DARK VISIONS Page 6

  Jodi: “You mean none of the ancient Druids survived?”

  “Ah, well, there’s speculation and … and rumors.” Marvin seemed to consider. “Some people believe that a handful of the ancient Druids did survive the massacre of Julius Caesar by hiding out in Ireland. And that theory sort of holds water because the Roman Empire never set foot in Ireland. A lot of historians also speculate that the descendants of those Druids were eventually ‘absorbed’ by the medieval Knights Templar in Great Britain and had more than a little bit to do with construction of the Rosslyn Chapel. And, not surprisingly, there’s substantial archeological evidence to back that up.”

  “What evidence?”

  “Many of the engravings in the Rosslyn Chapel are clearly Nature-based, and the Druids specifically worshipped the gods of Nature.” Marvin began counting off his fingers; “There’s ‘The Lady in the Lake’ engraved on a wall of the chapel. And ‘The Lady in the Lake’ is indisputable proof that the surviving Druids exerted at least some influence among the relatively modern Knights Templar. Then there’s the ‘Green Man.’ He was also an ancient Celtic vegetation god – a god of the Druids. And there’s the ‘Prentice Pillar,’ which is basically a string of dragons nibbling at the fruit of the ‘Tree of Life,’ and that pillar is obviously Druidic. But the most fascinating Druidic influence to me is the –”

  “Wait,” Joe Mac broke in, “the ‘Tree of Life’ is in the Bible.”

  “Yeah,” Mason gestured, “but the ‘Tree of Life,’ was a Druid belief at least three thousand years before the Bible was ever written, so the question becomes: Who stole what from who? You know what I mean?” He pointed to a stack of scrolls. “The Druids predate Israel and the Pentateuch by at least three thousand years. And some very eminent scholars conjecture that they predate Israel by more than five thousand years. But, either way, the Druids theoretically had an elaborate system of worship way before any other known civilization.

  “Most scholars believe the Druids even built Stonehenge.” Marvin waved at a stone engraving. “And, for all we know, they did. In fact, everything about the Druids – their belief system, their culture, their gods, their religious rituals, their scientific accomplishments and technology – everything they knew or practiced or passed down from generation to generation in oral tradition was in existence for at least five thousand years before a single letter involving Ra or Shiva or Yahweh or Allah or Zeus was ever written. I mean, the comparatively ‘new’ religion of the Hebrews might have shocked Egypt when it emerged, but it was just a red-headed stepchild to the ancient Druids. Even Ra, the thousand-year-old god of Egypt when the Israelites migrated to Palestine, was a recent development to the Druids.” He paused, mouth a tight line before adding, “What I’m trying to say is that the Druids did it first. They invented the concepts of gods and immortality and human sacrifice and epitaphs and iconography and pictographs. They even invented a calendar based on their religious precepts instead of the moon and stars. But the most fascinating Druidic influence in the Rosslyn Chapel is–”

  “Yeah, yeah, I got it,” said Jodi. “But you’re missing my point, Marvin. Again.”

  He paused. “What’s your point?”

  Jodi leaned almost nose to nose. “Marvin, I’m asking you all this because I want to know if there could be some kind of ape-crazy Druid running around killing these people to appease his god. You see what I saying? Appeasing your god is a motive, and that’s what we’re trying to find. If we can find his motive, we can find him.”

  “Oh. Sorry.” Marvin straightened and gazed about as if he’d forgotten where he was. “Well, since you ask – yeah, there’s a modern version of the Druids that don’t make a secret of their existence. But how much they have in common with the ancient Druids is a mystery to me. Most scholars think that modern Druids don’t have anything at all to do with the ancient Druids because the knowledge of the old Druids died with them. Sort of like the knowledge we lost when they burned the library at Alexandria, you know? But then some say that the knowledge of the original Druids was preserved within a secret society that stretches all the way back to the days of Julius Caesar. And I’ve heard it said that this … society … is hidden within the hierarchy of a dozen nations. And only they know who they are.”

  “What do you think?” asked Jodi.

  “Honestly?

  “No, Marvin. Lie to me.”

