The Devil Rides Out

‘Of course,’ De Richleau agreed. ‘It has been proved time and again that the senses are only imperfect vessels for collecting impressions. There is something else which can see when the eyes are closed and hear while the body is being painlessly cut to ribbons under an anaesthetic. All the modern experimenters agree that there are many states in which the body is not wholly alive or wholly dead, but I fear there is little hope in this case. You see we know that Mocata used her as his catspaw, so the poor girl has been forced to pay the price of failure. I haven’t a single doubt that she is dead.’

Rex caught his last words and swung upon him frantically. ‘God! this is frightful. I—I tried to kid myself but I think I knew it the moment I picked her up. Her prophecy’s come true then.’ He passed his hand over his eyes. ‘I can’t quite take it in yet—this and all of you seem terribly unreal—but is she really dead? She was so mighty scared that if she died some awful thing might remain to animate her body.’

‘She is dead as we know death,’ said Richard softly. ‘So what could remain?’

‘I know what he means,’ the Duke remarked abruptly. ‘He is afraid that an elemental may have taken possession of her corpse. If so drastic measures will be necessary.’

‘No!’ Rex shook his head violently. ‘If you’re thinking of cutting off her head and driving a stake through her heart, I won’t have it. She’s mine, I tell you—mine!’

‘Better that than the poor soul should suffer the agony of seeing its body come out of the grave at night to fatten itself on human blood,’ De Richleau murmured. ‘But there are certain tests, and we can soon find out. Bring her over here.’

Simon and Richard lifted the body and carried it over to the mat of sheets and blankets in the centre of the pentacle, while De Richleau fiddled for a moment among his impedimenta.

‘The Undead,’ he said slowly, ‘have certain inhibitions. They can pass as human, but they cannot eat human food and they cannot cross running water except at sunset and sunrise. Garlic is a most fearsome thing to them, so that they scream if only touched by it, and the Cross of course, is anathema. We will see if she reacts to them.’

As he spoke he took the wreath of garlic flowers from round his neck and placed it about Tanith’s. Then he made the sign of the Cross above her and laid his little gold crucifix upon her lips.

The others stood round, watching the scene with horrified fascination. Tanith lay there, calm and still, her pale face shadowed by the golden hair, her tawny eyes now closed under the heavy, blue-veined lids, the long, curved eyelashes falling upon her cheeks. She had the look of death and yet, as De Richleau set about his grim task, it seemed to them that her eyelids might flicker open at any moment. Yet, when the garlic flowers were draped upon her, she remained there cold and immobile, and when the little crucifix was laid upon her lips she showed no consciousness of it, even by the twitching of the tiniest muscle.

‘She’s dead, Rex, absolutely dead,’ De Richleau stood up again. ‘So, my poor boy, at least your worst fears will not be realised. Her soul has left her body but no evil entity has taken possession of it. I am certain of that now.’

A new hush fell upon the room. Tanith looked, if possible, even more beautiful in death than she had in life, so that .they marvelled at her loveliness. Rex crouched beside her, utterly stricken by this tragic ending to all the wonderful hopes and plans which had seethed in his mind the previous afternoon after she had told him that she loved him. He had known her by sight for so long, dreamed of her so often, yet having gained her love a merciless fate had deprived him of it after only a few hours of happiness. It was unfair—unfair. Suddenly he buried his face in his hands, his great shoulders shook, and for the first time in his life he gave way to a passion of bitter tears.

The rest stood by him in silent sympathy. There was nothing which they could say or do. Marie Lou attempted to soothe his anguish by gently stroking his rebellious hair, but he jerked his head away with a quick angry movement. Only a few hours before in those sunlit woods, Tanith had run her fingers through his curls again and again during the ecstasy of the dawning of their passion for each other, and the thought that she would never do so any more filled him with almost unbearable grief and misery.

After a while the Duke turned helplessly away and Simon, catching his eye, beckoned him over towards the open window out of earshot from the others. The seemingly endless night still lay upon the garden, and now a light mist had risen. Wisps of it were creeping down the steps from the terrace and curling into the room. De Richleau shivered and refastened the windows to shut them out.

‘What is it?’ he asked quickly.

‘I—er—suppose there is no chance of her being made animate again?’ hazarded Simon.

‘None. If there had been anything there it would never have been able to bear the garlic and the crucifix without giving some indication of its presence.’

‘I wasn’t thinking of that. The vital organs aren’t injured in any way as far as we know, and rigor mortis has not set in yet. I felt her hand just now and the fingers are as flexible as mine.’

De Richleau shrugged. ‘That makes no difference. Rigor mortis may have been delayed for a variety of reasons but she will be as stiff as a board in a few hours’ time just the same. Of course her state does resemble that of a person who has been drowned, in a way, but only superficially; and if you are thinking that we might bring her back to life by artificial respiration I can assure you that there is not a chance. It would only be a terrible unkindness to hold out such false hopes to poor Rex.’

‘Ner—you don’t see what I’m driving at.’ Simon’s dark eyes flickered quickly from De Richleau’s face to the silent group in the centre of the pentagram and then back again. ‘No ordinary doctor could do anything for her, I know that well enough, but since her body is still in the intermediate stage there are a few people in this world who could, and I was wondering if you––’

‘What!’ The Duke started suddenly then went on in a whisper: ‘Do you mean that I should try and bring her back?’

‘Um,’ Simon nodded his head jerkily up and down. ‘If you know the drill—and you seem to know so much about the great secrets—I thought it just on the cards you might?’

De Richleau looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘I know something of the ritual,’ he confessed at length, ‘but I have never seen it done, and in any case it’s a terrible responsibility.’

At that moment there was a faint sighing as the breeze rippled the leaves of the trees out in the garden. Both men heard it and they looked at each other questioningly.

‘Her soul can’t be very far away yet,’ whispered Simon.

‘No,’ the Duke agreed reluctantly. ‘But I don’t like it, Simon. The dead are not meant to be called back. They do not come willingly. If I attempted this and succeed it would only be by the force of incredibly powerful conjurations which the soul dare not disobey, and we are not justified in taking such steps. Besides, what good could it do ? At best, I should not be able to bring her back for more than a few moments.’

‘Of course, I know that; but you still don’t seem to get my idea,’ Simon went on hurriedly. ‘As far as Rex is concerned, poor chap, she’s gone for good and all, but I was thinking of Mocata. You were hammering it into us last night for all you were worth that it’s up to us to destroy him before he has the chance to secure the Talisman. Surely this is our opportunity. In Tanith’s present physical state her spirit can’t have gone far from her body. If you could bring it back for a few moments, or even get her to talk, don’t you see that she’ll be able to tell us how best to try and scotch Mocata. From the astral plane, where she is now, her vision and insight are limitless, so she’ll be able to help us in a way that she never could have done before.’