Thaumatology 02 - Demon's Moon Page 12

  ‘I am required to state that the contents of this briefcase are to be communicated to no one,’ the girl said in a bored voice. ‘The fact that these documents exist and are stored here is classified as “Secret.”’ She turned and marched back out, locking the door behind her.

  Curious, Ceri opened the case. The documentation inside was in discoloured card folders, all headed up with the symbol of the SS and another logo she did not immediately recognise; a sword in some sort of ribbon, surrounded by stylised letters which she puzzled out as “Deutsches Ahnenerbe.” All the documents were in German, but her father had provided her with a solution to that. His own reading habits had included more languages than it was reasonable to learn, so he had used a bracelet which allowed him to read most human languages. Ceri rubbed it absently as she picked out the first folder and began to go through it.

  Our studies of papers discovered in the Vatican Library have led us to search for our quarry in the Dolomites east of San Martino di Castrozza. The writer was an SS officer, it seemed, reporting to one of his higher-ups. Ceri flicked to the end. Sturmbahnführer Heinz Lehrner was apparently writing for the attention of Heinrich Himmler himself. Kind of impressive in a creepy way. Schuler disturbs me. His methods are sloppy, unscientific, but his results are too good to ignore. Schuler appeared to be an advisor from the Thule Society rather than a true member of the Ahnenerbe. He believes that we will discover something vital to our goal in these mountains, but I fail to see how some ancient Italian godling might prove our own, superior heritage.

  The unit had set up camp and begun searching, but had found nothing for several weeks. Lehrner’s reports grew more negative. Schuler continues to be convinced that we will discover what he refers to as “the Quirinus Being” if we keep searching, but it becomes clear to me that we are on a fool’s errand. Then things had started to go wrong. Three guards were discovered dead this morning. They had been pulled limb from limb, their heads torn off. While there was little evidence that weapons were used, I am convinced that Partisans from the village nearby are responsible. Schuler claims that some manner of beast is responsible.

  They had lost more men the following night and had responded by going to the village and executing ten of the villagers. These peasants claim that the deaths among my men are the result of “the monster wolves from the mountains.” Schuler asked if they meant werewolves, credulous fool, but they said that there was too much Wolfsbane in the hills for that. It is true that the flower grows wild here, but talk of monsters? We have told them that the next time our men die, we will burn their hovels to the ground.

  Just from reading the reports Ceri could tell that Lehrner was an educated man, not disposed to acts of violence such as those he was proposing. He was scared, perhaps for the first time in his life. She opened the next report.

  They revealed themselves to us last night. They call themselves the Sons of Remus, huge creatures with heads like demonic wolves, and thick claws on hands and feet with three digits. We saw more than twenty of them, but only one, the largest, could communicate. Even he does not speak, as such. His voice sounds in your head like a roar. He claims that he is the god Quirinus and the man known as Remus, brother of Romulus. Schuler claims that this fits with what he believed to be true, though it was my understanding that Quirinus was the deification of Romulus.

  So, Schuler had somehow learned the truth of the Romulus and Remus story and had gone searching for Remus and his pack. Alexandra had said that Remus’ stronghold had been destroyed when the demons had invaded. The Dolomites were just east of the German Rift and would have been overrun quickly. What Ceri could not understand was why the pack had not simply destroyed Lehrner’s people. That quickly became clear, however.

  They come at night. It seems the daylight is anathema to them. Remus returned to talk with us. Apparently our show of force demonstrated to him that we were worth talking to. He claims that he is a god and Schuler seems to believe him. I believe that he is certainly something outside our normal understanding. His “pack” are strong, fast, totally without mercy, and their leader is more merciless than any of them. Can we ally ourselves with a creature like this?

  The next document in the case was a telegram from Himmler stating that one Gruppenführer Schultz would be coming to begin negotiations regarding a special mission which the German High Command wished Remus to undertake. Ceri could guess what that was.

  The actual reports ended then, but there were a series of personal notes from Lehrner which grew increasingly more… insane. They picked up when Lehrner’s team, Schuler, and a company of SS troops escorted the Remus pack to the Black Forest, setting up camp near Neustadt.

