Daemonika

By Jamie Evans

"Are you in search of the most peculiar, macabre, and mind-bending horror novel you'll ever lay eyes on? Well, look no further! Daemonika is an unhinged, diabolical masterpiece!"

 

DAEMONIKA: a novel of horror

 

Bizarre creatures emerged from the darkness, driven by an insatiable hunger for the living. Sinister powers were unleashed upon the world through a torn portal to the underworld. In a desperate race against time, Sam Vieanje, a teacher, and Mia Pietro, a student, join forces to seal the gateway and banish the unleashed terrors before the innocent inhabitants of the town of Liambow become prey to voracious, flesh-consuming demons.

 

Book Length ~ 137,000 words

 

Praise for Daemonika:

 

"LUCIO FULCI MEETS DAVID LYNCH. A fun read!" - Brenda

 

"Dark, haunting, scary, and frighteningly sick. I loved it, very imaginative." - Paul

 

Content Note:

This book contains sexual scenes, horror elements, drug use, and depictions of sex, blood, & gore. Reader discretion is advised.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dark Dossier
• Release date: Jun 6, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201043681

Jamie Evans

About the Author Jamie Evans writes dark horror/paranormal mysteries, and is the owner of Dark Dossier Magazine. He has written, edited, or co-edited several projects, including blogs, magazines, ebooks, over 390 short horror stories, and several anthologies. He currently lives in Ohio, where he is working on his next novel.

Book preview

SAM VIEANJE 1

S am?

Sorry, what?

Have you had breakfast? asked Father Gordon again.

I had three cigarettes, I said.

That’s not breakfast.

I shrugged. Father Craig Gordon looked at me from the corner of his eye as he eased his old body into an even older, well-worn leather chair.

I smiled as he sat down and I said, Well, I had a cup of coffee too.

We’ll find you something to eat.

Father Gordon grabbed a small book off the shelf with his right hand, using his left hand on the armrest of the chair to reach it. He nestled back down in the chair and opened the book.

He looked at me and said, What do you know about a book called Daemonika?

I moved in my seat and said, Well, let’s see... not much. Some Russian alchemist wrote it I think in the late 1400s, some say it’s a bunch of mumbo jumbo Satan stuff, some say it is a key to another world. Why do you ask?

Father Gordon opened the book.

I saw the title: Ordo domus Sanctae Mariae Theutonicorum Hierosolymitanorum. Gordon looked down at the page he had marked and looked at me.

I believe the book to be an instruction manual. A way to unlock a gate to Hell.

I sat up, almost coming out of my chair. Okay?

I have been reading everything I can find about the book, Father Gordon said as he looked at me.

I looked around the vast library around us. But I knew an even larger library was down the hall. I stood up and walked over to a corner shelf. It was dusty, but I saw a clean trail on the shelf where a book was moved recently. I wasn’t looking for any book in particular, just using the movement to think. I grabbed a book and turned to say something.

Gordon talked first. You know Paul?

I smiled. Paul Hodges? Sure.

He killed himself here yesterday.

What? Here in the church?

Father Gordon stood from his chair and walked over to me. He continued to talk but in a hush tone. Yes, he killed himself here in the church. I asked the sheriff to keep it quiet for now.

I took a breath and again looked at the books. I’m surprised Sheriff Madigan agreed.

Father Gordon smiled. He wanted it kept quiet as well.

I looked away from the books. Father Gordon looked older. He’s really aged a lot in the last year. Maybe he’s under stress, but he never talks about it. And I’m sure Paul’s death doesn’t help. Gordon, what does this have to do with a book?

Father Gordon put his hand on my shoulder and said, Let’s go to the garden and get some fresh air. I nodded and put the book I had back on the shelf.

