It’s the dead of night at the waterfront, and Arcane and Graham are there for a rendezvous. Graham’s lagging behind Arcane --who’s striding
ahead -- and he’s looking edgy. “What are you so nervous about, Graham?” Arcane snarls derisively at the man as they wander through a maze of
crates and buildings; “How am I supposed to feel, Doctor?” Graham defends himself as the pair go round a corner; “This place gives me the
creeps. You never know who’s lurking out here...”
“That’s far enough. What’s your business?” as if to answer Graham’s fears, a hostile voice calls from above, where a strange little one-eyed man is
watching them from the top of some stairs, pointing a revolver at them. Arcane seems unfazed by this; “My name’s Anton Arcane. This is my
assistant, Graham. We’re here to pick up a package,” he gesticulates towards the assistant behind him as he calmly makes the necessary
introduction. The little man regards them for a moment. “By them crates!” he snarls, as he lowers the gun briefly and scurries down towards them;
“and keep your mitts where I can see ‘em!” he adds harshly, again pointing the revolver at the pair, who immediately raise their hands in a gesture
of submission. “D’you bring the dough?” the little man asks suspiciously, still holding them at gunpoint and approaching them.
“As agreed, Mr..?” Arcane says pleasantly, extending his hand in a further gesture of trust. “Just give me the dough!!” the little man’s snarls back
abruptly, having none of that. He holds his own hand out, but in an anticipatory manner that implies that Arcane hand him something. “Slow and
careful,” he instructs Arcane, who calmly complies with a smile. “Very well...” the Doctor says softly, reaching into his coat pocket, “... I was only
trying to inject a personal dynamic into the transaction.” He takes out a wad of money, which he hands to the little man, who grabs it hurriedly
before rifling through it anxiously. “It’s all there, I can assure you,” Arcane insists gently. Behind him, Graham, who’s been fidgeting nervously, nods
in agreement. Taking Arcane’s word for it, and looking desperate to be away from here, the man puts the money into his pocket, still holding the
gun on Arcane and Graham and looking at them in a very edgy manner.
“The *book*... please!” Arcane’s patience seems to be waning slightly, as he holds his hand out to the little man in anticipation of something.
Without taking his eyes or gun off Arcane for a second, the man gropes behind him, knocking a crate out of the way and reaching into a lower one.
From it he retrieves a paper wrapped parcel, which he hands to Arcane, who unties it and, turning his back slightly on Graham and the little man,
looks at the contents excitedly, like a child in a candy store. “Mine at last!” he gasps, holding a large, brown, leather-bound book, “the incredible
secrets of Voodoo!”
"er, Sir?... Doctor?? couldn't we just
go to Waldenbooks like everyone else!?"
He looks up at the man, who’s still regarding him suspiciously. “I am a little curious... to know why you would sell something so valuable, for such a... reasonable price,” his tone now lighter and cheerful, he asks with a friendly smile, clearly avoiding the word ‘cheap’, “... when you could quite conceivably keep it for yourself?” “Because it’s cursed, that book... by the Devil himself!!” the little man says in a frightened voice, pointing angrily to the book with his gun hand; “... Good riddance to it!!” he shouts, hurrying away from the scene now that the transaction is over.
"Wait just a bloody minute!! "The Paul Daniels' Big Boys
Book of Magic Spells"!!? Graham... we've been duped!!"
Arcane and Graham watch him go. “Doctor! Can we leave now, *please*!!? Graham says forcefully, clearly unnerved by the whole thing; but Arcane holds up a hand imperiously to stop the assistant talking, as he continues to prolong the moment of victory and his acquisition of the book.
"Well, Sir, at least it does have some nice pictures of Siegfried and Roy in it!"
"Damn it! I'm expected to destroy Holland and Woodrue with a
bunch of bloody white tigers and scantily clad women!??"
"You're right, Doctor... they'll never let us do that on the budget!"
“Savour the sight, Graham,” Arcane gloats, opening the book up to look inside, “this is the vehicle for my ultimate triumph. Black magic... just like I
saw the Voodoo Priest, Duchamp, perform with my very own eyes. A unique volume!” he exclaims with wide-eyed glee. “... written by a devotee
servant of Baron Samedi himself,” he continues turning the pages to peruse the treasures within, before turning sharply to Graham, “... and I paid
dearly for it,” he pauses, as he looks back at the book again, clearly not concerned about the money, “... but how can one put a price on the ability
to cast spells on one’s adversaries?” He shuts the book up sharply and turns to Graham, satisfied; “ It’s good... very good!” he gives a very
satisfied whisper as he turns to leave... one very happy man!
The scene later cuts to Arcane's old cave, which has been decorated to resemble a place of ritual. The place is rich with lit candles. “Baron Samedi,
Lord of all the Underworld!...” Arcane begins to intone, making preparations for a ritual. All around him, the place is festooned with fetishes, altar
candles and ritual Voodoo tools. Arcane himself is clad in a simple open shirt, and has gone fairly ethnic in adornments, wearing various fetishes
(headband, earrings, talismans etc.) in readiness for the ritual he is beginning. In front of him, on an altar, is the grimoire, which he looks through to
check the procedure. At the far end of the cave -- standing beside a blackboard covered by Voodoo chalk symbols and sigils -- is Graham,
looking decidedly uneasy. “...Master of all Loa...” Arcane continues the rite; “... discover your new servant.” he looks upwards in glee and
anticipation, as he daubs his face with paint (blood?). Looking less than enthusiastic about the whole thing, Graham immediately glances upwards
warily. “Your powers are greater than all. Heed what they may achieve!” Arcane continues, as he draws his fingers down his chest, painting lines in
red and black with the paint (or whatever it is); “... if surrendered unto me!” he smiles as he draws down the power.
