Session 04 - Marcus Black

We had successfully acquired the lot mentioned in the telegram from professor Ayers, his research notes and several books.

The books are what caught my attention, I couldn’t wait to get them back to the hotel and begin my study, all were clad in old leather binding, beckoning to be opened and read for the first time in years.

We arrived back at our hotel, Carter was rambling on about his success at deciphering the ledger using his powers of persuasion with the local expert and how good he felt after clocking the head of the history department across the jaw.  Paying him little mind, I took a seat at the small table in our room and opened my first book.

Titles ‘Ziggurats of the Pre-Heraldic Period’ by Kornel Alexander.

This book was bizarre, it was an in depth survey of the excavation and expeditions into the Ziggurats of Ur.  It made strange and broad conclusions drawn between all the major buildings made by man across the centuries, reporting the use of something called ‘Black Stone’ that was always present.  This made me think that whatever we had been drawn into was even bigger than we imagined, proof seemed to be elusive but reports such as this text show many insights into the presence of the evil we have been seeking for centuries.

Largely confused by the writings, I placed it to one side determined to make sense of it all through continuous reading.

The second text I opened was titled ‘Fishing the River of Stars’.

This was a fascinating read; it took me in as a study of the ancient Chinese dynasty of Song in the 10^th and 11^th centuries.  This explained some things that remain unclear yet unnerving to me.  The writing explained that the Emperor had numerous advisors, each described as unworldly ‘Three Mouthed Advisors’, each speaking with three tongues.

Accounts from the Emperor describe seeing flocks of golden glinted hummingbirds in flight, gaping lipped mouths appearing upon their backs.  The nectar produced by the hummingbirds drove men mad and caused wild behaviour.

It also made mention of a secret clock tower that was constructed, at the emperors request, a clock tower fuelled by red mercury.

Reading this book made me cringe, it drew too many similarities to the tales we had heard by Douglas Henslowe and Edgar Job.  Never the less the mouth I know I saw on the walls of the Sanatorium.

I set the book aside, quite unnerved, I made myself a coffee before returning to the table, unable to stop reading, I knew answers were here, it was just the searching that made the books irresistible to my mind.

The third book I grabbed from the box was titled ‘Rift of the Maw’, as I opened its reptilian cover, I was met with an image of such a disturbing nature, the sketch of eyes, teeth and flesh that was clearly designed to shock the gaze of all wishing to read its contents.

After being taken aback briefly by the image, my mind hardened as I began to read.  The text was a study of 13 meditative mantras.  Mantras all different in nature, but all similar in the mentioning of the Mouth and the Maw, from my observations, the Mouth was something that cut through the veil between mind and the vastness of the great beyond.  Enriched by something known as ‘Honeyed Knowledge”, a conclusion I can only make through the reading of the previous book as the hummingbird nectar and the viles of strange liquid within the Lot recovered from UCLA at the request of Ayers.

Delving deeper into the text, the Maw is something that will consume the world, something that the Mouth works to bring closer.  The text describes other ways to get to the Maw, a rift, the mention of something known as the ‘New Mooned Rift’ give what is described as ‘Clear Skies of Truth’ to those who find it.

The final mantra within the book, speaks of the name of the Maw, a name never mentioned as the very nature of the word, powerful enough to summon it and bring about the destruction of the world.  In order to bring this about, a certain quote stood out to me, ‘Sear one whose mind had not been glazed to the stars beyond ones own.’  Something about this sentence, something dark as if to be out of one’s own body, unnerving, as it was it made no sense to me.

Time had gotten away from me, the sun had already crept over the horizon, Carter had left for the morning to chase the leads he had been trying to find through the clipping agencies and newspaper researchers into the numerous people he had been looking into.

Still unable to sleep I turned to the final leather bound book in front of me, titled ‘Cults of the Aksomite Empire’ by Bill Davidson in 1897.

This book peaked my curiosity from the strange symbols scattered around its borders and margins.  Symbols similar to the markings on the stone I had removed from Douglas Henslowe’s buried box, the stone that I had been carrying since.

This book explained the cult history of the Kingdom of Axum from the 5^th Century BC, evidence existing through the 12^th up until the 19^th Centuries all over Europe.  Most recently the activities influencing the Masonic lodges in Italy in the 19^th Century.  A strange name emerged from within the text the ‘Revelation of Glaaki’, the ‘Prisoner of Glaaki’ making significant appearances and similarities to the Maw of the Mouth.

Through reading these texts all night, despite my eyes showing their wear, I had stumbled across something, some sort of spell.  Something known as the spell of ‘Opening the Sky’, I dare not speak the words, this blasphemy would surely have consequences, I dare not tell Carter or anyone of what I have learned.

I decided to stop, while Ayers note book was calling to me, I needed to rest, Carter and I had decided to go to the site of the barn, where the violence and so called summoning had taken place.  I needed some rest before then as Carter may be back at any moment.

Not an hour had passed when Carter returned, his search bearing little fruit into the backgrounds of those we had stumbled across the names of in our investigation.

I showered and woke myself up properly before we made for the car, securing all our documents within the safety deposit box, I strapped my Webley back under my shoulder and made my way down to the car where Carter was waiting.

