Carnacki: Heaven and Hell

by William Meikle

  “‘Help me sir,’ he cried. ‘Help me or I’m a goner for sure.’

  “He would not look me in the eye, his gaze being aimed at a point in the fog to my right hand side. Before I could even reply to his pleas he had turned and fled.

  “I quickly lost sight of him. I turned to follow the line of his gaze. Just at the far limits of what I could see, three dark figures moved quickly to flank me and move in the same direction taken by the old man. Their forms were too vague to make out any detail, but they seemed to be wearing long robes of a sort that hung all the way to the ground and made their motion resemble something travelling on wheels rather than legs.

  “The only noise I heard was a strangled scream from the old man, sounding already distant in the fog. Once more all was quiet.

  “Now you chaps know my mind. A mystery such as this is all the excuse I need to stick my nose where it does not belong. Besides, I had nothing more to look forward to that afternoon besides a lonely supper by the parlour fire, so I took myself off to the most obvious place from which a man in flannel pyjamas might have strayed.

  “When I arrived at the Royal Hospital entrance it was obvious that something was afoot. Orderlies and nurses scurried along the corridors looking into rooms while others needed all of their efforts to calm the residents, the bulk of whom seemed to be in a state of some distress.

  “One chap, older and even thinner than the one I had encountered on the Embankment, was determined to make a break for it and had successfully eluded an orderly. I was of half a mind to allow him to escape, but thought better of it and took him gently by the arms as he attempted to pass me in the doorway. He fought, but with no strength in his arms, and fell against me, spent, after mere seconds.

  “‘Help us,’ he whispered as the orderly gently prized him off me. ‘Help us, or we shall surely all be dead in a week.’

  “His eyes pleaded with me as he was led away along the corridor. Now you chaps can imagine, all of this was as a red rag to a bull. My dander was up, and I had the scent of a mystery to lead me on. I slipped into a side room when the orderlies were all occupied and found myself in a small dormitory of eight beds. Three of the beds were empty, with clean linen neatly tucked in place. Four were occupied with wan tired-looking men of indiscriminate ages, and a fifth was empty, but the bedclothes had been thrown awry in the occupant’s haste to leave.

  “I thought all the men were asleep, and was about to back out when the nearest raised his head and motioned me over with a feeble wave of his hand. I had to bend close to his face to hear his hoarse whisper.

  “‘Don’t let the Sisters see you,’ he said. ‘They don’t notice you if you keep quiet. You’ll be fine as long as they don’t notice you.’

  “‘What do you mean Sisters?’

  “‘The nuns,’ he said. ‘The ones who started to visit last week.’

  “His voice dropped even lower and his eyes were filled with fear as they stared into mine.

  “‘Auld Nick has sent them to take us away. And there’s no stopping them.’

  “Then, spent, he lay back on the bed.

  “By this time the mystery had my full attention and, by Jove, I was going to get to the bottom of it. I left the old men to their sleep and went in search of someone who could tell me what was going on.

  “Instead I found an over officious little woman who called herself The Matron and who tried to brush me out of the door as if I was an errant piece of dust.

  “‘I am here about the missing man,’ I said. ‘I believe I have just seen him on the Embankment.’

  She did not stop leading me towards the entrance. Her grip on my arm was as strong as a dockhand’s.

  “‘Nonsense,’ she said in a voice that would brook no argument. If she had a moustache it would have bristled in indignation. ‘Old Mr. Jennings is hiding in a closet smoking that foul pipe of his again. He will be in serious trouble when I get my hands on him.’

  “‘I believe his troubles are rather more serious than that…’ I started, but she was in no mood for discussion. She showed me to the door.

  “I just had time for one last attempt to reach her.

  “‘I believe I also saw the Sisters,’ I called, just as she shut the doors on me.

  “The doors swung open again, and for a split-second I thought I had gotten through.

  “She stared at me, her face full of scorn.

  “‘Piffle,’ she said. ‘Haunts and ghoulies. Tales to scare sick old men to an early grave. I will not have any of that talk in my hospital.’

  “The doors closed on me with a clunk that smacked of finality.”

  * * *

  Carnacki paused to refill his pipe. While he did so, Jessop piped up.

  “I do hope this is not one of those tales where the perpetrators are no more than people in silly masks,” he said loudly. “I do find those most unsatisfactory indeed.”

  Carnacki smiled as he lit the pipe, but there was little humour in it.

  “Did I not already tell you that the tale would give you cause to think twice about a walk on the Embankment? Hear me out, then tell me whether you wish to take the stroll home alone.”

  With no further pause he launched back into the story.

  * * *

  “Having been shown the door so thoroughly, my enthusiasm for the mystery had waned somewhat, but it still worried me throughout the evening. Even then I may have given up the chase if a headline had not caught my eye in The Thunderer over breakfast.

  “‘Body clad in pyjamas pulled from the Thames at Westminster. Foul play suspected.’

  “Ten minutes later I was on my way to the British Library. I needed to gain a foothold sufficient to allow me access, and in order to do that I would need to have plenty of facts at hand.