"Oh no!" Graham muttered, "he's been on those
mushrooms again! Please God, don't let him use
the chocolate body paint and the Cole Porter records!"
Outside, lightning flashes. Inside, Graham’s looking scared as Arcane, arms upwards in summoning and turning round slowly away from the altar,
continues the rite; “... Baron Samedi, I celebrate you! I plead with you! Allow me to serve you, body and soul!” he entreats, as he turns full circle
back to face the altar; “Fill me with your darkest magic!!!” he cries out.
Immediately, the cave begins to glow red, and there is a power there. Arcane gives a joyful smile; Graham looks cautiously miserable. “YES!”
Arcane cries out, as he feels the power.
Elsewhere, at that moment, a dance begins to a rhythmic drumbeat, as ritual dancers with skull-painted faces begin a rite of their own...
“MARVELLOUS!!” Arcane calls out in an almost orgasmic tone. “Ah, I..I remembered something I.. I have to do..I...” Graham mumbles as he
thinks of any excuse to get the hell out of there, and starts to sidle towards the door. “BARON SAMEDI!!...” it’s doubtful whether Arcane even
hears him, as he fails to acknowledge the assistant and continues to bask in the magical energies of a new influx of power that are causing the very
hut to shake as plaster falls from the ceiling; “COME TO ME LOAAAAA!!!!” Arcane screams. Graham cringes in terror and Arcane seems
frozen in anticipation. Elsewhere, the skull-faced man continues his ritual dance. In the cave there’s a small explosion from which Arcane recoils,
and as he does so, back at the dance, a Voodoo poppet* in a crude likeness of Arcane, and wearing one of his brooches (looks like the one from
‘Spirit of the Swamp’) is passed over a fire.
Back in the cave, Arcane suddenly clutches his stomach and doubles up, crying out in pain. Graham looks at him helplessly as Arcane continues to
scream and clutch his face in his hands, falling forward onto the altar. "Arcane!" Graham rushes to his aid, taking the shivering doctor gently by the
shoulders. As he does so, Arcane removes his head from his hands and turns slowly towards Graham, his face contorted and unnatural; the eyes a
luminous white, and staring almost zombie-like at Graham. "HELP ME, GRAHAAAAMMMM!!!" He cries out, grasping the assistant roughly by
his shirt. His voice is different... deeper and guttural, and more like a growl than a cry. "GOD!!" Graham cries out in fear, recoiling, and pushing
Arcane away. His face again hidden in his hands, Arcane utters something halfway between a groan and a scream before falling to his knees and
again removing his inhuman face from his hands. "ARCANE!" Graham calls out again in concern as he recovers and rushes over to help again,
taking the stricken doctor by the arms; but Arcane can do nothing but continue his scream, before falling forward and collapsing onto the floor.
"Are you all right, Sir?? I..I'm sorry I made
you watch 'Spiceworld: The Movie' with me!"
“ARCANE!” Graham calls out in concern as he recovers and rushes over to help again, taking the stricken doctor by the arms; but Arcane can do
nothing but continue his scream, before falling forward and collapsing onto the floor.
Arcane later awakens slowly to see himself in a grave. Standing over him, a dark and mysterious woman, almost silhouetted against a huge moon, is
shovelling earth down into his grave. "UH… HE CAN'T BURY ME... I'M ALIVE…!!!" He screams in terror. "I'M ALIVE...
*NOOOOOOOO*!!!!!" He continues to wail as more nightmare images flash through his mind. In reality, he's lying on a makeshift table/bed,
shuddering and trying to push something away, but he sees himself with a huge snake coiled around him; and then he's burning up in fire.
"It followed me home... can I keep it??"
On the table, in reality, he's wracked by a massive fever as his anguished cries continue. Elsewhere, Arcane's poppet is passed over the fire again.
In Arcane's fevered dreamscape he's screaming over and over that he's alive, pleading in terror not to be buried, and the nightmare illusions intensify
horrifically.
Oblivious to him, in the cave, Graham and Dr. Thomas are tending Arcane; who’s covered in sweat and shaking deliriously. “It isn’t like anything
I’ve ever seen before. His blood pressure’s completely off the chart.” Dr. Thomas is mystified as she takes Arcane’s BP readings, while Graham
gently mops the sweat from his stricken employer’s face. “You must have some ideas!” Graham snaps at her with concern. “Only an observation,”
she says, putting a stethoscope to the delirious and writhing Arcane’s chest, “if Dr. Arcane’s heart continues beating at this rate... it will burst.”
“Then for God’s sakes, give him something!” is Graham’s understandably worried reaction as Arcane seems to be having a minor fit of some kind.
“You gotta knock him out, now!!” Graham orders, as Dr. Thomas prepares a syringe of blue liquid. Arcane’s groans are getting louder. “I won’t
be held responsible for what happens,” Thomas insists, as she fills the syringe, clearly unhappy with what she’s about to give him. “Take a good
look! Nothing you do could possible make him any worse,” Graham retorts cynically, holding the gasping Arcane down. “I’m sorry, I don’t have
more answers,” Thomas says ruefully, “this is beyond any medicine I know.” As if to prove her point, at that moment Arcane’s face starts
contorting, and he begins to growl ferally. “There must be something else we can do!?” Graham says calmly, but with a desperate edge to his voice.
“There is... call a Priest!” is Dr. Thomas’ grim reply. She clearly means for either the last rites or praying for a miracle... but as Arcane’s growling
continues, Graham seems to contemplate... and remember something...
Graham remembers Duchamp, the Houn’gan** that originally worked for Arcane (in ‘Spirit of the Swamp’) There is a short flashback to the
introduction of Duchamp to Alec from this episode. Back in the cave, Graham looks around thoughtfully. Looks like he has a plan...
