Void: Book Five of the Nightlord series

by Garon Whited

  “I’m not a nice guy.”

  “I’m not going to laugh for two reasons. First, because it’s wrong. Second, because it’s so sad.”

  “Sad? Why sad?”

  “Because you believe it.” She took my arm and squeezed it, pressing up next to me. “You’re a blood-drinking, soul-devouring monster with a heart that belongs in a saint.”

  “I doubt that. I don’t think I could get the heart out of a saint. They’re usually protected. It would burn my hand.”

  “You know what I mean!”

  “Yes, but I’m trying to avoid discussing it.”

  “Fine. Remember what I said about finding someplace to take me on a date. I’ll be in Lightfoot Bay for a while, working on the steel-mill deal for Diogenes.”

  “I’ll give it some thought. Before you go, can you give me a hand with some fuel drums?”

  “Of course.”

  Diogenes provided some fifty-five gallon drums of gasoline in Apocalyptica. We shuttled them through the shift-booth in the house. We don’t have a shift-building for bulk cargo in The Manor world. It’s not a major supplier of anything he wants.

  It being the middle of the night, weight wasn’t the issue. Large and cumbersome was the issue. Mary and I carried them carefully from the shift-booth in my quarters out to the carriage-house. Trixie hovered over us as we made several trips, but only landed on a shoulder when we walked back. The steel of the drums bothered her.

  I wanted to ask Mary to take the motorcycle back, but I didn’t. I know how Diogenes made it. Once Diogenes had his schematics worked out and a million or so simulations processed, thousands of machine shop robots each made one part, whether it be a frame or a single screw. More robots assembled each component, then yet more robots fit the individual components together, and the process continued until the bike was fully assembled. Stunningly fast for whacking together individual units, but not efficient for bulk orders.

  It was a lot of effort, and I hated to admit it was wasted. Still, given sufficient reason, I might ride it. Someday. Maybe. Or not. It was easier to let it sit there while I didn’t think about it.

  Mary kissed me thoroughly before going back to Apocalyptica. She has her hobbies and I have mine. It works for us. She went off to hunt down adventures more suited to her taste. I, on the other hand, settled down for the evening with my wands and orichalcum circuit board.

  The Manor, Saturday, September 30th, 1939

  Mary was right about one thing. After using the manor as a sort of hermitage, it was time to get more familiar with the locals. By which I mean it was time to start paying more attention to the affairs of the world around me. If I can completely miss a German invasion of Poland, a British declaration of war, and the kickoff of World War Two, it’s just barely possible I’m not getting out enough.

  I put an aerial up on the roof and ran a wire in through a window. Diogenes could listen to the radio traffic of the planet through a relay unit similar to the Diogephone. While he absorbed the current events, I drove into town to visit the library. Since it was Saturday, the library was closed—there are some drawbacks to small towns. It took the better part of the morning to find Mrs. Willoughby, the librarian, and bribe her to open the place up. She wasn’t best pleased, but all I wanted was her newspaper section for the last month.

  Turns out they didn’t keep a month of periodicals. They did have the last week of newspapers, although that counted the one I fished out of the bins. Well, it’s a small library. Most of their historical references were devoted to regional history and family trees.

  I apologized profusely for causing the sudden change in her daily plans. I made sure to ask her advice about where to eat in town and invited her to dine with me. She was at least as old as Mrs. Gillespie and a widow from zeppelin bombing during the previous war. I’m not sure when the last time a young (looking) man requested the honor of her company at a meal, but she was quite pleased.

  Survival tip for immortals of all sorts: Librarians are the secret masters of the universe. Whether they be dusty archivists or VR data-gurus, they have access to lots of information. Stay on their good side.

  Since the latest version of the Diogephone included a camera, I paged through the small stack of newspapers, photographing every page. Diogenes would read them faster than I could capture them. He would also give me a report on how this world was progressing, comparing and contrasting it to “my” history.

