The Psychonaut - Book 1 Read online

  Jason led them out of his study and down another long passageway. This one led to a wide staircase taking them down to what Merrick surmised were the foundations of the mansion

  “You still haven’t told me how I fit into this research project of yours,” he said

  “It’s quite simple,” Karapetian replied from behind. “We need people of your calibre to further explore these gateways. We’ve discovered twenty one to date. Each represents an opportunity to advance our lore, and benefit mankind.”

  The verbal baton passed to Jason. “Entry to these worlds will yield more gateways beyond, maybe to realms more advanced than our own.” He had stopped sulking since they left his room. “Imagine being able to tap into vast libraries of knowledge. Knowledge that leaves our understanding light years behind. Consider the conversations we could have with our counterparts and the possibility of bringing back cures for cancer or genetic disease.”

  “What about the technology to travel to the stars?” Karapetian resumed. “The possibilities are quite staggering. Your practice of psychonautics needs to be honed of course, so that you recognise its true potential. We need to understand those we meet on the other side of these gateways from the outset. One hopes that they are benign. But we already have many examples of this not being the case.

  They reached the bottom of the stairs, Jason pausing before a closed door. “It won’t have escaped your attention that if we can travel through these doorways, then whatever is on the other side can come back. That’s why we must be sure we know what we’re dealing with. We have to be extremely cautious.”

  Merrick narrowed his eyes. “There might be some who say that your gateways were meant to stay closed— assuming they exist.”

  Jason left the statement unanswered and opened the door. They stepped through into a lab where five chemists worked at a bench.

  A young woman decanted a viscous, ochre liquid into a conical flask. Her hair, tied back in straggled wisps had been exposed to organic solvents more than conditioner. Her four male counterparts were also absorbed in their work, the weight of their research etched on their faces making it impossible to guess their age. They didn’t speak. Indeed, they barely acknowledged the presence of the visitors. If they were in awe of Karapetian and Jason, it didn’t show.

  The scientists’ workplace sat upon a raised platform overlooking a larger area containing large copper stills, reflux apparatus and a tangled mass of pipes and tubes.

  “These are our chem labs,” Karapetian began. “We have further laboratories covering many diverse fields; electronics, theoretical physics and archaeology, to name but a few. We even have our own self-sustaining botanical gardens. Of course, we encourage the marriage of esoteric knowledge, art and science. The cross-fertilisation of disciplines makes for some quite unique experiments.”

  “What are you making down there?” Merrick asked.

  “We’ll go and take a look.”

  They descended a flight of iron stairs and approached a small delivery vessel, budding off, runner-like, from a still.

  “We’ve manufactured our own distillate from a Turkish natural product,” Karapetian said. He took a glass, placed it under the tap and opened it. Out came the ochre liquid.

  “Mad honey,” Karapetian said, holding up the glass.

  “Produced by lunatic bees?” Merrick’s wisecrack fell on deaf ears.

  “The Turkish named it thus,” Karapetian continued. “It’s harvested by Hemshin heretics in the most remote areas of the Rize ili Province. For millennia, it’s been used as a sweetener, a drug, and even a weapon of war. We’ve purified it from the nectar of a particular rhododendron species, and extracted the active ingredients. The most important is a neural poison called grayanotoxin . When mixed in the correct proportion with congeners and inhibiters, it produces a hallucinogen one hundred times more potent than lysergic acid, but with no long-lasting detrimental effects. The combination of its mind-expanding properties and the natural talent you possess will amplify your power exponentially.”

  Merrick couldn’t help but smirk. “Now I know where you get all your loopy ideas from.”

  Karapetian was deadpan.

  “Would you care to try some?” he asked.

  “Now why would I want to do that?”

  Karapetian looked at him again with steely eyes. “You experience the euphoria of using your power on a daily basis. But you’re dabbling in ditch-water. Maybe you need to prove to yourself that an ocean of consciousness awaits.”

