by J M Bannon
"Spare me your rhetoric, it all sounds like a lot of gobdley goop to me," challenged Dolly.
Everyone was surprised when Lorelei picked up the blade and looked at it through a magnifying glass. "Seems that the workings in the handle and the fluid in the ampule is the same as the Soul Crystal device, but miniaturized," said Lorelei first pointing at the Soul crystal with the blade then handing it back to Gerrard handle first.
"I will not betray my Order, the reason I have come here today is to protect the Brotherhood, maybe from one of its own. This device you have is like another we developed but abandoned once we saw its savage results. Guild Master Hume based the workings on what we both learned from our apprenticeship in Haiti. Angelica, Arno and I trained under the Voodoo King and our most sacred processes are rooted in that primal magic. We have a Monastery in eastern France, used primarily for research, it is where Hume's White Wyrding does the bulk of its' work. I believe it would be beneficial if your airship could fly us there."
Dolly looked at Rose.
"What do you want me to say?" Rose asked him she was speechless at the revelations and the willingness of Gerrard to help.
Dolly walked out of the room without a word.
"How many of these things did you build?" asked Rose.
"Just the one and I was told it was dismantled," said Gerrard.
Dolly came back in and placed his Henry repeating rifle on the counter, “You know what that is Guild Master?
"A rifle.”
"Superb, that is the newest technology from the Henry Repeating Arms Company. I picked that up in the United States. It is said you load this gun on Sunday and it will shoot all week. We will go to your Monastery and talk to your Guild Master to hear his side of the story. I want to get to the truth and he may have the answers, but if you or any of your subordinates get hinky and step out of line, I’ll shoot the lot of you and see where the chips fall."
"Detective, you may not believe me to be a man of my word, but I know you are; I hope we can get beyond this distrust. Let me also speak plainly, I am taking a risk to hold true to the beliefs of my Order."
20
Friday the 29th of March
7:40 a.m. The Guest Cottage at Gilchrist Manor
Dr. Gotlieb Burckhardt sat comfortably in the garden writing in his notebook. Preston watched him through the parlor window. Sitting next to Preston was one of the three burly orderlies who attended to him with the Doctor, one of them was with him at all times. A prisoner in his own home, Preston stared silently at the Doctor not saying a word to anyone but Azul. The dialogue in his head was raging given the Doctor had weened him off of the Laudanum. The withdrawals had taken a toll on Preston's body.
The problem with having two consciousness in the same body is the maelstrom of thoughts and the circular thinking. Preston would think about something, his own internal voice will chime in, then Azul hears both and he along with his internal dialogue will cause a digression by commenting on Preston’s internal dialogue, feelings, and judgments. Twenty minutes later Preston is lost down a rabbit hole of spinning thoughts, losing track of the subject or worse digressing into full-blown arguments with Azul.
Maybe if we could get access to the garden for a walk, we can make a run for the woods, thought Preston.
< Do you think they will leave us for a moment, then there is the fact they only let us wear pajamas? You plan to walk to London in your night clothes? That will prove his point, that you are crazy, a total nut case. > replied Azul.
"I really resent that stuffy prick out there sitting in our garden, living off us and having no clue as to our predicament," moaned Preston.
"Doctor Burckhardt will be happy to know you are speaking again," said the orderly.
< I can't believe you said that out loud. >
The orderly got up and walked outside to the grounds surrounding the cottage. The second he left Preston arose to leave only to be seen by another orderly sitting by the front door. The only other exit of the cottage was in the back past where the Doctor sat. He looked at the back door to see it was open as Burckhardt and a goon walked in.
"Master Gilchrist, good to see you up; Niles here tells me you are vocalizing again," said Burckhardt.
"I would rather speak with Rose or Lorelei. Can I see them?"
The Doctor sat down in an overstuffed chair and gestured to Preston, "Please, sit down."
Preston returned to where he sat previously, ignoring the chair the Doctor suggest for him.