Sometime later, Graham’s out in town, in a seedy part of the backstreets. As he walks along cautiously, clearly looking for someone, a burly
coloured man passes him, looking him over with extreme curiosity, before walking away. One gets the idea that Graham, with his pallid complexion,
bright blue trousers, Hawaiian shirt and ‘Men in everything but Black’ shades, looks as out of place here as a hamburger vendor at a vegan rally!
As he continues to look round, unsure of himself and the area, he spots something ahead and sets off round a corner. Going past a derelict,
boarded up building, he comes to a shop window. Contained therein are herbs and jars of strange looking items. One large jar has a symbol on it:
The same symbol seen on the grimoire Arcane obtained before he was stricken. As Graham continues to stare, he becomes aware of a reflection in
the window. A beautiful and exotic woman is looking at him from across the street. He turns sharply... but she’s disappeared. Confused, he sets off
to where she was, but as he does so, her voice calls to him... from behind.
The vital questions echoed through Graham's mind. What to
ask her first? How to save Arcane? Where was Duchamp?
... Where was the nearest decent bagel shop in this town??
“Welcome,” she says seductively, standing hands on hip, leaning nonchalantly against the wall, as Graham spins round to face her. Graham seems to
get over his initial bewilderment, and concentrates on the task at hand. “I wonder if you can help me. I’m looking for a man called Duchamp,” he
asks her. “I do not know that man,” she says casually, looking at him with a tone that implies anything but lack of knowledge, “come closer, tell me
about him,” she says smoothly, almost enticingly. There is a tangible air of danger to her. “I was told by someone he can be found here,” Graham
seems oblivious to it and comes a little closer, concentrating only on finding Duchamp. “Then someone was wrong. I’m the only one here,” she
whispers, twirling a finger through her hair seductively. Graham looks uncertain now. “Please... come closer,” she beckons with a gesture, sounding
like a cat playing with its soon-to-be prey. “Let’s stop playing games!!” Graham snarls angrily, unaffected by her hypnotic charms, “I know for a
fact he lives in this town.” He tells her. “I cannot help you,” she whispers back, looking at Graham evenly. “Maybe you should think it over, lady!”
Graham’s in no mood for games or time wasting. She seems unimpressed, straightening her posture slightly as she continues to regard the assistant.
“Tell me where I can find Duchamp, the Voodoo Priest!” he snarls, taking out a gun from his trouser pocket and levelling it at her, “*Now*!” he
hisses a threat to her.
“You do not learn very quickly!” she says, calm and unafraid, with a deadly edge to her voice.
Graham was devastated to find out how
small his snake was compared to Arcane's
As Graham stands there, threatening her, we see that the gun in his hand has now become a snake. He’s unaware until he looks down, at which
point he gives a sudden gasp of shock and drops the thing, where it slithers off. Now out of his depth, Graham looks up to find that the woman has
mysteriously vanished. He’s alone again. He backs off, his body language positively shouting that he doesn’t want to be here any longer. Turning, he
continues to look around, his hands clenching and fingers twitching in fear.
“Why are you looking for Duchamp!?” a deep, booming male voice echoes from a darkened doorway. Graham turns to face the doorway, trying
to peer in. “Because I need him,” comes Graham’s simple answer, “He once worked for my em..ployer.. Dr. Anton Arcane,” Graham adds after
an insecure pause. A figure approaches the entrance. “What if he did!?” comes the harsh, deep voice again, teeming with a chill, latent power.
Graham starts in fear at the sound of it, stepping back instinctively. “I don’t have time to explain. Can you take me to Duchamp?” Graham asks,
getting himself back in check again. “I..I'll..I'll pay any amount, it's a matter of life and death," he adds with humility.
“All of life is a matter of death,” the man says enigmatically, finally stepping up from the shadows. We now see a strong looking coloured man
dressed in rich African robes and talismans, and carrying a ritual pouch like that of Duchamp’s. “why is your need so special?” the man continues,
asking Graham. “Dr. Arcane tried to perform a Voodoo ritual, and something went wrong...” Graham explains, “... very wrong. He’s in a bad
way.” Graham says concernedly. “The Duchamp you seek is no longer living,” the man tells him, stepping closer into full view, “I am his son,” he
says. “I carry on for my father, as he carried on for his father before him.” Duchamp says proudly. “Then you... then you can help me??” Graham
says hopefully.
“AH! The question is... why would I?” Duchamp raises a questioning finger as he asks Graham, sounding both intrigued and amused. “b..because
Dr. Arcane’s a great man!!” Graham says hurriedly, shrugging in confusion as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Duchamp’s reaction is
to break into laughter at this, highly amused by it all. Graham pauses for a moment to let Duchamp continue in his revelry of the remark,
unperturbed, before delivering contingency plan B: His ace in the hole. “... because he has something you want!” he says determinedly, looking
straight at Duchamp. “Arcane has nothing for me,’ Duchamp continues to laugh, completely unimpressed. “Then a certain ancient manuscript of
Voodoo ritual is of no interest??” Graham entices. Duchamp immediately becomes serious again, the smile leaving his face rapidly at this point, and
his expression denoting a great deal of interest. He steps closer, scrutinising Graham closely. “My father once spoke of such a great book, with
great knowledge.” he says.
“Help Arcane... and it’s yours!” Graham almost gloats as he adds the sweetener, and Duchamp looks contemplatively at him.
Back at the cave, Arcane is still lying on the bed, tossing and turning feverishly. He’s still stuck in his nightmare hallucinations: First he’s burning in
fire again; next, a dark shape turns towards him... “Voodoo is evil, Arcane!” it’s Alec, lecturing him (for a change!); then comes the skull faced
dancers; then the coiled snake -- in reality, his fever worsens -- then in illusion, Alec’s image returns; “... it goes against Nature...” Arcane writhes,
tormented as he sees an image of Jim reaching pitifully through the bars of his crate (as he’s being sent to the work camp, from ‘The Shipment’)...
