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Dr. Eliška Kominsky called down to the antiquity’s lab as soon as the American woman left. She’d had two inquiries on the mysterious page in the past week. Eliška decided she better go see for herself what the hubbub was all about. She grabbed her lab coat off the hook on the back of her office door as she passed.
The volunteer who’d brought the American woman’s presence to her attention was in the hallway when she came out of her office. “Victor? Is it?”
“Vincent,” he said. “Is our visitor okay?”
“She’s fine,” Eliška said. “Probably back at her hotel resting comfortably.”
“She was as white as your coat when she staggered from the ladies’ room,” he said, nervously wringing the umbrella in his hands. “She forgot her umbrella.”
“Just put it in my office. She’ll be back. I’ll make sure she gets it,” Eliška said.
“Thank you, Dr. Kominsky.”
“Thank you, Victor.”
“Vincent.”
“Vincent,” she blushed. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
* * *
The chief curator had received the vellum scroll and taken it to the lab for a quick evaluation before it had been secured in the vault. His initial assessment had been that it was most likely a forgery, but he had other projects that took priority over a fake scroll. Eliška didn’t believe in myths or legends. She knew the story of the Codex Gigas. Everyone in this region did.
“Dr. Zmolek?” She knocked on the door as she entered the lab.
“Ah, good afternoon, Dr. Kominsky.” The assistant came into the room with a wooden crate.
“Is this the scroll everyone’s losing their minds over?”
“Yes,” he said, checking the inventory tag, confirming he’d gotten the right artifact. “This is it.”
Eliška reached for a pair of white cotton gloves from the box on the work bench and pulled them onto her long, elegant hands. She’d gone into administration almost twenty years before and rarely got to touch a relic or artifact these days. Still, she remembered how it worked. Zmolek would do a majority of the handling, but she was still required to wear gloves ... just in case. One never wanted to contaminate a piece especially before it had been rigorously examined. Even then, human skin cells and oils could contribute to significant deterioration of most antiquities. It was especially true for any biological object, like vellum.
It took several minutes for the curator to document the examination and longer still before he removed it from the crate. Eliška impatiently waited for him to unroll it onto the work board. There were clips at each corner of the table he used to secure it without damaging it.
He stepped back and allowed the director a moment to inspect the piece. He handed her a magnifying glass as he moved to the other side of the table.
“While this piece is exquisite, there’s nothing specifically that calls this out as a lost page from the Codex,” Zmolek said. “There are a few similarities, but nothing definitive.”
“What are the similarities?” she asked, moving to get a better look.
“The size of the vellum is the first similarity. It appears to be torn along the folio recto. It’s approximately 2.5 centimeters off centered, which suggests a portion of the page is actually missing. We are confident it is vellum, animal skin, but we haven’t tested it yet to determine the species.” He flipped a switch and the worktable illuminated. The light shone through the vellum as a soft ivory glow. In the top right corner, an image appeared in red and blue ink. This was a symbol of some sort. It looked like an S with an infinity symbol bisecting it.
“What’s this?” Eliška asked. “Is this a... a water mark?” She pointed to the mark.
“This appears similar to the angelic sigil for truth,” Zmolek said. “The writing in the known pages of the Codex is Latin; meticulously handwritten, according to the legend, by a single scribe. This part is not written in Latin, I don’t recognize the language or the iconography, but otherwise, the page appears remarkably similar to images I’ve seen of the Devil’s Codex. But again, I haven’t had a chance for a cryptographer to analyze it.”
“If it’s not Latin, what is it?” She studied the writings. Not only was the writing not in Latin, English or Greek or any of the twenty other languages she was familiar with, the font itself was completely foreign to her. She had never studied the Codex in question though.
“Again, a cryptographer might have an idea, but ... I remain as confused as you.” He took the magnifying glass from her as she folded her arms across her body. “The Codex has a unified look throughout. The nature of the writing is unchanged from beginning to end. While legend says the fallen monk completed his grimoire overnight with help from the Devil, scientists currently think that it could not have been completed by a single person in less than twenty years.”
“So they think a single person completed it?”
“Hard to say, but it is rare that a person’s handwriting does not evolve over time. In the Codex, it is consistent from beginning to end.”
“So how would this page have disappeared from the Codex? Presuming it’s authentic, of course.”
“We know there are several pages missing,” he said. “The Devil’s Codex contains every known text at the time, including almost the entire Christian Bible, but the beginning of Genesis is absent. There was supposed to be a page with the Devil’s Prayer along with several pages of apocalyptic prophesies. These are among the known missing pages, but there’s no complete list of the contents, missing or otherwise.”
Eliška turned as the door behind her opened. Two men in black coats entered. “This area is off limits to—”
The first man was tall, with a head full of pale blond hair that was disheveled; eyes like ice water. The second was a villainous-looking creature, reminiscent of the legendary vampire. Masa? “Who are you?” She took a step back, recognizing the American scientist’s description of the man who’d summoned her to Prague. Her breath sucked in and froze in her chest as he paused, an arm’s reach away from her. His black eyes were piercing. The blond man came around behind her and caught Eliška by the arms, turning her around. She gasped, feeling a hand wrap around her throat. Her body turned to lead, and she couldn’t move. The black-draped figure moved past her, turning his attention to the curator, who stood; dumfounded.
