The Hollows: A Midnight Gunn Novel

by C. L. Monaghan

  “Need me to do my thing,” Midnight hissed through clenched teeth, the inspector seemed to shrink from him. “Better let me get on with it then.”

  Gredge retreated down towards the alley entrance. He might have cocked up by mentioning Gunn’s special talent but he wasn’t about to stick around and watch. He’d made that mistake once before and he still had nightmares about it- reanimating the dead was unholy and wrong but sometimes it was necessary.

  Midnight waited for the Inspector to retreat before he began. He never liked an audience, it made people …uncomfortable. Who could blame them when he felt the same way. He took a deep breath and centred himself. He flexed his fingers readying them for what he was about to do. This was a dark act and so it followed that he needed to draw energy from the shadows. As luck would have it, there were plenty of those in this stinking alley. A few strides and he stood in front of the corpse of Emeline Rowbotham. He knew she was dead, he could smell it - another of his special skills. Midnight hated the dark half of him, he preferred his other, lighter side but the darkness always seemed to prevail. There were more shadows in this world than there was light and, more call for his dark talents. If he could use them to help solve a murder then he could at least find solace in that.

  Emeline was a pretty name, it suited her. Her blonde curls, now in disarray, fell about her face framing her delicate features. Her forget-me-not blue eyes were open and her rosebud lips were slightly parted. She looked like a porcelain doll - perfect aside from the bruising that had started to appear on her throat. It looked like an ordinary case of strangulation, but Midnight knew the Inspector must’ve suspected something more or he wouldn’t have asked for his help.

  He could feel the shadows pulsing, eager to come to him and so he let them in. He could control the shadows in different ways; he could move and manipulate them to conceal himself, as he had done in the alley with Arthur, and he could pull them inside himself, harnessing their energy to enhance his skills. This particular skill was the one he hated- he could reanimate the dead. Only for a few seconds at a time but, in this instance, it gave him a glimpse of a person’s final moments. Most useful when trying to solve a murder.

  He drew in the shadows from the alley. They drained from the corners and crevices like water from a sink, swirling and merging together in one dark mass as he pulled them inside himself. The pain of it was almost unbearable; like a million needles tearing at his flesh from the inside. He grunted at first contact but quickly regained the semblance control he had learned over the years. The sooner he got this over with the better. Midnight stepped towards the girl and crouched over her inert body, touching his hand to her forehead he reached out and probed her memories. Fast moving, unintelligible images and sounds that were her life flashed through his mind until they began to slow. The newest memories were always the clearest, although it was possible for him to see further into a person’s past, the older the memory the blurrier it appeared to him. He waited for the moment of her death to come to him. He never had to wait long; it was as if he and death were old friends and death was eager to show off his newly claimed prize.

  The scene played out in his mind - it was pitch black in the alley, late at night, as usual he was watching through the victim’s eyes. He could feel hands around his throat, choking the life out of him. His lungs burned and his eyes watered but he tried to fight back. The corpse of Emeline Rowbotham began to twitch and jerk, choking sounds came from her cold lips. Midnight could see nothing but darkness and the silhouette of the attacker in front of him. The attacker’s eyes glowed a bright, unnatural red and he knew then why Arthur had called for him. The killer was not human.

  Midnight let go of Emeline and her body went still. He pushed at the shadows, forcing them from his body and back into the alley where they waited, sated for now but always watching.

  Midnight watched as Miss Rowbotham’s body stilled, then he gently closed her eyes and stroked her face. She had seen enough horror. Tentative footsteps behind him prompted him to speak.

  “You were right to call for me.”

  “The witness was correct then? A red-eyed demon is the killer?” Arthur said.

  “Something of that nature… but I will need to question the witness.”

  “Of course. Constable Rowe already took his statement but you can question him yourself if you feel it’s necessary.”

  “Where is he?” asked Midnight. Inspector Gredge sighed.

  “Waiting back in the pub, I’m afraid. One of the Southwark men is keeping an eye on him. Thought you’d probably want to talk to him. Although, he was half cut so lord knows what state he’s in by now.”

