by Oxley, Peter
N’yotsu had retreated to the mess of equipment at the rear of the laboratory and returned with a device comprised of a squeezable bulb attached to a bewildering set of dials and gauges, in turn set in a piece of wood. The whole thing looked like the outcome of an unfortunate mating between a lady’s perfume dispenser and a carriage clock. I noted that N’yotsu clearly shared my brother’s disdain for the aesthetics of his creations.
He waved it around my body, squeezing the bulb at various intervals. “What are you doing?” I asked.
“This picks up any residual Aetheric disruptions,” he said. “Look,” he waved Maxwell over and they both peered at the dials. “It would appear that he has been exposed to some form of disturbance over the past few hours.”
“Well,” said Maxwell. “That is interesting.”
“I am so pleased your puffing machine agrees with me,” I said drily. However, there was one thing which was bothering me. “Please do not tell me that we’re going to wander round East London puffing everything with that perfume dispenser. We will be the next ones murdered if you do, and we won’t need anything supernatural to achieve it.”
“Of course not,” said Maxwell. “We have developed a more practical version.” He darted behind a bench and re-emerged, triumphantly holding aloft yet another device. I stared at him. It was less effeminate than the creation that N’yotsu had waved over me, but no less conspicuous. The closest approximation I could find was a shortened version of a brush that a chimney sweep may use, but instead of the bristles at the end, there were a series of small funnels.
“Oh good,” I said, casting my eyes heavenwards. “That’s so much better.”
CHAPTER 8
The street where I had encountered the creature was by now devoid of any residues of recent Aetheric activity, or so Maxwell and N’yotsu told me. It was clearly not the sort of villain which relished returning to the scene of the crime. In order to track it, we took an educated guess based upon my memory of the creature’s direction of travel, which took us in a westerly direction toward Seven Dials. This was a course which we took with some trepidation, given the reputation of that area.
As usual, Maxwell fell into a world of his own, unmindful of the reality beyond his precious dials and gauges. I fell into step with N’yotsu, both of us keeping a watchful eye on our surroundings in the hope of heading off any threats to my brother before they materialised.
“Describe for me again the creature which attacked you,” said N’yotsu.
“Very tall,” I said. “Maybe seven feet. It was extremely muscular and covered in scales—like a reptile, I would say. And its eyes glowed bright red. I seem to remember teeth as well—sharp, pointy teeth.” I frowned. “Could it have been the same creature which attacked you last week?”
“It is possible, although from your description and the manner of its attack I suspect not. If my attacker was quite so direct, I would not be here today. I suspect it was a lower form of demon.”
“So tell me,” I said. “There is actually a hierarchy of demons?”
“But of course,” he said. “Have you not read The Lesser Key of Solomon? Your brother has several copies.”
“No. I am more a Dickens sort of fellow.”
“You do not share your brother’s interest in the arcane?”
“Not particularly,” I said. “Let us say that I am the more pragmatic of the two of us.”
“I do not understand. What can be more pragmatic than understanding the world around us?”
I smiled. “These books and concepts of which you speak—demons and suchlike—they are no more than an interesting diversion to men such as me. I do not choose to recognise them as a regular part of the world which I inhabit.”
N’yotsu stared at me. “But you might as well say that you choose not to recognise the existence of light or air. How can you deny the evidence of your own eyes?”
I could only shrug. After the events of that night in particular, he had a very valid point. However, this world which he was so comfortable in was a far cry from the more earthly concerns of the common man scraping a living on the unforgiving streets whilst battling the cold and hunger, both of which were as impassively destructive as any demon.
I was saved from any further interrogations of my illogical outlook on life by a yelp from Maxwell. We ran over to him and peered at his machine. I saw a confusing collection of dials and gauges, but to Maxwell and N’yotsu this was of intense interest.
“Look,” said Maxwell. “There’s a definite residue coming from—” he waved the machine a bit, causing N’yotsu and me to duck and dart out of the way of the flailing funnel lest it behead us. He finally settled on a south-westerly direction. “That way,” he said, pointing straight through a rather imposing looking tenement building.
“Do you mean in the house or that general direction?” I asked.
“The general direction,” Maxwell replied.
“Good,” I said. “It doesn’t look like the sort of place which would welcome unannounced visitors. If we go a couple of hundred yards more up the road then we will come to Long Acre, which runs broadly in that direction.”
We walked on and eventually passed into more populated surroundings, with an increasing trickle of prostitutes lining the way. We steadfastly ignored their banter and calls. In the distance I could make out the cry of costermongers and the flickering light of a night market.
“Odd,” frowned Maxwell. “It was there for a moment, but now it seems to have dissipated.” He waved the device around some more, like a manic orchestra conductor.
“But you are certain it was around this area that there were traces?” I asked. They nodded. “Very well then,” I said. “Let us ask around.”
Maxwell paled. “Ask? Who exactly?”
I gestured at the various ladies dotted around the streets. “In my experience, there is no better source of information on the comings and goings of night-time London than a Lady of the Night.” I laughed at Maxwell’s expression. “Oh come now, Max. They’re no different to any normal ladies. Just a bit more forthright at times.”
