Chapter 6
Occult Conspiracies and the Cats who love them
Quite far beneath the kitchen, far beyond the utilities room and past the pantry and wine cellar, stood a large ominous door which appeared to be made of brass. From an artistic standpoint it was perhaps a masterpiece as it featured embossed images of tiny men battling giant monsters and mythic beasts down below the watchful stare of a fierce and beautiful Angel hovering in the sky above. A black one-eyed cat sat in front of it, staring adoringly up at the Angel as it purred loudly. He was cute, as nearly all cats are, even having only the one starkly blue eye, though the fluffy fuzziness of kitten-hood had faded into a slicker, though no less adorable, smooth black coat of adulthood. With a swish of his tail, the cat walked up to the door and then right through it to the room behind as if the brass door wasn't even there.
Most people believe that cats can't walk through doors and walls, but they only believe that because they have never seen a cat do it before. If one of those people had been here now, right in front of this door as the cat walked through it, then they still wouldn't believe it. But only because black cats can only be seen when they feel like it, and this one didn't. While that may seem particularly far-fetched, it is a well-documented fact often reported by the owners of black cats, particularly when it is time to bring them to the veterinarian or feed them a pill. All cats are like this, and especially so for black cats, but this cat in particular is something of a master among masters of the art. Grandmaster Ninjas would openly gnash their teeth and weep in shame and despair if they could only see how perfectly and completely, they cannot see this cat. And so, it is lucky for them that they never will. Which is ironic, because the cat that they would never actually see is, in fact, Lucky himself.
Lucky the one-eyed cat strode into the shadowed chamber like he owned everything in his sight and silently took up his perch on the larger-than-life stone Angel statue on the back wall of what could only be a large ritual chamber used for the meetings of a deeply mysterious and secretive Order. There, Lucky watched and listened with interest to group of twelve deeply hooded men, and perhaps women, who sat around the large ornate table and discussed their quite possibly nefarious plans. If, at right this moment, Jack had been very carefully listening, it is a fact that he would not have recognized the voice of the hooded man speaking as the lawyer he had met with on Monday, Martin Goldman. The reason being wasn't that Goldman had disguised his voice, as he hadn't, but instead was more about the particulars of Jack, who at that moment, was very, very dead. Of course, the fact that he was also no longer physically present on Earth at all wouldn't have helped much either.
“It is a ludicrous assertion! What rotten trove of misbegotten lore did you study to be exposed to such slanderous blasphemy⁈ Truly I would expect such things from Brother Weasel, but not from you Sister Deer!” Shouted Goldman across the table. His furious expression and reddened face impossible to see due to the heavy voluminous hoods they all wore.
“From where? Well Brother Raven, I found an ancient philosophical treatise called 'The Helping Friendly Book' penned by the famous, the brilliant, the Great and Knowledgeable, the One, the Only, the Author of the Helping Friendly Book: Reed Icculus! And I will quote directly from his Divinely inspired masterpiece to prove my previous statement with Undeniable Truth!” Spoke Sister Deer in a slightly husky and obviously physically excited, breathy, bedroom voice.
“'In truth, when a Man does take unto himself a wife, verily does not that man's mother say unto him, 'today I have not lost a son, but instead I have gained a daughter.' and does not that man's father say unto him something along the lines of 'verily and forsooth, is not your mother always right, you know that is the very truth of it.' And lo, does not that man's new wife's father say unto him likewisedly, 'You have taken the hand of my daughter, and so now you are the son to me that I never had.' whereupon that man's new wife's mother would say unto him, 'Nice it is to finally hear some words of sense fall from the daft lips of this dumb asshole. Um, forsooth. Verily.' And so, if that man's parents do call him 'son,' and his new wife, 'daughter' then truly that man and his wife must then be brother and sister.' and thus endeth the lesson numbered chapter 37, verses 3 through 6.” Spoke Sister Deer in a breathy yet reverential tone. Her self-presumed victory obviously heard in the smile of her voice.
“But... what... how do you...” Stammered Brother Raven, lost in the unassailable logic inherent in the profundity of 'The Helping Friendly Book.” Brother Raven turned this way and that, beseeching his brothers and sisters to help him, but nothing emerged save a muttered susurrus of “what the fuck's” and “Damn, that's Wack” along with one Sister quietly gagging while trying not to retch.
Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.
“That is enough of Philosophy for today. Thank you for your reading, Sister Deer, you always find us the most truly obscure and occult of the Ancient Honored Masters. However, I have felt the Angels grace descend upon us: it is time to discuss the Prophecy and the results of our Magnum Opus. So, tell me Brother Raven, did Elder the younger visit you? Did he receive the Elder House?” Said a so far quiet hooded Brother who sat at the tables seat of honor: right beneath the outstretched hands of the beautiful Angel statue.
