Archangel (A Ghosts of London Novel)

by Amy Cross

  “Wait here!” Wagoner barked at them both, as he hurried to the door.

  “I wouldn't do that!” Robinson called after him, but it was too late:

  Pulling open the door, Wagoner stepped out of the room...

  And found himself in the corridor.

  “Alright, Sir?” asked an officer, wandering past with a coffee in his hand.

  Still seated at the desk, Robinson narrowed his eyes.

  “What was all that noise?” Bilkdaw asked, leaning toward him. “I thought Quix was, I don't know, using a crane to lift the whole room out of the station or something like that.”

  “Yes,” Robinson replied, “that was my first thought too.”

  “So what is going on?”

  Robinson paused, as if he was still trying to put the pieces together in his mind. “Something,” he muttered finally.

  “This is ridiculous,” Wagoner huffed, turning back to them. “I don't know what kind of time-wasting bullshit the pair of you have been cooking up, but it's not going to work. Mr. Bilkdaw, you are of course free to stay here and consult with your client, but I'm going to take some men to this bastard's office and start poking around, and I will find something incriminating.” He fixed his eyes on Robinson for a moment. “When I get back in a couple of hours, you'd better be ready to answer some serious questions, because I promise you I will not put up with any more of your idiocy.” With that, he stepped back and slammed the door shut.

  Robinson and Bilkdaw sat in silence for a moment.

  “I really thought she was lifting the room up,” Bilkdaw said finally. “I thought when he opened the door, we'd find we were swaying above the city, perhaps hanging from a crane.”

  “That would certainly have been eye-catching,” Robinson replied calmly, “but I'm not sure it would have been particularly practical. It sounds more like something from a comic book.”

  “Then what was all that noise?”

  “Maybe it really was the building settling,” Robinson pointed out with a frown. “I suppose buildings have to settle occasionally. Don't worry, though. As I reminded Katie just the other day, a good friend once told me that no matter how bad your situation, there's always a way out.”

  “Have you by any chance identified a way out of this police station?”

  “Not yet, but I'll come up with one. Sometimes, you just need to be smart and -”

  Suddenly there was another creaking sound, and this time the room shuddered briefly before the entire floor dropped down by a couple of inches.

  “What was that?” Bilkdaw asked.

  “Ah,” Robinson replied, with a faint smile. “We're not going up. We're going -”

  Before he could finish, the room shook again, followed by another creak just before the floor dropped again, finally sending the entire room crashing down into the police station's basement and sending a huge cloud of dust into the air.

  “Sometimes,” Robinson said after a moment, “the best way out of a situation is just to know someone like Quix. You'd be surprised how often she manages to get me out of these situations.”

  Using the sleeve of his jacket to cover his face, Robinson got to his feet and helped Bilkdaw up before leading the old man around the desk and over to the edge of the floor. Stepping down, he made his way toward the light at the far end of the basement, where the cloud of dust was starting to thin out and a figure was standing in an open doorway.

  “Are you crazy?” Bilkdaw shouted. “They'll lock you up and throw away the key.”

  “This does seem to escalate things,” Robinson replied as they headed up the steps, finally emerging in an alleyway behind the station, just as sirens began to sound from inside the building. “And I think they've noticed.” Turning, he saw Quix waiting next to a car. “This is going to be difficult to explain, although I've got to be honest, it's a relief that this was your work.” He turned to her. “For a moment back there, I was worried the mole people had caught up to me.”

  She shook her head.

  “Easy for you to say,” he replied, “but they're tenacious little buggers, and I'm sure they haven't given up. They're going to want their gold back one day!”

  She shrugged.

  “Oh God,” Bilkdaw continued, a little out of breath. “How am I going to explain this? I don't know what it's like for you, but some of us actually have have to worry about our reputations!”

  “Come on,” Robinson replied, leading him toward the car, “we'll kidnap you for a bit and then let you out somewhere, that way you can claim you had nothing to do with any of it.”

  “And what are you two going to do?”

  Leaning into the car, Robinson saw several machine guns on the back seat. He turned to Quix.

  “Wagoner was right,” he muttered, “I should have a kind of dead man's handle attached to you.”

  Quix shrugged.

  “Get in,” Robinson continued, helping Bilkdaw into the car before slamming the door shut. “Katie,” he added, turning to Quix. “Have you heard from Katie?”

  She shook her head.

  “Then she must still be in that place,” he muttered, clearly concerned. “Time's running out and things are closing in on us, Quix. It might even be time for another change around. We need to get going.”

  As he ran around to the driver's side, Quix rolled her eyes.

  ***

  “Area ninety-one,” Milhouse muttered, reading from the diagram as he made his way across the churchyard, “plot five.”

  Stopping, he looked down at one of the gravestones and felt a shiver pass through his body as he saw the inscription:

  Robinson

  1932 to 1984

  Rest in peace

  “Not very specific,” he whispered, slipping a camera from his pocket and taking a couple of reference photos. Sighing, he looked around for a moment, before turning back to the gravestone. He glanced down at Palgrave's handwritten note, before looking at the gravestone again. “So who were you, then?” he muttered. “Robinson Senior? The father?”