“... and it goes against ME!” Alec says pitilessly as Arcane screams long and hard in his fever dream, almost tearing at his skin as the images
coming faster now, the pain increasing as the poppet passes over the flames again. His agonised howl reaches a crescendo -- as the mysterious
Priestess shovels more dirt into his illusory grave, burying his burning body alive -- then fades away...
“Very bad Ju-Ju***,” Duchamp comments solemnly, watching all this, “... dark magic!” “I knew it!!” Graham snarls reproachfully, “I told him to be
careful!” “Arcane did not do this!” Duchamp states, causing Graham to turn to look at him; “He is cursed,” Duchamp continues as Arcane’s
breathing becomes shallow and ragged on the bed, almost panting; “The Loa**** who possesses him was called by one of much Voodoo power.
At mention of this, Arcane turns his face -- contorted in rage and dripping with perspiration and saliva -- to Duchamp, hissing and growling at him
ferally; his eyes burning and empty... and inhuman. Duchamp merely holds up his hand and stills Arcane, who lies back down on the bed,
temporarily stilled.
"Okay, Anton... how many fingers am I holding up?
Hmmm... ten?? It's bad, Graham... very bad. He
must have had at least seven triple vodkas last night!"
"Eight actually... ah wait, no, that last one. Yeah, seven... don't ask!!"
"You mean somebody else did this?" Graham sounds more worried now, as Arcane begins snarling again. "A Houn'gan Priest of great power." Duchamp replies. "Can you help him?" Graham asks the obvious. "Perhaps," Duchamp says enigmatically, turning to a small cage on a nearby table containing the locked away and protected grimoire; "... there is the matter of the manuscript," he says. "You can look all you want, but you can't touch till you agree to help him," Graham says resolutely. "Where did Arcane get this!?" Duchamp asks forcefully. "Book of the month club!" Graham retorts sarcastically; "... do we have a deal or not?" As he says this, Arcane's fever continues. "This manuscript is of no use to me," Duchamp announces. "the power and the magic have been tainted by the possession of Arcane's soul." Graham looks worried at this (and the sound of an increasingly restless Arcane isn't helping matters), and Duchamp continues; "The purity of Baron Samedi's words must be restored, therefore... Arcane will be freed!" Duchamp's made his decision, and not a moment too soon as Anton's now doing a fair impression of 'the exorcist', starting to rise from the bed, growling and spitting.
ARCANE: "erm, is the take done? Can I get up?? This is jolly uncomfortable! Guys??"
DUCHAMP: "One more moment, lovies... Just fixing my face!"
Soon, Duchamp has prepared an altar with yet more candles (Houma’s candle shops must have made a fortune for this story!) and various ritual
implements. He daubs his face with three white protective sigils (more like blotches, really.) "Pate Katebulu." He mutters some words of
power/protection and goes over to the table where Arcane’s laid down... his body shaking and jumping around like he’s got 10,000 volts of
electricity going through him. Graham’s waiting anxiously on the far side of the table, and Duchamp approaches him. He turns to face Arcane,
looking deeply serious and a little worried, preparing himself. “Oxum....” he intones, and Graham looks nervously at where Arcane is; “... is the
Loa, War,” Duchamp continues, as Graham now turns his attention to Duchamp; “we will call him to join us.” Duchamp announces firmly, removing
a gourd like talisman from his neck and placing it round Graham’s. “Isn’t there just some kind of herb you can use as an antidote?” Graham says in
a scared little voice, immediately taking the thing off again. “Arcane is cursed!!” Duchamp retorts sharply, turning back to look down at Arcane
“only a war of spirits shall free him!” At mention of this, Arcane’s writhing goes into overdrive and, like a rabid animal, he twists round sharply to
face Duchamp, who steps back warily as Arcane begins foaming at the mouth and snarling and ranting as he seems to rise from the bed; “Harrgg...
You'll never drive them away! You’ll kill him trying!!” the multiple spirits possessing Arcane snarl almost incoherently through the scientist’s voice.
The message given, Arcane falls back onto the bed, still shuddering; every inch of his body covered in sweat, and muscles knotted with tension.
“Are you sure you can do this?” Graham asks with great uncertainty, seeing the extent of Arcane’s possession. “I can only try,” Duchamp replies
sternly as Arcane seems to go into another fit. “ARCANE!!” Duchamp cries out, “LISTEN TO ME!!” he tries to get through to the man inside
there. ‘YOU WILL NOT GIVE YOURSELF TO THE EVIL LOA!! YOU MUST LET ME DRIVE THEM OUT!!” Arcane’s no better though.
He’s in a frenzy of violent spasms, and more foaming at the mouth. “ARE YOU READY!!??” Duchamp cries out, and the tormented Arcane
begins to groan something through the spasms. Elsewhere, the skull faced dancers continue their ritual, but as they do so, Arcane’s groan becomes
a barely recognisable, pitiful and drawn out ‘yes’, before laying down fully, his back arched in agony and his head thrown backwards.
"Katebulu." Slowly, Duchamp utters a few quiet words of power, raising his arms. Suddenly, he lets out a high pitched shriek and steps back in
preparation. Graham looks bewildered and out of his depth, clutching the talisman the Houn’gan gave him earlier. Duchamp continues his crazed
scream and leaps into the air, before beginning a frenzied ritual dance beside Arcane, who’s writhing and jumping like he’s now plugged into the
mains!
"Duchamp? How much longer do we have to do this
before we get the National Enquirer's attention?"
