In Brightest Day, In Darkest Night...
A Gabriel Knight Mystery
Chapter 6
"Reach high, for stars lie hidden in your soul.
Dream deep, for every dream precedes the goal."
-- Ralph Vaul Starr
..........................
"Downward to night, but not of moon and cloud,
Not night with all its stars, as night we know,
But burdened with an ocean-weight of woe
The darkness closed us."
-- Dante
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*Sunday, 22 June*
The mood around the breakfast table on Sunday morning at the St.Clair farmhouse was bleak and silent. The television announcer continued to talk in an uncharacteristically hushed voice, reciting details of the fresh murder that had occurred the previous night. This time, the killing had generated an added dimension of shock and dismay. Not because of the murder itself, but because of the victim. A policeman. One of the very men who had been charged with protecting the public from this heinous serial killer had himself succumbed.
Commissaire Dernaud, grim and taciturn, refused interviews with the press, and a determined looking cordon of police officers surrounded the spot where the body had been discovered, keeping onlookers at bay.
Father Jean got up and turned off the TV. Gabriel seethed in silence, a deep smoldering anger burning him from within, at the situation, at his own failure to prevent the increasing toll in lives; raging equally at his own deep-seated and inescapable fear. Finally, Grace spoke, breaking the tense stillness.
"We have to stop this." She was matter of fact, her voice dispassionate, yet utterly resolute.
Gabriel recognised the mood, and felt his spirits lift. He realized afresh how much he had come to depend on Grace, her ability to set aside her distress in the worst crises, and calmly plan a solution.
"We will," he agreed, forcing confidence into his tone. "First, we've got to find St.George's sword. Gracie, you said yesterday that you didn't know where to look. The map didn't say where this underground catacomb or whatever is, right?"
"It's true, the *map* doesn't say where it is," Grace said slowly. "But I think I know now where we have to look."
"What do you mean? Where?"
She did not answer, not in words. Instead, she rose and walked to the living room, halting in front of the huge canvas that hung over the fireplace. "The Shepherds of Arcadia". It appeared to be a pastoral scene, set in a lightly wooded landscape, with a group of men standing around what appeared to be a stone tomb or sarcophagus. On the tomb, the words, "Et in Arcadia ego" were clearly visible.
"The map says the entrance to the Mithraeum is marked by a 'sacred stone'", Grace said. "That stone."
Jean Gerard looked puzzled. "But this is a copy of a Poussin painting, Grace. What does it have to do with the map we have?"
"I don't know, Father. But that's the entrance."
"How do you know?"
"I can't explain. I just know. The stone's a little way outside town, due north from the Chateau."
"You have seen it?" Father Jean enquired, still bemused.
"No. But it's there."
Gabriel did not argue, recalling his own strange visions of the night before. "OK. Let's go find it. But first, I'm going to have a talk with the Commissaire."
"Gabriel." Grace stopped him. "We'll need rope. And flashlights. And knives."
"I can find you those things," Gerard interposed. "Though I wish I understood how the two of you can be so sure."
Gabriel and Grace exchanged a speaking glance. "Hunch," they chorused in unison.
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The police officer on duty at the station was polite but firm. "the Commissaire cannot see anyone right now. He is busy."
"Dammit, tell him I'm here!" Gabriel demanded angrily. He gripped the counter and directed a hard, furious glare at the woman, willing her to comply.
She bristled angrily, and was about to reply when a weary voice interrupted. "It's all right, Junot. I'll see Mr.Knight."
Gabriel stalked past the counter and into Dernaud's office to find the Commissaire himself leaning tiredly against his desk. The usually immaculate policeman was in shirtsleeves, and lines of weariness creased his absurdly young face.
"I warned you!" Gabriel snarled. "I warned you to keep an eye on Laroche. And now the bast**d's killed again! Goddammit, one of your own men!"
Dernaud reacted with unexpected violence, half-lunging towards Gabriel, but catching himself at the last moment. His reply, when it came, was infinitely cold and tightly controlled.
"As a matter of fact, Mr.Knight, we did take your advice. It might interest you to know that the officer who was killed last night was one of those I had assigned to keep an eye on Lucien Laroche."
Gabriel went still with shock. A closer look at the policeman showed the strain he had been under, and the sheer physical exhaustion that was clearly beginning to take its toll. Underneath the controlled surface, God only knew what demons of grief, guilt and frustration were preying on the man's spirit.
"I'm sorry," Gabriel said, more gently.
