"Rye Cowl is an anagram for Crowley."

"A what?"

"An anagram. It's a type of word play where the letters of a word are rearranged to form another word. In this case the letters in the name 'Rye Cowl' are the same letters that spell the name 'Crowley'."

Kane's eyebrows went up. "Well, I'll be a son of a How did you know that?"

"I told you. I have a nose"

"for things like this. Yeah, I heard you. So this guy thinks he's Crowley reincarnated or something?"

Ravenwood shrugged but didn't say anything.

Kane cautiously entertained a glimmer of hope. "You think this could be our guy? He did have a motive, when you think about it. That preacher was bent on trying to ruin the concert. I mean, I'll admit, killing the guy is a pretty extreme way to put a stop to the protest but still"

"Yeah, but it could just as well have been one of the fans of the band. Wheeler said a lot of them are so into it that they dress in hooded robes at these concerts. The word 'fan' is short for fanatic, you know. Who knows what kind of demented fanatics might be under some of those robes? Not to mention the fact that we've got a major Church of Satan right here in Seattle. I happen to know that the head of that church is not only an expert on everything Crowley ever wrote but he's also an exceptionally knowledgeable pract.i.tioner of the Dark Arts. I wouldn't doubt if he and some of the members of his church are also some of Cowl's biggest fans. They could all be suspects. But there's still a problem."

"What's that?"

"You could argue that Cowl or one of his fans had a motive for killing this preacher because of the protest thing. But, what about the other five preachers? The motive falls apart. You've read the reports. There's nothing linking any of them to Cowl, to his band or to anything even remotely related to any of that. h.e.l.l, there isn't even anything linking any of them to each other." She shook her head. "I don't know. We're missing something."

"I wish you had a nose for that."

"Oh, I do. Believe me. I just haven't caught a whiff of the scent yet."

"Well, you've got another nine days to get your sniffer goin'. Be nice if you could catch a whiff of something before then. I say we start with this Cowl guy. Let's pay him a little visit tomorrow and see what kind of a scent he throws out."

"You read my mind."

"Not really. I just have a nose for these things."

Ravenwood took the jab with a grin.

CHAPTER 22.

The Next Day...

Kane and Ravenwood drove along Millionaire's Row checking the addresses.

"Look at these places," Kane said. "Must be nice. Devil music must pay pretty good."

"Yeah. Cowl's place should be just up ahead."

Kane slowed down as the decaying old mansion came into view. One of the front windows was boarded up. Old yellow shades and heavy dark curtains were drawn closed on the others. "Jesus Christ. Looks like the G.o.dd.a.m.n Munsters live there."

"Kind of fits, though, doesn't it?"

Kane parked the car on the street and they climbed the crumbling stone steps up into the cool shadows of the large front porch. A tangle of dried vines from several long-dead Wisterias still clung to the cracked pillars on either side of the stairs. The worn 'Welcome' mat below the front door was slippery with moss.

Kane looked around. "I'm surprised there isn't a 'Beware the Hound of the Baskervilles' sign nailed to the door."

Ravenwood looked surprised. "Wait. You actually read the book?"

"What? No, I saw the movie. Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee."

"Serious? How old are you anyway?"

"Late night TV."

Ravenwood shook her head and grabbed the tarnished bra.s.s ring that hung from the door. She gave it three solid raps. "That oughta wake the dead."

The door creaked open just a crack.

Kane whispered. "Perfect. Complete with sound effects."

"FBI!" Ravenwood called out. "We just want to talk with you."

No one answered. She drew her gun and nudged the door a little further. "Rye Cowl? FBI. We'd like to ask you a few questions."

No answer.

She pushed the door all the way open and whispered over her shoulder. "You got my back?"

"Right behind you."

She took a breath, raised her gun and stepped into the darkness.

CHAPTER 23.

Three Months Earlier...

Up to this point Cowl's initiation had consisted mostly of learning the calls and incantations and mastering the correct vocal intonations for every syllable. He was made to recite them in exhausting and seemingly endless repet.i.tions, stumbling over the strange, unfamiliar words, until he got them right.

For the first three days he felt as if nothing special was happening and he was starting to doubt the entire process. The Messenger, however, continued to lure him with the promise that his 'Someday' was very close at hand. The power of that single, irresistible lure was all it took to keep Cowl hooked. His confidence was renewed in short order when, on the night of the fourth day, he had his first indication that something was indeed happening.

Earlier in the day the Messenger had instructed him on how to prepare a special pigment, an alchemical concoction, that he would use to paint the complex version of the Lucifer Seal onto the wood floor under the carpet in the Inner Sanctum. The color of the pigment was to be vermillion produced by an ancient method of mixing mercury and molten sulfur.

Cowl protested that he had no idea where to obtain such materials but the Messenger told him not to worry, it would be delivered to his door by an old Chinese gentleman. Cowl laughed. Maybe the Messenger has a sense of humor. Within seconds of being informed of this odd circ.u.mstance, three loud raps of the bra.s.s knocker on the front door shook Cowl out of his chair. He answered the door and was handed a package by an old Chinese man who said nothing, bowed once, and scurried away.

Cowl closed the door and turned to the Messenger with a bemused look on his face. "Magick?"

The Messenger shrugged. "More like a payment for services rendered."

"Services rendered?"

"It's a very long story. But you have work to do. I suggest you get to it."

That night, after the image of the Seal had been rendered, Cowl was instructed to cross over the perimeter of the Seal and position himself on his knees at the center of the image.

He did as he was instructed and looked at the Messenger. "So, now what?"

