The man slammed his hands down on the desk and Lady Aysgarth felt the agony of being torn apart. It was so much more potent than physical pain. It was the pain of a soul being shattered.
Then she was no more.
16
A Trail of Infection
Lapsewood and Tanner made their way east across London on foot, searching buildings on the London Tenancy List for Doris McNally. Travelling as Ether Dust would have been quicker but would have made it hard to hang on to the spirit hounds. Slowly they worked their way down the list, each time sending a dog in first, awaiting its return then venturing in themselves to interview the Resident.
In an Aldwych residence they found a ghost by the name of Mrs Heber, who had died in childbirth and been forced to remain in the house and watch as the daughter who had unwittingly killed her grew up, got married and then died in the same way herself. Mrs Heber sobbed as she explained that her daughter had heard the Knocking upon the moment of her death and stepped straight through the Unseen Door but, imprisoned by the house, she was unable to follow. Lapsewood and Tanner listened patiently to her story, then asked about Doris. Mrs Heber hadn’t seen her in several months.
Lapsewood had been greatly affected by the story and was upset when Tanner revealed that he had pilfered a stick that Mrs Heber had clenched between her teeth during her last moments of life.
‘We’re gonna need a few things to throw,’ he said in his defence. ‘I mean, when we find an infected house, if the dog don’t come out nor will the stick. And it’s not always that easy to find ghost objects. They’ve got to be something the spirit was touching at the point of death.’
The next house they visited proved Tanner right. He threw the stick and sent in the Labrador as usual, but neither returned.
‘Perhaps it came the wrong way out,’ said Lapsewood.
‘I don’t think so. Look,’ said Tanner.
Upon closer inspection, around the edges of the brickwork was a very subtle discolouration.
‘Black Rot,’ said Lapsewood.
‘Certainly seems so. Must be a pretty bad case to be visible from the outside.’
Lapsewood made a note of it on the list, holding the nib of the pen on the paper for a moment, allowing the ink to spread a little before writing i for ‘infected’ next to it.
They continued on their way with the four dogs in tow. As they got further down the list, Lapsewood noticed how the three-legged Jack Russell always walked at the front, and that Tanner routinely pushed him to the back whenever he was choosing the next one to go inside a property.
They lost another dog to a house in a courtyard off Fleet Street that had no visible signs of Black Rot from the outside. In a nearby public house called the Boar’s Head they found the ghost of a former publican by the name of Paddy O’Twain, an extremely welcoming Irishman, as thin as a rake, who offered them both a drink as soon as they entered.
‘A very good evening to you, fine fellows,’ he said, spreading his arms wide as if they were old friends. ‘May I interest you in some fine strong, freshly brewed spirit ale? Finest in the city, so it is. Oh, that all ghosts should know the happiness of imprisonment in a pub.’
Lapsewood refused, but Tanner happily took a glass of the dubious-looking concoction from the man. When Lapsewood pointed out that Tanner was too young for liquor, he brushed off the suggestion, pointing out that since he had now been ten years alive and ten dead he was actually twenty years of age and therefore old enough to partake. However, the moment they left the establishment Lapsewood noticed a decline in Tanner’s ability to speak without giggling and how he took an extremely long time to untangle the three remaining dogs when it came to the next building. Paddy had seen Doris McNally a month ago, but had heard nothing of her since and did not know which direction she had been heading.
In an attic in Eastcheap, they met a poet who insisted they sit and appraise his latest poem before he answer their questions. Tanner had fully sobered up by the time the young man had read all thirty stanzas, but he was polite enough in his assessment of the poem. The poet said he had been visited by Doris a week ago.
‘We are getting closer,’ said Lapsewood, stepping back into the street. ‘Doris must have been heading in the same direction as us.’
‘I wouldn’t trust anything that poet said,’ said Tanner. ‘The man was a fool.’
‘He had some talent with words, though,’ said Lapsewood. ‘I thought his poem excellent.’
‘Really?’
‘You said so too.’
‘I was just being polite.’
‘You didn’t like it?’