"Not long now, Graham, but look on the bright
side. Whatever happens, we'll clean up marketing this as the ultimate
aerobics workout!...That's it, Anton... stretch those abs!"
Graham shakes the talisman a little, as though it’s giving him some sense of doing something helpful, despite not having the faintest idea what’s going
on. Duchamp continues his dance, getting more and more worked up. Graham backs out of his way a little.
Meanwhile, in his nightmare world, Arcane’s still having the hallucinations. As the snake is coiled around the scientist, Alec’s voice is heard lecturing
again; “Voodoo is evil, Arcane,” Alec’s face turns to haunt his terrified nemesis; “it goes against nature... and it goes against ME!” he says to the
scientist who can only stare in wide-eyed, rigid fear.
Back in reality, Duchamp’s exorcism continues, and Arcane’s anything but rigid! His power is waning, and as Arcane arches his back again, a
weary and groaning Duchamp collapses to the bed, clutching Arcane by the legs to keep him still (and steady himself.) The Priest has exhausted
himself... and Arcane’s still possessed. “Duchamp? Are you all right!?” Graham rushes to the Priest’s help, taking him by the shoulders. Duchamp is
trying to get his breath back. “There is much... dark magic present,” he manages to gasp out; “I believe... this night is one for the dying!” he says
gravely; “I sense... that Arcane will not survive it!” Just then, Arcane gives another growl and a woman’s victorious laughter can be heard in the
cave. Both look upwards upon hearing it. Graham clutches the Priest’s shoulder tighter... and Duchamp now looks far more scared than Graham!!
"We failed, my friend. The National Enquirer isn't
interested. Tanda's beaten us to it and got ten minutes on David Letterman!"
"Shh, shh... never mind. Let me rub your shoulders all better."
Elsewhere, as the ritual dance builds up to a crescendo, the skull-faced dancers gradually part, to show a beautiful and exotic woman wearing red. Her face is painted white, with dark markings; and she’s passing a bowl through some flames.
Tanda never did anything by half. Even toasting
marshmallows involved an entire ritual!
“You will die, Arcane... but not before you suffer many lifetimes!” she hisses her vow, her voice dripping with hatred. (nice lady, huh?) She puts the bowl down and dances over it, before the little man from the wharf (who sold Arcane the grimoire) appears next to her, handing over the poppet of Arcane.
"You got it!?" Tanda asked excitedly
"Yeah, I got it, I got it!! The last 10" Xena doll in stock!!"
She takes it, exhaling in glee, and places it completely into the fire itself. In his nightmare, Arcane’s body burns, and the ensuing scream reaches new heights of agony and terror, as everything fades to black.
It was inevitable. All those candles
were a disaster waiting to happen.
Later, in the cave, Arcane is finally still, but he’s looking corpse pale and dripping with sweat. Graham’s at his side, tenderly mopping his brow.
"Oh, Graham. I..I had the most terrible dream...
I was on this... this horrid, low-budget sci-fi show!"
Seeing the Doctor isn’t moving, Graham backs off slowly and goes to talk to Duchamp, who’s recovered and standing silently in a corner, his back
to Arcane and the assistant.
“Duchamp?” Graham faces the Priest, hands in pockets; “there must be something else you can do for him?” “I... I think not,” Duchamp answers
sadly. “You can’t give up, you hear me!?!?” Graham desperately insists, “... you can’t.” This causes Duchamp to turn to look at Graham. “Tell me
this:” he asks the assistant; “Why do you care so badly what happens to Arcane?” “I told you...” Graham looks at Arcane, “... he’s a great man!”
“NO!! YOU LIE TO ME!” Duchamp shouts back at him. “I am not!” Graham insists defensively, “He is great! He's.. he’s brilliant!” “But that is
not why you want him saved,” Duchamp confronts Graham for the whole truth; “You have other motives, and your lies diminish my power!” he
says angrily. “I..I.. I don’t understand,” Graham whines. “Loa Oxum draws his strength from me and those who would ask for help,” he explains
more gently, “There is no strength in lies, my friend... only truth.” Graham begins to look dejected as it dawns on him what he has to admit; “You
*must* tell me why you care what happens to Arcane!” At Duchamp’s words, a hesitant and reserved Graham looks at the deathly still Doctor,
lying helplessly on the bed, and ponders what to do. “All right,” he says finally; “I care because my whole livelihood’s tied to him!” he pauses, and
it’s obviously hard for him to admit this. “... I mean if anything happens to Dr. Arcane... I have nothing!” He looks at Duchamp, who’s listening
patiently; and there's more. He continues; “You see, I..I call myself a scientist, but... deep down I know better,” he looks downcast, then back up
at Duchamp with a bitter yet resigned look on his face; “... I’m a mere technician... nothing more,” he looks back over to the bed where Arcane is
lying stricken; “Anton Arcane is the scientist I always wanted to be, but never could... and never will.”
“And your truth makes the circle complete, my friend,” Duchamp is satisfied, and looks around at something intangible; “I can fight her now,” he
says calmly. “Her?” Graham enquires. “The laughter you heard. There is only one Mam’bo Priestess with such magic,” he walks past Graham and
leaves, patting the man reassuringly on the shoulder, but Graham just continues to stare at the deathlike Arcane, and then goes over to resume
gently mopping the sweat from the Doctor’s forehead and face.
