The Guild Chronicles Books 1-3

by J M Bannon

  When Rose turned she saw Elmore and Dolly speaking, both smiling and looking as if they were catching up or discussing something light. She walked up to the two men.

  “How come you didn’t let me know you were coming to town?”

  “Well the surprise is half the fun, Miss Caldwell. Of course, I should have expected some type of spectacle on your front porch,” teased Elmore.

  “Let me get this put away,” said Rose wagging the cloth wrapped spear.

  “I need to get back to the office,” Dolly said to Rose then turning to Elmore, “Let me know where you’re staying, and I’ll come around for a drink.”

  “You’re welcome to stay here there is more than enough room,” suggested Rose.

  “I appreciate the offer, but I’ve made other arrangements. Happens to be once I landed here I’ve had a request from the State Department to cut my tourism short,”

  “Oh, don’t tell me you have to leave after just showing up,” Rose voiced disappointment.

  “No, no I just need to do a little work while I’m here. I will take you up on that drink Inspector,”

  “Where are you staying then?”

  “A hotel called the Carlton,”

  “The Marshal’s made of money,” said Dolly giving a nod to Rose.

  “Pretty nice place?” the Marshal quizzed.

  “It’s around here, this seems to be a swish neighborhood,”

  “It was until Rose moved in now the police are here on a daily basis and the neighbors complain of circus sideshows,” Dolly jabbed.

  “I’ll have you two know that my neighbors love me and appreciate what I’ve done with the place.”

  “You keep telling yourself that Rose, and I’ll keep tearing up the complaints the constables are sent from this locale.”

  “On a serious note Inspector Williamson, I do want to speak with you about the evidence you misplaced,” said Elmore.

  Dolly’s face went sour, “Marshal, as I told you in the wire-type I am sincerely sorry of that outcome. I thought it a bad idea from a procedural perspective, but we all took that risk to see if there was a chance at removing those people from that device.”

  “Whoa, I’m not casting dispersions, I’m going to find that thing and figure out who can save those people,”

  Rose injected, “Elmore, you’re in the right place. In there are — well, I did have all the experts in under one roof, but the two gents who just drove off are likely to be helpful as well. Regardless of where they are, my friends are the experts we need to find the man that took it and what they are up to. Now let’s get this put away.”

  9

  Wednesday the 1st of May, 1861

  2:20 P.M Train to Brookwood, England

  Gerrard felt it best to be clandestine on this operation. His last trip to London, also to find Angelica, resulted in multiple deaths, including the death of his beloved Angelica. She was now reincarnated and more powerful than ever, leading him to be more cautious.

  Today, he and his team wore street clothes rather than their Necronist frocks. He was traveling on the train with Seer Albert. They did not sit together nor acknowledge each other. Both had their eye on the teenaged girl with the white hair. Albert was in the cabin with Angelica and Gerrard was in the following carriage, concerned she would see him.

  Saint-Yves could tell from her behavior that she was up to something. She did her best to be inconspicuous wearing a bonnet and dressed conservatively. They had followed her from Hawkin’s House to the train station.

  Gerrard had brought a small wyrding of adepts that he trusted. Albert was one of his most talented adepts, with strong command of suggestive incantations. While an adept can be proficient in any of the arcane arts he tended to recruit those, who have shown offensive capabilities of suggestion or manifestation.

  He contemplated grabbing her. This was the first time she was out of the witch’s house, and she was without a chaperone. He would rather have a clear plan to execute at a known location, but the pressure was on. None of his team were ready for his quarry if she decided to retaliate. How could he prepare them for what Angelica had become? He also made sure none of the team were familiar with Hume’s daughter. Angelica’s resurrection in the body of Lilith Hume could cause anyone familiar with the young teenage girl to hesitate and not respect that her body was now possessed by Angelica Du Moya, the Voodoo Priestess.