  “I spent most of the morning chasing up details of deaths at the Royal Hospital and was horrified to find that a dozen old soldiers had passed on in the last two weeks alone. The death rate prior to that had been little more than one a month. Normally death on this scale, even in a hospital, would have been cause for some scandal, but it seemed that the newspapers were more concerned with flooding in Paris than events closer to home. I had a most pleasant lunch of a pint of porter and a pie in the Museum Tavern before returning to my task with renewed vigour.

  “The first hour back proved frustrating as I could find no records of any Sisters being involved in the history of the hospital. It was only when I delved deeper, back to the time when Wren was having the foundations put in for the chapel, that I found my first inkling of trouble, the first breadcrumb on my trail.

  “The chosen site for the hospital was on top of the uncompleted building of a former theological college founded by James the First. The building was used to house prisoners before and during the Civil War and in the later wars against the Dutch. When Wren’s team began excavations for the foundations, they immediately ran into trouble.

  “Four of the labourers died in strange circumstances and a fifth went mad, screaming of Thee Systyrs of Mercie. The situation was only improved when Wren called in a priest to sanctify the area and after that work proceeded apace.

  “It was enough information to get back my zeal for the chase and I found what I was looking for half an hour later.

  “A rash of suspicious deaths plagued the theological college in the middle of the Seventeenth Century. It was then being used as a prison, and the inmates started to die horrible deaths while contained in locked cells. As was the wont in those days, witchcraft was suspected, and indeed, three nuns were imprisoned and tortured. Their confession is on record to this day at the Library.

  “Dorritye Smythe and Anne Smythe, systyrs to Mother Superior Abigall Smythe of Bow now in prison confarsed before the honoured majastrats upon thire exsaminations heare in Chelsea the 16 day of this enstant subtember 1642 that thire systyr mayd them witches and acknowlidge that they ware lead into that dradfull sin of witchcrift by hir meanse: the fores'd Abigale Smythe.

  “The
above named persons Each & Every one of them affirm before the Grand inquest that the above written evidences are truth and the Systyrs of Mercie throw ourselfes on the mercy of the majastrats.

  “Below that were three scratched signatures.

  “They were shown no mercy. They were burned at the stake, on the grounds of the theological college, and the ashes were scattered… on the very spot where the cathedral foundations would later be built.

  “The final piece of my puzzle fell into place by what I then thought of as mere coincidence. I was waiting at Liverpool Street Station and could not help overhearing the two gentlemen at my side. They were discussing a current, and several weeks standing, problem on the underground system, between Sloane Square and South Kensington… a problem that had necessitated a large amount of excavation in the region of the Royal Hospital foundations.”

  * * *

  Jessop interrupted at this point.

  “I am surprised you were not aware of that Carnacki. It has been a bally nuisance for weeks now. I had to go by way of Vauxhall and you know what a dashed inconvenience that is. Something should be done. I have a good mind to…”

  A stern but kindly look from Carnacki quickly shut Jessop up and allowed the tale to continue.

  * * *

  “I arrived at the hospital on Tuesday morning armed with my research. I had taken precautions to bypass the Matron by making an appointment with the Governor himself. The woman glared at me from the corridor as I went in to the head office and her frown did not melt, even under my best smile.

  “The Governor proved more amenable to my approach. He was more than willing to admit that he had a problem beyond his comprehension. He read my notes from the library with some puzzlement.

  “‘I am at a loss to understand what can be done in such a case,’ he said as he passed me a rather fine cigar. I spent the time it took to smoke it telling him of some of my exploits, and I referred him to the Ministry of Defence who, I assured him, would vouch for my credentials after the aid I gave them in the case of the Larkhill Barrow. I left the office in mid-morning, having been given clearance to begin an investigation.

  “As I left the Matron was standing suspiciously close to the door. I suspect she had been eavesdropping on our conversation, and the look she threw in my direction as I passed would have curdled milk.”

  * * *

  “My first port of call was back to the dormitory I had visited on Sunday. The unmade bed had belonged to Jeffries. The police had indeed identified the body pulled out of the river as the poor man. Cause of death had not yet been identified, but the body showed signs of charring at the neck that suggested heat had been an issue.

  “I examined his sleeping area closely. There were no signs of foul play around the bed. And the other men in the dormitory had heard nothing, seen nothing, having been wakened only when the window slammed open as Jeffries departed. I checked the area around the window. There were muddy footprints on the ground outside which looked to match the mud I had seen on the man’s feet, but there was no sign that anyone other than Jeffries had stood there.

  “As I was about to leave the dormitory the old man who had spoken earlier waved me over once more.

  “‘Don’t let the Sisters see you,’ he said in a whisper.

  I leaned in close.

  “‘You have seen them?’

  The old man nodded.

  “‘Every night for the last ten and more when I visit the lavatory. Out in the corridor near the chapel. They float.’

  “He would say no more, and indeed when I looked back from the doorway he was already asleep.

  “I was still not convinced that the mystery to be solved was of supernatural origin for, as you chaps know, I have encountered human trickery enough to know that the ingenuity of some men knows no bounds. There was only one thing for it.

