Slow Demons (Hanover and Singh Book 2)

by Chris Paton

  “A marvel of engineering. Look at this, Fräulein Wallendorf, Mr. Robshaw. Not even the great Wallendorf Industries can manufacture something as precise as this.” Bremen pressed the tip of his finger against the vertebrae-like cogs twisting from the base of the device to the top. The spine flexed with the pressure exerted by his finger. “Delicate,” Bremen mused.

  “There are plenty of Swiss watch manufacturers in London.” Robshaw leaned closer, his shoulder pressing against Bremen’s. “They also make precision instruments.”

  “Yes,” Bremen bowed his head closer and peered inside the chamber, “but not like this.” He stopped his inspection and looked at Hannah. “There must be a means of cranking the device. What else did the messenger give you?”

  “Nothing, Herr Bremen.” Hannah’s smile faded upon her lips. “Is something missing?”

  “Well,” Bremen sighed, “I can’t see how we can test the machine without a...”

  “Who is that?” Romney stepped around Hannah on her way to the door.

  “Hannah,” Bremen pointed at the men standing guard either side of the doors, “protect the machine.” Lifting his cane to his hip, Bremen held it like a rifle in his hands. The door shuddered under the repeated thumping of someone on the outside. “Open it,” Bremen commanded.

  Under Hannah’s direction, ten of Bremen’s men joined the two guards at the door. Pushing Romney and Robshaw away from the single entrance framed inside the double loading doors, the men formed a semicircle around it. Bremen pressed closer, the percussion tip of his cane pointing straight ahead. The guards opened the door, the hinges squealing as it swung inwards.

  The black-clad men ringing the door stumbled backward under a torrent of wings as Shahin burst through the doorway and up, high up, into the rafters of the disused mill. Hari splayed his left hand against the doorframe. Staring through the long strands of wet hair obscuring his face, he wiped blood and rainwater from his chin with the back of his right hand and stepped inside the mill.

  “Who is that?” Romney leaned closer to Robshaw. “And why is he covered in blood?”

  “You can stop there.” Bremen placed his hand upon the back of the man closest to him and pressed the circle of men forward. “Hannah, please have our drivers escorted to a more comfortable location. The stables will do. They can wait there while we attend to,” Bremen flicked his finger in Hari’s direction, “this.”

  “Ja, Herr Bremen.” Hannah waved a guard forward and whispered in his ear. She turned to Romney and Robshaw. “This is Heinrich. Please follow him. He will make sure you have everything you need.”

  “And what about him?” Robshaw pointed at Hari.

  “Not your concern.” Hannah nodded at Heinrich. “As quickly as possible.”

  Hari watched as Heinrich gripped the elbows of the two drivers and guided them toward a door beyond the wooden scaffold. Smoothing his fingers through his hair, Hari parted the wet strands from his face. He looked around the circle of men, his eyes flicking from the machine in Hannah’s hands to Bremen’s face. Hari raised his arm and pointed at Bremen’s assistant.

  “I need that.” Hari took a step forward. The circle of men tightened as they linked arms and bunched their shoulders. “Gentlemen,” Hari sighed. “It has been a very long night.”

  “And it may turn out to be the longest night of your life.” Bremen slipped his cane under his arm and parted the men closest to him with a tap on their shoulders. “Perhaps even your last. Unless...”

  “Unless?” Hari’s shoulders sagged as he turned to address Bremen. “Unless what?”

  Bremen nodded in the direction of the device. “It seems we are missing a part.” He pulled the cane from beneath his arm, pressed the tip upon the stone floor and rested his hands upon the pommel. “You seem to be acquainted with it. Perhaps you can help?”

  “I have a sick friend,” Hari gestured to the road behind him. “She will be here momentarily.”

  “She?”

  “Yes,” Hari nodded. “Miss Luise Hanover.”

  “Really?” Bremen raised his eyebrows. “And she needs the machine for what, exactly?”

  “I am not sure,” Hari frowned. “But she designed it, she has requested it, and I aim to give it to her.”

  “Is that her now?” Bremen peered around Hari’s haggard body.

  “Yes.”

  “She has some friends with her.” Bremen pointed at the men in tartan flanking Egmont’s steam carriage as it rolled toward the mill doors. “Are they here to help you retrieve Miss Hanover’s machine?”

