by David J Howe
Having shown Kate to her room, Cavendish made his way back downstairs in the cottage. He had a vague idea about washing up the cups and glasses and then getting some sleep himself.
Half way down the stairs, however, he paused. Something felt wrong. There was a sensation … a feeling … and he had felt this way before.
‘Oh no,’ he mumbled. ‘Not again!’
The sky growled over St Paul’s Cathedral, and the grey dust clouds swirled and flickered with lightning.
In the grime and grit of a devastated London, three large stone gargoyles prowled, looking for anything they could devour. Most humans were now dead or hiding so securely that even the most devious of promises from the High Executioner could not tempt them out.
So the stone creatures remained alert, hunting for anything they could call prey.
Within the Cathedral, there was a frantic scurrying as one of the acolytes, a woman who had once been called Eva, hurried to fetch the High Executioner.
She gained access to her rooms, and now waited for her to join her. After a moment, the imperious High Executioner, in command of the Sodality, swept out of her chambers and down to where the link with 2003 was being maintained.
She was wearing her usual leather trousers tucked into high boots, with a flowing silk top. Eva knew that the top disguised the fact that she wore knife holsters on each arm, and that she had a sharp sword clipped to one leg. There was no way that she was going to be caught out.
As they approached the chair upon which the remains of the man maintaining contact with Cavendish were placed, one of the other acolytes scurried forward.
‘Madame,’ he began. ‘We feel it has started.’
The High Executioner frowned. What had started? Nothing started without her saying so.
The creature in the copper harness rolled its eyes to look at the High Executioner.
‘The portal is being forced open,’ he said calmly. ‘More power is needed. It may be time to take the next move and to secure this nexus point.’
The High Executioner nodded, and gestured for Eva to attend her.
‘We need ten more acolytes here now,’ she said. ‘Go!’
Eva ran off to chase down more people to keep the strange powerful chanting going. Those who had been doing this were now exhausted, herself included.
While she did this, the High Executioner turned her attention to the man in the machine.
‘What can you see?’
The man closed his eyes and murmured, ‘More power …’
The acolytes surrounding them, although tired, started up the usual power chant, bringing the strange psyonic science to life through their words.
‘Excellent, excellent,’ said the calm voice of the creature. ‘We have connection. We can begin.’
‘Keep it going,’ said the High Executioner. ‘I want to control this zone … I have to control this zone!’
‘Time for a bedtime story,’ said the creature on the chair.
On the stairs in the cottage, Cavendish paused. He could feel the voices in his head.
‘Time for a bedtime story.’
Cavendish shook his head. ‘No, no!’
He suddenly realised what these voices wanted and started to struggle mentally. ‘No. Kate’s here to help!’
‘You invited the woman here because you think she likes you,’ taunted the voice. ‘And you certainly like her.’
‘No!’
‘I know you better than that. So we can use her to get what we want …’
Cavendish put his hands to his head, struggling in agony. ‘I won’t … I won’t.’
The voice came in a harsh whisper: ‘You can’t stop us!’
Cavendish suddenly stopped struggling and brought his hands down from his face. His face was calm, and his eyes glinted with a malign intelligence. He looked over to where Kate’s room was, and a slow, cruel smile spread across his lips.
Silently, he continued his way down the stairs and into the living room. There he picked up the large leather book and laid it on the table in front of him.
He opened it to a certain page, ran his finger down the page, and began to read: ‘Snubs sorc toh ynnepa owt ynnepa eno snubs sorc toh snubs sorc toh.’
The surge of power as Cavendish, now controlled by the Sodality, opened the portal still further, took the High Executioner by surprise.
Rivulets of blue electricity started to run around the copper cradle containing the human conduit in her time, and the chanting acolytes seemed to gain in power and confidence.
She paced back and forth, delighted at the progress. Soon the power would be hers and hers alone. She could sense it.
Lying on the bed in the cottage, Kate felt a change in the air. As though someone had let a fresh blast of sea air into the house. She looked over at the window and thought she saw something moving.
Kate pushed herself off the bed and went over to look out. There was nothing to see but darkness. She shrugged, wondering if Douglas’ instability was contagious.
Outside in the forest clearing, the hunched stone statue was wreathed in white mist. The forest was silent. No animals or birds would have dared to be out on this night. They could sense the power in the air.
Cavendish, controlled by his future masters, continued to read from the book: ‘Regna meh tot emoc emoc emoc!’
Outside, the mist covered statue quivered as though some shockwave travelled through it from the ground. The mists swirled around it, obscuring it from sight.
There was a curious grinding sound. Of stone on stone. Of great marble objects clashing against each other.
The mists swirled, and when they cleared, the statue had gone.
Nothing remained but the plinth on which it had stood.
In her room, Kate peered intently out of her window. She was sure she had seen something out there.
She moved her face close, seeing her own reflection looking back at her.
