2021-01-01 - The Key of Solomon

Alexander has invited Isolde over. It's, sadly, not a happy invitation. In fact, his invitation was a grim, "I just got something in the mail. It's from Catherine. She must have sent it right before she...look, just come over, if you can."

And when she arrives, he ushers her in without ceremony, and gestures towards the coffee table. A large package, wrapped in plain paper, is sitting there. It hasn't been opened yet. "You want some coffee, or pop?" he asks. "Or to run screaming? Because I doubt whatever's in there is good news." He pauses. "I waited for you." Which, considering that Alexander hardly ever waits to solve mysteries, is like a gift in and of itself.

A murder gift, but a gift nonetheless.

Isolde didn't like the sound of any of this, and she certainly wasn't going to make Alexander go through it solo. Especially after Denny had been so unhelpful and she couldn't remember anyone else but....but it seemed like inner circle people were potentially getting picked off. At least two of them. Chuck and Catherine. Maybe it was only people whose name's started with C. The offer for a drink is politely declined with a shake of her head.

"What if we just put it in the backyard and set it on fire?" Isolde offers up as a helpful fourth alternative, eyeing the large package warily. "Have you tried to get a read on it?" Fiddling with her charm bracelet. "When did it come?" A beat of pause before adding, "I am glad you waited."

Alexander pours a cup of coffee for himself when she declines, and comes back with the hot, fragrant stuff steaming from a mug. He settles on the couch. "We're not going to just put it in the backyard and set it on fire," he says, but with a grin. "I've been following the news out of Seattle; Catherine's death has been ruled a suicide. Self-inflicted gunshot wound while sitting in her car." He doesn't have to say that he doesn't believe it. His expression radiates skepticism. "But this might have been the last meaningful action she took in the world. We'll at least look at it."

A shake of his head at the question of reading. "I want to see what mundane senses can provide, first. Sometimes reading things can be overwhelming. I usually only use it when I need information I can't get anywhere else." A flicker of a smile at the last, and then he's tearing into the package without much hesitation.

It turns out to be...a book. It's been shoved into an empty paper box, but it's an old, old book. Old enough to make Alexander catch his breath, and gingerly open the leather bound volume to its title page: LES VRAIS CLAVICULES DU ROI SALOMON PAR ARMADEL. He grunts. "The Key of Solomon. I think this is...Christ, Isolde, this is one of the texts the Brethren used to adapt their rituals from. I never got to handle the book, but you remember the diagrams and sigils that we practiced? Most of them came from this book." He thumbs through it. "It's...in French. Old French."

"But if it turns out to be a bad thing, then we set it on fire." Isolde smiled, though it was short lived. "Yes, let's look. Someone killed her and maybe it was over this." She watches closely, intently, as Alexander tears open the package and her eyes widen. She had seen the book from a distance once or twice. Like Alexander, had never touched it, but did recall the sigils and diagrams he was referencing. "Why did she have this?"

Isolde bit her lip lightly and leaned in a little closer to look. "Maybe I can read it? I don't know how close Old French is to Present French...but it can't be that drastic of a change right?" Holding a hand out so he could give her the book."

"We'll consider setting it on fire," Alexander says, with amusement. "Setting things on fire isn't ALWAYS the right response. But yes, I'd be surprised if this didn't have something to do with this book." He hands it over without hesitation, although he does check the back, and point out, "Look. The plate says it's property of the Rare Book Collection at the University of Oregon. Did Catherine steal this book? Why?" He shakes his head. "It doesn't make a lot of sense. You can buy English translations of the Key of Solomon in the bookstore. I have two copies in my office, right now."

While he grumps, Isolde can feel the solid weight of the book in her hands. She has to be careful with the pages - this book is literally hundreds of years old, and although effort has been made to preserve it, it shows. The old French is not easy to read, but Isolde can manage. It begins, "Solomon, the son of David, King of Israel, hath said that the beginning of our Key is to fear God, to adore him, to honour him with contrition of heart, to invoke him in all matters which we wish to undertake, and to operate with very great devotion, for thus God will lead us in the right way. When, therefore, thou shalt wish to acquire the knowledge of magical arts and sciences, it is necessary to have prepared the order of hours and of days, and of the position of the Moon, without the operation of which thou canst effect nothing; but if thou observest them with diligence thou mayest easily and thoroughly arrive at the effect and end which thou desirest to attain..."