We walked down a few hallways and I looked around the church I grew up attending. Nothing has really changed. It still looked magnificent and scary at the same time. Tall ceilings, massive stained glass windows, sculptures, and ornate trimmings were everywhere. They sure don’t make churches like this anymore. When I was very young, I would play with the other kids and hide in the strangest places. During the after church potlucks, Luca, Kyle, Robert, Amrish and I all flew around jumping from pew to pew playing Star Trek (I was always Mr. Spock)... Time sure flies by. I remember one time Father Gordon found me in his office and he asked that I not play in there. I remembered the smell of that office. It was of old books, wood, and pipe smoke. I always felt safe there. My guess why he wanted to go to the garden was that he wanted that pipe now and with the inside of the church now being a non-smoking area, the garden was a good excuse... and I could really use a cigarette.

We made it out to the garden, and it amazed me at how beautiful it was. This is one place that has changed. Everything looked fuller and brighter. I have been to a lot of gardens at museums in some of the biggest cities and they did not compare to this. This shut the entire outside world off with its walls of flowers, trees, and a large canopy of foliage. I felt like I was in the middle of a rainforest. There was a round white table and small chairs made of wood to our left, and Father Gordon led me over to it. I took off my sports jacket, hung it over the chair, and rolled up my sleeves. Father Gordon asked if he could get me something to drink and eat.

Is it too early for bourbon?

Father Gordon looked at his wristwatch and gave me a look.

He smiled and said, Is wine okay?

Of course, I said.

And I’m getting you some food.

I smiled as Father Gordon walked away. I was about to sit down, but instead, I walked around the garden while I waited for him to return. I pulled out a cigarette and lit it, and I took a deep breath.

‘Asking a priest for alcohol this early?’

It’s past noon. You think I have a problem?

‘You know you have a problem. And you smoke too much.’

Jesus Emily... I’m trying here...

‘Taking the Lord’s name in vain, too. I just worry about you, Sammy. I love you.’

Thanks and I love you too.

It’s not the best wine but...

I turned around. Father Gordon came back into the garden with a tray of stuff. I walked back over and sat down at the table. I put out my cigarette and looked at the wine and food he brought out. He had two bottles of wine. One was smaller, and the other was normal size. He had crackers, ham, and some cheese as well. He pushed the larger bottle of wine towards me. I looked at it. I’m no wine expert. But it looked old. I wasn’t starving, so I just poured some wine and I watched Gordon pour wine from his bottle. He adjusted his priestly uniform and picked up his wine, sat back in his chair, and looked straight into my eyes. I took a sip of my wine and waited for him to speak.

You okay Sam?

I nodded.

Sam, you know you can talk to me anytime, day or night.

I know that Gordon. It’s nothing...

Okay but...

Listen, we came out here to talk about a book.

Gordon nodded and filled his wine glass a little more.

Have you seen Luca Pietro recently? Gordon asked.

No, it’s been a few days. Actually, today we are to meet up and go book shopping at some antique shops up in the Mount Grove area. Why?

Father Gordon leaned in towards me. He picked up a cracker, looked at it, and then put it back down on the tray. He and Paul were working on something together.

I looked at Gordon. He seemed to want to say something more but was very slow on saying it to me. Maybe he wanted me to push... so I decided to.

Listen Gordon, you asked me here. You wanted to tell me something... tell me.

Father Gordon nodded and said, Paul left a suicide note. I did not give it to the sheriff. He pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket and slid it across the table towards me. I picked it up. It looked to be an old receipt. I opened it and I read it softly to myself.

Father Gordon, I’m sorry. The Daemonika was used, and somehow opened a gate. I will attempt to shut it... I hope it works... I feel something has entered me... I feel the evil grow.

Tell Luca sorry... God forgive me.

What did I just read Gordon?

My guess is Luca while book hunting like he does, came across the Daemonika. He asked Paul for help in researching it and then something happened.

Where’s the book now?

My guess is... Luca must still have it. So when you see him today. Bring him and the book here to me. If a gate has somehow been opened, then we must close it quickly.

I grabbed a cracker (I really wanted another cigarette) and sat back in my chair. I took a bite and a deep breath at the same time. I was trying to grasp everything I just heard. I think coming back to my hometown was a terrible idea.

You taking time off, Sam?

