To their left, several large, well-kept residences
with Dutch-style roofs stood in a row, closely spaced together; to the right of
the street, a row of apartment buildings faced the sea. Jenny Everywhere
stopped the rental car where the street ended abruptly. There, where Hamilton
Road terminated, a narrow, paved path, barely wide enough for one car,
continued across a well-kept lawn; a sign with a small figure indicating its
pedestrian use identified it as John Muir Way. A hundred meters further on, it
veered to the left, and from the bend, a little over 150 meters ahead, lay the
shore. There, in the ocean, a little less than a kilometer from the mainland,
they could see the mound that was their objective. Lamb Island could not have
been more than a hundred meters across, and there were no buildings on it. But
here, at the end of Hamilton Road, on the right, stood a guardhouse, and a sign
nailed to the ground warned: Emergency
and Authorized Vehicles ONLY Beyond This Point. A guard sitting in a chair
was looking at his cell phone, and didn't bother to look up when their car
stopped not far from there.
Jenny glanced at her traveling companion. Marietta
Là-bas, dressed in red as usual, the hood of her cloak hanging around her neck
so that the wind stirred her black hair, raised her eyebrows.
"What do we do?" Jenny asked. "Do we
keep going the other way, do you want to negotiate with the guard, or shift
from here?" She shook her head. "I told you there was no point in
going through a car."
"I always prefer to have a second option,"
Marietta explained casually. "Anyway, the paved road doesn't go all the way
to the coast, and even if we convinced him to let us through, I don't think
he'd be happy if we went through the grass." So this is as far as we
go—she put on her red-tinted glasses, pulled her hood up over her head, and
held out her hand to Jenny. “Shall we go?” Jenny didn’t take her hand; she
grimaced and replied,
“Let’s go first. If we shift while sitting down, we’ll
arrive sitting in mid-air and fall. Besides, remember we have to go through
somewhere else before we get to the island, and that could be worse.” Marietta
nodded. She herself still didn’t quite believe the Shifter’s abilities; or at
least, the way she explained or interpreted them. If she took Jenny’s
statements literally, what she was doing was shifting from this reality to a
different one; to another universe, she called it. And from there, returning to
this plane at the desired location. That is, they would go to that other
“universe” for an instant, travel the approximate distance to the island there,
and then return, to meet on it. Marietta found this hard to believe; However,
she had transported them from the city of Guadalajara, Mexico, to North Berwick
in a matter of minutes; they were here, and she couldn't deny it. Besides,
Marietta was used to encountering witches contaminated by the New Age world and
the "Lightworkers" who frequently referred to the practices and
concepts she knew in terms of "vibrations," "frequencies,"
"portals," and other little words that grated on her nerves like someone
scratching a chalkboard with a fork. Some of these New Age witches, the less
unhinged ones, actually knew how to do certain things, even if they explained
them with that pseudoscientific vocabulary. She supposed it would be similar
with Jenny; but even if what she called other universes were actually other
planes or dimensions, her skill as a Shifter was, truly, prodigious. And
Marietta, pragmatic in the end like all witches, was willing to take advantage
of the opportunities Jenny offered even if she didn't fully understand them.
But Jenny seemed restless; her gaze was fixed on the
distant island. She noticed Marietta watching her and explained with a weak
smile, “Sorry… I was remembering when I went with Laura and our friends Charlie
and Kim to Little Saint James Island. What we found there was very…” She shook
her head. “Well, we’re about to invade another private island, and it reminded
me.” Marietta placed her hand on Jenny’s forearm.
“I understand; don’t worry. But this will be very
different. Ari Heller may be a wretched imperialist who supports Ronald Drumpf
and the war in Palestine, but in other respects, as far as I know, he’s a
fairly decent man, all things considered, even generous with charitable causes.
That’s why I think his actions and statements in the last year are due not to
cruelty, but to the fact that his country’s government has indoctrinated him
through media manipulation.” Her hand gave a final squeeze. “But we won’t find
anything like what you saw there.” Jenny nodded and smiled gratefully; it
wasn’t just the things they had found in their exploration, but that strange
presence… that thing the Chinese doctor they met later had given the simplistic
nickname of the Claw… that disturbed her. She had rarely encountered anything
capable of making her feel completely out of control. But Marietta was right;
there would be nothing like that here. Besides, Tamara Drew had had an
excellent idea in publicly challenging Ari Heller on her Facebook profile, on
Marietta’s behalf. Thus, he would believe she was busy performing some kind of
spell, and wouldn't suspect—or even realize—that they were on his island. It
was the perfect moment to explore it unopposed.
Both women got out of the car, and Marietta's cloak
billowed in the salty air; the red movement and the sound of the doors closing
made the watchman look up. Angous was old; he refused to retire, and he was
vigorous, so the neighbors, who were fond of him, had agreed to let him stay on
his post until he decided otherwise. He was, therefore, old enough to have
seen, as a child, a woman with a very similar red cloak and a mask, who had
been in North Berwick during the Cold War, searching for something that agents
from beyond the Iron Curtain coveted. He had seen her prevent them from taking
his parents hostage in the inn they ran. Yes; for Angous, that glimpse of the
mysterious Lady Satan had been an unforgettable moment of excitement.
