The Legend of Darklore Manor and Other Tales of Terror (19 page)

     Macabre mementos of unholy rites filled the hidden sanctum, and as I looked over the scene, I realized that everything was just as Sandra had described it. A sacrificial altar adorned with runic symbols stood in the center of the chamber beside a pedestal supporting a massive tome. The horned skull of a goat hung prominently displayed over the front of the ceremonial shrine and three black candles rested on the floor beside the altar, marking the perimeter of Andrea Mather's ritual circle. The fact that the chamber matched Sandra's description seemed to confirm her vision regarding the fate of the missing teens, yet their bodies were nowhere in sight.
     An antique table against the outer wall held several relics that rested undisturbed beneath a layer of cobwebs and dust. Theo stepped closer to examine the concealed items and with a quick swipe of his hand he unveiled stacks of crumbling scrolls, occult books, a row of mortuary urns and an old wooden strongbox. He opened the lid of the chest, revealing several tarnished skeleton keys inside.
     Theo held one up for us to see, announcing, "These must be the keys from the dead Knights of Thule."
     While Theo continued to rummage through the tomes and scrolls, Sheriff Hill surveyed the surrounding walls with his flashlight. The devilish face of a horned greenman relief was chiseled into the dark stone above a Latin inscription that read:
          Facilis descencus Averno.
          Qui non vetat peccare, cum possit, iubet.
          Sine cruce, sine luce, nihil interit.
          Pulvis et umbra sumus.
     As the sheriff studied the engraved words, I began to translate the message aloud.
          "The descent to Hell is effortless.
          He who does not forbid sin, commands it.
          Without the cross, without the light, nothing dies.
          We are but dust and shadows."
     "What does it mean?" the sheriff asked.
     "I'm not quite sure," I answered hesitantly. "It sounds ominous. Maybe it's a warning... or maybe it's just some esoteric mumbo-jumbo."
     The sheriff ran the flashlight beam along the mildewed walls, revealing a dozen human skulls set into niches surrounding the chamber. Upon closer inspection we could see that the word "Sinner" had been crudely carved into the forehead of each of the skulls.
     Across the room, another passageway led deeper into the unexplored regions of the crypt. We followed the tunnel to its end where an ornate doorway was carved into the bedrock. The top of the stone door frame was adorned with the effigy of a weeping woman and other fiendish faces were sculpted into the sides of the entrance. The name "Darklore" was chiseled into the granite above the doorway, while the bottom of the doorframe held the inscription
"Ecce Quomodo Moritur."
     The sheriff squinted at the words, then asked, "What does it say?"
     "'Behold the way of death,'" I whispered. "It's the entrance to the Darklore family crypt."
     The doorway stood open, like the gaping maw of a ravenous beast. As we crept toward it, strange whispers seemed to echo from somewhere within. After a moment of hesitation, Sheriff Hill crossed the ominous threshold into the yawning tomb with Theo and I close behind him. Once inside, we were immediately assailed by the foul stench of death and decay. I relit my lantern and hung it from an iron sconce set into the stone wall between two arches.
     To the left of the entrance, the granite door of the tomb leaned against the wall at a crooked angle, as if it had been violently thrown aside by some enormous force. A strange symbol marked the back of the door in what appeared to be dried blood. The surrounding walls were lined with sealed vaults bearing the graven names of those interred within. Morbid faces of stone peered down from archways above each of the graves, adding to the atmosphere of foreboding and suffering that permeated the oppressive chamber.
     The withered corpse of a young woman rested on a black marble altar in the center of the crypt and the skeletal remains of several other bodies lay on the floor.
     The sheriff passed his flashlight over the grisly scene, tallying the mutilated corpses. "Six bodies," he muttered. "They're all here—the missing kids and the three members of the Darklore family that disappeared thirty years ago."
     Theo breathed a sigh of pain and relief as he recognized the bodies of his lost friends among the dead. "We've got to get them out of here. They won't rest in peace until they receive a proper burial."
     Sheriff Hill laid a consoling hand on Theo's shoulder and said, "We will, Theo, but not now. There'll have to be an investigation. We'll get a crew down here to remove the bodies, but we have to figure out what happened to them."
