Archangel (A Ghosts of London Novel)

by Amy Cross

  He walked away, leaving Doctor Leach to stare down at Meg for a moment. After making a few notes on the chart, she made her way toward her office, ready to check the latest readings. Down in the vat, Meg floated gently in the vast expanse of gel. Her eyes flickered for a moment, opening a fraction of a millimeter and then closing again, as a single air bubble escaped her mouth and began to slowly rise through the thick gel, eventually reaching the surface and not quite popping.

  ***

  “Everything looks good,” Hanson said a short while later, standing in a pitch-black room. “She's the perfect subject in every way, and I think my initial concerns have been proven incorrect. There's no reason why a female subject can't perform just as well as a male. In fact, it might even be that the female body has certain advantages.”

  He waited for a reply, but none came. He could feel a presence, though, reaching out and tugging at the edge of his mind, as if it wanted to absorb his thoughts but so far lacked the strength. Taking a moment to fight back, he focused on his defenses and tried to gently show the other presence that it had no need to go on the offensive, although at the same time he felt that there was a threat of great strength hiding in the darkness. One day, Hanson reminded himself, he would no longer be able to resist.

  “You can see her when she's ready,” he continued finally. “I know I said that before, about the last one, but you must remember that we're working from some very sketchy blueprints. A few failures are only to be expected, and we must also take into account the fact that in its original form, this project was...” He paused, as if he was struggling to find the right words. “Well, I'm sure you remember what happened. A century is a long time for one to consider the mistakes that one made previously.”

  “Not mistakes,” a voice whispered in the darkness. “Experiments.”

  “Of course,” Hanson replied. “I didn't mean to suggest -”

  “The word mistake implies regret,” the voice continued, “but how can one regret any action that moves one further along one's chosen path?”

  “I understand.”

  “Every one of those precious mistakes, as you refer to them, taught me something of great value. When one reaches the end of a journey, one does not regret all the previous steps that took him there.”

  “I take your point entirely,” Hanson replied. “You must forgive me, sometimes I have a very base and simple way of looking at things. I value your guidance a great deal.”

  “As you should,” the voice continued. “Without my guidance, you would be nothing. Save your regret for the real mistakes you make.”

  “Absolutely. I just...” Pausing, Hanson seemed to be on the verge of saying something else, but the words stuck in his throat. “Sometimes, I find myself wondering whether...” He stood in silence for a moment.

  “Whether what?” the voice asked. “Do you feel doubt in your soul?”

  “No,” he replied quickly, as if the idea horrified him. “Absolutely not!”

  “I hear doubt in your voice. Perhaps you are not aware of it yourself, but to me it seems strong and loud.”

  “Forgive me,” he continued, seemingly a little flustered, “I have just had a long day but I can assure you that I feel no doubt, and that everything is on track. I wish you could see the things I've seen in the main laboratory, but when the time comes I'm certain you'll be gladdened by our offerings. And now, if you will excuse me, I must go and check on the latest subject. Doctor Leach is a fine physician, but I feel that I need to monitor her regularly. She's more interested in the scientific side of our endeavor.”

  “She lacks faith?”

  “She believes in herself.”

  “Perhaps she should be encouraged to believe in me?”

  “In time,” Hanson replied. “For now, I think it's better if she's left to get on with the task at hand. She's very focused, and her work is good. Eventually I'll bring her further into the fold, but for now I'd rather let her continue with her current methods. I can shepherd her in the right direction.”

  “And you must locate the lost one,” the voice replied.

  “As I have already explained -”

  “I hear his voice crying out to me through the void.”

  “You...” Pausing, Hanson tried to make sense of this latest suggestion, before realizing that it was nothing to take too seriously. “I will do my best, but I can assure you that the lost one needs not concern us. He is gone, and what we have in his place -”

  “He cries for me.”

  “I doubt he -”

  “Do you not believe me?” the voice boomed, as if momentarily filled with anger.

  “Of course,” Hanson said quickly, keen to avoid any further questioning of his faith, “it's just that I believe our resources -”

  “I have provided the resources at your disposal,” the voice continued, “and I command you to use them to find the lost one. He is one of my children, and he must not be left to die cold and alone. Even if his life is to be a short one, he should spend his final moments with his family.”

  “His family?”

  “Us.”

  “But...” Pausing, Hanson finally realized that there was no point arguing. “I will do everything in my power,” he said after a moment, “and I assure you that if the lost one is still out there somewhere, he will be located and brought back to you.”

  “To us.”

  “Of course. To us. To the family.”

  “So that I might embrace him.”

  “Yes, absolutely. So that you might embrace him.”

  “For if he is another of my children, that means he is your brother.”

  “You're right,” Hanson replied. “I hadn't considered things that way. Once again, your all-encompassing wisdom has shown me the way.”

  “Come to me again soon,” the voice whispered, as Hanson headed out of the room. “These long periods of dark contemplation require occasional moments of light. I so look forward to seeing the world beyond these four walls. The flashes of insight from your mind are very tempting.”