Therefore, upon seeing a woman dressed in a very similar way, he paid no
attention to the other girl, in ordinary clothes, jeans, a scarf, and some kind
of goggles on her head; for an instant, he felt touched by the past. And when
the two women took each other's hands and his vision blurred for a moment, he
rubbed his eyes to see her better… but when he removed his hands, both had
disappeared, leaving behind their abandoned car in the middle of the street.
Angous, an old inhabitant of the much older Scottish
lands, had seen a few ghosts and wights in his accumulated years, so he didn't
doubt his senses; on the contrary, he burst out laughing, convinced that Lady
Satan had returned for an instant to the world of the living to let herself be
glimpsed. He wasn't so wrong, although this Lady Satan wasn't a spirit, but the
granddaughter of the woman he had seen as a child at his parents' inn.
***
Ari Heller got up from the breakfast table with an
exasperated gesture. He strode to his desk and took the sheet of paper that had
come out of his printer the night before. It was a color drawing: a woman in a
red dress and cape against a cloudy sky, with a speech bubble in the style of a
comic strip that read, “It’s on, ***ch!” It was even censored, as if it came
from a children’s publication. According to his staff, the account that had
posted it in response to his post about his intentions to use his psychic
powers to support the England team against Mexico in the World Cup was,
predictably, that of the artist who had created it: a Mexican artist. But he
already had information about the woman depicted there, thanks to his contacts
in Mossad and the FBI. She was known as Lady Satan, and according to rumors,
she had been carrying out subversive actions against the American government
for a couple of years, not only through sabotage but also by using witchcraft.
And unlike many of the intelligence agents he usually spoke with, Ari Heller
knew that witchcraft was not something to be dismissed.
Since waking up that morning, Lady Satan had been on
his mind. Today, during the England-Mexico soccer match, Heller intended to
focus on an English victory; he had decided to print this image to block,
through it, any magical work that the witch might ask him to do in favor of the
Mexicans. But as the day progressed, the feeling that Lady Satan would cause
him trouble grew stronger.
He left the illustration on the desk and walked to a
bookshelf; There, in a place of honor, stood one of the many exceptional pieces
in his collection: a beautiful, life-size crystal skull with the back of the
cranium elongated horizontally. He had received it as a gift from the President
of Mexico, who had invited him, all expenses paid, to his country to
demonstrate his abilities at the presidential residence of Los Pinos. Between
1976 and 1978, he had discovered oil veins using a pendulum and served as an
advisor on psychic and esoteric matters to President López Portillo. The
president had rewarded him generously, and among other things, had given him
this skull, which, he explained, had been found in a pyramid. Heller was
convinced that the skull's shape had been inspired by extraterrestrial
visitors.
It was almost time to get to work. He intended to
awaken all the ancient, supernatural energy that imbued the skull with its
psychic powers, and use it to prevent the Mexican team from scoring a single
goal in the game against England. He had publicly promised to ensure England's
victory, and he would; he wouldn't harm the Mexicans, that was something he
would never do, but he would lead them to defeat.
Besides restraining and blocking Lady Satan so she
couldn't oppose his plans, the unease he felt was an indication that she had a
real chance of posing an obstacle. He already felt vulnerable to her, and after
all, the mere fact of her presence was already an achievement for that witch.
Before working on the soccer match, he would deal with her. And he couldn't
afford to underestimate her; she was surely working with her coven, and since
she was in Mexico, probably also with the coven of the illustrator whose
account she had used to challenge him. Ari Heller didn't work with any coven or
team, although his public declaration was something even more powerful: his
countless fans and followers, believers in his psychic power, would fuel his
purpose with their accumulated faith that he would keep his promise; and it was
the energy of that collective certainty, not his own strength, that he would
direct toward thwarting the Mexicans' game. The same method that had worked so
many times for a simple act of bending spoons. With that, focused on the
crystal skull and combined with its energy, success was assured.
Even so, he wasn't going to spare any effort. With the
skull in his hand, he stopped halfway to his private sanctuary, changed his
mind, and returned to his desk. He took out his cell phone, made a call, and
said:
"Jack, I need a ticket to North Berwick
immediately. And please prepare the helicopter."
"Yes, Mr. Heller," Jack's voice replied on
the other end. Heller picked up the illustration of Lady Satan, realizing he
had almost forgotten it, and headed to the airport. The Israeli army usually
arranged his transport at any time when an emergency arose, as now, in
gratitude for his moral and tactical support of the troops in Iran; they were
the ones who had made a private helicopter available to him in North Berwick,
so he could travel to Lamb Island whenever he needed it.
He intended to use every resource at his disposal; He
had rarely made use of the position of power he had located and strengthened at
the summit of Lamb Island, and this was an ideal moment to do so.