  Mrs. Willoughby took an interest in what I was doing.

  “You’re familiar with the new automatic cameras, Ma’am?”

  “I’ve seen one or two in the hands of tourists. Little boxy things.”

  “Indeed they are. Are you also aware I’m something of an inventor?”

  “I’m so sorry, Master Kearne,” she admitted, looking distressed. “I know you purchased Applewood Hall, as I have a record of the sale, but I can’t say I’ve heard aught else of you.”

  “You have a record of it?”

  “Oh, yes, sir. The library is also the town’s records office.”

  “I learn something new every day. But it was my father who bought the place. He did it in my name, of course, because he believed it would be a good family seat. He fought in the Great War, you know, on the Continent, but he found he loved this place.”

  “There’s much to love. Did he come home from the trenches?”

  “He did. It wasn’t the Huns that got him, but the lawyers. The solicitors. In America. His heart finally gave out from fighting in the courts over patents and rights and money.”

  “Terrible. Just terrible.”

  “Indeed. I leave the legal battles to the legal men. I invent things. This, for example, is a tiny camera I’ve managed to fit into a cigarette case. It uses film far smaller than the usual and can take many pictures. I’m testing it now to see if I can read the newspapers from the pictures I take—I need a lot of pictures to get a good sample for scientific testing. It makes me regret not having any newspapers up at the Hall. And, of course, it keeps me from wasting your whole day. I won’t sit here and read everything on the spot.”

  “Oh, it’s hardly a bother, Master Kearne. I’m sure the library could loan you the papers.”

  “I wouldn’t hear of it, Mrs. Willoughby. That would deprive me of your company.”

  “Go along with you,” she said, but she smiled as she said it.

  I finished with the newspapers and thanked her for a lovely day—the sun was out and everything was drying nicely. I even drove her home again. She wasn’t too eager to ride in a motor-carriage, but I think she found it surprisingly pleasant. I even escorted her to her door rather than drop her off at the curb.

  On my way back, I swung by the scene of last night’s homicide and saw yellow-and-black rope around the place. I also saw a number of symbols chalked on the temporary door, the path, and the garden wall. I took pictures of those, as well, and scribbled several in my notebook to show to Mrs. Gillespie and Trixie. They’re my resident experts on the local folklore.

  I returned to the manor and found a car already parked in front. I parked in the carriage house and went in. Mr. Weatheral was waiting in a front parlor, entertained by Mrs. Gillespie and the Dreyfus children.

  “Good afternoon,” I offered, by way of announcing myself. “Sorry I took so long. I was visiting the library.”

  “My own fault,” he replied, rising to greet me. “I should have called ahead. As it is, I’ve had a very pleasant chat with your housekeeper and your guests.”

  “Have my guests been behaving?”

  “They’ve been delightful. Jenny was just regaling us with a story about her fairy friend.”

  Jenny scrambled over to me and hugged my leg, talking rapidly about what sounded like Trixie. I knelt, listened attentively, and nodded. Mrs. Gillespie gathered up the children and urged them out of the room so the grown-ups could talk. I kissed Jenny’s forehead and told her to see if her fairy was hiding.

  When they were gone, Weatheral ch
uckled.

  “She’s quite the imaginative child.”

  “I wouldn’t know. I hardly see them. I’m a bit of a hermit—too focused on my work.” I gestured him to his chair again and took a seat, myself.

  “What is your work, if I may make so bold as to ask?”

  “Mostly electronics, but I dabble in photography. Much of my fortune is from electrical devices. I’m convinced there will come a day when picture wireless—television—will be as common as a radio set is today. We simply need to find a way to get the costs of a receiver down to something reasonable.”

  “I shouldn’t wonder. What a marvelous age we live in.”

  “I agree. So, Councilman Weatheral, is this a social call?”

  “I only wish it were,” he sighed. “We’ve a pair of young boys who have been… somewhat mistreated. Their former host will not be an issue, of course, but we’ll need a place to house them when they’re released by Doctor Bradfield.”