I sat back up and decided to have that cigarette. Yes, Schools out. Just have a few papers to grade, then I’m done for a while. I need it. I lit a cigarette, took a big drag and blew out much needed smoke.

Sam, I was hesitant to tell you any of this because I know you are having a hard time... you know, being back...

I’m fine Gordon... Honest I am. When I see Luca later today, we’ll get this book to you. I’m sorry about Paul, but he was kind of... well, he really believed in this supernatural stuff... so maybe he overreacted... I don’t know.

Maybe, but I believe in this supernatural stuff as well, Sam. And you did too, not that long ago. Let’s just get the book and go from there.

I heard footsteps behind me and saw Gordon look over my shoulder. I turned around to see a police officer standing at the entrance to the garden area.

Yes. Father Gordon said to the police officer.

Father Gordon? said the deputy.

Yes, how can we help you?

The police officer walked into the garden and came up to the right side of me and was uncomfortably close to the table and to my leg. I moved my chair over and looked up at the policewoman.

My name is Deputy Sheriff Gassner. Kyla Gassner. She looked down at me, and I instantly felt like I did something wrong.

She said, Are you Sam Vieanje, the English teacher?

I sat up in my chair and said, Yes. Yes, I am. I looked at Gordon and he just shrugged.

Sir, I’m sorry to tell you this, but... we found Luca Pietro dead this morning.

I looked at Father Gordon. He looked at me. I sat there, not breathing, letting my cigarette burn down. I looked at the deputy.

Dead?

Yes. I am sorry. Could you come with me to identify the body?

I stood up, looking at the crackers and the wine. I looked at Father Gordon, wanting him to talk so I would not have to, but he said nothing. I put out my cigarette. I looked at the deputy as I pushed in my chair.

I said, Shouldn’t a relative identify the body? I was just a friend.

Yes, normally, but the Sheriff asked me to get you. He wanted to ask you a few questions before we inform the family.

I see. I rolled my sleeves down and grabbed my sport jacket from the chair and slipped it on. I wanted to chug the rest of my wine but wasn’t sure If I was going to drive or not and thought I better not. I walked towards the doors when I heard Father Gordon.

Sam, call me later. Don’t forget about the book.

I looked back over my shoulder towards him and nodded. I walked out the door with the deputy. I did not say a word. We went out of the church, down the massive stairs to a sunny and beautiful day. The weather was cool and everything in the streets of Liambow, Ohio, looked like something Norman Rockwell would paint and send off to the Evening Post. But it wasn’t a nice day. A suicide and now the death of my best friend.

I turned to the right towards my car when the deputy said, This way. I’ll drive.

I wasn’t sure if that was protocol or if she smelled the wine on my breath, but I didn’t argue. I just nodded and followed her to the patrol car. She had parked it in front of a fire hydrant and I had to squeeze in so I wouldn’t bang her door. I sat down, wanting to ask questions, but I just sat there. The deputy started the car and looked at me and she said, Seatbelt? I looked at her and I shook my head yes and put it on. She made a u-turn in the middle of the street and took off quickly towards the sheriff’s office.

I turned my head slightly towards the deputy sheriff. She was young and beautiful. She looked Irish, but with the name Gassner; I wasn’t so sure. I looked for a ring to see if maybe Gassner was her married name, but did not see one.

I asked her, So what can you tell me, or do I have to wait until I talk to the sheriff?

She glanced at me and put her eyes back on the road.

She took a deep breath and said, He was murdered.

I looked at her. I waited for her to say more. But she said nothing.

Murdered? I said.

Deputy Sheriff Gassner stared straight ahead, then after a few moments, she said, He was tortured. I have seen nothing like it... I couldn’t imagine another human doing it... I just can’t imagine.

She glanced at me for just a moment again and then put her hazel eyes right back on the road. The way she looked at me. Does she think I did it? Why didn’t they inform his parents or fiance or anyone else first? Why me? Sure, Luca was my best friend but... I decided not to talk anymore and I just sat there as we drove the rest of the way to the sheriff’s office.