Perhaps that was it? She had seen her own reflection?
There was a sudden bang on her bedroom door.
Kate launched herself away from the window, on alert as something moved outside in the hallway.
What she didn’t see was that her reflection in the glass remained there! The mirror image of Kate was still looking in through the window!
Kate moved to the door. Strange white mist rolled under it.
She put out her hand to the handle, and felt the same static electric shocks run up her arm, bringing the hairs upright once more.
She gently pulled the handle and opened the door.
Outside the room, in the upper hallway, all was dark. Tendrils of white mist flowed around the floor, however.
Kate moved to the top of the stairs and carefully made her way down in the darkness. There was nothing to see except the mist which, when it touched her ankles, was ice cold.
Kate noted that the mist seemed to be coming from underneath the locked understairs doorway, but aside from this there was nothing untoward about the house.
In the room opposite the locked door, Cavendish sat at the table, his head in his hands, and the book in front of him.
As Kate approached he looked up, and his face was white.
‘Douglas?’ she said.
He blinked and some semblance of life seemed to flow back into him.
‘I’m sorry … I’m so sorry. The voices … they took control again, completed the incantation. Now they have enough power to start the next stage …’
Cavendish struggled to stand, and Kate helped him up. There was obviously something very wrong here.
They moved to the hallway which was icy cold. Kate noticed that her breath steamed as she breathed.
This was like a million supposed haunted houses that those shows on television visited.
Suddenly, there was a movement in the hallway ahead of them, and before Kate’s eyes the figure of a man materialised from nowhere. He was dressed in a smart but futuristic looking silver suit, he had a bald pate, but a nea
tly trimmed moustache and beard. He seemed to be talking to them, but no sound could be heard.
He gesticulated in frustration and again could be seen mouthing silently.
Kate realised that her own mouth was gaping open.
‘He’s back,’ whispered Cavendish, stepping backwards down the hall.
The see-through man stepped towards them, still trying to make himself understood. He gestured to the locked door, and then stepped right through it, vanishing from sight.
Kate realised she was holding her breath, and let it out in a rush.
‘What … was that?’ she asked.
‘A ghost? You saw him too? I knew it wasn’t just me …’
‘But I don’t believe in ghosts …’
Kate tried the understairs door again but it was locked.
‘There’s no way he could have got through here … unless there’s a secret opening …’
Kate started to feel and press around the door, in the hope of finding some sort of hidden catch or something, but there was nothing.
‘There’s no point,’ said Cavendish. ‘There is no hidden door. I did the same thing the first time I saw him.’
‘But people can’t just walk through walls. It’s not …’
‘… human?’
‘Why do you say that?’ asked Kate. ‘I was thinking “natural”. What was that you said about them having enough power. Who are “they”?’
‘I’m not sure.’ Cavendish sighed. ‘I think they’re from another place … maybe another time. They promised me power if I’d help them. At first I was sceptical, but working with UNIT gives you … insights … into what’s going on.’
‘I could have guessed. Why did you say that this … this ghost thing … was not human?’
‘In UNIT’s secure facility I saw the files. Everything neatly labelled and locked away as if that would help control it.’
Cavendish seemed to make a decision.
‘I must show you.’ He grabbed Kate’s hand and started off down the hallway to the front door.
‘Come,’ he said. ‘Come see.’
7
The Collection
Cavendish led Kate out of the house into the night air. They followed a path that wound around the side to behind the cottage, and down a short driveway to a garage.
He seemed to have regained much of his strength, and he chattered away as they walked.
‘… you do know Kate, we’re not alone here. Earth has been visited many, many times, but UNIT hushes it up. The things I saw … photographs … witness reports … crates of equipment like something out of a science fiction film … and then there’s the specimens.’
‘Specimens? They have real live aliens?’
‘Not live … not that I saw anyway … but one of the vaults is floor to ceiling with bell jars and other glass containers. Some of the things there – tentacles, lumps of flesh, foetuses, alien shapes and forms all sitting silently in formaldehyde …’
Kate remembered a news report she had seen about an artist who pickled creatures for art.
‘What? Like Damien Hurst?’
They had reached the door to the garage, and Cavendish opened it, standing back to let Kate enter first. ‘Take a look,’ he said.
Kate stepped cautiously into the garage. Cavendish flicked on a light and a dim bulb lit the interior.
It was full of shelves, no room for any vehicles, and the shelves were full of an amazing amount of objects.
As Kate’s eyes flitted over them, there was nothing she could recognise there. It all seemed to be pieces of metal and junk. Strange tubes with flanges on, bits of plastic … nothing really identifiable.
Then she saw a large cylindrical container full of some sort of greenish liquid. She looked closer and saw that suspended in the liquid was the largest maggot she had ever seen. At least she thought it was a maggot. On closer inspection it turned out to have a large single eye mounted on the front, above a pair of sharp-looking incisors. It was not a maggot!
