“In short, acknowledging and channelling powerful energy from the hidden world gives one unimaginable advantages,” Heinrich explained. “The trick is to pretend it doesn’t exist, that it is the domain of the mad and the bad. You see, while ever the people are kept ignorant of its reality, they have neither the ability nor the inclination to see what is really happening. They simply don’t believe in it. Yes, it is important to keep them poor, fully occupied and fearful; then they will do anything.”
His politics left her confused, but the look in his admiring eyes did not. Nor did the promise of independence and wealth. Satan has his ways, she thought, of luring us in like fish on a reel – suffer pain and disease or be healthy and strong. Live like a gypsy in the dirt or enjoy untold riches. He made it easy. What was there to lose? Her soul? Such tales from Faust and Dante even she did not believe.
Reaching the end of the street, he stopped. “I will leave you here.”
She nodded, taking the books.
“By the way, Lenka, if you ever discuss the existence of our group or repeat anything you learn, you will be locked away and tried for witchcraft. I will personally make sure you hang, do you understand? You must keep all of this a watertight secret, shared only with the Order or your life will be over. And no, you will not have time or the opportunity to pass on your legacy – that will follow you into the afterlife.”
The abrupt switch from friendly and informative to menacingly cold caught her out for the second time that evening.
Had she not already had proof of the hidden world, she’d have thought Heinrich a madman with all the rhetoric about secret clubs and bringing down empires. But she had. And if there was still any room for doubt, then what happened shortly afterwards would throw all further scepticism to the four winds.
On arrival at her aunt’s house, the doctor was hurrying away down the steps, and all the lamps were on. Aunt Heide let her in, and as she entered the hallway, the most wretched howls emanated from upstairs.
“Is that Uncle Guido?” she asked, wide-eyed.
“Hurry – take off your coat and fetch some hot water. We must bathe him. He has a stomach poisoning.”
She hurried to the kitchen and set some water on the stove to boil. A stomach poisoning? Perhaps he had been careless with his hygiene? Smiling, she made herself some tea while waiting for the larger pot to boil, enjoying the warmth of the fire. Overhead, Uncle Guido, she knew, was lying in a pool of his own sweat, the contents of his gut and bowels long since emptied from the chamber pot. The stench of his excretions permeated the fabric of the house, and she pitied Aunt Heide the task of cleaning it all up. She took a sip of tea. Still, Aunt Heide had said not a word when she knew what kind of man he was and what he did to small children, had she? Of course she knew! The knowledge plagued her mind day after day after day. How? Had she caught him in the act? Heard a rumour? Had a child tearfully confided in her, only to be clipped around the ear? Ah yes, that was it… the latter.
She took another sip of tea. The large pot of water had been boiling for a while now, but he could wait for his wash and change of nightclothes. He could wait until she had finished her tea and reflected on what had happened this evening.
When, for instance, would her house be ready? She had failed to ask. That must be clarified or she would not do as he asked.
Oh, you will, Lenka…
She smiled wider, her insides tingling with merriment. Heinrich Blum was not his real name, of course. The man was a liar and a magician of the highest order. We will see who you are in time, though, she thought. At times he seemed ardent, serious about overthrowing established order and infiltrating the church, at others mischievous and cleverly malevolent, as if throwing influential people into conflict amused him. Perhaps he simply liked the notion of chaos and destruction?
A prolonged groan emanated from upstairs, and her aunt called down.
“Lenka! Is the water ready yet?”
She finished her tea and slowly rinsed out the cup. “Yes, ready now.”
Upstairs, the front bedroom was dimly lit by an oil lamp, an acrid stench trailing all the way across the landing and down the stairs. She tapped on the door.
“Yes, come in, Lenka. Hurry with the water. He needs to bathe and change his clothes!”
Uncle Guido’s face was slick with oil and grey of hue. Reddened eyes squinted as she set down the jug of water and a pile of fresh towels. His scraggy neck and sparse hair, gaunt face and soiled bedding was repellent. How quickly he had withered from man of the house, master of the Bible class, abuser of helpless orphaned boys, to this sickly, stinking specimen.
“Help me take off his nightshirt. We must wash him and change the sheets.”
Guido, so severely weakened by the rapid and violent purging of his system, could do nothing but sag against the bosom of his wife as she yanked off his shirt and dipped a flannel into the warm water.
“Did Uncle Guido eat something that disagreed with him?”
Guido’s stomach caved inwards visibly as if it had been punched. He panted through another violent spasm as it drained his remaining strength. Terrible, embarrassing noises emitted from his body, a tide of greenish fluid spreading across the bedsheet.
“We don’t know what it is,” Heide said. “I cooked the same meal as usual; he has eaten it a hundred times. The doctor said—”
“I am sorry, but I’m going to be sick—” Lenka said, running from the room.
She made sure to make noisy retching noises in the corridor outside. Like hell she would mop up his foul and putrid emissions. Darting into her room, she shut the door and sank onto the floor behind it, laughing so hard it hurt.
Whatever Satan had to offer, it had to be better than this. Hell was here already, she thought. On God’s earth.
Chapter Twenty-Two
True to his word, Heinrich Blum did provide Lenka with a house. On the leafy outskirts of Ingolstadt, it would be shared with a mature lady companion, who, for the sake of outward appearances, must be referred to as Aunt Sophia.
Sophia, an adept in the occult, would provide instruction on the dark arts – how to invoke and banish demons, practise astral travel and projection, communicate with entities, and, most of all, how to protect herself from psychic attack. It was extremely important to remain in control.
The move to her new life happened swiftly, within hours of relating to Heinrich just how ill Uncle Guido had become. They’d been sitting in the opulent lounge at the university the following evening, Heinrich leaning forwards, fingertips pressed together while she talked.
“A most impressive result, Lenka. Indeed, it is a fine demonstration of what is to come. Will you lift the hex?”
She shrugged. “Well, here is the thing, Heinrich. I do not know how to.”
Neither could contain their mirth, bursting into fits of giggles like children.
He dabbed at his eyes. “Your aunt will have quite the problem explaining to your mother how her husband contracted a fatal stomach disease within days of you being here, and then she lost you as well. She lost her daughter! So very careless!”
Lenka nearly fell from her chair, laughing so hard. “It is so careless of her, yes, to lose two people so quickly.”