Forces from Beyond

by Green, Simon R.

  He looked quickly around, to assure himself they weren’t being observed. The alley-way was still empty and eerily quiet; but it seemed to him the shadows were darker than they had been before. And that he couldn’t see Kim anywhere. JC turned back and made himself concentrate on the silver door. He spoke his name aloud and gestured sharply for Happy and Melody to do the same. The door swung slowly back before them. No light from inside spilled out into the alley, and not even a whisper of sound. Beyond the open door there was only a great dark hole in the wall. Happy started to back away. JC nodded to Melody, and they both closed in on Happy, took an arm each, and urged him forward. The three of them strode more or less confidently into the Wulfshead Club. Giving the door and its unseen guardian plenty of room.

  | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | |

  Inside, the brilliant illumination was almost painfully sharp and distinct; but there was no loud music, no massed, raucous chatter of raised voices. The Club was deserted. The three Ghost Finders stood cautiously where they were, letting their eyes adjust to the glare after the gloom of the alley. They didn’t need to look back to know the silver door had already closed itself. The place stank of booze and sweat and several kinds of illegal smoke, as though a whole crowd of people had been partying in the Club not long before. Massive plasma screens covered the walls. According to gossip, these screens normally ran twenty-four/seven, showing secret moments from the lives of the rich and famous, the good, the bad, and the influential. From secret bunkers, hidden back rooms, and, of course, bedrooms. But someone had shut all the screens down.

  JC didn’t realise how tense he was, until he glanced down and saw that his hands were clenched into fists, ready to defend him against . . . anything. He took a deep breath and made himself relax. Never let the enemy know they’re getting to you. He looked down the long, open space before him and saw that the Club wasn’t entirely empty after all. Two people were sitting together at the long bar that took up most of the far end of the Club. The bar itself was a nightmarish art deco structure in steel and glass, with no barmen in attendance. The two people had very familiar faces. JC started forward, trying hard to look relaxed and determined at the same time. Happy and Melody hurried after him. Their footsteps sounded very loud in the quiet.

  Catherine Latimer sat perched on her bar-stool with a surprising amount of dignity. Sitting very casually beside her was Julien Advent, Victorian adventurer and hero of the British Empire. JC had heard a lot about Julien Advent. Everyone had. There were any number of books and films based on his historical exploits, and at least one television show. Most people didn’t know that the real reason Advent had disappeared so mysteriously was that he’d fallen through a Timeslip in Victorian London and reappeared in the Nightside in the 1960s. He quickly made a name for himself all over again, as a hero and a force for the Good to be reckoned with. A fearless investigative reporter, these days, he also edited the Nightside Times. And didn’t look a day older than the man in his late twenties who’d appeared in the Nightside some fifty years earlier. Tall, dark, and coldly handsome, Julien Advent still dressed in the height of Victorian fashion, complete with a scarlet-lined opera cloak. He made it look natural.

  Latimer and Advent sat companionably together, sipping champagne. An opened bottle of a really good vintage stood on the bar top beside them, along with three more glasses. Latimer nodded coolly to the three Ghost Finders and gestured to the empty glasses; but Happy was already ahead of her. He poured himself a drink, knocked it back, and poured himself another, before Melody could wrestle the bottle away from him. JC shot Latimer an apologetic glance.

  “Go ahead,” she said. “It’s on the house.”

  “I don’t think so,” said Melody, putting the bottle down carefully out of Happy’s reach. “I feel a distinct need for clear heads all around.”

  “Right,” said JC. He nodded respectfully to Julien Advent. “So how long have you two known each other?”

  Latimer and Advent exchanged an amused smile. There was clearly history between them.

  “A long time,” said Latimer. “We go way back.”

  “The last time we met was right here,” said Advent. “At the wake for the Drood’s Armourer. Good chap. Splendid do, I thought.”

