Night of the Pentagram Read online

  Elizabeth sensed the tension growing as thick as the haze of smoke that hovered in the room. Elizabeth sensed that Jewel was a bitter and unhappy woman, and if her intuition was correct, the woman created many of her own problems. Still, she was uncomfortable watching Chet and Dakota attempting to bait the woman.

  She turned towards Dakota. “Have you lived in San Francisco all your life?”

  “No. I was raised on a farm in Iowa if you can believe that. I left home when I was eighteen. I wanted to be a writer. Well, a poet anyway. You know, Alan Ginsberg, that sort of thing. So I bummed around the coffee houses, wore lots of black, even dyed my hair black at one point. Found out I couldn’t write poetry after all, but that didn’t keep me from hanging out on the scene.”

  “You don’t look old enough to have been involved with the beatnik scene.”

  Dakota lowered her voice to a dramatic whisper. “I’ll turn thirty this coming spring. Don’t tell anyone. You know what they say, don’t trust anyone over thirty.”

  “You look so young. How did you get involved in Astrology?”

  “My grandmother was into it. She could read a person just looking at them. She also had shelves full of books, Personality and the Planets, that sort of thing, but she was so good she didn’t even need to read a birth chart. She got this monthly magazine in the mail which was nothing but lists of what day the planets would move into which signs, which houses, kind of like a farmer’s almanac. The rest was sheer intuition.”

  While she talked, Dakota took a slim cigarette case out of a small pouch she wore attached to the belt of her black slacks. When she opened it Elizabeth could see a half dozen slim, hand rolled cigarettes.

  Dakota picked up Jewel’s lighter and with complete nonchalance lit the joint. She exhaled the smoke into the air with a dreamy sigh.

  “If you came to my grandmother with a problem and you were, say a man in your forties, there was a generational influence and a daily influence, plus your star sign and then the current position of the moon, and she could tell you right then and there if it was the right time to buy that new car or if he you were going to get that promotion at work.”

  Elizabeth got lost in all the astrological jargon. “That is all so fascinating!”

  Dakota offered her the joint. “Toke?”

  Elizabeth shook her head and noticed that Bobby was all too eager to accept the joint. Elizabeth felt like a square. She had smoked grass once or twice with Sven and a number of their friends smoked the stuff like regular cigarettes. She had nothing against pot. She was just surprised that they smoked so openly here at the clinic.

  “When I arrived in San Francisco I met a girl named Suze who wanted to be a painter but she wasn’t any more an artist than I was a poet. Our friends needed some place to sell their books, and we both needed something to pay the rent. We took over an old bookstore on Polk Street and I mean we took it over. We completely restocked everything from top to bottom, lots of counter-cultural stuff as you can imagine: philosophy, politics, communism, Marxism, women’s lib, lesbian and homosexual books, books on the occult, you know, that sort of thing. I never knew there were so many books on Astrology. It opened up a whole new world for me. That’s how I discovered transits and progressions. And Tarot cards.”

  “Wait a minute,” Elizabeth said, “what?” Her head reeled with all the esoteric terminology.

  “Fortune telling cards,” Bryce said. He came over and joined them on the couch, sitting next to Elizabeth with his arm on the couch behind her, but peering around in front to talk to Dakota. He smelled of tobacco and Scotch and an exotic cologne and Elizabeth found that the aromas were not unpleasant to her senses.

  “You mean those cards with the pictures on them?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Have you ever had a Tarot card reading, Elizabeth?”

  She shook her head.

  “You should,” Bryce urged her. “It’s pretty wild stuff, especially when someone knows what they’re doing.”

  “Which I do,” Dakota said and brought out a deck of cards from the same pouch which held her stash of marijuana. Elizabeth wondered what other surprises were hidden in that little bag.

  Dakota shuffled the cards a few times. They looked old and well worn. She placed the deck on the table in front of Elizabeth. “Cut the cards two times to the left with your right hand.”

  Elizabeth did as she was instructed. “This is kind of spooky.”

  “Oh come on, it’s just a game.” Dakota piled the cards back together again. She took a card from the top of the deck and turned it over, face up, on the table.

  The picture showed a beautiful woman on a throne gazing into a large goblet which she held in her hand. The image on the card was upside down.

  “Queen of Cups, reversed,” Dakota said. “Cups represent emotions. This card represents you, a woman whose emotions are draining away due to loss of deep love. I’m sorry, honey, the cards speak the truth. Do you want me to go on?”

  Elizabeth swallowed and nodded.

  Dakota turned over another card and laid it crossing over the queen. “The Hermit covers you. Time to retreat into yourself. This card indicates time to explore self awareness, engage in meditation, isolation from others. Well I guess that makes sense. You’re here, after all.”

  She turned over another card and placed it below the other two. “This card is what lies beneath. The Hierophant, reversed. This means you have issues with the church, dissatisfaction with religion, a dislike of dogmatism, and authority figures in general. Am I right?”

  “Pretty much,” Elizabeth said. “I went to church when I was a little girl, but they seem pretty intent on telling people how to live their lives and condemning people of different beliefs rather than celebrating that we are all one people and should love each other regardless.”