We came in from the back and parked in a spot that had a sign that read for official personnel only. Deputy Gassner’s name in block letters was below. I got out of the car and followed Deputy Gassner into the building down a dull green hallway. It smelled of burned coffee and cigarette smoke. I’m sure the smell of donuts was mixed in there some place. Deputy Gassner asked me to sit down and that she would be right back. As I sat down, I saw an ashtray connected to the chair and thought, why not? I lit one and took two big puffs. It helped.

‘So is that your third or fourth cigarette today?’

I lost count, and who cares?

‘I do. You need to fix yourself, Sammy. I hate seeing you this way.’

My best friend was just murdered. And I think the police think I did it.

‘They don’t think that. But they think you might help them.’

You sure?

‘Yes. Now put that cigarette out and sober up and just answer their questions.’

Ok, the sheriff is ready to see you, Deputy Gassner said, holding a cup of coffee for herself and one for me. She handed me the cup of coffee and I took a large drink.

It was boiling, but it was something I needed. I just hope my taste buds return.

Maybe Emily was right. Maybe I needed to get a grip. I will answer their questions and pay attention to what they have to say. I swallowed another gulp of coffee, and Deputy Gassner led me into a large office. The baby blue walls in the office were nearly empty. A mirror that looked very feminine was to my left, next to a bookcase full of books. As I looked straight ahead, in front of me was a small desk with a typewriter, a cup of coffee, and a pipe burning in a brown wooden stand. Next to that was an ashtray, perhaps made by a child. I looked at the man behind the desk and there sat Sheriff Dave Madigan. Not the nicest person you would ever meet, but he knew the law and was to the point. He came across as mean, but really he just didn’t like the pleasantness of small town talk. He did not look at me as I entered and I heard the door behind me close. I turned to expect Deputy Gassner to still be there, but she was not. I stood there for a few moments as Sheriff Madigan wrote something down on a piece of paper. Without looking up at me, he finally said, Sit down.

I walked over to a black leather chair that looked very uncomfortable and sat down. I was correct; it was uncomfortable. I felt one spring sticking into my right thigh. I tried adjusting myself, but it did not help. Sheriff Madigan stood up. His chair creaked and whined in protest. The sound was like a Miles Davis tune my father used to listen to. He walked over to me and sat down on his desk, moving the child’s ashtray to the side to make room for his ass.

He looked at me and said, Sam, I’m sorry about Luca.

Thanks. But please, just tell me what happened.

Madigan took a deep breath, reached over his desk near the typewriter and grabbed a manilla folder. He opened it and said, Luca Pietro, age 32, 5’ 8 tall, slender build, dark brown hair, dark brown eyes." He looked up from the folder at me and then looked back down and continued,

He was a book collector and had a small bookstore in the Italian area of town... on Crestview Avenue.

He turned a piece of paper over and grabbed his cup of coffee. I forgot I was still holding mine and took a big sip before finishing it.

Sheriff Madigan took a small sip from his coffee and closed the folder, setting it down on his desk. He looked at me and said, Sam, Luca Pietro was murdered. He was tortured first, then murdered. I want you to be prepared for that when you see him.

I swallowed, but there was nothing there to swallow.

Okay. What happened?

Sheriff Madigan stood up and walked back over to his desk and sat down. The tune coming from the chair was not the same as before.

He pulled himself forward and said, Where were you last night, Sam?

I was with Lara. But I couldn’t say that... but unfortunately, that’s where I was. I stalled so I could think. What time last night? I asked.

Well, let’s just go through the day. How about that?

I nodded and said, I woke up early. I live by myself. I had eggs over easy with black coffee and toast. Let’s see... I graded some papers... My neighbor saw me get the paper... I went out for an early lunch with beers with my friend Dr. George Huyck. We had a few too many... I went home and graded some papers again and watched a little tennis on TV. I got two phone calls, one from a friend of mine, Amrish Stone, and one from Father Gordon. His call was about meeting him, and then I went to bed. I woke up this morning, had the same breakfast I had the day before. I graded some more papers... then headed over to the Holy Cross Church, and that’s when Deputy Gassner visited me.

