(thunder crashing)
(phonograph powers up)
(slow ragtime jazz plays briefly)
(mechanical creaking)
(chimes tinkling)
(thunder crashes)
(shovel digging)
(thunder crashing)
(shutter clicks)
(shovel strikes hard surface)
(thunder crashing)
Hey! You!
What the hell
do you think you're doing?
I'm calling the police!
Here.
The call's on me.
(light crackling)
What the hell?
(whooshing)
(men chanting in foreign language)
(chanting continues)
(men stop chanting)
(speaking foreign language)
(men chanting)
(chanting continues)
(man speaking foreign language)
(men chanting)
(chanting continues)
(chanting stops)
We are gathered
to invoke Satan's will.
The Master has vested his power in me,
and I shall bring it forth.
This is one of us who has passed on.
He was the best
(shutter clicks) of us, the strongest!
Now I will summon him from the hindrance of death
and return him to the living.
(lid creaking)
They seem to be trying some kind of invocation.
Soon...
you will walk amongst us again.
Arise, brother.
You are the first of the great ones
to coax our Master to this world.
Our power
and influence has diminished since you were gone.
It will return...
...as you
return.
By my word,
so mote it be!
(thunder crashes)
(deep, indistinct voice echoes)
(low crackle)
(low groaning)
(groaning)
Welcome, brother.
(thunder crashes)
How's it coming?
RYAN: Patience, Micki.
True art takes time.
(British accent): Sir, madam, tea is served in the studio.
What, are you getting tired?
Go ahead, take five.
How's it coming, Ryan?
Good. My art teacher used to tell me,
(eccentric accent): "Sculpting is easy--
"first you see the clay, then you feel the clay.
"Then if you want to make an elephant,
you take away everything that isn't the elephant."
So that's what I'm doing. Ah, yes.
And this is the trunk here.
You need a little help with the-the leg.
Ryan, don't let him kid you-- it's great.
Thank you.
You're not just saying that because you're in love
with the subject matter, are you?
No, no, it's a work of art, almost.
MICKI: You know, it's a shame. What?
Well, you have this talent, and you're stuck here,
not being able to do anything about it.
Well, this isn't gonna last forever, Micki.
We'll all be able to get on with our lives
one of these days. That's right. Besides, this is the first
relaxing evening I've had in quite some time.
I'm gonna take full advantage of it.
(phone rings)
Curious Goods.
(panting): Jack Marshak.
May I tell him who's calling? Just get him, damn it!
Jack, it's for you.
Marshak.
Mr. Marshak, my name is Tom Hewitt-- I need your help.
Yes, Mr. Hewitt, has this to do with a purchase from the store?
No, I've never been to your store.
I got your name out of the morgue.
The morgue?
The clipping files at my paper-- I'm with the Times.
They said you were an expert on the occult and witchcraft.
It's a little late for an interview.
If you want to come by tomorrow morning...
(thunder crashes) This can't wait until morning.
All right.
Where would you like to meet?
I'm afraid it's a little too dangerous for that.
Mr. Marshak, listen, I left an envelope for you
in a basement locker at Union Station.
An envelope?
The key
is taped on the wall behind the lockers.
Pick it up as soon as you can.
I can't talk right now. Look, what the hell is...
I'll call you back as soon as I can.
Mr. Hewitt...
if you're in some kind of trouble,
you're gonna have to tell me.
(thunder crashes) Mr. Marshak...
I think I just saw a man come back from the dead.
(line clicks, dial tone drones)
(thunder crashes)
(muffled shouts)
Yeah, but how do you know he's telling the truth?
I don't, but Mr. Hewitt was scared, really scared.
Well, maybe I should come with you.
No, Micki, no, you stay here by the phone in case he calls.
Okay.
How long did you think you could get away with this,
Mr. Hewitt?
Spying on us.
Eavesdropping on our peaceful gatherings.
Peaceful gatherings.
I've almost got enough evidence to prove
you've butchered babies, you sacrificed young children.
For centuries, others have gathered as we,
to show their devotion to the Dark Lord and do his works.
We have been hunted and persecuted by your kind
for far too long.
How in God's name...?
Eight months ago our dear brother Carl left us.
Driven to his death by those
who did not share our vision of the universe.
He is the first of three who will return from their graves.
What are you talking about?
Brother Carl has great skill in calling spirits.
I have found our ancestors.
Brother Tiriel the most powerful Satanist of the last century
and Witch Hyberia, Queen of Salem.
Together, we will call our master to regain his throne.