***
Long grass grew beneath her feet. Marietta felt a
moment of vertigo that ceased immediately; she was taking a step, and upon
completing it, a completely different, and steep, surface lay beneath her feet;
they were on the hillside that encompassed practically the entire island. A
pleasant place at first glance; it was strange to see an island free of any
human construction, however small. Of course, access was difficult, given the
danger posed by the adjacent rocks and the strong currents.
"It's pretty," Jenny commented, "but I
don't see what Ari wants it for. Is it something like a retreat, or a place for
her picnics? Then I'd understand."
Marietta smiled.
"Through a witch's eyes, things aren't so
simple," she replied, as she began to walk. "Heller explored the
history of the place with her clairvoyance; He claims that Scota, a daughter of
a pharaoh, once lived here. According to the legend written in the Lebor
Ghábala Éireann, she was the eponymous mother of the Gaels and Scots. I think
Scota is just a myth, but there could have been an Egyptian woman who inspired
it. What I was able to confirm, because I checked it with a map of the British
Isles, is that there's an important intersection of fairy paths here, what are
commonly called Ley lines; currents of telluric energy—Jenny nodded; she was
familiar with the concept. But Heller didn't stop there; he believes that Scota
found the island's layout important in relation to the neighboring islands,
Fidra and Cragleith, which would be similar to the relative positions of the
pyramids in Egypt.
"And therefore to the stars of Orion's
Belt," Jenny chimed in. "Hey, like Charlie told me, weird stuff is my
thing!" Marietta raised her eyebrows. “I’ve never been convinced by the
Orion stars and pyramids thing, but anyway, I’m sure Heller didn’t miss that.
He believes Scota hid treasure on this island; he even spent a night here
looking for it. Fidra, by the way, was visited by Robert Louis Stevenson and
was one of his inspirations for Treasure
Island; perhaps that, in turn, influenced Heller.”
As they walked around the island’s perimeter, Marietta
became more receptive; Heller was right about one thing: there was a great power
in this ancient land. The Scottish territory was intense in spiritual vitality,
and Lamb, an extension of it, was no exception. There was something very active
there, deep down…
Lamb Island had belonged to the Dirleton lairdship
until it was acquired by Ari Heller in 2009. On an island that held no interest
for the average person, other than its inaccessibility to navigators having
earned it the nickname “Suicide Island,” he had been able to see what was not
evident in the light of day.
“Heller had a grand idea at first,” Marietta said. “He
declared Lamb Island a symbolic nation; a place open to all peoples, and all
beliefs. It didn’t matter that no one lived here; his concept was a symbolic
prototype for a nation of the future, a country without restrictions or
prejudices; Heller granted citizenship to all past and present victims of witch
trials. And having been contacted himself, he declared that any
extraterrestrial visitor was welcome here. It was utopian, but with a useful
aspect; you could apply for symbolic citizenship, and the funds raised went to
charitable causes.” “Well, it doesn’t sound bad at all,” Jenny observed. “But
you say Heller is a Drump supporter.”
“In the end, he’s an Israeli citizen,” Marietta
explained, “and Neshayahu’s propaganda, the biased media, have led them to see
Drump’s United States as a valuable ally in their war against the Islamic
State, which for them is synonymous with terrorism. Of course, there are
radical sects and terrorist organizations, no one can deny that; but the
propaganda has focused on blurring the lines, on making people believe that
Islam is synonymous with dictatorship and terrorism. Neshayahu despises Drump,
but he has pushed him to start a disastrous war. He has dragged us into a Third
World War without considering the consequences. And Ari Heller is blinded by
that vision. He takes every opportunity he has to attract Drump’s attention and
offer his help; he intends to become his advisor and protector, just as he did
long ago with the Mexican government.” He offered his island as a resupply base
for the armed forces the United States was sending to Palestine, even posting
an edited photograph of a military vessel next to the island on his social
media. Heller has spoken of Drumpf's interest in seizing Greenland; he declared
that something was there that would shake the world if it were known, and that
it was linked to Lamb Island. He went so far as to offer the island as a
possible fifty-first American state!
Jenny was furious just hearing all this.
"So he went from presenting his island as a
paradise of harmony among peoples to putting it at the service of an army and
contributing to the systematic killing of civilians in Gaza? He's betraying his
own ideals. I understand that Drumpf is seen as an ally of his country, but
doesn't he see how he's turned North America into a fascist state? Being
Israeli, I don't understand how he can support him. You and I both know that
neo-Nazis are among the first to work for Drumpf! (1) Nazism did the same
thing, identifying the economic corruption of certain groups with Judaism to
justify their extermination. Now the same thing is happening with Islam."
"That only shows that the worst of human nature
can come out when ambitious people are in power, no matter what side,
ethnicity, religion, or nationality they're from. Whoever incites hatred and
killing is the enemy, no matter who they are."
They both fell silent after this; their moods were
more somber due to the turn the conversation had taken. But in Lady Satan's
case, it was a reminder of why they were there, and it reinforced her resolve.
Heller's repeated offers to Drumpf had gone unanswered on social media and in
the press, but intelligence matters weren't decided publicly, and she suspected
something had already been arranged.
