The Singularity Cycle 02 Song of the Death God Read online

  It was dizzying, intoxicating. His head swam in various aromas of incense, some sweet, some vile, some eliciting reactions completely unknown to him. They did a complete circuit before asking a drunken reveler where they could find the fortune teller Piroska. The man grunted or belched and pointed with a wavering arm to the dimmer tents to the west.

  Carsten shook his head in disgust. Karl shrugged as they trudged through the mire this tent city was built upon. As they approached, Carsten realized they were in an area frequented by prostitutes. One of the scantily clad women sauntered up to them. She looked like a cross between a pirate and an ape; her hairline started somewhere between her eyebrows and probably extended to the middle of her back. Karl spoke gamely with her, asking if she would be kind enough to escort them to the tent of Madame Piroska. Carsten thought she was going to spit at Karl until he produced a one-Mark coin. When she snatched at it, he closed his palm quickly. She smiled knowingly and gestured for them to follow.

  Madame Piroska’s tent was different from all the others. It was black, covered with red symbols glaring outward from the light of lanterns inside. People gave it a wide berth.

  When they arrived, the girl held her hand out expectantly to Karl. He gave her the coin and she shot him a seductive glance. He smiled graciously and shook his head to say he would pass.

  Karl pulled back the curtain covering the entrance, and they were immediately presented with a strange phenomenon. Inside the tent, they couldn’t hear the carnival, only the sputtering of the oil lamp on the table. The silence was eerie.

  Madame Piroska did not rise to greet them; she said nothing at all. She sat at a low table opposite the door. Her attire was similar to the prostitute’s but thankfully didn’t bare any flesh. Where the girl seemed an evolutionary throwback to the ape, this woman could have descended from the vulture. The only word that came to mind in her presence was “hag.”

  They were not alone with Madame Piroska. They turned to see a man who looked exactly like the Top Hat Man, the man Angellika called Ferenc. But that was impossible. The only explanation was that this strange albino was his identical twin. He was silent. He wore the same large circular black glasses and the same top hat. He sipped his tea without a word.

  Madame Piroska said, “You have questions about the future, young man. Sit and let me see the color of your coin.” Her voice was like breaking glass in a mudslide, hideous and aberrant.

  Carsten sat opposite Madame Piroska. Karl stood behind him, discreet and out of the way, but not too far should the unnatural albino fellow get testy.

  Piroska closed her eyes and tilted her head back, breathing deeply through her mouth and out through her nose. The albino fellow did the same, in perfect synchronicity. After a few moments, she inclined her head forward and opened her rheumy eyes. The malevolence seemed to have taken a backseat for the time being.

  In a much less atrocious voice, she said. “Now, you are German, probably from the south, Munich most likely.”

  She placed her hands flat on the table then switched them to palms up.

  “Give me your hands.”

  Carsten leaned forward and let the crone molest his hands. She squeezed and pinched and kneaded, and started cackling. “Yes, my sweet young thing, you are not who you claim to be, are you? For this crude ruse, you will pay double!”

  Karl bristled, and Piroska said, “Tell your bodyguard his threats will only make my time more expensive. Only fools and those looking for something specific, yes, something very specific seek Madame Piroska!”

  She bellowed laughter, and Carsten caught a whiff of her putrid breath and saw the inside of her gruesome maw. It was rotten. This woman should have died long ago, but something kept this wretched thing alive, although not very well.

  She continued roughly examining his hands and spat, “Speak, liar; I’m no mind reader. What brings you?”

  “I seek your wisdom, Madame Piroska. I wish to know my future.”

  She laughed again, mirthlessly, and said, “Liar, you do not wish to know your future, but I will tell you anyway. You will live a very long time, you will always be rich, you will always have your choice of women. But you will never find peace…” She stopped her groping and drew her finger across a line on his palm and finished her last thought, “Because you don’t want peace…”

  He pulled back out of her grasp and she eyed him quizzically.

  “Tell me what it is that I want then.”

  She appraised him, and said, “You’re driven. Driven like few people I’ve ever met and certainly more than anyone your age. Did you come from Munich to see me?”

  “I’ve heard your powers of divination are extraordinary.”

  “Liar. I’m no seer. But I know the human heart. You want something badly. Spit it out, boy.”

  “How much will it cost?”

  “For what I’ve told you, it will cost ten Marks.”

  He pulled out five ten-Mark coins and set them on the table out of her reach.

  “There are other things I seek as well. I want to see real magic.”

  “What you have seen is no magic. I cannot do parlor tricks. I am not of the magi who can simply conjure at will. My magic requires ceremony. If you wish an invocation that will cause harm to another, understand this, they will be harmed. Most men fear for their souls after they see what harm they have paid for. I tell you now, you will regret this action.”

  “I learned of you through another.”

  “Tell me who, fool.”

  “Angellika.”

  She didn’t react violently, but Carsten could tell that name struck a chord with her, as she glanced furtively at the odd albino in the corner.

  “She was with a man who looked identical to this man here. Identical in every way. How is that possible?”

  Piroska didn’t answer his question, she just said. “Angellika is in Munich.”

  “She said that I needed to seek you out to see, to understand.”

