Free His Cemetery Doll by Brantwijn Serrah Page A

my statue—Maya—and toppled her. The sculpture's been broken, Father. It makes no sense."
    "Mm-hm."
    Frederick took another long moment, Conall assumed, to mull over the strangeness of his friend's claims.
    "What does Shyla think of these stories?" he asked.
    Something about the tone in his voice put Conall on the defensive. He quickly replied, "I haven't told her of these things."
    "You say she also heard the sounds last night?"
    "Probably the wind. She came to wake me, but she didn't mention anything like...like what I've told you."
    "Conall, I must ask you to be completely truthful with me. Why do you believe your mind has conjured images of this...beautiful dancer? Have you been tempted? Have you...experienced lust for her?"
    "Does it matter?" Conall snapped. He may have done it too quickly, though: he imagined the priest made a sound of confirmation.
    "Hear me out, Con. When I served overseas, as a chaplain, I witnessed many strange things. I must trust you not to spread word of this...but have you heard of the Ahnenerbe?"
    Conall frowned at Fred through the screen separating them. It obscured the man's face, naturally, and he couldn't make out any expression.
    "I haven't."
    "During my work in Germany, my commanding officers and government requested my aid in investigations into occultism and experimentation related to the Ahnenerbe, the Thule Society, and the Vril...all pseudo-scientific organizations with some measure of importance to the Führer. Most believe them to be no more than eccentrics or misguided historical institutions, interested in Germanic ancestry and the orchestration of the master race. However, others yet believe they became involved in deep mysticism."
    Fred had never before talked about his service in the war. Now, even in a church confessional booth, he spoke under his breath, whispering to Con as though there might be listeners everywhere, waiting to snatch up this secret. The priest's voice quavered with a quiet intensity.
    "What does this have to do with my visions?" Conall asked.
    "Conall, I have seen the work of men who wished to unlock the secrets of immortality and eternal power. I believe in creatures of evil, Con. I've seen them studied and...and I may have even seen them with my very own eyes. Sometimes...I cannot be sure."
    Con recalled the way the priest sometimes drifted, his thoughts wandering away from the present moment. He'd often believed Fred suffered from shell-shock, but he'd never asked. This made him even more sure. Conall had been willing to accept his own madness, but the things coming out of Fred's mouth right now sounded like the ramblings of serious conspiracy theory.
    "Though I do believe Hitler's compatriots were not...mistaken, as it pertains to the existence of such creatures," Fred added. "Things we would call demons, or monsters. Creatures of unchecked experiment, given life in Ahnenerbe laboratories or by Thule spiritualism. Perhaps...for whatever reason...you have become the target of one of these abominations."
    He considered it. It sounded like hogwash.
    Then again, he'd watched the doll appear and disappear, and had seen her set upon what he could only call hands of the graves.
    Either he really had gone insane...or Fred's dark forces could, in theory, exist.
    "Conall. This woman you speak of... after my years in the war, I began studying commonly cited species of dark spirits. There are many accounts of this kind of encounter: ghostly women in the night, tempting beauties offering themselves to men. There are many names for them but at the heart of all the myths, one thing is always certain: they are deadly, and merciless, killers."
    A vile, green feeling bubbled in Conall's stomach, and a wave of uncomfortable heat spread through his neck and shoulders.
    "You think this woman I've seen," he said quietly, "is a...an evil spirit?"
    "I...think you may be quite vulnerable. Please, my friend, be honest: have you been tempted?"
    Oh, I have...
    He grunted,