"We took fresh drinks with us. I led him up to my attic staircase and we clambered up and out of the window onto the flat narrow ledge below the main chimney. It was quite warm here despite the chill November air, the old brickwork being heated by my fires below, but still Gault huddled inside his overcoat.
"He stepped forward, rather precariously to my mind, and went to the roof's edge to look down at the street. He motioned that I should move alongside him as he pointed downward.
"'Come and see. Trust me, it will be in the damned fog. It's always in the damned fog. It's after me, Carnacki. It has been after me all the way from the bloody Carib, and I do not know how to escape it.'
"I eased forward gingerly to join him at the edge of the roof, and looked down. At first all I saw was the aforesaid fog. It was thicker now, and turgid, flowing almost like water up from the river and filling the whole breadth of the street below to the depth of several feet. Then I felt something, a tingling vibration, like a warning of approaching thunder, and the hairs on the back of my hands stood on end as static built in the air.
"'It's here,' Gault said, almost a moan, and pointed down toward the end of the street where it met the Embankment. 'The damnable thing has found me again.'
"I followed his indication and looked that way. The fog was being raised slightly, a v-shaped wave travelling through it as something approached from the river, as if something large swam under the surface. Whatever the bally thing was, it was long and smooth, exuding an air of both menace and implacability as it came, impossibly, up the street.
"It showed its true nature seconds later. A tall triangular dorsal fin, as high as the length of my leg from hip to toe broke the surface layer. The fog was too thick to allow the sight of much else, but that high, gray, almost translucent fin, cruising majestically up a London street through the fog, was enough to convince me that Gault was indeed in definite trouble.
"We stood there for long seconds in silence. I had no words to say, struck dumb as I was by the sheer impossibility of the view below. The thing must have been a good twenty feet from nose to tail. I believe that 'shark' is the best word for it, although it is too small a word for the enormity of the thing I saw there in the street.
"We watched as it cruised for the whole length of Cheyne Walk. It headed past my door and up to the end of the road before turning on its tail and coming back down again. The sway of the fin showed that it was drifting slightly from side to side, giving every indication that it was on the hunt.
"I now understood why he had come, with all due haste, to my doorstep. He needed defending, and I might well be the only man in London capable of the task.
"After ensuring that the thing had, for the time being at least, gone past my doorway again and was headed south, away back toward the Embankment, Gault took my arm and led me back inside.
"'It is exactly what it appears to be; a bloody phantom shark. And it's after me, Carnacki. It won't stop hunting me, and it is out for blood.'"
*
"I found out exactly what he meant about blood when we went back down to sit by the fire in the library. He knocked back another large measure of my scotch before, slowly, and wincing as if it caused him some degree of pain, he eased off his captain's coat and showed me his left arm. The full length of it, from wrist to high on the shoulder was swathed in fresh, white, bandages.
"He flexed his fingers, and grimaced in pain again.
"'At least the blasted thing still works, after a fashion. But I damned near lost the arm altogether,' he said. 'I got lazy in Dover. I thought that once I was ashore and off the boat I was away and free, out of the bloody thing's reach for good. But as you saw for yourself on the roof, this thing is not bound to the sea. No, if it is bound to anything of this earth, it is bound to me, and I must be rid of it. You must help me, Carnacki. Please, before it is the death of me?'
"I poured us both another scotch. In truth, I needed it quite as much as he, for the sight of a bally huge shark cruising up and down Cheyne Walk had quite unsettled me. I took one of his strong black Russian cigarettes when he offered, and, finally, I got his tale. It took him quite some time, and it is one that is far too long to relate to you chaps here, but I will attempt to give you the basics as he told them to me so that you might understand what comes next.
"Gault and his crew were in the Bahamas this past summer. As far as I could ascertain it was something to do with a wreck to be salvaged and a profit to be made, as is usually the case with the good captain. But the salvage operation was doomed almost before it began, as they quickly found out that sharks controlled the waters above the wreck. One large Great White in particular proved most troublesome, and made off with two of Gault's men before he did something about it.
"And that something was rather spectacular. Our captain did not have much experience with the great predators, but he knows explosives only too well. He lured the beast in with bait that masked several sticks of dynamite and blew the bally thing to bits, strewing it all across the ocean.
"It was only after the deed was done that Gault saw the three, smaller, sharks floating, dead in the bloody ruin that was left. The beast he'd blown up had been pregnant, and near full term at that.
"Very soon after that, Gault discovered that the great shark's bloody revenge was not going to be foiled by the small inconvenience of its violent death."
*
"Their salvage of the wreck proved to be at an end. Any attempt to go into the water was met by a strange fog that came up out of nowhere, accompanied by the appearance of a ghostly fin, cruising menacingly in wide, lazy, circles around the boat.
The crew took a funk, and refused to go into the water. Mutiny was close, even after Gault decided to cut his losses and run for home. They did not escape. The fog, and the spectral beast within it, followed them, all the way across the ocean, the great fin creeping ever closer to their hull with each night that passed.