  “Forgive me for being a tad suspicious, but how do I know this isn’t going to leave me with irreparable brain damage?”

  “Perhaps, if we all partake?” Jason said, and produced a Pasteur pipette.

  “If you want to walk away now,” Karapetian said, “then the door’s open. But you’ll never know what you rejected. You could return to your world of stockbrokers and analysts, stockpiling your assets. But we both know you’re already growing bored of that game.”

  Jason dipped the pipette into the nectar extract.

  “Your choice,” he said and squeezed a drop onto his tongue. Karapetian followed suit, a satisfied smile spreading across his face.

  Karapetian’s enticements struck a long-buried maverick chord in Merrick. It was as if Karapetian knew all the right buttons to press. Merrick longed for something more than his current existence offered. Here was an opportunity he was sure would never present itself again. If it turned out to be a false dawn then he had lost nothing. Karapetian’s claims seemed fantastical, but a dull bell of ancient truth was sounding in the recesses of his psyche. An animistic certainty coursed through his genes. After a prolonged pause, he took the pipette from Karapetian and squeezed it over his open mouth.

  In slow motion, the drop seemed to fall, its resinous hue clear and pure in the light. He didn’t recall it landing on his tongue, but in the next instant the sepia world around him slid down the wall of his vision in molten waves, and immersed him in a vortex of psychedelic colour.

  ~~~

  Chapter 9

  Falling off the edge of the world

  You feel it already don’t you?” Karapetian’s voice sounded distorted, like backward-masked vocals on seventies vinyl. Merrick didn’t just feel it, he saw, smelled and tasted it too. He looked at Jason and saw luminous green bubbles rise from his head. The small man’s arms projected angular shadows that flickered as they moved. This was ten times better than any skunk he’d ever smoked.

  He could read Jason’s motivation as if it was hieroglyphed in the air. Jealousy and ambition, tinged with a ravenous love of a partner long-dead. But more than this, the grayanotoxin stimulated his pineal gland to a greater level. He knew, with concrete certainty, that Jason would place the desire for greater power before anything else. The sensation shocked him with electric revulsion, and he recoiled.

  Karapetian’s features elongated like plasticised rubber, and Merrick stifled an irrepressible giggle as the polymer strands of Karapetian’s suit repeatedly folded in on themselves and assumed a million shades of purple. Despite the amplification of his senses, the man’s mind remained closed. Like a rubber bullet, Merrick’s will ricocheted off him.

  “You’ve only imbibed the smallest of amounts,” said Karapetian’s morphed voice. “Even so, the effects will crescendo over the next hour and only subside long after that. We should make use of its vitality while we have time. Come—follow me.”

  It was as if Merrick floated along the floor, but logic convinced him it was a further effect of the drug. Past diabolical, twisting pipes and chambers, they traversed the chromatic blur that the lab had become. Time compressed and dilated until they emerged in a cold, marrow-chilling cavern.

  “Where are we?” he said. The words come out like a flanged version of an iron door closing on rusty hinges.

  “Paraganet house was built on one of the gateways I mentioned. It hasn’t been opened since the Great Work of the last century. The cons
equences were unexpected. So, we have been cautious in the extreme before making another attempt at contact with the other side.”

  Merrick viewed the wall in front of him. A writhing vortex sucked swirling, globular colours into itself and, at its centre, Merrick saw an intense, creamy light. He looked down to the uneven, dusty floor and saw a large ringed pentagram etched into the surface.

  “Protection?” he asked.

  “Protection and containment,” said Jason.

  “A test for you, Merrick,” put in Karapetian. We don’t have the capability to open the gateway yet. In fact, we dare not. But we’re interested to see if your mind can perceive what’s beyond.”

  Merrick’s skepticism dissolved. This was either extreme foolhardiness or final acquiescence to the inevitable.

  Jason looked at Karapetian with graphite eyes. “Are you sure you want to do this, Lazlo?”

  Merrick interrupted before Karapetian could reply to his lieutenant. “What are the risks?”

  “Minimal,” said Karapetian. “Whatever lies beyond is unlikely to interact with your mind—if indeed there is anything waiting there.”

  “You, however, can observe,” said Jason.