Then there are pages of meticulously ordered tables, with the names of days, hours, and the angels that rule them. Some of this stuff is familiar from the Brethren's rituals and practices; they often made great ceremony over which days and times were 'right' for one attempted spell or another. Unsurprisingly, many of the cult's more...orgiastic practices happened on the days of Venus, and so forth. Some of the members cared a lot about it. Some were just there for the free drugs and sex and pseudo-deep talk.

"It is probably we good we didn't set this particular package on fire." Isolde gave a wry grin. Trying to make sense of the Old French hurt her head, but she did manage to get the gist of most of it. Some bits she read out loud, others she showed Alexander the tables and pointed out some words here and there. "Maybe she thought this could help her for whatever is going on?...A lot of stuff can get lost in translations. Maybe she didn't trust an English version?" Isolde started to skim the tables a bit closer. Looking for the one that might be relative to their current time in the year and possible for what Catherine was looking for.

"Maybe go get one of your translations?" She offered up. "Maybe we can see if there's any discrepancies."

Alexander actually blanches. "This book is probably worth a thousand dollars. At least. We're definitely not burning it." He peers over her shoulder at the words as she points them out. "Maybe." He hops up to go into his office and returns soon with two trade paperbacks, one saying The Key of Solomon and the other saying Liber Clauicule Salomonis. He settles down across from her at the table, and puts the books. "This one, the English, is just the Mather translation - it draws elements from several different manuscripts. The second is in Latin, and purports to be drawn directly from the Latinate manuscripts only. Not the French or Italian ones. But both of these - all the modern books - are drawn from some sort of amalgam of antique texts. Yours is one of the French printings, obviously, but God only knows what it cribbed off of. None of them are going to match," he admits, a bit sheepishly.

He touches the book, frowning. "But you're right. There had to be some reason why it was this book. A good enough reason to steal it from the rare book collection. And then to send it to me, of all people. Why not send it back to the University, if you were having a sudden flash of guilt before dying." He frowns at it. "I could read it, but...it's hundreds of years old. I have no guarantee that I'll see anything about Catherine. It's just as likely to be something that happened two hundred years ago."

Isolde makes a thoughtful noise, as if trying to piece together these scraps of information into something solid. Anything solid. "...I could try reading it too." She says after a moment. "Maybe one of us will get lucky and see something that can help?" Though she hasn't actively tried reading items - she is sure she can because she's picked up on things from lost wallets and forgotten jackets and the like now and then when she was waitressing and a couple times at Poorhouse. "Is this the one they used in the cult? Do you know?" She carefully closed the book and set it by the others to look at them all side by side. "Or maybe whomever was after her couldn't read French...." Just throwing spaghetti at the wall now.

"We could try together, yeah. If you want." Alexander looks a little wary, but game for the experiment. His brows are furrowed, and he's staring at the book like he might force it to give up its secrets without psychic powers. "I...think it was? It's been, Jesus, twenty years. And I wasn't a member of the inner circle. The graduate students and professors are the ones who had all the access to the texts. We mostly worked off the photocopies they made for us. Because they were restricted collection, and only faculty and graduate students could access them." He hums to himself. "Most of the Classics students could read French, Italian, Greek, and Latin. That's why I learned Greek and Latin - I was going to pick up Italian if I went on to graduate school, but things fell apart."

He turns his attention back to the box, and the paper, then gently lifts the book and thumbs through it. "No loose notes in the book, no notes stuck in the paper or the box. I don't know if that's because she didn't have time to write something out, or if she thought we'd just know the significance of the damned thing. Either way, it's inconvenient. Did Dennis have anything to say about the matter?"

"It's worth a try." Isolde nodded as far as trying to read it together. She furrows her brow when he asks about Dennis. "No! He was totally useless." She sighed. "He clammed up immediately. Though...I guess that's sorta its own information. Its own answer. The only thing he said was that he didn't want to end up like 'Chuck'. But I don't remember any Chuck." She sighed. "Do you? Maybe like...a Chester or a Charles or something?" She bites her lip lightly. "Maybe she's trying to tell us there's some truth to it?" Her fingers lightly touch the old book with a frown. "There's got to be something..."

"Charles O'Malley," Alexander says, promptly. "I remember him. Another graduate student in the Classics department. We went drinking a few times. Nice guy, good with his hands," he adds, with a playful waggle of his eyebrows. But he's reaching for his phone to do a quick search. "Let's see...I remember that he talked about wanting to follow the academic route, and if I remember correctly, his area of expertise was slavery and indentured servitude in the Roman Empire. Maybe he's published...ah," he smiles, "he has. University of Nevada at Reno, it looks like, so let's check Nevada..."

