Page 29 of Infernal Vices

“What do you think I used to create the sympathetic ink?”

“This is a very fine paper.” I held my chin as I considered. “It wasn’t lemon juice. Application of a wet fluid would have altered the paper surface fibres.I did not observe any discolouration or cockling of the pages,” I mused, intrigued by the mystery.

“Would you like me to tell you?” Charles was bursting to reveal his secret.

“Very well,” I grinned, finding his excitement was a little infectious.

“Seminal fluid. Isn’t that marvellous!” he guffawed and then the entire explanation burst out.

“I worked with a chemist friend. We experimented with the known invisible, or sympathetic inks and it was decided that ejaculate was perfect, as long as the paper was bone dry and I used it sparingly. We discovered that a particular type of paper, an onion skin paper, is most suitable. The paper was made in Italy. I soaked each sheet in vinegar and then stored it between fine layers of gypsum to ensure all moisture had been removed before the final pressing. Then it was ready for use.”

“And you worked on each page with ejaculate and a pen?” I admit I was rather stunned by Charles admission.

“Yes, it’s perfect, no? Though, I nearly gave myself friction burns while producing the ink!” Charles snickered. I stared, aghast at the page where the illustrations and writing were now a sepia brown hue caused by the chemical reactions of the onion skin paper, vinegar, semen, and heat.

Charles then surprised me once again when he folded the large sheet back on itself, and fitted it into its red leather cover. Then he slid the fine bone spine and headband back home. He handed me the red leather book and I opened it to find the book filled with words and erotic images. To be found with such a book would most definitely see me arrested under the Obscene Publications Act and so as soon as I returned home it would be stored in my secret room! I read the title on the first page and suddenly understood what I was looking at.

“This is a translation of the erotic rituals that accompanied the Staff of Asklepios,” I exclaimed.

“Damn, how do you know that?”

“Because I’ve seen it—the scroll, in its original Greek form.”

“What? Where did you see it? When?” Charles demanded.

“It was a lifetime ago. I accompanied Euan to his father’s Scots pile for the shooting season. He showed me the phallus and the scroll. I didn’t understand a bally word of that scroll…it was all Greek to me!” I laughed humourlessly.

“And you have not seen it since? The Staff is the final object required for the great work!”

“No,” I lied. “But Blake has asked me to look out for it, and talk to my business connections to discover what became of it after the Ardmillan estate sale.”

I knew that Euan had used the last of his money to have the scroll translated and the books bound as a gift for Fratres Seminis. I leafed through the book, looking at the original Greek and the translation side by side, with the erotic illustrations that accompanied them. It seemed that acolytes were required to be involved in rituals in order to generate the heightened state of sexual energy required for the ritual to awaken the magic. There were drawings of both men and women, and strange archaic devices for domination and ritual restraint, but the drawings that interested me the most were those of men engaged in sodomy in many positions, mutual cock sucking, semen drinking, and a host of erotic poses that made my bawsack ache with need. There were devices that had phalluses of different sizes attached, one was a bench, and the other was attached to a wall and an acolyte had impaled his backside upon one of the pricks. I then turned the page and saw what looked like a spell petitioning the Gods. The ritual was ancient and fascinating but I didn’t have time to read it quite yet, for there was an illustration for the final ritual that showed a woman wearing a harness with the Staff of Asklepios cradled in it and positioned at the fundament of a man lying prone–as if they had reversed traditional roles and sexual positions.

“Fascinating,” I heard the awe in my voice.

“We have to learn the incantation by rote. Every one of us and our seed is vital to the ritual. I’m making some Papier-mâché masks of satyrs and fawns in the Greek style for us to wear for the ceremony. Isn’t it exciting?” Charles enthused.

“Euan told me that for the staff to work those using it must be in love. Love is the key to all things,” I revealed.

“Indeed, and that is why having Leopold returned to us is a blessing. Lawrence adores the scamp.”

I was unnerved by these revelations, for Fratres Seminis plan was closer to fruition. All members retained a copy of the red book of ritual, and soon their vessel would be returned. All they required to put the plan into action was the ancient phallus that I kept hidden in my secret room—which Sebastian and I appeared to have activated with our spilled mingled seed.

Charles reached for his brandy and took a gulp. I asked my next question tentatively, for I did not want to reveal my disquiet about Blake’s plan.

“Charles, do you really believe in this…this great work?”

“What? Do I believe that Blake can use a fabled magical cock to breach the veil of death and return to tell us what heaven looks like?” He let out an almost childish guffaw, “Of course not! Between you and me, Blake is either a little bit mad or a little bit of a charlatan! Maybe he’s both. But it’s all a game to me, old chap, just a marvellous adventure. I don’t believe the Staff is anymore magical than say, your ebony cane, there,” he said gesturing to the cane I’d lain beside the couch.

“Then why are you involved and so invested if you don’t believe in the theosophical hullabaloo?”

Charles gave me a pitiful look, as if I were touched in the head.

“For the sex, my dear man, for all the wonderful, filthy sex!” His eyes sparkled with amusement. “You know as well as I that men like us need places to…be ourselves. I love having sex with men. I love sucking, fucking, and getting ploughed in return. I’m a hedonist, darling! Pleasure is life, and life is pleasure.”

“But, but what about the rituals…the masks, and the robes,” I stuttered aghast at hearing that Charles was just a sexual explorer, not a believer in resurrection.

“The rituals add an air of theatre to it all. For me it’s as simple as that. For others, well, it could be that our fraternity ensures mutual enrichment. Each of us promises to protect our brotherhood. We ensure our compatriots rise, in both meanings of the word, and we can be our full selves among select company.” Charles absently reached out to pat my knee. “It’s okay my dear man, I can see you have reservations. I’m relieved you asked actually. It’s good to have an ally who doesn’t take theosophist, spiritual woo-woo seriously. There are times that I think, my goodness, Lawrence Blake is quite, quite mad!” Charles grinned. “We shall keep one another’s secret, yes,” he said tapping a finger to the side of his nose, giving me a wink.

I was losing the threads of the countless secrets and lies. But this new information that Ashe was with Fratres Seminis for sex and not the theosophical experimentation made the task Blake had given me even more taxing. I liked Charles. I did not want to damage this fragile new friendship by asking Charles to give his sister for use by the cabal. I could not do it! Not now, maybe not ever. I reached for my glass of brandy and downed the lot!

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