by Tara Moss
Barrett’s army – the necromancer’s army – were filing straight through to his study and out the other side. This, I feared, was it. The icy sensation in my guts told me that the Underworld was very, very near.
‘I think the portal may be open,’ I said, horrified.
So Barrett had built his laboratory right on it?
‘Quickly,’ Celia urged, and we rushed forward without hesitation.
Sure enough, a door in the charred study was open on its hinge, the lock seemingly broken. Incredibly, when I’d been here with Lieutenant Luke, I hadn’t even noticed the door. I’d been entirely blind to its presence, though Luke had experienced that strong aversion to the energy of the portal. He’d begged to leave, I recalled. Where was he now? I stepped through what I feared was the portal to the Underworld, my breath caught in my throat.
Oh boy.
THAT is the portal.
The small door in Barrett’s study opened up into a cavernous subterranean space. Below me were perhaps twenty-five broad, cascading stone steps leading to a magnificent, echoing chamber of natural rock. The steps vanished into a shallow pool of still, sulphury-smelling water that reflected the fierce, dancing green flames of a series of wrought-iron torches, hung from the rock on either side of the natural underground chamber. Stalactites hung from the ceiling, dripping with ooze and glittering with the water’s reflection. Everything swam with that circling green mist. The dead continued to file past me down the stairs, gathering in the shallow water.
Directly opposite, perhaps thirty feet into the cave, was a flat rock wall of great height with an enormous circular portal carved into it, surrounded by what appeared to be runes. On either side of the portal were hundreds of skulls and femurs stacked up in a strange, twisting design, not unlike the double helix, and two frightening stone statues – one male and one female. Each was equally menacing, with the muscled bodies of Olympians and huge death’s heads above their shoulders. They carried what looked to be ten-feet-high gold staffs.
I gaped.
This cave was, without question, the most beautiful and terrifying thing I had ever seen.
My great-aunt’s cool hand touched mine, breaking me from my awe. ‘We must stop it. Now.’
Indeed, he, or it, was there at the portal, hovering above the water at the giant door, chanting the words I’d sensed in all those gathered dead, the words I could not decipher into any known language, yet understood – words that commanded the dead to open the portal and reunite the decaying bodies with their spirits. He wished to open the portal and have the dead overrun the living inhabitants of the Upperworld, claiming their domain.
The zombies gathered at his back, where Dr Barrett hung limply, clearly unconscious.
‘I command you to stop!’ I shouted to the necromancer with more confidence than I felt, holding Lieutenant Luke’s sword in the air.
It turned around to face me – along with its gathering army – and those awful glowing eyes met mine. It spread its arms and my hair started to rise, electrified.
Oh, crap.
Celia and I ducked down, covering our heads as the creature clapped those withered hands together and shrieked, sending a blast of foul air through the chamber. The force of it rocked me backwards into Celia, and when it had passed I uncurled myself and stood up again. I wasn’t going to stand for that. Sword in hand, I marched down the steps and into the water.
Oh, hell. Luke.
I saw my former friend amongst the gathering dead, his eyes lit green within that handsome, spectral face I’d once found so beautiful. He began to move towards me, his hands outstretched like claws. I had no doubt of his motives. He had been commanded to kill me once and for all.
‘Lieutenant Luke, stand down!’ I commanded, holding out his sword. I saw those eyes flicker blue for an instant, before he continued to march towards me.
Celia was at my back. ‘Beware, Pandora,’ she said. ‘The necromancer is very powerful here. His magick is far stronger than mine.’
Behind Luke the necromancer was chanting again, and now he reached around in a most unnerving move of double-jointed dexterity, motioning for his followers to gather closer and hold up their arms (those who had arms, anyway). He began to shriek and I covered my ears.
Double-jointed . . . double-headed . . .
I pulled the two-headed coin from my pocket. ‘I have an idea,’ I said to Celia.
Did I?
‘Yes,’ she said, on seeing it. ‘The coin. Good thinking.’
I examined the heads on both sides. The coin looked very old, though I could not see a date.