"Preston, I can't have you interacting with anyone who validates your delusions. Indulging your hallucinations results in reinforced patches in the damaged parts of your brain. The success of the treatments with Doctor Maxwell is encouraging, yah? He has had a full recovery."
"I have explained already that I am different, my situation I mean," Preston tried to reason with the Doctor again.
"No two brains are the same, however structurally there are similarities. My work has proven that electrical reconditioning of the brain can realign the connections in the damaged parts of the brain. I no longer need to perform physical surgery except in severe cases. Now that we have taken you off the laudanum, we can assure that the results are untainted by chemicals."
"Results of what?"
"Tomorrow we begin your reconditioning. You will have daily electro therapy where I use electricity at different voltages and frequencies to clear out the faulty connections in your brain. Preston, there is no ancient magician possessing you. You are delusional, and I will cure you of this malady," Doctor Burckhardt stated confidently, marking in his notebook.
9:16 a.m. Nasson Textile Works, Bethnal Green
Jimmy's goons brought the two blindfolded men in front of the Number Loom. He delighted in the disorientating effect this had on the two men. They had been plucked up and blindfolded, run all over town then delivered into a basement saturated with the sound of millions of cogs and ratchets turning a cycle every second.
He nodded to his soldiers to dispose of the blindfolds on the lanky man with the cane and a shorter stockier man, who lacked style with his unkempt suit and scraggly beard.
"Mr. Strathmore, when Mr. De Morgan shared that it was you who had an interest in this machine, I was intrigued to learn what use you have for an engine like ours. I apologize for the covert measures taken for our meeting, however, now that you know the Number Loom exists, its location will remain a secret," explained Jimmy.
"Understood. This is Dimetri an engineer who works for my client, he is here to observe. I would like to note that Dimetri is mute. He is fluent in English so speak candidly, he can comprehend and write, but he does not speak," explained Strathmore.
"You recognize the sole reason you're here is that I have a relationship with your bank?" said Jimmy, he made the connection as a veiled threat.
"I didn't know, but I will not be sharing our encounter with my partners at the bank and would appreciate that you keep our meeting confidential. This interested party I represent is not a Chilton client."
The stout man couldn't keep his eyes off the engine.
"So, what do you require the Loom for?" urged Jimmy.
The Russian glanced at Strathmore with a stern expression and scribbled on his slate showing it to Strathmore.
"My associate would prefer to concentrate on the machine and a tour of the facility," shared Strathmore.
"Mr. Strathmore, I must ask again, what interest do you have in this thing?" Asked Lin.
"Only that my client be satisfied, and that we can come to some agreement. That means Dimetri here needs to understand how it operates."
"Augustus you like talking about this subject why don't you give him the tour. Stick to the basics of how the Loom works," directed Jimmy.
"I understand, Mr. Lin. Please follow me," said De Morgan gesturing the visitors toward the Loom.
"And you," Jimmy said to the shabby man. "Don't touch a fucking thing. Stay back, I don't want that beard of yours to get sucked in or that big melo
n head of yours caught in the gears. I got a derby we're calculating, and I can't have it stuffed up."
Dimetri sneered as he shuffled away.
"I don't like that guy," said Jimmy to Strathmore. "He doesn't even need to talk for me to know he is a nosey Russian, that big block head and the stink," Jimmy made a sniffing sound.
"I agree. So, the Derby?" countered Randal.
"Yes,” Jimmy already revealed too much.
"My client requires the engine to complete complex calculations for navigation. He has a new method of transport that my melon-headed friend developed," shared Strathmore.
"Now I'm supposed to reciprocate and chat about the Derby,"
"If you would like. I was going to invite you to join us in our private box," said Randal.
"Chilton has a box?" said Jimmy.
"Of course, Sport of Kings you know; most of our top clients run horses."
"Hm, I'll take you up on that just to see the faces of your clients when a low class Oriental strolls into their midst and rubs elbows with their women."