  Merrick saw a blue halo of truth around Jason and nodded. He didn’t need to ask how he would encourage this penetration of the unseen realm. He looked at the whirlpool of colour and projected his mind into it.

  It was easy.

  At the centre, he experienced an initial resistance to his incorporeal self, as if a thin membrane of PVC moulded itself to his features, then burst into a spray of a billion pixels.

  He appeared on the side of a skyscraper. The wind blew through his hair as he looked down, gravity-defying on ant-like denizens a mile below. Blind panic gripped him until he realised he wasn’t falling. Looking up, he saw what seemed to be the sky, but appeared as waves of oily liquid, breaking on each other from random directions.

  He put one foot in front of the other and found his motion propelled him downward at incredible speed, as if he were gliding.

  In moments he was stood on the pavement, bewildered. Around him moved humanoids.

  Looking at them, he could see their facial features were subtly different from those of his world. The noses were longer, and downy lanugo-like hair covered their skin.

  They weren’t the only type traversing the smooth, marble-like pavements. Other figures, interspersed like white corpuscles amidst red, walked on two legs or four. Strangeness set his perceptions tingling, yet the diverse population of this parallel world obviously accepted each other’s presence with indifference.

  He reached out his hand to touch one of them, but its body was intangible. His fingers passed through the humanoid’s arm and it flinched with irritation before walking on.

  Turning round, he traversed the street towards a gigantic, metal archway. The gliding sensation continued as he accelerated towards the feature. As he walked, the flow of inhabitants parted like a stream to a prow, wherever he chose to move.

  He delighted in the freedom of this heady progress until a sound, like the distant pounding of native tom-toms brought him up short. The inhabitants around shrieked in trepidation and dismay as the rhythm vibrated through the ground like a runaway train.

  Crowds parted revealing three immense ape-like creatures, each twelve feet tall. One denizen took an instant too long to find shelter and a creature grabbed it. The thing bit off the denizen’s head like the top off a beer bottle causing arterial blood to spray in an arc. Tossing the corpse aside, the beast looked around as if searching for something, until another turned its head in Merrick’s direction. It lifted its muscled, red-haired arm and pointed at him.

  There was no doubt he was the focus of their attention because the remaining duo took one look at him and opened their mouths with an ear-splitting screech. The crowds ran in panic, some crouching behind walls in an attempt to hide from view.

  This is not good.

  Merrick looked up, then took to the wall of the nearest building, his feet fixing themselves like velcro to the vertical surface. His fear subsided a couple of degrees as he slid at great speed up the building. But as he looked behind, he saw them climb after him, sinking their fingers into the edifice as if it were cake icing. Their progress was frighteningly swift.

  He tried leaping in a diagonal fashion to increase his pace and found, with a frisson of relief, that he was pulling away from them. His wall-scampering eventually brought him to the building on which he had entered the nether-world. How far up was the gateway? He scanned ahead for a point of reference but saw nothing. Behind him, one beast ascended quicker than the rest, its open maw dripping sludge-like spittle.

  Its intentions aren’t friendly, he thought, and began moving upward again. A mirage-like ripple appeared against the rolling oily backdrop of the sky. It was then that he felt the breath of the beast behind and his heart start to thump in his ears.

  How had it closed the gap so fast?

  He glanced behind into the face of horror. The beast glared at him with inhuman eyes and insatiable hunger. Concentrating his will on the gateway, he was surprised to see a mirror image of himself appear from the centre of the ripples. He didn’t dare look behind again and dived forward, merging with his doppelgänger as he did so. Up ahead he could see Karapetian and Jason crouched down, their arms held up as if warding off something—and then he was through.

  He stumbled to the floor and rolled on to his side. Looking up, he saw a wall of red fur pass across his vision and thunder up the steps beyond.

  A pair of hands grabbed hold of his lapels and pulled him up roughly. It was Jason. “What in hell’s name have you done?”