"They lost a man on the fifth night. His body, or what was left of it, was found inside the main cargo bay, mutilated and torn almost beyond recognition. The hull was no longer enough to keep the shark at bay. The crewmen took to remaining wherever possible on the upper decks, for that was at least above the fog most of the time. But as the gray gloom grew ever thicker and crept higher toward the gunwales, so the shark grew ever more emboldened.
"Soon it was seen in other parts of the ship, and although the men took pains to ensure they were never alone, still the thing took them, silently, picking them off one by one, leaving only torn, bloody remains behind.
"By the time the boat reached Dover, Gault had lost eight men, and every man remaining fled ashore as soon as they docked, fleeing the fog that now enveloped the whole vessel even although the port sat under a clear, starry sky.
"Gault was not immune to the fear that had gripped the crew. He joined them in abandoning the boat, and heading to the nearest inn, hoping that drink and company might ease his torment at the loss of his men and allow him to forget, for a time at least.
"But the shark found him, as soon as he ventured out. He'd left the bar to use the courtyard privy, and the fog fell on him like a wet blanket. As he had shown me, he had escaped with his life but not before the shark had got close enough to ravage his arm.
"'It was right cold where it gripped, Carnacki,' he said in a soft voice as he remembered. 'As if I had my arm trapped between two blocks of ice. I felt the teeth pierce my flesh, felt pain like you would not believe, then it shook me from side to side, like it was playing with me. I had to shuck off my jacket to escape, then I fled. For a time the fog followed me, until I reached a hill and was able to rise out of its reach. When I looked back, it was moving away from me again, moving back towards where we'd docked the boat. I was in no mood to go back.
"'I ran for hours, heading inland, attempting to put as much distance between myself and the fog as I possibly could. But I had lost too much blood, and I was weak to the point of collapse when I wa
s found on the road several miles from the docks.
"'They took me to a local doctor who patched me up nicely. He wanted me to stay in bed for a week, but I knew the fog, and the blasted shark wouldn't give me the time; I knew it would still be after me.
"'So I took my leave of the good doctor and I ran again. I ran for days, my only thought being that there was only one man in England who might believe me and be able to do something about it. And now I have finally made my way here.
"'But it hunts me. It hunts me still, Carnacki, and you are the only one I trust to get me out of this blasted mess.'"
*
At this point, Carnacki stopped talking, both to give us a chance to refill our glasses, and to digest the import of the story so far. But the break was a brief one, for we were all eager to know what happened next, and even Arkwright held off from his usual questions. We were soon once again seated and comfortable for the next chapter in the tale. Carnacki went on, picking up where he had left off.
*
"If I had not looked down for myself at that great fin in the fog, I might have dismissed Gault's story as the ravings of a wounded man. But I had seen it with my own eyes, and I could also note the funk and terror that gripped the captain. The normally stout and fearless man I thought I knew was scared out of his wits and that more than anything convinced me of the seriousness of our situation.
"And things grew worse quickly, for as I was refilling our glasses, I felt the strange tingling in the air again, and the rise of the hairs on the back of my hands. Gault felt it too, and he looked at me pleadingly.
"'I am done running from the blasted thing, Carnacki. It ends here, one way or the other. Can you help me?'
"'I can certainly try,' I said.
"I had him rise and move aside as I removed the rugs from the floor to uncover the defensive pentagram and circles I have inlaid in the hardwood of the floor. It was only a matter of seconds before we stepped into the circles but even so we were almost too late, for fine fog curled in below the library door and the air cracked with electricity.
"I wished I had been given time to set up my valves and electric pentacle, but the gear was stowed under the stairs and although I could see the cupboard door from where I stood, experience told me it was already too late to move out of the protections.
"The fog kept coming, thickening and swirling. It did not cross over my protective lines though, and soon we stood inside a circle of clear air while the rest of the floor of my small library was completely obscured in thick gray that was over a foot deep and thickening by the second. The sense of something approaching was almost palpable. The electricity in the air caused the hair on our heads to stand out like a mane. It would have been almost comical had we not been in such a bally blue funk.
"When the great shark finally came, it passed through the door, although I did not even have time to consider the sheer impossibility of it. One second there was only fog, and the next the tall fin was circling my protections, leaving a wake behind it that sent cold gray waves lapping against my circles, and with the fog below it shifting aside as if something of enormous bulk moved beneath the surface. That was another impossibility of course, for the fog itself was only a foot deep above the floor. But I was not thinking of that; the static in the air sent blue sparks cracking around us like lightning bolts, and I smelled ozone and sulfurous gas, thick and cloying in nostrils and throat. Gault moaned, and shrank into a cowering stance as if expecting an imminent attack.
"'Courage, man,' I said. 'The circle will hold.'
"I was no means as sure of myself as I had sounded for his benefit, for the cracking static was battering against my defensive ring with all the ferocity of a thunderstorm. The great fin circled, faster and faster, as if sensing a weakness, ready to surge and rend and tear.
"I did the only thing I could think of at that moment. I raised my voice in a chant to add to the protections, one that had served me well in previous tight spots. As with most rituals, the words themselves did not matter, it was the rhythm of the thing, and the intent with which they were said.