I looked around and selected the least haggard and most coherent looking girl. She was probably not much older than a teenager, although the streets had taken their toll on her face and bearing, so that she had the appearance and manner of someone much older. She looked up suspiciously with cold eyes as we approached, flicking matted brown hair out of her face.
“Only one at a time, gents,” she said in the Cockney drawl particular to those who have been brought up within earshot of the Bow Bells. “I don’t do any of that funny stuff.”
“No, no,” I said, smirking at Maxwell’s outraged reaction. “We just want some information.”
She glared at me. “That counts as ‘funny stuff’ in my book.”
I turned and gestured at Maxwell and N’yotsu, who looked back at me blankly. I cast my eyes heavenwards and offered a silent curse. “Money, please?” I said through clenched teeth.
“Oh,” said Maxwell and produced his purse. I snatched it from him before he could draw any more unwanted attention upon us by thumbing through it in full view of the unsavoury denizens gathered around us.
As surreptitiously as I could manage, I whipped out a shilling and stepped toward the prostitute, pressing it into her hand. She glanced at it and made it disappear in a move so fluid it would put the most skilled conjuror to shame.
“That’ll buy you one question,” she said. “And before you start whingin’ and moanin’, you’ve already shown me your hand. I know there’s plenty there on offer, so if you really want information then you’ll have to make it worth my while. I’m losin’ trade all the time I’m talkin’ with you.”
“Very well,” I said. “We’re on the trail of a creature which has been killing people who stray on the streets at night. Some people refer to it as ‘the Devil’. Are you familiar with the creature to which I am referring?”
She nodded.
“Have y
ou seen it, or come to know of its whereabouts?”
She looked at me with raised eyebrows.
“What?” I asked.
“You only paid for one question,” she said. “And I’ve already answered. More questions mean more money.”
I sighed and handed over another coin.
“Well?” I asked.
“You asked if I’d seen it or knew of its whereabouts,” she said. “To me, that sounds like two questions. You’ve only paid for one here.” I thrust another coin at her and she grinned, making them disappear once more. “As a matter of fact, I haven’t seen it,” she said. Maxwell and N’yotsu tutted and moaned from behind me. “But,” she continued, “I do know plenty who tell they have. And they all point to it spending most of its time not too far from here.”
“Truly?” I asked, searching her face and demeanour for any sign of deceit. “Can you lead us to it?”
She smiled and held out her hand. As irritating as it was, I did allow myself a little smile at the girl’s persistence and cheek. In a perverse way, it was somewhat appealing.
Before I could hand over any more cash, there was a shout from the other end of the street. We looked around and I was suddenly aware of how empty our surroundings had become. The other occupants had swiftly and quietly deserted us, alerted by a signal we had not been a party to.
The shout had come from a man who was charging toward us, a stream of semi-intelligible curses preceding him. He was dressed in a facsimile of high fashion, an homage to something he clearly aspired to but did not truly understand. His top hat was battered and frayed, his cane bent and chipped from activities I would rather not consider. His general outfit was somewhat garish and undersized to really pass muster in any form of polite society, being almost Regency in their appearance; a good forty years too late to be deemed acceptable.
I turned to the girl. “Your pimp, I presume?” I asked.
The girl nodded, eyes wide and taking a step away from us.
The man barrelled into us, thrusting a hand at me and grabbing my lapels. “What you doin’?” he snarled.
I held up the hand without the money in it, attempting to placate the man. “Now then, sir,” I said in a level voice. “Let us not do anything hasty. I am sure we could—”
“That’s my girl,” he said. “If you want business, you pay for it. If you want to talk, you talk through me. Understand?”
I noted the girl’s reaction to the proximity of her pimp, the way she flinched and cowered away from him, an instinct no doubt honed by years of mistreatment at the hands of this brute. I felt the familiar heat of anger rising in my belly; this man represented the very worst of humanity and it grated with me that anyone should be subjugated by such a cove. Clearly I was not the only one feeling this way, for N’yotsu took a step forward, putting himself level with me and between the pimp and the girl.
“I would advise you to calm down,” said N’yotsu. “We were just looking for information. No ill was meant, and she was nothing but loyal to you.”
The man glared at N’yotsu and then reached for the girl, causing her to pull back with a squeal. N’yotsu grabbed the man’s wrist. The pimp tried to pull his arm away but it was held fast. He glared at N’yotsu. “Let go,” he snarled.
N’yotsu stared back impassively. “I do not appreciate bullies,” he said quietly. “I shall let go, but I advise you to leave us right now.” He released the man’s arm.
The man rubbed his wrist and then launched himself at N’yotsu, swinging his cane wildly and causing me to duck out of the way lest I be brained by the weapon. N’yotsu caught it one-handed and it shattered as the force of the swing and the cane’s fragile construction met with the immovable object of N’yotsu’s grip.
It is interesting to note that even at that early stage I was not surprised by the strength which N’yotsu possessed. Our encounter with the ghost-stealing demon the previous week had shown that he had skills and resources far in excess of mine, even though our physical builds were comparable. I was determined to understand his exercise regimen, although I had not yet had the opportunity to properly inquire as to how he achieved such remarkable results.
