“Doug, release him,” Maryam calmly said.
The iron grip vanished and I got back to my feet backing away from Doug and the hatred burning in his blue eyes. “Do not come back, Brandon,” Doug warned.
“Monsieur Fitzsimmons, I give you this warning,” Maryam stated. “I know you plan to go to Cologne and get the copy of the book in the possession of Altgrave Bernard. Only pain and suffering lies down that road, Brandon. Forget the Warlock Mark Glassner, forget your possessive lust for Desiree and try and live your life with love. Otherwise, I’m afraid, it is the Pit for you.”
What did this cunt know of anything. I would have my sweet Desiree back. And freed of Mark Glassner’s control, she would love me again. And I will make Mark Glassner pay for stealing her. Then Doug would pay, he obviously told the cunt all about my first wife. And finally, the fucking cunt herself. Maryam, with her name was so close to Maryanne’s, and just as much of a bitch as my ex-wife, would pay for treating me like a piece of dirt. She would pay for making me feel like a powerless insect on her food.
Oh, she will fucking pay!
“You should have let me kill him,” I growled as Brandon Fitzsimmons fled the Motherhouse.
“No, that is not the way,” Maryam replied sharply. “We should not raise a hand against are fellow men unless we must.”
“And if he gets that other book, if he learns its secrets?” I demanded. I understood just the level of evil Brandon could cause. He would get Mark Glassner’s power but with ten times the ambition that Mark possessed. So much had been revealed to me last night after I was given the Gift. By Maryam and latter by the Angel Sophia in my dreams.
My cock stirred at the memory of the Angel. She shone like bronze as her naked body pressed against me. Her merest touch was enough to cause my cock to spurt and when her pussy embraced my dick, I kept cumming and cumming with every plunge into her tight, wet hole. The Ecstasy it was called, for the touch of an Angel was pure bliss.
Maryam touched my arm, gently. “Brandon has yet to make that transgression. If he claims the book and its secrets, then and only then, will he be our problem, Doug. But he must be allowed his choice. Free will is the greatest Gift endowed by our Creator.”
I snorted. “I didn’t get much of a choice last night.”
“You can give up your Gift at any time, Doug,” Maryam answered. “Do you want to.”
“No, my task is too important,” I answered. It was strange. I once had been very devout Christian. My faith survived my first wife’s death when a drunk driver killed her. But not my second wife. We had only been married three months when she went to bed beside me and didn’t wake up. A brain aneurism, impossible to predict or prevent, the doctor’s told me. Not impossible for God, though. So, I cursed Him and spent many bitter years hating Him.
But I felt God last night when Maryam freed me from Mark’s control. And my faith was suddenly rediscovered, reborn.
Maryam handed me the scrollcase. “You must keep it safe,” Maryam intoned. “As I have kept it safe for two thousand years, now it falls to you.”
“I still don’t understand why I have to hide it,” I told her. “Let me go after Mark. Let me help those nuns sent to face him.”
“Because, the Adversary has learned where we hid the scroll and through his followers, he has been posted that information on Wikipedia for the entire world to see,” Maryam answered. “Because, if Gabriel’s plan fails, the Warlock Mary shall seek me out and this book must not fall into her hands. And who knows what other servants of the Adversary are out there, plotting and waiting.”
“But isn’t there other copies?” I asked, frowning. “You mentioned one in Cologne, in Altgrave’s possession.”
A smile cracked Maryam’s face. “Altgrave is a German noble, not a first name. The one in Cologne and the one in New York are but copies. This is the original, and it possess passages not found in the other copies. It is the coal that shall ignite the hope in mankind once more and nothing must be allowed to extinguish it. I charge you, Doug, to hide this book, to keep it safe in the Wilderness for forty years. Until it is needed.”
“And my wife, she will be joining me?” I asked, remembering Tina’s smiling face. She wasn’t a pretty woman, but when she smiled, she was the most beautiful woman in the world.
“Sister Catherine Sarah has already given her the Gift,” Maryam answered. “She will meet you in London and from there, the two of you must make your own way. Trust no one, tell no one. Just survive the coming darkness and carry the World’s hope into the future.”
“I will,” I said, clutching the scrollcase to my chest. “For the future.”
Mary and I walked through the campus of New York University, flanked by our four bodyguards. We left Rachel and Leah in the limo, the two girls making out. We had a wild time with the two girls in our hotel room last night. Our chauffeur, Leah, was a wild, adventures girl and Rachel, the shy, blushing bride on her honeymoon. The pair were complete opposites but seemed to have become quite close last night. Hopefully, when we returned Rachel to her husband, he would be happy with his new, sexual adventuresome wife.
