the Fifth Sepulchre*
It is amazing how an event can reverberate through time and space. Aeons ago the Druids imprisoned the souls of God's fallen angels in five chests - the five "unholy" sepulchres. They then scattered these chests to all corners of the globe, for when they are brought together, set into a pentagram, and opened, they fling wide the gates of hell to loose Satan and his minions upon the world.
My father, Winston Rayne, the Chairman of the Luna Foundation, was a Precept in the Legacy, a secret society sworn to protect mankind from the forces of darkness. To that end, he became obsessed with finding these accursed artifacts. "To kill a snake you must cut off its head," he would say. His motto was "Faith hath need of the whole truth." His desire to know, to understand, was his greatest strength, his greatest weakness, and his downfall. Will it be my own?
I was with him in Peru in 1969 when he found the first of the sepulchres, opened it, and died for his obsession. Through psychic vision, I had foreseen his death, but, to my everlasting regret, could do nothing to prevent it. As he died he pressed his Precept's ring into my hand and told me the burden was now mine. I was fifteen.
As he once was, so I, Derek Rayne, am now Precept of the Legacy's San Francisco House. My father's quest became my own, but it was a quest only, not a compulsion. For safety's sake, I kept my search and my success in locating three more of the sepulchres a secret. These abominations are supremely dangerous. The thought of their being in anyone else's hands, even the Legacy's, terrifies me.
Tragically, wherever they go death follows. On the twenty-seventh anniversary of my father's death, while hosting a Luna Foundation event, I was overtaken by the vision of a small girl in a red coat, Gaelic crosses beside the sea, and yet another sepulchre, "the Fifth Sepulchre" - all interwoven with the vision and memories of Peru.
I knew time was of the essence, for the coffer was already in innocent, ignorant hands. I needed help. Alexandra Moreau's research ascertained that the cemetery I "saw" was in a small, coastal village in Connemara. I tried to get my old friend and former House member, Fr. Philip Callaghan, to accompany me to his native land. He knew of my long, clandestine search; I've always trusted him to treat the secret as if bound by the confessional. However, with the simple admonition, "I'll pray for you, my friend," he refused. He fears a fatal weakness in his own soul. Therefore, it was only, Nick Boyle, Julia Walker, and myself who flew to Ireland on this most urgent mission. Alex remained behind on Angel Island to continue her investigation into those caskets we already possessed.
Once in Connemara, I sent Julia to search the village for any trace of the box or the girl in the red coat. To Nick I assigned the task of checking us into the local inn then setting out on his own scouting expedition. I, myself, went to investigate the cemetery.
In the meantime, evil was outpacing us. Dr. Rachel Corrigan had arrived a few days prior to visit the graves of her husband, Patrick, and son, Connor, who had been killed in a car crash in California the year before. With her was her daughter, Katherine, "Kat". It was Kat in her red coat whom I had seen both in the cemetery and with the sepulchre. Gifted in the same way I am with the ability to perceive things that others cannot, Kat had been called by what seemed to be her dead brother's voice. It had led her to an old, oddly shaped box in a local curiosity shop owned by Shamus Bloom. Her mother purchased the box, but the key was missing.
Mr. Bloom, apparently an affable man who was somewhat taken with Dr. Corrigan, found the key and offered to repair the lock. It was a disastrous act of kindness. As he turned the key, he loosed the demon, which then possessed him. Moments later, our own Julia walked into his shop.
Julia escaped and tried to telephone me, but her cellphone failed. The demon was already in pursuit. From a call box, she managed to contact Alex in San Francisco with the news that she had located the sepulchre in an antique shop and needed help.
As soon as we received the message, Nick and I went in search of our comrade. When we found the shop closed, Nick made it plain that he disagreed with my decision to split the team. All we could do was return to our lodgings in the hope that we would find her there.
As we stopped the car before the door, we heard screams. The now-possessed Mr. Bloom had returned the sepulchre to the Corrigans, who were also the inn's guests. Once in their room he had seduced Rachel, who later described an apparition that took on the appearance of her dead husband. However, his illusion weakened - rather than her loving husband, Rachel now saw her demonic attacker. His "brood mare" began to buck. When we burst into the room, Shamus Bloom crashed through the window and fled. We gave chase.