“Indeed, he did, Brother Moose. Elder the younger, who calls himself 'Jack,' did in fact visit my humble Law Office this Monday. And again, yes, he did take possession of Elder House, in the manner of both the earthly law, and his Ancestors. After bringing him to the estate I made sure to 'accidentally' slam his finger in the front door, and yes, there was blood. To all appearances his sacrifice was found to be most acceptable. Jack Elder is now the one and only Master of the Elder House; The proof of course being the tribulation that did occur that very night. The Old Man was right again, he's always right, about everything. We are blessed.” Said Brother Raven.
“Indeed, we are. Tell me Brother Raven, what did you finally decide to tell him about the fate of his Great Uncle Randall Elder? Did you tell him that Randall was murdered as the old man suggested?” Spoke Brother Moose.
“I did not, Brother Moose. I realized that Jack isn't truly a Mainiac, as we are; he only lived here in Aroostook County until he was six, when his mother moved him away to Salem, Massachusetts. He sees all of us as any Bostonian would: to him we are all beer drinking rednecks who love shooting our guns and racing our tractors. And so, I told him that his Great Uncle Randall died while carrying a case of beer up to his bedroom, where he slipped on a 'dead soldier' and found himself falling down the stairs, unfortunately, to his death.” Said Brother Raven.
“You are very wise, Brother Raven. Elder the younger now has no great mystery to solve, nor a target to take revenge against. Those events coming to pass were always the Old Mans greatest concern. With your clever fiction, you have hidden one of the many means of failure that cloud the path of the great Prophecies completion. So then, you are sure that he bought your lie? Did you see any suspicion in his eyes?” Spoke Sister Deer.
“Oh, he bought it alright. He has so totally bought into this stereotype of 'the Maine Yankee' that it seemed he was actually proud that his 98-year-old Great Uncle would cross the velvet curtain in such a way,” said Brother Raven.
“The way that you twist the truth to suit your own manipulative bigotry I find to be extremely distasteful. You very well know how important that this May's tractor-race Biathlon is to the local economy, not to mention its effect on town morale! I sell more beer that weekend than all of the next month!” opined another nameless Brother.
“Forgive me Brother Weasel. I meant no disrespect. I only told Jack what I thought would be best for our plans. And of course, I have nothing but excitement for the Annual tractor race Biathlon! My own firm is sponsoring a team this year! And I've been practicing my drunk shooting too! It's only hard to find enough time to practice in winter when my firm is so busy!” Spoke Brother Raven.
“Enough!” Spoke Brother moose. “Does anyone here have any evidence of the tribulation? Did the path open? Did the Great Beast reveal itself? Did the 'Promised Man' arrive? These are the things that we must now know!” Eleven hooded heads all slowly turned left and right in that great and ancient manner which denotes that the answer is flatly 'No.'
“Then we must find out ourselves. Send Big Willy to get the roads to Elder House cleared. We need to find out if the Master's plan has succeeded or not. There aren't many chances left to get this right. We will reconvene next full moon, as is right and usual. Everybody: you know what your tasks are, complete them and gain glory. Fail at them and you 'shall inherit the earth,' but in the bad way, meaning that you shall inherit six feet of it. Meeting adjourned.” Spoke Brother Moose.
All of the Brother and sisters then slowly stood and walked to a wall behind the Angel's left wing, and touching a hidden spot, opened a secret and camouflaged door leading much deeper into the caves and tunnels riddled through Aroostook County, Maine. Presumably to then travel those tunnels through byzantine and twisting paths to their own Sanctums sprinkled through this the largest County in Maine.
Up above, both a stone Angel and a lucky one-eyed cat watched this whole scene impassively until the last of the mysterious conspirators had left and resealed the chamber until the next full moon. Lucky yawned in that terrifying way that only cats can, which looks like someone had installed a hinge to its head and jaw. So Many Teeth. When he finished that, Lucky raised his delicate murder-mitten to his collar, a leather thong doubled through a green Jade ring, whereupon Lucky performed the same trick that Guy had in making a pillow appear. Only this was no pillow, instead, what formed in the air above the table was the mass of toothy tentacles and bloody ichor formerly found in the living room of dead Great Uncle Randall's, now officially and spiritually, Jack's, Elder House. It fell with a disgusting splotchy squelching sound to land in a disgusting pile right onto the Ritual room's ritual table.
Lucky gagged and began making a breathy noise in his throat, sounding like an old Toyota with a bad transmission, and promptly threw up a hairball. Then he Meowed. Not the meow of a simple house cat, but a Meow, a powerful expression of Lucky's mastery over his Domain. Then, in a puff of inky-black smoke, Lucky disappeared.