Read Online Blackbone by George Simpson, Neal Burger - Free Book Online

I stayed at the museum for a while and researched what we had found.... Eventually, I caught a boat home and took the job at the Metropolitan, The last few years I’ve been on staff, and occasionally I’ve done more research. I had been planning to go back after the war, to get the artifacts out of storage and work on them but never could get up the courage. Then recently I was informed that the British Museum was dispersing its collection to get it out of danger. I didn’t want that material inspected, so I arranged to have it sent here. But the ship it was on, the Delaware Trader, was torpedoed and sunk a few days ago in the Atlantic by a German U-boat. I thought that was the end of it—the stuff went to the bottom of the sea and there was nothing more to worry about. Then it turned out that the U-boat was almost immediately bombed and sunk by one of our planes. A survivor saved himself by climbing onto the crate containing my artifacts, which he evidently dumped out to make room for himself. I hope.”
    She was silent a long time, then she got up and paced to the map. Her hand floated over the area labeled Babylon. “There is a book of collected tales about ancient Babylon called The Light of Days—”
    “I know it.”
    “In it, Korbazrah is described as a tall, thin, ascetic silversmith who specialized in occult designs on shields, goblets, and urns. Sorcery was a profitable sideline. He hired himself out as a demon remover. He would go to the-homes of people suffering from unknown maladies, and he would invariably diagnose demonic possession. He would then perform an elaborate ritual—burning incense, placing silver objects decorated with occult designs all around the room, speaking in strange tongues—it was a hell of a show. Then he would force the victim to ingest a substance to make him vomit up the demon. The bile was collected in a silver container which the family paid for in advance. Afterward, Korbazrah would seal the container and supposedly place it in a secret vault, where it would be kept for all eternity. He sold a lot of demon containers. More likely, he sold the same one many times over. The victims would recover from whatever ailment they had—probably nothing more serious than a case of flu. But the whole performance was probably a great comfort to the Mesopotamians. In The Light of Days this is all passed down as part of the folklore. Korbazrah’s giant catacomb with its endless shelves of silver urns—most likely never existed.”
    “I recall that story,” said Yazir. “I’ve read other accounts.”
    “Imagine a quack like that suddenly finding himself face-to-face with a real demon.”
    “The one in the flask?” Yazir’s pipe had gone out. He ignored it.
    Loring smiled back at him. “That flask was not one of Korbazrah’s customary demon containers. It was specially designed for a special demon. A djinn.”
    Yazir removed the pipe and fixed Loring with a reproachful stare. “Miss Holloway, a djinn is nothing more than a Middle Eastern gremlin. The goat won’t eat, the crops won’t grow, the sun is obscured—there must be a djinn around somewhere. Please—we’re going now from water spells and exorcism to the sublimely ridiculous!”
    Loring waited for him to finish, then said, “The demon in that flask is mentioned in The Light of Days and in two other books. The flask is described as being made of crafted silver, with a pentagonal base tapering up to a long rounded neck, a five-sided opening, and corresponding stopper.”
    Yazir frowned. Loring went to her chair, sat down, and opened her handbag. She gave him a sheet of paper listing book titles and page references. Yazir recognized several titles.
    “These titles are all cross-referenced,” said Loring, “and I’ve summarized them here.” She produced a thick typescript, yellowed and dog-eared. Yazir flipped through it.
    Loring continued, “This is no ordinary gremlin—no genie in a bottle—no wish-granting