     The sheriff turned his attention to the corpse that lay upon the marble slab in the center of the room. Keeping a safe distance from the altar, he shone his flashlight over the body to examine the lifeless form of Belladonna. Her head was thrown back and her mouth gaped open wide as if she had died screaming in agony. The tattered fabric of her black gown hung over the sides of the marble slab and her skeletal hands clutched an ornate dagger that rested upon her chest. A crusty coat of dried blood covered the ceremonial blade in a dark shade of crimson.
     None of us said a word as we contemplated the horrific sights that surrounded us in the forsaken crypt. Lost in solemn reflection we stood frozen in the hush that had befallen us until the unnerving silence was broken by a distant sound. A haunting refrain echoed through the outer corridor, and though I had not heard the eerie melody since my fateful first visit to Darklore Manor, I recognized it immediately. It was Belladonna's music box—and the sound was coming closer.
     The sheriff aimed his flashlight beam through the doorway and down the gloomy tunnel to reveal an unearthly mist that was steadily creeping toward us. The eerie vapor began to seep into the crypt, filling the chamber with a pale green fog. Theo started to run for the door but stopped in his tracks when he saw that the outer corridor was blocked. A dark figure was slowly advancing down the tunnel, floating through the gossamer mist. As it drew closer we could see that it was a woman, shrouded entirely in black, her ebon hair and gown flowing behind her like a trail of shadows. It was the same dark phantom I had seen outside the library window. It was the undead specter of Belladonna Darklore. Even though her decayed remains lay upon the altar behind us, her restless spirit was eternally cursed to wander the manor and grounds.
     The haunting chimes grew louder, and a ghostly, child-like voice joined in the melody. The sickly sweet fragrance of lavender replaced the rancid smell of mildew as the shrouded spirit entered the crypt. Her black eyes glistened in stark contrast to the pallor of her bone-white flesh and her alabaster hands clutched a crimson bundle to her chest. The dark phantom hung suspended in the air just inside the doorway and as the ghostly mist began to settle around her, we could see that she was holding the porcelain doll cradled in her arms.
     The sheriff withdrew his revolver and trained it on the apparition, and the doll's head slowly turned to cast a menacing stare in his direction. As Belladonna continued her hypnotic song, her voice had a mesmerizing effect, like the mythical sirens of ancient Greece. My mind began to grow numb and I found myself losing my will to resist. The doll extended its hands in our direction and we watched in horror as the sheriff ambled listlessly toward it, like a slave in thrall to his master's commands. Unable to fight the impulse to comply, he holstered his pistol then reached out to embrace the sinister toy. The doll's lips drew back in a wicked smile, exposing its jagged fangs.
     A split second before the sheriff took hold of the diabolic doll, another shape emerged from the mist behind Belladonna. In the blink of an eye, the mysterious figure lashed out violently with a large blade, slicing through Belladonna's ethereal form and slashing the doll in two, severing it in half at the waist. As the remnants of Belladonna's spectral form dissolved into the fog, the doll's torso fell to the ground hissing and screeching.
     The shadowy figure stepped into the lantern's light and we gazed upon the face of our mysterious savior with awe and dismay. There in the doorway stood Sandra, clutching a sword in her hand like an avenging angel. As the dismembered doll scampered to crawl away, Sandra stepped on it and held it beneath her boot. She swung the sword downward, delivering one final blow, landing the blade between the doll's burning red eyes and shattering its porcelain head to pieces.
     Breathing heavily, she asked, "Is everyone okay?"
     "I think so," I whispered, still somewhat in shock. "What in God's name are you doing here?"
     "It's a long story—but trust me, God's got nothing to do with it."
     I looked to Theo and realized an introduction was in order. "Theo Thompson, this is Sandra Faraday."
     "You just saved our lives," he stammered.
     "Don't be too quick to thank me, kid. We're not out of the woods yet." Sandra turned her attention to Sheriff Hill who was rubbing his eyes and forehead. "How about you, Sheriff?"
     "I'm fine," he replied, "just a little dazed." The sheriff took notice of Sandra's weapon and a look of concern swept over his face. "Where'd you get the sword from?"
     Sandra slung the medieval blade over her shoulder and declared, "I took it out of the door upstairs, right before I sealed it shut behind me."
     "What?" Theo exclaimed, aghast and enraged by her bold confession. "We're locked inside this tomb? No one knows we're down here."
