The Hollows

by C. L. Monaghan

  “I’ll do that right away,” said Giles and went off to find pen and ink.

  “Give me an hour and then I’ll meet you back at The Rainbow? It seems too obvious a place to start I know, but there must be something or someone there who can help. She had other staff you say?” Rowe asked Midnight.

  “Yes, a doorman and a couple of serving girls plus a group of men and women in service so to speak,” Rowe raised an eyebrow at Midnight’s insinuation. “And I’m fairly sure she had one or two other heavies hidden around the place for protection. I suppose one of them might know of this cellar. What of the body Constable? It’s quite possible my misdeeds have been discovered in the hours I’ve been here. I doubt I’ll be welcomed back so soon.”

  “True. They won’t call us though, that type of business keeps hidden from the authorities. We’ll use forced entry if we must. To be honest I could use a few of the lads but that’s not an option if we’re to keep your involvement a secret.”

  “What if you were to take me along as a key witness to Arthur’s last sighting?”

  “How do you mean?”

  “There are a hundred witnesses to my attendance at the ball last Wednesday, I was the guest of a Mr. Rudemiester and he knew the Inspector was my companion for the evening. Indeed, I recall Gredge telling him he was there conducting an investigation. You have a legitimate reason for bringing me along, I can say I saw the Inspector alighting the staircase but never saw him return.”

  “Fine, we can do that. That means I can bring reinforcements should things turn nasty. By the sounds of it we might need them.”

  Giles returned then and handed Rowe his letter.

  “Thank you,” Rowe said, taking it. “I’ll be off then and I’ll meet you at The Rainbow in one hour, agreed?”

  “One hour.” They shook hands and Giles handed Rowe his coat. As he turned to leave Midnight called him back, “And Constable? Thank you for keeping my cover. It would not do for anyone else to discover the truth of what I am. I’d rather not become a freak show just yet.”

  Rowe smiled and tipped his helmet, “I watched you all the years the Inspector has known you, you’ve helped us many times Mr. Gunn. I don’t have a problem with manipulating the truth a little to find the gaffer. He’s kept your secrets and so will I.”

  “The body… I will take responsibility.”

  “Let’s deal with that after we find Gredge.” Rowe said kindly. “Priorities.” Rowe left, escorted out by Giles, leaving Midnight alone and anxious.

  As much as he worried for Arthur and consoled himself with the fact that Kim’s death was unintentional and happened whilst he was drugged, he had still killed another human being. He had lost control of his power and caused a death and that was something he could not reconcile. Giles returned to the parlour.

  “If you have an hour before you must leave, might I and Mrs. Phillips have a word Sir?”

  “Of course Giles. What is it?”

  Giles came forward and Mrs. Phillips followed.

  “Begging your pardon young Master but we should like to discuss Miss Polly.”

  “Is she calmed? Is she alright?”

  “Yes, she’s settled. She trusts me more these past few days and well…” Mrs. Phillips paused, looking a little uncomfortable.

  “Dear Mrs. P. Don’t upset yourself. Whatever it is you wish to say, say it.”

  Clementine still looked unsure so Giles stepped in,

  “Since she woke up, the little miss says she can see things.”

  “What sort of things?” Midnight sat forward, intrigued.

  “She says we look shiny,” said Clementine.

  “Shiny?”

  “Yes Sir. Miss says we look like we’ve been painted in shiny paint. She thought we were angels.” This last part made Clementine blush.

  “Good grief…of course! It’s auras! She can see auras!” Midnight jumped up suddenly understanding.

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s a sort of electromagnetic field that emanates from people, it reflects your moods, thoughts and personality- that type of thing. It’s an unusual gift. You say this is a recent thing?”

  “Yes Sir, when we asked her about it she said it’s never happened to her before. Poor lamb thought she was dead and we were angels sent to look after her.”

  “How interesting. Something must’ve happened to her while she was in that vegetative state. I thought she’d just put up and emotional barrier but perhaps it was something else.”

  “There’s another thing Sir,” said Giles. “She has asked us not to let the Devil in again.”

  “She means me?” Midnight’s shoulders drooped.

  “We’re not sure Sir. She said the man with two faces. We don’t know what she means. We hoped you might?”