Marietta, who was walking ahead at that moment,
gestured for Jenny to stop. Jenny approached cautiously and peered around some
bushes at whatever her companion was spying on. There was a helicopter there. A
man, presumably the pilot, was leaning against it, smoking; he was wearing an
Israeli army uniform.
"At least he's not American," Jenny
muttered.
"Which doesn't make the matter any less
serious," Marietta retorted. "The presence of a foreign army on
Scottish soil is a violation of international law, though it doesn't surprise
me. Heller has already worked with them publicly."
"Now we need to see what they're doing here. This
is too small; perhaps their outpost is on the other side of the island. If we
climb the hill, we can look from there."
"But they'd see us too; it's still daylight. No;
let's do something more direct." Lady Satan took out a curious, elongated
pistol she had concealed at her waist, under the folds of her cloak. Jenny had
never seen one like it.
"Hey, no need for such violence!" Lady Satan
silenced her with a gesture and pointed it at the pilot.
"It doesn't fire bullets," she explained,
and pulled the trigger. The man looked down at his chest and dropped his
cigarette; alarmed, his hand reached for his portable radio, grabbed it, and
then it slipped from his trembling fingers; he tried to walk, stumbled, and
fell flat on his face.
Lady Satan walked toward him, calm but looking around
to make sure no one else was there. Jenny followed her and watched as she
removed the small dart from the man's chest. He stared at them, his eyes wild,
his lips twitching as if trying to speak.
"Muscle paralysis," Lady Satan explained.
"It will last long enough for us to continue exploring. Help me."
Jenny took his arms, and Lady Satan held his legs; they lifted him into the
helicopter so he wouldn't be visible. Jenny climbed in first and pulled.
"Watch out!" Lady Satan exclaimed. Jenny
heard a click behind her.
"Hands on your head," a male voice said.
Jenny turned and stared straight into the barrel of a rifle.
"But…"
"Do it!" The soldier cocked the weapon;
Jenny raised her eyebrows and put her hands to her head, releasing her
prisoner. Marietta had already released his legs, so he collapsed to the
ground. Jenny stepped back, and Marietta fired another dart at the assailant.
The soldier looked down at his chest, startled: the dart was protruding from
his protective vest. But he had stopped aiming at Jenny, and she seized the
moment: she rolled onto her back and grabbed the rifle barrel, pulling down,
and as it fired harmlessly, she fell onto her back and kicked the soldier in
the face, sending him sprawling and dropping the weapon.
A few minutes later, the two women had both soldiers
unconscious and, as a precaution, securely tied up, aboard the helicopter.
"The engine is hot," Lady Satan pointed out,
touching the metal. "He arrived recently. The bad news is that the toxin
also prevents him from speaking; we won't be able to interrogate him."
"Let's go then," Jenny said, jumping out of
the helicopter.
Lady Satan was already walking directly toward the
hillside and began to climb. She had noticed a clump of weeds that had a
different hue and didn't seem to blend in with the surrounding vegetation. As
soon as she reached it, her suspicions were confirmed: they were artificial
plants, made of plastic. It wasn't difficult to spot the outline of a
camouflaged door. It was closed, but it was a simple internal lock; it didn't
even require a key. The creators hadn't expected anyone to look for anything
there. However, it was a little stuck, and they had to work together to get it
open. The door was rectangular, three meters wide and two meters high, and
opened downwards, like the drawbridge of a medieval castle.
They entered a passage of similar width, high enough
to walk upright, supported like a mine shaft with steel beams. Lady Satan
turned on a flashlight, and Jenny illuminated the way with her cell phone. A
dozen meters further on, the tunnel widened even more, reaching a large open
space. Everything was pitch black, so they didn't expect to find anyone there.
Where, then, could the helicopter's passengers be?
Looking inside that underground space, they both
stopped in surprise. There were about thirty enormous military drones, with
machine guns and, in some cases, weapons that superficially resembled bazookas.
“They have
logos of the American army, not Israel,” Jenny pointed out. Marietta nodded.
“Looks like they took Heller at his word. And this is
getting worse; I’m sure the British Isles governments know nothing about the
presence of this small foreign arsenal.”
“Is this what you were looking for?”
“I was expecting more of a refueling base, a
communications center, or something like that. But it doesn’t matter; in any
case, my plan remains the same.” Lady Satan began placing some kind of putty on
the nearest drone; a roll of thin wire hung from her arm.
“Plastic explosive?” Jenny was astonished. “Where do
you carry all that stuff in that little dress?” Lady Satan gave her a crooked
smile.
“Look who’s amazed by my little tricks.” She continued
placing the explosive, and the wires, on each of the drones, while Jenny looked
around. In the corners of that artificial cave were some tools and equipment,
but nothing else. She found a refrigerator and took out a can of Dr. Pepper;
she offered one to Marietta, but Marietta was already focused on her sabotage
and didn't want any distractions. Jenny left a can outside to give to her
later, when she was finished; she tried putting it in her denim jacket pocket,
and it barely fit, but it stayed in place. Then she continued looking around;
she saw what looked like a quartz crystal on the ground and squatted down to
pick it up. She had to loosen the dirt a bit with a screwdriver from a toolbox,
but she managed to get it out. She went back to the refrigerator; next to it
was a box of water bottles, and she washed the crystal with one of them.