‘It wasn’t that I didn’t like it so much as, having sat through him prattling on about the stars and the oceans and the colour of his true love’s eye, I think I’d still be hard pushed to tell you what it was about.’
‘Well, I suppose you had little exposure to such things in life,’ said Lapsewood.
‘OK, if you’re so poetic, then you tell me what it was about.’
‘It was a . . . well, it was a musing on the futility of life, I think, or perhaps on the endlessness of death . . .’
Tanner laughed triumphantly. ‘Just as I thought. Not a clue.’
17
Doris McNally’s New Residency
By the time Lapsewood and Tanner reached Whitechapel, the three-legged Jack Russell was the only dog left and there were four black dots on Lapsewood’s list. Four infected houses.
Tanner cradled the remaining dog in his arms as they walked silently toward their next destination, St Winifred’s School.
‘We can find more dogs if you don’t want to send her in,’ said Lapsewood.
‘Don’t be soft,’ said Tanner. ‘She’s only a dead dog. Aren’t you, Lil’ Mags?’ He tickled the dog under her chin and she let out a contented bark.
‘We’ll need more, anyway,’ said Lapsewood kindly. ‘We may as well get them now.’
‘We’ll get more when we need more,’ replied Tanner. ‘Come on now, let’s get this done.’
Lapsewood stopped outside the school. An imposing, redbrick building, it was empty and deserted so late at night. They had both got into the habit of checking carefully for signs of Black Rot first, to avoid wasting dogs, but Tanner studied this one extra diligently.
‘I told you, we can get another dog if you’re worried,’ said Lapsewood.
‘No,’ replied Tanner. He placed Lil’ Mags down and held up a bedpost he had pinched from the poet’s bed. Lil’ Mags sniffed it eagerly, excited that it was finally her turn to play the game of fetch.
‘Good luck, Lil’ Mags,’ whispered Tanner and he lobbed the bedpost in.
The Jack Russell looked up at him and, for a moment, Lapsewood thought the dog wasn’t going to follow it, but she turned around and bounded in, vanishing inside the building.
Lapsewood said nothing while they waited, but the look of relief on Tanner’s face was plain enough to see when the dog came out with the bedpost between her teeth.
‘Good girl,’ said Tanner, playfully trying to get the bedpost off her. ‘Good girl.’
They stepped through the wall into a large school hall where they were instantly accosted by the ghost of a woman wearing a green dress and a blood-soaked apron, her red hair tied up on top of her head.
‘Och, at last, you’ve come,’ she exclaimed. ‘I was beginning to think I’d been forgotten about. I suppose General Colt sent you.’
‘Yes,’ said Lapsewood. They were standing in amongst rows of wooden desks. It took Lapsewood back to his own school days. Tanner was happily patting Lil’ Mags. ‘Are you Doris McNally?’
‘I was the last time I checked, aye. Try telling this school that, though. It thinks I’m its ghost.’
Lapsewood looked down at the list. ‘It says it should be Janey Brown.’
‘You don’t need to tell me that,’ said Doris, holding up her copy of the London Tenancy List. ‘I’ve been visiting Janey for years. Poor girl was locked in the cellar a
s punishment for talking. Only the schoolmaster forgot about her, didn’t he? She died of starvation, her poor frail body discovered by a teacher a week later. Sad story, but a lovely girl. Not one of the moaners. The ones who die in their own homes are always worse. It’s always the wallpaper with that lot.’
‘What happened to Janey?’ asked Lapsewood.
‘I wish I knew. When I got here, Janey was’ne here.’
‘But we checked. The school is not infected,’ said Lapsewood.
‘I guess the Black Rot must go when the building gets a new Resident,’ replied Tanner.
‘Infected? Black Rot?’ exclaimed Doris. ‘What are you two blathering about?’
‘It’s happening all over London,’ said Lapsewood. ‘Residents are going missing.’
‘I think I’d have heard about something like that,’ replied Doris. ‘I’ve been working as an Outreach Worker since you were still breathing air into your lungs.’
