Free Raga Six (A Doctor Orient Occult Novel) by Frank Lauria Page B

bath, brush my teeth, anything, " Kali was saying. "That was my form of purification. Gregory said I was too vain."  
    The jingling sound of a bell cut off Orient’s question. A hush fell over the room. "I’ll see you later," Kali whispered. She walked over to the end of the room to join Thor and a black youth in white trousers and T-shirt who were standing near the curtain. The other people in the room waited in silence.  
    Kali lifted her hand and pulled a cord hanging next to the curtain. The linen drapes parted and slid back.  
    Gregory was standing behind a white table, the black seven-pointed star suspended directly over his high, shaven skull. A metallic object gleamed against the black leather covering his chest. It was a silver cross dangling upside down from a chain around his neck.  
    "Hello," he said shyly. As he spoke, Orient realized that Kali was right; Gregory appeared to be ageless. The clear, unlined skin and slender body could belong to a boy of sixteen, or an adept of a hundred and sixty. His melodic voice rang soft with compassion, but his round, amber eyes had the flat glint of timeless wisdom. "We meet tonight in celebration of the great and secret power of the universe,"  
    Gregory said, "a celebration of beauty and adoration." He looked around the room. "Please make yourselves comfortable."  
    There was a shuffled rustling as the men and women in the room  
    sat down on the pillows scattered about. Orient sat cross-legged on the floor.  
    "Those of you who have specific requests, please come forward,"  
    Gregory said.  
    Two women and one man rose, went up to the table and placed envelopes on the floor. Orient noticed that they placed the envelopes on the edge of a black circle that had been drawn around the table. He also saw that Gregory was standing in the exact center of the circle, and he became apprehensive. There was no doubt in his mind any longer. Gregory was attempting to perform some occult rite. He wondered what would happen if they boy could actually pull it off.  
    Gregory raised his arms above his head. "Isis," he called out, "come forth."  
    Gregory’s wife walked slowly into the room. She was dressed in a white cloak that she held wrapped around her. She appeared to be fresh and composed, totally unlike the grimacing, frightened creature  
    Orient had seen that afternoon. When she reached the circle, she let the cloak fall away, revealing her naked body underneath, and sat down on the table. She looked around and smiled. "Isis is ready to serve you," she said softly.  
    Kali approached the table holding a fluttering white dove in her hands. She held it out to Gregory, then backed away.  
    As Gregory held the bird against his chest, stroking its feathers, he began to intone a prayer. "In the power and the words of God, the God of power, Jesus the Christ of Nazareth, I conjure thee by the Angel Gabriel the unknown..."  
    His words rose and fell against Orient’s thoughts as he watched Isis close her eyes and slump over on the table. "Astaroth, Astaroth, I adjure thee by the sacred words Eloim, Sabaoth and Ya—" Gregory’s soft voice was clear in the stillness of the room. He held the dove over Isis’s head. "Astaroth, come then and accomplish our desires by the name of the Holy God." With a quick, careless motion of his fingers, he wrung the dove’s neck. The bird’s legs jerked and then stiffened. It died without making a sound. "Astaroth, come forward," Gregory whispered.  
    Isis suddenly sat up and went rigid. Her arms shot forward straight out in front of her body, her fists tightly clenched. A hoarse, almost masculine growl came from somewhere deep inside her belly and escaped through her contorted lips. "I come," she said.  
    Kali, Thor, and the black boy began to moan and sway from side to side.  
    "Will you grant our requests?" Gregory asked.  
    For a moment Isis was silent. Then she began to speak very slowly, her voice guttural and indistinct. "Mrs.