To give the pimp his dues, the almost unnatural casualness with which N’yotsu deflected his weapon did not deter him from his attack. With a roar he threw a punch straight at N’yotsu’s face, following it up with a blow to the stomach and then a right-handed uppercut to his chin. N’yotsu backed away under this assault, and this I took as my cue to intervene.
I felt the familiar cloak of cold determination slip over me as I stepped into the fray, fists raised. The pimp sneered at me and lunged forward, feinting with his fists whilst bring a hard knee up to my groin. I blocked clumsily and then spun to the side, laughing in spite of the situation; it had been too long since I had been involved in a proper street fight. I landed a blow to the pimp’s temple and he staggered back a step.
N’yotsu emerged with a grim expression on his face and re-entered the fray with a fist to the pimp’s chin followed up by a knee to his stomach. While the man was gasping for breath N’yotsu lifted him above his head and threw him to the ground. For a moment I thought I was going to witness my second murder in the space of twenty-four hours, but then the man moved and groaned. N’yotsu descended on the man and continued to beat him.
“N’yotsu,” I said, pulling him away. “I think you’ve taught him a lesson, don’t you?”
N’yotsu snarled and wrenched himself free, causing me to step backwards with a frown; it was normally I who was the irresponsible, impetuous one constantly needing restraint. Before I could come to terms with this reversal of roles, and before N’yotsu could do any more damage, Maxwell shouted: “My God!”
We all paused and looked to him. “The dials,” he said, holding up his Aetheric Sensor. “They’re...”
The prostitute screamed and pointed. “What’s that?”
We all looked up to where she was indicating. A huge reptilian form glistened in the moonlight as it squatted atop a roof just a hundred yards away, eyes glowing red as it watched us. I gasped, the events of a few hours earlier coming back to me in a rush, the sight and sound of Eve’s murder at the hands of that same beast still far too vivid in my memories.
The creature turned and fled, jumping down to the street and bounding off. Without a thought we all sprinted after it, leaving the pimp lying bloodied and groaning in the street.
CHAPTER 9
We ran through half-lit streets, the gas lamps being sporadic at best in that part of town. Our pursuit took us away from the sanctuary of the night market which we had heard and glimpsed earlier. The streets were unusually quiet, as though the locals had been forewarned that a creature from the pits of Hades would be storming past their houses.
“I’m dead,” panted the girl from next to me.
I started, not having realised that she had joined our chase. “What do you mean?” I asked.
“Jason will kill me when he catches up with me,” she said. Then added: “My pimp. The guy your mate battered back there. He’s going to assume I’m on your side. He’ll kill me.”
“Why have you come with us then?” I asked.
“I... don’t know. It felt like the right thing to do. Is that thing really the Devil?”
“I’m not sure. But I know it’s dangerous. It has killed someone.”
“Are you Old Bill?” she asked, glancing at me with a look of alarm on her face.
“No,” I said. “In fact the police and I are not the best of friends at the moment.”
“Then why are you chasing it?”
“I...” I was not so fit that I could recount my entire tale—or indeed more than a few sentences at a time—whilst running at that pace, and so limited myself to: “It’s a long story.”
N’yotsu and Maxwell had charged ahead of us and it was only when they stopped in front of an abandoned warehouse that we were able to catch up with them.
“One question,” said the girl as
we came to—in my case—a rather breathless halt. I had once prized myself on my fitness, but drink and dissolution had whittled away at the adventurer I had once been. The girl continued: “If that thing’s so dangerous, why’s it running away from us?”
N’yotsu blinked and looked at her. “Hello,” he said. “What are you doing here?”
“I was curious,” she said. “And anyway, I think I may be less at risk of being killed here than I would be if I stayed with my pimp.”
“Your faith in us is touching, if somewhat misplaced, given that I believe we have managed to corner a rather homicidal demon in that building.” He bowed and held out his hand in greeting. “My name is N’yotsu and my companions here are Maxwell and Augustus.”
“Kate,” she said, eying N’yotsu’s outstretched hand suspiciously. She shook it quickly, pulling her hand away with a jerk as though she expected him to seize and pull her toward him. “So if it really is all that dangerous,” she said. “Why’s it running away from us?”
“Good question,” said N’yotsu. “Maybe Maxwell’s machine is giving off some form of vibration or emission which it finds unpleasant.”
“Or maybe it saw the short work you made of Jason back there,” said Kate. “What are you—some sort of champion boxer?”
N’yotsu shrugged and muttered something about being just an ordinary person. He turned back to the building. “No point in wasting any more time,” he said. “We should go and finish the job. Everyone ready?” He strode into the building without waiting for a response.
I took a deep breath and followed him, Maxwell peering over his dials to my left, Kate to my right. “What job is this then?” she asked. “We going to kill it?”
“No,” I said. “We need to capture it. I need to clear my name and the only way I can do that is by showing the police that that creature is the one which has been committing the Whitechapel murders, not me.”
“You?” Kate laughed. “No offence, but look at you! I can’t think of a less likely looking murderer!”