  JC knew he was staring at Advent but couldn’t seem to help himself. The man wasn’t just a renowned hero and adventurer; he was a living legend. He’d fought in actual wars between the forces of Heaven and Hell. Just by being on such obvious good terms with Julien Advent, JC was immediately that much more impressed with his Boss. And even more impressed that Advent had been willing to come out of the Nightside to help Latimer. Though it was a mark of JC’s long experience with the Boss that his first thought was, What hold could she possibly have on the legendary Julien Advent that would persuade him to set himself against the massed forces of the Carnacki Institute and the agents of the Flesh Undying? Did she have something on everybody? Well, no, clearly not, or she wouldn’t be in the mess she was in now.

  JC looked back down the long room. The Wulfshead Club was quite definitely empty. Even though it was famous for never closing. He looked back at Latimer and fixed her with what he hoped was a firm and demanding stare.

  “Where is everyone?”

  “I asked Julien for help,” said Latimer. “And he very kindly arranged for us to have the Club just to ourselves for a while.”

  “The Club’s Management owes me a great many favours,” said Advent, quite unselfconsciously.

  “Everybody does,” said Latimer.

  “But why meet here?” said JC.

  “Because it’s one of the few places we can be sure of not being found, interrupted, or overheard,” said Latimer. “The Wulfshead’s built-in security is quite staggeringly powerful, efficient, and frightening. No-one will bother us here.”

  Advent nodded briefly, not particularly approvingly. “The Roaring Boys . . .”

  JC swallowed hard. He’d heard of them and the things they did. The last time they were let loose, officials were dragging body parts out of the Thames for weeks.

  “Never heard of them,” Happy said loudly. He was nursing his second glass of champagne and looking longingly at the bottle on the bar top.

  “Be grateful,” said JC.

  “So,” said Catherine Latimer. “You’ve met the new Boss? Appalling creature, isn’t she? A political appointee, of course. A safe pair of hands, who could be relied on not to rock the boat during the process of transition or make trouble for those above her.”

  “You might have warned us,” said JC.

  “I didn’t get any warning!” said Latimer. “I just turned up this morning as usual, and there she was, already installed behind my desk! Smirking at me!”

  “I’m amazed she’s still alive,” said Melody. “Given your usual track record with people who annoy you. Not mellowing in your old age, are you, Boss?”

  Latimer sniffed loudly. “Hardly. Sometimes I’m amazed by my own restraint. There’s no point in killing the silly cow; they’d just replace Allbright with someone exactly like her. There’s never any shortage of over-ambitious arse-kissing paper-shufflers.” She glanced apologetically at Advent for the language, but he just smiled. Latimer shook her head slowly, and when she spoke again, JC could hear an honest hurt in her voice. “A lifetime in service . . . dismissed in a moment. After everything I’ve done for the Institute! I’ve kept this whole world safe, never mind just this country. Never once shirked my duty . . . despite everything that’s cost me, down the years.”

  “Hush, Catherine,” said Advent. He held her hand, and she squeezed his hard.

  “Did you expect gratitude?” said JC. “A big ceremony and a gold watch?”

  “No,” said Latimer. “But I didn’t expect to be treated with such . . . contempt. I’ve given the Carnacki Institute my life. All those years . . . I’ve outlived two husbands and all three of my childre
n.” She smiled briefly as she caught Happy and Melody trying to do the maths in their heads, and add up the years.” I’ve been with the Institute ever since I came down from Cambridge in the twenties. I’m a lot older than I appear.”

  And just for a moment, she let her eyes glow with the same fierce golden light as JC’s, the sign that she had also been touched and changed, by forces from Outside. Melody and Happy looked at her wide-eyed and open-mouthed, then looked to JC. He mouthed the word Later . . . Happy and Melody glared at him, as they realised he’d known all along and never said anything. Their expressions said Damn right we’ll talk about this later. Latimer let the golden light fade from her eyes.

  “What remains of my family are . . . scattered, and distanced from me. My fault; I admit it. I never had time for them. There was always some emergency going on somewhere that I felt needed my attention more. Now even that’s been taken from me. I’m almost ready to give it all up, to just step aside and stand down and let myself die. I think it might be a relief, to escape from the obligations of a job, and a world, that I have grown so very tired of. A world I barely even recognise, some days.”