The Drive was long, I was still suffering from my lack of sleep, my eyes not willing to part from their closed state earlier.  Carter was chatty, his expectation of what we would find revealing his impatience towards the conclusion of this case.

The landscape before us opened up into the vast farming fields of rich green and brown.  Carter checking his map for the location of the map, from the road, it was not a guess, the top of two burnt out buildings visible from the road.  We exited the car and crossed the long grassy field on foot, constantly scanning our surroundings for any signs of life.  The silence was deafening as we approached the barn, its scorched remains showing the extent of the damage caused by the blasts of shotguns and alcohol fuelled bursts of flames.  A little way ahead, freshly excavated ground gave way to the idea that the area had been surveyed for construction in the last several months.

Scuffling through the remains of the barn we found no clues or evidence to go on, no signs of anything strange other than the multiple holes of small arms in the pillars, something I have not seen since the war.

We made our way along the borders of the property, it was Carter who first noticed the stones.  A large stone ahead of us covered in a strange symbol carved on its surface.  The symbol unknown in origin at first glance, it resembled the strange markings I had seen all over the Sanatorium walls, written by Douglas Henslowe and Edgar Job.  As we made our way around the borders, we noticed many more of the large marked stones, forming a circle around the barn.

The circle seemed strange, as if the barn had been chosen either previous to the incident, or post, we could not tell yet.  The symbols, I could not tell if they were representing the protective or the negative, something placed to enhance whatever was going on, or repress it.  It all seemed so strange.

Over the hill, the faint sounds of construction filled the air, Carter was the first to make for the noise, reaching the top of the hill, we saw a large crew of workers in the starting stages of residential construction.

Carter wasted no time in locating the foreman, our plan was to pose as buyers of land for a new church I was planning to build.  We made numerous enquiries as to the property the burnt out remains of the farm were located on, as to why the construction that we saw was abandoned.  The foreman made it simple, it was bad land to build on.

We continued to press the foreman, his employees making rustlings about working on the property in question, but were quickly silenced by the deathly gaze of the foreman.

It was at the presentation of some money from Carter that loosened the foreman’s tongue.  He presented us with a business card, on it was the name ‘Jack’ and a phone number.  He explained to us that he was to call the number if anyone came asking questions about the property.

We parted with the construction crew, business card in hand, for some reason the foreman seemed to be happy with the outcome, parting with a small snicker.  We made our way back across the barn’s burnt remains to the car.

Carter drove us to a diner close to our hotel, he could barely contain his willingness to call Jack and arrange a meet, his hunger to get to the bottom of the case now boiling over.

The voice on the other end of the phone was rough, arranging the meet in the alley behind a pub called the White Stag in a few hours.

We cruised past the White Stag, the alley was closed, one way in, one way out, not including the back door to the White Stag.  The alley was strewn with garbage dumpsters, garbage bags and derelict drifters, looking for a quiet place to sleep for the night.

We discussed at length the best way to get the best of Jack.  We discussed waiting in the alley, staying in the car on the street, waiting in the White Stag, all options, in the end, I was going to hide amongst the less reputable while Carter took up a position in the car across the street and would enter the alley once Jack was here.

The hour got close to when we expected Jack, I took up my position, still armed with my revolver, I dirtied myself and pulled up the collar on my coat to hide my scar in case anyone recognised me that wasn't supposed to.

Carter was in the car, the smell of his cigarettes wafting down the alley, filling the air with a light haze.  Outside the entrance to the alley, the flashing of a police car made its presence known, I raised my head from my downward stare to see a large police officer at Carter’s window.  A feeling of panic came over me, I was about to lose my backup, I wanted to exit the alley and help him straighten everything out, at that moment three men entered the alley, all wearing suits, the distinct look of muscle about them.

The called to the men sleeping in the alley, bribing them to leave, they knew I was here.  I made my way past the men lining up for the hand out to the back of the alley, I was trapped, no way out, the back door to the White Stag was locked.  Instinctively I dove under the nearest pile of rubbish I could find, concealing myself and drawing my pistol as to have it if needed.

The footsteps of the three men were getting close.  They called to me to come out.  The loud crack of a gunshot filled the air, a bin close to me toppled as the large bullet hole carved straight through it.

Several more bins were perforated shortly after, my head was racing, do I fire on them, do I give up?

I hid my sidearm under a rubbish pile, I slowly raised my hands and revealed myself.  Two of the men seized my arms and pinned me to the brick wall of the White Stag, the third stood in front of me, the next thing I knew, it felt like a brick hit me in the face.

The interrogation had begun, he continued to pound my face, he demanded to know why I was in LA, what I was doing and what I had found out.  He worked on my ribs next, not as hard as my face, I know a couple of my teeth were gone, my nose was certainly broken, I spat blood in his face, at that he threatened my family, it was at the mention of them that I gave in, his final blow put me under.

I blacked out for some time, the next thing I know, Carter was standing over me, he looked how I felt, he had also taken a beating too.  I pointed to where my Webley was left, he picked it up, then he picked me up, the alley opened up, the road looking like a gate to freedom.  If only it was that easy.