Sanctum Arcanum Read online

  Nightrealm IV

  Sanctum Arcanum

  Alexander Z. Kautz

  Ahead of the Press Publishing

  St. Louis, Missouri

  Library of Congress Cataloguing-in-Publication Data

  Nightrealm IV: Sanctum Arcanum/ Alexander Z. Kautz

  ISBN KINDLE 978-1-945594-89-2 (ebook)

  ISBN PAPERBACK 978-1-945594-88-5

  © Copyright 2019 Alexander Z. Kautz. All rights reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying or recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This story is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the authors’ imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, locals, or persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Ahead of The Press Publishing

  St. Louis, Missouri

  Acknowledgments

  It seems like just yesterday when my mother told me to stay true to myself and always follow my heart. And then, after having suddenly lost her to illness, my world had fallen silent. I hadn’t given up writing altogether, but it just wasn’t the same without her. It was long after her passing and during the summer of 1999 that a dear friend, Carrie Francis Dayment, had reawakened that magic. She had read the first volume of Nightrealm, and then said, “Tell me a story.” Needless to say, her enthusiasm sparked the flame that led to the continuation of my series.

  This was almost cut short on May 13, 2003 by a near-fatal accident that occurred when I fell thirty-five feet to a cement walkway from a roof at work. I was in critical condition and suffered multiple compound fractures. After spending several months in the hospital and undergoing multiple reconstructive surgeries, I returned home in a wheelchair. But, what no one knew was that during the course of the nine-hour surgery which had saved my life, I had developed a blood clot the size of a plum. It was less than three weeks after returning home when I suffered a coronary event. The surgeon explained that my condition was very serious, and that all they could do was provide six months of blood-thinners and hope for the best. I returned home with the knowledge that, even after having survived the accident, a bursting blood clot might end it all…

  The following six months were spent working through the nights, as too frightened to sleep, I continued with Nightrealm. I did this from a wheel-chair, and with a cast on my left leg, left arm and right hand. The entire venture had been completed while using a single finger on my right hand. There had been doubts as to whether I would ever have the use of my left arm or be able to walk again. But through some miracle and the endless support of dear friends, it happened. After two long years, I was free of the wheelchair and began a new life. It had been through those darkest of times that I had completed the second volume, Nightrealm II: Land of Shadows.

  In the years that followed Carrie fell ill and lost a valiant battle against cancer. Although devastated with her loss, I had promised both her and her husband Scott that I would finish the series. It was late in the winter of 2013 that I completed the rewrite of the third volume, Nightrealm III: Beyond the Grave. Without hesitation, I had immediately begun work upon the fourth in the series, Nightrealm IV: Sanctum Arcanum. Unfortunately, on May 22, 2015, I suffered another coronary event, and was rushed to hospital again… I was informed that a large blood clot had broken in my heart and plugged all major arteries save for one. I was immediately scheduled for a quadruple by-pass. After recovering from surgery, I was informed that I had congenital heart disease, and that I would be forced to take medication for what remained of my life…

  I continued to work evenings. I had become accustomed to the stillness of the night, and found it increasingly harder to return to the land of the living. I lived vicariously through my work. It provided a venue of which to imprison my worst fears, and share fondest memories and dreams.

  I completed the Nightrealm series while including some of the greatest people, memories and moments of my life. In the years that followed it continued to expand, eventually becoming five volumes. Mind you, these were far larger than the average book, so one might easily separate them into a larger series. Hence, I began the enormous task of breaking them down into novel-length manuscripts. It was something that was a lot more complicated than I had imagined! This included complete re-writes and the addition of extra material gathered over the years. Needless to say, this was exactly the escape I had needed to survive the chaos of reality.