  As soon as he was out of the room, Hanson pushed the door shut and leaned against the wall, trying to get his heart-rate back under control. He always felt nervous after an audience with Subject A, and he was starting to feel as if he required artificial stimulation far too often. The gaps between medication periods were certainly getting shorter, which was the opposite of what he'd expected, but he told himself that he was simply reacting badly to stress. Reaching into his pocket, he took out a syringe and removed the cap with trembling fingers before sliding the needle into his neck.

  “I believe,” he whispered, his voice filled with doubt and pain. “I -”

  Gasping, he tensed every muscle in his neck as he emptied the syringe, before pulling the needle out. Closing his eyes, he took several deep breaths as he fought to get his body under control, and finally the trembling stopped. He waited a moment longer, so as to be absolutely certain that the dose had taken effect, and then slowly he opened his eyes, while breathing slowly and deeply so that he could enjoy every moment of the sensation that was flooding his body. All his doubts were fading away, replaced by a gripping sense of certainty that flooded his body with strength.

  “I believe,” he said finally. “Dear God, I believe...”

  Chapter Seven

  “B for bones, I guess,” Katie muttered as she pulled a plastic box off one of the shelves in Robinson's lock-up garage, beneath the arches of a London bridge. Peering into the box, she saw that it contained an assortment of bone fragments, most of which looked to be human. Some were partially broken, and others were yellowed and old, as if they'd been collected many centuries earlier. “Huh,” she continued with a frown. “Well, I'm sure he has his reasons.”

  Opening her satchel, she carefully removed the bone that had been pilfered from the cathedral and, keeping it wrapped in a towel, placed it gently into the box. She felt that she should do something else – that she should mark it properly, and perhaps even
say a little prayer out of respect – but finally she figured that there was no point being sentimental. Reaching up, she slid the box back onto its shelf before turning and making her way back toward the door.

  Stopping suddenly, she noticed another box, this time marked with a handwritten label: Heads. She paused, telling herself that she shouldn't start poking through Robinson's collection, but finally she couldn't help herself. Making her way over to the box, she pulled it out and peered inside, only to gasp as she saw a couple of dozen shrunken heads, each no larger than a cricket ball.

  “Fake,” she whispered, before swallowing hard. “They're fake, they must be.”

  Reaching into the box, she almost picked one up before thinking better of it. She slipped the box back onto the shelf and again turned toward the door, before yet another box caught her eye, this time labeled: Left. Against her better judgment, she made her way over and bent down, pulling the box out and finding that it contained several severed and mummified left feet. Wincing, she pushed the box back onto the shelf before spotting another labeled Right and deciding against taking a look. Glancing around, she looked at some of the other boxes, noticing various unusual labels, until finally one more caught her eye, high up on one of the opposite shelves:

  God.

  “God,” she whispered.

  Unable to help herself, she grabbed a stool and put it in position, before climbing up and grabbing the box. As soon as she pulled it down, however, she realized it was much lighter than the others, and when she looked inside she found that it was empty.

  “Huh,” she muttered, turning it around until she saw a label on the reverse side: Property of the Academy of Lost Science.

  Glancing along the shelf, she spotted a box marked: Banks, R. Reaching over, she pulled the box open and saw to her surprise that it contained a few photos of her sister Rachel, along with some of Rachel's possessions: an old hair-clip with a stand of hair still attached; a pair of glasses; and a pair of socks. Reaching in, she took out one of the photos and stared at it for a moment, feeling a cold shiver as she saw Rachel's smiling face. In the months since her sister's death, Katie had tried to avoid dwelling on things too much, but now she found that she couldn't stop looking at the image. Finally, he dropped the photo, telling herself that there was no point opening up that old wound.

  “Great,” she whispered, pushing the box back. “I guess that's what she is now. An item in a collection.”

  Slipping the box back into place, she climbed down and put the stool away, before heading to the door and -

  Suddenly the lights flickered off, plunging the lock-up and the passageway outside into darkness. Stopping, Katie looked up at the ceiling and waited for the power to return, but after a moment she realized that whatever was wrong, it seemed as if it wasn't going to magically resolve itself. Sighing, she headed to the door, barely able to see where she was going, before reaching up and starting to pull the shutter down. Struggling a little with the weight, she finally got the entire metal door into position and then knelt to attach the padlock, fumbling a little in the darkness until she managed to get it secured.

  “Stupid electrics,” she muttered. “I swear, if he -”

  Hearing a noise nearby, she looked along toward the storage area's exit, but all she saw was a faint patch of light at the far end of the passageway. She waited a moment longer, before telling herself that she was definitely alone. Getting to her feet, she slipped the key into her pocket, slung the satchel over her shoulder, and began to head away from the lock-up. Reaching into her other pocket, she pulled out her phone and slipped some headphones into the socket, figuring she might as well listen to music while she -

  Stopping suddenly, she spotted a figure up ahead, standing in the middle of the passageway and seemingly staring straight at her. Although the figure's features were hidden in the darkness, Katie couldn't help but hold back a little as she realized that something seemed decidedly wrong, as if the figure's body shape wasn't quite right. She could make out broad, firm shoulders, but also thin, wiry legs that seemed to be trembling slightly.

