Read Online Shadow Ritual by Eric Giacometti, Jacques Ravenne - Free Book Online Page B

the house of Christ and his mother. It was once called the Chapel of Our Mother of the Passion.”
    The group walked over to the chapel. The man with the buzz cut unlocked the door and opened it. The smell of wet stone and something indefinable struck them. The gray-haired man flipped a small switch, and three lights went on.
    The inside of the church was simple, with whitewashed walls and restored stained-glass windows. A large wooden crucifix with Jesus wearing a crown of thorns reigned over the altar. It would have been a classic religious setting, were it not for the metal structure planted in front of the altar, a sarcophagus over six feet tall and shaped like a woman. Her body had generous breasts and hips, and flowing hair graced her serene face. The group immediately recognized what it was.
    “The Iron Maiden!” they exclaimed, almost in unison.
    Their guide led them to the strange object.
    “Yes, my friends. One of our companions found this in the cellar of a castle near Munich. It was built in the fifteenth century and has been fully restored.”
    A man with a British accent interrupted. “I saw something like that in a horror movie. I thought the filmmaker made it up.”
    “Not at all. The maiden dates from medieval times in Germany, when Sainte Vehme’s courts were responsible for executing bad Christians and criminals. The jurisdiction behaved like a secret society with strange rites, a remnant of which stands before you.”
    He pressed a hidden button on the side of the sarcophagus. With a click, the front, with the woman’s face and body, opened slowly, revealing rows of iron spikes.
    “Amazing, isn’t it? The judges would place the sentenced soul in the sarcophagus and shut it, and the spikes would pierce the victim in precise places, including his vital organs. As you can see, two of the spikes are positioned to penetrate the eyes. The name ‘Iron Maiden’ pays homage to the Virgin Mother. These were very religious people.”
    “Ingenious.”
    “Does someone want to try it, just to see?”
    They tittered. As hardened as they were to other people’s pain, they were sensitive when it came to their own.
    The leader turned to the red-faced man. “You, perhaps?”
    “No, thank you. I think I’ll pass. Let’s get out of this dreary place.”
    “I don’t think we will. At least you won’t.”
    There was the sound of footsteps in the entryway. Two strongmen appeared. In a matter of seconds, they swooped down on the small man, immobilizing his arms. He seemed tiny next to the square-jawed giants.
    “Are you out of your mind? Let me go!”
    “Shut up.”
    The leader’s voice rang out. “Sol checked the accounts for our activities in northern Europe. You cooked Orden’s books, and you’ve been stealing from us.”
    “That’s not true.”
    “Quiet. You embezzled more than a million euros. What for? To build a villa in Andalusia! That was a big mistake!”
    The accused tried to fight back but was helpless.
    “Put him in the maiden.”
    “No!” the man shouted, still trying to free himself from the clutches of the giants. One of the strongmen struck him in the head with a club and shoved him into the metallic structure, partially closing the front. The spikes were just inches from him.
    “Please, have pity on me. I’ll give it all back. I have a family. Children.”
    “Now, now. You know full well that to enter our order you abjure pity and compassion. At least try to die like a man of the Thule. Fear is foreign to us.”
    The man’s sobs bounced off the wooden crucifix—Christ suffering for humanity—and filled the chapel.
    The man with the buzz cut and steel-colored eyes pressed another button camouflaged in the maiden’s eye. The whirr of a small motor resonated.
    “I added a motorized system with a timer to control the speed. If I set it at ten, your agony will last ten minutes. It can go as long as two hours.”
    “I’ll give the money back.”
    “You’ll have to forgive me,