The Medusa Ritual
A Pierce Mostyn Paranormal Investigation
by
CW Hawes
In this second installment, Dr Bardon briefs Mostyn and his team on their new assignment. They are to recover a book. But not just any book. This book contains terrifying rituals and spells that could end life as we know it on good old mother earth.
The adventure continues!
2
The time was late. Well past 11PM. Dr Rafe Bardon stood at the front of the conference room, pipe in hand. Mostyn and his team sat around the table; except for Helene Dubreuil, who was at a secret hospital run by the Office of Unidentified Phenomena, the office over which Bardon was the director.
There was no coffee and no boxes of doughnuts. A sign Dr Bardon was not happy.
Bardon puffed on his pipe for a moment before speaking. “We lost a great opportunity today to learn more about The Great Old Ones.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” Mostyn said.
“It was Ms Dubreuil and her superstitious worship of those monstrosities,” Dr Winifred Petrie declared.
“Unfortunately,” Bardon replied, “we did not realize Tommy John MacIlhenney would bear such a close semblance to his father. The mistake is mine.”
“Nevertheless, she should have maintained cover,” Petrie said. “She could have gotten us all killed.”
A look of displeasure crossed Bardon’s face. However, all he said was, “Point taken, Dr Petrie.”
“Do we know who the Father was?” Dr Otto Stoppen asked.
Bardon looked at his pipe and put it in his coat pocket. “Preliminary tests of the remains indicate the father was possibly Abholos, the Devourer in the Mist. But our DNA files are incomplete. It’s possible the father was Tsathoggua, the greater brother of Abholos.”
“Is there anymore we can do on this case?” Mostyn asked.
“Unfortunately, no,” Bardon answered. “We are however in a better position than those at Dunwich, some ninety years ago, because of the remains you recovered and Mr Baker’s photographs.”
“Thanks goes to Dr Kemper for the remains, sir,” Mostyn said.
“Duly noted,” Bardon replied. He looked at Dotty. “Thank you, Dr Kemper for your quick thinking, which salvaged the operation.”
“You’re welcome, sir,” Dotty said, a big smile on her face.
Bardon gave Dotty a nod, and turned to Mostyn. “No, Pierce, my boy, nothing more we can do on the MacIlhenney case. I have another mission for you.”
Jones snapped his fingers in protest.
“You do like your paychecks, do you not, Mr Jones?” Bardon said.
“I do, sir.”
“Good. Soon you’ll be earning another one,” Bardon said.
“What’s our new mission, sir?” Mostyn asked.
“There are many avenues by which The Great Old Ones may be summoned or awakened,” Bardon assumed a stance as though he was lecturing a class at some university. “One of the avenues consists of resorting to the formulae contained in ancient books of arcane lore, many of which were handwritten. Some of these ancient tomes we have copies of. Others are known to us only by name. And we must always be cognizant of the fact that there are probably others in existence of which we know nothing.”
Dotty Kemper raised her hand.
“Yes, Dr Kemper?”
“What is the basis on which these formulas work?”
“A good question,” Bardon said. “The simple answer is magic.”
Dotty snorted her disgust. Mostyn, who was sitting next to her, gently touched her arm. She responded by folding her arms across her chest.
“What’s the non-simple answer?” she asked.
Bardon smiled. “The non-simple answer is also simple, Dr Kemper. We don’t actually know. That brilliant seer of the future, Arthur C Clarke, wrote that any technology which is sufficiently advanced is indistinguishable from magic to those not so advanced.”
“Muskets to Native Americans,” Mostyn said.
“Precisely, Mr Pierce,” Bardon replied. He took a bent bulldog and tobacco pouch out of his coat pocket, and began filling the pipe. Once the pipe was filled, he continued.
“So, Dr Kemper, one could say the formulae in these esoteric and eldritch tomes are science at a level to which we have not attained, and therefore appear to us as magic.”
Dotty shook her head and muttered, “Science is not magic.”
“Perhaps not to you, Dr Kemper,” Bardon replied.
A guilty look crossed Kemper’s face. “You weren’t supposed to hear that.”
Bardon chuckled. “I have excellent hearing, in part due to magic. Or science, if you prefer.” He lit his pipe and went on. “Some of these ancient books are well-known. The Necronomicon, for example. Others, the domain of specialists, such as the Tarsoid Psalms and the Eltdown Shards, which are actually pottery fragments and not a book.”
Jones called out, “What’s the point of all this, sir?”
Bardon puffed on his pipe before answering. “The point, Mr Jones, is this: I have learned that a previously unknown book has come to light and may be used to create, let us say, issues for the Western World.”
“And you want us to find the book,” Jones said.
“I do,” Bardon affirmed.
“That’s right up your alley, Stoppen,” Jones said.
“Which is why Dr Stoppen will be on this mission,” Bardon said.
“Do we know what this book looks like?” Kemper asked. “And why am I here if you want a book? I’m a forensic anthropologist.”
Bardon smiled. “I’ll answer your second question first. There is an interesting phenomenon associated with the book. At least we think it is associated with the book. As for what the book looks like, my sources tell me it is apparently a bound codex, with boards that are covered in black leather. The size of the book is approximately five by eight inches, and it is four inches thick. The title of the volume is Die Unaussprechlichen Riten von Dem dessen Name Nicht Genannt Werden Kann. Which translates to The Unspeakable rites of the One Who Cannot be Named.”
Jones rubbed his hands together, and said, “Ooh, spooky.”
“Terrifying is more appropriate, Mr Jones,” Bardon replied. “We do not know what Die Unaussprechlichen Riten contains. My sources are unsure when the codex was written, or even who the author was. The best guess is the volume dates from sometime in the thirteenth century, and may actually be a translation of a much older Latin manuscript.”
“When do we leave, Dr Bardon?” Mostyn asked.
“Tomorrow morning. The folder here,” Bardon pointed to the brown object on the table, “outlines your mission. The flash drive inside contains the mission details. Any questions?”
No one had any questions for the OUP director.
“Mr Mostyn, you’ll see Jeffries for any special equipment you might need. Good luck to you all.”
To Be Continued!
In the meantime, Nightmare in Agate Bay is available for your reading pleasure.
“Hawes has managed to capture that Lovecraftian atmosphere that so many get wrong, superbly managing to weave a contemporary thread to the shadowed tapestry of the past. A well-crafted story that slowly builds in tension. Trust me, you won’t want to put it down!” —Crispian Thurlborn, author of Exit, Cinder, and 01134.
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The Medusa Ritual is copyright © 2019 by CW Hawes. All rights reserved.
