 CHAPTER 7 (section 1) copyright © 2001, S. Y. Affolee “Our client believes that you may have some of the information that he seeks,” said Simone. “Just who exactly is your client?” asked Johnson. “I don’t know anything.” “We’ll be the judge of that.” Simone glanced at the corner of her eye and saw that Johnson’s cousin Donald had reached into what was probably a pocket in his gown and pulled out a deck of cards, the backs which were criss-crossed in red and white. Somehow they looked familiar. Adrian gave her a brief glance that told her to keep silent on the matter until they were done with the interview. “Very well. Ask away. But I warn you, if I find a question which I don’t like, I might not answer it.” “Have you any knowledge of a group, an organization.” “A religious organization you mean? Like those pesky Mormons who keep on knocking on my door every Saturday attempting to convert me?” Adrian shook his head. “Not that type of religious if they were at all religious. The Dark Vipers. Ever heard of them?” Johnson’s face was curiously blank. But Simone caught the quick flicker of his eyes to his cousin. Donald kept shuffling the card. And he kept grinning his horrible grin as if once he had stretched his lips it was impossible to relax them. Maybe they had jammed, like an elevator between the tenth and eleventh floors. “Yeah I heard of them,” said Johnson. “When I was a boy. They were a strange lot, always trying to seek enlightenment. If they were still around, I would have gladly given them up to the Mormons if that would have gotten them to stop from visiting this house.” “They sought enlightenment? They were a spiritual organization?” said Simone. “Well, not exactly. They were into the odd things, you know. Witchcraft and such. Neopagans, although they despised that title. Some of them might still be around, but they may be pretty old. Like me no doubt.” At that, he cackled at his lame joke. “Old like those Egyptian mummies they keep on blathering about.” “Do you know the names of any of them?” Adrian asked as Simone got out a pad of paper and a pen to start taking notes. “There was this one guy, Hannibal Pynchon who was my daddy’s landlord back when we were living in Lancaster but that was a long time ago. Pynchon is probably safetly buried in his grave by now. Unless he’s a zombie.” Simone nodded. “That all then?” “Also some young upstart at the time who was trying to start some sort of company. Randall something or other I think. Don’t think he’s around either.” “So have you had any dealings with the Dark Vipers then?” asked Adrian. “Ever been part of their group.” “Oh God, no. Never in a million years.” Johnson crossed himself like a devout Catholic. “Those crazies were into those fads you know. Going to visit frauds like mediums and oracles and the like. They were into voodoo and Native American magic which as far as I knew was more about smoking pot rather than communing with the Great Spirit. But you’ve got to understand, during those times, the wealthy were a rather bored lot. They were always seeking new thrills.” “Unlike today?” Simone remarked dryly. “Bungee jumping and other extreme sports are the fad these days.” “Extreme sports eh?” Johnson barked in laughter. “Nothing compared to a bit of drugs and sex, I’d say. And maybe a little of illegal activities. But who am I kidding. These days are a bit tame.” “Well, I don’t know about that,” Simone said. “But we’ll look into the names you gave us.” “Glad to be of help.” “We have one more question though,” Simone added. “Do you know anything about ‘The Rose’?” Johnson’s body suddenly froze. His cousin continued shuffling the cards but began wheezing, strange colored spittle coming out of his mouth and splattering on the otherwise spotless carpet. “Mr. Johnson?” Adrian prompted. “The Rose?” “Well.” The old man slowly relaxed, but his eyes gleamed with an inner light. “Well,” he repeated. “I believe you’d like a reading from Donald. He’s quite good you know.” “Mr. Johnson, we’ve asked you a question,” said Simone exasperated despite the fact that Johnson’s cousin was beginning to shudder in a convulsive fashion. “We expect some sort of answer.” “Donald would really, really want to give the both of you a reading,” Johnson emphasized. Simone opened her mouth again to protest, but Adrian touched her arm warningly. Perhaps it was better to wait the answer out, she finally amended to herself. “Good,” said Johnson. “Donald’s almost ready now.” His cousin shuddered once more, his metal teeth clattering like a train on tracks before he slumped forward, looking like he was staring at the coffee table despite his lack of eyes. He held the deck of cards before him, face down. He slid one card out of the pile and placed it face down on the table. He did it again for a second, a third, and a fourth until they were spread in a compass-like fashion. He flipped the card to his left. The card showed a boy in a room lying out seven sticks. “Seven of Wands.” Donald’s voice was a low hiss that seemed to reverberate throughout the gaudy room. It snaked out through the corners and sent an ominous chill down her spine. “How can he see the card?” Adrian asked. “He’s a visionary,” said Johnson simply. Donald’s head swiveled sharply at the voices. “Quiet!” His silver teeth gleamed with dripping saliva. “Seven of Wands. It is just the beginning of your struggle. You fought a battle but you haven’t won the war yet. You have no idea what you’re getting into.” The card closest to Simone and Adrian was flipped over. A woman with long blonde hair was standing between two pillars, one black and one white. She wore a tiara and held a staff in one hand and a book in the other. “The High Priestess. You already know much, but you seek more knowledge. But the lack of knowledge, your purity, your innocence, and most importantly your ignorance if you choose to ignore what is around you may be your downfall with the situation at hand.” The card to his right was flipped. They held their breath and his hand paused slightly above the card, his breath coming in and out in harsh hisses. On the card a figure cloaked in black and holding a scythe was depicted. “Death.” He hissed the word out in something that sounded like pain. “This endeavor will lead you to ruin.” “But the card also means transformation,” Adrian cut in. “And enlightenment. Especially when the card is upside down which is what it is right now.” “Silence!” Donald roared. Furiously, he turned over the last card. It was a dark scene with a light blue disk featuring prominently on the top half of the card. A turbulent body of water was on the lower half. “The Moon. Your path will be rocky at best. Treachery and deceit lie on either side. Beware.” His last word was a hush. Donald dropped the cards to the floor and slumped back into his chair, seemingly spent from this supernatural effort for fortune telling. The rest of them sat stunned for a moment before Johnson finally stood up. “We do not have The Rose,” he said. “It seems that you’ve exhausted my cousin. You’re welcome back if he ever recovers.” Evidently, that was the end of their visit. |