There was a brief silence, and a tacit acceptance of the proffered olive branch.
"I had three men watching the house. Marchand, the officer who was killed, was relieved by another man at around 11 p.m. He should have gone home after that. The concierge at the apartment says that Laroche never went out at all, and my men confirm his story."
"You mean they didn't see him leave," Gabriel said.
"They didn't see him leave," Dernaud agreed. "But I'm beginning to believe your theory about his involvement in the murders. The incense fragments you gave me were perfectly matched. And I spoke to Mlle. Desmoulins, as well as a few other people who know Laroche. They confirm that he was acquainted with both Lemaitre and Capelli. Also, the crowd he associates with are known drug abusers." He paused. "None of it is evidence enough for a court of law, but I don't believe in coincidence. Especially not this last one," he said, holding out a photograph.
Gabriel accepted it and almost gagged at the sight of a terribly mutilated body lying twisted on a rectangular block of stone. The tatters that clothed it were recognisable as the remnants of a police uniform. Around the bloody remains of the officer were the evidence of a grisly ritual: scattered around the stone slab were half melted candles and strange utensils. One black dish contained the charred remains of obviously organic matter; at the foot of the 'altar' was a censer with still smoking brown fragments in it.
"The stuff in the dish is the victim's liver, as far as we can tell," Dernaud explained clinically, only his eyes revealing the terrible control that veiled his feelings. "And the incense is a perfect match for the samples you found earlier."
Gabriel put the photograph down, sickened. "He didn't even bother to clean up this time," he said slowly. "As though it doesn't matter any more."
"As though he's daring us to catch him," Dernaud assented. The cold blue eyes suddenly flared. "Well, I'm not going to disappoint him!"
There was no answering that. "Commissaire," Gabriel said suddenly, changing the subject, "About Vladimir Tornenkov's apartment."
"We've searched it," Dernaud informed him. "What about it?"
"I need to take a look at it."
"Now?"
Gabriel noticed that there was no argument this time about him being a civilian. In the last ten minutes, he had suddenly been reclassified from outsider to ally.
"No, later. I have something to do first. Can you arrange that I have access?"
"I'll speak to the concierge." He probed Gabriel's face curiously. "You'll keep me informed if you find out anything."
"Yeah. Thanks. I'll see you later."
"Au revoir, Mr.Knight."
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Grace stared once more at the old hand drawn map that showed the way to the hiding place of Ascalon, St.George's invincible sword. She willed the cryptic directions to make sense, but in vain.
"Sacer Lapis," she muttered, tracing the path with her finger. "From the stone, twenty paces down. Two hundred north. That's clear enough. Then thirty paces west into a 'cubiculum': a bedroom? And here's the first obstacle: 'the treacherous pit' which 'awaits the false step'." She shook her head and went on.
"Hmm... 'the Shepherd's path'... 'the Lion's teeth'... oh great: the 'Cliff of Doom'! I wish I knew what all this meant!"
"Grace, you must not be so downcast. These directions are not literal. I think you will understand them when you come to the place itself."
"I hope so, Father. Otherwise, there's a good chance I won't survive to try again!"
"That's not very encouraging, Gracie," Gabriel said dryly, coming in just in time to catch her last remark.
"Want to back out now?" she challenged him.
"It doesn't matter what I want, Gracie. Like I said before, there's no choice now. Let's go."
A short drive later, the two of them stood in the open countryside just outside Gisors.
"This way," Grace said, leading the way confidently. She walked straight to a dense thicket of shrubs and stopped. Wordlessly, Gabriel produced a knife and hacked away enough foliage for them to enter. Grace took a few steps forward and came to a halt. Before them was the sarcophagus from the painting.
A shape of a great sword was carved onto the stone slab that covered it. Beneath it, a single word: Invicto.
"To him, the unconquered. Even in Arcadia..." Grace breathed. "The sacred stone."
Together, they stepped forward and pulled at the slab. It slid aside easily, as if it weighed nothing. Inside the hollow interior, a stairway was revealed. It led down into a dark subterranean chamber.
Gabriel took a deep breath. "Well. The moment of truth. Shall we?"
Unconsciously fingering his Talisman, he descended into the mouth of darkness.
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The small chamber was circular, with several paths leading away in different directions.
"OK, Gracie, which way now?" Gabriel asked, gesturing with his flashlight, sending shadows dancing weirdly over the stone walls.