Later, in the swamp, Duchamp and the Mam’bo Priestess from the ritual have met, and are walking together. They seem familiar with each other,
friendly even. “It is good of you to visit me,” she says warmly to him, “... it has been too long.” “We have both been occupied with important things,
have we not?” Duchamp says, with a sufficiently enigmatic tone to his voice to convey the necessary implication. “Just one,” she replies, knowing
exactly what he means. “Dr. Arcane?” Duchamp confirms with a rhetorical question. “Hmm... you knew that already without seeing me,” she smiles
at him as they continue their walk. He pauses and she walks ahead, circling around and stopping to face him. “Why do you come?” she asks softly,
but succinctly, getting down to business. “To hear from you why he is cursed!” Duchamp exclaims, as though it should be obvious. “I'm not bound
to tell you anything,” she is evasive, her tone a little less friendly than previously. “But I ask not as one Houn’gan Priest to another... but as a brother
to his sister,” he gestures, trying to get the atmosphere less tense again as well as trying to coax the necessary information out of her. She considers
his words. “You never met our mother’s cousin in Brazil,” she tells him, “but we are *very* close,” her voice is calm, but teeming with underlying
emotion. She then continues the story; “... and one day a terrible accident happened. Her daughter, who is not yet ten years old, fell into the river
and was taken by a fast current. She would have been lost... except for the brave one who saved her: A young white boy from a work camp. I’ve
now learned of this boy, a slave worker sent to the camp by Arcane. He is called Jim Kipp!”
Duchamp looks down, considering... and not impressed. “So! What you do is revenge!?” “What I do is *justice*!” she swiftly retorts in self
defence. “Jim Kipp brought justice to our family. I owe him justice in return.” “It was *you* who gave the ancient manuscript to Dr. Arcane!!”
Duchamp says angrily, realising the full truth. She just gives a deep sigh and turns away as Duchamp continues his tirade of revelation; “... that is
how you opened his soul to your spells!” She shakes her head vehemently, facing her brother again; “His greed and his ambition will be his
undoing!” She says forcefully, without remorse or compassion. He's livid; "You have betrayed the secrets of Samedi for your own selfish ends!!--
"--I will have victory at any cost!!" she replies defiantly. “--I will have victory at any cost!!” she replies defiantly. “Then it is my duty to defeat you,
Tanda!” Duchamp announces resolutely. “Don’t be a fool!!” she warns him, her voice a deadly whisper, “all paths are closed to you!” she tells him,
knowing he can’t defeat her with the magic he has. Duchamp is livid, reiterating his previous accusation; “You have betrayed the secrets of the Loa
for your own selfish --” “ -- and you sound very much like our father!” she interjects angrily in response. “He taught me well!!” Duchamp counters,
further angered by this. “Our father was in league with Arcane, and that alone makes him an enemy to me,” Tanda replies in a bitter, hate filled
voice. She immediately closes her eyes and takes in the scent of the air around her; “Mmmm... the aroma of Arcane’s blood is in the air!” she says
euphorically, making her hand into a determined fist clutching the rewards of victory; “... Do not let it taint you!” she warns him coldly, “... or you
will be destroyed with him!” Without a second look, she turns and walks away, leaving a not inconsiderably worried looking Duchamp, who
clutches his pouch of magicks to him.
Back at the cave, Arcane is still having more nightmares. He screams long and hard as the fires are burning him; then Alec’s accusing face is staring
at him again; then Jim in his crate, and finally the strange little man who gave him the book, who is holding it, laughing uproariously. The images
repeat, and his anguish increases. The screams grow louder, until, with a final ‘NOOOOOO!!”, he sits bolt upright, now awake.
He looks drained and deathly pale, and dripping in perspiration, his hair matted. Immediately, Graham rushes to his side and holds him gently and
firmly, steadying him; “It’s all right, Doctor, it’s me, Graham,” he says reassuringly as he crouches beside the Doctor.
"Oh, Graham! There's something so terrible inside me!"
"Well, I did warn you those oysters looked pretty dodgy!"
“Graham!?” Arcane barks out hoarsely, his voice confused and disoriented; “Oh, Graham, I’m so afraid...” he whispers vulnerably to the assistant,
clutching his shirt and holding him closer as he recognises the name and voice; “... there’s something so terrible inside me... you couldn’t imagine!”
he gasps, his face close to Graham’s. “Where’s Duchamp!?” He says hurriedly, giving another gasp of discomfort and looking like a man in a great
hurry. “He’s working on the cure,” Graham tells him. Arcane turns back to Graham, though still looking down, straight into the assistant’s eyes, his
own barely open more than slits though. “I know who’s doing this to me!” Arcane manages to gasp; “I know! It’s Alec Holland and that rotten little
boy, Jim Kipp, Tressa’s son!” “I don’t think so,” Graham replies, but Arcane’s not listening. His face contorts vindictively as his mind goes through
its own thought processes; “I thought I’d got rid of them!” he snarls, then turns back to Graham, his voice growing that little bit more manic... less
sane; “... but I’ve seen them!... I’ve seen them both!!” He looks pained again, turning away slightly. “It’s just the fever playing tricks,” Graham tells
him; “Duchamp is closing in on this, believe me!” he tries again to calm Arcane, “Well tell him he’d better hurry!!!” Arcane replies quickly, clutching
Graham more firmly; “... I don’t know how much time I’ve got... left... unnhh...” Arcane stiffens in shock and begins to look down to his own
stomach again, beginning a strangled grunt of pain; “unnn!... they’re back... Ahhh!!!” his groan becomes a guttural, feral growl again... no longer
human, as he collapses back onto the bed, shuddering; the possessing Loa having taken over again.
"U-U-Dobois e-mat-a-quillibat..." In the swamp, Duchamp is chanting softly and looking around. He circles slowly, continuing the chant and
shaking his magick pouch like a rattle. "Gee-baa-boo. e-i-a..." he shakes the rattle pouch again, "E-i-a," ... and again. It’s reminiscent of when his
father was in the swamp looking for Alec, in ‘Spirit of the Swamp’.