‘What is it?’ Kate asked.
‘No idea,’ said Cavendish. ‘It was there in the store.’
‘Why did you take it?’
Cavendish tapped the jar. ‘Because I could. UNIT didn’t know everything about me. When I came out of hospital, I bought this place. I felt drawn to it. No-one knows I’m here, so no-one can come and debrief me.
‘I wanted a slice of power … and then I started seeing ghosts. I’m not stupid. I can put two and two together … ghosts don’t exist … but other things do.’
‘I’m starting to see what you mean,’ said Kate. ‘But what? I saw him too. A man. He walked past me, and through a locked door …’
There was a sound from outside, a grinding, grating noise like concrete rubbing against concrete.
Kate and Cavendish both looked at each other.
‘What was that?’ asked Kate.
‘No idea,’ said Cavendish, his eyes flicking to the door.
‘We’d better go look,’ said Kate, and led the way out of the garage.
In the far future, the High Executioner was not at all happy with how things were progressing. There were power fluctuations, they could not maintain control of the totem, and there were also blocks and obstructions coming from something else in that timezone too.
She had called up more acolytes to focus the power and to allow the portal to be inched wider and wider.
She also realised that the focus of gaining more power would be this man Cavendish, and how far they could push him. He was a man, and so finding his weakness should be easy.
She needed a female touch here though, and so had sent Eva for preparation. The girl had gone willingly, as these acolytes were bred to obey, brainwashed their entire lives to serve the Sodality.
Now she was returned. What remained of her was held in a copper cradle as with the man who had been controlling up to now. But her body was held within a human-shaped lattice of metal, copper and wires. Around the whole set-up was a dark red cloak, so that anyone looking quickly might just see the shape of a person, and not wonder at what abomination was hidden beneath.
One of the team quickly connected the copper wires, and added her to the focus around which the other acolytes were still circling, steadily chanting and making sure the power was as steady as could be managed.
The final connection was made, and the thing that had once been Eva opened her eyes wide and screamed. But it was a cry of satisfaction and hunger, not pain. Her nerve endings had been seared and she could no longer sense pain.
‘She is near,’ reported Eva. ‘We can feel her.’
The High Executioner nodded. Things were coming to a head.
Kate and Cavendish returned around the cottage. Nothing was out of place as far as they could see, but when they arrived at the front, Kate stopped dead.
Before them, sitting on the lawns, was the statue from the clearing.
‘Now, that wasn’t there before!’ said Kate under her breath.
Cavendish held back as Kate stepped forward. ‘Can we go back inside now please? There’s nothing here.’
‘I want to know how this statue got here from the clearing.’
Kate looked around at Cavendish. She wasn’t sure what all this was about, but what she was sure of was that it wasn’t normal. She had seen a ghost. A real life ghost. And watched him walk through a solid door.
She had seen a garage full of alien machinery and alien creatures pickled in formaldehyde. That wasn’t something she would quickly forget!
And now, here was another dilemma. This statue.
She moved closer to it.
‘Last time I touched this thing, something happened. I was … somewhere else. It was terrifying. But maybe … maybe we can learn more about what’s happening.’
She reached up her hand.
‘I’m going to touch it again. If anything happens … anything at all … you will help me won’t you?’
Cavendish gave a flash of a smile and nodd
ed.
Kate reached out, felt the familiar static prickle as her hand approached the cold stone, and touched the statue …
Kate was immediately back in the red tinged, smoke filled place. There was faint movement around her, and the sound of chanting filled the air.
As she was expecting this, it didn’t faze her as much as last time. She stood her ground and looked around, trying to make out something of where she was.
She heard a voice break through the noise. It was deep and calm.
‘The portal is now open. Psionic science is superior. We can start the ritual.’
Kate looked around but there was nothing to see. She heard another voice break through. Cavendish.
‘Kate? Kate?’
Kate could just make out something moving around her, and she reached out her hand to try and clear the smoke.
‘Who’s there? I can’t see you?’
The strange asexual voice sounded again, and this time the message it carried was more worrying.
‘We no longer need the man … now as the power builds, we will animate the totem … the movement was successful … next will be transformation …’
As she looked around, trying to find the source of the voice, a hooded shape moved into view before her. It seemed to be a monk of some sort. It stepped forward and stood before Kate, its head bowed.
As Kate watched, it slowly raised its head, and Kate saw what was hidden beneath.
The ravages of a once-pretty face. Metal and wires digging deep into the skin, and eyes held open by copper cradles. The mouth cruel and lips missing, revealing grinning teeth …
Kate screamed …
… and was lying on her back in front of the statue in the cottage garden.
Cavendish was kneeling over her, looking down in concern.
‘Kate? Kate?’
Kate groaned. ‘What happened?’
