Carnacki: Heaven and Hell

by William Meikle

  * * *

  “I woke out of a stupor to find two pale faces looming over me. At first I thought the nuns were still there and I’m afraid a funk took me such that I had to be held down to prevent further injury. As soon as I was full awake, I was myself once more, and looked up into the face of the old man from the dormitory, and the Matron. The old man at least was pleased to see that I was alive.

  “I tried to sit up but the Matron proved to be an immovable object, holding me down until she had inspected my burns to her satisfaction.

  “‘You’ll live,’ she said, and dismissed me into the hands of the old man. I was finally able to sit up, realising as I did so that I had been put in the bed previously occupied by the dead man Jeffries. Early morning sun was coming in through the window behind the bed. I had been out for most of the night.

  “The old man watched me carefully as I stood, shakily at first then more confidently. He held out a hand for me to shake.

  “‘I owe you my life sir,’ he said. ‘Anything I can do for you, just name it.’

  “I left him with my word that I would indeed call on him if required, and went outside into the corridor for a smoke. I sat back in the same armchair as before and studied the chapel door.

  “It was an unremarkable piece of heavy oak, giving no hint of the splendour Wren had wrought on the other side. But it was not the majesty of human achievement that concerned me today. Once I had finished the pipe I made sure the Matron was not about and slipped into the chapel.”

  “I had been inside on several occasions in the past, but always when it was full for a service. At those times it always felt a warm and comforting place to ponder the mysteries, but today, on a chill morning, and knowing of the entities that had emanated from here just the previous night, I felt a cold tingle in my spine.

  “There was no sign of any disturbance in the chapel itself, but then I had not expected to find any. I went to the rear of the altar and found the stairwell I knew to be there. On a previous visit I had taken these stairs up into the dome. But today I was bound in the opposite direction. I headed down the narrow passage, aware that the cold was deepening with every step.

  “I arrived in a low-ceilinged cellar that ran the full length and breadth of the chapel above, the roof being supported by sturdy stone columns set at regular intervals among the large flagstones of the floor. Some light filtered from a low window in the far corner, high on the wall and surely at ground level on the outside.

  “There was no sign of movement, but my fingertips tingled, as if in the presence of a charging dynamo. A rumble came from my left and I felt a deeper vibration in the floor – the result no doubt of the continuing excavations in the underground system. Dirt and sand fell into my hair from the ceiling and a vortex of fine dust ran across the cellar floor. I nearly did not spot it, but over in the centre of the cellar a blue haze rose in the air then, as the rumbling receded, disappeared just as quickly.

  “I had found the source. Now I needed a plan of action.”

  * * *

  Once more Carnacki paused.

  “Before I go further, I must tell you of a new avenue of experimentation I have been pursuing these several months. Ever since that affair at the Larkhill Barrow I have been aware that the valves on the electric pentacle draw too much power for them to be efficiently operated from batteries, especially when the manifestation is a being of some energy itself.

  “I have been testing a cage designed on principles set out by Michael Faraday. You may well know that all electricity goes up to the free surface of a body without diffusing in the interior substance. If a cage can be built of suitable conducting material then no electric field can exist within the cage itself. Now you can see that, given the Outer Circle beings are effectively electric beings, such a cage would prove most efficacious in defending against them.

  “All of that is by way of preamble. I had been given to understand by the Governor of the hospital that on no account was I to deploy any psychic defences that might be construed as smacking of occult mumbo jumbo within the chapel. I was not going to be able to utilize my usual pentagrammic protections, so I had no choice but to field-test my cage. I have named it a Garder Cage in honour of my good friend who has given me so much help in its construction.

  “Now gentlemen, fill up your glasses and replenish your pipes, for we get to the meat of this tale.”

  We did as requested, and minutes later were once again settled comfortably and awaiting the story’s conclusion.

  * * *

  “I had to call on the aid of the Smithkins brothers to help me lug the cage down into the cellar under the chapel,” Carnacki began. “And due to the need to keep the operation as quiet as possible, we waited until early evening before carrying out the task. By the time I had everything set up to my satisfaction darkness was starting to fall outside. I paid off the brothers and they left with alacrity, neither wishing to be down in that darkening cellar after nightfall.

  “Soon even the light from the small window was gone. I stood in the darkness, shut inside my fine-mesh cage. The only sound was the whispering hum of the current running through the structure. As my eyes adjusted to the dimming light I could also see a faint glow from the controls I had fitted in the door of the cage to allow me to adjust the voltages and strength of the external field.

  “Without the use of the pentacle I was at somewhat of a loss as to how I would accomplish the banishment of the entities once they made their appearance, but as long as my defence held I would have time to try several approaches to the matter.

  “In that early part of the night it seemed that the only danger I was under was of giving in to boredom. I had run through various incantations from the Sigsand MS in my mind, readying them against the eventuality of needing them. After I was sure I had them down pat I amused myself by playing word games in my mind, but any glamour that had for me quickly faded, and I soon found myself longing for a pipe and some fine single malt.

  “After two more hours of this I was close to giving up for the night. And, as is usual, that is when the action started.

