"There now, I haven't harmed you" Marge chuckled, leaning over me. She brought her face inches from mine and whispered softly. "There are a hundred such ways to torment you, a thousand, without causing you harm."

I could hear her cackling all the way out.

Nurse returned momentarily. She picked the sheet up off the floor and covered me, tucking it tightly all around the bed. She extinguished the lights and left. In the absolute dark, the itching became worse. It felt as though thousands of ants were swarming over me, and it went on for hours. Marge was right, I couldn't concentrate enough to either trance or retreat and sleep was out of the question. I thought I would surely go insane as I twisted and struggled against my bonds.

Relief came gradually in stages as the itching slowly faded. The experience left me tense and jumpy, totally unable to relax. I lay there and listened. It felt like late night. Of course there was really no way for me to tell the time, but there was that stillness to the air. I was vaguely aware that there were hallways and corridors beyond my room. Occasionally I could hear snippets of conversation, footsteps, as people went about whatever business they had here. I had begun to suspect that it was an institution of some kind, an asylum or private sanitarium, a handy place to keep people out of the way for extended periods of time.

I heard voices. There was a conversation going on now. It sounded like it was right outside my door, so I strained to listen.

"Mr. Dennings, Miss Kelly asked me to find you. They have him. Took him just as you said, right outside the Museum. A dozen coppers swarming all over, and nobody noticed a thing!"

I recognized the voice that answered. Dennings.

"The Book? Did he have it?"

"He did!" came the triumphant reply. "They're taking him direct to the Temple. He had a knock on the head, and then they gave him some of that phenobarber stuff to keep him quiet, just like you told them, but he's all right."

"Splendid! Tell your master I'll bring the woman as soon as she's prepared."

"Right."

My heart began palpitating, as the last of the itching faded. The door opened and the lights came on. I pretended to be asleep. He was silent, and even though I knew he was there, I still jumped, startled at his cold touch.

"I'm sorry to disturb your rest, dear one, but you must be prepared. I will oversee the ablution and perform the anointing myself. I assure you that resistance will only increase your own discomfort and my pleasure."

I opened my eyes and stared at him. He was dressed in an ankle length tunic, crimson and sleeveless. "My preparation?"

"Yes my dear. It is a little past midnight now, and we have some business to attend to before the ritual of your dedication tomorrow or rather, tonight. Surely you haven't forgotten?"

"No, of course not. I just didn't expect you so soon."

"As I said, there is some other business to be handled first, and the rite will not be held here. The preparation takes some little time."

He leaned over and I could feel his breath on my face, smell that sick sweetness. "The other matter is one in which you may be key. You are to be reunited with your lover. The Doctor has been good enough to recover the Grimoir of Infinity and deliver it to us. I want you to witness how we demonstrate our appreciation."

I took a deep breath. "You are a stinking, evil abomination! If I believed in a devil, you would be it."

"Oh no my dear, I am but a humble servant. The English branch of our Order is hosting the ritual. You are most fortunate, there will be many hands to welcome you." He perched himself on the edge of my bed, and held my head against his chest as he stroked my hair. "Let me tell you what pleasure awaits you. My counterpart and I will begin by sharing you before the entire congregation, welcoming you to the Temple."

I jerked my head, but he held it firmly. "Oh I do understand your trepidation, my dear, but I assure you it is quite possible, and not at all harmful, with the proper positioning. When we have completed our part the entire congregation will be invited to add their love." He continued stroking my hair. "I have been to several such dedications, my dear, each of them memorable in it's own way."

He continued describing in graphic detail what would happen to me had happened to others before me. Nurse brought in a tray of food, but I couldn't eat a thing. I was nauseated, thoroughly sickened by his monologue. He coerced me into taking a little chamomile tea, and that settled my stomach a bit.

