The Dark Missions of Edgar Brim

by Shane Peacock

  It’s Bram Stoker.

  His face looks ruddy from his meal and walk, and he is smiling. “Ah, there you are! Shall we adjourn to the Beefsteak Room for our discussion?”

  “Uh,” says Edgar, “as you can see, Professor Lear is not feeling well.”

  Lear has his hand on his coat, hiding his wound. He offers a slight smile. “I am so sorry, Stoker. Can we arrange this for another time?”

  The red-haired man’s face falls a little. “I suppose we can.”

  They nod at him and make their way toward the door. He doesn’t seem to have noticed Edgar’s dirty clothes, Lucy’s bare feet, that they are all disheveled. His mind appears to be on something else.

  “I doubt,” he says behind them, “that I shall ever write another book like Dracula. I doubt that I can revisit such truths. It is too much. I had my moment and now it has passed. But, we shall talk.”

  “Most assuredly,” says Lear.

  Jonathan takes the old man back to the Langham in a cab. The others follow on foot, Edgar saying little, keeping most of his story so Lear can hear it later on. He says nothing of the demon’s warning about another creature coming, but he looks behind several times as they walk. Lucy heard the vampire’s threat, but in all the excitement, she seems to have forgotten. Once, Edgar thinks he sees something, big and freakish, staring out at them from the corner of an alleyway. But it vanishes.

  Lear had seemed to be recovering by the time they got him into the cab, so Tiger and Lucy are happy as they walk by Edgar’s side.

  “We have destroyed the menace,” says Tiger, her face beaming.

  “And grandfather seems to have survived,” says Lucy. “It is almost too much to ask for!” They can barely believe that everything is coming to a happy ending.

  Edgar tries not to show his concern.

  When they reach Lear’s room, the old professor is much better. Jonathan has put him in bed and his wound appears to be slight. The hotel has supplied some iodine and a bandage and he’s sitting up, talking. But he doesn’t like everything Brim has to say.

  Edgar recounts the history of the revenant as told to him by the hideous man himself. He had no minions, it seems.

  “Shakespeare is right,” says Lear. “If his kind could make undead followers like the books say, and they in turn could make more, we would all be such creatures by now.”

  “Perhaps we are,” says Jonathan. “Brim has rather long teeth, think you not?”

  They all laugh, except Edgar.

  “Master Brim, what are you thinking?” Lear looks as if he knows.

  “He spoke of another.”

  The room goes silent.

  “You mean,” says Jonathan finally, “just like the little lunatic said?”

  “Yes.”

  “So you are going to take the word of an aberration who was attempting to frighten you and a mad old man who talks to ghosts? If something were after us, wouldn’t it be in pursuit immediately?” He turns to Lucy. “Seen any monsters in the hallway?” He gets down on his hands and knees and checks under Lear’s bed. “None in there!”

  “We must remain vigilant,” says the professor.

  And so they do. But nothing comes. There’s no sign of any sort. The four friends grow progressively bolder and lighter, taking a few chances, splitting up for little trips together in the city—Edgar with Tiger, Edgar with Lucy, Jonathan with Tiger. They take Thorne’s weapons to Drury Lane and leave them with Shakespeare, just in case they should need them soon. The little man almost collapses with excitement. Lear remains in his room recovering, though they are sure to never leave him alone. But on the third day, he convinces them to enjoy dinner together in the Palm Court, without him. He wants to sleep.

  The four young people are anxious to turn from bad tidings, to enjoy themselves. The boys sit on one side of the marble table with the spotless white tablecloth and gleaming china and cutlery, the girls on the other, engaging in lively conversation. They speak of Lear’s improving health and their great triumph. They discuss the terrible news in the papers about Henry Irving. He has fallen on the stairs at his flat and injured his legs and has cancelled the last day of Faust and other performances for an indefinite period. The great man has never missed a single day of an engagement in his career.

  “Perhaps we can put to rest our concerns about more demons?” asks Jonathan.

  “I hope so,” says Edgar.

  “Well, it is taking its time, if it is about!”

  “If something did come,” asks Lucy, a little tentatively, “it would come for all of us, wouldn’t it?”

  “It would know that we all know,” says Edgar.

  “Well, Brim,” says Jonathan, “you are such a cheery chap! Look around you. No monsters, no demons, only piles of food, beautiful girls and one grump!”

  They all laugh.

  “Anyway, I shall be at Sandhurst in no time,” cries Jonathan, “learning to shoot better than I do now!”

  “One can only hope!” exclaims Edgar and then receives a kick in the shins.

  “And I will soon be the toughest man in the bank business in London!” adds Tiger.

  They laugh again.

  “Perhaps Lu could marry you?” says Jon. “She’s looking for a gentleman with earning power.”

  “Oh, be quiet!” says Lucy. “You never know what I might do!” Edgar smiles at her. “And what about you, Edgar?”

