Volume I: A Study in Dæmons
Prologue: Not a Story for Children
The bartender noticed the girl as soon as she walked in. She was sitting as far away from other people as she could get with a dense history book spread out in front of her. The bartender knew he could get to her whenever he wanted and she would act as though it had taken only minutes, but he didn’t want to keep her waiting; a bartender could be quite
loyal to his regulars. He walked up to her in seconds.
“What’ll it be?” She looked out the small window at the slick streets.
“Awfully cold out today.”
“A mulled wine it is then.”
“Thanks, Alfie.”
When Alfie came back with her drink, the girl had again lost herself in the book. She reached absentmindedly towards the cup. Alfie leaned over the bar, slightly, in interest. Still unable to read a word, he drummed his fingers on the bar.
“What is it today?” She was studying Chemistry and Medieval and Renaissance History at university, and Alfie was always interested in learning more on any subject from a developing expert, someone so excited about something he found dry, and this girl always had a story to tell.
“I’m afraid it’s not a story to put one in a good mood,” she confessed. “It’s not a story for children; however, it is unfortunately about children.” She looked around at the other customers before she continued. It was one of the usual set of signals. Do you have time?
He nodded and leaned in. Go ahead.
“Have you heard of a man call Gilles de Raise?”
“I can’t say that I have.”
“You know his legacy I’m sure. He’s the very real basis for the legend of Bluebeard.”
Despite her warnings of a bad mood, Alfie was intrigued. The girl saw this and continued.
“The beginning of his life hardly gives hint to its end. He fought alongside Joan of Arc in the Hundred Years War and married into money, well, after squandering much of his
father’s, but the technicalities don’t change much. The man was desperate for money. He advertised for an alchemist, or anyone who dabbled in the occult. You would have to be a
fool to agree, but I suppose Prelati didn’t know that when he signed on. He knew what he was doing but not how far it would go.
“Gilles de Rais wanted to raise a demon. He drew up a contract while Prelati
attempted contact. The demon was to give de Rais wealth, in turn for what we’ll never know. In any case, the story ends the same. Prelati’s first three attempts were to no avail,
and de Raise grew impatient. In what was, perhaps, a desperate attempt to defend himself, the failing demon summoner told his master that this demon, the demon Barron it was
called, required an offering, an offering of the sort one should never provide. This offering…well, it represents a crime viler than almost any other, a crime against society. It should be selected against, evolutionarily; it just doesn’t make sense–”
“What was it?” Alfie interrupted. The girl pressed her lips together and looked up at him.
“This is the part that might put you in a bad mood.” Alfie shrugged.
“Haven’t got much else to do.” The girl looked away, staring to the left of his hands.
“He asked for…parts…of a child.” Alfie was undeterred.
“What parts?”
“Well, based on his method of killing,” she looked down a the book, tracing a few highlighted words, “could be head, limbs, organs, but…most likely genitals.”
Alfie nodded stiffly.
“Lovely.” The girl laughed and her gaze turned softer, more contemplative.
“Well, he brought the parts, whatever they were. And while most agree he
summoned no demon, I am sure he did, for a demon would live inside him and would destroy lives and families. It would give him no wealth, but maybe he received another reward, a reward to him but in the eyes of all others, a curse. Maybe pleasure from others’ pain is a reward for the beholder. Maybe for him–” Alfie interrupted another one of her tirades.
“What did he do?” She looked straight at him with an intensity that made him shiver
in the warm pub.
“He was a child-killer.”
Since he had already expressed his interest, Alfie was unable to escape a detailed account of the real Bluebeard’s preferred killing method and rituals. He was only able to escape after hearing the disposal method of cutting off and burning small pieces of the corpse one at a time when another customer hailed him from further down the bar. Alfie eagerly took the chance to bid her adieu, and Rosemary Clearwater returned quietly to her uplifting bit of
literature.
Chapter 1: An Objective Account of the Occult
I guarantee you will not believe a single word of what I am about to write. So unbelievable is it, even to myself, that I have enlisted the help of a few of my good friends, experts in these sorts of dealings, to write much of what will follow. However, I thought I myself
should take the time to enclose a brief note to assure you the accounts that follow are completely objective and entirely factual, and if you cannot believe that, I invite you to hear
what Rosemary Clearwater has to say on the matter.
Allow me a brief introduction. I am Rosemary Clearwater. I attend University College London, and, by special arrangement, my field of study is so completely nebulous that naming it as any subject in the realm of history or the natural science would not be entirely
the truth but would also involve no deception whatsoever. Anymore of my biography would be superfluous.
In an attempt to offer you the most detailed and accurate account possible, I shall take it upon myself to describe preliminary knowledge of this particular case:
The Occult is an umbrella term for practices and beliefs that often stem from mythology. It describes not just supernatural or mystical phenomenon but the attempt to create and control such events. It represents the simple leap from trying to explain the unexplainable to an expectable and natural grab for power. The Occult is no occupation, though it fully occupies all involved. Possession, by spirits, devil,
dæmons, etc., only occurs when one attempts to posses something that is not one’s own. Dæmons specifically are a wildly fascinating division of the Occult. They appear so frequently on the underbelly of popular literature and cinema and fears so readily in these media, yet they are quickly and glibly dismissed in broad daylight. The fascination with and belief in dæmons is not limited to horror films or fringe groups and hidden cults. Carl Jung himself identified the shadow, or the ‘evil’ contained in the Self, as its own dæmon to be faced and dealt with, suggesting that humankind as a whole is incurably possessed. In fact, the more contemporary psychoanalyst James Hillman…
Etc. etc. etc.
Nihilistic Porcupine 