We passed a couple of attractive coeds as we walked up to the Institute of Ancient Studies, but the book was more important that fucking some random girls. It was why we flew out to New York City to begin with. We needed to get our hands on one of three copies of the Magicks of the Witch of Endor and master all the magics so we could be armed against any nuns that would try to attack us. We reached the Institute for Ancient Studies, a white marble building on 84th Street.
Inside, we met a cute, Southeast Asian grad student manning the reception desk, a pile of books and notes sat on her desk and she was typing away at her laptop. “Hi, just one sec,” she said. She typed some more and then turned to face us, smiling. “Sorry, working on my dissertation.” She had a round, olive-toned face, framed by short, blue-black hair. A pair of sliver-framed glasses perched on her small nose.
She noticed our slutty cops and blinked. “Is this some frat prank?” she asked, sounding annoyed. “I don’t have time for that crap.”
“No,” I said with a grin. “We need the Magicks of the Witch of Endor.”
She frowned. “Everyone’s after that book,” she muttered as she stood up.
“Who else has asked about it?” I asked.
“This guy, Brandon I think his name was, called earlier this week,” the Asian girl answered. “Um, maybe Tuesday night? I was here working on my dissertation.”
She stood up, leading us into the building. Her name was Samnag Soun. “Everyone calls me Sam, though,” she giggled. She went into a complicated history of the book and the controversies of its dating as we walked, “Some think it was written by Gilles de Rais or Paracelsus. Or even by John Dee. No record of the books existence turn up before the 1500’s you see. However, it is written in Aramaic, in a style consistent with intertestamental apocrypha.”
“What?” I asked with a frown. “The intertestamental what?”
“A period of Hebrew writings that date between the time of the Old Testament and the New Testament,” Sam explained. “Like many of the Dead Sea Scrolls.”
“Do you have the translation of the book?” I asked. I don’t know why I was surprised to find out the book was in some ancient language I’ve never heard of.
“Nothing published, I’m afraid,” she answered. “Not a lot of research has been done with the book. Our copy was only recently found amidst a collection of old books in a cellar in London.”
“And can you read it?” Mary asked, frowning.
“Oh yes,” Sam answered. “I’m a doctoral candidate in ancient Semitic languages. I can speak Biblical Hebrew and Aramaic and I can read Ugaritic and Akkadian cuneiform. I can translate a smattering of other, more rare, Semitic languages. And Koine Greek, of course.” She laughed like we should know why Koine Greek was important.
She led us into a small library, babbling the entire time, through a door that was almost an airlock. “Climate control,” she explained. There were several tables with reading lamps in the center of the room and the walls were lined with tall bookshelves covered with leather bound books. Other shelves had drawers. All were labeled with some complicated catalog system.
Sam made a beeline for one shelf and came back holding a slim book. “Here it is. Bound using techniques common in the fourteenth century and printed on vellum. This book must have been in the possession of John Dee.” She opened the cover and pointed to a strange symbol. Almost like the symbol for a woman, a circle above a cross, but standing on a wavy line with a crescent transfixing the top of the circle and a dot. “The Monas Hieroglyphica, which symbolizes all of creation, was John Dee’s symbol.”
“And who was John Dee?” Mary asked.
“The court magician to Queen Elizabeth,” Sam asked. “And an alchemist. Very influential in the esoteric circles. Some say he conjured the storm that smashed the Spanish Armada and saved England from being conquered.”
Sam turned the page and it was covered in tight, square letters written in fading black ink. “What does it say?”
“Um, let see,” she frowned, reading silently from right to left I noticed. “Its a summoning ritual. To summon Helel ben-Shachar. That’s the Hebrew name for Lucifer. It literally means the Shining One, Son of the Morning.”
Mary reached out and stroked Sam’s face, cutting off an explanation on the origin and etymology of Lucifer’s name. A flush blossomed on the Asian woman’s face and she looked down. “You are quite pretty,” Mary purred. “Would you like to kiss me?”
“I…yes,” the girl muttered, her dark eyes flashing briefly to Mary’s face before she looked back down at the floor.
Mary turned the girl’s face towards her, cupping Sam’s round, beautiful face, and bending down and kissing the girl on the lips. I took the book from Sam’s hand and set it gently on the table and watched as Sam began to kiss Mary back, growing more aggressive as Mary’s power, that made any woman desire her, built within Sam. Soon, Sam’s hands grew more bold, roaming about Mary’s body in the airy sundress she wore today.
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