I left out the part where I visited Lara Capshaw. But if he doesn’t press me for actual times, I think I might be alright.

Sheriff Madigan nodded and said, Well, looks like you have a decent alibi and I don’t suspect you, anyway. What they did to poor Luca I couldn’t imagine it was you... Hell, I have a tough time imagining it was someone human.

I looked at my empty cup of coffee. I didn’t know what to say.

Madigan said, Did Father Gordon talk about anything... well, important?

I looked up and could see he wanted me to talk about Paul. I guess he just wondered if I knew. So I said, Yes. We talked about Paul. I mean Paul killing himself and now Luca... what the Hell is going on in this town?

Sheriff Madigan leaned back in his chair and looked at the ceiling.

He said, I do not know. But I know that Luca and Paul were working on something together and now they are both dead.

I looked at him, and he lowered his eyes to look at me. I played dumb.

What were they working on?

You tell me Sam.

I really don’t know. But if I find anything, I’ll tell you straight away.

Madigan leveled his chair back down and leaned both elbows onto his desk.

You do that Sam.... Now get out of here. Kyla will take you over to see Luca.

I stood up and thanked him. Not sure why, and then I went out the doors. Deputy Gassner was sitting in a chair in the hall. She stood up and said, You ready?

I guess so.

Follow me.

I walked behind her as we exited out of the building to a beautiful blue sky.

We talked a little as she drove me over to see Luca. Not much of conversation, but enough to find out she was married, she had a son, and that she was part Irish. I guess maybe she doesn’t wear a wedding ring because of her job... it might get caught on something... who knows? I asked her if it was okay for me to smoke. She said it was fine as long as I rolled down the window. She said to call her Kyla, and I said to call me Sam. I again pestered her to see if it was okay to stop and get some more coffee before we saw Luca. She said yes, and we stopped by Percolator Paulie on Summit. Just then, I thought of Paul. I really didn’t know him... I mean, I saw him around town at least once a week... but I never really said hello or anything. I got a black coffee and told the cashier that I would pay for the deputy. I waited for Kyla to order and she ordered... Her coffee had about 7 ingredients. She noticed me looking at her, and I just smiled.

She said, I do love coffee.

I’m not sure if that’s coffee anymore.

She giggled a cute giggle, grabbed her coffee, and she went out the door. I paid for our coffee and followed her out.

We pulled into the parking lot of a building that looked like it was built in the 1950s. It was all concrete and had the look of an old black and white horror movie you would see late at night on channel 53. We walked into the building and the inside wasn’t much better. The walls were gray and in other areas; it was dark gray. The black cabinets that lined each office as we walked by helped very little in the creepiness. The building was cold and as we got closer to the room Luca was in; it got even colder. I buttoned up my sport coat as we both walked into a small room full of lights and machinery that I couldn’t explain. In the middle of the room was a gurney. I guess Luca was under it. A blood matted sheet was over him and there was some blood on the floor.

I already saw him... it’s not good, so be prepared, said Kyla.

I nodded and walked over to the gurney. I pulled back the sheet and looked down at what was left of my best friend. I won’t go into details, but I will tell you what I saw... He had no hands or feet. His eyes were gone, and it looked like they burned him over his entire body. His face was smashed in, but I could still tell it was Luca... but barely. I looked over to Kyla, and she grabbed a folder and read from a piece of paper.

The body was tortured for hours. He was tied up, his tongue and eyes were torn out... not cut... but torn out. Someone repeatedly burned... over 80% of his body with third-degree burns. And finally, while he was still alive... his hands and feet were removed.

She looked up at me and slowly closed the folder. I looked at Luca one more time and covered him up. I made sure not to step on anything on the floor and sauntered back over to Deputy Kyla.

Is it Luca Pietro? she asked.

Yes. It’s Luca.

I’m sorry.

I’m not sure if you can say anything or not... but he was my best friend. Sheriff Madigan gave me nothing... I would appreciate any information about this.

Kyla looked at me and she fidgeted with her folder. She opened it, looked at it, and shut it again. She said, Promise me you will tell no one.