In the end, Nick shot the possessed shopkeeper. The demon abandoned its dead host, whose corpse then rapidly decomposed. I sensed a presence across the muddy field beside us - I knew and was drawn the body of Julia Walker, slung upon a scarecrow's post in an obscene, taunting parody of the crucifixion. Nick followed. I wish to God he had not.
After the demonic attack, Dr. Corrigan was in a stupor. We brought her and her daughter back to Angel Island, along with the ashes of our colleague. Nick was devastated; he did not come to the service, but I saw him sitting on his motorcycle watching from the opposite shore. My own mind scarcely functioned. As we scattered Julia's remains from the pier, all I could think of to say was that for every darkness in life there is light... for every evil, there is good... there is a God in heaven, and that our dear friend, Julia Walker, had earned a place by His side. These are the only things in this universe that I know with absolute certainty.
Afterwards, I pressed Philip to rejoin us and gave him the key that had been Julia's. Nick angrily reminded me of the Legacy rules that state that once a member leaves a House, he can never return. To me, Philip has always, at least in spirit, remained one of us. I think Nick felt betrayed when Philip chose to return to his priestly duties. I pray that one day they make amends.
To Philip, a gifted translator of ancient languages. I assigned the task of deciphering the symbols on our new acquisition. Its key I gave to Kat, in the fervent hope that the demon could have no power over her innocence.
Shortly thereafter, Dr. Corrigan awoke in a panic - terrified of us all. Considering the circumstances and the power of the abomination rapidly growing within her womb, who would not have been? Thus the fallen angel of the Fifth Sepulchre was reborn into this world in the guise of the blond, blue-eyed, boyish innocence of Connor Corrigan, and I had brought it to the very place it most wanted to come - to the four other sepulchres.
To loose its brethren, the demon then set about in various forms to obtain the keys to the other coffers. To Philip, it appeared as Ellen, a young woman for whom he had once broken his vows. He had chosen his relationship with God over his earthly liaison with her. In despair, she had drowned herself. The monster played upon Philip's guilt. For a moment our priest surrendered to the illusion to ask for her forgiveness - his key was lost.
Next, for Alex, it became Julia to prey again upon guilt - the guilt of having stayed behind when her best friend had gone to Ireland and had died in horror there. She too lost her key as she asked for pardon. With Nick, the ploy was different. As he pursued the Connor-demon through the shadowy gardens, he shot at his quarry. When he reached the body, it appeared to him as Kat. He begged her limp form for forgiveness. The third key was gone.
For me the creature was my father. He urged me to join him in a sovereignty of evil. "Embrace the darkness," he said. I plunged my sword into his body, but in that instant he seemed to me to truly be my father. A plea for absolution, both for that thrust and for my failure to save him so many years ago, flashed through my mind. As he fell over the mezzanine railing to the library floor below, he grasped my own key. Thus, mine was sacrificed as well.
Demonic forces raged throughout the darkened mansion. I found Kat screaming for her mother; she still retained her key. I carried her to the roof of the tower, where we found the ancient chests arranged and the forces of hell already at work.
Under "Connor's" sway, Rachel tried to persuade Kat to give them her key. I tried to intervene, but was flung across the rooftop. At that moment, I believe Rachel understood Kat's protestations that the creature beside her was not Connor. Finally, she assured her daughter that it would all be OK and Kat handed over the key.
The stratagem of guilt could never have succeeded against pure innocence, but the love of a child for her mother could. The demon then asked his "mummy" for the key, but, to my surprise, she refused and put it about her own neck. She had found the strength to resist. They struggled and, as the child-demon fell over the parapet, he grasped the key. The ghoul now had all five, which catapulted into their respective locks and turned. Hell's mouth was opened.
Philip, Alex, and Nick surged onto the rooftop. At the ultimate moment, Philip, who had managed to decipher the demon's name, shouted to me that it was the fallen angel, Azazel. He who was called Iblis by Islam. He who had asked of his Creator, "Why should a Son of Fire bow to a Son of Clay?" and so, for his arrogance, was cast down into the Abyss. It was by its own name that it could be vanquished. As Philip cried out, "Azazel," I swung my sword to decapitate the monstrosity. I shouted the Latin incantation which my father had pounded into my head so many years ago, "I banish thee to the Abyss for thee prepared." We all dove for the sepulchres to turn the keys in their locks and once more seal the abominations within their prisons. The sun rose and it was over - so quietly, it was over.