  “Released?”

  “They were badly mistreated.” Weatheral glanced around the room as though to make certain no children had somehow snuck back in while we weren’t looking. He lowered his voice. “To be blunt, sir, they were used as his catamites.” Weatheral shivered. “Terrible thing, what?’

  “It beggars belief,” I admitted. “I trust the local constable… Henderson?”

  “Henderson is one of our constables, yes.”

  “I trust he’s already apprehended the fellow?”

  “I believe that, by and large, he’s in custody.”

  “By and large?”

  Weatheral licked his lips and swallowed.

  “Master Kearne, I would rather this did not leave the room. Sub rosa, so to speak.”

  “You have my word.”

  “My man, Carter, is given neither to superstition nor drink. When the two boys were deposited on my doorstep, last night, Carter was there to see what delivered them. He swears it was a creature of some infernal sort. At first, I was reluctant to believe him.”

  “At first?”

  “Since the boys were on my doorstep, I had a constable pop over to inform their guardian-of-record. What he found… I had to go and see for myself. I dearly wish I had not done so. I tell you the truth, sir, when I say it was not a sight for any but those inured to the most hideous brutality of death.”

  “I believe you,” I told him, seriously. “If it’s all the same to you, I’ll skip going to see for myself. I’m a naturally curious guy, but it sounds as though you’re warning me off from even looking.”

  “Would that I had such a warning! It was a terrible scene, sir, and that’s the simple truth. And yet, there was not so much as a drop of blood to be found. Amid the gruesome and the ghastly, it was the oddity.”

  “I take it the murder—I assume it’s being investigated as a murder and not some sort of animal attack?”

  “There is only one animal that butchers men so, and that is his fellow man.”

  “Ah. I see. Well, then, perhaps the murderer used some sort of medical device to remove the blood prior to… what? Dismemberment?”

  “Far beyond dismemberment, sir. Far more. But one would assume there should be blood yet remaining in some of the organs—the heart, at the very least, I should think. I tell you, there was not so much as a drop to be found.”

  “Both disturbing and puzzling,” I commented. “I’m afraid I’m out of ideas. Extracting blood from bodies, alive or dead, isn’t my field of study. Have you consulted a doctor?”

  “Yes. Doctor Bradfield examined the pieces and brought the absence of the blood to our attention. I confess, I was too preoccupied by the state of the remains to even notice.”

  “I can imagine. I think. Actually, I’d rather not imagine, if it’s all the same to you. I had a very pleasant lunch and would like to keep it. Maybe we can talk about something else?”

  “Gladly, sir. The crux of the matter is the disposition of two young boys.”

  “That’s hardly an issue, is it? If there’s someone in town you trust and who will take them in, you have no problem. If there isn’t someone, for whatever reason, simply bring them here. I mentioned this to… Councilman Fillmore? Did I remember his name?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m terrible with names, so I’m always cautious about them.”

  “I understand completely.”

  “At any rate, if you have children who need a place to live and nowhere to put them, Applewood Hall is at your disposal.”

  “I admit I am surprised to hear that. Elias did tell me of your generous offer, but I couldn’t quite believe him. To be frank, sir, it seems too much a good thing to be believed.”

  “Councilman Weatheral, let me be frank, as well. Forgive me for speaking so bluntly, but I can’t sugarcoat this and still get my point across.”

  “Of course. Speak your mind.”

  “I’ve traveled far and seen much. Along the way, I’ve seen atrocities you would not believe. I once saw an African child with limbs as thin as two of your fingers starve to death. Before my eyes. On some nameless dirt road, under a cruel sun, I found this nameless child and, despite everything I could do to save him, he died in my arms. I sat there in the heat and the dust, holding the lifeless body, while the vultures stalking him waited for me to leave. I shot every one of those bastard birds and left them in the sun to rot while I buried the boy.”

