Anne stowed her clothes and spread her books out on a desk in the main compartment, settling into a comfortable chair.

“Not bad,” she joked, breaking the silence.

“Yeah, the intelligence community has some nice toys,” John joked, logging on to a computer.

Steve and Rafe sat down with a deck of cards. “Claire, you in?” Steve asked.

“Can you wait a couple? I'm sorting these shotgun shells. Salt. Silver-alloy slugs. Magnum double-ought buck. Should stop anything short of Chidag Dü.”

“You do like your shotguns,” joked Rafe.

“You boys can play sharpshooter all you like. I'm blowing anything that gets near me to hamburger.”

“She's got a point,” said Rafe.

“She does, indeed,” said Steve, shuffling the deck.

Anne immersed herself in the grimoires and magical texts she'd brought, comparing and contrasting various rituals for summoning and dismissing demons, for creating protective wards and traps.

“Hey, jackpot!” shouted Claire, waving a fax. “Well, sort of.”

“
Qu'est-ce que c'est
?” asked John archly.

“Professor Geoffrey found something in the Voynich Manuscript!” she said. “Listen to this,” she added unnecessarily.

My dearest Claire,

You know what they say about being careful about the things for which one wishes. Alas, I fear my wish to read your mystery manuscript is one of those whose fulfillment brings sorrow. It is a very dark, disturbing work, Claire. I cannot recommend your reading it. I will send a complete and unique transliteration and translation as soon as it's complete, and rid myself of the thing with no little relief.

However, you mentioned in your facsimile (burned, of course) that there was some urgency in obtaining information inimical to the entity named in the short excerpt you provided as
Chidag Dü Abaddon-Apollyon
. Immediately upon completing the automatic substitution of the letters I'd already established, I searched for those names. In a section which was written in Mongolian consonant with the fifteenth-century date given in the document, I found the following reference.

Jehoël, erkim
[“supreme, chief”]
of the seraphim, restrains Matar
[“monster, sea monster, crocodile,” which I take as a calque for the Biblical Leviathan]
who consumes the souls of the damned after the Last Judgment. He
[
Matar
]
is called Abaddon-Apollyon Chidag Dü. Against him only sakighulsunnar
[“the group of angels,” perhaps “the heavenly host”?]
can stand
.

To stop him, Jehoël orders his noyad
[“noblemen, princes”]
to stretch out their
hands to permit his entry
.

Raphaël and his
nököd
[“comrades, friends, companions”]
Miël and Seraphiël stretch out their hands to Sachiël and his nököd Castiël and Asasiël or to Torquaret and his nököd Tarquam and Guabarel.

Cassiël and his
nököd
Machatan and Uriël reach to Gabriël and his
nököd
Michaël and Samaël or to Anaël and his
nököd
Rachiël and Sachiël.

Sachiël and his
nököd
Castiël and Asasiël reach to Michaël and his
nököd
Dardiël and Hurapatel or to Torquaret and his
nököd
Tarquam and Guabarel.

Samaël and his
nököd
Sataël and Amabiël reach to Anaël and his
nököd
Rachiël and Sachiël or to Cassiël and his
nököd
Machatan and Uriël.

Anaël and his
nököd
Rachiël and Sachiël reach to Sachiël and his
nököd
Castiël and Asasiël or Samaël and his
nököd
Sataël and Amabiël.

Michaël and his
nököd
Dardiël and Hurapatel reach to Gabriël and his
nököd
Michaël and Samaël or Sachiël and his
nököd
Castiël and Asasiël.

Torquaret and his
nököd
Tarquam and Guabarel reach to Cassiël and his
nököd
Machatan and Uriël or Sachiël and his
nököd
Castiël and Asasiël.

Thus joined, they deny Chidag Dü Abaddon-Apollyon repose and life. They will protect the pious chanting “
Boghda boghda boghda
.”