  Putting the camera away, he turned to head back to his car.

  And then he saw it.

  Nearby, there was another gravestone, this time with a slightly different inscription:

  Robinson

  1901 to 1932

  Rest in peace

  Pausing, Milhouse slipped his camera out again and took another photo, before spotting another gravestone nearby:

  Robinson

  1856 to 1901

  Rest in peace

  “Big family,” he muttered, taking some more photos. “Not very inventive with the names, though.” Checking the other graves nearby, he found yet another of note:

  Robinson

  1820 to 1856

  Rest in peace

  Making his way along the row, he found half a dozen more, all with the same basic details but going back several hundred years. The older stones were cracked, too, with moss having grown across their faces, and one in the far corner of the churchyard was so difficult to read, it took a couple of minutes before Milhouse was able to make out the dates. When he did, however, he felt a shiver pass up his spine.

  “1511,” he whispered, “to 1580.” He paused for a moment. “Blimey. How long has this bloody family been around?”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “Do you think he'll come?” the first creature asked, with a hint of desperation in its voice. “Will Robinson answer your prayers?”

  “I don't know,” Katie replied cautiously, “I think there's a chance he -”

  Hearing a sound outside, she turned just as the metal door slid open, revealing Hanson and Doctor Leach outside. They both looked distinctly unimpressed.

  “Hey,” she continued, “we were just -”

  “Out,” Doctor Leach said firmly.

  “Wait,” Katie replied, “if you'll just let me -”

  Before she could finish, a technician reached inside and grabbed her arm, pulling her out into the corridor. She struggled, tryin
g to pull away from him, but his grip was too firm and he quickly managed to get her away from the door.

  “Praise Robinson!” the creatures called out, as the door slid shut again.

  “Do you think you're funny?” Hanson asked, pushing Katie against the wall. “Encouraging those abominations to worship a false idol? Is that your idea of a joke?”

  “It's my idea of staying alive,” she replied. “They were going to rip me to shreds!”

  “They were supposed to rip you to shreds!” he hissed. “You're nothing but -”

  “Wait,” Doctor Leach said, pulling him back, “don't hurt her.”

  “Don't hurt her?” Hanson continued. “After what she did in there, I should put a bullet through her head!”

  “She might be perfect,” Doctor Leach added.

  “What are you talking about?” Katie asked.

  “Think about it,” the doctor continued, turning to Hanson. “Every attempt we've made so far has been a failure, and what has been the common factor? We've been getting better and better with our methods, constantly refining them and getting closer to perfection, but something's still missing from every angel we create. No matter what we do, it just doesn't seem to come together.”

  “They're not pure enough,” he replied, clearly still fuming with anger as he stared at Katie. “This one'll be no use, she's as impure as they come.”

  “Hey!” Katie replied.

  “That's exactly my point,” Doctor Leach continued. “Maybe we've been going in the wrong direction. You assumed from the start that the bases for our creations had to be pure, that's why you scoured the streets searching for people who had never abused their bodies in any way. I went along with you because I felt you knew what you were talking about, but when you look at the results from the original efforts in the nineteenth century, they made the exact same assumption. Even Harrington Cole was hung up on the same -”

  “Don't you dare criticize Harrington Cole!” Hanson snapped.

  “But-”

  “He was perfect,” Hanson continued. “He knew exactly what he was doing!”

  “Fine, then...” She paused for a moment. “I'm not saying that Harrington Cole was wrong. I'm just saying that maybe it's time to reassess our approach. Maybe we don't need pure people, maybe we just need someone strong, and smart. Harrington Cole was clearly a genius, but it's possible that there were one or two areas where he was wrong.” She waited for a reply, but it was clear that Hanson was struggling to accept such an idea. “You said it yourself,” she added finally. “Harrington Cole put the project on ice because he knew he had to wait until the situation was different. Maybe this is one of those differences. Maybe we need to look to someone less pure for the next phase.”

  “Like who?” Hanson asked, turning to her before glancing back at Katie. “You have to be joking!”

  “It's worth a try,” Doctor Leach continued, stepping toward Katie. “How does that sound to you, my dear? Would you like to become the basis for our next experiment?”

  “Not really,” she said firmly.

  “Well that's too bad,” the doctor continued, “because the decision has been made. Even if it's just an experiment, it's an experiment that's absolutely worth pursuing.”

  “Are you sure about this?” Hanson asked, clearly disgusted by the idea. “She looks so impure.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Katie replied. “I'm not some kind of -”

  Grabbing her arm, one of the technicians tried to pull her away.

  “No!” she shouted, twisting away from him. “There's no way I'm going to let you -” Feeling a sharp pain in her neck, she turned to find that Doctor Leach had slipped a needle through her skin. Before she could say anything, however, she felt her body becoming heavy, and within just a couple of seconds she'd already slumped to the floor.