  “It could be her attacker I suppose. Two faces? That’s curious. Do you think I should try and talk to her again?”

  “I don’t know Sir. No offence but she doesn’t seem to take to you too well.” Mrs. Phillips shrugged.

  “I see.”

  Mrs. Phillips could tell he was disappointed,

  “Let me have another chat with her and see what else I can find out?”

  “Of course, yes. Please don’t hesitate to come to me if she needs anything?”

  “I won’t Sir.” Mrs. Phillips bobbed a quick curtsey and tottered off.

  “Giles, I’m going to my study for a little while. I have some time yet before I must journey across town again.”

  Giles nodded and Midnight made his way past him through the parlour door. He’d had an idea, something that might help Polly.

  The Gunn Library was vast and highly unusual in that it contained a large number of books on the occult, healing, astrology and magic. It was one of these books on healing that Midnight now opened at his desk in his study. He scanned the chapter that contained information on the healing powers of crystals and semi-precious stones, slapped the desk with his palm when he found what he needed and bounded off to the upper floor where his Mother’s things were kept.

  Josephine Gunn’s room had not been touched since the day she died. The only thing that had been replaced was the blood-stained bedlinen from the night Midnight was born. Her clothes, jewellery, books and other possessions remained as they had on that fateful night. Josiah, Midnight’s father, had moved out of their marital chambers the same night and had left instructions that nobody move or dispose of anything. Only the housekeeper had ever been permitted to go in and clean the furniture and lightly dust any surfaces. Of course, Midnight had often sneaked in as a young boy out of stubborn curiosity and the driving need to know his mother. Luckily, he’d never been caught. He’d had a mind to pack it all away and put it in the attic after his father had passed but when it came to it, he found it a comfort to leave it as a tribute to both of them. However, his father’s personal effects had been stored, the motivation for that being one of guilt. He didn’t want to have to gaze upon anything that reminded him of that day.

  Midnight found what he was searching for- an intricately carved mahogany box containing his mother’s jewels. Inside were several trays that lifted out and all were filled with the baubles and pendants that had once belonged to Josephine. He picked out a silver bracelet with a triangular shaped stone of iridescent blues and greens at the centre. It was Labrodite; known for its protective and healing properties but also as a stone that could enhance intuition and strengthen one’s own aura. Midnight hoped that by wearing the bracelet, it would reinforce Polly’s aura enough to form a protective shield around her. She may feel more in control of what she was seeing in others but mostly, he hoped, it would quell her fear of him. He could only imagine what horror she must see when she looked upon him; his aura would be blackened and spoiled by death and shadow. The Labrodite might let her see his lighter side- the side he presented to the rest of the world.

  He found Mrs. Phillips and asked her to accompany him to Polly’s room once more.

  “Have her put this on,
” he said and handed her the bracelet. “Let me in when she is wearing it.”

  “As you please Sir. Do you really think it’ll help?”

  “Only one way to find out Mrs. P.”

  Clementine knocked gently on the door and called, “It’s only me poppet. Are you awake?” She pushed open the door and went inside, leaving the door ajar a little.

  Midnight stood closer, ready to enter when called. His heartrate escalated. Why was it so important to him that the girl not be afraid of him? He heard Mrs. Phillips talking softly to her but the girl seemed to be growing agitated despite efforts to reassure her. Polly was afraid of seeing him again. Disappointment clutched at his heart. He could not stomach the thought of his appearance being so repulsively frightening to a child, especially as he’d taken her under his care. Polly was now his ward, his responsibility. How was he to raise her if she couldn’t even stand the sight of him? Mustering his courage, Midnight stepped inside the room. He couldn’t wait for Mrs. Phillips to persuade the girl, he had to know now if the stone would work. The chatter stopped the instant he entered. For a moment, the frozen look of fear on Polly’s face made his stomach drop- it hadn’t worked. Any second now she would begin her screaming and he would be forced to retreat yet again. But then she smiled, a tentative one admittedly but a smile it was and a most welcome sight.

  “Hello.” Midnight said and returned the smile.

  “Um…’ello.”