"North," Grace pointed, after consulting her pocket compass.
They followed the northward path, which seemed to slope gradually down. They emerged into a larger room with oddly arched niches lining the walls.
Grace consulted the map. "This is supposed to be the 'cubiculum': the bedroom."
Gabriel shone his flashlight onto one of the niches and discovered that the mouth was sealed by a marble slab inscribed with the words 'Requiescat in Pace'.
"Rest in Peace. I guess you could call this a bedroom all right," he said dryly. "It's a tomb, Grace."
Grace was staring worriedly at the floor. It was covered with large mosaic tiles in different shapes. She grabbed at Gabriel's arm when he took a step to advance into the room.
"Wait! This is where the map indicates the first trap. Look at those tiles," she said quickly. "There's something odd about the ones marked with circles. I think we need to stick to the rectangular tiles, the ones that are marked with crosses."
They walked carefully, Grace leading the way, crossing into the lone passage that led out of the room. Gabriel paused and picked up a stone that lay on the floor. Turning, he tossed it onto one of the nearer tiles, marked with a circle. With a rumble, it immediately gave way, revealing only a fathomless darkness below.
"Whew! Good thing I've got you along, Gracie!"
Walking on, they followed the twisting path for what seemed like a long time, until they finally emerged into an immense subterranean cave, with a deep chasm yawning directly before them. Four different paths stretched out ahead, narrow bridges of stone that spanned the gulf of dark space. Stopping, they looked around warily, wondering what new trap awaited them here. With a chill, Gabriel noticed that rows of cocked crossbows were mounted all along the east and west walls of the huge cavern. He pointed silently, and Grace nodded acknowledgement. She stared down at the four paths, thinking furiously.
At the head of each bridge was a stone slab bearing a carved image. The first slab depicted a fully armed Roman soldier: tunic, breastplate, shortsword, sandals, horsehair helmet. The second carving showed a medieval knight in chain mail and visored helmet. The third was a picture of a man in a monk's long habit, carrying a staff. The fourth and last carving was of a simply clad man in tunic and loose conical cap, with a crooked staff across his shoulders.
"That way," Grace said confidently, pointing to the fourth path. "That's an image of the God Mithras."
"So?" Gabriel asked, puzzled. "I thought we were supposed to follow the Shepherd's Path!"
"Gabriel," Grace explained patiently, "Mithras' followers used to call him the Good Shepherd."
Careful not to look down at the depths of the canyon, Gabriel gingerly walked across the path, heaving a sigh of relief as Grace joined him safely on the other side.
"So far so good," he said lightly, to diguise his relief. "What now?"
"The Lion's teeth," Grace said absently, directing her flashlight onto the tunnel mouth that gaped before them. She moved in that direction, only to come up short as Gabriel seized her arm sharply.
"I don't like the sound of that," he warned. Picking up another stone, he tossed it through the entrance. Like a wild animal, the cave mouth snapped at them! Steel fangs emerged from the roof and lower end of the passage, clashing with metallic menace and then retracting just as quickly, leaving no hint of their murderous existence.
Grace shuddered with reaction, visualising just what would have happened if he had not pulled her back in time. Gabriel looked around carefully, and finally spotted a small niche in the wall, at nearly floor level, next to the mouth of the tunnel. He knelt down and pulled the all but invisible lever in the niche, and heard a muffled click. He stood and tossed another stone through the gap. This time, nothing happened. Warily, the two walked into the tunnel, which spiralled steadily downward into the darkness.
Finally, after a seemingly interminable hike, they emerged into a larger cavern, only to be brought up short by a sheer stone wall.
"The Cliff of Doom," Grace sighed resignedly. "Good thing we brought climbing spikes and rope."
A good half hour later, Gabriel extended an arm to help Grace over the top of the high and treacherously smooth precipice. They had narrowly escaped two minor rock slides on the way up, though Gabriel now sported a gash on his left temple where a falling stone had grazed him.
"Hey, fresh air!" Gabriel said, with an inquisitive sniff. Looking up, he pointed at a small opening in the roof that let fresh air and and a thin shaft of sunlight into the chamber.
"The map says there are 'lucemaria': skylights, in this area. We need to go north again."
They walked up the clearly marked path, hearing the muffled gurgle of water somewhere nearby. Finally, they came to a dead end. A stone wall, intricately carved with figures in bas-relief. Familiar figures. St.George. The dragon. A rampant Lion. An armored Knight. And a Crusader's Latin cross. On either side of the wall, a round niche. Again, reminiscent of the St.Clair vault. Wordlessly, Gabriel pulled out his Talisman, and handed the St.Clair Seal to Grace.