Lady Satan approached to watch what she was doing.
"Can I see that?" She took the crystal and
studied it with great concentration. Then she covered it with both hands and
closed her eyes, remaining silent. Jenny avoided making a sound, though she
wasn't sure what Lady Satan was doing. The silence stretched on, and Jenny
picked up her can of soda from the ground; she took a sip, trying not to make a
sound, watching her companion's still face, and jumped when her eyes opened.
Lady Satan squatted down, traced a symbol in the loose
earth with her index finger, and then placed her open palm over it.
After a few moments, she stood up.
"It's vitrified stone," she said, handing
the glass back to Jenny. "Legends say they are remnants of ancient giant
fortresses. And here's something; one of the Sleepers lies beneath this
island."
"Sleepers?"
"An ancient force, of chaos, from the darkness of
the beginning. Their time has passed, and they rest, waiting for their time to
come again. That must have been what drew Heller to them. He has a point; That
place is powerful… and I can see what it has in common with Greenland—he looked
at Jenny and allowed himself another slight smile; but this time it was tense,
determined. But that's our advantage. He can recognize what's here, evoke it…
but I feel it in my blood.
“Let’s go now.” Lady Satan headed for the exit. Jenny
followed, her mind racing with what she’d said. Giants, sleepers… was she
referring to something like Lovecraft’s Old Ones? Or something else?
“So, we’re going to the coast to detonate the cave?”
Jenny asked once they were outside, but Lady Satan shook her head.
“Someone came in that helicopter. I want to know where
they are. There must be something else on the island.” She started climbing the
hill, and Jenny followed. The promontory wasn’t very steep, and the climb was
easy. Lady Satan climbed with firm steps, and in a few minutes, she was near
the top. Jenny felt no urgency, and although she tried not to fall behind, she
paid closer attention to her surroundings, in case someone, or even a camera,
might detect her presence. The ground gradually leveled out; Lady Satan was
reaching her goal: to take advantage of the summit to look around. Now that the
The explosives were planted, and she wasn't too worried about being seen, since
they could make a quick retreat at any moment. But their advance stopped
abruptly when, beyond the curve of the summit, a man came into view.
Motionless, Lady Satan found herself staring into Ari Heller's eyes.
***
Ari Heller had left the helicopter with a small
backpack in his hands; he told the pilot to wait a couple of hours. That should
be enough. He climbed to the top of the hill that formed most of the island,
and in a few minutes he reached the designated spot. He didn't see any American
soldiers there; he was glad of it, it would save him from having to follow cumbersome
protocols to ensure he wasn't interrupted.
The salty wind was strong up there. He opened the
backpack and took out three fist-sized quartz spheres, which he placed in holes
he had made long ago to hold them; he stood himself in the center of the triangle
they formed. He took a bottle of wine and poured it out in a circle. Then he
took out the last object he had brought and threw the empty backpack beyond the
circle, holding the object in both hands. He stared into the eye sockets of the
crystal skull.
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, letting the
island's energy wash over him. The spheres he had placed there were smaller
replicas of another, larger and older sphere that he himself had buried at this
spot; a crystal sphere that had belonged to Albert Einstein. Ari Heller was
unaware of it, but Einstein himself had been its custodian at the request of a
woman who would have opposed the purposes he now pursued: a legendary Russian
warrior named Octobriana, who sooner or later would come to reclaim her sphere;
but that would not happen today.
There was another artifact he had buried there: an
ancient idol of Set-Typhon, which he had rescued from the ruins of Baron
Brouillard's castle on the peak of Blocksberg in late 1976, guided by the
poorly remembered visions left to him by a strange episode of lethargy that had
lasted several days. Heller was convinced that the entity represented was
actually an extraterrestrial emissary from the North Star, called Typhon or
Typhon by the Egyptian magicians.
Heller began to chant a mantra in Hebrew, the same one
he and his friend H.H. Juttak had used to contact the extrahuman masters they
knew as The Nine. He was convinced that what lay dormant in the island's depths
was an extraterrestrial intelligence; had he spoken of it with Lady Satan, she
would have taken it as yet another example of someone discovering something
very real, even if they interpreted it through the lens of their own
preconceptions. Jenny, had she witnessed this hypothetical dialogue, would have
suggested that perhaps both their perspectives held some truth, despite
approaching that telluric force from very different angles.
But such a dialogue, unfortunately, would never be
possible. Right now, sitting on the ground, Heller placed the illustration of
Lady Satan on the grass, supporting it with a couple of pebbles; Then he
moistened his fingers with the remaining liquor and traced a Hebrew letter over
the image, followed by a circle around it. With this, he concentrated to
specifically obstruct any magical intervention by Lady Satan on the football
match that was taking place far away.
"Not a single goal for Mexico," Heller
declared in a low voice; "a total victory for England. Lady Satan, you can
do nothing."