  “Once more it began with a distant rumble. Fine dust pattered down from above and sparks flew where it hit the roof of the cage. Some four feet to my left a luminous blue haze rose from the floor and started to drift upwards, growing as it came up out of the flagstones. It moved quickly towards the ceiling of the cellar and I quickly realized that it intended to head up to the chapel and hence back to the dormitory of sleeping men.

  “I turned up the voltage and the humming sounded louder in my ears.

  “The blue haze coalesced into three figures, indistinct at first, then solidifying into the pale blue nuns I had seen the night before. Three blank faces, too white in the dim light, turned and stared at my cage. I suddenly remembered the old man’s words.

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

  ”It was rather too late for that.

  “At least I seemed to be safe for the time being. The nuns floated silently through the cellar, circling the cage as if confused by its very presence in their domain. After a period of contemplation they positioned themselves, one on either side of me and one directly in front.

  “I intended to experiment with the effect of increasing and decreasing the strength of the field around the cage, but I wasn’t given the time. As one, they launched an attack. Almost immediately my view was obscured, the only thing visible a wall of blue sparks as the two fields met and opposed.

  “The cage rattled, threatening to lift from the floor, and I felt like a laboratory rat caught in an experiment from which there would be no escape. The nuns pressed the attack harder, as if thrown into frenzy by my defiance of them. The sparks flew in an ever-increasing blaze of blue, so bright I had to press my eyelids tightly shut.

  “To my dismay the temperature started to rise. At first it was almost imperc
eptible, but after a few more seconds of attack it became too obvious to ignore. The interior of the cage was heating up, fast.

  “I leaned forward and threw the voltage up to its maximum. The sparks suddenly stopped and I opened my eyes to see the three figures recede away from the cage to the edges of the cellar where they drifted, as if unsure as to their next move. My defences had held… for now.

  “The electrical hum from the cage thrummed all through my body and I felt slightly queasy. My head throbbed, a heavy pounding behind my left eye, but I knew my only chance of safety was to stay in the cage for as long as possible.

  “But merely saving myself was not going to be enough. It seems my spirited defence had proved enough to dissuade the nuns from a further attack – but all I had achieved was diverting their attention for a time. As one they once again started to drift upwards towards the ceiling.

  “I modulated the voltage, swinging it back and forth, but to no avail. They were now ignoring me completely. The white faces were already turned up to the ceiling, towards their goal – the old sleeping men in the dormitory.

  “That I could not allow.

  “I threw open the door to the cage and began to chant the first passage from the Saaamaaa Ritual where it refers to the expulsion of Certayne Spyryts.”

  * * *

  Carnacki stopped unexpectedly. It was unusual for him to break a story in such a manner, and I was curious in the extreme to find the cause.

  “I have stopped here because, in this adventure, I have come as close to my own death as at any other time,” he said. “What I am about to relate happened, of that I am sure, but parts of it seem to me now almost dream-like, as if I was in some manner participating in a mere recording of events that had already transpired. If some of the following seems to go against all laws of sense and science, I apologize, but I can only tell you it as it happened and I have not yet got it straight in my own mind.”

  “Maybe this telling will prove the means for my own understanding.”

  * * *

  “The nuns stopped their drift upwards and turned their attention back to me,” he began again. “I had not stepped out of the cage, but the door was ajar, leaving me open to attack. Only the words of the ritual kept me from my doom. The incantation rang and echoed in the cellar. It had no discernible effect on the apparitions, but, at the least, I had halted their move towards the dormitory.

  “We were now at an impasse, and one I had no idea of how to break.

  “My choice was made for me as soon as I finished the chant. The nuns turned to face me, and once again pressed their attack. I only had enough time to throw myself back into the cage and pull the door closed before I was once more surrounded by a frenzy of blue sparks.

  “I turned the voltage to full, but the attack faltered only slightly. There was a fury on these apparitions such that I had never seen. They threw themselves against the barrier of the cage, over and over, the cage creaking and rocking with each blow. Once again heat started to permeate inside, and soon I struggled to catch my breath, my very lungs feeling as if I was on fire.

  “I believe I may have passed out, for the next thing I can remember with any clarity is drifting in blackness along a dark tunnel, the only light a red glow in the far distance towards which I was being inexorably drawn. I was aware of still being inside my cage, but somehow I was also here, in this tunnel, as if my being was split in two distinct parts.

  “The red glow grew closer, and as it did so, the tunnel grew increasingly warm until the skin on my face tightened and once more I felt my eyebrows singe and I smelled burning hair.

  “I found myself looking down on a conflagration in which three tall stakes stood inside a ring of flame. Pale faces looked on outside the fire as the nuns, tied as they were to the stakes, raised their faces and screamed to the skies. Flame reached for me, like long arms eager to draw me into a warm embrace. The burns on my throat flared anew, like a noose, ever-tightening.

  “Only dimly aware of doing so, I kicked at the cage walls, even as I was drawn closer to the raging inferno. Heat seared my throat until I had no breath left and the red glow began to spread and cover everything inside me.

