Dennis Wheatley: To The Devil A Daughter

`Brothers and Sisters in Satan! Do not for one moment allow this interruption to our ceremony to lessen your faith in the protection of our blaster. That some of our number should have been injured is most regrettable; but Prince Lucifer must have willed it so. I know these men. One is the girl Ellen's father and the other her would be lover. Take notice that they come here alone, unsupported by the slaves of the Christian Law. They have been sent here and given into our hands for a purpose. Beyond doubt it is the Proud One's intention that they should witness the sacrifice, and be made fully aware of His greatness by also witnessing the miracle which will follow it. Afterwards they too shall know the coldness of the altar slab upon their bare backs and feel the sharpness of the sacrificial knife as it cuts through their throats. But we have not a moment to lose. Temporarily we must ignore the hurts of our brethren. The fateful hour approaches. We must allow nothing to prevent us from completing the ritual while the woman's birth star is at the zenith. The time has come to strip her.'

At this clarion call new heart entered into the Satanists. The men had nothing handy with which to bind John and Beddows; so they forced them to their knees and held them there. The women fell upon Christina like a pack of furies. She struggled wildly, until one of them hit her a savage blow under the chin, rendering her half unconscious. But, even then, instead of removing her clothes garment by garment they tore them from her body shred by shred, till she stood swaying among them stark naked except for her shoes and stockings.

Beddows was giving vent to an unending flow of curses. John ground his teeth in silent agony. He knew now that their hope of saving Christina was gone. They had made their last desperate bid and failed. He tried to pray, but the words would not come.

Christina, still struggling, was forced back against the altar and stretched out upon it. John could see her long, silk stockinged legs dangling over the right hand end of the altar; but he could not see the upper half of her body or her face, as they were hidden from him by one of the acolytes. The Canon again began to recite, this time in Latin, saying the Mass backwards. Parodying the motions of a priest, he bobbed and gestured to his assistants, who from time to time made hoarse responses to his muttering. A chalice was produced and Copely Syle spat into it several times, then again he muttered feverishly and genuflected while breaking Holy wafers, stolen from some church, into it. Then he picked it up and carried it to each member of the congregation in turn, for them to sup up some of the horrid, sodden mess.

As he reached the men who were holding Beddows, they relaxed their grip on him slightly, and he strove desperately to knock the chalice from Copely Syle's hands; but the Canon managed to protect his vile sacrament and enable Beddows' captors to partake of it. When all the members of his coven except the two who were unconscious, had done so, he carried it back to the altar, held it above Christina and swallowed what remained himself.

Setting the chalice down, he took from one of his assistants a small metal box that appeared to contain soot, and dipping his finger in it began to draw black symbols on each of Christina's limbs. As he did so he chanted unintelligible words in a high, excited voice. The sweat was now pouring down his flabby face and, as he proceeded with this new ritual, a frenzy seized upon his congregation, causing them to give vent to hideous animal noises and those who were free to do so pulled up their robes, exposing themselves.

With distended eyes John stared at the frightful spectacle being enacted before him. Already he had become vaguely conscious that some of the faces about him were familiar. Suddenly he realised where he had seen them before. Ten of them were those of the party who had flown out with him from Northolt that morning. Before leaving England the previous afternoon the Canon must have sent an S O S to ten of the leading Satanists of Britain to join him in Nice for the ceremony. The mention of a wedding he had overheard must have been a covert reference to the spiritual union of Christina with the homunculus. He could only guess that the two others, making up the coven of thirteen, were French Satanists who had selected the Cave of the Bats as an appropriate setting for this unholy marriage.

John's distraught glance switched to the homunculus. He had been given a description of it by C. B., but had never seen it. The big glass jar that contained it had been placed by the left hand end of a low altar, hewn from the living rock, at the far end of the small chamber. In the jar the squat, repulsive travesty of a female figure undulated gently, its arms and legs moving with the same apparent aimlessness as the tentacles of an octopus. Slowly the red rimmed eyes swivelled from side to side, while the mouth opened and shut with a fish like motion. As John gazed at it his flesh began to creep, and he felt that for sheer unadulterated filthiness the reality utterly beggared the description.

Suddenly the ritual of the symbols ended. The acolytes threw themselves on Christina, hauled her, now only half conscious, from the altar and stood her upright. One of the women near her produced a sack like robe with strange designs upon it. The garment was thrown over her and her arms were then pulled through slits in its sides. Another of the witches put a pointed fool's cap on her head and tied it there by a ribbon beneath her chin. Into John's mind came a picture of heretics on their way to the stake, to be burnt at the order of the Spanish Inquisition. The costume was evidently designed with the same intent, but had the symbols of the Devil instead of those of Christ figured upon it. A third witch tied Christina's hands in front of her with a strip from her torn dress. Next moment the three of them had flung her down again on her back along the altar. Her head now rested on the top of the jar that held the homunculus. The black haired witch removed its big round stopper. Sick with horror, John closed his eyes and again strove to pray.

When he opened them the Canon had begun another incantation. In a frenzy of excitement he mouthed and postured, while the witches held Christina down. The congregation screamed responses. Beddows shouted and cursed, and strove to break away; but he could not get up from his knees or shake off the men who held him. The Canon drew a long curved knife from his girdle and waved it aloft. Breaking into English he shrieked in a high falsetto

`The hour has come! The great hour has come! I, Augustus Copely Syle, Prince of the Bats and High Priest of the Lord Satan, by this act give a soul to my creation.'

`Stop!' John's yell cut through the hideous din. `Stop, I say! Your ceremony is useless. She is no longer a virgin! I took her virginity that night we were together on the Ile de Port Cros.'

A sudden deathly silence descended on the vaulted chamber. The Canon swung upon him, his face livid with ungovernable fury.

`It is not true!' he gasped. `It cannot be true.'

`It is! I swear it!' cried John desperately.

Copely Syle's eyes bulged, and he groaned. For a moment he remained silent and motionless, then he muttered, `Oh, I feared it! I feared it from the moment I saw you with her in the Casino!'

Again, for the space of a dozen heart beats, he stood glaring but seemingly paralyzed. It was Beddows who broke the spell by suddenly emitting a harsh, unnatural laugh.

It seemed to electrify the Canon. With blazing eyes he leapt towards John, brandishing the knife on high and screaming, `My life work is ruined. I will cut out your heart. I will cut out your heart!'

The knife cleaved the air with a swish. It was aimed at John's neck above the collar bone. Another second and it would have cleaved his jugular vein. Of the two men holding him on his knees one was the tall, gaunt faced individual who had come from Scotland. At the penultimate instant he struck the blade aside and cried