No one.

We found him in a suitcase in the cemetery.

In a suitcase? What cemetery?

Nightshade Cemetery. The suitcase was sitting on the grave of... Emily Vieanje.

Deputy Kyla looked at me. I said nothing about Emily.

I said, Do you think they killed him there?

No. We think he left town to meet with someone and that is where he was killed. According to his fiance a... Deputy Kyla looked at the folder again. A Lara Capshaw. Luca told her he was meeting some people to help with a book. She said that’s all she knows.

I nodded. When Lara came over last night. She didn’t tell me Luca was out of town... she just said he would not be home.

Everything alright Sam?

Yes. Sorry. I was just thinking.

Do you know this Lara Capshaw? Do you think she’s involved?

Yes. I know her and I don’t think there is any way she’s involved... She loved Luca.

I wanted to get out of the room, so I just started walking out and Deputy Kyla followed me. In the hallway, I turned to her and said, Did he have anything on him... a book... papers, anything?

Again Deputy Kyla opened up the folder and then closed it. Nothing. Not even a wallet.

Okay. Thanks.

Let me take you back to your car.

I nodded, and we left the building.

The drive back to my car, we did not talk.

I opened my jeep door and quickly rolled down all the windows to air it out. I tossed a cigarette in my mouth and with a quick flick of my zippo; I leaned in and lit it. I took one long drag and instantly felt better. What I really needed was a shot of Four Roses. That would hit the spot.

‘Thinking about bourbon, when you should be thinking about who killed Luca.’

I can do both, Emily... I need time to think, and cigarettes and bourbon help me do that.

‘Fine, drink and smoke all you want... I won’t pester you about it.’

Thank you.

‘So what are you going to do about Luca?’

What can I do? The police can handle it.

‘Sammy. I won’t bother you anymore about your drinking or smoking. But please do this for me. Look into this... This is very serious.’

I looked at Emily, nodded and said, Okay, Emily. I will look into this.

She smiled, and I started my car.

FATHER PAUL HODGES 1

It was Sister Anna’s first day, and I wanted to make her feel welcomed. I took her around Holy Cross Church as I asked her some small talk questions while she obliged me by answering.

You could tell she was kind, intelligent, young, and exquisite.

She was truly an angel sent to us by God.

I told her we sure needed help around here as I explained, Currently it’s me, Father Gordon, a young high school student that helps outside, mowing and other things and there’s Raymond, he’s the maintenance guy who’s been here forever, and there is a part-time librarian. His name is William Melk. He’s super smart. I love talking to him... he should be here tomorrow to help familiarize you with our vast library.

I noticed her looking around and wondered if I was boring her.

Everything okay Sister Anna?

Yes, just taking everything in... yesterday I walked around the town and everyone was so nice. I’m just trying to remember all their names and sometimes I just get overwhelmed. But I thank you for helping me.

I nodded and said, Of course you don’t have to dive in all at once. Why don’t you walk around, relax, and I’ll meet you later.

She nodded, smiled, and walked away. Down the hallway near where her new room was, I saw Father Gordon come up to her, and I heard him say to enjoy exploring the church but stay away from the church’s basement.

Sister Anna nodded, smiled, said thank you, and walked away.

Father Gordon looked at me and walked down the hall. I noticed lately that the basement had construction workers from the city going in and out of that area. Not sure what they were doing.

I looked at my watch, and I went down the hall, looking for Luca Pietro. He was to meet me here any minute.

In a pew towards the front was Luca. He looked like he was praying, so I walked quietly towards him. He must have heard me because he stood up and turned. He looked tired, and I asked him if everything was okay.

I’m fine, he said.

How’s the book?

The Teutonic Order? I put it on hold for now... I have a new book I’m researching.

I sat down in the pew and Luca sat down next to me.

I said, You’re writing two books?

Luca shook his head and said, No, my uncle sent me a very old book he found in Russia called the Daemonika. Have you heard of it?

Vaguely. If I recall, it is some text written a long time ago. Something about doorways that lead to the underworld.