The smile falls away. "Oh." He shows her the tiny screen, and the news article from two months ago: House Fire Takes Life of University Professor.

Isolde giggled at the eyebrow waggle. "Hmm, sounds kinda familiar but I don't think I ever really talked with him that I can remember. He was a part of the inner circle too though, wasn't he?" She asked, pushing a hand through her hair as she watched Alexander start his phone search. Her brow furrows again. "Two months ago?...I wonder if he was the first one?" She takes out her phone and sends a text to Denny.

I learned what happened to Chuck. You don't have to give specifics, but was he the first? It would be really helpful if you could just give me a yes or no. I know it's a scary thing.

She sets her phone on the arm of the couch, not expecting a text back but, you never know, right? "I texted Denny...maybe he will answer me that way..." She looks from him to the book. "Do you...want to try the reading? Or do you have any other ideas?"

Alexander lifts an eyebrow as Isolde texts. There's no response for several minutes. "Maybe he's not--" the text alert chimes. It's just a link.

But the link goes to another article, this time from the paper in Eugene, OR. Ethics Investigation Cut Short By Professor's Death.

The article is dated two years ago, and mentions that the car of Professor Oliver Petrovski, missing on sabbatical from the University of Oregon at Eugene, had been recovered from a local lake. The professor had been missing for six weeks at that point. He'd been put on sabbatical after accusations of misconduct, including sexual harassment of students, and rumors of blackmail, had circulated among the faculty. The mangled car appeared to have been driven off of an overlooking cliff, into the deep water. Local law enforcement dredged the pond and recovered the professor's body. Official cause of death was suicide.

After they've both had a chance to read it, Alexander says, a bit grimly, "I suppose we should read the damned book after all." Both of them knew Petrovski; Alexander had classes with him, and he was an active member of the leadership of the Brethren, along with a couple of other faculty members.

Isolde looked surprised when the phone chimed. She checked the link, skimming the article and sending it to Alexander so he could read it over too. Denny gets a text of Thank you, stay safe. The article gets another read over and sigh. She'd had a few interactions with Petrovski. At least one of them probably of a more sexual nature. "What if..." She trailed off for a moment, trying to see if she could dig up any info on the harassment or blackmail claims with just some surface looking. "What if this is some kind of full on revenge thing?" She frowned and then set the phone aside.

"Yes. Let's read the book." Isolde nodded. "Between the both of us, we're bound to come out of it with something useful." Hopefully. Otherwise Isolde wasn't quite sure where they could go next.

There's nothing on a casual internet search about the accusations; as always in these matters, the university was clearly being as tight-lipped as possible, and since the professor died, the investigation never got far enough to publish anything on, and was hastily dropped afterwards, along with what looks like a bout of mandatory sexual harassment training for faculty and staff.

"Revenge is one of the most likely motives for murder," Alexander agrees, in a murmur. "But that doesn't really explain why Catherine would send me this book, and not a note like 'help, someone's after me' which would have been infinitely more helpful." His voice is a touch dry. But he reaches out to lay his palm on the cool leather. "All right. Let's read."

Isolde feels the weight of the history of this book the moment she opens her mind to it. It floods through her, flashes of memory, of emotional impression, and it's a struggle to sort through the fascinating glimpses of history to focus on something that might be relevant. But she's recently met Catherine, so when she sees the woman as a flicker of mind, she's able to grab onto it. In her mind's eye, Catherine is torn between fear and hope as she drops the book into the box. She doesn't know what else to do with it. No one ever told her the secret to it, never expected her to have the text. Only that the book was the secret to the Brethren's influence and power. Why the adherents, the worthy ones, always got tenure, always came out just a little bit better in faculty searches, or got the right publishing deals. She didn't know, even though she'd felt the benefits herself; it must be the angels, she'd thought. But Alexander was always clever. Weird. But clever. Maybe he could figure it out.

Maybe her stalker would go after him and Isolde, instead of her. It's an unworthy hope, one that makes her ashamed to think of it. But it's still there, sour and hopeful in the back of her throat. She wraps the book up, and puts it into the care of the post office. The impression fades.

Alexander, meantime, is...blushing. He's turned red from hairline to toes with whatever he's seen in the book's history and clears his throat. "I don't think...that particular memory was, uh, relevant to our investigation. Did you find anything?"