(woman over P.A.): 1507 for Norland,
boarding on platform 3.
Passengers may enter through gate C.
Last call-- 1507 for Norland boarding on platform 3.
You've twisted these people, Sylvan,
you've warped their minds.
But even they won't believe you've got power over death.
They saw what you saw, Mr. Hewitt.
Witches have always been able to raise the spirits of the dead.
But I found a way to bring their bodies back as well.
Where are you taking me?
The time has come to unleash another soul
from the Gates of Hell.
No! Somebody, Somebody help me.
No! Please! Please!
(thunder rumbling)
Oh, whew.
Micki, any calls?
No, not yet.
What's that?
We're about to find out.
We only glanced at it in the car.
Ah...
Micki, do you know where the mini tape recorder is?
What are those?
RYAN: Looks like a witches' coven.
Some kind of ceremony.
What else is there?
JACK: There's a film, undeveloped.
And a whole lot of obituaries on a...
a stockbroker called Carl Naft.
Seems he died eight months ago.
Could that be the man who was resurrected?
I don't know.
Let's hear the tape.
MAN (chanting): Nema. Livee morf su reviled tub.
Noit atpmet ootni ton su deel.
Sounds backwards.
The Lord's Prayer.
The Lord's Prayer chanted backwards is the opening prayer
of a black Mass.
(thunder rumbling)
Here, I'll try and show you.
(distorted): ...deliver us from evil...
Amen.
I'm sorry you won't be around when our master returns,
Mr. Hewitt.
But take comfort in knowing,
we couldn't have done it without you.
(muffled yell)
(loud whooshing)
As I will...
so mote it be.
MAN (on tape): Soon you will walk amongst us again.
HEWITT: They seem to be performing some kind of invocation,
MAN: Rise, brother...
How are we supposed to figure out what any of this stuff means
if Hewitt doesn't call?
JACK: He isn't going to call.
He's dead.
He and the caretaker at the cemetery.
RYAN: Hewitt was really onto something, huh?
Yeah, the newspaper says that he's been working
for months on a story about some occult sect.
He suspects of a number of murders.
What have you got there?
Oh, yeah, I had that film developed and printed.
Look.
Jack... Hmm?
RYAN: Maybe this does have something to do with Naft.
You could be right.
It sounds like a curse, too.
One person dies, another comes back to life.
The Ram's head scar.
Maybe what we ought to do
is find out exactly how they died.
Micki, how about you going on down to the coroner's office,
and see what you can...
unearth, for want of the better expression.
Look at this.
You think there's a connection?
It certainly should be looked into.
Let's do it.
JACK: That emblem on the crate is from
the Museum of National History. Yeah?
RYAN: Looks big enough for a body.
Doesn't it?
(door opening)
(door closing)
Yes?
Jack Marshak, Curious Goods.
My associate and I are antique dealers.
How can I help you?
Well, we're interested in buying stock for our store.
What kind of stock?
RYAN: Oh, lion heads, tiger rugs,
those umbrella stands they used to make out of elephant feet.
We pay top dollar.
We have nothing like that. Sorry.
JACK: There's a lot of call for
trophy heads of all kinds.
If you have anything...
We do custom work.
There's nothing left over.
I have got work to do if you gentlemen will excuse me.
RYAN: Sorry to bother you.
Thank you for your time.
I wonder where that box disappeared to so fast.
Yeah, and what was in it?
I'm going to drop you off at the museum.
See what you can find out.
I want to hear what Micki was able to learn.
This thing's getting weirder all the time.
♪ ♪
(eerie voice): Who were they?
The people who picked up Hewitt's package.
They must not interfere.
They won't.
We have already found Tiriel.
By tonight, we will have Hyberia as well.
Then we will be too strong for anyone to stop.
MICKI: And the coroner who did the autopsy told me
that Hewitt, was unmarked,
except for a brand on his forehead.
A brand?
A ram's head--
The symbol of Satan.
That's it.
That's it!
There!
The coin of Zaecles, sold to Sylvan Winters.
The taxidermist?
Well, what does it do?
Well, Zaecles
was an alchemist in the 14th century.
He was probably one of the earliest
of the really powerful warlocks.
He minted his own gold coins, put a ram's head on them.
And Then he used them to decide
whether his enemies should live or die.
Tails you live, heads you die.
Yes. At least until Lewis got ahold of it.
Now it doesn't only determine your fate, it seals it.
We've got to go back to that taxidermy shop.
(muffled chanting)
Listen.
It's coming from down there.
That explains why the box disappeared so quickly.