  ~~~

  They were back in Karapetian’s study, Merrick nursing a glass of water. He could have done with something stronger, but the hallucinogenic effects of the mad honey had not yet dissipated and he needed to think with a clear mind. Through the window he could see figures moving in the fading light. Some were on the lawn, talking animatedly in groups. Others studied a line of entrenched footprints that led towards a screen of Leylandi bushes. The dark green foliage was torn apart in the middle and a troop of personnel wearing fatigues ran through it in a chain of military efficiency.

  Karapetian slammed the phone down.

  “That bad?” asked Jason.

  “Worse.” Karapetian replied. “The far-seers say the entity assumed another form before outdistancing them. It will go to ground now and wait.

  Merrick lifted his glass to sip the water. His hands trembled with after-shock. “What will it wait for?”

  “Kindred spirits,” said Jason. “Its kind gravitate towards each other.”

  “You mean there are other ... things like that out there?”

  “That we don’t know.” Jason wore his frustration like sack-cloth on sensitive skin. “Some are thought to be dormant after the mage, Thaquibbe summoned them many centuries ago. There’s not much corroboration though.”

  “What if the creature was to wake them up?”

  “That would depend on if they found a unifying purpose, or one who could draw them with his will.”

  Jason turned to Karapetian. “Could our adversary know what just happened?”

  “I hope not. The Simiata are unpredictable servants—which is why we have shunned them. Yet one with his talents could bipass their resistance and recruit them for his purpose.”

  “Who the fuck is this adversary?” asked Merrick.

  “The less you know at this stage, the better,” said Jason. “What were you thinking anyway. Summoning your corporeal body like that breached the gateway and allowed it through.”

  “We can’t blame Merrick,” said Karapetian, walking over to the window. “In my zeal to impress, I underestimated the risks, and the ability of these malevolent sentients to detect him.”

  “He’s a liability. His lack of knowledge makes him a danger to himself and our order.”

 
“And yet, he demonstrated the sheer will to open the gateway to his corporeal self. A magus would take years of practice to accomplish that.”

  “Hello, I’m still in the room,” said Merrick. “Ears burning and all that.”

  Karapetian ignored him. “Patience, Jason. This is a setback, not a disaster. If Merrick decides to join us he’ll need inducting, that’s true. But he’ll learn.”

  “Not sure I like the sound of this induction,” said Merrick. He stood up and put his glass on the desk. “There’s still one thing I don’t get. The Simiatan, why did the pentagram not contain it?”

  “Its power was stronger than we anticipated,” said Jason. “That’s an issue in itself but we have renewed the pentagram with a third level glyph.”

  “Look,” said Merrick, “it’s obvious to me there’s something genuinely at stake here. I never thought I’d find myself siding with a paranormal viewpoint, but maybe Jason’s right. I’m in over my head. I think it’s best if I just leave.”

  Karapetian folded his arms. “Of course. What you’ve experienced today is far beyond most men’s comprehension. You need time to think, to adjust. But don’t make any hasty decisions.”

  Merrick tried to read Karapetian but once more he was impenetrable.

  “I assume whatever I decide, my safety is guaranteed?”

  “Provided you do not divulge anything you have seen today, Yes.”

  “What happens if I do?”

  “Let’s face it Merrick, who would believe you?

  Merrick knew he spoke the truth. He turned to leave, but Karapetian reminded him he was under the influence of mind-expanding chemicals. “Let me get one of my people to drive you home.”

  Merrick considered this for a second. It would be just his luck to get pulled over by the boys in blue—and his car did attract a lot of attention.

  “Okay,” he said, “the chauffeur can find his own way back?”

  “Like I said. We have our resources.” Reaching over to his desk, he pulled out a business card from a silver case. “My personal mobile number,” he said. “Get in touch once you’ve had a think.”