“Why have you come here?” Alec’s gravelly voice intones as Duchamp slowly turns towards him. Duchamp’s eyes register surprise and awe for a
second, but it’s quickly replaced by a calm satisfaction tinged with respect. “To find you, Loa,” Duchamp says smoothly, “... as my father promised
long ago. Do you remember Duchamp?” he asks, as Alec eyes him warily. “I remember...” he tells Duchamp, his voice equally wary, “... He too
was not welcome here!” Alec says harshly. “He possessed great power!” the Priest’s voice angrily defends his father, but quickly lowers itself back
to a more reverent tone as he continues to show the necessary respect for Alec, “... as you do, Loa. That is why I have come.” He gets down to
business as Alec continues to watch silently. “There is something that we need from each other... You and I!” the first step has been made in a
negotiation. Now comes the second; “I need you to help me save Arcane from a Voodoo spell,” he announces. At mention of Arcane’s name,
Alec’s eyes widen noticeably. “I have no interest in helping Arcane!” Alec shakes his head, his voice bitter. “Do you not wonder what it is that you
need from me??” Duchamp seems unperturbed and prepared for an initial rejection. “My father told me about you,” Duchamp continues, “Because
of Arcane you are doomed to live your life in this swamp, as a non-man!” he says, glancing around him at the swamp. Now comes the sweetener;
“... unless I use my magic to help you...” he says eagerly, his smile broad, his eyes wide. It sounds enticing....
“Voodoo can do nothing for me!” Alec states contemptuously, unfortunately showing no interest and turning away to leave. “YOU’RE WRONG!”
is Duchamp’s hasty improvisation that causes Alec to pause and turn back, “... and if you help me save Arcane, I promise, that I will once again
make you... Human!” he says temptingly stressing each syllable of the word; and Alec’s eyes light up with an air of anticipation. “Huuumaaannn!”
Duchamp repeats in a slow, sibilant whisper, and Alec’s thought processes are going like a mad thing at the concept, his curiosity seriously piqued!
“Human...” Duchamp states for a third time, smiling; and Alec’s staying silent this time... and not leaving.
Elsewhere, Tanda and her followers step up the ritual. As they dance, she laughs with a victorious, cackling cry; and back in the cave, Arcane
screams in illusory fire.
ALEC: "And now -- with the aid of the lovely
Ramona -- I'll attempt to levitate an evil geneticist
three feet into the air!... Drum roll, Graham!!"
In reality, Arcane's body is wracked and contorting off the bed. His face distorted almost beyond recognition... demonic. He reaches out with clawed hands, snarling, screaming and flailing, throwing his head back to almost breaking point. Standing over him, watching his fits, are Alec and Graham. Alec moves forward, towards Arcane.
"Father of wisdom!" in the far side of the cave, Duchamp's voice is heard as he turns and approaches, and begins his part of the rite, moving
forward and clutching a talisman. "Uba… Uno-te-queraba," he continues his desperate chant over Arcane. Standing behind Arcane's head, Alec
continues to say and do nothing, merely watching his nemesis' struggles and torment.
Meanwhile, at Arcane’s side, Duchamp is incanting, waving his hands and a ritual talisman over Arcane in an attempt to keep the possessing Loa
subdued. He’s failing miserably and despite his frenetic efforts, Arcane’s getting even worse, lashing out at the Priest and trying to keep him at bay.
Elsewhere, Tanda laughs and dances in joy at the forthcoming victory.
Back in the cave, Arcane snarls and spits; "IN-INIGUA!!" Duchamp cries out, continuing his magicks, and Graham steps back a little, looking
scared and overwhelmed by it all. Duchamp seems to step up his efforts, waving his hands in various somatic ritual gestures; and Arcane and his
possessing Loa step up their frantic resistance, again flailing out at the Priest. The ritual continues in both camps, and Tanda dances as Arcane
writhes and struggles like a beast... then begins levitating fully from the bed, every blood vessel and muscle in his body at virtual bursting point and
distorted by metamorphosis; his face no longer remotely human. "KATAA!… KATAA!!" Duchamp screams at him, trying his best to help.
Anton was always such a grouch until
he'd had his morning coffee and caffeine fix
By now, Arcane's at least two feet off the bed and doing a wonderful Linda Blair impression (from 'The Exorcist'), foaming at the mouth (fed up
with impersonating Linda Blair, he's now trying for Gene Simmons!) and clawing in pain and rage at anything in reach, and several things not in
reach. In his mind, his nightmares continue: The fire, the strange man laughing and the coiled snake. "Your face!!" Duchamp exclaims in horror,
seeing the metamorphosis. It's clear Arcane can't take much more of this. If the burst heart doesn't get him, he's in serious danger of drowning in his
own saliva!! Duchamp continues trying his best... which isn't helping too much judging by the lack of improvement in Arcane.
... and Tanda revels and laughs in her dance of death as Arcane continues to burn and choke in fire and snakes, before her illusory self starts
shovelling dirt into his illusory grave....
By now Duchamp realises the futility and looks helpless, and Tanda senses her victory is almost upon her. Any attempts to reach Arcane physically
by him are getting tricky... since the scientist is now levitating above his reach!
Also by now, Alec’s taken enough of the scene in to know that he’s had enough of all this. Steeling himself and concentrating, he holds out his own
arms towards Arcane.
The Doctor is still growling, spitting and foaming, but is now more low key, dropping very slightly towards the table. Back in the other camp, Tanda
looks concerned, feeling the energy of the rite waning; but still she continues the dance. Back in the cave, Alec continues to concentrate, giving their
banishing ritual power. He concentrates harder, then gently places a hand over Arcane's forehead. The man immediately puts his both his own
hands over his face, his scream receding into an anguished groan.
Arcane discovers the ghastly truth...