  It was late in the fall of 2015 when a dear friend, S.L. Kotar, had inquired as to whether I might consider publishing this project. We had laughed about it when I had told him that I would only consider this if he was the publisher. The discussion had been all but forgotten until several years later, and when he had promptly announced having opened his own publishing house! Well, having been flattered that he would even consider such a venture, I had whole-heartedly agreed to publish! Needless to say, I did fumble the ball a few times, but my dear friends always caught me on the way down. If success is sharing a dream with those you love, then I have truly fulfilled my fondest hopes. With the publication of the fourth installment, the series will conclude in Nightrealm V: Diabolus Lapis. The adventure continues...

  Firstly, I would like to take a moment to extend my thanks to you, the reader. In a busy world where there is little time, sharing these moments with you is an honor and a privilege. I sincerely hope that you will find a few smiles, thrills and chills in what follows.

  Accordingly, I would like to express fond memory of those having already passed into grace. I would like to begin with my mother for her support, guidance, inspiration and eternal love. Kenneth John MacDonald who taught me humility and that courage begins in the heart. Dr. Ian Currie, a colleague of my mother who inspired my interest in the occult and paranormal. Dr. R.K. Harrison, Dean of Wycliffe University, a disciplined and gentle soul who introduced me to illuminated manuscripts. My dear friend, Forrest J. Ackerman, whose kindness and contributions to sci-fi and horror will forever inspire generations. Bill, (William Lyle Richardson aka Darren McGavin) who starred as Kolchak the night stalker, and in his later years became a dear friend.

  Special thanks are extended to my friend and editor Ole Papra. May he forgive me for the long evenings spent cursing over my manuscripts and translating archaic, foreign dialects!

  I would also like to give honorable mention to Kagome Lynn Dirksmeyer, Carrie, Scott and Patrick Dayment, Brenda S. Burden, Deb Merrill Carlson, Richard Brent MacDonald, James Stewart, Douglas Rutherford, Harold C. Black, James Barrie Benz, Dave Reidy, Harold Bahlsak, Pamela Dawn Montgomery, Ryan and Andrea Oliver McNiven, Charlie McCall, Maharet LeFay, Lawrence Allan Handley, Dave Reidy, Rich, Lora Lee and Caitie Ann Orth, Mark Kokopelli Watkins, Jay Leonard, Marie Dawn Fischer, Jerry Langdon, Darin G. Yeschuck, Robert and Ruth Sampson, Barbra Flaugher, Diana Kelly, Michelle Sayles, Keith Milne, Hayley Smith, Michelle McCarthy, Maharet LeFay, Ian Tweedale, Alice Liebner Langley, Harold C. Black, and my beloved Merlin.

  I would also like to respectfully acknowledge Richard Cavendish and the publication, Man, Myth & Magic. BPC Publishing Ltd. (1970). The Golden Bough, Sir James George Frazer. Macmillan and Co. (1890). The Vampire, his kith and kin, Montague Summers, New Hyde Park, N.Y. University Books (1960). Demonolatry, Nicholas Remy, edited by Montague Summers. (1929). Edgar Cayce: The Sleeping Prophet, Jess Stearn, Doubleday, NY, (1967). My Story, Uri Geller. ABC-CLIO LLC, (1975). Eerie Magazine, James Warren, Warren Publishing, (1964). Creepy Magazine, James Warren, Warren Publishing, (1964). Vampirella Magazine, James Warren, Warren Publishing, (1969). “Out of Limits”, Live in
Japan 65’, The Ventures. (1965). “White Christmas” Bing Crosby, Decca Records (1942). A Christmas Carol, Charles Dickens. (1843). Star Trek: The Original Series, Gene Roddenberry, NBC (1966-1969 TV Series). The Twilight Zone, Rod Serling, CBS. (1959 TV series). The Outer Limits, Leslie Stevens, ABC, (1963-1965 TV Series). Night Gallery, Rod Serling, NBC, (1969-1973 TV Series). Godzilla, Toho Co. Ltd. (1954). UFO: Target Earth, Maron Films, (1974). American Graffiti, Francis Ford Coppola, (1973). The Sting, Richard D. Zanuck, David Brown, (1973).