Yes, that is what I found out, as well.

Luca opened up a leather satchel and took out a large book. It was covered in a red tattered cloth. He uncovered it and I ran my hand over the cover. It felt like dried, leathery skin and in the middle looked to be a rune symbol. The symbol I think meant gateway. But it looked to be the number seven, and it had a small triangle attached to it. I have never seen a rune symbol look like it before. The symbol that was carved into the book was on a piece of leather that differed from the rest of the leather of the book.

I touched the symbol. It was warm, and it felt alive.

I sat back in the pew and said, Our library is open to you anytime... and, of course, I’ll help. This is very interesting.

I looked down at the book as Luca covered it back up and slid it into his satchel.

He said, Let’s go now.

We stood up and walked to the church library.

Father Gordon was in the hallway. We walked up to him and told him what we were doing.

Do you know the book? I said.

Father Gordon said, Yes, the Daemonika is no ordinary book. It’s understood to be an instruction manual for reaching death and darkness, and I will have nothing to do with it. Back in 1974, in Santa Rosalia, Sicily, I was in the presence of three Daemonika books. They were part of trade that was going on with Russia. Anyway, they were on a table and the one in the middle looked strange to me. The leather did not match. Maybe it was damaged and the binders just sewed an old leather strap to it. Who knows... but when I touched it, I felt this vibration like the book had breath. You can... Wait, do you have an original?

I looked at Luca. He was looking at me. I said, No, we don’t have an original... it’s just research.

Father Gordon smiled and said, Oh, well, the library is always open. He then walked down the hallway. My guess is to have a glass of wine. It was about that time.

Luca and I entered the vast church library, and we took our time trying to locate books about the Daemonika.

Luca said, I wish Mr. Melk was here.

I nodded. What about Sam?

What about him?

Well, he’s your best friend, and he’s an English teacher... don’t you think he could help?

Luca shook his head and said, I don’t wanna bother him... this will bring up bad things for him.

I nodded, wanting to ask him more, but I left it and continued to pull books down for our research.

We searched for what seemed like hours. I needed food, and I sent Luca out to get us some burgers from Mac’s Diner.

As I went up the ladder for what seemed like the twentieth time. I found a book that was wedged in the back behind a large volume about trees.

It was called Infernum Est Scriptor Porta. I took it, climbed down the ladder and walked over to the desk covered with papers and empty coffee cups. I turned on another light that I really did not need and turned to the first page. It was about demons who guarded gateways to hell.

From my quick translation, one section stood out.

The Demon imprints on them a mark, especially on those whose constancy he suspects. That mark is not always of the same shape or figure. Sometimes it is the image of a hare, sometimes a toad’s leg, sometimes a spider, a puppy, or a dormouse. It is imprinted on the most hidden parts of the body: with men, under the eyelids, or the armpits, or the lips, on the shoulder, the fundament, or somewhere else. With women, it is usually on the breasts or the privy parts. Now, the stamp which imprints those marks is none other than the Devil’s claw. This having been all performed under the instructions of the Teachers who have promised never to worship the Eucharist; to insult all Saints and especially the most blessed Virgin Mary; to trample under foot and vilify the holy images, the Cross and the relics of Saints; never to use the sacraments or sacramental ceremonials; never to make a full confession to the priest, but to keep always hidden from him their intercourse with the Demon. The Demon, in exchange, engages to always give them prompt assistance; to fulfill their desires in this world and to make them happy after their death. The solemn profession being thus performed, each has assigned to himself a Devil, called Magistellus or Assistant Master, with whom he retires in private for carnal satisfaction; the said Devil being, of course, in the shape of a woman if the initiated person is a man, in the shape of a man, sometimes of a satyr, sometimes of a goat, if it is a woman who has been received a witch.

FATHER PAUL HODGES 2

Iheard a noise and looked up. Luca walked in and said, You found something, didn’t you?

He plopped down a greasy brown bag and two cokes.

I took a sip of coke and said, Yes, this book has stories that are about the Hell gates.

Luca picked up the book. He opened it and flipped through the pages.

