Dorothy Mcintosh - The Witch of Babylon

She shuffled forward. After a moment a match struck. Flames leapt from tall white tapers fixed into two large crystal candlesticks, the flickering lights glittering on their facets. “Voilà,” Laurel said, waving her arms, “‘the spirit room.’ That’s my name for it, anyway.”

The room was windowless and had probably once been a large pantry. Its walls and ceiling had been painted dusky grape. Lingering in the air was a scent of must mixed with a strange odor I couldn’t place, like the smell of rotting fruit. There were no pentacles drawn within a circle on the floor, no goat skulls or upside-down crosses, no dripping black tapers—nothing hokey like that. Still, the room possessed an aura that was chilly and uncomfortable; it was a place you wouldn’t volunteer to spend time in.

An old cabinet with glass doors held curious objects: prisms of several sizes, egg-shaped stones in different colors, an old-fashioned brass scale with weights and measures, blue apothecary bottles filled with powders. A silver statue of a horned goddess sat on top of the cabinet beside a cruel-looking knife with a blade curved like a sickle. A large tapestry hung above that, a medieval scene showing a robed and masked woman mounting steps leading to a citadel on a hillside, a wounded knight in the foreground, a raven wearing a gold circlet flying in the sky.

“This is wild,” I exclaimed. “What on earth was Hal tangled up with?”

Laurel crossed her arms over her chest as if protecting herself. “This was Mina’s place, but lately Hal spent a lot of time in here.”

“Mina was into all this new-agey stuff too?”

“She’s the one who originally got Hal involved. I know most people think it’s flaky, but you can’t dismiss it out of hand. The old alchemists laid the groundwork for modern chemistry.”

“When Hal and I were kids Mina wasn’t around a lot; usually only the staff were there—housekeepers or maids. The rare times I did see her she was pretty distant. She always came off as a bit formidable, almost scary.”

“You’ve got that right.”

I sensed there was more to Laurel’s words than simple agree ment. “What do you mean?”

“Hal never said anything?”

“About what?”

“Mina was a practicing witch.”

I had a sudden vision of Mina drinking some potion, her image transforming before my eyes into a hag with green skin, a long hooked nose, and one tooth, sailing off the terrace at midnight to cast her evil spells. I broke into a laugh. “I know you didn’t like her, but that’s absurd.”

Her eyes registered a quick flash of annoyance. “The last thing I’d do is make a joke about it. She took it very seriously. That knife on the cabinet is a boline, a witch’s tool. Witchcraft is older than most religions, and it’s become quite widespread, you know, especially here and in the UK. Mina was an eclectic.”

“And that is?”

“A sole practitioner. She didn’t belong to a coven. She became an authority on witchcraft practiced in medieval Germany. Well-known scholars would come from around the world to consult her.” Laurel shivered and crossed her arms. “I found out about all this just after her funeral. Hal was very emotional, and one night it all tumbled out. He said he was going to make her immortal.”

“How did he plan to pull that off?”

“He wouldn’t say and I didn’t want to indulge him in that crazy talk. I wanted to get his mind off her.”

“As far as I could tell Mina was strictly Park Avenue. You’re making her sound like the madwoman in the attic.”

“Look at the book over there if you don’t believe me.” Laurel pointed to a single large volume sitting on a table in front of us. “That’s the Picatrix , her spiritual guide.”

The book’s cover consisted of an intricately worked ivory relief with a border of interlinked geometric designs and a center panel of occult symbols. Fine cracks in the yellowed ivory told the book’s age. Two tarnished silver clasps had been fixed into its right edge—a locking mechanism—but the hasps were open.

“It’s a grimoire,” Laurel said. She seemed wary of the volume and stepped away from it.

“Sounds appropriately sinister.”

“A book of spells and incantations, ways to call up demons or communicate with angels. The original Arabic title was Aim of the Sage . It was translated into Latin from Spanish. There are supposedly only seventeen copies in existence, all under lock and key in European libraries, so where Mina got this one I have no idea.”

I moved beside her and, taking a tissue from my pocket to protect the pages, opened the book.

“Are you sure you want to do that?” Laurel asked. “It’s said that once you open it, the book has a hold over you.”

I shrugged my shoulders and turned the first pages. “Those tales were usually circulated to discourage people from looking at forbidden material. If it’s really old, it’ll be worth a lot. You should probably put it in a safe-deposit box.”

A little vexed, Laurel replied, “Yeah, along with the million other things I have to do.”

I lifted the pages gently, fascinated by the illustrations. Framed in a circle, one of them showed a king, dressed in a multi-colored garment, sitting on a peacock rendered in radiant silver, golds, and greens. On another page a nude Hermes appeared against the backdrop of an old sailing ship. “I can’t read Latin.”

“It’s a kind of handbook for proactive astrology and magic. If I remember what Hal told me, in those times you could die just for owning this. It has instructions for creating magical talismans and shows how to make images of your enemy to defeat him.”

“Defeat?”

“Well … kill, actually.”

“Nice.”

She shuddered. “You know, all this talk about the Picatrix jogs my memory. That woman you mentioned. Hal was a member of an online group, a website for people with a serious interest in alchemy. Could he have met her through that? He talked about it several times, but do you think I can remember … Oh, I know. I think it was called Alchemy Archives or something like that.”

“Let’s check it out.” I grabbed my cellphone and pulled the candle as close as possible. A search for the name brought up the website immediately.

“Are these supposed to be real people?”

“Hal said so. Those symbols underneath them represent planets: Venus, Mercury, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn. Together with Sol for the sun and Luna for the moon, they symbolize the seven celestial objects believed in antiquity to revolve around Earth. They’re supposed to represent the five hosts of the website. It all feels like a lot of hocus-pocus to me.”

“Why hide their identities?”

“They’re professionals, not the flakes you sometimes find on a site like this. My guess is they didn’t want people to know they were dabbling in this kind of stuff.”

Or perhaps they had other strong reasons, like the need to hide their crimes. “So they took this stuff seriously.”

“Oh, for sure. You’d be surprised. Some people spend millions setting up labs trying to convert lead into gold. It’s called transmutation.”

The Alchemy Archives website

“The woman I met. Could she be one? Maybe she’s Venus.”

“It’s possible. Hal told me he was Saturn, but he didn’t name anyone else.” She peered at my cellphone screen. “Well, it looks like at least one woman belongs to the group.”

“You can’t tell from that. Those are full porcelain face masks, and anything can be digitally altered.”