     "Don't worry," Sandra assured him, "I grabbed the key. We can open the door from this side if we survive long enough to make it back there. If not, no one will ever open that door again."
     "What are you saying?" I asked.
     "I'm sorry, Pam, but you didn't listen when I tried to stop you. Now it's too late to turn back. If we don't succeed down here, we have to make sure that this thing is contained. We can't let it loose and we can't allow anyone else to find their way down here."
     "Are you insane?" The sheriff's voice boomed with anger, echoing throughout the stone crypt. "There's some kind of demonic spirit loose in this house and you just trapped us in its lair?"
     "Maybe that was her plan." Theo nodded his head toward Sandra. "Think about it. She could have been lying all along. What if she's part of this black magic cult? Maybe she arranged for the accident that killed those two investigators. What if she came back here when my friends were in the house? She's the one who told you the stories about Belladonna and what happened to my friends. Maybe she's responsible for all of this."
     "You're just full of wild conspiracy theories, aren't you, kid?" Sandra retorted. There were notes of disgust and sadness in her voice. "Well, here's another one for you. Maybe it was you. You could have made your father swerve his car into that tree. You could have followed your friends into the house and made sure they would never come back out. Maybe it was your plan to lure us into this hellhole."
     Before Theo could answer her charges, Sandra shifted her accusations toward the sheriff. "And how about you, Sheriff? You're the one with the key to the front door, and the key to the cellar, yet you never checked down here, not even after those kids went missing?"
     "The door was locked," he snapped back, "and as far as I knew, they didn't have any way to open it."
     "Listen to us!" I shouted. "We're turning on each other. That's exactly what it wants. That's what it feeds off of—hatred and fear, human suffering and misery. That's why it won't let the spirits of the dead rest. It's still feeding off of them. Feeding off of their eternal torment. It's ancient and undying. It's evil—pure evil in its blackest form, and it has us right where it wants us. If we die here, our souls will never escape. We'll spend the rest of eternity trapped in this hell."
     Sheriff Hill drew in a deep breath, allowing the frigid air to cool his temper. "She's right," he said. "We've got to stick together if we want to survive."
     I turned to Sandra and asked, "So what are we dealing with here?"
     Sandra set her sword down, resting it against a sealed tomb engraved with the name of Edmund Darklore. "Some ancient legends refer to the Devil as the Master of Lies and say that he can appear in any form. The Brotherhood worshiped something called Thule, but Belladonna's spirit called it the Sandman. I think this thing manifests our dreams and nightmares. It waits until you're most vulnerable then deceives you into thinking that it's whatever god you pray to. I suspect it manipulated all of them into doing its bidding."
     Sandra looked around the crypt, seemingly searching for some hidden key to unlocking the mystery of the Darklore curse until at last her eyes came to rest on the ritual dagger that Belladonna held. Before anyone could object, she approached the black altar and pried the dagger from the corpse's hands then clasped it tightly in her own. Sandra closed her eyes as she attempted to tap into the memories locked within the bloodstained blade, and as the past revealed itself to her, she began to relate a macabre tale.
     "It began long ago—long before the mansion was ever built. Edmund Darklore had heard the stories of the Gloucester region and believed that the land held mystical powers. After surveying the territory and researching its history, he built his home at the epicenter of the forest's spiritual energy. He and the town elders founded a secret brotherhood known as the Knights of Thule and they conducted their clandestine meetings here in this subterranean vault. Each of the thirteen members received a key to the chamber door.
     "On the eve of each new moon, the Knights of Thule gathered to perform long-forgotten rituals, reciting incantations from forbidden texts and ancient scrolls. Their arcane rites awakened one of the banished lords of darkness, who silently watched and waited, biding its time before making its presence known to them. When the entity made contact with them, it led them to believe they were telepathically communicating with Thule, an ancient deity, worshiped by the brotherhood. The deception worked, and the sinister spirit began to use the cult's own beliefs against them in an attempt to get them to do its bidding. Allowing them to believe what they wanted, the ancient spirit demanded a sacrifice of blood. They slaughtered a goat, and it appeased the dark one's sanguine thirst, but soon it demanded a human sacrifice. Edmund Darklore refused and sealed the chamber, disbanding the Knights of Thule and forbidding anyone from entering the crypt.