  She took a few more steps forward before stopping again, hoping that the figure would simply turn and go to one of the other lock-ups. Smiling nervously, she reached into her satchel and fumbled for her mace spray, only to find that it was gone and all she had for defense was a sealed pack of playing cards. A hint of light was falling on one side of the figure's naked body, revealing large, over-developed and in some places twisted muscles.

  “Hey,” she said cautiously, trying not to sound scared. “Are you okay?”

  She waited for the figure to reply, but it seemed content simply to stare at her.

  “Robinson, is this another one of your games?”

  Silence.

  “I'm armed,” she continued, taking a step to one side, hoping to make her way around the figure. She was already trying to work out the best moment to run, and she figured she had a decent chance. The exit was barely ten meters away, and she figured she could make her diminutive size work in her favor if it came to dodging the figure's advances. “If you think you can try anything -”

  Realizing that the figure was turning its head to watch her as she stepped aside, she froze for a moment, still desperately trying to work out what, if anything, she could use for defense if she was attacked. She was starting to wish she'd taken Robinson up on his offer to send her to combat training classes, although the idea had seemed over-the-top at the time.

  “What do you want?” she asked. “If there's -”

  “Help me,” the figure whispered suddenly.

  She stared at him. “What?”

  “Help me,” he said again, taking a faltering step toward her and reaching a hand out. “I need...”

  Stepping back against the wall, Katie watched as the figure edged closer, and after a moment she saw that something was dragging behind him, partially trailing along the ground while also poking up over his shoulders. She slipped to one side, keen to avoid the outstretched hand, which she could now see was covered in charred and damaged skin, dripping blood from deep cracks.

  “Listen,” she continued, stepping back again as the figure lurched nearer, “I don't know what you want, but there's no way I -”

  “Help me,” he said yet again, before lunging at her.

  Ducking out of the way, she felt a charred hand brushing against her neck, before she was pulled back by one of the straps on her satchel. Twisting free, she dropped to the ground and then looked back to see that the figure was opening the satchel, finally reaching inside as if it was looking for something.

  “Where is it?” he gasped.

  “Where's what?” she asked, crawling away before getting to her feet.

  “I followed you,” he continued, tossing the satchel to one side. “You had one of my brothers in this bag. I heard him screaming.” As he spoke flames seemed to flicker across his chest for a moment, erupting out of nowhere and then dying away just as quickly.

  “No,” she replied, “I -” Suddenly realizing that he meant the bone, she paused. “Do you want to talk to someone?” she asked, fumbling in her pocket for her mobile phone. “I know someone who knows about this sort of thing, I can get him to talk to you.” Bringing up Robinson's number, she tried to get through to him, but as soon as the call connected the phone seemed to get hot; the screen began to twist and flex, and after a couple of seconds she had to drop the phone as the casing burst into flames.

  “I need more,” the figure explained, stumbling toward her.

  “More what?” she asked, stepping back.

  Taking another step closer, the figure finally stopped and tilted its head back, before letting out a slow, pained cry as the damaged, over-sized wings on its back began to twitch. As the cry continued, the wing on the left side began to unfurl, silhouetted by the light at the far end of the tunnel, but the other wing was clearly damaged, able to open only part of the way and with tattered, torn fragments hanging down.

  �
��Help me!” the figure shouted.

  Looking over her shoulder, Katie tried to remember if there was another way out of the passageway, but after a moment she realized that she was going to have to try to slip past the figure if she had any hope of escaping. Seconds later, however, she realized she could feel something warm on the back of her neck, and when she turned back to look at the figure she saw to her horror that flames were rippling across its body, as if an inferno was starting to erupt from deep within its core.

  “Help me!” he shouted.

  Taking a step back, Katie watched as the flames grew and the figure's entire body began to burn with enough force that the passageway was quickly filled with fire. Hurrying to one side, she tried to find a way past before being beaten back by the heat. As the flames became stronger, she fumbled in her pocket, hoping to find something she could use to protect herself, but the only thing she had left was the key to Robinson's lock-up. With no better ideas, she hurried to the door and dropped to her knees, frantically trying to get the padlock open again. The flickering inferno at least allowed her to see what she was doing, but the heat on the back of her neck was already becoming uncomfortable.

  From over her shoulder, she heard a scream erupting from the heart of the flames, as if the figure was still begging for help.

  As soon as the padlock was open, she pulled it clear and then lifted the door to the lock-up just enough so that she could roll inside. Pulling the door back down, she found herself in complete darkness, but she remembered seeing a box of torches nearby so she stumbled over to the shelves, rummaging through box after box. Feeling bones and all manner of other items, she kept searching, but after a moment she realized there was a faint flickering light in the room, and she turned to see that the door was starting to melt, glowing a faint orange color in the process. Looking around the room, she tried to spot anything that she might be able to use to protect herself, and at the last moment she noticed – tucked in the corner and almost completely hidden by various boxes – a fire extinguisher.