  “I know the feeling,” said the Victorian adventurer.

  “Of course you do,” said Latimer. She realised she was still holding his hand and let go. They shared a brief smile and toasted each other with their champagne glasses.

  “In my experience,” said Advent, “the world changes, but people don’t. They are still worth protecting and fighting for. Mostly.”

  “Besides!” said Latimer, slamming her empty glass down on the bar top. “I’ll be damned if I’ll let the bad guys win! Not on my watch! It’s just not in my nature . . .”

  “Exactly,” said Julien Advent. “Now I wonder where you got that from . . .” He produced a golden pocket-watch from his waistcoat, flipped back the cover, and checked the time. “I’m afraid I can’t stay any longer, Catherine. Too long in London Proper, and I’ll be noticed. Far too many people have an interest in me—friends and enemies and everyone in between. Outside the Nightside, I’m a legend, a myth from history. And I think it’s best I stay that way. So, time for me to go. The latest edition of the Nightside Times won’t put itself out. But, of course, call me if you need anything.”

  “Thank you, Grandfather,” said Catherine Latimer.

  Julien Advent leaned over and kissed her on the forehead, and she smiled almost bashfully. Advent rose to his feet, nodded politely to the others, and left the Club. JC and Happy and Melody stared after him, sincerely impressed. They met quite a few myths and legends in their line of work, but not many genuine heroes. And then they turned back to stare at their Boss.

  “Grandfather?” said JC. “You never said . . .”

  “It was none of your business,” said Latimer.

  “You know, I actually felt safer while he was here,” said Happy.

  “He has that effect on people,” said Latimer.” But it wouldn’t have been fair to drag him into this.”

  “Why not?” said Melody. “I’m all for having a really big gun on our side. Why wouldn’t he want to be involved? The Flesh Undying is a threat to the whole world. Having an actual legend backing us . . .”

  “Would attract far too much attention,” Latimer said firmly. “Powerful individuals and groups from all sides would want to get involved, and we’d end up caught in the middle and trampled underfoot. Besides, this isn’t the London he knows. He doesn’t belong here any longer. And he knows it.” She glared at JC as he started to say something. “Change the subject. Now.”

  “Given that there aren’t any bartenders,” said Happy, “does that mean we can help ourselves to drinks? I’ve heard you can get some really amazing concoctions in this place. Everything from a wolfsbane cocktail with a silver-bullet chaser, to radioactive sparkling water, to Angel’s Urine or Old Shoggoth’s Irregular. And I’m in a mood to try them all.”

  “Never knew you when you weren’t,” said JC.

  “I doubt they’ve got anything in this place that could even touch your consciousness,” Melody said kindly. “Not after everything you’ve done to it.”

  “True,” said Happy. “But I live in hope. And denial.”

  Latimer looked him over carefully. “He looks terrible. I mean, even more than usual.”

  “I do, don’t I?” said Happy. “It’s a gift.”

  He looked at Latimer challengingly. The Boss shrugged and let it go. She could be kind, on occasion.

  “Forget the bar,” she said. “We need to talk. We don’t have much time. Even my grandfather couldn’t arrange for this place to stay shut down for long.”

  “What’s going on, Boss?” said JC. “I mean, really? There’s obviously more to this than just the Flesh Undying and its hidden agents. How many fronts are we fighting on?”

  “The Carnacki Institute is being threatened with complete reorganisation, top to bottom,” Latimer said grimly. “So it can end up as just a subsection of the newly re-formed Department of Uncanny. With much less power and autonomy, and strict limits on what it will be allowed to investigate. Essentially, the Institute would be just a specialised part of a much larger organisation, more answerable to those in power.”

  “But . . . they can’t do that!” said JC. “We don’t answer to the secular powers! That’s always been the point. We’re a Royal Charter, not a Government Department!”