"'Ri linn dioladh na beatha Ri linn bruchdadh na falluis,
"'Ri linn iobar na creadha, Ri linn dortadh na fala.'
"The response was immediate. The sparks of electricity cut off as if a switch had been thrown. The huge fin sank down into the fog until the tip of it was below the surface, then the fog itself sank away, disappearing into the floor as quickly as it had come.
"We were left in a cold, quiet, library, the only sound the cracking of damp wood in the fireplace as it burned."
*
"'You did it," Gault said, clapping me on the shoulder. "You sent the blasted thing back to hell.'
"'I sincerely doubt that's where it came from, old chap,' I replied. 'And besides, we can't count our chickens yet. I fear the night has only begun.'
"All the while I was speaking I had kept an eye on the gap below the door, looking for any recurrence of the fog. Judging that the risk was worth the reward, I stepped quickly out of the circle, heading for the under-stair cupboard. Gault made to follow me but I motioned him back.
"'Stay there. It is you that it wants, and I shall only be a few minutes. Watch the door and pay attention. If you sense its return, shout.'
"My first thought had been to set up the electric pentacle, but I was worried about the electrical aspect of this manifestation, and I had a better protection for that than the valves and wires. It took a bit of effort on my part, for the thing is dashed heavy, but I managed, eventually, to lug my Faraday cage out from the back of the cupboard, along with the larger of my two diesel generators.
"Installing the generator meant me going out into the hall, for I could not run the bally thing in the enclosed space of the library; the fumes would kill us faster than any blasted shark. I worked quickly, expecting an attack at any moment. But none came. I opened the kitchen door and the window above the sink to enable a free flow of fresh air, and set the generator going before returning to the protections. With Gault lending a hand as much as he was able to, it was only a matter of a few more minutes to get the mesh cage erected inside the circle.
"I had Gault join me inside the cube before I switched it on. We had to sit, and it was a dashed tight squeeze. In all honesty it made me feel rather foolish but the hum from the cage itself, and the thrum of the generator out in the hall were almost comforting in themselves. I also had the foresight to fetch some Scotch in with us, along with some smokes, so we did not want for distraction while we awaited the shark's next move."
*
"We sat and smoked in silence for a while.
"'Maybe you were wrong, Carnacki.' Gault said after a time. "Mayhap the thing is indeed gone.'
"'I wish that it were so, my friend," I replied. 'But in my experience, apparitions such as this take a bit more persuasion than a bit of Celtic chanting to make them take their leave.'
"My hunch was all too unfortunately proven right minutes later. I had left the main library door open as access for the generator's cables, so we were able to see thick fog creeping through the hallway before it reached the room. There was no anticipatory tingling this time; the Faraday cage was working, insofar as it blocked the rising static that marked the approach of the phenomenon. But my nerves were on edge and I had to force a tremor out of my hands as I finished a cigarette and rubbed the butt between my fingers to stub it out.
"The fog rolled into the room in waves, and all too soon we were once again adrift in a circle of clear air amid a sea of impenetrable gray. And this time it did not stop coming. Wave after wave of it, rising ever deeper, flowed in through the doorway until it was two, three, four feet deep around us.
In less than a minute it had filled the whole room, leaving us encased inside a shimmering dome of protection. Blue sparks and jagged bolts of blinding light flew against the surface of our defenses, but inside the cage we heard nothing but a gentle hum, felt nothing but a soft, almo
st comforting, vibration.
"Our feeling of safety did not last long, for despite the sturdy security of the cage, it quickly became obvious we were no longer alone in the fog. Something moved, beyond the perimeter of my defensive circle, something long and sleek and implacably intent on our complete and utter destruction.
"When the attack finally came, it was swift and merciless."
*
"We saw the head first, a great flat wedge near as wide as the cage inside which we huddled. It surged forward, a huge snout loomed up out of the fog and the shark hit the outer circle with a blow that shook the whole library. Even while the defenses were still reverberating from the first hit, it came again, slightly side on this time, raising the snout so that a massive maw of a mouth filled with far too many teeth tried to take a bite out of our shield.
"I tasted salt spray at my lips, smelled rotting fish, felt too-hot breath in my face. The Faraday cage whined, as if the generator had come under a great strain, then the outer defensive circle's protection crumbled completely. Fog rushed in to fill the void and surround us completely. The only clear air at our disposal was now inside the cage itself. Beyond that our little electrical cube was adrift, lost in the sea of fog, and at the mercy of the next attack.
"I heard a groan and turned, alarmed to see that Gault was slumped down at my side, grasping his bad arm. His face was ashen, and red blotches showed through the white of the bandages; he had taken a knock, probably during that first, hammer-like blow of the snout.
"I had hoped that we might be able to wait this thing out, hoping that the defenses would hold the night and that things would be clearer in the light of day. But my friend was in some trouble, and it looked like medical trouble that needed attention sooner rather than later lest the bleeding got out of control. The red was spreading far too fast amid the white. I had to do something, and I had to do it bally quickly."
Carnacki: The Edinburgh Townhouse and Other Stories Page 3