  I would also like to express my gratitude and sincerest affection for dear friends and publisher, S.L. Kotar, J.E. Gessler and Amy Zimmerman. For decades of support, endless patience and tireless efforts, I am forever grateful.

  “Hold those dearest near to your heart—for we shall all meet again.”

  Alexander Z. Kautz

  Prologue

  The months of June and July had slipped past like something seen from the window of a speeding train. Rich and Maya had moved into the old mansion on Oak Street, and their wedding had seemed like a blur in time.

  Scott, Carrie and young Patrick had moved into the book store. They had taken very little with them from the rented house, and had entirely furnished the place with antiques that we had provided. It was the very least that we could do after having been instrumental in the destruction of their previous home. We had also awarded Scott the initial ten thousand dollars paid for a previous investigation. One that had ended in the unexpected and sudden death of our hostess….

  Although her chauffeur had seen to it that we had been paid as previously agreed. We had all been surprised with the gift of several cases of very old brandy. A consignment that had taken decades to finally reach the last member of the McCreary estate… The property had sold, and the warehouse was demolished. Nothing remained now but a very large and vacant lot. I had driven out there late one afternoon, and quietly stood at the end of that old dock. I hadn’t even noticed the waves or the wind, just the sounds of the gulls in the distance. Or perhaps, it was the mournful cries of an old woman. A soul condemned to a legacy leading straight into hell….

  Fearing the worst, I had driven with Rich to the Hedley mine and thrown the book and cane into the very same pit where I had nearly fallen as a child. We were uncertain as to how deep it had actually been, but had heard water dripping from somewhere in the blackness far below. Although there had been no guarantee that they wouldn’t be found again, we had done our best to conceal them. It seemed as though both Marlowe and the demon had simply vanished. I could only hope and pray our unholy union had truly reached its final end….

  After the loss of the mystical Celtic sword, I pondered the mystery that still hung about the ancient golden sphere. I spent countless hours researching Irish and Scots folklore. One mystery leading into another, I worked tirelessly to finish Nightrealm III: Beyond the Grave, and though I had never redeemed the relationship with my old editor again, Ted had seen to it that the manuscript was placed into able hands. Her name was Kagome Lynn Dirksmeyer, and she was a recent addition to the office. A Japanese woman, she was tall, slim and filled with the enthusiasm of youth. She was attractive and wearing her hair in a bob-cut, had large and inquisitive eyes. I had liked her right away. She had looked down as gently shaking my hand in first meeting, politely bowed as was tradition in her country. It was sincerely flattering, and wonderful to see such a pleasant and respectful custom continued.

  “You’ll get along great!” Ted had assured me as he puffed at a cigar from across his desk, “She’s a big horror film fan and reads everything that she can get her hands on. She’s familiar with your work—and moves faster than anyone else in the office.” He had thought briefly, and then quietly said, “Oh—and just so you know it? I had to let Hans go last week. Things just weren’t working out here between us.”

  I had felt bad hearing this, but understood. He had been a brilliant editor, but fleeting and quick tempered. It was a shame, I had really liked him.

  “Kagome will be handling all of your future editing—and she seems agreeable and easy enough to get along with.”

  “I truly appreciate that, Ted.” Sipping at the black and sugarless tea, I looked toward the large picture window in his office and, sighing deeply, glanced back at my friend in thought. “I’ve been giving this some thought, and have considered ending the Nightrealm series—and possibly doing some anthologies. What do you think?”

  His eyes had grown large from behind his glasses as he choked though a cloud of cigar smoke, and coughing, said, “Geez, Louise—your stuff is finally catching on! Why on earth would you want to do that?”

  “Well, to be straight with you on this--,” My thoughts raced, as nervously wringing my hands together upon his desk, I conceived of every single acceptable excuse, “I just don’t know if I’ll be able to keep this interesting enough to make it worthwhile?”