"DECAF!! You bastards have given me decaf???"
Tanda's not looking happy, the ritual dance continuing almost futilely. The battle of wills continues; Alec concentrating and Tanda dancing for all
she's worth, but it's a lost cause and she knows it. "Kataa...Kataa." Duchamp now joins in the banishing, muttering words of power and holding his
hands over Arcane too, as the scientist covers his face and sinks slowly back to the bed; his moaning becoming more human again, though still full
of great pain. He just lies there, face in hands, giving a long, choked sob.
Meanwhile, Tanda’s looking even worse. She’s looking positively desolate and she now realises that the curse has lost its power. It’s over. Her
spell has ended in failure. She has no choice to end the dance and after a last throwback of her head, she stands there in defeat, looking
downwards... before disappearing.
Back in the cave, Duchamp gently takes Arcane’s hands. He encounters a small amount of resistance and a scared little gasp from the Doctor, but
he pulls them from the frightened man’s face. “Welcome back to the living, Arcane,” Duchamp announces to him. “You’re back, Doctor!!” Graham
gives an enthusiastic and relieved welcome too, also at Arcane’s side. “Is it over??” Arcane asks with trepidation. “You have won! The curse has
left your body!” Duchamp gives him the all clear and Arcane gives a little gasp of relief, visibly relaxing. His face and body are completely human
again, although he is still sweating profusely and looking haggard and drained. Beside him, Graham’s smiling broadly, still holding a ritual instrument.
“I did everything for you, Doctor,” he tells Arcane enthusiastically, “I got Duchamp; and..and I was here for you... holding your hand and mopping
your brow,” he enthuses like a regular Florence Nightingale as Arcane just lies still; “... and I.. and I traded the manuscript for your life,” he adds,
quickly and in a more subdued tone. A cynical person might think he was trying to get this one past Arcane without him noticing.
“YOU WHAT!?!?!” No such luck, as Arcane gives an outraged and indignant squeak, immediately returning to his normal loveable self (not!), and
sits bolt upright, staring ahead in livid disbelief. Looks like his blood pressure’s on the up and up again! “You had better rest now,” Duchamp tells
Arcane, taking hold of him by the hips and steadying him. “*Absolutely*!” Graham concurs fervently, going with the break Duchamp’s giving him.
Arcane remains silent for now, still staring ahead and catching his breath. “We did not do it alone,” Duchamp continues to tell Arcane, “... were it
not for my Loa of The Swamp...” Graham looks concerned at this, probably wondering how Arcane will take this as well.
DUCHAMP: "Just what DID you two have to drink last night??"
GRAHAM: "Whatever he says... it's a lie."
ARCANE: "Graham? Why are all these yellow fuzzy bunnies here?
I told you to get rid of the fuzzy bunnies!!... and what's HE doing with his hand??"
“Alec Holland *helped* you!!!?” Arcane mutters incredulously. “More than you know, Sir,” Graham adds.
“*Damn!!!*” Arcane exclaims and turns away, a vindictive and exceedingly pissed off glare in his eyes; “Now he’ll think I owe him something,” he
snarls contemptuously. Yep, Anton’s back to normal again!
ARCANE: "What the hell do you mean
Alec Holland gatecrashed my party last night!?!?"
GRAHAM: "It's worse than that, Sir... he's clogged the toilet
with moss, and stole the silver candlesticks on the way out!"
Later, in the swamp, Duchamp is waiting patiently. “I’m here!” Alec announces as he enters the clearing. “As am I,” replies Duchamp, “... prepared
to honour my promise to you... to make you once again, a man!” “You need not have come, Duchamp,” Alec tells him calmly. “But why? I only
offer you that which is rightfully yours,” the Priest asks, “... that which was taken from you,” Alec watches him inscrutably. “The answer is here,”
Duchamp proffers a small vial to Alec, “... hold it!” he invites. “Even if your power could do as you say, then I would be your creation... not
God’s,” he says, as Duchamp watches him. “As you wish,” Duchamp accepts with a look of interested surprise, “... but I wonder why you would
help Arcane... only to refuse this!?” he indicates the vial. “Because dark magic distorts the balance of this place, whether it destroys Arcane or
helps me.” is Alec’s answer.
“I bow to you, Loa, as my father did,” he gives a small bow of respect. “Your power is much more than the nature you control...” they look each
other in the eyes; “... it is who you are!”
"D'you bring the merchandise?"
"D'you bring the cash??" Alec grinned, pleased
that his new idea to become Houma's only Swamp
fungi dealer was becoming more than lucrative.
With a last look, he simply disappears, leaving Alec alone in the swamp.
Footnote: As in ‘Spirit of the Swamp’, I refer to the ‘Voodoo’ religion by this name because it’s the name used in the episode. In this footnote I
acknowledge the fact that this term, although it is the most commonly recognised for the religion, is a bastardisation of the correct term: Vodoun, or
Vo-Du (literal meaning being ‘Vo’ - ‘introspection’, and ‘du’ - ‘into the unknown’); and that ‘Voodoo’, as well as being incorrect, is considered by
many in the religion to be derogatory and hurtful. My use of this term is in no way intended to cause offence to members of the Vodoun religion.
* Poppet: An effigy or fetish usually made of wax that is constructed to represent the target of a Vodoun curse or other sympathetic magic, black
and white (‘pointing the bone/cursing/binding & other rituals.) Usually adorned with a personal effect or part of the person/creature involved (hair,
nail clipping, piece of clothing, picture etc.) for added efficacy.
** Houn’gan: A male Priest of Vodoun (Female Priestesses are called Mam’bo.)
*** Ju-Ju: Magic or spell as usually worked by a charm or fetish.
**** Loa: A spirit. For description, see ‘Spirit of the Swamp’