  “I’m pleased to see you recovering Miss Polly. My name is…”

  “Mista’ Midnight, I know.”

  Midnight’s smile broadened. Polly had a broad east-end lilt, a proper little street urchin but all the sweeter for it.

  “Do you have a surname Polly? Anyone who might be missing you?”

  “Just Polly. Dunno if I had another name, if I did I can’t ‘member it. Ain’t no one gonna be missing me Mista’, aside from the rats I shared me bread wiv sometimes an’ that weren’t even that often.” Polly sat up straight in her bed and looked around her room. “What’s this place then? She,” she pointed at Clementine, “says it’s your house and that you’re looking after me now. Is that true? You ain’t gonna put me in the work house are ya?”

  “Well, just Polly, Mrs. Phillips has informed you correctly. This is my house and we are looking after you now and no, no workhouse.” He smiled kindly, she was a jaunty little thing.

  “You promise? ‘Cos I’d rather be selling me matches again than go in the workhouse. Them’s that go there don’t come out.”

  “I promise. You can stay with us as long as you are happy to.”

  “S’at mean I live here now then?” Her eager eyes lit up.

  “Yes, if that’s what you want?”

  Polly narrowed her eyes and looked around again, she ran her little pink hand over the smooth cotton sheet and peered back at Midnight.

  “I might. If I likes the look of the place. ‘Appen I might take a wander around and then decide eh?”

  “I’d be delighted to show you the house Miss Polly but perhaps when you’re a little stronger?” Midnight lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “By the look on Mrs. Phillips face she’d skin me alive if I got you out of bed just yet.” This last statement elicited an animated giggle from the girl. Midnight thought it the most delightful sound he’d ever heard. His heart lightened and for once he forgot the shadows and basked in the positive energy that radiated from his new charge. A knock at the door broke the spell and Giles entered.

  “Forgive the interruption Sir but I believe you must leave now to go and meet the Constable.”

  “Yes, I must. Thank you, Giles.” Giles nodded and retreated, Midnight turned his attentions back to Polly. “I have to go now young lady but I leave you in the very capable hands of Mrs. Phillips. I promise to give you the grand tour as soon as you’re up and about. And Polly, I must ask that you keep the bracelet on. It will help you recover.”

  “Why? Is it magic?” She asked, wide-eyed.

  Midnight chuckled.

  “You could say that. It will make you feel better faster. It belonged to my mother so you must take good care of it, alright?”

  “Alright Mista’ Midnight,” Polly replied too busy gazing in wonder at her new magical jewel to pay him much mind anymore. Mrs. Phillips arose and followed him from the bedroom.

  “Take care of her Mrs. P. Make sure she keeps the bracelet on. I’ll take it to a jeweller after we find Inspector Gredge and have something made to fit her. But, for now it should help her.”

  “She’s in good hands Sir. You just make sure to take care of yourself and return soon with the Inspector. Leave the rest to me and Mr. Morgan.”

  “Thank you. I’ll return as soon as I can.”

  “God’s speed Sir.”

  “I may need more than that I fear.”

  It was the slow, rhythmic echo of dripping of water that eventually roused him, or it could’ve been the smell- dank and rotten. It abused his nostrils and caused him a fit of spontaneous hacking coughs. Gredge sat up too quickly and immediately regretted it. His head spun and he felt burning bile rise in his throat. He retched and tried to raise himself on his knees but it was so dark, for a second he couldn’t tell which way was up. It was only the cold hardness of stone under his hands that brought him back from the brink of panic. He’d never been good in dark places, especially since he knew the things that lay in wait amongst the shadows.

  Breathe!

  Still on all fours, Arthur forced himself to focus.

  That’s it…in and out, in and out. I’m alive… breathe…stop fucking panicking man!

  When he’d slowed his breathing to something relatively normal and stopped feeling sick, Arthur sat back on his heels, squeezed his eyes tight shut then opened them. It was pitch black.

  Stop it! There’s nothing to be afraid of you idiot.

  He slapped his own face hard. The sound echoed and the hairs on the back of his neck rose.

  Where in Christ’s name am I?

  His mind remained foggy. He shook his head and then wished he hadn’t as he retched again.