  “Sorry.” Marvin leaned closer. “Okay, I think the secret knowledge of the ancient Druids has been preserved within this society for more than two thousand years. And to even be a part of this society you have to be born into it. I think they’re very powerful. They’re very rich. And I do mean ‘stupid rich.’ In fact, they’ve been ridiculously, filthy, stupid rich since the day they retreated to Ireland. I think that when Caesar attacked them the Druids just took their wealth, which was literally a mountain of gold, and hid themselves among the royalty of various nations. And since then they’ve carried on quite comfortably.”

  “Marvin – Dear Lord – Marvin, is it even possible that some modern member of this ‘secret society’ of ancient Druids has gone completely insane and is killing people in accordance with ancient Druid beliefs to make his god happy?”

  “I doubt it.”

  “Why do you doubt it, Marvin? It’s the only thing that makes sense. It’s the only thing that might explain why this psycho is killing people in this arcane fashion.”

  He focused on Jodi’s angry face as he added, “Listen, Jodi, you’re approaching this from the wrong angle. You’re considering all Druids to be … uh … ‘crazy.’ But the Druids were the intellectual elite of the Gaelic Empire. They were revered for their knowledge of science, of politics, and rituals, and gods, and competing mythologies and the science and cultures of bordering nations as far away as Egypt and China and Greenland. They were even renowned for their expertise on war and tactical thinking, so I don’t see how any ‘modern Druid’ would allow himself to go insane and start killing people for no reason! Just like I don’t see how a society as intelligent as the Druids could have been wiped out by something so primitive as a military campaign orchestrated by that egomaniac Julius Caesar. I think the Druids would have found a way to survive inside a secret society.”

  Jodi slammed her hand on the plywood desk. “Marvin! You’re still missing my point! I’m not talking about ‘all’ Druids! I’m talking a Druid who’s a few colors shy of a rainbow, ya know? A Druid who’s all foam and no beer? A Druid whose cheese slid off his cracker? A Druid who looks in the mirror and says, ‘Good Lord! Isn’t it amazing how crazy I really am?’”

  “Yeah, I get it,” said Marvin.

  “Wait a second,” said Joe Mac. “Marvin, tell me more about this secret society of ancient Druids. What do you know about them?”

  Marvin stared blankly, then, “I see where you’re going with this, Joe. You think a modern Druid who is part of this secret society might be killing these people for some kind of ‘secret reason,’ right?”

  “Right,” said Joe Mac.

  “All right,” Marvin put his face in his hand, then began: “Okay. Well, is there a logical reason to believe that there is really a ‘secret society of ancient Druids’ active in our modern world? Yes, there is. Why? I’ll tell you why.”

  Jodi droned, “Please take your time, Marvin.”

  “The Druids and the Knights Templar designed everything with a back door – a way to survive no matter what. The Knights Templar were supposedly wiped off the face of the Earth in the fourteenth century. But I can’t see how an organization as brilliant as the Knights Templar didn’t design an elaborate escape plan that they were constantly prepared to use if they were utterly doomed. I mean, that’s just forward thinking. And the Druids and the Knights were renowned for their forward-thinking. So I think both societies survived just by packing up their gold, relocating, and carrying on under the guise of some untouchable rich dude in a foreign land. I mean, how hard can it be to hide out for a few centuries when you’
ve got an obscene fortune in gold?”

  “All right,” Jodi allowed, “so, presuming that this is one of these ‘ancient Druids’ and he’s gone insane, how is he choosing?”

  “His victims?”

  “Yeah. His victims. Why didn’t he come after you instead of Aaron Roberts?” Jodi was increasingly beginning to feel like she was on the verge of something. “What separates his chosen victims from you and me? Is it some anagram in their name? Is it a constellation? A comet? Some sort of planetary alignment? Something the FBI overlooked? Think about it, Marvin. He’s got to be using some kind of protocol.”

  “Why do you say that?” Marvin asked with surprising confidence. “He might just be picking people at random. He might just be listening to ‘the voice of god’ like the Son of Sam did with his dog. And the Son of Sam killed a bunch of people, too. Happens every day. Especially in this city.” He looked around. “Really, in the balance of things, the Long Island Serial Killer has probably killed more people than this guy. I don’t understand why there’s not a task force out on him.”

  “There is. But we’re not on it because we can only chase one psycho at a time.” Jodi sighed tiredly. “No, he’s not selecting people at random. I agree with Joe. This guy has a process for choosing who to kill. It might even be an unconscious process – something he’s not aware of – but he’s got some kind of criteria for selection.”