  A note had arrived from Alfred Thorne that morning. “Dear Brim,” it had said, “I await your return.” That was all.

  “I don’t know. I shall go back to Thorne House first, of course.”

  “Become chief assistant to the weapons man?” asks Jonathan. “Ah, I can see it now. Edgar Brim, vanquisher of millions.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “Then what, old boy?”

  “I think I should like to write.”

  Tiger smiles.

  “Write what?” asks Lucy.

  “Novels. I think they will be frightening tales.”

  39

  Not the End

  They climb the stairs back to the top floor of the Langham, laughing and teasing each other, their stomachs full.

  “I think I need to loosen my stays!” says Tiger.

  But they freeze when they come to the end of the hall. Lear’s door is open. There is a hole in it, a big one, as if made by a sledgehammer, or an enormous fist.

  Inside, the room is silent. And so is Lear.

  He lies in his bed with his eyes staring wide and hardly breathing.

  Lucy runs to her grandfather, shaking. She takes his head in both her hands.

  “Monster,” he says, barely above a whisper.

  “Another!” says Jonathan, his face white, coming up to the bedside with Tiger.

  “Worse,” says Lear, “worse.”

  “Don’t talk!” cries Lucy. “We’ll get a doctor.”

  The old professor lifts his head and looks toward Edgar Brim. “It is coming for you all,” he gasps. And the light goes out in his eyes.

  Acknowledgments

  The Dark Missions of Edgar Brim was many years in the making and many people contributed to its creation. First there were Alison Morgan and Tara Walker at Tundra Books, who loved the idea and encouraged me to pursue it. Tara, a kindred spirit and believer in my work, then stuck with Brim and with me through thick and thin, through complex and changing story structures and editing rounds, all the way to the end. I feel lucky to have her on my side. Lara Hinchberger entered fearlessly into the creative process about halfway through, providing new perspectives and a steady editing hand, bringing her passion and understanding to what we were building. Her work was invaluable. And Shana Hayes helped us near the end, undoing final knots and setting the story properly in history whenever it unintentionally strayed. Jennifer Lum, who created such a striking look for The Boy Sherlock Holmes novels, has done the same for our first Edgar Brim cover. This project was most assuredly a collaborative effort.

  There are autho
rs to thank as well, each of whose works I mined for information and inspiration. Bram Stoker, creator of the immortal Dracula is, of course, at the front of the line. I also read deeply in the works of Mary Shelley, John Polidori, Wilkie Collins, Sheridan Le Fanu, James Malcolm Rymer, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe and the one and only Edgar Allan Poe, that triple threat of American letters and one of history’s most sensitive and artistic souls. Also of particular guidance were Michael Holroyd’s A Strange Eventful History: The Dramatic Lives of Ellen Terry, Henry Irving, and Their Remarkable Families, Barbara Belford’s Bram Stoker and the Man Who Was Dracula and The New Annotated Dracula, put together by the big-brained Leslie S. Klinger, who seems to have similar tastes to mine, being one of the world’s foremost experts about a chap named Sherlock Holmes.

  Henry Irving and his extraordinary art were also inspirations. I have long wanted to write about him, wish with all my heart I had seen him in action and greatly enjoyed putting him back on the stage, at least in my mind. My apologies go to him, Mr. Stoker, Miss Terry and other historical figures for sometimes slightly adjusting their lives and the dates of their endeavors to fit my story. I am in possession of a hard-earned artistic license, as they all (thankfully!) were too, and I occasionally used it.

  Final thanks go to the people who are and always will be the constants in my life: my amazing wife, Sophie, and our maturing and brilliant kids, Johanna, Hadley and Sam.

  Novels can have very different starting points. Mine usually begin not with characters or even a scene or a plot, but with my story’s meaning. Edgar Brim began with a desire to write about fear. We all fear too much and today many people, often our young people, are debilitated with fears they sometimes cannot even articulate: fear and anxiety that can lead to depression, other mental illnesses and, occasionally, to suicide. It is due to them and to my concerns about those problems, more than anything else, that Brim came about. I made Edgar a fighter, a hunter and vanquisher of his fears, and I wish that for others who struggle as well.

  Do not be afraid … unless you are reading this novel!

  Be sure to read all six books in Shane Peacock’s award-winning Boy Sherlock Holmes series.

  EYE OF THE CROW

  It is the spring of 1867, and a yellow fog hangs over London. In the dead of night, a woman is brutally stabbed and left to die in a pool of blood. No one sees the terrible crime. Or so it seems.

  Nearby, a brilliant, bitter boy dreams of a better life. He is the son of a Jewish intellectual and a highborn lady – social outcasts – impoverishment the price of their mixed marriage. The boy’s name is Sherlock Holmes.

  Strangely compelled to visit the scene, Sherlock comes face to face with the young Arab wrongly accused of the crime. By degrees, he is drawn to the center of the mystery, until he, too, is a suspect.