  “If necessary,” Hari straightened.

  “I see.” Bremen raised his right hand and clicked his fingers. Dark shapes stirred from the hammocks slung between the wooden pillars of the third floor. Peeling out of the shadows, the men slipped their grey caps upon their heads and tramped down the staircase to the mill floor. Bremen’s mechanics abandoned the steamracers and strode toward the doors, wrenches and spanners grasped within their fists.

  “It will be a costly affair to take the machine by force, Mr.?”

  “Singh.” Hari pressed his palms together in a weak Namaste.

  “Mr. Singh,” Bremen smiled and briefly dipped his head. “I represent Wallendorf Industries. My name is Bremen. Perhaps we can come to an arrangement?”

  The carriage rolled to a stop behind Hari. Egmont shuffled the Polyphase rifle into a casual grip. Sullivan arranged his men in two lines, one to each side of the carriage.

  “Mr. Bremen,” Hari stepped to one side and gestured at the carriage. “If my friend could be permitted to use the machine, then perhaps we can come to an agreement?”

  “She wants to use it?” Bremen nodded. “I too would like to see it in action.” Lifting his cane, Bremen pointed the pommel toward Hari. “If I were to allow this demonstration, I can trust that you will cease any further interference in my affairs?”

  “Yes.” Hari flicked his eyes to the carriage as Jenkins opened the door and helped Smith and Luise onto the road. “Truly, you can.”

  “Very well, Mr. Singh. You and your friend can enter the premises and we will arrange a suitable space for the demonstration.” Bremen looked up as Shahin flitted between the rafters with frenetic flaps of her wings. “Is the bird also with you?”

  “Yes.” Hari took a step to the door and held out his hand to steady Luise as she stepped inside. “Miss Luise,” Hari bowed his head.

  “Hari,” Luise breathed. “You look awful.”

  “Yes, Miss Luise.”

  “A fine pair we are.” Luise leaned against Hari as Smith stepped through the doorway.

  “Fräulein Hanover?” Bremen walked forward and held out his hand. “My name is Bremen.”

  “Hello,” Luise shook Bremen’s hand and gazed slowly around the interior of the mill. “Do you have my impediment machine?”

  “Yes, I do.” Bremen led Luise carefully through the circle of men. He paused at the scraping of iron shod feet across the stone floor. Pushing a chaise longue into position in front of Luise, two of Bremen’s mechanics stopped and waited for further instructions. “You may rest here, Miss Hanover.”

  “Thank you.” Luise let Hari and Bremen lower her onto the cushions of the chaise longue.

  “Hot water and bandages,” Bremen instructed the mechanics. “Quickly.” He beckoned to Hannah. “Bring the machine.”

  “Hari,” Luise whispered.

  “Yes, Miss Luise?” Hari winced as he knelt by Luise’s side.

  “In my jacket pocket...”

  “Yes?”

  “There is a small crank handle. You will need it to spin the vortex.” Luise fumbled at the flap of her jacket pocket.

  “Let me help you, Miss Luise.” Hari’s fingers brushed Luise’s as he reached inside the slim pocket and retrieved a thin metal handle. Brushing fluff from the handle, Hari held it up for Luise to see.

  “Yes. That’s it.” Luise watched as Bremen’s assistant walked past Smith and placed the impediment machine at t
he foot of the chaise longue. Hannah stepped back as Luise beckoned Smith closer.

  “What can I do for you, Miss Hanover?” Smith held Luise’s hand.

  “Do you remember what I told you in the Admiral’s office?”

  “Yes.”

  “All right,” Luise took a breath. “The circumference of the circle around which the shadow vortex spins is small, Mr. Smith. I think it best if everyone else moves further away.”

  “Yes, but you need help, Miss Hanover.” Smith squeezed Luise’s fingers.

  “I have Hari,” Luise smiled. “Don’t I?” She turned her head slowly toward Hari.

  “Truly, Miss Luise.” Hari pushed himself onto his feet. “I made a promise to your brother.”

  “Yes,” Luise closed her eyes. “You helped Jamie.” She laid her head against the back of the chaise longue. “You helped...”

  “Miss Luise?” Hari stepped forward.