Finally, Marge Kelly and Nurse appeared dressed in ritual garb, to perform the ablution. I was anointed with oils, Dennings chanting, as I stood perfectly still, neither hindering nor helping. There was little point in resistance. Number One and Number Two were hovering in the background. Besides, now I knew they had Arthur. While they were about the business of preparing me, so was I, in my mind preparing myself for the ordeal to come. No, not my part in the Rite, that was of little consequence, really, in the over all perspective. I was concerned with having to face, to witness, what they were planning to do to my husband, knowing that it was all for my benefit. There was no doubting what was in store for him. It galled me that Dennings was so sure of himself, so certain that I would hand over the talismans to save Arthur.

He might have been right once. Except, I had felt the power of the Key and the Crown for myself. The effect they had on me was terrible. The raw devastating power that ran unchecked was too terrifying to imagine. If the effect had been such on me, what would the power bestow on one well schooled and well prepared? If such a person held also the Grimoir of Infinity, the capability for destruction would be limitless, literally destruction on a cosmic scale. I knew that whatever they did to Arthur, I could not let the talismans fall into those blood stained hands. I prayed he would understand. Why had he recovered the Book? For a moment, I felt a flash of anger at him for putting me into this position. Then, a deep unbearable sorrow crept over my heart. He was a man, fallible and weak and he loved me.

I was clothed in black silk, my own velvet sabbat cloak arranged over my shoulders. My eyes were bound tightly, the hood drawn down over my face. Dennings led me out, barefoot and blind, to a waiting car. I was left untied. He knew he had me now.

In the car, he kept a tight hold on my hand, as if we were lovers. He made conversation, small talk about the New York social scene and world events. I was pretty much able to ignore him and concentrate, keeping my mind focused on Justice, the card of Balance. The image of the blindfolded lady, sword perfectly balanced across her knees as she held aloft the scales was fixed in my mind. I was that lady now, and the Balance rested with me alone.

The car stopped. There was a fine rain falling and I lifted my face, welcoming nature's subtle kiss. Too swiftly I was hustled inside. My cloak was taken, my eyes uncovered. It was a small parlor in which I found myself, so similar to the one in my first encounter with the Doctor that I had to blink to be sure it was still there. The walls were paneled in dark wood and a lovely camel backed sofa dominated the room flanked by delicately carved Queen Ann chairs and occasional tables. I'm no expert, but somehow I knew that these were the real things.

Another man rose from a wing chair, setting down a brandy snifter. He came and took my hand as Malcolm offered it to him.

"Our host, Lady Tarish, Dr. Quentin Mayfair."

Mayfair enveloped my hand in his and covered it with the other. I felt like Maid Marian being given to Sir Guy by the sheriff of Nottingham, all the time knowing that Robin Hood was languishing in the dungeons below.

"Welcome, Lady Tarish, to our Temple. Come and sit for a few moments. May I offer you a sherry?" Mayfair was being effortlessly charming.

"No. I don't drink. You wouldn't happen to have a diet cola would you? And a cigarette if you've got one."

He lifted a wooden box and offered it to me. "I am afraid that my cellar doesn't stock American style soft drinks." He said, looking amused. "May I offer you some tea?"

"No, thank you." I took a cigarette. It was a Players and I desperately needed the nicotine. I inhaled deeply, then sat down on the sofa, thinking to myself that this really would have been a good time to quit.

The two men spoke together casually as I finished my cigarette. Neither had any further direct conversation with me. When I had stubbed out the filter, they stood.

"There is no point in delaying further," said Quentin. "The Doctor has been conscious for some time and I understand he is most anxious to see you."

I took a deep breath to steady myself and stood on shaky legs. Each one took an arm as the blood drained from my face. I felt suddenly dizzy and hot.

"Are you unwell, my Lady?" asked Dennings, solicitously dabbing at my forehead with his handkerchief. Concern mocked me from Mayfair's dark eyes as I shook my head. "You put on quite a show, the two of you. All the trappings of civilized behavior. But the veneer is thin. I see you for the butchers you are."

Malcolm coughed, or perhaps snickered behind his hand. Quentin looked at me solemnly. "You are quite wrong, Lady. We, as you, merely serve a higher purpose. It is plainly a question of balance you see."

"No," I said quietly. "You serve no purpose but your own perverted cruelty. There is no such god as you claim to serve, only the evil that exists in your own hearts. Name him for me if you can, this god who terrorizes all that is born in innocence."