  “I like the way you think,” Dakota said as she drew another card off the top of the deck. “This card is your recent past, the Five of Cups.” The card showed a mournful figure contemplating a trio of ornate chalices which were spilled on the seashore. “A card of loss and deep sorrow, but see there are still two cups left standing…all hope is not lost.” Dakota checked Elizabeth’s face for reaction and, satisfied that her friend was okay, continued with the reading.

  She placed a card at the top of the pattern. “This is what hangs over you - The Hanged Man.” Dakota snickered at her pun. “This indicates a time for self-sacrifice, reversing your point of view, surrendering to life’s changes. It’s time to let go of the rock and allow the current to carry you away on the river of life’s destiny.”

  Elizabeth smiled. The reading was uncanny. She innately understood the meaning of the images on the cards as each one was revealed. It was fascinating how accurately they portrayed her current situation.

  “The next card is your near future,” Elizabeth heard Dakota say, but the remaining words disappeared as if sucked into a vacuum.

  She almost spilled her drink slamming the glass onto the table. The card was the Ace of Pentacles, only the card had been laid upside down.

  Elizabeth brushed her fingers at the cards, obliterating the configuration. “Put them away. I don’t want to know any more.” She struggled to get up from the couch stumbling over Bryce as she pushed her way past him. She could not get away from the sight of the card fast enough.

  Elizabeth moved to the bar at the other end of the room. She tossed back the rest of her vodka and tonic and quickly poured herself another one.

  “Hey, look, I’m sorry.” Dakota came up to her. “I didn’t realize you felt that way.”

  “Those cards – I didn’t realize they were evil.”

  “Evil? Hardly. They’re just made out of paper. How could they be evil?”

  “That star, I’ve seen it before. I know what it is. It’s the sign of the Devil.”

  “Now you’re beginning to sound like Mrs. Valdez. It’s just a pentacle. It’s a symbol of wealth, money, earthly possessions, that sort of thing.”

 
“Dakota, you know how my husband was killed, don’t you?”

  “Yes, but I don’t see what that has to do with –”

  “The people who killed my husband, these cultists or whatever they are, they leave that sign at the scene of their crimes, a pentagram scrawled in the blood of their victims.”

  “Okay, I get it now. You’re confusing two different things. A pentacle is one thing. It’s just a symbol for earthbound energy, a star with the tip pointing up. When the star is inverted with the tip pointing down it’s called a pentagram and it becomes a symbol of evil, of the Devil.”

  “I know. That’s what Dr. Abernathy said.”

  “There, you see? So you don’t have to take my word for it.”

  “Hey,” Bobby said, “how about telling my future. Do you think I’ll be rich and famous some day?” Bobby closed his eyes and waved his hands before his face as though he were a stage magician about to conjure something fantastic. “Oh, wait, that’s already happened!”

  “Cute, Bobby,” Dakota said, but at least Elizabeth managed a smile. “Come on, baby, no hard feelings, okay? I think we can become great friends, like sisters. We don’t have to talk about astrology or Tarot or anything like that if it makes you feel uncomfortable.”

  Elizabeth sipped at her cocktail and rubbed her temple.

  “Headache?”

  Elizabeth nodded.

  “I’m sorry. I feel bad, now. Say, how did you first session go with Abernathy?”

  “It was exhausting. I felt like I needed therapy by the time he was finished with me.”

  “He’s intense isn’t he? I’ve been to a half a dozen psychiatrists all over the Bay area and none of them have probed my brain the way Abernathy does.” Dakota wrinkled her nose. “He’s kind of sexy, don’t you think? I mean, dig those groovy G man glasses! Hey, I have an idea. Why don’t we dance?”

  Dakota went to the Hi-Fi console and switched the knobs from phonograph to radio, turning the dial until she found a song she wanted to hear.

  Dakota recognized the song and with a squeal of delight turned up the volume. Jim Morrison’s seductive voice sang, “Come on baby light my fire,” and Dakota slipped into a slow dance, swaying trance-like to the dreamy organ music that snaked in and out of the rock rhythms.

  Bobby and Bryce were both on their feet in a flash. Bobby relished the opportunity to show off his moves. It was easy to see how teenager girls melted like candy in the summer sun when they saw him dance. Bryce, for all his suave European charm, was a bit more stilted, swaying just out of sync with the beat. He moved in behind Dakota and soon the two of them were locked into a seductive rhythm, their bodies snaking against each other.

  Elizabeth didn’t feel like dancing. She retreated back to the couch. She’d had two glasses of wine at dinner, and now on her second cocktail, she was beginning to feel the effects of the alcohol buzzing around in her brain. She regretted the way she over reacted to Dakota’s cards. She was intrigued by this woman’s esoteric interests and looked forward to finding out more about them. It had been a trying day and now she felt the beginnings of the all too familiar pounding in her head. She watched Bryce dance with Dakota. Dakota had her back to Bryce, her arms raised above her head, sensually grinding her hips close to his.