  They made their way out of the alley while Constable Rowe came back to supervise clearing the crime scene and Arthur gave instructions to have the body taken to the resurrection men.

  The two men found the witness siting at the back of the pub with a Southwark Bobby, calming his nerves in a mug of cider. By the looks of him he’d had several mugs before and since the incident in the alley.

  “Jimmy Cartwright, we need you to go over your statement again.” Jimmy’s head wobbled and he began to protest until he looked up and saw Midnight, he shrank a little in his seat.

  “Who you then? I already gave me statement, what you wantin’ another for? I aint done nuffin’ wrong and I wants to go ‘ome!” The nervousness in his voice contradicted his attempt at defiance. He was scared - Midnight sensed the fear rolling off the man, not because he was afraid of him but afraid of what he’d seen. Midnight pulled up a chair and sat opposite Jimmy. He pulled in a little stream of energy from the flame of the candle that puttered in the wall sconce, and placed his hand on Jimmy’s arm. It had an instant calming effect, Jimmy’s hands stopped shaking and he looked up at Midnight, “You that wants to know is it?”

  “Yes, tell me what you saw.” Midnight said gently

  “I went for a piss in the ally there and heard noises see, don’t usually pay attention ‘cause there’s all sorts what goes on in alleys. I thought it was just one o’ the dollymops with a fella like but then I saw she was dressed all smart an’ all. An’ then I saw the…the…” Jimmy shivered and crossed himself before he continued, “thing what was killin' her,” he crouched forward over the table and lowered his voice, “‘twern’t human I can tell you that much, never seen nuffin’ like it.” Jimmy shivered again.

  “Can you describe the creature?”

  “Yes Sir, it was tall and wore a dark cloak with an ‘ood so as to ‘ide its ‘ideous face,” Jimmy said dramatically, “it’s ‘ands were made of metal, big claws an’ all…then there was them eyes…ugh...them eyes, glowed devilish red. S’unnatural, unholy it is. Should’ve seen it leap clear out the alley when it spotted me! I tell ya I thought I was a goner when it looked at me.”

  “It jumped out of the alley?” Midnight asked.

  “Clear out Sir, in one leap! I hopes you catch it, I don’t fancy running in to the bloody devil again.”

  “Thank you Jimmy, you’ve been most helpful.” Gredge and Gunn rose from the table but Jimmy caught hold of the inspector’s coat sleeve.

  “Ere! Aint there no reward for an ‘elpful citizen these days governor? I put me life at risk I did.” Jimmy looked hopeful as Inspector Gredge put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a coin.

  “For your trouble Mr. Cartwright.”

  Jimmy grinned, showing off his blackened teeth, swiped up the coin and went straight to the bar to order another mug of cider. Gunn and Gredge made their way back outside towards the alley where the cart had arrived to transport the body of Miss Rowbotham.

  “I need to visit the family and inform them of the bad news,” said Arthur.

  “Any thoughts as to what killed her? I need something to tell them.”

  “I’m not sure yet. What aren’t you telling me?”

  “How do you do that?” Arthur shook his head. “Look, I didn’t want to say yet until you’d seen the body but…there’s been a spate of …bodi
es turning up. None like the lady here, seven others so far as we know but they’re well... not dead, at least not physically but I’m sure they’re linked somehow.”

  “How so?”

  “All roughly in the same area, strangulation marks round the neck but no other physical injuries. Up till now they all survived…though by the state of them it’d probably be better if they hadn’t.” Arthur added.

  “What’s wrong with them?” Midnight was curious now, he hadn’t had a decent case to investigate for a while. He wished Arthur had contacted him earlier but until Jimmy Cartwright’s witness statement there hadn't been any evidence to indicate anything supernatural. Arthur scratched his chin, debating how best to describe the condition of the other victims,

  “Well, none of them speak or move of their own accord but I’m told they will eat and drink and relieve themselves when instructed. It’s like they’re alive but not, if that makes any sense?”