He then placed the crystal skull over the drawing to
completely obstruct it. With this, he determined, she could not influence the
World Cup game in any way. He didn't suspect that football wasn't even on his
opponent's mind at that moment.
He fixed his gaze again on the skull's eye sockets;
without blinking, his vision focused until only the crystal skull existed,
immersed in a metaphysical luminosity that seemed to emanate from it, and which
he saw not with his eyes, but with his psychic vision. In the midst of that
whiteness, for an instant, brilliant blue eyes met his gaze; feminine eyes.
Lady Satan? he wondered; but no. For an instant, he glimpsed a pale, young face
with short, blond hair. If Ari Heller had known of the existence of Tamara
Drew, Lady Satan's apprentice, he would have recognized her, since she was the
one who opposed him in his efforts against the Mexican players. But,
again, he was unaware of this.
Something, surely his own heightened perception during
his ritual, made him raise his gaze at that moment to where he should have seen
only the sky and the sea horizon; instead, he found himself looking at another
pair of feminine eyes, very different, behind red glasses; the eyes of a woman
shrouded in red, with a cape billowing in the wind, who at that moment was
rising from the descending curve of the hill. For an instant, Ari Heller was
certain that he was looking at the astral presence of Lady Satan; but squeezing
his eyelids and opening them again, she looked around, and realized that,
impossibly, she was there in person.
***
Lady Satan reacted instinctively; she drew her weapon
and pointed it at Ari Heller, who stood up at the sight of her. Not her dart
gun, but her revolver. Heller's eyes were wide with shock at seeing her, and
now they filled with alarm at the sight of her weapon. He reached out for it.
Lady Satan's action had been purely defensive; were it
not for the surprise of the moment, she wouldn't have pointed her weapon at an
unarmed man. But now she instinctively sensed that Heller was doing something
against her. Reconsidering herself, she pointed the barrel at the ground, at
the grass, intending to fire a warning shot. She pulled the trigger, but there
was no detonation.
Confused, she pulled it again, and again. Now her
attention was not on Heller but on her weapon, and had it fired the last time,
it would have inadvertently struck the psychic in the chest. But something was
preventing it from firing. Something…
Heller.
Lady Satan threw the weapon to the ground and walked
purposefully toward him. As she climbed a little higher up the curve of the
summit, the crystal skull came into view.
“You can’t be here,” Ari Heller finally said.
“The American army can’t be here,” she retorted. “And
neither can the Israeli army.”
“This is my island, and it’s my decision.”
“I’m not going to argue with the king of an empty
island.” Lady Satan crossed her arms, facing him from a few feet away.
“How far are you willing to go to secure the match?”
Heller asked suddenly. “Were you paid to do it?” Lady Satan stared at him,
puzzled; she had no idea what he was talking about. Then she understood, and
let out a little laugh.
“You came here just for the World Cup? Do you really
think I care about a game?” She looked down and noticed for the first time the
arrangement of Heller’s ritual objects. The crystal skull caught her eye; it
was extraordinary. She had never seen one with that cranial shape. She recalled
the Mayan custom of distorting their skulls and wondered if they had created
it. “But what is this?” She squatted down and pulled at the sheet of paper that
was partially covered by the skull: it was the portrait of herself that Tammy
had edited and posted in response to Heller. She said with a cynical smile,
“Wow, Ari, I didn’t think you cared that much!”
“It was a distraction,” Ari Heller said then,
understanding. “So I wouldn’t suspect you were coming here. But you didn’t
expect me to come to the island either.” This time it was he who smiled. “After
all, I sensed your deception, and that’s what brought me here.” Lady Satan sat
up and thought for a moment.
“And in the end, did you encounter any opposition to
your efforts to influence the party?”
“It wasn’t enough,” he replied. I'm sure Mexico will
leave without a single goal, I made sure of it.
Heller's eyes darted away, and Lady Satan noticed
Jenny Everywhere approaching them with calm steps; she didn't seem worried
about the situation, as she was looking at her cell phone.
"Well, it seems you were successful, Ari,"
Jenny said, "but you can eat your words about that last comment. Listen to
this." Jenny pressed her phone so they could hear the audio from a reel,
and a commentator's voice was saying:
"Thus concludes Mexico's journey in the World
Cup, with England's victory; but we can agree that the Mexicans were the ones
who played best, and they don't leave without having claimed a goal on their
opponent's field..."
Jenny paused it and smiled at them.
“Well,” this
time it was Heller who crossed his arms and looked at Lady Satan with a
boastful air. “You can take satisfaction in knowing your spells were strong
enough to get you a goal, even though I secured England’s victory.”
“It wasn’t ‘my spells,’ I didn’t do anything,” Lady
Satan retorted. “There’s a certain girl who just turned eighteen who came up
with the idea of challenging you with that drawing; she was the only one who
stood up to you. Her ‘spells’”—she smiled, showing her teeth—“she was the one
you stood up to, and she almost beat you.”
Ari was no longer smiling. The face with blue eyes and
short hair that he had glimpsed returned to his memory.
“That’s what you get for choosing the wrong side,”
Jenny added, “and for inciting the British to lay off their Mexican employees.”
