Dennis Wheatley - The Devil Rides Out

On the side walls were pictures of men, women and beasts practising obscenities only possible of conception in the brain of a mad artist. Below the enormous central figure, which had hideous, distorted, human faces protruding from its elbows, knees and belly, was a great altar of glistening red stone, worked and inlaid with other coloured metals in the Italian fashion. Upon it reposed the ancient ‘devil’s bibles’ containing all the liturgies of hell; broken crucifixes and desecrated chalices stolen from churches and profaned here at the meetings of the Satanists.

Luxurious armchairs upholstered in red velvet and gold with elaborate canopies of lace above, such as High Prelates use in cathedrals when assisting at important ceremonies, flanked the altar on either side. Below the steps to the short chancel, on a level with where they stood, were arranged rows and rows of cushioned prie-dieu for the accommodation of the worshippers.

No sound of movement disturbed the stillness of the heavy incense-laden air and with a sinking of the heart De Richleau knew that they had lost their man. He had gambled blindly upon Tanith’s message and she had proved wrong as to time. Mocata might not be in Paris for days to come; perhaps he had divined their journey and, knowing that he would be unmolested while they were abroad, returned to Simon’s house where, even now, he might be foully murdering little Fleur. It seemed that their last hope had gone.

Then, as they stepped from the side aisle they suddenly saw a thing that had been hidden from them by the rows of chair backs—a body, clad in a long white robe with mystic signs embroidered on it in black and red, lay spread-eagled, face downwards on the floor, at the bottom of the chancel steps.

‘It’s Simon!’ breathed the Duke.

‘Oh, hell, they’ve killed him!’ Rex ran forward and knelt beside the body of their friend. They turned him over and felt his heart. It was beating slowly but rhythmically. The Duke pulled out of his waistcoat pocket a little bottle, without which he never travelled, and held it beneath Simon’s nose. He shuddered suddenly and his eyes opened, staring up at them.

‘Simon, darling, Simon. It’s us—we’re here.’ Marie Lou grasped his limp hands between her own.

He shuddered again and struggled into a sitting position.

‘What—what’s happened?’ he murmured, but his voice was normal.

‘You left us, you dear, pig-headed ass!’ exclaimed Richard. ‘Gave yourself up and ruined our whole plan of campaign. What’s happened to you? That’s what we want to know.’

‘Well, I met him.’ Simon gave the ghost of a smile. ‘And he took me to Paris in his plane. Then to some place down on the riverside.’ He gazed round and added quickly: ‘But this is it. How did you get here?’

‘Never mind that,’ De Richleau urged him. ‘Have you seen Fleur?’

‘Yes. He sent a car for me, and when I reached the plane she was already in it. We had an argument and he swore he’d keep his word unless I went through with this.’ ‘The ritual to Saturn?’ asked De Richleau. ‘Um. He said that if I’d do it without making any fuss he’d let me take Fleur out of here immediately afterwards and back to England.’

‘He’s double-crossed you, as we thought he would,’ Rex grunted. ‘There’s not a soul in this place. He’s quit, and taken Fleur with him. Can’t you say where he’ll be likely to make for?’ ‘Ner.’ Simon shook his head. ‘Directly we started on the ritual he put me under. I let him, but of course he would have done that anyway. The last I saw of Fleur she was sound asleep in that armchair and the next thing I knew you were all staring down at me just now.’

‘If you completed the ritual, Mocata knows now where the Talisman is,’ De Richleau said abruptly. ‘Yes,’ Simon nodded.

‘Then he will have gone to wherever it is—from here.’ ‘Of course,’ Richard cut in. ‘That’s his main objective. He wouldn’t lose a second.’

‘Then Simon must know the place to which he’s gone.’ ‘How’s that? I don’t quite get you.’ Rex looked at the Duke with a puzzled frown.

‘In his subconscious, I mean. Our only hope now is for me to put Simon under again and make him repeat every word that he said when the ritual was performed. That will give us the hiding-place of the Talisman and the place to which I’ll stake my life Mocata is heading at the present moment. Are you game, Simon?’

‘Yes, of course. You know that I would do anything to help.’

‘Right.’ The Duke took him by the arm and pushed him gently. ‘Sit down in that chair to the right of the altar and we’ll go ahead.’

Simon settled himself and leaned back on the comfortable cushions, his white robe with its esoteric designs in black and red settling about his feet like the long skirts of a woman. De Richleau made a few swift passes. ‘Sleep, Simon,’ he commanded.

Simon’s eyelids trembled and closed. After a moment he began to breathe deeply and regularly. The Duke went on: ‘You are in this temple with Mocata. The ritual to Saturn is about to begin. Repeat the words that he made you speak then.’

Dreamily but easily, Simon spoke the words of power which were utterly meaningless to Richard, Rex and Marie Lou, who stood, a tensely anxious audience, at the bottom of the chancel steps.

‘On,’ commanded De Richleau. ‘Jump a quarter of an hour.’ Simon spoke again, more sentences incomprehensible to the uninitiate.

‘On again,’ commanded De Richleau. ‘Another quarter of an hour has passed.’

‘… was built above the place where the Talisman is buried,’ said Simon. ‘It will be found in the earth beneath the right-hand stone of the altar.’

‘Go back one minute,’ ordered De Richleau, and Simon spoke once more.

‘… Attila’s death the Greek secreted it and took it to his own country. In the city of Yanina, upon his return, he became possessed of devils and was handed over to the brethren at the monastery above Metsovo, which stands in the mountains twenty miles east of the city. They failed to cast out the spirits which inhabited his body and so imprisoned him in an underground cell and there, before he died, he buried the Talisman. Seven years later the dungeons were demolished and the crypt built in their place on the same site, with the great church above it. The Talisman remained undisturbed in its original hiding-place. Its power gradually pervaded the whole of the Brotherhood, filling it with lechery and greed, so that it disintegrated and was finally disbanded before the invasion by the Turks. The chapel to the left in the crypt was built above the place where the Talisman is buried.’

‘Stop,’ ordered the Duke. ‘Awake now.’

‘By Jove, we’ve got it!’ exclaimed Rex. But as he spoke a slight noise behind them made him swing upon his heel.

Four figures stood there in the shadows. The tallest suddenly stepped forward.

Richard’s hand leapt to his gun but the tall man snapped: ‘Stand still, mon vieux, I have you covered,’ and they saw that he held an automatic.

The other two strangers came forward. The fourth was Castelnau.

The leader of the party turned to a little old man, who stood beside him wearing an out-of-date bowler hat that came almost down to his ears, then nodded towards the Duke.

‘Is that De Richleau, Verrier? You should be able to recognise him, since he was in your time.’

‘Oui, monsieur,’ declared the little old man. ‘That is the famous Royalist who caused me so much trouble when I was young. I would know his face again anywhere.’

‘Bon! All this is very interesting.’ The tall, hard-eyed man glanced from the obscene pictures on the walls to the magnificent appurtenances of Satanic worship upon the altar, and went on in a silky tone: ‘I have had an idea for some time that a secret society has been practising devil worship in Paris and is responsible for certain disappearances, but I could never lay my hands on them before. Now I have got five of you red-handed.’