‘Bring me a flame,’ Celia said, seeming to read my own subconscious better than I could. I gave Luke’s sword to her and dashed down the stairs and towards the nearest section of wall, wading knee-deep through the water. Stretching high, I reached up with both hands and pulled one of the heavy torches from the rough cave wall.
I looked over my shoulder. The runes were beginning to glow. Whatever the necromancer was doing, it was working. And Luke was still coming towards me.
‘Quick. There is no time,’ Celia shouted. ‘Burn the coin on one side!’
I bit my lip. ‘But which side?’
‘Darling, I don’t know! But it won’t take much to find out. Quickly!’
I looked at the coin in my hand. The torch I was holding in my other hand was far too big, the flame too large and unpredictable. My hand would get badly burned if I held the coin over it. I looked around frantically for something to light with the torch – a smaller wick, a strip of cloth – but there was nothing in the cave I could use except my own clothing.
‘What are you waiting for?’ my great-aunt called out from the stone steps.
I closed my eyes and tried to focus on the coin. When I opened them again it was vibrating in my palm and lifting into the air. I felt veins pound in my forehead from the concentration, but if I could stop a whole elevator from crashing to the ground then I could certainly keep this small object in the air. I held the large flame beneath the coin, and back on the stairs my great-aunt chanted some strange incantation.
He is the coin, I told myself. He is the coin.
A wailing began, a terrible shrieking, and the necromancer turned and held its hands to its withered face. In seconds the green mist that had filled the cavern like a noxious vapour began to clear, the zombies slowing, their chanting – for the moment – stopped. The green flames of the torches turned crimson and orange. The spell was losing its power.
Lieutenant Luke had nearly reached me and now his arms fell to his sides and he blinked and shook his head. When he opened his eyes, I could see that they were blue again.
‘Luke!’
I was so relieved that the singed coin dropped into my hand, and I screeched. It was almost too hot to hold. I ran to Luke, knowing there was no time to enjoy a reunion. ‘Quick!’ I said. ‘While the necromancer is weakened, grab him!’ I ordered, wielding the torch. ‘Help us get him to the laboratory.’
With Luke’s help, we dragged Barrett’s limp body across the water and up the stairs into the laboratory. The necromancer’s face was blackened and scorched, as if the torch’s flame had burned him directly. We passed several corpses who stood around listlessly, seeming unclear of their direction. For now it seemed safe to ignore them, though I felt sure that would change if the necromancer revived.
‘The chair,’ I said. ‘We can strap him in while we think of what to do.’
With considerable effort, we positioned Dr Barrett in the big metal chair, the sleeping doctor facing outwards. The thick leather straps would probably hold him, at least for a while. Celia buckled down one arm while I did the other, and Luke worked the straps on his footless legs.
The doctor woke just as I knelt down and helped Luke with the final strap. ‘The passenger you brought back with you . . .’ I began. ‘He tried to open the portal.’
‘Him?’ he said, seeming surprised. Seconds passed as the doctor blinked and struggled
with consciousness. ‘Did he succeed?’
‘No,’ Celia said, sounding rather unimpressed. Her arms were crossed.
I ran to the study door and locked it shut, and likewise the laboratory door, trying to stave off the threat of further dead company. ‘If he wakes again, he may succeed,’ I said.
‘This is too important. Do whatever you must,’ Barrett told us. ‘But quickly. The passenger is coming back.’
That was what I feared. But what could we do? I’d tried to combat its spell. I’d used the double-headed coin. I was about out of tricks.
‘Wait,’ said Celia. ‘You must rid yourself of this thing. You must let it go,’ she said, pointing at Barrett accusingly.
‘But how?’ he said.
‘You are holding on to him,’ she declared, much to my surprise. ‘You wanted his power. You evoked his spirit, didn’t you?’
Barrett closed his eyes. He nodded, ashamed.
‘You brought him here. Now you must give up this black magick of yours. Give up the power of necromancy. It is not yours to have.’