  Even Chet became infected by the music, his feet were rooted to the floor but he swayed at the hips, snapping his fingers to the beat. He drained the last of his Scotch and moved around behind Jewel’s chair, placing his hands on her shoulders. Elizabeth saw it as a simple, unspoken invitation to dance, but Jewel was on her feet in a flash. She whirled around and slapped Chet hard across the face. The sound of flesh striking flesh was so loud that the three people dancing by the Hi-Fi console were snapped from their reverie.

  Bryce stepped toward Jewel and Chet. Electric tension charged the air. Elizabeth felt an unseen hand tighten the band around her head.

  “What’s happening?” said Bryce.

  “More than meets the eye,” Chet said.

  Jewel was shaking. She gathered up her cigarettes and lighter and with a proud lift of her chin stalked toward the door. She hesitated, and then returned back to the bar where she helped herself to the half empty bottle of bourbon before disappearing from the room.

  “All I did was ask her to dance.”

  “It’s nothing to lose sleep over, Chet,” said Dakota. “She’s psycho and you know it.”

  Elizabeth set down her glass. “I’ve had enough as well. It was a pleasure meeting all of you, but if you’ll excuse me, it’s been a long day for me. I think I’ll go on up to bed.”

  “You cat’s are so square,” Bobby said “It’s not even nine o’clock.”

  “Yeah, well, the party’s over, Kemosabe,” Dakota said. “Come on, Elizabeth, I’ll walk upstairs with you.”

  On their way upstairs, Dakota turned to Elizabeth. “Look, I’m sorry about this evening. I don’t normally act this way, but Jewel brings out the worst in me. I’m sorry about the cards and I’m sorry I moved in on your man.”

  “What are you talking about? Which man?”

  “Bryce Avondale.”

  “He’s not my man.”

  “But you’re in love with him. Aren’t you?”

  Elizabeth thought for a moment. She supposed there was more than a thread of truth to what Dakota was saying, but it bothered her that someone knew so much about what she was feeling when she was barely able to form the thoughts herself. It was almost as bad as Dr. Abernathy spending the afternoon poking around inside her subconscious.

  “I guess I am. Maybe love is too strong a word, but I’m definitely fond of him.”

  “It’s okay to be thinking about other men. You’ll always have a piece of Sven in your heart, just as Bryce will always have a piece of Nina with him. And that’s what makes the two of you perfect for each other. Your Gemini and his Leo…wow what a combo. You should let me do your birth chart. It will be fun. We can see what love has in store for you!”

  “That’s cool, but not tonight, I’m exhausted.”

  “Of course not tonight, silly. It would take me hours to draw up your chart. All those calculations, ugh. Sometimes I wish some scientist would invent a computer that could take your birth date and time and then spit out an answer – shazam! – in a matter of minutes.”

  At Elizabeth’s door Dakota said, “If you need anything, my room is right across the hall. Just don’t get the door mixed up with Jewel’s.”

  Elizabeth said good night and stepped into her room, closing the door behind her. She leaned against the door for a moment, and let out a long, pent-up sigh. She felt drained by the emotional spikes from the whole afternoon and evening. But she was glad she had come after all. She felt confident that Dr. Abernathy would get to the bottom of her blackouts and that she would emerge from the Abernathy Clinic a new person. It was going to be an interesting six weeks.

  Elizabeth went to her bed and turned down the covers. She tested it for firmness and hoped it would turn out to be more comfortable than it appeared.

  Deciding that a warm bath before bed might help her relax and sleep easily, she headed toward the bathroom door. As her hand touched the knob she remembered that she shared the bathroom with Joan Monaghan whose bedroom was just on the other side of the bathroom. It was bound to happen sooner or later, but she didn’t want to start off her first evening by walking in on the woman while she was indisposed.

  Elizabeth tapped on the door. She put her ear to the door and listened but couldn’t hear movement on the other side.

  “Mrs. Monaghan?” she called. “Joan?”

  There was no answer. Elizabeth went to the dresser and took out a flannel nightgown.

  Elizabeth went to the bathroom door.

  She turned the knob.

  The door opened.

  Her eyes were stabbed by the color red. The porcelain tub and tiles were white in stark contrast, but the bathtub itself was filled with blood. There were smears of blood on the tiled walls and pools of bl
ood beginning to congeal on the floor where Joan Monaghan had dropped the straight razor she had used to slice her wrists.

  Joan’s eyes were open in a rictus of terror. Elizabeth had seen that look before and prayed that she would never see again.

  “Oh, God,” Elizabeth whispered. Her voice caught in her throat.

  She spoke again, trying to summon strength to her voice. “Oh, God!”

  And then her eyes focused on something she saw on the blood smeared tiles.

  It was an inverted star, a pentagram. There was no mistaking it, a pentagram scrawled in Joan Monaghan’s blood.

  Elizabeth screamed.

  Chapter Six

  One by one they crowded into her room. They were all unfamiliar to her, nameless beings, faceless blurs, attempts at soothing words. Her screams gave way to hyperventilation. Someone’s hand covered her eyes as though drawing a window blind against penetrating light. Elizabeth clawed at the hand, unable to tear her eyes away from the sight.