“Master,” she said, “we beseech you to receive this woman, known to you in ancient times as Cleopatra, daughter of the Nile, Queen of all Egypt, proud possessor of the Ptolemaic name.”
“We beseech you to receive,” the assemblage chanted.
“We beseech you, too, to receive her in her present form, as Natalie Fletcher, who is here this midnight not to wed anew but to wed again, we beseech you to receive.”
“We beseech you to receive,” they chanted.
“We beseech you to receive as well her intended groom, who casts aside the hated name bestowed in keeping with the Christian belief, through baptism vile, in ceremony honoring Jesus of Nazareth, the Crucified One, our conqueror, we beseech you to condemn to blackest night the name of Arthur Joseph Wylie ...”
“We beseech you to receive, we beseech you to condemn ...”
“And accept as supplicant the reborn Harry Fletcher, brother to Natalie, and by profound belief, the brother, too, of Cleopatra. We beseech you to receive Ptolemy the Twelfth, who by virtue of the solemn ceremony forswears allegiance to all other masters, renounces and forsakes the Jesus who renounced you, and swears that he will faithfully perform everything written in the Liber Spiritum, and never do you harm, either to your body or your soul, and execute all things immediately and without refusing. We beseech you to receive.”
“We beseech you to receive.”
Susanna looked down at the kneeling couple. “Do either of you know of any reason why you both should not be joined in wedlock, or if there be any in this company who can show any just cause why these parties should not be joined, let him now speak or hereafter hold his peace.”
The vaulted room was silent.
Susanna knelt, picked up the bloodstone from where it was resting between the burning black candles, rose again, and touched the stone to the hooded forehead of the figure on her left.
“Do you, Harry Fletcher, take this woman as your wife to live together in the state of matrimony? Will you love, honor and keep her as a faithful man is bound to do, in health, sickness, prosperity and adversity, and forsaking all others keep you alone unto her as long as you both shall live?”
“I do.”
Susanna moved the bloodstone to the hooded forehead of the figure on her right.
“Do you, Natalie Fletcher, take this man as your husband to live together in the state of matrimony? Will you love, honor and cherish him as a faithful woman is bound to do, in health, sickness, prosperity and adversity, and forsaking all others keep you alone unto him as long as you both shall live?”
“I do.”
“For as you both have consented in wedlock, and have acknowledged it before this company, I do by virtue of the power vested in me now pronounce you man and wife in the presence of our Lord and Master. And may He bless your union.”
She held out the bloodstone. They each kissed it in turn, raising the hoods briefly, and then lowering them over their faces again. I nudged Henry. I thought the ceremony was over, and I wanted to catch Natalie and Arthur before they ran off on their honeymoon. But they continued to kneel before Susanna, who now spread her arms wide, holding them above her head in an open V. Apparently, there was more business to conduct
The curtains parted again. A tall hooded figure came through them and walked swiftly to where Susanna was standing. In one hand he was carrying something with a black cloth over it. In the other hand he was carrying a carving knife. He knelt before Susanna, waiting.
“We beseech you, ancient serpent,” she said, “to accept this sacrifice of blood as token of this solemn union.” She nodded. The black cloth was pulled away, revealing a cage. Something squealed. A hand darted into the cage, there was another squeal, the knife flashed out, there was silence.
“We beseech you now...” Susanna said.
“We beseech you now ...” the assemblage repeated.
“We beseech you, judge of the living dead, who orders the winds and the sea and the tempests, we beseech you...”
“We beseech you ...”
“Master of the Lower Regions, to leave us now in peace, knowing we are pleased and contented, and to go in quiet, secure in our faith. We beseech you.”
“We beseech you,” they whispered, and the room fell silent again.
Susanna suddenly laughed and clutched Natalie to her in embrace. The ceremony was over and done with, Lucifer had apparently gone back to Hell in peace, secure in the knowledge of their faith, stinking of brimstone, trailing silken garments, and pouring lower-case smoke from bis pointed hairy ears. The assembled worshippers were moving toward where the black candles now sputtered fitfully in the silver candlesticks. There were cries of congratulations, and more embraces.
“Let’s go,” I said to Henry.
We moved swiftly to the archway at the back of the room, and then through it to the thick wooden entrance door. It was still raining outside. We took off the hoods.
“Where’d she park the station wagon?” I asked.
“Up the street,” Henry said. His eyes were wet.
“Are you all right?”
“Weddings make me cry,” he said.
They came out of the church not five minutes later. They had taken off their hoods, and they walked rapidly toward the blue Buick. They were chattering gaily. As Natalie unlocked the car, Arthur said something that made her laugh. Henry and I moved out of the doorway across the street, and ran to the car.
“Mr. and Mrs. Fletcher?” I said.
Natalie turned. She was extraordinarily beautiful, long black hair wet with rain, brown eyes accentuated by black mascara and green shadow, generous mouth tinted blood-red. She must have assumed Henry and I were well-wishers, guests who’d taken off our hoods and followed them outside to offer our congratulations. She was smiling. Her eyes were bright. Her face looked almost radiant. Beside her, Arthur Wylie frowned. He had recognized me at once, from our early-morning meeting the night before, when he’d told me he was Amos Wakefield. He grabbed her arm. He was ready to bolt. And then he saw the gun in my hand.
“I think you’d better come with me,” I said.
Twenty-Nine
We drove to the Twelfth Precinct in Maria’s Pinto, Henry at the wheel, Natalie sitting beside him, Arthur and I on the back seat. I did not holster the gun. When we got uptown, Henry said he preferred waiting outside in the car; police stations made him nervous. The newlyweds walked up the broad flat steps ahead of me. I put the gun away only when we were standing before the muster desk. The sergeant rang the squadroom upstairs, and O’Neil and Horowitz both came down. They were surprised when I told them the baldheaded man standing beside me was Arthur Wylie; the picture they had was of a bushy-headed blond with a walrus mustache. They booked Natalie and Arthur, advised them of their rights, and then called the district attorney’s office. I was not permitted to be present at the Q and A. The assistant D.A. felt this might jeopardize their case, and I agreed with him. But when it was all over, at 2:30 a.m., they allowed me to read the transcript. Natalie had refused to say a word; she considered this her royal privilege. It was Arthur Wylie who did all the talking.
Q: What is your name, please?
A: Arthur Joseph Wylie.
Q: Where do you live?
A: I have no permanent residence in this city. Until tonight, I was living at 420 Oberlin Crescent.
Q: Mr. Wylie, would you please look at these items we took from your wallet? Do you recognize them?