  “Leather armchairs were scattered at intervals along the walls in the long main corridor. I chose one that was in a patch of shadow and gave me a view of the chapel door, and I settled myself down into a watching brief.

  “I did not find it easy. At first the noise of the hospital workings reassured me that I wasn’t quite alone, but that soon stilled as the building started to shut down for the night. Darkness deepened. There was no moon to throw light in the dark corners that grew blacker as the night came. My imagination switched itself to overtime, and I jumped at the merest noise.

  “Now you chaps know that it is not easy to put me in a blue funk, but sitting there in that long empty corridor knowing that stout men lay in the adjoining rooms terrified for their very souls put a chill up my spine that was hard to eradicate. I lit a pipe and sucking the smoke helped ground me back in a place where I was not jumping at every shadow.

  “The blue fug hung in the still air above my head, like a patch of fog transplanted indoors. I slipped into a watchful reverie, eyes on the chapel door but mind wandering, weighing possibilities and probabilities.

  “I know not how long I sat like that, but the pipe bowl was cold in my hand when I registered the first movement by the chapel door.

  “At first I thought the pipe-smoke had drifted along the corridor. A bluish haze hung around the door. Even as I spotted it the cloud coalesced and thickened. It seemed to flow from the very wood of the door itself and resolved into three distinct figures. I had seen them before, out in the fog on the embankment.

  “But here, in the cold of the night, they had solidified into three females clad in nun’s habits, cowls pulled forward to hang over their faces. They stood facing each other as if conversing then turned as one… heading towards me. Although they seemed human, they radiated a pale blue haze around them that cast cold shadows all along the corridor and lent an ethereal glow to the proceedings.

  “My blood went cold in my veins. They did indeed seem to float, phantom feet not quite touching the ground, and once again I had the impression that there might be wheels under those skirts and not human limbs.

  “I pressed myself as far down in the armchair as I was able and held my breath. But they were not interested in me. They glided silently past. I caught a glimpse under the cowl of the nearest but saw only a flash of pale white.

  “It was only once they had passed me completely that I realized their intent. They were headed directly for the dormitory where I had left the old men sleeping.

  “They had reached the room door even before my legs would obey instructions to stand, and by the time I reached the dormitory the three were leaned over the bed of the old man who had warned me of them.

  “The man lay, wide awake, eyes staring at his attackers, mouth wide but seemingly unable to form a scream. The leading nun bent over him and reached for his neck. The air filled with the stench of burning flesh and smoke rose from the bed.

  “I could take no more. I leapt forward and made a grab at the habit of the nearest nun. Heat flared through me, as if I had just opened an oven door. The nun turned and the cowl fell back from her head.

  “There was no face, only a pale oval of white, as smooth as a billiard ball. But yet I knew that she saw me. Her arms reached for me and the heat burst forth. I felt my eyebrows singe. Fingers, like red-hot pokers, grabbed at my neck. The pain was like nothing I have ever felt. I threw myself backward towards the door and felt skin tear from around my throat and blood flow down inside my shirt.

  “Even as I fell I saw that I had at least distracted the nuns from their task. A clamour rose in the room as men sat up in their beds and started to scream and shout.

  “The three figures drew away, floating backwards out the door. I was near to a dead faint, but the last I saw before blackness took me away was the blue haze being drawn once more back through the thick wooden door into the chapel.”

  * * *

  Carnacki paused.

  “It is not the first time I have been touched by denizens of the other realms,” he said. “But it is the first that they have left such a deep mark on me.”

  He drew back his collar
to show the marks of the burning he had taken, four fingers on each side of the neck and two at the Adam’s apple where thumbs would have pressed. The skin looked red, but was obviously healing.

  Jessop was keen for a closer inspection of the wounds so the rest of us took the chance to refill our glasses and light up fresh smokes.

  Carnacki re-filled his pipe. He was just about to start when Jessop interrupted.

  “But what were those blasted nuns doing Carnacki? What manner of beings were they? Were they ghosts?”

  Carnacki smiled and waved Jessop back to his seat.

  “I was just about to get to that my friend,” he said. “But first I must remind you of something I have mentioned afore now. I do not believe in ghosts. Not in the popular conception of them anyway. But I do believe that malignant forces can be produced in times of great emotion and stress. I have related many tales to you chaps, of these forces, and their dwelling place in the Outer Circle. I believe what the inhabitants of the hospital, and myself, saw as nuns, was in actuality a malign vibration. It was borne up from the deeds of Sixteen Forty-Two -- a vibration brought about by the torture and burning of three Smythe sisters which created a Saiitii manifestation. The continuity of thought produced by the sister’s deaths created a positive action on the surrounding material that survived intact in the Outer Circle until led back to this plane by the excavations currently underway in the underground system.”

  Jessop seemed about to leap in with another question, but Carnacki was too old a hand to allow the story to be disrupted in this manner.

  “The Addenda to Harzan’s Monograph on Astral Coordination and Interference explains it all far better than I can,” he said. “And I know you all have a copy of your own that you can peruse at your leisure later.”

  Carnacki settled back in his chair and we knew it was time to get back to his tale. Indeed, we were most impatient to learn what next occurred. He did not keep us waiting.