  The train stopped in Brookwood. Angelica rose from her seat and exited the train. Albert was the first up. When Gerrard saw him begin to exit he made his way towards another exit a few moments later.

  The girl proceeded through the small station and out to a horse drawn hackney. Albert followed suit but held the carriage until Saint-Yves caught up to him. They followed easily, and the driver was good about keeping a safe distance.

  When her carriage stopped at a building Gerrard banged on the roof of the surrey to get the attention of the Hackney, “Turn!” He yelled, not wanting to be seen passing her as she stepped out of her carriage.

  After they had turned and gone at least one block, he banged again, “Let us out here.”

  “Pay the man, Albert and wait here,” instructed Saint-Yves. He figured if she saw him alone, he was more likely to get her to at least listen to his proposal. It made sense to ask nicely first before he acted aggressively.

  As he approached the building, recognizing its purpose. This was a crematorium. While the smokestack lay idle, he could sense the lingering spirits like dampness in the air.

  Outside stood one of the workers he was kicking the dirt while smoking his pipe. Saint-Yves took out his mala beads and invoked a suggestive incantation. He was subtle in his influence

  suggested Saint-Yves.

  The man walked over and opened the door and began to step into the building.

  Saint-Yves had the connection and then dropped another suggestion.

  With a foot in the door, he stopped. He had a look as if he just remembered something then stepped back and began to walk away and around the building. Saint-Yves made his way to the door and stepped inside.

  He saw Angelica speaking with one of the workers. He stopped and hid around the doorway until the worker led her down a set of stairs.

  Quietly, he moved though the transom and made his way down the stairs.

  A clay vat sat on the floor of the cellar. The poignant smell filled his nose. He closed his eyes as a chill went down his spine. The scent drove right into his memory back to his time in the tutelage of Papa Lafayette. The recipe using those exotic herbs and roots could only be from one place.

  He descended down without thinking, both the man and Angelica looked at up at him.

  “Arnold, go about your business, Guild master Saint-Yves is just observing,” Angelica announced nonchalantly.

  The man lifted off a cover made of wooden slats. Now the smell wafted through the room. The clay vat was set upon a brick oven and was heated to a boil.

  As Angelica approached the pot her minion handed her a long wooden paddle. She gave the pot a stir.

  “Gerrard, we are living in uncertain times. For generations, upon the death of the Hougan, the remains were rendered, and the skull fixed to the Staff of Ages. That tradition looked to be broken with my death and the staff falling into the hands of Miss Caldwell, but my resurrection has changed all of this,” said Angelica. She maneuvered the paddle until she could bring the contents to the top of the soup.

  “Yes, Guild Master, that is my skull, or the skull of my former self I should say; prepared for mounting. I have the staff and will complete the ritual relinking the chain of ages and keeping the Voodoo spirits of all of the Hougans bound to that staff,”

  “Why would you do that?” asked Saint-Yves.

  “Tradition,” the Voodoo Queen retorted.

  “But you can be so much more now with your resurrection and the powers that came from that,” persuaded Saint-Yves.

  “And I
suppose you are here again to convince me to join your sect?”

  “We are in a dire situation; our work is not delivering the results and our Emperor’s life is at stake. If you join me, all of the resources of the Necronists will be yours.”

  “Gerrard, you like everyone else bargains with me. If you do this, then I will do that. None of that interests me, and you more than all the others disappoint me with this bargaining. I would expect you to be here to help me find our son.”

  “Angelica, I think it is unfair of you to say I don’t care or don’t wish to help when you made certain that I didn’t know we had a child together. You should have told me. We could have settled together in France, I could have provided for both of you.”

  “Gerrard come with me to find our son. Let us forget past attachments and together find him.”

