This dossier contained detailed records—so detailed that Stephanie had once used it as bedtime reading, especially since the one who wrote it was none other than Salomon himself. Salomon had infiltrated a family gathering—this family had once belonged to the same small-town Methodist deacon whose tragic story began decades earlier. Fifty years later, the gathering now centered around the children of several aging Methodist deacons, and one of them had once been deeply entangled with the fate of the former pastor, even having been one of his "healed" patients. The entire story Salomon recorded had been dictated by that person, written in the first person, meticulously chronicling each time the subject suffered a relapse and experienced a "vision."
Under the influence of alcohol and hypnosis spells, the man held nothing back. Though Salomon hadn't participated in the original mission, the subsequent investigation was entrusted to him. He was only sixteen at the time and personally completed the documentation of this tragic story. The magic book that had driven the former Methodist pastor into madness was eventually found—but not until many years later, at tremendous cost, and tangled with the emergence of vampires, worm-men, and even a colossal monster.
That book was called The Secrets of the Worm.
At the end of the dossier, the final experiment conducted by Dan Jacobs, the former Methodist pastor, was described in detail: an attempt to resurrect a woman who had been declared brain-dead due to Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease (a prion disorder). Records showed that Dan Jacobs succeeded. He summoned lightning and brought the poor woman—brain-dead for fifteen minutes—back to life. But the one who returned was not the patient, Mary Faye, but an Undying Being from beyond the Veil. It tore the veil open, slipped through her corpse, and entered the real world—granting Dan Jacobs visions of his dead wife and son.
One nurse, Jenny—who had witnessed the resurrection firsthand—fled home in terror, murdered her best friend (who also happened to be the narrator's first love), and then killed herself.
That outcome was echoed across many of those who'd once been "cured."
The muscular dystrophy patient committed suicide in a mental hospital, leaving behind a note that said: "I can see the dead." Patricia Farmindale, the cataract patient who used to pour salt into her eyes, smothered her father with a pillow and then shot both her husband and herself. Emil Klein, who suffered from pica, shot his wife and son before self-immolating. Alice Adams, a cancer patient who had been "cured," picked up an AR-15, murdered three strangers, and then took her own life with a revolver.
Dan Jacobs had healed hundreds during his tent revivals. Every single one eventually committed some heinous act. These tragedies didn't happen all at once—they were scattered across the tens of thousands of violent incidents in the United States, unnoticed, camouflaged among the chaos. And when they occurred, the perpetrators were in total dissociation—just like when they had previously harmed themselves.
They couldn't handle the aftereffects of their "healing." Human minds were not equipped to comprehend the horror and chaos that lurked behind the Veil. Madness was the least of the side effects.
This is the eternal dilemma for all who wield magic. Ordinary people don't know how to protect themselves, and in order to teach them how, one must expose them directly to madness. It's a closed loop with no escape.
That Methodist deacon's son—a 53-year-old ex-hippie and former addict named Jamie—eventually accepted sanctuary from Kamar-Taj. He was admitted into their privately-run psychiatric facility. Jamie was the last of Dan Jacobs' patients to retain his own consciousness, and the only surviving witness to the Undying Being's emergence into reality. His brother, who had been Dan Jacobs' first test subject decades earlier, had been committed as well after nearly murdering his boyfriend during a dissociative episode.
Jamie refused to have his memories erased. In exchange, he swore never to speak of these events again. He gave up his inheritance and donated several million dollars to Kamar-Taj.
This entire affair had unfolded around the same time as the Immortal City's battle with the tunneling worm responsible for the East Coast earthquake. Dan Jacobs' death marked the conclusion of the investigation into The Secrets of the Worm, and the removal of its extraworldly contamination from Earth. A Kamar-Taj Master personally executed the blind fool who had dared to tamper with such forbidden knowledge. In the Praetorian Guard's mission intelligence index, this case was one of the most vital reference files. Kamar-Taj had analyzed in detail the behavioral patterns of scientists afflicted by other-dimensional contamination, providing reasoning models for future missions.
Stephanie had already been informed: the consequences of the spellbook currently under investigation by the Guard would be far worse than The Secrets of the Worm. That was why both the Immortal City and Kamar-Taj were throwing their full weight behind the investigation—though Stephanie didn't quite understand everything, she followed orders anyway.
If The Secrets of the Worm, written by Ludwig Prynne, was "the most dangerous book ever written by a human," then this Darkhold being pursued by the Guard was "the most dangerous book in the universe, written by gods themselves." Its consequences would eclipse the East Coast quake and all the deaths and suicides it caused—it was a physical manifestation of all the malevolent intent within the intelligent minds of the universe: chaos, cruelty, and evil given form. And it was not alone. Many such entities remained unbound, scattered across the world.
Robbie Reyes opened his swollen eyes with great effort and sharply inhaled through clenched teeth. The harsh sunlight pouring through the window forced him to turn his head and shut his eyes. He felt as if he were hungover, like he'd consumed a cocktail of illegal drugs that left his brain utterly clouded. Blinking at the blurry figures in front of him, he vaguely recognized their faces. The three people watching him perked up instantly when they saw him awaken, and the smallest of them even reached out to touch his face.
The hand was cold.
"Robbie, wake up," came Gabe's voice in his ear.
The memories came flooding back like a tidal wave, nearly drowning him. Robbie's whole body stiffened. The familiar sensation on his back reminded him where he was—at home, in his room. That small figure was his brother Gabe Reyes, and he was lying on his hard wooden bed. Robbie sat up immediately and rubbed his eyes. As his vision cleared, he recognized the other two figures—Daisy Johnson and Wanda Maximoff. Uninvited guests. They stood by the bed watching him, expressions hesitant, as if they had something to say.
But Robbie's anger surfaced faster—because they were here.
"I'm awake, Gabe," he muttered, wiping the cold sweat from his brow. He was surprised to find his limbs weak and his gut in pain. He was still dressed in his torn-up black biker jacket, though his shoes and socks had been removed. "Why are you here?" he asked. "I didn't invite you. Gabe, you shouldn't let strangers into our house."
"Robbie, they're the ones who brought you back," Gabe said quietly. "You had a fever. You were really sick."
"I'm fine now. Gabe, I want to speak with them alone," Robbie said firmly, though he looked and smelled anything but authoritative. Gabe turned to glance at Daisy and Wanda, then nodded and wheeled himself out of the room.
"Eat lunch," Gabe snapped. "You haven't eaten anything. And wash the damn sheets—you stink."
"I'll get to it," Robbie replied. As soon as Gabe left, he jumped out of bed, wobbling as he stood. He refused help from the two women, steadying himself against the nightstand, and faced them squarely. "Say what you came to say," he rasped, his voice dry from dehydration. "What do I have to do to make you leave and stop disrupting our lives?"
Daisy opened her mouth, but Wanda beat her to it.
"I'm afraid that's not an option, Robbie Reyes," she said. "You're in serious trouble."
"Not as much trouble as you two must be."
"The energy lab," Wanda said, ignoring his sarcasm. "We need to find out where whatever was in there went. And I need you to sign a contract—with me and with the Spirit of Vengeance inside you. I assume you remember what happened at the auto shop—that was you, out of control. If this continues, Gabe will be hurt. And if you refuse to help, it won't just be Gabe who suffers."
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