  “And, you think that short stories would be any different?” Leaning back into his chair and taking a long pull from the cigar, he smiled, saying, “As much as I hate to say this, the format that you use in your Nightrealm series comes across to readers as short stories. Sure, it’s a continuing story with the same main characters, but each installment equals its own story. So, in my mind, and now that you’ve finally got something that’s appealing to the public, why blow it?”

  I had two feet and at this point, they were both in my mouth. Unable to speak, I just sat there feeling the fool while attempting to devise a clever explanation that never arrived. Ted had appeared quite confident, as raising his eyebrows, and grinning from ear to ear, he silently waited for a reply.

  “I suppose that you’re right?” I dribbled and dropped the “proverbial ball” in my own defense, “I’ll get started on a new manuscript for next year.”

  “That’s the spirit!” He leapt from his chair and, hurrying around the enormous oak desk, had walked me toward the office door, “I’ve got a good feeling about this series. And, you know that I can’t stand that spooky crap—but some of it just seems so real.”

  “I can imagine that it might.” I had turned in parting as he had enthusiastically slapped my shoulder, and said, “I’ll keep you posted on any updates—and give you a call when the editing is done for final review.”

  We had walked down the corridor to the elevator, and he had pressed the car call and waited. There was a sudden expression of concern as he had looked me in the eyes, and asked, “Is everything alright—things okay at home with the little miss?”

  “I can’t complain, really--,” I had watched the lights of the elevator that was slowly rising to the sixth floor, “But, I’ve been spending a lot of time with my work—and feel like I’m neglecting her.”

  “You should take a little vacation together--,” He suggested as the elevator doors opened and he held the car with a hand in parting, “We work to live—not live to work. Don’t ever forget that.”

  Stepping into the elevator and turning to look back at him, I frowned, “You know something, Ted? I’ve spent so many years alone with my work that it’s really hard to change.”

  “You’ve got a wonderful gal there, my friend.” He held the elevator doors open, “Don’t make the same mistake that I did with my ex-wife. Always put family first. You’ve got a whole year to come up with another book, just take the time together—while you still can.”

  It would have been impossible to simply agree even while knowing that he was right. So, I had simply nodded, solemnly staring at my friend as the elevator doors closed…

  The August heat had left me breathless. Even though Rich now lived merely blocks away, I heard and saw very little of him. Caitlin had simply giggled about this, and said that the new couple needed time to settle in together. All the same, I couldn’t help but feeling a little lost.

  Red Cloud and Scott had become so busy at the warehouse that Danny was now employed full time. I sincerely missed having him as our groundskeeper, but as life would have it, he needed to move on to bigger and bette
r things. In all truth, we had needed him far more at the warehouse. Although having received numerous applicants, we hadn’t found anyone that we would have considered suitable to our unique inventory.

  Carrie had hired two women in our office, and the magazine and antiques business was running stronger than ever before. Debra Carlson was a tall, twenty-six year old, short-haired brunette. Working as a receptionist, she had a military background in a clerical position. And, though she was well mannered and respectable, she also emanated a certain mystique. Truly, a lady of shadows, I was certain that she could leap tall buildings in a single bound. Jennifer Valdez was a thirty year old, full-figured, second generation African-Canadian. With a keen interest in the paranormal and several years of experience in journalism, she was a welcome addition. She was spontaneous and, with a sharp sense of wit and a charming smile, kept everyone on their toes.

  Both women were pleasant, professional, and I had liked them right away. Carrie had an uncanny knack for finding just the right people. I had suggested to Rich that we also put her in charge of hiring warehouse help. She wasn’t just running the office now, but had become our “den mother” and an absolute blessing.

  After Carrie and Scott had moved into Rich’s old place, which had been beautifully renovated, they had put young Patrick to work in the bookstore. They had hired a young lady by the name of Pamela Dawn Montgomery. Being in her early thirties, she was a tall and lovely blonde with big blue eyes. She was feminine and yet strong. Not just in character, but also physique. She reminded me of a fashion model that had returned to the labor of a family farm. With a sharp sense of wit, inquisitive nature and pleasant demeanor, she had won our hearts immediately.