  Smith laid a hand on Hari’s shoulder. “Start the machine.” He pointed at the handle in Hari’s hand.

  Letting go of Luise, Hari picked up the rusty cylinder and set it in his lap as he sat down beside her. He watched as Smith directed Bremen to move his men back.

  “I expect you to honour our agreement, Mr. Singh,” Bremen warned as he stepped into the circle of spectators. Egmont and the Tartan Lads watched from the doorway.

  “Now, Hari,” Smith nodded at the device.

  Hari pushed the right-angled handle inside the vertebral-shaft of interlacing cogs. The device shuddered in Hari’s grasp as the handle clicked into position.

  “Don’t be afraid, Hari Singh.” Luise laid her hands flat by her sides.

  “I have seen many things, Miss Luise.”

  “I am sure you have, Hari,” Luise breathed. She opened her eyes. “But there are still things, beings, in this world that have yet to amaze you.”

  “Let us find out,” Hari nodded.

  Shahin’s shadow flitted across Hari’s bloodied brow as he gripped the handle and began turning it with his left hand.

  Hari cranked the handle three full revolutions before the vertebrae of cogs gained momentum. He gazed at the larger cogs at the top of the column. Letters in a strange script engraved on the surface of the cogs began to glow, feint at first they became stronger with each revolution. As the top of the column began to spin faster, the interlacing cogs below began to spin, a gentle swaying and twisting of the column pushed air from within the device out of the chamber and into the space around Hari and Luise. Hari sniffed and opened his mouth to speak.

  “What did he say?” Breaking the circle of men, Bremen took a step forward.

  “Herr Bremen,” Hannah curled her fingers in the crook of Bremen’s arm. “I think you should remain here.”

  “Yes,” Bremen nodded. “Only I cannot hear what they are saying.”

  “I think we can hear them.” Smith clasped his hands. “But they are speaking too slowly for us to understand them.”

  “What’s that?” Bremen turned to look at Smith standing beside him.

  “Patience, Herr Bremen.” Smith pointed at the machine in Hari’s hands. “Wait and see.”

  The column of cogs spinning and swaying within the interior chamber increased speed. Hari let go of the crank handle. He gripped the device between his knees, supporting the sides with his hands. Hari began to sway in a circular motion as a smoke-like column divorced itself from the vertebrae inside the chamber and twisted out of the device and began spinning on the mill floor as it grew. Hari’s body slowed as he lifted his head, one tenth of an inch at a time, to follow the shadow vortex spinning and growing before him.

  The vortex chipped at the stone floor as it twisted at its base, a point half the size of a halfpenny, swaying at the top as the collar of the vortex collapsed upon itself to form a funnel.

  “Look,” Hannah pointed at the funnel. “Something is crawling out of the vortex.”

  The column of smoke twisted around the chaise longue, Hari and Luise motionless inside it. Vibrant blue luminescent hands with spindle fingers and clawed nails smoothed the lip of the funnel like a ghost throwing clay pots upon the wheel. Two pairs of hands gripped the lip of the shadow vortex. The spindle fingers flexed, the claws disappearing into the outside surface of the funnel.

  Hannah and the men standing in a ring to each side of her clasped the palms of their hands to their ears. The hands grasping the lip of the spinning funnel stretched. Claws digging into the smoke, first one and then the second of two beings crawled out of the funnel and into the space inside the perimeter of the spinning vortex. Hannah and the men around her sank to their knees.

  The female being slipped down the funnel, riding the vortex like a helter-skelter, tricking sparks of magnetic light where her skin scratched the surface. She slid to a stop and tugged her incorporeal legs into a tail and drifted within the circular perimeter chiselled into the stone floor. The second being, clean-shaven, his hair billowing in the updraft of the vortex, sat on the lip of the funnel and glared at the ring of humans surrounding the vortex as he spun around the perimeter.

  Drifting to Hari’s side, the female, her small breasts almost flat against her emaciated body, tugged at his blood-soaked shirt. Licking her lips with a thin tongue, she flicked her claws inside the ragged holes cut by Blaidd’s butterfly knife. Angling her head, she reached around the device and picked at the front of Hari’s shirt to expose his brown chest. Hari followed her movements with a sluggish drooping of his eyes. The being sneered and hissed as she spied the azure blue anti-djinn mark tattooed on Hari’s chest. She recoiled and shook her head at her partner.