Isolde's eyes close as she opens her mind to the history of the book. Snippets and flashes of so many different things but none of them what she's looking for. Then Catherine is there. With the book. Scared, but hopefully. The book held power, you just had to unlock it. Her eyes flutter open as the memories fade and she removes her hand from the book. Her head tilts, brow raised towards Alexander. Clearly she wants to know what he's scene. But, he's right -there are more important things to be discussing. "You'll have to give me details later." She mused and then sat back on the couch. "I did." Peering down at the book.

"There's some sort of secret to the book. Some sort of way to unlock a power it holds. The power that gave the Inner Circle all that good stuff." Isolde made a thoughtful noise. "Or maybe it's some sort of Veil thing...or Veil equivalent...either way. She didn't know how to use it, but thought you were clever and maybe could figure it out. She was being stalked. She hoped they would come after us instead but...well, even if they do come after us, they still got her first." Isolde leaned forward, elbows resting on her thighs, chin in her hands. "So maybe the stalker is after the book. Maybe it's been passing hands or its power is run out? I don't know what she had it though, even she knew that no one expected it to ever be in her hands. So she didn't know how to use it."

Alexander hums. "We tried all of that," he says, quietly. "We tried spell after spell, ritual after ritual. You and I tried them. None of them worked. And while I know people believed - I could feel their belief, I never felt anything in anything we did that had anything I recognized as magic power." He scowls at the book. "But I was weaker then. Maybe...maybe I wasn't there at the right time, or they held some rituals back."

He runs his hands through his hair. "But I don't speak French, and I can't skim written language in the same way. So...Isolde, will you take this with you? Read it. See if anything stands out as odd? At least give it a good skim over a couple of nights, and then we'll see. In the meantime, I'll try to track down every member of the inner circle I remember. See how many have found unfortunate demises."

"Holding back makes sense. If you spread the wealth to everyone, it's suspicious...but also...you don't hold any power over them if they can solve their own problems." Isolde sighed, gingerly picking the book back up and nodded. "I will. I'll read it through and see what I might be able to glean from it. We're older now. See things different. So if there's something weird here, hopefully I'll catch it." Isolde agrees and gives a bit of a smile. "And I think I'd rather read through this than chance coming across any more clips of that weird show."

"You're not wrong," Alexander mutters. But there's an edge of indignation to it, almost of betrayal in the thought that the Brethren might have been holding out on a mystery. He grimaces, then straightens up, getting that gleam in his eyes. "Well. We've got whatever this is, now, and we'll figure it out. If they could do it, then certainly we can do it. Most of them didn't stand out at all." He nods to the book. "Just be careful, okay? If it does anything weird, or reading it seems to have any effects, let me know. Anytime. Day or night."

The mention of the show gets a startled look, then a chuckle. "...yeah. I'd almost forgotten about that. It seems like a couple of other people have seen it, too. Maybe it's some sort of local production. It looked local. I haven't done any in depth investigation of it, though."

"I will be very careful." Isolde smiles. "And you will be the first person I call if anything bad or strange happens. Or if I figure something out." She is a bit excited about delving in to something like this. That she's able to help with it. It's much more interesting that the school work she's supposed to be doing over break at least. "Yeah, it did. I mean, the bit I saw...looked like Gray Pond or that area? Something similar. I'm not sure.But I haven't see anything else about it either. Coulda been some weird project I guess." She shrugs and smiles again "But this is far more interesting." Motioning a bit to the book.

Alexander laughs, softly. "Don't say that, or you might make it jealous. And then we end up in a television dream, or something." He grins, and gathers up the modern copies of the Key. "It's an intriguing mystery to be sure. I just wish people hadn't died for it. I wonder why Catherine didn't just tell us if something was going on. We were...right there. We could have protected her. Gone with her to get the book."

He sighs. "But what's done is done. I'm going to get started on my research, I think. I'll let you know if anything comes up before you find something?"

"People dying is a bad side effect. I am still certain the stalker was there. There were so many people but...I feel it in my bones." Isolde nodded, getting to her feet. "And a TV Dream wouldn't be the worst that we've been in, right?" Flashing a grin. "Yes, let me know if you find anything. I'm going to head back home and start on this. And you let me know if anything weird or strange comes up or happens too."

Though Isolde would spend a couple minutes giving Luigi some attention before she actually headed out!