  During the day the troops are upbeat. They are on home ground and the supposed Partisans who have been plaguing these regions tend to attack only at night. When the night comes, they huddle around the camp fires with their guns close at hand, but not for fear of these terrorists. At night Remus and his creatures go out to hunt, and soldiers who have seen war and death tremble in fear.

  Two days later and Alec’s pack had taken the fight to the Nazis. We lost half our men last night. While Remus was out hunting them, they came for us. Huge things, bestial, powerful. Wolf-men, black and grey in colour. They seemed resistant to our bullets though we killed perhaps two of them. Their claws and teeth, however, proved most effective. Men were ripped in half, torn limb from limb, or had their throats torn out. Yet I cannot blame them, for I saw what happened to the ones Remus’ pack captured when they returned. I believe I will take the memory of their howls of agony with me to the grave, and I fear that it may be only a short time before that grave claims me.

  At first Ceri thought that Lehrner had meant that the Black Wolves had been tortured to death, and perhaps some had been, but she found one passage which suggested otherwise. Remus’ people grow in number with each raid on the werewolves. He takes creatures who seem somehow noble and turns them into demons. I know not how, though Schuler seems to have some idea. The man’s madness has grown. He speaks of finding methods to control Remus lest he destroy us all. I can see no way anything could keep this monster in check.

  After that there was only one more note, handwritten by a man who was clearly in shock. It was barely readable, but she puzzled through it. Schuler was nowhere to be found today, until we located what was left of him. He spoke to me last night of Ragnarök, reciting poetry in Old Norse about the Time of Wolves. He told me that Remus would resurrect an ancient spirit, a monster wolf, Fenrir. I would have laughed at him a few months ago. Remus claims to have destroyed the werewolves and I have asked him to come to the camp with his pack to celebrate. Men I trust have mined the area. It ends tonight. May God have mercy for what we have done.

  Ceri sat back, still holding the sheet of worn paper. Lehrner had sacrificed himself and all his remaining men to try to kill Remus and it had not been enough. How could Alec expect to stop him with just a small crew of nomad wolves Ceri could not fathom. The question was, how the Hell was Alexandra expecting anyone to stop him?

  Kennington

  ‘Isn’t that kind of mixing your legends?’ Lily asked. Twill had made stew, but Ceri was not particularly hungry after spending the entire afternoon in a concrete room under artificial light.

  ‘Legends come from many sources,’ Twill commented. ‘Fragments of fact from various sources make their way into legends all over the place.’

  ‘Schuler was talking about the Poetic Edda, I think,’ Ceri said. She picked up her tablet and flicked the screen into life. ‘Pardon my Old Norse… “skeggǫld, skálmǫld, - skildir ro klofnir - vindǫld, vargǫld - áðr verǫld steypiz.”’

  ‘And for those of us without a magic literacy bracelet?’ Lily asked.

  ‘An axe age, a sword age, shields are riven, a wind age, a wolf age… before the world goes headlong,’ Ceri said.

  ‘That’s not ominous at all,’ Lily commented. ‘And this “fenrir” thing?’

  ‘Better known as “Fenrisúl
fr,” Fenris Wolf,’ Twill said.

  Ceri nodded. ‘A monstrous wolf, according to legend. He was one of the three children of Loki, so large and evil that the gods had to bind him until Ragnarök. At that point, Fenrir escaped his bonds and killed Odin. Basically, setting Fenrir loose is a sign of the End Times. Like Schuler said, we’re talking about Ragnarök. I don’t know whether Remus actually means to end the world, but whatever he’s doing, it won’t be good.’

  ‘We kind of knew that,’ Lily pointed out. ‘How do we stop him?’

  Ceri shrugged. ‘Still working on that. I’m going back to the Library tomorrow to see what else I can find. I need to know more about Remus and Fenrir. There has to be something in the books that’ll tell me how to end this.’

  Twill fluttered up off the table, hovering level with Ceri’s eyes. ‘Sometimes,’ she said, ‘you can’t learn what you need from books. You know that, otherwise you wouldn’t be off frolicking with the wolves.’