  Danger runs high in this desperate quest for justice. As the clues mount, Sherlock sees the murder through the eye of its only witness. But a fatal mistake and its shocking consequence change everything and put him squarely on a path to becoming a complex man with a dark past – and the world’s greatest detective.

  DEATH IN THE AIR

  Still reeling from his mother’s death, brought about by his involvement in solving London’s brutal East End murder, young Sherlock Holmes commits himself to fighting crime … and is soon immersed in another case.

  While visiting his father at work, Sherlock stops to watch a dangerous high-trapeze performance, framed by the magnificent glass ceiling of the legendary Crystal Palace. But without warning, the aerialist drops, screaming and flailing to the floor. He lands with a sickening thud, just feet away and rolls almost onto the boy’s boots. He is bleeding profusely and his body is grotesquely twisted. Leaning over, Sherlock brings his ear up close. “Silence me …” the man gasps and then lies still. In the mayhem that follows, the boy notices something amiss that no one else sees – and he knows that foul play is afoot. What he doesn’t know is that his discovery will set him on a trail that leads to an entire gang of notorious and utterly ruthless criminals.

  VANISHING GIRL

  When a wealthy young socialite mysteriously vanishes in Hyde Park, young Sherlock Holmes is compelled to prove himself once more. There is much at stake: the kidnap victim, an innocent child’s survival, the fragile relationship between himself and the beautiful Irene Doyle. Sherlock must act quickly if he is to avoid the growing menace of his enemy, Malefactor, and further humiliation at the hands of Scotland Yard.

  As twisted and dangerous as the backstreets of Victorian London, this third case in The Boy Sherlock Holmes series takes the youth on a heart-stopping race against time to the countryside, the coast, and into the haunted lair of exotic – and deadly – night creatures.

  Despite the cold, the loneliness, the danger, and the memories of his shattered family, one thought keeps Sherlock going; soon, very soon, the world will come to know him as the master detective of all time.

  THE SECRET FIEND

  In 1868, Benjamin Disraeli becomes England’s first Jewish-born prime minister. Sherlock Holmes welcomes the event – but others fear it. The upper classes worry that the black-haired Hebrew cannot be good for the empire. The wealthy hear rumblings as the poor hunger for sweeping improvements to their lot in life. The winds of change are blowing.

  Late one night, Sherlock’s admirer and former schoolmate, Beatrice, arrives at his door, terrified. She claims a maniacal, bat-like man has leapt upon her and her friend on Westminster Bridge. The fiend she describes is the Spring Heeled Jack, a fictional character from the old Penny Dreadful thrillers. Moreover, Beatrice declares the Jack has made off with her friend. She begs Holmes to help, but he finds the story incredible. Reluctant to return to detective work, he pays little heed – until the attacks increase, and Spring Heeled Jacks seem to be everywhere. Now, all of London has more to worry about than politics. Before he knows it, the unwilling boy detective is thrust, once more, into the heart of a deadly mystery, in which everyone, even his closest friend and mentor, is suspect.

  THE DRAGON TURN

  Sherlock Holmes and Irene Doyle are as riveted as the rest of the audience. They are celebrating Irene’s sixteenth birthday at The Egyptian Hall as Alistair Hemsworth produces a real and very deadly dragon before their eyes. This single, fantastic illusion elevates the previously unheralded magician to star status, making him the talk of London. He even outshines the Wizard of Nottingham, his rival on and off the stage.

  Sherlock and Irene rush backstage after the show to meet the great man, only to witness Inspector Lestrade and his son arrest the performer. It seems one-upmanship has not been as satisfying to Hemsworth as the notion of murder. The Wizard is missing; his spectacles and chunks of flesh have been discovered in pools of blood in Hemsworth’s secret workshop. That, plus the fact that Nottingham has stolen Hemsworth’s wife away, speak of foul play and motive. There is no body, but there has certainly been a grisly death.

  In this spine-tingling case, lust for fame and thirst for blood draw Sherlock Holmes one giant step closer to his destiny – master detective of all time.

  BECOMING HOLMES

  It is the summer of 1870 in London, and death seems to be everywhere; at least it feels that way to Sherlock Holmes. Almost seventeen now, he cannot shake the blackness that has descended upon him. And somewhere in the darkness, Sherlock’s great enemy, the villainous Malefactor, is spinning his web of evil, planning who knows what.

  Only one thing can rouse the young detective from the depths of despair: the possibility of justice. Holmes uncovers a new and terrible plot unleashed by his nemesis. Prepared to do anything to stop Malefactor, Sherlock sets out to destroy his rival, bringing him and his henchmen down, once and for all. Everything in the brilliant boy’s life changes as death knocks again.… In this shocking and spine-tingling conclusion to the award-winning series, Sherlock Holmes transforms, becoming the immortal master of criminal detection.

  e Peacock, The Dark Missions of Edgar Brim