Malcolm smiled. "We do not name Him my dear, though for ages others have. In ancient times, the Egyptians called Him Sutek the Destroyer. The Christian Church conferred upon Him the title of Satan, adversary, and named Him Lucifer the fallen son of Light. The names bestowed upon Him throughout history are legion yet still He remains nameless. How can mortal beings presume to name that which cannot be known? We call upon Him, as He is, Dark. Perhaps one day He shall reveal Himself to us fully. Perhaps tonight when I hold all three symbols, I shall...."

"You never will, Dennings" I felt the color rise into my face. "You will never hold the Key of Enlightenment and the Crown of Fae, not as long as I draw breath. I have touched upon that Power. I understand it a little. There is nothing you can do, to Arthur or to me, which will make me give them up to such as you."

He took me under the arm, squeezing tightly as he shrugged. "We are merely His mortal servants, Tarish. We will try."

Mayfair took my other arm, his grip like iron. "Your beloved husband will long for the release of death, Lady Tarish, and only you can save him."

I tried not to let them feel my quaking as we left the civilized parlor and I began my descent into hell.

It was a huge, cavernous room with high vaulted ceilings. At one end stood four marble columns placed to mark each of the quarters. They were immense, rising from floor to ceiling, carved ornately in some neo-classical design. Centered perfectly stood a huge stone slab ancient and stained. At each corner an iron bracket was set solidly into the stone. Chains with leather straps at the ends were fixed to the brackets. Long deep furrows ran down the center, with a trough at each end to catch whatever was spilled upon that unholy altar.

Arthur was hung suspended from one pillar, his back to the front column on the left side of the stone. His arms had been crossed behind the support and tied, ropes fastened to metal hooks. His legs had been tied together and fastened behind the column too so his full weight pulled at his arms with the force of gravity and the soles of his bare feet were turned up.

I stopped, unwilling to advance further. A deeply hooded figure was holding a sponge to his face.

"Come, my Lady. Are you not as anxious as he for this reunion?" Mayfair pulled me forward.

"No." I whispered.

Malcolm spoke to the robed figure that was attending the Doctor. "How is our guest? Have you made him comfortable?"

"He is secure, my Lord, but still groggy." It was Jen's voice!

I tore free of their grip and ran to him, pushing her roughly out of my way. "Leave him alone!" I stared at him. His shirt was torn raggedly, coming apart at the shoulder seams. All the buttons were gone, and it hung limply on his frame like a white flag. He still wore his faded jeans, but they gaped opened, all the buttons missing. Like me he was barefoot. I touched his face. He opened one gray eye, then the other.

"Hello Tary. Not too late, am I?" He smiled and I felt my heart breaking.

"Oh Arthur, Arthur, why did you come back? Why did you get the Book for them?"

"Well," he said a little of his old sparkle showing in his eyes. "I thought I had a plan." He blinked sadly at me. "Someone seems to have messed up, though. It's all gone wrong. I'm sorry, so sorry..." His head drooped and his eyes closed.

"It's the Phenobarbital, Lord. He's still groggy." Jen was talking to Quentin. "It could be another hour before he's fully awake."

"Oh, we won't have to wait that long," smiled Mayfair, lifting a syringe and stepping toward Arthur.

I grabbed at his arm. "Don't!" Malcolm stepped in and held my arms pinioned behind me as Mayfair ripped the remains of the sleeve off Arthur's shirt, and plunged the needle calmly into the vein just on the inside of his elbow. In a moment, the syringe was empty and he withdrew it, smiling at me.

"A few minutes and he will be ready. He won't lose consciousness again for some time. Enough to reap the full benefit of our little session."

Malcolm had handed me over to two acolytes who bound to the column with manacles and chains opposite my husband.

"He will not be too damaged? You promised him to me, Lord, if I delivered him to you. You promised I could have him once the talismans were in your possession." It was Jen, speaking to Mayfair.

He cupped her chin in his hand affectionately. "You shall have him, Jenny dear. Whatever is left shall be yours, if you still want it." He sighed and gestured to me. "I am afraid she may be more stubborn than we had expected. If he lives there probably will not be much left of him."