Barrett’s mouth fell open. ‘But—’
‘Do not play the fool with me,’ she said angrily. ‘You summoned it of your own free will. But this dark being is a curse to you. It will consume you completely if you don’t let it go.’
Dr Barrett’s eyebrows pinched together, his face turning crimson. He looked on the verge of tears. ‘But I didn’t mean to—’ he began, and then his head fell forwards again.
Oh no. ‘It’s waking again! Look out!’ I yelled.
Sure enough, the necromancer came awake with a tormented, high-pitched shriek, its white hair standing up like a crown of vipers. The metal chair shook and rattled and I watched with peculiar horror as the passenger tried to look at us with its body strapped to the chair backwards, the legs and arms bent in the other direction – in Barrett’s direction. Those hands and clawlike fingers flexed and the arms shook as it struggled against the thick leather binds.
The chair was bolted securely to the floor, but those straps were not going to hold.
The laboratory quickly filled with green mist again. I saw the tendrils of its spell sweep across the floor, circling the feet of the few listless zombies in the room, and under the lab door into the mansion corridor. It let out another shriek to summons the dead and turned its head at an unnatural angle to glare in the direction of the laboratory door.
Oh no.
I braced myself. ‘Get back!’ I cried. ‘Look out for the door.’
There came a crashing sound beyond the closed door and something landed just on the other side. Something that filled me with intense cold. ‘Look out, Celia!’ I shouted. Lieutenant Luke seized me, eyes green, just as the door to the laboratory burst open, shattering in splinters.
Deus.
The ancient Kathakano stood in the doorway of the laboratory, framed by glowing mist, and looking more fierce and frightening than even I could have imagined. His enormous ivory fangs – which I had never seen bared – were displayed in a terrible grin. The spell had caught him, just as he’d feared.
My great-aunt turned to the doorway and took in the sight of her Sanguine friend. ‘Bugger,’ I heard her say under her breath. ‘Dr Barrett, you’ve got until the count of three. One . . .’
She held up Luke’s sword.
‘Two . . .’
Deus flew in from the doorway towards her, fangs bared, and my great-aunt turned swiftly on her heel and cleaved the necromancer’s head off with one confident swipe of Luke’s sharp sword.
Holy hell in a handbasket. With kittens, I thought as the head on Barrett’s back fell and flaked away to ashes even before it hit the ground. Deus already had Celia bent back in a dip, her black hair sweeping the floor and his lethal fangs inches from her throat.
‘Three,’ she said, in a slightly strained voice.
Luke let go of me instantly, the spell broken, and Deus, realising what he was about to do, righted my great-aunt immediately and took a step back, gaping.
‘Madame, I am so sorry,’ he said, and his fangs slid neatly back under his lips.
‘I should hope so,’ my great-aunt replied, and adjusted her widow’s veil. ‘Don’t ever do that again.’
The green mist dispersed again as quickly as it had come. The zombies in the room fell to the ground with a clatter, now looking, well, properly dead. The necromancer at Barrett’s back was dust. And Barrett? We looked down at him, waiting for some sign. The doctor’s head hung lifelessly.
‘I may have rushed him slightly,’ my great-aunt admitted.
I bit my lip. She had warned him at least.
But after about a minute Barrett coughed and raised his head, and I exhaled with relief.
‘Now may I suggest that you do not evoke dark beings again, doctor?’ Celia said, before he even had the chance to speak.
He nodded weakly. ‘Ma’am, I’ll take that under advisement.’ He straightened up a little, still strapped into the chair. ‘It’s gone now, isn’t it? I can feel it.’
‘Yes, it is. Let’s see your eyes,’ I said, and leaned in. Barrett’s eyes were brown, with little yellow flecks in them. No glowing green. ‘I think it’s safe to unstrap him.’
Luke and I undid the straps and Barrett stood up unsteadily. He looked sheepish. My great-aunt was still frowning at him, her arms crossed. ‘You could have started the revolution of the dead,’ she told him. ‘All on your own.’
