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Authors: Dennis Wheatley

The Satanist (35 page)

BOOK: The Satanist
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The drug had robbed her of all moral sense. Never had she felt such an urge as now seethed inside her. She had become an animal, a wild thing of the jungle, obsessed with a blind desire to take a mate. Suddenly she shut her eyes, threw herself back, and cried:

‘All right then!’

Next moment he had pulled the bedclothes down and sprung into bed beside her. His arm went round her body, his thick lips closed on her mouth.

It was his breath that brought back to her the reality of what was happening. With his kiss she got the full stench of it; the sickly sweet smell of bad lobster. As though her head had suddenly been ducked in icy water, it instantly cleared her brain. She was appalled by the madness that had caused her only a moment before to agree to let him become her lover. How could she have permitted this loathsome creature even to touch her? Jerking her mouth from his, she cried:

‘Stop! I didn’t mean it!’

Her eyes were open now and she saw the look of surprise that came over his face. Partially releasing her he half sat up, peered down into her face, and exclaimed, ‘What ees the matter? I do not understand.’

‘Get off me! Get off me!’ She put her hands up on his chest and pushed at him. At the same moment she caught another whiff of his nauseating breath and turned her face away.

‘Ah!’ he murmured, enlightenment dawning in his dark, short-sighted eyes. ‘It ees my breath that you dislike. It comes from upset stomach. I haf been meaning for some weeks to ask the Great Ram to cure me of this disorder.’

‘No! It’s you I dislike! All of you!’ Her lips trembling, she glared up at him. ‘Get away from me! Get away!’

He smiled and shook his head. ‘Now you behave foolishly. It ees with me that you must fulfil rite off Temple Service.’

‘It’s not! I won’t!’

‘You will. You are my disciple. I haf been the one who brings you here. To be first with you ees my privilege.’

‘You’re lying! Just as you lied to me about what would be expected of me after my initiation.’

‘I make you a little misleading; no more. What difference can it haf for you if it ees now we perform rite together or in few hours time?’

‘I’ll not perform it with you, ever! Ever!’

‘But yes.’ He passed his tongue greedily over his lips. ‘You shall, and I tell you why. Abaddon will give you order to and you haf taken oath to obey him…’

‘He won’t,’ she retorted furiously. ‘He’ll do nothing of the kind. Honorius promised that I’d not be asked to give myself to anyone I found repulsive.’

His eyes became black with sudden anger. Seizing her by the shoulders, he forced her back and snarled: ‘You think yourself better because you haf white skin, eh? Then I teach you lesson. Under skins men and women all the same. You submit to me whether you like or not.’

‘You beast! You filthy brute,’ she cried and, heaving up her knees, she threw him half off her. But he managed to keep his grip on her shoulders. For a few minutes they wrestled furiously, then he grunted:

‘Little fool! Stop struggling! It makes no difference to you in end and make less enjoyment for us both.’

Now half mad with hate and terror, she gave an hysterical laugh. ‘Enjoy making love with you! I’d sooner go to bed with a leper! Let go of me, you swine!’

He was in poor condition and his breath was coming fast, but he panted out, ‘For insult I pay you later. In Temple we … we haf whips for those who get pleasure as sadist. In morning I … I give you good whipping. You … you go home your white skin red with weals.’

Threats meant nothing to her now. From the exertion of holding her down he had begun to sweat, and the stink of him made her want to retch. Squirming and kicking she strove to force him away from her. She was sobbing for breath and her head was throbbing madly, but with a sudden effort she succeeded in wrenching one arm free. Throwing up her hand she clawed at his face. Her nails missed his eye but scored two furrows down his cheek and blood showed on his dark skin.

Her attack caused him to release his hold. Seizing the opportunity she raised her shoulders and hit him with her clenched fist, this time in the mouth.

Cursing her in Urdu he jerked his head back, thrust her off with one hand and came up on his knees. Wild with elation at the thought that she was getting the better of him, she struck out again. The blow caught him on the side of the chin, knocking him sideways.

Now that he was off balance, she gave a sudden heave. He toppled off her and landed with a bump on the floor. In an instant he had scrambled to his knees, but she had swung her legs round and kicked him with her left foot on the side of the head, sending him sprawling.