(2)
Lady Satan squatted down to look at the crystal skull.
“It’s a marvel,” he remarked, with genuine admiration. “It could very well be
the same one that belonged to Ambrose Bierce and Pancho Villa, don’t you
think?” Then he murmured a few words, names, in an archaic language that Heller
couldn’t quite hear, and brought the tip of his index finger to his lips. With
his saliva, very quickly, before Ari Heller could react beyond a perplexed
protest, he traced a symbol on the skull’s forehead; the same one he had traced
earlier on the dirt floor of the clandestine weapons depot. Then he placed his
palm on the skull, closed his eyes, and spoke in a whisper, ignoring Heller’s
voice; he wasn’t speaking to him, but to that which lay deep within the island,
something vast, something ancient. His words, inaudible to human ears, echoed
through the skull and the very ground: "Spirit beneath the earth and
waters, withdraw your power from the hands of this man who has proclaimed himself
king of the island and who serves the enemies of the land; strip him of what he
has taken from you. Blessings of light and darkness. Iä! Fhtagn!"
Sensing a response, Lady Satan stood up, satisfied,
and saw that Jenny had stepped in to prevent Ari Heller from interrupting her.
"Well, then, what did you come here for?"
Heller asked, a little calmer now that she hadn't intended to take the skull.
"It's clear you weren't looking for me. Was it espionage? Are you going to
report the presence of American weaponry to NATO?"
"What weaponry?" Lady Satan shrugged.
"There's nothing here." Her fingers pressed the detonator in her
palm, and a muffled explosion shook the island beneath her feet. Ari Heller
looked around, perplexed, unable to understand what had happened. He turned
behind him, searching for the source of the noise, and when he turned again, he
only caught a glimpse of Lady Satan and her companion; When he turned back to
the spot where they had been standing moments before, there was no one there.
They couldn't have gotten away so quickly down the hill; they had vanished.
Then he paled.
"The helicopter," he muttered, and hurried
down the slope. If it was the helicopter that had exploded, he would be
stranded on the island! He went down far enough to catch a glimpse of the
vehicle and make sure it was intact. With relief, he returned to the top,
annoyed, preparing to gather his belongings and begin the journey back home to
Old Jaffa. He stopped, frozen, staring at the center of his magic circle: the
crystal skull had disappeared! There were only the stones he had used to hold
up the drawing of Lady Satan. Those damned witches had waited for him to be
distracted to…
Something else caught his eye. He bent down to look:
there, in the grass, right where the crystal skull had been moments before, was
something red; Fresh spray paint soaked into the blades of grass and the damp
earth beneath. The strokes weren't easy to make out, but it was a letter.
Heller recalled angrily that Lady Satan often signed some of her activities
with a red painted S; but this didn't look like an S. No; it was definitely a
different letter.
Then he recognized it.
And Ari Heller let out a hoarse cry of impotent fury;
now he knew that Lady Satan and her companion hadn't been the only intruders on
Lamb Island.
***
The next day, I arrived at the door of the house
Marietta and Tamara had rented for their stay in Guadalajara. I had come, of
course, to see the results of their incursion; I also wanted to know about
Tammy's experience with the ritual to counteract Ari Heller. First of all,
Marietta insisted on ordering a snack from a nearby restaurant. We then settled
into the living room, and Marietta and Jenny began to tell us about their
adventure.
We were in the middle of this when the doorbell rang.
Tamara went to open it, and Jenny followed to help her take the food order; but
it wasn't the delivery person.
On the porch stood a woman whose features betrayed
mixed ancestry, Japanese with some European, and a short, stylish hairdo to
match. She was tall and athletic, wearing a fitted, modern, somewhat exotic
suit.
"Good afternoon," she said with a slight
accent, none other than French, "are you Tamara Drew? I'm looking for you
and Marietta Là-bas." Tamara and Jenny exchanged puzzled glances.
“I apologize for dropping by unannounced,” she said
with a warm smile. “My employer begs your pardon; he would have liked to
introduce himself directly, but he is in the middle of a very demanding matter
in Moscow.” She handed a card to Tamara, and we saw her examine it intently.
Then she passed the card to Jenny, who let out a small hiss of surprise.
Without further questioning, Tammy stepped aside and gestured for the newcomer
to enter. Marietta and I looked at each other, puzzled. Tammy introduced us to
her, identifying each person present, and instead of shaking hands, the
stranger opted for a very Eastern-style bow.
“A pleasure. You can call me Scorpio.”
“Tammy…” Marietta’s tone was a subtle question. In
response, Tamara looked at Jenny, and Jenny handed the business card to
Marietta. I watched her as she studied it. There was no text, only a letter in
red ink, drawn to simulate rough strokes of dripping paint; a letter that said
so much:
Indeed, we now knew who this woman's mysterious patron was, and why he called himself by the name of a Zodiac sign. Marietta invited her to sit down.