"There will be all types there, extreme wealth has a way of suppressing bigotry," said Randal.
I doubt that very much, thought Jimmy, “Do you gamble?"
"I'm here, aren't I. This was a big risk to put my life in the hands of Weng Lo's number two man." replied Strathmore with a smile.
"How did you get involved with this client?" asked Jimmy.
"Mr. Lin, you won't share your confidential information, why would I divulge mine? How did a street crime boss get involved with an academic?" was Randal’s comeback.
"Fair enough. I'll explain to you more detail about the machine's use at the Derby. As to me and Augustus that was just good fortune; I heard him speak at the exhibition. There he was, a passionate inventor, presenting his clever machine, yet no one was listening, except for me. I heard him, and it sounded like a solution to my dilemma." said the well-dressed gangster.
"That's called serendipity, the chance developments that end beneficially," Strathmore grinned at his new friend.
"I think there is a big difference between a man's fortune and chance," concluded Jimmy.
6:25 p.m. Monastère de la Prairie vallonnée
Hume made his way quickly through the Monastery to his personal office; it was an effort to remain calm as he went through the hallways. His office was formerly the scribe's room, the room was remodeled back when he first took over operations. One unique quality of the space was a medieval strong room and heavy iron rivet and strap reinforced door. The enclosure served no real security as the simple lock could be defeated by a common thief, but four steps down was a modern strong door installed to safeguard the contents in the barrel vault. Hume's tomb of secrets.
Sweat stains soaked through his formal Necronist garb. Even with the collar loosened and a few buttons were undone, he could feel the heat of panic pouring out from his body. Fumbling for the keys he was crushed by a sense of urgency knowing he must act quickly if he were to save Lilith. Hume could not afford to feel grief, he needed to get back to the lab where her lifeless body lay and put his plan in place.
He had been working through the process in his mind for years, but he observed the covenant and never spoke of it to his Brothers. Now he would wield the divine power to save his daughter; he knew every second that passed could be the one where she would not return. If it were even possible, this had never been done before. Has she been gone too long?
Entering the strong room, he immediately located the chest, unlatched the two locks and rummage through the contents. He found the small box quickly, opened it and there it was, the ampule. The life of one. One unnamed, unrecorded soul that Saint Yves had snuck into the Cenaculum Mortale Rejuvination and planned to use in his rejuvenation after his conflict in London. Hume had secretly removed this ampule and replaced it with the recorded vial that the Ex Quo Collectio had allowed for the treatment. Hume never asked why Saint Yves broke the covenant. To possess an unrecorded ampule was a violation. He decided to leave it another one of the unspoken secrets he shared with Gerrard.
Staring briefly at the glowing green ampule he placed it inside his coat pocket and turned to his library of notes. The room was lined with shelves and cubbies containing notebooks and scrolls. He found his personal notebooks recording the design of the Cenaculum Mortale Rejuvination chamber in the Guild Hall. Hume needed to evaluate formulas for the ichor and the settings for the antechamber. He paused on his way out and looked back at the rear of the strong room. Next to the ampule trunk, was an identical trunk. As critical as the situation was, he desired to know. Was it still there?
He returned to the back of the room bent to his knee and shuffled through his keys to identify the one to unlatch the trunk. With luck, it unbolted. He released the clasps then removed the top lifting the chest lid, his heart sunk. It was gone. His first concept the object he called the soul magnet, a metaphysically driven mechanical device that mimicked the Pwen Hanaan ceremony of the Voodooists; his crude automation of the savage ritual. Gone.
Hume had more pressing matters, but he would deal with that next and he would deal with the culprit in the harshest manner. He envisioned giving the thieves a first-hand experience with its workings.
Arno slammed the lid shut, grabbed his notebook and left not locking any of the doors; he gave his desk a quick look out of habit then turned to exit. There stood Henri Allard.
"Seer Allard, you gave me a start."