(chanting grows louder)
What the hell is this place?
Come on.
(chanting grows louder)
Eman...
yht...
Eman eeb dewollah, nevaeh
ni tra ohw...
(coven chanting)
Before us lies the body of Tiriel,
the great warlock our master chose as his messenger.
With his return, Satan will speak with us again.
(thunder crashes)
Wind and flames where you are cast,
no spell or evil purpose last.
BOTH: Bring back from death he who has passed.
Hear our will addressed to thee,
and as our words so mote it be!
(thunder crashing)
Arise!
The coin!
Arise!
We command thee!
(thunder crashes)
(deep gravelly voice): Esir... leirit!
My God,
that's the voice of Satan.
(creaking)
Welcome, Tiriel.
We, the children of your calling, embrace you.
You have slept a century.
And now awakened by the coin of Zaecles.
(hoarsely): Who are you?
One that shares your faith
and seeks the Master's return.
Tonight, by the full Moon,
we will revive our sister, Hyberia.
(metallic clang)
MAN: Over there!
SYLVAN: Stop them! They must not escape!
Micki, run for it that way. I'll draw 'em off.
Jack, no!
Yes! Get back to the store.
Tell Ryan what we've seen! Hurry!
(latch clanks)
(gasps)
(yells)
(screams)
(frantic grunting)
(door opens)
So, another visitor.
I didn't see it. I didn't see anything!
No, but perhaps you'd like a closer look.
Jack, am I glad you're here.
You're not gonna believe what I found out.
Where's Micki?
I don't know. I thought she was with you.
Oh, my God.
What's the matter?
We went back to the taxidermy shop.
There's a damn great cavern underneath that
and a coven of witches that came after us.
We split up to try and shake 'em off.
She's still down there?
I pray she's not. Come on!
The car. She's still around here somewhere.
(indistinct radio transmission)
Jack?
Jack?!
Oh, my God, what's that?
Stay right there, gentlemen. There's nothing to see.
I'm sorry! You can't go in there!
Micki, no, no!
She can't be dead!
(sobbing): Micki, no!
She can't be dead, she can't be dead!
OFFICER: Do you guys know this woman?
JACK: Yes.
Do you have any idea where she was tonight?
or what she's doing here?
Please, can't we do this later?
Yeah, sure. Son, why don't you let us...?
Leave her alone! Don't touch her!
Officer...
...if you need to reach us. Here.
Okay. After the coroner looks at her,
we'll call and discuss funeral arrangements.
(sobbing)
I'm not leaving her!
You have to.
Look at me!
You have to.
You can't do any more here.
TIRIEL: Hyberia...
Hopefully, the clay of Salem will have preserved her--
our most powerful, most powerful ancestor,
Satan's mistress.
Returning her to life will be our greatest service to thee.
It was prophesied Hyberia would rule again.
Now we will make that prophecy come true.
Then we four will rule the world...
in Satan's name.
(fabric ripping)
Prepare our sister for the ceremony.
(clock ticking)
(bell tolling)
You haven't told me what you found at the museum.
Does it matter anymore?
Of course it matters.
Ryan?
She never had a chance at life, Jack.
So beautiful.
She didn't deserve this.
She knew we could run out of luck someday.
Where does it say she had to keep doing this?!
Where does it say she had to throw her life away
chasing some damn coin?!
She knew it had to be done, Ryan.
Why?! And why did you run out on her?!
I didn't run out on her.
I bought her all the time I could.
It wasn't enough.
Why did you let 'em get their hands on her, you bastard!
Ryan, for God's sake!
(sobs)
Oh, Ryan,
don't you know that I loved her, too?
Look,
I know this wasn't her job,
it isn't yours and it sure as hell isn't mine,
but who else is gonna stop what began here?
And if we don't do it,
what happens to all the people other people love?
(water dripping)
It is time.
Here he is.
"Cameron Tiriel,
"1833-1888. Satanic priest and warlock
"who published The Region of Shadows,
"purported to have been dictated to him
by Satan himself."
What was the museum doing with his body?
They'd had it for years.
It was buried so far back in the storeroom,
the curator didn't even know it was there.
That explains why Sylvan waited so long to use the coin.
He had to find the bodies of the powerful witches
before he could resurrect them, didn't he?
But why bring them back to life?
Because their combined power is enough
to raise the devil himself.
Oh, look,
this is Hyberia, the Queen Witch of Salem.
Legend has it she was Satan's lover.
What do you suppose she looks like now?
JACK (sighs): The witches of Salem were hung,
they weren't burned.