‘Of course,’ said Lapsewood to Tanner. ‘She wouldn’t have learnt about it until she stepped into an infected house.’
‘By which time it would have been too late,’ agreed Tanner.
‘I’ve no idea what you’re on about, but since you’re here this place can have one of you as its new Resident.’
Doris turned to Ether Dust and flew at the outside wall but, rather than flying straight through it, she rematerialised as she smacked into it and fell to the ground with a thud. Tanner laughed. Lapsewood walked over to give her a hand up.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said.
‘I can’ne be stuck in this place for the rest of eternity. I did’ne die here. There are rules about these things.’ Doris leaned against the outside wall. ‘I’m a prisoner,’ she said with a sigh. ‘I’m a prisoner, stuck in here with these wee bairns repeating sums for all eternity.’
‘I’ll go back to the Bureau and submit my findings,’ said Lapsewood. ‘I’m sure General Colt will find a way to get you out. He did send me to find you after all.’
‘There’s nothing to be done. Of all people I should know that.’
‘Of course there is. They can probably get Extraction documents or something. You do work for the Bureau.’
She shook her head sadly. ‘I’ve done this job long enough to know that all you can do for a Resident is support them, because the house will never let them go. You make out like you’re helping. You listen to their complaints, but there’s nothing you can actually do.’
Lapsewood patted her back awkwardly and said, ‘I will do something about this. I promise.’
‘Thank you,’ said Doris. ‘But I don’t think there’s anything to be done. Acceptance. That’s what I tell new Residents. Acceptance is the first step. Once you accept you’re never getting out then you can start to get on with things.’ She sighed. ‘It’s not so easy to tell yourself that.’
Stepping out of the school into the street, Lapsewood allowed an easy smile to spread across his face. He had done it. He had found Doris McNally.
All he had to do now was to write up his findings, return to the Bureau and tell them what he had discovered. When they saw what a good job he had done, not only in locating Doris McNally but in discovering the Black Rot problem, he would be rewarded. Perhaps he would be given a new assignment or maybe Colonel Penhaligan would get wind of it and request that he come back and work for him. He had showed them all. He was Prowler material after all. He imagined Alice’s face when he returned the hero. The man who saved London.
‘What’s next?’ asked Tanner.
Lapsewood held out the London Tenancy List. ‘I must return. You need to carry on,’ he said.
‘I don’t need to do nothing,’ replied Tanner.
‘We’ll need a proper map of infected structures if we’re to deal with this problem.’
‘We?’
‘The Bureau.’
‘I don’t work for the Bureau. Remember, I’m just helping you out.’
‘And I’m asking you to keep doing that,’ said Lapsewood. ‘Can’t you see how important this is? Something is very wrong here and it will affect all of us if we do not deal with it immediately. There’s much more at stake. If ghosts keep going missing the problem will grow and grow until it won’t be safe to enter any building in London.’
‘Someone else’s problem, ain’t it?’ replied Tanner, shrugging. ‘I said I’d help you find Doris, but we’ve done that now.’
‘Accepting responsibility for the problems of others is the only way to achieve a civilised, organised society. Caring for one another is what makes us human.’
‘You might not have noticed, but we’re dead, mate. We ain’t part of society no more.’
‘We still have a responsibility.’
‘Not me.’
‘So what will it take for you to carry on helping me?’
‘You could try asking, I suppose.’
‘That’s what I have been doing.’
‘Not really.’ Tanner shrugged. ‘Try dropping all this you need to do this and we need to do that stuff and actually ask me . . . nicely.’
‘Will you take the list and carry on checking for infected houses?’ asked Lapsewood.
‘What’s the word you’re searching for?’
‘Please,’ said Lapsewood.
‘Yeah, all right.’ Tanner took the list. ‘Since you asked so nicely, I will continue feeding dogs to houses.’
‘Thank you,’ said Lapsewood.
‘I’m getting new ones, though. I ain’t risking Lil’ Mags again.’
Lapsewood smiled. ‘I thought she was just a dog.’