  “Where are they? I need to see them.”

  “Saint Thomas’s, nowhere else to put them, they’re not gentry like this one,” Arthur said, indicating to the covered body of Miss Rowbotham on the cart. “No families to look after them at home.”

  “Can you meet me there later today?”

  “I’ll see you in about two hours. I’ve got to visit the Rowbotham’s first and fill in some paperwork.”

  Midnight nodded and turned to walk away, he slipped into the dawn shadows and was gone leaving Arthur to wonder how he always managed to appear and disappear in the blink of an eye.

  Midnight took slow and measured steps as he walked the public ward at St Thomas’ Hospital. The harsh aroma of disinfectant failed to mask the stench of soiled bed sheets but nevertheless, he took the time to look over each of the seven patients in the mixed ward.

  “I thought you said they were able to function? They’re lying in their own urine.” Midnight turned to Arthur, incredulous at the state of the ward and its inhabitants.

  “They can when someone tells them to but there aren’t enough nurses to look after all of them. The Matron said they’re very understaffed.” Arthur paused and scuffed the toe of his boot on the floor. He wasn’t sure why he felt guilty under the scrutiny of his colleague but he did. Midnight had a way of making you feel responsible for things that were beyond your control. It was one of the things Arthur liked about him- his innate sense of what was morally right. He could scare the tail off a horse mind you but the man had morals and Arthur respected that. “Can you see anything yet? There has to be something to link them.”

  “So far four of the women have shown me much the same: strangulation, red eyes…I can glean little else from their last moments.” Midnight stopped in front of the bed of the fifth victim. Pity quickly followed by rage gripped him so hard he felt his chest constrict as the anger coiled inside of him. The few shadows that lurked in the corners of the ward leaped excitedly, eager to be called upon but he fought them back with ease, grateful that the ward windows let in enough light to quieten the dark…this time.

  He stepped closer to the tiny limp body of a little girl, her small skeletal frame barely visible under the stiff sheet and itchy blanket. He judged her to be no more than seven or eight years old, a half-starved wretch of a thing whose left arm ended in a bony stump at the wrist. She was an amputee and poor as a church mouse by the look of her.

  “Polly’s her name,” Arthur said, “she’s an orphan, don't know her surname but the other kids said she sold matches down by the dockyard. A gentleman and a group of sailors found her. They thought she’d frozen to death at first. It’s not uncommon. Tragic though,” he added quickly as he caught the twitch in Midnight’s jaw.

  “Polly.” The child’s name fell from Midnight’s lips like a blessing, barely a whisper but uttered with such purpose and determination it sent chills through Arthur and he shivered. The room appeared to grow brighter, just for a second before Midnight tenderly placed his palm on Polly’s forehead. Her pale, sunken cheeks flushed pink and she drew in a short, ragged breath. “She’s weak, I’m not sure she has the strength left in her for this.”

  “What did you just do to her?”

  “Not all of my talents are dark Detective Inspector.”

  The use of his official title was not lost on Gredge.

  “I’m aware of that Mister Gunn, I was just asking- curiosity if you like.”

  “Curiosity killed the cat Inspector.”

  “Lucky I’ve got my nine lives intact then eh? I’m only asking because whatever you did made her look a little better; she’s got a bit of colour in her cheeks now.”

  Midnight removed his hand from Polly’s head and turned towards his colleague.

  “She has sulphur poisoning from the matches she sells. I just extracted some of the poison from her system that’s all. Her cheeks may be flush but it hasn’t helped her much. There’s something blocking my ability to heal her and I can’t tell what it is.”

  “You can cure her? Blimey, that’d be something to see. If you could cure the girl she could perhaps give us another eye witness account!”

  “If I were to heal her Inspector, it wouldn’t be for information. She deserves a second chance at life.”

  Arthur cleared his throat.

  “Well yes, of course. I didn’t mean…you know.” Pausing, not knowing what else to say for fear of seeming unsympathetic again, Arthur scrubbed a hand over his stubbled chin and tugged at his moustache.