  Marvin gazed away before he said, “I can’t help you there. I’ve read the case files myself and I’ve looked for a pattern, but I can’t find anything.”

  “It’s not in the files,” Joe Mac stated from nowhere. “If it was in a file the computers would have found it. Marvin?”

  “Yes, sir?” said Marvin.

  “Drop the ‘sir. Do you know any Druids?”

  “Sort of,” Marvin replied. “Don’t get me wrong. I don’t know any Druids of the ‘Ancient Order.’ But I think I might know some modern Druids of … well … the ‘modern order.’

  “I want a sit-down with one of them,” Joe Mac stated.

  Marvin’s face turned from Joe Mac to Jodi. To Joe Mac. Back to Jodi. Then he leaned forward and whispered to Jodi, “Is he serious?”

  Jodi rolled her eyes. “He’s blind, Marvin, not deaf. He can hear you better than I can, and he’s on the other side of the room.”

  “Do I not look serious to you?” asked Joe Mac not unlike an undertaker.

  Marvin wiped his palms on his coat. He gazed around absently as if searching for something he couldn’t remember. Then he said, “Okay. I’ll ask Professor Graven. He’ll know. But you should remember that these people take their … uh … what they do … seriously. I don’t know if they’ll talk to you. In fact, I doubt it.”

  “They’ll talk,” stated Joe Mac.

  Jodi laughed.

  “All right.” Marvin picked up the phone. “Like I say; I’ll ask the professor. You want to wait or should I call you after I find out?”

  Joe Mac stood, tapping the floor.

  “Call us.”

  Jodi was on her feet and at Joe Mac’s side, her hand on his elbow as they began to cross the room. But at the door she turned.

  “Marvin?”

  Marvin lifted his face. “Yeah?”

  “Don’t tell them why we want to talk to them.” Jodi watched for a reaction; there was none. “Just tell them that we need to talk to them, and you don’t know why. I don’t want you any closer to this than you already are.”

  At that, Marvin understood.

  His mouth drew into a tight line.

  “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I understand.”

  FOUR

  Sounds of the city literally smothered Joe Mac as he stood at the top step of the Museum of Natural History.

  He had been here many times but he had never noticed the trickling sound of water in the storm drain at the street. He had never heard the faint click of a nearby traffic control box or the cooing of pigeons on the museum roof so far above; the noises he’d always noticed before had been the obvious – the sound of cars, people, sirens, and the roar of jets overhead. But now he heard all that and more; he heard the much lesser sounds that moved and shifted and whispered within and beneath the stones and the street.

  It was noticeably colder, and the wind had a thickness that provoked Joe Mac to lift his face. He sniffed and said, “It’s gonna rain.”

  “Yeah,” Jodi answered, ruffling through her purse. “That’s what the weatherman said last night.”

  “It’s getting cold.”

  “The weatherman said that, too.” She finished what she’d been doing. “Has losing your eyeballs turned you into a barometer?”

  “Looks like it.”

  “You hungry?”

  “No. But we can eat if you want.”

  “Come on.” She tugged his elbow and they began to walk. “I know a good place right near here. And they make good coffee, too. ‘Bout like Starbucks. Only cheaper. You can at least have a cup of coffee with me.”

  They walked for five minutes when Joe Mac realized this was the first time he’d been on a city sidewalk since he’d lost his sight. He was surprised, if not shocked, that he had little or no problem threading a way through the milling crowd. And he was tempted to tell himself that it was because he was so alert and perceptive, but he knew that wasn’t the truth. On the contrary, the truth was that nobody wanted to crash into a blind man on the sidewalk, so they were doing gymnastics to get out of his way.

  Jodi said, “You know, Joe, despite all that big talk I’m not sure that religion has anything to do with this. I don’t care if it’s the Druids or the Jews or the Baptists. And I know what I said about motive, but I think the odds are even that this guy is just totally insane and doesn’t have any motive at all. He just gets off on it. That’s his motive.”

  “Anything is possible, kid,” said Joe Mac. “But I’ve worked a lot of murders. And I’ve never worked one where the killer didn’t have a motive.”

  Joe Mac stopped and raised his face; he had heard a familiar cry among the pigeons and sparrows. He knew Jodi was alternately studying him and then whatever he might be listening to, but Joe Mac said nothing. He was certain he had heard a familiar caw somewhere in the flood of birds flowing like a river over the square.