"Relax and close your eyes. Take three deep breaths, in through the nose and out, slowly, through the mouth."

Cowl followed the instructions.

"Again. Deeper."

Again, Cowl complied.

"And once more."

The Messenger waited and then spoke in a slow, hypnotic tone. "Now... trace the lines of the Seal... in your imagination... until you see it clearly... in your mind's eye... absorb the color... feel the power... let it become... part of you."

Cowl felt his body beginning to sway back and forth, ever so gently, rhythmically. As if in some drug-induced dream, he sensed his consciousness merging with the image of the Seal.

The Messenger looked on approvingly. When the moment was right, he telepathically transmitted the words of an evocation into Cowl's mind.

Cowl recited the words as they filtered into his brain. He repeated them again, louder this time, and then a third time, nearly shouting. His voice echoed off the walls of the room: "Old Ones! Hear me this night, this hour! Gaze upon me from thine ancient tower! To thee my body is open, my mind is open, my soul is open! Old Ones! Hear me! I call thee from thy place of rest! Find me worthy of thy test! Daras sharod! Intu!"

Immediately, his gentle swaying motion shifted to an involuntary, vibrating frenzy. Something was pulling at him from the inside out, tugging at his soul, sucking him out of his sh.e.l.l. The intensity of the vibration increased at a furious rate until he could no longer hang on.

With a sudden jolt, he was catapulted outward into a dark and timeless void. He floated, weightless, with no sense of direction, no up, no down, just a disorienting ecstasy of nothingness. Jesus... this is beautiful... this is...

His reverie was interrupted by a faint, muddled din of voicesfar off in the distance, somewhere beyond the darkness that surrounded himaged voices, solemn, wooden voices murmuring like a grove of ancient oaks conferring with the G.o.ds, pa.s.sing judgment on some soul. Then, for a brief moment, as if looking through the wrong end of a telescope, across an eternity of s.p.a.ce and time, he caught a glimpse of himself kneeling at the center of the Seal. The voyeuristic sensation of separation was at first disturbing then liberating, intoxicating. He wanted it to last forever. But the moment ended abruptly as he was sucked into that long, dark voyeuristic tube and instantly hurled across the void and back into the confines of his mortal body. He collapsed onto the floor like a deflated balloon.

The Messenger waited for Cowl to regain his senses. "Welcome back," he said, finally. The Old Ones are pleased. You have pa.s.sed the test. Your 'Someday' is another step closer and Master Crowley is anxious to join you. In five short days the great transformation will take place and the resurrection of the Beast will be complete."

The days pa.s.sed in a blur: more instructions, more memorizations, more education on the protocols of the rituals, revelations of many dark and powerful secrets known only to a select few over the centuries. Rye Cowl could now be counted among the few.

The ninth and final day of the grueling process had finally arrived and it found the young initiate weak and disoriented. For the previous three days he'd had nothing to eat or drink save for a single slice of bread per day with a cup of water to wash it down. The fast was necessary, the Messenger insisted, in order to purify the body for what was coming.

Cowl sat cross-legged at the center of the Seal, his naked body clothed only in the ceremonial robe once owned by the senior Mr. Moorehouse. With the urn cradled in his lap, he gently traced its smooth contour with the tips of his fingers. He was about to give birth to something beyond his imagination. He looked up at the Messenger and spoke in a weak but determined tone. "I'm ready."

CHAPTER 24.

Three Months Later...

Inside Moorehouse Manor Ravenwood was half way across the darkened living room when she heard something. She spun around, pointed the gun with her finger on the trigger. Kane matched her move. A light came on.

Cowl was standing in the doorway between the dining room and the living room. His hair was dripping wet and he was wearing nothing but a blue terrycloth bathrobe. He threw his hands up. "Whoa! What the h.e.l.l? Who the f.u.c.k are you? What are you doing in my house?"

Ravenwood sized him up, and lowered her gun. Kane moved around to a position behind Cowl.

"FBI," Ravenwood said, flashing her badge. "Are you Rodney Duckworth, a-k-a, Rye Cowl?" She didn't really need to ask. She recognized his chiseled good looks from the photo on the flyer. At the moment, though, he looked more like a Hollywood version of a California pool boy than a Death Metal superstar, much less a master of ritual magick. But she had to admit, whatever he was, he certainly came well packaged.

Cowl gave an angry smirk. No one called him Rodney Duckworth. "Yeah. What the h.e.l.l do you want?"

"We just want to talk," Kane said. "Is there anyone else in the house?"

"No. Just me. I just got out of the shower. Why?"

Kane wasn't buying it. "Is that right? Then who opened the front door when we knocked?"

Cowl shook his head. "What the f.u.c.k are you talking about?"

"We knocked at the door. Someone opened it. If it wasn't you then it was someone else."

"Check the place out if you want," Cowl said. "n.o.body here but me and a few rats. You two are the only people who've been in here since I bought the place."

"C'mon," Kane said. "A guy like you must have parties here all the time. s.e.x, drugs and rock 'n roll. Right?"

Cowl turned and glared at Kane. "I keep to myself."

Ravenwood took a quick glance down the hall. "What's down there?"

"Couple bedrooms, a bathroom and the library. What's this all about?"

Ravenwood looked at Kane. "Wait here. I'm going to check it out."

She returned a minute later and pointed to the curved staircase. "And up there?"

"Couple more bedrooms, another bathroom. C'mon. What the h.e.l.l do you guys want?"

Ravenwood started up the stairs but paused on the second step. She lolled her head to one side as if she sensed something. She stepped back down and moved over next to Kane. "Okay. I think he's telling the truth."