  He looked at her. It was so strange to see the teenage daughter of his best friend yet hear the intonation of his old paramour. He felt attracted and perverted. He was tired of all of this, and the two of them might not be able to disappear, but those that chose to pursue them would have to reckon with two of the most adept practitioners of the arcane on this plane. “I came here to ask your help. I am going to leave you to do your work, that is unless you want me to stay. Angelica, I need some time to think about your request and if I do help you it’s at odds with the Guild and there will be repercussions for you from my decision,” Saint-Yves finished and walked out.

  10

  Thursday the 9th of May, 1861

  8:00 A.M. Harbor Star Import Export House, Limehouse Basin, London

  Strathmore strode into the offices of the Harbor Star. It was one of the many import-export houses near the docks in Limehouse. The metal tip of his cane clacked on the wood floor as he walked in. The office was a hive of activity with six clerk desks busily assisting gentlemen working through transactions.

  Mr. Strathmore stood waiting for an attendant to direct him. He was expected and had arrived at the appointed time. One of Jimmy’s men, a stocky Asian who Strathmore had often seen with Jimmy came up to him.

  “Please follow me,” the man motioned, leading Strathmore into the back warehouse.

  The bulk of the building was open space where men were loading and unloading wagons. The two weaved between the bales, boxes and busy stevedores responding to clerks directing where shipments were to go.

  Strathmore actually enjoyed seeing the activity. For him, this was all possible because of the type of clients he had. These men were working and earning a wage moving goods to and from all points. Merchants profited from trade all financed by the likes of him. If it weren’t for his financing cotton in America and dye in India, it couldn’t be purchased. With every parcel moving on these docks he had a small interest, either in the capital to financing the purchase or ensuring the risks of international transport. He and the Capitalists of London were the backbone of international trade.

  At the back of the warehouse was another office space. Here more clerks were engaged at desks, but the area was quiet compared to the front office where the public came to arrange the pickup or drop off of goods.

  Jimmy Lin was standing and smoking in a separate office. It was far superior in furnishings and appointment than the common office areas.

  “Mr. Strathmore,” greeted Jimmy.

  “Mr. Lin,”

  The two shook hands.

  “I was surprised at your invitation. Even more so, the location,” said Strathmore.

  “I told you back when I was your guest at the races that I would ask you for help,” replied Jimmy. He offered Strathmore a chair and sat down himself, “How’s things with that smelly Russian you work for?”

  “He is an associate of my client and my work with him is just about finished.”

  “Good, I don’t like that guy, and I plan to keep you busy.”

  “How can I help? You already have a relationship with Mr. Owen’s at Chilton House, isn’t his support satisfying?”

  “Oh yes, good fellow. Straight arrow and all that. I want to keep things that way but you, on the other hand, you showed that you have your hands in some other ventures, maybe ones that your partners at Chilton wouldn’t approve of?” Lin suggested.

  “Sir, if you plan to blackmail me over my work with the Russian, I can assure you that it is a waste of both of our time. There is nothing there,” Strathmore stiffened.

  “You’re wasting my time and insulting me thinking that’s what this is about. You saw my operations capabilities. Fuck, that machine of mine prints money, and that’s why I need you. Come with me.”

  He walked the American out of the office. From there they made their way through a series of halls behind the office suite.

  It was apparent something was going on because there were Jimmy’s Chinese goons in the hall standing at attention. He unlocked a door, and the two proceeded into the basement. There were several more of his gang sitting around all armed with pistols and rifles. A few that were sitting stood as they came in.

  One of the goons knocked on a metal door, and a view slot opened, followed by the unlocking of the heavy metal door. The armed man behind the door stepped aside to let the two of them in. After they entered, he closed and bolted the door. Strathmore followed Jimmy quietly as they reached another metal door where Jimmy knocked. A view slit opened then the door opened up.

  Strathmore trailed behind Jimmy into what looked like a bank counting room. A well-lit well-organized space dominated by a cash cage and a safe within the cage. There were several armed guards, but of the dozen people in the room, most were bookkeepers making cash tallies. Tables were stacked with coin and pound notes. Strathmore had been in the counting rooms of Chilton house as well as the bank of England and other notable national banks, and none had this activity.