  “That doesn’t mean as much as it used to,” said Latimer. “Especially when there’s a cabal inside the Carnacki Institute that wants it to happen.”

  “You mean apart from the agents of the Flesh Undying?” said Happy.

  “Are you sure about this?” said Melody.

  “I found evidence,” said Latimer. “Though it seems I’ve given myself away in gathering it. I was still putting together solid proof when it all went wrong at Brighton. And that gave them all the excuse they needed to shut me down. They need old hands like me removed, so they can pursue their own agenda . . .”

  “But why?” said JC, almost desperately. “Why are they doing this? What do they want?”

  “To seize power from the after-life,” said Latimer. “Enough power to make the world behave. The living and the dead. Make the whole world over into what they think it should be.”

  “Are we talking politics here?” said Melody. “Or religion?”

  “I think it’s simpler than that,” said Latimer. “They believe they know what’s best for everybody.”

  “Oh, that’s bad,” said Happy. “They’re always the most dangerous kind . . .”

  “It was their secret experiments in pursuit of power that broke the walls between the worlds,” said Latimer.

  “I knew it!” said Happy. “I was right! I was right all along! Damn . . . I’m not used to that. It’s a heady feeling.”

  Melody hushed him.

  “Instead of the cabal reaching out through the gap they made,” said Latimer, “Something from Outside broke in. The Flesh Undying. Wiser people would have taken that as a warning; but now the cabal sees the Flesh Undying as a potential asset. Something to be seized, controlled, a weapon to make all the masters of this world bow down to them. And I, along with everyone else presumed to be on my side, are just obstacles on their road to power.”

  “But the Flesh Undying is threatening to destroy the world!” said JC. “Do the cabal really think they can control something that big?”

  “There’s none so blind, or more properly speaking narrowly focused, as those led by their noses by their own self-interest,” said Latimer. “Did I just mix a few metaphors? Don’t care. The cabal believe what they want to believe.”

  “If they are in control the Carnacki Institute,” Melody said slowly, “how do we stop them? Just us?”

  “We can’t,” said Latimer. “They have the entire resources of the Institute behind them and a whole army of manpower at their dispo
sal. There’s no-one in the Establishment we can turn to. All my usual friends and allies and sources are either out in the cold or keeping their heads well down and hoping not to be noticed until the storm has blown over. They don’t realise how bad the situation is. Or how frighteningly high the stakes are. So, when you can’t rely on your friends . . . turn to your enemies. You always know where you are with them. I have therefore reached out to a recent ally.” She raised her voice. “You can come in now!”

  An office door at the far end of the Club banged open as Natasha Chang made her entrance. Still dressed in her pink leather cat-suit finery, complete with pillbox hat. She swayed down the long room to join them, elegant and sensual, smiling brightly, entirely unaffected by the open antagonism in the faces of JC, Happy, and Melody. She finally came to a halt before them, struck a provocative pose, and smiled sweetly.

  “Hello again, darlings! Isn’t it funny how things turn out?”

  “You have got to be kidding!” said JC. He glared at Chang. “We’re supposed to trust you? After you ran out on us at Brighton?”

  Chang shrugged. “Didn’t see any point in hanging around. The authorities would only have wanted answers to questions, and I don’t do that. I’m really a very private person. And anyway, I’m here now! That’s all that matters, isn’t it?”

  “Boss,” said Happy. “Please let me shoot her.”

  “You haven’t got a gun,” said Melody.

  “All right, can I club her to death with a bar-stool?”

  JC looked at Latimer. “You really think we can work with her?”

  “I believe we can trust Ms. Chang to follow her own best interests,” Latimer said calmly. “Nothing has changed between us; we still have a common enemy in the Flesh Undying. A world dominated by the Carnacki cabal, or destroyed by the Flesh Undying, would have no room in it for the Crowley Project. And if we can’t rely on the Institute’s resources, perhaps the Project will have assets we can use.”

  “Smell the irony!” said Chang. “I love it! It’s not every day the Crowley Project gets to save the world.”