"My patron has been following Ari Heller's
growing involvement in the World War," Scorpio explained. "And
realizing the public challenge you issued to him"—he looked at
Marietta—"he decided to seize the opportunity to make contact; but the
Moscow matter got in the way, and he entrusted me with following up. He only
approached me twice"—he looked at me—"Of course, we've read the
chronicles you've been publishing on your blog, Ars Necronomica; and in the
most recent one, you mention the time you were talking and noticed a strange
man watching you. You assumed he was a Mossad agent. In reality, it was my
patron; he behaved in a deliberately suspicious manner to get noticed, a little
bit of fun for him."
Tamara Drew and I exchanged astonished glances,
realizing who we had truly seen that day, disguised in a costume.
“The second time was on the island,” Scorpion
continued. “He was there when you confronted Ari Heller; in fact,” he added
with a small grin, “he left with a new addition to his personal collection: the
crystal skull!”
“Good!” exclaimed Jenny, and we laughed, imagining Ari
Heller’s frustration at being deprived of his prized skull. It was well known
that Scorpion’s employer was a great lover and promoter of art and history, and
we knew the skull was safely stored away, safe from Heller’s attempts to misuse
it again.
“My employer has been keeping a close eye on Ari
Heller’s activities ever since he and I found him in 1976 in a castle in the
Blocksberg, in the Hartz Mountains.” As a result of certain events that
occurred there, Heller spent several weeks in a sort of… coma, let's say. (3)
But he recovered from that state, and almost immediately, he left for his
extended series of activities here in Mexico, accepting the invitation from
President López Portillo that he had previously declined.
“That experience greatly changed Mr. Fa… —my
employer's—perspective regarding Heller and his abilities. We eventually
learned that Ari Heller had salvaged a statue from the ruins of that castle,
and we believe he brought it to the island; while there, he tried to find it,
without success.” Scorpion looked at Marietta, knowing she would understand
what he was talking about. “A statue of Set-Typhon.” Marietta tensed. “Did
Baron Brouillard happen to have anything to do with it?” “Wait, wait,” Jenny
said. “Did you say 1976? I'd say you're about forty at most.” Scorpion smiled.
“Professor Semo should make his preservation treatments public,” he said,
deliberately vaguely; then he changed the subject. “Well, my employer saw fit
to confirm something that we believe you have already observed: there are
forces behind the current political movements that have intentionally diverted
the world to plunge us into the Third World War.” Global. To halt the growth of
fascist and apocalyptic dictatorships, it is necessary to be aware of these
forces. To redirect the world toward its proper fate, which was written by the
events of the past.
"I see that Mr. F understands what some of us are
doing," Marietta replied.
"There are more people aware of this and actively
fighting it than many suspect," Scorpion agreed. "Of course, there is
no organization, like the phantom 'AntiFa' that the American government uses as
an excuse to persecute its detractors; this is more akin to what H.G. Wells
called an 'open conspiracy.' A 'great assimilative, dispersed, and non-cohesive
mass of movements, groups, and societies.' It cannot be neutralized because
there is no core, no leader; there is an ever-increasing number of individuals,
and small circles, who see what is wrong with the world and adopt common
strategies to oppose it. A widespread teamwork, without a team as such.
Humanity resisting the retreat.
Marietta nodded.
"The forces of Fate are within us all," she
stated.
At that moment the doorbell rang again, and Jenny went
to get dinner; the rest of us remained silent, but Lady Satan's words echoed
quietly in the room.
Credits
“Face-Off On Heller’s Island — The Threat of the
Crystal Skull III” Copyright © 2026 Luis G. Abbadie. It must always be
reproduced with credit given to the author.
Tamara Drew is an original creation of Luis G.
Abbadie, and first appeared in Nancy y el misterio del grimorio. Siete pasos
hacia el Abismo (Tubal Albainn, 2026).
Lady Satan, originally published in Dynamic Comics
2 (1941) and 3 (1942) and in Red Seal Comics 17 (1946) and subsequent issues,
her best-known version was created by George Tuska; she is in the public domain
due to legal peculiarities.
The character Jenny Everywhere is available for
anyone to use, with one condition: this paragraph must be included in any
publication involving Jenny Everywhere, so that others may use this property as
they wish. All rights reversed.
The character Laura Drake was created by Jeanne
Morningstar and may be used by anyone without attribution. All rights reserved.
Fantomas was created by Marcel Allain and Pierre
Souvestre in 1911, and is currently in the public domain. Its Mexican version
was adapted by Guillermo Mendizábal and Rubén Lara in 1966.
Ari Heller was created by Gonzalo Martré and Víctor
Cruz in “The Supernatural Golden Statue”, a story published in Fantomas
la Amenaza Elegante 2-265 (1976); he is taken up again here as a
tribute to the works of his creators.
The Claw was created by Lev Gleason in Silver
Streak Comics 1 (1939), and now belongs to Public Domain.
The Available Heroes is a series of stories that bring back classic public domain
characters, orphaned or open source, to face the challenges of today's world.
This is a work of fiction, in which any resemblance
to real-life characters and situations is subject to the rules of parody, and
is not intended in any way to constitute a faithful representation of reality.
Footnotes
No hay comentarios:
Publicar un comentario