  “I got too much money!” Jimmy boasted, spinning around gleefully as he walked toward the open cash cage. He tipped over stacked coins and bundles of notes tied together.

  “You see my dilemma?”

  “Of course, you can’t get this all back into circulation,” counseled Strathmore.

  “And I’m running out of space,” Jimmy complained. He moved closer to Strathmore looking up at the tall man then waved him closer to whisper, “frankly, I’m looking to you to help me get this money working for me. I have need to move some of it into metals and conduct trade back in China, and I don’t want this to be mingled with what I have at Chilton.”

  “I understand,” said Strathmore. His mind started to think through a strategy. His work with Caiaphas was ending. The introductions were made to the Mechanists and funding of the Haddon Hall project was finished. Now his agenda would take precedence, and this oriental gangster just delivered the final piece of the puzzle.

  He smiled at Jimmy, “I may have just the venture for you.”

  11

  Friday the10th of April ,1861

  8:00 A.M. Gilchrist Townhouse Belgravia London

  The townhouse went mostly unused by Azul, as his spiritual form resided in the gemulet. Rose’s arcane construct was his real home, and since he did not sleep or eat, he did not require the use of the bedrooms or kitchen to dine. He spent most of his time in the study where he had begun to list the books he would need to do his research. He would need to leave the house eventually, travel abroad to hunt down some of the rarest tomes, but for now, he felt he should lie low.

  Fortunately, the best collection of books on the arcane was accessible to him from the library at Gilchrist Manor. He had sent for some of the works he needed and had begun to do research on the origins of his brotherhood and its relationship to Caiaphas.

  Alfie Fletcher, the creator of his body, had come last week and asked if Sir Hilton, the chairman of the Mechanist Guild could call on him. Hilton would be his first houseguest, and he was visiting today.

  Azul had been housebound since his move from Hawkin’s House. The American Marshal’s antics only made the situation more tense by confusing many of the witnesses t
hat his sizable mechanical form was part of a circus. Eventually, the persistent stories from that reporter, Gerald Welsh put enough pressure on dear Sister Rose that an official statement had to be made. She acknowledged that in working with the Mechanist Alfred Fletcher of the Manchester chapter, they had built a fully articulated human form, powered by alchemist technology developed by Doctor Lorelei von Traube. The machine was a host to a human spirit. That news created an even bigger fervor in the public gossip. Leaving Azul terrified to leave the residence.

  Fletcher and Sir Hilton would arrive at any moment. It was Alfie’s idea that he could use Sir Hilton’s influence to sooth the public and present Azul in a favorable light.

  Perkins, the house butler, came into the study. “Vizier Hassan, your guests are in the parlor.”

  Azul moved from behind the desk. He stood as most chairs were not big enough to support his massive frame and his body did not tire. He stepped out of the study and down the hall, his powerful legs articulating with hisses and whirs ending with the heavy thud of the fall of his metal boots on the wood floor.

  Entering the room, there stood Alfie Fletcher in his plaid coat. His metal hand holding a grey bowler hat. A smile came across Alfie’s face as Azul entered.

  “Azul Hassan, this is the Chairman of Her Majesty’s Celestial Order of the Mechanists.

  Sir Hilton, I would like to introduce you to the Vizier Azul Hassan,” said Alfie.

  Hilton slowly extended his hand towards Azul, his mouth open in awe.

  “A pleasure to meet you, sir. Can I have Perkins bring you some tea?” asked Azul taking Hilton’s hand and giving it a gentle shake. He was careful as he was still getting used to controlling the form. It was far more difficult than when Azul would possess Preston. With Preston, he had all of the sensations of a body including touch. Now with limited input, he was aware as to how vital the sensation of touch was. Not just in your fingers but how all of your skin unconsciously helped you to orient to the space you were in.