  ‘I know, Twill,’ Ceri replied, ‘but we can’t go up against this creature without some idea of what we’re dealing with.’

  ‘The time may come,’ the tiny woman said, ‘when you have to take the risk.’

  Somers Town, December 10th

  The catalogue terminal chimed and Ceri looked up from the book she was reading. Fitzlawrence had shown her to exactly the same room, unlocking the door to allow her in, and locking it to keep her there once she was inside. The books and papers had still been exactly where she had left them. However, before trying to find something useful in what she had, she had set a search going to see whether she could find more.

  Standing, she winced as her back refused to straighten properly, and she had to stretch to get the kinks out. Her gaze wandered over one of the cameras in the corner of the room, its little red light glowing below the lens. She hoped Fitzlawrence, or whoever was on the other end, was enjoying the view. Crossing to the terminal she tapped a button to get the screen to return to life. The search had been running for over an hour, and it had managed to come up with exactly two results. She tagged both and requested that they be brought to her.

  It was another thirty minutes before the same bored woman as the day before arrived at the door, this time carrying two metal briefcases. She placed them down near the Ahnenerbe records and looked up at Ceri. ‘You remember that speech I gave you yesterday?’ she asked.

  ‘Secret documents, I didn’t see them, they don’t exist,’ Ceri replied.

  ‘That’s the one. Kindly substitute “Top Secret” for “Secret” and I won’t need to repeat myself.’

  Ceri raised an eyebrow. ‘Okay, I got it. Thanks for bringing these up.’

  The woman shrugged as she headed for the door. ‘It’s what I get paid for. Thank me if you ask for anything out of the Barrington Annexe. Need protective clothing for those.’

  The first case contained a folder with the now familiar emblem of the Ahnenerbe stamped on it. The contents were disappointing, little more than a set of administrative documents detailing the resources placed into the location of the Remus Pack, their transport from Italy into Bavaria, and the provisions used while they were there. There were a few notes from Himmler to Schultz regarding the Black Wolves, which were referred to as “the Black Forest Partisan Group,” and the need to arrange for Remus to deal with them as they were proving “especially difficult to eradicate by normal means.” There was a later note congratulating Schultz on progress in the Black Forest, and then a final letter. One passage jumped out at her. Lehrner’s superstitious folly has cost us a valuable ally in the war on the Eastern Front. Troops of the Third Panzer Division have determined that there were no survivors of the atrocity the fool committed. He will be tried for treason posthumously. Lehrner had possibly saved the world, had almost certainly saved the man who was condemning him. Ceri shrugged, reaching for the second case; Lehrner had joined the wrong side in the war, he could hardly expect them to understand his sacrifice.

  The second case contained a box-file. There was no writing on it, she opened it up and looked inside. A sheet of headed notepaper topped the pile, a letter from Jorgen Schuler to some higher-up in the Thule Society indicating that his research into the wolf cults of pre-Roman Italy was going well and requesting resource to discover more. She pulled out the pile of papers underneath and began to read.

  It seems that ceremonies have occurred in the Lupercal for millennia. Long ago, before the foundation of Rome, sacrifices were made there, and it is believed that this is the cave where the brothers Romulus and Remus were suckled by a she-wolf. My own research suggests that this story may not be entirely true, but has some basis in fact.

  Schuler had travelled in his youth, it seemed, and had come across information from an unexpected source. The notes were compiled in a small book, perhaps meant as a diary, and written in long hand. He calls himself Ulfgar and lives alone in a cave some fifteen miles north of Ulvik. Transformed, his fur is black in colour, but he returns to human form in order to speak with me. Schuler had found a ronin, it seemed, though Ceri doubted that the term was used back then. Probably a lone survivor of some long lost pack if he was a black-fur. He seems half mad. I have no idea how long he has lived here alone, but his eagerness for company is palpable. He says that his pack roamed the mountains once, but they are gone now. I have asked what became of them, but he will not speak of it. It seemed that being reticent was a habit among black-furs, the males anyway. Schuler had managed to get Ulfgar to open up over time, however, just not about his personal history.