  Piroska continued speaking to the man in the corner, “Surely she is not in Munich still? She would not have sent this one to me and stayed there.”

  She turned back to Carsten. “What did she tell you that you need to see?”

  “A tánc a halott lejárónyílás.”

  Her eyebrows went up in surprise and she asked the albino, “Why would this one need to see that?”

  Then she asked Carsten, “Why does Angellika say you need to see that?”

  He hadn’t expected alarm and suspicion for naming Angellika. He shrugged, unsure of himself. “I really don’t know. She just said I needed to see this and see it alone. And that I was to seek out Madame Piroska, and for a price, she would do this.”

  She turned to the albino and answered a question posed to her without Carsten or Karl hearing him. “She’s not repaying me… the young man is telling the truth, he really doesn’t know more… I don’t understand either… It’s hardly the most expensive ritual for us to perform…”

  She glared right into Carsten’s eyes. This was the most violating thing he had ever experienced. Something about it sapped his will instantly.

  Karl tapped him on the shoulder, hard, and he snapped out of it.

  She cast her baleful gaze upon Karl. He simply put a hand in front of his eyes and pulled the lapel of his jacket aside to display the butt of the revolver.

  She dropped her gaze. She might be a witch, but she understood guns.

  She put her hands flat on the table, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. “Did she say where she was going?”

  “Yes. After my questions are answered, I will pay you and answer yours. I do not wish to offend, Madame Piroska, nor to step into this misunderstanding you may have with Angellika, but I have come a long way and need my requests met.”

  Madame Piroska didn’t like this, but she assented.

  “It will be one hundred Marks.”

  “When?”

  “Tomorrow at my residence.”

  Carsten slid one of the te
n-Mark coins across the table toward her and pocketed the rest.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “Karl, how did you know what she was doing… when she caught me in her gaze like that?”

  Karl looked straight forward, then exhaled. “I have seen Gypsies, Romani, and those like them all over, in and out of Europe. The mesmerists in France have nothing like the capability of these people to fool the minds of others. Sometimes, but not always, all that is required is to break the spell.”

  They sat for a few moments, and then Karl asked Carsten the first unsolicited question he had ever asked him. “Carsten, do you really wish to pursue this with these people? Yes, they really have a kind of power, but it’s a power that keeps them the way they are. You are young and bright and wealthy; they have nothing real to offer one such as yourself.”

  Carsten didn’t answer the question. Instead, he asked one of his own: “When you said that you had seen people like the Romani outside of Europe, what did you mean?”

  “There are people like them in Africa, shaman. They are not the same people, but they are like them. They are primitive, scavengers, they live on the outskirts, and do many of the same things as the Romani: fortune telling, divination, witchcraft.”

  Karl took a moment. “I worked there from the time I was just a little older than you until a few years ago. I worked for diamond traders. I provided security. I carried a gun.”

  “Then Carsten Ernst and his disgusting family must not seem so shocking to you.”

  “Compared to what I have seen in Africa, nothing is shocking.”

  ***

  The next day, Karl came to Carsten’s room asking for thirty Marks, saying he needed to go to procure something in the city. Carsten assumed he wanted to relieve himself at the bordello they had gone to before Carsten opted for the Hotel Metropole.

  Karl appeared at Carsten’s door three hours later. He pulled a bundle from his pocket and unwrapped it. Inside was an American Derringer pistol. Karl showed him its simple method of action, warning him of its recoil.

  They left the Hotel Metropole just like the night before, walking to a humbler part of town to find a carriage. Madame Piroska had showed them on the map where they would be going, circled in ink with a pen Carsten handed her.

  She slyly tried to keep it, but Karl deftly snatched it back. She hissed at him, and he looked away. Later on, he explained to Carsten never to give anything he owned to them, because they could use it to spy or to cause harm. Carsten said that sort of superstition was of no concern to him. Karl nodded grimly and told him that if he saw a real invocation from this woman, he would change his mind.

  The tenement was dirty, loud and crowded. Voices jabbered from all directions in many languages of the world. There were Russians, Poles, Slavs, Turks, and people Carsten couldn’t place at all. Before they got out of the carriage, Karl asked Carsten to wait a few moments to go over some more details.

  “I will not be going into whatever room they take you to. What they are showing you is for your eyes only, and only you have paid to see it. I beg of you to immediately call out if they threaten you in any way. I trust your instincts; that is why I got you the gun. If you feel they are going to harm you, use it with no hesitation, and know that I will be there to finish the job. But get to me as soon as anything happens – that is of the first and foremost urgency.”

  “Don’t worry, I’m no fool. I wouldn’t be doing this without you there.”

  “Good. I want to tell you something. I’ve seen people all over the world selling their magical potions, conducting séances, casting spells. It’s universal. Most are fakes. This one is not.”

  “I believe she is real.”

  “I apologize for this, but you must know: What you will see you will not be able to unsee. It would be better not to know what you are going to know. Even though it is real, even though it is true, some knowledge is poison. This is the reason that Africa is in darkness and savagery. Europe is a continent of wheels and machines, steam engines and foundries, because this was stamped out here. The Romani are the last ones. For two thousand years, these people have been burned at the stake, and we are better for it. You can still turn back.”