Jumping from the bed she stood for a moment gazing wildly round for something to use as a weapon. Had a knife been to hand she Would have snatched it up and killed him. Her eyes roved the dressing-table, but the bottles there seemed too small for lethal purposes. Next, her glance lit on the nearest chair. It had spindle legs and was quite light, so she had no doubts about her power to lift and swing it But it was within a few feet of him. Could she reach and grab its back before he reached out and seized her?

Her momentary hesitation proved her undoing. He was already up on his knees again. As she darted forward he drew back his right arm and hit her with all his strength in the stomach.

With a gasp of agony she doubled up. Coming to his feet he clutched her by the shoulders, swung her round, and threw her backward on to the bed. Every flicker of breath had been driven from her lungs. The pain in her middle was excruciating. Momentarily she was blinded by it so utterly that she was incapable of movement. Now he had her at his mercy. His eyes aflame, blood running down his cheek, slobbering at the mouth, he muttered, ‘You white bitch! You white bitch!’ and flung himself at her.

Her determination to resist returned, but the blow in the stomach had drained the strength from her limbs. She could struggle only feebly. Tears were running from her eyes and her mind was distraught with anguish. She felt that she would never be clean again; that, for the rest of her life, she would loathe the lovely body she had been given. To go
through life with the knowledge that as the result of her own folly she had suffered such degradation was too much. Drug or no drug, how could she ever excuse herself for having invited her husband’s murderer to become her lover? There was only one thing for it. As soon as she could get away she must kill herself. The Thames was only a few hundred yards distant. She would go straight to the embankment and throw herself into the river.

While these appalling thoughts flashed through her brain, her wind was coming back. Now she suddenly opened her mouth and snapped viciously with her teeth. They met in his lower lip.

He let out a yelp of pain, threw up his hands and grabbed her by the throat. For a second time that night she knew the foretaste of strangulation. As his thumbs compressed her windpipe, her teeth unclosed, releasing his lip. He jerked his head back and again cursed her in his native tongue.

Her stomach still felt as though it had been kicked by a mule, but the strength was ebbing back into her muscles. She made a new attempt to throw him off, but he had a firmer grip on her than before. With an awful sinking feeling she knew that she was nearly finished. Another few moments and she would be compelled to cease her struggles from complete exhaustion.

While doing his utmost to keep her still, he was looking down into her eyes. Suddenly she realised that he had now decided to hypnotise her into obedience. Recalling how swiftly Honorius had succeeded in rendering her unconscious, she instantly shut her eyes and renewed her efforts to break free. By now her breath had returned to her. Hate, rage, agony, loathing and despair, all combined into one impulse. Opening her mouth she shouted, ‘Oh God! Help? Save me! Help!’

This desperate struggle had occupied only a few minutes, and during them she had needed all her breath to fight off her attacker. Even now, as instinct forced the despairing cry from her, she was vaguely aware of its futility; for if anyone did chance to hear it and came in to see what was the matter,
being of the Brotherhood they would side with Ratnadatta.

Nevertheless, he attempted to stifle her cries by clamping a hand over her mouth. Snapping her teeth again she bit into the lower part of his middle finger. With an imprecation he dragged his hand away. Hysterical now, she recommenced her screaming. ‘Help! Murder! Help! Help! Help!’

With his open hand he slapped her face. Momentarily that silenced her. She moaned and twisted her head from side to side, but there was little else she could do. With a bitterness beyond description, she knew that she was at the end of her tether.

Neither she nor Ratnadatta heard the door open, and both of them were taken by complete surprise when a loud, deep man’s voice enquired from close by:

‘What the heck is going on here?’

As though a magic wand had been waved, for a moment the struggling couple seemed frozen into complete immobility. Only the rasping of their breath broke the silence of the quiet room. Then Ratnadatta turned his head in the direction from which the voice had come. At the same moment Mary took a quick peep between her lashes. Seeing that he was no longer looking down at her, she slapped a hand on to the side of his face and thrust him violently away. The impulse from her thrust threw him back on to his feet. Letting go of her he swung round to face the newcomer.

Mary sat up and also turned in his direction. Instantly she recognised him as the fair-haired colossus who had picked her up off her feet on the night she had been presented as a neophyte. He stood a good six feet five and was broad with it. She had thought of him as about thirty, but when she had seen him before he had been wearing a mask; now that she had a clear view of his features, she judged him to be in his early forties.