"But I was told... given every assurance...."

"We must all abide by His will, Jen. Do not question." Dennings had come and stood at her elbow. She made a small reverent bow.

"As you say, my Lords. I will go now. There is still much to be seen to."

Arthur suddenly jerked his head up as the drug assaulted his brain. I could hear the thunk as it hit the marble. The muscles in his chest, and arms tensed and bulged, standing out in sharp relief.

"What have you given me?" he demanded.

"A fairly large dose of methamphetamine, administered intravenously, Doctor. I have used it before and been very pleased with the results." Mayfair patted his cheek, as Arthur strained at his bonds. "There is still time, dear lady."

I shook my head.

"Then we will begin." Malcolm stood next to me, holding my head steady so I could miss nothing.

"We will start with an updated version of what the Inquisition called 'pricking'. They used it to determine if there were devil's marks, places impervious to pain, upon the body of the accused. In those days, of course, they used special pins, or thin blades. We have more modern techniques."

I recognized the thing held loosely in the hooded acolyte's hand. It was advertised as a self defense weapon called a stun gun and would deliver a non-lethal, though excruciating electrical shock. He nodded, and the device was used. Time and time again I was forced to watch as Arthur's body jerked and went into spasm at the touch of the device. He bore it bravely, not once crying out or screaming. I could see the tenseness in his jaw-line, the sweat pouring off his face as he clenched his teeth, refusing to give in to what they wanted. The breath hissed through his nose as it was touched to his face, once, and then again. Still he uttered not a sound. Finally, Malcolm took out a switchblade and stood in front of him, blocking my view. I heard fabric ripping, and knew what was coming next.

I squeezed my eyes closed tightly as the stun gun was used again. This time, a choked sob was wrung from Arthur's lips. Then a strangled moan was torn from his throat. Mayfair turned to Dennings and joked. "It is as well Jen is not here. I fear this would upset her." They laughed at a third prolonged, agonized cry.

I could close my eyes, but not my ears. I sobbed, "Oh, Arthur. I'm sorry, I'm sorry," over and over. Suddenly there was silence except for the Doctor's ragged breathing. Dennings stroked the hair from my eyes.

"We will leave you for now. The Doctor needs to rest a while before we move on to the next phase." He glanced at his watch, "A quarter of an hour, I think will suffice." He looked back at me. "There are no listening devices. You may talk freely."

When they were gone, Arthur took a deep breath and looked at me. "Are you all right?"

It was such an incongruous thing to say and so very like him. I almost smiled.

"Oh, I'm fine." I managed. "And you?"

"Can't complain. At least, not yet. No serious damage done so far."

"Arthur, what were you thinking, letting yourself be caught with the Book like that! You knew what would happen!" I could feel hot tears welling up in my eyes.

"Well, I didn't exactly know. You see, I had actually thought of something." He grinned sheepishly at me. "But apparently something got missed in the red tape, I suppose, and here I am. I'm sorry. Typical bureaucratic cock-up. I was expecting the cavalry long before now, Tary, but it looks like they aren't going to make the party. We're on our own."

The tears were streaming down my face. I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, to form a reply, but I couldn't speak. How long would it be before he finally died under the torture? Would he hate me at the end?

"Say, can you go on with this?" he asked, his face filled with concern for me. "You're not going to give in are you? Please, Tary, no matter what happens, no matter what I say, what they make me say, don't let them... don't ever let..."

"I know. I won't." I smiled a little. "You know, lately I've been feeling rather like Maid Marian. How's your Errol Flynn?"

He just shook his head forlornly. "Not very good I'm afraid. What we need now, are some Merry Men!"

I nodded. "I'm going to try to induce a coma... I love you, Arthur."

I closed my eyes, then opened them again, willing myself into a deep trance. If I could maintain a catatonic state they would have no reason to hurt Arthur. At least it might buy us some time, maybe enough for the cavalry to arrive after all. Slowly, I drifted away. They would be back soon.

©2000 by Trish Reynolds