  The male being slipped over the edge of the funnel and floated down to hover beside the female. Baring his teeth at Hari’s tattoo he slipped through the air to inspect Luise’s prone form lying still on the chaise longue. Hovering over her body, the being paused at the wound in Luise’s side. Elongated lozenges of blood stiffened in the air beyond the wound. The damp swathe of blood congealed with ever-thickening layers with each revolution of the shadow vortex prowling the perimeter. The male being curled his lean lips, pushed off from the chaise longue with his feet, and spread his arms and palms upon the invisible surface trapping him. Sliding up and down the restraining wall, the being flicked onto the surface of the vortex and hung there, spinning in defeat, his vehement stare the only thing to penetrate his prison.

  The female pushed at the device locked in Hari’s stationary grip, her fingers sliding through the vertebrae of cogs, the glow of each letter fading at the touch of her spindle fingers. Throwing her head back she screeched, the sound piercing the transparent capsule of slowed time, staggering Hannah and the men from their knees and onto the floor.

  Luise’s eyelids stretched open a crack, her eyes drifting behind the web of tiny lashes. She watched as the female being thrust her hands inside the chamber of the device and extinguished the letters on the surfaces of the larger cogs with the tips of her fingers. She used the points of her claws to tap the engravings on the tiny cogs at the base. One by one, each letter and symbol blinked into darkness and the shadow vortex spinning the perimeter slowed and shrank.

  ҉

  Bremen paced around the perimeter mark scored into the stone floor. Beyond the perimeter, Hari and Luise lay on the chaise longue. Bremen noted the wound in Luise’s side had stopped bleeding. The facial punctures and slashes upon Hari’s body were covered in fresh scabs. As Hari stirred, Bremen stared at the azure spiral tattooed on the Indian’s chest. He beckoned Hannah to his side.

  “What is that? Have you seen anything like it on your travels in the east?” Bremen rested upon his cane.

  “Nein, Herr Bremen,” the loose bangs of Hannah’s hair tickled her cheeks as she shook her head.

  “I have.” Bremen turned as Smith joined him at the perimeter line. “It is an anti djinn mark that Hari is wearing upon his chest. They can be found on most tribesmen in Central Asia.” Smith gestured at the circle scored in the floor. “May I?”
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  “Yes, of course.” Bremen waved Smith forward. He watched as the tiny, old man placed an affectionate hand on Hari’s head before attending to the bandages wrapped around Luise Hanover’s abdomen.

  “How are you feeling, Miss Hanover?” Smith began unpeeling the top layer of bandages. Luise opened her eyes. Her lips cracked with the dry stickiness of a long slumber. She blinked in the sunlight, the pale blue hue of her skin mirroring the colour of her eyes.

  “What time is it?”

  “It is half past noon.” Smith let the bandage fall. Reaching into his pocket he withdrew a small ivory-handled knife. “I am going to have to cut the layers away, if you will permit me.” Smith unfolded the blade of the knife and waited.

  “Yes,” Luise nodded. She waved at Hari as he stirred at the foot of the chaise longue. “Hello, Hari Singh.”

  “Miss Luise,” Hari bowed his head.

  “You look different with your hair hanging loose.” Luise peeked around Smith’s shoulder as Hari unwrapped the bloody turban from his waist. “I like it.”

  “Truly?” Hari blushed. Turning the cloth in his hands, Hari straightened the turban on the cleanest side and tucked an end into his mouth. Luise watched as Hari organised his hair on top of his head. Hari wound and pressed the turban around his head until, removing the end piece from his mouth, he tied the turban at the base of his neck. Hari lifted his head and grinned. “Better.”

  “I’m not so sure,” the corner of Luise’s mouth wrinkled into a coy smile.

  “You are feeling better, Miss Hanover,” Smith observed.

  “Yes.” Luise smoothed the layers of bandage away from her side. She picked at the blood staining the hem of her jacket. “This will never come out.”

  “But the flechette dart,” Smith put away the knife and scratched his forehead, “it has been pushed out of your body and the wound has sealed.” He picked up the dart and looked at Luise. “Did you know that would happen?”