It’s written in Latin.

Yes, I just read one story, and I think hidden within each story is about the gates to Hell.

I took the book from Luca and opened it to a page I was looking at when he walked in.

I read it to him.

In the first case, the compact entered into with the Devil being proved, the evidence of Demoniality follows as a necessary consequence; for, the purpose, both of Witches and Wizards, in the nightly revels that take place after feasting and dancing, is none other but that infamous intercourse; otherwise, there can be no witness to that crime, since the Devil, visible to the Witch, escapes the sight of others. Sometimes, it is true, women have been seen in the woods, in the fields, in the groves, lying on their backs, their legs spread apart. No one else was around, but it seemed that they were with someone. In such a case, there would be a very strong suspicion of such a crime, if supported by other signs; and I am inclined to believe that such action, sufficiently proved by witnesses, would justify the Judge in resorting to torture in order to find out the truth; especially if, shortly after that action, a sort of black shadow had been seen with the woman, and she had been noticed to change in behavior, for it might be inferred that shadow had been the Devil himself, concumbens cum fœmina.

Luca sat down and took out the hamburgers and he unwrapped one as he said, I should have told you sooner... what my uncle told me about the gate.

I looked at Luca and with a mouthful of burger, I said, What?

My Uncle Jacopo Pietro found this book in Russia, and I think he might be in serious trouble. He told me with his research he thinks that one of the seven gateways is in Russia and he thought getting the book here away from the gate could help him. But with my research, I believe there is a gateway here.

Wait. A gate here in Liambow?

Yes, I think it is in this church, or at least near it. I found through my research that it is the 5th gate out of the seven. Look here.

Luca took out a notebook from his satchel and read to me:

The truth I heard often in my sleep from the lips of the Dark Interpreter. Who is he? He is a shadow, reader, but a shadow with whom you must suffer me to make you acquainted. You need not be afraid of him, for when I explain his nature and origin you will see that he is essentially inoffensive; or if sometimes he menaces with his countenance, that is but seldom: and then, as his features in those moods shift as rapidly as clouds in a gale of wind, you may always look for the terrific aspects to vanish as fast as they have gathered. As to his origin—what it is, I know exactly, but cannot without a little circuit of preparation make you understand.

Luca looked up, and I took another bite of hamburger. I wanted to say something, but I was trying to analyze what he just read to me. Luca continued to read:

"Perhaps you are aware of that power in the eyes of many children by which in darkness they project a vast theater of phantasmagorical figures moving forwards or backwards between their bed-curtains and the chamber walls. In some children, this power is semi-voluntary—they can control or perhaps suspend the shows; but in others, it is altogether automatic. I myself, at the date of my last confessions, had seen in this way more processions—generally solemn, mournful, belonging to eternity, but also glad, triumphal pomps, that seemed to enter the gates of Time—than all the religions of paganism, fierce or gay, ever witnessed. Now, there is in the dark places of the human spirit—in grief, in fear, in vindictive wrath—a power of self-projection not unlike this. Thirty years ago, it may be, a man called Symons committed several murders in a sudden epilepsy of planet-struck fury. According to my recollection, this case happened at Hoddesdon, which is in Middlesex. ‘Revenge is sweet!’ was his hellish motto on that occasion, and that motto itself records the abysses which a human will can open. Revenge is not sweet, unless by the mighty charm of a charity that seeketh not her own, it has become benignant. And what he had to revenge was a woman’s scorn. He had been a plain farm-servant; and, in fact, he was executed, as such men often are, on a proper point of professional respect to their calling, in a smock-frock, or blouse, to render so ugly a clash of syllables. His young mistress was every way and by much his superior, as well in prospects as in education. But the man, by nature arrogant, and little acquainted with the world, presumptuously raised his eyes to one of his young mistresses. Great was the scorn with which she repulsed his audacity, and her sisters took part in her disdain. Upon this affront he brooded night and day; and, after the term of his service was over, and he, in effect, forgotten by the family, one day he suddenly descended amongst the women of the family like an avatar of vengeance. Right and left