  Gunn, club, he was…drinking and then…Kim! Bastard hit me! Where the hell am I then? Fuck… alive…thank God. Need to get out! Shit! Think…come on Arthur, you’re a copper…think!

  His head was pounding, tentatively he reached up and felt the tender lump on his skull.

  Bastard.

  Gredge wondered how long he had been in whatever hole he now found himself in. Clearly Gunn’s plan hadn’t worked and he wondered what fate had befallen his friend. The plinking of water triggered his sudden, raging thirst. Along with a terrible sense of foreboding; like the ticking of a clock marking the passing of time.

  Crawling on all fours he scuttled to his left, fumbling around in the blackness, his hands and knees trailing through cold slime and organic matter that he couldn’t allow himself to think on for fear of what it might be. Gredge reached out blindly, hoping his fingers may grasp something, anything that may give him either a drink or some idea of where he was. He felt empty air.

  Keep moving till you find a wall, idiot!

  When he finally felt brick his relief was palpable. Now he could navigate his prison and perhaps find a way out.

  There must be a door. Stairs, anything…move slowly…keep moving. Listen. Focus.

  A shuffling noise caused his head to swing to the right, “Who’s there? Gunn, is that you?” His voice hoarse, his throat dry and sore, his demands were lost to the dark. The high-pitched squeak quelled his fear somewhat.

  Just a rat…fucking hate rats.

  Fumbling his way along the brick wall, his feet shuffled forwards inch by inch, hoping to find something other than the empty dark. He cursed loudly when his right foot kicked something heavy. He kicked it again to ascertain what it might be. The dull thud that came back at him suggested something like a rolled-up rug and he bent to investigate. At this point- thirsty, filthy and cold- a rug would be a gratifying find. At least he’d have
something other than wet stone to sit on. Arthur let out a sigh of relief as his hands touched the unmistakable texture of tough, woven fabric. He felt around for the rug’s edge and gave it a tug but it did not unravel.

  Stuck.

  He reached over the large roll to see what might be blocking it. There was nothing but empty space. He grabbed a firmer hold and heaved upwards. The rug rolled reluctantly, accompanied by a distinct ‘thub-dub’ indicating that something else had rolled out of it. Years of experience in the force told him this could not be a good sound. This…was a body.

  Just for a second he forgot to breathe, he forgot his police training and felt a stab of fear in his gut. He was alone in a dark, underground hovel with a corpse. It was then he wondered if he himself had been thrown into this horror pit to die.

  Check if they’re dead. Might not be. Two heads are better than one. Might be able to help them.

  Hesitantly, Arthur reached out and skimmed his hand over the body until he found the neck. The skin was ice and he knew there was no need to check for a pulse. He couldn’t see the corpse but by the feel of it she was female. She felt stiff and he didn’t think she had begun to putrefy but it was freezing in this hole, which he knew could affect the decomposition rate. The smell was a different matter; old blood, stale urine and faeces mingled to produce a stench so overpowering it made his eyes water. Arthur slung the rug back over the dead woman and backed away. Determined to find an exit, he shuffled along the wall in the opposite direction. He found the bottom step of a wooden staircase and scrambled up it on his hands and knees. The heavy door at the top was locked but he banged hard on it anyway.

  “Hello? Can anyone hear me? I’m trapped! My name is Inspector Arthur Gredge of Scotland Yard. If you can hear me please help!” He put his ear to the door and listened, nothing but his own pounding heartbeat came back at him.

  Damn!

  He tried the handle again. It rattled but didn’t shift.

  Break it down. Find something.

  Scurrying back down into the room, Arthur desperately grasped around for something solid which might serve to break the door. After what seemed an age, for he had no concept of time down here, he gave up. His frustration evident in his sweaty underarms, and tugging of his moustache. It was clear to him that if someone didn’t find him soon, he was a goner. He must have faith that Gunn got away from The Rainbow and was searching for him. He was an inspector at Scotland Yard dammit! Somebody must have noticed his absence? But what if they hadn’t? What if Gunn had been killed? He’d been drugged after all- how that might have affected his powers? What if he’d not even been down a single day? He’d have to suffer the horror of slowly starving to death…probably like the woman in the rug!