Zmolek took a few steps back and gasped before the most gut-wrenching sound echoed through the room. Eliška wanted to scream but the blond man put his gloved hand over her mouth; so hard she almost couldn’t breathe. Blood splattered her white coat, and she could feel it strike her skin. The Curator’s body hit the tile floor with a thud. He didn’t have a chance to cry for help any more than she had.
The crunch of bone and tearing of flesh reverberated in her ears as Eliška pinched her eyes shut. It was like listening to a wild animal feeding. She felt her heart thundering. Her pulse pounded in her ears. He took her hand in his; his hand cold. She could see the smear of blood on her white coat out of the corner of her eye as he moved. He came to stand in front of her, wiping his chin on his sleeve, smearing blood across his face. His teeth flashed behind ruby-coated lips. “Do you know who I am?” His words trailed out into a hiss as his goon removed his hand from her mouth. She was too frightened to cry out; too terrified to struggle. He ran a bloody nail down her cheek. “I am called by many names. Asmodeus. Shiva. Abaddon. Al-Shaitan. Antra Mainyu. Diablos, The Slanderer. Beelzebub, The Lord of the Flies. Ballein. Mephistopheles. The Evil One. Nergal. Lucifer. Satan, the Father of Lies. I am ... the Dark One; Enlil ... the Great Deceiver. I am the Morning Star. But I was the one who was deceived. Once, I was a god, demoted to the Prince of the Grigori — the Watchers. I was deceived by those whom I loved most dearly.”
“Deceived? By whom?” she gasped, fighting to breathe. The monster moved as his henchman took a step back. He brought her into his arms, and the goon seemed to fade into the void around them.
“My father, my brother ... my own race.” His raspy breath was cold on her skin. “I bore my father’s standard into battle. But when the tides turned, I was tricked by sorcery into taking arms against the All-Father. He cast me aside, giving my brother dominion over what I had created. I was banished into the world of mortal men, where I was forgotten. My brethren fell from glory as well. Here we dwell in exile. Forgotten. Betrayed.” His hand cupped her cheek, and she could feel the blood, sticky against her skin. “We found ourselves bewitched by mortal women who seduced us.” His other hand ran down her arm. “We lay with them against our will and found ourselves cursed forever. The spawn of our sin — the Nephilim — became heroes to the mortals. As they were exalted, we were hunted, tortured, and tormented by humans who feared us. Our own children turned on us. We were betrayed in Heaven. We were persecuted on Earth. I knew what we had to do.” He tipped her head to the side and let his lips trace the thin flesh behind her ear. His breath was icy on her skin, but she could smell the brimstone burning in his soul. She trembled but could not move. “We raised an army to destroy The All-Father who betrayed us. It was a jihad against the gods; a fight we felt assured we could win.”
“P-p-please.” She managed a weak whisper. Her cry made the monster smile as he brushed her hair aside.
“They all betrayed us, and the All-Father smote us with his hand. His wrath was cruel and without mercy. I was cast here ... into Purgatory, banished. Here, I have plotted my revenge. The time comes now for my plan to be executed. When my book is restored and the stars align, the spells can be cast. The fall of the gods and mankind is at hand.”
“Please.” Her eyes begged. “I ... I’ll do ... whatever you want...” A single tear ran down her cheek. Her body seized and a flood washed down her legs and pooled on the floor beneath her. The Dark One glanced down, realizing she’d voided her bladder. The terror his grasp elicited fed him even more and a wicked laugh erupted from him, as sobs pealed from her chest. He gazed upon her with a moment of sympathy. His thumb grazed her cheek as he wiped the tear away.
“Anything?”
“Any ... thing ...” She gasped, desperate to save her own life.
“I only ask one thing of you, my servant.” He took her into his arms and held her to his body, tracing the outline of her chin with his sharp claw. She yielded, melting into him. She had meant what she said. She’d do anything to avoid the same fate as her curator. He leaned in and whispered into her ear. His icy breath stung. “Die for me.”
His claws splayed and her flesh tore beneath his hand. Blood gushed from her throat. It filled her lungs. Her breath came in labored gurgles. He released the spell holding her. Her weak hands went to her throat. She collapsed to the floor. Despite her best efforts to staunch the bleeding, it was of no use. The Dark Lord knew where to cut and how deep. It seemed to take forever for Death to come. In truth, the director bled out in a matter of seconds.
The Deceiver stepped over her dead body as his accomplice collected the page from his master’s book. He rolled it back up, returning it to the wooden case. He latched it shut, handing it to the Dark One who transformed into a more presentable figure. “Do the work I have commanded of you, my faithful Simon. When my battle is won, your reward will be the greatest of them all,” Enlil said. He waved his hand and released his minion from this place in time and space, returning him to another task that needed to be done in his name.
Pausing at the mirror in the hall, the monster checked his visage and was bemused by the face that greeted him. He dabbed away a speck of blood from the corner of his lips with his thumb. Then, with the box tucked under his arm, he walked out of the museum. Doors locked behind him as he passed. Lights dimmed. Even the rain parted to allow him passage as he stepped outside and disappeared into the effluvium of nothingness.