Most of the bodies were thrown into a muddy swamp,
where, as it happens, the clay preserved them.
Look-- here's one
that was dredged out a few years ago.
I imagine that Hyberia's
just about as attractive.
Sylvan said they'd be bringing her back tonight.
We don't have much time.
Mm.
Okay.
(exhales): All right, the car's out back.
Jack. Hm?
One more thing.
When this is over, I'm finished.
I'm leaving-- I'm not doing this anymore.
Ryan...
Don't try and talk me out of it-- I've made up my mind.
I don't want to go through this again when you die.
Okay?
Okay.
Good.
Now...
let's go make them wish they'd never been born.
(fierce yell)
(grunting)
(groans in pain)
RYAN: Jack!
Soon...
the world will be ours, Hyberia,
as was ordained.
Good.
It's done.
The ceremony is about to begin.
I want you to take this...
(gasps)
Where is the coin? Hm?
SYLVAN: I don't know...
what you're talking about.
Yes, you do-- the coin of Zaecles.
As long as it's gone, it'll be lost for centuries.
JACK: But you have it-- I saw you use it.
Where is it?
(chuckles): I'll have no trouble using this.
In fact, I think I'd enjoy it.
Last chance-- where is it?
Down there with them.
I'll get rid of this thing--
at least they won't bring her back.
Destiny will determine who will be brought back,
not you!
Will destiny determine who gets a slit throat? Hm?
I'm no good to you dead. You're not a lot of use to me alive, either.
I'll leave the choice up to you.
Is it money? I can get you all you want.
(chuckles): The only money I want is the coin.
(yells)
SYLVAN: Now, old man,
you can join your dead companion.
Not if you want to know where my friend has taken Hyberia.
(low growl)
Don't kill him.
Save him for the coin.
That's far enough. (gasps)
(panting)
Ryan!
SYLVAN: You've held up our ceremony long enough.
The next time we meet,
it will be to bring you before the Master.
I'm sure he'll be
very pleased to meet you.
(men chanting)
(quiet chanting continues)
(chanting continues)
(chanting stops)
We conjure thee, Great Satan,
to bless this ceremony.
Join us
as your mistress
is reborn.
Celebrate her life with us.
We beseech thee
in the name of all those who have fallen in your service.
Witness our devotion.
Join us, Master.
Arise, Dark Lord.
Rain eternal torment on our enemies
and share the rebirth
of your lost...
Hyberia.
(deep, disembodied voice speaking foreign language)
What the hell is that!
Satan himself.
He's coming!
Well, hurry, Jack!
I invoke thy presence, Hyberia...
thou who knoweth the secrets of terra firma,
who controlleth the tides at sea,
do thou ascend
and be present, I beseech thee!
Come on, Ryan!
I charge...
thee...
and command thee
to arise!
(whooshing) As my words,
so mote it be!
(thunder crashes)
(loud boom, clattering)
(quietly): No!
(disembodied voice roars)
(rumbling)
(voice roars)
I can get Micki! You grab the coin!
Master!
I beg you!
(voice roaring)
(clattering, rumbling)
No!
(indistinct shout)
No! Master!
(groaning)
(rumbling, clattering)
(yells)
(thud)
No! No!
(yells)
Where's the coin?
Right here.
Good. Let's go.
Where is the coin?!
All right, all right, you got it.
Heads you die!
(whirring through air)
No!
(disembodied voice roaring)
(rumbling)
Master! I beg you!
Why didn't the coin work?
It was a silver dollar-- I got the real one right here!
Jack! I dropped it!
JACK: No! Leave it, Ryan!
The roof's collapsing!
Come on!
No! Master!
(rumbling continues)
I can't believe the whole thing was planned.
Well, we snuck you out of the morgue
while the coroner was having a midnight snack.
(chuckles): Ryan here, he made a mask of Hyberia's face
to put over yours.
And Jack kept Sylvan busy
long enough for me to make the switch. Mm.
Why didn't you just get the coin
and bring me back that way?
(chuckles): Micki, we didn't have the coin.
Our one chance was to get Sylvan to do it for us,
and that's what destroyed the coven.
It's a very dangerous business conjuring up the Devil.
If you don't give him what you promise him...
Uh, the whole roof will fall in on you.
Unfortunately, we lost the coin.
JACK: Well, I think the coin's
as safe as if it was in the vault.
It's buried under hundreds of tons of rubble.
I think we can say
we won this one.
Hm? (laughs softly)
Yep. Welcome back.
Wouldn't want to go on doing this stuff without you.
(light crackling)