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The penthouse sat atop a thirty-story high-rise on High Holburn in London, between Oxford Street and the British Library. The dwelling was divided into two parts. The public part was pure London: all dark paneling and antiques, glass displays of raw, uncut diamonds and framed originals by Chagall and Picasso. In the exact center of the structure, behind a maze of sliding wall panels, was the private part: floor-to-ceiling bookcases containing the works of Albertus Magnus and Aleister Crowley, bulbous lamps with human-skin shades from Auschwitz and Bergen-Belsen, mummified skeletons wrapped in rotting cotton shrouds from Peru and the Yucatán, ceremonial masks and voodoo dolls from Benin (formerly Dahomey) on the Dark Continent. |
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In the middle of the secret room was a huge table and in the middle of the table was a soot-streaked cauldron. To the left of the cauldron was a black candle, to the right, a red candle, and to the rear, a white candle. Around the outside of the pot was a circle of dried elder blossoms, marjoram, rue and mint. Inside the cauldron were equal portions of oil of cloves, frankincense, lavender, jasmine and the blood from a newborn foal. Beside the table, Bryan Douglas stood flipping through the pages of an ancient copy of the Grimoire of Honoriusa book reputed to contain coded instructions on how to contact the most malevolent inhabitants of the supernatural world. Bryan was of average height and above-average looks with watery blue eyes and a baby face that at the moment was |
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