His forehead was broad but not high, his nose a great hook, his mouth a thin hard line, his chin aggressive and deeply cleft in the centre. In striking contrast to his ashblond
hair, his eyes were black and his complexion ruddy. An ethnologist would have graded him at once as a cross between a Scandinavian and a Red Indian. Too overwrought to feel any surprise at the fact, she saw that he was wearing the uniform of an American officer. Actually, it was that of a Colonel in the United States Air Force.

Launching herself forward, she ran past Ratnadatta and fell on her knees in front of the hook-nosed giant. Flinging her arms round his legs, she wailed, ‘Oh save me! Help me! Save me from this fiend!’

The deep, slightly husky, voice came again, addressing the Indian.

‘Say now, what’s all this in aid of?’

‘For you it has nothing to do,’ Ratnadatta replied angrily. ‘Plees to leave this room. It ees private.’

‘I wouldn’t like to get you wrong,’ the Colonel’s husky voice was lazy, ‘but am I to understand that you’re telling me to get out?’

There was a moment’s pause, then the reply came: ‘I tell you only that this ees private matter. With you nothing to do.’

‘Is that so. Well, happen I’m curious. Private or no, I’d like to hear about it.’

‘You haf no right…’ the Indian began, but the American cut him short.

‘None of us has any rights, son, ‘cept those we take. An’ I take plenty. Spill it!

‘I tell you, then. This woman ees neophyte. Tonight she become initiate. She must perform Service to Temple. I give her instruction, but she ees very nervous type and show a little unwilling.’

‘He’s lying,’ Mary sobbed. ‘I need no instruction. I’m not nervous. I loath him and he attempted to force me.’

Ignoring her, the big man said to Ratnadatta: ‘So that’s the game. Trying to beat the gun, eh? You know darn well that lots are drawn for the neophytes, and those who have a yen to try them out have to wait their turn.’

‘Do what thou wilt shall be the Whole off the Law,’ Ratnadatta
quoted in angry protest.

‘Yeah, if you can get away with it,’ the American sneered. ‘And we’ve an understanding among ourselves that there should be no poaching on the neophytes. They’re taboo until their act comes on down in the Temple.’

Almost hysterical with relief, Mary cried, ‘I knew it! He was sent only to take me down there. Oh please, please, protect me from him and take me down yourself.’

‘I’ve got to get out of my things yet,’ he replied, ‘and I’m a bit on the late side as it is. That was lucky for you, lady, else, had I gotten here and passed by on my way to change a few minutes earlier, I wouldn’t have heard you blowing your top.’

Mary was still on her knees, clinging to his legs and with her face pressed against him. ‘Don’t leave me!’ she pleaded. ‘For God’s sake don’t leave me with him. Take me with you to the room where you’re going to change.’

‘Stand up so I can have a look at you,’ he ordered.

Getting to her feet, she took a step backwards to enable him to get a full view of herself.

His black eyes ran over her body, then fastened on her face. He gave a low whistle. ‘You certainly are quite something, aren’t you? Why, Lucifer bless us! I believe you’re the neophyte who was sworn in only two weeks back.’

She nodded. ‘Yes; and when you kissed me you picked me right up off my feet.’

‘That’s so. I remember. But you had a mask on then. I hadn’t seen your face. Reckon I could get five thousand dollars for you in the South American market.’ His eyes narrowed a little, and he added, ‘Let’s see your back view.’

Mary turned round. After studying her for a moment, he muttered, ‘Not a blemish. You’re just the goods I’ve been looking for.’ Suddenly he gave her a hard slap on the behind, laughed and cried, ‘Go get your clothes on.’

She stumbled forward. His statement that she would fetch a high price if white-slaved to South America was the last thing to inspire confidence in him as a rescuer. But he had told her to get dressed. That could only mean that instead
of taking her down to the Temple he intended to take her away with him. It was only just on ten o’clock and, once out in the streets of London, opportunities must occur which would enable her to regain her freedom. At the moment the one thing that mattered to her was to get away from the loathsome Ratnadatta. After only a second’s hesitation, she ran to the wardrobe, wrenched it open and grabbed up her stockings.

BOOK: The Satanist
10.54Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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