  “Get her ready for the procedure,” Doctor Leach muttered, “and as for the three abominations... They're far too pathetic to keep around, so gas them and burn their bodies.”

  ***

  “Does she have to be awake for this part? The others weren't.”

  “The others failed, remember? We're trying a new approach with this one. If it doesn't work, it doesn't work, but at least we know. Trust me I have a good feeling.”

  “But if -”

  “Katie, can you hear me? Katie, wake up!”

  Opening her eyes suddenly, Katie found herself face to face with Doctor Leach, who was peering at her with a faint, curious smile. Something had changed, however: Katie could tell that she'd been unconscious for a while, even though her mind was still foggy.

  “Welcome back,” the doctor continued, shining a small light into each of Katie's eyes in turn. “We were worried that the sedative might take longer to wear off. It's always important to ensure that our subjects are fully awake before we proceed to the next stage.”

  Realizing that she was strapped to some kind of metal grid, Katie tried to pull free, only to find that her wrists and ankles were tied securely. As she struggled, she realized that she was attached naked to some kind of large frame, and she saw to her horror that several technicians were working at a series of machines nearby.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, unable to stem a tide of panic that was throbbing in her chest. “Let me down from here!”

  “Hello, Subject D,” Doctor Leach replied, fixing her with a smile. “You're about to begin a fascinating and very important journey that will result in a complete -”

  “Like hell I am,” Katie replied, still trying to get free.

  “Don't you want to know what you'll become?”

  “I'll become the person who kicks your asses,” she continued, focusing her efforts on her right wrist and trying desperately to pull free from the metal restraints that were keeping her fixed to the scaffold. Feeling a sharp pain on her back, she realized there was a heavy sensation just below her shoulder-blades, as if something had been inserted into her body. “What the hell have you done to me?” she asked, her voice filled with fear.

  “That's just the base that'll be used to construct your wings.”

  “My what?”

  “The new cells will grow very rapidly from your own body, along the pathways marked out by the base and the -”

  “Get it out of me!” Katie shouted, starting to lose control as she pulled desperately on the scaffold. “You've got no right doing this to me!”

  “And you have no right to try to stop us,” Doctor Leach replied calmly. “You're going to become divine. Don't worry, all the subjects react this way, but you'll understand soon enough.”

  “See?” Hanson said after a moment, as Katie continued to struggle. “She doesn't understand. She lacks the necessary faith.”

  “She'll get there,” the doctor replied, “but I don't think there's much point talking to her, since she seems rather stubborn.”

  “I'll show you who's stubborn!” she shouted.

  “Lower her in,” Doctor Leach said, turning to one of the technicians.

  “No!” Katie screamed, feeling the scaffold starting to shudder as it was lowered backward into the vat of gel. Nearby, the machinery was making a grinding sound.

  “I'm not convinced she's the one,” Hanson muttered.

  “She's the most viable candidate yet,” Doctor Leach replied. “You're a religious man, Mr. Hanson. Can't you imagine the possibility that this young lady was guided to us by unseen hands? Doesn't your god have a tendency to surprise you?”

  “Robinson!” Katie shouted, desperately trying to get free. “Robinson, you have to -”

  Suddenly she felt cold, wet gel against her back as she was lowered deeper. As she began to be submerged, she took a deep breath and held it, before the scaffold dragged her under the surface and then deeper into the vat. Still holding her breath, she pulled against the restraints on her wrists, but her ability to come up with a plan was quickly becoming swamped by a sense of panic that was forcing its way through her mind. Running short of breath, she f
elt a sudden jolt as the scaffold locked into place a couple of meters beneath the surface of the gel, and she knew that she only had a few more seconds left before she'd start drowning. Her body was screaming at her to take a breath, but she was too far beneath the surface.

  Finally, opening her mouth, she let out a cry and the involuntarily took in a gulp of the gel, which ran down the back of her throat and into her body.

  Suddenly she realized she could breathe again.

  She felt the gel filling her mouth, but somehow oxygen was still getting into her lungs. As she continued to try twisting first one way and then the other, she took several deep breaths and found that her lungs were filling as normal. She paused, trying to get used to such a strange sensation, before realizing that she could feel an unusual tingling sensation in her back, as if the implants were already reacting to the gel. She tried to scream, but the gel was too thick and all she could manage was a faint gasp that echoed in her own mind. Staring up toward the top of the vat, she could see faces leaning over the edge and looking down at her.

  “Another one,” a voice whispered suddenly.

  She froze, keenly aware that the voice had come from somewhere else, somewhere outside her mind, but that it had nevertheless entered her head directly.

  “You are different,” the voice continued. “I became used to the others, but you are not like them. I can feel a difference in your soul, as if you have come to me with something new to offer. Tell me, what is it? Do you even know?”

  “Who are you?” she thought, testing to see whether the voice could hear her thoughts.

  “You speak to me,” the voice replied. “So soon, I thought you would resist me for a lot longer.”

  “Who are you?” she asked again.