  “I saw something at the séance that you drove my brother and sister to. I saw something supernatural. I’ve passed that point, Karl. I’ve already seen something that I cannot unsee. Now I need to know why.”

  Karl sighed and nodded gravely. “Then let’s go in.”

  The home of Piroska was a scene they didn’t expect. It was large, much larger than the exterior would suggest, and that was intentional. Outside, this building appeared to be another tenement block, but inside, it was a large and relatively nice home for Piroska and the strange Top Hat Man.

  Wordlessly, he granted them entry and showed Karl to a well-appointed living room and motioned for him to take a seat. The house was affected by the same aura of absolute silence as the tent at the carnival. There should have been a general din from the street outside, but they heard nothing.

  Karl sat and nodded his OK for Carsten to follow the albino to the basement.

  The basement was dimly lit with candles. It wasn’t cold outside, so the heat was stifling. The basement was large and completely empty apart from a large, log-fired furnace, a solitary chair, and a large silver serving tray in the corner.

  Madame Piroska worked by the furnace, and from the look of things had been working all day. The hard packed dirt floor was covered with an array of three triangles in three circles touching inside a larger triangle. In between these forms were letters in an alphabet alien to Carsten, all painstakingly written in salt and ash. He recognized Greek, Cyrillic, Hebrew and even Egyptian hieroglyphs when he saw them. This writing was not in any of those languages.

  Madame Pirsoska looked up from her work. “Yes, you, sit in that chair. We will begin now.”

  Carsten sat, and the Top Hat Man handed him a large wooden crucifix and a silver Star of David necklace. He pulled a handful of salt out of his jacket pocket and made a clockwise circle around Carsten while muttering in a language that Carsten didn’t recognize. Then he reached into his other pocket for a handful of ash and repeated the same process, only this time in the opposite direction.

  Piroska said, “No matter what happens, do not move. Do not speak, do not cry out. The spirits we call upon are easily offended. Do not make this mistake.”

  Carsten began to say yes, but Piroska spat, “Silence, fool!”

  The Top Hat Man went upstairs then returned with a small, ragged dog on a leash. Carsten got a sinking feeling in his stomach, and his fears were realized. With one deft stroke, the Top Hat Man pulled out a large knife and decapitated the dog. Then he placed two pieces on the tray. Its little legs were still jerking, but slowly stilled.

  When this happened, Carsten almost cried out. Madame Piroska cackled at his weakness.

  She said, “Now we will begin a tánc a halott lejárónyílás, in your language, the Dance of the Dead Friend.”

  Piroska stood in the circle farthest from Carsten, in the apex of the triangle. The albino placed the silver tray with the remains of the dog in the circle opposite him, to the left of where Carsten sat outside of the external triangle. For several minutes, the albino chanted in strange monosyllables with his eyes closed and palms up; the chanting increasing in rapidity until the words blurred together. Suddenly, he stopped and his hands dropped to his side.

  Piroska shouted ugly commands and waved her arms in jerky staccato patterns. The albino stiffened and his body rocked back and forth. It looked as if he would lose his balance, but never once did he move his feet or stumble. Gradually, these motions stopped and he stood fully upright.

  And then he opened his eyes. His posture was pompous and arrogant, like a cobra that could strike at any moment. He turned his head to look at Carsten. His pinkish eyes were cruel and hungry. They didn’t belong to the Top Hat Man anymore. They belonged to someone or something else.

  It turned back
to face Piroska. At no point did his feet move; he seemed to be unable to move them. Then he calmly but boldly said a few words to Piroska in that other language, his voice deep and loud.

  Piroska replied politely, motioning to Carsten and the dead dog. She spoke in that language now, but the cadence was different. It was very formal, as if petitioning an incredibly wise or important person. They were having a conversation, and Carsten knew he was the topic. After a few moments of this, the Top Hat Man, or whatever spoke through him, seemed satisfied.

  He closed his eyes and opened his mouth, and a buzzing cloud poured out. As soon as it emerged, the smell hit Carsten’s nostrils and he nearly vomited. Then the cloud slid across the floor between the circles and over to the dead dog.

  If Carsten could have breathed, he would have screamed.

  The dog’s legs wildly kicked, its body twisting and rolling in the blood puddled tray, jaws opening and snapping over and over. And then its eyes found Carsten. Confusion, terror, incomprehension, not knowing where it was or what was happening. It wanted to run, but its body wasn’t attached.

  Carsten couldn’t look away, and he couldn’t say how long this went on, maybe hours, but time is a tricky thing when faced with the inversion of universal law.

  Finally, Piroska spoke a few words and shouted out a final string of syllables. A change came over the albino instantly. He slumped forward and nearly fell over. He was himself again. He gasped and hyperventilated, putting his hand up to his throat in agony. He spat out blood onto the floor and threw the thrashing body of the dog into the furnace.

  CHAPTER TEN

  People have always said that mankind needs a quantum shift in perception, a radical change in his relation to the universe, to himself, and to other men. Rarely have those making this claim experienced this shift themselves or met a person who had. And none of them could understand the impact this would have on a man.