  “You don’t think she deserves one Inspector?” Arthur could sense the accusatory tone in the question. He thought carefully about how to answer truthfully without causing offence but tact was never one of his strong points.

  “Of course she deserves one. Every person deserves a good life but that’s just it, isn’t it? What life does she have? I didn’t mean to sound heartless. Christ, I feel terrible for the little wretch but if she could help us catch who did this to her- to all of these poor buggers- it’d give her life some meaning at least. What else has she got? Even if you do cure the girl, are you just going to put her right back on the streets selling matches and dying of sulphur poisoning?”

  Midnight’s hand went back to the girl’s forehead but this time he swept a strand of limp, damp hair away from her delicate face,

  “Then I’ll find her something else to do,” he declared. “Now, shall we get on with what we came here for?”

  The Matron had been instructed to clear the room of nurses and not let anyone enter. She had protested loudly, saying she couldn’t possibly leave the patients unsupervised but after one glaring look from Midnight she’d backed off.

  Midnight was glad Arthur was guarding the door; his dark powers made the Inspector uncomfortable so it was best he stayed out of the action, but close enough to hear first-hand what he gleaned from the victims.

  “They’re so weak, it will be hard to tell what’s wrong with them. I’m going to try and give them a boost first.”

  “Like you did with the girl?”

  “Like I did with Polly, yes.”

  He placed his hand on the woman’s head and the light glimmered in the ward. The name ‘Laura’ flashed in his head. The woman’s cheeks flushed pink, just as before and her breathing eased somewhat. He went from bed to bed sending light and healing to each victim, as much as he could manage but he grew frustrated as he did, something was still blocking him.

  “Damn! There’s something in the way. I can’t see what it is but if I could move it I could help them.”

  “You could cure them all?” Arthur’s voice rose an octave.

  “Not completely, some of them have sustained irreparable organ damage- I can do nothing for that but I can help with infections and disease. It would extend their lifespan somewhat at least.”

  Again, Arthur wondered at the point of that. They were all poor souls who looked like they didn’t have much of a life to extend. He pondered that it might be more of a blessing to just let them die rather than send them all back to a life of squalor and poverty
. Of course, he kept these thoughts to himself. He rather thought, that in this instance, Midnight’s respect for life had marred his judgement for what would be a merciful death for some of these poor beggars.

  “I’m going to delve into their memories again now, I managed to give them enough strength to cope with it. You can close your eyes if you want to Arthur.”

  “How did you...? Oh never mind, let’s just get it done and then we can start finding the sod responsible.” Arthur resigned himself to the uncomfortable feeling he knew accompanied the witnessing of Midnight’s darker talents and did as his colleague instructed. His lids squeezed shut, his back rigid against the heavy ward door- a bated silence settled over the room.

  Midnight opened himself to the darkness, bore the pain of its acceptance with his usual stalwart dignity and pushed gently into the mind of one of the female victims. As always, with older memories, it was foggy. He had to concentrate hard to make it out.

  ‘Hey Sal! Bring us another pint will ya?’

  ‘Ain’t you had enough? I ain’t having you pissin’ in the corner again ‘Arry! Its scares me customers away.”

  ‘It aint the piss what scares ‘em Sal, it’s the size of me tackle!’

  ‘Away with ya, go on! Dirty bloody bastard.’

  “She’s a barmaid, her name is Sal.”

  Arthur jumped at the sound of Midnight’s voice and instinctively opened his eyes. He pushed away from the door, surpressing his fears, his detective instincts taking over.

  “What else?” Arthur demanded, his notepad already in his hand.

  “Wait one moment.” Midnight delved again and another memory opened to him.

  ‘Fetch me the bucket Em, quick!’

  ‘You sick again Sal? You don’t look so good poppet.’

  ‘I don’t feel it neither, I’m dog tired.’

  ‘What’s the doc say? Here! Try an aim in the bloody bucket will ya!’