He inserted the Ritter Talisman into the right niche, while Grace did the same with the Seal on the left. With a rumble of stone on stone, the wall slid aside, exposing a great circular room. Gabriel hesitated for a brief instant, and then stepped into the vaulted chamber.
It was undoubtedly a shrine: a Mithraeum. A small grotto at the head of the room held a sculpture of Mithras slaying the primal bull. The mosaic floor showed a seven runged ladder, surrounded by mystic symbols. A slightly raised platform in the center of the room was, no doubt, the place where the Senior Priest, the Father, led followers in Prayer. Beautiful murals on the walls showed scenes from legend and history. St.George slaying the Dragon. The Templars rebuilding the Temple of Solomon. Mithras blessing the world.
An indefinable air of sanctity, of being on holy ground, assailed Gabriel. The chamber was magnificent, awesome. It was also resoundingly empty.
"Gabriel," Grace whispered, "According to my calculations, we're directly below the Chateau de Gisors!" Then, "Where is it?" she wondered aloud, turning slowly around. "According to the map, the Treasure is supposed to be right here!"
Gabriel was silent. He had a strange feeling that he was supposed to do something. But what?
Like a man in a trance, he walked to the centre of the room and on to the raised platform. Raising his Talisman towards the silent sculpture of the God, he whispered, "Mithrae Invicto."
The floor trembled beneath him. In his hand, the Talisman glowed intensely, green and red lights beginning to spark from the gems embedded in it. Grace took a startled step back, feeling a warm radiance emanating from the Seal that she still held. It too, was glowing, as they had seen it do the night that Michael confronted the demon Iblis.
Gabriel stumbled away from the platform, as it slowly split apart. A stone pillar rose from the gap, growing from nothing into a waist level flat-topped column. On it rested a single artifact: a great golden sword hilt. Just a hilt. There was no blade. Gabriel picked it up slowly. It was heavy and passive in his grip. After an endless moment, Grace broke the stunned silence with a shocked, "It's broken!" Then, a more moderate, "Are you sure that's it?"
"This is the hilt of Ascalon, all right," Gabriel said, with certainty. "It's the hilt of St.George's sword."
"Then what happened to the blade?"
"I don't know, Grace." His voice was heavy with the depth of his disappointment and fear. "But this is all there is."
"We came all this way for an empty sword hilt?" Grace exclaimed furiously.
"I guess we did," he replied.
Shaking her head in angry disgust, she turned away. "Well then, let's get back above the ground."
"Wait, Gracie. Not that way." He pointed silently at a new passageway that had opened in the chamber unnoticed, at the same time as the central platform.
They trudged wearily through the new opening, all the energy that had sustained them through the difficult trek to the Mithraeum drained away by the anti-climax of discovery. Gabriel, slightly in the lead, stopped as the passage ended at the banks of a fast moving underground stream. Grace pointed to the right. Daylight was clearly visible, as the tunnel ended where the stream emerged into the open air. With resigned sighs, they bent to crawl alongside the water, and forced their way out of the bushes that ringed the end of the tunnel. When they stood up in the open air, it was on the banks of the river Epte. The rooftops of the town of Gisors were clearly visible not far away.
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Father Jean Gerard handled the ornate sword hilt with grave reverence. "Ascalon," he breathed, caressing the gleaming metal. His fingers traced the embossed Sun on the cross guard.
"Father, none of the chronicles mention anything happening to damage Ascalon!" Grace was clearly both perplexed and worried. "And without the blade, Gabriel can't use the Sword."
"Who knows?" the old man soothed. "Perhaps just possessing a part of the Sword of St.George may aid Gabriel far more than we know. This is a gift from the Lord of Light himself!"
Gabriel raised his head from his hands. "God knows I could use all the help I can get!" Then he gathered his confused thoughts, recalling yet again how much responsibility rested on his reluctant shoulders. "Look, there's no use worrying about Ascalon now. What's done is done. We'll have to find another way. How about we go over everything we know so far, and take it from there?"