  “I was about to give in to its enticing warmth when a cool breeze blew up, as if from nowhere, and a high singing called to me. I did not recognize the words, but I knew that I must obey. The fire receded into the dark even quicker than it had come as I sped back along the dark tunnel at a vertiginous speed. I came to a slamming stop back inside the cage – at the same instant as a donkey-kick from my right leg finally sprang open the door. I rolled out onto the welcoming cold of the cellar flagstones, gasping for air.

  “It took me long seconds to realize I was alone in the rapidly cooling room.

  “The singing voice that had dragged me from the flame still rang in my head and as I came to my senses I realized it came from the chapel above me, a high, almost operatic tune. As I lay there I recognized it, although I have never before heard it sung. It was the same invocation that I myself had tried to use earlier -- the first passage from the Saaamaaa Ritual. Up in the chapel, someone else was attempting a banishing.”

  * * *

  “I leapt up the steps of the narrow staircase three at a time and arrived in a chapel that glowed in blue luminescence, as if seen through thick stained glass. The three white-faced nuns were once more attacking a psychic defence, but not one of my making.

  “Someone had laid out a pentacle and protective circles in chalk on the chapel floor – a squat figure in a flowing blue robe with a cowl hanging over the face standing in the centre. It was from this figure that the song emanated – her voice echoing and soaring in every timber, ever nook and cranny of the high vaulted room.

  “The nuns pressed an attack against the pentacle from three points. Sparks flew -- sending shadow and light dancing through the chapel like rapid lightning flashes. Throughout everything the singer kept up the incantation. As she approached the end of the first passage the nuns leapt into a prolonged attack. The robed singer involuntarily took a step backward and, even from this distance I saw where her foot crossed the line of the inner circle. The nun nearest her surged forward and the defender’s voice faltered.

  “If I did nothing, she would be dead in seconds and all hope of stopping the entities would be lost.

  “I ran forward, shouting as I moved, taking up the chant from where she had dropped it. I leapt past the nun nearest to me, feeling a burst of searing heat at my calf before I tumbled into the pentacle.

  “I had given the defender just enough time to step back into the relative safety of the defence’s centre.

  “Soon we had two voices raised in the chant, my thicker, courser tones in counter point to her high perfect pitch. As the incantation continued, so too did the nun’s attacks, but I suddenly felt in total control, never in any danger of faltering. Although I have never tried to memorize it, I sang the incantation the whole way through to the end, and I did not miss a word or a beat.

  “As we neared the finish a part of me wondered how this might end, for the nuns showed no sign of lessening their attack, and we had but eight bars of the song left in us.

  “I need not have worried, for my partner was more prepared than even I could have imagined. When my own voice faltered and stopped at the end of the ritual, she kept right on going. I heard a thing that I have only ever heard on one other occasion.

  The Unknown Last Line of the Saaamaaa Ritual was sung quite audibly in the room.

  The chapel fell silent and the blue luminescence flared, just once. The figures of the nuns seemed to stretch and grow. Then it was as if a breeze blew through the chapel. The nuns fell apart into motes of swirling dust that was quickly dissipated leaving us alone in the quiet dark.

  “The defender threw back her cowl and the Matron smiled at me.

  “‘I don’t stand for any nonsense in my hospital.’

  “She was tight-lipped about things thereafter. I helped her clean the pent
acle from the floor, for it would not do for any signs of our night’s work to be found there in the chapel. She would not say how she knew of the Sisters of Mercy or where she received the training necessary for the banishment, but at the last I believe she let slip a clue.

  “She had a twinkle in her eye as we parted.

  “‘Have you been at the hospital long?’ I asked, probing for information.

  “‘My family has a long history of servitude hereabouts,’ she replied.

  “‘I do not believe I ever caught your name,’ I said.

  “‘Abigail Smith. That’s Smith, with an ‘i’.’

  She smiled, and shooed me out of the door.

  * * *

  “Out you go,” Carnacki said to us just five minutes later as he did some shooing of his own.

  Jessop and I walked together along the north embankment. A fog was rolling in and when we found ourselves walking alongside the wall adjoining the Royal Infirmary Carnacki’s story seemed all too real.

  We hurried our pace somewhat.

  A high singing voice carried across the hospital grounds, but we did not stop to listen, and we did not feel quite safe until the chapel, and the singer inside, was long behind us.

  The Hellfire Mirror

  I hoped that Carnacki would be more settled when I answered his request to join him that evening in May at his lodgings in Chelsea. His recovery from his travails in Scotland, the subsequent excitement on Salisbury Plain, then soon afterwards the horrible affair at the Royal Hospital, all meant that a period of house rest had been prescribed for him, despite his vocal protestations of rude health and vigour. As ever, he paid little attention to our ministrations and pleadings, and over the course of the previous fortnight had driven us to despair with a series of petty requests, all delivered from what he jokingly called his deathbed. On arriving at 427, Cheyne Walk I half-expected to find him confined in his bedroom in his nightshirt.

  But it was Carnacki himself who greeted me at the door to his lodgings.

  He seemed in fine humour.