‘Yeah, well. Sometimes dogs are more reliable than people.’
Lapsewood shook Tanner’s hand and said solemnly, ‘Thank you, Tanner. I’ll be back.’
Tanner laughed. ‘Sombre sort of fella, ain’t you, Lapsewood?’
Lapsewood smiled, then turned to Ether Dust and drifted up into the sky.
18
The Bell Tower
Sam stood in the doorway of St Paul’s church and peered inside. Sunlight spilt through the stained-glass windows, but when Sam looked only with his right eye, the interior appeared as dark as night. The wooden panelling had been eaten away by the mysterious black substance that covered the outside. Sam had never seen anything like it. It filled every crack. It had sunk into every gap. It had eaten away at the walls and spread up to the rafters in the ceiling. When he stared at it Sam almost felt as if he could see it slowly moving. Spreading.
‘I’ll wait here,’ said Rector Bray, holding the door.
‘You will not come in with me?’
‘I don’t think I can,’ he replied.
Sam stepped into the church.
‘The bell tower is just to your right there,’ said Bray. ‘That’s where the exorcism took place.’
Sam followed the spiral staircase, each footstep echoing off the walls. He stopped when he heard the front door slam.
‘Rector Bray?’ he cried. ‘Rector Bray?’
There was no reply. Sam wanted to run back down and to escape this place but there was something compelling him forward. At the top of the staircase he stepped into the bell tower, where a long piece of white material hung down from the end of the rope used to ring the bell. A breeze blew through gaps in the brickwork and the sheet moved.
‘Hello?’ said Sam. ‘Is there anyone here? I come to make peace.’
Inside the bell tower the black substance was even thicker. It was as if it had worked its way into the brickwork of the church. He reached his hand towards it and felt only the cold brick, but as his hand passed through the substance it caused strange slow ripples. He withdrew his hand and clasped his fingers to warm them. Sam looked up at the bell above him, thinking of the poor heartbroken man who had hung there listening to the bell sounding his own demise.
‘Hello?’ he called.
His voice reverberated around the inside of the bell.
He turned to leave, but the breeze picked up and the flapping materi
al whipped against the back of his head. He pushed it away and felt it wrap itself around his arm then around his neck. He tried to free himself but it was strong and determined. Sam stumbled and fell, catching his chin on a table edge. He tore himself free from the material. He struggled to stand but the black substance was creeping up his legs and arms and up his back, keeping him rooted to the spot, growing over him like it had grown over the church. He felt it sink into the pores in his skin, seep into the marrow of his bones, chilling his blood.
‘Help, help, Rector Bray, help me!’ Sam tried to shout. He pulled one hand free and grabbed the flapping cloth, attempting to heave himself off the floor. He felt the pull of the bell and heard the sound of it reverberate through his bones. He rang it again. And again. And again. But the sound it made was not that of a bell. It was a voice. A voice like he had never heard before. Low. Rasping. Inhuman.
TALKER, it said.
‘What are you?’ gasped Sam helplessly. ‘What are you doing here?’
TAL-KER!
‘What do you want?’ he whispered.
TO KILL. TO FEED, spoke the voice.
Sam lost consciousness.
19
The Disappearance of Lil’ Mags
Tanner rounded up more dogs on Cable Street, then continued working his way down the list until he reached an odd little church in Shadwell. Even in the night’s gloom it was possible to see that it was deeply infected. It was the worst he had seen. He scribbled an i next to the name on the list, tied up the other dogs and picked up Lil’ Mags to take a closer look. As he got nearer she barked and snarled at it.
‘Don’t worry. You ain’t going in there,’ said Tanner. ‘I’m just having a look.’
The church virtually pulsated with Black Rot. Tanner felt as if the actual building was watching. Lil’ Mags growled fearfully.
‘Hush now,’ said Tanner, but nothing would silence her. ‘Calm down, girl.’ He placed his hand over her mouth but she bit down on it.
‘Ouch.’ He loosened his grip for a moment and she wriggled free. She ran towards the church.
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