  Ulfgar claims that his kind remember things from the lives of his ancestors, some form of racial memory. He claims to remember one ancestor fleeing the growing Roman Empire, and riding aboard the Dragon Ships on raiding missions. I believe that he could be a great source of information in furthering the Society’s goals if I can persuade him to speak of the humans he remembers from that time.

  Long ago, he says, a demon-wolf walked the Earth and the fearful natives of this land identified it with the legendary creature Fenrir. In that time, Ulfgar claims, the sun grew dim, crops failed, and men died of starvation or fighting for resources. I believe this is linked to the events of 535-536 mentioned widely in ancient texts. Ulfgar calls this the Time of Wolves and says that there are those abroad who would bring that time back. I have asked him who these people are, but he remains reticent as yet.

  Ceri sat back in her chair and rolled her neck. So, if this ronin was to be believed, Fenrir had walked the Earth before now. Was he a demon of some sort? Ceri had never heard of a wolf-demon before the Remus Pack had been described to her, but perhaps there was something to it. Standing, she walked to the terminal and punched in a query. A window opened with a progress indicator in it; progress was slow. Sitting back down, she continued her reading.

  He scoffs at the Romans, saying that their foolishness and credulity brought horror to the world. Their founder was a murderer, a fool who feared the power of his brother and struck him down. Yet after that Romulus feared the vengeful ghost of Remus and created a festival to keep the monster at bay. The thoughts of a city fed the ghost and made it powerful, and the monster such thoughts created eventually destroyed its killer, but could not sate its desire for revenge upon those who had cast it aside. The Romans made a god of their founder, little knowing that they fed his killer through their worship. These tales of ancient happenings are difficult to believe, but Ulfgar seems so sure. He claims that he has seen Remus, the Great Ghost-wolf, the son of Luperca, and the vision still haunts his nightmares.

  Right, that was so useful. Ghost-wolves, demon-wolves, what was going to come next? Ceri was half-expecting Thor to turn up to say it was all a big gag. What she got instead was even stranger.

  A woman came to the cave today. Her hair was black with wisps of grey and I have to say that I have never seen anyone more beautiful or imposing. Ulfgar seemed to know her, calling her “Alexandra” and greeting her with a great deal of touching. I believe that she is of the same r
ace as him, though I hesitate to use the term “werewolf.” She stayed the night with us, listening to Ulfgar’s tales of past ages. In the morning she came to me and said that I should go. She said to me that I had learned what I needed and that my part in the coming days was fixed.

  Alexandra. Somehow the Battersea Alpha had been involved in all this long before even Alec had. Ceri had no doubt that it was the same woman. Alexandra had some form of prophetic ability. How long had she been wandering the world, setting up circumstances so that Remus could be defeated? Assuming that was her intent. If she knew of Ulfgar and Schuler, had she known what would happen to the Black Wolves? Had she been unable to stop it, or unwilling?

  The terminal chimed and Ceri went back to it. There was one result, labelled as “Collection of writings on Greater Manifestations, No. 42376.” Catchy. She put in the request and sat down to examine the rest of Schuler’s papers.

  There was nothing much of interest beyond the talks with Ulfgar and Ceri was getting bored when the door unlocked and a trolley was pushed in by Ceri’s personal book-seeker, or so it seemed from her frequency of appearance.

  ‘This time,’ the woman said, ‘you can thank me.’ There was a cabinet mounted on the trolley which looked like the kind of thing people used when working on bio-hazards, but the heavy, iron construction suggested that it was designed to contain magic rather than germs. The woman took a lead from the back of the cabinet and plugged it into a socket in the wall. A bright spark jumped between the single pin and the socket housing before she rammed it home.

  ‘Uh, thanks,’ Ceri said.

  Her helper straightened up. ‘Do not remove the papers from the cabinet. If the cabinet is accidentally breached, press the emergency call button immediately. If you feel any sensations of discomfort, disorientation, drowsiness, pain, or oncoming madness, press the emergency call button. Psychiatric assistance can be provided following your examination of the documents. I will return in one hour to return the papers to the archive.’