  “What is it?” Jodi asked.

  “See anything up there?”

  He waited until Jodi remarked, “Nope. What am I looking for?” Another pause. “What! You think Poe’s up there? You think he followed us all the way here?”

  “He’s followed me to other places,” Joe Mac replied. “Ravens have a facility for memorizing cars and faces. That’s why they can pick you out of a crowd. Or pick out your car on the freeway.”

  He knew Jodi was still searching rooflines.

  “Almost like a human being, huh?”

  “Better than a human being. They got better eyes.”

  “Huh,” she began, “well, I don’t see Poe. But if Poe doesn’t want to be seen nobody’s gonna see him, that’s for sure.” She tugged his elbow. “Come on. Let’s get something to eat before I dry up and blow away. And you should eat something, too. I have a feeling we’re gonna have a long night.”

  Joe Mac fell in beside her, lightly touching the sidewalk.

  “At least we won’t be alone,” he said.

  Jodi took a dozen steps before she mused, “I wonder if Poe is gonna be like a guard dog. You think he’ll warn us if we’re in danger?”

  Joe Mac grunted.

  “I bet we find out.”

  * * *

  It was a nice evening to spend at a sidewalk café enjoying the kind of coffee you get once or twice a year. Joe Mac set down his cup on the table with, “You’re right. This is good coffee. You oughta bring me here more often.” And he laughed.

  Jodi found herself smiling, “You don’t get out much, do you?”

  “Not much.”

  Jodi had the impression that Joe Mac – the dark glasses, immobile face, black coat concealin
g his whole body – was a lot like a sphinx; there wasn’t much to read. She asked, “Do you like it out there in the barn? Just you and Poe?”

  “I ain’t got no complaints. I’ve always liked farms.”

  “Me, too,” said Jodi. “I was raised on a farm in West Virginia. I still talk kinda country. My friends are always laughing at the way I say things. I guess I got it from my father.” A smile came to her slowly. “You kinda remind me of him, Joe.”

  “Yeah?” he laughed. “How so?”

  “Oh, he was a no-nonsense kinda guy, too. He always took care of business before anything else. But he was funny when he wanted to be. And he was kind. He taught me a lot.” She blandly watched people passing. “Then I came to New York for college and ended up staying. But part of me is still on that farm. Always will be, I guess.”

  “Your father sounds like he was a good man.”

  “He was.” Jodi found herself staring.

  “So,” Joe began with what seemed like genuine concern, “the spook part of this don’t bother you none?”

  Jodi laughed out loud, “Are you kidding me?”

  “No,” Joe Mac scowled. “What do you mean?”

  “Didn’t you just hear me say I was from West Virginia?”

  “Yeah. So?”

  “Joe! I’m from West Virginia! Do you not know how much spooky stuff we have in West Virginia?”

  “Tell me.”

  “Oh, my,” Jodi knew she was smiling; she couldn’t help it. “Where to begin?” She took a moment. “Okay, well, over in Mason County we’ve got ‘The Moth Man.’ He’s actually sort of famous. They even made a movie about him. He’s supposed to be about ten feet tall, he’s got red eyes, and flies like a bat. He can also tell you your future. But it’s generally a terrible future. Then over in Taylor County we have ‘The Headless Horror.’ He’s been riding his horse out of the woods holding his head in his hand and scaring drunk rednecks back into church for about a hundred years. Some say he used to be an ol’ Primitive Baptist preacher who just did it to scare people out of the evils of drinking. And I can believe it. Then, in Nicholas County, we have the dreaded ‘Yahoo.’ He’s kinda’ like a really tall version of Bigfoot – only meaner – and no chicken coup is safe. And last but not least we’ve got the much-ballyhooed ‘Lizard Demon,’ and he is very greatly feared across five counties of mostly swamp land. I even took part in a night-time hunt for him when I was sixteen – me and my duck-gun.” She laughed again. “Joe, if you’re looking for ghosts, goblins, witches, or dead guys walking through the hills at night all you have to do is come to West Virginia. We got it all. And I grew up around it, so Druids don’t even get a blip on my radar screen. When these brave cow-tippers can rank up there with ‘The Moth Man’ or ‘The Headless Horror,’ then we got something to talk about.”