"OK," Grace agreed. "Let's start with the Cult of the Serpent. We know they've been around for centuries, and we know they worship the evil Serpent in exchange for gifts such as power, youth, beauty, long life, revenge on their enemies, etc., etc. We believe the Cult is behind the recent slasher killings that have been taking place around town, because the pattern and methods used coincide with the Greater Ritual of the Serpent. We believe that the Cult is planning a final sacrifice to coincide with the Eve of St.John, the summer solstice, tomorrow. If completed, the Greater Ritual is supposed to allow the Serpent to manifest physically and independently on our world." She paused.
"Go on, Gracie," Gabriel encouraged her. Wheels were turning in his own head.
"Right. Supporting our theory that the Greater Ritual of the Serpent is being invoked, we know that a number of animals have gone missing in this area, which would be consistent with the animal sacrifices required in the first phase of the ritual. For the second phase, the Cult would have needed to perform a human sacrifice. The victim would have been a voluntary sacrifice, probably a Cult member." She stopped. "Who?" she frowned.
"I've got some ideas. But don't stop now." Gabriel told her.
Picking up the thread, she went on. "The third phase of the Ritual involves the mutilation and murder of six victims. Five murders have occurred so far, exactly matching the pattern. If it's not stopped, the ritual will be complete tomorrow with the sixth and final killing." She stopped again.
"The Cult is known to use various methods to control its members, among which are coercion, drugs, and the granting of 'gifts' such as power, virility, and so on. The rarest but most powerful method of control is possession. This involves a demonic entity, in some cases, the Serpent itself, possessing a living human being, using a solid physical object to focus its occult powers. The object itself may be anything: a gemstone, a book, a bottle: as long as the Focus is intact, the demon can continue to possess its victim. If the Focus is destroyed, the possession instantly ends, but so do whatever benefits the possessed human had received: the prolonged life span, the knowledge, the beauty, the occult powers. While possessed, the human carrier can do nothing against the will of his possessor."
Gabriel took up the recital when Grace broke off.
"I think that Lucien Laroche and his friends are involved with the Cult, and are somehow behind the killings here. In fact, I'm convinced that Cesar Capelli, the drug baron who vanished mysteriously before the killings started, was a Cult member, and was the first 'voluntary' sacrifice. He introduced Christian Lemaitre, a small time drug dealer, to Laroche. Lemaitre probably found out too much about the cult, so he was snuffed. Vladimir Tornenkov, the fourth victim, was the friend and partner of Laroche. Maybe he found some things out that Laroche didn't want him to know. Anyway, he died too. Then I was attacked, the same night that I had dinner with Laroche's girlfriend. Michael saved me." He fought back emotion and went on.
"The most recent victim was the cop who was supposed to be watching Laroche's house. There's more circumstantial evidence. The fragments of a unique blend of incense found at the murder scenes match with the incense Laroche uses in his home. His girlfriend, Nicole, probably drugged me with some hallucinogenic dope on Friday night. Those drugs would also explain why the victims decided to take a late night stroll outside town, and why they didn't struggle too much."
"So far, it fits,' Father Jean said.
"Yeah. Another thing. If we manage to stop the Cult before they make the final sacrifice tomorrow, the Serpent can't manifest, and we may not need the Sword of St.George at all. And Commissaire Dernaud is hot on Laroche's tail. If we can just find solid evidence that he can use to arrest Laroche..."
The phone rang. Grace answered it, and after listening briefly, held it out to Gabriel. "It's for you."
"Gabriel, this is Claire Desmoulins," a feminine voice said. "The police called me this morning, asking me to confirm what I told you yesterday. What's going on?"
"Claire, we think Lucien Laroche might have had something to do with Vladimir's death."
"What? My God!" She sounded shocked and appalled. After a moment, she asked, "But why? Heaven knows I have no reason to like Lucien, but he was so close to Vlad!"
"We think Vlad may have found out about some of Lucien's shady dealings," Gabriel explained. "We can't prove it yet, though."
"Prove it? Wait. Vlad kept a diary. If he found out anything, he would have written it down."
"The police looked at his appointment diary already. There's nothing useful in it."
"No, no, not his appointment book, his diary! He used to write down everything that happened to him. I know, I teased him about it!" She was very emphatic.
"Claire, the police have been through his apartment; they only found his appointment book. There's no diary."
"Then someone must have removed it." Claire was very firm in her conviction on this point.
Thanking her and hanging up, Gabriel told Grace and Father Jean about his conversation.
"Someone removed it?" Father Jean repeated. The three of them looked at each other. "Laroche!"
Gabriel face went hard with resolve. "I'm going to have to look at Laroche's apartment. Preferably when he's not there."
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