He looked humbled. ‘If it comes,’ he said, ‘it will not be my doing. But for what you have been through today, I truly apologise. I was foolish to come here with that being, though I swear I did not know what it would do.’
Celia narrowed her eyes. She seemed none too pleased with him.
‘What were you doing when you died?’ I asked, for lack of a better term for his condition. ‘Was it just a fire?’ I had to know.
‘That was no ordinary fire, though I think you already know that,’ he explained. ‘I spent two decades trying to figure out how to open that portal, trying to learn the secrets of the dead. I got more than I bargained for.’ He frowned, thinking of something that troubled him. ‘I caused my wife much sorrow. It is a long time ago now, and I took my journals with me, so that no others could follow in my footsteps. I concede I made mistakes, but I have discovered worlds I’d only ever dreamed of. I made sacrifices, some of them great.’ He looked to my great-aunt, who still had her arms crossed. ‘You are the master of this house now. I know you wish me to leave. But if you permit me, I would like to return one day.’
Celia nodded, her mouth still turned down.
The master of the house. Funny how ‘mistress’ and ‘master’ meant such different things, I thought. I wished Barrett would stay and tell me more – more about the house, more about his travels – but Celia seemed eager to have him move on.
‘Thank you, Pandora English, the Seventh,’ he said.
‘But where will you go?’ I asked.
‘There are many places.’ Barrett smiled to himself, recalling things I could not even begin to imagine. ‘My wife is calling me. I must say my goodbyes to her.’
‘We’ll leave you then, Dr Barrett,’ I said. It seemed the right thing to do to give them their privacy. I walked out to the empty doorway – there were a lot of broken doors in the house now – and stepped into the corridor.
‘Use that key wisely, Pandora English,’ he said as we left him.
Oh dear. It had been in the satchel – the satchel I had lost in the cemetery. Where was it now?
We left Dr Barrett in his laboratory, and as I turned away I caught a glimpse of his wife at his side, dressed in her mourning clothes. The sight of them together touched something inside me with a deep sadness. Celia and I walked up the stairs with Luke and Deus towards the penthouse. I was exhausted and I knew it would be some time before I could process all that I had seen.
‘I don’t know about you, but I could use a good cup of tea,’ my great-aunt said.
‘Gr
eat-Aunt Celia, how did you know it would work? That cutting the head off the necromancer wouldn’t destroy Dr Barrett?’ I asked.
‘I didn’t,’ she admitted quietly. ‘Come on, let’s go.’
We sat in the candlelit antechamber, an unusual foursome – ghost, ancient Sanguine, telepathic witch and the Seventh – three of us sipping Celia’s calming tea, at her insistence. (Lieutenant Luke could not consume food or drink unless he was in human form.) Is Celia’s tea a kind of potion? I wondered for the first time. A kind of calming witch’s brew? If so, it seemed to be working. In some real way it felt as if the four of us were members of some secret society, charged with keeping Manhattan safe. And perhaps we were. Celia’s tea ritual felt strangely civilised after all the bared fangs and head chopping.
‘There are some repairs to be made to the mansion,’ she said matter-of-factly after the feeling in the room had settled.
That was an understatement.
‘We can get to all that later, but for now there is another pressing issue to discuss while we have you and Deus in the room together. Deus?’
I cringed. I really wasn’t up for any more pressing issues. What I needed was a good lie down – for about a month. I didn’t think I’d be able to keep my eyes open for much longer, now that all that adrenaline had passed.
The grinning Kathakano turned to me and I recalled, with a shiver, the look of those fangs of his. ‘Miss Pandora, I have been told that Harriet tried to kill you this evening? Is this true?’
I frowned. Let’s see. The thing on Barrett’s back tried to kill me. Luke tried to kill me. Deus tried to kill Celia. Was I forgetting anyone? ‘Sorry, who?’
‘The one you know as Redhead,’ my great-aunt explained, and took another sip from her cup.
‘Oh. Yes, she did.’ It was hard to believe that was the same night. ‘In the lift.’
