Adept Six and Acolyte Three flinched at the mention of a Lodge member’s real name. It was Frank’s own fault. Both knew that everyone else had passed the initiation rites and earned a Lodge degree. There was only one Magister, but plenty of Adepts and Acolytes. However, Frank could never quite get his shit together enough to get higher than, well, Frank. It was the Lodge’s secret shame.

The Magister sighed. “Now that Frank is dead, I guess we can talk about the elephant in the room.”

“What elephant is that?” said Adept Six.

“Are you being cute?” said the Magister.

Adept Six shook his head.

“How about you, Acolyte?”

Acolyte Three shook his head, too.

“Christ,” said the Magister and dropped his head into his hand. After a moment he said, “Frank was ripping us off.”

“Ripping us off how?” said the Acolyte.

“Ripping us off! What part of ripping us off don’t you get? He was stealing sacred objects and selling them on eBay. Sometimes to hippie-bead, holy-roller, spiritual nut jobs.”

Acolyte Three’s eyes narrowed. “Does this have something to do with room 8?”

The Magister nodded gravely. “It has everything to do with room 8.”

The Acolyte made a face. “Is that the one that’s starting to smell?”

“Yes. So, you haven’t actually been inside?”

“No, Dark High One. Should I?”

“Only if you want to lose your breakfast,” said Adept Six. “And I mean all the breakfasts you ever ate.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Frank blew up. Or, more likely, was blown up,” said the Magister. “Did you ever see that video where they dynamited a whale on a beach in Oregon?”

Acolyte Three nodded excitedly. “Yes, sir. It’s pretty awesome, Dark High One.”

“Well, imagine if that happened inside. In this building. To Frank. In room 8.”

“He exploded?”

“Like a poodle in a microwave,” said Adept Six. “It’s like someone painted the room with beef chili.”

“I thought it was more like a hundred pounds of head cheese,” said the Magister.

“That too, Dark High One.”

Acolyte Three swayed. “Do you mind if I sit, sir? I’m not feeling so good.”

“Of course. Get him a chair, Adept,” said the Magister.

Adept Six went to the back of the room and came back with a folding chair. He set it down and Acolyte Three dropped into it heavily.

“Put your head between your knees,” said the Magister.

The acolyte leaned over and said, “Yes, Dark High One,” his voice muffled by his legs.

“I swear, if you puke here in the sacred chamber . . .”

“I won’t.”

“I mean, this place smells bad enough, what with the grease from the fryers downstairs and the fumes from room 8.”

“It’ll be okay. I promise,” said Acolyte Three.

“Good boy,” said the Magister. “So, Adept Six, what are we doing about the room?”