When the elevator shunted to the 33rd floor, Wertz pulled the gate aside and ushered Lanza through the candlelit cave. Lanza shook feverishly as they past the cylinder of seeds, the farmers flail, the silver amulet, the wooden figure and the sharp canine.
Using the wall as support, Lanza reached the chunky door and witnessed a bead of sweat run down Wertz's cheek. "You're afraid."
It wasn't a question, but a statement. Wertz rubbed his sweaty brow with his forearm then threw open the door. There was no butler to greet them this time.
"Get in there, and keep on walking."
The eyes grew large in Lanza's head as the door creaked and the heat of candlelight and smell of smoke wafted in his face. "You're not coming?"
The mere thought caused Wertz to seize up. “Get going,” he said, stepping back from the door.
Lanza moved cautiously inside the den and retched forward, coughing blood over himself. Chairs and bar stools lay vacant, yet glasses were filled with fizzing champagne.
Lanza collected himself and stood, passing a mouth parching fireplace, poker tables full of chips and cigarettes left smoking in ashtrays. He leaned for support against a padded leather chesterfield when suddenly, his ear focused on an eerie and growing chant beyond a black curtain behind an arched doorway.
"KING'S MIGHT, GLORIOUS LIGHT!"
A gale blew the curtain and the voices beyond it rejoiced.
"GREAT ONE! YOUR PRIDE AWAITS!"
Lanza flopped into the chair, lay his head back and closed his eyes.
"It is time, Professor Lanza," said a man beside him.
Lanza glanced weakly at two men dressed in black cloaks with braided belts. Hoods covered their heads and a perpetual shadow concealed their faces.
"Do not be afraid," said the figure to his left. This man had a soft voice and a gentle touch, prompting Lanza to his feet.
"You people are insane," he said, shivering. "All of you are mad."
"There is no madness here, only truth. We invite you to see it for yourself."
The fervent chant settled as Lanza past the curtain, shielding his eyes from the glare of a hundred burning candles. He was in a cave covered in pink stalactites flowing down from the ceiling. The air was moist and the stone overhead was thick with soot. There were at least 40 people crowded in this place of worship, the majority dressed in black and gathered around the periphery of a circle. Inside the circle were ten individuals in white cloaks, revering a severed paw on top of a five foot stone pillar. Behind them towered a gothic fireplace filled with roaring logs. Displayed over that set piece was a mutli-coloured mosaic, depicting a burning star over desert dunes, the star appearing to feed a singular figure with a beam of celestial light.
"Come closer Professor Lanza!" R.C. Christian declared, throwing back his hood.
Eyes dilated, the fat man dropped his white cloak and raised his floppy arms, exposing his pear shaped naked body. Christian ran both hands over his chest, gut and groin. "Do not be afraid. You have been invited to participate in the conclusion of our ceremony. Indeed, you are our guest of honour!"
Lanza's physical weakness brought him to his knees. "I don't want any part in this darkness."
Christian chuckled with his fellow white cloaks. "We celebrate the light, not the dark! Our father's return is close. If you heard his story, knew of his greatness then you would understand that this is cause for celebration!" Christian tweaked his nipples and perversely shuddered forward, his underlings leaving plenty of room. "You are an ill man, Professor, gravely ill. Use what time you have left to rise above your human station!"
"Your people have already bought my integrity!" Lanza cried over the roaring fireplace. "My soul is not for sale!"
Christian reached out and a dagger was placed in his hand. "Your blood will be spilled either way. Our brethren will remember your sacrifice."
Those in surrounding cloaks removed daggers from their braided belts.
"FATHER RETURNS!" they howled in unison. "KING'S MIGHT, GLORIOUS LIGHT! OUR FATHER RETURNS!"
Black and white cloaks dropped to their knees and repeated the phrase as Christian returned to the inner circle.
"Too long we have waited. Too long!" Christian reached out to the severed paw and appeared desperate to caress it. He restrained himself by simply hovering his trembling hand over the hairy appendage. Meanwhile the bellowing chant caused dust to rain down from the cavern ceiling.
Lanza shrivelled, covering his head as the ritual reached it's climax. All the white cloaked members collected around the claw, and one by one, they removed their hoods and tipped their heads as if preparing to drink. The only faces Lanza recognized were Christian's, his wiry old wife, and some prominent members of the international business community. The black-cloaked majority kept their hoods on and emitted a low and guttural hum, vibrating the surrounding stone as those in white raised the daggers in their left hands, then pinched the tips of their tongues with the right. Finally, and in a delirious frenzy, those in white ghoulishly sawed at their own mouths. Each privileged member of the inner circle cut and sliced until they carved out their tongues, tossing the chunks of flesh into the fire.
"FOR OUR FATHER AND MASTER! KING'S MIGHT, GLORIOUS LIGHT!"
Christian, hunched over and drooling blood, whipped back from the fire and pointed at Lanza.
"Take him!" he bloodily spat over his heaving chest.
Lanza begged for his soul as cloaked sycophants hooked their hands under his armpits and dragged him toward Christian's bare feet. A respectful entree had been offered to their father, it was time for something more substantial.