  I leaned back in my chair and steepled my fingers.

  “I’m not the sort to go out and change the world, councilman. My youthful wanderlust is gone. I’m strictly a stay-at-home type now, puttering about in my laboratory, for there is where I am most effective. I would be less useful in some dry little country, digging wells for irrigation, or off in some other exotic place trying to stamp out injustice. My best hope for helping such places is to better the lot of all mankind.

  “That being said, when I see a child is hungry or hurt, it reminds me of blistering heat, a dusty road, and the patience of the vultures.”

  Weatheral was silent for several seconds, not looking at me, but looking into the distant vistas of his own thoughts and memories. Finally, he refocused his gaze on me.

  “I believe I can understand your position. By your leave, I’ll have the boys brought up as soon as the doctor says they’re fit.”

  “I’d rather you called. Mr. and Mrs. Gillespie can come down to collect them and do their shopping. The boys will be needing country shoes and boots, as well as a host of other things.”

  “You may leave it in my hands.”

  “Very well. Now, may I ask a favor?”

  “Of course.”

  “Two favors, now that I think of it. First, I’d like someone at the train station to be aware I’m expecting a number of guests—teachers, tutors, governesses, all that sort. I’m not entirely sure what trains they’ll be taking and I’m afraid they’ll be left standing on the platform. Could someone call the house and let us know? We’ll head right down to pick them up.”

  “I’m sure we can accommodate you.”

  “Thank you. I’ll sleep better knowing that. The other favor is a recommendation or two. I need a supplier for stone, lumber, pipe, wire—all the materials of construction, as well as stonemasons, carpenters, plumbers, and so on. I have in mind to build another wing onto the manor, possibly even an auxiliary building. I would also like to add a second telephone line so the children can call any parent with a telephone. Then there is the matter of renovating the manor to accommodate better electric lighting and improving the plumbing. Quite a lot to do, especially with a war on. Can you get me a list of construction companies who can handle such things?”

  “I can have it for you this evening, if that suits you. Be aware you may have to send rather far afield for such things. Keswick is hardly an industrial center. And the nature of war is such that materials and men may not be as available as one might wish.”

  “Yes, of course. Thank you for bringing it to my attention. I hate to waste the time in send
ing all the way to America, though. Still, we’ll see what we can do. And morning will be soon enough for the list. I’m expecting guests on the afternoon train.”

  “Ah! So soon?”

  “Well, I’m hardly fit to be a parent figure. Besides, I understand a number of teachers are out of work and may need a job.”

  “Why, I suppose there are. Yes, of course there will be.”

  “I’m glad my idea doesn’t sound silly. It’s good to have someone with a level head confirm your suspicions.”

  “I take it as a compliment.”

  “It was meant as one. Now, though, I also suspect I should run back down to town to meet the train.”

  Weatheral stood up when I did. We shook hands.

  “It’s been a pleasure to get to know you, Master Kearne.”

  “The pleasure has been mine, Councilman Weatheral.”

  Nice man. He reminded me of Raeth in some ways. I wonder how he ever got suckered into politics. A feeling of civic responsibility, probably. Poor guy.

  James dashed out after me and walked beside me to the carriage house.

  “Sir? Can I talk to you?”

  “Of course, James. What’s on your mind?”

  “It’s Jenny, sir. She’s not right in the head.”

  “Oh, really? What makes you think so?”

  “She’s talking about fairies! She never used to talk about fairies, but now they’re all she can talk about! Little fairy this, little fairy that, and she chases all around the house trying to catch one or run from one or something!”

  I opened the large doors of the carriage house while he spoke.

  “Why is this a problem?”

  “I think she’s going mad.”

  “Possibly. You might consult Mrs. Gillespie, first.”

  “Huh?”

  “Don’t grunt.”

  “I mean, why would I do that, sir?”

  “She’s the expert on fairies around here. Which reminds me, I wanted to consult with her, myself. I’ll do it when I get back.”