"Sir, you look troubled, can I be of help?"
"No, I have pressing matters to attend to."
"Guild Master, I wish to speak to you. I too have something pressing," said Allard.
Hume's mind cleared for a moment and he recognized that Allard was also in a disturbed state. He couldn't let on what he was up to, "Henri what is it, I have urgent business however I do not intend to brush you off."
"I would like to access the notes on your early endeavors for an idea I have. I am inspired and don't want to lose the spark; I was hoping to review the early soul attraction system you developed." Allard blurted out, practically jumping.
Hume's skin went cold as his mind connected the dots. He felt angry and ashamed that he had not been around to see Allard's treachery. "Seer Allard, you are to proceed directly to your quarters until I return and we will discuss what you have stolen."
Allard's hands came out of his pockets, he held his mala beads and began an incantation. While not an Adept he had mastered skills over the mind. Does this fool think he can control my mind?
Hume had implanted a hypno-mystic trigger in each of his followers as part of their induction to the Wyrding. Part spell, part hypnotic conditioning he quickly pressed his thumb against Henri's forehead and recited, somnus ab oculis meis ut praedicaretis. He ordered his servant to sleep and Allard dropped to the floor senseless.
He would properly punish Allard after he dealt with Lilith, and if the delay by Henri's actions resulted in his inability to revive his daughter, he would do far worse to the Seer than exposure to the soul magnet.
21
Friday the 29th of March
6:50 p.m. The Necronist Laboratory under Monastère de la Prairie vallonnée
Get out!"
The two acolytes looked at the Guild Master in shock.
"Get out, I said. Can't you see I am working?" he said forcing calm into his tone. Standing over the shrouded body he had just unwrapped when two acolytes came into the lab. They were on their rounds patrolling the facility.
After they left, he locked the door. Slow down, he thought to himself. If I can't even remember to lock a door how will I assure I do not foul up this complex process. Hume bolted the door then got back to moving Lilith's body. It was difficult for him to undress her and see the wounds on her. There was a gash on her side and he could tell there were also broken bones. He struggled to get her across the grate and into the rejuvenation chamber. Her limp body slid in and sunk to the bottom of the tank.
He retrieved the u
nmarked ampule in his pocket. The Saint Yves' mystery ampule clipped into the reaction chamber between the metal contacts, here the process would conduct the energy into the fluid. Although based on the Rejuvenation Chamber in the basement of the Guild House, the Monastery's Reanimation Chambers were different. First, they did not have the showmanship of the Cenaculum Mortale Rejuvination with its Egyptian motif, stone facade and alabaster tub for rejuvenation. When the primary users the Emperor of France, you go beyond the utilitarian steel and glass chambers used here for research. Two other features differed beyond just the cosmetics. Here in the lab, the working equipment was visible, whereas the Chamber at the Guild Hall hid the machinery that drove the process. The last and most important difference in the process of rejuvenation was that life energy of another was imbued slowly into the subject to supplement and fortify their own energy. In his Reanimation Chamber, the Necronists had augmented the charging circuit to deliver a varied charge and to give the subject a burst of life energy. These features along with an uncatalogued source of life energy was what Arno needed to return his daughter to life.
He could see her slumped body laying against the glass. Lifeless.
Got to move, every second she slips further away. His daughter was dead there was no doubt of that, but he had a theory that with the right mix of ichor and charging the lingering spirit could be pulled back and then rejuvenated. First, the ichor needed to be adjusted. He engaged the steamlines that ran the charging and recirculation pumps. The same steam that powered the pumps passed through a heat exchanger to adjust the temperature of the ichor. Arno opened the ichor kettle and added eldritch elements to the soup. It provided no visible change to the black liquid, but he knew the arcane density was altered to where it would bind more efficiently with the life energy and transport it to the subject. Here he was an artist, he dipped his finger in the ichor then rubbed it on the back of his hand using his metaphysical power to sense its potency. It was ready.
